#even going as far as to asking for their ship full well knowing that person doesnt like it nor do they engage in fandom shipping

[i-mybrunettelady]

a gravitational pull

Summary: Renira goes on a date with a very singular woman. Content warnings: sensuality/making out (M) Spoilers: None Note: Happy Lesbian visibility week! I may not be a lesbian but Ren is and I wanted to write this for ages now but just.. didn't, so here's one for a ship that could've been, but never was. Ft Babymander Nyra.

Renira doesn’t ordinarily meddle with targets that don’t concern her current mission. The Vigil, as far as her orders go, are allies and not people whose secrets she should be focused on. A secret here and there is fine, but there is a line that the agents can’t cross. Not when there’s General Soulkeeper and Warmaster Kernsson on sight as two high ranking officers. The Warmaster, maybe, if she were daring enough to attempt to spy on him again at such a time, but the General? 

She cannot risk it; not as a Lightbringer. Not when her squad relies on her in this way. 

Yet when Kernsson’s pretty apprentice starts chatting her up and asks her for a date, Renira is all too quick to agree. There is no shortage of pretty women, but there is a shortage of time. Now, after that whole business with Ajax Anvilburn is done with, she can take a break for one evening. It’s nothing serious, after all.

Then again, Renira does wonder if digging up info on your date before you even go out is standard practice for anyone who isn’t of the Whispers. Probably not. Alysannyra Ainsaph’s name has popped up here and there - starting with a file in bold, red letters called the Hero of Shaemoor. She has family here in Ebonhawke. And now, apparently, she has joined the Vigil and bears the title of Crusader. 

That’s where she makes herself stop. There need to be conversation topics. She cannot know everything in advance. 

“Nice dress, by the way,” Alysannyra says with a slight curve to the ends of her lips. “I see you’re taking cues from the locals.” She then pauses and joins her hands before her. Her lips, full and pink, are slightly parted. “I think it suits you, personally. We’d wear it belted in Rurikton, for the waist emphasis, but it looks good like this, I think. And I think the flower I chose works well with it? As if I’d known!”

Renira takes a deep breath. “Thank you,” she says and accepts the flowers - a vibrant yellow to match the pink of her dress, just as Alysannyra said - and gently holds them in her hand. Then Alysannyra offers her a hand and off on the streets of Ebonhawke they go. 

She looks good tonight. They look quite the pair, unintentionally so. The thought makes Renira smile. Nyra looks rather good in the traditional Ascalonian embroidered shirt and a jelek. The shirt is open enough to reveal her collarbones and the tightness of the vest makes her chest look pronounced. Her hair is long and loose, brushed but only barely, alternating between brown, red and blonde in the dying light of day. Her face is bare. 

Renira hasn’t seen eyes as blue in a while. Or maybe the lack of romantic attention in recent times finally reared its ugly head. While not that common, blue eyes aren’t exactly a rarity either. 

“Your hair changes color in the sunlight,” Renira says, by way of observation. Their footsteps fall in rhythm.

“Only the wisest of men know what my actual hair color is,” Nyra supplies, and lifts her eyebrows. “It has been foretold, certainly, that one who guesses it right will win my hand in marriage.” 

“Should I keep looking then?” Renira laughs. She likes the way Nyra talks. The dryness of her humor is refreshing. 

“If you like. I like to be looked at. If you guess right, you might get me to pop the question, Ascalonian style.” 

“Oh? I assume your heritage allows you for more insight on that particular topic than my few months of living here does?” Renira leans in - rather, down. Nyra’s hair smells of fresh herbs. 

Nyra lifts her head to meet her eyes. She holds her gaze. “I could show you, if you’d like,” she says. 

Renira hums. “There is time, Nyra.” She masks the extent of the excitement the response leaves in her. Nyra is a woman of the court, and she knows the art of conversation just as well as Renira does, yet not everyone acquires the charm needed to get to be as good as it can be. 

No, it’s not charm, not really. It feels like she has something of a gravitational pull that makes Renira unable to look away. The steadiness of her gaze, the warmth of her hand, scent of herbs and a hint of perfume, all coupled with her head held high, tempts Renira to bend down and kiss her then and there. When has she grown attracted to muscle on a woman? That is a new development. 

Not that she minds. 

Nyra’s smile is lopsided. “Enough time to squeeze a second date in?” 

Renira laughs. “Maybe. If I don’t make up my mind by the end of this one.” She pulls her closer. The eye contact breaks when she snakes their fingers tighter together and runs her nails over Nyra’s knuckles. “We aren’t even at the date location yet. The night is young.” 

And indeed, the sun has just set. The moon is just peeking through, an invited, observant figure to  the chatter of people and their joint hands. By the end of this, Renira thinks, she could have Nyra in her bed if she wanted to. And where would the harm be, if she has a willing participant? 

Nyra nods, pink in the face. “That is for you to decide, but in the meantime, I think a delicious meal awaits us.” 

And the food is good, admittedly, the kind both humans and charr would enjoy. Well done meat with kajmak, chopped onion that neither of them are touching, reflections of the bright yellow flower in the little rakija bottles. Turns out Nyra isn’t a fan of it. She takes one sip, swallows like a battleworn hero she is, and places it down with all the grace of a woman of the court. Renira downs hers in one chug. Nyra lifts a brow, as if impressed. 

And maybe alcohol did lower their inhibitions, but they’re kissing in a dimly lit street later, with Nyra on the tips of her toes and her hands around Renira’s shoulders. She’s a good kisser, it turns out. 

“Billiard rooms,” Nyra explains in between kisses. It’s a rather silly high society excuse to stare at people’s asses and steal a kiss. 

Renira slides her hands down and squeezes Nyra’s ass. She doesn’t need any overpriced rooms. “Were there any bets?” she asks, curiously. A part of her laughs, almost; is she as cocky as someone like Nyra can afford to be, to place a bet to be the best she’s ever kissed? She doesn’t voice it. 

There are many things she hasn’t been able to afford herself. There’s something so very aristocratic about the way Nyra carries herself, the way she grabs attention and stamps her seal all over it. Even now, red in the face, with lips darkened by kissing and lipstick, she knows she looks good, she knows the world should be watching her. 

Arrogance, Renira thinks. Arrogance that’s hardly ever faced a pushback. Arrogance that makes her want to fuck her against that very wall, in this very street. What a luxurious thing. 

“Nothing that went beyond tongues,” Nyra replies after a thought. “My parents have always been of the old, Ascalonian cut.” 

Renira tilts her head and licks at Nyra’s lower lip. “And you?” 

Nyra looks visibly distracted for a moment. “I’ve never been to Ebonhawke before,” she says. “Is that good enough?” 

“More than enough.” Enough to write in your file later. Tastes divine, is hardly in touch with where her parents came from. Looking to reconnect. Doesn’t care about the way things are done here. She places a kiss on her jaw. Nyra’s nails dig into Renira’s skin. She then kisses lower, to her exposed neck. 

Then, she then feels Nyra’s hands pushing her face away from her neck. Just as Renira was about to ask to leave her a little bite. Rude, she thinks and smiles. You arrogant, rude, sexy aristocrat. You just need to be in charge. Did the world see that? Or do you keep these things to yourself?

“I know a place where we can have more privacy,” Nyra says in a voice that doesn’t invite questioning. A command wrapped in a statement, and the quietness of the tone doesn’t take anything away from its force. She slides her hand down so it rests on Renira’s hip. “It’s not that far away. Come.” 

She then takes Renira’s hand and goes down the street, lipstick stains on her face and neck be damned. She walks like it all belongs to her, like she’s the queen of the fucking world, with her head held high. Without shame. Arrogant. 

Not arrogant. Proud. 

It takes Renira a lot to fall in love, but maybe this is a closer thing. Or maybe it’s the rakija, and the kissing, and the moon whispering in her ear, and the Ebonhawke and its pressing history and its proud descendant that’s holding her hand. 

Whatever it is, Renira slides into the night with her. 

It is, after all, a call she can’t say no to. 

#gw2 #inspo birb has come to town #alysannyra #renira sulver #gw2 writing #my writing #gw2 fic #lesbian visibility week #listen ascalon is serbia to me and they went to a kafana and had rakija and roštilj and kajmak #a kafana date. and one dressed in traditional clothes #for reference ren is in an anterija type dress #which is a largely woman's traditional garb #so many good examples online #they're not in opanci but shhhh #opanci good. we love an opanak. #anyways give it up for some. sapphics on a date #please give this notes i worked hard #i trust y'all to read this

[ipseitydelrey]

Could you maybe do a fic about Carmy and the reader where they dated all through high school and carmy asked the reader to marry him and she says no bc she doesn’t want to hold him back from going to NYC ?

THIS TOOK SO LONG IM SORRY

as they go by ☆ c. berzatto

ship carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings angst with an ambiguous ending (sorry babes <3), slight manipulation?, a hell of a lot of arguing, possible break-up (choice is yours), not beta-read

word count 1.5k

summary initially, you were fine with having a long-distance relationship with carmy while he was in new york city. after all, you’re just his girlfriend; you were happy with that, and that’s how you want it to stay when he’s gone.

a/n this took so insanely and unnecessarily long and i am so sorry for postponing this fic. took a while and it was difficult to write, but i felt determined to finish this. disclaimer: not my best work but i legit tried

The proposal came as a shock. You were sure it had been many seconds, maybe even a minute or two since Carmy had uttered the words “Will you marry me?” as if it was a common phrase, thrown out into the open.

To be fair, you both did discuss the possibility of marriage in the future. But you were naïve high schoolers, merely seventeen and blind to the problems you’d have to face in your personal and shared lives.

You weren’t annoyed or angry that Carmy had gotten the opportunity in New York City; on the contrary, you were happy. It’s a great thing for his career in the culinary world, and seeing him be so excited about the prospect made you feel so proud to see how far he had come.

Granted, maintaining your relationship while he was in New York and you stayed in Illinois would be hard. You told him to expect a lot of phone and video calls, as well as a bombardment of messages, but you didn’t know at the time that he would be gone for a year at least. Still, you both agreed to try.

You could handle being a long-distance girlfriend, but being a long-distance wife?

“I don’t know,” you default to as no other words could come to mind.

Carmy looks at you confused. “You don’t know?” he parrots. “What do you mean?”

You open your mouth, but no words come out.; you don’t even know why you couldn’t just say a simple “yes” or “no.” It’s hard to look him in the eyes, especially when an argument is now inevitable, so you keep your eyes glued to your fidgeting hands in your lap.

“Well, um,” you stammer, struggling to find your verbal footing, “I don’t…wanna move to New York.”

Although you only see a blurred version of him through your peripheral vision, Carmy nods slightly and purses his lips. “I know that already.”

You sigh softly, thinking of what to say next. “I’m comfortable here — I like it in Chicago. It’s just…I don’t know if we can make a long distance thing work if we’re married. I’d be busy and I’m sure you would be too, I don’t know how we would be able to see each other in person if our schedules are so full.”

He sighs; you don’t know if this is actually how he feels, but you swear that he’s annoyed that you didn’t say yes. “Is that it? Y’know, I can just stay here if it worries you—”

“No,” you’re quick to cut him off as you snap your head to look at him. “I don’t want you to give up on an amazing opportunity just because of me.”

“There’s other Michelin star restaurants in Chicago,” he reasons. “I can apply to one of them and stay here.”

“But New York!” You didn’t mean to say it that harshly, so you breathe and try to regain your composure. “I don’t know why you would want to give up being a chef in New York just for me.”

Carmy buries his face in his hands, but his mouth is still exposed. “I’m not…giving it up; I’m just relocating, that’s all. Why are you trying to put my career ahead of you?”

You scoff at the notion. “I’m not.”

“But you are,” he counters exasperatingly. “Why?”

Your lips form a line and you look down. The words are hard to conjure, but they come eventually. “You’ve just loved to cook for so long…and now you have a really good offer and I want you to take it.”

“I’ve loved you for longer.” You can’t really argue when it’s kind of the truth. But then again, he’s always had a interest in cooking — and you’re sure that he developed an interest in you after that.

Knowing that you won’t win this portion of the argument, you sigh, and try to change the topic…sort of. “There’s also another thing,” you mention, and he looks at you again. “I don’t think I’m ready for that sort of thing.”

His tone has a tinge of frustration. “You mean marriage?” he asks sarcastically.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You’re starting to grow annoyed at his stubbornness; of course you knew he could get like this, but he’s really not letting this conversation go for another day. “You know I didn’t mean like that.”

“Well it’s the implication.” The hell does implication have to do with anything right now? “You’re saying it like it isn’t important for our relationship.”

“You couldn’t have waited until you got back from New York to pop the question?”

“I’ve waited and I’m impatient.”

“Carmen.” The nickname is no longer effective. It’s clear to him now that you’re genuinely pissed with him and have had it. “You’re not listening to me; I’m not ready. Please drop it.”

“Last time we talked about this, you were excited,” he says. “What changed?”

“Well, for one, age,” you retort. “We were, what, seventeen? It’s just teenage talk, and we were too young to be thinking about marriage already.”

You tiredly sigh, looking down at your hands again. “There’s more, isn’t there?” He doesn’t ask it like a question, but instead he says it like a statement for you to confirm.

Hesitantly, you nod. “Just— I’m not ready now, but that doesn’t really mean that I don’t want to get married ever,” you try to grasp at any rational explanation you can, struggling to try to explain why. “If you loved me, then you’d wait, y’know.”

Your eyes shoot wide at the realization of what just slipped out of your lips; did you really just say that? It sounds as if Carmy is thinking that exact same question. “I didn’t mean—”

“You think I don’t love you?” His voice carries a sliver of anger and insecurity as he asks that.

“No, Carm—”

Your words force him to look away from you, his brows furrowed and his nose scrunched. He breathes once through his nose deeply before abruptly getting up from the couch and making a beeline towards the bedroom. Worried, you follow his path and find him harshly opening the closet door and pulling out an old suitcase.

You stand there, a few feet away from him, realizing what he’s doing. “Carmy—”

“You want me to drop it, I’m dropping it.” He doesn’t even so much as glance at you as he tosses the suitcase on the bed and starts to grabs his clothes. “You want me to go to New York, I’m taking the fucking offer. I know you don’t want me here anymore; that’s fine.”

“That’s not true.”

The way he packs is haphazard, rushed and angry; much like how he tends to cook when he gets too emotional. He doesn’t even take the time to fold some of the clothes, opting to instead stuff them in and hope they fit well enough to get the zipper closed. “You have all these excuses and you keep delaying it. It’s clear — you’re fine with marriage, but not with marrying me. You keep saying that you’re not ready, but you’re just too scared to say no. And now I have to do it for you.”

He does manage to close the suitcase and he’s fast to collect it and move past you. “Carm, please,” you turn to follow him, the initial annoyance from earlier flowing out of your body and being replaced with some sort of anxiety bubbling up in your stomach. “Let’s talk about this.”

“We did.” He’s white-knuckling the handle of the bag and he looks at you for only a second. You see a flash of anger, disappointment, and something else you can’t quite put your finger on in his eyes. He unlocks the front door.

“Carmen—”

And you’re interrupted by the abrupt slam of the door closing and the absence of him. Just like that, he’s gone; not even giving you a chance to change his mind or even explain what he means to you — what he meant to you.

You’re supposed to cry, but you can’t even try to force any tears out. You’re just numb and bewildered at how fast the situation unfolded.

You consider for a moment about chasing him like the end of an early 2000’s romcom, but you know that this isn’t like a movie. This isn’t fiction, it’s reality; he wouldn’t just accept you back into his arms like nothing happened, he’d be bitter and loathsome, even more so than he usually is.

You’re not sad. You can’t bring yourself to be sad over him, especially when he couldn’t try to understand how you felt. No, you’re…angry? Would that even be the right word for how you feel now that he’s gone?

You don’t need to think about that; you don’t want to right now. Instead, you drag yourself back to the couch where this all started and you fall onto its cushions, tired of him and tired of this.

The next step to take isn’t clear to you at the moment. You could call Carmy, you could wait, or you could not speak to him ever again. The choice is yours to make, but you don’t want to choose right now. Your eyelids grow heavy, and so you let yourself fall into a cold sleep.

would y’all want a part 2 or not? i’d only write it if y’all wanted it.

#✩ ⊹˖ ꒰ carmy ꒱ ୨🎧୧ #the bear #the bear x you #the bear x reader #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #jeremy allen white

[ilys00ga]

can i request a fluffy first kiss drabble with yoongi? like reader is inexperienced with dating and other stuff. Reader feels like this is gonna be disappointing for him and they get nervous whenever they're in close proximity with him. He's sweet and just trying to show his love. After some time he thinks maybe reader doesn't have an interest in him like he does with them. He asks directly if they think of him in a romantic and more intimate way at all. Everything turns out okay he understands and comforts the reader

pairing: yoongi x reader.

genre: fluff, just pure fluff with some silliness bcuz we all need to be silly.

warnings: this made me miss yoongi even more so, beware, in case you miss him just like I do.

A/N: thank u so much for this req! I just realised that it's slightly different than what you've requested, but I hope that's okay and that you enjoy reading regardless <3. You're very welcome if u wanna request more stuff or just reach out to me.

PS. English is not my first language, so u know the drill.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

to a person whose only romantic experience was that in books and movies, meeting yoongi was like jumping off of 4 stairs at once as a child, scary but so damn exciting and fun. it was like picking up a book in a language you've been trying to learn for while, full of complex for a beginner like you.

it took you some time to get used to his presence in your life. to him. it's not like you didn't enjoy it, it was far away from that actually, but he was your first, after all.

the two of you hadn't been official for that long, though. after many moon cycles of pining and awkward, shy interactions, it all bloomed at once, and suddenly, you officially got your first boyfriend.

you were planning to go on a proper date, after the previous one had miserably failed (a tale to tell for another day), only for it to be met with a heavy rain storm. yoongi ended up apologizing, and offered you an indoors dinner, some cuddles and a movie for the night.

after finishing your meal, he held your hand in his and led you to the living room, where he had prepared a cozy setting with snacks and wine.

he noticed the way your body tensed every time he initiated any kind of physical connection between the two of you. at first, he didnt think much of it, assuming it was because just the beginning of your relationship. he was also well aware that you've never dated anyone before, so it was only natural for you to be awkward with that.

he really understood. after all, he himself wasn't a fan of skin ship and was extremely shy as well. he almost always tried to initiate it for you, because of how caring and loving you are towards him. you always took care of him, something he's very grateful for. and so, he made sure to remind himself to show you that he does with those little gestures of affection every now and then.

but then, he started noticing more frequently. everytime he attempted to hug you, hold your hand, peck your face, or even those two times he almost just leaned in to kiss your lips—but stopped halfway. and each time his worry reaches the tip of his toungue, waiting to be spilled in the form of a question, he always ends up letting it slip when you quickly brush it off and comply to whatever he wanted to do.

"thank you for the dinner, it was really good." you said, watching as yoongi's face lit up with a grin. his hand affectionately ruffled the top of your head, a habit of his that you've grown fond of the more often he did it. suddenly, he reached out for his phone, tapping a few buttons and a soft, slow beat rode the air of the room.

dropping his phone on the sofa, he put his left hand out and asked, "may I have a dance with you, darling?"

chuckling, you nodded and intertwined your fingers with his.

he pulled you in, chest flush against his with his free hand resting on your waist. then, he started swaying both of your bodies to the music.

"you're welcome, darling." he replied, kissing your cheek. he sensed your body tensing again, this time your fists tightening on top of his shoulders, and he hummed.

"I would very much like to kiss you right now."

eyes widening, you froze in your place when you heard his whisper. you felt your cheeks burning up. it took you off guard. your brain struggled to figure out what to say or do next, so you just stood there and stared at him. it's happening.

in books and movies, first kisses are that thing that everyone gets to experience at one point in their life, but not everyone gets to enjoy it. and right now, thinking about the possibility of yoongi not liking your first kiss is not helping calm your nervous system at all.

"can I..?" he pleaded, eyes never leaving yours with a tiny hint of a smirk appearing on his face.

"i- I've never done this before, I don't wanna ruin it for you and-" you stuttered nervously as you averted your eyes. the change of the atmosphere was starting to feel way too overwhelming for you, and all you could think about was how he'd feel like once he realises how bad you are at this.

"hey, look at me." once again, and with a very gentle voice, yoongi whispered. his finger gently rested under your chin and lifted your head. his eyes, ever so caring and tender, soothed your nerves down. you swallowed what remained stuck in your throat of concerns.

"it's okay if you've never experienced this before. and I'm not gonna force you to do it, now or any other time, if you don't want me to. but I really would like to show you just how amazing it feels, so please allow me to do so." he added.

you took a deep breathe in and slowly nodded. even though you've been together for just a couple of weeks, you love yoongi, and you trust him. you know he's never gonna do anything that's gonna end up hurting you in any possible way, and you've always been thankful for how respectful and thoughtful he is.

"o-okay..." you finally agreed, giving him his much desired green light.

"okay." he smiled, "let me ask again. Is it okay if I kiss you right here and now?"

"yes, please.."

like a kid that finally got permission to open his first birthday present of the day, yoongi leaned in and gently met your lips with his.

the first kiss was not like that of the movies, it was light and short. yoongi pulled back, eyes finding yours again as to make sure nothing went wrong. it took you a moment to regain your senses again, but you smiled sheepishly after a few heart beats, reassuring him that everything was fine, and he leaned in again. this time, he pulled your body closer to his, one hand gently holding your wasit and the other cupping your jaw.

he did all the work, and you just stood there with your eyes closed, focusing on the warmth of his skin against yours. he realised that you weren't sure where to put your hands when your balled up fists clenched on his sleeves, so he gently guided them to the back of his neck.

it all felt so new, so refreshing. your stomach felt so funny, and your heart beat so fast against your chest. the sound of heavy raindrops landing on the window, along with the music that's still playing in the room, was distant. all you could feel was his chest against yours, his lips pressing against yours. his hands gently holding your face and his fingers caressing your cheeks.

shortly after, you tapped his shoulder in panick as it started getting harder to hold your breath in.

yoongi pulled out, face inches away from yours, and panted, "I'm sorry. got caught up in the feeling of your honey lips."

looking at him up this close, he looked so pretty. red tinted cheeks and cherry plumped up lips. you suddenly really wanted to kiss him more. your face flushed a deep, rosy red at that thought.

chuckling, you hid your face in both of your hands and crouched down.

"hey, relax. it's okay." yoongi chuckled softly and crouched down next to you, running his hand down your back and lifting your face, "you're so red, are you alright?" he teased.

you whined and hugged his torso, hiding your face in his chest.

"was it that bad?" he continued to joke, giggling as he enjoyed your reaction.

"it was amazing, I loved it a lot." when you lifted your face and looked up at him, he saw your eyes sparkling with joy, and perhaps some gratitude. yoongi leaned down and kissed your forehead.

"how'd you like your first kiss, my lady?" he asked, and you hummed.

"thank you, you're literally the best. I don't deserve you."

"don't say that. you deserve the best. I cannot believe I've waited this long to kiss you."

you chuckled, "it's only been two weeks, yoongi."

"and what about it? have you seen yourself? your lips?!"

you slap his back playfully, giggling at his dramatic silliness before looking back up at him, "I can't believe I've been anxious about it this whole time." you pouted.

"it's okay, darling. it's all new to you. today, it's a kiss, tomorrow, something much better is coming your way." he chuckled.

"yoongi!" you slap him again. perhaps, this time with a little bit more of strength to emphasize your exclamation.

#yoongi #bts #yoongi scenarios #yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts yoongi #bts army #yoongi imagine #min yoongi #suga fluff

[m3l0v3trees]

SMILING CRITTERS X READER

MODERN AU

🌈~∆~°~∆~🌈~∆~°~∆~🌈~∆~°~∆~🌈

A/N: *Throws a table* Im mad as shit with this. You guys better not flop this shit. And I take requests so request anything you want because I'm bored.

Ships: Dogday and catnap x reader

Besties: Bobby, craftycorn, picky, hoppy

Friends: Bubba, kickin

Warnings: cringe?

About Y/N: A female, 19-20 years old, blue eyes, and white casual dress just above your knee, and white shoes

Enjoy I guess

🌈~∆~°~∆~🌈~∆~°~∆~🌈~∆~°~∆~🌈

A flower angel

Growing up was difficult for you. You never knew your parents and had a difficult childhood. You pretty much live with your grandmother. You had two other siblings both are twins. And yet, you. Your the runt in the litter. Weak and fragile and yet kind and sweet. You have a kind soul of what people would say. You were fragile and beautiful like a fragile flower. People often found you sweet and gentle.

You live in a small village away from the city. People in the village know you from that point on. You were pretty much popular there due to your kind and gentle soul. And of course you never been to school. Your grandmother never had the money to afford you to school. So you mostly spend your time in the flower field reading all sorts of kind of books. You spent your free time learning, reading, and helping your loved ones. But you have a problem. You have social anxiety. Your the shy and weird type of people your age say.

You struggle with communicating and cooperate with other people your age. They often make fun of you. But you are kind to those who are older than you. And that with said, you have zero friends except for the elders. Well, you did try to make friends but, you always get laughed on and then you would run off crying. Nevertheless your kind and good kid.

Some people found you being weird. For example, first, you talk to animals like they are a person. Second, you always pick and make flower crowns. And three, you always bring books to the flower field. That's what made them think your weird.

They often asked you why do you always go run off to the flower field with a full basket of books. And for you. You always answer, ‘Because it's fun!’. Yeah, they found it weird.

Nevertheless, Your a good, kind, and sweet granddaughter that your grandmother could ever had.

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“Grandma, I'm off to the flower field!” You shouted from outside the door.

“Alright, be careful dear!” Your grandmother shouted.

Hearing your grandmother shouted back. You went off to the small forest to go to the flower field. Holding your basket of books and snacks, you continue to walk through the small path of the small forest leading to the flower field not quite far.

You walk through the small forest path. Listening to the wind gushing the leaves making a pleasant sound and some birds chirping happily. You were the nature type. You love going through a scroll in the small forest as it leads through the flower field.

After a while of walking. You Finally arrived at the flower field. You started to smile. You began to run through the field going straight at the small hill with a tree on top of it, in the middle of the field.

After putting your basket down near the tree. You got up and stared at flowers as some flower petals got blown by the wind. You smiled at nature's calmness. Your white dress gets blown a little by the wind.

‘Nature is really beautiful... It wouldn't hurt to run around, right?’ you thought.

Nevertheless, you began to run around the flower field like a child. You run around, picking some flowers, and make flower crowns by colour order. Red, orange, green, blue, sky blue, purple, and pink. Nature is really calming and you even got back from being child even tho you're an adult, but you didn't care at all.

You continue to finish the last the last flower crown till a slight tap on the shoulder startled you. You let out a small ‘Eek!’ and turned around to see who or what it was. Upon turning around and looking up from the legs of someone. You look to see a red bear smiling at you.

You both stared to each other. Your blue eyes widen a bit.

‘Who... And what... is this?’ you thought.

“U-um... H-hi?” you said scared and nervously.

“Hi there! Sorry for startling you! But, I'm bobby bearhug!” She smiled.

You hesitated to response back, but she was nice to you and didn't she didn't do anything bad to you. Oh your too kind hearted Y/N

“M-my... Name is.. Y/N..” You said sheepishly.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N! And again! I'm sorry for starting you..” She sat beside you and smiled.

You smile and shook your head.

“No.. Not at all.. just didn't know that someone.. like you be here..” You look up to the sky and then back to bobby.

“What.. are you tho?” You questioned.

“Oh! I'm a bigger body toy! But kinda more human like, you know?” She smiled sheepishly.

“I won't really lie but, your quite beautiful for bigger body toy... And yet, You look like a.. rose you even smelled like one..” As the seconds pass by you didn't felt scared but felt... Safe and calm.

Bobby was kinda shock to hear that from someone even from a human. She smiled happily and pulled you into a bear hug.

“Ooh! Your too kind, Y/N! And your beautiful too!” She said.

You didn't know the upcoming bear hug but, you didn't mind this moment. You hugged back sniffing bobby at some point.

‘She really is like a rose...’ You thought.

You both pulled away from the embrace and started to laugh and chuckle. You both then bonded and talking about eachother. You gave her a red flower crown as you both chatted, eating snacks, and read books with each other.

’This is.. what a friend is like...’ You thought.

It was almost sunset as the sun was nearly coming to settle.

“Its getting late... My grandmother would be worried if I can't get home in time...” You said.

“Same. Well then...” Bobby stands up and then helping you up.

“I'll see you tomorrow! And then we can talk about our days!” She said. You nodded and smiled.

“Thank you...”

“Thank you for what, Y/N?”

“For being my new friend!” You smiled so happily. You pulled her into a hug as she also hugged you back.

“No problem, girl! And I also thank you for being a new friend to me too!” She chuckled.

You both pulled away from your hug and started to depart in your ways. You wave her goodbye with a wide happy smile. As she gladly waved back and went off.

‘I can't wait till tomorrow!” You both thought.

You walked home and arrived at your porch before the sun had settled. You open your door and saw your grandmother with a worried and concerned face, but it turned into a surprise and shocked face to see you smiling happily.

“Y/N, dear? What got you smiling like a happy kid?” she chuckled as her face turned to somewhat happy.

“I made a new friend, grandmother! She was kinda and sweet too!” You said.

You both went to the dinner table and started to eat as you told your grandmother about your new friend. She was happy to see her granddaughter finally had someone to be happy with. The night never became so long and happy as you ramble at your grandmother.

“She must be a great friend to have.” Your grandmother spoke.

“She was!” you chuckled out happily.

🌈~∆~°~∆~🌈~∆~°~∆~🌈~∆~°~∆~🌈

A/N: yes it's short but I'm busy because I'm doing this at school. So comment and like if you want part 2 and please reblog this if you have time.

🌈~∆~°~∆~🌈~∆~°~∆~🌈~∆~°~∆~🌈

#poppy playtime #smiling critters #smiling critters modern au #dogday and catnap x reader #dogday x reader #catnap x reader

[mrs-monaghan]

hi shazzz, i hope u are doing well!!

i have a question to you... why do u think yoongi is dating el captxin? i heard some things, but one of them is that el captxin said he only likes girls on his ig once, when rumours about them were loud

No he didn't say that. And no he didn't say being shipped with Suga makes him uncomfortable. It's people making shit up again like always.

Okay guys. I promised. Guess its time. I will try to gather as much as I can. Can't promise I'll get everything thou 🤭 but I'll try 😁

Real name: Jang Yi-Jeong. Producer name: also on his IG elxcapitxn. But since I cannot spell that from memory I shall be calling him el captain or the captain 😁😁😁 let's get into it.

They do not have a ship name as far as I know so my friends and i go back and forth between Yingi and capitungi 🤷🏽‍♀️

First and most importantly and most suspicious is one important question we have to answer. Who are 2 of Suga's favourite members? That's right; Jimin and Jhope. And this here is the reason why we know Suga has a type 😏 Because the captain is basically Jhope and Jimin, combined. U don't believe me?

Say whaaaaaaaaaaat?

Say what whaaaaaaat????

I'm not saying he's identical to Hopemin. I'm just saying the captain looks like them. Like alot. These 2 photos especially remind me of Jimin.

And this one, well, this one is basically if Jihope had a baby

Yeah... I know. Let's just let that sink in for a second. Can someone check on JK real quick, and ask how he feels about this? Coz its nuts! Suga really said if it can't have them I'm gonna have the next best thing 🤭🤭🤭

Mkay.... now that the most sus thing has been established, let's get into the dots people have been connecting. Apart from their incredible chemistry, of course.

So, they've known eo for 6 years

Here is el captain in 2016 if anyone is curious how he looked like.

It's the way Suga looks at the captain.

The documentary, the dinner scene, they were kind of in their own world

It's the way the captain looks at Suga too

It's Suga's reaction when the captain yelled "Min yoongi I love you!"

That was way too cute 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Them at the beach in Thailand together when Suga was on tour.

Yoonminers tried to say the person with stripped shorts was Jimin but nah. The guy in all black is the captain.

Speaking of holidays. I don't recall exactly why but at the time people had reasons to believe Suga was here too and that he was most prolly the one who took the pic.

It's the way the captain's IG is full of Suga. 🥰 He even posted this himself.

Even if its mostly music. There's alot of Suga on his account. 🤭🤭

Speaking of IG posts, out of all Jimin posts, this is the only post the captain has liked

Your bias is showing captain!!!! 🤭🤭🤭

@magicshop-pjm1 pointed out something quite funny which is; el captain didn't like the Yoonmin Suchwita one, didn't like this photo from the concert he was at which were posted around the same time as the one above

Generally just hasn't liked any other Yoonmin posts either which, you know... I'm just putting that out there for no reason whatsoever...

Basically they spend ALOT of time together. Like alot, alot. Especially during Dday.

They spent days and nights together working on the album. Supportive bf captain was also behind the scenes when Suga was at Jimmy Fallon.

If u ask me that seems unnecessary unless they are really close. Clearly what they got isn't limited to the studio.

Here's a thread about them from 2016 till now.

In conclusion: ig we now know who was in this room

#he he heee #theories #theory #rumors #yingi #capitungi #ask shaz #bts ask #suga bts #min yoongi #el capitxn #suga x el capitxn #bts #analysis #yoonpearl #yoongi x capitxn

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Grey 34

First / Previous / Next

Kerry knew better than to duck when the vase was thrown. Luckily, it struck her shoulder instead of her head. Even more luckily, it managed to snag on one of the buttons of her uniform so it shattered. She worried what would have happened to her if it had just bounced off harmlessly.

"Pick that up!" The Empress screamed.

Kerry bent low and started scooping up the pieces of vase. It was from Earth, and easily a thousand years old. Priceless. The Imperial bedroom was floor to ceiling packed with more gimcrackery than Kerry had ever seen. Most of it was worth more than she'd ever see in her life. A broken priceless vase was only a drop in the proverbial priceless bucket. Another attendant bent down to help her, but the Empress snapped her fingers.

"No, not you. She has to do it on her own."

Saying sorry with her eyes, the other attendant stood back up and remained at attention. This had been going on all day. All week really. Everyone at the palace was walking on eggshells. The Empress was in a mood most foul.

Empress Meredith The 3rd was not having a good year. Early on, she lost three Super Dreadnoughts to something. Something nobody has been able to properly explain, even with high amounts of encouragement. The only thing anyone knows is that Dreams of Hyacinth was destroyed and took out the other two Supers - her three oldest ones! - on the final approach to Minaren. The damned K'laxi - useless, all of them - have no idea who did it, no person or group has stepped forward to claim responsibility, nothing. Ships don't explode for no reason, she shouted at her Admiralty, but they had the temerity to explain that yes, sometimes they do. Starships are large, complicated machines and even with the highest quality maintenance - something that may not have been carried out at all times (the Admiral with a known death wish stated this) - they can explode for no reason.

The K'laxi had even questioned a frigate that was passing by at the time, but they didn't see anything, and the K'laxi didn't think it was worth their time to execute or even imprison the captain of the frigate. They asked them if they had seen anything - of course they hadn't - and let them go on their way. Useless!

If that was not bad enough - and it was - Meredith discovered 5 weeks ago that she didn't have a connection with the Nanites anymore. She could implore them to answer her questions all she wanted; silence was their only reply. She tried to use her Voice on her attendants and while they rushed to obey her whims, they did not do it with the absolute robotic precision they used when they were Voiced. So far only her most inner circles of handmaidens, attendants, valets and other hangers on knew. Her Admirals had no idea and none of the Venusian nobility knew, and she was keenly aware that it had to stay that way.

She stood up from her couch and paced her room. This was supposed to be easy! You walk around, you give some orders, you open a new hospital or school, smile and wave for the sensorium and that was it. Then back to the Palace for some well-earned sex with whoever was her flavor of the week and a big dinner. She was facing the impossible. Intrigue. Politics. The Unknown.

One of the handmaidens standing to the side of her bed held out a goblet, half full of a burgundy liquid. Meredith snatched at the wine and drank greedily. She knew how to sip demurely, but behind closed doors she could be herself. Belching, she handed the crystal goblet - also worth more than the handmaiden made in a whole year - back and waited for it to be refilled. This time she drank it more slowly as she paced.

"They're not listening. They can't hear me? They won't hear me? What's going on? I've been a good Empress. I've done all the right things. Kerry!" Kerry's head snapped up and she stood rapidly. The pieces of vase in her uniform shirt lifted up like a basket. "What am I doing wrong?"

"I'm sure you're not doing anything wrong, Empress."

"Then why did they leave?!" Kerry and the others saw then that Meredith wasn't just furious. She was deathly afraid. As if for the first time, she saw Kerry's uniform. "Why is your uniform like that, Kerry? What are you holding?"

"Er, it's the vase you threw at me. You ordered me to pick it up."

Meredith blinked back tears. "And you did? Did the Voice work?"

"Ah, no Empress. I was following regular orders that you gave me."

"Why did you do that?"

Kerry blinked. "Because... this is my job?" She said very slowly.

Empress Meredith stood very slowly. The four women in the room watched her as she strode to the main entrance to her bedchamber, and locked the door. She strode to the servants' entrance and locked that door. She lifted up her mattress and pressed a palm against the lock in the center, and it beeped happily at her.

She walked into the pantry and brought out 4 bottles of wine. A red, from the mountains of Parvati, said to be some of the best in the Galaxy. In the cabinet opposite the wine cooler, she took out 4 more crystal goblets.

She set the wine and the goblets on the table and gestured towards the woman who was pouring the wine earlier, Tina. She shrugged and opened the first bottle with a musical pop. The cork was made of Parvatian corkwood and was fragrant. Empress Meredith the 3rd, leader of Sol, Luna, the Outer Planet Alliance as well as her Colonies and Protector of The K'laxi poured five glasses of wine.

"Kerry, throw that out. Ladies. I need your help. You four are some of the only people who know about my... condition. What do I do?" She gestured towards the wine.

Tina grabbed a glass first and took a sip. "Well, can you tell anyone else?"

Kerry took one next. "No, she can't. The minute she tells someone else she's dead. If people find out the Empress That Can't Be Disobeyed can be, they'll kill her and put someone else on the throne."

"Or worse." Alina, the woman opposite Kerry at the bedchamber door pipes up and takes a glass.

"Is it really that bleak?" Emery takes the last glass of wine and sips it demurely. "Surely everyone in the Nobility and Admiralty won't want to kill you. You must have some people who are loyal to you utterly."

Meredith takes the last glass and flops onto her bed. She pats the mattress and the women sit. "There are some families that are completely loyal, but it's more out of inertia than any kind of love of the Empress. Tch, if the K'laxi found out they'd declare independence before the return ping confirming the beacon was received."

"Okay, let's look at it another way: How do you know they're gone? Other than not having The Voice?" Bruised shoulder aside, Kerry felt sympathetic. Meredith was in the middle of having her world crumble around her.

"I can't hear them."

The girls eyes' widen. "The Nanites talk to you?"

"They used to yeah. Based on how Mom spoke of it, they talked to her more than me. Grandmother complained that they basically never stopped talking."

"What do they say?" Kerry finishes off her wine, but doesn't go for more. Meredith pours her another glass anyway.

"Ugh, they always are trying to tell me what to do. They have ideas. They want us to build more Gates. I keep telling them the wormhole generators work better, but they're like "no we need more Gates." Meredith sighs and rolls her eyes. "They're very boring."

"They want more Gates?"

"Yeah, I think it's how they get into our dimension or something. They tried to explain it to me once, but I practically fell asleep."

"Wait." Alina pauses with the wineglass partway to her lips. "If they use the Gates, what would happen if you went to a Gate? You could talk to them directly!"

"And leave the palace?" Meredith rolls around on the bed, dramatically groaning with her arm over her eyes. "It's so far, and I'd have to ride in a ship, and I'd have to deal with a wormhole link and, and, and..."

Tina's eyes flick to Kerry and Alina and Emery's. They return her gaze.

"Is that worse than others finding out you lost your powers though? We'll never tell, but it'll get out eventually."

"What if just the five of us went!" Emery is animated and on her third glass of wine. "You could take a small ship and just us. Tell everyone you're on some kind of Empress Pilgrimage. Link over to wherever the closest Gate is, talk to the Nanites and come home. Maybe do some light shopping at whatever station is closest."

Meredith raises her arm off her eyes and looks at Emery. "That's an incredibly dangerous idea."

Emery's face falls and she tilts her chin low. "I'm sorry Em-"

"I love it!"

The four handmaidens look shocked.

"It's so stupid! It's so dangerous! It's so exciting. Let's go. Right now?" She takes a whole bottle of wine and starts drinking directly from it.

Kerry sputters. "Now? How are we going to leave?"

Meredith polishes off the wine and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "Just like Emery said. Empress Shit. I'll just tell people I need to go and only you can come with me and they'll do it. If they say no, I'll have them killed."

"We can't pilot a starship though!" Alina reaches across Kerry and takes another bottle of wine and pours a little more, only slightly unsteadily.

"They drive themselves! It's easy. You just say "Ship, take us to wherever." and it does it." Kerry is on her third glass of wine, but has noticed that Meredith is getting sloppy. She's downed two bottles herself in just a few minutes. She gets up from the bed and grabs three more bottles.

"You're just going to go by yourself with 4 handmaidens? Won't that cause problems?" Emery may have finally realized the gravity of what they're planning.

"No! I'm going with my honor guard!" Empress Meredith grins lopsidedly. "We'll stop by wardrobe on the way to the docks. You four need new uniforms." She hiccups. "Come on. We're going to tell those fucking Nanites to give me my powers back. Maybe some powers for you four too." She nods at Emery. "And some shopping. It's been forever since I've gone on a shopping spree."

Emery squeals in joy, her face flush. The five of them weave uncertainly out of the Empress' chambers and stagger towards wardrobe for their new honor guard uniforms.

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #sci fi writing #humans are space oddities #humans and aliens #jpitha #writing #humans and ai #humans are space capybaras #humans are space australians #Between the black and gray

[youcouldmakealife]

SOTM: Erin/Julius, grudge match

For the prompt: Julius' exit from the Oilers

Julius was never going to stay. Erin doesn’t really know how anyone could have expected otherwise. Sure, she knows the expectation, that if you’re a franchise saviour you stay with the franchise, give it your all, saw that play out with Bryce even though fans acted like he was team whipping boy instead of franchise saviour half the time.

But the thing is, the Oilers have been beyond saving for the entire time Julius has been there. There’s only so much one guy can do, no matter how good they are. And Julius is so good, and he tries so hard. Everything he can do, he has done, nobody could say otherwise, doesn’t slack off on the ice in any game situation, works to win the team games. But they don’t win, most games. They don’t win, because they’ve got a mismanaged team and what the old boys club might call a loser culture. Nobody’s expecting to win games, the players included, and they’re usually right.

Erin’s not like, saying that out loud any time soon, but whatever. It’s true. She likes some of the Oilers as people, has a game buddy in Farmer’s girlfriend, who is one of the funniest people she’s ever met. She likes the city okay, close enough to pop in on mom and dad but far enough they don’t really pop in on her, except for the occasional visit when the Canucks come to town, because Jared’s indisputably their favourite child. There’s nothing personal about Julius’ decision to move on, on his end or hers.

Well, mostly. Erin’s never understood how Deslauriers has kept his job so long, considering he hasn't made the Oilers any better, but they’re not worse, not that that’s saying much. Unfortunately he’s still in charge of the whole operation, and she’s a teensy bit biased against him due to the whole being raging homophobe who tried to destroy her brother’s life because he was gay thing.

Like, just a smidge. Giving the TV the middle finger every time they show his face level. Julius has been smart enough never to introduce them level. Erin’s the only one allowed to destroy her brother’s life, and she sure as shit would never do that because of Bryce, who’s like, the best thing about Jared. By far Jared’s best life decision, full stop, was somehow winning over Bryce Marcus despite his horrible personality.

Well, after adopting Julius. Erin’s pretty grateful for that one, to be honest.

The summer before Julius’ contract expires, he goes into contract talks, though he has zero intention of staying. The talk is basically ‘thanks, but no thanks'.

Erin has no clue why it takes so many meetings to get that across; maybe they’re being too polite about it, or the Oilers are being a little too obtuse, because ‘no thank you’ is three words, as are ‘please trade me’. But after those talks end Oilers management doesn’t say anything to the media except that ‘they’re working on something that works for both parties’, which must be difficult, considering Julius’ current ask is ‘no amount of money will make me stay’, which she’s pretty sure is hard to match.

Or like. Maybe there is enough money. Theoretically, there could be a magic number of money. Like, a mindboggling amount of money might do it. But they haven’t offered him it. They’ve offered him fair value, market rate, but the thing about market value is that the market’s going to offer him that too, and testing the market means he doesn’t have to play for Edmonton anymore.

But nobody gets it. Going into his final contract season, the media’s talking about how much it’ll take to re-sign him, how sweet a deal they’ll have to make it, and she almost wishes that someone would leak the fact he isn’t going to stay so that fans would feel a little less betrayed down the line. But apparently the Oilers front office is a tight ship, or they’re still firmly in denial, hoping Julius is going to change his mind.

Erin’s never seen Julius change his mind on anything big. Or even little. He hates watermelon. He’s never actually tried watermelon, but he’s decided he hates it, so obviously trying it would be silly. This is the person they’re expecting to change his mind. The person Erin has debated force feeding watermelon, because he thinks it tastes like watermelon flavour and nothing tastes like watermelon flavour, she doesn’t know what the fuck watermelon flavour tastes like, but it is not watermelon.

Anyway, he doesn’t change his mind. Shockingly.

A week before the trade deadline Erin walks in the door to find Julius sitting at the dining room table in the half dark of twilight, chin on his fist. He looks like a stock photo: ‘sad man brooding’ or ‘gloomy Finn’ or something, so defeated that Erin doesn’t have the heart to give him shit. Well, almost. She wouldn’t want him to get a big head or anything.

“Pretending you’re the protagonist in a sad indie movie, huh?” Erin asks.

“I don’t know that one, protagonist,” Julius says, then, when she turns the overhead light on, “Ow!”

“Main character syndrome,” Erin says, as Julius squints at her, looking betrayed. He’s not a vampire — he’ll survive a little light.

“Is that what you said Jared has?” Julius asks, and Erin laughs. She can’t even remember saying that, though it must have been years ago. Years ago Erin was right, though.

“Probably,” Erin says, leaning on the table so Julius is forced to look at her instead of into the abyss or whatever. “What’s up?”

“They’re going to boo me for the rest of my career,” Julius says.

“Flames fans don’t even boo Bryce anymore,” Erin says. “Rest of your career’s a stretch.”

“That isn’t true,” Julius says.

“Okay, they don’t boo like, every time he has the puck,” Erin says. That’s basically the same, right? He has to earn the boos by scoring, or assisting, or holding onto the puck a little too long, or — anyway, they boo a whole lot less than they did initially, which is her point. People have short memories, and, more importantly, they’re lazy. Hating someone takes too much energy, long term. They’ll have found someone else to hate by then — some other poor, talented kid doing his best while he’s stuck on a team with no ambition.

“Have they traded you?” Erin asks.

“I think they’re about to,” Julius says.

“Like gut feeling or—“ Erin says.

“My agent told me to keep my phone close,” Julius says.

So probably actually about to, then. She knew it was coming, unless Deslauriers was stupid and stubborn enough to keep Julius until the end, let him walk for free. Which she wouldn’t put past the guy or anything, but still. It was coming.

“You’ve been waiting for this,” Erin says.

“I know,” Julius says.

“You want this,” she says. Getting traded at the deadline, people get a chance to get used to him in another uniform. If he stays until the end, the Oilers don’t get anything for him, but the Oilers fans are going to expect him to stay, hate him if he doesn't. Even more than they will this way, she means.

“I do,” Julius says. “You’ll come with me, right?”

“As long as it’s to a decent city, sure,” Erin says, and the offence on his face is exactly what he deserves for asking such a ridiculous fucking question in the first place.

#fic snippet #SOTM #julius halla #erin matheson

[geekywritings]

“You see me... for me.”

I got a lovely request from @christinaatyourservice92​ for a Cal Kestis x reader story. So here we go :D

You are a shy cartographer with a love for art, having travelled with Cal and the Mantis crew for quite a while now. Your feelings for the red-haired Jedi are a secret you have kept tightly, just as the little collection of sketches you have of him. Well, time for some secrets to be revealed. 

(If you also wanna send me requests and prompts, please do! I’m always happy to read them!)

____________

You all had different reasons for being part of the crew, but what brought you all together, made you a family almost, was the shared hope for a better future. You were all fighting an overly powerful enemy for a slither of a chance to live a normal life, each in your own way.

To be fair, Cal was doing most of the fighting. You weren’t a bad shot, but your talents lay elsewhere. You wanted to map out all the planets of the Outer-Rim, especially those the Empire had not completely overrun yet. Until then, you also put your talents to good use to forge maps for the rebel alliance, highlighting safe routes and the locations of enemy bases on the various planets the Mantis crew visited. A small job, some would argue, but nevertheless vital.

Four years had passed since you literally ran into Cal Kestis on Nar Shadaa, both of you trying to outrun some Stormtroopers, albeit for different offenses. Your knowledge of the intricate underground tunnels of the capital city had saved both your lives and the Jedi had offered you a place on the Mantis without hesitation in gratitude. Apparently, the ship’s doors were open to anyone willing to help.

After living and working alone for almost all your life, being part of a crew was difficult to get used to. Especially since you weren’t exactly an extrovert. Lucky for you, most of the crew wasn’t either. Cere always respected your privacy, almost as if sensing when you needed to retreat and Merrin herself seemed to prefer solitude a lot of times. Greeze was often trying to get you to loosen up with varying degrees of success, but even he never pushed too far.

And then there was Cal. Friendly, gentle and understanding Cal Kestis. He did his best to make you feel at home, testing the waters with each careful word and gesture. Especially at the beginning, he was fumbling with words as much as you were. But unlike you, he had grown more confident in the last few years. You were still a blushing mess when he spoke in that special low tone of his or placed a hand on your shoulder.

Not because you were still nervous… but because the Jedi had managed to work himself into your heart. You admired him for his optimism and drive, shared his hopes for a better future, and trusted him completely. And you were pining for him. Badly. So much so that even Merrin remarked on it one evening, asking why you didn’t say anything.

But you couldn’t. You knew little of the Jedi Order, having grown up in a very rural setting on a Mid-Rim planet, but you did know that love was forbidden for its members. Cal was still following the old lifestyle in many ways and you just assumed he would turn you down because of it.

So months went by and you soaked up every kind word and gesture, as if they were water in a desert, trying to convince yourself that it was enough. Eventually, you found another way to wrangle your emotions back into place: drawing.

Although your cartography skills were almost unmatched, you also had a talent for sketching. Landscapes, creatures and even people filled the pages of the small notebook that was constantly attached to your belt. Recently, however, your fingers automatically traced the features of only one person over and over again.

The new notebook you had started was full of Cal Kestis only. Pensive looking, determined, calm and smiling. You tried to catch every expression possible, burning it into your memory to then bring it back to life on the slightly yellow paper. It was your secret. Or at least had been… until now.

You had landed on a desert planet in the Outer-Rim to refuel and the crew had split up for provisions. Cere accompanied Greeze to find a spare part for the Mantis and replenish your food rations, while Merrin decided to explore the area. It left Cal and you alone on the ship with the task of cleaning up a bit.

“Why do we always get cleaning duty?”, the Jedi grumbled, as he collected the dishes from your last meal off the table, bringing them over to you at the sink.

“Maybe because we are good at it?”, you offered, unable to think of anything cleverer to say.

Cal raised an eyebrow at you, standing so close that your shoulders were touching. “I think you highly overestimate us.”, he replied with a tiny smile.

While you took care of the dishes, Cal busied himself with picking up the various items flying all over the living room area. At least five people shared this space and it showed. Somewhere in the back, you could hear BD-1 and Kip beeping merrily, making you wonder what the droids were up to.

“Y/N?”

The call of your name had you turn, ready to ask what was up, but when you saw Cal with your notebook – your OPEN notebook – you almost dropped the plate you had been holding. He was flicking through the pages, eyes wide in wonder.

Your entire face went hot, the color probably matching the red of his hair, as you watched in horror. Nobody was ever supposed to see these sketches. HE was never supposed to see them.

Stars, he was going to hate you. Or think you some sort of creep. Either way, things would never be the same between you.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to… I was cleaning the table and it fell down.”, he excused himself, obviously noticing your discomfort.

“N-no… I… it’s fine…”, you began to stutter. “I should be the one to say sorry…. Sorry.”

The Jedi raised an eyebrow at you again, coming closer, but still holding the notebook in his hands. “Why? These are good. Certainly better than the Wanted bulletins of me.”

His humor never failed to make you smile, even now, but still. There was a tight knot in your stomach and all you wanted was to grab the notebook and run. Silence fell, as you were unable to find anything to say.

Cal saw the clear discomfort in your eyes, the blush on your cheeks and the nervous fumbling of your hands. Usually, your shy demeanor was cute. Endearing even. But at this very moment, it made him feel guilty for having brought you into this situation.

“Here.”, he said, holding your sketchbook out to you. “Next time you draw a new one, can I see it?”

Your eyes snapped to his, taking in the intense green. How could he be so perfect? Didn’t he know how hard it was to stop falling for him more and more? Was it even possible to love him more than you already did?

“Y-yes… sure…”, you said slowly, reaching for the item, fingers brushing against Cal’s in the process.

“I am honored that you pick me as your model.”, he continued. “Though I am not sure how I deserve the privilege.”

“You’re fascinating.”, you blurt before you can stop yourself. Oh stars, what have you done? Cal’s asking you silently to elaborate, while your fumbling hands are turning your sketchbook round and round, as you try to hold the man’s gaze.

“Your face… it’s handsome… and it reflects so many emotions in different ways. Your jaw clenches when you are concentrating. And your lip twitches upwards ever so slightly when you have a good hand while playing cards. And…” As if a dam had broken, you kept going on and on, revealing more tiny details that nobody but you had probably noticed.

“I-I… I just wanted to memorize them all.”

Cal was overwhelmed, but not in a bad way. People usually saw the Jedi in him. The survivor. The traitor if you asked on the other side. But you… you saw him. Every detail of him, inside and out. He saw you too, even though you preferred to blend into the shadows. You were quiet, but your actions spoke volumes. You were shy, often fumbling with words and he saw much of his younger self in that. Most of all, you were warm. Not in the physical sense, but emotionally. Your presence settled around him like a blanket, offering comfort and calmness. No matter how hard a fight had been, with you close, Cal could always ground himself again.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“For what?”, you asked, confused. This wasn’t the reaction you had anticipated after your awkward monologue.

“For being you. For seeing me…as me.” He had stepped even closer, barely leaving any distance between you now. Your hands suddenly stilled and you looked down to see why. He had grasped them in his, holding them gently, but firmly.

Slowly, your gaze wandered back to his face, being rewarded with an expression you had not seen before. His eyes were locked to you, as if searching for something. He looked both hesitant and determined and you noticed his lips parting and closing several times, as if he tried and failed to find the right thing to say.

“Listen, Y/N…”, he finally did begin, his grip around your hands tightening ever so slightly. “I have been thinking…” Again a pause, trying to sort himself. “The Order is gone… and while I respect Cere’s mission to rebuild it… I am not sure if I can be a part of it anymore…”

Where was he going with this? And why tell you?

“So much has happened… I don’t think I can call myself Jedi anymore.”

Your lips parted to protest, but you didn’t get a chance to even begin, as Cal continued.

“A lot of the Order’s rules don’t feel right anymore… I… I think I know what I want now.”

Slowly, one of his hands came up, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. “I’ve been thinking a lot… about you.”

This confession sucked the air right out your lungs and you felt your heart clench in the best way possible. Was this really happening? Had you heard correctly? Or was this a dream and you’d find yourself waking up in the cabin you shared with Merrin?

No, the feeling of your hand in his and the soft brush of his fingers against your cheek was real.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d feel the same… But after seeing the sketchbook…”

“I love you.”, you blurted right between whatever kind of confession he was trying to get out. The words had tumbled out without your permission and instantly you lowered your head to hide the blush that had certainly intensified a thousandfold.

Seconds ticked by and you wondered if the admission of your feelings had been too much. Fingers under your chin turned your face upward again. You were hesitant to look at him, but he didn’t leave you the chance anyway. Instead, Cal leaned down, pressing his lips against yours.

Slowly, and gently at first. Again, testing the waters with you and going only as far as you were comfortable. It was the sweetest sensation you had ever felt. The sketchbook fell to the ground again, as your hands came to grasp his blue vest instead, while his arms pulled you closer against his form.

How long did you stand there, lips locking over and over again, finally giving way to the longing you had both felt?

“I love you too…”, Cal finally voiced what the kiss had already made perfectly clear. You would remember that look in his eyes forever. So full of love and happiness. The next moment you got, you’d have to immortalize it in your little sketchbook again.

“That’s… That’s not what I expected.”, you admitted shyly.

“I didn’t see it coming either… but life has a funny way of taking unexpected turns… And I am glad to follow this new path with you. If you will have me.”

Of course, you would have him! And to prove it you rose to your toes again for another kiss, absolutely ready for a new kind of territory to chart together with him.

#cal kestis #cal kestis x yn #cal kestis x you #cal kestis x reader #jedi survivor

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Bird-shaped letterbox

Usopp x erotic dancer!reader. NSFW!!!

As much as I adore Kaya, this fic ignores her and Usopp's kiss.

*****

Usopp can't help grinning as he scans the horizon, brown eyes fixed on the tiny dot in the far distance that the Merry is slowly but surely moving towards. Their destination is so close he can almost reach out with his arm and touch it; and with it, the person he has waited for two years to meet again...

"Nami says we're gonna reach Elynia before sundown." Luffy mentions, resting his elbows on the side of the ship next to him. After almost a week of stormy skies and sea, today dawn broke on a sunny and warm day, a favorable wind pushing them in the right direction, and Usopp has decided to consider it a good omen... a sign that his wish will be fulfilled, and their little crew will leave the town with one more member, and him with his dearest friend (not to mention, the secret object of his affection) by his side once more "Are you sure your friend will want to become our shipwright?"

The truth is he is not, since while it has always been (name)'s intention to follow in her father's footsteps and become a shipwright, she had never mentioned an interest in becoming a pirate, or even just in taking to the sea instead than working stably in a shipyard. What's more, she and Usopp last said good-bye two years ago and he hasn't received one of her letters in eighteen months, and Kaya had lost any contact with their friend as well. For all he knows, she could have found a steady job in Elynia's shipyard, a job she wouldn't want to leave. Maybe, after all this time, she has made some new friends and forgotten about him...

"Of course I'm sure!" he proudly answers, forcing himself to smile. A problem, or the possibility of things not going exactly as he wants them to, does not disappear simply because one avoids talking about it, but Usopp can't help it: he wants so much to see (name) again, to see her join Luffy's crew and renew their friendship, and getting disappointed, either because she'd rather remain in the city or because she doesn't care for him like she did in the past, would break his heart. In any case he'll discover the truth soon since, barring unforeseen circumstances, he'll meet (name) in a few hours so that Luffy can officially ask her to join them; until then, it is really so wrong to delude himself? "I can't wait for all of you to meet her. (name) is amazing; her father was one of the best shipwright at Kaya's parents' shipyard, and he taught her everything he knows. Once she joins our crew, she'll take good care of the Merry."

"That's good, I can't wait to meet her. You think she can add another sail to the ship?"

"Another... sail?"

Luffy nods vigorously, his straw hat pushed against the back of his head by the wind. "Yes, to make her go faster when a strong wind blows."

Usopp smiles, his doubts at least momentarily forgotten thanks to his captain's enthusiasm. "Of course! (name) is an excellent mastmaker; I'm sure she can make the Merry the fastest ship in the world."

"Amazing...!"

Luffy leaves to go ask Sanji for a snack, since dinner is still hours away; Usopp looks at him go, a smile full of affection on his lips, before offering his face to the bow of the ship, the wind tossing his dark hair back. Elynia is still a little dot on the horizon, given the distance deceptively small for what is actually a large, affluent city; the city where (name) has moved with her father, and where he will meet her before the end of the day. For two years he has hoped one day they would meet again, and for a whole week (specifically, ever since one night at dinner Nami mentioned the need for a shipwright to keep their new ship in top condition and take care of any damage she may sustain, he told the rest of the crew about his childhood friend, the best shipwright in the East Sea, and Luffy decided they simply had to meet her and ask her to join their crew) all he has been able to think is (name), and how happy he will be once he sees her again.

It's gonna be all right. Who cares if they haven't seen each other for two years, who cares if she has found a more prestigious job in Elynia's shipyard? What matters the most is that they'll be together once more, just like when they were kids; having Kaya, the third member of their little group, with them would be even better, but the simple prospect of sharing a hug with (name), or to see her smile as she recognizes him, is enough to make his heart race. She hasn't forgotten about him; and she'll be happy to become the crew's shipwright. It's not just wishful thinking, he's sure of it; he feels it, in his heart.

Threre is something comforting in the lulling of the ship, the sun flickering on the azure surface of the sea; Usopp looks up at the sails full of wind above him, the straw hat-adorned jolly roger standing out against the white of the fabric, and wishes their destination were not still hours away.

*****

Elynia's harbour is large, dozens of ships of all sizes docked inside the half-moon shaped structure. No one, Usopp notices, seems to pay attention to them, and the Merry is not the only ship with a jolly roger on her sails; evidently, like many other port towns, Elynia has taken a neutral position towards piracy, with any sort of sailor being admitted to its harbour, as long as they can pay and cause no trouble.

Having secured the Merry to the dock with mooring lines, he follows his friends along a well-kept gangway to go ashore. Usopp looks all around him; in her letters (name) had written enthusiastically about Elynia, how she liked living there and how many interesting places there were in town, and he is curious to see them for himself. Who knows, perhaps the two of them could take an evening stroll together, and she could show him her favourite places...

"That must be the shipyard." Nami mentions, her finger pointed towards a large structure standing right next to the harbour, clearly visible among other smaller buildings; squinting in the quickly dissipating sunlight, Usopp can see two slipways, as well as a large warehouse, and a number of ships in various stages of construction, repair and dismantlement "It makes sense that they built it near the town's harbour."

"We're going to meet Usopp's friend, then?" Luffy asks, clearly excited at the prospect; the sniper shakes his head, but Nami is faster than him in answering.

"The shipyard must have already closed for the night." she points out; a moment later the tangerine-haired navigator has turned to him. "Either we wait until tomorrow, or we search for her at home. You have any idea where she lives?"

"Of course I do! I know her address from the letters she sent me after moving here."

Usopp is sure (name) won't mind if they visit her at home, despite the late hour, so the Straw Hats decide to split: Usopp and Luffy, in his role as captain, will go meet their potential new shipwright, while Nami and Sanji will take care of some urgent purchases while the shops are still open. Zoro has volunteered to remain on the ship to make sure no one bothers it.

"You mean you want to nap on the bridge." Nami accuses him, her eyebrow raised; the swordsman doesn't deny, simply grinning in response.

"Let's go then!" Luffy exclaims, straw hat firmly placed on his head, but Usopp is already ahead of him, grabbing the captain's elbow to lead him towards the harbour's gates "I'm coming, I'm coming...!"

According to the first letter he had received from (name), the house she and her father had moved to was close to the shipyard, which was convenient since they both worked there, he as the head of the mastmaking department and she as an apprentice. Usopp asks a woman walking her dog for directions, and after just a few minutes, and having had to retrace their steps only twice, he and Luffy reach a street dotted with small but well-kept houses, as well as a few shops and restaurants.

"Hey, do you wanna go in here?" Luffy proposes, stopping in front of a curry-house, a few stools placed in front of the counter under a green tent and an absolutely heavenly smell wafting from the inside "I am starving!"

Usopp shakes his head; the truth is he's hungry as well, since at lunch he was so nervous at the prospect of seeing (name) again he barely touched his food, but he knows he won't be able to sit and eat if he doesn't meet his friend first. "Just wait a little more; maybe (name) can tell us where to find the best food in town."

"Oh! Right."

Night is quickly enveloping the town, but after a few minutes' walk Usopp is sure he has found their destination: the house number is the one he remembers from the letters (name) sent him, and he also recognizes the blue, bird-shaped letterbox attached to the building, that his friend had built herself. "This is it! This is where (name) lives!" he exclaims, excited; a moment later he is busy fixing his hair and making sure his clothes are in order "Ah, I should have found a way to bring her some flowers..."

Luffy looks at him, head tilted to the side. "Why? Is it tradition to offer flowers to someone before asking them to join your crew?"

"What...? No, it's not that..."

"Oh, ok. You want to knock or should I?"

Usopp decides it is up to him; he walks to the door as he dries his sweaty hands on his pants and straightens his back. This was supposed to be an happy occasion, and it is, he is happy to see his friend again after two years; then why is his heart pounding, and his mouth dry as if he hadn't drunk a sip of water in days? What if she says no? What if she doesn't want to be my friend anymore? What if... what if she doesn't recognize me? And what if I don't know what to say and start stammering and make a fool of myself...?

"Usopp?" a perplexed Luffy asks from behind him, after the sniper has stood for two full minutes in front of the door, completely still "Are you ok?"

He gulps. "Yeah, yeah... uhm, I'm going..."

The almost too soft knocking on the door receives no answer for a couple of minutes; Usopp is busy wondering what would make him feel worse, leaving without seeing (name) or actually meeting her and finding out she doesn't care for their past friendship, when finally...

"Hello. Can I help you?"

The woman in front of him looks almost as perplexed as Usopp feels as she looks at him, waiting for an answer the sniper is at first unable to give her. He is sure he has never seen her before, but, he reasons, perhaps (name)'s father has remarried in the last eighteen months; the woman looks about his age.

"Err..." he clears his throat "Sorry to bother you, ma'am. My name is Usopp; is (name) at home?"

"... who?"

"(name). She... lives here...?"

"I... really don't know who you are talking about; there is no one with that name here, just me and my sister. Are you sure you are at the right house?"

Usopp, briefly considering the same issue, steps back, glancing at the brass number attached on the outside of the door, and then at the bird-shaped letterbox next to it. It is the right house, he's sure of it; but then, why is this woman living in it, and not his friend? Where is (name)?

The woman is still looking at him, courteous but vaguely suspicious, as if fearing the two young men are making fun of her or trying to lie their way into the house with the intent to steal.

"We are looking for a girl named (name)." Luffy intervenes, seeing Usopp has, as he feared, lost the ability to speak "Who lived in this house two years ago. Both her and her father work at the shipyard, they come from Syrup Village. Do you know them?"

The woman shakes her head; she has never met anyone named (name), she informs them, and never had any reason to visit the shipyard since neither her nor her sister work in the maritime sector. The house was empty when they moved in, just a year ago.

"I'm sorry, I really don't know how to help you. Listen, I'm preparing dinner..."

"Great! What are you making?" Luffy asks eagerly; Usopp quickly grabs him by the arm, stopping him from barging into the house.

"Thanks for your help, ma'am."

The woman nods, clearly relieved to put a stop to that odd conversation, and closes the door. Usopp stares at the brass number for a moment more, completely dumbfounded.

"What do we do?"

"I have no idea." the sniper admits; he's starting to feel anxious, and he doesn't like it. Where is (name)? She and her father could have simply moved to another house, or even to another town, but what if something bad has happened to them - to her? He thought she had stopped writing to him because she was too busy with her apprenticeship, or with the friends she had made in Elynia - an heartbreaking, but reassuring explanation; what if that was not the case? What if she had been hurt, or even...?

No. That is not possible. Not her, not my (name). She's fine, I feel it, I just have to find her...

"You wanna try at the shipyard?" Luffy suggests, distracting him from his fears.

"You think we'll find it open? It's night."

"Worth a shot, unless you have a better idea."

Usopp doesn't. A minute later the two young pirates are walking along the quickly emptying streets towards the shipyard, one tense, the other whose worry is quickly giving way to panic.

"How did you meet (name)?" Luffy asks after a while. Usopp has already told him, which means the question is probably just an attempt to distract him and ease his worry; it doesn't work, but the sniper appreciates the thought.

"We met at the shipyard owned by Kaya's parents." he explains "Her father worked there, and she spent all her time with him because at six she had already decided she would one day follow in his footsteps; I often hung out there because... well, I liked to think my dad would return one day and their ship would go to the shipyard to be repaired, and I could meet him there. We became friends, and then we met Kaya, and for years we were inseparable, until two years ago, when her father accepted a better job here in Elynia, and they moved away."

He had cried for weeks, heartbroken at the loss of his dearest, oldest friend, regretting he had been unable to confess her the feelings, still confused and acerbic but deep, he had started having for her. In any case, the most pressing matter is now to make sure (name) is safe; and then, he promises himself, unless she has become a completely different person, or is (sigh) already in a relationship, he could find a way to tell her how he still feels...

As they had imagined, the shipyard is closed, the enormous metal gate firmly locked; Usopp, heart filled with disappointment, is about to propose they return to the Merry and try again come morning, when a lit window catches his interest: a tiny building right next to the gate, perhaps the night watchman's station.

The man who answers to his knocking is much less friendly than the woman living in (name)'s old house; he squints at the two young pirates who, Usopp judges, have just woken him from his nap.

"What d'you want? Place is closed."

"We are looking for a person who works here." Luffy explains.

"Are you deaf, boy? There's no one else here but me."

Usopp quickly stops the man from closing the door in their faces putting his foot on the threshold. "The man we are looking for is named Emil." he says; he knows that most workers in a shipyard pay little mind to the apprentices, but (name)'s father, the head of the mastmaking department, must surely be more well-known "Big man, bald, a tattoo on his arm."

"Ah! The mastmaker?"

"Yes! Do you know w...?"

"He's dead."

Silence explodes. "... what?" Usopp asks, horrified "Dead?! How...?"

The watchman shrugs, clearly eager to return to his nap. "Had an accident, about... ah, a year and a half ago? A topmast fell of him."

Hearing about the death of a good man, who had always been kind to and even protective of him, is heartbreaking for Usopp, especially since the man in front of him clearly couldn't care less about it. "And what about his daughter?" he asks again, anxiety mounting inside him "Her name is (name), I think she's a..."

"Ah! You should have said it already." the watchman interrupts him; he's smiling... in a way Usopp doesn't like at all "I know (name). Yes, she's an apprentice here."

At her age (name) should have already concluded her apprenticeship and become a full-fledged shipwright, but Usopp is too focused on meeting his friend, to make sure she's ok and tell her how sorry he is, to wonder about that.

"Do you know where she lives?" he asks, unwilling to wait until morning; for some reason, the question gets a laugh out the watchman.

"No, but I know where she is now. It's a bar, not far from here."

A minute later the watchman is probably asleep once more, while Usopp is almost running, Luffy hot on his heels, in the direction the man had pointed; the young sniper hadn't liked the way that guy had spoken about (name), but if she's at a bar it means she's ok, right?, probably relaxing with her friends after a long day at work. Perhaps, Usopp thinks as he tries to assuage his own fears, the two of them can enjoy a drink together to celebrate a new beginning in their relationship... and her joining the Straw Hat Pirates...

Worry mounts inside him again as soon as he sees the bar, across the street from a closed bank just like the watchman had said, with a neon sign in the shape of a top hat-wearing fish; a seedy dark place, with a mainly male clientele where brawls are a daily occurrence. Why does (name) come here to spend her free time? Are there no more appropriate establishments in a large town like Elynia?

"I don't like this place." Luffy comments, wincing at the heavy smoke that envelops them like a cape as soon as they have stepped in the bar; a counter and a few round tables are barely visible in the dim light, the music coming from an inner room loud enough to deafen "You think (name) works here as a waitress? Perhaps she doesn't earn enough with her apprenticeship?"

It would be a reasonable explanation, especially now that his friend can no longer count on her father's help to support herself. One more reason for her to join the crew, Usopp muses as he looks cautiously all around him, the ugly faces of the patrons staring back threateningly, this is not the sort of place a woman can work in, especially at (name)'s age.

He reaches the counter, doing his best to meet the barman's eyes as the man fills a tray with the largest beer mugs Usopp has ever seen. "'scuse me, pal." he begins, deepening his voice since he must be at least fifteen years younger than anyone else in the bar "Is there a girl named (name) who works here?"

Unexpectedly, the man laughs, before pointing towards the other end of the room, where a dark corridor is barely visible beyond an arch covered by a bead curtain, the same direction from where the music is coming from.

"You're right on time, boys." he comments, before raising his eyebrows suggestively; the beer spills on his hands "She's due to begin in five minutes."

Usopp looks at Luffy, seeing his own perplexity mirrored in his captain's eyes. "Begin?"

"Her show. That not what you're here for?"

"Yeah, sure..."

"Good. It's a thousand berries each."

They pay, not fully understanding what exactly they are spending the little money they own for. Still baffled, but determined to uncover the mistery of his friend's whereabouts, Usopp starts towards the arch, Luffy following closely.

*****

Exactly seventeen months since you have started working at the bar, and you still haven't overcome a vague surprise, a weird sense of unreality, as you stare at yourself in the mirror, struggling to admit, even just with yourself, that the one looking back is not your twin sister or a doppelganger... but you.

The comfortable pants and shirt you wear at the shipyard, as well as your hard hat and protective gloves (and your underwear), are in your bag under the tiny table next to the door of what your employer calls dressing room but is actually a storage closet, barely lit by a naked light bulb on the ceiling, with a cracked sink and a full-figure mirror. Squinting at your reflection, you finish touching up your make up and your hair before checking your clothes - the little you are expected to wear at work, and still more than you will be wearing in a few minutes: a tiny fringed top, tied behind your neck, so tight you couldn't take a deep breath even if your life depended on it, without a bra underneath, and a plated skirt in the same colour, so short it only covers half of your buttocks, so as to leave on display what has to be the most uncomfortable item of clothing ever created: a black thong, with an inch-wide strip of fabric descending in the back... and an only slightly wider one in the front. The heels of your shoes are so high by now you could easily learn to walk on stilts; you have scuffed the soles with sandpaper, to reduce the risk of slipping. A pair of large earrings and a black choker with a very fake gem in the front complete your look.

By now you have gotten used to this sort of outfit, feeling even a sense of pride, instead of embarrassment, as you observe your reflection and decide that yes, you do look good. Looking away from the mirror, you spend a few minutes stretching, your muscles still sore after a full day of work at the shipyard, until a quick, imperious knocking at the door attracts your attention.

"It's time, (name)."

"Coming!"

Music has been filtering from the stage room for half an hour, creating the right atmosphere for your performance, but a minute later a new track begins, the one you have been practicing on for a week. A last crunch before you stand, relax your neck and shoulders, and take as deep a breath as your top allows.

"It's showtime."

A moment later you are out of the room; two more, and you have crossed the corridor and reached the stage room. A veritable roar of jubilation explodes all around as you slowly, sultry, walk down the catwalk, roughly three feet above the floor, until you reach the tiny circular stage at the end, lit by a blue stoplight. You rest your back against the black pole in the middle, your legs open wide enough to let the attendees see clearly how little you are wearing, and arch your back to push your chest forward, the fringes of your top dangling gently as your hips sway. The room is too dark to let you recognize the faces, but the room is almost full, no less than sixty people (mostly men, but there are also a few ladies in attendance) who have paid a thousand berry each, without even a drink included, to see you, admire you, and entertain lurid thoughts about your body and what they would do if they had you for themselves.

Is it disgusting? Creepy? Flattering? After almost a year and a half you haven't decided yet; perhaps all three things together, at the same time.

You remain still for a few moments, an hand resting against the pole a feet above your head, before quickly turning around. You bend at the waist and rest your fingers on your ankles, not to stretch but to allow the audience a clear view of your underwear, and a loud whistle fills the room; when you stand, a few moments later, you grab the pole with both of your hands and spin around it, at first slowly, still shaking your hips and flicking your hair in what you have been taught is a seductive manner, and then faster. Your arms hurt already, your muscles sore after all the lifting and carrying your supervisor had you do during your apprenticeship, but you grit your teeth (mentally; there is nothing sexy about a wince, and that is the only thing you are required to be in that moment: sensual, enticing, irresistible) and force them to support your weight as you lock a knee around the pole, lift yourself from the floor and bend backwards, offering the audience a full view of your breast, pushed up and out by your top. A number of upside-down anonymous faces swim in front of your heavily painted eyes; a few of them are already salivating, or reaching out towards you. You remain focused on what you are doing, confident that the bar's bouncers are ready to intervene to make sure the patrons respect the no touching rule; pole dancing is more tiring and dangerous than one would expect, not to mention how embarrassing it would be if you fell on your ass in front of everyone.

Spins, climbs, hangs, flips; there is so much you can do with a pole, even considering the fact that the erotic side of your performance must be predominant compared to the artistic and athletic one, and you have found joy, even pride, in choreographing more and more elaborate acts, and in having the audience clap and marvel at your abilities, like they are doing right now.

And then, after a few minutes of acrobatics and tricks, you take your skirt off.

You are still clinging to the pole with one hand as you use the other to pull the elastic waistband down and then let gravity do the rest, the fabric brushing against your legs's skin; a moment later your ass is completely bare, and the people in the room are screaming.

You have started perspiring, both from the effort and the heating running at full capacity (no doubt to make the patrons thirsty and willing to buy another drink) which makes slipping down the pole dangerously easy; even worse, your left foot is cramping, no doubt because a colleague at the shipyard let an heavy board fall on it this morning. Thank all the Gods you are strong, after the years spent in the shipyard, and resilient, a gift you have inherited from your father; you execute the next part of your performance flawlessly, a(n hopefully) seductive smile firm on your lips as you perform a sequence of figures, spinning around the pole and using it to lift yourself in the air.

As your performance reaches its midpoint, you lock both of your legs around the pole, three feet above the stage as you face the audience, and use your free hand to untie the knot behind your neck, and then tear your top off your body, exposing your naked chest.

For a moment the music seems to disappear, so loud is the roar that welcomes the next part of your act; you let your top fall to the stage before letting yourself slide down to it, forced to hide a new wince of pain at the burning sensation between your thighs. You look straight in front of you, locking eyes with some of the closest patrons, as you move for them, licking your lips, swaying your hips, caressing the soft skin of your chest; in a way you are dancing, miming an act that right now at least any of those present would give anything to share with you, on this very stage even, but that you have never experienced yourself. That doesn't make your job more difficult, in the same way that a geography teacher doesn't necessarily need to have visited the places they describe to their students, or a cook to enjoy the dishes they prepare; your employer had you observe your predecessor as she performed to get an idea of what was expected from you, and instinct and a minimum of general knowledge did the rest.

Still, sometimes you wonder. You wonder how it would be to actually live something like this, to perform for the enjoyment of a person you have chosen and care about, or to have someone else take care of your pleasure, of needs and desires often forgotten in the hectic, melancholic existence you have led since you lost your father. For eighteen months, or even since you left Syrup village, you have focused on your work, given the harsher conditions of Elynia's shipyard and the difficulties in having your abilities recognized, and have had little time to devote to friendship and fun, let alone to romance. Sometimes you wish you had never come to this town; accidents happen everywhere, no matter how carefully safety rules are applied and followed, but at least you would be still at home, in a place you know and where you could find solace and consolation after your loss. You are not ashamed of what you have to do to pay the bills, you may even say you enjoy dancing on the pole and feeling desirable as you strip for your audience, but working nights is hard, on top of the exhausting long shifts at the shipyard, and any time you try and talk to him about turning your apprenticeship to a regular employment contract, something for which you are more than ready, your supervisor pretends he's too busy to listen, probably because then he would have to pay you more...

And then, more than anything, you miss your father, deeply, excruciatingly, and wish you could turn to him like you did when you were little, sure he would know what to do, to assuage your fears and solve your problems. For a year and a half you have lived in a limbo, without direction and without friends and without dreams, doing your best to simply earn enough to eat and rent a tiny room, and all your hopes and future ambitions have been forgotten. Perhaps things will improve, you try to comfort yourself as, after a minute spent wallowing in self-pity, you suddenly remember where you are and what you are doing and hurry to lift one of your legs parallel to the pole in an oversplit, gently spinning all around so as to allow the little crowd surrounding you to see how tiny your thong is; or perhaps you should simply leave, go on an adventure and find a new place to live, a place where your abilities are recognized, money is not a constant worry in your mind and you can finally be happy, as you were living in Syrup...

A moment later, your heart skips a beat.

If you believed in that sort of things, you could almost swear you have conjured him up, making him magically appear out of thin air with the power of your mind; you weren't thinking about him specifically, even though you have done it often in the last two years, but if you had to choose a person to represent everything you have lost and still long for (the village you were born in, the friends and family you had to say goodbye to, the job you enjoyed doing and had hoped to build a career out of) it would be him...

Usopp.

The tension in the room has reached its breaking point; all your eyes are on you, on your body and on the little covering your most intimate area, as you touch and rub yourself against the pole, your hips grinding against the metal, your breasts bouncing. None of those men know your name, most of them wouldn't even spare a glance at you if they met you in the street or saw you toil away at the shipyard, but right now, for a precious and ephemeral moment, they can only think about you, only see you, as if you were the most amazing and precious being in the universe; you aren't, clearly, and any person in your place (or better in your shoes, which coincidentally are the only item of clothing you'll be wearing in a minute) would probably arouse the same emotions, but you allow yourself not to care. Any woman, any person, deserves to feel special once in a while, and who cares if the ones having that effect on you paid a thousand berries each to see you take your panties off?

And then he enters in your field of vision, and everything changes. Your eyes are moving on the faces of the men in front of you, some of them regulars and some who have come for the first time, all anonymous, all equally unimportant... until you see him, standing still with his mouth hanging open and such a bright blush on his dark-skinned face you can clearly see it in the darkness of the room, and in the split second it takes you to associate a name, and a set memories that go back to your childhood, to that face, an explosion of joy fills your heart, your mind, your very being.

Usopp!!

You are sure it's him, even though you cannot see him clearly in the dark room and it's been two years since you said good-bye. What is he doing in Elynia? How did he found you? Did he find you, or he just happened to visit the bar? You have no idea, and you don't care; you don't even think how embarrassed, even humiliated you should perhaps feel right now, being seen by him as you strip naked, given the fact that your relationship back at home was completely platonic - no matter how you had started hoping it weren't. Suddenly all your loneliness, the lack of direction, the hopelessness and the regret that have filled your life for eighteen months disappear like snow on the coming of spring. He's here, to stay or to talk to you or even just to enjoy a stripper's show and then leave, you don't care; Usopp is here with you, and now he's smiling at you, looking as happy and excited as you feel, with that lovely, open smile you remember, and suddenly everything is fine in the world, and in your heart.

He starts jumping about and waving his hands, trying to meet your gaze through the small crowd separating you; the young man next to him, who wears a straw-hat and who you are pretty sure you have never met before, does his best to act as a shield, stopping Usopp from being pushed back by others and allowing him to slip to the forefront. "(name)! (name)! It's me! I'm here!" you see him mouth even though the loud music drowns his words "It's Usopp! I found you!"

I found you. So he was looking for you, you reason as you keep dancing, forgetting both the choreography you had prepared and the moves that would entice your audience the most to keep looking at Usopp, to make sure you don't lose him again, he came all the way from Syrup to see you! You have never felt happier; you have never felt more blessed.

For a moment you feel the irresistible impulse to jump down the stage and directly into his arms, like a faithful wife welcoming her soldier husband home; the men present would love that. But you don't; you smile at him, Usopp's eyes locked with yours, and feel as if the rest of the audience, the rest of the world, had disappeared... and a much more brazen woman had taken your place. A last twirl around the pole, a sway of your hips as you still look at him behind your shoulder, your fingers finding the waistband of your thong; you bend, pushing your ass forward as you take it off, stand as you twirl it around your finger, turn, now naked as the day you were born, and toss your thong into Usopp's outstretched hand.

*****

You barely had the time to return to the dressing room to put your own underwear, pants and shirt back on, when a timid knocking on the door announces the arrival of your visitor.

"Come in!" you invite him as you quickly try to put your hair in some semblance of order and pray perspiration is not making your make-up run down your face, and a moment later Usopp is peaking through the door.

"Err... may I come in? The bouncer told me I could..."

"Yes, of course, I asked him to call you. Please, come in."

He does, closing the door behind him, and suddenly, after just a few minutes in which your heart has kept beating fast enough to alarm a cardiologist, you and Usopp are face to face once more, this time alone, in the relative silence of the room farthest from the bar, both more or less decently dressed. You smile at each other, your joy almost tangible and both so full of questions for each other... and a moment later you are hugging tightly, arms almost desperately wrapped around each other, Usopp's body solid and warm and real against yours, and you had almost forgotten that tears of joy also exist...

He holds you, gentle but firm, for a while, before loosening his embrace to look at you in the eyes. "Wow, (name), you look great!" he exclaims, and that simple, heartfelt compliment does what seventeen months spent stripping for a roomful of strangers never could: make you blush furiously "I missed you so much!"

"I missed you too; I... wow, I am so happy you are here! Usopp, what are you doing in Elynia?" you ask back, making sure to make it sound like what it is, the best surprise of your life and not an accusation.

He swallows, clearly as emotional as you feel. "I... was looking for you; I came to talk to you about something important." he elaborates, before uncertainty touches his smile "We... looked for you at home, and at the shipyard... and someone there told us we would find you here..."

"Oh..."

The unexpressed, but impossible to ignore, question hangs over you, and the last thing you wish to do is discuss the painful circumstances that led you to move to your current place of abode (a tiny, dark room above the bar, that the owner rents you in exchange for a reduction of your salary) and get a second job, but while you had never precisely lied to Usopp, you know he deserves the truth, given your old friendship, not to mention the long journey he has made to find you.

"My father has died." you begin softly as you offer him one of the only two chairs in the tiny room, and move your bag from the other to sit yourself "A year and a half ago."

"I heard. I am so sorry, (name)." Usopp whispers taking your hand, and while he has a long experience in embellishing the truth, like he did so many times to entertain and cheer Kaya up, you can easily see he's sincere, the most genuine sadness and empathy shining in his brown eyes "He was a really good man; I had always liked him."

"And he liked you. I'm sorry if I never told you before, and if I stopped writing, but... well, let's say it wasn't my brightest period." you admit with a sigh, before explaining that the death of your father, and especially the loss of his income, meant you could no longer afford to live in the house the two of you had moved to; even worse, since your apprenticeship is paid a pittance, you have to work evenings at the bar to make ends meet.

"Oh, shoot..." Usopp murmurs, clearly appalled at the truth he had already started to guess; he gets lost in his thoughts for a minute, and you take advantage of that brief moment to look at him. He hasn't changed much in those two years, a few more inches in height perhaps, but it's still him, your dearest childhood friend, the person you felt closest to in the world, and who you missed the most since you left your village. Gods, you think, suddenly filled with shame, how could you stop writing to him? He must have been so worried, and if something could have actually comforted you after the death of your father and all the difficulties that followed, it would have been him, his letters and his affection. You have hurt both, and you have no one to blame but yourself "That is... terrible. I mean, not that there is anything wrong with... taking your clothes off... it's actually very nice..."

"You really think so?"

"I do. You were really nice... I mean, your body - your dance was pretty nice." Usopp hurries to correct himself, stammering as he tries to find the least compromising thing to say "Unless you hate it and feel ashamed of it and only got the job to survive, in that case that's shameful and I am so sorry you have to do it."

You laugh, maybe for the first time in a year and a half; Usopp hasn't changed, he's still the adorably awkward but full of good intentions boy you remember from your childhood, and you feel so lucky to have met him again... no matter how brief your reunion might be.

"Well, I don't feel ashamed exactly; to be honest, what I feel about it changes from day to day." you confess "I have fun dancing, and I do like feeling sexy and desired; on the other hand, I wish I didn't have to get a second job simply to survive, and I can't help thinking that none of those people actually care for me, that for them I am just a pair of tits or an ass with a person attached. In the end, it pays for my food and room, and that's enough for me."

Usopp nods, more thoughtful than you are used to seeing him. "How close are you to finishing your apprenticeship?" he asks in the end.

"I have no idea! I should have already been promoted to full-fledged shipwright, but my supervisor ignores me every time I try to talk to him about it; I'm sure he does it because in this way he can pay me less."

"(name), that's horrible!" Usopp exclaims, outraged "You're probably more capable and experienced than any shipwright ten years older than you, and you are struck in an apprenticeship?!"

You don't like it either, far from it, even though you appreciate your friend's indignation, and are at the moment too happy to see him to focus on your depressing job situation.

"How is Kaya?" you ask him; the daughter of your and your father's former employer, not to mention your dearest friend in the world behind Usopp himself, is another person you had promised to write to and who you really need to apologize to. You are shocked, and horrified, to discover that Khladore, Kaya's uppity and stern former butler, turned out to be a pirate, poisoned her for years to take control of her life and tried to kill her in order to put his hands on her family's inheritance.

"I can't believe it! Poor Kaya. I never liked that guy, but who would ever want to hurt her?"

"I agree. But Kaya is ok; she has started taking charge of her life, and now she wants to study to become a doctor." Usopp reassures you, his smile gentle, unaccusing "She was also very worried for you, you know; and she missed you so much."

"I missed her as well." you murmur, all too aware that doesn't justify the choices you have made "When I lost my father... I wanted to write to both of you, and I knew I could return home, and Kaya would have let me work at her family's shipyard." you admit; the temptation to buy a return ticket to Syrup and let your friends help and hold you tight as you cried was strong, but you let your pride, and your stubbornness, get the better of you "The truth is... I felt too ashamed to ask for help, and I wanted to prove I could take care of myself, even if I clearly can't."

"Of course you can! You are a very capable shipwright, it's not your fault if others take advantage of you."

No one has ever had more faith in you than Usopp; no one has ever made you feel less alone with his simple presence. You look at him, wondering how could you throw away everything you shared simply because you couldn't admit you needed help, and whether he became so handsome in the two years you spent apart, or he already was when you moved away.

"I should have been more honest with you - with both of you. I'm sorry, Usopp." you admit, and your friend smiles as he takes your hand and squeezes it affectionately.

"I am not angry with you, (name); nor is Kaya. But I bet she'd like to receive a letter from you."

"I'll write to her; I promise. I'll apologize and I'll tell her how much I have missed her." you promise, still repentant; Usopp nods approvingly, and with that everything between the two of you is at peace once more, without guilt, without blame, without regret, just the pure and encompassing joy of being together once again.

You are curious to know what your friend has done in the last two years, but before you can suggest you and Usopp move to your room above the bar, since your shift for the evening is over and you have a few beers in the fridge, he says he wants you to meet another friend of his.

"I'd like that. Is it the guy who was with you? The one with the straw-hat?"

"The very same. Luffy is... our captain. Well, co-captain, together with me. We share authority and responsibility, since obviously I am the most capable member of the crew." Usopp elaborates with the sort of innocent, almost child-like bragging you remember from your youth, and that you know hides a deep insecurity about his own strength and value as a person "You remember the ship Merry was building when you left, the one your father had built the masts for? Kaya has gifted it to us."

"So you're a sailor now?" you ask, more than a little envious; your ambition has always been to build ships, not to travel on them, but the opportunity of simply leaving everything behind (your dead-end job, your economic difficulties, the town that will forever be tied to the loss of your father and the solitude that resulted from it) to sail and enjoy the freedom of the sea, is more than a little tempting "If I'm not mistaken Merry's ship was a caravel, it's too small to be used as a trading vessel..."

"Well... not exactly; but Luffy can explain it better than me."

Curious, you lead your friend out of the bar through the back door; the straw-hat boy, Luffy, is waiting at the front under a full moon in a clear sky, grumbling because the takoyaki stand across the street is closed. He smiles, genuinely happy to meet you as if being Usopp's friend automatically made you his as well, a smile you can't help returning while Usopp introduces the two of you.

"Luffy, this is (name), my best friend when I lived in Syrup... and still now, obviously. (name), meet Luffy; he's..."

"I'm Monkey D. Luffy." he proclaims "And I want you to be our shipwright."

You blink. "... sorry?"

"We got a ship from Usopp's friend, Kaya; and I'm gonna use it to find the One Piece and become King of the Pirates. I'm putting together a crew, and we have already a navigator and a cook, now we need a shipwright; and a musician, perhaps. So, are you in? We can leave in the morning."

Luffy waits for your answer, smiling excited as if already sure you'll accept, while you can only stare, mouth hanging open, surprise having rendered you speechless.

In the end, you turn to look at Usopp. "You're a pirate now?" you try to clarify, not accusing but astonished; you knew your friend's father had left the village to join a pirate crew, and that Usopp hoped to see him return, one day, but you never had the impression he planned to take to the sea under a jolly roger himself.

"I am!" he exclaims, prouder than you have ever seen him "We are the Straw-Hat pirates. Luffy is a friend of my dad; he and the others helped us defeat Kuro -Khladore- when he tried to kill Kaya. They are really great, (name), you have to come; you'd be amazing, and you would take care of a ship your father had worked on. Who better than you?"

Who better than you?

You hear those four little, harmless words and suddenly you feel about to cry. As you dance and strip on the pole, you know any of the men who pay to attend your performance would love nothing more than put their hands on you, but it has been so long since someone actually saw your worth, recognized your abilities and asked you to put them to good use.

It has been so long since someone needed you.

You look at Luffy's open and sincere face, your heart racing and your thoughts even more so. Let me think about it for a while, you should probably say, or may I meet the rest of the crew before I decide?, but a moment later, searching in your heart, you realize you don't really need it. Usopp seems to like his new captain and crewmates a lot, and you know he wouldn't invite you among people he doesn't trust; if they are all right for him, they'll be all right for you. Just a minute ago you were daydreaming about leaving all difficulties and disappointments behind to go on adventures and let the sea and the wind guide you, and no one is more free than a pirate, even one wanted by the Marines. You don't care about being officially recognized as a full-fledged shipwright by your supervisor; you know your value, and taking care of a ship your father helped building, one that once belonged to Kaya and that Usopp lives on... you really couldn't imagine a better life.

And then there's Usopp himself - Usopp, who seems ecstatic at the prospect of you joining the crew, Usopp who you have missed so much and you would want nothing more than being friends with again; Usopp who you always had a tiny crush on, and who seeing you tonight has been struck by much more than your nudity and sexy dance moves.

He smiles at you, hopeful and excited and still determined not to pressure you to agree, and whatever trace of uncertainty had taken root in your heart dissolves like snow at the coming of spring. Again, you return his smile, before turning to look at Luffy and offering him your hand.

"I'm in." you announce "Captain, you got yourself a shipwright."

*****

There is a really lovely place you and your father had discovered in the course of one of your exploring walks soon after moving to Elynia: a tiny thicket of trees at the top of an east-facing hill, the sea opening before and under your eyes, the highest waves lapping at the rock, the branches swaying in the breeze. A shipwright's day (or week, or year) is often busy, but on your rare days off, you and your father often came here, away from the chaos of the shipyard and the city, to enjoy a picnic, and the peace and quiet. You often thought how you would have liked to show this place to Usopp and Kaya; the afternoon before your father's accident, you spent it here.

The decision to bury him here, instead than in the town's cemetery, came naturally to you; the headstone was very expensive, but you surrounded the pit with stones, hoping hikers would respect it and avoid walking over it, and planted flowers. A few people who worked at the shipyard and who had made friends with your father came to the funeral, but as far as you know from that day on you have been the only one to visit; in your heart you know he doesn't mind... and that he won't be disappointed, or hurt, that you have come to say goodbye.

Usopp has insisted on coming, even just to depose a bouquet of flowers on your father's tomb, which he does before remaining in standing recollection for a minute. Then, "I'll wait for you at the bottom." he promises; on impulse, he kisses you on the cheek, and squeezes your hand for a moment before walking away, sympathetic but aware there are moments a person has to face on their own.

"That was Usopp, dad." you murmur as you stand in front of the grave, the breath-taking background of the cliff at your back; you know your father cannot actually enjoy the view, but he would have approved of your choice, and it does comfort you to visit him in a place tied to so many happy memories "Can you believe it? He came all the way from Syrup to visit me. He's really a great person, and I'm so happy we have found each other. I have promised myself I'll never lose him again."

The rustling of the branches is the only answer you receive, and the only one you expected; you believe in the afterlife, sort of, but you don't think you have to come here to talk to your father out loud to let him know what you think, feel, and plan to do. Still, you felt the need to come, at least this time; because good-bye are to be said in person, and you don't know when, if ever, you'll be back.

"He has become a pirate, can you believe it? I met his friends last night, they are all amazing; Usopp introduced me, and then we took the beer out of my fridge and walked on the beach for hours, talking and drinking. He has asked me to join their crew; well, technically his captain has, and he's so great and lovely, but I did it for Usopp most of all... and because I need it. We should have never moved to this town, dad; it killed you, and it stole my dreams and happiness from me. They say everything happens for a reason, but I don't know why destiny, or the Gods, have decided to take you away."

The sob that escapes your lips is far from the first that the solitude of the cliff has hidden from the world; you weep for a while, by now used to being alone but still unable to keep yourself from crying your eyes out every time you think back to the loss you have suffered.

"This is also why I'm leaving, dad; there is nothing for me here, and I never dreamed about being a pirate, but at least I'll be free, and surrounded by people who care for me. I know you won't mind, and that you'll be happy for me, and wherever I go I'll never forget what you have done for me; I'll become a great shipwright, and I'll make you proud. Here... I have brought you a gift."

You had offered to reimburse the lady who now lives in your old house, but when you went to talk to her this morning she said you could take it, since you are the one who had built it. Silently, you kneel to place the blue, bird-shaped letterbox on the grass next to his headstone; after all one doesn't receive letters when they live on a ship, and the letterbox had been his idea.

A gentle, sea-scented wind has started blowing; wherever he is, you know the wind will carry your words to him. "I love you, dad." you murmur as you stand, balancing the backpack hanging from your shoulders, that contains the little you deemed necessary to take from your room above the bar "I swear I'll make you proud."

You take your time as you descend from the hill, soon reaching Usopp, who is waiting for you with his back pressed against the trunk of a large tree; a green bandanna covers his dark hair. He smiles as he sees you approach, eyes still wet with tears but otherwise content. "Ready?"

"More than I've ever been."

"Good. Come on, the Merry and the others are waiting for us."

Speaking of a ship as if it were sentient, and a member of the crew, is something a shipwright like you cannot help appreciating; you smile as you start together along the cobbled path towards the harbour, lighter than you have ever felt in two years. As you walk side by side, your hand brushes against Usopp's; this time you find the courage you had lacked last night on the beach, and you intertwine your fingers. Your friend looks at you, cheeks adorably pink.

"Oh, right... there is something I should give you..."

He uses his free hand to fumble in his pocket, before extending something you had completely forgotten you had given you last night.

Your thong.

"I... I mean, maybe you... want to wear it again... or perhaps you should give it back to your employer at the bar..."

Technically you should, since they were the one who paid for your stage costumes, even though you doubt the next stripper they'll hire will want to wear your panties. You think about it for a moment, look at Usopp, and smile.

"Keep it." you tell him "Consider it a gift."

Your hand still holding his, you pull him towards the harbour, the song of the undertow crashing in front of you.

#One Piece #One Piece Live Action #OPLA #Usopp #Usopp x reader #God Usopp #God Usopp x reader #Jacob Romero Gibson #Jacob Gibson #Bellona's stuff

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Cruising to new life - part 4

“Can you come help me and my mum?” The message came from Jess on both our phones at the same time. We answered that we would be there as quick as we could, getting dressed and leaving the Oasis rapidly.

A few lift rides and corridors later, we knocked at Karen and Jess’s cabin door. Jess opened it and we immediately saw Karen looking disheveled sat on the bed at the far end of the room, dressed in a sports bra and loose pyjama bottoms, the in room air conditioning blasting cool air.

“Come in quick, Jess just worries too much. I keep on telling her that this is what babies do… I’m more worried about you lot letting the cool air out.”

Jess protested “but your contractions…”

“… are not 5 minutes apart and lasting a minute. I’ve already rang medical and checked. They said I’m fine to come in when I want to. They know I’ve had one… you… before so I know what to expect.” Karen continued, frustration in her voice.

“But that was 21 years ago, who knows what could have changed.”

“You silly miss. Women have been giving birth to babies as long as there have been women. You think 21 years is going to make a difference. Now help me up, I want to have a walk, get things established so I’m not doing this all night.”

Jess allowed her mother this small victory as she stood by the side of the bed as she supported her weight as she rose, a little unsteadily to her feet. We decided to take a ride up to the open air of deck 10, grab a bite to eat and a drink (Karen hadn’t yet had any breakfast and it was coming on 1pm) and see what the future brought. We got Karen dressed in her robe so she wasn’t as scantily clad as she could have been walking around, and set off.

As we got into the lift at their floor to get up to the top deck, there was one other lady in there looking on concerned. I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief – we had noticed a few of the lifts being really full – pregnant bumps typically taking up the room of a second person – and between myself and the 4 other pregnant ladies in here we were close to capacity.

Karen flopped to the handrail around the lift and have a sigh of relief as the other woman asked “contractions?”

Karen huffed out a breath. “You betcha. Second time around you think they would get easier… but maybe my mind is a bit fuzzy it was 21 years ago.” The woman looked around to see Jess’s smiling face as she gave a little wave.

The door opened and we slowly left the lift. The woman followed after us with a offering of “good luck!” Karen mumbled a thanks as she plodded forwards to the door outside onto the deck.

She made a beeline to the rail along the edge of the ship grasping at the rail and letting out a groan. One hand holding the underside of her belly she hissed “start counting” even though we seem to have missed the start of this contraction I pulled out the stopwatch and did as she asked. Taking into account the late start we figured this one lasted about 30 seconds. Setting off after it had finished we started to aim to do a circuit of the ship. As we came to each entrance we would duck in, take in a bit of air conditioning and Karen would crab walk up and down the first flight of stairs she spotted. Whatever she was doing was definitely working though as the contractions approached the magic 5 minute and 1 minute she insisted on before she would stop doing this exercise.

She had gathered quite the following of well wishers on her journey, passengers and crew alike. Every time she passed a crew member she was offered assistance to get to the medical bay, but she insisted it wasn’t time yet.

The moment that changed her mind was quickly upon her though. Rather than stopping and grabbing the rail as she had done countless times before she turned and grabbed right into my neck and sunk down into a deep squat, moaning consistently though the contraction. She rolled her hips in a figure eight pattern as she vocalised and finally as things seem to have passed she groaned “I need to go… the head is so low. Don’t… don’t think I can walk.”

I left the ladies to look after each other, suggesting that they wouldn’t move as I headed towards the nearest lift entrance to look for a chair. I swore a little under my breath as none were there so I had to wait for the lift, get all the way down to deck 3 and grab one from there before heading back.

I was gone about 10 minutes in total and got back to Karen, thankfully at the same place, but she had thrown aside the dressing gown and had Jodie rubbing her back as Jess was stood head to head with her telling her I’d be back soon and she could move.

Jodie saw me approach as she mouthed ‘what took so long?’ I answered back so all could hear “sorry, no chairs over at the nearest lift, thought I’d better get down to 3 to make sure rather than dashing around on a wild goose chase.”

“You’re here now.” Jess looked relieved at least. She helped her mother get placed in the seat and we set off for deck 8. No matter what she tried to do, Karen couldn’t get comfortable. Her moans were pitiful sounding as we continued towards our destination. “Please tell me you don’t need to push… please.” Jess begged but Karen couldn’t answer her verbally. With her eyes closed she just shook her head.

As the lift dinged and we emerged on the 8th floor there was a receptionist to greet us. Asking their room number, Jess answered and we were shown to suite 5 which was a short journey away.

A nurse followed us and dashed past to open the door as we reached it, almost seamlessly we were in the room without unnecessary delay.

She pulled up medical records on a tablet and nodded. “Please, if you could get our mother to be onto the bed over there I’ll get her some gas and air, should take the edge off until our doctor gets here.

We do as asked and soon Karen is reclined in bed taking deep breaths from a mouthpiece, which seems to be helping. She manages her first coherent sentence after a short while.

“Could you record this for me?” She was looking straight at me.

I looked up “are you sure, I mean it’s a bit private?”

“Please,” she continued pausing to take another large gulp of the gas. “I didn’t record anything from Jess and you never know, it might be nice to look back on. Though I don’t know how long my phones battery will last.”

“I brought my camera to record Jodie. If you’re OK with waiting until we get back so I can take the recording off and send it to you that should be something I can do.”

Karen grinned. “Sure I think it’ll be fresh in my mind before then.”

I turned along with Jodie to leave and get my stuff when Jess looked up. “Please don’t leave.” She addressed that to Jodie.

So there we were, 2 of us invited to watch an intimate moment involving someone we only met a day or so ago.

I headed off as fast as I could back to our room to get the camera, tripod, and grab a pocket full of memory cards and spare batteries. As I got buzzed back into the room about 15 minutes had passed, Karen had been seen by the doctor – who just happened to be Miguel, Jess a bit taken aback by his appearance even though he said he was going to be on duty – and she was declared as being 7cm dilated and doing really well.

I set up the camera and tripod, setting the focus to where it needed to me and grabbed the tripod in my hard, trusting the gimbal built into it to take account of the swaying and movement as I walked around the room.

Karen by this point had removed her bottoms and the robe, naked from the waist down she was kneeling on the bed, Jess on one side of her, Jodie on the other. She was using her hands to steady herself on the bed, grasping the mouthpiece of the gas and air regulator between her teeth, her mouth in a snarl as a result. She was sucking in giant mouthfuls of the mixture as she inhaled and moaned loudly as she exhaled.

Even being declared as 7cm I feel that she would progress quickly with the amount of noise she was making.

I was stood directly in front of her and she was so focused on the contraction that she didn’t even realise I was there.

As she seemed to come down from the contraction she leaned her body weight against Jess and used the hand this freed up to pull the mouthpiece out and lay it on the bed. She finally noticed me and mouthed “thanks” as I gave a thumbs up.

“I need a shower, I’m all sweaty and it’s uncomfortable.” Karen announced. “Jess, give me a hand.”

Jess’s hand came to her mouth “I don’t have any clothes to change into.”

Karen grunted as she managed to get herself turned around into a seated position and continued “just take off your dress and get in your bra and knickers. You can put the dress back on later if they’re still wet.”

Jess went beet red and coincidentally so did Miguel, though this was lost on Karen who couldn’t see him behind her. “About that… I may be naked under this dress. I might have had little need for underwear a while ago and I got back to you, I didn’t think to change.”

“You’re a big girl, I need you more to help me in the shower, I can’t very well be asking Miguel here to do that.”

She turned and saw his same red faced complexion.

“Ahh. Well in that case, can I be OK in presuming you have absolutely no qualms about seeing my daughter naked?” He at least had the good nature to shake his head no and look a little embarrassed by it.

I just looked at Jodie and shrugged. We didn’t seem to be involved in this conversation but we had already seen everything Jess had to offer earlier in the day so just kept our mouths quiet.

So that was it. Jodie pulled off her sundress and helped her mother to the shower all whilst the camera was rolling. The shower was glass fronted and looked out to the sea so whilst Jess helped her mother get through one or two contractions, rubbing her back and shoulders, telling her she was doing well, they had a nice view.

Karen eventually turned off the shower and plodded wetly out as Jodie grabbed her a towel and helped dry her off, Miguel doing the same for Jess, who seemed very appreciative of his help.

Muffled under a towel, Karen suddenly squealed “I need to push, help me to the bed.”

All 3 of the other occupants jumped into action and lead her to the bed, helping her up. She slumped back into the pillows of the upright bed and groaned, her knees flopping to the side exposing her to the camera.

I looked and couldn’t see any sign of an impending baby, but I didn’t really know. Miguel had slapped on a pair of gloves by this point and was telling Karen to relax as he carried out a cervical check. He nodded as he removed his fingers. “Very good Karen, you are at 10. When you have the next contraction, give me a strong push.”

That was it, the room jumped into action. Bars were raised on the side of the bed so Karen could grab onto something, and Jess and Jodie grabbed a leg each. This seemed so rehearsed I guess this may be what they discussed whilst I was away. Karen’s first push followed soon after, face scrunched up and yelling all through it. I’d seen dozens, if not hundreds of birth videos at this point and often the mothers focused inward, groaning or holding their breath as they pushed. Karen was different, she squealed like a banshee all through it.

Miguel kept watch between her legs but knew it would be a while before anything started to appear so he stepped back and grabbed some water. Knowing how vocal Karen was would dry her throat out terribly and figured it would be best to keep her hydrated.

Another 3 screaming pushes and Karen was asking for the gas and air again. Miguel first offered her the water through a straw and she sipped down greedily then handed her the mouthpiece she discarded earlier which she held in one hand whilst gripping the railing with the other.

With the mouthpiece in her screams were muffled but still very much present. Miguel finally noticed a bulge between her lips and offered his encouragement. “The baby is almost here, a few more pushes like that and we will get to see it.”

Karen worked well with the encouragement, pushing hard on the next contraction that I was certain that I saw her lips part and the slightest glimpse of the head beneath.

I looked between Karen’s helpers, the image something that I’ll remember in my mind for a very long time. Pregnant woman in the centre, legs spread doing her best to bring forth her life. A young, naked pregnant woman to her right doing her best to keep her cool when her own mother was going through a difficult trial, and finally to her left, my wife, the woman I loved, equally as pregnant and no doubt going through her mind that she would need to do this soon.

“I need this bra off.” Karen managed between pushes. The bra had remained on during the shower and was now irritating her. I watched as both helpers grabbed it and yanked upwards, watching her breasts lift and flop down against her belly. Normally if that was porn, that would have been instant hard on material, but thankfully the energy in the room kept me focused.

Karen’s next push had her leave go of the grip bars and bite down into the mouthpiece again as she pushed. Her hands grasping her breasts and squeezing her nipples. Ok so now I was struggling to maintain focus, I’ve no idea how I didn’t embarrass myself in there.

The stimulation helped though as the next roaring contraction came to a conclusion, Karen’s lips had parted, shown Miguel, myself and the camera a good view of the hair on the baby’s head, and then retreated back in again.

Miguel rubbed his fingers around the circumference of the opening and told Karen to go again. She roared loudly, losing the gas and air mouthpiece in the process which rested in the valley between her breasts.

Jodie went to retrieve it as Karen shook her head no, pushing once more. Each time I stared in awe as more and more of the head became visible. Miguel didn’t let up his support, telling her she was doing well and to continue to do what she was doing, his fingers swiping left and right around her opening to keep things stretched and supple. Shortly after Karen’s waters broke as she pushed, shooting up Miguel’s scrubs and soaking him through.

Finally after plenty of effort, Karen was rewarded. The head finally didn’t sink back in. Of course this also lead to the ring of fire as she stretched to the widest point. Miguel pushed her to focus as he got her to reach down and feel the head, her eyes snapping open to announce “my baby!” With that the head slipped out to the neck with a gush of fluid, and a relieved, panting sound from the mother.

Jess bent forward to watch it happen, her eyes almost popping out if her skull as she saw her mothers vagina stretch wide, her siblings head shoot through, and blood.

She screamed as Miguel put his hand on her arm “you mother has torn a little, but please don’t worry we can ensure that is dealt with in due time. Everything is normal and fine.” Jess relaxed at her lovers voice and focused on her mothers face. Karen scrunched her face up again as she felt the next contraction. Oddly enough this one she held her breath as she pushed, and Miguel guided out the baby’s shoulders and body to place the blood and vernix covered baby – a boy – on his mothers belly.

Karen and Jess seemed to chant ‘you did it’ and ‘I did it’ in unison as Jodie beamed the most impossibly large smile at me directly into the camera. Jess hugged Miguel and asked “I want you to do exactly like that for me when I’m in labour.” Miguel nodded and said he would certainly do his best.

#fpreg #birth kink #birth #pregnancy #labor kink

[rosepascal]

Aliit ori’shya tal’din | Din Djarin x Adopted!Reader

summary: Aliit ori’shya tal’din: Family is more than blood

warnings: reader was abandoned at birth so all the things that come with that. A little sad but mostly fluff I swear. Also I use Djarin as his first name because I can lmao. Ngl I totally thought his name was Din but its not and that's how it be.

a/n: hi!! Okay so when I saw that scene I knew I had to write something for it. This fic is very personal to me and I just want to express that I am writing from my own personal experience of being adopted. The feelings that I felt and some of the things that I think. That being said please understand that I do not speak for the experiences of everyone who is adopted. We've all had our different experiences and the trauma is not the same. Anyways I really hope you enjoy this fic <3

Peace. 

For the first time in a long time, you felt at peace. The small cabin in Nevarro was perfect. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had a home that wasn’t a ship. For years you had been running from city to city. Picking up a few odd jobs just in order to survive. Until you met Din Djarin and Grogu.

That asshole Mandalorian came in and wrecked havoc at the tavern you were working at and killed your best customer. You didn’t hesitate to chew him out, not even the pistol in his hand scared you.

He liked that.

The life of a bounty hunter Mandalorian was a lonely one and it often meant that he had to take care of every problem that arose. It was just supposed to be a one time gig. He needed someone who knew the planet and you needed money. But when the bounty was captured and you helped him drag the body back to his ship he changed his mind. Inviting you to stay with him in exchange for credits and a place to live.

You’d be a fool not to accept. So you did. You took his hand and ran. Hopping from bounty to bounty and discovering every corner of the galaxy. He showed you things you could only dream of, and gave you the life you always wished for.

Din Djarin was so much more than just a Mandalorian. For every moment he was ruthless and cold, he was caring and sweet. He became your kar'ta, your heart and you his cyar’ika.

Then you found the kid and somehow your already crazy life got even crazier. But now it’s over, well not over. Bounty hunting was still going to be your life but now it was for the New Republic. 

“Din Grogu!” You shake your head as you look outside the window and see him harassing a few frogs that sit by the pond outside of the cabin. He drops the frogs and turns his head towards you, babbling cutely. Letting out a sigh you walk outside and sit next to him.

“You’re bored aren’t you.” He coos in agreement and looks back to the poor frogs.

“I know, but your father will return soon.” Normally he gets to come with him on his hunts but the latest bounty was far too dangerous and considering you were healing from the last bounty, it was decided for you and Grogu to stay.

“Why don’t we go into town and pick up some fresh food?” His wide eyes look up at you and he nods his little head.

Though he’s old enough to walk on his own, you bring the carrier anyways. Just in case he gets tired. The trip takes longer than you meant it to. With Grogu wanting to stop and eat every colorful thing he saw. You couldn’t say no to him though,  you’d give that kid the world if he asked.

Soon night fell and with no sign of Djarin you knew that Grogu would be disappointed. He watches the window, his ears moving just a bit as if he’s listening for that starfighter.

“Din..” You call and he lets out a small patu. He responded to his full name and just Grogu, but sometimes when you called for Din both of your boys would turn their heads. Smiling, you pick him up and take him outside.

“You really love that name.” Setting him down you watch as he wanders towards an empty area just beside the bond.

Plopping onto the ground and laying on his back. Star gazing, oh you love to star gaze. You saw the stars all the time during your travels, you should be sick of them by now. But the view of the stars from the planet’s surface is something else. There’s blues and purples and stars that shone white, blue, and orange. It’s breathtaking and beautiful and it makes you feel like you could just breathe.

“I’m just like you.” The ground is warm as you lie next to him. He tilts his head, his big eyes staring at you in confusion. He climbs into your arms and cuddles into your side.

“My parents, well I’m not sure where they are now.”

Tatoonie was your home planet. When you were just a baby you were left. Alone. Just a scared little kid, crying and too young to truly understand what was happening. You don’t remember any of it but maybe that’s a good thing. You were found wrapped in a scrap of nice, warm fabric and taken in.

The people who found you, your family, they took you in and raised you as their own. When you were old enough they told you what happened. Even gave you the scraps that you were found in.

Like Grogu you were adopted. You don’t know much about his past. Apparently he was 50 years old but he didn’t speak and acted like a child. All you knew is that you loved him and he was yours and Djarins. 

“I was adopted as a baby,” "Staring at the sky you watch as a star falls, leaving a brilliant white trail,

“Do you ever think about your parents?” You ask him. He only babbles in response.

“I do. Not very often but sometimes when it’s late and I can’t sleep.” He moves his head closer to you and you wrap your arm closer to him.

“But it’s weird right, because they’re my parents but they aren’t my family.” They gave you life and you will be forever grateful for that, but they aren’t your family. Sometimes you wonder why, why they left you. Why couldn't they take care of you? If they even wanted you, but you never let yourself get too far down that spiral.

There’s a phrase in Mando’a. Aliit ori’shya tal’din. Family is more than blood. Family is the child in your arms and the handsome Mandalorian who would lay down his life for you. Family are the ones who take care of you and love you no matter what. This is your family.

“I know you love your father and he loves you so much.” Sitting up you set Grogu in your lap. Admiring his adorable face.

“If you ever begin to doubt your place in this world, know that you belong with us. Jedi or Mandalorian. You are our family.” He coos and reaches his tiny hands for you.

“Never doubt how much you mean to us little one.” Closing your eyes you gently rest your forehead against his.

His hand reaching for your face. He lets out a small squeal at the sound of a very familiar ship zooming past the cabin. He’s home. Standing up you wipe the dust from your pants, watching as the ship lands closely and a very familiar figure appears from the cockpit. His little legs can only go so fast but once he gets close enough he launches himself at his father.

“Welcome home my kar'ta,” You hum happily as he presses his helmet to your forehead.

“I missed you cyar’ika.” He sounds tired as he wraps his arm around your waist.

“We missed you too.” He hums happily as he guides you back to the cabin. He promised that it would be a good amount of downtime before the next bounty which meant plenty of time for just the three of you.

Your Mandalorian, your child. Your family. 

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din grogu

[theoperativeif]

Ari (The Operative short story)

Here is the finish short story! I actually wrote the whole thing with the pronouns switched between Ari and 002, I needed to go back and correct it to make it fit the poll results. But I am so happy to have it finished! Feel free to let me know your thoughts on it.

Enjoy! <3 you all!

(Content warning, all warnings in The Operative demo apply to this as well!)

The specks of far-off stars dotted the viewport, an ethereal canvas of black and purple that seemed to stretch into infinity. No artist, however skilled, could have crafted such a perfect tableau.

"Admiral, the Emperor’s Herald is calling,” First Officer Gallo announced, his large frame eclipsing a swath of console lights. “Should I put it through?”

A hesitant glance swept across Admiral Anderson's crew—faces caught in a blend of darkness and eerie console glow. Custom dictated that a Herald's message be broadcast to the entire ship. But not this time.

“No, this is a private assembly,” Elia instructed, straightening her uniform as a screen unfurled before her, obscuring the cosmic tapestry.

The Imperial Anthem, a bombastic melody woven into the very fiber of her being, filled the ship. As it faded, metal walls isolated Elia from her crew. For a moment, she stood in encompassing darkness before finding herself surrounded by a grand chamber of marble stairs. Virtual figures of obscured Admirals and Generals stood beside her in this ritualistic gathering known as the Emperor's embrace—an event Elia usually avoided.

Slowly, she looked up to the throne above her, where a shadowy figure reclined. A second figure descended the stairs, coming into full view.

“Generals, Admirals, Leaders of the Empire," a voice boomed, blending martial roughness with Capitol sophistication. "The Emperor’s chosen voice, his Herald of guidance, will now address you.”

The Herald appeared—a lithe silhouette veiled in holographic stars and galaxies. As Elia locked eyes with two bright stars, a shiver crawled up her spine. Her own reflection in those stars was a haunting revelation, one that weighed heavily on her conscience.

"Elia," the Herald whispered with unsettling familiarity, "child, what do you wish to ask of the Emperor?”

“Only to thank him for his leadership and blessings,” Elia replied in a rehearsed tone, hearing echoed affirmations from her obscured colleagues.

“The Emperor is displeased with Vanern. They dishonor the very souls they owe him. Examples must be made,” the Herald intoned.

“We need to withdraw from the planet,” General Parcer interjected, his voice breaking the uneasy silence.

Elia winced. The General's defiance made her uncomfortable, yet also resonated with her own suppressed reservations. The general was an imposing figure, with a thinly trimmed mustache and long blue cloak behind him. 

“The Emperor commands you to hold the planet,” the Herald cautioned.

Several other Admirals voiced their concerns, echoing that of Parcer.

 

“What of you, Admiral Anderson?” The Herald's virtual fingers grazed Elia's cheek, adding an unsettling intimacy to the long look they gave her, “Is there not one soul brave enough to stay?”

General Parcer stepped back, a look of hurt pride on his face as he shook his head. Elia sensed the moment's significance—a junction of personal ambition and collective destiny. Her eyes met the Herald’s stars again, but now they shimmered with resolve.

"The Chemical Core and my Operatives can hold the line. If we win the skies, they can win on the ground. General, do you have the stomach for it?" she challenged.

Parcer hesitated, his eyes darting between the Herald and Elia, before exhaling a defeated sigh. "I pray you're right," he said, his voice tinged with resignation.

“The only power that matters is the Emperor’s,” the Herald declared, turning back to Elia with a nod. “Proceed with your plans.”

Five Months Later

The evening winds screamed over the southern plains just outside the city of Mulhat, like vengeful spirits mourning their losses. Once a site for thousands to enjoy the celestial lights, the plains were now a desolate tableau, inhabited only by the dead—or those resigned to join them soon. Six medium Imperial tanks rumbled down the roads, weaving through abandoned vehicles, shallow graves, and the occasional forsaken pet. Flanking and leading them were the remnants of the 7th, their rifles swinging from point to point as if desperate to find a target.

More than a third of them had unmarked armor, but it was caked with the mud of a long march. They were green. Ari frowned at the sight, his eyes narrowing beneath his helmet.

Perched atop the second tank, Ari wiped the dried blood off his helmet with swift, forceful strokes. Around him, no one spoke. What could they say? By some fluke, another day had passed without casualties. Yet an uneasy air hung thick, as if death had merely postponed its visit.

The lead tank juddered to a stop, and the rest of the column followed in an ordered sequence. Ari rolled off the side of his tank and landed softly on the mud-caked earth, eyes scanning as platoons fanned out in every direction.

From an armored carrier at the rear, Captain Carrington surveyed a map. Tall and bespectacled, his impeccable uniform seemed out of place next to his subordinates, whose attire bore the scars of ongoing conflict. Ari had felt uneasy when he took over the 7th two weeks ago; he was too young, his uniform too clean. The original officers had fallen during the first week of operations, leaving NCOs to improvise.

Carrington finally closed his map and approached Ari, a polished smile contrasting sharply with his mud-splattered armor. "Ahead is a town suspected of harboring a small Commonwealth presence," he said, never quite meeting his eyes. "Command wants it cleared and any arms seized from its citizens."

Ari's eyes flicked to the map Carrington was still clutching. 

He continued, "I want you to clear it for us. You leave immediately."

Ari stared at him, his gut tightening before he consciously willed himself to relax. This is what he was engineered for.

"Lieutenant Hammond of the Third Platoon interjected, stepping forward. "Sir, Ari's already cleared four towns this week. Maybe we can—"

Carrington cut him off with a glare, his plastic smile returning. "Nonsense. I have the utmost faith in Operative 005."

Ari winced. Hammond had no reason to draw the ire of their greenhorn commander. He gave him a nod of appreciation. His thoughts retreated to his past, to his "mother's" incessant instruction and the tales from 002 about honorable warriors. Tales that now seemed like childish fantasies. He was a soldier. He would obey.

The town that awaited Ari was a mere ten miles up the road—a modest industrial outpost framed by skeletal factories on either side. Once bustling centers of production, they were now hollowed-out relics, victims of the relentless artillery that rained from above.

Ari peered through his rifle scope, his eyes hardened behind the dark visor. The forest that once provided cover had been reduced to smoldering embers and blackened stumps, leaving an unforgiving mile of barren terrain between the town's outskirts and the nearest semblance of shelter.

He had challenged Captain Carrington on his tactics. "How do you expect me to approach the town without cover?" The Captain's response had been a disconcerting smile and a vague assurance: "I'm confident you'll manage."

Suppressing a sigh, Ari activated his suit's cloaking device. A shimmering ripple enveloped his armor, harmonizing with the charred landscape behind him. As he advanced, his suit's sensors fed him real-time data: the air was thick with smoke, but mercifully free of chemical or biological threats. "Good," he thought, recalling a nightmarish scenario where an entire town's air filtration had failed, asphyxiating its inhabitants. He could have easily been one of those children, had fate dealt him a different hand.

His thoughts wandered, as they often did, to questions of origin. Had he come from a lush, verdant world? Or maybe a frozen wasteland? He smiled beneath his visor, imagining a little 002 thriving in a harsh, unforgiving environment. He had always ensured he would too. He was a warrior Ari could only dream of matching.

But not now. Not when 002 was at the frontlines, and he was stuck under the command of an inexperienced captain, showcased like a trophy weapon. He had obeyed his orders dutifully, wading through skirmishes while he observed from a safe distance, his eyes twinkling in unsettling fascination.

He was an instrument of war, and the Captain was merely using him as intended. Yet, a nagging sensation of being wasted gnawed at him. He imagined his "Mother" laughing at him inner turmoil—a cruel, mirthless laugh that echoed in his mind.

Just as he reached the fringes of the town, his steps faltered. A shallow ditch caught his eye. Inside lay five bodies—two women and three men, faces down, their skulls shattered by bullets.

Death had been quick at least.

Grimacing, Ari skirted past the ditch and crept along the side of a nearby building. Its facade bore signs of conflict, scarred by bullets that may have been fired from makeshift firearms.

Taking cover behind some empty supply crates near the corner of the building Ari turned off the cloaking field, letting it recharge for a few minutes in silence. 

The wind blew, howling for a moment before settling into silence without any response. 

Then Ari heard it. A boot stepping on metal with a fairly heavy thump. Too heavy, Ari thought, slowly raising his rifle and pointing it against the wall of the building. Turning his cloak back on he let his armor scan the building. Noting the fuzziness of the screen he waited. 

Some fireteams would carry a scrambler with them to black out a building from an outside fireteams sensors. It was effective except for one issue. A blacked out building also revealed their location.

Ari guessed there must be  at least five inside, if there was more then a fire team others would most likely join in after the fight had started.

 

Ari waited until he heard the last bootstep, then pulled the trigger. With a loud bang his rifle fired easily through the wall, a loud metal ping sounded as he discharged the large casing as she rolled to the side. 

A hail of bullets fired through the walls of the shelter. He could imagine each path as time slowed before he let off two more well placed shots.

In a matter of four seconds it was silent. 

Breathing heavily Ari waited. Satisfied at the lack of noise Ari moved around, peeking out towards the road running in front of the building. If there were more soldiers here they were doing a good job of not revealing themselves. If they were there Ari didn’t intend to give them the satisfaction of spotting him. 

Placing two breach charges on the wall Ari circled around towards the back door. Keying the keypad he opened it, carefully monitoring his sensors. 

Room by room he swept, noting the three bodies, large holes blown threw their personal armor, blood coating the metal fragments. Commonwealth Soldiers, he noted from the insignia’s on their shoulders. Bending down he lightly pushed one, noting the armor had been fused together in a custom repair job.

Interesting. he thought, wondering if the Commonwealth was as low on supplies as their Imperial foes were. 

He heard the faintest scuff of a boot on flooring. 

Diving to the side he barely missed the sword that embedded itself in the floor, it was large with an ornate looking handle. A tall soldier with a curved armored helmet pulled it out of the floor. Standing nearly as tall as him it looked almost like an Operative. A Commonwealth knight. He thought cautiously. Not enhanced. He noted the more clumsy movements.

It raised the sword, pointing it at him in a challenge as several Commonwealth soldiers filed in behind it. 

Not waiting, Ari opened fire, letting off two rounds. 

The first slammed into the large soldier's helmet, skimming off of it in a wave of sparks. The second blew through the next soldier before continuing on to blow the leg off of his comrade behind him. 

There were shouts as Ari rushed behind a wall, bullets striking the space she had just been in.

Calmly aiming at the front door he fired a single round through it, a cry of pain sounding from outside. 

Calmly picking the Commonwealth soldiers off with precise shots he, looked around as the wall behind him exploded. Light pops of gunfire outside sounding. 

He ducked under the sword of the imposing knight. The next swing he blocked with his rifle, the blade digging into it. The Knights free gloved hand shot out, gripping Ari’s throat in an iron embrace.

Drawing his knife he plunged it in the small gap in the suit by his abdomen, ripping upwards in an arc, warm blood coating his hand.

His armor growled, reinforcing his strength as he tossed Ari across the room. His Rifle clattered to the floor as he gasped for air. 

The Knight stumbled, holding the wound. 

Flipping the knife over in his hand Ari circled him, making a feint he got him to raise his sword with one hand. Dodging under it he stabbed two more times, once into his armpit and another into the gap on his other side. 

He cried out, his armor unable to make up for his failing limbs as he dropped to his knees. The sword clattering to the ground.

Ari walked over, picking his rifle up and quickly checking it over. 

Satisfied he stuck the barrel underneath his helmet and fired a single shot. 

Blood splattered his face as the helmet was thrown off the knights head. 

He sighed, turning and eventually finding the jamming device in the house. 

He would clear four more holdouts in the town. Around fifty soldiers in total when he was finished. He sat near the front of the town, cleaning his wounds as the tanks finally crested one of the hills, the marines slowly making their way over to him. 

Fireteams passed him silently, sweeping through the buildings long since cleared. 

Captain Carrington sat calmly on the last tank as it rolled into town, stepping off of it his boots sank awkwardly into the muddy ground. Ari gently grabbed his arm, keeping him upright, a thought crossing his mind to let the kid fall. 

He looked at Ari with a strange mix of embarrassment and anger before shaking his grip off. 

“I see you dealt with things adequately enough,” he said, looking back at the tank commander whose head was silently peering out front the top hatch, “get your tanks under some cover, camouflage the ones you can’t get under the overhangs, the Commonwealth might still be sweeping this area with some ground attack aircraft.”

 

The tank commander nodded, the tank's engine roaring as it was slowly guided by a marine between two buildings and a large camo net was thrown over it. 

“Confiscate any communications devices the locals might be in possession of, can’t have them specifying coordinates.”

Ari looked at some of the townspeople with a critical eye. They wore simple clothes, worn and obviously in need of replacement. He walked over to a graying man who had claimed the role as the town's representative. 

“There is a grave towards the front of town, who were they?” Ari asked, more out of curiosity than anything else. The man held his gaze, his eyes worn and haunted before shaking his head. 

“A family, they objected when a soldier took their daughter for an,” he hesitated, “interrogation.” 

They stood in silent understanding. Such things were common.

 

“We are here to help,” Ari said finally, looking at the man, “I’m Ari.” 

“Antonio,” the man said with a practiced smile, “you will forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. Those soldiers said the same thing when they came.”

“You are Imperial citizens,” Ari objected, “we would never hope to-”

A shot rang out from somewhere towards the edge of town, Ari looked out as birds scattered from where they had been peering atop buildings. When he turned back to Antonio he saw the man's expression had gone dark with a hint of disappointment before passing him and rushing off towards the gunshot. 

Captain Carrington meanwhile paid the gunshot no mind, instead choosing some lodging for the night from a selection of still intact shelters. Ari started to head towards the commotion but stopped as he was waived by the Captain to follow. 

Staring down the street as a young man was dragged by two soldiers out into the street Ari hesitated before slowly following after the young Captain. Two gunshots followed. Military caliber. Ari noted silently as a woman's screams of grief replaced the silence. 

The Captain arranged with an old woman to ‘rent’ one of her guest rooms, with arrangements for breakfast and coffee in the morning. The woman smiled a merchant's smile, practiced and precise, but Ari noticed the daggers glinting in the dim light as she watched the Captain’s men unload his personal effects into the room. 

Ari eventually was allowed to leave without so much as a word said between them. He would be told by a sergeant that a young man whose father was in the Commonwealth army had stowed away a small firearm and had shot one of the officers in the neck. The officer had lived, sporting a bandaged neck by the time Ari finally saw him. The boy on the other hand had been dealt with quickly, his mother given a small sum of money to compensate her. 

Ari found himself wondering if he should step in, this boy was obviously unfit to command this unit in pitched combat. Let alone his inability to keep control of the green recruits who looked like they had been plucked straight from the street corners of the red light district. 

Ari was shown to his own quarters, a tent hastily erected and guarded by two soldiers, each holding a rifle. It was as if he were both a valued asset and a potential threat.

After changing into a simple shirt and pants, Ari reached for his worn sketchbook and pencil. He took a moment to center himself. Closing his eyes, he thought back to a single, beautiful tree they had passed twenty miles back—a stark contrast to the desolation around his. With gentle strokes, he began sketching the tree's every leaf and branch. As he breathed in deeply, he could almost smell the earth and hear the rustle of leaves, a brief refuge from the harsh reality he faced.

He paused and flipped through the sketchbook's filled pages, each a snapshot of a lost moment or a lingering hope. His eyes stopped at one of his earliest drawings. It was a young woman, her face peaceful yet filled with determination. He felt a lump form in his throat and pressed the drawing against his chest as if trying to absorb its essence.

002, the second Operative created by Mother, had always been his sanctuary in the labyrinth of darkness they called home. He remembered their stolen moments, sitting side by side, staring up at the artificial stars above the lab. While 002 was a girl of few words, her smiles spoke volumes. They were like tiny rebellions, showing a sense of wonder and inner freedom. Ari dared to hope—still hoped—that he occupied some corner of her dreams as well.

She had always been in mine, he thought, his finger tracing the contours of the drawing. Last he heard, she had been deployed somewhere on this war-ravaged planet. A bittersweet hope clung to him; perhaps fate would cross their paths once more.

Just then, one of the guards interrupted his reverie. "Visitor for you, Lieutenant Hammond."

Snapping back to reality, Ari quickly hid the sketchbook under his pillow. "Come in," he called.

Lieutenant Hammond entered, his burly frame barely fitting through the tent flap. His face was etched with a mixture of concern and internal conflict. "What he's doing isn't fair to you," he blurted out, almost as if he couldn't hold it in any longer.

Ari's eyes shifted nervously to the tent flap. "Is this the time or place for this conversation?"

"They agree with me," Hammond reassured, his voice tinged with urgency. "Those of us who've seen enough know this is wrong. You're more than just a weapon—you're one of the Emperor's Chosen Children."

Ari's lips quivered for a moment before he steeled himself. "I am just a weapon," he replied, echoing the cold words that Mother had etched into his very soul. "I exist to die for the Empire, in any way my superiors see fit."

"That's no way to live," Hammond argued, his eyes softening, revealing a paternal concern.

"Operatives don't live; we merely exist between missions," Ari retorted, bitterness lacing his words.

"Don't say that," Hammond insisted, his eyes imploring. "You deserve more, so much more."

Tears welled up in Ari's eyes, but he blinked them back. I am the Emperor's weapon; that's all I will ever be, he reminded himself, fighting back his emotions.

"I'll report the Captain to high command," Hammond declared, getting up from his chair with a newfound resolve.

"No," Ari said softly but firmly, stopping him in his tracks.

Hammond turned, an incredulous look on his face. "No?"

"Do it if you must, but not for me," Ari clarified, his voice tinged with resignation. "If you believe he's a danger to you and your men, report him. But he's just using the resources given to him. I am that resource." As he spoke, he wished he could make himself believe his own words; perhaps then the weight he carried would be a little lighter.

Hammond stared at him, bewildered and heartbroken. He let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head, and exited the tent, leaving Ari alone with his thoughts.

Retreating to his cot, Ari took a deep, shuddering breath. He lay there in the suffocating silence until sleep finally claimed him, bringing with it the haunting dreams that were his constant companions.

Ari opened his eyes to find himself atop a haunting hill, overlooking a forest that seemed almost alive in its dark expanse. The twisted carcasses of tanks and spaceships lay strewn about the hillside like the skeletal remains of fallen giants. Piles of bodies marked the midpoint of the hill, their positions suggesting they'd collapsed against an invisible force field. Ancient ruins clawed their way up from the base of the hill, their tendrils of stone and metal as if reaching for something lost.

Further up the hill, a sparse selection of bodies lay in disarray. He didn't recognize any of them; they were all strangers, perhaps souls who'd been pulled into this morbid tableau against their will.

"Just us, it seems, hmm?" A voice whispered from behind him, chilling him to the bone.

He pivoted, his breath catching in his throat. An enormous, ethereal beam of light shot upwards, splattering the sky in a surreal blend of purple and green. Between him and this spectacle stood a lone figure.

001—the original Operative. It was a monstrous vision, devoid of any shred of humanity, encased in an unholy fusion of bone and silver-colored armor. Its helmet wrapped around his head, with two jagged armor plates that met in a mesh, pulsating like some insectoid maw. Two malevolent, glowing green eyes bored into his very soul.

"Disappointed?" 001 sneered, as if savoring his reaction. "You wouldn't think something like that of 002."

"She is nothing like you," Ari managed, his voice quivering as he took a step back.

"She is exactly like me," 001 cackled, a malevolent sound that made the hill beneath them tremble. "I paved the way for all that is to come. Don't delude yourself. She's walking the same path, right behind me. And so are you."

Ari's breath hitched. No, they were wrong; 002 was nothing like this abomination. She was kind, she was heroic, and above all, she cared about him.

"I cared about someone, too, once," 001 said, its voice suddenly hollow, almost wistful. In a blinding flash, it closed the gap between them, gripping him by the neck and hoisting him into the air like a ragdoll. "Want to know what became of that love? What he will one day do to you?"

Ari's eyes snapped open. He was back in his cot, drenched in cold sweat. His hands shot to his throat; it was untouched, yet the sensation of that iron grip remained. He sank back into his cot, his eyes clenched shut, his heart pounding in his chest. It had felt unbearably, terrifyingly real.

Then again, it always did.

Ari wiped away tears that he hadn't realized he'd shed, and reached for his sketchbook lying next to him. Could his longing for decency be just a child's fantasy? No, it couldn't be.

There was a commotion outside, shouts of anger and one of terror. Ari jumped from his cot, snatching his rifle easily off its rack and rushing outside. His two guards had their rifles at the ready and quickly fell into step with his. Captain Carrington exited his own quarters, a look of bewilderment on his face as he wrapped a brown cloak around his sleep attire. 

Several marines were aiming their weapons at a group of townspeople who held a marine with a knife to his throat. On the ground was a woman, her face bruised, crying and shaking, beside her was a marine, a gunshot wound through his chest.

“Lower your weapons god damn it!” Carrington ordered, his voice not carrying the order properly over the chaos.

“Lower your weapons now!” Ari ordered, his voice carrying easily as the marines obeyed, shouldering their firearms. 

Carrington cast an unreadable look towards him before focusing back on the marines and townspeople. 

“What's the meaning of this?” He asked, looking expectantly at his marines. 

“Your man drunkenly attacked one of our women,” Antonio said, a dark look on his face as he glared at the young Captain, “when his comrade intervened he shot him!”

Ari’s fingers tapped his combat knife, hoping he wouldn’t have to use it. 

“Is this true?” Carrington looked at the sergeant who looked down before nodding his head.

“Seems to be Captain, luckily people intervened,” the Sergeant looked down shamefully, two other veterans nodded their heads, though several objections were raised by several of the younger marines. 

Captain Carrington seemed lost for a moment, looking between the townspeople, their faces filled with a mixture of anger and expectation and his marines who seemed disappointed he would even consider taking the townsfolk side. 

“Take him in front of my quarters,” Carrington said quietly, waving for the marines to take him, “whats, whats his name?”

“Private Summers Sir,” the Sergeant replied simply.

The man holding the marine at knife point lowered the blade, allowing the two closest marines to grab both of his arms.

The two groups followed the Captain back to his quarters. Ari followed him inside quietly. He watched as he suddenly started shaking as he searched through his makeshift work desk, scattering papers and data pads across it. He seemed to be searching for something specific. 

He eventually found it, reading over something on his datapad. He read some parts out loud, but only in pieces.

“If a soldier in his service should…”

“Discretion of commanding officer…”

“Carried out by company…”

Afterwards he pulled up the accused man's military record, he tapped on several other incidents reported.

He shakily put the pad down, hanging his head with a loud sigh before straightening himself and walking back outside. 

He walked over to the Sergeant, speaking quietly so the townspeople could not hear him.

“Sergeant, tie him to that post over there,” Captain Carrington said, drawing his pistol and examining it carefully, he was pale now. His hand barely able to properly secure the weapon, he looked at his marines doing his best to make his voice strong, “we are the Emperor’s marines, we conduct ourselves according to the Imperial Codex of War, and any breaking of that should result in a tribunal of the accused. However when one commits such an act in a warzone and may endanger the lives of others the commanding officer may carry out an execution.”

The townspeople had gone silent, meanwhile whispers and grumbling broke out among the marines. Lieutenant Hammond and the Sergeant quickly quelled the murmurs, their own opinions hidden behind  serious faces. 

Private Summers struggled against the two marines dragging him, “fuck you Captain, you spineless piece of shit!” 

The Captain had gone silent, pistol gripped in his hand. Once the man was tied to the post the Captain raised his pistol, and nothing. The Captain’s hand was shaking as he gripped the pistol. Silence had fallen over the area. 

The private, perhaps sensing the Captain’s weakness, began to silently sneer in contempt.

Ari flexed his hands, looking at the Captain before slowly looking over the crowd. If he didn’t carry out his declared sentence now not only would the town scorn them but the marines under his command would be even more likely to commit acts against the populace. 

His mothers voice popped into his head. One of the instructions given to an Operative was to be the weapon at their betters disposal. Perhaps the Captain was overlooking him as an option.

He took several steps forward to be beside the Captain before leaning over, “I would be honored to carry out the sentence.” 

The Captain spun on him, eyes flashing anger before he noticed the doubting faces of the crowd around them. Something else flashed in his eyes as he looked between Ari and the private. Ari blinked in surprise, was that hatred he saw?

“Yes, I think that would be better,” the Captain said, raising his head in a failed attempt at maintaining dignity as he handed the pistol to Ari, “once in the head please.” 

Ari turned, squeezing the trigger and firing a single round straight through the mans skull. He slumped instantly, with Ari nodding in satisfaction at the shot. He handed the pistol back to the Captain who merely stared at him. 

“Everyone disperse!” Lieutenant Hammond bellowed as he turned to the crowd.

After that fateful evening, an eerie silence settled over the town for the next few days. However, on the fourth day, the tranquility was shattered when a sealed communique arrived for the Captain. Ari and Hammond received orders to report to the Captain's quarters immediately. As they approached the worn wooden door, Ari thanked the elderly homeowner who greeted them with a resigned smile before opening the door.

Stepping inside, they found themselves in a room heavy with the scent of tobacco and aged leather. The Captain sat at his worn desk, the dim glow from a desk lamp illuminating his pale face as he fixated on a datapad.

Ari felt a knot tighten in his stomach, and he exchanged a puzzled look with Hammond before the Captain looked up and acknowledged their presence.

"The 14th and 9th have been annihilated in a counteroffensive. We're being rotated to the front lines to support the 22nd," he disclosed, his voice tinged with an anguish that he couldn't hide. "New officers are coming in to take the 7th from me."

A mix of dread and anticipation filled the room. Hammond, trying to cut through the tension, chimed in. "Well, at least our boys will finally see some heavy combat. I'll get the officers assembled."

With a curt nod, Hammond exited, leaving Ari alone in the stifling atmosphere of the room. The Captain leaned back in his chair, exhaling a long, shaky breath before breaking into an unsettling laugh.

"You planned this somehow," he slurred, pulling out a bottle of clear liquid from under the table and taking a defiant swig. "Your kind always finds a way to win, don't they?"

"Sir, I don't understand," Ari said cautiously, flinching as the bottle flew past his face, shattering against the dark wooden wall and leaving a wet stain.

"Don't feign innocence. From day one, you've played the role of the shining warrior, haven't you?" His eyes narrowed, and he staggered to his feet, gripping the edge of the table for support. "All along, you've been subtly undermining me. Turning my men and this town against me. Your entire kind is just twisted, isn't it?"

Ari felt his pulse quicken, his mouth going dry. In a moment of candid emotion, he retorted, "You've done that yourself."

As the words escaped his lips, Ari froze. Why had he said that? What would happen now?

The Captain stared at him, and for a fleeting moment, Ari thought he saw a glimmer of realization cross his eyes—but then it was gone, replaced by an even deeper darkness.

“You,” he snarled uselessly as he sat back in his chair, “get out of my sight monster.” 

Several hours later they had set off, leaving the town behind them.

Ari reclined in his seat as the armored transport rumbled inexorably toward the frontline. Streams of civilians—the collateral damage of war—fled in the opposite direction. Their faces were etched with haunted expressions that Ari knew he'd remember for a lifetime. A few children, perhaps too young to grasp the gravity of their situation, waved at the passing soldiers. Ari mustered a smile and waved back, but his eyes couldn't help but shift to the metamorphosing landscape outside.

Once verdant fields and dense, peaceful forests were now marred by the scars of war. What had once resembled a pastoral painting was now more akin to a nightmarish hellscape. The earth was gouged open, as if it too had suffered wounds, with mud oozing out like brown, coagulated blood. Deep trenches dissected the land, and the carcasses of tanks and even entire aircraft lay sunken in the mire, forgotten monuments to failed human endeavor.

The landscape brought an unbidden thought to the forefront of his mind: What hell had 002 been enduring out here? A wave of guilt washed over him, complicating his earlier feelings of dissatisfaction with his assignment. He had been pouting about his orders, resenting his inexperienced Captain, and feeling underutilized. But was he not, at that very moment, headed toward the place he felt he should be? A place where he could be of real use? And yet, even that idea felt tinged with a selfish desire—to find 002, to ensure he was alright, to fight by his side just like they had in what felt like another lifetime.

Ari closed his eyes briefly, wrestling with the confusing medley of emotions that churned within him. He felt a strange amalgam of guilt for wanting more action, worry for the woman who had always stood by him, and a newfound, unsettling empathy for the people whose lives had been upturned by this war.

His eyes widened further as they drove past the artillery units. Mammoth cannons, engineering marvels that belied their grim purpose, launched rocket-assisted shells that could traverse several hundreds of miles. The ground itself seemed to tremble with the concussive force of each shot, sending a primal shiver down Ari's spine.

Adjacent to the artillery were the repair units, swarming with engineers and technicians. They buzzed around damaged fighter craft, each a casualty of the dangerous aerial ballet occurring far above them. Sparks flew, welding torches flared, and the scent of hot metal filled the air as these units labored to return their birds to the sky, and into the maw of the ongoing conflict.

Inside the transport, the atmosphere had become thick with tension. Ari looked around and noticed the stark transformation in his comrades. The new recruits, previously flushed with the naïve excitement of youth, had turned ashen. Their eyes darted nervously, and their faces held a greenish tint, as if the reality of war had settled in their stomachs and was threatening to come back up.

As if on cue, their own artillery began its relentless cacophony. The initial hiss of rockets and shells slicing through the air resonated in the confined space, cutting through the tension like a knife. Several marines flinched visibly, their eyes widening and jaws tightening.

For a split second, the sounds vanished, swallowed by the void before them, leaving an eerie silence. Then, the far-off booms reached their ears, each explosion a ghostly echo that seemed to reverberate in the very marrow of their bones.

Ari remained silent as the transport finally crossed the final miles to arrive at the front. 

Hopping out, Ari turned, pausing to look above. Hundreds of ships, small shapes far above were visible, dashes of light flashing as the two fleets far above battled. Hundreds of streaks of light were across the sky, rockets striking all parts of the battlefield around him. 

And what a horrible sight it was, miles of mud, pockets of water and black dirt kicked up at random without the faintest hint of green to be seen. In between the dark mud, smaller pockets of light lit up as gunfire and laserfire intermixed, smoke constantly rolling over the entire area as far as Ari’s eyes could see. 

Ari and the 7th crossed even more miles only just beginning to approach the front. A constant stream of dead or dying soldiers were carried past them on stretchers, the cries and explosions intermixing into a chorus rising up all around them. The sound felt suffocating, as if it was closing around Ari’s throat. Overhead fighters flew past, firing into positions they couldn’t see. Some were hit by flak, rolling over and hitting the ground in a faint explosion. 

Somewhere far off something exploded, shaking the very ground so much so that soldiers lost their footing, collapsing to the floor. 

Miles off to their right Ari could see the glowing green wave of chemical smoke crashed over a Commonwealth position. Ari fiddled with his mask, making sure its filtration was functioning correctly.  

  

Marines marched back past them with cracked armor, missing limbs and some missing most of their armor entirely. The looks on their faces were haunted, young men and women with lines now aging their faces beyond recognition. 

The Imperial defensive positions were layered in four overlapping lines. Two lines carefully positioned in the center had a shock group backed by two battalions of marines positioned seventy yards behind them. Behind that reserve was an enormous trench nearly fifty yards wide and several miles long. Smaller transports could reposition behind the lines without exposing themselves to fire. 

To the right and left were the other two lines of troops, these dug in defensive positions with multiple overlapping fields of fire nearly across the entire line. Some positions even had tanks sunk up to their turrets to provide a sort of pillbox support. Further past the lines were hundreds of scattered foxholes serving as forward posts to delay enemy advances.

In front of all of them was the target the generals coveted. The city of Proko. Its ruins were barely visible in the distance through the haze. 

Imperial bombardment had long since brought the once towering skyscrapers down. 

Ari ducked as a violent explosion shattered the air, hurling a forty-foot-wide wave of mud skyward before it came crashing down like a filthy rain. Amid the chaos, Ari could hear the grotesque sound of mud mixed with human remains slapping back onto the earth—punctuated by the grinding of armored vehicles repositioning. Shouts of agony and confusion erupted all around him.

Nearby, an officer stumbled through the mire, his eyes glazed over with shock, his arm missing from the elbow down. He frantically dug through the mud, sifting through an indistinguishable blend of earth and human remains.

"I lost my ring," he mumbled, his eyes unfocused as though seeing through time itself. "Can't lose that. Can't lose that."

The words struck Ari like a bullet.

With a wave of his hand, Ari signaled a corpsman. "Stay with me," he said softly, placing a gentle hand on the disoriented soldier's shoulder. "We'll take care of you first, then we'll find your ring."

A glimmer of relief passed through the soldier's eyes as the corpsman arrived, directing them toward the medical tent. Ari's armor made light work of the injured man's weight. As he carried him, his eyes remained peeled on the churned earth they traversed.

After laying him carefully on a cot in the medical tent, Ari turned away, his chest heavy with a sense of inadequacy. He was trained to be an Operative—to fight, to survive, but moments like these reminded him of the limitations of his role.

Unable to let go of the soldier's distress, Ari decided to make one more sweep of the battlefield, assisting medics in carrying another wounded soldier back to the tent. Each face he encountered was a blur, but his mission was clear. Amidst the rubble and remains, his eyes caught a glint of metal. Bending down, he unearthed a mud-caked ring.

Ari returned to the medical tent, hope welling up in him as he approached the soldier, who was now being attended to by medics. He placed the ring into his remaining hand, closing his fingers around it.

His eyes met Ari’s, filled with a complex mix of relief, sorrow, and something indescribable. For the first time that day, Ari felt a tiny fracture in the wall of helplessness that had encased him.

"Thank you," he whispered, clutching the ring as if it were his very soul.

Ari nodded, swallowing hard against the emotional lump in his throat. "Hang on to it.”

Eventually, Ari caught up with the 7th, a battalion now rotated up to occupy the first line of defense—or offense, depending on the ever-shifting tides of battle. The 7th was the vanguard, the first to either storm enemy lines or hold their ground against an incoming assault. Even in the cloak of night, squads from the 7th began to disperse, their forms almost spectral as they waded through the mud-cloaked nightmare, reinforcing the foxholes that served as crucial early-warning posts.

But the night was deceptive, never truly dark. It was a canvas incessantly invaded by artificial light, robbing soldiers of the cover darkness might have provided. Flares arced into the sky at irregular intervals, their fizzling ascents followed by an eruption of glaring light that rendered the landscape in sharp, ominous relief. Star shells burst overhead, showering the earth in iridescent hues of blue and white, turning mud puddles into tiny, reflective lakes and casting eerie, elongated shadows on the faces of the troops. Explosions from artillery and grenades added their own erratic lighting, a pyrotechnic display that would have been mesmerizing if not for its blinding effects. These detonations painted the scene in flashes of orange, imbuing everything and everyone with a surreal, otherworldly glow. The intermittent lighting made the mud seem like a flowing river of lava one moment and a desolate lunar landscape the next.

During one of those blinding bursts of light from overhead flares, a piercing alarm cut through the cacophony. Soldiers jolted from their positions, their faces twisted with a blend of readiness and terror. Ari snatched up his rifle, his senses sharpening as he took his position behind an armored shield that topped the trench.

Through the slotted visor, he saw it—something monstrous darting between the foxholes. It was immense, nearly as long as two tanks laid end-to-end, its long tail shimmering in silver and blue light. An advanced Commonwealth warbot, its body like that of a dragon. His gut clenched as bullets pinged off its metallic hide. In retaliation, the warbot whirled, letting loose a barrage of mini-rockets that silenced the foxholes in a spectacle of fire and gore. The screams that followed were guttural, filled with a primal fear that rattled even the most hardened soldiers around him.

But what sent shivers down Ari's spine was the figure mounted atop the warbot. Clad in shining armor of silver and blue that matched its monstrous steed, the knight-like figure sported a single twisted metal horn on his helmet. He brandished a spear, its shaft alive with undulating lights of green, blue, and red. It looked as though it were forged from nightmares and technology, giving it an ethereal yet sinister aura.

The 7th and 22nd opened fire alongside others, tracer rounds arcing through the night, illuminated by the perpetual light show. But they might as well have been firing pebbles. Ari watched as the bullets merely bounced off, as harmless as raindrops. He took aim at the rider, his sights focused on a vulnerable spot between the arm and breastplate. He pulled the trigger.

A brilliant flash erupted, and the rider was hurled from the warbot, tumbling through the air before landing in the mud with a sickening thud.

For a moment, Ari allowed himself a brief grin. But it was short-lived. With a mechanical roar that seemed to shake the very earth, the warbot surged forward, its limbs churning the mud as if it were water. Soldiers screamed, scrambling in a panic, some trapped in the slick mire as the monstrous machine lunged into the trench.

Ari threw himself back just in time, the beast landing where he had stood just moments before. Its mechanical eyes glowed a menacing red, scanning for its next target. Around him, soldiers from the 7th  froze, the horror of what they faced rendering them momentarily paralyzed.

A deafening burst of gunfire erupted from the 22nd Marines, snapping the immobilized soldiers out of their trance. The warbot spun on its axis, extending long blades from its chassis. In an instant, the trench transformed into a grisly blender, whirling metal through air and flesh.

Ari executed a rapid roll, squeezing the trigger to fire rounds into the beast's exposed joints. A nearby flak gun swiveled, its operator focusing on the warbot. With thunderous thunks, the gun spat flak rounds into the behemoth's side.

For a split second, the warbot wavered under the relentless barrage. But then the flak gun fell silent. Whirling around, Ari cursed—he saw the knight, now on foot, finishing off the last member of the flak crew. He vaulted into the trench beside him.

Darting backward, Ari dodged his whirling spear. Then he switched tactics, drawing a pistol and snapping off two shots. His armor absorbed the bullets, but he felt the impact like a sledgehammer to his chest.

Behind him, the warbot's roars resounded, mingling with the screams of dying soldiers. Firing his rifle, Ari targeted the knight's leg, bringing him to one knee. With a quick lunge, he overpowered him, forcing the spear against his throat. Metal shrieked against metal; his suit whined, struggling to compensate for his superior strength.

Suddenly, a searing pain erupted in his shoulder. Metallic jaws clamped down, wrenching him away. Ari unleashed a furious scream, his hands clawing at the warbot's maw.

The knight rose, his spear poised for the kill. But then he froze. Ari, too, heard it—the ground-shaking rumble, like a tank but deeper, angrier. The warbot released him, turning to face the new threat.

Ari scrambled aside just as a brilliant flash rocketed past him. It struck the knight, hurling him through the air before he crashed into the muck. His heart leapt—standing there was 002, encased in hulking battle armor, the gauntlets of her suit still smoking.

Cheers erupted from the soldiers. Their elation, however, was cut short. The warbot lunged at 002, its gaping maw aiming to devour her. But it was halted mid-air, its jaws pried open by 002's immense strength.

Marines of the 22nd wheeled the flak gun back into position, aiming directly into the warbot's vulnerable spots as 002 held it in place and firing at point-blank range. The knight had regained his footing and hurled his spear, skewering two marines. Unfazed by their losses, the crew kept firing. Seizing the moment, Ari lunged at the knight, tackling him into the slippery mud.

With a feral snarl, Ari unleashed a punch that shattered the knight's visor. Staggering, he tried to regain his stance. But before he could move, his own spear flew through the air, sticking him to the ground like a gruesome butterfly pinned to a board.

Silence fell over the trench, periodically interrupted by cries from the wounded. Soldiers from the reserve trench behind them quickly poured into the area, preparing for a possible follow up attack. 

Ari stood silently over the Knight body. He had been stronger than any knight he had fought before. He heard 002 approaching behind him and shivered, 001’s words echoing in his mind. 

She is exactly like me. They had said. 

No, Ari thought, feeling his heart tighten in both anticipation and fear as 002 stopped right behind him. 

For a few seconds, neither spoke.

"You did well," she finally said, her voice tinged with a metallic resonance from her helmet.

Ari almost laughed as he turned around. "Well? Two minutes later, and the whole trench would've been a graveyard."

002 removed her helmet, revealing a face that was as stoic as her armor. Her eyes met his. "But it isn't. That's what matters."

She reached out, her gauntleted hand heavy on his shoulder where the warbot had clamped its jaws. The touch was surprisingly gentle for such a massive suit of armor. "You're hurt."

Ari shrugged, trying to downplay the soreness that was now settling in. "We’ve been through worse."

For a brief moment, he thought he saw a flicker of something in her eyes—relief, maybe, or concern. But it was gone almost as soon as it appeared. Instead she gestured with her head for him to follow. 

The medic wrapped up Ari's wound and declared him fit to continue, 002 watched him, her face unreadable. The fluorescent lights in the medical tent seemed to bathe everything in a cold, sterile glow, but the atmosphere changed perceptibly when she led him outside.

The officers' quarters were a far cry from luxury, dug directly into the muddy earth and consisting of little more than a cot and a small desk. The walls were reinforced with corrugated metal, lending a harsh industrial feel to the space. Yet, when Ari turned around, he was surprised to find 002 still standing at the entrance.

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, an unusual display for someone who usually radiated certainty. Then she placed her helmet on a makeshift shelf by the door. For the first time that evening, her eyes met his and softened.

"Good to see you," she began, her voice catching just a little, "I was worried that..." She trailed off, shaking her head as if unable to find the words.

Ari felt a warmth bloom in his chest at his unspoken sentiment. "Yeah," he replied, his own voice softer than he'd intended, "me too."

For a long moment, they simply looked at each other. Then, as if guided by some mutual understanding, 002 stepped forward and pulled him gently into her arms. Even through the fabric of his uniform and his armor, he could feel the heat of her body.

Their foreheads touched, the simple point of contact sending a shiver down his spine. 

Ari closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the embrace. And for a moment, surrounded by mud, metal, and the remnants of war, he found a pocket of peace. 

And it was enough.

#if: the operative #the operative #the operative short story #lore

[hyde-nseek]

My headcanon is that every Link and every Zelda falls in love. But it gets a little more complicated than that because I don't think they get together every time. So... Here is how I would justify every Zelink in the Legend of Zelda franchise:

(please note that I'm not saying other ships aren't cool. I personally like a lot of them.)

Skyward Sword: This one is probably as canon as Zelink has gotten so far. I don't know anyone that says that they don't have feelings for each other. These two probably founded Hyrule together. Maybe as a kingdom, maybe just as a small village below the clouds. Either way, the Royal Family traces their lineage back to this couple.

Minish Cap: This Zelink is very cute. I think they dated, and maybe even married. From what I understand about the timeline, though, this Link abandons Hyrule and lives the rest of his life cursed by the mind-shattering properties of the Four Sword. So, it was a relationship for a while, but they didn't grow old together.

Four Swords: There actually isn't a lot of information about this Zelda, but I like to think that they got together after Link saves her. They're cute.

Ocarina of Time: The way Zelda looks at Link at the end of the game is full of remorse. She doesn't want to send Link away from her, but she knows it's the right thing to do for his sake and Hyrule's. Also, the way Sheik looks at Link can't go unnoticed. That ninja isn't good at hiding his feelings.

Majora's Mask: The same as Ocarina of Time, but it's much more brief. I don't think Link ever returns to Hyrule Castle, but it's possible. It's more likely that he founded Ordon with Malon. That means that Malon and Link end up together, but Link's true love was the princess he saved in another time.

Twilight Princess: Zelda and Link barely talk in the game, and when they interact, it's only because Midna put them together. But with Midna out of the picture, I think they would still bond. Ilia gets friendzoned. Sorry.

Four Swords Adventures: I think I'll have to put this one with Four Swords as well. These games are a little weird in that the Links are so affected by the Four Sword that it's hard to picture them in a situation without it. If anyone else has thoughts on this Zelink, please lmk.

Wind Waker/Phantom Hourglass: Tetra and Link get together and found New Hyrule. This one is pretty self explanatory and difficult to argue against. Very cute and I love it.

Spirit Tracks: They were made for each other. They have so much of a connection because of their adventure together. Whether Link becomes an adventurer or an engineer, I think the princess has feelings for the Hero of Spirit.

A Link to the Past/Link's Awakening/Oracles: The cryptic uncle wants you to know that Zelda is your responsibility. Now that we've covered that, I think Link would have been with Zelda if it weren't for Marin. After Koholint, I don't think he really has it in him to have a relationship with anyone.

A Link Between Worlds/Tri Force Heroes: I think that after saving Hytopia, Link returns to Hyrule and asks for Zelda's hand. There's no reason why not to, and I don't think Link would have wanted to stay in Hytopia for the rest of his life. As cool as it is, it's a vacation spot. And Styla isn't the princess for Link.

Hyrule Fantasy/Adventure of Link: Two Zeldas, one Link. This one's kind of weird, but I think he'd rather be with the Zelda from his first adventure. Zelda the First only kisses him as a reward, probably the only reward she can give.

Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom: I mean, they live together. They hugged at the end of both games. What else do you want me to say?

#zelink #all the zelink #even though it doesnt work out every time #i think that what matters in the end is that the feelings are there #theyre a tragic couple cursed by the demon king #legend of zelda

[sinisterexaggerator]

Stars Above! | Cad Bane

Chapter 14

Explicit: Semi-slow burn, gratuitous smut /pwp, canon-typical violence, mildly dubious consent, angst, Tatooine Slave Culture.

This chapter: Flashbacks / nightmares, whump, mild-medical procedure involving a needle/dispenser and sedatives.

Word count: 5.3k+

Notes: It only took me TWO YEARS TO UPDATE. SORRY ABOUT THAT. I promise that I will try to update more regularly from now on.

[ Ao3 ] - [ Masterpost ]

《 Previous chapter ||

“Supposin’ us bein’ partners don’ mean nothin’,” Bane flippantly offered. Though feeling despondent, he masked it well. The two men were a lot alike in that respect; Bane hardly knew what went on inside the Mando’s over-complicated mind.

“You’ve learned everything there is to know, Cad. And what you don’t know, you don’t want to learn, even if given the opportunity.”

“What’s dhat even mean,” the Duros asked bitingly, throwing down the butt of his cigarra on the cold, hard ground. The two began to make their way, Jango sighing under the beskar helmet that hid his face, Bane trudging along behind, albeit slowly; he was freezing.

Vandor was an icy planet, located in the Sloo Sector of the Mid Rim, currently home to a target that had made his home in Fort Ypso, a snowy village that lay sequestered in the foothills of the Iridium mountains, only crossable by bridge. The wooden planks groaned under their feet as the pair of hunters ventured onward, Slave I left beyond its borders so as not to attract attention and give the game away.

“It means you are stubborn,” Fett returned, his voice carrying over the blistering wind. “Perhaps it is time for you to branch out on your own; be your own man. I am beginning to think I cramp your style.”

The Duros sneered, offended in more ways than one, fangs chattering even though he wore specialized gear meant to curtail the cold from leeching through to his very bones. “Says de man who don’ know when te turn down a job; if Ah had nips, dhey’d already be frozen off.”

“You didn’t have to come with me,” Jango informed him, his joke lost on the dour man. He wasn’t in the mood for Bane’s attitude, much less his complaints.

“As fer style, Ah got plenty,  naht countin’ dhis ridiculous ‘fit ye’ made me wear.”

Bane frowned despite himself, feeling each minor movement of his facial muscles; they were stiff from the frigid temperature, the younger man desiring to find a place of warmth. At least his body glove was able to retain some heat, otherwise he was sure to succumb to this positively ridiculous weather within mere minutes, seconds.

“Fine; maybe Ah should leave ye te it dhen; wait in de ship, if yer so keen on gettin’ rid of me.”

Then, his sour expression deepened, Bane’s footfalls ceasing as he came to a full stop. “It’s ‘cause Ah don’ agree with ye, ain’t it.”

“It’s not your life, nor your decision,” the Mandalorian shot back without delay, unable to hide his bitterness. “I know what I want, even if you don’t.”

Bane braced himself, realizing this was about to become more personal than he had bargained for, Fett having never bothered to explain his motives. All Bane knew was he had won some contest, proving he was the best bounty hunter in all the galaxy—a title he assumed might one day rightfully be his.

Fett had trained him, after all. More than that; he had become his friend, his confidant. Bane might go so far as to think he even loved the man, though never voicing those sentiments out loud; he buried them, like everything else he felt.

Perhaps it was fear that kept him quiet. Fear, or maybe anxiety. They both lived in the same place—inside his chest. The chest that currently housed a heart beating furiously behind a wall of ribs, even as Bane reached out to touched Fett’s shoulder.

What he couldn’t understand was why he needed a million of himself; Jango would be tasked to train an army for an unknown benefactor, an army of clones.

The idea sent shivers down Bane’s scales. He understood there were credits to be made, and lots of them. But even so, this was a line Bane himself would never cross—playing God by ignoring ethics, by ignoring quandaries he thought might only come about in science labs. Not in the field; not in the relatively short life of a bounty hunter.

“Ah know what Ah want,” he muttered softly, “de one of ye.”

The Mando whisked around, batting his companion’s hand away. He could not see his face, but Fett’s annoyance easily radiated out beyond his suit of armor. He thought Bane would never understand his hatred for the Jedi; the duty he had assigned himself that consumed half his personality. “Come off it.”

Bane hesitated. The sky began to darken; he thought he had been to this place before.

“You’re a fool,”Fett’s voice, a low baritone, seeped into Bane’s ears, in turn causing the Duros to tremble. It was not out of the coldness of the weather, but the coldness of his words, that Bane’s body involuntarily shuddered, wide, red eyes blinking away flecks of snowflakes as they floated toward the ground; they were gossamer, each one intricate by its own design.

“But Fett-”

“Shut up,” the Mando cut him off. Something wasn’t right. Bane gazed around himself, even as Fett continued. “You really think I care about what you think?”

Bane stared at him, a wounded look taking over his already glum face. Even so, he thought to follow-up, wondering if he had said these words before. “Just dhat-”

Flames were birthed from blankets of white snow, shooting up as pillars of an all-consuming heat, Bane taking a step back as he watched the fire cast a shadow on Jango’s beskar helmet. Those little flecks, those tiny snowflakes, were now tendrils of hot ash, the icy ground nearby the bridge they stood on a carpet of dirt and soot.

“Ja-Jango?” Bane stuttered out; the man approached, deliberate, even as his voice rose in his anger.

“You are nothing to me, Cad. You are nothing.”

The fire blazed more luminous than a main-sequence star; the heavens were black as pitch and no sun shone; Bane heard another sound, this one the creak of weakening ropes as the Duros realized the bridge they stood upon was near to collapse. It was old, rickety, and the only way into town.

“You are not my friend, and you will never be my family,” Fett assured, his vehemence laced with mockery. The Mando laughed, dry, and borderline sadistic; it was out of character for him. Bane grimaced.

“Fett, we gotta go back!” Bane ignored his hurtful remarks, noticing the bridge was starting to sink and give beneath their weight and the onslaught of the flames. The youth would peer over the side, eyes set to broaden as he realized the mountain valley was now nothing but a pit of hellfire.

“You are weak; pathetic; worthless-”

“-stop it!”

“-just a frightened little boy.”

“Enough!” the Duros shouted; he could hear the panic in his voice. He cursed himself, wanting to be brave; wanting to prove to Fett that everything he said was erroneous, inaccurate – but he was right; Bane was frightened.

Suddenly, Bane had nothing below his feet, just a gaping hole and a river of bright flames. Fett was hovering; he had activated the thrusters of his jetpack; Bane aimed to do the same, pressing a button on his wrist gauntlet, except his boots wouldn’t fire; they sputtered and died out.

He kept on falling.

“Jango!” He heard his voice crack, Bane reaching out and up toward the Mando. The man only laughed that wry, cruel laugh, even as Bane fell to what he knew would be his death.

With hands grasping, arms flailing, and legs kicking erratically, Bane yelled one last time as his body was engulfed, swallowed by the void.

“Ah’m sorry!”

---

“Oh, no!” Todo 360 articulated. “I was afraid this might happen!” the droid verbalized in a mild state of panic. He began zooming around the room, peeking into cabinets and pulling out various tools, utensils, and medical implements. It appeared to Zulara that he might be looking for something in particular, so hurried were his movements in his haste.

“Can I help?” she asked quietly, though eager, not sure what was even wrong or what it was she would be looking for. The girl had been seated on the floor, tinkering with one of Bane’s fancy vambraces; it was sparking.

The girl glanced to the bacta pod where Cad Bane slumbered, but something was amiss; his eyelids twitched. She stood, then approached with caution, peering down into the coffin-like contrivance – that’s when she noticed.

The Duros trembled, the muscles of his face distorting into what looked like fear, then pain. His head shifted back and forth from side to side, though not awake. Zulara’s heart ached for the man.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked, turning to stare at the frantic Todo. He was too busy in his search to hear her, muttering his many grievances and even a few expletives.

“Todo?” she asked again, the concern apparent in her voice. She stepped forward toward the little droid, tapping him gently on his tiny shoulder.

Todo whirled on her, having forgotten momentarily that she was even aboard the ship, Zulara noting she had startled him by the widening of his citrine eyes.

“Do not do that!” he proclaimed, immediately taking back up the search. Zulara’s lower lip quivered as she turned on her heel, refacing the injured man; he at least seemed calmer now, which Zulara pointed out.

“He’s stopped moving,” she whispered.

Todo zipped on by, a cool rush of air tickling her arm. He observed his master through the glass, a pane of two-inch thick transparisteel.

The droid sighed a human sigh, then rounded on his thrusters. He stared up at the girl, finally managing to find the time to give her a halfhearted story of some kind.

“When in the bacta pod, Bane’s subconscious is left totally unguarded! He is vulnerable to whatever it is his mind can conjure up, and I will have you know these things are not pleasant.”

“He had a nightmare,” Zulara stated, though the end of her phrase had a questioning lilt to it.

Todo nodded in assent, then added: “He has a lot of those, I am afraid.” He wondered if he should be telling all Bane’s secrets. Was this a secret? Nightmares were common among organics. He was unsure.

Zulara frowned at him, then looked down at her boots. She often had nightmares herself, a reoccurring one; the one where she was stripped from her mother’s arms by her drunken father; the one where she was ushered off like chattel into a life of slavery.

Her gaze returned to Todo once she had repressed that bit of sordid memory. “Will he be all right?” she questioned anxiously.

“You are humorous, human. Mister Bane has endured much worse. But I must find this pneumatic dispenser! It holds a sedative we may need; it is only a precaution.”

“You are going to sedate him?” Zulara asked, perplexed.

“Well, it is better than what Bane would do!” Todo scolded, continuing his rummaging. “I, for one, do not wish to suppress my memories, but in all likelihood Bane will hurt himself in this state, and he is already wounded.”

Zulara seemed confused. “What do you mean?”

Todo was becoming irritated. If this woman was not present, he could work in peace! Just who did Boba think he was, leaving her with him! Granted, she seemed to care about his master, but she was still a nuisance! Perhaps the droid was now beginning to understand why Bane called him that on limitless occasions - and when he meant well.

He started to have a change of heart, though his metal shell was empty besides his circuitry; his own thought process set him straight. Todo simply sighed again, though trying to be patient. “Mister Bane seems to think that libations will solve his problems. Why, ever since Boba Fett shot him in the head, he has never been the same!”

Zulara’s frown remained fixated, though deepening. She had heard this mentioned once before as they had dragged Bane inside his ship. Why would the man that had helped to rescue him want him dead instead? It made no sense. She thought to ask, but wondered if the droid would answer her.

Todo seemed two things: high-strung and untrusting, though Zulara’s interest was not self-serving, she was only curious. It was hard not to want to learn all she could about the Duros, his history, and those things that made him tick.

“What happened?” she finally managed, fingers trailing a path down the outside of the convex, transparent glass. “Boba would not tell me how he knew Bane,” she added, studying the curves and angles of the hunter’s face despite the mask he wore that fed him oxygen.

“Because then Boba would be admitting to attempted murder!” the incensed droid piped up, rounding on her. He was flustered by the question, and even more so aggravated by the answer he was about to give. Young Fett was a traitor and a deserter in his opinion; a fly-by-night, disreputable scoundrel to say the very least!

“When one commits to a job, or when one is given a home and specialized training - for free might I add – with only the expectancy of loyalty, and then for that person to defect, to try Mister Bane’s patience after all he did for him!”

Todo scoffed, turning back around. He opened up a lower cabinet, somehow sticking his large head inside, so his words were muffled. “To question his authority is one thing, but to shoot him?!” Todo’s voice was elevated, despite being dampened within the cupboard he was scouring. “Simply because you do not agree with his methods!?”

Zulara watched Todo’s metal chassis shift back and forth as his upper half continued with its plundering, tossing things haphazardly behind him. The girl would lift one leg, dodging something sharp that vibrated—a sonic scalpel? What did Cad Bane need that for?

Zulara bent down to pick it up; she switched it off. Her eyebrows furrowed as she thought about the head plate Bane always sported. “So, then Boba betrayed him? He shot him at point-blank range?”

Her thoughts drifted to the man whose comlink was in her pocket. The youthful face, the curly hair, the deep brown eyes – so soft and rich – she could not imagine him to be a killer, yet he was another bounty hunter. A bounty hunter like the Duros she had feelings for, the one who left her, the one who desired her dead for the sand she had thrown into his stark garnet eyes.

“Well, no,” Todo admitted. He had been there, after all, observing it all unfold. “There was a duel. It was a tie-” the little droid emerged to swivel toward her once again, “-but Boba cheated! A Mandalorian’s helmet is made of beskar! And while Boba is no Mandalorian, his -er- father was.”

Todo 360 made an irritated harumph. “A solitary clone should have been grateful to have Mister Bane mentor him! I know I  would be. Of course, he did owe Jango many favors, or so Mister Bane has said…”

His voice trailed off; Zulara realized something. It was no matter that this droid was comprised of ones and zeros, or its many servos. Something clicked inside her brain—Todo had no bolt, no way in which he was restrained. He loved his master, and to some extent, Cad Bane must love him.

She could only imagine this Fett harbored some kind of guilt, as well he should. If she ever saw him, if he ever commed her…yet it was not her business.

Zulara refocused her attention, “a pneumatic dispenser, no?” Her inquiry was soft, calming. Todo perceptibly unwound, as the organic’s voice was somehow soothing.

He was not used to women hanging around; he had only known those that Bane kept on retainer for one reason or another, namely Aurra Sing; she had not one gentle bone in her whole body. In fact, he might blame her for the way young Boba had turned out. While Mister Bane had a hand in it, it was not until he had been abandoned and thrown in prison thanks to the Palliduvan that his master had offered Fett his guidance.

“Yes,” the exhausted droid replied, returning to his work. He kept one eye on her, but he was thankful for the girl’s assistance, however wary. One could never be too careful.

---

“Boba?” Bane had heard the name, floating out in empty space, inside his mind, or spoken by a God. It lingered, the two syllables leeching their way into his cerebral cortex, even as pure darkness surrounded him, enveloping his cold flesh like a thickset, heavy blanket of unease.

His stomach lurched; he felt like throwing up. Instead, he sat upright and was faced with a nearly obscene brightness. Someone had unveiled the stars, but one shown more luminous than all the others; the one that warmed the desert planet he was now stationed on.

“Bane!”

The Duros’ eyes rolled to his left, spying within his hand a bottle of dark liquor, Bane ascertaining this might be the reason for his sickness; the empty feeling that tarried in his guts. But still, nothing was making sense.

Bane dropped the bottle, glancing up. Some distance away was a teenaged Boba Fett.

How many times would the kid shout his name in anger? How many times would he have to remember his father’s face when looking into his? That armor, that helmet – all a cruel reminder.

“You should have been there.”  That’s what the boy had said that fateful day.

Bane stood, gazing out. He was supposed to say something, words that had been repeated time and time again. The outcome would never be any different, he suspected, but the hunter was caught in a web of his own delusions. Maybe this time he could make it right; maybe this time Bane would not lose his self-respect or his dignity to a fourteen-year-old brat.

“Ah wouldn’ be so-” Bane’s voice dropped; he said the rest quietly and to himself, “-hasty now, boy…”

No. This wasn’t at all accurate. This had happened once before. Bane studied his surroundings, noting the placement of the buildings, a fire that burned in the distance, wisps of dark-colored smoke emanating in tight curls.

Fire.

There was a fire.

He had fallen.

Boba turned his head; Bane followed his lead, spying C-21 Highsinger and his faithful droid companion. Held prisoner in their grasp was a white-haired old man. The child - Fett’s offspring - demanded that he be released along with all the other hostages.

What hostages.

“Let them go, Bane.”

What had he done? He could not remember, the Duros craning his hat and head to stare down at both of his blue hands.

“This isn’t their fight anymore.”

Bane knit his brow in thought, his gaze returning to the boy. He took a new approach, or at least he thought. He was unsure, second-guessing, caught in a place that resembled reality, yet Bane was positive none of this was real.

“Yer daddy ain’t here, boy. Ah knowit. But ye gonna go ‘head an’ bite de hand dhat feeds?”

Bane took two steps forward, somehow knowing what came next. He had always wondered if there was some other way than this, something he could have done to change Fett’s mind. But in the end, he had it out for him; it was a part of history that could never be rewritten. Boba had got it in his head that Cad Bane was his enemy, and the sole executioner of the people here, as if he was the only one who was unscrupulous among those present.

“Yer gonna wind up poor, or dead, out on yer own – dhis galaxy is harsh. Ye think Jango was perfect? Ye think he wouldn’ do whateva’ it takes te get de job done?”

“Shut up! I am not my father!” Boba scolded beneath his helmet; Bane ground his teeth as he glared at him, his expression full of venom. Always such an impudent, brazen child.  He hated Jango then – all of them – and his clone army; his poor decision.

“No more innocent people are going to die, or be locked up, or live in fear,” Fett reiterated, brandishing a finger. It was ironic, all this talk, when Boba Fett was supposed to be a bounty hunter.

“Did ye ferget what profession ye’s in? We’re hunters, Boba. Unless ye ain’t one. Maybe yer just soft.”

A poor choice of words, considering the circumstances. Bane was sure he had only made things worse. He did not have the time to contemplate anything beyond that, for Bossk and Embo had arrived.

At least they were fairly trustworthy, the Kyuzo only second to Bane himself. Bossk knew how to take directions, even though he had connections, strong ones, to the Guild. Bane had thought, incorrectly, that they might back him up and take his side, but the blood that ran through Boba’s veins was a testament to his skill and to his mounting leadership, despite his age and stature.

Bane smiled a crooked smile. “Looks like yer lil’ insurrection has failed.”

Boba looked behind himself and to the others; Bane’s smile faltered. He glanced around as the thin shroud separating this world from the next shimmered and disjoined. He saw stars; realspace; a depthless abyss of nothing, like a curtain had been pulled back to reveal the stage, and he was the main character.

“I say we give the kid his shot,” he heard the Trandoshan rasp.

Bane dug his boots into the sandy earth. There was a suction pulling him, like a vacuum, toward a gaping hole that now stretched so wide the entire town was gone. The only thing that remained were the other hunters; Bossk and Embo had stood down, and Boba was rounding on him.

Bane realized they did not seem to be affected; it was like none of this was happening. He knew what he was supposed to say, as if only reciting his own name.

“So, dhat’s it – just ye and me dhen, Boba Fett.”

“I guess it is,”the boy would reply.

Their eyes met, or at least he thought they did. That damned bucket was in the way, Bane mentally cursing its utility – it’s why he hated them – it was a place to hide.

And kark the others; their loyalty was forfeit, Bane reminded of a most important lesson: he was alone, and he always had been. Always would be, save his droid for company.

A sharp wind picked up, yet Bane’s hat did not fly off—not yet. He fought with all his might against an invisible adversary, even as his fingers danced above one LL-30 BlasTech pistol. If he could only be a fraction faster, if he could only put this disgruntled adolescent in his rightful place, his anger, his heartache, his headaches—they all might vanish.

His quick draw was the cause of his notoriety. To be outdone - to lose to a snot-nosed kid - it would be an embarrassment, though highly understated. The only thing he had left to him was his reputation, and Fett was out to steal it from him, albeit fair and square. He couldn’t – wouldn’t – let that happen.

Bane pulled his weapon; he squeezed the trigger. Simultaneously, another shot was fired. Superheated plasma - imbued with an explosive quality - transferred kinetic and thermal force to the armor plating that lined his signature bolero.

It was not enough to stay the bolt; he felt a searing pain on the left side of his head, radiating across his brow and the upper part of his domed skull. He fell back flat, staring up at a now starless, barren sky. He was out of breath, and he thought this is where he ought to die.

Bane would close his eyes, legs stretched out and arms taut at his sides. He had no idea the outcome; that it had been a tie; that Boba Fett had saved himself from his demise by wearing that accursed beskar, yet the young hunter’s aim had not betrayed him.

“Mister Bane!” he would hear his droid call aloud in a worried tone. He had repeated it three times now, though the Duros found he could not move. The only thing he could perceive in this state was a scathing ache; an excruciating, endless throbbing, right where the bolt made contact with his hat and ricocheted.

The plasma had been so hot, so volatile, it had dissolved his scales clean off and scorched him to the bone—the durasteel panel had dented inward before his hat rebounded off his head and fluttered to the ground, molten metal boring easily through flesh and osseous tissue, slowed only partially.

Tears welled behind shut eyelids, as in that moment, he wished the boy had killed him.

---

Zulara, hours later, had traversed Mos Eisley’s streets. She had been looking for something, something good to eat. While she was not hungry, she imagined Bane would be the moment he awoke. The girl had not strayed far in her search for the right ingredients.

She aimed to concoct a Twi’lek dish, though she would modify it. Her palette did not enjoy the fungi that accompanied the rycrit meat. She would add carrots and potatoes, along with various other root vegetables, to cook a hearty stew, a thing to keep Bane’s strength up and paid for with her own meager credits.

Todo had confirmed there was nothing much edible aboard Bane’s ship; she had found out shortly that its name was the Justifier; curious, though she would not mention it. Once they had found the lost dispenser, Zulara made it her new objective to prepare a home-cooked meal for the healing Duros. Perhaps he would be appreciative and would not mind that she was here, doing her best to look out for him.

To think, she could still be napping in Ohnaka’s arms if Fett had not sounded the alarm. It was something more complicated than a mere regret; she did not feel that way. In fact, it pleased her. It had scratched an itch Cad Bane had left behind. Still, she had been hurt, a stupid thing, as the youth had asked how long she had known this man; her answer proved unsatisfactory, even to herself.

Why? Why care? As if his attempt to free her was not enough, though Bane had made her feel things she had never felt before. Maybe Zulara has naïve, a woman with no sense, but what sense could she have considering her circumstances? Some might call it a learning curve, though that did not mean she was not harboring intelligence.  In this case, she was thinking with her heart and not her head, but she could not help it; all she cared for was Bane’s good health.

Zulara absentmindedly stirred a pot; it was something she had located in a cabinet by the conservator. It barely appeared used; she wondered if Bane ever liked to cook, or if his starship had come equipped with those things he needed, whether utilized or not.

Once the rycrit stew was at a simmer, she lowered its heat setting and placed a lid on top of it. With this accomplished, she thought to find Todo and pose another question: where was there a workroom, a space with tools? She had it in her mind to fix Bane’s gauntlet, wanting to feel useful.

Now, just where had that droid gone off to?

---

Glowing embers of crimson red bothered to open up again as Cad’s body began to move of its own volition.

No – it was the wind, that suction. It had gained momentum; it was stronger, rolling him like a tumbleweed toward the open maw of nothing!

The hat went first, vanishing beyond the veil. Bane grimaced as he dug his fingers into the pliant earth. There was no stopping it, head pounding as his legs thrashed violently. He was like a fish out of water, surrounded by only grit and sand. Death, once more, seemed imminent.

The Duros panicked.

---

Zulara heard a crash, like something falling. She rushed back to where Bane rested, Todo’s mental state in a disarray as he had dropped something. Her eyes traveled toward the pod; Bane was seizing. The girl would gasp as she ran for the tank at lightspeed.

It wasn’t that the droid was clumsy, he had simply moved too quickly. Seeing his master at the mercy of his nightmares had drawn out all his worry; it must have been preprogrammed, but by who was an unsolved mystery—unless it was Vertseth Automata. Surely, Bane would have preferred a model with more strengths than weaknesses, but he had his purpose. Currently, it was to act as nurse, though he was not one; he had been built for techo-service.

By the time Todo arrived, Zulara had already pried open the bacta pod. Bane was coughing, sputtering, even while unconscious. The girl tried lifting him, cupping his upper back as he broached the surface; the sticky gel still held him, her face strained with the effort, though Zulara kept him aloft, fighting the weakness of her arms—Bane was too heavy for her alone.

“Todo, do something!” she pleaded, though she needn’t ask. The droid had readied the dispenser that housed the sedative mid-dash.

“I am sorry, Bane, but this will only hurt a moment!” he said in warning, still somehow afraid of incurring his master’s wrath, no matter that he was incapacitated. He aligned the needle and pressed with all his might; the medicine was injected directly into the site; it would disperse and travel throughout his bloodstream, suppressing his dark memories to the best of its ability.

Todo sighed, dropping his hand and arm. He let the empty dispenser fall onto the floor. Bane had noticeably relaxed; his breathing evened out. Zulara finally felt convinced enough to lie him back down within the healing gel.

“Is-is that it? Will he settle now?” the girl asked fretfully, adjusting Bane’s breathing mask for him; it had become somewhat crooked.

“I do believe so, yes,” Todo stated, though his confidence was shaken. He backed up a foot to let her work, watching how Zulara tended to his master carefully.

It was then Todo wobbled on his axis, believing himself to be tuckered out. For a droid to feel this way was like when organics suffered from lack of sleep. He could not remember the last time he had plugged in, knowing that his power supply was finally dwindling. “I do not feel so good,” he reluctantly admitted.

“What?” Zulara appeared alarmed, turning now upon the droid. He placed his feet down on the ground - too much time spent hovering was another drain on his internal generator – knowing he had only a few minutes left.

“It is not..hi..ng…to worry a..bo..ut,” Todo’s speech came out garbled and slowed down, “I am in need of a re..ch..ar..ge…There is a sta..tion…do..wn the ha.ll.”

Bane’s companion’s eyes flickered, like two glowing yellow fireflies, flashing her at intervals. What would she do without him? What if Bane woke up again? She ran to his aid as he began a make his way, albeit awkwardly.

“You can’t leave me! What if the tank malfunctions, or what if Bane has another nightmare!” Zulara begged of him.

“Bane will most likely be remain un..con..scious for se..veral hours n..ow,” he tried to reassure, his tiny, robotic hands trailing the wall to his right side; his eyesight was no longer reliable, and he had to feel for it: the door that would lead him to his charging bay where he would gladly sit and wait to be replenished. “Do not wor..ry, he is safe. You can always ca..ll… Bo…ba.” He could not believe he was saying this.

“Are you sure? But I don’t want to call him!” Zulara argued, watching as Todo ambulated toward another room. It was the place with all their tools, the one she had been searching for. Todo had nearly made it to his recharge station when he stopped dead.

“Todo?” Zulara whimpered.

There was no response; he had lost all power.

#Cad Bane #Cad Bane x OC #Cad Bane x Original Characters #Star Wars #Bad Batch #Clone Wars #TCW #BOBF #Book of Boba Fett #Star Wars OC #Twi'lek species #Todo 360 #Boba Fett #Jango Fett #Flashbacks #Nightmares #Lost Bounty Hunter Arc

[rorywritesjunk]

For these foamy green hills are but saltwater desert

Richie, Mohji's lion, isn't doing so well. The crew end up at a small island with a dwindling population to seek help and Buggy meets Midori, the mayor who is far more stubborn and trusting with his crew than he can really comprehend. Rating: PG-13, gonna have smut at some point later though. Warnings: Buggy being obnoxious, of course. I'd call this a fast paced slow burn. It takes the place over the course of the week and days are split into two chapters. There's also some drama and other pirates. A/N: Full confession. I honestly wrote this because I have been watching the anime and Richie is one of the best characters. Do I know a lot about the anime? No. Is some of this chaotic and characters OOC? Of course! It's a fanfic. Is it self indulgent? Hell yes. I had fun writing this and wanted to share it. Also, I wrote this more with anime!Buggy in mind since we don't get to see Richie in the live action. Title comes from the song "Dryad's Promise" by Tricky Pixie.

Chapter 1

Day 1 pt 1

It was Mohji who requested they dock at the first island they came to on behalf of Richie. He said the lion wasn’t doing well, seemed depressed and was refusing to eat. It had gone on for days and the first mate was worried, and well, Richie was part of the crew so Buggy relented. It was another few days before they spotted an island they could dock at and Mohji hoped he could find someone to help his lion companion. Buggy thought anyone willing to go near a lion had to be pretty stupid.

He knew what Richie was capable of. He’d seen the lion wreak havoc and destruction on unsuspecting people and animals. Those paws of his could level a city block with one swipe. 

So when Mohji left the ship and came back an hour later with a woman, Buggy realized there was someone stupid out there, even if she was pretty.

She was wearing boots, a dress with a thick wool apron over it, and a bulky sweater. Her boots and hem of the skirt were caked in mud and the apron had what looked like crumbs stuck to it. Was she a vet or a baker, or something else? Buggy wasn’t sure but he followed Mohji as he led the woman to where Richie was resting.

“How long since he last ate?” The woman asked as she approached the lion. Buggy instinctively wanted to tell her to be careful, that that was a damn lion, but she held her hand out for Richie to sniff it, and when the lion nudged her hand she moved closer. “When did he start acting like this?”

“He last ate a few days ago.” Mohji told her as he chewed on his nails worryingly. “And he’s been acting weird for about a week. I don’t know what it is.”

Nodding, she knelt down in front of him and lifted up one of his paws, checking over his toes and feeling between his pads, checking for any splinters that could be bothering him. Buggy crossed his arms as he leaned over to his first mate.

“Shouldn’t we be concerned he may eat her?” He asked as Richie opened his mouth all of a sudden, but only to yawn. Mohji shook his head.

“He wouldn’t unless I told him to.” He replied as he watched nervously. He was a wreck over Richie. He hated it when the large feline wasn’t feeling well, and especially since they had been out to sea for so long, it worried him how long it took for them to get help. “I think she knows what she’s doing.”

“Wait, you think?” Buggy asked. “Is she even a vet?”

“Oh, uh…” Mohji shrugged. “I found her at a farm near the shore. She was feeding her animals and she said hi to me. I asked for help and she came with me.”

Buggy stared incredulously at his first mate. He really brought the first person he saw to the ship? He would wait to berate him after the woman left.

“How long have you been out to sea?” The woman asked as she reached up to run her fingers through Richie’s mane. The lion closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. She smiled and scratched behind one of his ears. “Because I think he’s bored. He needs some enrichment on land.”

“He’s used to being out at sea!” Buggy told her harshly. “He’s fine on the ship.”

“Bored?” Mohji repeated. “Oh, Richie! I’m sorry! It’s been a while since we raided any place, no wonder he’s miserable!”

“Raided?” She frowned. “Are you pirates?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact!” Buggy laughed. “You’re looking at the Buggy Pirates!”

“Oh.” A pause. “I’ve never heard of you. We don’t get a lot of visitors to our island.” She pulled back from Richie and looked at Mohji. “If you and your crew are able to stay for a few days, maybe a week, your lion can spend time on the island. There’s not a lot of us to worry about here, and I have some old cows and sheep he could hunt.”

“W-Wait, I’m the Captain!” Buggy snapped. “You should be asking me this!”

“Are you Richie’s owner though?” She asked with a frown. He looked dumbfounded but shook his head. “See, that’s why I’m talking to this guy. He came to me for help, not you.”

Buggy seemed, well, shocked he was being spoken to like that. Mohji looked to his Captain with a pleading expression; Richie looked at him the same way. Buggy grumbled under his breath and caved. He didn’t want his first mate or first lion to be miserable.

“Fine. Only a week!”

~

Her name was Midori. She was the mayor of the only village on the island, population 15. She wasn’t a veterinarian by any means, just a farmer who had been tending to her animals when Mohji came across her. She was kind, as were the villagers, to the crew as they came on shore. Richie was given a bed of hay in one of her smaller barns. Mohji joined him. She even offered her guest room to Buggy, saying it was proper for the mayor to host the Captain. He accepted, but he wasn’t sure what to think of her yet.

Buggy was confused. The villagers didn’t seem scared of him or his crew. Had none of them ever heard of him? Was he not famous in these parts? How could his name not strike fear in the heart of Midori when he had told her who he was?

He sat at her kitchen table as she fixed lunch for the two of them. It was a little odd. It was just him, the rest of the crew were going about the island, checking out the bar for beer and food. He watched her suspiciously, wondering what she had planned for him. Was she going to poison him to collect a bounty? Was this all an act and planned to murder him in his sleep? 

She placed a bowl of soup with some bread on a plate in front of him before grabbing him a beer. He watched her open the beer and took it from her, taking a few sips. That couldn’t have been poisoned, right? He would wait for her to start eating before he made his next move. 

“So, Captain Buggy, I’d love to hear about some of your adventures.” Midori said as she started eating. He watched her have a few spoonfuls before he started helping himself.

“What d’you wanna know?” He asked between mouthfuls. 

“Anything at all.” She smiled. “Please?”

Buggy eyed her suspiciously before he lifted the bowl up to his lips, drinking half of the soup before setting the bowl down and downing the beer. He swore she giggled before getting up to grab him another bottle. The hospitality was borderline uncomfortable for him, but if she wanted to hear stories then he would tell her stories.

By the fourth bottle he was telling of their last raid where they leveled an entire town and took all of their treasure. Midori was listening with rapt attention, hanging onto his every word, and she even let out a gasp at a particularly exciting part. Buggy sat back in his chair as he finished off his drink. She got up to grab him another one and he watched her, suspicion in his eyes.

“What are you getting at?” He suddenly asked. She looked at him in confusion as she opened the bottle for him. He took it from her.

“I don’t understand what you’re asking.” She frowned. “I… just wanted to hear stories of your adventures, Captain Buggy.” She sat back down. “That’s all.”

“You’ve really never heard of me or my crew?” He asked. Midori shook her head. He looked a little put out by that.

“Captain, there’s only 15 of us on this island, including me.” She told him. “When I came here 17 years ago with my family, the town was bustling and full of people, but now everyone wants to leave to find treasure or have their own adventures, leaving many of us behind. We are either leaving on our own or dying, and it won’t be long until I’m the last one here.”

He took a sip of his beer, contemplating her words. “Why would you be the last one?”

“I love it here.” She smiled sadly. “It’s a beautiful island and I can’t imagine leaving it.”

“You may have to leave some day if you’re the last one left.” He said. “It would be stupid to stick around.”

“I guess I’m a bit of a romantic then.” She laughed. “I’m waiting for someone to take me away from here, you know, and we will fall in love and all that.” A wistful look crossed her face as she looked out toward the kitchen window. His ship was in view. She looked back at him with a small smile. “But like I said, not many visitors come through here so that limits my chances that a handsome stranger would come by and take me away. Who knows, maybe someone on your crew would offer me the chance!” 

He nearly choked on his drink, cheeks flushing. Take her away from here? What if… no, no. He couldn’t. He didn’t know her and couldn’t ask her to join the crew, to come along with him and leave the island. He was supposed to be suspicious of her, not feel wooed by her words of longing like that. It was a romantic notion, to be swept away by a handsome stranger like that, taken far from home for new adventures, having tales of her own. Instead he shook his head and sat back in chair. It wouldn’t be him since what woman would find him handsome? Even with a dwindling population she would have better luck finding a husband on this island than with a pirate. 

“Yea, well…” He grumbled as he raised his bottle to his lips once more. “I’m sure something will happen.”

Midori smiled at him as she collected the empty bottles and took them to the sink to rinse out. He kept his eyes on her, a thought coming to his mind. His hand detached from his wrist and flew over to her, tugging on the back of her dress. At least he was being polite enough not to pinch her ass (though there was a bit of temptation there). She turned around, eyes widening at the floating hand. Buggy let out a laugh as his hand flew back to him.

“H-How do you do that?!” She demanded as she stomped over to him, grabbing his hand and pulling it towards her. She gave it a few tugs, trying to see if she could remove it herself. Buggy jerked back from her.

“It’s the Devil Fruit I ate.” He told her, slightly alarmed by her more physical reaction than fear. “The Chop Chop fruit… my body can separate.”

He didn’t like the look in her eyes right then. Now he was regretting even accepting the offer for lunch at that point.

“I need your help with something, Captain.”

#buggy the clown #buggy x oc #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader

[zeroducks-2]

Let’s hear about Barry for your headcanon meme

(Ask game here)

1: sexuality headcanon - Friendsexual. No for real anyone who he considers a friend is allowed to french kiss him, he won't say no. This is not even a headcanon btw, it's just that only girls did this so far because DC is homophobic and won't make Barry canonically queer

2: otp - Eobarry. I love Newsflash and I will ship Barry with lots of people but, Eobarry. I am so unwell about them.

3: brotp - Brubarry! Their friendship is so cute. I love their banter and the sweet way Barry teases him.

4: notp - I don't think I have any? Barry is very shippable. I'm not the biggest fan of Barry/Meena but it's not a notp anyway.

5: first headcanon that pops into my head - He knows full well that Eobard is the one who brought him back to life after all those years, he just pretends not to because he can't just say to people that Eobard is his lightning rod now can he.

6: favorite line from this character - Again just going for a line I really like.

Panels from Running Scared by Joshua Williamson

Every second is a gift! (the other person is Eobard btw, they're both young and Eobard isn't the Reverse Flash yet)

7: one way in which I relate to this character - the flirting obliviousness, I get it Barry I really do

8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character - Whatever the fuck they did with that movie

9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave? - The most cinnamon to ever roll!

#my asks #9 questions ask game #barry allen #thanks for asking FTL!