#like can we go back to the sea train in water seven can we return to that please

[ozymandiasdirge]

me ten minutes ago (ignorant): why have i seen so many people online complain about sanji in thriller bark, yeah the white knighting is starting to wear really thin but it’s definitely not the most annoying anime bullshit i’ve put up with in order to enjoy a piece of media

chapter 464:

……

[mangoshorthand]

Thing of the Past- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch10 (Hard Feelings Part 4)

SUMMARY: You can't avoid it any longer: Five has to meet your parents. It goes more wrong than you could possibly imagine, spiralling to bring up secrets he'd rather stay buried.

⚠️TRIGGER WARNINGS⚠️ Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven/Epilogue

Though Five is rebuilding his confidence, you're starting to struggle with the knowledge.

Can you tell that the author REALLY wants to go to the South of France?

⚠️Please heed content warning⚠️

Chapter Ten: Doing it

The sky is a deep azure as you ride side by side. The sun beats down on the grapevines, seeming to bake the rich, earthy scent from the hills and valleys. You breathe it in deeply. Over several days, more of Five’s confidence has returned. This morning, when he woke you, he’d told you he had planned a day for you both. Hired bikes and cycling equipment waited outside.

His cycling shorts leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. When he’d first emerged wearing them, your eyes had swooped unconsciously down his body; toned calves and thighs, slightly tanned now from the sun. The way they clung to his package was on the borderline of indecency; you tried not to think about what it would look like if he got a boner.

“Yeah, I know I look good in shorts but my face is up here.”

You’d returned your eyes to his face, concerned about making him feel objectified in his current state of mind. Catching your guilty expression, he’d smiled, turned around and given his ass a small slap.

“You're a lucky girl. I thought I'd give you something nice to look at while you eat my dust.”

Now, voice raised over the air whipping in your ears, he turns to you:

“Now this isn’t so terrible, is it?”

His smile is broad and a little dorky beneath his cycle helmet. He looks as if he hadn’t a care in the world. He might be a man who’d never seen the end of the world, never lost family, never been hurt.

You both slow as the terrain becomes steeper, the path climbing you gradually out of the valley and towards the walled village perched on the hill in front of you. You tire sooner than him and he outstrips you. When you have to stop, he looks back once, winks and gives you the finger. You push your bike up the rest of the way.

The village’s heritage is medieval. Twelfth century ramparts in dried cobble stone like that of the resort loom larger the closer you get. Your heart hammers and your legs protest with the effort. Soon, you can see the gates and him waiting for you, leaning against the wall with a smug, self-satisfied look on his face. When he sees your exhaustion, he blinks to your side.

“Come on, dear one.”

He puts his arm around you and blinks you the last 200 ft or so. He locks up both of the hired bikes while you try to catch your breath.

“There’s a café just inside the gates. Let’s get you some water.”

"We-we need to get back to training when we get home." you gasp, "My fitness has gone to shit since Aoife was born."

"I'd like that," he says, laying a kiss on your sweaty forehead, "but all in good time. Just catch your breath."

You can tell he’s enjoying tending to you. He’s trying to rebuild his feelings of strength through nurture. And that’s ok with you.

Your morning’s ramble around the village is a very happy one. The towers offer beautiful, panoramic views down the valley, towards the horizon and sea. The fields stretch out like patchwork- greens of every shade and the occasional purple lavender. Down in the streets, narrow alleys wend their way higgledy-piggledy between buildings, wild wisteria draping elegantly here and there. It’s a place that gives you a sense of forgotten stories steeped in heritage. Five likes to think of himself as an intelligent man, but when he puts his hand on the walls and senses what he’d swear feels like their damn heartbeat, he can’t help but think they’ve seen more than he’ll ever know.

When he and Dolores would look at the stars, he’d found comfort in their dependable celestial course, yet they had made him feel even more remote and alone. These walls, by contrast, seem to have been constructed with no rhyme or reason, (at least to modern eyes) and yet the stones sing with humanity. They put him in touch with centuries, with one people across time. Even after he got back from decades in the apocalypse, he’d been mostly unable to shake the perception of himself as alone in the world- adrift and apart from others. Just walking among complete buildings had done nothing to clear the ruins in his mind.

But now, here he is under the baking Marseille sun. He’s touching walls that feel anchored into the very fabric of this landscape- evidence of human myth-making and endeavour enduring centuries. Now it’s easier to know that no man is an island…and not even his remarkable stories are new. Not really.

He seems peaceful over lunch. You sit on a restaurant terrace, providing you with a beautiful view down into the market square and the church, spire jutting into the sky. The food and wine this entire trip have been exquisite and this lunch is no exception.

The early afternoon bike-ride back to the resort is much easier than the one there. You free-wheel at least half way because of the incline back into the valley. After a couple of glasses of wine over lunch, you let yourself go as fast as the bike will take you. As you whoop with delight, you hear Five’s laughter and shouted warnings.

“Be careful! If you fall into the valley, I am not saving your ass.”

“Shut up, yes you would!” you yell over your shoulder.

He laughs his acquiescence as you continue to shriek with delight. Within a few seconds, he pumps his pedals to bring his bike alongside yours again. Now he’s yelling at the speed too.

You arrive back at the resort breathless and laughing. Five checks his watch.

“Half an hour until our massage. Just in time to shower and change.”

You wore the bikini again. It feels like a small act of support given that he’d persuaded you to wear it the first time. He’s still jovial when you enter the spa and sit in the pre-treatment lounge, sipping cucumber-water, but you can see him getting antsy as the time draws nearer.

“You can still back out.”

“No. It’ll be fine. My back needs it after being bent over on the bike and believe me, back pain will be no joke when your body’s getting towards fifty-five,” he lets out a slightly exasperated breath, “I’m not going to spend the rest of my life freaking out over this.”

You take his hand. He seems torn; annoyed at what he sees as unnecessary solicitude, but grateful for it nonetheless. His eyebrows lower even as he squeezes your hand appreciatively. When you’re called through to the treatment room, you lead him there.

He copes well. He only shows signs of discomfort at the start, (holding your hand between the two massage tables), but after about ten minutes, he relaxes. You hear him sigh a little as the therapist works the tension softly out of his back. In addition to his recent stress, his posture is god-awful, so he gets his money’s worth from the session. Knowing he’s relaxed allows you to do the same.

When you get in bed that night, he pulls you to him. You lie face to face on your sides. His eyebrows raise.

“Wanna do it?”

“Do it?” you repeat, “What are we, teenagers?” you put on a high-pitched gee-golly voice, “Oh boy, are we finally going to go all the way?”

“Are you capable of shutting up?”

“Mm…no.”

He grabs his crotch beneath the sheets, dick already hard in his fist.

“Well. Maybe I got something down here we can use to help with that.”

You hesitate only long enough to raise your eyebrows at him and then burrow under the sheets. He pulls his pyjamas down, cock bouncing invitingly as it’s set free from the waistband. This will be the first time you’ve touched him here in over three weeks. You look up at him.

“Are you sure?”

He doesn’t scowl, he doesn’t roll his gorgeous green eyes: he just smiles gently, eyes for once like tranquil pools you could sink into.

“Yes, beautiful.”

You hold his gaze for a second, half to ensure that all’s well, and half because you can’t look away. Then, satisfied you take him tenderly into your mouth. He gives a contented ‘mmmhh’ like he’s just sunk into a hot bath.

“I’ve missed this,” he whispers.

You don’t reply, enjoying his dick too much. The soft skin against your lips, the engorged tissue beneath, the familiar scent. You bob your head, sucking him on your upstroke. As he sighs again, you withdraw your mouth and tongue the entire length, up and down. When you meet his eyes, the cocktail of love and lust there is stupefying to be the object of. You can't do enough to satisfy the wild, confusing need it stirs in you. You want to cry, scream, kiss him, pleasure him, beg him, be him, worship him, become him: you're torn a thousand ways as his hands come down to lace themselves in your hair.

“Please can I…?”

You nod with him back in your mouth, desperate from within the clouded tumult of need.

“Put your hands on me then.”

You do, knowing from long experience what he means; he wants you to tap him if you need to stop deepthroating him.

His hips thrust forward and he fucks your mouth. You try to take it for as long as you can, just happy to have his dick inside some part of you after what feels like forever. You can’t see his face from under the sheets, but his shallow breathing, occasional grunt and dirty talk is enough to prove his enjoyment.

“Uh, I love you, you little cocksucker. Fuck that’s good.”

You tap him, pulling back, and he releases you. You feel saliva running down your cheek and eyes watering. You catch your breath and find yourself smiling uncontrollably. You’ve never been so happy to be called a cocksucker.

“I won’t last long tonight.” he says, “jerking myself off isn’t the same.”

You rise, almost reluctantly from his dick, "Then fuck me."

He looks down at you, eyebrow raised imperiously.

“That wasn’t very polite, now, was it? Ask nicely.”

“Please fuck me Daddy. I want your cock inside me."

It’s the first time you’ve used this alias since you found out you were pregnant with Aoife. It forces his mock-stern face into a smile.

“Daddy's still too weird."

"Sir?"

"Hm...better. Come here."

You straddle him and lay your torso across his, revelling in the warmth, the closeness. He smacks your ass playfully, making you jump and give a hissing intake of breath.

“Mm…I’ve missed that sound.”

“I’ve missed that feel.” you say, grinding downwards into his crotch.

He laughs softly. Behind you, you feel his hand directing himself towards your waiting pussy,

"Do you want to do it like this?" you whisper into his ear.

By way of answer, he eases his throbbing dick into you, hands coming to your hips, pulling you onto him right to the hilt.

Ecstatic fullness; blissful reunion.

“Ffffuuck” he groans.

He doesn’t hold back, enjoying your body as you’ve both been craving for days and days. This position is particularly good for you. It’s extremely intense, his cock nudging your cervix in a way that toes the line between immense pleasure and pain. He holds your hips firmly, thrusting up into you, giving little, rhythmic grunts along with the push of his pelvis. Your noises become higher and higher with the repeated pressure inside you, building in your stomach.

“Th-this is deep!”

“You like being on my dick, huh?”

"I fucking love it."

You bite your lip, hoping to keep your shrill voice quiet and start to rock yourself along with his thrusts, kissing his throat with desperate, saliva-laden intensity. 

“Ugh- you're so fucking beautiful, darling. You like your husband pounding your little pussy?”

“Yes!” You feel pleasure build all over you, full body electric tingles.

"Yes, what?”

“Yes sir.”

“That’s right.”

His hips snap into you and his nails dig sharp crescents into the flesh of your hips. The sting goes right to your core. Exquisite, beguiling pleasure-pain. He’s close. His breathing is hoarse and harsh.

As you both reach the summit, you whisper a conversation of sorts: garbled sweet and not-so-sweet nothings: "God, that dick-" "Tight fucking whore-" "-right there-" "-make me crazy-" "-need you-" "-I love you so much." "-Come for me, baby. Fill me with it." "I'm gonna-"

He shouts as he releases, his body honest-to-god vibrating against yours. As he reaches the crescendo of pleasure, his fists ball into the swell of your hips. He yells, thrusts upwards and-

>ffshht<

You’re both on the floor a few feet away, a spatial portal closing behind you. The blink magnifies his upward trajectory, causing him to tip, you to overbalance and he to land on top of you.

“Shit…” he breathes. You feel the last little bit of come dribble out of him, onto your stomach now. He rolls off you and looks around, cock still twitching slightly.

“That’s never happened to me before.” he laughs, disbelieving, “Guess that’s one way to consummate the marriage.”

You hold each other for a while, there on the floor. Kissing and laughing, coming down from the high together with arms and legs around one another. . 

Afterwards, you lie entwined together in bed.

“I think I’m ready to go home,” he says, as much to the ceiling as to you. 

“Me too. I miss our girl.”

You’re both silent for a while, until you speak up again.

“You know it’s not over, right?”

He just looks at you, that brooding look back in his eye.

“All of that stuff; it’s a part of your story. It won't just go away. It will probably hurt again.”

He exhales moodily through his nose, “Well. We’ll see about that.”

“You have to live with it. Take it on. Not just push it away.”

“I coped before." his snappy impatience is back.

“Can you really just go back to ignoring it? And it’s not just The Handler, Five. Everything that happened. The nightmares…you know you still have night terrors too? I just stopped telling you about them.”

“And what exactly am I supposed to do about it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe start by talking to someone qualified to help you?”

“We talked about this.”

“No we didn’t; you just dismissed it. Your powers are quite well-known Five. You can explain what happened to someone bound by confidentiality laws. We can find you a doctor, someone who knows how to treat-”

“Treat me? For what?”

“PTSD, you fucking idiot!”

He looks thunderstruck so you backtrack slightly.

“I mean- I’m sorry- I don’t know. I’m not a psychologist, but you know there’s something wrong.”

He’s silent for a while. His face has taken on the angry, dissociative look that scares you. You let it take its course. His lips disappear, mouth thinning into a single line. When he speaks, his voice is menacing.

“I’d like to see anyone go through what I’ve been through and not be a little fucked up. You have no idea-”

You give a growl of vexation that’s almost a shout.

“It’s not an insult! You’re right, nobody could go through what you did and not get PTSD or whatever it is. The fact you’re even still alive is amazing. You’re right- I have no idea so I can’t help you in the ways you need,” your voice shakes; desperate, angry tears falling without your knowledge.

He looks at you, defensiveness gone in pure shock at your sudden breakdown.

“You think I d-don’t want to just take it all away? To just make it so it never happened? I can’t. Nobody can. I can’t help you and it’s fucking killing me!”

He grabs your wrists to slow your hands’ wild gesticulations.

“You need help and I can’t make you take it. But please; please try. For me; for our baby, Five. Please!”

You dissolve into sobs. For a few seconds, he does nothing, fingers digging into your wrists slightly painfully. And then he holds you to his chest.

“All right. All right dear one. I’m listening. Message received,” he rocks you, kissing your cheek, “just…this is something inside me. Give me time to work it out.”

For once, he sleeps well and you uneasily. The darkness eats away at your mind.

After a final goodbye to the resort the next morning, he'd set the briefcase to allow you to return home. He gave you a gentle peck on the lips as the portal consumed you both. When you broke apart, here you were, back in the Bridal suite at your wedding venue. Now, Five checks the clock complete with date display on the bedside table.

“Just as we planned: it's the day after the wedding, ten minutes after we left.”

“It’s…strange.” you look around, there’s your wedding dress, hanging just where you left it, "did...the honeymoon even happen?"

He smiles mischievously, "Oh, it happened. Look at the marks on your hips from last night if you don't believe me." and then, with a return to seriousness, "You’ll get your head around it. Gotta find a focus point. Shall I go get the baby?”

“Sure. I’ll pack up here.”

He looked down at the kill order for Anita and Ronnie Gill, flower merchants. It was stamped with A. J’s approval but it seemed...

Slowly, he raised his eyes to her face. She watched him with almost-benign interest, tossing her exquisitely curled hair over her shoulder.  

“Execs never go on jobs.”

“Exactly,” she said, business-like, “and I think of that as a missed opportunity. When we lose track of field work we become…disconnected," she tapped her nails on the bar, "this isn’t about us ordering around underlings, it’s about preserving the timeline as a lifeline for all of us.”

“Cut the company shit,” he snapped, “what are you after?”

“Ah,” she sighed, placing a hand on his knee and looking at him with an expression of pity, “always so suspicious, Five. Can you blame a gal for wanting to get back in the field? Feel the thrill of a well-executed job?"

On the word 'thrill', she circled his kneecap with a single finger. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of moving his leg. She leaned towards him, lowering her voice suggestively.

"Perhaps I just wanted to see London town with my favorite assassin. 

“You know I work alone," he muttered, ignoring the latter part of her speech. 

“You work for me.”

She crossed her legs on the barstool, drawing an admiring glance from the pub’s landlord, nominally engaged in polishing the bar but really watching The Handler with lascivious interest. Five lowered his voice.

“You know full well you’ve got me over a damn barrel. So tell me your game- what harm can it do? Has it occurred to you that I might be able to help?"

"Oh yes," she replied, removing the hand on his leg to take a sip of campari, "I know you're more than a pretty face, but you aren't that much more. You just do what you were born to do: pull the trigger and don't ask questions."

He crossed his own legs, uncomfortably, trying to hide it by taking a sip of the poor-quality porter offered at the bar.

"You know I could work it out anyway, if I wanted to. Don’t I have a right to know why? Considering …” he gave her a significant look.

“Considering what?”

“I feel, given our...history, you could tell me why we're here.”

She raised a single, pencilled brow, "Our history?"

"You know what I mean: what you make me do."

There was a beat in which their eyes met: a moment of unspoken interplay in which something could shift; anything could happen. He needed to hold it, needed to come out on top, finally. With the intensity of his own gaze, he fought against the power of hers.

But then her mouth spasmed and she burst into helpless laughter. She threw her head back and shook with loud, long, guffaws.

“Oh Five! What I make you do? Well sure, whatever you have to tell yourself.”

His hand gripped his pint glass more tightly as she continued to laugh uproariously, drawing the attention of more than the landlord. She bent forward from mirth, as if laughter was starting to be painful, she put her hand on his upper arm for support.

“Oh, I’m going to have to go to the little girls’ room before I pee myself! Wait here like a good boy and afterwards, you and I will do what we came here to do."

She swung her legs off the barstool, wiping her eyes. Just as she moved as if to leave, she bent towards him, whispering right in his ear.

“But don’t tire yourself out too much; we have a long night ahead of us after we’re done. This time I even brought some…equipment to try."

She giggled again as she clacked away in her heels, leaving Five’s stomach to roil.

“I think you’ve pulled, mate,” muttered the barman, suddenly across the bar from him.

Five squeezed the glass so hard that it shattered in his grip.

"Hey, Five?" He comes back to the present with a bump. Diego's stood in their room's doorway, Lila approaching from behind him. He had been unprepared for how seeing her would stir the pandora's box irrevocably open in his mind. With regret, he realizes it's going to take more than a bike ride to fix this.

"Sorry. I was miles away." he tries not to catch Lila's eye- he has a feeling she knows exactly how to account for his odd behavior. 

“No worries, bro," says Diego, "How was it? You got a nice tan.”

“Thanks,” grins Five. “It was…really good actually.”

He lets himself look at Lila, her smile is slightly apprehensive.

“All good?”

“All good. Thanks.” They exchange a nod, one that acknowledges everything that happened between them. He had once called her ‘entirely average’. For a long time, he’s known she’s anything but. Now, she's firmly on his list of favorite people. Shaking off this sentimentality, he cranes around their bodies into the room, returning Santi's cheery wave.

“Where’s Aoife?” he asks.

At the sound of a knock, you think Five forgot his key. When you open the door, it’s your mother, holding a screaming Aoife. She thrusts the baby into your arms and pushes past you into the room. Seeing her unexpectedly has an unexpected effect on you. You place Aoife onto the floor and try to stop the rage building. Your Mom strides into the room and then turns on her heels, her face fixed in the lines of her best tragedy-mask.

"Well I just don't know what to think?"

You don't humor her; the flouncing demeanour is infuriatingly familiar. You could be thirteen again and she fretting over what the ladies in church would think about your loss of interest in Girl Scout meetings.  

“Why are you here Mom?”

“That British woman. She is so rude."

She flops, uninvited on to one of the armchairs, clapping a hand to her heart.

"There she was, holding my grandbaby, and that man who officiated was talking to them. All I did was tell them it was more appropriate that her grandmother looked after her and she used the foulest language! "

"That's because I left her with Lila and Diego, Mom. People she actually-"

But she plows on:

"What were you doing leaving her with people like that? I don’t know what you married into but I have never been more humiliated in my whole life.”

“Shut the fuck up.” 

She gasps. The silky disdain your voice silences her for once. She looks as if you’ve slapped her face. Her lower lip pooches out and begins to tremble as she prepares for histrionics.

“You ask what I married into?" you continue, voice still deceptively calm, "It's what Five married into that worries me.”

“W-what…how d-?”

“I KNOW what you did to Five and Diego!”

Aoife’s protests become full cries, scared by your raised voice. Your mother’s wails join hers.

“Y-y-you’ve always hated m-me.” her sobs, designed to manipulate, just cause adrenaline to thud in your ears.

“You know what? I do! I really fucking hate you."

“I KNEW it. Nothing I ever do it g-g-good enough for you.”

You take a step towards her, “And what do you do when it comes to me, Mom? Apart from sexually harass- no- assault my husband?”

“What?”

Her shrill, fake-ass cries cease immediately replaced by anger flashing in her eyes.

“Well what would you call it, Mom? Backing a guy into a counter, touching him. Putting your hand under his clothes?”

She gives a disdainful 'pah' of shocked laughter.

"Am I supposed to like that? Am I supposed to be grateful?"

“You're being RIDICULOUS," she spits, "You always were dramatic."  she stands, shoving her chair backwards as she does: it upturns, hitting Aoife on the floor behind it with a glancing blow.

You barge past her, all but vaulting the chair to take Aoife into your arms. She's shrieking, bright red in the face. You hold her head where a bump is already forming. Your mother, unfazed, continues her diatribe.

"You, your father: both of you. I don't know what I did wrong. All I ever did was love you!-"

You're not listening. You kiss Aoife's head, casting your mind around desperately for something to use as a cold compress. She's fine, quieting even now as the shock of the blow subsides. 

"-And whatever Five's told you. It's just nonsense! He's exaggerating-"

You feel as if you’re floating. Red mist descends. Delicately, you place Aoife down on the floor beside the overturned chair. The thumping in your ears and the buzzing in your limbs take over. Your conscious mind all but switches off. You feel your teeth bare. 

"-It's not my fault if he's dirty minded!"

You look around the room, hands going into your jean pockets. No fire axe here. What a shame.

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed.) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh, @nevbrooke-555, @theredvelvetbitch, @td-miley01, @five-hxrgreeves, @rorygi1more, @jamiebower88

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[lilaceas]

gold-cold🥞 pt.2

get clean with unclean, i dreamed that you wanted myself to be when drunk past nights my eyes sleepless & trust in god like a nightmare behind walls that

held people. under lonely ate lights & taxis through the storm ocean bleeds against my skin to be beautiful above the mark of a bullet as one lone & kat, named mango i do clumsily & in a roadtrip that lead you everywhere we can go no surprises heartless his veins that i adore to kill in desert i call your name & don't judge too sweet tangerine in the dark light up my wings i was no one i was your woman drunk & cutting deep desexed, yawls wind blows in his back i feel things i saw Shuddering, a junkie says i wasn't but mother & daughter be dizzy sometimes sugar is enough but i fell in love to bones

You feel that? thunder swallowing sky craving death as nothing returns turn off the lies trusting in you when you weren't there & here in her shallow The water eerie wanderlust broken & crying all the fucking time gave me a piece of what draws eels from crevasses; secrets kept jealousy.

brick by brick soften in the old wood gaol wall gasoline & cigars down

amusement park Cold & mortal & mortal falls away. a drunkard, watch me having sex with another one letting fingertips burn-hole beside a church overdose taking sizes & breast don't move & untouched & clean like a throat when you aren't smiling & didn't swallowed my mother's sleeping Pills

while u

i was walking with Lafayette [want it to have been & i need you because you never face me how cool the truth is not for you & if it was] it was in brooklyn, nyc. you bought something to eat, forget-me-not & a donut towards the subway & Emmanuel is sure can't been seen sure about what you asked for money to whether this sickness i'm a woman watering geraniums flowers poisoned addicted the sky was white & dotting lines of your tears no one where its coming exhausted way dolled up waiting all day for the rain jack. make minor things & babydolls at the buildings & cars— virginity filled up with scars how christmas when a soul met nobody Say Yes to the Dress malaysia tv. Santa maria is understandable stuff with anybody! tell you about this woman made you mad & kicking the doors there's nothing there wasn't a child if this wasn't love &

what else is still remember forever though i still want her still want you & she god? where am i? at a hotel room. with the cops all around you don't need to call me because last year i slept with another woman i'd just met— when stars had a fuck when our mind is twisted & with you it's only games & when meet magic began that has no price & you'd buy & intimacy by kissing her mouth & told her no i say yes my mental disease are made to be into a neat little box, Alice! she said. the terror & failures be locked letters even though we met &

it seemed unfair to let you know how faster she is bed

quickly & added in alcohol hurt it will not blow away in the next wind & then suicide

for your money & dirty talk destroyed his Knife is the kind of rain never answer & promises – undead alone & walking down the street, then show me how great beneath concrete & weapons & fissure; like the sea translucent i don't dare …no water know how to be mine

no river & no lake already & petroleum & rainbow & chains

& money bubblegum & past torture cnidae. disturb me say love me : city

left for rats : church & park & subterranean train & stations i am dancing & blind– withot you i feel my veins open wait & see frost milk when the snowgums grow. & touch me & waiting for me gave birth

stood here

since each lie fires me back

to the last five years old to eighteen back in hell there & whoke

cold, & seven crowns with gums screaming aling riding

arterial highways to stay, & to go faith anyone's heart & waiting to die she takes gum she roads the entire city last year

to the traffic st. James the disaster & apocalypse that will never make me surrender i suplicate in a chamber death & offeting predatory lies & hunger to make my life easier.

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Imagine # 856

Grid is mine, pictures are not mine however. (Feel free to save the grid, just give credit where credit is due.)

Year posted - 2021

*This popped into my head last night, so here have a fun little crossover. (^_^)

----

How she got to this world is a mystery to her, but how she got into the Sevens headquarters was simple enough. When she entered this world, she was in the sea in her own world, and so she was in the sea of this world. At first she didn't suspect anything was amis, until she couldn't find Atlantis. She had searched high and low, even tempting the trenches, asking creatures here and there if they knew where Atlantis was. News traveled fast, and within three hours of her being in this new world, word had reached The Deep, who passed the news to the rest of the Seven. "There's someone in the ocean." The Deep began, only for A-Train to interrupt him. "No shit there's people in the ocean." He rolled his eyes at The Deep, who in turn huffed an annoyed breath. "No I mean someone like me, but she keeps asking about Atlantis." The Deep explained. "Is Atlantis real?" Starlight asked with sudden wonder. "No." The Deep shook his head, then looked to Homelander. "I think I should go find her." He stated to the team leader, who looked to be thinking over his words. "Alright go find your aquatic girlfriend, bring her back here." Homelander instructed, waving The Deep off, who was quick to leave the tower, having chosen to ignore Homelanders remark.

It didn't take The Deep long to find her, as she sat on top of a sunken ship in the Pacific ocean, weeping quietly to herself. "Are you okay?" Deep asked as he swam up to her, clearly startling her. "Are you an Atlantan?" She gasped out through her tears, approaching The Deep with hopeful eyes. "No." He shook his head, frowning himself when she frowned. "Are you from Xebel then? Or one of the other kingdoms?" She asked, her words confusing Deep. "I've never heard of Xebel, and there are no kingdoms in the ocean." The Deep explained. "Then how are you here speaking to me?" She asked with confused eyes. "I'm a Supe, I'm The Deep, a member of the Seven." He stated as he rest his fists against his hips, puffing his chest out with pride. "What's a supe? Or the Seven for that matter?" She asked with a deep frown. "W-what?" He sputtered with shock. "I've never heard of any of that." She swam away from him a little. "Well... Come with me back to Vought Tower, my teams waiting for us, the Seven, were superheros." Deep explained with a award winning smile, and despite her hesitance she followed him.

Before long she stood before the Seven, eyeing them with cautious eyes. "What's your name?" The blonde at the head of the table, Homelander, asked. "(Y/n) Marius former Queen of Atlantis." She held her head high, a regal aura around her. "Atlantis isn't real." Homelander stated. "Not in this world, but in my world it is very real." (Y/n) shot back, her words momentarily stunning the team. "Your world?" Homelander questioned with doubt in his voice. "Yes my world, I don't know how I got to this world, but it is not my world. None of you exist in my world, although their are meta humans in my world that you remind me of." She stated casually as she looked them over one by one. "Meta humans?" Homelander cocked his head to the side a little. "I believe you call yourselves supes, or super humans... We call them meta humans." (Y/n) explained, manipulating water withing the glass they had set before her. "I can't do that." Deep pouted a little as he watched her change the water to resemble a city.

----

The following day (Y/n) was taken on a tour around the city by Starlight, and whilst they did that, The Deep got word of more strangers in the ocean. This time however he was unable to find them, but A-Train happened to cross paths with them in the city. He called everyone to meet back at the tower, and everyone including (Y/n) and The Deep beat them there. "You said there are others?" (Y/n) asked Deep as she sat beside him, excitement in her eyes. "Yeah the whales said they were just like you." Deep explained. "It must be my husband!" She beamed with excitement, her words making Deep frown, as he was hoping she was single.

First A-Train entered then following him a man in orange and green armor entered, a gold Trident in hand. "Arthur!" (Y/n) exclaimed with excitement, the sight of the incredibly handsome man making Deep sink low into his seat. Following in behind Arthur was a blond in silver and purple armor, a silver Trident in hand. "Orm!" (Y/n) had rushed out of her seat at the sight of Arthur, but she practically sprinted to the second man, jumping into his arms kissing him. Orm chuckled as he caught her with ease, smiling like a dope into the kiss, the Trident he once held standing without his hold on it. "You found me." (Y/n) breathed a sigh of relief as she separated from her husband, who kissed her forehead in return. "Always." He had whispered softly against her skin.

"Oh Arthur!" (Y/n) beamed as she tackled the taller man in a near bone crushing hug. "I missed you too sis." Arthur chuckled at his sister in law, hugging her back with just as much enthusiasm. The Deep glared down the two men, feeling slightly inferior compared to them. "How did you find me so quickly?" (Y/n) asked as she removed herself from Arthur's hold, instead latching onto her husband's side. "The cave you were exploring, one of the chambers leads to a portal that opens ever twenty four hours. We just followed after you once it opened again." Arthur explained casually. "I didn't even realize I entered a portal." (Y/n) frowned with confused eyes. "I think you were directly in it when it opened, it just pulled you in before you could react." Arthur added as he leaned against his Trident, which stood erect without the need of his hold, and despite the added weight.

"Can we go back there? I want to go home." (Y/n) pouted as she looked up at her husband, who squeezed her hip reassuringly. "We should go now, we can just rest there until it opens again." Arthur grasped has Trident, pulling it from the ground, a small glowing circle left marked into the floor where it had been anchored. "I'll go with you!" The Deep rose from his seat rather quickly, coughing nervously when the others eyed him. "Just to the portal that is." He explained, offering his team a small smile.

----

Homelander had waved The Deep off, and he accompanied the trio back to the portal. Chatting with them about this and that, but mostly asking them about their world, about how many people there were like them, and what life's like there. To them it was clear he wanted to join them back to their world, but he tried his damnedest to play it off. But when he insisted on staying until the portal opened they knew very well what was happening. The twenty four hours passed within no time as they all talked and joked the time away, with only (Y/n) falling asleep for a few hours.

And when the portal opened (Y/n) Orm and Arthur turned to The Deep. "Why don't you come with us?" (Y/n) asked him with a small smile. "I couldn't..." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Why not? The portal opens every twenty four hours, you can always come back." Arthur argued with a casual shrug. "Do you think I'd fit in?" Deep asked with insecurity creeping in his mind. "A hell of a lot better than you do here." Arthur chuckled. "Accompany us, for a few days at least." Orm encouraged, the three of them smiling when Deep nodded his head in agreement.

He followed them through the portal with little hesitation, although surprised to see the portal closed behind him. "My names Kevin by the way, you don't have to keep calling me The Deep." He shrugged casually, his heart stuttering in his chest when (Y/n) smiled at him. "Come see Atlantis Kevin." (Y/n) grasped his hand, and the three Atlantans sped through the water faster than Kevin ever could. "Woah." His eyes sparkled with wonder at the sight of the glamorous city as they approached it rapidly. "Extraordinary isn't it?" Orm asked with pride, truly proud of his homeland. "Yeah." Kevin nodded his head in agreement, unable to form a proper sentence in his stunned state.

----

*Let me know what you thought of this one! (^ _ ^)/

[petitemingi]

The Siren's Key | Chapter 2

summary: The legend of The Siren's Key is one that has been around for centuries; the key itself is said to be worth billions, but the catch for finding it is death. The captain of the horizon just so happens to stumble upon this legend, and with his crew all set, sets out to find it, accompanied by his worst enemy. Will Captain Hongjoong and the horizon crew find the key, or will their crew be torn apart on this perilous journey?

word count: 3.1k

《 previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter 》

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The pirate had a gentle face, one she recognised from when she had been caught up in the net. His eyes met hers, a soft brown colour, filled with more emotion than what channelled through her entire body.

The room stayed in that familiar silence, as if time had been paused. This was it, the siren thought, this was probably how she was going to die: no pirate, however gentle looking, was merciful - especially to a creature of the sea.

"s-sorry, I probably should've knocked" the pirate rubbed the back of his neck, perhaps out of nervousness in front of something that could potentially kill him.

"it's alright" all the siren could let out was a whisper, her voice croaking and in slight pain "why are you here?"

The pirate paused, raising a hand to start speaking, but he couldn't quite find the words. It was only after the struggle of conducting a sentence that he spoke up again "Captain sent me, he wants me to stay for a while"

The Siren just stared, the water around her now still from lack of movement. "thank you," she started "f-for letting me stay here a-and for providing me with a comfortable habitat, I mean"

The two of them returned back to that silence from moments before, not much awkwardness between them. The pirate, although hesitant at first, crouched down to the Siren's height, looking at her more closely now. "If you don't mind me asking, do you have a name?"

It took a while for any kind of reply, the water in the tank now letting off a soft rippling sound. The Siren looked at him, observing the brown colour of his eyes in comparison to her green ones "Noeul".

"Noeul" he repeated to himself, the name seeming to roll nicely off of the tongue "it suits you"

"what about your name? do you have one?" Noeul tilted her head to the left, a quizitive look now about her. The pirate smiled to himself, looking down at the wood of the floorboards. "Well?"

"Y-Yunho" the pirate stumbled upon his words, "my name is Yunho"

"Yunho" She repeated, just as he had moments before. She now turned around fully in the tank, her attention entirely on him. Yunho trained his gaze on her, the look of dread ghosting his eyes at the thought of the question Hongjoong had sent him to ask:

"I-if you don't mind, can i ask you h-how you got this far out to sea? a-and how come your voice sounds broken?"

Noeul nervously bit her lip, the same ghostly look now brushing over her "well"

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"A kraken" Yunho burst through the door of Hongjoong's quarters, the crew now residing in looks of delayed horror.

"A say what now?" Jongho questioned, hands placed together as if in silent prayer.

"A kra-"

"I HEARD YOU THE FIRST TIME!" Fear had now taken over the seven other crew members in the quarters, each portraying their own feelings differently. Hongjoong stood quietly in the centre of it all, now deep in thought: what would a creature like the Kraken want with a Siren? It wasn't something it ate on a regular basis, and it wasn't like the nature of the creature to chase down Sirens, even for fun.

Seonghwa looked at Hongjoong, noticing the look of thought on his face; "you got something, Joong?"

"Why would a Kraken," he plonked himself on the floor, the crew now paying full attention "go after a Siren? They aren't natural prey and they're as scared of them as we are, so why-"

"It could be anything: a threat? misunderstanding?" Yeosang now spoke up, his eyes darting about the floor as he too tried to theorize what could've happened.

"Yunho could go back and ask the siren again?" San suggested, his shoulders shrugging slightly, but Hongjoong's expressions said otherwise.

"Is she dangerous?" He asked, "the siren, i mean. Has she shown any signs of danger? Threat?" The feelings of fear had been drowned out by curiosity, accompanied by a noticeable silence.

"She's not dangerous" Yunho began "i-in fact she was crying when I spoke to her"

Hongjoong nodded, resting his hand against his cheek - trying to understand the 'kind' nature of a creature portrayed as being so cruel was difficult, yet Yunho made it seem so believable.

"where is she now?"

"She's still in my cabin," Yunho answered "the crew emptied my fish into some glass jars, she's in their tank"

"and there's definitely nothing suspicious, persay, about this siren?"

"nothing suspicious. s-she has a name, y'know"

"sirens can have names?" Jongho turned to Seonghwa, a look of astonishment on his face. Usually, Jongho was quite a smart young man, but his mind had been elsewhere, recently.

"A name, you say?"

"y-yeah, her name's Noeul"

"that means sunset, what a pretty name" mingi now joined the conversation, why not give a pleasant fact during this time?

"I'll speak to this Noeul later then, for now, prepare a meal for the crew. It's getting late, and I've had nothing to eat since breakfast..."

A small frown from Seonghwa, and they exited the cabin orderly, the discussion of the siren and what she had said staying within it's walls. That conversation Hongjoong was about to have, why don't we take a closer look?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"Noeul, is it?" Hongjoong slipped into the cabin, making sure the door was closed behind him. The siren glanced at him, a look in her eyes telling him she was prepared to die, if that's what he'd come to do. Hongjoong took a seat on the set of drawers besides Yunho's hammock, his legs dangling over the edge as he addressed the creature in the tank.

"I have a few things I've been meaning to ask you," he told her "but first and foremost, what is a creature like you doing this far out into the open ocean?"

Noeul looked down, her eyes hinting fear as they walked with tears of salt. Memories flooded her head, all bringing back some blur of words and screams.

"i..." she began "my family... we were"

"it's okay, take your time" Hongjoong's eyes softened at the siren's attempt to recall recent events leading up to her capture. He knew what it felt like to lose the people he had cared about for so long.

She sighed, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply, "we were in our corner of what many sailors know as 'The Unnamed Island', the one where sailors come to-"

"die. sorry, continue"

"it came out of nowhere, this huge squid-like thing. It went for the ships first, then the pier, the rocks, the shelters and then... them. A-and they tried to get away, they really did, but it just,"

She gestured vaguely, imitating the kraken's tentacles as it had moved when snatching up what she had called home.

"it ate them, captain, it ate my family, my friends, my home so i-"

"so you swam away from it before it could get to you?"

"y-yeah, I was scared, a-and I... I just..."

The Siren sat there, paralysed as the memories came forward. The screams loud in her ears, and the imagery of the scene projected as if right in front of her.

"so, a kraken comes along. It eats the ships, normal. It eats the piers, normal. But eating a group of sirens? that's the bit I can't get my head around, why would a kraken go after a siren? it doesn't make sense"

"it does if you count Davy Jones"

"Davy Jones?"

"Captain of the Flying Dutchman? Cursed real bad?"

Hongjoong looked lost, his shoulders rising up in a little shrug " legend says he and his crew were cursed to look like the creatures of the sea"

"Oh that Davy Jones, yes, what about him?"

"my sisters told me about his ship. Where regular ships have that weird wooden wheel thingy in the middle, they have one that controls the movement and actions of the kraken"

"uh huh?"

"he's been using it these past ten years or so, but I don't know what we could've done to have the kraken sent after us."

"neither can I, it's odd, suspicious in fact. you'll stay aboard The Horizon for now, I'm sure Yunho wouldn't mind letting you stay here in his fish tank for now"

Hongjoong then steadied his voice, his eyes containing this look of curiosity as he asked the siren "can you tell me about the Siren's key?"

The Siren looked up at him with a sense of almost astonishment. "The Siren's Key... also known through it's given name of 'de sirenibus clavem'? that Siren's Key?"

The captain nodded his head, wonder evident in his face as he rested his chin on clenched fists, captivated by the story that hadn't even revealed itself yet.

"hm, The Siren's Key is something many pirates alike have been trying to find for centuries, of course failing to do so without, y'know, dying. It's said to be a treasure worth millions, and before it's time being locked up, was said to have belonged to the first generation of Siren's, a small group of around 400, crafted to protect them from those they feared most,

"the key was an heirloom, passed down through the generations up until around 300 years ago. That's when pirates first began showing up in our waters. The Key, along with the heirloomed group, were lost, and only by having a siren can you uncover it. But there's a few mishaps along the way your crew and yourself should be aware of, unless you'd like to die a horrible death, that is"

Hongjoong's hand wandered across his face, his lips pressed thin in thought. His eyes squinted and his eyebrows furrowed - so far, the most he'd learned about the key was that it had the capability to unlock a most valuable piece of treasure: what that was exactly, he hadn't a clue. He leaned forwards, still seated on the chest of drawers, a deep inhale to indicate a train of new thought.

"I'll let you know if I have anymore questions for you, siren. In the meantime, I'll ask my crew to provide you with food and anything else you may need during your time on the Horizon."

The captain slipped himself from the chest of drawers, straightening his trousers as he landed on the wood of the floorboards, departing the room soon after.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Meanwhile, in the captain's quarters, an entirely different conversation seemed to have taken up the interests of the members of the horizon crew.

"what kind of a siren wears a shirt? aren't they supposed to wear those coconut bra thingies?"

"Wooyoung, you can't just say that!"

"and why not, Seonghwa, I spit facts not lies"

"idiot"

Blocking out most of this 'conversation', Yunho had taken up the idea of standing by the window towards the far left of the captain's room; there, he had the perfect view of the sunset. The sky was a miraculous thing to him, he had always been amazed at how it could paint itself colours of pink and gold, how the sun would make such a dramatic exit everyday without fail - it was the reason he enjoyed living the life of a pirate.

Beside him stood San, he too had decided to look out the window. San, however was more interested in the ocean rippling gently under the steady glide of The Horizon; a school of fish seemed to have swam up towards the surface, their scales of a silver hue glistening as though they wore some kind of diamond coat. San was drawn away from the fish as Yunho began to converse with him.

"hey San, what're your opinions on the siren?" Yunho hadn't taken his gaze away from the sunset, he simply leaned forwards, his forearms now resting on the ledge of the window. San frowned in slight confusion, his eyes drifting around the room as he thought of a worthy answer.

"I don't know what to think really - I've always been told that siren's are hideous creatures capable of murderous acts..." San paused for a moment, he truly had no way of wording his thoughts correctly, he'd never come into contact with a siren before, let alone been on the same ship as one, "I guess I'm just confused 's'all... that siren didn't seem all that friendly on deck, but the way you talk about her confused me - I suppose I'm undecided, sorry Yunho"

Yunho would only nod in response, drawing his eyes down to the twidling of his thumbs, inhaling heavily before pushing himself up off of the ledge and exiting the quarters walking onto the deck.

"I'm telling you Seonghwa, that siren obviously missed the trend"

"How can she if there's no trend to follow????"

There seemed to have been a slight chill in the air as Yunho walked over towards the main mast of the ship. Above him, the sails wanted gracefully in the early evening breeze, and the waves added an almost perfect ambiance to the setting. From behind him, the sound of footsteps tread East - Hongjoong had exited Yunho's medical quarters and was now heading back into his own. A small glance of acknowledgement was exchanged and Hongjoong was quick to disappear into the rather unruly atmosphere of his room, Wooyoung's arguments still being heard from the cracks in the door.

The other members of the Horizon crew seemed to have gone about themselves, some below deck, others drinking the furthest end of the ship from Yunho. Right now, he was alone with the sea, alone with his thoughts - he liked things that way though. That was, until a faint melody crossed his ears.

"I think there is someone praying for someone I can hear the love poem they wrote holding their breath. My wish is that it flies to you and arrives to your place before it's too late,"

Yunho found himself captivated by such a melody; never before had he heard such a sound, a sound which could have only been compared to the sweetness of honey; the freshness of a summer's breeze; the comfort of warm hug. The pirate found himself stiff with curiosity, his eyebrows furrowing as he listened for an indication of where the tune seemed to flow from.

"Once again, in your world a star is falling. The teardrop that you held back is flowing here at a loss of words, my mind calms I can hear your voice like a memory,"

It's with the continuation of the song that his feet seemed to trudge weakly towards his own quarters, his hand now reaching for the door handle as though another person had taken a hold of it — he couldn't stop it from moving on it's own. Eyebrows still knitted together, Yunho felt himself fading in and out of consciousness; a sense of being fully awake only to settle into a series of slow and heavy blinks.

Eventually Yunho's grasp on reality reduced itself to a small fragment of existence; the melody had almost completely taken over his conscious with no ideas of any way he could rid himself of this heavy feeling, it's only as the song comes to end that this temporary state seemed to fade suddenly, and with it, a realisation of the situation promptly set in.

"Siren," Yunho gasped, flinging himself across the room. "You're a- and you-"

Horror flashed across his face, followed by bone-deep betrayal. "You tried to seduce me, you could've ruined me, you've probably been feeding off me-"

"No... I'm stuck and I needed help, but everyone else seems to be either drunk or preoccupied and couldn't hear me... so I started singing to comfort myself"

"O-oh..."

"Y-yeah"

"You... um... you have a very nice voice"

"Thanks" her eyes trailed towards the floor, the gills either side of her neck moving slowly as she lay as through strewn on the floor. She couldn't see Yunho from where she was: the tank she had been in lay toppled over a just few feet away, the water from said tank had by now soaked into the wooden floorboards. Her hair had become straw-like, not completely dried out yet but it was getting there.

"w-what happened?" Yunho crept back towards the tank, kneeling to the siren's level and scooping her up in his arms. Noeul smiled faintly to herself, her head now resting on Yunho's chest — a sigh was short to follow as she explained to the pirate the way in which she had tumbled over as she reached for a book nearby. Looking over, and true to what had been said, one of Yunho's books lay - now drenched - just under his hammock.

"oh," Yunho leaned closer to the hammock, picking up the book "well I'm not sure how much use it may be to you now, but here"

The pirate chuckled slightly at the state of the book: the pages had begun to wither and a few of the notes he had made on the pages had smudged ever so slightly. We should note this wasn't a published book; Yunho had taken a liking to writing a short while ago, and during the long months on the sea had filled his time with the hobby.

The book had no title, and the cover was bare; it was half finished and had really been abandoned after Yunho had run short of ideas - he hadn't really imagined finishing it either, it had only in recent weeks lay abandoned under his hammock.

"I liked the colour of the cover"

"yeah... red makes it stand out more, huh?" Yunho turned the book over in his right hand, admiring the faintly painted patterns on the red cover, before handing it to Noeul.

Looking around the room, Yunho's eyes landed on the fish tank Noeul had been residing in over the last few hours, checking if over from where he was sat for any obvious signs of damage — if it was alright, he'd just fill it with water again, something he'd have to do pretty quickly too.

The pirate's train of thought was soon disturbed however by what he would soon discover to be the light snoring of the siren, her head now limp and heavy still resting against his chest, the red book laying gently against the scales of her tail. He'd smile to himself, just a light and rather brief smile - he found it strange that a creature with such a murderous reputation could be found in such a peaceful state such as this.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[nasa]

Top 10 Things to Know for the Return of our Launch America Mission With SpaceX

History was made May 30 when NASA astronauts Robert Behnken and Douglas Hurley launched from American soil in a commercially built and operated American crew spacecraft on its way to the International Space Station. 

Pictured above is the SpaceX Dragon Endeavour spacecraft that lifted off on the company’s Falcon 9 rocket from Launch Complex 39A at Kennedy Space Center in Florida and docked with the space station on May 31. Now, Behnken and Hurley are ready to return home in Endeavour for a splashdown off the coast of Florida, closing out a mission designed to test SpaceX’s human spaceflight system, including launch, docking, splashdown, and recovery operations. Undocking is targeted for 7:34 p.m. ET on August 1, with splashdown back to Earth slated for 2:42 p.m. on August 2. Watch our continuous live coverage HERE. 

1. Where will Behnken and Hurley splash down?

Image: SpaceX’s Crew Dragon is guided by four parachutes as it splashes down in the Atlantic on March 8, 2019, after the uncrewed spacecraft's return from the International Space Station on the Demo-1 mission.

Together with SpaceX, we are capable of supporting seven splashdown sites off the coast of Florida. The seven potential splashdown sites for the Dragon Endeavor are off the coasts of Pensacola, Tampa, Tallahassee, Panama City, Cape Canaveral, Daytona, and Jacksonville.

2. How will a splashdown location be chosen?

Splashdown locations are selected using defined priorities, starting with selecting a station departure date and time with the maximum number of return opportunities in geographically diverse locations to protect for weather changes. Teams also prioritize locations which require the shortest amount of time between undocking and splashdown based on orbital mechanics, and splashdown opportunities that occur in daylight hours.

Check out the Departure and Splashdown Criteria Fact Sheet for an in-depth look at selecting return locations, decision points during return, and detailed weather criteria.

3. How long will it take for Behnken and Hurley to return to Earth?

Return time for Behnken and Hurley will vary depending on the undock and splashdown opportunities chosen, with the primary opportunity taking between six and 30 hours.

4. What does the return look like? What are the major milestones?

Crew Dragon’s return home will start with undocking from the International Space Station. At the time of undock, Dragon Endeavour and its trunk weigh approximately 27,600 pounds. We will provide live coverage of the return from undocking all the way through splashdown.

There will be two very small engine burns immediately after hooks holding Crew Dragon in place retract to actually separate the spacecraft from the station. Once flying free, Dragon Endeavour will autonomously execute four departure burns to move the spaceship away from the space station and begin the flight home. Several hours later, one departure phasing burn, lasting about six minutes, puts Crew Dragon on the proper orbital path to line it up with the splashdown zone.

Shortly before the final deorbit burn, Crew Dragon will separate from its trunk, which will burn up in Earth’s atmosphere. The spacecraft then executes the deorbit burn, which commits Crew Dragon to return and places it on an orbit with the proper trajectory for splashdown. After trunk separation and the deorbit burn are complete, the Crew Dragon capsule weighs approximately 21,200 pounds.  

5. How fast will Dragon Endeavour be going when it re-enters the Earth’s atmosphere? How hot will it get?

Crew Dragon will be traveling at orbital velocity prior to re-entry, moving at approximately 17,500 miles per hour. The maximum temperature it will experience on re-entry is approximately 3,500 degrees Fahrenheit. The re-entry creates a communications blackout between the spacecraft and Earth that is expected to last approximately six minutes.

6. When do the parachutes deploy?

Image: SpaceX’s final test of Crew Dragon’s Mark 3 parachute system on Friday, May 1, 2020, that will be used during the Demo-2 splashdwon mission. 

Dragon Endeavour has two sets of parachutes will that deploy once back inside Earth’s atmosphere to slow down prior to splashdown. Two drogue parachutes will deploy at about 18,000 feet in altitude while Crew Dragon is moving approximately 350 miles per hour. Four main parachutes will deploy at about 6,000 feet in altitude while Crew Dragon is moving approximately 119 miles per hour.

7. Who recovers the crew and the Dragon Endeavour capsule from the water? What vehicles and personnel are involved?

Image: SpaceX’s Crew Dragon is loaded onto the company’s recovery ship, Go Searcher, in the Atlantic Ocean, about 200 miles off Florida’s east coast, on March 8, after returning from the International Space Station on the Demo-1 mission.Credits: SpaceX

For splashdown at any of the seven potential sites, SpaceX personnel will be on location to recover the capsule from the water. Two recovery ships, the Go Searcher and the Go Navigator, split locations between the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Florida. On either ship will be more than 40 personnel from SpaceX and NASA, made up of spacecraft engineers, trained water recovery experts, medical professionals, the ship’s crew, NASA cargo experts, and others to assist in the recovery.

8. How long after splashdown until Behnken and Hurley are out of the capsule?

Image: NASA astronaut Doug Hurley, along with teams from NASA and SpaceX, rehearse crew extraction from SpaceX’s Crew Dragon, on August 13, 2019. Credits: NASA/Bill Ingalls

Immediately after splashdown has occurred, two fast boats with SpaceX personnel deploy from the main recovery ship. The first boat checks capsule integrity and tests the area around the Crew Dragon for the presence of any hypergolic propellant vapors. Once cleared, the personnel on the boats begin preparing the spaceship for recovery by the ship. The second fast boat is responsible for safing and recovering Crew Dragon’s parachutes, which have at this point detached from the capsule and are in the water.

At this point the main recovery vessel can move in and begin to hoist the Crew Dragon capsule onto the main deck. Once the capsule is on the recovery vessel, it is moved to a stable location for the hatch to be opened for waiting medical professionals to conduct initial checks and assist Behnken and Hurley out of Dragon Endeavour.

This entire process is expected to take approximately 45 to 60 minutes, depending on spacecraft and sea state conditions.

9. Where do Behnken and Hurley go after they are out of the capsule?

Immediately after exiting the Crew Dragon capsule, Behnken and Hurley will be assisted into a medical area on the recovery ship for initial assessment. This is similar to procedures when welcoming long-duration crew members returning home on Soyuz in Kazakhstan.

After initial medical checks, Behnken and Hurley will be returned to shore either by traveling on the primary recovery ship or by helicopter. Helicopter returns from the recovery ship are the baseline for all splashdown zones except for the Cape Canaveral splashdown site, with travel times ranging from approximately 10 minutes to 80 minutes. The distance from shore will be variable depending on the splashdown location, ranging from approximately 22 nautical miles to 175 nautical miles.

Once returned to shore, both crew members will immediately board a waiting NASA plane to fly back to Ellington field in Houston.

10. What happens next?

Image: NASA astronauts Shannon Walker, Victor Glover Jr. and Mike Hopkins and Japan’s Soichi Noguchi train in a SpaceX Crew Dragon capsule. Credit: SpaceX

Meanwhile, Dragon Endeavour will be returned back to the SpaceX Dragon Lair in Florida for inspection and processing. Teams will examine the data and performance of the spacecraft throughout the test flight to complete the certification of the system to fly operational missions for our Commercial Crew and International Space Station Programs. The certification process is expected to take about six weeks. Following successful certification, the first operational mission will launch with Crew Dragon commander Michael Hopkins, pilot Victor Glover, and mission specialist Shannon Walker – all of NASA – along with Japan Aerospace Exploration Agency (JAXA) mission specialist Soichi Noguchi will launch on the Crew-1 mission from Launch Complex 39A at NASA’s Kennedy Space Center in Florida. The four crew members will spend six months on the space station.

The launch is targeted for no earlier than late-September.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space: http://nasa.tumblr.com

[kaizokuou-ni-naru]

The Voyage So Far: Water Seven

east blue (1 | 2) || alabasta (1 | 2) || skypiea || water 7 || enies lobby || thriller bark || paramount war (1 | 2) || fishman island || punk hazard || dressrosa (1 | 2) || whole cake island || wano (1 | 2)

i’ve mentioned several times before that the davy back fight is one of my least favorite arcs, mostly because i found it very dragging and tedious when i was reading it, but there are a couple things i really like in it, and, perhaps unsurprisingly, most of them have to do with zoro. i really like his moment here with chopper, and it also showcases his ability to act as more of an authority figure to the crew, which is something that makes a substantial return after enies lobby with the matter of usopp’s return. 

zoro and sanji’s match in the davy back fight is far and away my favorite part of the entire arc. it’s just really fun.

like i said, this arc isn’t a favorite of mine, but i do definitely understand why it’s important to the saga and greater story in a couple different ways. one of them is that it’s just an easy, lighthearted detour that both gives the audience a chance to breathe and the strawhats a chance to showcase just how much they love each other and work well together- which turns into a fucking sledgehammer to the skull in the next arc when that unity is directly threatened. and the other reason this arc is important...

...is because of aokiji.

aokiji’s introductory scene is a brutal showcase of absolute power, and a very clear reminder that the strawhats are still very much little fish in a very, very big pond. all of the strawhats are impacted by this to some degree- it’s how badly they get curb-stomped here that leads luffy to come up with his gears as a way of closing the huge power gap he’s just learned about.

most important, though, are robin and usopp. for robin, this is a stark reminder of the fact that the government will never stop hunting her down; for usopp, who’s less obvious, it’s the seeds of the full-blown inferiority crisis that will later explode with the news about merry. both of their arcs throughout water 7 and enies lobby, essentially the twin emotional backbones of the saga, start right here.

i really like that the other strawhats all fell asleep waiting for robin and luffy to wake up. it calls back to them doing the same when nami was sick before drum, and also it’s just so fucking sweet. 

water seven is my favorite island, full stop. if i was going to live anywhere in one piece’s world, i’d want to live on water seven. it’s just so creatively designed and visually great, with the canals and the tiered city and the massive fountain in the middle. the supporting cast are still one of my favorites, and the culture feels very real and authentic. i just love water seven a lot.

i just said it but it bears repeating- the water seven supporting cast is really good. iceburg, the galley-la shipwrights, franky and his family, kokoro and chimney are all really memorable, and most of them are really likable, too- and cp9, with all their eccentricities, fit in perfectly. water seven’s cast is very interconnected, as well, and their relationships all feel very believable.

all of which, of course, only makes the later treachery hurt all the more.

the atmosphere of water seven is really, really well done. the bad starts slow, with the news that merry is unfixable, and then continues into an accelerating downwards spiral of hopelessness: usopp and luffy’s fight and usopp leaving the crew, robin’s seeming betrayal, the assassination attempt on iceburg, the city and galley-la turning on them as a result, and the agua laguna- it just gets worse and worse and worse.

and then, after they’ve been stomped down about as far as they can go and come out alive anyways, they pick themselves back up again and go to save their friend, because that’s what the strawhat pirates do.

i just really like getting to see these four going feral on the franky family, it’s one of my favorite scenes in this whole arc. in general, i tend to love the moments where luffy specifically gets properly angry, and we get a lot of them in this arc. 

even though the fight between luffy and usopp is genuinely very tense and  fast-paced and would probably be exciting if it were any other two characters fighting, it never really feels anything other than melancholy. i think that’s a testament to just how good oda is at setting the mood of the scene. it’s made very clear, especially through the reactions of the other characters- merry ‘crying’ is fucking heartbreaking- that this is nothing less than a tragedy. 

:(

i think it’s kind of interesting we aren’t shown franky’s face until about halfway into water seven. prior to this, we’re given pretty much only reasons to hate him, with his theft of the strawhats’ money and the franky family beating usopp to shit. but just after this point is when we start getting our first humanizing and sympathetic moments for him, starting when he gets worried and a little frantic when he hears about the attempt on iceburg’s life.

i just really, really like the way some of these water seven action sequences are depicted. they feel very tense and desperate, which matches the general mood of this part of the arc perfectly.

this panel of usopp working on merry always reminds me of the shots of the klabautermann doing the same during skypiea. i’m not sure if it’s even intentional, honestly, but it’s an extra little bit of heartbreak either way.

one piece has a lot of amazing spreads, but this might be one of my favorites for sheer impact. cp9, watching as the city they’ve lived and worked in for years burns down in a fire they set, satisfied by a job well done. it’s almost all in black and white with very little grey, which creates some fantastic contrast, and their pitch-black silhouettes against the nighttime inferno are just striking. 

this entire scene between usopp and franky, as usopp works on the merry and franky gives him advice and tries to make him see its hopeless and they kind of awkwardly, accidentally bond, is probably my favorite in the whole of water seven. it was also the scene that singlehandedly made me love franky as a character.

they have a really good, really enjoyable dynamic, and at the same time the conflict between them is real and understandable, and brought about because they’re both trying to do the right thing.

tom’s workers are one of my favorite little groups of characters in the whole of one piece’s story, and they deserve more appreciation. they’re family!! a little family of broken pieces who worked together to build something really, really amazing. and they still care about each other in the present, even though they got shattered apart so badly and none of them ever really recovered. 

this is a tremendously under-appreciated chopper moment. not only did he carry two full-grown men out of a fire, he even managed to get zoro’s sword and iceburg’s hamster. extremely cool of him.

this is also the exact moment the strawhats’ collective luck begins to turn: chopper saves the day, and nami learns that robin did what she did to protect them, and sanji gets aboard the sea train, and from there it’s a no-brakes train from their very lowest low straight to the triumph at enies lobby.

i love all the shenanigans sanji gets up to with the sea train, i think the whole sequence is absolutely one of his shining moments. it’s always a delight to see sanji get up to Sneaky Bastard Bullshit, and the whole thing is just so fun, which is a dearly needed breath of fresh air after how relentless this arc has been until this point.

robin’s little smile when thinking of luffy and when she joined the strawhats... :( i’ve noticed it’s a recurring trend for strawhats who try to leave the crew to flash back to when they joined as they do. usopp has it earlier this same arc just before leaving, and sanji does it in whole cake island in the sanji vs. luffy chapter. 

i really like how much everyone comes together at the end of water seven leading into enies lobby. after how fractured and fraught things have been throughout the arc, both within and without the strawhat crew, it’s great to see them not only all united again for a common goal, but with a huge group of allies at their backs. 

these three are SUCH a hilarious team, and i would love to see them work together again like this sometime. they’re literally just clowning on the marines all the way up the train, it’s fantastic. 

factually i understand sanji’s aversion to fighting with his hands and his fighting style is very unique and cool and also meaningful to him because he learned from zeff, and also if i remember right it’s implied he learned how to swordfight from the vinsmokes which makes it very reasonable he would want absolutely nothing to do with that skillset 

but speaking purely in terms of stupid idiot lizard brain i think sanji should fight with knives more

this is another of my absolute favorite spreads, and i think what makes it for me is the casual confidence- luffy tells zoro to cut the train, and zoro does, both of them with no doubts at all about zoro’s ability to do so. it really goes to show how far they’ve come from back in east blue when zoro couldn’t even cut luffy out of a metal cage.

there’s something very impactful about the fact that of all the strawhats, robin gets this speech from usopp. usopp, who’s had the worst falling-out with luffy in the series to date, is the one who tells robin: you haven’t left the crew yet, you can’t leave the crew yet, luffy is coming to get you. believe in him. 

franky’s “existing is not a crime” line is one of the most memorable and iconic lines from this entire saga, and for good reason. it sums up one of the main themes of not just this arc but also the series as a whole- the very same idea will come up again for ace during marineford, and in law’s backstory as well. it’s never a crime to just exist, and people should not never be persecuted for their blood or heritage. one piece doesn’t fuck around with its theming, it really doesn’t. 

to be continued next time, with enies lobby!

[scoobysnack1107]

So grateful I was able to commission the incredible @rainbow-taishi again for another gorgeous RokuNami piece! As always, Jin did an absolutely amazing job! The colors and atmosphere are warm, the expressions soft, and the detailing exquisite 🥺💞 Thank you again Jin for making making my day and bringing a huge smile to my face 💖

For anyone interested, I wrote an accompanying story!

You can read it below or on ao3: Un Rendez-vous Romantique

(special thank you to @jysumrae for using her French skills to help me with the title 💖 )

                                       Un Rendez-vous Romantique

 Naminé checked the time on her gummi phone again. Five minutes before seven o’clock. Five minutes before Roxas was supposed to arrive at the bistro for their date. Their first date she reminded herself.

    All around her, tables were filled with laughing couples sharing colorful concoctions that were placed onto tables by waiters dressed in well-tailored suits. Naminé, dressed in her signature white dress and blue sandals, was the only one sitting alone.

    She couldn’t help but wonder how seriously he had taken the idea. He had been the one that asked her out with that boyish grin she was powerless to resist. But this was the first time they would be together like this. Unencumbered by heartless, the Organization, Diz. Tonight, it was just the two of them in the most romantic place in town.

    Unless…he stood her up.

    Naminé’s heart sunk, and as the people milling by the bistro cast her curious looks, she started feeling more and more self-conscious. Did they think he wasn’t coming?

    “Don’t worry, Naminé. Trust me, he’ll come.”

    Startled, Naminé looked up and found Sora offering her a comforting grin. He was dressed in a white chef’s uniform and tall toque that somehow managed to stay atop his spiky head of hair. In his hands, he was carrying a large, unopened box decorated with golden fleur de lis and something scribbled on top in black marker.

    “Sora? Why are you—” she trailed off, suddenly remembering that her friend had become an occasional helping hand at the restaurant during his travels. Though, admittedly, it was strange to think of Sora as a chef in a high-end bistro like this. “Thank you. I guess I’m just a little nervous.”

    In the distance, the bell of the clock tower tolled, signaling the passing of another hour. Seven o’clock.

    Sora had to be right.

    “Excuse me! Coming through!”

    Outside the bistro, some kind of commotion had started. The tram stopping in its track as a boy riding a black and white skateboard came racing through. A flock of pigeons wandering the bistro’s checkered plaza dispersed in a flurry of feathers, and one of the waiters nearly dropped a plate of ratatouille before said boy arrived in front of Naminé’s table with an apologetic smile.

    “I am so sorry, Naminé,” Roxas said, finally catching his breath, “I promise I didn’t forget. Really. I got caught up delivering letters again because Lea ‘sprained’ his ankle and couldn’t finish his half.” Roxas shook his head. Of all the days Lea felt it necessary to fake an injury.

    Naminé couldn’t help herself. She laughed, and the anxiety that had been chipping away at her nerves dissipated with the sound. “It’s fine, Roxas. I’m glad you were able to make it. I can’t say I expected that kind of entrance though.” Another laugh slipped past her lips when she noticed a stray feather in his hair.

    Roxas scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “I can’t say I really planned it that way.”

    Plucking the feather from the skater’s head unceremoniously, Sora handed his friend the box he was holding. “Well, now that you’re finally here, I’d say it’s time for you two love birds to enjoy your date with a little Tarte aux Fruits, courtesy of Little Chef and I!” Sora patted his toque affectionately, prompting a tiny gray mouse to peek out from beneath the hat before scurrying back inside with a squeak. “He’s a little shy,” Sora whispered.

    “He’s cute,” Naminé cooed.

    Roxas flipped open the lid of the box to examine the dessert. Inside the box was a round and colorful tart decorated with fresh strawberries, blueberries, kiwis, and peaches. “Sora, you know it’s just the two of us, right?” Usually, the bistro only served the desserts by slices. Not entire tartlets like this.

    Sora pushed the lid back down and pointed to the writing on top.

      Enjoy your date!

      - Sora and Little Chef

    “Yep! But you’re my friends and Little Chef insisted. It’s not like you can’t take the leftovers home. I’m sure Lea and Xion would eat a few slices for you.”

    Curious, Naminé stood up to peer inside the box too. Sora really was too sweet.  Everything about the dessert was handled with care, with each fruit arranged so precisely, Naminé could only imagine how long her friend had spent perfecting the delectable concoction. “Thank you, Sora. This is perfect, but you know, we’ll be saving you and Little Chef a slice too. It wouldn’t feel right for our chefs not to taste their own creation.”

    “Heh, guess not,” Sora agreed, scratching his cheek.

    “You can drop by the Old Mansion after work if you’d like,” Naminé suggested, “No one goes to bed early anyway, since it’s summer vacation.”

    “Yeah, and plus, you still owe me a rematch on Classic Kingdom Melee,” Roxas said with a competitive glint in his blue eyes.

    Sora chuckled and laced his hands behind his head. “So eager to get your butt handed to you again?”

    “I have Naminé’s good luck charm this time,” Roxas said confidently, “So, there’s no way I’m gonna lose again.”

    “We’ll see,” Sora said in a sing-song voice. The two boys jibed one another for another minute until Sora was called back into the kitchen by a short, portly chef with a silver whisk and a toque taller than him.

    Roxas set the box with the tart on the table and moved to pull Naminé’s chair out for her with a flourish. “Madame.”

    “How gentlemanly,” Naminé giggled as she took her seat.

   Taking the chair across from her, Roxas signaled over one of the waiters who promptly brought them two plates and utensils to slice their dessert. Naminé, her hands small and adept, cut them each a generous piece.

    The window behind them cast a warm golden glow and was embossed with the bistro’s name, Le Grand Bistrot, in neat gold lettering. Inside, the restaurant’s staff busied themselves, the sound of clattering dishes and whirring kitchen appliances blending with the soft instrumental tune floating from the speakers outside.

    Naminé spoke again first. “So, you and Hayner are entering the Struggle Tournament this year?”

    “We’re gonna win this year” Roxas boasted with a grin. He picked up his dessert but didn’t take a bite as sparks of excitement began to dance in his eyes. “We’ve been training every day since sign ups.”

    “Confident I see,” Naminé teased.

    “Always,” Roxas returned, his grin turning sly, “And besides, I’ve won the digital version once already. The real thing can’t be any harder.”

    Naminé conceded with a smile. “That is true.”

    As Roxas explained his new strategy for this year’s tournament, Naminé listened attentively, offering nods and questions at different intervals as she nibbled at her dessert. She liked seeing him so excited. After everything they had been through, happiness like this was well-deserved.

    “Promise to cheer me on?” Roxas asked. His gaze was intense now, making Naminé’s heart skip a beat.

    Naminé averted his eyes, playing with her hair as she answered shyly. “I’ll be in the front row the entire time.”

    “U-Uh, thanks” Roxas blushed at her words and drew his own gaze away. “But um…anyway,” Roxas coughed, “How about you? You mentioned buying some new paints the other day. Have you been able to try them out yet?”

    This time, it was Naminé’s face that lit up. She pressed her fingers together and tilted her head happily. “I have! I’ve been painting lots of landscapes with them, and I want to try portraits too.”

    “Is this your subtle way of asking me to be your model?” Roxas joked.

    “Mmm, maybe. Though, I’m not entirely sure you’d be able to stay still the entire time.”

    Roxas raised his eyebrows. “That sounds like a challenge.”

    “You really think you can sit still for more than an hour?” Naminé asked dubiously.

    “With the right kind of incentive.”

    Without hesitating, Naminé replied. “Sea salt ice cream?”

    “Bingo,” Roxas said and bit into his slice of the tart.

    Naminé didn’t try to conceal her laughter. Roxas really was predictable. And adorable.  “I think I can arrange that.”

    “Then, we have ourselves a deal!” Roxas held out a hand across the table, and Naminé shook it as if it was actually some kind of serious, contractual agreement.

    The two continued to talk, reminiscing over the new memories they had made in the real Twilight Town. Like the first time they had all gone to Sunset Hill for a meteor shower or when they took that impromptu trip to Radiant Garden because somehow Twilight Town had run out of sea salt ice cream. Granted, it had been a particularly hot day. But still…

    “I feel like summer vacation is too short,” Roxas complained, “and who thought it was a good idea to assign homework? We’re supposed to be on a break.”

    Naminé’s lips twitched knowingly. “You still haven’t started, have you?”

    “I tried, but the computer keeps crashing on me, so I can’t do any kind of research,” Roxas explained, pouting as he crossed his arms.

    “You and computers,” Naminé sighed, shaking her head, “What are you writing your report on?”

    “Not sure yet. Hayner, Pence, and Olette want to do something about the seven wonders, but that’s a little too déjà vu for me, you know?”

    Naminé tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, maybe you can do a report about the beach?”

    “The beach?” Roxas cocked his head curiously.

    “Yeah, like what kind of fish are in the ocean here or ways to keep our beaches clean,” Naminé continued. Roxas loved the beach. The first time they went, Roxas nearly tripped over himself running across the sand to get to the water, and he didn’t come out until it was time to leave.

    “Looks like we’re going to the beach this week then, huh?” Roxas asked with a coy grin.

    Naminé returned the smile.  “Looks like it.”

    By the time they were ready to leave, with their leftovers secured in a to-go bag, the last embers of the twilight sky above had faded, blanketing the sunset hues beneath a veil of stars. The night air was still, the bustle of the usually busy town subdued as most citizens retired to their homes to sleep.

    “I had a lot of fun tonight,” Naminé said, staring down at her feet bashfully.

    “Me too.” There was a brief silence that hung between them before Roxas added in a hesitant but hopeful voice. “Maybe we can do it again sometime?”

    “I would love that,” Naminé answered softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

    “Y-You know, there’s gonna be that new movie playing down at the theater this Friday. We could grab dinner here and then go see that?”

    “It’s a date!” Naminé agreed happily, and her heart soared.

    Roxas took her hand and intertwined their fingers. “It’s a date.”

[subbing-for-clones]

She Who Walks the Line Between Part 4

Maul x GreyJedi!Reader

Word Count: 3103

WARNINGS: Child abuse, night terrors, fluff

PREVIOUS         NEXT          MASTERLIST

       Six weeks had passed since your ship went down and Maul 'rescued' you. Thanking him with a kiss to his cheek that neither of you mentioned after that night. Since he was rebuilding muscle that used to be there rather than starting from scratch, he built himself back up fairly quickly. Especially because you were constantly nagging at him to eat if he didn’t take the initiative to do it himself at least three times a day. His face was fuller and his arms and chest much more prominent under his trademark deep v tunics. His thighs were also thickening up quite nicely you thought often to yourself. His eyes still glowed gold but it was a honeyed glow like a sunset, so much softer than they once were. No longer bloodshot and raging.

    Some days he would push his progress much too far and require soaking in an unbelievably hot bath. You would’ve been almost frightened if he hadn’t told you his core temperature was much higher than yours. You always offered massages to which he would try to turn down but you never really let him refuse. You could tell he wanted them. His entire demeanor would change if you only brushed against him let alone actually dedicated time to rubbing the strain from his muscles. Whatever horrors he dealt with as apprentice to a Sith Lord he had no comfort to turn to before, that much was apparent. Followed by a decade of forced solitude, you always made him melt with ease.

    He was a worthy sparring partner to say the least. Despite having new legs, he was incredibly nimble. His muscle memory was powerful at worst, awe striking at best, but he was still easily flustered which was his downfall. Every. Single. Time. Just recently you dodged a swing of his crimson Saber by dropping into a split and throwing your head backwards. The sight of it caused him to lose his footing. One of the goats bleated at him like she was laughing which of course sent you into a giggle fit of your own as you stood back up to your feet clutching your sides.

    Today you two would be doing something different though, assuming he would accompany you, which was a safe assumption. The two of you sat at your small table by the kitchen drinking caf, Maul was eating waffles you had freshly cooked while you flipped through an encyclopedia you yourself had written on the planet.

"What are you looking for?" He asked, trying to see what you were reading from the other side of the table.

    Leaning back in your chair you took a long drink of your caf, finishing the mug with a sigh. "Well, there's a particular ocean species that lives here that migrate through this side of the planet once every few years. If I remember right, because I can't find my notes..." You stood and walked to refill your cup. "If I remember correctly, they should be passing right by us today or tomorrow or… sometime soon. Honestly I don’t know why I write anything down if I can’t look back on it when I need it.”

Maul suppressed a smirk. He had come to realize that with all your brilliance and various talents you could be unorganized and forgetful. Just the other day he caught you frantically looking for a seventh goat, having to remind you that you only had six. Six goats, seven chickens, one rooster.

    Still wearing your dangerously short sleeping shorts and with your back to him, Maul had a moment to admire your legs without threat of you noticing. "What creature is it?" He asked while eyeing a scar on your inner thigh he hadn't noticed before following the curve of your backside.

"Well, they don't have a name, from what I know anyway but they look a lot like the Purgill that live in space. Not nearly as big cause, you know, space is a lot bigger than the ocean here." You stirred cream into your brew and sat back down crossing your legs.

Now he leaned back in his chair, shoulders shaking lightly with a silent chuckle, “you know I did know space was bigger than the ocean here.”

You playfully pointed your spoon at him in a mock warning before smiling and continuing.

"I'm gonna go down to the beach and see if I can find them. They're one of my favorites on this planet. We're nearing the mating and migration time of a few species actually so wildlife is gonna be more apparent around here."

"I'll have to flip through that book of yours and study up." He smiled at you.

"Well you're lucky you have someone like me who knows this planet pretty damn well. Even if I can’t find my notes." You flashed him a returning smile and stood. Your hand ran over his scalp affectionately as you made your way to your room to get dressed for your adventure.

 ~~~~~

      Maker, did she realize exactly what she did to him he wondered. He swore he could still feel her touch after she had left. He was indeed lucky to have her, not just for her knowledge of this strange world. A now familiar knot grew in his belly once again, the same one that never failed to show up when she touched him. He wasn't sure what it was.

    He stood and cleared the table, washing the dishes from their breakfast in the sink. The first time he did this she had actually flustered almost embarrassed 'thank yous' saying she had meant to do them herself. Since that moment he made it his job. After all she did everything else for him. He ran fingers over his hearts down to his belly and gripped where the invisible knot formed. Most of her books were educational, breeching just about every topic at least fundamentally. She did however have a small collection of fiction. One of which he had read that held a romantic theme. Was this what love felt like? Happiness? Is this what Lord Sidious had kept from him his entire life? Or was it simply admiration?

    Not ever having felt anything like it before he couldn't say but one thing he did know for a fact. He hoped against all hope that in a way he'd never 'fully recover' fearing once the scale she talked about was perfectly balanced again she'd send him away and continue her life of solitude. She had sought this out. She had chosen this life. This planet, purposefully unpopulated with sentient life. As far as he knew and saw she was the only person here.

    His brows furrowed and as if she could sense his distraught increasing, he heard her call to him. "Darling," she mewled just loud enough for him to hear. Possibly too quick he made his way to the door of the fresher where he heard the water running. Darling he thought, he had never heard her call him that before, he was sure.

"There’s a pack hanging from the door, could you fill it with snacks for us? It'll probably be a while on the cliffs." He silently carried out her will, obsessing over the name she had called out from the shower. Thoughts of her naked body dripping with warm water, calling out to him filled his mind. He had to physically shake his head to focus. Just as he finished packing the last Meiloorun she entered the room wearing her usual training garb, barefooted as usual when she dressed in it.

    He watched as she added her encyclopedia and another small notebook to the pack along with a pair of electrobinoculars and a blanket. Swinging it over her shoulder she beamed at him obviously excited to see this strange creature.

    Once they were out the door she started sprinting calling out "race you!" Maul smiled and gave her a few more seconds head start greedily watching how her body moved so gracefully before taking off after her. Allowing himself to fall into the role of a hunter once again. This however being the only prey he ever really wanted to catch. This was his element. This is where he was most comfortable, chasing, hunting. His legs propelled him forward while his arms pumped at his sides, feeling the wind push him onward towards his goal. It was a long race but her speed never let up, she was incredibly fast but not so fast that she could escape him. Just before she reached the cliff's edge preparing to jump, he darted in front of her and caught her in his arms, spinning from the velocity alone. His arms latched tightly around her waist and hers wrapped around his neck pulling his face to that sweet spot just below her ear.

    They sat like that for what felt like only a second but also an eternity before a shaking hum rang through the air. Remembering what she had come for she pulled away excitedly.

"I thought we would be early but maker we made it just in time!" He released her and she jumped off the cliff, falling 200 feet before using the force to slow her fall lowering her safely to the sand below. Maul followed suit and met her where she stood, her toes wet with the tide rolling in over the sand before pulling back out to sea. Salt was heavy in the air but he could still smell her. Making her way back to the rock and clay cliffs she laid out the blanket and took a seat, spreading out her books and setting the food to the side. He joined her, sitting where he hoped wouldn't be too close.

    Before his mind could roam too far, she gasped and pointed to the sea clutching his arm in excitement. Breaching out of the depths a giant creature almost took flight but just for a moment, calling out in a singing hum. They had massive heads and rounded teeth with four tentacles that trailed behind them. They were all painted in the same deep blue but had uniquely shaped and colored markings. Unlike their space brethren they didn't have bioluminescent streaks on the inside of their tentacles.

    Maul watched in amazement as the creatures sang to one another, jumping and diving back down below like they were dancing for Y/N and his eyes alone. Looking through her electrobinoculars with one hand and sketching furiously with the other in the smaller of the two notebooks, never taking her eyes off of the Sea Purgill, she was entranced.

 "Have you ever seen such a beautiful, mysterious creature," she inquired utterly enthralled.

    Now he was watching her, smile plastered on her face, cheeks rosy with excitement and salt flecks sticking to her hair. "I can honestly say no, I have not in all my life witnessed such a beauty." She closed her notebook and put away the electrobinoculars, pivoting her head to look into his eyes again; softer than she had ever seen them.

    She scooted closer to him so their hips touched and leaned her head against his shoulder. Cautiously, he snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her closer and rested his cheek on the top of her head. Together they sat like this for hours, not moving, not speaking, simply watching the mighty creatures frolic through the waves on ahead.

~~~~~

    You didn't want to move from this spot. He hadn't touched you since he pulled you from your crashed shuttle yet you found every excuse to make fleeting contact with him. Now, with his strong arm wrapped around you, hand gripping your waist, your head nestled into his chest you could hear his tandem hearts beating. Beating hard, it both soothed and excited you. Falling for this tattooed warrior was not on your original agenda. Falling for anyone at all was never something you craved or saw yourself doing. Not because of the same reasoning as the Jedi you had tutored under. No, you didn’t fear attachment. It had always just looked like a distraction or a nuisance.

    Yet you found yourself falling for him nonetheless. Selfishly you had hoped that the scales would never again be balanced because once they do, once he is completely and utterly healed... he would leave. Wouldn't he? Why would he want to stay here on this unpopulated world with you and you alone? He had been forced into his solitude while you had searched for yours. You no longer craved silence; no longer did you wish for the seclusion of this lovely planet. All you wanted was to listen to the velvety melody of his voice, to feel the almost impossible heat he radiated.

    If you asked him to stay, would he? If he would ask you to leave with him, would you? You didn’t think you could leave. Not with the war raging across the galaxy. This was the only place where you couldn’t hear every scream of every person torn from life by mindless violence that wasn’t supposed to happen in the first place. Feel every tear through the fabric of the force every time a Jedi either fell to the dark side or was killed. You can’t leave, and if you can’t leave for him; how could you ask him to stay for you?

    The sun was starting to set and the creatures' appearances became less frequent. A realization dawned on you. Sensing your change Maul lifted his head to look at you, brows furrowed.

"The night of every migration a storm follows these beings. We should head back, whether it's rain or snow or wind it will be brought down on us soon." You watched him stand and extend a hand to you, taking it, he pulled you into a tight embrace. Both arms around you securely he whispered a thank you, lips just brushing against your ear. You didn't ask him what he was thanking you for, simply returning the hug with an equal fervor.

    The two of you quickly packed up, leaping up the cliffs and making your way back home. Just as the cottage was in your eyeline the dark sky opened. Temperatures plummeting, snow fell from the heavens with a savage determination. Running now, you locked your animals in the barn and cranked up the heat. Power was hard to come by here with only the infrastructure that you had installed yourself, allowing only one heater for your homestead. Giving it to the animals was an easy decision.

    Maul took your hand and ushered you inside, 6 inches had already stuck to the ground and your exposed skin was cold to the touch. Your bare feet no exception. He lit the hearth himself to take the chill off the room and wrapped you in a warm blanket. Before you could even think to ask, he brought you a hot cup of your favorite tea. He glowered over the fact that you still shivered.

    He took your blanket and gathered you up into his arms, draping the blanket around the both of you. Holding your freezing feet in his hand. The heat he put off was almost burning against your form but you were more than grateful, sinking into him. You both fell asleep in each other’s arms but the dreams you had that night weren't your own.

 A darkly hooded figure stood tall above a scarlet whimpering child. Tears streaked the red and black face of the young boy until the figure spoke. "Did I say you could eat yet?" He asked calmly but with venom in his tone. "N-no master I'm sorry I'm just... so hungr..." the boy was cut off when bolts of electricity shot out of his master and punished the boy. He screamed in agony, his cells burning. "YOU WILL NOT TAKE FROM ME APPRENTICE!" eating in front of the starving boy he screamed and continued to shock him. "YOU WILL KILL AND EAT WHAT YOU ARE HUNGRY FOR!" The boy still screaming managed to reply. "Yes master... I'm sorry master... Forgive me... PLEASE." He begged. He was attacked until his body started smoking "WHAT ARE YOU!" His master demanded as he finally released the child. The boy's claws dug into his forehead until he bled, sobbing. "I said WHAT ARE YOU?" his master demanded, shocking him again.

"I AM HUNTER... I AM FEAR... I AM FILTH... I AM NOTHING!" Screaming in torment he fell over, silent. He was tossed out carelessly onto a burning terrain surrounded by fiery pits of lava.

    You awoke first, tears falling from your own eyes and you looked upon the man that lay next to you. He was still asleep but he was shaking, whining, nails digging into his own arms. You took his wrists and begged him to wake up.

"Maul... Maul darling please wake up!"

     His eyes shot open blown out in fear and snarling, sitting up ready to kill until he focused on you. You softly pushed him down on the couch so he rested on his back. You leaned over him, wrapping your legs around his waist and running your hands soothingly over his body. Peppering his face in kisses whispering "you are safe... you are cared for... you are my joy... you are cleansed... you are everything." Tears welled in his eyes threatening to spill over. He gripped you with bruising fingers as if you would disappear should he let go. "I have you... you're with me... he can't find you here.." you continued to sooth him between tender kisses.

    He looked up at you with those shimmering gold eyes, one hand entangling in your hair, he pulled your lips onto his with a desperation. He needed proof that he was in fact awake and not in a different dream. You brushed one of your hands against his cheek and gripped the back of his head, horns between your fingers and deepened the kiss. He slightly opened his mouth in a pleasured moan; eyes rolling back. Taking it as an invitation you glided your tongue over his teeth and against the tip of his tongue which he immediately responded but not the way you expected. He broke the kiss and pulled your body even closer to his as if to turn the two of you into one. For the rest of the night, you held one another, he had never been so thankful for his night terrors.

[fandomlit]

sunshine (percy jackson x reader)

requested by anon “Hey, just found you today! I was wondering if you might do a Percy x reader? Something fluffy and the reader is an artsy, music loving, child of Apollo? Percy sees her and suddenly has a new found interest in pottery or drawing or something. His friends (the seven + Nico, Will, and Reyna) notice he’s spending a lot of time at the arts center and call him out/convince him to ask her out. That kind of seems like a lot so no pressure but thank you anyway!”

summary the seven and friends are sick and tired of seeing you and percy tiptoe around your feelings, and decide to push you two together the best they can.

a/n this is super long and im not sorry in the least,, keep those requests coming y’all !!!

gif cred belongs to @pydiasterek​

“has anyone seen percy?” hazel asked, walking up to her friends with frank trailing behind her. “he said we’d be able to spar after lunch, but he didn’t even come to lunch.”

“probably at the arts center,” annabeth said, smirking to herself as she flipped the page of her book.

“arts center?” hazel repeated, furrowing her brow. “since when has percy been interested in the arts?”

“since he caught sight of y/n l/n,” jason snickered, his friends joining his chuckles.

“who’s that?” frank asked.

“apollo girl,” leo said, wiggling his eyebrows as the two romans joined their friends under the tree were lounging under. “she’s super talented. percy walked by the arts center and legitimately did a double-take when he saw her. i didn’t know people actually did that.”

“are they dating?” hazel asked innocently.

“of course not,” reyna said, not looking up from where she was shining her sword. 

“well, why not?” hazel asked, looking around at her friends.

they all looked around, no one seeming to have an answer.

“maybe we should help them,” piper suggested. they all looked to the aphrodite child, who began to smirk. “you know, push ‘em together a bit. couldn’t hurt.”

and that’s how it started.

“hey, percy!” jason called out. the sea demigod had just entered the arena. jason waved his friend over to him. “you up for some sparring?”

“sure thing!” percy called back, heading toward him. as he approached, he caught sight of you spinning a spear near where jason was waiting. he watched you swing toward leo, who immediately whimpered and cowered. you giggled.

“ready?” jason asked. percy’s gaze snapped back to him.

“yeah,” he said, nodding. they both got into their stances before charging at each other. as they sparred, percy glanced back every now and again to watch you and leo fight, you easily overpowering the hephaestus child. one of those times percy glanced over his shoulder, jason took the opportunity to catch him off guard, making percy stumble as he countered and fall back. but before he could hit the ground, something hard dug into his back.

he opened his eyes to see you standing over him with a smirk. “well, hello, water boy,” you said, shaking your head. percy offered you a sheepish smile. he realized it was the butt of your spear digging into his back, holding him up.

“uh... hi,” he breathed. you giggled, pushing your spear forward to held stand him up straight. he turned to you with an embarrassed smile as you leaned against your weapon. “good catch.”

“thanks,” you hummed. “maybe you should stick to swimming, water boy.”

“maybe you should stick to singing, sunshine,” percy retorted, crossing his arms. you let out a scoff, followed by a laugh.

“sunshine?” you repeated. “now that’s just lazy.”

“and water boy isn’t?” he retorted. jason and leo shared looks as you two continued to tease each other, slowly moving away to leave you two alone. they weren’t surprised when they found out nothing ended up happening.

the next day, annabeth invited you to join them around the campfire after dinner, hoping to at least get you and percy to realize the other’s feelings. when you arrived, they all greeted you warmly.

“who invited you, sunshine?” percy joked as you took the seat next to him on one of the seating logs surrounding the fire.

“someone who doesn’t think of such lazy nicknames, merman,” you tutted, shaking your head. he scoffed as you winked at annabeth. 

you all talked for the longest while, telling stories and jokes and enjoying each other’s company. while you two may have not noticed, the rest of the group noticed that you and percy had gravitated closer together during the time you two sat around the fire, your thighs almost pressed completely together after just an hour.

“im gonna call it a night,” will yawned, standing and stretching. nico had slung his jacket over the boy’s shoulders a while ago. 

“that’s my cue, too,” nico sighed, standing after his boyfriend. will grabbed his hand with a smile before turning and pointing at you.

“don’t get back too late, missy,” he teased, winking at you.

“i know the rules, william,” you scoffed teasingly. he chuckled and the couple waved goodnight to the rest of the group. reyna, hazel, frank, and piper followed soon after. that left annabeth, jason, percy, and you around the fire.

“you’re not tired yet, water boy?” you hummed, looking over at percy.

“no,” he shrugged, looking down at you. “are you?”

you shrugged in return, stifling a yawn. “i won’t go to bed until you do.”

“that’s not a good rule to live by,” percy laughed.

“why not?” you grinned, quirking an eyebrow.

“well, you know how im great at a lot of things?”

“you are?”

“i am,” he confirmed in a soft tone that made you giggle. he grinned down at you. “but uh, the one thing im not very good at is sleeping.”

you hummed. “that’s tragic. maybe you should just sleep.”

“you know, i didn’t think of that.”

“i figured as much,” you tsked. neither of you noticed that annabeth and jason had snuck off, leaving you two to flirt and tease alone. the only evident product of success from that night was seeing you return percy’s sweatshirt the next morning. they took that as a small victory.

the kicker was when you were all playing a game of paranoia in jason’s cabin. you were all sat around in a circle on the cleared out floor when piper had sneakily proposed the game. you were all for it. to make sure they could manipulate the game to go their way, the group had separated you and percy. you rested your head in leo’s lap and draped your legs across jason. annabeth caught percy’s stare when you had first looked into leo’s eyes and grinned as you settled in.

“i’ll start,” piper proposed. she leaned over to whisper in nico’s ear. the boy considered, looking around the circle as piper leaned back with a smile.

“annabeth,” he answered. “for sure.” said girl flipped the coin she held. they all watched it land on heads.

“reveal!”

“the question was ‘who do you think would get away with murder’,” piper snickered.

“yeah, that’s about right.”

“i believe it.”

“honestly, she probably has already.” you all turned to the athena child in question. she shrugged easily.

“that’s a woman’s secret,” was all she said, making you all laugh. the game continued on and more laughs were shared. then, it was time for annabeth to whisper to percy.

“lay it on me,” percy sighed as annabeth leaned over, making you all chuckle. percy bit his lip as annabeth leaned away with a not-so-secretive smirk. he kept his gaze trained on the floor in front of him as he considered. he turned to annabeth and asked, “why is this so hard?” you all chuckled as she shrugged.

“gotta answer, though.”

he sighed, still not looking up as he answered, “y/n.”

you blinked in surprise as your friends erupted in whistles. you watched annabeth flip the coin and your heart dropped as it landed on tails.

“damn,” you muttered. they all laughed and you joined. “i really wanted to know!”

the game continued on until it was leo’s turn to whisper to you. you sat up so he could whisper quietly in your ear.

you shivered as he leaned away. “sorry, i got chills.” you laid back down as you considered and they laughed. you smiled to yourself before answering, “will.”

leo nodded. “flip.” the coin landed on heads.

“i asked who the hottest guy in the room was,” leo grinned.

“sun child vibes!” you exclaimed, throwing up peace signs as will cheered. “no? no one? okay.” you leaned forward to whisper to will as they laughed. percy couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. 

the circle went around again, and when it was back to percy, he braced himself for a similar question to the one he received last time. he sighed as he leaned away from annabeth.

“i gotta go with y/n again,” he said, shaking his head.

“i didn’t know we were playing favorites,” jason scoffed, making you all laugh.

“what can i say, sparky?” you sighed dramatically. “you’ve been replaced.” jason placed an offended hand on his heart as you turned to annabeth. “flip, please.”

percy wanted to walk into the ocean when the coin landed on heads, making the circle ‘oo’ and laugh. “uh, i was asked who the prettiest girl in the room was.” he scratched the back of his neck and blushed. you opted to blush as well instead of saying anything as the group burst into ‘aww’s and leo started cheering.

after another few rounds, you all decided to call it a night before dionysus or some other unfathomable thing came to break up your makeshift party.

“can i walk you to your cabin?” you turned to see percy standing with his hands in his pockets.

you gave him a smile. “sure thing, barnacle boy.” he rolled his eyes at the nickname as you two walked out of the zeus cabin.

after a minute of silence, you broke, “so, you think im pretty?” he blushed.

“i was hoping you wouldn’t remember that.”

“who do you think i am?”

you both laughed as he scratched the back of his neck. “well, yeah, i guess. beautiful is a better word for it, though.” you smiled as you both stopped before the steps of the apollo cabin. you knew will was probably watching from the window, but you didn’t care. you only cared about the demigod in front of you at that moment.

“wanna know the question i answered you for?” you hummed. he nodded. you smiled, looking into his sea green eyes as you recited, “‘who would you kiss out of everyone here?’”

his eyebrows shot up, as did his heart rate. “really?” you nodded with your usual easy smile. he looked away from your prying eyes for a second to nod and absorb the exciting information. he looked back down at you and started, “can i-”

“please,” you answered with a laugh, eyes closed as you cut him off. he smiled and leaned down slowly to press his lips to yours gently. he pulled away after a moment. your eyes met his and nothing was said before he leaned down again, this time his hands settling on your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

the kiss was more intense this time, both of you spilling all of the thoughts and feelings and tension you had held in since you first met onto the other’s lips. and it was nothing short of euphoric. 

but not euphoric enough to drown out the cheers of your friends from all around you two.

[halfway-happyyy]

Sleep on the Floor

AN: I’ve thought about this concept on and off for a while now, and finally decided to write it down. Alexander and a rather unfriendly acquaintance cross paths again at a music festival, and end up handcuffed together for the day. Under the cut because it’s lengthy 💖

tw: nothing but fluff, friends.

As always, feedback is encouraged and appreciated.

It was the bright glare of the sunlight glinting off the metal object in the back pocket of her best friend’s denim shorts that initially caught Daisy’s attention. After an hour of scouring multiple maps of Montreal’s many metro lines- (“Well do we need to take the orange line or the green one?” and “Can’t you just google maps it?” and perhaps Daisy’s personal favourite- “We should have just spent the sixty dollars on an uber.”) The trio of friends had finally made it to Parc Jean-Drapeau, where the three-day Osheaga music festival was being held. “Bea, what’ve you got in your pocket there?” Daisy reached toward her without an answer or invitation, and produced a pair of weighted, silver handcuffs. 

Bea lunged for the cuffs back, a smirk in place on her features.

“What on earth could you possibly need handcuffs for at a music festival?” Daisy asked, eyebrows raised in genuine confusion.

Returning the cuffs to her pocket, Bea shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, the smirk from moment’s ago still tugged the edge of her lip upward. “It’s been my experience that you just never know when you’ll need ‘em. Be good Daze, or I’ll use them on you.” And Daisy supposed that after a couple of choice alcoholic beverages that could start to sound like one hell of a fun proposition.

“I literally don’t see him anywhere Bea,” Hannah sighed heavily.

Daisy glanced at Bea’s better half; a hand shielded her gaze from the onslaught of the sun’s rays as she stood on tiptoes to scan the expansive park around her. “Who are you looking for?”

Hannah dropped back onto the balls of her feet; her bottom lip wedged between her teeth like she was anxious about something. “Did Bea not tell you?” She peered over at her girlfriend, expectantly. “Did you not tell her?”

Bea rolled her hazel eyes and murmured “shit.”

Daisy’s vision narrowed. “What’s going on?”

Hannah squinted over at Daisy, kicking aside a stray pebble with the toe of her pink platform sneaker. “We uh… We invited Alex and some of his friends to join us for the weekend.”

Her mouth suddenly devoid of all moisture, Daisy wished that she had a bottle of beer in her hand, or some other ice-cold alcoholic beverage to distract her from the heat rising steadily to her cheeks. Tongue thick in her throat, she turned to her friends. “You invited Alex Skarsgård to our Osheaga weekend?” Shifting from side to side uncomfortably, Bea eventually nodded her head in the affirmative. Daisy took a deep breath. “I just think that might have been good information to know before now.”

“You wouldn’t have come…” Hannah interjected.

A humorless laugh bubbled up from the base of Daisy's throat. “You’re probably right.” Hives of people from all over the country milled about the green hillsides, a myriad of accents and languages- mostly French, echoed throughout the vast park. Daisy raised her face to the heavens, reveling in the feeling of the late July sun on her skin and sighed heavily.

“What is it about him?” Bea asked quietly.

Daisy's eyes fell shut. “Where would I even begin?”

“Alright, here they come.” Hannah murmured.

Bea offered her dearest friend a sympathetic look but knew better than to touch her just then. “He wants to make it up to you, Daze.”

Daisy swallowed hard and followed Hannah’s gaze to the quartet of men currently striding towards them. He bore a striking resemblance to the man she had known a year ago, though his dark blonde hair was longer now, and stubble shadowed the underside of his chiseled jaw. Clad in a pair of dark jeans, a grey t shirt and a pair of black converse high-tops, a round pair of yellow tortoise-shell sunglasses sat perched atop his head. “I don’t need him to,” Daisy murmured. “Just try and help me keep my distance from him today, alright?”

Bea was apprehensive, but nodded her head in agreement. “Alright.”

“Good afternoon ladies!” Alexander exclaimed jubilantly once he had caught up to them. He greeted both Hannah and Bea with bear hugs like he’d known them his whole life, and not a mere couple of years. When he got to Daisy, she was surprised to see that his grin hadn’t faltered at all. “Hello Daisy. It’s nice to see you again.”  

She offered him a wilted smile. “Hi, Alex.”

He faltered a beat before turning to the three men next to him. Daisy knew by the sight of them that they had to be related to Alexander in some way, each one a wide-eyed and giraffe-like carbon copy of the other. “Ladies, this here is my good pal Oskar, my kid brother Valter, and my other brother Bill.”

And God said, “Let there be Skarsgård’s,” and there were Skarsgårds.

Bea cleared her throat. “Alright, gang. Shall we check out the rest of the park? Find a watering hole?”

Alexander held out an arm before him. “Lead the way, friend.”

“How long are you guys here for?” Hannah asked as they made their way into a beer tent on the platinum grounds.

“Just for the weekend. Then I'm back to New York for a couple of meetings and then uh… these guys and I,” He winked at the three men next to him. “Are supposed to be in Stockholm for a wedding next week.” Alexander reached into his back pocket for his wallet and approached the bartender behind the counter. “Hey there. How are you?”

"Fantastic." A miniscule fan in the corner of the tent did little to blow any actual cool air around, and a slick sheen of perspiration bloomed over her neck and forehead.

“You must be pumped to be able to hear all the music from here!” Bill beamed at her.

She smacked the wad of pink bubblegum in her mouth, her expression deadpan. “Absolutely ecstatic.”

Valter cleared his throat to keep from laughing.

“Alright then. Uh,” Alexander squinted at the black chalkboard drink menu above him. “What have you got in the way of alcohol for shots?”

“Vodka. Gin. Tequila.”

He turned to the group, gaze expectant. “What are we all in the mood for?”

“Vodka!” Had been the resounding answer, and Daisy didn’t think she’d ever been more ready to shoot straight liquor in her entire life. The alcohol was rough, and it stoked the fire already roaring in the pit of her belly, causing beads of sweat to bloom on her forehead. They milled about for another fifteen minutes, and Daisy was awed by how much alcohol the seven of them had been able to consume in such a short amount of time. Some drinks came in the form of grotesque shooters- “We drink these all the time back home!”, others had taken the shape of ice-cold beers beneath the salvation of another tent. It occurred to her that the breakfast she had consumed a couple of hours ago was insufficient for the poison now in her system, and that down the line, it might pose a bit of a problem. For now, Daisy was simply content to sip whatever she was given, and to enjoy the first full day of her vacation.

Their first set of the weekend was the Foo Fighters- and by some stretch of a miracle, the festival gods had blessed her with a spot in the crowd that made for a fantastic vantage point of the stage. She was naive to assume that it would happen again, so she watched Dave Grohl dominate the crowd in unbridled awe, and without a care in the world. And when they played My Hero- she joined along with the sea of people around her and sang her heart out to every single word.

After the set ended, the seven of them managed to touch base again beneath a patch of glorious shade. “It’s come to my attention that you and I have some unfinished business, Daisy.” Alexander had to yell to be heard above the roar of the white noise around them.

Even surrounded by hundreds of strangers, Daisy felt inexplicably naked beneath his gaze and she shifted uncomfortably on the spot. “You don’t owe me anything, Alex.”

“I owe you an apology, Daisy.”

A sigh exited her mouth in the form of a puff of air, and she eyed the people walking past her with mild contempt. “Just for one day, just one, I want to know what it feels like to be tall at a concert.”

“I know how you feel, Daze.” Hannah fanned a hand in front of her face in a useless attempt to keep the sweltering heat at bay.

Valter laughed and traded sheepish expressions with Bill. “Unfortunately, we don’t.”

Alexander clicked his tongue and glanced down at her, azure eyes glittering mischievously. “View from down there not so great, huh?”

His tone brimmed with mirth and Daisy’s skin prickled under the heat of it; the urge to smack the smirk from his face was all-consuming. She stared up at him, pointedly. “As someone who probably shares- at least most- of their genetic makeup with that of the Brachiosaurus, I wouldn’t expect you to understand what it’s like.”

His guffaw was loud and booming, and it caused Daisy’s heightened blood pressure to soar beneath the scorching Montreal weather. “Yeah, well, every woman in your maternal bloodline for the past one hundred years was probably four foot eleven, tops. You take what you’re given, kid.” Silence hung between them and Daisy shot Bea a look that simply said, ‘you did this to me, and eventually you will pay for it’. Alexander cleared his throat, oblivious to the mounting tension. “Look, if you want I can hoist you onto my shoulders for the next set and then you’ll know exactly what it’s like to be tall at a concert.”

Daisy took a deep sip of her beer, her defiant gaze trained on something unseen before her. “Your concern for my experience here is heartwarming, really it is, but believe me when I say that I’d rather suffer down here.”

Alexander shrugged and shook his head in mild amusement. “Suit yourself then, half-pint.” Venomous words threatened to erupt from her throat, but they stayed lodged where they were, because just then and with the expertise of someone who was inexplicably well-versed in the act, Bea had managed to clasp a silver handcuff around Daisy’s left wrist. She stared at it in alcohol-induced amusement, and suddenly everyone around them was laughing. She lifted her arm to try and shake her wrist out of it, but a heavy weight dropped it back down to her side, and the realization that the other half of her cuff was bound to Alexander’s right wrist, was sudden and all-consuming. She swallowed hard. 

“While admittedly funny for the first few milliseconds, I’m going to have to insist that you unlock us now.”

Bea levelled her honeyed gaze with Daisy’s and smiled sweetly. “Relax Daze. You’ll be free of each other by nightfall.”

All Alexander could do was howl. “Nightfall? Good luck-" He managed in between fits of laughter. “Getting the kid to last half an hour!” When his laughter had subsided, he cleared his throat and glanced down at Bea, his blue gaze twinkled roguishly. “C’mon Bea. Let us out, hm?”

Bea shook her head and patted the miniscule outline of the key in her pocket. “Last set of the day. Nightfall. I promise.”

There had been protests from both sides, but for as strong-willed as Daisy knew her best friend to be, she also knew that she wasn’t in the business of giving in easily and the pair of them gave up trying while they were ahead. While mind-numbingly irritating for the first few hours, the all-consuming heat eventually zapped Daisy of her ability to care about anything except for cold drinks and air conditioning, and she supposed, begrudgingly, that there were worse people to be chained to for a day. It was only after their lunch of tacos and beer from a local food truck- Daisy and Alexander sat atop a bed of grass, knee-to-knee, that they realized they had managed to get split up from the rest of the crew. But if either of them had been worried about it, they didn’t let it show. “Who are you most excited to see play here?” Daisy asked for no reason, other than she could think of nothing else to say.

Alexander tipped the neck of the beer bottle to his lips with his free hand and took a hearty gulp. “Who am I most excited to see? Who are you most excited to see?”

She rolled her eyes. “You can’t answer a question with a question. Besides, I asked you first.”

He pursed his lips together as if he were thinking hard about it. “The person I am most excited to see, have been waiting all year for… has to be Cardi B.”

She stared at him, deadpan. “You’re kidding.”

“Actually, I’m not. I’d tell you to confirm with Valter but he is, very conveniently, missing in action.”

Daisy laughed suddenly, and it was a laughter that came in waves and spurred on his own, each of them nearly doubled over as they gave in to their fits. “Gonna to do the WAP?” She breathed out when she could manage it, wiping away traces of saltwater with the pad of her thumb.

Alexander feigned solemnity. “Listen, I would do the WAP dance right this very minute if it weren’t for these cuffs.”

“I believe you.” She giggled.

"I'm glad." His face broke into a beam that put sunshine to shame. Draining the rest of the bottle, he set it back onto the grass and cocked his head to the side. “And you? Who are you most excited to see?”

Daisy stared up at him, the answer had been ready on the tip of her tongue, but something in his eyes stopped her dead in her tracks. “You have the loveliest flecks of gold in your eyes, did you know that?”

Alexander’s gaze fell to the grass beneath him, his smile painfully shy. “Let’s find us some more beer then, hey? Up on three.”

“Good plan. But we have an issue to resolve first,” Daisy murmured.

Alexander faltered; his head cocked to the side in question. “You mean- apart from the one where we are currently joined at the hip until Bea decides to take mercy on us?”

Daisy nodded. “Right. Besides that one. I have to pee… really bad.” He opened his mouth to say something, but a chuckle roared from the base of his throat instead, and Daisy swore it was like hearing laughter for the very first time. There was an infectious joy to it that made her want to make him laugh like that for that for the rest of her days.

“Alright. Let’s find you a washroom.”

It hadn’t been a difficult venture; platinum tickets holders benefited from the use of private on-site washrooms, and it occurred to Daisy that the astronomical price for the ticket was worth it, solely based on that luxury itself. “I’m sorry that this a thing you are being privy to.” Daisy muttered as they squeezed into a stall together.

He shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, I’ve been privy to worse things, kid. I’ll turn away.”

As Daisy hiked her sundress up her frame and squatted above the toilet, she reminded herself that revenge was a dish best served cold, and that one way or another, Bea would pay.

Alexander and Daisy’s afternoon continued in the same fashion; they attended whatever sets piqued their interests, lost track of how many people commented on their unusual predicament, and satiated their parched throats with lots of cold alcoholic beverages. Finally, the golden sun began to sink low over the Montreal skyline, and the temperature drop that came with it was a welcome reprieve to the day's stifling heat. They found themselves amidst a healthy crowd of people, all breathless and ready for one of the final sets of the evening. As she waited for the band to take the stage, Daisy suddenly felt exhausted beyond all measure, but also satisfied in a way that she hadn't been accustomed to in years. She could pin it on the alcohol, or the heat, or that she had finally allowed herself a couple of days off to do whatever she pleased. Deep down, she knew it had nearly everything to do with her current company.

“Where did you go just now?” Alexander asked.

Daisy glanced up at him, confused. “What do you mean? I’m right here.”

He seemed unconvinced. “You were a million miles away.”

A shiver wracked her body that had nothing to do with the current weather, and she gestured to the stage. “The Lumineers. These are the guys I'm most excited to see.”

Alexander beamed down at her. “Well then how lucky am I that I get to see them with you.”

Two men entered the stage just then, one stepped up to the microphone, and the other took a seat behind a drum set. Daisy didn’t realize she had been holding her breath until the opening beats of Sleep on the Floor rang out into the humid air before her. A cacophony of cheers erupted from the concertgoers around them, and goosebumps bloomed in patterns over her arms when the bearded man began to sing.

Pack yourself a toothbrush dear

Pack yourself a favorite blouse

Take a withdrawal slip

Take all of your savings out

‘Cause if we don’t ever leave this town

We might never make it out

I was not born to drown

Baby come on

~

“The key is gone.”

The day’s final concert had done Daisy in, and she was inexplicably tired now; her legs heavy like lead, eyelids threatening to shut on their own at any second.

“What do you mean the key is gone, Bea?” She heard Alexander ask. His voice was level, but there was an underlying tinge of frustration to it that made Daisy’s stomach sink.

“It’s… it’s gone. I had it in my pocket earlier and now it’s gone.”

Daisy yawned wide, the urge to lay down on the patch of grass beneath her was almost too tempting to bear. “I’m tired, Alex.”

“I know, kid.” He pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head. “Where did you last have it?”

Bea tugged the edge of her lip into her mouth and shrugged her shoulders, helplessly. “I last had it in my pocket.” Dozens of people pushed past the group on their way out of the park; on their way home to waiting bathtubs and beds and Daisy was unbelievably envious of them.

“Alright. This is what we’re going to do,” He sighed. “The four of us are going to get into a cab, we’re going to head back to the hotel, and Daisy and I will meet up with you guys right here tomorrow morning. If the key still hasn’t turned up, we’ll have to figure something else out.”

“I’m really sorry about this, guys.” Bea muttered lowly.

You absolutely should be, Daisy thought.

Hannah cleared her throat, her arms crossed tight across her chest. “Are you alright with this Daze?”

She nodded, wordlessly.

Their uber ride back to the hotel only spanned the entirety of fifteen minutes, but it seemed like a lifetime to Daisy. She drifted off on Alexander’s shoulder to the lulling sound of muted Swedish between the three men, and when she was gently tapped awake by Alexander, the car was parked outside of the Four Seasons. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you into bed, hm?”

“This is fancy…” She murmured, as she slid out of the open car door and into the humid evening air.

Valter laughed heartily. “Just wait til you see where you’re staying, Daisy.”

The boys bid themselves goodnight, with Alexander slinging his free arm around each of their shoulders in a half-embrace. He waited until he knew Bill and Valter had made it into their elevator safely, and then led Daisy to a discreet elevator off the lobby, which they rode to the top floor wordlessly. She wasn’t sure what she had expected when the doors opened, but her breath hitched in her throat as she drank in the room in which Alexander was calling home for the next three days. “This is-

“A lot, I know.” He murmured. They wandered past the single king bed, into the next room, whose expansive bay windows offered a breathtaking view of Montreal’s twinkling downtown lights. Daisy gazed down at their entwined wrists, at the small metal chain that bound them together, and marveled at how a mere twelve hours had the power to change everything. “Daisy, I’m sorry.” Alexander spoke above a whisper now. “I’m sorry for leaving you behind last year.”

She took a deep breath, the words thick at the back of her throat. “I never should have put you in a position where you felt that you had to choose between your career, and me.”

Alexander’s fingers found hers, and he squeezed them thrice. “You waltzed into my life when I least expected it, Daisy,” An incredulous sigh pushed past his lips and he shook his head. “A breathtaking hurricane of a woman. I made the decision to ask you to dinner, I should have showed up.”

She smiled tiredly. “You showed up today, Alex.”

He leaned towards her, pressing his lips to her temple, and his laughter rumbled through her and warmed her in ways sunshine never could. “And look where we are now.”

She gazed up at him, at the deepened creases next to his eyes, and the subtle flecks of gold among a sea of blue, and in that moment, she hardly cared if they ever found the key at all. There was an effortlessness to that truth that felt akin to breathing. “Nowhere else I’d rather be, Alex.”

When Daisy's eyes opened in the morning, the weight of Alexander's impossibly warm arm hung snug around her clothed stomach, the cool metal of his cuff a stark contrast to her warm inner arm. The Montreal sunlight pouring in through their bay window glinted off a miniscule key-shaped object on the rug a few feet away from where they lay, and a small smile tugged her lips skyward.

[creative-type]

wake from death (and return to life) ix

AO3 first summary:  Zoro had always been told Kuina died falling down a flight of stairs. But she didn’t fall, and she wasn’t dead.

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It took Kuina almost five minutes of dangling over the rails of the ship to realize there was no wind. She was punch-drunk and giddy, the weight of uncertainty rolled off of her shoulders now that she had a clear path forward. She was a Revolutionary. She was going to be the greatest swordsman in the world.

Kuina allowed herself those five minutes. With everything she’d gone through in the last week and a half she’d more than earned them, and it had been so long since she’d felt any real excitement for her future. But no swordsman worth their blade would let themselves get lost in childish emotionalism. Kuina steadied herself with a few deep breaths, mentally drawing in the flights of fancy that had momentarily escaped from her imagination—daydreams of facing Dracule Mihawk at the behest of the Revolution, of proving once and for all that she could do what so many thought impossible, of reuniting with her father and Zoro proudly bearing the title Greatest.  

It was like trying to wrangle a gaggle of unruly children. The more Kuina struggled to contain herself the more her imagination tried to run free, but she managed to settle back into the state of tranquil serenity that was more befitting of her training. The practical side of her, the part that quietly disapproved of this most recent turn of events, knew that now that she’d painted the broad strokes of her future it was high time to figure out what the hell Aria de Gris was doing now. It was then, and only then, that she noticed that the air was unnaturally still.

The sailors around her were not perturbed even as the Valor’s sails hung limp from their moorings. Kuina could feel that they were moving on the clear, mirror-flat sea. Slowly, but that was better than being dead in the water. Kuina wandered to the ship’s bow, noting that the Valor was sailing almost due south. If the Revolution had followed the same heading since leaving Tolouse, and Kuina had been unconscious for two full days, that meant…

“Don’t worry, we should be out of the Calm Belt by the end of the week.”

Kuina flinched, sword half-drawn before realizing it was only Dara using what had to be the most annoying Devil Fruit ability in the history of the world. Dara laughed as she popped out of the deck, hooking her thumbs in her pockets as Kuina shot her a glare.

But most of Kuina’s irritation was at herself for letting herself be caught by surprise, and she returned her attention back to the water. It was impossible to sail through the Calm Belt without some sort of engine, which the Valor lacked, to say nothing of the danger presented by the innumerable nests of sea kings that buffeted the Grand Line from the Four Blues.

Even as Kuina tried to wrap her mind around it, a dark shadow emerged from the depths directly in front of the ship. A high-pitched, eerie wail, almost like a siren’s song, reverberated through the air and deep into Kuina’s chest.

A monstrous head breached the surface so close to the Valor it sent rippling waves across its hull. Sprays of water jettisoned thirty feet into the air, exposing only part of a stripped, misshapen body before submerging once more. Great flukes, as large as a whale, but covered with algae-like strands of hair, slapped against the surface of the sea and sent sprays of salty water against the deck. Someone in the crow’s nest above whooped out a cry of encouragement.

Thoroughly confused, Kuina looked at Dara, whose grin only widened as she pointed to a tiny speck bobbing to the space recently vacated by the leviathan. “Oh look, there’s Cam. Someone should send a boat after her.”

“As if she’d take it!” a Revolutionary Kuina didn’t recognize shouted from across the deck.

“True,” Dara said contemplatively. Beckoning Kuina to follow, she meandered to the starboard side of the deck and loosened a rope ladder into the sea. “It’s probably faster to just let her swim.”

If Kuina hadn’t been so amazed by the fact Camille hadn’t gotten herself eaten, she would have marveled at the speed with which she cut through the unnaturally-still sea. Kuina considered herself a good enough swimmer, but Camille looked like she’d been born for the water. She moved like she was part fish, each stroke strong and graceful, returning to the Valor in moments. When she climbed back onto the decks she seemed sad to be there, looking back longingly at the water.

“So, how’s Fin?” Dara asked.

“Good, good. I adjusted the harness to fit more comfortably.” Camille arched an eyebrow at her friend while adjusting a leather thong around her neck, from which hung the biggest tooth Kuina had ever seen. “And his name isn’t Fin.”

“Well since you haven’t said what his name is, you’ve left me no choice but to improvise,” Dara retorted. She nudged Kuina in the ribs. “Can you believe she went through the effort of taming a sea king and then didn’t name it? ”

“You tamed a sea king?” Kuina said. “ How? ”

Camille rolled her eyes. “I didn’t tame anything. We’ve just...reached an understanding.” She gave Kuina an appraising look. “I’m surprised the doctor let you out of her grasp so soon.”

“She almost didn’t,” Kuina admitted.

Dara wrapped an arm around Kuina’s neck, ignoring the choked yelp of alarm and Kuina’s efforts to squirm free. “Forget about that! Did you hear, Kuina joined up. She’s officially one of the team!”

“I thought that was a given.” Camille said, utterly disinterested as she wrung the excess water from her shirt.

“When did you hear that?” Kuina said at the same time.

“Pfft, Dara knows pretty much everything on this ship,” Camille said. “You get used to it.”

Kuina frowned. She didn’t like the idea of someone with Dara’s ability nosing her way into business that wasn’t her own. If there was anything she’d learned since sailing with the Revolution, it was that there was very little in the way of privacy while at sea. Ships crowded everyone together, crewmates eating, sleeping, and working in close proximity. While the forced closeness had its advantages, Kuina was used to spending great blocks of time alone. It was something to get used to, and to be wary of.

“Don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me,” Dara said, tweaking the end of Kuina’s nose. “You saved me from losing five hundred berries, and to Lizard of all people. I am at your service.”

It took Kuina a moment to remember Dara’s ill-thought wager with Elizabeth, and before she could voice her protest Dara had taken her by the arm to make official introductions to the crew, Camille laughing a half-step behind.

There was John the cooper, and James the blacksmith. Among the deckhands Kuina was introduced to rapid-fire were Kojo, Zhao, Lin, Char, Sean, Jen, and Tiva, and by the end of it she had gotten them so thoroughly confused with one another she had no idea which one was which. Others were working belowdecks, or off-shift and resting.

Elizabeth was still regretfully in charge of cooking duties, while Lyudmila was the ship’s quartermaster and second in command. Kuina was surprised to hear that in addition to taming sea kings in her spare time, Camille was the crew’s navigator.

“And what is it you do?” Kuina asked as Dara dragged her back below decks for the grand tour.

“Get newbs like you up to speed. Now here’s Trini’s room—try not to get stuck in here unless you want to spend the afternoon feeding lettuce to snails.”

Kuina blinked in amazement. The communications room was packed full of terrariums housing snail phones of every size and color. At its center was an enormous machine that looked vaguely like what the marines used to send their faxes, with thin cords attached to half a dozen den den mushi. Behind the machine sat Trini wearing an oversized pair of headphones, deep in concentration.

“She’s scanning the airwaves,” Dara said in an exaggerated whisper, carefully closing the door once more. “Not that there’s much to intercept in the Calm Belt, but you never know with the marines these days.”

“The marines can cross the Calm Belt?” Kuina said. “I can barely believe we’re crossing the Calm Belt!”

“It’s all thanks to Fin. Sea king bulls don’t typically fight with one another unless it’s mating season, so even if he’s pulling along a tasty treat we should be all right. I think his song has something to do with it, too.” She made an exaggerated gesture. “As for the marines, I have no freaking clue, but it must be a pretty new development since Boss doesn’t know about it, and the Valor isn’t sea-king proofed either.”

“That’s right, this was a marine ship,” Kuina murmured, looking up at the planks with fresh eyes. It was funny, without the marine’s distinctive painted hulls, she’d never would have been able to tell the difference.

“Oh, yeah. Came with all the amenities, which is how Trini got her state of the art snail room.”

“So if you guys had a sea king snuck up your sleeve this whole time, why didn’t you use it during the battle?” Kuina asked. “A monster that size would have been useful on Tolouse.”

“Ach, must everything be about fighting with you?” Dara said. “You must never have seen a real sea king, but Fin’s practically a baby, not even half-grown. And it’s surprisingly smart—for all my teasing, Cam was right. The thing has a mind of its own and acknowledges no master. I don’t think we could get him to attack a ship if we wanted to.”  

“But he’ll pull a ship through the Calm Belt?” Kuina said.

“It’s better than going the long way around, eh?” Dara said with a shrug. “Come on, I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.”

At the barracks, Kuina had her choice of seven open bunks. One, which happened to be closest to the door, had a small crate propped on top of the thin mattress. Inside was stuffed with clothes and basic belongings. When Kuina looked askance at Dara the light in her eyes dimmed.

“That’s Danny’s stuff,” Dara said. “The rest who died already have their things stowed for when we get back to base, but as far as any of us know she doesn’t have any family so we’re not really sure what to do with hers. I’d say for you to take the clothes since you don’t have any, but I don’t think they’d fit.”

Kuina drew her fingers over the box, trying to think if she’d said anything about any family in their short time together, but all she remembered her mentioning was an apprenticeship under a cruel master. Kuina’s throat tightened as the memory of Danny screaming hysterically echoed in her mind unbidden.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Dara rubbed her neck uncomfortably. “It happens. I already told Boss when I bite it to sell all my stuff and use the money to have a party. If you all can’t be happy, at least you’ll be drunk.”

“I don’t drink,” Kuina said.

“Then you and Mila can be mopey together,” Dara said with determined cheerfulness. “It won’t matter to me, I’ll be dead. Now, where do you want to be? I’d be careful about that middle one there, it’s next to Lizard, and she snores terribly. ”

Kuina took the hint, and changed the subject, trying not to wonder how many of the bunks available to her had only emptied after the battle of Tolouse.

After the tour came lunch, and with two solid, if not especially tasty, meals under her belt, Kuina was beginning to feel more like herself again. The itch to train was back, and Kuina wanted nothing more to test the limits she’d recently expanded and chase after the high of battle, but much like her time on Belo Betty’s ship she was first subjected to the humiliation of being the newest and lowest-ranking sailor on a large and understaffed warship.

“You’re kind of shit at this, aren’t you?” Camille observed from her perch at the ship’s bow, watching as Kuina ran her mop over the deck for what felt like the hundredth time.

“You could help,” Kuina said.

“And deprive you of the opportunity to learn? Never.” She gave a long, catlike stretch. “By the way, you missed a spot.”

Kuina muttered an oath as she stabbed the mop into the bucket. “It isn’t as if it’s dirty.”

“Water expands and seals the wood, salt protects against rot.” Camille yawned, as if bored by the conversation, and wandered back to their useless rudder. As she passed Kuina, she said, “If you want to live in a drippy, softwooded ship, be my guest. As for me, I’d prefer not to die the first time a Grand Line squall hits.”

She left Kuina with her head bowed and cheeks burning. But the words had their intended effect and Kuina redoubled her efforts, determined from that point on that no one could in good conscience reprimand her sailcraft ever again.

It was nearing dark when de Gris and Lyudmila emerged from the captain’s quarters to call a meeting with the crew. After a long day of labor, Kuina’s muscles ached and she yearned for the sweet respite of bed. And it wasn’t as if the work had been taxing, especially after Clara Cross emerged from the infirmary like an avenging angel to tell off the entire crew, but especially Kuina, for overexerting herself.

There were some things not even Devil Fruit magic couldn’t sweep under the rug, and apparently the exhaustion of a near-death experience was one of them.

“All right everyone, gather round!” de Gris yelled. “Watchmen too! There aren’t any ships out here, and if the sea kings come after us we’re fucked anyway. I want everyone to hear this. Where’s Trini? She can leave the damn snails for ten minutes.”

The crew scrambled to obey the order. Kojo (or maybe Sean) went to gather those who were still belowdecks. Minutes later everyone was assembled in a loose circle around the main mast, with de Gris at the center. She paused a moment to ensure everyone was paying close attention, and under her stern gaze the idle chatter vanished into deathly silence.

Rays of dying light cast against de Gris’s back and framed her face in deep shadow. “I know you all have been wondering lately why the hell we were called to the East Blue so suddenly, and why we’re leaving just as quickly. I’ve heard you lot asking where our next destination was and wonder why I’ve not said where we’re going once we hit the Grand Line. Well, the answer’s simple. Until today, I didn’t know.”

From the folds of her coat, she pulled out an old and crumpled sheet of paper. Kuina squinted her eyes and was just able to make out the blurry picture of a masked figure. The bounty underneath, however, was clear as the sky above. Master-at-Arms Gemini, Wanted Dead or Alive. Bounty: B48,000,000.

Beside her, Dara snorted. “Oh, I bet the marine who thought up that name thought he was very clever.”

It was difficult to tell much from the photograph, but the one detail that was absolutely clear was Gemini’s strange, double-segmented arms, too long for an ordinary human and vaguely insectile. Kuina, who’d never seen anything like it before in her life, wondered what it would be like to fight someone who essentially had two elbows.

She brushed the thought away and turned to Gemini’s face. Their mask, fittingly enough, was divided vertically into halves, one dark and one light. The side that was dark was completely bereft of ornamentation; Kuina couldn’t even make out an eyehole to see out of. The side that was light, however, was painted with a garish grin. A shock of wiry black hair fell past their shoulders, but beyond that it was impossible to discern any identifying features. Baggy clothing and the poor quality of the photograph obscured anything else, even gender, and after spending this much time under de Gris's command, Kuina knew better than to assume.

“Gemini is a prominent figure in the criminal underground,” de Gris continued. “Arms dealing, drug trade, slavery, the whole lot. Removing them from the equation will make the world a safer place.”

“What’s an arms dealer got to do with the Revolution?” someone to Kuina’s right called. “And what have they got to do with the East Blue?” A murmur of agreement rippled through the crew.

“Enough!” de Gris bellowed, silencing them once more. “Tolouse's government were slavers, that much is now clear. They called it political exile to a labor camp, but the end result is the same—the World Government gave the king kickbacks for human chattel, using the Callihan Trading Company as a middleman. And we now now that the CTC was taking orders from Gemini. If Gemini is willing to go through so much effort to set up a scheme in some East Blue backwater, who knows what other fingers they have stuck into various pies around the world.”

“So we’re going after them,” Camille said, crossing her arms across her chest.

“That's right. So far Gemini has been able to stay one step ahead of us, but with the intel gathered on Tolouse we have the upper hand.” De Gris marched to the mast. In one smooth motion she drew a dagger hidden in her boot, and stabbed the bounty deep into the wood.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re going to Kyuka Island. In the days ahead I’ll be divvying out assignments. Any questions are to be directed toward Lyudmila or myself—out of an abundance of caution, you’re not to discuss your orders with anyone else on this ship. I’ll keelhaul anyone who tries.” At this her gaze went directly to Kuina, who got the impression these instructions were given strictly for her benefit. "Kyuka is marine territory through and through. I pray none of us fall into Government hands, but if we do, it's safest for the Revolution that each individual knows as little as possible about our plans."

After a pause, and hearing no objections, de Gris lit a cigarette for herself. “I’ll pay anyone who finds any intelligence on Gemini that leads to their capture or death the full value of their bounty. I’ll pay double to anyone who brings me their head. This chase has gone on long enough, I want this bastard dead. ” She flicked a bit of ash off the end of her cigarette and added, almost as an afterthought, “Dismissed.”

A gap in the circle opened to let de Gris through. As she passed, she grabbed Kuina by the shoulder. “Come on, greenhorn. It’s time we sort out your position on this ship.”

For the second time that day Kuina was led to the captain’s quarters. De Gris’s desk had been cleared away, the sea charts rolled back into their proper places and ashtrays emptied. Kuina slid back into a chair that smelled like tobacco. “What is it? Does the Revolution have Articles of Enlistment for me to sign? Is there a manifesto I’m supposed to study?”

“Don’t be stupid.” The sun had almost dipped below the horizon, and de Gris found a box of matches to light a kerosene lamp. The orange flame danced on its wick and flickered with the natural roll of the ship. “I’m told Dara gave you the runaround today.”

Kuina nodded.

“Clara never came screaming at me, so I have to assume you’re not feeling too poorly,” she mused, taking the time to light another cigarette.

“I’m fine,” Kuina said, rolling back her shoulders so de Gris couldn’t see the weariness in them.  

“And have you taken that sword out of its sheath even once today?”

“Uh...no?” Kuina said.

“Unacceptable.” De Gris leaned back in her chair and let out a long stream of smoke. “You’re not some swabby or rigging monkey, you’re here because of your blade.” She looked at Kuina as if she were an idiot for not realizing this sooner.

“I’m willing to work just as hard as anyone else on this ship,” Kuina said stiffly.

“And you will. Harder, even, since you’re so far behind. But a ship is like…” She gesticulated, trying to find the right word. “It’s like a person. A crew is its own organism, and every one of us has to fit into their part. You don’t expect a heart to do the same work as a kidney, and no matter how hard you try, you’re not going to be half the sailor as the people who’ve spent their whole lives on the water. It’s ridiculous to think otherwise.”

Kuina nodded. What she said made sense, and in many ways Kuina agreed with her. But there was something about agreeing with Aria de Gris that didn’t sit right with her, so she said, “I have to learn sometime.”

“Obviously. I’m not about to let you be a liability once we hit the Grand Line, but there has to be balance. You’re no good to me if you get yourself killed because you spent too much time studying the different types of sails instead of your swordsmanship.” De Gris was pensive for a moment. “I’ll have Mila set up a schedule for you in the morning. Half the day working chores, the rest training. A few of my men use katana, but you’re better than all of them. Most of what you’ll do will have to be self study.”

“That’s fine. I haven’t had a master in years.”

De Gris looked surprised to hear this, but didn’t comment. “We have regular sparing times as well, to help our less practiced fighters build their skill, and to give the mainliners a chance to get used to each other's styles. Depending on how this all shakes out, you might be pairing with Dara or Camille for the upcoming mission. Do you know how to use a gun?”

“Of course not,” Kuina said, caught off-guard by the question.

“Then you’ll learn.” De Gris cut off Kuina’s protests before they could begin. “Can you kill someone at twenty yards with your sword?”

“No,” Kuina said mulishly.

“Then you need to know how to fire a gun, and probably keep one on you as a backup weapon. I have no use for senseless pride on this ship, girl,” she said as Kuina scrunched her nose in distaste. It’s your job to listen to what I say, and it’s my job to try and put you in a position to not die. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Kuina said, still unhappy at the prospect of sullying her hands with a firearm.

Without warning, de Gris pounded her fist on her desk. The kerosine lamp tottered and threatened to fall, but her eyes never left Kuina’s, the scar on her cheek pulled taunt with her scowl.

“I said. Do. You. Understand ?”

“And I said yes, ” Kuina snapped. “I’ll learn to use you’re stupid gun, and when I figure out how to kill someone at fifty yards with my sword I’ll drop kick it into the ocean where it belongs." She crossed her arms across her chest. "I already told you I’ll do what you say so long as you don’t interfere with my ambition, so there’s no need to treat me like a child.”  

They glared at one another for a long while, hackles raised, but this time Kuina refused to let herself be intimidated into backing down. Slowly, still without breaking eye contact, de Gris eased back into her chair and doused her cigarette. “I have put too many people’s belongings into boxes because they wouldn’t listen. For your own sake, I hope you’re not one of them.”

For the second time that day, memory of Danny's last words echoed in her mind. “You’re in luck, because right now I don’t own enough stuff to fit into a box, let alone anyone to send it to.”

“No one at all?” de Gris said, eyebrows raising.

Kuina’s breath hitched as she thought of her father back at Shimotsuki village. Would the Revolutionary Army be able to return her meager belongings home without the marines knowing? Would he be able to stand knowing she’d joined Dragon’s cause despite all his warnings? What about Ipponmatsu? He at least wasn’t under suspicion by the World Government...Or was he, now that she’d attacked Tashigi?

Of everyone she knew, it was probably safest to give her belongings to Zoro , but gods only knew what part of the Grand Line he’d found himself in. She almost laughed at the thought of him using two of her swords for himself.

“No one,” Kuina said. Her hands clenched into fists, nails digging crescent moons into her palms, but she kept her voice calm and her tone even.

After another heartbeat of painful silence, de Gris said, “Well, you’re not the only one." The words were probably meant to be reassuring, but Kuina felt they were anything but. “If you think of anybody, make sure someone knows.”

“I don’t plan on dying,” Kuina said.

De Gris snorted and lit another cigarette. “None of us do. Now get some grub and get to bed. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow.”

Kuina rose to her feet. After a moment’s hesitation, she bowed slightly. “Thank you...Captain.”

De Gris waved her away with a dismissive flick of the wrist. “You don’t have to break your teeth saying it. I don’t give a damn what you call me so long as you follow orders. Just know I take discipline on this ship very seriously. Cross me, and keelhauling is the least you’ll have to worry about.”

Kuina didn’t doubt it for a second. Murmuring her goodbyes, she left de Gris to her cigarettes and her musings, grateful to be able to swallow the clean sea air once more.

[penguintransporter]

Winning The Game Called Love (Hector Bellerin) Part VIII

Hello, everyone! It took me a while to post this, but fear not - I have another chapter edited and ready to update next weekend. I contemplated for the longest time if I should post continuation of the chapter VII or maybe write a flashback that is entirely in Héctor’s POV, and decided that some of his thoughts wouldn’t be bad - so consider this as a filler even if it’s an entire update. Enjoy, let me know what you think, and don’t shy away from my inbox. You can read the first seven chapters of the story - here - along with the rest of my stuff. Lots of love, and stay amazing as always!

There was rarely a moment in which the canteen of the Arsenal FC Training Centre didn’t feel like a mini circus of some sort.

Buzzing with noise at any given time of the day, the spacious and with the long tables packed room often hosted a diverse bunch of people of different backgrounds and nationalities, ages and paychecks, contracts and positions in the club – all of them taking a refuge from their daily routines. More than often, administration hermits, trying to escape their paper-stacked offices mingled with millions of pounds worth footballers who needed their fuel before or after their training sessions, and all the high-positioned officials in their suits were known to chat away their coffee breaks with the wonderful Simone behind the canteen till.

Still, on that Friday noon, as the world was waist-deep in the month of December, the entire room felt just a little bit quieter than usual. 

As he sat alone at one of the long tables, waiting for his teammates to join him for lunch, Héctor wondered if the certain quietness was caused by the miserable weather outside or just because the feeling of yet another year slipping away was weighing down on people’s minds – including his own.

With a shake of his head, Héctor scooped some of the food on his fork before setting down his knife on a plate in front of him, looking at the windows that span along the wall to his left – the abundance of greyness greeting him. One would think that after all the years since he’s moved to England and started calling London his home, he would have gotten used on the picture in front of his eyes, but he wasn’t, and he knew that he won’t ever be.

Looking away, Héctor pursed his lips as he lazily chewed on his mouthful before glancing at the time on his phone as he reached for his knife to scoop more food, but he couldn’t help but freeze in his movements – the familiar scent filling his nostrils.

Oranges?

Confused, Héctor swallowed before leaning back in his chair as he felt the air leaving his lungs.

It wasn’t as if the oranges were something he rarely had the chance to smell, but only a handful of times the particular scent could make him feel the way he did as he apprehensively breathed in – memories of his childhood breaking out on the surface of his mind.

Warm, hot late autumns. His hand firmly held by his grandmother’s as they walked along the less-known pueblos where the oranges on the trees, bent by the their own weight, were just a reach of a hand away.

Héctor let his eyes wander as discreetly as possible around the canteen, trying to find the source of the smell that brought back the picture of the little Belle and the sight of the oranges laying along the sides of the pathways – their sweetness and stickiness an invitation for a feast for all the ants and flies.

Skinny, little boy in a sailor-striped t-shirt; thin-soled tennis shoes slippery on the cobbled slope; smell of home-cooked paella in the air.

She.

The irritating girl from the reception sat at the end of one of the long tables in the corner along with some other employees whose faces Héctor vaguely recognised, but despite it, it seemed as if she didn’t belong the rowdy bunch of five men. She seemed to be in her own little headspace, quietly looking at the round fruit she held in her hands – eyebrows slightly narrowed in a thought.

The white collar of a button down played a peek-a-boo from underneath the scruffy navy-coloured jumper she was wearing, hair tucked behind her ears and away from her face, and a pair of beaten-up shoes on her feet – she looked out of the place among the sea of red tracksuits and football kits. Héctor watched her drop the orange to her lap before looking at her phone, grinning at something, and without even realising, his leg started to bounce ever so slightly. 

She’s probably dating someone equally irritating as she was.

Realising that he was staring, Héctor looked away quickly, sucking a deep breath before running both of his hands through his hair, pausing for a moment – his fingers interlacing behind his neck. He wasn’t sure what it was that has possessed him, and God knows, he didn’t want to do it in the first place, but he did it anyway. Glancing back at her again, he observed her as she dug her nails into the skin of the orange – nose scrunching a little when the aromatic juice sprayed against her face.

He could almost feel it too—

¡Joder!

Héctor’s head snapped quickly in front of him, rubbing his face in frustration before looking at the doors of the lunch-room, hoping to see someone who could distract him from looking towards the one person he didn’t want to spend his time on.

A feeling of relief washed over him as he saw Calum walk inside the canteen, giving a quick wave to Simone before picking up a plate to serve himself from the large containers that were neatly arranged along the till. Héctor’s eyes followed his teammate, waiting for the tall guy to look in his direction so he could wave him over. 

He hated how jittery he was beginning to feel, so when his teammate scanned the room for a free seat, Héctor quickly raised his hand, ignoring the feeling in the very pit of his stomach that he couldn’t comprehend.  

Jesus Christ!

“What you’ve got there?” Calum asked with a grin, and Héctor returned the smile, but for some reason, it didn’t quite feel right. His teammate slid in the chair next to him, peering at Héctor’s plate, “Beans? Really? Have you not seen all the food out there, Héc?” he grinned, pulling the sleeves of his tracksuit jacket up to his elbows, ready to dig into his food.

“What’s wrong with my beans?” Héctor asked, smiling a little as he took another forkful of his lunch, just in time to see Rob and Alexandre, walk in, quickly serving themselves with the food before walking over to where Héctor and Calum sat. Héctor looked back at Calum, waving his fork in his mate’s direction as he continued to talk, “It’s healthy, makes me run faster than you, and honestly mate,” Héctor stopped to take a sip of water, “it looks better than your chicken.”

“Chicken again, I see,” Rob commented passively without a greeting as he sat down opposite Héctor – long legs trying to find space under the table. Alexandre followed shortly, balancing more food than the plate could actually hold in one hand, while typing on his phone with other. He nodded, sitting down – his eyes never leaving the shiny screen.

“One day he’ll turn into a chicken,” Héctor joked before glancing at Calum from the corner of his eye while chasing the white bean covered in the tomato sauce around his plate.

His mate let out a small chuckle, carefully taking a bite of the grilled poultry in his mouth, “You say that now, but you’d become a carnivore again for a chicken like me, Heccy.”

“What did you just say?” Alexandre asked, looking up from his phone with a grin, “Héctor, my friend, I beg you, stay vegan. He’s not worth it…” he trailed off before the four men started laughing, earning an amused and curious smile from Simone who passed by their table, and dirty look from one of the elder officials who tried to focus on whatever he was doing on his iPad. “Anyway,” Alexandre started as they calmed down a little, setting his phone away and grabbing the fork only to stab chunks of steamed carrots and broccoli, looking up at his teammates, “do we know who’s going to be David’s date for the charity party? Rumours say he’s single again.”

“Do we care?” Rob asked, grinning to himself as he still tried to find a comfortable position for his legs.

“Why yes,” Alexandre responded, earning a lifted eyebrow from Héctor in return, “my bet is Claudia or even, what’s her name, the tall blonde that’s always running around in the physio room.”

“Eveline?” Rob curiously asked, unscrewing the cap of his water bottle with ease to take a sip, “I think she’s married, but yeah, then definitely Claudia, that’s if the boss let’s him ask her out.”

Calum shook his head swiftly before glancing towards his right for a second, “I think he’ll make a move on our pretty, little sunshine called Aida,” he commented, nudging Héctor under the table.

“Why are you nudging me?” Héctor asked with a laugh, setting his cutlery down as he decided to join in the conversation. “Am I missing the joke? Who’s Aida?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, all three of his teammates looked at him – amusing smirks on their faces, and as Héctor was the one to buy on the paranoia feeling that washed over him, he’d say that the entire room was looking his way as well. Deciding that his best bet was to ignore their questioning stares, Héctor shrugged before breaking the piece of his bread and running it along the lip of his plate – picking up the leftover sauce.

“Are you taking the piss now?” Rob asked, genuinely interested now in the course of their conversation as he smirked, leaning forward, and Héctor shook his head, sticking the piece of the soaked bread into his mouth.

“Why would I?” he asked – feeling as if he was missing on some important joke, “I don’t know if this idiot’s nudge was supposed to tell me something,” he added before grinning at Calum, and just as he was about to add something else, the sound of a chair scraping loudly against the linoleum floor interrupted him. Simultaneously, they all looked up and in the direction of the screeching sound where the receptionist girl was smiling apologetically towards no one in particular.

Héctor felt the knot in his stomach rise up to his throat, but he swallowed it quickly back as he, along with his mates, watched the petite girl with the messy hair scoop the orange peels in her palm, while balancing a dark-green water bottle under one arm and a lilac notebook between her lips.

The Arsenal’s right-back looked down at his plate – piled vegetables and grains staring back at him before clenching his jaw in annoyance. He could vaguely hear a commotion and Simone’s laugh, not caring about what Calum had yelled in her direction, and caring even less about what she had responded before laughing that loud, but nonetheless contagious sound.

“Since you’re wondering,” Alexandre grinned, sticking another carrot into his mouth when Héctor looked up at the Frenchman, “that’s Aida.”

**

“—honestly, I think she’s actually nice to have around. Quite funny,” Rob responded to whatever Calum had said as he wiped the beads of sweat off of his face before leaning forward on his stationary bike.

Next to them, Héctor wanted to groan out loud like a teenager would when being interrogated by his mother about his whereabouts.

He wasn’t sure nor could he pinpoint the exact moment when the name of the receptionist girl was dropped again in their conversation, but there it was – levitating around them as he shared the corner with the treadmills and stationary bikes with Rob, Calum and Leno – the German lad being his usual reserved self.

Héctor knew very well that there was no real need for them to talk about her, but the grins that his teammates were giving him were a proof enough for him to know that they were doing it on purpose. 

Hate was a strong word, but he couldn’t say that he enjoyed it either. Not after he was already—

Focus.

Instead of giving in on his teammate’s banter, Héctor rather focused on the sound of his trainers hitting against the treadmill’s moving belt.

“She’s also babysitting Auba’s son sometimes, no?” Bernd mumbled, smiling his tight-lipped smile.

Calum chuckled at the tall goalie next to him, “I know many lads that would love to be babysat by her.” 

Despite wanting to keep his mouth shut, Héctor couldn’t hold back the snort as he lowered the speed on the treadmill, while monitoring his heart-rate.

“I just don’t understand why—,” Héctor started, but quickly stopped himself, “never-mind.”

“What? You wouldn’t?” Calum asked, looking at him. “I am sure she’d love to babysit you if you only let her,” he added teasingly, and as much as he hated himself for doing it, he actually wanted to laugh at his bad joke.

“WHO WOULDN’T WANT WHAT?” David boomed from where he was jogging towards them – wild hair tied up in a ridiculous palm-resembling-something on top of his head. Joining them, he leaned casually against the side of Héctor’s  treadmill. 

With a curious smile, David glanced between the group of men before his eyes settled on a Calum who was still looking at Héctor with a smirk.

“Heccy doesn’t fancy Aida,” he answered matter-of-factly before wiping some of the sweat off of his face with his jersey. Next to him, Rob rolled with his eyes before reaching out his towel which Calum refused with a shake of his head.

Their Brazilian teammate had an amused yet shocked look on his face as he looked at Héctor with a silly grin. “What? Really? Everyone fancies her!”

“Exactly our point,” Rob interjected and it was Héctor’s turn to roll with his eyes, “but apparently, Héctor here doesn’t.”

“You do know that I am still here?” Héctor asked, forcing a grin which only earned him a handful of playful looks from his teammates. “Besides, I have every right in the world to not fancy someone.”

“But you do like brunettes, no?” Calum asked as he started to run again, and for once Héctor wanted to be outside, in the freezing cold, preferably running next to someone who didn’t ask such stupid questions or was usually consumed by their own thoughts – Sead maybe. “—okay, maybe she’s not all legs or whatnot, but still, sometimes the compact ones are the best…”

Hoping off of the treadmill, Héctor grabbed a towel that rested on one of the chairs in the corner, refusing to hear the rest of Calum’s statement or to give in into the banter. 

“You really need to find a hobby,” he grinned after wiping his face before leaving his teammates and making his way towards the other end of the room that was reserved for heavy-weights and strength training.

Standing there alone and tying his hair in a ponytail, he glanced through the windows to his right, and as if it was a force of something above, the receptionist girl walked past – steps quick as she wrapped her scarf around her neck, shielding the lower part of her face from the harsh wind. 

Héctor shook his head as he looked down at his trainers before glancing back up, only to catch a glimpse of her silhouette disappearing around the corner – the soft scent of oranges returning to haunt him for a split of a second.

What if...

No.

[octalove]

V: Letting Lie

(Batgirl/Red Hood)

Description: There’s a breakthrough in the case, and Reader takes things into her own hands. Part one, two, three, and four.

The hospital was white. All white. Like a dream. White walls, white floors, white curtains, white stretchers, white papers fluttering around on clipboards, doctors in white coats. Mr. Wayne’s suit was black, so I focused on him. Black suit, blue tie. Black hair, blue eyes. He was filling out whatever paper the nurse had given him. Something about seeing it all play out, despite the face he had put on for me, made my eyes well up with tears. He was afraid, so I was afraid.

“Mr. Wayne?” His eyes shot up as he looked desperately at the nurse. He was so helplessly at the mercy of whatever news they brought us. We both were. “Will you come with us? We’ll have a nurse stay with the girl.” The nurse looked down at me with a warm smile. White teeth.

“We need to borrow Mr. Wayne for just a second. That okay, baby?” I just nodded, not really considering it something I could say no to. No, please, I want him to stay. I’m scared and I want him to stay. A male nurse came and sat by me. He talked to me about school, my favorite subjects- science, math. He asked me what I wanted to be, and I shrugged.

“People who like science and math make good doctors.” He said. I shrugged again, but then considered it more.

“Is it hard?” I asked.

“It’s very hard. Not a lot of people can do it.”

“…”

“But it’s worth it. You help people, you know?”

Mr. Wayne appeared from around the corridor. The look on his face made all the papers stop fluttering. Made all the doctors stop rushing. Made the world stop where it was. Somewhere, maybe, in retrospect, I knew before he said it. I kept my eyes trained on his face, even though I wanted to look away.

“Y/N…” He said, taking a seat beside me. “Listen to me, sweetpea. Your parents-” His voice was cautious, considerate as he tried again. “Your moms got hurt really badly tonight… They- they’re both…“ A tear landed on my hand as the memory grew into a reality, which was bigger than I was. White sheets, red blood. He took my hand, and wiped it away.

“They’re gone now.”

*

They didn’t talk about Jason Todd.

And since they were the only people in his life at the time he died, nobody talked about Jason Todd. We met a couple of times, before Bruce took me in. I hated my expensive gowns, and he hated his expensive obligations, and we hid together at parties, all the while Dick insisted we’d get married. He lived, albeit briefly, as a smart, capable boy, and died as a smart, capable Robin. I had trouble looking at his face- pictures and old year books. When I did, I was looking into the face of a boy who died an untimely, tragic death. That was it. That was his story. Jason Todd died alone, afraid, and probably in a lot of pain. I went to his funeral.

If at all he came up (I could only think of one or two occasions), Bruce would tense, his eyes falling away, and Alfred’s gaze would cloud with memory. Dick, at least, could share a story or two, coveting the fondness and pride he had for his brother without dismissing the whole subject. Tim and Damian didn’t ask. They just tried not to die with the uniform on.

So walking into the cave and seeing Jason Todd’s face plastered on the central monitor seemed like the single most unlikely thing to occur in the Wayne household. I would’ve placed Bruce adopting another child before digging up and displaying dead ones.

Tim, Dick, and Babs were huddled close, faces wound and tight, while Bruce looked distracted, fascinated with his W.E. ballpoint pen. I dragged my feet a little to alert them all of my entry, but only Babs looked up.

“Y/N.” She said.

“Hey. What’s going on?”

Everyone just sort of concluded that someone else would explain, or take the lead, but no one made any attempt to do so. Finally, Bruce sighed.

“Come here. Sit down.” Okay. If there was anything in the world that could make your intestines feel like they were getting turned to ramen noodles by a paper shredder, it was Bruce Wayne telling you to come here, sit down. I searched the others’ faces as I did so.

“What happened?” I asked quietly, trying to fill the chasmic silence.

“I’m going to go over everything. Do you remember…” He trailed off- just for a second. It wasn’t often I saw him battle with something like that. His face was tired, and his eyes revealed a struggle as he fought whatever emotion he was grappling with. “Do you remember Jason?”

I nodded. “Sort of.” An echoing memory passed. Lacy table cloth curtains and chocolate covered strawberries as we camped under gala snack tables, whispering and laughing. Bruce watching me when my parents went out of town, and Jason giving me a tour of the library. The red roses on his burial. Sure, sort of. His blurry picture was on the monitor, anyway.

“Okay. Very good.” Bruce began again, perhaps relieved he would have to go into detail to refresh my memory.

“We’ve been putting a lot of information together regarding the Red Hood. We’ve been able to deduce his origins were The Viper House, but before that, Arkham. He began working out of the Asylum, and contacts there had a lot of information about him.”

That, I didn’t know. I supposed I wasn’t the only one slinking around in shadows. He was addressing everyone now, going through visuals on the monitor.

“He began to placate what was left of Joker’s operations in Coventry before he started on general crime. Oracle was even able to get some information from Harley Quinn.” I looked at Babs with some surprise, and she just nodded along.

“The very first sighting of him- in Coventry- was April 27th, seven months ago. The fifth anniversary of…”

I nodded. I knew what April 27th was. A vapid, despairing day in the manor that Bruce spent in his office and Dick didn’t call. I didn’t follow, but if Bruce had linked Jason’s death to Red Hood, I knew he must have something big.

“All of the information we gathered, on top of his intimate knowledge of us, vigilante or otherwise, has lead us to a clear conclusion. The encounter in Crime Alley on the 21st was just another confirmation.”

I almost flinched as my eyes flew to Tim, but no one seemed particularly interested in me. I texted him quickly, careful to avoid Bruce’s eye.

You told him?

- I told him I was the one who saw it. It was important information.

Shit, Tim. Was he mad?

He didn’t answer, looking back up to the briefing. I slid my phone into my pocket, guilt weighing in my chest alongside the other myriad of emotions building.

“He’s been around longer than seven months. Much longer. And it began with Jason’s death.”

I furrowed my brow, putting together a puzzle with with bent, broken edges, like trying to fit a triangle into a square-shaped hole- just one angle missing.

“Are you saying… Joker didn’t kill Jason? That this guy did?” My body felt cold.

Bruce looked at Dick, who didn’t return his gaze. Then, he turned back to me.

“I’m saying... that Jason is Red Hood.”

I let confusion twist on my face. “What? How? That’s not possible. You think he lived? We- I mean, we had a funeral.”

Dick shook his head, answering on Bruce’s behalf. “He did die, but… are you familiar with the Lazarus Pit?”

I went over my tangling thoughts. The crime scenes. The anger. The vigilante justice packaged in a case of blood and bullets, shipped right to Gotham’s largest looming criminals. The warehouse, the alley. The button. The leather on his gloves as he ran his fingers along my face and pressed it, leaving me all alone.

Tell Batman,

It was all falling in line; bubbling up and searing together like hot, melding flesh pulled together in the burning waters of the Lazarus.

I’m getting impatient.

“So… what are you going to do?” I asked.

Dick’s face was pained. Solemn. “I… we want to try to talk to him. There’s a reason he’s doing all this, and there’s a reason he chose now. If we want to figure it out, we have to find him.”

I swallowed. “I can help.”

“No.” Bruce declared swiftly. “Absolutely not. The only thing we know about him is that he’s dangerous. Red Hood may have Jason’s DNA, but we need to work under the assumption that he isn’t the same person.”

I could answer that. He wasn’t.

“Do not look for him. Do not engage him. Is that clear?” He was talking to me, Tim, and Damian. We all nodded.

“Any unapproved interaction could jeopardize the case, and give him more insight into our movements. We want to try and remain one step ahead. That is all.” The explanation was for Damian, who operated on bargains, not orders. Again, we all nodded. After a moment, I sighed.

“Well… I have school in the morning. Will you tell me if you learn anything else?” I asked. The three of them nodded, and Dick muttered a ‘goodnight’. I turned, mind working against the grain of what I should do and what I wanted to do.

Just go to bed, I willed myself.

Just go.

*

Night fell, black and smoggy. The sea was hissing and writhing, unsettled with the gale of a promised storm. I wasn’t entirely certain what would catch Red Hood’s attention. It seemed that our history comprised of him finding us, and not the other way around. Gotham Docks seemed like a good place to start. Ever since Kuznetsov was found in his watery grave, his men belonged to Hood. They moved drug imports that came to Port Adams- actual drugs- pharmaceuticals, over-the-counters, hydrocodone, acetaminophen; all legal things. But Gotham City taxed the living hell out of medicine imports, so people like Kuznetsov (may he rest in peace) smuggled them in fishing vessels for cheap, and got them into the hands of big pharma and medicare companies for a lot of money.

I’d picked a cozy spot on the roof of a bait shop that made me feel safely invisible as my eyes swept over the docks. Batman didn’t typically prioritize crime of this caliber; over the counter meds weren’t going to blow anyone’s heads off the way crazy clowns and mafia bosses were. It made the busy henchmen on the boardwalks nice and blatant. It wasn’t hard to find tonight’s operation.

I needed to make a scene. Make some noise, throw out some names- one name in particular. Wherever he was, I hoped it’d be enough to make it worth dropping in. I was used to making quick, efficient work of criminals, not stalling. Making a scene meant no disappearing in shadows, or quieting the sound of my breath.

There were a couple of men dollying crates in and out of a packaging plant. Disguised as fishermen, naturally. As they approached the building, several feet from the propped-open door, I dropped. Embracing the momentum, my weight striking the old wood made a salient sound, and sent the startled men gasping and staggering backward.

“Holy shit!”

“B-Batma-

“B-B-Batgirl?” I clipped. “Were you gonna say Batgirl?” It didn’t really matter which bat they thought it was. The fear all worked to the necessary effect.

“Jesus, Joseph, and Mary,” The man muttered, scooting backward along the wood as I let my step fall heavy against it.

“Where is he?” I asked, drumming up my vicious, raspy voice, like smoke on the sea.

“Where-where’s who?” He stuttered. The other man was taking advantage of my focus and scrambling to his feet. Any second, he would bolt into the building. Perfect.

“Red. Hood.” I said, loud enough that the fleeing man would hear.

“I don’t know! Hand to god, I don’t know!” The man on the ground pleaded. I looked down at him, letting the fear and shadow distort my face.

“I don’t believe you.” I kicked him in the chest, sufficiently knocking the wind out of him, but left him there, turning my attention to the packaging plant.

Adrenaline was in my limbs, pushing and pulling with the running blood under my skin. When was the last time I had a good fight? Carjackings and bank robberies felt so small, and predictable. Everything was always stable. Batman always had it under control, watching dutifully from rooftops, appearing in split second if I needed help.

Tonight, Batman wasn’t here. I felt no eyes on my back, no voices in my ear. It was under control, but it was my control.

The men inside had already sufficiently scattered. I didn’t bother to hush my footsteps as I entered. The icy breeze from the open door made my cape flutter, despite its weight- and that was the only sound.

Suddenly, boots on concrete, and a man let out a defiant cry as he shot toward me, with a rusted tire iron raised above his head. I moved on practiced instinct, side stepping and leaving him stumbling, before delivering a hard, well-aimed kick that he wasn’t getting up from. Two other men concluded (incorrectly) if they went together, they could take me.

It was a blur of fists and make-shift weapons comprised of packaging tools, but they were easy to parry and subdue. I kicked the second one back with enough force to send him through a thin wooden partition, which cracked and splintered under his weight. I swung my eyes around the scene.

“Anyone else?” I knew they were there. Tucked behind conveyor belts and crouched low, using fish barrels for cover. No one answered the call of duty.

“I’ll ask again,” I called. “Where. Is. Red. Hood?”

Suddenly, a flash of color, and I went backward and downward, catching myself enough that my arm slid across the concrete instead of my face. I let out a sharp breath just in time to dodge another blow.

“All this,” The computerized tilt of his voice couldn’t smother the anger in it. “For little old me?”

I kept my eyes trained on his hands, because I could entertain close combat, but knew I’d need to bolt if he drew his guns. That didn’t appear to be his intention. I dipped away from one of his swings, but he swiped at the fabric of my cape, grip closing, and used it to heave me into a barrel. I gasped at the force of it as I reckoned with shattered wood. Barely recovering, I rolled out of the way as he swung low. I went for the door, figuring I could use a little more space, since he had a hundred pounds and a few feet on me.

Outside, a frigid wind was cascading across the docks, biting my skin and casting droplets of salt water all around. Red Hood moved imposingly slow-paced, attending the cuff of his jacket sleeve, while I put a hand on the railing and tried to find my footing again.

“There are easier ways to get my attention, sweet thing.” Drawing to a halt, he didn’t look like he was going to attack me again, so I wiped the blood from my lip and straightened.

“Sorry. You forgot..” I was still breathing heavily. “To give me.. your number… last time.”

He laughed; a terrible, beautiful thing. “I guess I did, didn’t I?”

I fought to remember why I was here, and consequently, tried to pull together Jason Todd with the faceless man before me. They seemed to foil one another- a triangle through a square-shaped hole.

“So what do you want?” He asked, more serious this time. Though a reasonable question, it almost sounded rhetorical for the sheer lack of curiosity in it. I swallowed.

“Show me your face.” I said. It was so quiet, so hushed by the jeering sea that I was surprised when he tilted his head in response.

“Liked our little game that much? Had to crack a few skulls just to play it again?” I was frustrated, wishing he would come close, like he had in the alley, and let me touch him. Let me push away the helmet and know.

I tried to convey my seriousness with a look, but he just rolled his shoulders.

“Is that all, little bird?” He seemed annoyed; like I’d dragged him here only to concern myself with the small matter of his secret identity. The secret identity of Gotham’s most prolific crimelord. I wanted to make him understand, but I didn’t know what to say. He didn’t say anything else, either. He didn’t say “no” or “whatever” or “goodbye”. He just started walking away.

Jason.

Suddenly, I stopped myself. What if he wasn’t? What if Bruce was wrong? I’d throw out a name- an accusation- at a monstrous stranger who had no connection to me or my family. He’d laugh his terrible laugh and know that the world’s greatest detectives weren’t so great after all. Nervousness consumed me, tightening around my throat, placating me while I watched his form get smaller as he walked away, the darkness threatening to swallow him up.

“Jason!”

He stopped. His boots dragged to a jarring halt on the wood. Slowly, then, he turned around. The shadows were long and cast over him, turning his helm the color of old blood.

“Come back.” I said. “Please.”

His body language was unreadable, a mix between relaxed and hesitant that left him standing there, looming, and left me unsure as to whether he was going to leave, or pull a glock on me. Then, he lifted his hands. His thumbs dragged beneath his jaw methodically, until there came a hiss from his helmet, and he pulled it off.

“Jason.” I repeated. My voice was tight. It shook. His gaze followed me in the dark before he approached, gate slow and heavy, and sat down on a fishing crate.

“What? Do I look different? Put on a little weight?” Maybe he was joking- I couldn’t tell. The soft rasping of his voice startlingly contrasted the voice scrambler, and blended with the bubbling waters below our feet. But something eerie laced it. It was still foreign to me. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

I had previously thought I might be able to do this; face him. After all- I should be happy to see him again, alive after five years of Bruce’s grief and wretched hollowness. Years of operating in the long, dark shadow cast by his headstone. But somehow, the man before me was instead a confirmation. A walking death certificate. Jason Todd- the other Jason Todd- was still gone. Bronze skin, of which small, light colored scars adorned. Midnight hair mussed from his helmet, leaving a couple strands to fall over his dark eyes; eyes that used to hold warmth, and now held a malefic coldness. When I drank in the features of his face, I found my chalice empty. He didn’t approach me this time- didn’t draw near enough to feel his heat. Just sat there, elbows resting on his thighs, leaning forward and looking at me. I had trouble holding his gaze, but I did. Then, he gave me a chilling grin.

“Did you miss me?”

His voice knocked something loose, as my mind placed him as a memory. Someone I’d actually known. I had a million burning questions. “How? What happened?”

He pulled out a cigarette, shrugging. “I’ve been busy. Dying’s a lotta work.”

“Why- why are doing this?” This being spending seven months as the most prolific crimelord in Gotham. There was a spark of his lighter. Using his hand to shield the flame from the winds and misting water, it nurtured an orange glow on his face, bathing his skin in auburn light for just a moment. I blinked, and it was extinguished, replaced, again, by the blue darkness. He took a deep drag.

“Know how I died, dollface?” He asked. I did, so I nodded.

“Remember what happened to the bastard who killed me? After.” I studied him, still reeling a bit from accepting the man before me as the boy he’d been. I remembered there was another attack after Jason’s death. Joker took forty pounds of C4 to a shopping center in Fashion district at the beginning of May. Amidst the rubble were Robin: Missing posters. Bruce didn’t make them. Joker kept up his streak thereafter. He didn’t stop until his death, last year.

“Nothin’.” Jason supplied the answer. A hard, bitter, sorrowful nothing. It burned cold, like an inverse flame.

“Batman doesn’t kill. He doesn’t kill, and killers do. So they walk, and keep killing, and he calls it justice.”

I let it all sink in. Batman was the only thing standing between Gotham and complete corruption. I saw, in my memory, all the people I’d helped. All the victims who’d ever clung to me or thanked me through tears. All the pride I’d ever felt carrying the mantle. Batman didn’t kill because you can’t go back from killing. If he did, it wouldn’t be vigilantes against criminals- it’d be dogs eating dogs. Domestic war. Jason had been Robin. Surely he understood the philosophy of it?

But, then, what did it get him? He took those philosophies to the grave. When he finally crawled back out, he did what anyone with a vendetta might do. He overcorrected.

“Tell me somethin’, little bird.” His eyes leveled steadily on mine as I looked back up. “You call that justice?” I swayed under the intensity of it. I was afraid to disagree with him, but I didn’t even know if I wanted to. There were a lot of times I watched Joker slip through Batman’s hands, free to blow up another shopping center, when he could’ve stopped him if he just-

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

He got up, cigarette hanging from his lips, gaunt eyes burning through the blue dark.

“I think you do.”

The sea hissed, and the wind writhed, and I watched as the night swallowed him up.

[boneandfur]

Time After Time 2/2

TWO

Note: the characters demanded smut. There is a link to the NSFW version on ao3 at that point. tumblr won’t let me load the moodboard. I’m very frustrated with this hellsite.

Women aren't doctors at the Front, Miss... what did you say your name was again? Ah, Miss Valentine. American. That explains it... But we do need good quality nurses... You'll be sent to France right away on account of your prior training... Jolly good, just sign the dotted line... 

"I assume you'll have the watered wine, Rookie." Ramsay leans across the table, lightly tugging the menu from Helena's numb fingers. Every little boom makes her shiver, though she's adopted the English habit of keeping a stiff upper lip. Her grandmother has told her stories to curdle your guts, about standing on a hill at Gettysburg and watching her lover ride hell for leather into battle. And I followed him, didn't I, chick? 

"What brought you here? To the Front?" Helena cocks her head at him, and Ramsay's brows raise nearly to his hairline. 

"You're bold as brass.” Ramsay snaps his fingers. “I like that. Knew it as soon as you stepped out of that line of nurses that you wouldn't turn into a shrinking violet at your first amputation." Ramsay turns to their waiter, a Frenchman of elderly years with an ear trumpet. "We'll take your best watered wine for the lady, and a bottle of whiskey." 

Helena coughs lightly, and addresses the waiter in seamless French. "(What is the special today?)" 

The old man looks sad. "(I am afraid we do not have anything special. Just some eel ragout, and fresh bread my wife baked this morning.)" 

"(Then we will take that, and your best bottle of Merlot.)" 

When the owner has gone, Ramsay smiles broadly at Helena, showing white teeth against three days shadow of a beard on his jaw. "By God, you're a marvel. Never learned much French myself, besides what I've had to behind the lines." 

"Oh, my governess despaired of me." Helena shrugs, but cannot help smiling in return. "I can speak enough French to get by, you know, but I could never pass for a natural." 

"Well, you are an American." But it does not sound like an insult.

The eel comes, and she eats ravenously, less like a lady and more like the girl who downed seven glasses of champagne and then raced her brother from Boston to Concord on horseback. 

And Ramsay drinks. Thoughtfully. Mindfully. She does not remember, afterward, nor for many years, what they said, only how she had smiled and smiled until her cheeks hurt, and the ticking of the pocket watch. 

One two, one two. Tick tock. Eleven hours. Ten hours. Nine hours. Eleven minutes and eleven seconds.

No more standing to in trenches,//Only one more church parade. 

"I had a patron who paid for me to go to medical school, a well respected chap named Naveen.” Ramsay nurses his whiskey, rolling the glass with purpose between his palms. “After school, I joined the army to make something of myself, and went to India. My wife deserted me for another man while I was gone. She didn't like the army life, you see." 

Helena reaches out, laying her hand over his. Ramsay startles, but does not move his hand away, and instead flips it over, laying his palm flat against hers and caressing her wrist with his rough fingers. She drags in a breath, the sudden widening of his pupils making her lower abdomen flutter. "I ran away from home. No one knows I'm here, or I'd be dragged back to Boston to marry a Stirling and pop out an heir and a spare before the war has even gotten started." 

"You don't even want to know about what this war will look like if it keeps going, lass." Ramsay drains his glass, and pours them both another. "I'd tell you to go back to Boston, but I can see by that look in your eye that you'll see this thing through. I respect that." 

Helena does not trust herself to speak. The wine is making her thoughts slow, but she does not want this moment to end. 

Ramsay rubs a hand over his jaw. "That was back in '09. I hung my boots up, moved to Scotland, and threw myself into practice in Edinburgh. Then that damn fool shot a Prince, and well, here we are." 

Steady, silent. Their eyes meet and the watch ticks on. Helena feels as though she is drowning. His mouth moves and she only feels the heat of his palm against hers, her cheeks ablaze. 

'Nurse! Nurse Valentine! Are you dumb or are you just deaf?! Hand me those scissors, and bring me another scalpel... These damned orderlies don't know what they're doing...'

Their eyes meet across the bloody operating table. The soldier is mercilessly unconscious, a bloody piece of shrapnel in his thigh. He'd been screaming since he came in off the ambulance, a boy of no more than nineteen, a Tommy named Elijah... 'Mum, Mum, water, water...'

'That's a Blighty, Rookie. Your first. Are you going to faint on me, lass?' Ramsay's eyes lock on Helena's. She feels the flint of his gaze go straight to her spine, and straightens up. 

'No, Doctor. I'll be fine, sir.'

'I told you Americans have brass, Ramsay!' The surgeon, Lahela, winks at Helena in passing, but she does not notice. Her gaze does not falter under Ramsay's. 'Pass me the tweezers.'

His mouth quirks, just a shade. 'Good girl.'

"...Good God, Rookie, will you drink the whole bottle? I promise my company isn't as bad as all that." Helena feels Ramsay tug at her wine glass, and relinquishes it. The lamp has begun to burn low, and from the outside of the cafe is the sound of drunken laughter. "You shouldn't walk out there alone. Come on, I'll walk you back to your billet." 

"I don't have one," Helena confesses. She pats her bag, shamefaced. "I spent my money for the hotel on books... I can sleep on the truck." 

Ramsay shakes his head. "No, no, that won't do. We can't have you more dead on your feet than usual. I have a solution. It's a bit unorthodox. Do you trust me?" 

Eight hours, three minutes, seven seconds. 

•••

Helena does not know why, but the lights from the star shells, all green and gold, make her grip Ramsay's arm tighter, and press against his side. At the corner, he stops and gazes down at her, a strange and wild new thing in his face, something she dares not name. 

Don't forget me, Helena Valentine. When this lousy war is over, I'll come back, you see... 

"Tell me..." Ramsay brushes a curl back from her brow, his broad fingertips sending a crackle across her bare flesh. "Why did you become a doctor, Rookie -- Helena?" 

"I read a wonderful book." Helena ducks her head, and looks up at Ramsay from under her lashes, illuminated by the lamplight. Behind them, to the east, she hears the screech of a Minnie, and his hands tighten on her fingers. "It was written by a Scottish doctor who had served in India, on the Northwest Frontier." Her gaze skitters away. 

People said when we enlisted,//Fame and medals we would win.

"Ah. I knew a chap who served there, in his younger days." Ramsay tucks her cold hand through his elbow. The snow is falling thicker now, and they are nearly to the hotel. A quick word from Ramsay to the proprietor -- she hears the words une chambre pour les jeunes mariés -- He knows French after all -- 

And before she knows it, she is sitting in a delectably steaming hot hip bath, strewn with lavender and rosemary. She washes her hair and cannot remember the last time she felt such luxury. 

Nine months, two days, thirteen minutes...

When this war is over, //No more soldiering for me. 

"You can have the bed. I'll bunk down with Medical Officers Gayle and Nguyen, from the -nth Platoon." Ramsay stands in the doorway, his cap in his hands, avoiding looking directly at Helena in her muslin shift. "We wouldn't want you to lose your reputation and have to leave the war so soon." 

"Stay." She feels her eyelids drooping, and pats the quilt next to her. "Please, stay." 

"You know I can't do that." Yet, she hears the floorboards squeak as Ramsay settles next to her on a chair. The inn rattles like a whizzbang and she grasps Ramsay's hand, clutching at it until the clattering of the teacups subsides. "Only a little longer, then, Rookie. Until you're safe." 

•••

Ethan watches Helena Valentine fall asleep. There is nothing he'd like more than to climb next to her in that big bed, to feel her lithe body against his. But it would be wrong, even though nothing will ever be right again after the war is over. But if he can keep her safe -- If I can keep her alive -- he dares not finish the thought. 

“You wouldn't remember me, Helena Valentine, but I was the guest speaker of honor when they hung the plaque for your grandfather at the Royal Hospital, in Edinburgh.” Ethan whispers the words, barely a murmur. The whiskey has given him courage, here in a small hotel near the Ypres front. 

Ypres, the Race to the Sea. Generals called it a triumph, but the only thing the war has given Ethan thus far has been insomnia for thirty-six hours, a hatred of mustard gas and a pair of fine German boots from over the top. 

“He was an old surgeon, a medical man, who fought in the American Civil War, but he did great things for Scottish medicine, too, back in his youth.” Helena's fingertips tighten on his palm, and Ethan fears he has said too much. But he goes on, like a schoolboy at the confessional, for who can say when they shall ever have this moment again? And hasn't the war taught him by now to leave nothing unsaid? 

“You must have been not more than twenty-one, then. You were still unmarried, with a vast inheritance that folks said you'd squandered on medical school. I knew right then and there that Jonas Valentine would have been proud of you. I wanted to introduce myself right there and then…” 

But I was too tongue tied by your beauty, and couldn't find the words. Later, when I saw you again in Ypres, I couldn't believe my own eyes. I didn't want to tell you how I felt then...

(But that will keep, until this war is over.)

Her grip loosens, and he knows she is sleeping. She sighs in her slumber when his lips brush across her dainty brow, and it is with everything inside of him screaming at him to turn around that he walks away. 

When I get my civvy clothes on,/Oh how happy I shall be.

•••

Forty-five minutes, thirty seconds. 

The books are too heavy. Yet, Helena, an oasis of blue with a red cross on one arm in a sea of green uniforms, settles in with Sherlock Holmes. Rookie... She snaps the book shut, watching the landscape go by from the army van. 

I shouldn't... We shouldn't. Ramsay cups both sides of Helena's face in his hands. The book drops to the floor. They are both damp from the bath, and his skin smells of cedar and lavender soap. 

copy and paste into your tab:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/29957496/chapters/73743633

Later, she will remember the exact way the quilt felt as he pulled it over her shoulders, tucking her in, embers in the grate and his lips ghosting across her forehead. 

•••

Twenty years on, when a new war is brewing, this is what Helena Valentine remembers: 

The air, so still and warm, with not a single lark singing. The earth smells of flowers and death, and she is sharing sterilizing duty with VAD Nurse Varma, whom she'd come over from London with. 

"I suppose you think you're better than me, being a real doctor and all, but..." Jackie's lips move, but Helena cannot hear what she is saying. All she can hear is a buzzing sound, a ringing in her head. 

One two, one two. 

Her hands tremble with fatigue over the medical instruments. 

Thirteen minutes and forty-seven seconds. 

Tick, tock. 

The table begins to shake and she looks at Jackie, their eyes wide as they clasp hands -- and then they are running -- and the bridge is shaking, it's shaking Dr Ramsay, you shouldn't be out here, it's wartime you know -- 

No one can know about this, about us. You know that, right? 

I know, Dr Ramsay.

He cups her chin in his hand. They say you're a grasping American chit, but you're my American chit now, and I won't hear anything against you. Oh -- and don't check your bag until you're on the truck back to the lines. I left something there for you. 

Then you have this -- keep it until the war is over -- it was my grandfather's and it's over a hundred years old and it's still ticking on. 

His mouth is warm on hers, tip of his tongue pressed against hers for a surprisingly electric surge.  

-- "Nurse Valentine! Valentine!" --

Helena wakes in the morning with the ashes cold in the grate, Ramsay's greatcoat draped over her. It smells of peat and whiskey, and the faintest whiff of mustard gas. Her thighs are wet and she looks under the quilts and realizes her cycle has started, and she does not know why, but she begins to sob, whether from relief or terror she knows not. 

One two, one two.

(Twelve hours, seventeen minutes, and thirty four seconds.)

Tick, tock. 

People said when we enlisted,/Fame and medals we would win,/But the fame is in the guardroom,/And those medals made of tin.

[banditthewriter]

Trust Is Earned - Charles Vane - 10

This is it! The end of it! I wrote this fic so quickly fully expecting maybe one or two people to read it so I am just... moved and in awe of how many people have interacted with this fic. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy the conclusion! 

Warning: Violence. 

Also, check out under the tag list on this post for a surprise!

*gif not mine*

Enjoy!

------

Noise from the deck didn’t filter down to the hold, but the sound of a cannon blast did. You shrank down as if the blast would blow right through where you were, but nothing came. No crash, no explosion of wood. The blast had struck the water. Nearby, perhaps, but not close enough to do damage.

A warning shot. From who though?

You’d thought that noise didn’t filter down from the deck but it turns out that they just hadn’t been very loud. Now you could hear yells and the sound of feet thundering back and forth. The voices grew to the point that you could make out very clearly someone yelling that there were two ships.

Hope rushed through you. You sat up and tried to strain your hearing for more. It was fairly quiet for a while to the point that the hope started to be dashed.

Gun shots. You swore and ducked down again even though you knew you were fairly safe where you were. At least you didn’t hear anymore—

The blast of a cannon broke that chain of thought, but it sounded like it came from the ship you were in. The other ships would have to return fire if only to protect themselves. A glancing shot here could tear a hole into the side of the ship where it would start taking on water. You started to make as many mental contingencies as you could.

You needed to be prepared for anything.

The ship seemed to shudder under you in a flash, causing you to crash into the bars of the cell. Was it a cannon blast that you missed? Then, as if to answer your question, the noise went higher. In it all, screams became more clear. It sounded like even more gunfire and even swords clashing.

The vanguard. The ship you were on had been boarded. Whether it was friendlies or not, you still didn’t know, but at least there was a possibility.

Stomping came in your direction and you looked at the door in anticipation. When it was flung open, the captain of The Tempest stormed in. He shut the door behind him but he didn’t have time to lock it before it was kicked open.

Behind the door was the best thing you’d ever seen. Covered in blood and holding an even bloodier sword stood Charles Vane. Behind him you could make out Lucky and Flint.

You nearly sagged in relief. Right then you knew that you were safe. The two ships mentioned had to be The Ranger and The Walrus. There was no way The Tempest could survive that.

No way this captain could survive it.

As Charles stormed forward, you quickly darted a hand out of the cell to get his attention.

“Charles, wait, don’t,” you called until he turned to look at you. “Get me out of here and then I’ll explain.”

He didn’t seem happy with that but he didn’t argue with you. While he kept his sword pointed at the unarmed captain, Flint and Lucky came over to get you out by busting the lock on the cell. Once you were out, you stepped past the two men and went over to Charles.

“Now?”

You reached out and wrapped your hand around where his hand was, pulling the sword from him. There was barely any change on his face, but you could see by the way his eyebrows furrowed that he was confused.

You were about to clear that up for him.

When you turned to the captain, you could see that his shoulders weren’t as tense. He looked at you, his mouth open and gratitude spilling from his lips.

With as much strength as you could muster, you thrust the sword into the man’s throat. Blood sprayed out and onto your nightgown but you didn’t even notice. All you did was kneel down so that you could look him in the eye as he choked on the blood that spilled from his mouth and throat.

“That was for Pope,” you said with such force that he flinched back, causing further damage to his wound.

There was no surviving that. Satisfied that your own debt had been paid, you stood up and turned around to face the men in the room. Flint looked impressed. Lucky had a look of gratefulness and respect. And Charles…

Looked a lot like he wanted to kick everyone else out of the room and have his way with you.

“Can we leave? I really want to go back home.”

As one the three men spread out so that you could walk through them, Charles at your back. His hand went to the small of your back to lead you and you took comfort in the touch.

On deck you saw that most of The Tempest crew had been killed. You wished you could feel bad for it but you were unable to. You looked around for the familiar faces of the two crews and even found the rest of your crew waiting for you.

“Thought you’d never get on a ship again,” you teased Emmett as you approached them.

“For you ma’am? We’d sail the seven seas.”

You greeted them each with a smile and your hand. Each one shook it before they pressed their lips to it, a show of respect and loyalty that made tears gather in your eyes.

“As nice as this all is, what do we do with The Tempest? Sink her?”

You looked over at Jack and smiled at him, earning a grin back. Anne rolled her eyes but even she had a small smile for you.

“Not while we’re on her,” Flint said as he looked to either side where the two ships were. “Let’s clear off. Take anything of worth. We’ll commit the rest to the sea.”

You didn’t even bother pretending to think about which ship you’d go to as you turned towards The Ranger. Not that you’d have much choice since Charles was there to escort you that way. He walked you over the bodies of the fallen Tempest men, across the board, and then through his ship to the captain’s quarters.

“How’d you find me?”

He led you over to the desk and sat you down, checking over you to make sure that you weren’t injured. The only injury that you had was where you were cracked in the head by a pistol but it was just tender to the touch with some dried blood in your hair.

“One of your crew recognized one of your abductors as a crew member of The Tempest. Once we knew that, we got Eleanor Guthrie to give us their course. Not sure why they decided to drop anchor here, but it was easy to find them.”

“He said they were meeting a man who he was going to sell me to as a slave. I was going to be brought to the colonies.”

You didn’t bother telling him that the captain had threatened you with how horrible it would be for you. It could be seen on your face. 

Charles reached out and grabbed your chin gently to make you look at him.

“That’ll never happen. I’m going to keep you safe.”

You thought about the captain in the hold of his ship, soon to be fired upon until it sank. There was a hole in his throat where you had thrusted Charles’s sword, hope dashed from his face as he died. 

“I’m going to become able to protect myself,” you declared right then and there, a promise between the two of you. “I’m tired of being scared of what might happen. I want to learn.”

You could see pride on his face as he stared at you.

“You will.”

------

“Drink?”

You looked over at Charles as he rolled over to grab a bottle of rum from beside his pallet on the floor of his tent. You shook your head as you tugged a thin sheet over your naked form.

“No, I don’t really drink,” you admitted as you shifted on your side to watch him. “I’m a lightweight but I don’t particularly like not being able to remember what I’ve said or done.”

He laughed as he rolled over, taking a swig from the bottle as he did. 

“That makes sense,” he said as he put the bottle on the floor above his head.

You narrowed your eyes as you looked him over, trying not to get distracted by all the naked skin before you.

“What do you mean? I haven’t had a drink since I met you.”

It was his turn to turn on his side. As he did, his hair fell off his chest and revealed the brand on his chest. You’d noticed it earlier when the two of you started to remove each other’s clothes, but you hadn’t thought anything of it. He’d told you on the short journey back to Nassau about his past with slavery so you’d known it was there. But now you were looking at it, you were sure you’d seen it before.

Not just any version of it though. You remembered this exact brand. Braids tickling your chest as someone moved above you. A deep raspy voice asking you what you wanted him to do.

“You!” You gasped it out as you covered your mouth. “It was you that night at the inn, wasn’t it? And you’ve known this entire time?”

He laughed as he grabbed the hand over your mouth, pressing a kiss to the palm.

“I didn’t know you didn’t remember. I thought you just wanted to ignore it.” 

You remembered how you felt when you learned he hadn’t realized that the kiss hadn’t been a dream. Now you knew what it felt like to be on that end of things. 

That night you’d slept with someone, some of the best sex you couldn’t remember, it had been Charles. Like fate was pulling strings and laughing at her own jokes, she had thrown the two of you together before you’d even realized what it was you wanted.

“I’m so embarrassed. I can’t believe I didn’t remember you,” you said with a bit of a self deprecating laugh as you tucked your face into his chest. 

“Will you remember it this time?”

You pinched his arm before you leaned up to kiss him, not caring that the sheet fell from your body. How could you possibly care about that when you had him with you?

------

Wind whipped through your hair as you sat on a barrel on the deck of The Ranger. Anne and Jack were sword fighting, your attention on how Anne moved as you tried to commit it to memory. She had been training you how to fight and to be trained by Anne Bonny was an honor.

Even Jack was reluctant to pick on you now.

When the pair started to argue about particulars of the fight, you shook your head and walked off towards the railing. The two of them were known for fighting for hours before they ran off to fuck and make up. Instead of watching their strange form of foreplay, you decided to watch the ocean rush by.

Your hands on the rail, you tried to think of all the changes you’d gone through in the past few months. Your shop was being watched by your crew except Lucky who stayed with you while you sailed with The Ranger.  And here you were on a pirate ship, sailing into the unknown on a hunt.

The wind rustled the skirt of the dress you had worked tirelessly on. It was beautiful and simple, not the dress of a pirate but not the dress of a lady. You felt like it showed the truth of who you were, who you had become in the past months. 

Hands fell to your waist but you didn’t even jump. Charles liked having you at hand so you were used to being touched. His mouth brushed your cheek and then your neck before he looked out over the ocean with you.

“Imagining you’re a bird in flight?”

You smiled at the reminder as you placed your hands over his, tugging his arms more securely around you.

“No. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere but right here.”

X

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X

And, as a surprise... a little snippet of the next Charles Vane fic that I’m working on! It’s nowhere near done, but hopefully this will be enough to catch your interest for now!

***

The sand felt coarse under your feet. The top layer was warm but underneath was cool and felt nice against your skin. You walked along the edge of the water, your shoes in one hand and a handful of your dress in the other. If your parents caught you, you’d be forced to listen to a lecture for an hour or two, but you had no intention of being caught.

In the morning you would be on a ship headed out into what was to you the great unknown. It would leave from a port in Virginia and, after a few other stops on the way, would take you to England. To a future you never asked for.

To a man you never asked for. Your parents thought it was a good match but you didn’t agree. Mostly because you’d never met the man, couldn’t even recall his name. 

A marriage for love was never in your cards, but this? To be auctioned off to the highest bidder and shipped across the world to a country you hadn’t stepped foot in since you were an infant?

It was unimaginable. 

You would be given into the care of your aunt and uncle in England and they would see you married off to the man your parents had picked for you. They didn’t even care enough to see their only daughter married in person. All they cared about was that it was done in a timely manner and that you did what you were told.

You’d spent your whole life doing what you were told. You were tired of it. You never expected to have a life of adventure and freedom, but you felt like you were being shackled.

From the distance you heard your name called by someone from the household. You sighed as you sat down in the sand to put your shoes back on. 

In the morning you would be thrust into a world not of your choosing. You had just wanted to enjoy the last bit of your independence while you still had time.

It seemed that the time had passed.

X

Keep a look out for... Eye of the Hurricane