#small island developing states

[onbreakreadlastpost]

Small island nations face climate-induced ‘catastrophe’, warn experts

[thegreatyin]

What, precisely, is fallen London, and how can I play it? Ive been told it's a browser game, will it work on my phones browser or only my computer's?

SWEEPS EVERYTHING OFF MY DESK. SLAMS MY HANDS ON THE COUNTER. you're in luck because advertising this game is apparently my specialty.

fallen london is a free browser game that works on anything with an internet connection!! laptops, phones, tablets, the decade old 3ds you have stashed in the back of your closet- if you can open a web browser, you can run fallen london. the UI obviously differs between desktop and mobile, and desktop has the benefit of extensions that can make your life marginally easier, but that's all a strictly optional affair.

as for the game's actual contents; fallen london is a text-based horror game closely reminiscent of classic "choose your own adventure" books. you play as a new arrival to an alternate history version of victorian london that now flourishes in a deep, dark, marvelous (and more than slightly eldritch!) cavern known as "the neath", with the goal of making your name and ultimately pursuing one of the four possible ambitions that brought you here to begin with. along the way you encounter a wide variety of strange and inexplicable things, including but not limited to;

men with the faces of squid (who are not truly men)

actual real soul-stealing devils (who originate from Actual Real Hell, which is also london's next door neighbor)

snakes that are eternally bound to the realm beyond mirrors (who have an infamous feud with sapient talking cats)

treacheries of time, law, and all that which the gods hold dear (including the ability to bypass death itself)

sirens who are convinced they're dead (in a place where, as stated, death is easily bypassed)

sentient landmasses that get REALLY annoyed if you don't pay your taxes on time (and are also single and ready to mingle)

fabric that is not fabric (which is held in quite high value by certain giant bat monsters)

spiders that eat eyeballs (but are, fortunately, easily distracted by shakespeare)

genres of colors you didn't think possible (in seven fantastical flavors!)

batkissing (not canonically, but in our hearts)

batfucking (this is, somehow, marginally more canon than the above thing)

batmarriage (no.)

batdivorce (in comically large spades)

The Hat Man (who's in love with and yearns to become like a sentient island)

gay people (a lot of them)

trans people (also a lot of them)

doomed love, in all possible forms (as well as those who try and collect it)

this thing (this thing)

and last- but certainly not least-

a pitiful hope that perhaps, just perhaps, all shall one day be well. (even when you know it won't be.)

it's a game with lore as deep as the ocean, and a staggering wordcount (4.5 million!) to boot. it's not perfect, but it's something i've grown to love deeply, and in my experience? if it doesn't click for you, that's understandable. but if it clicks for you, it really does click for you. i recommend it to anyone and everyone who so much as looks its way. who knows! it may just surprise you 🦇☀️🦀🌃

as a further incentive, here are some out-of-context items and excerpts:

as stated, you can play it right now for free at fallen london dot com. there is a subscription and a small bounty of microtransactions on offer if you want to support the development team, but at no point is this ever required, and you will be playing for years before you reach the end of stuff to accomplish. all major content updates are free and available to all players, and FOMO to this day remains virtually non-existent. as once again stated, the browser specs are non-existent. if you can run google, you can run fallen london.

so head on down!! give the neath a try!! follow admiralty orders and dump a bunch of bombs directly into the zee (underground sea) whilst accidentally waking up a giant grieving sea urchin that screams fire and violently pursues your demise!! (that's what we're all doing right now, anyway.)

if the browser game isn't for you, there's also other outlets with which to explore the universe. you can find the spinoff games Sunless Seas, Sunless Skies, and Mask of The Rose available to purchase right now on steam, and there's recently been a very successful kickstarter to adapt the game into a TTRPG. it looks very cool so far. im very very very excited for it :)

in lieu of having to come up with a conclusion for this ask, im instead going to direct you to the MoTR stupendium song (which you'll find linked below). it says far more and advertises far better than i could ever dream of. also, it's a straight bop, and "all ends/swords pens" has lived rent-free in my brain for months.

welcome to the neath, delicious friend. we hope you enjoy your stay ❤️

[reasonsforhope]

Masterpost: Reasons I firmly believe we will beat climate change

Posts are in reverse chronological order (by post date, not article date), mostly taken from my "climate change" tag, which I went through all the way back to the literal beginning of my blog. Will update periodically.

Especially big deal articles/posts are in bold.

Big picture:

Mature trees offer hope in world of rising emissions (x)

Spying from space: How satellites can help identify and rein in a potent climate pollutant (x)

Good news: Tiny urban green spaces can cool cities and save lives (x)

Conservation and economic development go hand in hand, more often than expected (x)

The exponential growth of solar power will change the world (x)

Sun Machines: Solar, an energy that gets cheaper and cheaper, is going to be huge (x)

Wealthy nations finally deliver promised climate aid, as calls for more equitable funding for poor countries grow (x)

For Earth Day 2024, experts are spreading optimism – not doom. Here's why. (x)

Opinion: I’m a Climate Scientist. I’m Not Screaming Into the Void Anymore. (x)

The World’s Forests Are Doing Much Better Than We Think (x)

‘Staggering’ green growth gives hope for 1.5C, says global energy chief (x)

Beyond Catastrophe: A New Climate Reality Is Coming Into View (x)

Young Forests Capture Carbon Quicker than Previously Thought (x)

Yes, climate change can be beaten by 2050. Here's how. (x)

Soil improvements could keep planet within 1.5C heating target, research shows (x)

The global treaty to save the ozone layer has also slowed Arctic ice melt (x)

The doomers are wrong about humanity’s future — and its past (x)

Scientists Find Methane is Actually Offsetting 30% of its Own Heating Effect on Planet (x)

Are debt-for-climate swaps finally taking off? (x)

High seas treaty: historic deal to protect international waters finally reached at UN (x)

How Could Positive ‘Tipping Points’ Accelerate Climate Action? (x)

Specific examples:

Environmental Campaigners Celebrate As Labour Ends Tory Ban On New Onshore Wind Projects (x)

Private firms are driving a revolution in solar power in Africa (x)

How the small Pacific island nation of Vanuatu drastically cut plastic pollution (x)

Rewilding sites have seen 400% increase in jobs since 2008, research finds [Scotland] (x)

The American Climate Corps take flight, with most jobs based in the West (x)

Waste Heat Generated from Electronics to Warm Finnish City in Winter Thanks to Groundbreaking Thermal Energy Project (x)

Climate protection is now a human right — and lawsuits will follow [European Union] (x)

A new EU ecocide law ‘marks the end of impunity for environmental criminals’ (x)

Solar hits a renewable energy milestone not seen since WWII [United States] (x)

These are the climate grannies. They’ll do whatever it takes to protect their grandchildren. [United States and Native American Nations] (x)

Century of Tree Planting Stalls the Warming Effects in the Eastern United States, Says Study (x)

Chart: Wind and solar are closing in on fossil fuels in the EU (x)

UK use of gas and coal for electricity at lowest since 1957, figures show (x)

Countries That Generate 100% Renewable Energy Electricity (x)

Indigenous advocacy leads to largest dam removal project in US history [United States and Native American Nations] (x)

India’s clean energy transition is rapidly underway, benefiting the entire world (x)

China is set to shatter its wind and solar target five years early, new report finds (x)

‘Game changing’: spate of US lawsuits calls big oil to account for climate crisis (x)

Largest-ever data set collection shows how coral reefs can survive climate change (x)

The Biggest Climate Bill of Your Life - But What Does It DO? [United States] (x)

Good Climate News: Headline Roundup April 1st through April 15th, 2023 (x)

How agroforestry can restore degraded lands and provide income in the Amazon (x) [Brazil]

Loss of Climate-Crucial Mangrove Forests Has Slowed to Near-Negligable Amount Worldwide, Report Hails (x)

Agroecology schools help communities restore degraded land in Guatemala (x)

Climate adaptation:

Solar-powered generators pull clean drinking water 'from thin air,' aiding communities in need: 'It transforms lives' (x)

‘Sponge’ Cities Combat Urban Flooding by Letting Nature Do the Work [China] (x)

Indian Engineers Tackle Water Shortages with Star Wars Tech in Kerala (x)

A green roof or rooftop solar? You can combine them in a biosolar roof — boosting both biodiversity and power output (x)

Global death tolls from natural disasters have actually plummeted over the last century (x)

Los Angeles Just Proved How Spongy a City Can Be (x)

This city turns sewage into drinking water in 24 hours. The concept is catching on [Namibia] (x)

Plants teach their offspring how to adapt to climate change, scientists find (x)

Resurrecting Climate-Resilient Rice in India (x)

Edit 1/12/25: Yes, I know a bunch of the links disappeared. I'll try to fix that when I get the chance. In the meantime, read all the other stuff!!

Other Masterposts:

Going carbon negative and how we're going to fix global heating (x)

[pankielovesfan]

How would Fan react when learning about the reveal? Read my fun long ramble!

I need to put this down somewhere. Here is my fun not so structured analysis!!!! this is something i think a lot about. of course I do.

I doodled a small little graph of reactions I think he would go through that I will elaborate on further in the paragraphs below. I'm not sure about the order but it'd be something like these stages when processing it - most likely.

This is analyzed from the idea that Fan did not previously predict this in any way or expect it, but I do also suspect he might know! (Which, I'll explain later for his reaction to that.)

Fan's an incredibly emotional and impulsive person, he would definitely have a strong outer reaction to the information. This may be biased coming from me since Fan is my favorite to analyze but aside from Suitcase he would probably be handling it the worst after being told about it, OR just having the most notable reaction! This is considering he was not made to be a contestant but to devote his love, identity, and purpose to the show, which makes him revolve around the show much more than anyone else - since it is a built-in interest in him that he's dedicated his entire existence to, even when he tried to build himself beyond it- he still surrounds himself with Inanimate Insanity even after his elimination. It is forever tied to his mind and interests contrary to many contestants who try to separate from the show and competition entirely.

Fan's most substantial development in Hatching The Plan was the fact that there were many possibilities out there for him to discover for himself (and that others were there for him through that change and discovery). While he recognizes this and states on Fan's Fantastic Features that he's trying to test his limit and push past his comfort zone (notably while in a safe controlled environment where this change can occur comfortably for him) he is still "stuck" in Inanimate Insanity whether he recognizes this or not. He is at Hotel OJ, surrounded by the contestants, and he is still on MePhone4's island, like any other contestant. While Fan has convinced himself that he is more than just a fan of the show and that he is improving as a person, this development is still slow (obvious, coming from a person such as Fan who struggles with it) and he is still heavily attached to the core of his personality - the core which he was built to be in the first place. His love for the show is so clearly his own dedication and passion, and it truly does feel like his own CHOICE to love the show as much as he does. Even if he was created for it, it is a part of him that he loves and puts confidence into.

I swear these earlier points play into this bear with me,

So once Fan is told he was created by MePhone4, after the initial shock dies down, he would be in denial of it, of course, as Fan would react to any new information he had not considered about the show. Some "It can't be"s and some "There is absolutely no way"s being said by him, especially if he had not foreseen this coming. An instinctive reaction coming from Fan (which would also apply to Test Tube) is immediately questioning it, wanting answers- most definitely from MePhone4 himself. I don't think he'd believe Cobs if he told him, maybe not even Suitcase or Test Tube, he'd need to find the evidence for it and piece together if this even made sense at all.

Once he starts to consider it and all the pieces fit together for him as he looks back on everything, he'll let go of that denial. That's when it first really hits him. One of his first reactions is positive. He'd find validation in the fact he was created specifically for the show, he'd be honored and glad he was an actual piece of the show- not just a viewer or contestant, he was actually part of the show he loved so much. Fan puts a lot of his confidence into being the number 1 fan of inanimate insanity, as everyone knows, and being questioned on this or having people challenge him always strongly shows his insecurity over it. But knowing that he quite literally is, without a doubt, the biggest fan of inanimate insanity- and that he actually had this purpose and that he was made for what he loved to do- that would validate him immensely. He would thrive on his notion for a while until the existential crisis started to leap in.

He'd try to be acceptant of it, and this time around he would be in denial of his own emotions. He'd try to show how well he was taking this and to pride himself in being the biggest ii fan ever, so he puts up a confident front which is obviously not normal to anyone who sees him. He'd try his best not to think about the other implications of his existence being made for reality TV. He would try his best to appear in control and unburdened to prove to both others and himself that he was taking it well. I don't think this stage in his realization will go on for long. I think this would fluctuate a LOT depending on his mood.

At one point he does start to question himself. He overthinks his existence and his emotions, and if they are genuine- what if what he feels is fake? Just generated love? What if he truly doesn't like Inanimate Insanity? What's a real feeling from him and what's a fake one?! A million thoughts that some may not even make sense but this is where the existentialism really gets to him. Every time he felt excitement or love for the show, was that even his own emotions? Was that just made by MePhone4 so he could get some appreciation for his show- and maybe he'd get mad that MePhone4 kept dismissing him. Maybe he'd wonder why he was made if he's not being recognized and rewarded for how much dedication- if it was even his own- that he put into appreciating MePhone4, a dedication that was going unnoticed or deemed annoying by him.

Something I mentioned earlier, about Fan learning to embrace new opportunities for himself and about how he was still trapped in the show. He realizes he is forever tied to the show, and all his attempts at making changes for himself and being more than just a fan suddenly feel... meaningless to him. All he was ever made for from the start was to be a fanboy of the show, and he had tried to build himself around that. But those efforts were for nothing if this is all he ever was- just a fan. That was his entire identity, he was never anything other than that. This is all that could ever come out of him. So what was the point in trying? His shell might've been the only place he'd ever felt safe in anyways- and once he remembers it, his old coping mechanisms seem incredibly tempting. Fan would retreat back into his shell. Things just seemed so much simpler if he did, he wouldn't have to deal with all this overthinking if he just stuck to what he was made for, something he already had found so much comfort and significance in. He uses his shell to cope once again, regressing, turning back to his purpose. This would be how he copes with this new information, by embracing what it taught him that he was. He'd be in this state for a while, he'd probably try to pretend he never even learned anything and creating a false reality of his own security. Being a fan is still important to him, and something he feels so deeply about that he's urged into fully embracing it again. early season 2 fan is back babyyyy!

Not sure how long it would go on for, or even how long it would take for him to go through these stages, but this is somewhat of the process I believe he'd have! I think Suitcase and Fan should have a talk about dealing with all of this. possibly. I feel like it will boil down to "if it feels true to you, that's all that matters." for Fan dealing with this. I could definitely see Suitcase saying something similar to him.

As for him reacting to it after already having theorized this would happen or at the very least suspect it, I think it would go similar to that one drawing I made. He'd be proud at first, and it wouldn't sink in as fast because his pride comes first! But to have it actually confirmed to him would then send him into that same realization as stage 3 of processing it. Something something, it goes the same after this.

Anyways i love fannnn i could talk about him for hours boy i love you i wonder if we'll even get everyone's reactions to the reveal or if they'll even tell anyone else but if we do Fan would definitely have a prominent reaction to it <- guy who loves fan saying this. look at this bias

[batboyblog]

Things the Biden-Harris Administration Did This Week #34

Sep 13-20 2024.

President Biden announced $1.3 billion in new funding for Historically Black Colleges and Universities. The Biden-Harris Administration has already invested a record breaking $17 billion in HBCUs since the President took office. HBCUs represent an important engine for making black professionals. 40% of all Black engineers, 50% of all Black teachers, 70% of all Black doctors and dentists, 80% of all Black judges, and the first black Vice-President, Kamala Harris, are HBCU graduates. HBCUs have also been proven to be far better at boosting the long term economic prospects of graduates than non-HBCU colleges. The bulk of the new funding will go directly to supporting students and helping them pay for college.

The Department of Transportation celebrated 60,000 infrastructure projects funding by the Biden-Harris Bipartisan Infrastructure Law. This landmark is a part of the Biden-Harris team's effort to address America's long neglected infrastructure. From major multi-state projects to small town railway crossings every project was lead by a local community in need not a make-work project dreamed up in Washington

The Department of Energy announced over 3 billion dollars to support the battery sector. The 25 projects across 14 states will help support over 12,000 jobs. Advanced battery technology is key to the shift to a carbon energy free economy. The move is meant to not only boost battery production but also shift it away from China and toward America.

Maine and Rhode Island both launched a partnership with the federal government to help save low income families money on their utility bills. The program offers low and moderate income households aid in updating wiring, switching to energy efficient appliances, and installing heat pumps.

The EPA announced $156 million to help bring solar power to low-income New Mexico residents. This is part of the Biden-Harris Administration’s "Solar for All" project aimed at helping low-income people afford the switch over to solar power. It's expected that 21,750 low-income households in New Mexico will benefit from the money. New Mexicans can expect to save over the next 20 years $311 million in energy costs.

The Department of The Interior announced the first ever leases for wind power in the Gulf of Maine. The leases for 8 areas off the coast of Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Maine will be sold in late October. The Department believes that once developed the wind power from these leases could produce 13 gigawatts of clean offshore wind energy, enough to power 4.5 million homes. When added to the 15 gigawatts already approved by the Biden-Harris team it brings America close to Biden's 30 gigawatts of clean offshore wind power by 2030.

The Senate approved the appointment of Kevin Ritz to the Court of Appeals for the Sixth Circuit, which covers Kentucky, Michigan, Ohio, and Tennessee. The Senate also approved Mary Kay Costello and Michelle Williams Court to district court judgeships in Pennsylvania and California respectively. Costello is the 12th LGBT judge appointed by President Biden, making him the President to appoint the most LGBT people to the federal bench more than during Obama's 8 years. President Biden has also appointed more black women, such as Judge Court, to the bench than any other President. Judge Court also represents President Biden's move to appoint civil rights attorneys to the bench, Court worked for the ACLU in the mid-90s and was a civil rights expect at HUD in the early 2000s. This brings the total number of judges appointed by Biden to 212.

[levshany]

Tandem, this is an AU in which the Collector possesses Philip, and there are a lot of things happening afterwards. but now we’ll just retell how it basically started

@angstyhikka drew a couple of arts and helped me with coloring

This is an alternative development of events after the ending of the fanfic “At The Dawn of The Light” (it's not finished yet, but there is already an AU from the ending, yes). The idea belongs to @lasymit, and I (Lev) picked it up :3

Before King's Tide, all events take place according to canon. And then the following changes occur: the witches capture Philip and lock him in a cave in the Titan's skull. The draining spell is stopped without the help of the Collector, but he himself is not found. His mirror remains lying at the bottom of the pit.

For 10 years, Philip was under a sleeping spell. Everything would be fine, but when the Hexside squad wakes up Philip to make him help them with one super important problem, not only does he become mischievous but he also has problems in his head now. Luz and the team think that Philip is manipulating them (you can't blame them for this, Philip is Philip, even with a leaky memory and a leaking roof, he manages to be such an asshole), and therefore they torture him to force him to cooperate with them.

While Philip was sleeping, a cozy corner appeared in his head, in which there was nothing but a green hill, a small house and an apple tree. There, Philip, in his child form, lives with Caleb, who is a figment of his sick mind. During his 10 years in this mindscape, Philip convinced himself that this was reality. And the Boiling Isles, the cave and the witches who torture him are an endless nightmare. Because, on the Boiling Isles, he sometimes remembers that he killed his brother. But this simply cannot be reality.

At some point, Luz and Hunter realize that Philip is not pretending that he is seriously ill and no matter how much he denies it, he needs help, and they soften towards him somewhat. Although both have rather mixed feelings towards their dementia grandpa.

Even in the moments when Philip remembers himself fully enough, his attitude towards the Boiling Isles, Luz, Hunter and even his own mission has changed greatly in any case. He no longer cares about the destruction of witches and revenge for his brother. Philip is tired. Deadly tired. All he wants to do is sleep. He slept for ten years, and this was perhaps the first time in decades of his life that he felt peace and happiness.

While he is in this state, it happens that he encounter the Collector. This is a difficult meeting for both of them, but it all ends with the forgiveness of all grievances. They both don't want to lose each other now. The collector is still locked in the disk, but Philip has the opportunity to let his friend into his subconscious. Seeing the deplorable state of Philip's mind, he decides that he must help - after all, Philip is still his only friend. Collie asks Philip not to go to "sleep" forever, but Philip replies that he has no joy in waking up here. All he dreams of is never returning to the world of the Boiling Islands. The collector, frightened that his only friend is about to leave him, possesses Philip and promises him that he will get them both out of this nightmare.

This is how Tandem's story begins

a huge amount of detail has been omitted to avoid spoilers for "The Dawn". if you wanna learn more go check the fanfic *wink wink*

[mlqueen89]

Two | Ego

i took the miracle move on drug the effects were temporary (i love you) it's ruining my life  

Fortnight by Taylor Swift ft. Post Malone | TTPD |  

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin / ofc (top gun: maverick) 

rating: 18+ (minors dni) 

warnings: smut, mentions of p in v sex, mentions of oral (f receiving).    

word count: 9,776 

summary: “if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions.” in which ellie has to deal with the consequences of having the best sex ever with an actual pilot who she actually has to work with. A familiar face makes an appearance to guide ellie through politics at miramar.  

A/N: guys guys guys, you are giving me liiiiife. the reception to the first chapter has been crazy. lots of jake head canon developing here. essentially, i've decided that watermelon sugar by harry styles is jake coded. for... reasons. my guy is all acts of service. 

this one was also beta read by my bestest friend, so this one goes out to jj. love you girl, thanks for reading the smuttiest part of my brain. i also apologize for the amount of taylor swift/pop culture references (srry, not srry). also, the number of videos i watched on F-14s (tomcats) and F-18s (super hornets) is cray.

working my way through the november prompts, slowly but surely! there are a few left, so if you want to request, head on over there.

❥ playlist ♡ masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ previous chapter ♡ next chapter ❥  

Ellie groaned deeply, her face dropping to her hands as she slouched over the kitchen island from her perch on the stool.     

“I sat on his face, Yan,” Ellie mumbled through her fingers, her voice laced with the mortification of the memory from that afternoon. The way Lieutenant Seresin’s eyes passed over her, undressing her, seeing the mark he’d made on her neck and then coolly, calmly, pretending like he wasn’t put off by her presence. She could feel the heat creeping up her neck until it radiated from her cheeks. “Now I have to work with him.”  

Yan, unfazed, was busy bustling around the small kitchen, assembling her version of a “girl dinner,” which currently included an obscene number of jarred olives in a variety of colours, a smattering of mixed Harvest Snaps, Ritz crackers and a chunk of Swiss cheese she didn’t bother slicing. As she pushed herself up on her tip toes to peek into cupboards, her manicured nailed fingers reaching for a box she’d seen near the back of the space, Yan reminded Ellie of the squirrel family that lived under the deck at their old college house.  

“I dunno,” Yan replied with a shrug, nonchalant as ever, giving the box she’d retrieved from the back of the cabinet on top of the fridge a shake. “Maybe he’ll forget?”  

The remainder of her day at Miramar had been filled with facility tours, and security briefings, introductions to ground crew and the radar teams in the tower—the usual M.O. of any other airfield she’d worked on for the past six years. Routine, smooth, reflexive, comforting in its predictability after her unexpected morning.  

To her relief, she didn’t see Lieutenant Seresin again and in part, it was because she hadn’t necessarily been looking for him. Between seeing him again, being caught off-guard, her mind scrambling and having RADM Stark offer her concealer, she’d had her fill of shame and awkward interactions to last the entire week, possibly month.   

When, at the end of the day, Tony let her know that he’d be emailing her in the next hour or so about her office space, she was already thinking about how quickly she could scurry off to her car and peel out of the parking lot.  

Driving home from North Island was completed in a fugue state, doing everything she could to keep her mind off what would happen from now until whenever her contract was over in a few months and the possibility of her putting in for remote work. Canada, Mexico, Iceland… somewhere, anywhere far away from him.  

By the time she tripped through the front door, trudging up the stairs, shoulders sunk low, Ellie was glad Nic wasn’t home. She wasn’t sure she could handle the interrogation surrounding how her first day had gone (terribly) and why she had disappeared from the Halloween party so abruptly last night without saying goodbye. Both discussions would lead to the same, inevitable, infuriatingly handsome, source. Lt. Seresin. A pilot. A mistake. A five-time in one night mistake. 

When she’d instead found Yan in the kitchen, scrounging around in the cupboards, Ellie had offloaded her previous night and the resulting day in what felt like a single sigh, a mass exodus of mismatched thoughts and side drabbles. Disaster, social and career ruin the overarching themes. 

Ellie lifted her head just enough to scoff in her roommate’s general direction. “Forget? He’s a pilot, it’s highly unlikely. Have you ever met a pilot? Those guys have egos the size of the jets they fly. There’s no way he’s going to just forget without some kind of semi-serious head trauma. Unfortunately.”  

Before Yan could respond, mouth opened in what Ellie could only assume would come next, she held up a finger, a footnote to add, “Before you say it: Bradley doesn’t count. He’s a weird… mustachioed outlier.” 

Data couldn’t track the trajectory of Rooster. Ellie had tried and failed many a time—just when she thought she had pegged him, he escaped the pigeonhole with a dogfight level of evasive maneuvering. With a lack of data or evidence, she’d been forced to accept that Rooster was just untraceable. He didn’t fit the mold of the pilots she’d met.  

“Okay, but hear me out, maybe he will forget without a smack to the dome?” Yan tapped her chin as she glanced down at her plate of smorgasbord, as if considering what was missing. “For all we know, this is his usual modus operandi and you’re just another girl in the long line of hook ups?”  

Ellie felt her stomach drop. Long line of hook ups. “Great. That makes me feel so much better.”    

Yan popped a few pitted olives into her mouth and tipped her head, gathering herself for a moment before she spoke again. “Let’s have a choose your own adventure moment: do you want friend or therapist version of Yan Like, do you want advice advice or just to vent?”  

“Are you going to bill me if I say therapist, Yan’s version?”  

“How about we split the difference?” Yan held the absurdly sized chunk of Swiss cheese in a two—handed grip, nibbling at the corner as she leaned across the island. She was never going to get out from under the squirrel family allusion at this rate. “If I was your therapist, I’d say that maybe we should look at how this serves you? What does this embarrassment, feeling it, stewing in it, what does it do for you?”  

Ellie considered for a moment, her forehead slowly coming to rest on the cool quartz countertop as if the answers could be found there.  

How did the embarrassment of working with a man she’d slept with serve her?  

Maybe the root of the mortification was the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about it, about him. The intrusive thoughts, floating around her brain, still, of the man who had undone her so completely, mapped out her body with his mouth, re-wired her brain through life-altering, transcendent orgasm, one chasing another, each cascading into the next like a line of tumbling dominoes.  

Maybe her fluster was tucked behind the idea that he’d dragged sounds from her with his tongue, fingers, filled her in ways she hadn’t realized she’d been empty until he was inside of her, easing his way in as she gasped and moaned. She’d made sounds she could never have imagined making in the presence of another person, sounds she wasn’t even aware she was capable of making.  

The shame was most likely rooted in the fact that she had liked it, enjoyed every moment he’d been on her and inside of her. Touching her, playing her like an instrument, tugging at all the strings that moved her. She’d melted at the way he called her sweetheart and darlin’ in that voice of his, drawl rough and husky, while doing the things he did to her. How eager he’d sounded when he’d asked her what she wanted from him and how he’d nearly read her mind and fulfilled her needs without needing to be told. 

Ellie could only groan in response, the sound muffled into the countertop as she shifted on her stool, clenching her thighs together tightly as a warmth coiled low in her abdomen.  

The embarrassment didn’t serve her, though it did serve to remind her that she had to have her head on straight going forward. This couldn’t happen again, even if it was all she could think about, even if her body was telling her she wanted more. Her control, careful and composed, had to be stronger; it couldn’t happen again—especially not with him, not with a pilot. Maybe if she repeated it enough, hummed it to herself like a mantra, she’d get herself back on the trail leading to the summit that was the culmination of her life’s work. 

Lt. Seresin was her Voldemort. He who shall not be named. Her Darth Vader. Her Hans Gruber. She couldn’t have sex with Voldemort again. Couldn’t risk the Resistance and give herself to the Dark Side. Couldn’t let the terrorists take Nakatomi Tower on Christmas. 

“It doesn’t.” 

“Exactly. I’m not sure what just went through your beautiful noggin’ just now, but next steps: be the badass I know you are. So what? You had a spectacular night—this guy has no idea how lucky he is to tap that.” Ellie wasn’t sure how seriously she would take it if her actual therapist sat across from her and crunched on gherkin pickles, folded between a slice of prosciutto and used tap that to drive home a point. She’d let it slide for Yan. 

“Also, don’t think I don’t see it,” Yan pointed with the Harvest Snap olive hybrid in Ellie’s general direction. “I’m being nice and I’m not even going to touch the fact that you had crazy, wild sex with a guy dressed as a pilot considering your no pilots rule.”  

“In my, very feeble attempt at self-defense: Who dresses as their actual profession on Halloween?”  

“Oh, that’s just Big Dick Energy vibes, El.” Yan smirked, quirking an eyebrow, as if she was waiting for Ellie to confirm if the vibe had basis in reality. When Ellie simply rolled her eyes, Yan continued, “let’s be real though—we’re in San Diego. You could probably throw a stone and hit a minimum of three pilots in a five-foot radius.” 

Ellie propped her elbow up on the counter, resting her head in her hand, her eyes scanning the swirled pattern in the quartz to the right of Yan’s paper plate. “So, just like that? I just, what? Duplicate the BDE?” 

“More like mirror it. Sometimes that’s all it takes,” Yan nodded, using a Harvest Snap to spear an olive. “I’m not supposed to talk about it, so I won’t, but if I could talk about it, I’d say that I have a client who is an author, who shall remain anonymous, and he uses this crazy, hostage negotiation tactic when he wants to disarm and redirect.” 

Hostage negotiation. Great. This is what is had come to. 

Yan was right. Ellie couldn’t honestly say she was thinking straight when he’d looked at her with his green eyes and easy grin, the level of confidence with which he carried himself so goddamned attractive. She definitely hadn’t been thinking with the prefrontal cortex part of her brain when he’d touched her waist and leaned in close. 

Ellie levelled Yan with a narrowed gaze. “What would friend Yan say?”  

“As your friend who has witnessed some spectacular mistakes in your romantic track record, I’d say,” Yan paused for a moment, considering, Ellie thought, on how she might soften the therapist speak, “so what? You hooked up with him. Big deal. You didn’t know he was a real pilot. It was Halloween. You thought, reasonably, that he wasn’t. I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s not like you have to work directly with him, right?” 

“Except I actually do.” Ellie sighed—she'd already thought about it on the drive home, if avoidance was a viable tactic for the next little while. “I’m the one with the new tech, remember? That means seeing him all the time. He’s part of the team they’ve recalled—he’s one of the best the Navy has to offer. He might need to test my tech if I have any hope of getting it off the ground.”  

Yan paused, mid bite of her cracker, processing for a moment in silence. “Okay. First—love the pun. Second, yeah, that sucks, but maybe he’s, like, cool? Like, he hasn’t been a complete ass about it yet, right?” 

“He pretended like he didn’t even know me,” Ellie muttered, crossing her arms as the memory of his infuriating smugness resurfaced, the way his eyes found the mark he’d made on her like she was his. The way she, for a fraction of a second, let him suck all the air out of the space between them. “Which, I guess is fair, since we didn’t exactly exchange names before....”  

“... before he fucked your brains out?” Yan offered, snapping a piece of Ritz cracker off between her teeth, nonchalantly, as if fucked your brains out was a normal, everyday, part of conversations she engaged in.  

Ellie balled up a nearby tea towel and threw it at Yan as hard as she could manage, and it fell woefully short on the island between them. 

“Okay, so, he’s trying to be professional. That’s not necessarily a bad thing?” Yan turned her back to Ellie for a moment, heading to the fridge to grab the jug of pink lemonade from the fridge before she turned and poured it into a cup that sat on the edge of the sink. 

Ellie shook her head as Yan shook the juice jug in her direction. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just—weird? I don’t know how to act around him now.” 

“Oh girl, act like it didn’t happen, obviously. We both know you’re the queen of compartmentalizing, right?” 

Ellie sighed, sweeping her hair back, unconsciously touching the concealer hidden hickey, feather-light. “This is going to be a bit harder though. I just wasn’t planning on hooking up with someone I’d have to see every day.” 

Yan propped her elbows up on the counter across from Ellie before she carefully slid the plate of crackers, olives, cheese and mini pickles toward her with a grin. “Well, welcome to what we true believers call the Frequency Illusion. You’ll see him for as long as he’s front and center in your noodle. Simple explanation. Either that or you have some karmic balance to restore.” 

Ellie sighed, a sigh that sounded more like a drawn-out lament. “You make it sound like a go around kicking puppies.” 

“As my grandma used to say—God rest her soul—” Yan continued, hearing Ellie’s comment about karmic retribution, and traced a cross over her body, turning her eyes upward for a moment before she mocked pouring one out, “pussy rules the world. You set the tone. Own it. Be confident. If someone is going to squirm, let it be him. You’re holding all the cards.” 

“Set the tone?” Ellie repeated, slowly, considering. She didn’t bother to ask why Yan’s grandma, an unassuming small-statured, Filipino lady, obsessed with backgammon and finding the freshest cinnamon scones up until the very day of her passing, would have come to such a firm stance on pussy and its power level. 

“Yeah,” Yan was around the island now, fluffing Ellie’s hair and fixing the collar on her blazer, “you’re the fucking gorgeous, brainy radar engineer. He’s just some dude who got lucky on Halloween.” 

Ellie shrugged, avoiding eye—contact with Yan. “Maybe you’re right.” 

Yan leaned forward to tap Ellie on the tip of the nose, evidently satisfied with herself. “I’m always right, girly pop.” 

“Oh, is that right, huh?” Ellie swatted at Yan as she danced away, skip-hopping over to the fridge.   

Yan grinned, piling more olives onto her plate. “You know it. Now, eat some olives and get your game face on. Tomorrow’s another day, and you’re not letting some hotshot flyboy get the better of you. Even if he’s gorgeous and a generous partner.”  

Ellie shook her head, but she picked up a cracker as Yan tapped the plate before migrating to the living room. “God, this is a mess.”  

“Eh,” Yan shrugged, dropping to the couch and patting the empty spot beside her as she nestled under an oversized blanket. “Messy is more fun. Let’s watch Love is Blind Brazil, there’s apparently this super unhinged guy, Evandro who picked this girl, Ariela, who clearly isn’t over her ex—” 

“Speaking of,” Ellie crossed the room and dropped to the couch beside Yan, tugging some of the blanket over for herself. “What happened to Frankenstein?” 

“Oh, turns out he couldn’t keep it together,” Yan didn’t bother to look at Ellie, waving the remote at the TV as she scrolled, her lips quirked up in the corners into a smirk, “needed someone with a bit more heart.” 

“You’re so ridiculous.” 

Naval Air Station Lemoore, California - 2004 

Even after hours, the Californian sun sinking low on the horizon, Lemoore Naval Air Base was alive with a low hum of activity. F-14 Tomcats rested, wings folded in against their bodies, on the tarmac like sleeping giants, the lights from nearby hangars casting long shadows across the hot asphalt. 

She’d woken from another nightmare. It was always the same, a nightmare in which her dad didn’t come home, his plane screaming through the perfect blue sky one moment and then whistling to the surface of the azure water below, no ejection seat, no parachute. Just churning waves as they swallowed the body of the grey metal, silently, until there was nothing left. 

It was why, at 8:45 PM on a hot fall Californian evening, she found herself in her Justice League pajamas, shoes tied haphazardly, sneaking around the base. 

“Dad, we’re not supposed to be here,” Ellie whispered, her eyes wide as she hustled across the airfield, her small, seven-year-old hand clenching her father’s as he snuck from corner to corner, aircraft to aircraft. Stealth mode he’d called it. In her chest, Ellie’s heart pounded, the excitement mixed with the mischievousness of it all.  

Rick “Hollywood” Neven grinned, a roguish glint in his eyes as he glanced down at her by his side. “Don’t worry, kiddo. I know the boss.” He offered her a sly wink and Ellie could feel the anxiety ebb away slightly. She trusted him, always had. He was her dad, after all—the coolest person in the world.  

Slipping through the open hangar bay doors, Ellie’s eyes focused on the jet parked up in the center of the building. The one she’d only ever seen from a distance, her fingers laced through the chain link fence, her mom at her back, as the engines fired to life and her dad took to the air. Now, larger than life, it was here, looming large over her tiny frame. Ellie’s breath caught as her dad led her closer, the heavy scent of engine oil and metal filling her nostrils. Ground crew engineers milled about, running through their checks, but none of them stopped or questioned her dad. He was a legend here, and everyone knew it. Everyone knew him. 

Rick nodded at one of the crew members, and they moved aside as he led Ellie closer to the jet. “Come on, squirt,” he whispered, lifting her up to stand on a ladder beside the plane’s body. “Want to see where the magic happens?”  

Ellie’s eyes widened as she gazed at the jet’s gleaming surface. “This is your plane?”  

“All mine,” he said proudly, patting the side of the jet, his hand passing over his name Lt. Rick Neven and call sign, Hollywood, painted on the side just below the seam where the bonnet would connect. On the body, beside the rear seat, Lt. Leonard Wolfe, Wolfman was painted in white, his RIO.  

As she stared, wide-eyed, taking it all in, he pointed to different parts, explaining each with ease of someone who had lived and breathed this life for years, someone who could identify this machine as an extension of his own body. “That’s the engine, and those are the intakes. That right there is the radar, it’s here, in the nose too—probably the most important thing in the whole bird.”  

Ellie’s eyes scanned the instruments inside the cockpit, levers and buttons, throttles and sparkplugs. “Why?” Her face scrunched in thought.  

“Because without it, I wouldn’t know what’s coming my way. You see, when you’re flying up there, things happen fast. You need to know everything around you—what’s out there, who’s out there.” He turned, giving her a proud smile. “That’s where a good radar tech comes in. But the best radar tech?” He winked. “They’re sitting right behind the pilot.”  

“Like the RIO?” she asked, her voice full of wonder, eyes trained on her godfather’s name.  

“Exactly.” He gestured for her to step up higher, holding her waist as he lifted her into the cockpit. Ellie settled her tiny frame into the seat, her feet barely skimming the pedals in the footwell. Reaching back into the rear seat, he grabbed his helmet, the one adorned with his call sign, and the “lady butt” as Ellie called it. Carefully, he placed it on her head. The weight of it pressed on her neck, far too big, but she didn’t care. The weight of it made her feel important—like she was a part of something bigger, like she was in the cockpit with her dad. 

“Dad…” Ellie began, her voice small and muffled from under the oversized helmet as she pushed it up so she could see him. “What’s it like? Flying up there?”  

Her dad leaned against the side of the F-14, his gaze drifting out toward the open hangar doors where the night sky stretched endlessly above. “It’s like…freedom. Like nothing else in the world matters. Just you, the jet, and the sky. And when you’re up there, you feel like you can do anything.”  

Ellie’s eyes sparkled as she imagined, endless skies, horizon boundless, freedom. “Maybe I can be your RIO one day?”  

Her dad chuckled and Ellie could feel her heart swell, the thought of being here with her dad in his favourite place. He reached out and gently tapped the helmet on her head. “You’re already halfway there, kid. One day, you’ll be up there with me. I’ll be the one flying, and you’ll be the one keeping me safe, making sure we’re on the right track.”  

Ellie smiled so wide her cheeks hurt. “Promise?”  

“I promise,” he said softly, his eyes locking onto hers, and Ellie could feel the pride growing in her, the thought of following in her dad’s footsteps both thrilling and nerve wracking. “Just don’t tell your uncle Wolfman. You’ll be putting him out of a job and I don’t know if the Navy is ready for two Nevens up there.” 

For a moment, it was just them in that cockpit, the noise of the hangar fading into the background as her dad told her to pull back on this throttle and showed her where the ejection handles were. Ellie could feel the importance of it, the way her dad talked about all of it. If her dad said she could do it, then she could—her hero, strong, invincible. Maybe she could be his RIO one day.   

He grinned and grabbed the straps of the helmet, giving it a loving shake. “Alright, kiddo. You got school tomorrow. Let’s get out of here before someone catches us.”  

Ellie laughed as he lifted her out of the cockpit and set her down, but as they walked out of the hangar, her hand still in his, she couldn’t help but glance back at the jet.  

“I think we just found your call sign, huh?” Her dad hummed as they stepped out into the night air, the sun now gone from the sky, replaced by the moon glow of a clear night. “Eleanor Rio Neven.” 

Ellie glanced up at him, her gap-toothed grin, wide. “I like it.” 

“Rio it is then. Hollywood and Rio.” 

One day, she thought. One day she’d earn that call sign. 

Ellie glanced at the email again to stick the office assignment in the forefront of her mind, standing in front of her open car trunk, before she locked her phone and tucked it into the back pocket of her pressed pants. She was thankful she wasn’t Navy; she knew her strengths fashion wise, and it wasn’t the khaki tan colour of the service uniforms. Civilian contractors had the best of both worlds.  

Grabbing the heavy box of her things, Ellie dragged it from the trunk and hefted it, balancing it on her hip as she reached for the close trunk button.  

“Comm Center 11,” the security officer barely suppressed a chuckle as Ellie used the ledge in front of the glass to hold the box while she fished out her pass, “that’s clear across the airfield from here. You’ll have to take the perimeter; they’ll be running drills at this time. Pattern’s full.”  

“Thanks.” Ellie nodded, taking a moment to clip her pass to the waist of her pants before she lifted the box and used her hip to open the door onto the base.  

Shifting the weight of the box, Ellie tipped her chin as she passed a few officers and a few of the ground crew she half-recognized from the myriad of tours yesterday. Her things weren’t heavy individually—a few office supplies, models of the tech, schematics, a monitor, her MacBook—but stacked awkwardly, they made a clumsy, unbalanced load in the flimsy box with the caved in corners, reinforced with layers of packing tape.  

The morning sun was already intense, gleaming off the pavement so she had to squint as she moved forward, all her concentration on not dropping the box as she felt the cardboard bow under the shifting weight of her belongings, the occasional silence between the sound of jet engines and shouting staff filled by the steady clicking of her heels.  

“Need a hand?”  

The voice was unmistakable, easy, with a hint of banter around the edges, the barely concealed smugness cutting through the noise of the airfield. Ellie knew who it belonged almost immediately, the feeling of recognition hitting her square in the gut before she turned.  

Hangman. 

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Ellie set her shoulders, adjusting her grip on the unwieldy box. Set the tone, she reminded herself, hearing Yan’s voice echo in the back of her mind. She had to hold her ground.   

Turning, her eyes landed on him immediately. He was standing just a few feet away, arms crossed casually over his chest, the khaki tan of his service khakis was definitely doing something for him, something dangerous for his sharp features and easy confidence. He knew he looked good. She could feel herself bristle slightly, caught off-guard by how cool and collected he looked, his lips quirked into a lazy grin, almost infuriatingly amused as he took her in. It felt tailor made to annoy the living hell out of her at this specific moment. He looked ready to swoop in if she so much as tipped the box the wrong way and she wasn’t sure if that grated on her nerves, or if it was something else entirely. 

“No, I don’t need a hand, Lieutenant Seresin,” she replied firmly, adjusting her grip on the box and her resolve. She turned around again resolutely ignoring him and starting off in her original direction, the corner of the already flimsy cardboard buckling, her belongings shifting inside as the box threatened to give way any moment. 

Sure enough, she heard his footsteps fall into pace beside her, an easy saunter as if he had all the time in the world. “You’re a civilian contractor; you can take it easy with the Lieutenant. You can call me Jake…” he began casually, before his voice dropped just enough to add weight to his next words, “since we’ve already been… acquainted.” 

Ellie’s jaw tightened, her pace slowing until she came to a stop. The box crumpled further under her suddenly tightened grip, and she thought she heard the tape coming away from the bottom of the box. She turned slightly, just enough to level him with a glare, all heat and warning. “I’m aware of what happened. That was… before.” Before she knew he was a real pilot. Before she knew cocky and smug were his default personality traits. “This is work, not—” 

“Not what?” he interrupted carefully, the mischievous glint in his eye almost twinkling now. “Not two, consenting adults who had a good time and now coincidentally find themselves working on the same base?” 

Great. So he hadn’t recently happened upon a semi-serious, short-term memory wiping head injury. How unlucky for her. She’d have to work on quashing the butterflies causing the stupid feelings in her stomach currently. The ones that told her she liked looking at his aggravating, annoying, idiotic, handsome face and hearing the charming southern drawl in his words. What was it that Yan had said? Another girl in a long line of hook ups? 

Ellie felt her face heat and not from the sun continuing to beat down. “That’s exactly what this is, actually. Coincidence. That’s it,” Ellie lifted her chin, defiant in the face of his easy charm, her voice dipping low as a crew member zipped past them in a golf cart. “One night. A one-time thing.” 

This time, he broke into a wry grin, but he didn’t speak, and Ellie felt as if he was waiting for her to continue, so she did. 

“Listen, I don’t know what your angle is, but whatever you think happened between us? It won’t happen again.” She kept her gaze trained on him, looking for the moment it might sink in. “I’m here to do a job, that’s it.” Ellie turned again, squinting against the sun as she continued on her way, her dramatic exit. She’d taken three full strides, the box betraying her confident pace, folding in as a piece of lose tape flapped in the breeze and stuck to her hand as her belongings rolled around, loose at the bottom, before Jake was at her side again.  

His eyebrow quirked up, but he didn’t look fazed. Amused, that was the more fitting word, Ellie thought. He looked entertained. By her struggle, by her refusal of his offer for help, even now as the box pitched, weight shifting oddly as the things inside moved around, uncontrolled. “My angle?” He repeated, almost as if he couldn’t believe it wasn’t butter. His tone was teasing and light. “So, you think I have an angle? You been doing a lot of thinking about me then, sweetheart?”  

Ellie rolled her eyes hard, and she picked up her pace. She pointedly ignored his question about her extracurricular thoughts, which definitely included thoughts of him despite her better judgement, but he didn’t need the confirmation. “I don’t know what it is, yet” the box pitched, and Hangman’s hand moved to right it, but Ellie angled it away from him, the sound of her monitor being smacked by the decorative arc reactor paperweight sending her stomach into a tip. “But yes, I’m sure you have one.”  

Firmly, Ellie pushed down the memory of Halloween. The chemistry between them had been a wildfire, quick, easy, starting as something small, possibly insignificant, and then grew unexpectedly, fast, all-consuming, searing, white hot, uncontrollable, unpredictable. It was only spoiled by seeing him again and realizing that he had been telling her the whole truth and nothing but the truth the entire time. He was a pilot. A Lieutenant. A pilot just like every other pilot she’d ever met. Cocky, self-assured, overly confident, reckless. It left a bitter taste in her mouth. “Whatever you’re thinking, do me a favour—don’t. You’re not fooling me.”    

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” He responded, smirking as he watched her wrestle with the box each step of the way. Part of her appreciated that he let her, liked that he respected that she’d said no and turned down his help.  

Before she could deflect, Ellie felt her heel catch just enough on an uneven bit of pavement, and the box, already unbalanced, began to teeter forward, the weight of the shifting contents making it more difficult to recover as she simultaneously tried to save her things and steady herself. Instinctively, she reached out to steady it, but Jake’s hand shot out, steadying her with one hand on her elbow and the other catching the box. He was good… really good. 

“Careful there,” he said softly, all hints of ribbing gone, his eyes locked on hers. “It’d be a shame if all that attitude ended up in a broken ankle.” 

Ellie felt a flush of frustration and something else she wasn’t willing to name, his touch igniting something in her she had to fight to press down again. Stiffening against his grasp, she quickly steadied herself and once she was sure the box was as balanced as she could get it, he carefully let go. In the wake of his skin on hers, she felt a coolness and part of her missed the contact. 

“I can handle myself, thank you” she murmured, but there was less bite. She left no room for him to question her assertation as she straightened herself to stand taller. Looking him dead in the eye was a feat, all six feet of him towering over her, even with the added height of her heels. 

“Never said you couldn’t.” He stepped back, raising his hands in mock surrender, but the smug look didn’t fade. “But just so we’re clear, if you ever need a hand, I’m around. For whatever. Work-related, of course.” 

Ellie didn’t answer, just tightened her grip on the box, ignoring the way her heart had quickened in that split second of closeness, his hand on her arm a beat longer than necessary after she steadied herself. She turned and continued toward her office, keeping her chin high and pretending she couldn’t feel Jake’s eyes on her. 

As she walked away, she heard him call out, “See you around, Ace.” 

“303,” Ellie murmured, clicking past the numbered doors, closed and plated with names that weren’t hers. “304,” she blew out a huff of air as her eyes flicked to the next door. 

She’d broken out into a bit of a sweat by the time she’d made it to Comms building 11, her calves aching. Now she knew why that security officer had laughed at the sight of her, the sad box of things in her grip already failing. Between the pace she’d kept up, a speed between confident stride and hectic hustle to get away from the man she’d been trying to avoid, and the distance between the parking lot and here, she’d hit her workout goal for the entire week. 

“305.” 

Rigby, E. Ellie glanced at the nameplate secured to the door and used her elbow to press down on the paddle handle, maneuvering expertly to use her hip to wedge the port open when she heard the click of the latch releasing. 

Turning into the space, Ellie paused for a moment, glancing back at the nameplate on the door for half a second longer when she took in the sheer size of the office. This had to be some kind of mistake, civilian contractors didn’t get windows, especially not eastern facing windows.  

The nameplate stuck to the door still said her name. The number above the port hadn’t changed. This was 305 and that was her name on the door. 

Stepping further inside, Ellie kicked the door closed behind herself, only registering that another person was in the room when they spoke. 

“Hey, Rio.”  

The call sign hit her, broadside, and drew her eyes immediately to the source.  

The man who leaned against the corner of the window ledge on the other side of the room, arms folded across his chest, was silhouetted against the bright morning light streaming in. Though his face had changed, laugh lines deepened around his eyes, the crease between his brow mostly cemented, likely exacerbated by all the young, hot shot pilots he’d watched breeze through Miramar over the years, she would recognize him anywhere. 

Captain Pete Mitchell. Call sign: Maverick. 

Ellie smirked as he stepped forward, taking the box from her without hesitation and sliding it onto the edge of the small coffee table, situated in front of the quaint sitting area which included a couch and an armchair. Free from the weight of the box, Ellie took a deep breath and, hands on hips, surveyed the space. “I think they made a mistake, Mav. This has to be your office. Way too big to be a civilian contractor’s, that’s for sure.”  

Maverick chuckled and Ellie could see the younger version of the man she’d met years ago behind the softened angles of his face. She guessed, in his eyes, she looked a lot different from the kid running around the airfield, causing trouble, getting in the way, herself. “Pulled a few strings. Anything for Hollywood’s kid.” 

She met his wry grin with a smirk of her own, a flash of gratitude filling her with a sense of the calm of familiarity, but she shook her head with a laugh. “Well, thanks for the royal treatment, but I think it’s a bit much.” Ellie gestured to the large space, the window behind Mav looking out onto the airfield, the grand mahogany desk waiting for a touch of personalization, an expanse of empty bookshelves behind it and the sitting area to her right.  

Her “office” at the base in Turkey had been little more than a space between two filing cabinets, open to the coffee station, water cooler and any Air Force pilot who thought she looked unassuming or unaware. She’d accepted that space as workable for over a year. This, by comparison, was at least seventeen steps up. For one, there was a door. “I was half expecting a supply closet, to be honest. Somewhere with more dust and a lot less… light.” 

Maverick closed the space between them, pulling her into a quick hug before he stepped back to really take her in, his hands framing her shoulders. “How’re you doing, kid? How’s Miramar treating you so far? Wouldn’t expect it’s anything Rio couldn’t handle.” 

“Rio,” Ellie tested out the old call sign, the second time she’d heard it from Mav in such a short time, a soft smile pulling up the corner of her lips slightly, “haven’t heard that one in a long time. I’m good.”  

She’d leave out the footnotes that included Hangman, or any possible complications that were attached to him for now. Instead, Ellie took a moment to look at Maverick, she hadn’t been expecting him to be here, hadn’t expected to feel the comfort in the presence of his easy nature. Seeing him settled the anxiety simmering beneath the surface, if only just a little bit. “So, they called you in to keep tabs on me, huh?” 

“Something like that.” A knowing look crossed his face, a smirk, the look of the old Maverick Ellie had known for the majority of her life. Cocky, self-assured, non-conformist, Maverick was the typical archetype of a pilot, at least every one that Ellie had ever encountered. “I figured I’d be a friendlier face than Admiral Simpson. Someone to get you started. I know Miramar’s not the… smoothest place to transition into.” 

Admiral Simpson. Stuffy, hard-lined, hard-nosed, Admiral Simpson. The same Admiral Simpson that had watch-checked and foot-tapped his way through her presentation the other day. The same Admiral she couldn’t help but feel would sideline her project if it meant delaying a mission for even half a minute. On the other hand, there was RADM Stark—welcoming and excited, and yet, there was something unreadable about her. Something that Ellie wasn’t sure she could trust behind the glad to have more estrogen in the room facade. 

There was a reason she had a reputation as someone to impress, there was a reason she was thriving in the man-made, old boys club that was the Navy. 

Ellie made a face, and Maverick simply pressed his lips into a thin line and raised his eyebrows quietly. Maverick understood—he almost always did, especially when it came to following protocol, or rather, breaking protocol. Maverick hadn’t ever been any Admiral’s favourite pilot—especially not Admiral Benjamin, even if his daughter, Penny, thought differently. If anyone could help her navigate the difficult politics of Admirals and strict rules of engagement, it was Maverick. Maverick who, somehow, hadn’t been dishonourably discharged… yet.  

There was no doubt in her mind she would be thankful to have Maverick and his rule-bending in her corner as the go-between. 

“Smooth is overrated,” Ellie scoffed, shrugging. “I’m here to work—maybe make a few of you Navy boys cry in the process, if I’m lucky.” 

Maverick’s laugh was sudden and loud, genuine, the grin on his face wide.  

“Good,” he nodded, approvingly, patting her arm. “Well, in the spirit of smooth in the context of work, I’ve got some updates from the Admirals. Did you want to—” Maverick nodded toward the desk, and it took Ellie a moment to understand what he was suggesting, lost in the soft, blurred edges of nostalgia.  

“Yeah, of course. Better to just dive into the deep end with this, I guess.” 

Ellie rummaged for a second and dug her MacBook from the box, doing her best to ignore that there was a fresh dent in the lid as she swept over to the desk and Maverick settled in on the other side. 

“So I’ve had a chance to go over your reports and the preliminary data from the prototype testing on base in Turkey,” Mav started, his expression unreadable, though his posture suggested a relaxed, nonchalant approach. She supposed this was the most professional he would get with her. “It’s really impressive, Ellie. Your dad, he mentioned you were top of the game, he didn’t mention that you were running circles around the rest of us.” 

“I mean—” Ellie started, she kept her eyes on the screen of her laptop as it started up, “it’s all still relatively untested….” 

She pointedly ignored Mav’s mention of her dad. Hollywood wasn’t exactly a subject she wanted to touch on right now. Especially not with Maverick. She knew where it would lead. 

“Still. Must be something promising to get them to pull you here from halfway across the world.” Mav didn’t push the topic further as she saw him cross his legs, ankle on knee, in her peripheral. “It’s going to make a big difference to a lot of people if we can get it off the ground. I’m putting my weight behind this one, Rio—that counts for something. At least the Admirals think so.” 

“I hope so.” Ellie straightened herself in her chair, MacBook finally at the ready, despite a few broken pixels in the top left corner of the screen. “How do we tackle this then? Do I want to know what kind of resources they’re allocating for this?” 

Maverick paused for a moment, his hands passing over the armrests before folding his hands. “Good news or bad news?” 

“You know me, Mav—news is news.” 

“Well, they’re giving us pilots and significant testing time. They’ve put me on the testing schedules too, so you’ll be seeing a lot of me. We’ll run this as seamlessly as possible and get you the data you need to make this a reality.” Maverick’s fingers drummed on his knee, casual, calm. 

“Okay, that sounds like the good news to me….” Ellie cautiously made notes, her eyes returning to Mav as if she expected the other shoe to drop at any moment. So far, these were all workable resources. “I’ll get Records to pull the pilot files—”   

“No need, I’ve got them here.” Maverick reached to the chair beside him before sliding a folio across the desk toward her, thick with dossiers. “Fifteen pilots. They’re the best the Navy has to offer. All Top Gun graduates, all recalled for the current mission training. They’re giving us four of our choosing.” 

Ellie shrugged, her hand resting on the top of the stack of files, her thumb flipping through the first few tabs with call signs. Bob, Coyote, Duke, she nodded slowly, processing. “Well, to be honest, I was expecting far less—”  

“We have to run the testing of your tech alongside the mission training. They’re giving us two and a half months.” Maverick’s words hung in the air for a long moment, a moment in which Ellie’s eyes snapped to his and she searched for the lie there she knew she wouldn’t find. Maverick didn’t lie, he wasn’t the type. 

And there it was: the other shoe. 

Two and a half months. The initial research alone had taken years. Years of algorithm building, years of theoretical practice, years of begging for funding. Hell, the prototype alone had taken a year to create in a lab with her close oversight. Two and a half months was a drop in the ocean, a near impossibility. This was an out of the frying pan and into the heat situation if Ellie had ever seen one. “No pressure, right?” 

“RADM Stark is in our corner for now—Admiral Simpson has made it clear he’ll recommend moving forward with the mission with or without your tech,” Maverick didn’t sugar coat it and Ellie appreciated that about him—it wasn’t in his nature to soften the blow. “I think you and I would both prefer that it’s with. The more of these pilots we can bring home, the better.” 

Ellie glanced at the stack of files again, folded in the larger tan manila, and nodded, taking a deep breath. “Okay then, deep ending this.” 

“Pick your top candidates based on the needs of the tech and the testing. I’m looking forward to reading your report.” Maverick tapped the corner of the desk, standing before shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “Let’s say my office. Tomorrow morning, 0800 sharp. Bring coffee.” 

“Careful Mav,” Ellie tutted, her eyebrow raised in a teasing way as she looked up at him over the top of her computer screen, “that sounds an awful lot like protocol. You’ve got a reputation for throwing out the rulebook to uphold around here.” 

Maverick waved her off as he headed for the door and Ellie watched him pause for just a moment, halfway out, his hand on the knob. “This isn’t exactly going to be a walk in the park, kid. But if there’s anyone who can pull this off, it’s you. Whether the name on the door is Neven or not—” Mav’s knuckles rapped against the solid wood, just under the name plate displaying her mother’s maiden name, “—the Nevens have a way of making things happen. You’re where you’re meant to be.” 

“Thanks.” 

Maverick offered her a small smile, cleared his throat and then stepped out of the door. “Oh, Ellie?” Maverick’s head was back through the door, his finger pointing to the shelving behind her. “I brought you a little office warming gift.” 

Ellie quickly found the small potted fern, the decorative pot it sat in painted with Be-LEAF in Yourself in neat block lettering. Ellie lifted the pot, turning with a raised eyebrow, displaying the saying. 

“Penny picked it out.” Mav shrugged, as if he himself were above the plant pun. When Ellie’s gaze didn’t shift, Mav waved a hand and retreated again. “0800 sharp, Rio. Two sugars, no dairy.” 

With a dry chuckle, Ellie turned back to the shelf, her eyes quickly finding something else where the pot had been, hidden. 

The photo in the frame was slightly faded, but the energy captured within the image felt timeless. It was a group shot, clearly taken at Miramar a lifetime ago, the California sun bright overhead, casting shadows across the tarmac where the four men stood, exuding effortless swagger. The aura of young pilots in their prime. 

Maverick was front and center, his signature aviators reflecting a blurred image of the photo taker, a familiar cocky grin stretching across his face. His flight suit was unzipped at the top, revealing the white T-shirt underneath. To his right, Ellie’s eyes focused on her dad. His posture, shoulders relaxed, mirrored Maverick’s, his smile easy but sharp, his trademark confidence that matched his call sign. 

Next to him, Wolfman, her dad’s RIO, his stance a little more casual but no less self-assured. He had an arm slung around Hollywood’s shoulder; their camaraderie apparent even through the static image. His grin was wide and mischievous, like he had just cracked a joke that made Hollywood laugh. Wolfman was always the one for jokes—always inappropriate, never failing to make her dad laugh. 

On the far left, slightly more composed but no less iconic, stood Iceman. His jaw was set, his aviators pushed up into his blond hair as he looked at the camera with a subtle smirk. Even in the informal setting, he carried himself with the unshakable confidence of someone who knew he was the best. 

The four of them stood against the backdrop of an F-14 Tomcat, the jet’s sleek frame gleaming in the sunlight. 

It was a snapshot of a time when they were young, fearless, and seemingly invincible—a moment frozen in time, untouched by the years and the weight of everything that would come after. In the reflection of the glass, Ellie could just make out her own face as she refocused, her eyes soft and her brow pulled together. 

Rolling her eyes, Ellie shook herself out of her own thoughts, scoffing as she snapped the picture face down, its support leg sticking up like that of a dead bug. 

If she wanted to survive here, if she had any hope of making a difference, she would need to keep her head on straight. No more distractions. 

“You’re going to have to do a lot better than that if you want to leave here with something other than lint in your pockets, Bradshaw.”  

Jake grabbed the triangle and racked the balls as Rooster groaned, the wad of bills in the fold that came out of his pocket thinner than it had been at the beginning of the evening. He thumbed out another twenty and placed it on top of the growing pile of cash sitting on the edge of the table before he took a swig of beer. “Keep taking my money, Hangman and you’ll have to tell Nic why I can’t take her out on Friday.”  

“Oh, you want me to tell your girl her boyfriend can’t handle his balls?” Hangman smirked, shifting the triangle up to the foot spot on the table before carefully removing the rack. “You know, I’d be real happy to do that, Rooster.” Grabbing his cue, Jake nodded across the table, “how ’bout I let you break first then, give you a head start.”  

As Rooster leaned over the table to line up the break, Jake grabbed his beer, leaning up against the wall. The late-day sun streamed in through the windows of the Hard Deck, casting long shadows across the scuffed hardwood, the warm glow of golden hour adding a certain charm to the scrappy, Navy watering hole. It was routine by now, mission training, the Hard Deck, hustling pool for a little extra spending money, embarrassing Rooster who always seemed eager to try to prove he was better than Jake at the game. Wash, rinse, repeat. Steady pace for a Tuesday night. But tonight, Jake’s mind wasn’t on the pool game, or the growing pile of Rooster’s cash.  

Instead, it was occupied by thoughts of a particular Radar Tech who had, in two short days, carved out a space in his head: Eleanor Rigby. That surprised Jake—surprised him in ways that took the routine out of his usual one-night M.O. 

After he’d seen her that morning, struggling with the box, almost comically, and she refused his help outright, the end of the day had come quickly. Quicker than Jake had anticipated. Between the packed mission training and the maneuver refreshers, his head had been on a swivel, his eyes peeled, but he hadn’t managed to catch her again. 

The sharp crack of the cue ball breaking and scattering the striped and solids, pulled Jake’s focus back to the game. Rooster managed to sink one solid, smirking as he stepped back to find himself for another viable shot.  

“Nice shot, Bradshaw,” Jake drawled, his eyes twinkling as he set down his bottle on the edge of a nearby high-top table. “I think this might be the first time you’ve hit something clean all week.”  

Rooster’s breathy laugh sounded for just a moment, his eyes sizing up the next shot. “Just wait, Bagman,” Rooster murmured, leaning over to line up his cue again. “By the time I’m done, you’ll be asking me for a loan.”  

“Bold for someone down to their last twenty.” Jake smirked, chalking his own cue. He waited for Rooster to take his shot—missing a corner pocket by a hairsbreadth—before stepping in to size up the table, tutting. “Might have to start playing some tunes for tips,” he nodded over to the piano in the corner. 

They rotated between trading teasing banter and goading remarks for a moment before Jake’s inquiring mind got the better of him, swimming with thoughts of her face, the way she looked at him within the new frame that existed outside of their Halloween encounter. 

“So,” Jake started, casually, nonchalant, as he chose his next shot, Rooster having missed his solid, and bent to take aim, lining up a striped ball with the corner pocket. “We have a new radar tech or something—Rigby?” Jake played dumb, played disinterested, acted as if he didn’t know her name, pretended he didn’t like the way the mark his mouth had left on her neck stuck out in sharp contrast to her put together, professional look the other day. 

As he looked up from under his lashes, Jake could see Rooster pause mid-sip of his beer, eyebrow raised. “Rigsy? Radar Tech, Engineer I think the proper term is. She’s Nic’s best friend. Her roommate now too, actually.” Rooster set his beer down carefully, “Why? What’s your angle?” 

Rigsy. So Rooster knew her outside of work. Jake carefully stored the information, his eyes never leaving the cue ball and the line of aim with the striped ball. “No angle,” he replied evenly, taking the shot and sinking the striped ball and another in its path with ease. “Just curious. Seems like she’s got the brass wrapped around her finger already.” 

“That’s because she’s good at what she does,” Rooster said, stepping away to the bar and grabbing two more bottles of beer before he returned to the table. “Smart, like, real smart. No nonsense, she won’t put up with any crap. Not the usual type you’d chase, though,” 

Jake took the shot, and the ball ricocheted off the pocket point in a way he hadn’t expected, missing the striped ball he’d lined up with that pocket, wide. Straightening, he chuckled, leaning against his cue stick, stepping back for Rooster’s turn. “Who says I’m chasin’, Bradshaw?”  

Rooster’s response was a snort as he stepped up to the table. “Sure, man, whatever you say,” he glanced up at Jake, a knowing look crossing his face, eyes incredulous, eyebrow peaked. “You don’t exactly have a reputation for curiosity without motive, Seresin.” 

Jake smirked, but didn’t respond, moving in to take another shot instead when Rooster missed his second shot and Jake sunk two more stripes in quick succession. He felt Rooster’s gaze lingering, and despite trying to play it cool, he couldn’t shake the curiosity that had been brewing since he’d seen her on Halloween. More so since seeing her here, at Miramar again, of all places. When she’d let him come back to her place and he’d fucked her until her knees shook, he hadn’t expected to see her again. Now, now he thought about what it would have been like if she’d known his name then, what it would sound like for her to moan it, beg him for more. It was enough to drive him dangerously close to mad. 

Jake missed the next shot, his mind hazed with the thought. Stepping back, he folded his arms across his chest and tried to act uninterested. “Say I’m curious for… curiosity’s sake: what’s her deal? Anything I should know?” 

“Oh shit—you really don’t know…” Rooster raised an eyebrow, taking a deep swig of his beer, studying the label as he tried to contain his smirk, before replying. “You don’t know who her old man is, do you?” 

Jake froze slightly at that, his brow furrowed, eyes narrowed at the pilot across the table from him. “Her old man?” 

Rooster chuckled and shook his head, his tone low as he tapped the cue stick on the floor. “Rick Neven. Hollywood. Shot down in combat on a mission over the Gulf. Made sure his WSO got out first and ejected too late just above hard deck. Broke his back in three places. Docs said it was nothing short of a miracle he was alive, but that he’d never walk again.” 

Jake blinked, the weight of the name hitting him immediately. Hollywood. One of the legends. The same pilot whose photo was framed alongside Maverick and Iceman, Goose and Slider in the halls all around base. He took a breath, trying to process it, while trying his best to keep composure. “You tellin’ me she’s Neven’s kid?”  

Rooster nodded, continuing as if he knew the exact thoughts running through Jake’s mind. “Yeah, man. That’s Rigsy’s dad. Big shadow to live under. She’s been pretty much anti-pilot her whole life, from what I’ve gathered.” 

Jake felt the words settle in his gut, realizing just how tangled this was becoming. Ellie wasn’t just some random civilian contractor; she came with baggage, a history that had been shaped by the same world they both lived in—but from a very different perspective. And after their Halloween encounter, he suddenly understood why she hadn’t mentioned anything about it. It also explained the guardedness in her eyes, the bite in her sarcasm. 

“She doesn’t really talk about him much,” Rooster added, his voice dropping slightly, as if sensing Jake’s shift in mood. Rooster had always been good at that, even if Jake didn’t want to admit it. “Nic says it’s a sore spot. That and her folks splitting.” 

Jake set his cue down, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to wrap his head around it. “Damn.” 

“You’re in over your head with that one, Hangman,” Rooster said with a knowing smirk. “She’s not your usual type, and if you somehow manage to get past all those SAMs she’s throwing out, she sure as hell won’t make it easy.” 

“Wouldn’t be any fun if she did, Rooster.” Jake let out a dry chuckle, picking up his beer and taking a long drink. “Wouldn’t be any fun if she did.” 

tags bbs: @hookslove1592 @mrsevans90 @avengersfan25 @jbennsquared @dempy @obsessed-fan-alert @djs8891 @lunatygerqueen @khouse712 @alipap3 @yuckosworld @marvelouslyme96

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[onlinedolly]

jealousy, jealousy !

a/n: my ramble about yasu! i’ve loved this man since sixth grade so i hope u like it as much as i loved writing it rheheheheheeh

cw: jealous yasu, p in v, cream pies, roughish sex

yasu’d watched dozens of women be persuaded by takumi, always watching from the sidelines as takumi would smirk, lean in close to them and mention how he had a hotel room big enough for two. yasu had always disapproved, shaking his head and rolling his eyes, but who was he to say anything? until now. you were young, a groupie of BLAST, probably in your first year of college if yasu had to guess. and pretty, just like takumi liked, just like yasu liked, long hair and doe eyes enough to make any man swoon.

you’d come to nana’s apartment, an early fan meaning you’d worked your way up to a friendship with the members, and the trapnest members had joined as well. you all sat around the nana’s kitchen table playing poker and sipping on beers as everyone but you and hachiko chain smoked cigarettes. takumi sat close to you, too close, as he whispered something yasu couldn’t make out in your ear. you blushed a bit, flustered as you pushed takumis chest playfully making yasu cringe. he was at his limit by now, watching how takumi had flirted with you all night, be began to feel his blood boil over. he didn’t know why he was so protective over you, maybe it was how young you were, your innocent nature. or maybe it was the way your doe eyes would lock with his, brushing your hair over your shoulder with a big smile, that made his cock stir in his pants.

the night carried on, with everyone getting more and more drunk as takumi had found the courage to wrap his arm around your waist, pulling you close. it was nearing two in the morning at this point and yasu knew if he didn’t put an end to this you’d just be another notch in takumis bed post (so to speak).

“i’ll walk you home.” yasu interjects just as takumi was about to slip you a hotel key. takumi eyes him scornfully as you mumble out an okay before sliding out of the booth seat.

the air was crisp as yasu and you walked the ten minutes to your small apartment, the silence suffocating as yasu searched for something to say.

“he’s not a good guy,” yasu settles on, looking at you from the top of his sunglasses he always wore, even late at night.

“who?” you spoke back, taking a turn as you look up at him.

“takumi.” yasu all but spits his name out as he sees your complex come into view, “just watch yourself with him, would you?”

you laugh then, loud and light, and it makes yasu almost stumble over his footing at hearing it. it’s nearing january and yasu notices your rosy cheeks and nose as your eyes crinkle up when you laugh and it makes yasu think things that made him feel downright disgusting.

“i can handle myself yasu.” you laugh more, bumping your shouldering into his arm as you enter your complex, yasu in toe.

you’re climbing the stairs as yasu continues to scold you on takumis “womanizer” ways and honestly you’re half listening as you give him an occasional eye roll.

“i’m not that interested in him.” you say honestly, reaching your apartment as you turn to look at him, “the flirting was harmless, i know better.” you speak out matter-of-factly with a nod to your head.

“you say that until he works you into his bed.” yasu crosses his arms over his chest as you unlock the door letting you both in to your small apartment.

“his bed isn’t the one i want to be in.” your tipsy self states before you could bite your tongue, and you have to resist slapping yourself against your forehead.

in reality, you’d always noticed how handsome yasu was, he was kind and handsome and spent so much time caring for you and everyone else it was hard to not develop a crush. but to almost expose yourself like this? how stupid could you be? you just hoped he didn’t press the matter.

he did in fact press the matter, leaning against the island of your kitchen as he hums out, “yeah? what does that mean? got a crush i don’t know about?”

you huff out, not wanting to press the matter further as you joke, “yeah it’s ren. you think nana’ll kill me?”

“no…. because you’re lying.” he rounds the island stepping close to you and he can smell your perfume and beer wafting off of you and it makes him stir as he tries to keep his composure. he need to stay calm, keep his hands to himself, be better then takumi. he can admit he was attracted to you, anyone with eyes would be attracted to you, but he had to remain calm. especially when you looked at him with that hazy, tipsy expression, your cheeks still flushed from the cold and alcohol as you leaned against his bigger frame for support.

“then i guess you’ll never know!” you laugh again, leaning closer into his body for support. he felt warm against you, safe like he always did, and you wondered if he felt this warm underneath his clothes, if he would burn you up with his body ontop of yours, if he— no. that wasn’t okay to think. and you’d hoped he hadn’t caught onto your thoughts.

but yasu wasn’t stupid, he’s noticed the way your body inched closer to his, how your legs clamped together, and yasu wondered if you’d felt the same. he wasn’t drunk, but he was tipsy enough to let his reason be diluted by alcohol. so when he turned himself around to face you, his chest pressed against your side, he noticed how you didn’t inch away from him and it thrilled him. he tested the waters then, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and turning you so your flush with his chest.

“who you thinkin about, sweetheart?” he asks, a raspy-ness to his voice that made you shudder. he moves a piece of hair away from your face, looking down at you as if he could eat you whole and you felt heat rise form within you. “promise i won’t tell.” he whispers.

and you’re not sure where the courage comes from, maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s the heat rising from inside you but you shift your weight between your legs as you whisper out, “you.”

and that’s all yasu needs before he’s crashing himself into you, placing his lips against yours in a rough kiss which you immediately reciprocate. the kiss is hot and all tongue and teeth as he wraps one arm around your waist, the other hand finding itself wrapped up in your hair as he pushes his face into yours as he completely devours you. yasu pulls away long enough to look you in the eyes and speak lowly, “i’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

you mewl as he begins to attack your neck with his lips, leaving open wet kisses from your jaw to your collar bone as he pushes your body impossibly closer against his. you can feel the tent in his pants pressing against you and it makes you shiver as your wrap your arms wrap his neck, leaning your head to give him more access to the hollow of your neck.

“jump.” he says, his voice full of lust and he lifts your body up onto the island. you waste no time as you part your legs letting him work himself between them as he grips the flush of your thighs pulling you closer to him.

“do you want this?” he mumbles into your ear, leaving wet kisses around it, “want me, angel?” he groans out when he feels you shift around, his voice affecting you in more ways then one.

“more than anything.” you breathe out as he works on pulling your top over your head, taking his large hands and palming your breasts through your lacey bra once he gets your top slipped off. you’re a mewling mess, whimpering beneath him, and it just eggs him on as he works on unclasping your bra.

once he works your bra off he wastes no time in attaching his lips around your nipple and he heard his first moan from you, broken and loud as you wiggle around underneath his touch. or fuels the fire from within him as he bites down on a nipple, causing you to yelp out.

“keep making sounds like that pretty girl, i won’t be able to help myself.” yasu groans, taking his hand and tweaking at your other nipple. you’re a moaning mess, rocking your hips for any sort of friction. yasu picks up on it, slipping his hand into the waistband of your skirt and underwear, ghosting your clit as you cry out for him. “you like that, hm? sweet thing.” he groans, pressing two fingers against your nub. you’re moaning and begging for more as he laughs softly, “patience, little girl.”

he begins circling your clit making your mouth open in a silent moan, his fingers are rough against your clit yet his movements are soft and delicate, enough to work you up to the edge quickly. “i’m gunna—“ you cry out, but he interrupts you, pulling his fingers away from your core causing you to cry out.

“not yet, pretty. bend over the island.” you do as he says, quickly adjusting yourself so your chest is pressed against the cool surface. you’re on the tips of your feet and you feel yasu lift your skirt up, pulling the lace of your underwear down. “god baby,” he groans out, taking palming your ass roughly, “you don’t know how long i’ve wanted this.” you hear his other hand pull his pants down, you can feel his cock spring out against you and it makes you mewl.

you turn to look, wide eyes as you realize just how big he is. long and thick and leaking precum and it makes you bite into your lip hard. “think you can take it all, angel?” he laughs, spreading you apart with his hands to marvel in your drooly cunt. “you’re fucking soaked.”

yasu takes his cock in his hands, rubbing it against your cunt, toying with your clit making you shiver. “mmmph!” you whine, pushing yourself towards him.

“greedy thing,” he groans out, lining himself up with your entrance, “ready sweet girl?”

you nod as much as you can, a hazy expression over your face as you bite down on your lip harder. yasu pushes himself inside of you and you whine out loudly, it felt like he was invading you, large and completely filling you up. he’s groaning, deep and animalistic, as he goes slowly giving you time to adjust to him.

“fuck, sweet thing. fuck.” he moans out, pushing himself all the way into you. you’re gripping the smooth surface of the counter, whimpering as he begins a steady pace in and out of you. he goes slow at first, slow steady thrusts as he runs his hand up the expanse of you back.

“h-harder.” you whine out, face flushed as yasu nods his head, gripping your hips and slamming into you roughly. it jolts you forward legs hitting against the island as yasu begins fucking into you ruthlessly.

“look so pretty like this, yeah?” he hums fucking into you hard, “takumi couldn’t appreciate you like i can baby.” he moans, slamming your hips back against his cock as he thrusts into you. you’re a mess, whining and moaning underneath him as you cry out his name. he’s going impossibly fast, bullying your g spot with each thrust, your body knocking against the island as you turn into an overwhelmed mess. “that’s right, sweetheart. takin it so—“ he thrusts hard into you, “good.”

you can feel the heat inside you rise as yasus thrusts begin to feel sloppy. your whining and telling him you’re about to cum as he ruts into you, “hold it sweet thing. almost there.” he grunts out, leaning down to place open mouth kisses along your spine.

“cum.” he grunts out, and you both come undone. spasming around his cock as he cums deep inside of you. the heat of his cum makes you orgasm harder, your body convulsing and shaking as you whine out his name over and over. he’s grunting, practically growling, as his hips stutter and he releases inside of you mumbling on about how takumi could never make you feel this good. you’re both on cloud nine as your eyes glaze over and yasu bites into your shoulder to keep from screaming.

once calmed down, yasu pulls himself out of you, watching as his cum leaks down your leg, “gotta keep you forever now, baby. my girl.” he hums appreciatively, running his finger to collect some of his cum before pushing it back inside of you making you mewl out.

“you’re girl.” you agree, blissed out, as yasu places soft kisses along the curve of your body.

“always.”

[smallmariofindings]

Unused model of Wayaway Island to be used when viewed through the telescope, found in the files of Mario & Luigi: Brothership. It is in a highly unfinished state because Wayaway Island is never seen in the finished game through the telescope due to the special way through which it is accessed (by pipe from a different island). This was likely decided at an early point in development and the model was never developed past this placeholder stage.

The texture reads "402 ドグマグマ", with the word being the Japanese name for Wayaway Island. "402" stands for it being the second major island in the Gulchrock Sea, the fourth sea explored in the game.

Main Blog | Patreon | Twitter | Bluesky | Small Findings | Source

[twstfanblog]

*~Mafia AU~* pt.1

A/N: I know I said I was gonna focus on the Manhwa AU, but this story has been burning a hole in my frontal lobe for actual weeks. So you're getting this first! This is actually a bit of a collab project with @cardsweetheart. She's been consumed the second I mentioned the AU and has been making Pinterest moodboards and playlists are on the way too! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this story, just let me know in the notes or by dm. Enjoy! Pairings: Alluded Crowley/Crewel (They're already divorced) WordCount: 2.1K Warnings: Aggravated Assault, Gun Mention, Breaking and Entering Next

Being a waitress wasn't the best job Yuu thought she could get. It was also far from the idle life her parents would have expected for her. But, the tips from the snobbishly upscale bistro helped her pay for her college courses, which was all Yuu needed them to do. So as she dragged herself up the flight of her apartment stairs, heeled foot aching and sore, she couldn't say she hated her job.

Yuu could barely find fault with her life as a whole. Of course, there were minor issues, as all existence brings. Her parents were divorced; the bitter, petty competition to see who she loved more continuing far past her elementary school days and well into her foothold on adulthood. Though both were wealthy, neither had the idea of making her a college fund. Each of them trying to get her to agree to some type of indentured servitude with parental flair. But, the city she lived in was bustling, a stream of diverse people flowing in and out as frequently as breathing. It was also filled with crime, so much crime. Like a comical amount of mafia crime. A fact so glaring that both of her dads sent money every month.

One part to bribe her into favoring them over the other, but it was mostly to give her the incentive to move to a better part of the city. Her apartment complex was old but holding strong, minor renovations over the years keeping it up to code without sacrificing its old charm. Yuu could proudly state her unit had all of its original windows still intact, she just couldn't open them more than two inches.

And while her dads would love if she lived in a new development; one with shiny appliances, maybe a community pool, and actual security measures. But, Yuu knew her complex was the safest place to live. It was nice, comfortable enough that anyone could live in its walls. But old enough that no one really wanted to deal with it. New generation mobsters always too cautious to try to stake a claim on the building, never knowing if there was someone dangerous already waiting. Peace from the mobsters meant peace for the residents, no one wanted police in such a placid ecosystem. So, no matter what time of night she managed to climb the flight of stairs, she knew that her building was a safe zone.

Or she would have if she wasn't punched across the face the second she walked into her apartment.

Yuu hit the ceramic tiles of her kitchen hard, the contents of her purse spilling out. The warmth of blood trailed down her nose and over her lip, almost burning against her fear-stricken, clammy skin. In the dark, she crawled to hide behind her small island, panic spiking at the feeling of a large hand just barely missing her ankle. As she pressed her back into open shelving as though it would hide her, Yuu listened to the intruders speak to each other in the dark.

“-didn't you shoot? She's like…I think she's hiding now.”

A second voice spoke out, the sound of something metal being fumbled in his hands, “Shut it, she's home way earlier than intel said she'd be. Plus, didn't you listen? We're supposed to have a conversation before punishment is given.”

The first man stutters lightly, “S-still, why weren't you ready?”

“Oh, like I'm gonna be around you with a loaded gun again.” The sound of metal stops, the cold click of a pistol loaded filling the silence, “Go grab her, boss only gave us one bullet. Since what happened last time.”

The first voice grumbles, walking closer and stepping on the items of her purse with no remorse. Yuu reached blindly into the shelving space, the sound of her pots and pans clanging together before she grabbed onto the handle of her small soup pot. She swings blindly, the sound of the lid flying off into the darkness as she heard the meaty ‘THUNK’ of the saucepan hitting the intruder’s knee.

“FUCK!” He falls back, the clattering of her countertop items being jostled loudly in the space. A dish falls to the ground, shattering, “My fucking knee!”

He was on her before Yuu could crawl the short distance to her bedroom door. His body heavy as a hand gripped her ponytail to painfully yank her head back. She swings again, the saucepan just barely making a second hit. She wiggles and squirms under him. Turning around under the man's straddle to fully swing at where she thought his head was. Another ‘THUNK’, the almost comedic sound over shadowed by the man slamming face first into her fridge right beside them. Magnets falling in the dark, clattering noisily on the tile.

“Juice, are you losing over there?”

“She's got a —THUNK —FUCK. She's got a pan!” He punches down, fist catching against her cheek in a brutal move that filled her mouth with a coppery taste.

“Ugh. Yeah, yeah. I'm coming to help —THUNK— SHIT!” He went down hard, the saucepan hitting him directly on his knee as Yuu started to swing the pot around wildly.

Yuu could barely get from underneath the first man, fingers fumbling wildly against the grain of their bedroom door looking for the handle.

A hand grips her ponytail again, catching more of the hair against her scalp then the free strands, pulling harshly to throw her down back to the kitchen floor.

“Fucking bitch. To hell with talking-”

Yuu braced herself, curling up and moving the pan to shield whatever vital areas it could. Instead of the deafening sound of a gun firing close range, the click of the lights blinds them.

Silence rings out in the room, Yuu slowly blinking her eyes open against the light to look around.

Standing above her was a redhead, red eyes wide as he pointed a shiny black pistol at them. He was in all black, tasteful button-up, pressed slacks, and leather gloves with a bright red heart pin clipped to his collar. He stepped back, raising his hands as though Yuu was the one with the gun, “Shit…” his gaze turned to someone behind them.

Turning around at the sound of footsteps, Yuu saw the first man and could only grimace. He was dressed the same as the redhead, a blue spade pin on his collar instead. His hair was messy, turquoise eyes edged with runny black smudges of eyeliner, one eye swelling shut and both sides of his face bruising horribly.

The spade man looked away from them, shaking his head at his partner, “This isn't Mandy.”

“No? You fucking think?” The redhead growled out in annoyance. He groaned, his free hand running down his face and smearing his eyeliner. He stepped forward, a hand reaching out to her. 

“Don't!” Yuu pulled her arms back, ready to swing the saucepan on the redhead if he came closer. 

He raised his arms again, voice shaky as he eyed the pot with distrust, “O-Ok. Enough pot swinging, my other knee won't make it…”

“Um, miss?”

Yuu whirled around, almost falling seeing the second man had stepped closer, “I will fucking-”

“Sorry.” He pulled away, hands held in front of him, both to show he was weaponless and to shield himself should she attack again. He bows his head, eyebrows pulled in remorse as he spoke, “We…we have the wrong room. We're so sorry for the rudeness we've shown you.”

Fuck. Fuck, no, please-

The redhead had stepped closer, barely containing his eye roll as he knelt beside her. His expression perfectly sliding into apologetic, “Our most sincere remorse, Dear Miss. And we've been so rough with you.” He tilts his head, his free hand reaching over to grasp her chin lightly, “A pity, as you were so pretty-”

“Ace.”

Ace glared so hard at the second man Yuu was afraid he was going to use the gun still clutched tightly in his hand. Whatever silent conversation they had made the unnamed man stand up, wordlessly walking toward her blood-spattered fridge. Ace turned back to her, a pleasant smile on his face as he semi-forcibly held her hand. He gently kissed the air over her skin, never breaking eye contact.

“On behalf of the Heartslabyul family, we offer our sincerest apologies.”

Fuck…

Ace stood, bringing her up with him. Her steps were wobbly as he led her into her own bedroom, a gentle hand burning and heavy on the small of her back. He never let the gun go, even when he guided her to sit on the edge of her bed. With his smile still set to ‘pleasant’, Ace knelt before her, like he was an adult trying to calm an overreacting child.

“Now…we've gotten off on the wrong foot, and I will take responsibility for that. But, we are looking for a young lady around your age. Would you happen to know a Mandy, Dear Miss?”

“...” Yuu could feel her hands shaking, gripping tightly to the pot handle with both hands. It was her only means of protection and attack, her nervous gaze glancing down at the still very loaded gun in Ace’s hands.

He takes notice, rolling his eyes subtly, but places the gun down. He waves his hands to show he had nothing, “May we please have a conversation now? We would like to find Mandy before the night is up.”

At her continued silence, Ace could only chuckle, “Very tight lipped, that's a good quality to have. But you must understand. We can't have liars associating with our family. Mandy's information told us she lived in this unit. But that's not true, is it? It'd do no good to have falsehoods about ourselves…”

Movement at the doorway brings Yuu's attention to the second man, half standing in the open space and giving her a stern glare. The silent warning of what could happen if she kept denying them info.

“...” Yuu sighed, looking away from Ace and the other man's eyes. Her words soft and stilted, “Mandy lives in the building still. I don't know what floor, though; we don't talk, I just got her mail for a month. Your…your info might be old. She used to live in this unit. But she moved into a newer one around last Spring?”

The info seemed to make the second man angrier than ease whatever distaste he held. Ace himself had gained an annoyed expression before he clicked back into the air of customer service.

“Thank you so much for this information, Dear Miss.”

Yuu jumps back, the second man stepping into the room and right up to her legs. Though she tried to crawl backwards on her bed, Ace grips her arm and pulls her back to the edge. She closes her eyes, braced for another punch or whatever they had planned to knock her unconscious. Instead, she felt the soft and worn texture of her kitchen tea towel, warm water delicately dabbing at her bloody nose.

Spade actually looked remorseful, doing his best to be as gentle as possible while Ace held her still. His eyes briefly met hers before looking away, his expression turning even more pitiful, “Our most sincere apologies,  Dear Miss…”

Once the blood on Yuu’s face was gone, the two men finally pulled away. Ace stood at the doorway, customer service smile still on his face, while Spade sheepishly handed over her purse with another muttered apology. 

Ace tilts his head and waves, “Goodbye, Dear Miss. Though, I don't think I have to tell you…this whole mess should stay between us three? We've all been a little roughed up tonight, but there's no need to get the police involved, right?”

Yeah, because she'd be the dumbass to think the police would help her with one of the city's most legally protected mafia families. Obviously.

Yuu shakes her head, “I understand. Just…lock the door on your way out…”

Ace laughs while Spade nods his head, eyes firm in their dedication of her task. Ace nods, leaning down and picking up the gun. He moves quick, seeing Yuu tense the moment she realizes what he's grabbing, placing it in the holster at his side.

“Will do, Dear Miss. Have a good night.”

And with the same amount of surprise they appeared, they were gone. The click of her metal door locked and closed doing little to ease her mind. Her hands start to shake, the pot slowly slipping between her fingers and hitting the carpet below. As the adrenaline fully faded, Yuu could feel her body start to crumble, the pain and taste of blood still vibrantly present on her tongue. As she fell back on her bed, breathing forcibly slowed, she did her best to calm herself.

Only to bolt up, flinging herself off of her duvet and hard onto the carpet. Scrambling out to the small living room, her thoughts raced.

‘Where's Grim?’

[starryeyedstray]

connor visits detroit's newest botanical garden but it looks a little too familiar...

"The garden is indoors?" North asked as they arrived at their destination.

"Correct. Given Detroit's natural climate, it would be difficult to sustain a botanical garden year round. So they've opted to create the garden inside something akin to a greenhouse."

"Leave it to humans to put nature in a tiny box they can control," North murmured as she stared up at the building. "Why did Markus want us to come here again?"

"It's supposed to be help relieve stress."

North gave Connor a skeptical look. He shrugged in response. Nature offered calming effects on humans, but Connor had some doubts whether that would hold true for deviants.

North sighed, "I guess we shouldn't keep them waiting."

They stepped inside and were greeted with a small garden. A stone paved path snaked around a central pond. White and wooden bridges connected to a small island in the center with a rose trellis. An artificial blue sky almost indistinguishable from reality stretched above them.

It was the Zen Garden. Amanda's Zen Garden. Connor froze while his OS unhelpfully told him that his stress levels had spiked.

Why was this here? His eyes flickered around. No mission telling him to talk to Amanda. No Amanda. This was fine. It was not fine.

"This is actually really pretty," North said in awe as she looked up at the cherry blossom tree. "Can't believe we're inside. They made the sky looks so real."

Markus, Simon, and Josh appeared from the path at their left.

"Hey, glad you guys made it!" Markus smiled as North greeted him and Connor nodded in response.

The deviant leader pouted when he noticed Connor, but quickly recovered as he turned to North. "It's pretty, isn't it? We already walked through most of it since it's pretty small, but Josh and Simon can show you around. I have something to talk about with Connor privately first."

"Sure thing, Markus," North said before shooting a curious glance at Connor who still was rooted in place at the entrance. The trio went back up the path on the left.

Markus turned to Connor. "C'mon, Connor, let's take a walk."

Connor nodded again and stiffly followed him as they took the path to the right. "What did you need to speak with me about?" Connor asked to distract himself. He tried to keep himself calm. Keep his LED blue.

Apparently, he was doing an inadequate job because Markus' eyes flickered up to his LED before meeting his eyes. Connor didn't see a benefit in removing his LED before, but having everyone able to have a general idea of his current mental state at a glance felt a bit violating which made him reconsider his decision.

"Is something bothering you?" Markus asked.

It was very typical of Markus to ask him that despite being able to definitively discern that something was indeed bothering him. Connor looked away. He was tempted to lie, but he'd have to explain why his LED was yellow if something wasn't bothering him. He's never told anyone about Amanda before. Should he tell Markus?

His thoughts were ripped away from him as he noticed a white headstone inside a small clearing at the edge of the path.

No.

This wasn't the Zen Garden. It couldn't be here. It wouldn't make sense to see it here.

He didn't hear Markus call after him as he quickly walked ahead to crouch in front of the headstone.

sorry but this wip has been sitting in my drafts since december and i don't think i'll ever finish it bc it was just a vague phantasm of an idea. it was gonna just rot in there so decided to post the unfinished idea here since i haven't posted a fic in a bit. my apologies for it's half-baked condition u_u i'll probably post it on my ao3 if i ever develop it more but for now this is all i got

[prettymrswright]

you don't even know

pairing: stem•riri ᢉ𐭩 black!fem•reader

background: you and riri have been in a situationship for longer than either of you'd like to admit. when one of you decides that you no longer want to play this game of tug-of-war, it creates a rift in your dynamic. this tension creates distance & avoidance between the two of you--moreso on her end. the 2 of you still attend an non-cancelable trip to Cayman Islands and revisit what led you here in the first place. contains: angsty fluff, dramaaaaa, smut(18+), mary jane, passion, strap!kink, n!pple!play, girl just--filth. taglist: @dejaonline @kisskourt @inmyheadimobsessed @saintwrld @sapphicvqmpires @koffeesfancy @naomis-daydream @euph0ricx0 @icespiceluvr

note: it has been.. forever and a day, hey y'all! been inspired + in the mood to write lately, so this is a cute re-introduction preview <3 there are many more ideas where that came from. writers & readers + ovulation week unite!!!

Walking over to the draped, gliding patio doors, you part the sheer, sangria-red drapes and clip them to their hooks, exposing all morning shadows with the early morning sunlight. You developed a keen morning routine to stabilize your state of mind, but somehow waking up on an island did half the work for you.

You step out onto the balcony, hot cup of ginger tea in hand, taking in the crisp, dawn air, and observe all the beauty around you. You were always swarmed in work, and as much as you loved what you did, it was nice to be away from it for a little bit.

You sat cross-legged on the balcony and placed your tea cup down beside you & took down the perfectly pearled j you rolled for yourself from behind your ear. Nothing paraded through your ear canals but the sound of the lighter flick & the breeze blowing the waters as you drew a long smoke and french inhaled.

As relaxed as you began to get, you were constantly disrupted by the rolling in your stomach, anxiety controlling the functions of your organs.

You & Riana Williams— this back and forth. You'd had enough. I mean, there wasn't anything stopping the two of you from being together. Well-- nothing but your fear. She was perfect. You never met someone who mirrored your energy, who charmed you, who encouraged you as much as she did. The answer seemed more than clear. Yet, any time the conversation of commitment arose, it'd be left fallen onto deaf ears.

You wanted to give her commitment--you wanted to be with her. But you couldn't help to wonder; How does she even know? That this--you-- were what she really wanted? That you'd even be what she expected of a girlfriend? You'd only been close to being in love one time, and when it ended, it almost destroyed you. So you stayed buried in your work. No idle time to have your mind running rampant.

You tried to explain over and over, in each way that you could. To get her to understand you were physically not sure if this was something you could take on. All it sounded like to her was excuses.

And it drew you apart. She started being cold, distant. Your sweet, sweet baby, slipping through your fingers like the sand grains that made up this beach in front of you. Not a smile, not a 'baby', nada. You deserved it. Though, no matter how much she kept guarded, you could see the hurt in her eyes. Not only did you no longer want to drag her along, but the thought of no longer having her in your life made you want to vomit.

You drew another pull, ghosting this time, and closed your eyes. You were here on this beautiful island, and the only thing that inhabited the cabin air was hard, cold tension. All you wanted was to hear her say your name. To kiss you softly. To rest her gentle touch on you--over you. The more you visualized, the more it felt real.

You open your eyes and are met with taps on the shoulder from the small girl, who you perceived to still be in slumber. You shuddered at the almost foreign-feeling contact.

"Hey." She shortly began. "Good morning. We gotta start getting dressed, everybody's heading down to the lobby."

Without awaiting your response or acknowledgement, she turns over her shoulder to go back inside.

You quietly sighed in emotional pain. If you were honest, you weren't up for being around a bunch of other couples today. You wanted to enjoy your trip, but at what cost. Your misery without Ri's normal over-attentiveness stripped all of your enthusiasm. You decided this was the end.

"Hey, can we talk?" You leaned up against the side of the balcony door frame, spliff still in hand, arms and ankles crossed. You actually didn't know how much more of this you could take.

Ri stopped in her tracks and turned around to face you, raising her eyebrows, awaiting whatever circle of a conversation the two of you were getting ready to get into this time.

"Wassup?" She asks, her voice decorated with nonchalance.

You began to fidget, fighting to construct the words to express how you felt. You didn't want to be insensitive to her feelings, but if you held in any more words, you were sure to begin to choke on them.

Her eyes, which were once dull and annoyed, begin to twinkle as she scanned your figure. Your curly ginger fro was wild all over, just how she liked it. Your grey crew-neck WKNDA University sweatshirt, custom cut by you, hung off your shoulder, exposing your golden brown skin and pretty collarbone. Your navy blue, spandex shorts hugged your hips and outlined your frame. And when she got back to your face--God, your gorgeous face-- her knees began to buckle. Your dark brown eyes, sheltered with such long, pretty eyelashes, your perfect, pouty lips, your heart-shaped head.

But seeing all your pretty features orchestrate into expressions of sadness, made her want to curse whoever created boundaries.

She wanted to say fuck it, and fall right back into you. But how could she then be taken seriously? She wanted to feel valued, like you wanted her, without question. She got being scared, but how could your fear precede your love, when she'd gladly risk crashing and burning if it meant she got to love you?

She wanted you to want her, to need her. Without anymore of her personal influence.

"I don't like this," you began.

"Don't like..?" Ri pretended to act clueless, just to really make you say exactly what you meant.

"This!" You move your pointer finger back and forth in-between you two. "This awkwardness, this--emptiness.."

She looks around at something to focus on before settling on the ground. It'd be easier to stand firm in her decisions without looking you in the eye.

"I don't know what to say." She says as a bone-chilling silence follows.

How could this be? You ALWAYS knew what to say.

"Say something," You plead. "Anything."

Her text-tone went off, a text-tone you had never heard before, making you furrow your eyebrows in intrigue. She raised her phone up to her gaze, her phone light highlighting her stern-features. She walked up to you without breaking eye-contact with her phone, taking the spliff out of your hand and drawing a pull. She exhaled the long smoke, sure to blow out of your direction and plainly replied,

"They're waiting downstairs."

She puts the smoke out on the cabin wall before turning to leave and dropping it in the ashtray on the kitchen island counter.

"Who was that, who just texted you?" You began to follow her. You had an idea of who it could be.

"Morgan." She replies, still attempting to leave.

You run past her and block the door.

"Are you serious?" You frantically scan her face, waiting for her to give you the punchline, though you knew it'd never come.

She looked away and your acrylic nailed fingers forced her jaw to turn and face you. She shuddered under the touch, jaw clenching in your hand.

Morgan was someone who’d been hanging around your friend group. A friend of a friend. A friend who’d been getting rather close to Riana, and whereas you don’t normally get jealous easily, you couldn’t help but to notice her holding more and more of her attention.

“Oh is that your girlfriend now?” You asked, semi-joking, semi-serious.

She dropped her head in reaction to a low belly chuckle. “No, she is not my girlfriend. And neither are you.”

Ouch. Fair.

“I know,” you back down, using your best attempts not to be a hypocrite. “You two just seem to be spending an awful amount of time together.”

She stepped closer to you, now backing you up into the wall.

“You gonna do something about it?” She says lowly, teasingly, staring directly through your pupils.

Your entire body heated up, simultaneously as any response you could’ve given froze and melted away in your brain.

Through a smirk, she scoffed. “Thought so. Now if you could excuse me,” She placed her hand on your waist in an attempt to move you out of her pathway, and a low moan involuntarily slipped out of your mouth.

“Baby..” You whined, grabbing her wrist. “Please.”

She borderline-snatched her hand away from you and took 2 swift steps back.

“See– that, why do you do that?” Ri shook her head as if she was trying to shake any lingering thought of you out.

“What am I doing?!” You threw your hands up in defeat, seemingly truly clueless.

“You keep drawing me into you and winding me back up, just so you can tell me you don’t want to be with me–” You cut her off, hoping to put this rumor to bed once and for all.

“I DO want to be with you, I’ve always wanted to be with you–” You step forward enough to replace the space she created.

“So why aren’t we together then, Y/N/N?” She asks, irritation lacing her voice.

Your eyes began quickly to fill up with tears as you felt your frustration and fear begin to rise to the top again.

“I’m just–scared,” You start fidgeting again, eyes shifting around the room.

“Scared of what?!” She threw her hands up, tired of hearing the same thing.

“I just don’t want to hurt you, I love you,” You say sincerely, the shakiness vibrating your vocal chords.

“Look at me, baby!” She 4-finger points to her chest, putting her vulnerability under the spotlight. The young engineer’s eyes begin to water and streak down her pretty, plump cheeks. “I’m already there. Hurting. Burning. For you.”

You knew it was selfish. To demand her attention, her affection, when you yourself told her she was free to do what she pleased. But it was only to let her know that she was not a caged animal and she was not your property. But you couldn’t help but to think you were making a mistake that would very soon–if not already– be irreversible.

Hearing her exclaim her feelings for you so passionately ignited something in you that you’d been avoiding for a long time. It was at that moment you realized that no amount of ‘safety’ would protect your heart from the pain you would experience being without her. If she could endure such ache and still have the space to be warm, gentle, and kind, you could too. After all, that is what you truly wanted.

“And I feel like I’m burning all by myself. I feel like I deserve more than that.” She swiftly wipes her tears and picks her things back up to head out.

You take her things out her hand and slip her opened button-down, down her shoulders.

“Stay,” You plead softly, slightly above a whisper.

“No, Y/N, I can’t keep doing this.” Verbally, she fought, but physically she was crumbling under your touch.

“I want to be with you.” You start.

“Y/N,” She begins, ready to dismiss it.

“I want to be committed to you. Only you. I was being foolish, I know this now.” You admit, chipping away at all walls you may have previously built.

Her glossy eyes looked at you with longing, wanting so badly to believe you.

“I’m burning, too.” Each word you spoke hooked onto the strings of her aching heart. “And I hate that I ever made you feel like I was ever watching from outside the furnace.”

And so she began to fall again. Into you, with no regard for precautionary function, as promised.

“I’m sorry,” You began to sob, and she held you close to her chest, softly hushing your cries.

Keeping one arm wrapped around your torso, she slid her other hand up the back of your head, grabbing a handful of your curly mane and pulling your head back, kissing you soft and deep. You shut your eyes, feeling a wave of relief and fulfillment wash over your body.

Her touch made tears flow more rapidly through your shut eyes. You moaned in each other’s mouth, the two of you yearning for one another’s embrace all the same.

She released her lips from yours, giving you traveling kisses down your neck, and around those collarbones she so-loved to see exposed. Quickly, your aching love began to alchemise into arousal. You wrapped your arms around her neck and without taking her lips off of you, she picks you up and places you around her hips, walking you over to the orange loveseat placed in the common area.

Sitting on the couch, she placed you straddling onto her lap, still attacking your skin with her lips, rolling her tongue all over you. One hand rested above your ass, the other hand wrapping around your neck like a necklace, pulling you in for another, slow, sloppy kiss. Your hips bucked in excitement, your erect nipples poking out of your thick sweatshirt.

She takes heed to the cues your body gives and pulls and slips your top up and over your head, exposing your small, perky breasts. She lets out a shaky breath at the sight of you, as if it was the first time. She took one of your erect nipples into her warm mouth, softly sucking, tugging, nibbling on it. Raising her pointer finger and thumb up to your parted mouth, she lubricates them with your saliva and rolls them around your other nipple.

“Mmm,” A soft moan escaped through your lips, feeling every sensation. She knew your body so well. So intentional with every move.

You held the back of her head as she made figure 8’s with her tongue, moving her with the motion. With a final tug, she popped the small button out of her mouth, a string of saliva connecting it and her lips. She scans your torso/chest one more time before bringing her gaze back up to your face, adorned with pleasure.

“You look so fucking good, ma.” Ri expressed fervently. You smiled brightly, studying her hungry facial expressions, knowing what the two of you had gotten yourselves into.

She reaches down and presses her thumb through the outside of your soaking shorts, which were now clinging to your center.

“Oh,” She breathed out in surprise. “This can’t all be from just now..”

“I missed you.” You confess, leaving a lingering stare into her eyes.

Her gaze softened up, in what felt like a bit of pity as well as guilt. She didn’t regret setting boundaries, but she felt she’d been a bit harsh. She hated being like that with you. It had been hard on her too. She didn’t truly intend to make you suffer.

“I hate fighting. I don’t want to fight anymore,” You told her, feeling the waves of your emotions start to gear back up.

“I know baby, I do too.” And there she went. Your sweetheart. Soft, gentle, sensitive–to you. I’m sorry for being a jerk.”

“You don’t have to apologize, you haven’t done anything wrong,” You assure her.

“I do.” She lays you on the couch and slides your bottoms off, spreading you open, exposing your glistening center. She teases you, kissing down your thighs, all around your labia majora, and minora, softly placing grazing kisses onto your clitoris.

Each kiss she places, you twitch underneath. Gasping at the contact of her lips and your soiled skin. Pinning your thighs back to your chest, she fully opens you up, making room for her to begin her devouring. She tongue kisses your clit, gently tugging at the end of each kiss.

You began to see stars, overwhelmed by bliss. You didn’t even care for head until she got to you. Each mouth movement from her felt like true, bodily worship. And even now, it was all the more intense. She was apologizing.

“Ri,” You drew her name out, back arching off of the soft surface where your body laid.

She moaned in bliss in your center, taking in all your sweet, sticky flavor.

“Yes, baby,” She rose to speak, and back into you she swam in the depths of your overflowing sea.

She was so sweet, so gracious. It drove you insane, how well she could send you into overdrive with her words alone, nevermind touch.

She hungrily rocked her flattened tongue against your soft spot, holding your legs in place still, gold-grandfather ring decorating her right hand, which was currently digging into the skin of your thighs. You gripped the plush couch so tight, your fingernails began to perforate the threads and fabrics. You lifted your head to watch her at work, and the sight of it was entirely too much to bear.

“Ooh, shit,” You cried out, attempting to close your legs, but her grip was far too strong. It was too much, and simultaneously you could not get enough.

“Mm, mm” She hummed, in a no, tone, inside of you. “I’m not finished.”

“I can’t,” You cried. If she went any longer, you’d combust.

“But you taste so good, princess.” She praised you. “Just a little more, please.” She pleaded, making you weak with her tone of eagerness. How could you deny her?

She continued to attack your clit, slyly slipping in two fingers, one of which carried that ring you loved to see her wear.

“Fuck!” Your cries continued as the genius doubled your sensation, slowly massaging your walls with her length. She pumped steadily into you, bringing out more of your liquid with each drawback. Before it could fully slide down your split, it was already into her mouth and flowing down her throat.

“Oh my god,” You breathed out watching the love of your life in all her raw, raunchy filth that you so deeply enjoyed. Grabbing a handful of her crisp, white undershirt, you pull her up to your lips and kiss her, transferring the taste of your pleasure off her lips and onto yours.

She smiled that gorgeous smile, wearing a look of pride, knowing how well of a job she had just done. Pulling away, she grabs her harness out of her bag, placed at the side of the couch, slips it on and tightens it to her hips.

Your eyes widen, with both fear and excitement. This was the one thing the two of you have never done. You were trying to keep sanity in the midst of your denial, and you knew that that would be the thing to end you.

But you were now at the deep end of the pool. And you were no longer concerned about consequences. You wanted the full immersive experience, as her girlfriend.

“Come here,” She instructed you, pulling you onto her lap once again.

You reached behind you and teased your aching hole with her length, slipping it in between your folds before slowly sliding down onto her.

“Mmmm,” You moaned out, feeling your insides become fully occupied, beginning to regret your decision. As usual, she read you immediately.

“You got it, baby.” She affirmed you, putting the battery in your back.

She grabbed a handful of your ass, carrying your weight slowly and sliding you up and down her shaft, adjusting you to her size.

“Ri, it’s so much,” Your eyes began to well up again.

“Look at me,” She demanded. You looked down at her face, decorated with pure passion and lust. “You need me to stop?”

You whimpered out in response, unable to sufficiently respond. She slid you down as far as possible, demanding your focus.

“Tell me what you want, Y/N.”

“No, don’t stop,” You begged. “I need you.” The more you got comfortable, the more you were in control. You began to bounce in her lap, arms extended past both her ears, over the backrest, leaning into her.

Her eyes widened at attention, bottom lip trapped by her top row of teeth, watching you bounce ferociously on her strap.

Watching you beg for her, yearn for her, how she desperately wanted all this time, had her sticking together. Her chest heaved up and down, watching you move, each hair follicle, each droplet of sweat. Hearing you scream, cry, plead for her touch, her attention was sending her straight into overdrive.

At the same time, it infuriated her. Why now? Why did she have to put you through the ringer, bring you to your boiling point, just to then bring you to your knees? Did she take you for a fool? Had you been one?

She bear-hugged you, pinning you, thrusting her hips up into you, knocking your g.

“Oh fuck, Ri, please,” You began your complaining.

“Shut up.” She spat, leaving you whining in defeat.

Each stroke felt personal. Like she was talking through you. Pure emotion— rage even. Frustration. She was frustrated. Fed up with you, and the way you act so clueless, like you had no idea how much of an effect you had on her.

Grinding into each other, you were scratching, pulling, biting, clawing at each other. You couldn’t get close enough. And it was clear Riana was taking her frustrations out on you. And it hurt so good.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” Slowing down your riding, you were back to longing for her forgiveness.

She sent a stinging smack up against your rear. “I don’t want to hear it.”

The more you rode, the more incoherent your responses became. You quickly realize it’d probably be better to stop responding, before you got into more trouble.

Your hands on her chest, she pulls your head back by your hair, still digging into you, her thumb circling your center.

You let it out a sizzling breath, fighting to conceal your noise.

“This what you wanted, right?” She taunted you. “Take it.”

“Uhhhh, Ohhh” Your moans began to stack and fall over each other, and began to cream onto the toy and all over her lap. You started to feel hazy and delirious, high off the fuck she was giving you.

You hoisted yourself up onto your feet and placed your hands on her knees to hold you up, spread open in front of her, riding out the rest of your high.

Caught off guard, low grunts escaped her lips, enticed by the way you turned up.

It was your turn to talk your shit.

“You feel so good inside me, mami, fuck,” The lewd thoughts begin to announce themselves. “I’m yours, I’m all yours.”

“Y/N,” She breathed out, watching you slide so swiftly into her, titties bouncing in a hypnotizing rhythm. “I’m so close. Don’t stop.”

“I can’t stop.” You spoke through grit teeth, purposefully overstimulating yourself. “IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou..”

“Cum with me,” She encourages you, and you oblige.

You arrive at the same time, passionately kissing once again, holding each other in what felt like a slip knot of an embrace. When you finally part, you take each other in, studying each movement, grateful to be back intertwined with one another again.

“You really did miss me, huh?” Riri taunts once again.

You don’t even mind her teasing. Anything to have your sweet baby back. You just softly smiled and replied,

“You don’t even know.”

[kays-catch-of-the-day]

Good morning yall! Hope you're ready for a new fish today cuz we got an all timer here today!

Today's fish is none other than my personal favorite fish, the Brook Trout (salvelinus fontinalis)! These beauties are native to Eastern North America, in both Canada and the United States, ranging from Lake Superior, to the coastal waterways from the Hudson Bay to Long Island, though they have spread far beyond their native ranges, mostly via aquacultural practices and artificial propagation, making them invasive species in many regions of North America and the world at large!

Two ecological forms of Brook Trout have been recognized by the US Forest Service, the longer-living potamodromous (fish whose migration occurs fully within fresh water) population, known as coasters , and the anadromous (fish whose migration occurs from fresh water to salt water) population, known as salters. Adult coasters typically reach lengths over 2 feet in length and weigh up to 15lbs, compared to adult salters, which average between 6 to 15 inches and about 5lbs. They're characterized by their vibrant coloration, with olive green bodies and spectacular yellow and blue rimmed red spots, white and black trimming along their orange fins, and dense, irregular lines along the top of their bodies. Often, the bellies of male Brook Trout becomes bright red or orange when spawning.

During the spawning season, female Brook Trout will construct a depression in the stream bed, referred to as a "redd", where groundwater percolates upward through the gravel. Male Brook Trout will approach the female, fertilizing the eggs. The eggs are only slightly denser than water, and can easily be swept away by the current. To avoid this, the female will bury the eggs in a small gravel mound, from which they hatch 4 to 6 weeks later. During this incubation period, the eggs receive oxygen from the streamwater that passes through the gravel beds and into their gelatinous shells. Once they hatch into small fry fish that retain their yolk sack for nutrients, which compensates for the lack of nutrients provided by the parents during the early stages of development. Following the consumption of the yolk, the fry Brook Trout will shelter from predatory species in rocky crevices and inlets, growing from fry to fingerlings, until reaching full maturation at the ripe old age of 6 months.

Despite their native range spanning across low-elevation lakes and watersheds, Brook Trout are increasingly confined to higher elevations in the Appalachian Mountains, especially in southern regions of Appalachia. Over seas, however, Brook Trout have thrived in introduced populations in much of Europe, Argentina, and New Zealand since as early as the 1850's! Their typical habitats include large and small lakes, rivers, creeks, and spring ponds in cold temperate climates. They thrive in clear spring water with moderate flow rates and healthy vegetation populations and other resources which provide natural hiding places. Although they are more resilient and adaptable to varying environmental changes, such as pH levels and temperatures, Brook Trout struggle in temperatures warmer than 72 degrees Fahrenheit. Their diets include aquatic insects at all stages of life, adult terrestrial insects such as grasshoppers and crickets, crustaceans and frogs, molluscs, invertebrates, smaller fish, and even small aquatic mammals such as voles, and even other young Brook Trout! This highly indiscriminate diet and environmental resiliency allows for their success across the globe.

Given all of this, Brook Trout are classified as a Secure by NatureServe's conservation metrics, but that label may be misleading; these incredible fish face severe and repeated extirpation (localized extinction) in many of their native habitats due to habitat destruction, pollution, damming, and invasive species. Meanwhile, Brook Trout present the danger of extirpation to other fish in their nonnative habitats, indicating that efforts must be taken to curb these populations. In short, there are more than enough Brook Trout, but they simply are not where they are meant to be.

A true fish out of (the specifically correct body of) water, the Brook Trout scores within the top percentile of all fishies on our highly advanced fish ranking scale.

[reasonsforhope]

"For generations, the people of Erakor village in the Pacific nation of Vanuatu would pass their time swimming in the local lagoon. Ken Andrew, a local chief, remembers diving in its depths when he was a child, chasing the fish that spawned in its turquoise waters.

That was decades ago. Now 52, Andrew has noticed a more pernicious entity invading the lagoon: plastic.

“The plastic would form a small island inside the lagoon, it was so thick,” Andrew says. “We used fishing nets to pull some of the trash out, but we didn’t know how to get rid of it all. We couldn’t conquer it, there was just too much.”

While residents were struggling to empty Vanuatu’s waters of plastic, the country’s politicians were considering another solution. Could they stop the waste directly at the source?

Small island nations like Vanuatu face a series of unique challenges when it comes to plastic pollution. Many rely on imported goods to sustain their populations, and receive tonnes of plastic packaging every day as a result. Ocean currents pull plastic waste from around the world into Pacific waters, which eventually end up on the shores of its islands.

Few Pacific island governments have adequate recycling or waste management facilities on their narrow strips of land, so rubbish is often burned or left to wash up in rivers or lagoons like the one in Erakor. It is estimated that Pacific countries generate 1kg of waste per person a day, 40% higher than the global average.

In an attempt to drastically limit the amount of waste generated in Vanuatu, in 2018 the government became one of the first in the world to outlaw the sale and distribution of certain single-use plastics – including a world-first ban on plastic straws.

In the six years since, the results have been impressive. Thin, plastic shopping bags are hardly ever seen, with most shoppers carrying reusable bags at their local market or grocery store. At festivals and outdoor events, food is more often served wrapped in banana leaves instead of polystyrene takeaway boxes. Now-banned items used to make up 35% of Vanuatu’s waste, but now make up less than 2%.

Pictured: Pandanus leaves are now used instead of plastic bags at markets, but supply of the crop can be affected by storms and cyclones, vendors say.

The plastic islands that once choked Erakor lagoon are also shrinking.

“Since they started the ban, you can see the lagoon has become cleaner,” says Andrew.

It is a massive victory for a small island nation made up of just over 300,000 people across 83 islands...

In 2020, a second phase of the policy added seven more items to the list of forbidden plastics, which now covers cutlery, single-use plates and artificial flowers.

“It’s quite difficult to enforce because of the very low capacity of the department of environment,” Regenvanu says. “So we try to work with the municipal authorities and customs and other people as well.”

Compromises had to be made, though. Fishers are still allowed to use plastic to wrap and transport their produce. Plastic bottles are also permitted, even though they often litter coastlines and rivers.

Secondary industries have now developed to provide sustainable alternatives to the banned items. On the island of Pentecost, communities have started replacing plastic planter pots with biodegradable ones made from native pandanus leaves. Mama’s Laef, a social enterprise that began selling fabric sanitary napkins before the ban, has since expanded its range to reusable nappies and bags.

“We came up with these ideas to reduce the amount of plastic in Vanuatu,” says the owner Jack Kalsrap. “We’re a small island state, so we know that pollution can really overwhelm us more than in other, bigger countries.” ...

Willy Sylverio, a coordinator of the Erakor Bridge Youth Association, is trying to find ways to recycle the litter his team regularly dredges up from the lagoon.

“The majority of the plastic waste now comes from noodle packaging or rice packaging, or biscuit packets,” Sylverio says. He hopes the plastic ban will one day include all packaging that covers imported goods. “Banning all plastic is a great idea, because it blocks the main road through which our environment is polluted.”

The Vanuatu government plans to expand the plastic ban to include disposable nappies, and says it will also introduce a plastic bottle deposit scheme this year to help recycle the remaining plastic waste in the country."

-via The Guardian, June 20, 2024

[simpleeindulge]

The Beast and the Mouse

Info: fem/reader x Kid, 1st meetings, cussing and rude language, Kid in denial, Kid gets a crush, implied sexual yearning, future mature content planned.

Context: Kid develops a crush on a girl he thinks is not his type.

Part 1.

Eustass Kid was in a foul mood, and he didn't care who knew it. He stumped through the ship with his fist clutched, looking for Killer. It was rare for him to be pissed off at his best friend and first mate, but dammit, he screwed up!

Killer happened to be in the same room with his fucked-up choice of a new crew member, making Kid paused at the doorway to glared at the man's back. Killer sensed the hostility and glanced over his shoulder. The movement gave Kid a better view of the girl's eyes. Those damn beautiful, doleful eyes that made Kid go still nearly every time he saw them.

“Need something, Captain?”

Kid snapped out of his daze and glared at Killer.

“I need to speak with you in private,” Kid said through gritted teeth then walked away.

Killer tilted his head at Kid, then shrugged and followed him. It was odd that Kid wanted to talk somewhere else.

Normally, Kid would tell whoever was in the room to get out if he wanted to talk with him privately. When Killer walked into Kid’s messy quarters and closed the door, Kid rounded on him and bellowed, “What the hell, Killer! What were you thinking, letting her join the crew without asking me!”

Killer threw up his hands in defense, and he wore a surprised expression behind his mask.

“What are you talking about, Kid?! You asked her to join! Remember!”

“I did not! I-”

But then Kid remembered that he did offer her a chance to join his crew. It had been after a battle with some weaker crew. They celebrated the win at a bar on a nearby island, and she was one of the barmaids there serving drinks.

That is, she was supposed to be serving, but she saw the wounds on some of the men drinking and started treating with her meager medical kit.

Kid had some woman straddle across his lap and happened to see the girl recleaning a wound on Killer. At the time, it was amusing to see this small mouse of a girl patching up rowdy pirates as they drank. How she concentrated on the Killer’s wounds while being aware of her environment made her a paradox of perfection.

“Hey,” Kid called over to her as the woman on his lap kissed and nipped at his neck. “You got a name?”

The girl looked up at him, and Kid, for some reason, froze. There was something about how her eyes shone as she stared directly at him. Her lips were pressed together in a sweet pout, and her hair fell in soft-looking waves around her shoulders.

Kid didn't know if it was the booze, but he felt a desire to shove the busty woman off his lap and carry the girl off. Considering how small she looked, he could even tuck her into his furred cape for safekeeping and have her for later.

The woman stopped kissing Kid, looking peeved that he wasn't paying attention to her.

She then saw who he was looking at and whispered in his ear, “That’s Y/n, but we all call her ‘Mouse’ because of how quiet she is.”

Kid blinked and then laughed at the name, and the harlot laughed with him. “Mouse, huh? How would you like to join my crew?”

“Kid.” Killer said his name to bring some sense to him, but Kid plowed through.

“You’ll see the world beyond this dump ‘little mouse’! See things you never thought possible! Enjoy pleasures you never thought to desire! You would be one of us! The infamous Kid Pirates!”

His voice carried through the bar, and the rest of his crew got swept up in their drunken state and cheered their captain. The girl just sat and stared at Kid as the crew gulped their drinks.

“Think about and talk to Killer when you make up your mind, ‘little mouse.' We set sail tomorrow at noon.”

Kid forced his attention back to the woman on his lap and began biting at her shoulder, making the woman gasp and laugh with pleasure.

After that, well, he ended the night with a good fuck in one of the bedrooms upstairs and walked back to the ship with a massive hangover early the following day.

He didn't see the girl nicknamed Mouse till they were already out at sea. She was helping to scrub the floors in the mess hall when Kid tripped over her, spilling the bucket of soapy water. He was about to yell at whoever tripped him when Kid recognized her from the bar.

“YOU!”

"Oh! Captain, I'm so sorry; let me help." She said softly as she took out a clean cloth and dried his face. Her hand touched his leg as she leaned in to press the fabric to his skin.

Kid went from anger to pure lust. He wanted to grab her and roll her under him without caring who was watching. The sudden carnal desire he suddenly felt overwhelmed him, and he quickly shoved her off him and stood up over her.

She made a surprised sound and glanced up at him with a wounded look that made his knees weak.

“How long have you been here?” Kid growled at her.

“Three days.”

“Who let you on my ship?”

“Killer, but you-”

Kid had left to find his first mate as he cursed himself.

Dammit! How could she have already been here for three days without me noticing?

Which led to the present problem of what to do with her now she's on the ship.

"I tried talking to you the day we set sail, but you were still hungover.” Killer explained as Kid rage grew.

“So you just let her on the ship!”

“The girl insisted on joining the crew. I was there when you asked her, and she didn't care that you were drunk when you asked her." Killer continued to explain.

"So this is my fault?!"

Well, yeah, duh, Killer thought but knew better and instead said, "Look, she may be useful. Heat looked over her bandaging skills. She's not bad and has enough medical knowledge for him to show her more."

"For what!? A nurse!" Kid roared. “We don't need another nurse!”

"She'll be a field medic." Killer clarified.

Kid's mind just stopped as he stared dumbfounded at his first mate. Her? A field medic? Her? Why not just shoot her now? It would be kinder and faster. Or if they wanted to make it slow, tie her up and drop her overbroad.

"You got to be kidding," Kid laughed as he started to pace the room.

"You want that small girl to go onto a battlefield and treat our crewmates! I might as well kill her right now! It would be the one good deed tied to my name!"

Kid then ran a hand through his red hair as he stopped pacing and shook his head. "No! No way! I want her off the ship!"

"But Kid, you-"

"I don't care what I said to her! No way am I keeping some weak pissant around to hold back our crew back!"

Killer's shoulder heaved as he sighed and said, "Okay, I'll see that she's off the ship at the next port. In the meantime, I'll have her do some odd jobs so she can earn her keep."

"Why wait?! Just put her on a rowboat and-"

"Captain."

Kid froze and snapped his gaze toward the doorway. Mouse, that is, Y/N, stood there looking at him with a firm expression on her sweet face.

It was unsettling how quiet she was as she moved. The door to Kid's cabin always creaked, yet she opened the door without a sound. She took a breath and walked into the room. Kid watched her and, for some absurd reason, felt nervous.

"Captain," she said again, "I want to stay and prove you wrong. I won't hold the crew back."

Killer watched as Kid had to visibly shake himself out of whatever sinkhole his mind had just dived into. He readies himself as Kid squares his shoulders and glares down at the girl. The girl didn't appear intimidated and even clasped her hands in front of her as her chin tilted up.

"You want to prove me wrong. Are you saying that you aren't a weak little-"

"I have experience treating the wounded, and I'm not afraid to go into a battle to help." She said quickly as her eyes softened at him.

Her voice was not raised, and her tone didn't sound desperate. It was like she was offering Kid a favor. A kind, healthful favor that made Kid's insides go all mushy.

"Please, Captain." She added gently as her lashes blinked at him. "Let me stay."

Killer glanced at Kid and was surprised to see him deflating. And if his eyes weren't playing tricks on him, Kid was... blushing? Yes, yes, he was. Kid was actually blushing over this tiny, sincere girl who looked out of place on their ship.

Kid gritted his teeth and slapped his hand over his nose and cheeks to hide part of the redness spreading on his face.

“Captain?” She asked again, now looking worried.

Kid growled and turned his head away as he shouted, "Fine! You can stay! But if you screw up, I will personally end you! Now go find something useful to do before I toss you off the side!"

Y/N smiled widely and didn't appear offended by Kid's shouting or threats. "Yes, Captain! Right away! I'll start by cleaning your room!"

"Wait, what?!" Kid had barely enough time to respond when both he and Killer were shoved out of the room and had the door slam closed on their backs.

"What the-how?"

He turned and stared at the closed door and back at Kid. How was a tiny girl able to shove him and Killer out in the blink of an eye.

"She ate the scurry-scurry fruit," Killer explained with a shrug as Kid looked to him for an answer. "It's the other reason she was known as Mouse at the bar. She can move around quickly without making sound and lift five times her weight for a short time. It's also why I gave her the field medic job."

"She can't turn into a mouse, right?" Kid asked as he shivered at the thought of a human transfiguring into a rodent. "Cause that would be gross."

"And less cute," Killer commented with a slight grin behind his mask.

The way Kid snapped his head around at him was enough to prove his sudden discovery. His friend's face was even beginning to redden again. Killer held back a chuckle and cleared his throat.

"I'm going to get a drink; want to join?"

Kid grumbled and walked in the other direction away from Killer. There was no fucking way he thought that the girl was cute. Weak wasn't cute; it was annoying and a pain. She wouldn't last a week with his crew.

If she died on the job, it would be her fault, not his! What was she thinking taking his drunken offer?! Didn't she know she was too delicate for this kind of life?! Didn't she know how small, soft-looking she was? How cute-

"NO! NOT CUTE!" Kid roared as he raked his fingers into his hair and nearly ripped off his goggles.

Nearby onlookers wisely glanced away and didn't bother their Captain. Kid growled and turned to stomp back to his room to throw the girl out.

When he got there, she was already gone, leaving behind a tidy room. Kid glanced around, huffed, and muttered, "I guess she can stay."

He then flopped onto his clean bed face first and sighed. He'll worry about his 'Mouse' problem later. All this raging was making him tired.

As he closed his eyes, he could smell the scent she had left behind while making his bed. Thoughts of her being in his bed, being under him, squirming and wriggling as she whimpered and moaned, seeped into his mind. Kid groaned and growled as he punched his fist into the blankets.

She was going to be a pain, and not just in the ass; Kid mused as his groin throbbed.

A big pain for such a little creature.

Part 2.

[whencyclopedia]

Treaty of Tordesillas

The 1494 Treaty of Tordesillas (Tordesilhas) was an agreement between the monarchs of Spain and Portugal to divide the world between them into two spheres of influence. The imaginary dividing line ran down the centre of the Atlantic Ocean, leaving the Americas to Spain and West Africa and anything beyond the Cape of Good Hope to Portugal.

The agreement between the two states was fully tested when the Spanish found a maritime route to Asia via the Pacific Ocean, Spain conquered the Aztecs and Incas, Portugal sailed into the Indian Ocean and beyond, and settlements were established in Portuguese Brazil. With this colonial expansion, the two kingdoms squabbled over states and peoples that had never even heard of these two small countries at the end of Europe.

The North Atlantic

The Portuguese started modestly with their empire-building, first colonizing the uninhabited North Atlantic island groups of Madeira from 1420, the Azores from 1439, and Cape Verde from 1462. When the treacherous Cape Bojador was navigated in 1434 by the explorer Gil Eannes, the Portuguese were able to access the trade and resources in West Africa without dealing with Islamic North African traders. The new king, John II of Portugal (r. 1481-1495), pushed for more and so São Tomé and Principe were colonized from 1486. However, yet another island group, the inhabited Canary Islands, were prized by both Spain and Portugal, and the colonial competition heated up considerably.

Prince Henry the Navigator (aka Infante Dom Henrique, 1394-1460) had organised the Portuguese expeditions to explore and develop the North Atlantic islands but his ambitions in the Canaries were repeatedly thwarted. Spanish forces and the indigenous Guanches repelled the Portuguese three times, but the matter remained unsettled. Spain and Portugal were at war between 1474 and 1479, and this period saw a brief occupation of Santiago in the Cape Verde group by Spanish forces. The war came to a close with the peace treaty of Alcáçovas-Toledo (1479-80), an agreement which also saw the first attempts to settle which geographical areas should belong to the Spanish and which to the Portuguese. Spain’s claim over the Canaries was recognised, as was Portugal’s over Madeira, the Azores, Cape Verde, and all trade in West Africa.

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