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#hull old town
peacefulandcozy · 8 months
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mi-capsula · 1 year
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Sinsentidos
30/10/2022
Ayer compartí un momento muy lindo con una persona que, sinceramente, tenía miedo de hablarle.
Tengo la estima demasiado baja como para lograr sentirme bien últimamente, pero anoche tenía ganas de salir y hacer sociales para no estar todo el día lidiando con mi ansiedad. No sabía que iba a pasar, pero sería mejor a estar encerrado.
Halloween. Qué dilema me construiste en la cabeza. Hace exactamente un año empezaba una de las etapas más lindas de mi vida, donde todo parecía ir sobre rieles, con dirección y a buen ritmo. Símil a ver todo a través de una lente, donde todo se ve bien, simétrico y enfocado. Ese fue el error. Ver las cosas a través de algo.
Estando en esa fiesta, me obligué a pasarla bien. Me lo merecía después de tanto. Pero al cabo de un tiempo, de a poco volvía a sentirme igual de vacío que siempre. Con falta de interés en todo, como si mi cabeza consumiera el 100% de su energía pensando en otra cosa. ESA cosa que me taladra la cabeza.
Idas y vueltas. Tragos y un poco de risas. Era lo que necesitaba. Ni bien ni mal, solo viviendo.
Cuando vuelvo a buscar a mis amigos al patio, me siento en el suelo a seguir con mi trago y charlar con quien quisiera cruzarme la mirada. Ya había pasado el umbral de ansiedad, empezaba a hablar el alcohol. De asomo se acerca un amigo y se sienta conmigo. Deja el vaso en el suelo, y con ánimos de subírmelos a mí, me pregunta por ella. Él no sabía nada, como casi todos ahí. Qué raro de mí ocultar mis problemas con sonrisas. Parafraseo vagamente y sin entrar en detalles, para no quebrarme en la situación, cuando entra en la conversación otra persona, la que mencioné al principio.
Párrafo aparte, porque es una situación extraña con él. Cuando empece a conocerla, la única persona cercana que la seguía por redes sociales era él, entonces para aclarar las cosas le pregunté si se conocían de antes. Nada beligerante, sino para no meterme en territorios de un amigo. A lo que me responde que era su ex de hace un par de años. No sabía qué responder. Le expliqué la situación y le aclaré que no sabía nada de esto cuando empezamos a salir. No era mi intención meterme en su intimidad.
Aclarados los puntos, y con el visto bueno por parte de él, yo ya tenía la conciencia tranquila de que no estaba parado en un lugar donde no me querían. Además de que cada uno después siguió su camino con otras personas.
Volviendo al relato. Cuando empece a abrirme en este tema justamente con él, sentía que estaba con alguien que podía entender de lo que hablaba. Sin entrar en detalles sobre él, puedo decir que se sentía muy similar a mi justo en ese momento, por otros motivos.
Hay dos puntos muy importantes en estos temas.
—La verdad no siempre es lo que te gusta.
—Las cosas se hablan crudas, pero con tacto, para que te duelan pero sin lastimar.
Pocas veces hice tanta fuerza para no llorar.
Pude sacar la presión que tenía en mi cabeza sobre hablar de este tema así de intensamente con alguien, y también logré vencer el miedo que tenía de abrirme con él y saber que era lo que pensaba al respecto de todo. Y, sorprendentemente, no estamos muy lejanos uno del otro. Y doy gracias por eso.
Encontré verdades que no quería ver por mi mismo, que duelen más de lo que pude llegar a imaginar, pero que son necesarias para que pueda dejar de sentirme tan mal.
Recordé verdades que ya sabía, pero que me negaba a aceptarlas por miedo a perder algo que ya no es mío.
El futuro no se sabe en qué forma vendrá, pero es de mi propiedad.
Y por sobre todo, me di cuenta de que todos tienen sus tiempos. Más lentos o más rápidos, cada uno tiene el suyo. Y duele darse cuenta qué, de a poco, uno deja de formar parte de los tiempos del otro, cuando los propios siguen corriendo a la par.
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brummiereader · 6 months
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PREVIOUS PART
Hopelessly Devoted (PART FIVE)
Summary: After your tearful departure from Small Heath, you find your way back in the town you bid farewell to quicker than expected, Inevitably back to face the very man who told you to leave. Will your unavoidable confrontation with Tommy threaten to put an even heavier strain on your already fragile relationship?
Warnings: Language, angst, mutual pining, mentions of blood
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" Fuck, fuck fuck!" you sobbed dropping your keys on the floor as you furiously wiped away your tears. With one sharp kick in frustration to the old wooden door at your current predicament you slumped down onto the cobbled floor as the clouds broke open and a deluge of rain poured down on you. Great.
" Y/N?..." You heard Polly's voice say in the darkened alleyway, her heels echoing loudly through the back row of house as she hurried over to you, holding her brolly up from the torrential rain now pouring down on the entire town. Yes that's right, Polly. You was back. Your dramatic departure filled with tears and sorrow in attempts to escape both your broken heart and Tommy's fury lasted all but one day. One fucking day. You quickly learnt upon your arrival in London after meeting with the Landlord that there had been a mistake or, what you had determined to be an absolute bollocks of an injustice. There was no letting, or at least there wasn't anymore. Greed knows no bounds and the Landlord your cousin had spoken of was no different. With little sympathy he quickly explained to you that he had let the property out to someone else, favouring their six months advance in rent over your measly one month deposit, leaving you on the doorstep of the flat you hoped you would call home with a puff from his cigar and a snide smirk as he slammed the door In your face. " Y/N?" Polly said as she helped you up from the ground, her eyes wide in confusion." You should be in London. What are you doing back here love?" She questioned as she pulled you under her umbrella, rubbing you arm up and down in attempts to warm you up.
" I was. But like everything in my life it was a disaster. I can't do anything right " you said as you sniffed back your tears bending down to pick up your keys.
" Disaster? You've only been gone twenty-four hours. What could have gone so wrong that you found yourself back in this shit hole?" She replied looking around her as she kicked a clump of mud off the end of her pristine black boots.
" Landlord had a better proposition, six months worth of rent in advance" you replied as you wrapped your hands around your body from the cold.
" Greedy bastard" she replied with an irritated huff on your behalf. "What about your cousin, you couldn't have stayed with her?"
"She's not there. Neighbour said she went to Hull on holiday. A holiday, In winter, who does that?" nobody does Polly thought to herself, especially not somewhere as bitterly windy as Hull. This was all too much of a coincidence for her liking. There was only one person that could have arranged all this within the space of twenty four hours and he was currently sat in the Garrison with her two other nephews and half a bottle of whisky in his hand. Deciding to spare you any further misery for one day she kept her suspicions to herself, but not without mentally taking note to give her meddling nephew a sharp smack to the back of his head the moment he had sobered up and the warm lull of alcohol had worn off. " I have two weeks left of rent on this place Pol. I kept a key just in case" you said turning to look up at your bedsit window. " He's changed the fucking locks on the back door, I can't get in!" you started to sob again as you looked down at the keys in your hand." Pol what am I supposed to do?"
" Come on, you'll stop at mine" she said hooking her arm in yours as she started walking you out the alleyway.
" Pol, Tommy...I can't " you said as you abruptly pulled away.
" Yes you can. You'll stop in Ada's old room. And as for Tommy, you let me worry about him. Understood?" she replied, not giving you a chance to argue otherwise as she took you by the arm once again. " I doubt you'll see him anyway love. He'll be in the Garrison until the early hours drowning in his sorrows"
" Sorrows? What's he got to be sorry about, thought he had everything made?"
"Y/N, there's something I need to tell you..."
" Bewitched, she bloody bewitched you!" John slurred as he raised his glass of whisky up to the ceiling whilst he precariously tried to pour a steady stream of the amber liquor down into his mouth, half of it inevitably spilling onto his freshly ironed shirt.
"No. Y/N bewitched me. Bewitched me since we were kids" Tommy said as he slammed his glass down onto the table, reaching in his pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes.
" Fucking hell, that good was it Tommy?" John laughed with a snort as Arthur threw a cushion at his head causing the remainder of his whisky to tip over onto the plush crimson sofa he was laying on. Polly would certainly have his head for that.
" Wouldn't fucking know anymore, it's been five years" Tommy mumbled under his breath lighting a cigarette as he let his body fall back into the arm chair. But he did know, he did remember. He'd thought about you every night since the day he boarded the train for France. Thought about the small whimpers he would coax from your lips as he rocked his body into yours. The way he'd wrap you tightly in his arms after as you drifted off to sleep, listening to the gentle sounds of you breathing as his own eyes became heavy, and he joined you in peaceful dreams. Now all he heard was the sound of shovels on the four walls of his room, reminding him of what he had lost, what he had endured in those lonely nights away from you. Not that he would admit it of course.
" So what's your plan Tom?" Arthur said as he looked down at his drink, swirling the amber liquor from side to side before downing it. For once, he was the lesser drunk out of the three. Polly had given him strict instructions to go easy on the whisky and watch that Tommy didn't drink himself into oblivion. What Polly really meant was to not drink at all, but all Arthur heard was " go easy". And he had, albeit within his own limits before he too was too drunk to stand and ended up as hammered as his two younger brothers.
" Bloody Plan. I don't have a plan" Tommy lied as he stood up, leaning his arm on the mantle of the fire place to keep himself steady as he looked into the flames.
" You not going to London after her then?" Arthur asked as a heavy feeling of guilt started to sit uncomfortably in the pit of Tommy's stomach. The truth was Tommy did have a plan, one that had started to play on his conscious like the many other things he had added in the last twenty-four hours.
" She won't be in London for long" Tommy replied as he flicked his cigarette into the flames.
" Jesus Tom, what you done now?" Arthur said as he stood up, handing him the bottle of whisky to further dull his guilt.
" Something I'll regret no doubt" he said taking the bottle, intent on finishing its contents before Arthur grabbed it back. Pulling out your gold watch from his trouser pocket Tommy rubbed his thumb over the front, the wear and tear of the years he had kept it by his side more noticeable the longer he looked at it. " Fucking women eh?" Tommy said as he cleared his throat placing the watch back in his pocket.
" Your fucking women. You don't half pick 'em" John replied as he sat up rubbing the back of his neck as he placed a cushion over the whisky stain beside him, hopeful Polly wouldn't notice.
" Nah, Y/N was an angel" Arthur said resting his hands on his stomach as the four glasses of sharp liquor started to weigh down his heavy eyes." It's the other one I didn't get. You had it all Tom, what the hell was that?"
" To piss Y/N off" Tommy said shamefully when the front door creaked open and you and Polly walked in from the rain.
" To piss me off?..." You said, standing their stunned having heard the entirety of their conversation.
" Y/N..." Tommy said stumbling your name out as he turned to face you, his eyes wide at the realisation you had heard his spiteful confession.
" What the bloody hell are you lot doing here? You're supposed to be in the Garrison" Polly said as she shook the rain from her umbrella, her eyes darting between you and Tommy and the death stare you was sending him. It was all about to kick off.
" Grace was to fucking piss me off?!" You shouted as you marched over, grabbing the bottle of whisky from Arthur's hand and launching it in Tommy's direction.
" Jesus fucking Christ!" John shouted as he jumped out the way, dodging the bottle that landed on the floor beside him as a barrage of other objects came flying Tommy's way.
" Y/N, darling, I didn't mean it like that..." Tommy attempted to say with his hands out as a vase of flowers landed on him, gashing his arm. "Fuck!" he yelled as he looked down at the shard of glass lodged in his skin.
" She got you good there Tom" Arthur chuckled, amused at the fact his little brother was finally getting his dues. " Stay still" Arthur said getting up as he rubbed his hands together ready to play the surgeon. Looking sheepishly over to you Tommy watched as you turned around and stormed out the house.
"Y/N wait!" Tommy shouted as he pushed Arthur's hands away, pulling out the piece of glass stuck in his arm with a loud grunt. " Y/N it's pissing it outside, come back in!" he yelled after you as he ran through the living room, stumbling over the edge of the coffee table in the process. Drunk, one arm bloody, hair disheveled, he looked a mess, a desperate pathetic mess.
" Fuck off Tommy!" you shouted, arms crossed as you walked rapidly down Watery Lane.
" Y/N I didn't know! I didn't fucking know!" He yelled back in the middle of the street, awakening the whole neighborhood as the rain continued to violently pour down on the small town. " I thought it was you. Isaiah, Kimber's men...what, what else was I supposed to think?" he said coming to a stop as you continued to ignore him." You started all this you know, five years ago when you broke my heart!"
" Shut up, shut the fuck up! You screamed as you span around, storming back to him having had enough of hearing the same broken record non- stop for five years. Coming face to face with him, Tommy took a step back. He had never seen you this way, this angry this furious, the softness of your face replaced with a rage he had created. "Have you ever, ever once stopped to think that when you left me on that platform when you didn't look back, you broke my heart too!"
" I did look.."
" Shut up Tommy, just stop!" you cut him off unwilling to entertain anything he had to say as the whirlwind of anger stormed within you.
" Y/N" Tommy said reaching his hand out for you that got quickly slapped away by your own.
" I may have broken your heart first Tommy but every day since you have broken mine over and over again. I waited Tommy, waited five years. Watched you move on with that barmaid, stood there as you accused me of stabbing you in the back" you sobbed, the bitter reality of your unrelenting devotion towards him and all the years you had wasted trying to please him cutting sharper then any cruel passing comment he had ever made." All because I loved you...because I couldn't let go" you sobbed as the anger that had been building in you rapidly left, leaving you stood there deflated.
" Sweetheart please.." Tommy pleaded hearing the hurt in your voice as he gently cupped your cheek, slowly moving closer to press his forehead against yours.
" I'm not your sweetheart anymore. I'm done Tommy." you cried turning around as Tommy's hand dropped from your face.
" Y/N!" Tommy shouted, watching you walk away as he stumbled forward slipping over the wet dirt covered ground, the half bottle of whisky he had drunk dulling his usually sharp reflects. " Have a look everyone, take a good fucking look!" he yelled watching the neighbours curtains twitch from behind their windows, his yelling bringing the whole street's attention to the commotion he was responsible for. "Tommy Shelby on his fucking knees begging, happy now Y/N. Y/N!"
" Bloody hell, get up Tom. You're making a fucking scene" Arthur said looking around the street as him and John pulled him up from the ground.
" How much has he drunk?" Polly said storming over with Tommy's coat as Arthur and John held him up.
" I don't know half a bottle, maybe more" he replied as he brushed the rain off Tommy's face." He's alright Pol, ain't you Tom?"
" Arthur, I told you to keep an eye on him. He's a miserable bastard when he's drunk" Polly said looking to her nephew as she placed the coat around Tommy's shoulders.
" Would you all just fuck off..." Tommy slurred, pushing his brothers off him as he walked off into the night.
" Tommy where you going?" John called out ready to follow when Arthur put his hand out.
" Let him drink it off John boy" Arthur said watching him stumble around the corner.
" Don't you mean sleep it off?"
" Drink it off. Tommy's barely slept a wink since him and Y/N broke up"
" Best we leave him to it. The drink will force him to sleep whether he wants to or not" Polly said as she ushered her nephews back to the house. " Come on, in" she ordered them as she turned around to shut the door. " One day, just one day I'd like us not to be the talk of this town"
" Tommy, Tommy! You sick Tommy?" Curly said as he bent down to Tommy laying in a heap of hay inside one of the horses stalls on Charlie's yard early the next morning, his hand grasped tightly around another bottle of whisky he had presumably found on his way there.
" Nothing the hair of the dog can't fix" Charlie said as he bent down lifting Tommy's peaked cap up as Tommy slowly opened his eyes . " Think he's had enough of the good stuff, get him a glass of vinegar instead Curly" Charlie said as Tommy grunted at the idea of his Uncles hangover cure.
" Vinegar, I'll go get vinegar for you Tom. We'll have you back in shape in no time" Curly said as he hurried off out of the stall.
" Tommy get up, you're laying in horses shit" Charlie said as he grabbed the bottle of whisky from his hand. "You won't find what your looking for at the bottom of a bottle Tom" Charlie said as he poured its contents onto the cobbled stable floor beside him whilst Tommy watched the only thing that dulled his self-inflicted guilt slip away. " Y/N?" Charlie said as he turned the tin water bucket upside down to sit next to him, handing him a cigarette.
" Written across my face is it Uncle?" Tommy said as Charlie leaned over to light the end.
" Always did find your way back here, sleeping with the horses when you two would have it off. That and a bowl of cold water on you when she'd find you the next day" Charlie said as Tommy let out a scoff of a laugh looking down at the cigarette between his fingers. " She still comes in here. Find her siting there watching Curly brush the horses like she did when she was a kid, like when you were both kids" he said as he nodded to the bench in the corner of the stall as Tommy rested the back of his head on the wooden enclosure whilst the memories of happier times flooded back to him.
" Started when her dad died. Would bring us here to get away from her mum and Polly's sharp hand on the back of my head" Tommy chuckled as he breathed out a cloud of smoke. " Just wanted her to enjoy the quiet" he sighed rubbing his thumb along his brow as last night's drinking started to catch up with him. How long would he keep doing this?
" Times changed" Charlie said as he looked over to Tommy's eyes fixed on the bench in the corner where you'd both sit " So what did you do this time then Tom?"
" What haven't I done?" Tommy replied as he stood up adjusting his coat around him.
" Still breaking her heart?" Charlie said looking up to Tommy as he watched him pat down the horse he had for company the whole night, thankful he couldn't repeat his drunken rambles.
" Since I boarded the train for France, so I've been told"
" You were too young Tommy. You were about to go off to fight. You could have left her a widow when she was still a kid herself. But I'm guessing that's not all you've done." Charlie said as Tommy listened and let his Uncles words sink in. " Make it right Tom. She's been good to you, she don't deserve this"
" Think I ruined all chances of that Charlie" Tommy said giving up, straightening his peaked cap out as he walked out into the bitter morning mist.
"Bollocks. Bite the bullet and do what you got to do Tom, else you'll spend the rest of your life looking down that whisky bottle" Charlie said as he walked off, throwing the empty glass bottle into the cut.
"Vinegar Tommy" curly said running up to Tommy as he squinted through the fog, watching his Uncle walk off into the yard.
" Save it Curly, for when I'm really down in the dirt, ey?" Tommy said as he patted his shoulder, forgoing the idea of drinking Charlie's sharp remedy to bring him to his senses. His words had been enough. It was time for him to pay the piper and own up to his mistakes if he ever wanted to win you back.
It had been a week since your return to the town you thought you had bid farewell to and a week since you had last seen Tommy, having avoided every one of his attempts to talk to you. After a sharp word to your landlord Polly handed you a new set of keys to your bedsit the very next day. But with only one weeks worth of rent paid left, and your unexpected return ticket from London costing more that you thought it would, your savings were dwindling. Polly had offered you help even asking you to come back to the betting shop, an offer you was convinced Tommy had been the first to suggest. Declining both propositions and adamant on showing Tommy you didn't need, nor want his help you decided to look for work elsewhere, and with three job interviews lined up for today you had high hopes your money troubles would soon pass. Fixing your hat in place, you pushed a small pin into the side firmly securing it from any gusts of wind that threatened to blow it over. With one last glance at your appearance in the mirror you turned around, the smile on your face dropping and a scowl quickly replacing it at the sight of the growing flower garden currently occupying every surface of your bedsit. Seven bouquets of flower for each day you had been back, each with their own card hand written to you from Tommy himself. Fuck sake. Gaudy, flashy, over the top. Not like the beautiful posy of meadow flowers he would spend time picking for you on your birthday. You thought to yourself as you glared at them opening your front door only to be met with another ridiculously large bouquet in your face.
" 'Scuse me Mam" the young boy said as he stepped back. " Delivery from Mr Shelby"
" Jesus fucking Christ" you mumbled under you breath. You had no space for them and was frankly getting fed up with his pitiful gestures. After the relentless messages he had left you it was time to send him one final of your own so he understood exactly what your thoughts were on his grand displays of love. Pulling the card out from within the bouquet of red roses you scoffed at the message before reading it aloud.
" Roses are red..." you said without finishing the rest of the card before ripping it up and placing it back within the flowers as the young boy shuffled on his feet, his eyes quickly darting away. " Send them back Archie" you said with a huff as you shut your door.
" But Mr Shelby he..." the young boy replied nervously before you stopped him.
" Archie it's alright" You said bending down to his level as you placed your hand on his shoulder " Don't you worry about Mr Shelby, he won't do a thing. The only person he will get angry at is himself after his brothers tease him about this, alright?" You smiled as he nodded his head in reply. "Send them back at noon when Arthur and John will be there. We can't let them miss out on the opportunity to get one over on him can we?" you giggled as the young boys muddy cheeks dimpled into a grin. " Go on" you said handing him a penny, winking to him as he ran to the stairs, jumping down the rickety wooden steps two at a time. That will keep him at bay, you thought to yourself as you too headed down the steps jumping off the last one, your mood suddenly brightened again. Little did you know your scheme to keep Tommy away would only backfire when the result of another stupid idea Tommy had concocted to get your attention was about to play out.
" What do you mean the position has been filled?" You asked as you stood in front of the manager of the postal office, having only just arrived for your final job interview that day.
" Sorry Mam. The Position was filled this morning" he replied clearing his throat as he shuffled the papers in front of him.
" But it's only eleven thirty, I'm the first to be interviewed on the list" you pointed out to him at the paper on his desk. This was your last hope. The two previous interviews, well, lack of interviews were disastrous. One only lasted all but three minutes and the other place was shut before you even arrived.
" We erhh, we found someone yesterday" he said packing his documents into the draw as he quickly stood up taking the other pile of files sitting on the side.
" Yesterday was Sunday"
" Mam I'm sorry. I can't help you, the position has been filled" he said as he looked to the door not wanting to be asked any further questions.
" Shelby Company Limited" you scoffed, noticing the business card on top of the pile of documents in his hand. " He's been here hasn't he? Told you not to give me the job?" you huffed crossing your arms as you bit your bottom lip trying to hold back the tears welling in your eyes. Your heightened emotions never failing to show themselves at the most inconvenient of times.
" He said you already have a job, he was quite adamant about it. He..." the manager replied as you put your hand up, stopping him from making any more excuses for him.
" Save it " you said wiping your eyes as you turned on your heel, heading for the very man you knew was to blame not only for this failed job interview but the two others as well. Thomas fucking Shelby. Was this his way of getting you to talk to him, for him to see you? Well he was going to get just that, and five years worth of pent-up anger coming his way too.
NEXT PART
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dilutedconfusion · 29 days
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A Moth to a Flame
Eustass x F!Reader (P2)
I’m literally SO happy that ya’ll seemed to enjoy the first chapter of this. Like I’m microscopically close to jumping through the screen and giving ya’ll big consensual forehead smooches. Hopefully ya’ll like where I’m taking this story cause I’m super EXCITED.
Summary: You are still waiting at the docks on your small island in hopes that your intuition was right and something big was about to happen. Regardless of Kid’s freshly amputated arm, curtesy of Benn Beckman, he is hopeful he can find some semblance of rest on your island because everyone knows he needs it. You don’t though and will prove to be a thorn in his side.
Warnings: Light mention of torture
Word Count: 5.5k
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
Tags: @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @st4rfevrr (If anyone else wants to be tagged for each new chapter just let me know in the comments<3)
__________
You had just finished up the last page of sketches covered in whatever came to your mind. Tulips of course followed by a cicada you’d seen earlier and a few hands for the sake of anatomy practice.
The sun was getting lower in the sky and a web of clouds was rolling in. The original bright blue and hazy sky now cast in puffy gray clouds.
Must’ve rolled in with the wind. You thought, chewing the inside of your cheek and feeling the temperature drop around you by at least a few degrees. Another summer lighting storm.
You started gathering up your supplies. Shoving them back into your satchel in preparation for the downpour that could very well happen. The shipyard nearby was quieting down. The small town you lived in far to laid back to work into the late hours of the afternoon. Each person leaving with the scent of raw sawdust and a little slicker for the incoming rain.
You didn’t really want to go, despite the old man's warnings to keep yourself warm and out of harm's way. You leaned back on the dock with your hands. Looking up at the clouds as you sloshed around the water below with your feet. Feeling a piece of slimy seaweed brush against your calf you kicked it away in disgust. More in love with the feeling of cold water and less with the feeling of clammy plant life.
Eye unfocusing you just stared out.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe nothing is coming. Doubt was starting to creep into your thoughts. This deep root of obsession curling around the base of your spine though this feeling was becoming more and more misplaced.
Or maybe I’m a human weather reporter. Should've guessed my feeling was about some goddamn rain. You let out a weak little chuckle at that. Feeling rather stupid for being so engrossed by something that wasn’t even happening.
Your eyes naturally drifted back down to the horizon. Staring at the distant hazy line and tracing it with your eyes.
Until of course your body froze up and you paused.
Eyes narrowing and body naturally leaning forward you looked out. A speck of something in the distance. Floating at a seemingly even pace towards your humble island.
What the-
You cut yourself off mid-thought. Noticing of course that speck was a ship. Some strange yellow shape at the front of its hull. Black sails raised and thrown forward with the wind.
“Is…is that?” You said to yourself, voice hoarse from disuse. You almost couldn’t believe what you were seeing. The ship is a grand distance away making your eyes struggle to pick out any noticeable details. Everything blurring into a strange mix of colors and shapes.
There’s a flash of purple at the bottom. Strange…red marks at the top of the white. Blue…and yellow squares? You thought, trying to make out the sail.
Pirates. It has to be pirates.
This realization hit you like a train. Hitting your core first before reverberating through your body. Stomach swelling with an almost unmanageable feeling.
This must be it. The feeling. I knew something was coming.
It was relatively normal for pirates to visit your island but for some reason this felt different. It felt new.
“Goddamn it I was right!” You yelled, bolts of electricity shooting up and down your spine. A big bright smile tugging at the corners of your lips. It was strange to be happy over the arrival of pirates but the joy you felt wasn’t something you could swallow down and force yourself to be ashamed of. Sliding your ass off the dock to stand, you continued to stare out at the ever approaching boat.
Turning your head you looked behind you and out onto the island. The docks and shipyard are now void of human life except for yourself. The village, which was a good distance up the trail, had nothing but warm lantern lights and the distant shadows of buildings. The streets barren as people headed for shelter from the incoming storm.
I’m alone. You thought, that feeling crawling on your skin like a slug. It was both terrifying and exhilarating the prospect of being alone.
But what happens when those pirates get here? Who knows what they want? Most just come to restock but…maybe this feeling in my gut is telling me otherwise.
Like something bad is going to happen.
Now here you were, caught between a rock and a hard place. Technically you should go inform somebody about this. There was a few men that guarded this village, one of them being your father.
He’s not going to like this. You thought, knowing all two well how protective that man was.
I mean it makes sense…he knows how a pirates mind works after all.
But on the other hand…you didn’t want to say anything. Not ruin the sanctity of what the village had for the night. Give these pirates the benefit of the doubt just like you had to for the other pirates that came ashore.
Sure…they’re criminals but what’s so wrong about that? Not all criminals are bad. I know that. You told yourself, feeling conflicting morals and pressures on you. You’ve always hated the world government and the marines. You had your personal reasons but in general authority usually didn’t sit right with you. Being close to criminals but not actively being one was a main prospect of your life. Though your father also told you stay clear of anyone you didn’t know. That he wasn’t going to let you get hurt again.
Goddamn it. You were starting to feel a bit guilty that you were even considering staying. To just stand here and put yourself in danger.
Your hands were shaking at your side. Not out of fear but this strange tugging feeling you had on your body. Eyes gliding across the space between you, the sea, and that boat. Willing you towards it. A siren’s call of the wind forcing you to stay.
The boat’s features were becoming more and more defined. You noticed now that the strange yellow blob at its hull was actually a skull. Huge sharp teeth cast in deep shadow from the overcast. It looked like it could easily swallow you whole. Staring into its gaping mouth expecting to see the souls of the damn.
But instead you saw the shape of a man.
Is that a…red puffball?
You squinted your eyes and leaned forward. Placing your hands on your knees trying to decipher what the hell you were looking at.
If I stay here…does that just mean they're going to float on up and dock, only to find a random girl staring at them? That’s…a bad idea for sure. Maybe I should…watch from a distance? Hide maybe?
As you thought this over the boat was only approaching more and more. Its looming height and huge hull cast deep ripples in the sea. It was amazing. The Jolly Roger one you could’ve sworn you’d seen before. Maybe on a newspaper or bounty. But either way the gothic aesthetic was a dark sheen that melded with the gray clouds above. Deep green tones, purples, and the warm glow of lanterns making the whole ship so ominous and captivating.
Your skin prickled with goosebumps, something alluring you towards it. Nearly making you want to jump into the sea to swim towards the boat. You hadn’t been on a boat like that in a long time. Waves of nostalgia wafting over you.
I can’t just stay here on this dock and look like an idiot waiting to get captured. What am I supposed to do? Say “Ahoy there mateys,” and pretend that’s normal?!
But no matter how much you tried, you just wouldn’t move. To get off this dock and hide in the nearby brush was your best bet. Yet you were stuck in place as if your own two feet were deciding your destiny.
So you waited like a petrified stone. Staring out at the boat right on the edge of the dock. Ready to greet whoever was aboard.
__________
Well there's a total idiot within cannon fire distance.
Kid thought, a scowl melded to his face as he stared at a random girl standing at the edge of the dock. He still hasn’t moved from his spot next to the helm. Eyes glued to the island until the moment he noticed a person just standing there.
It had caught him off guard. Scanning the rest of the docks and shipyard with keen eyes to spot no other signs of life. Wondering exactly why she seemed to just be staring at them.
Is she petrified from fear? He thought, gaining a small pleased grin at the corners of his lips. But as they approached closer she didn’t look scared. Her face covered in a small smile though it had a nervous curl around its edges.
Oh, so she is just stupid. He thought with a little grunt, going back to that same scowl. His lack of eyebrow raising in mild confusion.
“Who is that?” Heat muttered still softly guiding the ship towards the dock. The wood groaned a bit at the smooth meandering pace.
“Don’t know. Maybe she’s here to greet us. Offer up chocolates and a warm towel.” Kid grumbled out, turning around in one swift motion to head towards the door back onto the main deck. Heat let out a little chuckle at that as he stroked back his blue locks. Taking note of his Captain leaving with tracing eyes.
“Want me to dock right next to her?” Heat asked, knowing full well there were three docks he could choose from. Each with enough space to hold their mass of a ship.
Kid paused, his boots stopping in place as he barely turned his head to look back at Heat. His face quizzical for only a moment, eyes rolling as he faced forward once more. “Go ahead.” He murmured, finally grabbing the door handle and stepping out of the room.
The wide expanse of his main deck was thrust upon him. Walking out onto it to find a good number of his crewmates sitting around idly. The sound of playing cards flipping and quiet conversation floating across the deck.
Kid sauntered towards his first mate, who was standing by the banister at the edge of the Victoria. His back leaned up against it and a small notebook in hand.
“Did you give everyone their lists?” Kid asked, sliding up next to Killer. His single hand grabbing onto the banister as he stared out at sea.
“Yep. Everyone knows what to get. We’ll be fully stocked in at least two days most likely.” Killer’s voice sounded a bit raspy, using his free hand to clip the pen he was holding to the notebook before sliding it in his back pocket.
Kid let out a low grunt of an answer. Still stuck on staring out at the incoming island. That figure of a woman making his stomach churn for whatever reason. Killer silently watched Kid next to him. Staring at him through the holes of his mask.
“Quit staring.” Kid glanced at Killer, not even moving his head before looking back at sea. Killer’s body shifted in response, turning his body out towards the sea to mirror Kids.
Killer didn’t speak for a moment, not willing to apologize considering there was a pretty good reason to be staring.
Killer could see the slightly more purple and deep bags under Kids eyes. Or the way his skin seemed just a few shades paler than usual. No matter how much he tried, Kid hadn’t been eating or drinking consistently. Too concerned to concoct a blueprint for his perfect prosthetic arm. That paired with a huge gaping wound and a decent amount of scars would not prove well. Killer knew that and had talked to Kid about it. Kid had gotten angry and shut himself in his workshop for a whole day.
So though Killer wanted to pester him he decided against it. Instead he glanced at that girl. Watching how Kids eyes glided to her.
“Strange isn’t it? We never have anyone to greet us.” Killer finally spoke, breaking the silence between them.
Kid didn’t reply, eyes narrowed in that usual scowl he often held. So Killer spoke once more, “Doesn’t look like a marine. But either way it doesn’t matter.”
Kid finally glanced at Killer, eyes tracing his partner's mask a tiny bit before responding. “I’ll kill her myself if she’s a problem. That’s why it doesn't matter.”
__________
OH shit here we go.
This was it. Or at least it felt like it was.
The boat was fucking huge. That looming presence almost became suffocating as it floated towards your dock. The huge mast touching the clouds from your perspective as your chin was forced to tilt upwards. It wasn’t the biggest boat you’ve seen. But it's the biggest boat to dock on your humble island in a while.
The waves crashing against the docks and splashing up on you just a tiny bit. A loud clunking noise was heard, drawing your attention to the lower side of the hull to spot a huge anchor. Sinking down into the sea with a loud splash, the chain wider than your arm.
So enamored by the ship you didn’t notice the two men watching you at first. Their eyes fixed on your presence as they stared down at you. Eerie shadows cast on the hills and bumps of their features.
Eventually you did glance up at them, turning your body more to face the boat as it groaned and settled next to your dinky dock. A bright blush and a twitchy smile smearing across your face.
Should I say something? You thought, panic flooding your veins as the two men leered at you. The one on the right was unfamiliar. His blue and white striped mask was a bit demeaning as you couldn’t tell the expression he was making. Tan arms crossed over his wide chest. One, you noticed, covered in some kind of scars.
The other man must’ve been the one before. That red puffball you saw was actually his fur coat hanging loosely on his shoulders. His hair spiked red, helping with the fluff ball illusion. It was nerve wracking to make eye-contact with him considering he was giving one hard scowl. Those low amber eyes of his nearly poking holes through your soul. But when you caught a glimpse of his arm, or moreover lack of arm, your eyes softened.
Pirates. Always getting hurt aren’t they? You thought to yourself before deciding it was best not to stare and just say something. Even if you sounded stupid.
“Hello!” You yelled, making sure they could hear you from their height. Your voice is a tiny bit higher than usual from the nerves.
The one in the mask didn’t move an inch, showing no indication he even heard what you had said. But his partner clearly did, the skin of his eyebrows knitting in confusion.
“What the fuck do you want?” He yelled out, his voice so low you could’ve sworn you felt the dock shake. It made you blush up more. Both his rudeness and voice catch you off guard.
Your mouth went agape to speak but you didn’t say anything right away. Taking a second to try and concoct something that sounded half-way normal.
“Uhh…nothing. Nothing from you. Just an onlooker. Here to greet you.” You tried to explain, fiddling with your hands a tiny bit.
An onlooker? Seriously? That’s the best you can come up with? You scold yourself. It was true but you really didn’t want to admit you were just standing here out of morbid curiosity.
The redhead gaze only got more annoyed. Jaw visibly tightening a bit. “Well we’re not a fucking zoo and we don’t need your greeting. Go stare at somebody else.” He said, his words sounding more like a command set in stone.
He abruptly turned around and walked away from your line of sight. Going deeper on deck as you heard a loud rousing of multiple people’s footsteps.
Right. There’s a whole lot of people up there. Not just two scary men. You chewed your lip, looking down at the sea before glancing back up. The masked man surprisingly was still staring down at you. Quiet as a mouse but clearly studying you for whatever reason. It made your body tense up, hoping he would stop whatever he was doing and thankfully he did.
But as soon as he turned around, a plank slid down off the edge of the banister of the ship. Your body jumped at the sudden loud sound and you instinctively clutched your chest. Your habit of getting jump-scared easily kicking in.
The plank was towards the middle of the dock whilst you stood at the end. Feeling awkward you backed up a tiny bit, just waiting for somebody to stride down and rip you to shreds.
That same spiked fluff of red hair walked down first. It suddenly clicked in your brain that he must be the Captain. The Jolly Roger a dead give away now that you actually put two and two together. He eyed you as he finally stepped down on the dock, his crew members following behind but walking past him towards the island.
“Did you even hear what I said? Get lost!” Kid stated, his teeth snarling a bit as his frustration rose.
You blinked at him in almost genuine surprise. He clearly wanted nothing to do with you. Which was a reasonable feeling yes but the fact that he was being so upfront about it rubbed you the wrong way. Especially since you wanted to be nothing but kind and didn’t even bother to go warn anyone of their arrival.
Your eyes narrowed in annoyance as you spoke,“I’m not doing anything wrong. I just got curious.”
“Well you and you’re stupid curiousity can get fucked.” Kid spat, not even taking a second to try and understand what you had just said. It was very apparent to you that he viewed you as a nuisance. Making you cringe in near defeat.
But something else boiled inside you. Not appreciating one bit that a man was talking to you like that. You were timid at times, sure. But you were also a total bitch. Putting your hands on your hip and furrowing your brows you glared at him.
“Excuse me? I clearly think this is interesting if I’m standing here in the line of fire. I live on this island and have every right to eye anyone who washes up on shore. So if you have such a problem with that then you need to check yourself, buddy. You don’t get to tell me what to do.” You spat back at him with a lot more force.
The sudden change in your tone made the redhead freeze. Red painted lips turning to a thin line as he just stared at you. Clearly thinking over what to say or whether he should just knock you out.
This was really testing his patience. In all honesty all he wanted to do was get inland, find a bar, drink until his brain buzzed and then go back to his ship to pass out.
So he paused, willing his exhausted brain to actually try to break down what you said. Hearing that you were stroking his ego by finding ‘this interesting’ was enticing. But that attitude written all over the way you acted was something he’d like to wipe off with your own blood. But when he thought past his urges and felt how his stump was starting to ache, he backtracked. Deeming you not worth his time.
“Whatever. Touch my ship and you're dead. I don’t even want to fucking look at you so back off.” Kid grumbled out, turning away from you to start heading down the dock.
A bolt of pain shot through his arm. Like a headache in the most inconvenient place ever. Forcing him to grunt and stumble just a tiny bit as he walked. The man in the mask followed suit after the redhead. Turning his mask to give you a sparing glance before walking in stride with his companion.
You stood there dumbfounded. Fists clenching at your sides by the way he just brushed you off. Sure he had every right to. You were just being nosy after all but that didn’t mean he needed to treat you like that.
Is a little human fucking decency too much to ask for?
You really didn’t know what to do. Looking up to notice the spare glance from a rather large man with a combed back mohawk. He was standing up on the deck as he grabbed the plank off the dock and slid it back into the ship. Small beady eyes glaring at you in a defensive manner. “Move along,” he said with a slight snarl.
Your lips turned into a soft frown and you just started walking. Not willing to put up with the guard dogs they had for the ship. You could still see the redhead and blondie walking ahead. Meandering down the cobblestone pathway towards your village in the valley.
Walking along the same path it started to feel more and more like you were following them. Their long ass legs nearly walking at your average jogging speed so they were creating more and more distance between you. Watching with keen eyes as that huge fur coat billowed in the chill breeze. You could still feel that magnetic feeling in your core. Intuition or what some would call your psychotic brain urging you to keep your eyes planted on him. Or maybe both of them? Or maybe just interesting pirates in general? You didn’t want to assume your facinatation was with such a rude man.
I crave danger. Yeah, that’s all it is. He’s the Captain so he’s the source of it all.
You were so lost in your mind that you hadn’t even seen the redhead turn around and look at you. He halted instinctively when he sensed you trailing behind him. His jaw so tight it could nearly snap. “Are you following us?!”
Your eyes shot up from the ground. One foot mid step so it hit the ground with some extra force as you suddenly halted. The pair were about 50 feet ahead of you so maybe he had to shout so you could hear him over the wind. Or maybe he was just angry.
Yeah…that sounds more likely. You rolled your eyes a bit, taking a deep breath before responding.
“I wasn’t just to be clear but can I at least get your name?” You asked, taking a few more cautious steps towards him. Technically you were sort of following him but you weren’t going to verbally admit that.
Kids’ eyes turned to small slits. Judging you with utmost intensity. The blondie next to him surprisingly spoke or at least you think he did. Mask turned towards his companion but the wind was too strong and his voice was too quiet for you to hear anything. The redhead glanced at him, eyes twitching like a madman but something in him became noticeably more relaxed. Despite this though he still looked back at you, not holding anything back in terms of emotional regulation.
“How about instead of following people around like lost a puppy you go read a newspaper for once? You’ll find my name there, fuck-face!” He yelled, his tone sharp and quick. Proceeding to turn around and start up that same brisk walk they were at earlier.
Again you frowned softly. Face hardening in annoyance but you controlled your urges to just go up to him and give him a piece of your mind. Standing there in the middle of the trail, watching the pair get hidden by the green brush of the trees.
He says something like that again and I’m going ape shit on that cocky bastard. You thought, your mind mirroring the sky as it brooded and swirled with a storm. A rather stupid thought came to mind. One that was probably a bad idea but…it sounded fun.
You know what? Who cares about meeting these pirates in a normal way. Maybe my intuition was right and they really are just bad news.
And if that’s the case then…why not mess with them a bit? Bad people deserve bad things right?
You’ve escaped death a good handful of times. Dealt with pirates who were once foe and now friend. Or who wanted to kill you but you poked at them regardless. Who said these pirates had to be any different?
It’s my civic duty anyways. To keep an eye on them. I’ve got nothing better to do anyways. You thought, a devilish smile tugging at the corners of your lips.
The wind hit your spine and you shivered hard. Tugging on your jacket a bit tighter to keep it snug against your skin. A bright shock of light split the sky in the distance. The lightning danced for one moment before disappearing abruptly until eventually the thunder made it to you, nearly vibrating your ear canals.
You kept a good distance behind the rowdy group of pirates. Watching them as they split off into different shops that still happened to be open. Along with puffball and blondie walking into the only bar in town.
It was a well built brick building but showed clear signs of age. The old rickety sign fluttering in the wind on squeaky chains. A warm glow emitting from the few windows that lined the building. You hesitated for only a moment. Not wanting to walk in with them at the front of the bar. You hoped they would sit down somewhere. Give you time to think about what you wanted from a distance.
So you adjusted your clothes and hair a bit, willing your confidence to take the helms before you finally stepped through the wooden door, letting it creak open loudly before swinging shut. Eyes flickering over your surroundings with quick succession.
There was a fireplace off to your right hand side. You eyed it for a moment watching the low crackle of a small fire caught within the hearth. A few plush lounge chairs surrounded it with small tables covered in ashtrays and magazines. The bar was in the center of the large room. You noticed the dark oak bar looked freshly polished as you made your way up to it. The glass bottles lining the shelves behind it were glistening in the low warm lighting of the room. Booths were lined up on all the walls and even went behind the bar. A step or two leading down into the more private area in the back.
There was a decent sized crowd lingering in the seats but the overall vibe was quiet as per usual for your island. You weren’t used to going into bars so the culture and mannerisms were a bit foreign to you. But you tried your best as you eased down on a barstool. Focusing on getting a drink and settling in before you’d let your eyes wander to find the men of the hour. A short and stout woman on the other side of the bar walked over to you. Offering a curt smile before leaning forward attentively.
“Whaddya having?” She asked softly, swiping the edge of her blonde bob behind her ear. You searched your brain realizing you hadn’t a clue what you wanted to drink. Landing on the first thing that popped in your mind you responded, “Can I get a daiquiri?”
“Coming right up.” She gave you another quick nod and started walking off towards the other end of the bar. You didn’t want to look too suspicious staring around at the room but it was rather dimly lit in most places. Turning your head slightly to look behind you as you traced over the booths you made out a few old men sharing a pitcher of beer and a couple loners like yourself.
Other than that there was no duo to be seen.
Goddamn it. They must be in the back room.
The bartender walked back over towards you. A rounded glass with a medium sized stem sliding across the wood. The edge rimmed with sugar and a sliver of lime floating on the edge. “Thank you.” You mumbled looking between her and the drink before grabbing it.
She simply just smiled and started to walk away again. But before she could leave you spoke up. “Can I ask you a question?” She turned her head back towards you, eyes a bit wide but polite regardless.
“Sure, what is it?”
“Do you happen to keep some newspapers on hand? I didn’t see anywhere I could buy one.” You asked her, thumb absentmindedly rubbing across your glass.
“Ooh sorry, must’ve forgot to pull out the newspaper stand out today.” She said politely, quickly bounding over to a small chest on the floor. You watched her and leaned forward a bit to see over the edge of the bar as she squatted down. She pulled open the chest and inside was stacks upon stacks of newspapers lined up neatly.
“What date were you looking for? I keep all the recent newspapers on hand for customers.” She asked, looking back up at you. You chewed your lip for a second, a bit unsure exactly what to ask for.
“Well umm I’m looking for any headline about pirates. Anything within the last two weeks maybe? I can look so you don’t have to.” You told her, feeling a bit bad that this woman seemed so adamant about flipping around through some newspapers for you.
She simply shook her head and grinned once more. “It’s not biggie. I don’t mind taking a minute or two to look. Pirates you say? I think I remember seeing a newspaper with a headline about pirates a while ago actually.” She started flipping through the newspapers, keeping her eyes on them as she spoke to you. “What pirates are you thinking of though?”
“I’m not too sure. Well I know who but I don’t know their names. You…might’ve served them? They came into the bar not too long after I showed up.”
When you said that her head immediately perked up, looking up and over at you as if you were a ghost. “That redhead? Yeah I served him.” She said before looking away and back down at the newspapers. Her fingers made quick work to find what you were looking for. “I guess I was…right about them being pirates. I see a lot of pirate folk in this bar…but that redhead seemed different. Like his britches were a bit bigger than the rookies that usually roll through here.”
You didn’t respond to what she had said. She was right of course. Lots of pirates rolled through here but most just stocked up and left quicker than they came. The noble town up north on your island is filled with marines who didn’t bat an eye when one of the people in your village died.
Your town was nice but if there was ever a day you didn’t give the pirates exactly what they wanted. Or even worse someone actually tried to fight back when they stole. Things would get ugly fast until eventually someone had to step in and in most cases it was your father. Yet this village was just a pit-stop so most pirates were too wide-eyed and excited about facing the New World to stick around.
“Oh here we go,” the bartender whispered out, holding a newspaper gently between her hands and looking it over. “Huh. Kid Pirates. Funny name for a man so large.” She mumbled out, standing up and turning around to hand you the newspaper. You grabbed it and gave her a weak smile. “Thank you.”
“No problem. Hopefully it has what you’re looking for.” She started down to the other end of the bar to help out customers. Leaving you alone with the newspaper and the faint quiet crackle of the fire. You were a bit hesitant to look at it. Feeling like you might see something that would change your mind about messing with them. So you took a sip of your drink first, feeling the sweet and sour rum slide down your throat and land like lead in your stomach.
You flipped open the newspaper and pitched it between your hands. Eyes gliding over way too much information at once.
It was a picture of the redhead front and center. Or moreover two pictures of him. One where he looked just a bit younger and the other more akin to what you had seen earlier though he still had his other arm. The newer picture was him standing on the coast of an island. A small town behind him that was…on fire. Tall hellish flames and pitch black smoke rising up and out of shot.
Well…that doesn’t seem good. You thought, swallowing hard. Though surprisingly that picture didn’t freak you too much. But the other one sure did.
He looked younger and a little thinner. His smooth coat and loose pants were a mismatch of colors and patterns. Bare chested and two armed he stood within what looked like a street. The amount of jewelry and off putting ‘swagger’ made you nearly giggle. But when you saw what you could only assume were citizens tied up and nailed to a cross you did in fact, not giggle.
So he’s into torture and wore fugly clothing is basically what I’m getting from this.
You pinched the bridge of your nose. Letting one half of the newspaper fall before picking it up again. Not exactly surprised but not pleased either.
The headline was “The Kid Pirates reemerged into the New World: Slaughtering civilians once again.”
Well shit.
__________
A/N: HOPE YOU LIKED THIS LONG ASS CHAPTER <3 I feel like we all just want Kid and Y/N to like…talk more. Believe me they will of course I just really need to set the scene. Plus Kid is grumpy and in pain so he doesn’t feel like interacting with anyone so it makes sense. But the next chapter THEY WILL TALK and something BAD MIGHT HAPPEN. So uhhh…strap in boys it’s getting bumpy after this one. ALSO PEEP THE Y/N LORE HINTS.
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tourettesdog · 1 year
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Concept:
Danny and his friends go missing and Jazz (werewolf, cause vibes) starts exploring the GZ to find him. She's never been there before and only has a journal Danny left behind to go off of as she tries to navigate who is friend and foe. 
Wulf eventually becomes her travel companion.
I also wrote a story blurb to go with this (using speech to text while I worked on the shading lol) Word count: 1532 Warnings: isolation
A frigid wind wrapped around her, stirring the snow and ice. Jazz had never much liked the cold, always preferring relaxing spring days and warm summer nights. Always a bit too cold in their house, where the chill from the lab seemed to creep its way into each corner.
The cold didn't bother her as much now. It hadn't for a long while, not with thick fur to guard against the chill. Still, in the endless field of snow, even her thick pelt did very little to ward off the freezing temperature. 
It stung at her ears, lashed at her snout, and worked its way through the tough pads of her feet until they were numb. The specter speeder lay behind her, the metal hull already being swept beneath the wind-tossed snow.
This was it, Jazz thought. She had finally found her most promising lead, made her way to the far icy reaches of the Far Frozen that Danny's journal mentioned with such reverence, and here she would fall.
Lost in an endless expanse of snow. Buried where none would find her. Forgotten, even by the ghosts.
Lost like Danny was.
Jazz stumbled onward, focusing only on putting one foot before the other. It was all she could do. She could see nothing, save for the white glare of snow, dappled with a green and blue hue that swirled and rippled with the flow of the ectoplasmic sky.
It was beautiful, in its own way. In the strange way that an abstract painting could be beautiful, with its hapless array of colors and shapes. Jazz stared up at it, wondering if it would be the very last thing she ever saw.
Wondering if it was the last thing Danny might have seen.
She still didn't even know if he was in the Ghost Zone. She still didn't know where to start looking for him. Every ghost she had met so far, from the cruel to the kind, had no leads.
No one had seen Danny and his friends, or at least no one was willing to say that they had.
Her legs ached with the effort of sifting through the snow. Great weights dragged at her each step, and it was all Jazz could do to make another. She wanted to rest. She wanted to turn around and go back to the specter speeder, sinking into the seats where she might find at least a trace of warmth.
Jazz turned her head to look for the speeder, but she could no longer see it. She hadn't gone very far, yet the one thing tethering her to the outside world had left,  lost to the swirling white snow.
She took another step.
When jazz was ten-years-old there had been a large blizzard in Amity Park. It happened in late February, just after Valentine's Day, and had buried the town in a sea of snow. Jazz remembered how excited Danny was when it first started to snow. He was gleeful that they had a few days off of school and was prepared to throw himself into the snow with Tucker and Sam for the duration of it.
He hadn't had much time to enjoy that snow.
(Not that Time ever cared how much it gave to Danny.)
The ice on the power lines had left them without power, and without a stove to cook on the already-questionable meals that Maddie prepared became even more so. They huddled up by the fireplace with blankets, staying as warm as they could, but Danny still managed to get sick .
(He was never very lucky.)
Those five days off of school hadn't meant much when Danny spent the majority of them lying in bed, shivering and coughing, and Jazz spent that time worrying over him while their parents worked by candlelight in the lab.
Tears welled at the corners of Jazz's eyes and she couldn't be sure if they were from the sting of the wind or the ache in her chest. 
She took another step.
Jazz wondered what the Far Frozen yetis were like. Danny had described them quite a lot in his journal, much more than many of the other ghosts, and much more kindly at that. He had mentioned a Frostbite, a massive yeti with a frozen arm. He sounded nice, though the name 'Frostbite' felt awfully cruel and ironic to her now.
Maybe they would find her, at least. If she couldn't find Danny, if she was truly doomed to freeze, maybe this Frostbite would find her and be able to give Danny some closure.
(The same closure Jazz so desperately sought now, if nothing else.)
Jazz's chest constricted with a cold that had nothing to do with the frozen tundra around her, just imagining Danny endlessly searching for her.
(Following in her lost footsteps, she supposed.)
Jazz would sooner consign herself to endlessly wander the Far Frozen than she would have Danny fruitlessly search for her.
(And what if her own search was fruitless to begin with? What if she had thrown her life away searching for not even a ghost?)
The horizon blurred together, the crisp white snow melting with the hazy green of the sky until it was all a swirl in her mind. Ectoplasm and ice, every bit a reminder of who she had failed to protect.
Jazz tried to take another step, but her knees buckled.
She hoped that, wherever Danny was, he still had Sam and Tucker beside him. They were always close. Always willing to have each other's backs, no matter what stakes they were facing. 
Jazz wished she could have been a part of that more. Maybe then she would have found Danny sooner. 
They could have been home already, wherever home was now.
The snow piled around Jazz. She no longer had the energy to stand, and hardly had enough to sit up.
Maybe she'd return as a ghost, at least. There was certainly enough ectoplasm to sustain her as one here, and Jazz felt enough aching desire to keep going that she thought it more than possible.
Maybe she'd just rest for a little while. Sink into the snow, which was already blanketing her more and more as she slumped into the drift.
Surely, Danny was never this cold. A cold beyond cold, sinking into a hollow numbness that had Jazz's mind drifting with the wind.
The sky shifted, the sea of green above flickering with streaks of deep blue, an aurora borealis if ever she saw one. 
She remembered how Danny had described it in his journal. He hadn't done it much justice .
The snow shifted, warping, moving. Jazz could hardly keep her eyes open, her thoughts slipping with the drifts of snow.
She wondered what sort of ghost a werewolf would make. Danny had mentioned a wolf ghost in his journal, though Jazz couldn't be sure if he was a werewolf in life or had simply taken that form upon his death. Ghosts could be strange like that.
The roar of the wind was distant, hardly more than a whisper now. Jazz thought she could hear the crunch of snow and the echo of voices lost on the wind.
At least she would get to rest. Maybe not for a long while, but enough time to shut her eyes before she accepted whatever form fate would give her.
Eyes shut, numb to the strange world around her, the snow swallowed Jazz whole.
Warmth. She couldn't remember the last time she felt warm, lost in the zone without a sun to warm her back. Jazz had grown used to the cold, even before the snow of the Far Frozen claimed her. 
And yet she was warm. 
Jazz could remember falling into the snow, accepting her fate… and yet she was warm .
Opening her eyelids was a Herculean task, made no easier by the bright glare that welcomed her bleary sight. Jazz shut her eyes tight again, groaning as she turned her head to the side.
A murmured voice reached her ears, followed by another. Jazz heard a creaking sound and felt the air shift beside her.
She tried once again to open her eyes, this time squinting and finding that the glare had diminished somewhat.
"I'm pleased to see that you are awake at last," a voice said. It was a low rumble, almost more of a growl than a humanoid voice, but the words rang through clearly, as kind and gentle as any voice so deep could be.
Slowly, aching moments that stretched on for ages, the world swam into view. Rich blue hues, underscored by vibrant whites. Fractals of ice, deliberately shaped around dark stone. It looked as though they were in some sort of cave, though it had been altered into a living space with draping furs and woven tapestries.
A hulking form sat beside her. If Jazz ever thought that there was a creature fit to be called a yeti, it was them. He had snowy fur with gray markings, a cloak of deep blue, and icy horns that matched a frozen arm. 
Frostbite. The name suited him; he was every bit the ghost Danny described in his journal. 
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Is könig the type of guy to put a picture of sneaky in his wallet?
Because I feel like he is🧍🏻‍♀️
After the whole removing his shirt fiansco it might as well be a spicy-but-not-too-spicy-because-he-is-protective-like-that picture yk?
Ok so I know you've literally said that it could be something spicy *right* there, but for the sake of this super cute idea we're getting something fluffy ✨ with a hint of Sneak being naughty
You could hardly believe your luck. It was incredible, but you'd managed to find a day that both you and König were free after work and the rest of your team were too busy to question your absence from base. Price was dealing with something that required he and Gaz out of the country and Ghost and Soap were sent off on a mission elsewhere. None of them could track your movements and no one else was nosy enough to bother.
That left you and König time to wander into the city together, riding the bus like a couple of teenage runaways giggling to yourself in the stuffy shuttle, uncaring of the few nicotine addled people that rode with you. König leaned against the window and held you close to his chest, stroking your arm as he filled you in on the team’s antics. Apparently, despite heavily warning the 141 off of messing with their least favourite KorTac operator, the shits had decided to go ahead and do it anyway.
“MacTavish tried to jump out at me the other day, but I heard him blabbing to Ghost about it from way down the hall, so unfortunately for him it didn’t work! After that Price had tried to give me a telling off, but I ignored him of course, at which point I get assaulted by Ghost and Garrick when I walk out and-“
“Assaulted?” you groaned, cutting him off as he was in the midst of telling you.
Ghost had informed you that he’d had a polite word, but neglected to mention any kind of ‘assault’. At the time, you’d taken his lack of bloody knuckles to be a good sign, though according to sharp bitter tones in your lover’s voice - that wasn’t the case. You could only imagine what Ghost had done to König in the heat of his anger.
“He pinned me against the wall and practically strangled me, talking all this nonsense about ‘if you don’t leave Sneaky alone, you’ll find more embedded in that back of yours than nails’ as if he’s capable of that,” König snorted.
“König that’s awful!” you moaned, wrapping your hand around his arm.
“What was awful was the punch to the gut I gave him,” he said with a grin. “He let me go pretty quick after that.”
“He just let you go? Just like that?”
“Well, I might’ve run from him and his little companion, but that’s neither here nor there,” he said with a chuckle.
A whoosh of laughter burst free before you could stop it, but nevertheless you’d slapped König’s chest playfully and told him not to do stuff like that. It wasn’t worth riling Ghost up any more than he already was, he could be quite formidable when he felt slighted and the last thing you wanted was permanent damage on behalf of your so called ‘protection’.
Then, after the long winding journey had rolled to a close, you stepped out into town and grabbed something quick to eat. At which point you’d demanded to trawl the streets in search of a decent bar, looking for somewhere quiet to grab a cocktail. It was important you not go anywhere too crowded, but at the same time you knew that most of the old fashioned quiet places that König had pointed to were unlikely to make you anything nice if at all under the basis that cocktails ‘weren’t real drinks’.
Eventually, after a lot of discussion, sore feet from all the walking around, and whining on your part, you agreed to venture into a quirky little place with ocean themed decorations, ironically called ‘the dive bar’, that had a few customers and a relaxing vibe. The inside was lit by blue neon and dim yellow halogen bulbs and all the tables were made from old wood, like something off of a ship’s hull. It was cheesy, but it did a great Daiquiri and most importantly König wasn’t crawling out of his skin with crowd anxiety.
“I like this place,” you’d declared, looking around at the kitschy décor while you sipped your fruity drink. “It’s cosy.”
“It’s not so bad I suppose,” König replied, picking at the dewy label on his beer bottle.
“Oh c’mon, admit it, it’s fun!”
“If you think pirate decorations and hardly being able to see is fun,” he shrugged. “Then yes. Very fun.”
“Don’t be a spoil sport! Plus look, they have pool over there and foosball and… oh my god a photobooth!”
He groaned at that and narrowed his eyes, giving you a look as if to say not in a million years.
However, never one to deny you, he’d dutifully marched over for a game of pool (which you’d let him win of course, just to butter him up a little) and watched as he smiled victoriously when he’d potted the black ball. Though, he wasn’t so easily convinced into your next suggestion. Apparently getting König into a photobooth was harder than any other feat you’d accomplished yet.
“Those eyes won’t work on me,” he shrugged, taking a gratuitous sip of his beer. “I’m not falling for it.”
“But…pleeeeaaasseeeee,” you whined, dragging out each letter like it was molasses pouring from a tin.
“In case you’ve forgotten I can’t have pictures of my face floating around, Sneaky, you know this.”
“But you can put on your neck warmer!”
“I don’t have it,” he sniffed.
“Liar! You always keep it in your back pocket if you’re not wearing it,” you challenged, poking at his chest.
“Been staring at my arse much, hm?”
You felt your cheeks heat up, but nevertheless stood your ground. You were determined, you weren’t going to let him change the subject. You were high on the light buzz of overly sweet alcohol and you desperately wanted something to hold onto when you couldn’t have him near.
“You know I have been,” you winked, recovering quickly and embracing him. “And look – I’m right.”
He growled out and snatched the cloth from your hands, his eyes narrowing down at your ‘butter wouldn’t melt’ face. If you were anyone else, you’d be dead or held up by one of the decorative nets on the ceiling, but by virtue of being you, you were allowed to remain standing. Hell couldn’t beat the heat firing from his eyes, but even despite that, he broke and started to put the neck warmer on.
“You’re paying.”
You could hardly believe it, but you weren’t going to waste time standing there contemplating where the depths of König’s devotion lay. You followed him into the booth and planted yourself on his lap, excitedly slotting the coins into the machine, listening to them rattle, watching as the screen flashed and presented you with your options. Apparently you could choose a range of different filters and frames, though, ever a fan of the classics, you opted to go for a black and white filter and no frame.
“Look happy, grumpy man,” you chastised, looking over at him while preparing for your first photo and fixing your hair.
“This is me happy.”
“Don’t seem to recall you looking like that in the hotel room,” you whispered, brushing your lips against the side of his neck. "And I seem to remember you were very happy then."
The first photo flashed and you sniggered as you saw it dissolve into view, you looking sultry and pleased with yourself while König looked flustered under the mask. That one was a keeper for sure, no matter the protests that he made. He didn’t have much of a chance to put it down though. In a matter of seconds the timer was counting down again and you tried to do a silly pose, sticking up peace signs until König broke you by tickling your side.
“Hey! That’s not fair,” you said, half giggling half groaning.
“You got me, so I got you. Fairs fair, Sneaky,” he chuckled.
“You’re such a meanie!”
“Yeah, and you love it,” he said, his eyes glinting with a smile. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have stuck around this long.”
The third and final photo was taken when you were looking into each other’s eyes, locked in a gaze that betrayed the sickly lovebirds you were underneath all the playfighting and cool exteriors you both tried to preserve. Neither of you said a word as it came and went on the display, both admiring how the other looked, stuck in your adoring silence.
Though soon the screen went dark and König sighed, petting your thigh so you’d stand from his lap. You obliged and wandered out, going to fetch your paper strip of photos when you were beat to your prize. König snatched them first and held them up at a height, inspecting them again while you jumped and screeched like a Tasmanian devil.
“Hey! I paid for those,” you growled, trying to grip onto his shoulders for leverage.
“Maybe so, but I’m afraid I have to confiscate them,” he said in a fake somber tone, easily batting your hands off of him like a kitten. “They’re classified, you don’t have the clearance for them.”
“But they’re mine!” you whined.
“Mine now,” he grinned, slipping his temporary mask down so that he could stick his tongue out.
You huffed, but eventually you vowed to steal them later, not missing König sticking them in his wallet and making sure to secret it away in his front pockets away from your sneaking reach.  You would get those photos somehow, someway, you’d told him. His bullshit arm span couldn’t protect him forever!
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Sticky
Gale x f!reader
Tw: NSFW 18+, fluff
@senualothbrok gave me the idea, she has a bigger brain than I! Also please check her out! Her works are awesome! She’s my cinnamon apple❤️❤️❤️❤️
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You’ve had a bad week and have been moping around the tower for the last couple of days. Gale has taken notice, and he’s had enough of it. He hates to see you suffer so he closes his book and walks over to you. You’re sitting on a chair in his study, knees pulled tightly to your chest. He sits down on the arm of the chair and pads your leg with his thumb.
“What’s wrong, my love?”
You sit there for a moment before you look at him with glossy eyes and you realize you have no idea why you’re so sad. The whole week you’ve been like this and have no actual reason why.
“I’ve just been feeling down, I guess. I feel like a boat on the water with an unsuspecting hole in the bottom. I don’t even realize I’m sinking.” You sigh.
“Ah, it seems you're navigating the currents of emotion without a chart. Sometimes, acknowledging the leaks is the first step to mending the hull. Let's examine the waters and patch up those hidden vulnerabilities before they become a storm."
He caresses your face with his soft, slender hands. You smirk and roll your eyes at the comment.
“Do you want to go get ice cream?” He smiles at you, awaiting your answer.
You can’t remember the last time you had ice cream. Your eyes light up and you beam a bright smile back with an eager nod. He helps you off the chair, holds you for a second and kisses your forehead. You hurry to get dressed and come back down to find him waiting for you by the door.
You both head to town, hand in hand, enjoying the beautiful weather. The sun is shining on the Chionthar making it look as if it was made of glass. You forgot how much you love Waterdeep. It’s not as big as Baldur's Gate but it’s definitely cleaner, quieter and it’s where your home is. You walk briskly to the ice cream shop.
You’re greeted by a sweet old gnome woman and you both start to examine the assortment of ice cream. All of the flavors have such silly names like Sorcerer’s Starlight Sorbet, Dragon Mint Delight, and Enchanted Elderberry Swirl. You’ve made your decision and Gale’s picked the one called Feywild Berry Blast. You laugh to yourself when he says the name out loud.
You have your treats and start to head back to his tower, just enjoying Gale's presence with the beautiful weather. This is the first day you’ve felt yourself at peace and happy for a while. You both walk a bit slower going home than when you first started, getting distracted in conversation. He tells you all about how ice cream is made. The sunlight glitters in his eyes as he tells you everything with passion. You are listening so intently that you don’t even realize your ice cream is starting to melt down your hand. Gale notices first. He stops talking and takes your hand. You finally look down to see the melted ice cream running down to your wrist.
“Oh, that’s embarrassing,” you utter. “I’m no better than a child. We should probably hurry home so I can wash my hands.”
“It’s alright.” He flashes a small smile as he brings your hand up to his lips. “May I?”
Your cheeks redden as you nod. He dips his head down to your hand and drags his tongue from your wrist up to the ledge of the cone. He looks up at you through hooded lids halfway up your hand. The red in your cheeks deepens and starts to creep down your neck. You feel yourself start to melt between your legs under his touch. He continues to lick the sweet, sticky liquid off of your fingers and you notice that his face is now burning bright as well. He finishes ravishing your hand and you look at him. There’s ice cream all over his fingers too. You don’t hesitate, you grab his hand and start to clean his fingers with short, calculated licks. You get to the last digit and pull it into your mouth and suck ever so gently on the tip. You stare up at him half lidded as you continue to suck.
You both suddenly remember that you are not home. The sun is still burning bright. Gale opens his mouth to speak but no sound comes out at first.
“I think…” He takes a sharp breath like he has forgotten to breathe.
“We need to walk faster,” he demands.
You nod in agreement and you both start practically running back to the tower. As you’re walking, you feel your arousal start to make your thighs slick. Your blush is now almost as bright as the sun. You neglect your ice cream on purpose now, hoping to get it into all the spots you want Gale's mouth to touch.
You arrive at your home; Gale swings the door open and you both rush inside. You stand in front of the door staring at each other. You move your treat to your other hand and look at the one that used to hold it. Thick streaks of cream cover your hand once again. You raise a finger to the wizard's lips, and he opens eagerly. He takes your finger in his mouth, and he sucks and swirls his tongue around it, making sure to get every delicious drop off of your beautiful finger. Your blush intensifies and a soft moan escapes. Your eyes flutter closed. You feel his free hand start working on your bodice, trying to get you out of your tight clothes. You open your eyes, take back your hand and help him open your shirt, still carrying your ice cream. You lead him to the bedroom.
Once there, you take your treat and pour the remaining liquid down your chest and onto your belly. You feel the cream covering your nipples and moving down into your navel. You realize your bottoms are still on and you remove them quickly and push the liquid so it moves further down your body. Gale’s eyes devour every movement you make, his eyes darkening, and his breathing quickens. He comes closer to you and kisses you on the lips before moving down to clean you. He starts by dragging his tongue between your breasts, gently sucking on your soft skin. He pulls in your left nipple and swirls his tongue around the hardened nub for only a second before moving down to the underside of your breast and cleaning it off with one long lick. You release a whimper and try to remember to breathe.
He gives your right breast the same treatment. His head starts to go lower, still using his tongue to clean off your abdomen, your breath becoming more rapid as he continues. You feel heat pooling in your core and your arousal running down your legs. You ache for his tongue to reach your sticky folds. He reaches your hips, and with a final kiss below your navel, he stands up fully. You frown, but before you can protest, he picks you up and walks you to the bed and lays you down on the edge. He puts a finger out telling you to wait a minute as he leaves the room. He comes back with his now melted ice cream and his pants are unlaced. You look at him with a wide smile and you bite your lip. He smiles back and holds out the treat and pours it all over your hips. You feel the slightly cold liquid spread over your hips; it spills into your folds. He gets on his knees and pulls your legs open, kissing your thighs and licking between them, saving the best for last. He gets to your aching core and licks a slow stripe up the center. You gasp and arch your back, your eyes flutter closed.
“My favorite treat.” His voice is practically a growl.
He dips his head into your center and begins to run his tongue through your folds. You cry out and grip his grey-brown hair, trying to pull him closer to you. He groans, continuing to ravish your most sensitive areas. His velvet tongue finds your clit and makes small circles. This could be your undoing. The sounds coming out of you are encouraging the man as you feel his hands grip your inner thighs. He removes one, and you feel it return in a new spot, as he moves it into your wet opening. You whimper louder at the new feeling. You manage to make words instead of sounds.
“More, please, my love.”
You feel his silent agreement as he adds another finger into your slick cunt. You’re quickly approaching your end as he moves his hand and tongue in the same rhythm.
“Oh my gods, Gale, I’m go-“ you start as your body readies to climax.
Before you finish your sentence he quickly stands and pushes his pants down to his knees. He enters you with no resistance, his thick cock starts pounding into you urgently. The noise that comes from your throat is animalistic as you fall over the edge. He continues to rut into you through your orgasm, his body tensing and his thrusts getting stronger, more dissonant, as he reaches his end. You wrap your legs around him and he spills into you with a satisfying moan. You feel his body go limp, before he pulls out and rolls over next to you. He is out of breath, covered in sweat and remnants of ice cream.
“Well, I feel better,” you say between breaths with a smile.
He breathes hard. His eyes are closed but you can see his satisfaction.
“Care for a bath, my love?”
You kiss his sweat covered forehead and roll to your side.
“Yes, I just need to return from the brink of death, first.”
You try to forget how sticky you feel as you wait for your husband to recover.
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ltwilliammowett · 4 months
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Fire and ice united in one lady. Hidden in today's 14 door is the Queen of Ice - the Bark Europa
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Bark Europa
More about her:
Today's sailing ship Europa was launched in 1911 as an unpowered lightship under the name Senator Brockes at the Hamburg shipyard H. C. Stülcken Sohn under the construction number 409. As lightship Elbe 4 and pilot station on the Elbe as well as Elbe 3 and Elbe 4, this ship was in service almost without interruption until 1977. From around 1975, the costly and labour-intensive lightships began to be replaced by large buoys and automatic stations on the sea waterways.
Almost all of the old lightships had sailing ship hulls, as these were particularly good in the often rough seas of their fixed anchorages. A buyer from Hamburg bought the ship for scrap and began converting it into a proper sailing ship in 1986, but was unable to cope. In 1987, the Dutchman Harry Smit bought the hull and invested millions in converting the ship. By 1994, it had become a three-masted sailing ship with a bar rig. Mahogany panelling salvaged from old ships was used inside the ship and a lot of brass was also traditionally used. The Europa is used worldwide as a charter ship. She has circumnavigated the globe several times and also sailed around Cape Horn. On 20 May 2023, she had an accident in Cape Town when she was to be relaunched after a period in the shipyard and tipped over on land. After a few weeks, she was raised and is sailing again.
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richardsthirdnipple · 6 months
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THE STORY OF DRAGONS.
The Last Dragon Riders & Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen.
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I've had discussions before about taking away either of these girls from the narrative and how bad it would be when it comes to the thematic story of the Dragons. This post is more in-depth about that idea and how it concludes with the mother of Dragons.
Hatching and Bonding
Nettles is a dragon seed with the strangest relationship to her dragon. Her claiming him was dependent on her slaughtering sheep and feeding him every day for a prolonged period of time in order to bond with him.
Rhaena takes three dragon eggs with her when she is sent away, eventually, towards the end of the dance, one hatches in the Vale, giving us Morning. In the show, so far, we see that she holds dragon eggs to the fire, trying to hatch it.
Dany is given three fossilized eggs at the beginning of her marriage. After her husband and baby die, she commits a blood sacrifice using blood magic and a funeral pyre to hatch the three dragons she's breastfeeding by the end of it. Establishing the strangest bond we've seen with dragons and their riders.
Urchin and Lady
Nettles grows up on the streets of Spice Town and Hull alone, being visually marred from an incident, with an alleged scar across her nose.
Rhaena is raised in Pentos with her parents and sister and later on Dragonstone with her stepmother, father, 3 step brothers, and two half brothers. She was betrothed to the heir to Drifmark.
Dany grows up with the understanding that she might marry Viserys. She is raised first in a house in Pentos and soon after from house to house until people get tired of them. Eventually, they meet Illyrio, but not before Viserys earns the title of The Beggar King.
George has issues (love)
One of them sees a 32 year old at 16 and his two daughters and decideds to marry him out of all possible options.
The other is 16 with the 49 year old prince consort and has an assassination attempt placed on her for it.
Dany is married off to a 31 year old at 13 who abuses her. After a while, she 'falls in love'.
Magic and Blood
The Valyrians used blood magic to bind themselves to their dragons. It's a trait passed down and kept pure with the incestuous practices of all the dragonlords. It's the reason that Rhaena hatches her Dragon.
Nettles call this into question when taming a wild dragon. Rather than relying on the same blood link she should have, she uses sheep to bond with Sheepstealer every day until he allows her to become his rider. This is in the aftermath of him killing every Valyrian bastard before her.
Dany's magic is both types of blood magic. The sacrifice of herself, her husband and child on the pyre to hatch her eggs, and the fact that she's a Targaryen all tie into her ability to hatch her dragons.
Where we are and Where we go
Rhaena hatches morning out of three dragon eggs in the Vale. She has Morning on her shoulders at the end of her war, being able to fly her all over the realm as a Targaryen Princess after the war. She becomes the darling of the city. A vision of hope for her house.
Nettles is taken away from politics and to safety by her dragon. For years, she's alone in the Vale mountains with her dragon, becoming a deity for the burned men.
At the end of A Game of Thrones, Dany has hatched 3 dragons from her eggs, and by the end of the last book so far Drogon has taken her away from all the politics of Meeren.
Darling and Fire Witch
A beacon of hope in the idea of Targaryen restoration. Darling of the city alongside her sister. Beloved by artists and designers alike.
She forms a religion around her dragon. Creating the most dangerous tribe in the Mountains of the Vale. With ceremonies of burning the men attached in exchange for gifts.
Dany is the idea of the Targaryen restoration when she hatches her Dragons. Drogo's Khalesar starts to follow her after this feat, she is the Unburnt.
Dany and her girls
All of this is to allude to the idea that the differences in these girls' lives allow for a parallel with Daenerys. Nettles doesn't hatch dragons, and Rhaena doesn't use any type of sacrifice to hatch hers.
Nettles grows up on the streets, but Rhaena has siblings and is raised in Essos.
No one in the narrative has any expectation for Nettles until she claims dragon. Rhaena is born as close to a princess as one can be without being one.
Nettles, on Driftmark, is raised on the shadow of the dynasty of the great house, Targaryen. Rhaena is a dragonless girl at the height of the house Targaryen's power, again in the shadow.
They both establish differing parallels and middle grounds for her character, all while Daenerys herself is her own person with traits distinctly apart from these two girls. She's the fire in A Song of Ice and Fire. George wrote Fire and Blood after we met Daenerys. The fun with that is that he can make these parallels tying her to the world and giving her character relationships in history.
Bride, Daughter, and Mother of Dragons.
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Nettles is the bride of dragons in this concept. She rides a male dragon who gives her power and acclaim. One of five women to do so and the only one still alive alongside her dragon that ties her into the main plot. She is also the last lover of Daemon Targaryen. The man tied thematically to the last dragon of the conquest. I think she is the bride within this idea, married to dragons because it wasn't something inherited, it was something she chose to tie herself to and allegedly with either man or dragon spent the rest of her days alongside.
Rhaena, as the daughter of Dragons, seems really obvious. Her mother was the rider of Vhagar, and her father was Daemon. At the end of the war she is one of the three women of house Targaryen still alive and the only dragon rider with her dragon. She becomes a Princess after the war. She is the daughter of Dragons.
Daenerys is the Mother of Dragons. She hatches her three dragons from stone eggs and breast feeds them as they are hatched. Obviously, she is also the bride and daughter, but due to the power of three, I think I'm gonna take the stand and say she's the Mother.
The power of three
These three are the story of the death and return of dragons in Westeros and to their world. Without Nettles or Rhaena in their exact plots, only half of the story is told. They both leave the world without Dragons, a torch lit again by Daenerys. Within this series and the idea of the power of three, why wouldn't the last of the dragon riders be connected?
Brave girls who, through various means, carry distinctive lights in the story of dragons. It's my personal opinion that the intention is never to give the title to either Netltes or Rhaena but to have them serve as different sides to Daenerys. Her story intertwined with them both to continue the story of Dragons.
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'To go north, you must journey south, to reach the west you must go east. To go forward, you must go back and to touch the light you must pass beneath the shadow.'
—Quaithe to Daenerys Targaryen
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dilangley · 5 months
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trick or treat 👻🎃
The Due West is a Dutch Harbor icon. Family-owned for longer than any other in the fleet, the 125-foot vessel outperforms its size every year and rarely hires outsiders. However, this year, the well of cousins and friends finally ran dry, and the word ran up the docks that Big Walt needed a deckhand. 
Leon had no idea if there were formal channels to apply, but he had walked from the Shady Lady to the Due West, chatted with Keith for fifteen minutes, and accepted the job on a handshake. 
----
“Matthew.” Keith turns his name into an entire sentence.
“Dad.” Matthew tries to create the same effect back at him. “Keith.” 
When neither one yields any response, Matthew drops into the chair next to him. Keith has nautical charts and catch graphs spread all over the kitchen table, mired in planning, and it would be right to respect that. Only Matthew has a bone to pick that cannot wait.
“You hired for the season without me,” Matthew says. “You said I could do it.”
Keith slides his reading glasses onto the top of his head. “I let you write the ad for the paper and put it up online, and I would have let you interview if we’d had to do it, but I had an experienced hand show up.”
“I could have interviewed him.”
“And what? Asked him what we already know? He’s been fishing here for a decade.”
“What about crab?”
“He’s done four seasons.” The reading glasses go back on. “And I’m done talking about this. We both have work to do.” 
The only thing worse than being wrong is his dad being right. Matthew nods, pats Keith’s shoulder, and grabs his coat. This Tkachuk apartment right near the docks has been in the family since the 1970s right alongside the Due West herself. If it was in New York, it would be called a studio, but here, it was just like so many other captain’s land quarters squeezed as near to their boats as could be, sparse and simple, both home away from home and office. Matthew’s earliest childhood memories are in this room, watching his dad and his grandfather at that table, shoulder to shoulder, voices brash and business-like.
He stares a second too long at his dad there alone before heading out. 
The town and harbor are always two sides of the same coin, but this time of year, the lines blur where even that distinction cannot be made. On the way to the Due West, he ducks a refrigeration truck picking up a load of cod, a forklift precariously balancing three crab pots, and a trio of guys he pegs as greenhorns from a hundred yards. The hubbub means nothing once he climbs aboard their boat though. She’s blue and yellow and just dinged up enough to have personality of her own, just old enough for her promises to get them home safely to be believed. 
Brady salutes him from his perch at the crane controls and tilts his head. Should I come down? 
Matthew shakes and shrugs. It’s just Dad.
Then he goes below and switches his tennis shoes for white deck boots. Quinn is out on deck, checking lines, and Matthew volunteers to secure the stacks. It is the perfect job for when he doesn’t feel like talking to anyone. He shimmies his way up on the crab pots, stacked three deep and twenty feet high, and catches the ropes Quinn throws his way. The work is easy here in harbor, the waves just lapping against the hull, and in it, he locks away his irritation.
Matthew doesn’t really know Leon. Around the docks and bars, he’s heard fishermen call him the Mad German, laughing and familiar, and that’s the first sign already he’s going to be a problem. No reason for that nickname can possibly constitute a net positive for the Due West and the finicky crab season ahead.
So Matthew waits for him from the stacks while pretending he doesn’t.
Leon arrives precisely on time. Standard attire, standard navy beanie low against the chill, standard duffel gear, standard right foot first onto the boat. 
“Hey,” Brady hollers from his spot by the control panel. “Welcome aboard, man.”
“Thank you,” Leon says, polite, clipped. “Let me put this down, and I’ll work on bait.”
“Bait?” Quinn pokes his head up. “We’ve got a keeper here, boys.
“It’s nice to see you again,” Leon says, and that explains Quinn’s friendliness. Matthew wonders where they’ve worked together before. In the insular Alaskan fishing community, it’s more unusual that he’s never crossed paths with Leon than the reverse. Most deckhands sign on with different boats by the season, fishing for cod on one vessel, opilio crabs on another, and under the blistering tongues and hard lines of captains, they hop for better conditions whenever they can. 
“You too. You know Brady.” Quinn points, and Brady waves. “That’s Matthew on the stacks. Older brother to us all.”
Matthew grins in spite of himself and waves too. “Hey, welcome.” 
Leon nods in acknowledgement but carefully does not interrupt Quinn who is still offering a verbal tour. “Kevin’s down in the galley usually, but I think he’s hitting the store with Chantal to load this boat up, and Chabby’s…”
“Hey, Chabby!” Brady shouts, and after a few clangs, Thomas Chabot, chief engineer, emerges from the bowels of the boat. “This is Leon.”
“I know the Mad German.” Thomas walks over and offers his hand, smiling broadly. “We both did two summers cod fishing on the Lucky Lady.”
“Worst two I ever did.” Leon shakes and smiles back. “Hoping for better fare here.”
Thomas makes one of his French exclamations, this one seemingly of agreement, and laughs his way back down to the engine room. It signals a return to work. No one needs to show a seasoned fisherman his way around the vessel itself, only around the people, so Leon takes his gear below deck.
“You like fishing with him?” Matthew calls down to Quinn.
“Your dad couldn’t have hired anyone better,” Quinn says.
“Good.” 
Securing the rest of the pots takes fifteen more minutes, but Matthew takes twenty just to find his good humor again.
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snippychicke · 7 months
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Cats & Ships Chapter Three
Title: Cats & Ships
Overall Rating: Teen for now? May go into mature at a future date
Trigger warnings: Nothing beyond what's in the live-action series. I mean, Kuro's still manipulative and paranoid. It gets better tho? Slowly?
Pairings: Captain Kuro (Klahadore)/Reader; hints of Kaya/Usopp
Summary: It started out as a means to get information as Khaladore. Who would be better to provide information regarding the high seas than Syrup Village’s Harbormaster? Except, for the first time in a very long time, Kuro found himself trusting, and even liking, the young woman he shared tea with every week. 
And then the Straw Hat Pirates arrived and ruined his plans. Except fate decided his story wasn’t done there. 
Nor was yours.
Masterlist here! | Read on Ao3!
Returning to piracy was inevitable, as much as Kuro disliked it. He hated the fact that living in relative luxury and peace was at odds with his more… violent tendencies and that occasional thirst for blood. 
Which had meant finding Jango and Bezen Black (which wasn't hard. He just had to find the most popular dance hall in the East Blue and there was his First Mate), and then rebuild a crew. 
The new crew were as incompetent as his old ones, barely able to follow direction and often trying to improvise instead of sticking to the plan. But after making a few examples of those who crossed them, they had mostly fallen in line. 
Kuro couldn’t trust them -- but he couldn't trust anyone, not even Jango. Gone were the moments he could relax and not worry about finding a knife suddenly in his back, or poison in his drink. 
He had to be on guard. Always. Show no mercy, not a hint of weakness. 
The raiding of a passenger ship between his old haunting grounds of Syrup village and Shell Town  was supposed to be routine. Smash, grab, disappear before any of the marine vessels could answer the distress call. (So far no one had seemed to take his victims seriously when they claimed to be attacked by the Black Cat Pirates, but it was only a matter of time. Soon he would have a bounty on his head and an even larger target on his back.)
But of course, things had to go sideways. But in a way he had not anticipated. And that was when a small black streak shot across the deck towards the huddled group of passengers, snarling and hissing as it launched itself at one of his crew.  
Except a well timed kick sent the beast flying. Kuro's eye twitched when he realized the creature was a black and white cat, but it was the scream that followed that made Kuro pause his descent into the hull. 
“Kuro!” 
He knew that voice. He turned in time to see you try to lunge for the cat, only to be kneed in the chest by the same man who had punted the cat across the deck. 
"What did you just call that fleabag?" The man laughed, which was echoed by the rest of the crew in charge of keeping an eye on the passengers. "Did you really name your cat after the pirate captain? Well, my pretty little bird, it's your lucky day." 
Kuro took a breath. He should ignore it and continue on. Nevermind you or his namesake, or the sudden pang beneath his ribs as he remembered the time he had spent with you over the years. Or how fond he had grown of the one-eyed cat that unknowingly carried his name. 
Yet for some reason, he couldn't. The captain growled to himself as he turned and strode quickly to where the cat was climbing to its feet, obviously not used to the sway of a ship on open water. Or at least, Kuro… hoped. He hoped that was the cause of the cats shakiness and not something else. 
Picking a cat up with his Cat Claws would be impossible, making Kuro hesitate for a moment. Yet as soon as the cat recognized the towering figure, he was quickly climbing up the pirate's pant leg with plaintive whine. 
Soon, his namesake was settled in the nook of one of his arms, acting as if he hadn't just been treated like a ball. 
Which left you. Kuro turned to see you curled in a ball against the deck, shielding yourself from the boots of the pirates. His anger took control before he could think. 
Within a second he was behind the man who started it. The five blades of one Cat Claw easily slide into the man's back, ending the laughter with a choked breath. 
Silence quickly fell just as fast as the dead body hit the deck.
"We're not here to torture the passengers," Kuro stated coldly to the others, pushing his glasses back up as he glared down at the corpse. "Follow the plan, or the next person to step out of line will answer to me as well." 
"Sir, yes sir!" They shouted before scattering. Kuro waited until they were gone before glancing towards you. You were still half-laying on the deck, your eyes wide and full of tears, hair a mess…
But it was the blood smeared across your face and arms that made his temper flare even more. A busted lip, abrasions marring your skin…
"On your feet," he commanded, though far softer than if you had been anyone else. 
There was no doubt that you recognized him, not with the mixed expression on your face. Relief. Hope. Anger. Hurt. 
Which meant you knew. Knew everything. He couldn't trust you either. Not any more. 
You opened your mouth a few times, almost as if to say something before giving up and silently standing, wavering slightly. He wasn’t sure if you were shaky due to the abuse you had sustained, or the fact the seas were somewhat choppy today. Either way, he allowed you a moment to gain your balance before he turned back towards his ship.
 "Follow me." He stated and was able to hear your unsteady steps as you complied without argument  and followed him over the gangway plank that bridged the ships. 
He paused for a moment when you hesitated at the edge, shooting you a glance over his shoulder. It was all the warning you needed as you quickly stepped up on the narrow plank that served as a bridge.   
Despite being more than a few feet in front of you. Kuro could here your faint whimpers as you slowly crossed, and recalled you weren't fond of heights. 
Which, now that he had a moment to think, he had to wonder what in the blue seas were you doing out here? So far away from Syrup village? From the harbor you so dearly loved? You had never expressed the slightest interest to leave before, so what could compel you to do so? 
He led you to his quarters, and carefully allowed Kuro-the-cat to jump down on the swinging bed before removing the Cats Claws. "Please, close the door,” he stated when he heard you linger at the door. “I don't think we want Kuro trying to explore the rest of the ship." 
You closed the door, though you didn't move a step from it. "Is…Is he okay?" you finally spoke. 
Kuro smiled faintly to himself as he ran his bare hands along the cat in question, the cat purring happily with no flinching as he felt his ribs and legs. "He's fine. Cats have nine-lives, after all." 
Once he was satisfied the cat wasn't injured, he finally turned towards you. You quickly looked away, your face flushed as you hugged your arms to yourself, obviously terrified. 
He could hardly blame you, he could only imagine what was going on in your mind. How much of the truth did Kaya tell the village? Or did she just give a small hint and the rumor mill cause the story to develop in unexpected ways. 
Regardless, seeing you covered in blood unsettled him in ways he rather not admit. Kuro moved silently as he grabbed a clean cloth before dipping it in the wash basin, wetting it slightly before approaching you. 
"Now, are you okay?" He spoke as a warning before cupping your face, though you still jumped. His grip was gentle as he guided you to look towards him, carefully wiping the blood away. 
Honestly, they were minor injuries but still made his blood boil. 
(If only he could kill the idiot again. He should have taken his time. He wasn’t usually a fan of torture, but he could’ve made an exception.)
"Khala--" you cut off as his eyes met yours, and he arched an eyebrow, curious. "...Captain Kuro," you finished, as if acknowledging the elephant in the room.
Kuro's smile widened slightly, becoming cat-like as he stated your name in return before asking the question still bothering him. "What are you doing so far from home?" 
Your expression melted into grief unexpectedly before you pulled away from him. "Finding a new one." 
He pushed away the feeling caused by you stepping back and wadded up the bloodied cloth instead.“Did you finally realize you deserved better than that squalor of a village?” he asked as he tossed the cloth in a basket of other dirtied clothes.  
You scoffed, your gaze taking on a hard edge. “Hardly. More like I was no longer welcomed. After all, no one would trust a harbormaster who had been friends with a devious lying pirate.”
Kuro nodded his head slightly, not particularly insulted; that did make sense, he supposed. He hadn’t really given thought about the fallout of that night, other than the chances of the marines realizing that he still lived. 
He could easily see the villagers turning on you, the seeds of distrust quickly taking root and threatening to bloom into chaos. 
“My apologies,” he stated after a moment as he turned to check on his namesake, who had hopped up on the shelving holding items he had collected over the years. “Nothing went according to my plans, it seems.”
“Your plans? Your plans?” He turned back to see fire in your eyes as you glared at him. “For fucks’ sake, Klahadore-Kuro-whatever your name is, I had once admired you for your ingenuity and always being one step ahead, pirate or not. But mother sea, I had never realized you to be such an idiot!”
“Excuse me?” He felt an eye twitch in annoyance, irritation quickly simmering. Him? An idiot? The great Kuro of a thousand plans? Who were you to say such a thing? A tiny little harbormaster that had perhaps one of the quietest ports in all of the East Blue? 
“Why the hell did you think you needed to kill Kaya to get what you want?” You snarled, either not recognizing the signs of anger, or foolishly ignoring them. “She said it herself, she would have happily given you whatever you wanted! You were fucking family to her! Hell, now she's left the manor and the rest of the estate to the village so she can go off and become a doctor! Were you so blinded by greed to not see how much we--she-- cared for you?” 
Kuro hesitated, digesting your words and the implications. Could it have been that easy? Would Kaya have agreed to such a thing? And what did you mean the girl had left the village as well? A doctor? Why would she give up a life of luxury to be a doctor of all things? 
“It never crossed your mind, did it?” you continued after the silence lingered a few more moments. “You lived with us for three years, took care of the girl with such devotion… And you were so heartless that you never paused to think that maybe could be the path to your goal.” 
“You’ll get nowhere if you expect your goals to be handed to you on a silver platter," he argued sharply, stalking back towards you. "It’s best to take them, by force.” 
To emphasize his point, he grabbed your neck roughly, just below your chin to make you look up at him. He could feel your pulse bounding against his bare fingers, your eyes widening in fear.
 It would be so easy to twist your neck. Or squeeze his hand until you couldn’t breathe and he could watch the life fade slowly from your eyes. 
Except the longer he watched you, the more the bloodlust faded and something akin to regret took its place, causing his grip lightened. You… you had been one of the rare ones. 
One of the few he had trusted. The only one he had trusted in recent memory. 
“Are you going to kill me?” you spoke after a long moment, snapping him out of his thoughts. There was a cold darkness that seemed wrong in your eyes.  “Had that been part of your plan as well?”
No. It hadn’t. He had expected the arrangement with you to continue after Kaya’s ‘unfortunate’ death, until he tired of playing Klahadore and could no longer ignore the need for violence that was constantly itching in the back of his mind.
Hell, he could at least admit that he had entertained the thoughts of seeing if he could progress his relationship with you more than once. There was no denying he found you attractive, both physically as well as intellectually. 
He… had liked  you. 
He still liked you. 
Kuro’s hands traced down the line of your neck, watching the vein in your neck quiver as your heart raced. Your skin darkened with a blush, starting in the swell of your cheeks and quickly spreading. He always loved seeing you blush. 
If only you didn’t look so scared. As if you expected the Cat Claws to suddenly form and end your life. 
That trust he had enjoyed had been irreversibly damaged. No more tea while venting about the little annoyances of quiet village life. Or the warmth he felt when you mindlessly prepared him another cup exactly the way he liked it while you talked, putting a cookie on the saucer if he didn't take one. 
“No,” he finally answered, allowing his hand to drop. He turned, trying to calm himself as he picked up his namesake. Kuro-the-cat initially complained as he picked him up, before shifting and curling against his shoulder, purring. 
Maybe he should see about getting a cat for the ship. After all, they were the Black Cat Pirates. It would keep vermin out of the pantry at least. 
There was no better companion than a cat. 
“I wish you well, in fact,” he continued as he dropped the cat into your arms. “Your talents were wasted at Syrup village, harbormaster or not. Just be careful to avoid any other pirates in the future.”
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peacefulandcozy · 1 year
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Instagram credit: __suzannah
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mi-capsula · 1 year
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Ya no me quedan lágrimas para llorar.
27/10/2022
Es extraña la sensación de querer llorar a gritos, pero no te quedan fuerzas suficientes para hacerlo. Como si tu cabeza lo pidiera, pero mi cuerpo no pudiera. Tengo tanto para decir, pero no tengo a quien contárselo, que mi única forma de hacerlo es escribiendo. No tengo a nadie para contarle lo tanto que te amaba, y amo. Que me cuesta horrores dejar de pensarte. Que todos los recuerdos que tengo en mi cabeza ahora con simples torturas a las que recurro para hacerme sentir ALGO entre toda esta NADA que estoy sintiendo. Dejé ir algo que no quería, en circunstancias donde nosotros no queríamos que pasasen, pero se dieron así. Yo sé que más temprano que tarde vamos a poder volver a vernos y decirnos todo eso que por orgullo y distancia no pudimos, porque yo todavía no estoy listo para dejarte ir. Porque me hiciste sentir ESO que faltaba en mi vida, y ahora es muy difícil dejar de sentirlo, aun al no tenerte cerca. Te prometí que pelearía por esto, porque sé que vale la pena. Porque sé que vales la pena. En mi cabeza, esto es un “Hasta pronto”, y no un “Hasta nunca”.
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Fa.D.A.
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sparrowssally · 3 months
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I’m thinking about writing a Sally Sparrow/Tenth Doctor fanfic, so naturally I went and rewatched “Blink” tonight for the millionth time to get some inspo, and you know what kills me?
All the little details we don’t get. All the little stories that played out without us seeing.
Kathy getting zapped back to 1920’s Hull, directly in front of the cow farmer who will become not only her first friend in the strange new town she now has to call home, but also eventually her husband. When Kathy awakes in the night with her heart pounding and tears streaming down her cheeks, and simply chokes out “the angels…I dreamt about the angels again”, his arms are always there to comfort her. The dreams slowly subside over time as she adjusts to her new life, and soon there are other, more important things to worry about. Some good, like the birth of their children, and some bad, like the war. But Kathy survives and lives a full life, as do her husband and children, and with every picture she continually insists upon taking—one every time they have enough money to afford it—she thinks of her friend Sally Sparrow.
There’s also poor, lovely Billy Shipton, transported back to 1969 London—probably by the same Angel that sent the Doctor and Martha there. He’s just as unmoored as Kathy is, but—as strange as this Doctor guy seems to be—Billy finds himself liking him in a weird way. He makes a point to become Billy’s first friend in 1969, and he and his friend Martha help get Billy not only a place to live, but also a job working in publishing (even though Billy can’t figure out how the Doctor possibly managed to forge those papers that spoke to his “extensive expertise” in the field, or why he is so insistent upon splicing several videos of him talking in jargon into a bunch of completely unrelated DVDs once Billy moves into video production). Martha sets Billy up with a pretty girl named Sally who always comes into the shop where she works, and a few months later, the Doctor attends their wedding. Billy tries to find him afterwards at the reception to say thank you, but he’s already gone, leaving behind only a simple envelope inscribed “for the bride and groom”. It contains a pound note hefty enough to get Billy and his new wife off to a good start in their marriage, and simple card inscribed with a wedding blessing, written in a script and language neither of them can read.
The next time Billy does see the Doctor is many years later, when he’s old and grey, lying bedridden in a nursing home. Billy had never truly believed the Doctor’s claims of being an alien, but when he sees the same skinny, dark-haired young man walking across the room towards him—looking exactly as he had in 1969—he can’t help but cry in the midst of his wonder. The man who calls himself the Doctor is still a mystery, but as he pulls up a chair next to Billy’s bed and takes the latter’s outstretched hand, he’s as kind as he always was. He offers his condolences when Billy tells him of the passing of his wife, and smiles at the photos Billy shows him of his children, carefully dodging Billy’s question of whether or not he ended up having children of his own. But then he grows silent and his gaze grows sad as he looks out the window at the storm clouds brewing in the sky. “I’m sorry, Billy, I’m afraid I didn’t just come here to visit,” he says, and his voice is laced with a guilt and sorrow so deep that it sounds centuries old. “It’s time.” For a second Billy thinks he sounds close to crying for some reason, so he puts his wrinkled hand on the Doctor’s shoulder gently. “It’s okay.” he insists, giving him a soft smile. “This means I’ll finally get to see her again.”
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imarvelatthestars · 7 months
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Transience
Pairings: Clone Veteran (from Kenobi) x f!Reader
Warnings: some references to sex, but nothing explicit
Notes: some more expansion & world building in Tatooine! I had fun creating new characters & tossing in a few nods to North African/Tamazigh culture, which is where George Lucas got most of his inspiration for Tatooine. (If you want to know about all the hidden easter eggs, I'm happy to share.)
For anyone just joining the series - this is my take on Nax, started before he received a canon name. You can start the story here.
[previous chapter] [next chapter]
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The transport is small and crammed with junk. It smells. There’s a rather irritable Rodian sitting on your right who won’t stop grumbling under her breath and it doesn’t escape your notice that she has a holster tied to her hip. You’ve noticed a lot of people have blasters out here. Tai has one now, too. You’re not sure how to feel about it; he knows how to handle it, you trust him to be safe with it, but you kind of hate the idea of him having to use it.
It’s one more item to add to the list you’ve written in the back of your head, which currently consists of:
• sand people? jawas? avoid them??
• jabba the hutt – mos espa. keeps slaves. definitely avoid.
• find a new job. what kind of jobs? does tatooine have janitors?
• practice blaster-ing
You fade in and out of sleep during the trip, though you’re not sure that Tai ever even closes his eyes. He remains a firm, steady statue beside you, always alert and watching and quiet. He’s impossibly quiet. If he wasn’t pressed up against your body from knee to shoulder, you wouldn’t even know he was there. You wonder if that’s something he was trained for, and that leads into a deeper spiraling train of thought.
He’s a soldier. There was never any doubt, but you can’t ignore it now. It comes with complications. Being a soldier is not inherently bad. It requires discipline and endurance and a kind of inner strength only some people can ever dream of. It also requires loss and death and blood. You know he’s killed before. It’s never felt so real as it does in the hull of this shitty transport.
Tatooine is a lawless place, full of slavers and pirates and gangsters. Cody had warned the both of you about the indigenous people here, how you couldn’t trust them, that it was best to avoid them at all costs, and to never wander the desert alone. An old veteran with a blaster might just blend in here. He could carve out a life for himself among the sand dunes and wind-whipped mountains. Then you think about how much you were struggling walking the length of Mos Eisley and you want to crawl into a hole for the next thousand years.
What are you doing here? There’s no way you’ll be able to make it out here. Tatooine is a hundred times worse than Daiyu and here you no longer have the advantage of understanding the territory or culture. You don’t even own a single weapon. You’ve never needed one. What if the heat cooks you? What if you get horribly sunburnt? What if you can’t find a job or a place to stay and you end up wandering the desert until you die? What if you get caught by raiders? Slavers?
The Rodian grunts and grumbles into her communicator, and you come back to yourself. To anyone else, it might look like you simply jolted awake. Tai seems to think so, since he rubs his hand over your knee but doesn’t offer anything in the way of conversation. It’s a hint of normalcy. Your heartbeat evens out a bit.
There are a few things you know for sure: you’re resilient, you’re afraid, you have credits and chain codes, Tai will keep you safe. Even if he’s distant, even if he never looks at you again, you know he’ll keep you safe. That’s all he’s ever done.
The transport thunders and shrieks before finally tripping to a halt. The speakers crackle a bit as an equally crackly voice announces, “Last stop. Get out before I throw ya out!”
Charming.
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Mos Nefta. It's a small stretch of a town along the base of a canyon, and by town, you mean about 16 people. They come in every shade of human you've ever seen. They're polite, but it's a restrained nicety that barely veils their obvious distrust of newcomers. The landscape of the town makes up for it, though. Buildings are carved into the cliffside with steps leading down to the canyon floor, some 15 feet below where the barest whisper of a river trickles. A few stubby palms and some tiny flora have sprouted there, the only hint of natural green you've seen on the entire planet so far.
It takes some bartering of credits and a bit of Tai's quick, clever thinking, but he manages to score a place for you both to stay with the local cantina owner until a more suitable arrangement comes around. A bit more of his fast thinking lands you a job as something between a waitress, a bartender, and a dishwasher, while he gets a good word put in for himself with the town's head moisture farmer. Neither is easy.
Being a cantina girl is so much more than serving drinks and taking orders. It’s cleaning puke off the counter (courtesy of the local drunk), getting heckled by large, intimidating, scary men that look at you like they’re starving and you’re the freshest meat around, it's your boss telling you to work harder and faster and sweeter, remember to smile so they tip well, flirt just enough so they want to come back and spend more credits, and, of course, it’s hot.
Everything is hot and painfully dry except for when it’s wet from your sweat. Then it’s somehow worse. You can’t wash the scent of your own body odor out of your clothes, clothes that were made for the cool, biting Daiyu climate. Sometimes the heat drops during the night and you’re granted a reprieve from all the sweat and strange dreams that the weather seems to be inducing, but most of the time you’re just miserable in a different way.
Tai isn’t faring any better, although you suspect his paycheck doesn’t rely on his ability to flirt or be flirted with. He works long hours that leave him sweatier and smellier than you. His hands are often sore from time spent repairing droids and moisture vaporators, and what little time the two of you have alone at the end of each day is spent rubbing lotion into his palms and bacta on his sunburns. He’s tired, plain and simple. You see it wearing on him more and more every day.
You don’t bring up Daiyu. Or Cody. Or how guilty you feel. He doesn’t bring it up either. It simmers low in your belly, festers more and more each day until you’re sure one day it’ll come careening out of you, but for now it settles.
“I got another big tip today.”
Tai doesn’t respond beyond a rumbling hum. His eyes have been drooping shut for the last five minutes.
“I’ve been saving everything I get. I think we might be able to get our own place soon if I take on extra shifts.” You’re already working the majority of the day, he knows this. “And… I still have that jewelry box from my grandmother. Ilo says the Jawas buy and trade for all kinds of things. I could get us some proper clothes.” His latest sunburn catches your eye and it deepens one of the dozens of tiny cracks in your heart. You run a finger over his cheekbone, soft as you can manage, and sigh. “Get you a hat so you stop burning out there.”
It's then that he finally peeks through his eyelids. “Mm mm,” he grumbles with a frown. “That box is yours, sweetheart. You keep it.” He leans forward to rest his forehead on your shoulder, but you can feel when his frown shifts into a smile. “’sides, I don’t need a hat. Got you.”
His hands drift to yours, fingers curling loosely around your wrists. He’s smearing some of the leftover bacta over your skin, but it’s so cool, it feels wonderful against the warmth of the late evening. You don’t mind. You enjoy it. In fact it feels like it’s been ages since you’ve touched one another, since you’ve really let yourself savor his presence because every day has been so busy and exhausting. You’ve been so preoccupied with merely surviving.
“You should sleep, hun,” you whisper into the stubble of his hair.
He nods half-heartedly, but doesn’t attempt a response and fuck, if it doesn’t make your heart about beat out of your chest. You’re caught between feeling so in love and overwhelmingly guilty because his body is so, so weary and it’s only so the two of you can build a life out here.
You swallow thickly. “You’re already falling asleep. C'mon, baby. Lie down with me.”
You won’t be able to go to sleep just yet, your mind is still whirring, but he needs this. Kriff, you need this too. Need to feel him beside you like he always was back on Daiyu. So you lay back in the makeshift bed in Ilo's front room, drag him with you so his head is resting on your breast, you keep your arms around him, and you let him drift into sleep. His snores are still soft and light as he flickers between this world and the one in his dreams.
“I love you.” It’s whispered to the dead silence of the room and there is no response, as you expected, but that’s okay. Maybe the words will seep into his dreams. Maybe it’ll make all of this worth it.
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The cantina’s barely been open an hour when the marshal comes striding in, toothpick poking out one side of her mouth. Her spurs jingle as she approaches the bar, leans forward so her forearms are resting on the counter and the brim of her hat is tilted in your direction.
“Mornin’, Miss Starla,” she drawls.
After a solid 8 rotations, the name is starting to feel at least somewhat familiar. You smile. “Morning, Marshal.”
"What you got fer me?”
“Whatever you’d like, Marshal.”
Marshal Tilelli is a Mirialan, tall and lithe and dark haired. Her eyes are a warm hazel and her skin is purple with the traditional diamond shaped tattoos of her people, and she tends to wear a shawl over her hair when she’s not peeking out from beneath the broad brim of her herder’s hat.
She hums after a moment of consideration. “It’s a bit early fer spotchka, ain’t it?”
“Maybe,” you shrug, “but I won’t tell anyone.”
“That’s fine, Miss Starla. I’ll have me a Sarsi, if you don’t mind.”
Her spurs jingle again as she moves to take a seat at one of the barstools. This time the hat comes off and you get a quick look at the plait she’s pinned atop her head before ducking your own to focus on making her drink. It’s an easy fill job, no liquor to fuss over, but you make a point of sticking a cute little umbrella in the top in the hopes of brightening her day. Someone around here ought to be in a good mood and if it can’t be you, you’d like to at least make sure it’s someone else.
“Ilo around?” she queries as you pass her drink over.
“Not yet. He was still in bed when Ta- uhh, when, uh, Nax and I left this morning.”
Kriff, you very nearly let it slip that time. Tai had been so adamant about you being careful with your new names. It wasn’t likely that anyone out here had heard about a couple of fugitives from Daiyu, but you needed to be aware of the possibility and cautious with the information you shared.
Tilelli doesn’t seem to have noticed your slip. She’s more focused on her drink and whatever is currently on her mind. She does seem to like the umbrella, though. “Let ‘im know I was lookin’ fer ‘im, will you? And thanks fer the decoration.”
She leaves with a nod of her hat and saunters back outside, temporarily allowing a sliver of sunlight to filter in through the open doorway. You catch a glimpse of red and brown and golden-orange before the door comes hissing shut. A reminder of where you are, of the reality that you can no longer escape.
It’s funny, though, because despite how massively stressed you feel over this move and your new identities, despite how much you don’t like sleeping in a stranger’s living room, despite the fact that the heat is borderline unbearable, the thing you feel most keenly is Tai’s absence. You’ve been missing him since you fell asleep last night, since you woke up to an empty bed. You miss his shorter hours on Daiyu and the energy you both used to have. You miss your apartment and the life you’d built there. You miss the way things used to be. You miss it every day.
You miss his kisses, the whisper of his lips and tongue on your skin. You miss the way he used to touch you, you long for the exact way he used to nuzzle into your neck and breathe his hot exhalations into the space beneath your ear while he sought out the parts of your body that made you arch into him. You miss his intimacy and playful flirtations. But all of that feels fleeting now, transient. Absent.
You’ve both been absent lately. Dead on your feet. Something needs to change and soon, or you’re going to lose your mind.
Something goes clattering in the back of the kitchen, starting you out of your musings. Ilo must have decided to finally drag his ass out of bed. The Besalisk comes lumbering into the bar with a yawn and a mildly unimpressed expression. He’s asking about your chores, making sure you haven’t been lounging about and doing nothing the whole morning. Like he has any room to talk. Like he’s not fully taking advantage of your circumstances.
Yes, something around here definitely needs to change. For Tai's sake, and for yours.
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Crossed Lines
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Pairing: Cassian Andor x Reader
Warnings: None.
Summary: The mission didn’t go as planned. Your sadness turned to anger and Cassian was the only person in the room. 
You knew that in this line of work hard decisions had to be made in the heat of the moment. But this mission turned everything on its head. You and Cassian had ventured to a backwater planet to acquire intel from a friend - an old man who sent encrypted messages to the rebellion aiding in their tasks. The Empire had settled onto his planet and jammed all communication streams.
You met with the contact and quickly ran into trouble. There was a chase in which the old man was shot with a blaster. You were forced to a stop and you tried to help him, blood staining your hands as you attempted to place pressure against the injury.
The old man had handed you a beacon that beat to a rhythm akin to his pulse. There was hardly any time to question the device when Cassian’s nails dug into your arm and pulled you to your feet - away from the man until the town was a memory.
Back in the U-wing, Cassian bolted into the cockpit and began priming for take off before returning back to you in the hull.
“We need to get out of the airspace.” Cassian said quickly as he shrugged off his large jacket and tossed it on the bench. He was completely oblivious to the way you had been staring at the life monitor in your hands that had stopped beating.
“He’s dead.” You whispered. Is this who you were? Someone who was okay to let the innocent die?
Cassian looked up at you and understood the comment. His heart was heavy from the second he grabbed your arm and pulled you away from aiding the man. But he had to otherwise they’d be captured by the Empire. There was a bigger picture.
“We did what we had to.” Cassian said.
You set the beacon aside and looked up at Cassian. Was this who he was? A soldier who was ready to let those who helped the Rebellion die?
“No. We left him there because you wanted him dead. No loose ends, right?” You accused.
Cassian shook his head. “You’re angry. You don’t know where to put it.” He denied as you walked up to him.
“If they asked you to eliminate me to bring back intel, would you do it?”
Cassian looked bewildered at the question you had posed. You brought your hands to his chest and shoved him back as hard as you could. Anger being the only fuel left in your arms.
“Would you do it?!” You shouted.
“Are you mad? Of course not.” Cassian angrily replied. The thought of holding a blaster to your chest, looking into your eyes and pulling the trigger made his heart hurt and stomach churn. It was nauseating to consider.
You shook your head and stepped around him. “You’re just saying what you think I want to hear.”
Cassian took your wrist and stopped you from walking off. “Do you really believe that I would do something like that?”
“I don’t know what to think. You make the hard calls with no emotion and no consideration.” You told him softly and felt his hand squeeze yours.
“This rebellion has been my life. It’s shaped me into something even I’m terrified off but I would rather die than hurt you.”
Masterlist here
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