#presence of food dictates my decisions

[1864reruns]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤgratefulness (i'm sorry, can this be over now?)ㅤ౨ৎㅤ12.9k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ2024 ©1864RERUNS

oneㅤ/ㅤtwo synopsis. luffy loves you— you know this with how abundantly clear love is in every ministration of his outstretched hand and a grin— yet your traitorous heart demands more, even though you're in no place to give him your loyalty. you know this so you do not demand his love nor to be saved, even when met with a relentlessly stretched hand.

warning(s). gn! reader, hanahaki disease, but some creatively liberated variation of it, angst, hurt/some comfort, slow burn, but does it really count if nothing happens?, unrequited love, pining and the works, background character death, blood, violent imagery, vague allusion to an unspecified mental disorder that involves eating habits (pls be careful!!!), luffy tries his best to be kind but it's cruel, reader spirals 🙏; minimal editing and proofreading (these are basically my thoughts raw and unadulterated)

from vyon. the card game they play is a vietnamese one also known as smth like thirteen in english and has too many rules to explain but it doesn't really matter :3 i was a beast at that game though i fear; this fanfic has been in my drafts for so long, it also grew into too big of a project than it was meant to be. i also had to split this up into two parts, it was getting too long, i'm sorry ＞︿＜

do not repost / copy / translate.

Once you know Monkey D. Luffy, you'll know his heart not a few minutes after. He's welded the unmoving, burning ingot to his bicep, always on display due to his amassing collection of armless vests; rubber skin melted around the golden gem, oozing past the lines of his beating heart to staple it there, an anomaly on the expanse of skin not otherwise susceptible to bullets or cannons. Your captain is a man that lives with his heart on his tongue, always ready to dictate the lay of your next move with an irregular beat that drums against the skinned men of war and an impulsivity that makes his crew scramble after him exasperatedly; oxygen taken from his cerebral arteries to his brain are stained in the grease and oil that stick to the meat he handles so carelessly. In the same endearing way, he's careless with his heart, allows for the small stuff to momentarily prick his heart, for judgement to cloud into anger before it picks up on the bitter taste of agony.

It's always easy to get a frown onto Luffy's face. Feign disinterest in his stories; make yourself too busy to help him look for strange insects; force him to shower, scold him after he does something he wasn't meant to; keep him away from something he seems interested in; starve him for more than five minutes— he makes it all exceptionally too easy. You're not audacious enough to claim to know Luffy any more than the Strawhats, especially not those that he had met in East Blue; you try not to let it bother you that they managed to meet a younger Luffy who had so many holes in his defence, whose smile threatened through skin more, who had yet to find scars in his palm from how hard he had to clench his fists.

To you, it seems unfair that Luffy had managed to uncover so many of your firsts. His unwavering presence by your side as you learnt how hard it was to live on sea, the intonations of your screaming when a marine canon was pointed at you, to live so freely away from the confines of restrictive justice, how it felt to have a hand in yours to promise forever and then some. Luffy has no preferential treatment when it comes to people he loves; he treats them all the same, no hierarchy could dream to disrupt that.

With the same sandals he uses to stomp on the faces of Marine's, he could demand food from Sanji, money from Nami, Zoro to play with him— instead, you watch him whine Sanji, food and dissolve into a puddle when his cook orders him to wait, he allows Nami's fists to fall onto his head when he makes any financially impulsive decision (or even thinks them), and he idles himself with drawing on Zoro's face with Usopp and Chopper, with the previous two of them taking the psychical brunt of their consequences. (Chopper is let off with a mere promise that he won't join in with their shenanigans again when it involves making Zoro into a fool and a growing bump underneath his hat.)

Luffy, from second to fourth gear, is tender aggression when it is love.

His form is bizarrely respectful when the door opens and light dawns upon your face; you see him through the gaps of Nami and Sanji's legs and towering forms over him, his hands on his thighs and feet tucked underneath his bottom. He slurs out an I'm sorry that lets you know that his face is definitely messed up and then follows up with an I was hungry though!

Then Nami messes him up some more for his shitty justification.

She leaves him— some caricature of her anger— on the floor with her hands on her hips and Sanji trailing after her with hearts in his eyes at her dominant display of power. As she passes Brook, he asks for the colour of her underwear and earns himself the same treatment. It's then that you laugh. Luffy snapped his head up, following after the trembling air of your laughter and then calls out your name, the syllables are all messy around his swollen cheeks and a missing tooth that will come back after a few minutes but you cannot rid yourself of the thought that it's sticky with love that you only remember hearing when you were just a babe, screaming and crying in the arms of a tired and ill mother in a hospital. You were introduced to a group of midwives with same love you hear now, their idle finger catching into both your small hands; Luffy's hand dances across the air, breaking apart your laugh with urgency and catching onto your wrist.

You're not sure if it's you who had been pulled to him or if he'd managed to catapult himself into you but you both end up a mess on the floor regardless. Limbs tangled around each other in a wave as you both fall to the deck, Luffy does not correct the length of his arm and takes to wrapping the limb around you like a vine snaked around the trunk of a tree. You don't know a start nor an end as Luffy nuzzles his beat–up face on your shoulder. "Hey captain," you raise your head to look down on him, trying to wrench a hand through the tight spirals he's coiled around you.

"I'm hungry," he whines in lieu of a response, "and I'm bored, Usopp kicked me out after I ate one of his ketchup stars." He doesn't relent with his hold on you, simply loosening the coil that you're trying to work your hand through before tightening again once your arm makes it past to trap it against your side. You don't question the fact that Usopp's ketchup stars may be laced with gunpowder or what the small dose of gunpowder may have done to Luffy's internal organs.

You guess even Usopp has his limits when it comes to his childish captain. "I can't do a lot about either of those things if you're keeping me hostage here." He looks up at you, his exaggeratedly large lips in a pout that matches the swelling of his cheeks and then says your name again, like you’ve done him wrong. It's a disordered collection of the letters again but you find you can't really do anything to fight against it. Instead, green tendrils sprout from your trapped arm, each vine wrapped in a light of leaves and strain against his extended limb before he gives in and, instead, laughs as he wraps his rubber arm around the spindly, twisted branches splitting open layers of skin on your bicep. His skin coloured against the green runner keeps the bine from wilting down to meet gravity.

You let Luffy do whatever he wants, with an expression that you're not sure you're too familiar with etched out on the lines of your face. Thinking back on it, you could've simply done as Nami had or Usopp, ignore or scold him enough into submission but his fingers catch one of the fronds and it curls between the meat of his fingertips, reaching out to tickle his palm and something soft blooms inside you. You know it must be you, not the work of your devil fruit, because as much as you've tried in your lacklustre pursuit of beauty, you've never been able to sprout any kind of flowers.

When Luffy finally lets you go, you find your way into the kitchen and give Sanji a smile. You apologise for interrupting him and tell him that you know that lunch had been served only an hour ago but, if he wasn't too busy, you were still a little peckish. Sanji shoots up immediately and asks you what you've got a taste for— you assure him any leftovers from lunch will do and he tells you, though this doesn't come as any surprise, that Luffy had worked his way through any grain of leftovers with a laugh. You laugh along with him and well, you seemed to be craving meat right now.

The plate he prepares seem to be more about quality rather than quantity, with sauce underneath the red meat drizzled across the white ceramic, a slab of meat already cut into bite sized pieces for you and a decorative herb stuck between the fatty slices but when the light oozes down into the stretch of meat, you don't think Luffy will complain too much.

You, of course, were right about that.

The shattering grin he greets you (the plate of meat, however small it seemed) with gives you the faint smell of sticky rain drenched in the light of the sun, and you almost give him your hand when he reaches out for the plate. Brook's guitar strums in the background and your heart shakes in time with his strings and Luffy's incessant chewing.

You've really no problems with Usopp asking you to help him with target practice, it's fairly common for you to help the crew with their unique fighting style— save Nami and Franky for fear of losing your life with their less than particular aimed area of damage— it's easy enough really. You don't even have to be mentally present for it; shaking through layers of flesh, vines grow across the deck of the Sunny and rise up straight to tower over Usopp as he fixes his goggles over his eyes. You keep a quarter of your mind instilled in every chloroplast that shivers across the skies so you can keep them moving but the other three quarters are focused on the card game you play with Robin, Chopper, and Franky.

You hear the snapping of elastic and your finger twitches against the back of playing cards as the particular vine shot to the left, glancing curiously at Chopper's hand across from you when he turned to Franky and accuses him of looking at his cards.

"It's not my fault!" Franky frowned, fixing his comedically small glasses to perch on his metal nose. "Your cards just happen to be in my view when I'm looking at the pile 'cause you're tiny!"

Chopper takes to this horribly (you reshape a vine that has fallen to one of Usopp's stones and keep it relentless across the wave of air) and he grows into the much less cute and broader, more human version of himself to hold his hand out of Franky's view. (Two vines snap together and they take the path to slice through air to where Usopp stands, you hear the cracking of wood as Usopp shouts at you, saying he only wanted to focus on offence. An apology is drawn out with the green arm in the air.)

"Ivy," your eyes flicker to Robin and she gestures to the pile of discarded where the two of spades had been placed on top. "It's your turn." You glance down at your hand, eyes flickering over the collection of 7's in your hand. 

"Bomb." (You feel a vine break apart into pieces, think about the fact that it's lucky you've no nerves attached to the tendrils, and keep the one down to give Usopp a little win.) Franky curses your name as Robin chuckles.

Chopper glances at the four 7's with a sense of wonderment that you're sure is too dramatic for the moment. "No wonder I had no sevens!" You give him a sly grin and watch Robin pass her turn, ignoring Franky's levelled glare behind his glasses.

In the end, Robin wins anyways, ridding herself of her hand with her final card being the two of hearts. The loss is taken bitterly by both you and Franky though you think Franky definitely takes it worse than you do as when he stands to sulk away, cards fall out of his speedos, and they leave a trail after him. Robin, in all her morbidity, laughs behind a hand as you and Chopper drop your jaws in disgust.

Chopper collects the cards, hesitating with the ones that had been on Franky until Robin points out that you've all played many rounds and there's a chance that all of them had shared the same fate. (Another vine shutters down to the floor, broken apart and particles flown across the deck.) The cards slowly fall to the floor as Chopper cries out in disgust. Shaking your head with some colourful amusement, you use the two vines fallen to pick up the cards and start shuffling them.

Responding to Chopper's call, Luffy shoots his way from Sunny's figurehead. "What're you guys doin'?" He falls graciously to where Franky had previously been sitting; his eyes are ever so impatient to glance over the cards being shuffled. "Oh," he says with great interest, "are you guys playing 'go fish'?" He leaned towards you— the cards in your possession, actually— and blinks at the shuffling. "Lemme in!"

"We weren't playing 'go fish', Luffy." The little doctor has since calmed down, taking a seat between Luffy and Robin and shaking his head. "We were playing—" he turns his head up to Robin, to which she supplies 'bài tiến lên' with the intricate accents and all, "that!"

A flash of thinking places itself on Luffy's face, crossing his arm and tapping the side of his sandals on the deck, then it's gone. "Let's just play 'go fish' then."

Chopper whines, saying that 'go fish' is boring and that Luffy always snatches more than one card from other people's hands, which is cheating, and that he doesn't want to play.

Luffy turns to you with a pout, eyebrows furrowed at the dip where his nose bridge starts and then straightened out towards the end. The two vines that had been expertly dodging all of Usopp's shots and taunting him by doing silly dances and twisting into words in the air both crumple down to the floor at the same time, they follow the curve of your spine as you double over, a breath stuttering in your throat. You hear Usopp call your name and the deck of cards slip out from the vines that had been shuffling this entire time, your hand wraps around your throat and you hack out a cough you've managed to choke on.

"Are you dying?" Chopper shoots up, frantic as you keep coughing and choking— both violent in temperament, and scampers around, shouting for a doctor.

Footsteps tap closer as a shadow forms over you, Usopp's hand patting your back ferociously comes after the sound of shoes stop.

The blur that came with tears invading your eyes gives you the confidence to look at Luffy again before you're calling Chopper to a stop. "I'm fine, just choked on air."

You don't mention how it felt like you were breathing through a cheesecloth, how your lungs feel so restricted with every inhale as you all compromise on 'chase the ace' and how easier it feels when Usopp pushes his way between you and Luffy, too intimidated to pick from Robin's hand; when you all finish up for dinner, Robin is looking at you in a way that makes you think she's caught onto how you've been struggling.

Dinner is a strange ordeal. It's characterised with its usual events: Luffy sneaking his hands into people's plates though his stands full, Usopp trying to hold his plate out of his way, Zoro tending to his glass bottle of beer, Sanji making some quip about Zoro's show of alcoholism, Nami getting increasingly annoyed by the noise around her, Brook's laughter, Zoro escalating the situation with Sanji, Chopper screaming when Luffy clears Usopp's plate and then goes for the doctor's, Robin watching the scene with the patience of a saint, Franky pretending he was better than the rest, Usopp exacting revenge on Luffy by swapping their plates. It all ends with Nami telling them all to shut up and Luffy taking one final chicken leg from Zoro's plate. You stare down at your plate and count the missing bits, Luffy hasn't really touched any of the potatoes or asparagus, so you finish them up.

Two chicken thighs sit in stark contrast to the plate, thinking about having them anywhere near your mouth makes you a little sick for some reason, the weight of them in your stomach, the taste of caramelised skins, crisped with wells of juice sat next to a tinge of burnt flesh; you push the plate over to Luffy and detest the way he can take the colour of well–done oranges between his teeth and not care about the juice dribbling down his chin.

Luffy says thanks with his mouth full of chicken; Nami glares at him and turns a more concerned face to you (that also makes you sick) and inquires about you not eating. You mumble out some excuse about not being hungry, not feeling well, having a little bit of a headache, feeling tired— something along those faux lines, you don't remember but you remember that you don't tell them the truth exactly. "Sorry Sanji," you fix into your shitty excuse after, running a hand through your hair, to make yourself feel better about the entire ordeal.

He offers to make you a more palatable porridge or soup instead.

You take a cigarette and a red apple, going to bed hungry and angry at some unknown thing that brews on the tip of your tongue.

The next island is of great interest to Luffy.

The entire crew knows that its history nor culture was not either reason behind his excitement, only the mere prospect of digging his sandals into new, uncharted land is why he's running around the deck, filling up the empty spaces with bubbling laughter. Sanji finishes up bentos for those that are leaving, taking unnecessary extra care with Nami’s, and wishing he had it in him to starve Zoro whilst Nami is giving everyone an allowance. You take two bentos, yours and Chopper's, and head out onto the deck. Luffy only seemed momentarily sad that you were going with the doctor but bounced back immediately after when the trees come closer enough to intimidate so you push down the offer to join him instead. Franky joins up with Usopp, Luffy'll run off alone regardless of who he ends up going with, Nami ends up going with Zoro (to Sanji's displeasure), and you and Chopper make plans to find a pharmacy and a library for Robin.

Being around Chopper is easy enough with this unsettling prick of poison that's forced minimal responses, curt words, a flurry of tiredness, a sickening chill through your days recently. The little doctor is a lot more mindful of changes in mood, it's not any imminent injury either so he doesn't press to know why. Out of guilt (for being a brooding asshole lately), you ask him about his rumble balls and all his different forms. He answers cheerily and you can only pick out every other word with a persistent headache as the smell in the air changes from salty skies and bloody fish to sweetened foods and something unfamiliarly clean.

It's a bright island. You hear a faint bell in the distance that is traced over with the sound of children and stall owners; Chopper's hooves rhythmically sound beside you on the pavement and you find yourself counting them in groups of four. "Ah, there." You pick up your head and turn to follow the direction of Chopper's eyes. A sign is hung on the side of the building, the library. "Robin wanted a book of North Blue diseases for some reason," Chopper mumbles to himself as you two push open the door.

It's a small bookstore, walls lined with books and the paths carved with more standalone bookcases. "North Blue diseases?" You repeat, confused, "do they have North Blue exclusive illnesses?"

Your question goes unanswered, though it looks like it opens a vault of new questions for Chopper. Books aren't of great interests to you, so you follow behind Chopper as he walks through each section and grab whichever book he tells you to bring down for him. On the way back, you tell Chopper to keep going and change your course in search of something you're not too sure of.

You stray away from the town centre and head deeper through the small alleys of the town, there's no destination in mind; without the urgency of a fights and with the domesticity of a small knit community, you wander adrift. There's a dampness in the air to the walk around a shadowed hide of the place that loosens up the tension below your ribs, many different eyes follow after your form as the heel of your shoes click against a null path; shadows ooze around the soles of your shoe and lacquer up between the carved maze of black rubber of your soles until you find your way into a dead end.

It's a little bit of a cliché to be met with a ragtag group of delinquents when you turn to go back. Your eyes trace over them. In the hand of the one closest to you sits your wanted poster.

Something blooms inside you again— it's a much more pleasant feeling than the unmoving sap of ire that's been invading lately. Each man before you is physically bigger, towering over you ominously and shadows eating you but they all have swords and guns in their hands and that's why they lose. You, to the detriment of all life around you, are a weapon in and of itself; you choke out the vitality from others and steal their nutrients. They strained against their confines as their skin blossoms through shades of blooms, you are not the merciful rubber of a human, so your constraints don't relent, they squeeze and squeeze until the bark splits apart, until blood is cut off at the source, until they wither, until you are full.

On the way back, you buy a gift for everyone with the money you hadn't used and when they take to it, all in their varying degrees of joy, you feel less bad about the dead end alley full of brothers and sons. You tell yourself, handing Zoro a gift of alcohol, if not them, then it'd have been you.

You end up staying anchored to the island for a week to your displeasure. The longer you're stuck there, the closer you are to exploding; you always keep an eye out on the log pose strapped to Nami's wrist like you could quicken the process if you stare enough. Usopp starts avoiding you out of fear you'll blow like a poorly constructed cannon, Zoro makes you train with him to see if it'll help blow off some steam, Sanji brings you iced drinks at a rate that keeps you dizzy but you always feed it to Luffy or redirect it to Chopper's or Usopp's office with a little note.

On the third day, you follow in Zoro's example and sprawl out on the deck to rest your tireless mind. You've always wondered how sleep was ever a possible option for him when the feet thundering across the deck came with obstructive vibrations, no doubt slapping any chance of sleep away from his mind, but you find that it's almost pleasant. Beats all from familiar loves translates through the groves of wooden planks and etch through the back of your spine, you feel a bone fall back into place after Nami's heels against the floor and the thunderous kick that lands where Zoro was standing manages to work its way up your head to ease a headache.

The sun burns cries into your eyes and the skies move fluidly, they don't ripple as clouds shrivel against a light blue you're unfamiliar with; even as you close your eyes, you continue to feel the burn of the sun. The slapping of weaved straw against a sticky, sweaty sole then the deck comes as you slip into sleep.

Dreams have never been so amicable enough to become a recurrent in your life; more often than not, you're shown memories all blended together into a mess that leaves you sick, the abhorrent now and the nostalgic then bleeding past their confines until you see your mother stood next to that deceitful Marine admiral, both with that same look in their face. You wake up with a start when a loud bang scours its way through a flurry images you're unfamiliar with and then your body escapes you. Your head weighs with the heaviness of the bodies dropped to the floor, arms cold as if dipped into the river Styx, bones locked in place with a restrictive pain, muscles burning, aware of every breath that shivers through your suddenly odd body.

"Owww," three Luffys blur around each other as you pushed a hand to the floor to straighten up, you try blinking away the other two, but they're glued to the captain reflecting in your eyes; he looks down at what he's tripped on and follows it back to you. Your hand is met with something curved in shape when you go to push yourself up and when you look down, you see vines underneath you. You realise then that a burst of them had grown beneath you, splitting through the lawn deck and uplifting some of the planks underneath the greenery and inching upwards towards the guard rails of the ship. They take the form of something you think you met in your most recent sleep.

Luffy has managed to crawl his way towards you in the time you spend wondering why your devil fruit had been acting up— in your sleep no less and he wraps a hand around your ankle to get your attention. "Hey, you're really cold." He pointed out, eyes flickering down to the flesh between his fingers and then trailing his fingers up your thigh as he shifts closer to you on his knees.

The touch makes you violent and tender. "Really?" You managed to puff out, giving too much air back to the world with how much you're panting, "I feel a little warm though."

Luffy hums, clapping his hand over your cheeks with gentleness he only shows to those he loves, and it feels wrong. You get an itch underneath your skin that urges you to move, move, move but you can only push Luffy away with a ferocity he'd never shown you as you tremble under the bursting of violent air hacking up your throat, your shoulders strain as you wrapped your arms around your stomach, trying to heave out something that wasn't there.

Luffy scrambles back immediately, not caring for you shoving him away, and soothes away the rattling of your core with his clammy hands on your arm. "Are you sick?"

No, you think as a retch comes up your mouth; maybe, you correct as the path is marked by drool slipping down your chin and tears streaking across your cheeks. You shake away Luffy again. He's less submissive this time, his legs open over yours to plant his knees by your thighs. You hear him call for Chopper and it's obvious he has something of a frown marked on his face; you keep burning beneath your skin, but Luffy keeps rubbing his palms over your arms like you're cold.

You realise what your vines had drawn underneath you when Chopper comes out, fretting over you as he takes Luffy's place close to you. A grave. The image makes you laugh as the reindeer instructs his captain to haul you up after you'd ignored his inquires on if you could walk; your arm bends around the shape of Luffy's shoulder and your laughter erratically convulses into a collection of coughs from the skin on skin high.

You forced into bed rest after Chopper does a preliminary round of tests on you and declares you've simply gone down with a cold. You take to the diagnosis apprehensively, though in Chopper's defence, how was he meant to accurately diagnose you if you don't tell him all your symptoms? Instead, you sit in his office and spend the minutes, all alone, trying to retch out the feeling of having a piece of hair down your throat; you claw at the blanket and keep hacking until you've got a blanket full of tears and spit. The feeling does not pass.

At lunch, you get a visit from Franky who comes by to complain that you've made unnecessary work for him. "—seriously, how did you manage that in your sleep? Were you having a nightmare?" He ranted, legs crossed and leaned back in the visitor chair in a way that pushes his skinny, hairy legs close to your face.

Scrunching up your face, you sit up. "It was the future." You rebut, in between all his fantastical stories of his nightmares and talking about how he'd never attack Sunny even if Chopper grew a mechanical, giant arm and overthrew Luffy to become their captain. "A future," you correct yourself before turning to Franky with eyes judgemental, "are you scared of Chopper?"

"You weren't there at Enies Lobby," he tells you, which serves as a cruel reminder of sorts. You think about all the scars you've seen littered on the crew's skin and wonder which ones they've collected while they were with Luffy and who knows of which. The faint, protruding marks underneath Nami's tattoo, the stitches around Zoro's ankles, the ones pulled across his chest; you wonder if Sanji's got one hidden underneath his bangs. "The future?" Franky repeats after a moment, "are you a prophet?"

"It's a working theory," you brush off instead. "Though I can see in my mind's eye that Luffy is currently eating all the food and you’ll be left to starve if you don't go back."

Franky scrambled up from the seat not a second after your words.

With him gone, you settle back onto the bed and wonder about too many things to recall.

Between the hours after lunch and before dinner, Luffy comes by. He settles himself on the bed and forces you up as well, the shifting causes another cough to burgeon in your throat and you turn your head the other way to spit it out in an uncontrolled group of four. "You're not feeling better?" He frowns.

You see now that he's holding two pieces of barbequed meat in his hand, he's got the bone in his palm as he holds it upright like a sword, juices from the flesh dripping down to his hand and the smell gives you a headache. "Do you want this?" You move your eyes to Luffy, he's got his eyebrows furrowed together and his lips straightened out in a line when you don't answer. "Both?" He looks over at you, then the meat, and then you. "You," he swallows, "you can have them," his knuckles turn red around the bone, "since you need energy and you're sick." You think he's trying to convince himself to give them up.

You reached out and watch Luffy's face turn sour as his expression squeezes altogether around a midpoint trapped in his nose; you retract your hand and watch his face relax and his body unwind, you think he's moved his hand back a little. You repeat it again a few more times until laughter comes up and dislodges the uncomfortable feel of hair set deep in your throat. "It's fine, Luffy, you can have 'em."

"Really?"

"Mhm, go for it."

He moans around a bite of meat, crying your name as he chews and says thank you. The feeling is back as soon as it left.

No one comes to visit after that. Chopper comes by before he heads off to bed to make sure you're all set for the night and tells you that he expects to be woken up if you feel any symptoms get worse. You agree to his conditions, though can barely make yourself seem like you were taking him seriously with his cute face scolding you, but it seemed to work well enough as he's gone after he leaves a cup of water by your side. Sleep lingers around the corner, shirking away from your twitching fingertips and restless eyes; you give up after a few minutes, thinking about Robin who'd been thrown on watch tonight.

After going back and forth on the details, you bundle up yourself in the blanket (not wanting to have to mimic any semblance of serious guilt to get through Chopper's less than intimidating scolding if you get any sicker in the morning) and wander to the deck. The darkness of the sea would be safe for you, twisting around every limb extended to grope your way through your chosen path and oozing out from strands of hair to empty at your feet if not for the lamp of the moon ahead of you. Its light a forecast of tragedy, reflecting off a blade that would drive through the blood of a man who faced an unlikely love with only disgust and betrayal. "Robin?" The light hangs onto your word with a vehemence to uncover your unjustifiable deeds.

"Ivy," a shudder of surprise rattles your head to duck to your shoulders as you turn around. "Sorry, did I scare you?"

You give Robin a frown, tugging your lips down. "Yeah, my weakened bones nearly fell to the floor." She huffs a laugh. "Please announce yourself before you appear." Robin traces over your palish face and your features soften into a smile when your eyes meet.

"Can't sleep?" She asks once you two settle at the side of the Sunny where you'd napped earlier today, some of your vines still wedged between planks and parts of the floor haphazardly missing. You lean your back against the side of the ship and lower your eyes to the floor.

It's a total void, welcoming you back home. "No," you answer, a little breathless. The moon doesn't shuttle into the hole of the deck and something reaches a hand out for you between the atoms of a black hole. Roots twist out, easing close to your feet and sinking beneath the soles of your shoes. "I napped a little earlier." It's safe.

Robin hummed— I know rattles through her hum— and her elbow falls onto the guard rail of the ship. For the next few moments, you regret coming out. Robin's always been more receptive to the details and fine lines; it's not surprising that she can nitpick through a flurry of fronts and covers to the feelings you want to hide. They beckon out to her, wanting to fill that hole that's grown smaller with every day she wakes up to the open seas and the lively sound of her crew. "Chopper said you were sick?"

"A cold," you sniffle, bringing the blanket closer to you. Finding some semblance of confidence inside you, your eyes flicker over to Robin but she isn't looking at you— only turns when she feels your gaze levelled on her. You hesitate, searching for something to say and land on extending an arm and opening the blanket to invite her into your bundle. "You cold?"

She laughs, "it's fine, you should go back in if you've got a cold though." Her head tilted with a smile, "it'll be bad if the night air makes you worse."

Not wanting to find yourself softened in moonlight nor her eyes, you nod and bid her a goodnight before shivering your way back into your room. The door opens and light from Sunny's hallway is swallowed into the darkness of your room before it's banished out with the slam of your door, you shuffle around odd things thrown on the floor and slip into bed.

Your sleep is broken through with intervals with coughing, curling into yourself, shivering still though you burn in the night like a sibling of a star. When you wake up, sometime in the afternoon, you're heaving and reaching out your arms all around your duvet to haul together the skin that feels like it's melted down. Your palms prick against the leaves of vines that have overtaken your room, they fluoresce around your body and branch outwards to all corners of your room. The mess all blur together as your brain thrashes in your head with every splutter, you shake and twitch, trying to make sense of anything. Skin burned raw as you attempt to kick away the shrubbery that's keeping the blanket contorted around your body.

Your throat skinned and crude with its imminent thoughts of water.

A hand reached back blindly to grope at your bedside table for the cup that Chopper left for you last night. What you find instead is the burning touch of the sun, it seeps through the micro wounds stabbed through lines of your fortune and inflames every nerve straight to your heart. Your hand snaps back towards your body, the bones shivering from the imminent heat. Your entire body twitches at different paces, an invasive and hungry need drowns your senses. You need water, you need not for this to happen, water, you need for your sleep to be calm, you need to stop burning, you want to stop losing control, water first. You want water. Water— you turn your head to find the water, you need— Luffy?

Luffy is sat on a chair that you don't remember being there and when you look a little closer, you see that your vines had granted him a throne to comfortably lay on, other than that, they avoid him like the near plague. His body is leaned forward, his chest laid against the side of your mattress and arms crossed on your bed to sleep on like a pillow. You retch up some acid and, like the bowed head of a priest, a gentle petal disrupts the stream, flowing against the tide. It's a beautiful purple colour that's light against the transition to white towards the middle and an eye-catching yellow streaking against the white; lines of a deeper hue stretch through the petal and it's oddly reminiscent of veins.

The petal sits on the puddle of stomach acid that warms your thighs, your head bowed down to stare at it; you feel your soul unfurl at the sight of it, branches stretched outwards over a riverside, the heavy head of buds pulling weighted branches down to drink from the stream. Everything else blurs with a ripple, the petal is withstanding no matter no much you try blinking away an oncoming headache. The river near dries up in your attempt to wash down this unnerving disgust; you hunger for more.

Little changes when you find out what this 'cold' truly was. The lighting in Sunny's library is several shades warmer than the light of the sun, it draws upon the hunched shoulders down to your back as you tilt your head to hear the bones crack under your ear. Four syllables, that's all your death is. A lot of words are four syllables. Anonymous; unfortunate; hilarious; adventurous; hanahaki. It doesn't mean a lot by itself, so you try giving it some context. You pretend to tell Chopper that you're dying, you have hanahaki and that it's something he can't cure in a way you'll accept and you still feel nothing. You think about Chopper's face. He adamantly tells you that he'll cure you, he'll do it. The you in your imagination tells him no. Faced with your refusal, Chopper cannot do anything. In the end, it is a grave that cures you.

Death, as it stands, was something you had accepted when you stepped onto a pirate ship. Even someone with as stubborn a character as Zoro could be welcomed in by death, even Luffy. For a while, you wonder about death. The air in the room pauses as if to grace you with the silence to ponder on it, all you hear is the sound of your own breathing.

The closest thing to death comes searching for you a few minutes later.

You've always been interested in Brook. A skeleton with nothing but a sword; he has no lungs yet still sings, no heart and still smiles, dead but human in all his actions and behaviours. "There you are." He sneaks up behind you, bones falling onto your shoulder as you think, he smiles down at you. "Luffy asked if I’d seen you earlier.” He looms over you for a moment before he's straightening back up and calling out loudly, "but I'm a skeleton so it's not like I have eyes to see anyone anyways!"

It's the two syllables 'Lu–ffy' that shakes you the most. You stifle a cough in your chest and feel it tear through your ribs instead, searching for a path out. "For what?" The breaths rattle in your chest and shudder through your words.

"He wanted to show you a beetle." He takes the seat next to you, peering down at the picture book that you have open. You wait for him to make a comment about seeing what you were reading before disregarding it all with a lack of eyeballs so he wasn't seeing it really but he doesn't say anything, so you're forced to talk instead.

"Brook."

"Yes?"

It takes a single breath to prepare you to say this, it's warm and evident that you've not yet truly succumbed to your illness. "Do you see yourself as dead?"

Death is the art of those who do not live. It's something that keeps people tethered to the moment; it's the one thing that keeps humans humane. It's evidence you've lived, no matter how full nor how long. She's beautiful in her own right.

"I cannot see myself as anything because I am a skeleton with no eyes!"

Brook does not get to elaborate because Luffy shuttles in moments later, whispering loudly. (He'd learned somewhere that you're meant to be quiet in a library when he was younger but his whispers still manage to shake the room somehow.) "You're here! I found a beetle to show you!" He tip–toes to your side, "what're you reading— oh, hi Brook! The flowers here are pretty!" He points a finger down to a sunflower; his index covers an entire petal and he strokes it upwards to the middle. "Do you think they're edible?"

He turns to you with a smile.

You meet him with the same, "their seeds are." He gasps and picks up the book to scour through the letters in search of a name of these seeds. You take in a shuddering breath and when you feel another urge to cough, you cannot stop it.

When vines splatter around the room, they uproot the place; they've always been disruptive in this way. A wave of them washes various bouts of furniture to the floor, through the pounding of your ears, you hear the sound of books thudding as green appendages snake through bookcases and rattle them at the base; Brook's chair collapses as a vine chokes out one of its legs into splinters, the world blurs into a hue of greens and purples. A hand reaches from down in your throat, you heave around gaps of allowance for air and gag, cough, retch up more acid and some tea that Sanji brewed earlier this morning in lieu of breakfast. It's unpleasant. It's ugly in a way death should not be, though you guess the dead don't get to choose how to live in the same way the living cannot choose their death.

You're hauled off to Chopper again.

Chopper's voice comes as the hollow sounds of keys on an old piano. He does another round of tests on you— this set lasts a little longer than the previous and he takes extra caution with some. He finds that your heart is a little faster than it should be, he nitpicks at the bluish tint around your fingers and notes the concerning amount of weight you've lost in the past few weeks. When he asks you, what's wrong, you tell him that that's what he should be telling you.

Hypoxia; another four syllables for your cause of death. "Some of the symptoms are there," Chopper frowns, mumbling to himself. "It's when your tissues aren't getting enough oxygen, do you have difficulty breathing?"

You placed your cheek into your palm, elbow on Chopper's desk. "You're a pretty good doctor, Chopper."

The effect is immediate, he starts blushing and kicking his legs in his seat, a hoof goes to rub at the back of his head and nervous laughter comes from him. "That isn't distracting me at all, you bastard." You smiled and watched the compliment break any semblance of professionalism in him.

He gets back on track a little while later, placing a stethoscope on your chest and asking you to cough. You're not sure exactly what he's looking for but you give a soft cough into your elbow and you can say for certain— just based off the way he jumps back and looks at you a little quietly for a second, it's nothing good. Chopper spends a few minutes looking at your fingertips, then your lips, then some other parts of skin already exposed and humming to himself, troubled.

For now, he says, he wants you to try not to exert yourself— maybe leave fighting to everyone else and focus on resting until he can figure out a better way to confidently diagnose you. His lips are pulled into a frown, hands in his lap and trying his best to be professional and keep his emotions at bay. Before you know it, your hand is on top of his pink hat and fondly rubbing over the material softly. "Thanks Chopper, I'll keep that in mind."

He nods. You hesitate for a second before you're getting up to leave so that everyone else can see that you're not dying— or maybe you should tell them you are, you're not sure you could take another session of Franky accusing you of destroying the Sunny to create more work for him.

Your hand wraps around the doorknob and twists, stopping when Chopper speaks again. "You're not hiding something from me," he accuses gently, "are you?"

Your hand tightens around the doorknob. A flash of that imaginary Chopper comes back to you— heartbroken and confused at your refusal to be cured— you steal an unnecessarily large breath from the world. "I get sudden cravings for sweet things if that means anything."

Chopper, unbeknownst to you, takes those words and carves them true and raw into himself. His eyes are unwilling to leave you for more than necessary during the times you eat together, he watches you push aside the food on your plate, tearing small bits of meat off the bone to chew on it for a couple minutes too long before swallowing. He makes note of the way you have no problems finishing up everything but any sort of meat, sliding them over to Luffy, or one of his victims.

You're met with another blossom soon after lunch. You've made a bad habit of leaving the table early to escape the smell and resign yourself to the open deck, sprawling out on the grass like Zoro usually does. You're certain you're about to fall asleep shivering but the slap, slap, slapping of your captain's sandals are nearing closer so your brain kicks awake with a start; your eyes twitch, eyelashes shuddering in the wind. The darkness over your eyes morphs into a shadow of Luffy hovering over you, head tilting with a hand on his hat— your mind supplies you with the frown— and then you hear him taking a step back and sitting down next to you.

A troubled melody hums through his lips and when you open an eye to peek at him, you see his hands wrapped around his ankles, legs loosely crossed; he turned back to you and you quickly close your eyes. Here is where you finally learn that when Luffy touches, he's never placated with a simple tap, a light knocking between skin— no, he must stroke, he drags his fingers up the side of your thigh, he shivers from the coldness of your flesh and, even then, crawls closer. Then he's silent for a worrying amount of time and for a moment, curiosity takes you over. You find yourself wanting to draw light upon the disgusted features when he's met with someone he thinks close to him is growing closer and closer to a grave amongst the roots.

He leans his forehead against yours whilst you shuffle through the despicable crawl of your heart through your bones, something shifts in you and when you reach to itch at your side, it dislodges. It takes no more than a simple flip for your entire world to shift; you think you saw Luffy hovering over you momentarily before you had snapped to the side.

A fragment of the world greets its end.

Something strangles you, a hand of a giant pressing two fingers against the sides of your neck until everything in you bursts and splatters against parts that have gone unknown until now. There's nothing new to the tremor of vine that erupts through your skin, bubbling through the surface of flesh like a geyser; the tentacles claw their way your throat until you're choking around them, searching for an allowance for air. Your knees shuffle up to find some balance, head ducked to meet the lawn across the deck and elbows digging deep into the dirt. Your spluttering comes in time with the sound of Luffy calling your name, shouting for Chopper; there's a knot tied inside your mouth, you shake away tremors and tears all the same. You erupt yet there's nothing to be burnt, it's only ash that leaves your mouth— only the colourful petals of the wisteria plant that wash over the green of the open deck, burnt in hues with blood.

The next island is a spring island, known for their sweet peaches and sweeter music.

You watched Luffy devour two peaches in his hands, the ripe skin melting underneath his teeth— pale with a dusted blush until it snapped into a bloody red, melted at the pit. Then he's gone with a rustle of mikan trees as you held out a basket for Nami to delicately place her mikans in; apparently, she'd managed to catch the attention of some peach vendor with her sweet tangerines and swindled the poor man out of his money for a basket.

The streets are lined with lively hums and a strumming of odd instruments, music escapes through every crevice of a worn-down building as Luffy jumps from stall to stall, drooling over the goods before you're beckoning him back with his lunchbox and a promise of meat after you finish this errand for Nami. On your way to the stall, you hear faint chattering that doesn't interest you but Luffy straightened up beside you and turns to stare at the people as they argue on who had managed to grow the biggest peach this year.

You sigh, grabbing hold of Luffy's collar when he stops to stare at them and drag him off to the stall vendor who had fallen victim to Nami's schemes. The exchange is easy enough— give him the basket (ignore the fact that Nami had managed to make it look like it was overflowing by artfully bunching up a cloth on the bottom and filled gaps between the fruits with flowers) and make sure you've got the correct amount of money. It's when Luffy asks the stall vendor who has the biggest peach this year that things begin to go downhill.

Rather than answering Luffy's question, the man goes on a tangent about some kind of festival for a God and how the biggest peach will be the offering to said God this year— apparently, Shumi (the woman who owns the fabrics shops) had managed to get her hands on this, that, or the other to help her husband grow a peach large enough to bring doubt to the fact that Gyupuri had managed to grow the largest peach (again) this year.

Luffy insists on tracking them both down to help the people come to a decision as he wiped away the drool on his chin. Resigned, you managed to find Shumi first with her shop being the only one in town that sold fabrics and she denies you both permission to see the peach; Gyupuri, on the other hand, is more than happy to show you to the peach he grows. He takes you straight out of town, into the forest, and then up the mountain to where there's a clearing full of nothing but flesh coloured peaches.

As you listen to Gyupuri's story on how he was merely taking after his father to grow these strangely sized peaches, you have to keep Luffy in your hold so he doesn't go running to the giant peach and take a bite out of what could be for a God. Somehow though, he manages to get a handful of flat peaches when you weren't looking and when you attempt to apologise to Gyupuri, he doesn't seem to be fazed, shoving a few more peaches into your hand and telling you it's fine.

"So, who is this God anyway?" Luffy asks, his legs wrapped around your waist and chin hooked on your shoulder as he leaned back, satisfied with cheeks full of the peach you were holding in your hand. You turn to give him a look, but he merely stares at you back.

The people here must have made a unanimous decision to answer questions from the left side of the field because Gyupuri only tells you the name of this God when he drags you and Luffy up a hill to stare at a statue of this God carved out of generic stone.

To be polite, you call the statue pretty; Luffy feels no need to be polite, so he says it's not really. When you look at him to furrow your eyebrows at him, he's already looking at you.

When you're back on the ship, money handed to Nami, you think about that moment so much that it grows moss in your mind and vines burst through the crevices of the worn–down artifact you've made out his gaze to be. You throw up everything you manage to eat and feel hollow and worthy when you meet Luffy's eyes in Chopper's office again.

There's a chill that follows your days after that.

It's persistent and stubborn in a way that cruelly reminds you of Luffy. On a brighter side, you've got an excuse to be lazy in bed though it irks your bones not to have the weight of you walking thrumming up your body. You get visits from the Strawhats, get your food delivered to you, some of the crew shuffling into your room to keep you entertained with some card games and the likes— you get Luffy consistently making his way into your room and treating it as any other room on his Sunny. He comes in, always makes himself home on the bed, and talks about what he did today. At some point, it becomes less endearing and more annoying to be treated as though you were actually dying. (You hadn't told them for a reason.)

Four days after Chopper had resolutely punished you with bed rest, Luffy decides that he was going to start sleeping in your room. Apparently, your face had translated over what your head was thinking too quickly because he starts whining, saying that he wouldn't get to see you enough if he doesn't do this and, well, since you've always had a tender, raw, skinned soft spot for the boy, you end up saying yes.

He spends his first night telling you what he was going to spend tomorrow doing and you come to the realisation that every other sentence contains you. (Going to find more beetles to show you... Chopper told Sanji it'd be good to get more meat into your diet... Zoro accidentally cut snakes and ladders in half so Nami is giving me money to see if we can find one for you so we can play... Robin said there's a really pretty flower on this next island… For you… For you...) It’s all there laid bare and you cannot face it. You hide your face into the crook of your elbow and wretch out a cough. Luffy frowns but doesn't mention it. He talks himself into sleep and you lay awake to him, trying to keep yourself from blooming throughout the night so he doesn't wake up, cold and still.

When you're startled awake with misty embrace in a dream, you see that Luffy has gone.

What he has left is his straw hat and a mouthpiece of his greatness. The straw is rough against your fingers, resembling the thorns that grows along roses and you stare at it in your lap until you can feel the roughness in your throat— just when you think you need to get water, Sanji shows up with breakfast. You eye the cigarette in his lips and ignore the settling of the tray on your bedside table, watch the smoke fight the smell of scrambled eggs and bits of bacon to take over your room.

"We're at an island?"

Sanji walks around your bed, finding himself comfortable on the couch across the foot of your bed. "We docked early this morning," you watched his smoke rise, ash falling to the wooden floor of your room, waving and grasping hands up to God. Sanji keeps himself entertained by looking around your room, his foot pushing around odd leaves and petals on the floor before he nods over to the plate. "Eat." Then he's gone.

You stare at the tray, settling Luffy's straw hat aside, you shuffle to the end of your bed and take the fork in your hands— you look at the plate until you swear you can taste the eggs in your mouth and the slight bursts of saltiness that'll come from the bacon and you have to wash it down with the glass of water he's given you. You push it aside and opt to go back to sleep.

You dream of a still life on top of a hill, overlooking a dock as the Sunny pulls back out into the sea; you thrash but find every part of you rooted down to one spot, the wind picks up and you feel tangles of what could be hair or leaves hitting against a part of your body. You're still rooted despairingly in a garden of silks and duvets when you wake, Luffy had found himself unable to keep away from your breakfast but when you sit up and look a little closer, you see a pile of the diced bacon bits shoved off to the side as he shovelled eggs into his mouth.

Shattering free from the earth with a faltering cough broken into four, you shuffled yourself up and spit out a cluster of wisteria. At this point, you do not need to look at Luffy to know what his face looks like; he turned to face you, cheeks full and quickly finishing the eggs to shuffle closer to you on the bed with a book in his hands. "You left your book under the plate."

It's a hardback children's book, pulled out of Sunny's library and coloured a light blue that resembled the sky and broken apart by a sunflower in the middle and petals around it, the title curled around the sunflower. You know that the book was left in the library when you were having your episode. The cover is smooth to the touch as Luffy gives it to you and ends up knocking his shoulders against yours in his attempt to get closer; your eyes moved over to the tray of food and you think of Sanji, who'd grown up in the North Blue where this children's story was more popular amongst the romantic commonwealth. 

He knows, you think, and it fills you with a dread that the wisteria blossoms feast upon delightfully; he knows, and he could tell everyone, the vines throb over your heart as Luffy opens the book over your lap and looks up, expectantly at you.

Myrsa was a pretty girl, enough so that praises sang for her ended up calling upon the scorn of love's Goddess. The depiction of her getting cursed is almost comical, stricken by lightning as she returns from a forest with a basket full of flowers and mushrooms. "What happens next? What happens next?" Luffy pushes his face closer to the book, tangling a rubbery leg with yours as he moves impossibly closer. "How does Myrsa beat up the God?"

It's the certainty he holds that Myrsa will beat up God that makes you laugh, it's the fact that she does not beat anything that makes you tremble, shaking coughs and petals out your throat. Luffy seems to think that the book is too excitable, trying to pry it away from you and saying that he can ask Robin to read it to him later so you should just rest. "Don't you want to know if Myrsa will beat up the God now?" You ask instead, knowing the answer will be yes.

Perhaps they were the wrong words to convince Luffy because when you're on the last page, Myrsa buried in a forgotten land and her love used as fertiliser for a field of sunflowers, he's threatening to beat up a God made up to exact revenge for Myrsa. It's a lot more cheerful than you had expected— all the characters drawn with round faces, small bodies, and black dots as eyes. It makes death seem redeemable. 

After Luffy hauls himself out of your room, in search of the God had turned Myrsa into sunflowers, you force the bacon down your mouth and bring the tray out to Sanji. You linger in the kitchen, eyes watching him as he scrubbed the dishes and danced around the kitchen, no doubt knowing why you were there. He doesn't seem to want to be the one to approach the topic just based on the way he refused to stop even for a moment for the past fifteen minutes you've been there.

You know nothing about Sanji past the fact that he's blond, he's a cook, and he used to be a prince from North Blue's Germa Kingdom.

"You know Myrsa didn't die because she had hanahaki." Your hip meets the edge of an island, arms crossed over your chest as you watched Sanji finally slow to a halt, throwing a glance over at you. He takes his cigarette between two fingers, breathing in for a moment and then takes it out, holding it out to you. "What she was cursed with, wasn't ever meant to be able to kill her."

"I know."

Sanji takes the cigarette back after you shake your head, shrugging a little as he continued. "Myrsa died."

You laugh a little, "I read the book."

There's a point he's trying to make that's as foreign to you as the notion of a love that doesn't hurt but he turns a glance to you that almost reads like he's disappointed in you and it settles nicely against the vines choking you through. You straighten up, uncrossing your arms and his visible eye wanders back over the pots he has boiling on the stove. "You liked the ending?" The ending of the North Blue story was a two–page spread of a sunflower field, a planet of bright yellows and a dull light blue, clouds breaking apart overwhelming tones of sunny golds and drowning diamonds.

A tree split awkwardly in half due to the spine of the book, curved in shape and pinched in the middle until you held the pages at the edges and pulled to straighten in down. "It was pretty," a gentle breeze running through the leaves shedding from the tree, a shiver to the wooden flesh that split apart if looked at the right way by the right man. Myrsa was beautiful, even in a death she didn't pick treated her well.

How could you hope to live when she did not?

You find a lot of things pretty now; you wonder if that's the dead crawling in you that is beginning to appreciate the life around. Robin sat on the deck with a cup of cooling coffee on a table in front of her and a book in her hand, Nami stood between her rows of mikan trees, Zoro straining under the weights of his responsibilities, Brook with a violin to his shoulder. The sky drowned over the ocean as Luffy leaned his head against you on Sunny's figurehead, his voice a soft beat over the water rushing against the hull of the ship. He's talking about Shanks and his dream and your heart aches selfishly; his skin gulps down the orange light of the dawning sun and you resigned yourself to a death loving him.

You wonder if Luffy still thinks of his dead brother, your tongue slips against the bark of your gums, and you open your mouth without thinking. "Luffy," you hear spoken into the wind, "will you tell me about your brother?"

"Sabo?" He's clapping his feet together excitedly, turning from the sky to you with a large grin on his face, "he's a part of the Revelation Army— no, wait revocation? Revenge Army? Renovation Army! Wait— that's not right."

"No, the other one." A whisper haunts the wind, 'the dead one' written in its movement.

There's a certain hesitation to his words that brings you to the realisation that being loved by Luffy is a wonderful thing. He's never been one to be articulate with words, picking the simple ones that come to mind first without a moment's hesitation but strangely the simple–minded way served him well when it came to love. Love is not articulate either— it's one of the simplest things in the world— so when it's met with someone like Luffy, it blossoms into an art form of all things beautiful.

You regret have not meeting Luffy when Ace was around. Dancing around his features is a tender skip of tightness; his shoulders pulled up to his ears, head ducked down, lips awkward and tongue thick as he told you the story of being accepted to be Ace's brother. Hues of embers fluoresce, dripping down on Sunny's figurehead as you reached an arm around him; his words are stained in blood and adoration, strained and slow but Luffy persists, his love persists.

"You should've met him!" He finishes, turning to you with a light chuckle. "You would've loved him."

Your hand falls onto his shoulder, pulling him closer despite the crawl of vomit up your throat and you leaned your head against his straw hat. "Maybe I will."

Death is another thing you think is simple. It's as easy as slipping into Chopper's office to find him hunched over his desk, his hooves holding onto a pestle as he circled the butt around in a mortar. "Ah, you're here?" He glanced over his shoulder as you walked around him and settled onto one of the beds he has in his room. "Give me a second! I nearly have your medicine ready."

"Chopper," you think you've played this out in your head before, "I have hanahaki."

His arms slow down to a halt, his face dropping by several degrees; the previous petals that made up his hopeful and cheerful expression flutter to the floor, guided by the winds you'd altered with those four words.

"Hanahaki?" Chopper's words are slow as he settled the pestle down, "I thought— but it doesn't exist?"

"Funnily enough, it died off." You tell him with a little laugh. "As more people took to the seas and chased after the one piece, less people fell victim to hanahaki." The Chopper you've told this to before in your mind was definitely less devastated and surprised to be greeted by the fact that you have hanahaki.

He's stumbling over his words, trying to pick something to focus on first as his face was scrunched up, eyebrows furrowed, and lips open into disbelief. "How long have you known? Why didn't you tell me? You'll have the surgery, right? You can trust me; I'll definitely save you. When did it first start?" Your head is pounding with the incessant questions he spits at you, unable to answer any of them as any allowance for a response was filled in by another inquiry. Suddenly, he's pulling his mind to a stop as he turned back to you, solemn and sad and asks, "who is it?" 

It's easy to tell how Luffy has touched people, Chopper makes note of the way your head tilts and you smile and it's obvious that there was no one else capable of calling upon your love.

"And the surgery?"

The look on your face, although foreign to you, tells him all he needs to know.

That doesn't stop him though, he keeps himself by your side and urges (pleads) you to have the surgery; his constant presence becomes a problem when he makes a point of forcing Luffy away from you. It's small at first, trying to distract Luffy with other things, claiming to want to be the one to watch over Luffy when you all dock so you're not given the chance, clinging onto your arms and demanding your attention when Luffy threatens to take it away from him. Then, when Luffy notices that he's been holding onto this flower for hours, fingers pinched around a sunflower stem to ask you how you get seeds from the flower to eat, and every time he's seen a speck of your colour from corners, Chopper shows up to drag you away or points a finger somewhere to shout about a meat mountain, he has a problem.

You notice it's about the meat mountain at first though.

He's slamming the door to Chopper's office after the fourth time, shouting, "Chopper! Where's the meat mountain you keep talking about?" He doesn't seem to care about the fact that Chopper is checking up on you as he stomps into the room, plopping himself down right next to you. Chopper pushes him away when your shoulders brush against each other and you're coughing out bloodied petals. His attention diverts when he hears the shaking of your cough, how you knock into him uncontrollably as your torso leans to meet your thighs, hands deep into the foam edge of the mattress. Petals splatter onto your shoes, clinging to the leather with saliva and re–painting the laces in a sickly red. Luffy’s touch is intrusive, a hand tightened on your thigh that burns your skin to ash and forces vines to splutter out your skin. They attack him, you reel yourself away from Luffy in hopes that they don’t reach him but in some disgusting way, they force themselves to new lengths to coil around his limbs. Spindling up and up and up and you can’t see his face anymore as a thick rope of vines in the shape of his hand reaches out for you, they keep moving up until you only see his hat— your back knocks against the wall. You sternly tell yourself this death is acceptable; the vines grow limp.

When you’ve calmed down enough, the first thing Luffy asks you is, “why aren’t you better yet?” And you feel as though you’re being scolded for some reason; your eyes flicker over to Chopper, fingers tangled together in front of your thighs from the corner of the room you’ve forced yourself into. When Luffy catches the wandering glances— as if you’re trying to keep him out of something— he treats you exactly how you’re acting. Like a criminal.

“Chopper?” It’s unnerving how his eyes are still on you, no trace of expression on his face, “out.”

“But—”

“Out.” Chopper throws you an unhelpful glance as he passes you to get to the door.

You’ve always had the wrong impression of Luffy— everyone that doesn’t know him has the same image; he’s a pirate that has taken down warlord after warlord, who has brought horrifying change and shifts the balance of authority wherever his feet take him. Hearing hushed whispers of him and his close affiliates in the lightened haze of booze, to distract from a tooth getting knocked out of place never does much for his image either. Though it wouldn’t be right to say that Luffy is wholly good either— he’s selfish. Selfish and impossibly kind and downright disgusting with the handling of his own needs; the sound of your name fizzing between his teeth has you startled, nodding your head back to him on the bed you’d left him at.

“You’re hiding something.” It’s not a question nor is it an accusation of any kind. It’s an observation. Luffy slides himself off the bed, his sandals comically slap against the floor of Chopper’s office, “tell me.” His hands fall onto your shoulders, one stays there and the other slides down. He treats your skin like an amusement park for his pleasure; his nails drag across the goosebumps of your bicep, pressing down on raised scars and then splashes into the palm of your hand, dragging ripples in the centre.

You hesitate, twisting your fingers together and pulling as if to attempt to dislodge the odd feeling that follows his fingertips. “Are you asking as a captain?” Despite how general expectations of Luffy remain pretty low to those who do know him, it’s also known that Luffy has a nerve in him that’s impossibly receptive to hurt. There’s a certain way to activate it and when it’s on, it doesn't quieten down until its idiot owner is pleased. Luffy scrunches his face up in an odd way, displeasured at your question as if he couldn’t believe you’d ask him something that hurtful, and his head tilts.

“Tell me.” You’re met with an unwavering stare, the hand on your shoulder tightens and there’s a hardness to it that you’ve never associated with your rubber captain— you can feel the bone in his fingers, stern and undeniable. Your eyes trace over the exposed, tanned skin of his bicep and you wish that you could force your vines through his skin to crawl into his chest and listen to the tremors that’ll run up your devil fruit from his beating heart for some kind of answer. There’s a sudden breath that’s available to you that isn’t tainted and clogged, trapped before it even meets your lungs, but it burns in a new way as you stare at Luffy, scared and terrified of a new life that’ll be forced upon you if you tell him what’s wrong with you.

You open your mouth with an excuse, but Luffy huffs and the words shrivel in your mouth, collapsing to a grain on your tongue and when you close your mouth, you taste dirt. “Luffy,” you beg, “I can’t— just, I’ll be fine.”

There’s a hint of some anger in his gaze before it turns into a haunting realisation, “Chopper knows, doesn’t he?” He pushes you aside, “I’ll just ask Chopper.”

There’s a ringing distant in your ears that chimes like the bell of the church from that place two islands ago, maybe three— you haven’t been too good with time recently. Sunny shakes like the earth as a body hits the pavement, you feel disgusting and heavy and an itch claws through your palms where Luffy’s hand has just been. You’re sure it’s Chopper he’s shaking an answer from but you hear Robin’s voice, calling for him to calm down and when that doesn’t work, Sanji cuts in. It all gets further and further away, you think about the planks of Sunny opening to welcome you back into that darkness from nights ago, you think about being choked by one of your vines, you think about the wisteria blooming whole in your lungs— you think and you think and think and suddenly, it’s all nothing. You’re dying, you think, that’s a fact, what else? Luffy is the reason. Or maybe you’re the reason.

“Luffy,” were you the one talking? “Luffy.” The voice comes again, stern and your eyebrows furrow with the same tension that the voice is carrying. “Thank you for being my captain.”

Not that it surprises you, Luffy punches you.

#౨ৎ luffy single! #౨ৎ op single! #one piece #monkey d. luffy #one piece angst #one piece x you #one piece x reader #luffy oneshot #luffy angst #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #op luffy #monkey d. luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy x you #op x reader #op angst

[rxbxlcaptain]

My Papa, My Stardust Chapter 5

Previous Chapter // AO3

Eadu, 3 BBY

    Despite wearing an Imperial uniform around the complex, the other officers never fell for the bait; between the pieces of skuttlebutt floating across the facility and her clear lack of knowledge about the Imperial handbook (how was Jyn to know if her uniform was proper regulation, or the daily routine of Stormtroopers? Saw focused on sabotage, not intelligence) made it obvious she hadn’t attended officer training school.

    Rumors about her ran rampant through base, especially in her early days. Scientists and maintenance works alike would turn as she walked down a hallway, following her with their eyes and with their heads. 

She’s a feral child from the Outer Rim, some said, taken in by some Imperial project attempting to give promising orphans a place in the Empire. 

She’s part cyborg, others would interject, a prototype of what they’re building in the lab.

Any who’d watched the holonet (which, Jyn learned, was few and far between) to witness Krennic’s horribly botched execution would surmise she was a political prisoner, saved by Dr. Erso, a man who clearly had an investment in the girl.

    Whoever she was, few dared approach her. The brave number who had — some fishing for information, some longing to know her more intimately, some who seemed genuinely friendly (though Jyn never trusted an Imperial who appeared genuinely friendly) — quickly regretted their decision when they were met with little more than dark stares and grunts of conversation.

    Her father dictated a schedule so lenient it was laughable. He requested her presence in the lab several hours a day, but never raised a finger to stop her from leaving after wandering through for only a few minutes. Even when she’d stayed in her room for days, her father never tried to motivate her to move, but left food outside her door twice a day. Judd snorted everytime she wandered in, muttering about nepotism and frigidness, and the irony of his statements never seemed lost on him. Oltach, who knew her mother, and Jerred, who always had a friendly smile, never approached her with more than offering a smile and a wave which Jyn barely ever returned. It was Tino Vic, either of his own accord or her father’s request, who attempted to pull her in on a regular basis, insisting she see the newest operating system for their datapads and leaving coding challenges on her desk, often attached with small notes detailing the time he expected it would take her.

    (Those were Jyn’s favorite; few pleasures awaited her around Eadu Flight Station, but if she could beat back an Imperial’s underestimation of her skills, she couldn’t help the smile that would crack across her face.)

    As her days turned into months and her imprisonment neared a full standard year, Jyn accepted this was the life she lived now. She stopped resisting her father sitting beside her during meals in the mess hall and joined him in the lab daily. There were few other options remaining, since what she longed to do (smash these Stormtroopers stupidly shiny helmets in) would only get her killed or tried for treason, she may as well enjoy the mental challenges offered to her around the lab.

    And if she needed to ignore the way her father’s eyes lit up each day she spent beside him, then she would. Nothing she did here was to make him happy, not when he was building such an atrocity for the Empire.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    “The director is visiting today,” Galen announced to the lab.

    The men looked up at their leader, a different emotion displayed on each face: panic on Iblik’s, resignation on Aske’s, a cocky grin across Judd’s, disinterest on Anholt’s, and a quick glance between Galen and Jyn from Vic. Only Jyn and Galen kept their faces neutral in response to the news.

    “Any estimate on the time he’ll be landing, Father?”

    He shook his head. “Krennic rarely gives much warning before he arrives, however, so I’d imagine within the next few hours.”

    Jyn nodded, relaxing her shoulders as she refocused on the datapad in front of her. It wouldn’t do to let the others know the messy knots forming in her gut right now at the thought of seeing Krennic again for the first time since Saw’s attempted execution. Krennic never showed his face during her imprisonment following Saw’s escape, but every blow she received brought his face to her mind. She knew they were on his orders.

    (Her rule still stood strong: no weaknesses in front of the other scientists, or any of the Imperials. She was resigned, but not weak.)

    But the problem ran deeper than keeping a collected cover in front of the other Imperial scientists; part of Jyn hated how fear gripped her insides every time she heard the director’s name, how the blaster bolt that killed her mother still shoots across her mind when she hears it. She was made of tougher stuff than his. How many years had Saw spent laying the foundations of her strength, only so she could build on it herself for years to come, even after he’d left her?

    Besides her fear, another problem waited: she hadn’t assimilated into the project as Krennic wanted. She never completed the work her father gave her out of protest and the knowledge that no soul on Eadu would be brave enough to cross her and risk the wrath of her father. But Krennic? The thought of the dark room she’d been kept in on Coruscant flashed through her mind. He could throw her back into her worst nightmare all over again with only a sinister cackle and flick of his wrist. He could take her away from her father, the last force keeping her safe anywhere in this galaxy, move her to any re-education or labor camp.

    Jyn was focused so hard on keeping her breathing even that she missed her father approaching.

    “Do you have any questions about the director’s visit, Jyn?” He asked, quietly so that the other engineers couldn’t hear. (Judd’s hands seemed suspiciously still on his datapad, but Jyn knew he was too far away to hear her father’s hushed tones.)

    “Did he say what he wanted?”

    “He wants to speak to you.”

    Jyn’s fingers froze over the datapad she held. “Did he say why?”

    “No, but I suspect you should be prepared.”

    “Prepared for what?” Jyn gave an innocent smile. “I’ve done nothing to sabotage the Empire in months. The Director couldn’t possibly have any problems with me.”

    To Jyn’s surprise, her father actually laughed out loud at her words, a quiet chuckling Jyn hadn’t heard for years. Based on the incredulous stares of the other engineers, they hadn’t heard such a sound from her father either.

    Galen clapped her on the shoulder ( Jump away! one part of her brain screamed, but Jyn made no move) as he walked past. “Just be ready, Jyn.”

    “Yes, Father.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Jyn hadn’t formed any expectations about Krennic’s visit (the panicked thoughts of What if, What if, What if echoed throughout her mind if she did), but if she’d given the matter any thought, Krennic forcing his engineers to line up on Eadu’s landing platform despite the pouring rain to greet his ship would fit perfectly.

    “What a kriffing power play,” Judd muttered as Galen marched to the front of the line to greet the director. “Insist we meet him outside in the rain, when we could have stayed dry in the lab.”

    Jyn idly wondered if Mustafar was freezing over. She never expected to agree with that man.

    Flanked by two Deathtroopers, Krennic marched down the plank of his ship and her father joined him, step for step, as he marched towards the line of scientists. He stopped in front of Jyn, raking his eyes over her uniform from the toes of her boots to the angle at which her cap rested.

    “Lieutenant,” he greeted with a sickly sweet smile. The title felt out of place and unfamiliar; no one around the base — not her father, not the other engineers — called her by her assigned rank. “What a pleasure to see you adapting to your new environment so well.”

    Jyn raised an arm in salute, which he returned in a dismissive manner. “Director Krennic.”

    He laughed, turning to her father. “Now, now, Galen, look at this proficient little officer you’ve managed to produce!” Galen gave a terse nod to the director, though his eyes seemed to smile at Jyn. “I’ll admit,” Krennic continued, chuckling under his breath, “I expected to have you back on trial for sedition by this point, Lieutenant, but your father has managed to surprise me yet again.”

    “I aim to please, sir.” Jyn’s voice remained neutral. 

    “Excellent,” he replied and Jyn wanted to punch the smug smile off of his face. “Let’s continue inside, shall we? Walk with me, Lieutenant.”

    Jyn fell into step beside Krennic, her father following close behind. His gaze fell heavy on her neck and she longed to turn around, seeking a nod of reassurance or encouragement, but she wasn’t a child and she wasn’t seeking her father’s approval. She kept her eyes forward.

    “I’ve seen the work you’ve been doing, Lieutenant,” Krennic addressed her with pride. Jyn held back a shocked expression from her face. Proud? Why would Orson Krennic be proud of the work she was doing? She’d done exactly nothing for this project other than recheck the easiest calculations the scientists had already completed. If anything, she expected this visit to be a reprimand for her, full of harsh threats and unsavory possibilities if she didn’t straighten herself out and prove her loyalty to the Empire.

    (Images from her nightmares sprang forward: her holding an Imperial blaster to Saw’s head, Krennic over her shoulder. If she didn’t behave herself; if Saw was recaptured…)

    She refocused her thoughts on Krennic’s words and the echoing boot steps down the sterile corridors.

    Krennic was continuing. “I was a little skeptical at your father’s promise that he could steer you onto the right track, after all those unfortunate years under Gerrera’s care. I was certain you would shove him off track — and he has been producing less than before, but nothing too drastic so I won’t hold it against you — and,” he leaned in close to Jyn with a smile. Jyn forced herself to stay rooted in place. “Let us be honest with each other. We both know that Galen can be less than persuasive. You wouldn’t remember this — you were too young when she died — but your mother was always able to push him around, bend him to her bidding. That’s why they moved you to that backwater planet. Simply your mother’s wishes.”

     I will not attack Orson Krennic. Attacking Orson Krennic will only get me killed. I will not attack Orson Krennic. Attacking Orson Krennic will only get me killed.

    “Luckily I was able to clear that up and set Galen back on his path of brilliance, where he should have been for years.” He gave her a testing stare. “Incredibly lucky, don’t you think?”

     I will not attack Orson Krennic. Attacking Orson Krennic will only get me killed.

    Jyn unclenched her jaw before answering. “Absolutely, Director. His research is sure to change the course of history.”

    Krennic paused outside the entrance to the laboratory. “That’s a good girl. Off you go, then. Go complete your newest round of Systems Safety Reports. I have more to discuss with your father.”

    Jyn’s hand froze as she reached for the pad to open the door. Systems safety reports? She hadn’t been working on those; her father had. Those nights she had caught him up late in the lab, pouring over a data pad.

    He hadn’t been catching up on his own work, as he assured her. He’d been covering for her. Keeping her safe from Krennic’s wrath.

    “Was there something else you wanted, Lieutenant?” Krennic asked, an eyebrow raised. “I thought I dismissed you.”

    “Yes, sir.” Jyn scrambled to find an appropriate excuse but her brain felt overloaded with this new revelation. Her father, working twice as hard to protect her. ( He’s trying to protect you , the trusting little voice inside her head — the same one that had been bothering her since she’d landed on Eadu all those months ago — cooed with pride. I told you so, I told you so! )

    “I won’t waste your time, Director,” Jyn finally settled on. “It’s not a large issue.”

    “Very well then,” Krennic inclined his head towards the door. “Off you go then.”

    Jyn left, her mind still whirling with the new information.

     My father is trying to protect me. My father is lying for me. My father is deceiving Orson Krennic.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    She returned to the lab the next day with a vigor she’d never experienced on Eadu. She’d made a decision overnight: she would uphold her vow to never assist the Empire, but her father’s work needed a more personal investigation.

    If he’d been lying about completing her work, what else was he being deceitful about?

    As she entered the lab, Galen greeted her with his traditional smile and a quick “Good morning, Jyn” before returning to his work as usual. Either he hadn’t realized she’d put together what the director’s comments meant, or he was hoping she would forget it.

    Jyn didn’t picture it was the former and wanted to address the latter. Surely the best way to check was the easiest way: pulling up the Systems Safety and Compatibility Reports, Jyn began the work her father claimed she’d been doing for months.

    She’d never opened the program but all Imperials systems were designed with ease of use in mind; surely she could figure it out soon. When the datapad containing the program sprang to life, three options popped up: the reactor system, the weapons system and the ventilation system.

    Curious, Jyn poked at the weapons system. Perhaps the key to the super weapon — and, therefore, the key to destroy it — lay hidden beneath these plans. Much to Jyn’s dismay, the program only ran over the existing blueprints, exposing none of the finer details of the plan to her. Green lines appeared periodically, proving the system would be operational. Rather than finding the key to the weapons' destruction, Jyn only found proof of its fearsome power.

    Scowling, Jyn punched the option for the reactor system, waiting for the green lines to prove her father’s genius.

    But no green lines appeared.

    The datapad beeped as one red line appeared on the plans, and again as a second appeared. The other engineers began glancing over at the third and the fourth high pitched beep. By the fifth, Jyn had turned off its sound system and just in time, for the lines began appearing faster and faster, until the plans were covered in more red than anything else. The scan refused to complete the entire system, stopping at two hundred errors.

    Jyn clicked on the first red line to appear.

    “ERROR” Blinked across the screen. “DANGEROUS LEVELS OF RADIATION.”

    She checked the second, and then the third. Similar messages were attached to each line.

    What was this? Was her father still completing this system, and this was only a prototype? Or had she simply discovered another one of her father’s lies?

     My father is deceiving Orson Krennic about my work, she reminded herself. My father has been lying. What else has he been lying about?

    Puzzled, Jyn stared across the round table to where her father worked, sketching blueprints on his own datapad, oblivious to the whirlwind of thoughts flooding Jyn’s mind. He didn’t notice her stare at first, engrossed in his own work, but glanced up after a moment.

    “Something you wanted, Jyn?” He asked, a curious smile on his face. “If you’d like assistance with something…”

    “No,” Jyn snapped, and the excitement faded from his face. “I don’t need assistance.”

    I want answers, but not here. Not now.

   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    “Father,” Jyn greeted the next morning, not at the doors to the lab where they traditionally met, but outside his quarters, a place she never visited unless wholly necessary.

    “Jyn!” He stepped back, clearly startled at her presence. “What can I do for you?”

    “I need you to explain something to me.”

    “Of course, Jyn.” He always seemed eager when she asked for anything from him, no matter if it was only to pass her a stylus or a datapad within the lab. “How can I help?”

    She answered by shoving the datapad and SSCR’s two hundred red lines under his nose. He tensed immediately.

    “How did you get this?” Galen snarled when she showed him her numbers, the harshest voice Jyn has ever heard from him. (He’s been nothing but gentle and reassuring since Jyn was brought to the facility; trying to earn back her trust and favor, she imagined.) But now his grip was tight on her arm, pulling her down the hallway and out into the pelting Eadu rains, his voice sharp on every edge.

    “Jyn,” he demands again after sweeping his eyes over the building’s exterior — sweeping for holocams, as Saw had taught her to do. (Maybe her fathers weren’t so different after all.) “Tell me how you learned this.”

    “Systems report,” she said,yanking her arm out of his grip. Her father let her go, his face slipping into shock at the phrase. Rain ran into his eyes and matted his hair to his forehead, but he made no move to prevent it. “You remember those? The ones the director thought I had been doing for months?”

    He swallowed. “There was no need for you to do those, Jyn. I’ve been running them for you while you integrate in.”

    She snorted. “You were covering for me.”

    He didn’t deny it, only stared at her, a muscle twitching along his tense jawline.

    “I don’t need your protection,” she continued. “And I don’t want it, so I did the reports myself. And I found,” she pointed at the datapad — it would be ruined after this rain, but Jyn could run the reports again, forcing her father to admit whatever he was hiding — again, “this.”

    “The system isn’t complete,” her father said, a beat too late. “That’s an early prototype. We have much work to do on it.”

    She’d never taken the time to notice whens he was a child, but everyone had always told her: Galen Erso was a terrible liar. She saw it here, in the way his eyes flickered anxiously over her face and he swallowed unnecessarily.

    “If the system isn’t complete, why did you drag me out here? That answer can be on camera.” Whatever was the truth behind what she discovered couldn’t be.

    “Jyn.” He said her name slowly, as a warning. “You need to stop digging, and leave this to me.”

    “Leave what to you? Your weapon to destroy worlds?”

    “Yes.” He leaned forward, tightened his eyes. The expression might have been intimidating, if Jyn hadn’t noticed him forcing it onto his face. “Leave the project alone, Jyn.”

    The worst thing she possibly could have said, the worst insult she possibly had to give her father spilled out of her mouth. She’d held it in for so long, only intended to use it in her very early days on Eadu, when she was still aching from the days of Imperial torture, but something about the crushing cold of the Eadu rain and the hurt from her father’s lies stabbed right into her heart and she wanted to hurt him right back.

    “Mama would hate you. She would hate everything you’re doing.”

    To Jyn’s shock and slight disappointment, he didn’t seem hurt at her statement, only resigned. He leaned out of Jyn’s air space and hung his head, wiping his hand over his hair and sighing. He broke the thick silence after a moment. “She would, wouldn’t she?”

    Then, he laughed, and though Jyn believed her father had no way left to hurt her, he found the one power she didn’t know he had. “But, then again, you hate me, and you and your mother always agreed. You would know best what your mother would feel, Jyn.”

    “I don’t hate you.” The words rushed out of her before she had time to think them over. They were raw, but true.

    He stared at her with tired, tired eyes. With his wet hair and clothes, her father looked like a mere skeleton compared to the person she knew and loved as a child. Like he died on that field along with Mama, and a different being entirely had taken his place.

    “Don’t you, Jyn? I wouldn’t blame you if you do.”

    She swallowed, seeing a path to the truth through his words. “I don’t hate you, Papa. I just wish you’d tell me the truth.”

    “I can’t do that, Jyn.”

    “Why not?” She demanded, knowing she sounded like a petulant child and hardly caring. “Why can’t you explain this to me?”

    “It’s an early prototype —”

    “Bantashit! Tell me what it is!”

    “Jyn,” he warned, “the kind of trouble you’d be in, the danger I’d be putting you in…”

    “If you’re doing something illegal — and you are, you can’t deny it after this,” she spit the words out through her teeth, “the Imperials will assume I know what you’re doing. If you get caught, I get hurt. There’s no reason to keep me in the dark.”

    At the shocked look on her father’s face, Jyn realized he had not only been lying to her; he had been lying to himself about the implication of whatever was wrong with the reaction core.

    “There’s a flaw, deep within the system.” Galen’s eyes remained glued to the food they’d come out of, his voice barely audible over the pounding rain. Jyn hardly believed she was hearing her father explain this. He looked like he couldn’t believe it either. “I’ve built a flaw into the design. If you put too much pressure onto the reactor module, the entire system will implode and destroy the entire battle station.”

    Jyn stared for a moment. He was designing the weapon … to destroy it?

    “You have to understand, Jyn,” his words became rushed, spilling out all at once. “I didn’t have an option to work on the project, not once Krennic found us on Lah’mu. My options were to work on the project or to take my own life.” He laughed, but the sound wasn’t humorous, only bitter. “Suicide sounded tempting somedays, with your mother dead and you who knows where in the galaxy. But the super weapon…”

    Galen shook his head. “Krennic was so convinced I needed to head the project in order for it to be a success, but that wasn’t true. He’d assembled a stellar team of engineers. They’d figure it out eventually, with or without my assistance, so I made a decision.” He rolled his shoulders back, stood a little taller, now that he spoke of decisions he was proud of. “I became essential to the project. I would build the Empire a weapon so powerful they could rule every corner of the galaxy. But all the while I laid the groundwork for my revenge.”

    He reached for the datapad in Jyn’s hand. She was too shocked, too numb at what she was hearing ( her father isn’t a traitor, her father doesn’t work for the Empire ) to stop him.

    “This, Jyn,” he said, holding up the datapad. “This is what I’ve created. I’ve kept it concealed from them. The system has been hidden from checks, its flaws have been excused in some form or another, but it’s been there, directly under their noses the whole time. And when it’s ready, I’ll get the information to Saw, to the Rebellion.”

    It sounded so simple when he said it like that. But nothing in this war against the Empire ever was. Jyn knew that all too well.

    “They’ll find out what you’re doing,” Jyn whispered. “This plan is suicide. It’ll never work.”

    “That’s why,” he said, folding up the datapad, “you know nothing about it, Jyn. You found nothing on the systems report and you’ll continue your duties as normal. Understood?”

    “No.” Jyn stepped forward, reaching for the datapad again. “I’ve been fighting the Empire since I was a child. I’m not going to stop now.”

    Galen swallowed. “I can’t let you risk your life with me, Jyn.”

    “Papa, you already are.”

    He came to a decision, steeling his eyes. “You know now, Jyn, and there’s nothing I can do about that. But I can separate you from the project.”

    She furrowed her eyebrows, shooting him a quizzical stare. “What do you mean?”

    “I’ll send you away from the project, find another path for you besides working in the lab.” The lines on his forehead deepened as he thought. “Perhaps the cargo shipments. You can monitor the flights to and from Jedha.”

    “You’re sending me away?” Despite her hatred of Eadu, the sting of her fathers’ abandonment rushed through her. She couldn’t stand losing him again, not when she’d only just found him now.

    “Let me work out the details today, Jyn, but you’ll return. You won’t be sent away.” He reached to brush a thumb over her cheek, lightly, tentatively. “I just need to keep you safe.”

    Jyn nodded. Traveling, like she did with Saw. She could do that.

    “The less you know, Stardust, the safer you’re going to be. You cannot continue to work within the lab.” Galen’s lips curved slightly and a teasing glint entered his eye. It was the most honest smile Jyn had seen from him all day. “But I believe that won’t be a crushing blow to you.”

    Jyn tried to smile back at her father — she really did — but it fell short of its mark. “Lab work isn’t what I’m built for.”

    “No,” Galen agreed, reaching a hand up to stroke the wet hair away from her face. His eyes were wistful as he continued. “You were always much more like your mother in that way. The world was yours to explore, but also yours to protect. She’d be so very proud of you, Jyn.”

    Jyn swallowed past the lump in her throat. All these years she had spent focused on not being who her father had become (but if what she’d found — if what he’s admitted to her — was true, would that be such a bad thing?) she had forgotten how much she longed to be like her mother, the fearless Lyra Erso who hopped across systems in the middle of the night and took a blaster to the chest, just to keep her family safe.

    “Are you?” Jyn asked, not really sure where the question was leading or where I sudden desire to please her father had come from. “Are you proud of me, Papa?”

    “Stardust,” he breathed, and Jyn was shocked to see the nickname didn’t sting like betrayal. “Of course you do. You’d make me proud if you were still fighting alongside Saw, or if you were an officer in the Rebel Alliance. But,” he grabbed her face to emphasize his point. “You’d make me no less proud if you left this all behind — ran to a distant planet to live a normal life. If that’s what made you happy, Jyn, then I would find a way to get you off this planet. And I would always, always be proud of you.”

    Jyn surged forward then, wrapping her arms around her father’s neck for the first time since she was eight years old. After a moment, she expected the awkwardness to set in, for her to remember how she’d outgrown the need for physical touch before she was ten years old, but her father’s hands wrapped around her back and he pulled her in tight. This perfect fit, the warm feeling of love and acceptance, even in the bone chilling cold of Eadu’s rain — Jyn never wanted to leave. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bodhi Rook never liked rain. He could blame his home planet, he supposed; the rainy season on Jedha only spelled disease and a plague of random bugs crawling on every surface, longing to be dry just as much as the people.

    But the rain on Eadu didn’t feel like the rain on Jedha. In fact, nothing on Eadu reminded Bodhi of the desert world from which he came. The torrential downpour, the lack of sun, the clinical feel of the labs: everywhere he turned, he missed the welcoming presence of his home planet. Imperial occupation may have made the world less welcoming, made it felt less like the world where he was born, but the wandering the streets, you could still see pilgrims from all corners of the galaxy, inhale the deep smells of street food around each turn, find merchants offering colorful silk scarves and souvenirs to remind tourists of their journey.

    Bodhi lost pieces of his identity slowly over the years. First, trading his home world for the Terrabe Sector Service Academy. His flight suit came next to replace the more traditional Jedhan clothes. Now, with his mother falling ill and treatments failing, it seemed Bodhi might lose his last tie to Jedha, cut loose from his tether and free to wander the galaxy.

    (That’s never what he wanted. Leaving Jedha behind wasn’t his plan.)

    At least when he was on his ship, flying for hours upon hours between the hidden Imperial facility and his cargo’s destination, staring out into the edge where realspace faded into hyperspace, Bodhi felt some measure of comfort. He had always longed to fly. Even as a boy, before he realized what the gleaming ships landing on his planet meant, he rushed to his home’s windows to catch sight of them, pulling his mother with him. She’d known what they were, that they brought the white monster wandering the streets, the ones who scared Bodhi so badly he would hide behind his mother’s skirts as they walked the market.

    Now, Bodhi thought with a snort, he was one of the monsters. Not in white, perhaps, but still the ones passing through the skies, ferrying in fear alongside his cargo. 

    He sat in his cockpit now, not staring at the flashing lights of hyperspace, but the pelting rains of Eadu. Troopers had collected his manifest, accounted for the boxes with the mysterious cargo and were now waiting for the engineers of the facility to brave the rain to direct them. Bodhi’s job was complete, but, like a good pilot, he stayed with his ship, ignoring the pounding boots of troopers wandering on and off. (He’s not a child anymore, but they still look like monsters. Only now he lost the option to hide behind his mother.)

    Perhaps it’s his tendency to keep his head down while he’s on base — the rain, the incorrect shipping manifests given to him, the Stormtroopers around every turn: everything about this base makes the hairs on his arms stand on edge — or the light footsteps that fall almost silent compared to the ‘troopers, but Bodhi misses an officer wandering on board his ship.

    He just about jumped out of his skin when, in the corner of his vision, a human girl — a woman, he corrected, though she must be younger than him — hefted herself up onto one of the shipping containers. She wore the dark uniform of an Imperial officer, but didn’t act like any officers Bodhi had ever met. Was this some kind of test?

    This was not in my flight manual.

    “Ma’am?” Bodhi asked, snapping to attention. Her eyes follow him, and they’re full of laughter at his frantic move to be respectful. “Is there something I can do for you?”

    “I figured I should inspect the ship,” she responded. Bodhi risked eyeing her insignia for a moment. Twin gold bars sat on her shoulders: a second lieutenant, then. That explained her young age, at least. A young academy grad, enjoying her first assignment reminding the junior officers of her place above them.

    “Yes, ma’am. A sergeant collected my manifest earlier, but I—I should have another one… right… here…” Bodhi scrambled for the datapad assigned for this trip. “If you need to look at it.”

    “Relax, ensign. Nothing’s wrong. You can calm that racing heart of yours.”

    Bodhi settled for trapping his fidgeting hands behind his back. There was little he could do for the racing heart.

    “Have you received your newest orders yet?”

    “No, ma’am.” He hadn’t left his datapad alone for long; surely Bodhi hadn’t missed an important message. Had he done something to upset his superiors? Would he no longer be allowed to fly home on his cargo missions? “I only landed half an hour ago.”

    “You’ve been busy, yes. Not a concern, Ensign Rook. I can tell you myself then.” She extended her hand. “I’m Jyn Erso, and I’ll be accompanying you on your supply runs from now on.”

    Bodhi froze. The Empire was sending an officer along with him? Did they not trust him, or were the supplies he was carrying that valuable? “H-have I done something wrong?”

    “It has much less to do with you and more to do with your flight path,” she explained, quirking her eyebrows slightly at the end. “And me, I suppose. I have business on Jedha, and I, unfortunately, am not qualified to fly myself across the galaxy. A full set of orders should be coming to your account soon. Any questions?”

    The whole situation seemed unusual, but Bodhi learned years ago to stop questioning Imperial motivations. Still, one detail caught his attention.

    “Erso?” That name topped each of his flight manifests. These goods he was delivering — they were for the use of a Dr. Erso. Surely she couldn’t be…?

    “My father,” the Lieutenant supplied, as if reading Bodhi’s mind. “Dr. Erso is my father, so, naturally, I was assigned to the same base.” She tipped her cap, a slight roll in her eyes. “Imperial nepotism at its finest.”

    Bodhi stared at her, unmoving.

    She sighed. “You’re allowed to laugh, Ensign. Not every Imperial needs to be as stone cold as the troopers. The rest of us are allowed to laugh occasionally.”

    Bodhi’s lips twitched into something he hoped looked like a smile. Based on the Lieutenant’s sigh, he guessed he hadn’t succeeded.

    “Close enough, for now. Mind if I explore the ship?”

    Bodhi nodded and she smiled in return, flinging her cap onto the same cargo box she’d sat on earlier before climbing to the cockpit. Bodhi followed close on her heels, but left her her space once she reached the top of the ladder. She examined the console closely, especially for someone with no piloting experience.

    “Can I help you find anything, Lieutenant?”

    She snorted. “One request for our partnership, Rook. Don’t refer to me as ‘Lieutenant.’ Or — what was it you used earlier? Ma’am? Don’t do that either.”

    What kind of Imperial officer was this woman?

    “What-what should I call you then?”

    “Jyn,” she said, straightening up. “Call me Jyn.”

    “That’s not…”

    “Regulations. Yeah,” she shrugged. “I’m not one for regulations. You don’t mind if I call you Bodhi, do you?”

    “This… this isn’t going to get me in trouble, is it? Or is this some kind of test?” Rumors circulated around Bodhi’s training center about officers who would try to lure the cadets into compromising situations. An officer insisting he call her by her first name, refusing to use any title and being so lax about protocol? Maybe he should double check his datapad to see if she was lying about those orders…

    “I don’t seem much like the Imperial type, do I?” The lieutenant — Jyn? — snorted. “This… wasn’t my first career choice.” She looked Bodhi up and down. “I imagine it wasn’t yours, either, Ensign.”

    “I-it’s my privilege to serve the Empire.”

    Her gaze sharpened at the comment. The words hung heavy in the air long enough Bodhi’s anxious thoughts started racing again. Finally, she replied, “You’re not a propaganda poster and you’re not one of the Stormtroopers. You can have independent thought.”

     Can I? Bodhi wondered. No one at the Academy thought so.

    Bodhi didn’t dare voice the words out loud.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Galen stood just inside the doors to the facility. He couldn’t see the cargo ship his daughter left the planet on -- he couldn’t see much past his own reflection in the window -- but he imagined it nonetheless. The cargo pilot Jyn had selected to accompany had an excellent track record, Galen reassured himself.

His daughter would be returning. No need to replay through previous scenarios where he and Jyn had been separated. 

Nothing about Jyn’s new directives were secret, either. With the completion of the Death Star looming nearer and nearer, Krennic had no qualms sending Jyn in a different, and less top-secret, direction. The director had only required one conversation with Galen before signing the change in orders.

“She’s adjusting to life on base well,” Galen had explained on one of Krennic’s drop in visits. Less than a week had passed since Jyn had discovered his sabotage and Galen saw no reason to wait longer to remove his daughter from the Imperial crosshairs he had put himself into. “Only she’s…”

Krennic pulled up short, the ever present squad of death troopers stopping in time. “Any attempts at sabotage?”

“No, no,” Galen reassured him. “It’s only… well, we were separated at such an important age in her schooling… She’s lacking much of the knowledge I need.”

A snort escaped from Krennic. “Erso brains aren’t entirely genetic, then? Such a shame you didn’t leave her on Coruscant, Galen. The paths she could have traveled if those options were left open to her.”

The necessary lies grated at Galen. Slandering his daughter’s intelligence, even with her knowledge of this plan, felt wrong. If only the universe dealt their cards differently, he and Jyn could have worked side by side or much in the way he and Lyra once did -- Coruscant education or not. 

In an amazing feat of restraint, Galen kept his comments to himself. “I just feel Jyn would be more useful elsewhere. Keeping her cooped up in the lab isn’t benefiting her or the project.”

“And you have a solution to his problem?” Krennic asked with raised eyebrows. 

“The cargo shipments,” Galen answered. “She knows what I’m looking for on Jedha and has the authority to oversee a few pilots. She can remain stationed here under my watch, but spend her time assisting the shipments.”

The director considered his proposal, eyebrows raised in praise or condemnation Galen couldn’t tell. The seconds ticked by, but Galen kept his eyes steady on Krennic’s. 

“Let me help her, Orson. I’ve failed her much of her life already.”

Krennic sighed. “Alright, but I’ll expect regular reports from her not only about the shipments but the traffic on Jedha -- rebel activity, the movements of the Guardians, any merchant that offers her spice. One step out of line, and she returns to the cell I designed for her on Coruscant. Do you understand?”

Jyn understood the director’s warning, even if she had rolled her eyes when Galen had described the conditions. She was ready to keep her head low until the moment Galen needed her to exploit this new found freedom by sharing his design flaw with the Rebellion. She would make biweekly runs, returning to his watchful eye between each visit. She would be safe, toeing the line between enough freedom to run and enough protection to keep away from the suspicious eye of the Empire. 

If only the anxiety in his heart would agree with the logic in his brain.

#kat writes #therebelcaptainnetwork #cassian andor #rebelcaptain #jyn erso #bodhi rook #rogue one #i just quit my last job and don't start the new one for a week #so you'll likely be getting another update or two within that time #thank you all for the loving response I've gotten to posting this! #glad to see some of yall are still hanging around

[bylertruther]

can i hear all of your thoughts on the ballad of songbirds and snakes? 👀

no ❤️ hehe ofc! this is just going to be a braindump bc it's been a while, but here are my thoughts! (under a read-more bc i be talkin)

first, i'd like to say that i was never one of those people that went ugh 🙄 who wants to hear about the bad guy 🙄. never! not even a little bit. snow was one of my favorites and i thoroughly LOVED every scene he was in. years later, those are the ones that stand out to me every time. also, i felt that collins had done a superb job of showing her understanding of such topics and her literary prowess, so even on a more technical note, i still couldn't understand why people were disappointed or thought it would be a fluff piece.

moving on to the book itself now: i liked this book because of snow 🤍 and the way it approached certain themes, like poverty and war and the politics stemming from both.

every page felt gripping to me, because snow is very much a Thinker^tm. a plotter. a schemer. he can never not be present, not even just in the moment, but in both the past and the future, too. he has this dogged persistence that was refreshing to me, bc it's very different to how katniss felt as someone that was thrust into something she never wanted in the first place. katniss was born into poverty and largely accepted that, bc she had no choice. snow was not, and thus can not accept this fate for himself, and fights it every step of the way.

as for poverty, i don't think that a lot of people understand just how much it can influence not just your entire life, but also the lives of your children should you keep the cycle going. it's something that demands to be known and dealt with; something that dictates how every little interaction with the world can or will go. it's especially brutal if you haven't always been poor or if you live in an area with such wealth inequality, like snow.

the importance and constant presence and reminder of hunger / food, appearances / clothes, outside mannerisms / internal monologue, drive / desperation, and the reasoning behind snow's actions make this exceptionally clear, i feel. you're not allowed to forget, not even for a moment, because snow can never forget. he also can't afford to, because his future and his social standing within society depends on it. he simply has no choice in the matter, esp not with his obsessive tendencies.

we're reminded again and again that snow doesn't have the same safety net as his peers. he has to be the best and he has to fight for everything, because otherwise he won't be able to pursue higher education and has no way of moving up. every decision that he makes is informed by that. when he sways, he inevitably remembers what it's like to be poor, and quickly shifts gears.

he remembers the war. he remembers all that he lost. he remembers what they had to do to survive. he carries that with him all the time. he's always going to look out for himself and ultimately do what's in his best interest, because there is no one that's able to do that for him. he has to do that not just for himself, but his family, too. you don't have to agree with him and the many justifications he makes for himself, but he is fighting his own fight the same way that other characters like katniss and gale were.

i'm reminded of this quote from lucy herself:

"people aren't so bad, really," she said. "it's what the world does to them. like us in the arena. we did things in there we'd never have considered if they'd just left us alone."

and i don't say this to excuse the things he does, or later goes on to do, but to reiterate that throughout the entirety of this book, snow is in a fight for survival. he even says that what he sees in district twelve reminds him of his time in the arena. of course, he's twisted this into a justification of his superiority, but he's acknowledging this point, and adding that "it takes very little to bring the beast to the surface."

like. everyone reacts to hardship and war differently. you have characters like gale and snow. you have characters like tigress, peeta, and sejanus. and you have characters like katniss and lucy gray.

there are millions of people in the world that wish to escape the boot. and there are many that when they do, rather than throwing it out entirely, they make the conscious decision to put it on themselves be the one to do the stepping this time. i don't agree with it, but i find it endlessly fascinating, because of how human it is. many people respond to cruelty with cruelty—eye for an eye—and justify it to themselves by equating it to order.

i also just loved, loved, loved how she dived into war and post-war society, too. the things people are willing to do to survive (cannibalism, crime, sex work, etc). what happens afterward (no-waste policies/culture, the winner imposes retaliatory violence and sanctions against the loser, propaganda culture, hostility and prejudice between opposing groups / classes, ptsd, restructuring society in such a way that it cannot happen again, etc).

it's like. i just. clenches fist. i love it when there are reasons behind evil. snow wasn't born that way—he was made. circumstance and his own decision-making along the way are what make him the man he is. there are many moments within the story that show you that he is capable of feeling things for others, many points where he does struggle to make a decision, and many points where he struggles even after making that decision, that show you that he is incredibly and undoubtedly human. that anyone is capable of being like him. that there are many people in this world that are just like him. this story is every bit as human and real and fascinating as the first three books were, and it didn't even need fantasy elements to make it so, bc it's just Real Life.

i focused on snow here bc he's my favorite, but i also really enjoyed sejanus and lucy gray, too. the tragedy of sejanus and his inability to be anything but himself is chef's kiss. when he cries out for his ma? omfg. SINISTER!!!!!!!!!!!! EVIL, EVIL, EVIL. and so real. and lucy gray is just that girl, that character, the One. if she were a vine, it'd be this one: "i'm a bad bitch you can't kill me". it didn't matter what snow did, bc she lived on despite his efforts and got the last laugh. "it's the things we love most that destroy us" #true but also not true bc he brought all that on himself, not her. and there are many such dr gauls in the world, too, trying their best to poison enough minds that it keeps their machine going even after they're gone. many such people that don't know when to stop or more accurately simply don't care to.

anyway. i loved it <3 loved it so much tht it bumped snow up to number 1 fave of the series and made me weep n wail bc i need more content from ms collins immediately </3

#asks

[prateekshawebdesign]

Maximizing Local Visibility - Leveraging Google My Business Across Diverse Industries

In today's digital era, where online presence dictates business success, Google My Business (GMB) emerges as a pivotal tool for local businesses. This powerful platform transcends industry boundaries, offering unique benefits tailored to various sectors.

From increasing visibility to enhancing customer interaction, GMB plays a crucial role in shaping the online footprint of businesses. This blog delves into the importance of Google My Business for different industries, highlighting how each sector can leverage its features to boost local engagement, attract more customers, and ultimately drive growth.

Prateeksha Web Design : Your Online Success Starts Here

From concept to reality, we bring your online vision to life. We combine creativity, expertise, and dedication to make your idea a thriving online business.

Ready to get started? Reach out today, and let's turn your idea into profit!

Fill in a form or [phone]

Leveraging Google My Business Across Diverse Industries

1. Overview of Google My Business:

Explanation of GMB and its significance in local SEO. The impact of GMB on search visibility and customer reach.

2. Retail Industry:

Utilizing GMB for showcasing products. Leveraging customer reviews for credibility and trust. Importance of accurate business information for walk-in customers.

3. Hospitality and Tourism:

Optimizing GMB listings with high-quality images and virtual tours. Managing and responding to reviews to enhance reputation. Showcasing amenities and proximity to local attractions.

4. Healthcare Services:

Importance of accurate contact information and operating hours. Highlighting specialized services and certifications. Managing patient reviews and feedback for trust-building.

5. Professional Services (Lawyers, Accountants, etc.):

Demonstrating expertise through posts and updates. Importance of client testimonials and reviews. Using GMB for local networking and visibility.

6. Real Estate:

Showcasing properties through photos and virtual tours. Using GMB to highlight successful transactions and customer satisfaction. Local SEO strategies for real estate listings.

7. Automotive Industry:

Showcasing inventory and services offered. Importance of user reviews in decision-making. Utilizing GMB for service appointments and inquiries.

8. Education and Training Centers:

Promoting courses and programs through GMB. Utilizing GMB for open days and event announcements. Managing reviews and testimonials from students and parents.

9. Restaurants and Food Services:

Using GMB for menu highlights and specials. Managing and responding to customer reviews. Importance of photos and updates for customer engagement.

10. Best Practices for All Industries:

Maintaining up-to-date and accurate information. Engaging with customer reviews professionally. Regular updates and posts to keep the listing active. Utilizing Google Insights to understand customer behavior and preferences.

11. Challenges and Solutions:

Addressing common challenges faced by businesses in using GMB. Solutions and strategies to overcome these challenges.

12. Future of GMB in Business Growth and Visibility:

How GMB is evolving and what it means for businesses. The role of GMB in future digital marketing strategies.

Read More

#googlemybusiness

[mr-entj]

What is independence? What are clear steps that a person can take to attain it ? What changes should we aim for, when seeking being an independent person ?

Deep respect and admiration Mr. ENTJ

Independence is the state of being free from external influence and control, but it looks different for everyone depending on how far they want to take that concept in their lives. For me, independence is defined as:

The ability to decide how I use my time, energy, intelligence, abilities, and effort while I’m alive on this planet

The state of zero reliance on another person or entity (government, charity, etc.) to pay for any and all of my basic needs (housing, food, education, health care, retirement, transportation, etc.)

The freedom to say “no” and walk away from any situation I disagree with, point blank period-- full stop

Independence and control over my own life are central concepts that guide most of the decisions I make; I won’t make certain choices, enter into certain agreements, commit to certain relationships, etc. that compromise them. For me, independence was achieved through a combination of five main things:

1. Positive self-image and healthy self-esteem. This is who I am and how I feel about myself. This is important because it gives me confidence to try new and scary things, resilience to bounce back when I fail, and encouragement to continue when I inevitably succeed. I don’t look for things in other people like love and validation because I have it in myself. Above all, this gives me the ability to resist external pressure (family, friends, culture, society, whatever) and the strength to fight for my happiness. It’s my courage. 

2. Clearly defined values and boundaries: This is what I stand for. This is important because it determines what’s important to me and what I will and will not tolerate from other people. My principles are a constant presence to ensure I don’t lose my way in life when I’m placed in confusing situations that are pulling me in multiple directions. It’s my anchor.

3. Clearly defined goals and aspirations. This is what I aim to achieve. This is important because it reminds me where I’m going, it’s my life ‘map’, and it helps me decide what is and isn’t worth my time when I’m making decisions in life. It helps me resist the temptation to get off track and lose my way so I can stay the course throughout my journey. It’s my north star.

4. Skills and mastery: This is what I can do. This is important because it’s my contribution to the world which ensures that I can make a living. This gives me geographic flexibility to start over anywhere in the world with the education, experience, knowledge, wisdom, and skills I’ve accumulated. It’s my value.

5. Financial freedom: And last, but certainly not least-- money. $$$. €€€. £££. ¥¥¥. And lots of it. This severs the link between me and family/friends/government/jobs/bosses/managers/[insert whoever else] that can dictate what I should do with my life. I grew up in deep poverty and poverty equals powerlessness because it strips a human being of access to the things they need to survive which forces them to do things they don’t want to do to get those necessities. Many issues of dependency and toxic stress (not all, but many) that make people miserable in their lives revolve around lack of money to address these issues like where they can live, what they can eat, where they can go, what crappy job they must work, what health care they can receive, what education they can get, when they can retire, what abusive relationship they can leave, what controlling parents they can resist, etc. I quickly built substantial wealth in my 20s to kill this problem as soon as possible and my life is infinitely better for it. It’s my shield. 

For you and others reading this answer, this list may look very different depending on your individual situations, but it’s a good place to start. 

Thanks for supporting the blog. Be well.

#independence #happiness #life #freedom #free will #choice #finances #money #self-image #values #principles #boundaries #goals #aspirations #skills #mastery #faq

[sunshineandcybertronians]

It’s Nice to Have a Friend - (Secret Solenoid) TFP Starscream x reader

Word count: 5,599

Warnings: none

A/n: This is my Secret Solenoid gift to @sheabeeprime. This ended up way longer than I meant it to be. The ideas for what I could do just kept piling up and I decided to do all of them. And in true Scarlet fashion, I named this after a Taylor Swift song.

~

The view was amazing from where you sat on the edge of a cliff. Staring at the amazing view ahead of you. The wind in your face and hair. Just you, your thoughts, and the giant robot on your left.

Yeah, you honestly had no idea why Starscream decided to sit with you. And no idea why he always came to your home to pick you up when he was hunting for energon. Maybe he just needed company? Whatever the reason, an opportunity like this was too cool to pass down. So you tagged along whenever you were free. Which sometimes meant having to tell him you were busy or why you weren’t home when he came last. Though it was amazing how he would avoid being seen.

You didn’t know much about him. All you knew was that he was grumpy, had a huge ego, and his ex co-workers sucked.

You bit your lip. Today was the only chance for you to ask this. You pushed a strand of hair that flew in your face.

His helm faced forward, but his optics were on you. “What is it, human?”

“Hmmm?” You looked up at him as innocently as you could manage.

“’I know you were going to ask me something. Just ask me and get it over with.”

“Well,” you began, “There’s this parade going on…”

“And?” he raised one of his large eyebrows.

“It’s celebrating all the different countries in the world.”

“So?”

“I was thinking we could go?” You shrugged and gave a strained smile.

“No.” He immediately shot down the idea.

“But you could learn all about different human cultures.”

“Why would I want to learn about other humans anyway?”

“Wouldn’t simply knowing those kinds of things get you ahead of, and make you more knowledgeable than, the Decepticons?” you asked nonchalantly.

“Hah! You think saying that will make me go?” A look of amused triumph was on his face, but you could see the metaphorical cogs turning in his helm. He soon let out an angry and reluctant hum. “But I suppose I could take some of my precious time to come to your… ‘celebration of opposing humans’.” He waved his servo.

You let out a laugh. “We aren’t enemies or any like that just because we’re from other countries. Yeah, there can be some wars, but we’re mostly allies.”

Starscream gave you a perplexed look with his head tilted. Eventually, he just huffed and turned away, mumbling, “That doesn’t even make sense.”

You examined him, then shrugged. “Okay. But whether or not it makes sense to you, I’m honored you’ll bestow your presence upon the parade.”

He considered your words and, once he processed that it was praise, he puffed out his chassis with his helm held high.

There was a bit of trial and error in figuring out how to get there. You didn’t have exact coordinates and Starscream didn’t know where it was. Finally, you both decided on a method. You would give him directions while looking at a map on your phone. Once you steer him in the general area, you should be able to see the parade from the air. Upon this decision, Starscream jumped off the cliff to perform a flawless, midair transformation. He soared back up to meet you, showing off a few spins, and opened the cockpit for you to get in.

You eagerly got in and he took off. He shot through the sky like a comet, reaching up through a puffy white cloud, which resulted in a huge smile on your face. There was something amazing about being that high above the ground. Clouds stretching out made it feel like a new, hidden world.

“Which way?”

“Oh, right!”

 It was strange how people appeared so small from up above. The whole event would probably have seemed grander from the ground, but you weren’t going to pass up the opportunity to see it from the air. Especially with a giant robot.

“Wow. Look at it,” you commented. Suddenly, the rule of ‘if I can see you, you can see me’ came to mind. “Uh, are they going to find it suspicious that a jet is just floating here?”

“You tell me.”

You thought for only a second. “Definitely.”

Starscream maneuvered himself into a cloud, enclosing around him as though it were just a hologram. The nose poked out and there was a thin layer of cloud over the glass off the cockpit.

“You can still see, right?” he inquired.

“Yep. Thanks.”

You leaned back comfortably. The view was amazing. However the wonder slowly wore off and the silence began pricking at you. You almost wished for him to start complaining, or asking you questions, or for a radio. Though you doubted that he would enjoy human music. Or would he? Maybe you should try introducing some to him, but which genre?

“So what’s going on?” Starscream’s question brought you out of your thoughts.

“Oh, well people representing each country are walking in their group with a flag of that country. Like Italy, over there. They invented pizza!” You sat straight and pointed.

“What now?”

“Pizza, it’s a type of food that has cheese and tomato sauce an-“

“Nevermind. I don’t want to hear about the things you fleshies consume.” You thought you felt his alt mode shudder.

“Hey, if you were human, you would like it too,” you said. You fought the feeling of being offended that was taking over your thoughts.

“Then thank Primus I’m not.”

“Whatever.”  You crossed your arms and slouched back. “… But we do need to eat to survive you know.”

He hummed in reluctant consideration. “I suppose you’re right.”

Some time passed as you continued to sit there. Occasionally you would comment on a ‘country’ that was passing by. Sometimes he would ask about one. It was surprising how much your mind blanked out when you tried to talk about a country. You would have assumed that you wouldn’t have this problem considering you grew up on Earth.

A white flag with a circle and black lines on the corners caught your eye. You couldn't see the details from so far away, but you knew the circle was a blue and red yin yang. "Oh! That's the flag for South Korea."

"South? That sounds more like a location than a faction."

"Faction? What? Well, yes, it's a location. A location with its own government and own way of doing things. Like how you're a cybertronian. Because you're from Cybertron? Were you thinking about it like that? Factions?"

He hovered slightly higher then fell back into place. "How was I supposed to know? Cybertron had one government and leader. Much simpler."

"Hmmm." You considered the thought. "That's either really nice or there was a lot of corruption."

"Oh, you bet there was corruption. But does that mean there's a north, whatever it's called?"

"Korea. And yes, there's a North Korea. It split into north and south a while ago. North Korea has a dictator and isn't a place you want to go."

“What kinds of governments does each of these ‘countries’ have?” He asked.

“Well, the USA is a Democratic Republic. And there’s also socialism in some places, and at some point I think Russia was communist? Why can’t I remember anything?” You cursed yourself.

“Remind me why there isn’t one large government and leaders over the whole Earth?”

“That would be hard to do. A lot of people just wouldn’t agree to that. One of the reasons being that people want their own way of doing things. Since all of these countries formed on their own, having them all agree on giving up their own leadership to have a universal government is nearly impossible. There will always be someone who disagrees on how to run things.”

“It would be easier if someone just conquered the Earth.”

“You think people haven’t tried? There’ve been quite a bit of attempts, like Napoleon, but they all failed in the end. It’s a big place and people fight back.”

Another silence fell upon you both. You bit your lip as you scanned over the parade again.

"There's Japan. They have anime," you said.

Starscream finally lost his patience. “I’m not learning anything of use here! I’m just sitting here watching humans walk! The most informative bit was what you told me about North Kaon!"

"North Korea."

"Whatever it was! You expect me to remember all of these names?”

“Well, at least you can get an idea of what each country is like.”

“Admit it, you just told me to go because you wanted to come.”

“Maybe,” your voice rose an octave higher.

He scoffed.

“But,” you added, sitting up, “I did genuinely want to see it with you and show you a little more of Earth.”

“Why would I want to stay here even longer?!”

“I didn’t say that.” You looked at the gauges softly as if it were his face.

“Ah,” there was a nervous stutter present in his voice, “right.”

“Why did you come to Earth if you hate it so much?”

“It’s one of the last locations where we can find even scraps of energon. And you’ve come along to aid me enough times to know it’s important,” he said.

“It’s one of the only things you do.” You recollected everytime you were with him.

“Because ever since leaving the Decepticons ranks, I no longer have access to our storage or equipment to effectively find it. But I promise you, if it weren’t for Cybertron becoming a desert wasteland during the war, I would have never come to this mud ball.”

“Well. Even if you really wanna get back to cybertron, I’m glad I met you. And that I got to experience your awesome flying skills.” You tugged on a strand of your hair and ran your fingers through it.

There was  a brief silence.

“I mean, of course you would… How much longer did you want to see the parade?”

“Maybe a half an hour.”

“Hmmm. I’m going to be sore after hovering in the same spot for so long.”

“I could always rub your wings later if you want,” you offered.

“And let your grubby, little, fleshie hands on my magnificent wings? I think not.”

“Okay.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “It was just an idea.”

For a few more moments, neither of you said anything.

“Would you like to see a demonstration of my aerobatic skills later?”

“Actually, I would.”

A comfortable pause fell upon you.

“…Would you like to go down there?” he offered. He tipped his nose ever-so-slightly to the ground.

“Nah.” You leaned back in your seat with a smile. “I like it up here with you.”

 It had been two months and six days since you last saw him.

Yes, you were counting and had no idea why. Maybe he finally got tired of your fleshie self and left. Maybe you should have seen it coming with how much he disliked humans. Maybe you annoyed him so much that he decided to never see you again without a word.

Yet, when you truly thought about it, it didn’t make sense. He seemed to enjoy being with you, even if he never showed it outright. He was always the one who decided to bring you along when hunting for energon. Even when he was a giant robot, and clearly had some sort of prejudice against humans, it felt as though he still treated you as an equal to some degree.

But maybe he truly did get tired of you.

You stood by your window. The sun had dipped below the horizon and the last ghosts of light had faded away into darkness. You stood in your sweat pants and baggy t-shirt. Your hair was brushed and you were ready to relax. A warm cup of hot chocolate was in your hands, the warmth seeping into your skin. You stared into the cup, thinking of nothing in particular when you blinked at a sudden light.

Your eyes instinctively followed the light. Outside the window, hovering just above the ground, was a large, greenish blue, swirling vortex. You stepped back, but promptly leaned closer for a better look. It didn’t seem to be pulling anything into it. It seemed gentle, yet powerful. You would have found it beautiful if your mind weren’t preoccupied with confusion.

Something seemed to appear inside of it. It was tall, and metal and--!

You nearly dropped your glass mug. After placing it safely to the side, you grabbed a jacket and rushed out the door. You raced to where you saw the portal as fast as your feet would carry you. It was still there when you reached it. Starscream held a device in his hands and his red optics searched the area, as if looking for something.

“Starscream!” You ran up to him, nearly in tears. “Where were you? You’ve been gone forever!”

His optics avoided your eyes. “Well, I…” His mouth pushed into a thin frown. “I lost my T-cog.”

“You’re what now?”

“T-cog! It’s what allows cybertronians to transform.”

Your current expression dropped as it finally dawned on you. The reason he had suddenly disappeared. Then you remembered that there were other people nearby.

“Why don’t we go back through your portal thing and talk about it there?” You began to jog into the portal.

“Ground bridge.”

“Whatever it is.”

You ran while he walked in. The fact that the ground seemed to be made of swirling energy, though it felt completely solid, messed you up. You being smaller didn’t help either. You were running and still falling behind. After a half a minute, Starscream turned around to pick you up and carry you through.

A flash filled your vision and you had to blink several times to adjust to the dark, new area. The walls, ceiling, and floor were made entirely of metal. The only light source came from a dim glow from an foreign, alien screen. It was clear from the dust that no one had been there in a long time. The scale was so large that you felt confident that this was something cybertronians built.

The portal behind you shrunk until it vanished. Starscream lowered you down onto the ground. As soon as your feet hit the floor, you dashed to Starscream’s foot to give him the biggest hug you could.

“I missed you,” you mumbled. Of course, he might have not heard it if it weren’t for nearly every surface being made of metal, causing an echo.

His posture went rigid. He began to reach down to pat your head, then pulled his hand away. He stayed like that without moving a servo the whole time you hugged him.

“Ah… Me too.”

You let go. The cold of the living metal still lingered on you.

“Where have you been? How did…?” You stared up at him.

“I came across some other humans,” he began as he walked over for something to sit on. He helped you up onto it and you sat next to him. “I tried to asist them in building a cybertronian. I believed that they would allow me to keep energon I allowed them to find.” He stared at the floor the entire time.

Your eyes stayed locked on his glowing optics. “Build a cybertronian? Wait, if that was what happened, how did you lose your T thing?”

“I-They needed a t-cog in order to build a cybertronian. The one they already acquired was lost and they decided to take mine instead.” He almost seemed to curl up at the last words.

This settled on your mind like a ton of bricks. You didn’t say a word. Suddenly the room felt very heavy. The silence was like a suffocating blanket that you couldn’t seem to push off. You swallowed.

“They took… it? But, you could have fought them off easi-“

“They shot me with some sort of stun mechanism then proceeded to rip me open to take it!” His talons clenched into fists before him.

Once again, you couldn’t speak.

“Why is it that the first humans I meet, other than you, are no better than the Decepticons?”

“… Because some people can just be like that. Just like humans have potential for both good and harm, it seems like cybertronians are the same in that way.” You stared at the ground. “So… You can’t transform anymore?”

“No.”

“And that’s why you couldn’t fly back to me?”

“Not until I found the Harbinger and a portable ground bridge.”

You nodded. You pulled your legs to your chest and stared off into nothing. “That must stink. Not being able to fly.”

“It’s been terrible! How do humans survive like this?” He lifted his fists to his face.  His eyebrows, or whatever they were called, dug into his optics.

You shrugged. “We’re just used to it.”

The metaphorical blanket came back onto you, but somewhat more comfortably. Somewhat. You both continued to sit.

“… Are you upset about my not being able to transform?” Starscream cut through the silence. Almost so softly that you could hardly believe he was the one who said it.

“Huh? Well, yes,” you let go of your legs, “because you’re upset. I know how much you love flying!”

“But what about you?”

“Me?” You pointed to yourself.

“Yes!”

“I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“How do you feel about me not being able to transform?!” He stood up and spun on his heels to face you. His wings stuck up on point.

“Well,” you thought for a second, “I did enjoy flying, but it honestly doesn’t matter too much to me if you can turn into a jet or not. I’m just happy you came back.”

“Oh.” The frustrated expression fell from his face and he looked away. In any direction except at you.

“What’s wrong?” You straightened your back as if it would help you see what was up.

“Nothing, I think. I had simply thought that you only liked me because of my flight capabilities.”

“Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because Megatron only kept me alive because I was useful? It was always like that on Cybertron, and with those other humans. Once I become useless, I’m tossed away.”

You felt your heart twisted and your blood boiling. “I hate people who are like that. Forget them. They aren’t worth your time. I’m glad their out of your life.” You stood up. “And to me, as long as we get to hang out, I’m good.”

Starscream tilted his head. “You truly don’t make any sense.”

You shrugged. “The best people in life are free.”

“Huh?”

“People who don’t expect anything in return,” you elaborated. “They care and love you unconditionally.”

“I don’t believe anyone like that exists.”

“They exist. And so do I.” You confidently stared up at him.

His gaze darted between you and away from you. He took a few steps back, as if you were a mysterious creature that could become hostile or blow up any second. Eventually, he gave in to a beautiful, natural smile. And the room suddenly seemed brighter.

 “So, Starscream, I was thinking…” You walked into the room.

“If it’s anything about making a giant s’more again, I’m not interested.”

“No.”

Starscream had been feeling down, pun not intended, about losing his t-cog. You had cleared out two days in your schedule to have a sleepover with him. He had surprised you when you jokingly offered for him to brush your hair and he accepted. He also tried to braid it when you taught him how. It was surprisingly well done, considering the size of his talons, but still sloppy. You had to remind him that he wasn’t a failure at braiding. While laying in your sleeping bag and bundle of blankets you brought for the occasion, an idea came to you.

“I was thinking,” you continued, “that since you’ve been down about not being able to,” Starscream gave you the stink eye, “you know. So I decided it would be fun to do something similar to that one day with the parade.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I can’t fly you to another one.”

“No, not that. I mean that there’s this scout group doing a world presentation or whatever near where I live. They’re going to have cardboard stands set up for each country they researched about.”

“I really don’t think you’ve thought this through,” Starscream sighed, “I do not think these, or any, humans would react well to seeing a cybertronian.”

“I’ve already figured that out!” You bounced on your toes. “I’ll be carrying a camera that will stream video to you over here. That way you can see it without having to be there! And I have some earbuds so I can start a call with you and be able to hear and answer back if you have any questions.”

“Will the humans be suspicious about you speaking to no one?”

“Nope! They’ll just assume I’m on a call with someone, which technically isn’t wrong. So what do you say?”

 “Okay. So you can still see the video feed, right?” you asked while readjusting the camera on your hat.

“Yes, now stop shaking around!” Starscream’s voice came through your earbud. You swore that you would go deaf if this lasted too long.

“Okay,” you mumbled.

The sky was overcast. You walked into the building along with families that had come to see the scouts’ projects. There were tons of tables and three paneled boards lined up. People wandered around. They would stop to read, then turn and walk to the next one that caught their eye. It was clear which groups were family because they would greatly compliment the child’s work.

You figured you needed to start somewhere. It was a stange feeling to be there when you didn’t know anyone, even if the event was open to the public.

“Are we just going to stare?”

This snapped you out of your daze. You blinked for a second. Right, you weren’t alone. You had Starscream.

“Right,” you said and stepped forward.

You walked along the rows, glancing over them until one caught your eye. “France,” you said while pointing to the printed out flag, making sure your finger could be seen by the camera. “It’s in Europe. The capital is Paris. The population is 66 million.” You read off of it. You walked over to another. “Germany. It’s also in Europe. You know, maybe this whole row is European countries. Anyway, capital’s Berlin. Population is 83 million. Their currency is euros.”

“Ironic how these give more information than you did that other day.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes. Ironic.” You walked a few more steps and stopped. “Some place named Estonia. The flag looks cool.”

“It’s three lines of color, like the other ones.”

“I like the colors.”

“There’s a lot of writing and pictures on each report,” Starscream commented. “Did each of these children research, find the information, and organize it in a presentable way?”

“Yes?” your voice came out as more of a question.

“Impressive.”

You smiled. “Some kids don’t do scouts, but they end up doing things similar with science fairs in school. They’ll do experiments or research, and they they have to make a presentation about it, like a vinegar volcano.”

“A volcano?!”

“No, it can’t do anything dangerous.”

“Then what’s the point? I wouldn’t call that science.”

“It’s simple science that kids are able to do. You know, since they’re kids?”

You noticed one of the parents staring at you and you gave an apologetic look while moving your hair to point at your earbud. You continued walking and eyeing some of the posters to read to Starscream. You had gotten to the Asia section and did your best to pick out something to show him.

“And see? The rainbow bridge.” You pointed.

“Huh? Oh, yes. Very nice,” he said absent mindedly.

You quirked an eyebrow up, but eventually shrugged. He was probably getting bored with all of this. A part of you was beginning to wonder why you thought this was a good idea. This thought detracted you from the sounds surrounding you. You suddenly felt cold and like something was hitting you?

You looked around and suddenly noticed that the fire alarm had gone off. Loud beeps filled the room. Everyone was trying to get out. Kids looked in all directions in confusion. Adults tried to keep them calm and safely head out. Your clothes were beginning to dampen. Instead of trying to get out, your first instinct was to get out of the sprinkler. You crawled under a table and peeked out.

The last few people were almost through the door. That’s when you decided it was time for you to go, but something caught your eye. Something in one of the upper windows that lined the wall near the ceiling. Starscream? His red optics stared down at you and he signaled for you to stay there, along with whispering to you through your earbud. You were confused, but you hid under the table once more.

You waited until the water stopped pouring. Once it was over, you pulled yourself out and to your feet. You glanced around. That was rather sudden. And now there were puddles all over the floor.

A loud rattling echoed in the room.

You turned to see the large door, the kind you would see in a garage, at the back of the room open up. The temperature of the room changed to match outside. Starscream held the door up with a mischievous smirk. You took your earbud out.

“What did you do?”

“I may have gotten bored simply watching through a screen and decided to come. And I may have possibly started a fire, opened a window, and held it next to one of those fire alarms.” His grin grew with each word.

“Really?” You asked rhetorically with your hands on your hips. But you couldn’t help but crack a smile yourself.

“What? I was bored.” He shrugged and waved a hand.

You shook your head with a laugh. “Whatever.”

Starscream ducked in. He had to stay bent down to order to fit. You moved out of his way was he came in.

“So, you were actually interested in this?” you questioned.

“I thought it would be better to see it in person with you.”

“Yeah, but some fire trucks or someone else is going to eventually come back here and see you.”

“Hmm.” He looked back. “I see. But one look for a nanoklick couldn’t hurt. I just did all of this so I could see it anyway.”

“Okay.” You shrugged. “Just hurry.”

After his wing nicked the roof when he tried to straighten himself, he quickly realized that it was easier for him to be on his knees. As he got down on his knees, you helped direct him down in the small free space between the tables. The legs skidding against the floor echoed through the room and made you jump. You were surprised he was even trying to do this when he could barely fit between the rows.

He had to lean in close to get good look of the displays. He would occasionally ask you the meaning of a word he didn’t know. You had to admit, it was more fun to have him there in person. Unfortunately you couldn’t enjoy this for fear of being seen. You constantly looked over your shoulder.

Eventually your paranoia dropped by a few notches. Though, by then Starscream had gotten tired of being crammed in a small space and probably noticed your concern. It was awkward getting to the garage door, between him being unable to move much and him blocking you. But you made your way out.

He lifted the door and ducked under and out. You followed when you noticed him freeze. Confused, you followed his gaze. Your blood went cold and you felt as if your mind was being squeezed into a box.

Staring up at Starscream was what looked to be a five year old child. The little boy was alone, probably wandered off, and had an orange jacket and hat. His expression twisted into disbelief then fear. Your heart rate quickened when you saw his face wobbling.

“Scrap,” you let out as you both turn the other way in panic.

Starscream closed the door with a loud bang that sent a shiver up your spine. You didn’t noticed what Starstream was doing behind you, since you were already running on instinct. When he came into your field of vision again, he was twisting on one foot to regain balance and lifted up the remote ground bridge device. In his panic, he hesitated on which button to click, but quickly pressed it once he remembered.

“Is it a good idea to open it up in here?” you questioned as the piece of cybertronian technology swirled and grew before you.

“I would have preferred a larger space, but I don’t believe we have much of a choice.”

He scooped you up and pulled you through. Like always, you blinked when a flash filled your vision. The air suddenly changed and you were back on the Harbinger as the ground bridge closed behind you. When he held you to the ground and you finally collected yourself enough to jump off, you realized that three of the cardboard presentations had managed to come through along with you and Starscream.

You stood there. “Well, that was interesting.”

“One shouldn’t cause any problems, right?” He looked to you before his eyes darted back to where the ground bridge was.

“That was a kid. They won’t believe him. They might look around, but after seeing no giant robot, they’ll dismiss it.”

“That’s good to hear.” Starscream groaned and held his shoulder. “That made all of my joints stiff. And the tip of my wing caught on the top of that door.” He glanced at his wing with a slight pout on his face.

You stared up at him, taking a moment to consider your words before you were unable to take them back. “… Would you like it if I massaged your wings?”

His optics widened and darted around the area. “Fine,” you could barely hear in the midst of low grumbles.

You blinked twice before fully processing what that meant. As you were trying to figure out how to even reach his wings, he held out his hand. You stepped onto it and he carried you to a table or whatever it was. It was too large for you to tell exactly. You carefully got off of his hand and he sat with his wings facing you.

You sat with your legs hanging off the edge. Your hands reached out to his wings. He readjusted himself so you didn’t have to lean forward in order to touch them. Your fingers shook. You hesitated. Finally, your hand laid flat on it. It was cold. You didn’t know what you expected. It was basically like touching a regular piece of metal. You weren’t sure what you were expecting. But somehow it felt different. Maybe because he had trusted you to touch it. You began rubbing it soothingly. You prayed that you weren’t doing anything wrong.

He hummed as you rubbed patterns onto it. Although you were sure he could barely feel it, you saw him relaxing. There was silence for several minutes.

“Why are you so kind?” he said.

“Huh?” You did your best to peek around to look at his face.

“How can humans be like this? At least you and the ones you talk about. Those small humans, no matter how well they proformed with their research, were praised. And how can other humans get along well enough to be allies despite having separate territories and governments? How can anyone do anything for someone else without expected anything in return.” He turned his helm to you. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“No?” You tilted your head in confusion. “I just wanted to because it was the nice thing to do?”

“How? Why?” He turned his whole body, leaving your hands floating in the air. “Why are you always so nice to me? Has it ever occurred to you that you would get nothing in return? Especially from a grounded Decepticon defect?”

“I’m not looking for anything in return,” you started calmly. “I might get to learn about cybertronians, and do some cool things with you. And I get to spend time with you. I get that in exchange, but I’m not expecting anything more. Can you please accept that there are some people who are just nice? Who actually like you and want what’s best for you?”

His face twisted, as if about to argue. But paused, like he had never considered that before. He opened his mouth again, but closed it again, when no words would come out.

He eventually sighed. “I suppose I’ll simply have to trust you,” he said softly. He stared at you closely. “Your hair dried.”  

You suddenly remembered it had been wet from the sprinklers. He reached out and touched your hair, letting it fall on his talons.  Then he flinched back. “Uh… apologies.”

You reached out to pull his finger close to you and hug it. “It’s okay.” You smiled. “I like it.”

Starscream appeared shocked by this, but relaxed and smiled. A genuine smile.

#starscream x reader #secret solenoid #secret santa #starscream #transformers #transformers prime #tfp #tfp starscream #tfp x reader #I swear I didn't see the thing about IaCon just because you were my giftee #someone I followed reblogged it XD

[andraaste]

I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction Part 1

Hey, this is the translation of the first chapter of my fanfiction, hope you'll enjoy it !

(Link for Chapter 2 here)

Chapter 1 : I am not your enemy

"I know you only just woke up and you're not ready to hear this yet, but know that today you are seen as the hope of the Eldaryans. You saved us all and you are worshiped as a deity, however, you must know one thing..."

Stranger faces crowded around me, jostling in a dance far too fast in which I couldn't keep up. Each gaze I met stared at me with a mixture of amazement and admiration while paradoxically, a sense of doubt hovered in each of them. Stalls of food, trinkets, and even potions spread out before my eyes in an abundance of information. The bright sunlight forced my eyelids to squint as uneasiness took hold of me. The market place, much larger and more developed than seven years ago, was teeming with life and sounds, each stronger than the next, which accentuated the headache that had assailed me for almost two weeks. Without warning, a shoulder jostled me and I swayed dangerously while grabbing the edge of a booth in an effort to support myself. The person gave me a scared look and quickly fled while muttering a vague apology that I wasn't paying attention to. What the fuck is happening to me ? The weight of emotional fatigue from awakening from the crystal was felt more and more, my body was searingly exhausted each day and I was sleeping well over ten hours each night. However, my condition did not improve, which prompted Eweleïn to keep me under observation as soon as necessary. I vaguely heard a man bitch about the fact that I was blocking the passage, which gave me the strength to let go of my makeshift support to stand up and continue my journey. But where had Jamon gone ? I was supposed to follow him to show me where to find weapons for the Obsidian Guard, which was now the one I worked for, but despite his very tall stature, I couldn't see him in the dense crowd. who surrounded me. Resuming my awkward run, Huang Hua's words circled in my head since I thought I saw, a little earlier, what sounded like my worst nightmare. "... He's here, Andraste. He repented and now works every day to right his past mistakes. His actions are totally unforgivable and no one will ever forget what he did to Eldarya, but his heart is no longer filled with the darkness that decimated him and that is part of why I decided to give him a chance here. " My stomach immediately turned as I thought about those words. He was there. The one who had put my life on hold for seven long years lived here like a repentant, and no one seemed to mind. But how could they have been ?! No matter how hard I twirled the words of the leader of the Sparkling in my head, I couldn't understand the decision. “He deserved it badly, you know. He was not greeted with open arms and even still, his presence remains only tolerated by the inhabitants of the HQ. But he is the most useful part of this guard and without him I don't think we could have got up so quickly. Don't look at me like that, I know what you are thinking, but I can only ask you to trust me. " My head was spinning as quickly as the nausea that was mounting again. "Have I ever shown you that my judgment was wrong ?" " Faced with this flood of nonsense, only my reason had managed to answer him at that time. “No, you are certainly right. " No, his judgment had never been distorted. Absolutely never. And it was eating me up. My fingernails dug into my arms, my breathing suddenly quickened and I felt anger sneak up on me. And as if to echo what was dawning in that moment in me, I lifted my head and froze instantly. It was his hair, almost silvery white, that caught my eye like a magnet. His large size also had a lot to do with him, he was well above all the people around him, and his tanned skin warmed his characteristic icy gaze. With his graceful, almost feline gait, he seemed to move serenely in the midst of a crowd filled with unconsciousness. It was him, I was sure. I will recognize him among a thousand, his cold mask having obviously never left him. Lance was a monster and he stood in front of me. Totally frozen for several seconds, my blood swirled around as I

jumped up without even realizing it straight ahead. The anger, which had already nestled deep in my heart for a long time, suddenly exploded, absolutely devastating. The latter crept in like poison, burning me so much that I literally exploded with rage as I ran towards it. The traitor hadn't noticed me yet and I decided to take advantage of it by rushing straight behind his back, ready to do battle. And for the first time in my life, I wanted to kill. With a desire so deep, so intense, that it dictated my every move and every thought. I probably lost some of my humanity at that point. Who knows, maybe deep down I was just as monstrous as him. Taking advantage of the surprise effect, I raised my fist forward and crushed it with all my strength on his jaw. The latter was thrown to the side and, under the effect of adrenaline, I was ready to perform my gesture again when his eyes, as cold as a lake of ice, spotted my movements. With a sharp gesture, as quick as a fraction of a second, he stopped my intention with a firm, almost painful grip on my forearm. This simple touch made my blood run cold as it burned my skin. Blinded by hatred, I tried to free my arm from its makeshift prison but nothing helped, my executioner did not give in a millimeter. - LET GO OF ME ! I shouted at him. - I am not your enemy, do not force me to hurt you, he begged me then. In response, I stepped aside and threw my second fist in the direction of his face, but much to my pain, Lance was faster than me and stopped my movement for the second time. - Andraste, I'm fully aware of your anger, but let me explain what happened. Totally blinded by anger, I couldn't hear what this killer was trying to tell me. - Let go of me, for God's sake ! I struggled like crazy and despite his strength far superior to mine, the young man was clearly not leading. - Look, you can't do that here. We are in a public square and everyone is looking at us, he tried to make me hear. His voice, both calm and alarmed, penetrated me to the depths of my soul. Stirring my memories, she took me back seven years, remembering every moment spent by her side. Fear, anger, hatred but also another feeling, much less gloomy, seized me then. But I didn't want that last feeling. In spite of myself, he had returned, like a sweet and bitter reminiscence, ruffling my skin where his hands still held me. I would never dare to admit to myself what I had felt for this monster during a fleeting moment. When the latter had kidnapped me, and maybe even before, an attraction had more or less pushed me towards him. Some sort of unhealthy admiration, perhaps. - You know very well that it's more difficult for me not to hurt yourself than you do to me, he said with a slightly superior air. But who did he think he was ?! Anger twisted my temples so much that my sight suddenly blurred. Lance noticed it and, hesitating for a moment, he kept me from collapsing by sliding a hand both firm and hesitant on my waist to hold me back. I pushed him away unceremoniously as a sharp pain gripped my stomach. - Don't touch me, Lance ! The latter raised his red-stained hand, his face troubled. - You're bleeding, what's happening to you ? My eyes froze on his dripping fingers. - I ... I don't know. My hand in turn rested where his had been a moment earlier. I found there a hot and abundant liquid. Some blood ? My sight blurred again and I sank under the alert gaze of my enemy. I felt two arms surround me before I passed out.

(Chapter 2)

#eldarya #eldarya lance #lance eldarya #eldarya new era #fanfic #i am not your enemy

[ebthecelebrity]

I’m building a church ya’ll....

I recently read online that building a church can take from one to four years. The process consists of solidifying a committee, setting a budget, choosing a piece of land, hiring a designer or building company, and understanding building and zoning codes. Once these five steps are accomplished, it’s time to move in and start your praise and worship. These past few weeks, I have been feeling very different; like I am transitioning. I have silenced the distractions to listen to God and today he told me to build my church.  Yes, build my church…. well not literally.

Today I was off work and as much personal errands I have to run; I sit down and watch a church sermon on YouTube.  If you need a church home, please check out Transformation Church. This church is steadily transforming my life, since I started faithfully watching during the pandemic.  It starts off casually, with me eating some ice cream and watching Pastor Michael Todd.  Then within a few minutes in, the Holy Ghost hit me in my living room.   I break out in a praise and the tears just start rolling down my cheeks. It is a much-needed loud cry. Feels like it’s from deep within my soul of whatever pain I have been holding onto.  God will do you like that!  He truly catches you slipping and before you know it, you’re running and screaming in your home like the Exorcist.  I stand up and raise my hands because God was deserving of the praise. Everything that I had been silently enduring, God tells me “It’s over. Start building your church.”  Being obedient, I start researching how to build a church and this analogy came to mind.

The first step in the construction of your church is solidifying a building committee. This is the group of people who will help your vision come to life. They assist you with decision making, and the budget. Also, let’s face it...building a church can be stressful, this congregation helps you with your mental health.  When you think about your tribe, your circle, your true family…. this is them!  Who are the people in your life at this very moment, that will be a part of your building committee? Who is dependable, good spirited, honest, and loyal? I have so many “friends” but not all of them fit this description. I am so loyal that if I know a person from the 2nd grade, I’m still referring them as my “friend.” Not everyone deserves this title. It’s important to know that if you follow God’s purpose, not every soul he has placed in your life deserves to go with you while you are in construction mode. This distinction will save you future heartbreak, confusion, and time. I’ve started assessing who I follow on social media, phone numbers I am keeping, and calls I am answering. Your building committee must hold you accountable and also support you for the rest of your life. Who is your congregation?

The next step is to set your budget. What are some of your short-term goals? Do you have the cash readily available to make it happen now? If you don’t have it, how are you going to get it? Budgeting is key. When I sit back and think about the goals I have in place for the next year, I want to be able to set myself up for success and be ready.  Setting a short-term goal is just as important, if not more, than a long term one. There is so much emphasis on long term planning, but what we really are ignoring is the fact that tomorrow is not even promised. I start to think about the Amazon, Door Dash, and alcohol I’ve purchased this pandemic and none of that contributes to my short-term goals. If you budget your church construction today, you won’t come across any hiccups when it’s time to start building. Write down 5 short term goals and work towards them NOW. Whether these goals will cost you $200 or $20,000, time is of the essence.  Stop wasting time, get your church off the ground.  

Choosing your land is a very important piece of a church construction project.  The land represents your temple. How is your health? When I ask myself this, I get a little emotional.  I am not unhealthy, but I have definitely neglected my body for a long time. I can feel it after a late-night alcohol binge.  I can see it when I look at the mirror.  Your land will dictate the design for your church. When you start building, you want your land to be in perfect shape to be able to hold a stable structure.  When you allow others to use your temple casually, your land is less desirable. The way society praises casual sex and junk food has really disrupted the mindset of how important it is to keep your land beautiful. Getting adequate exercise, practicing good health habits, eating a balanced diet, self-care for mental health and having a healthy sexual relationship are all a part of what can affect the value of your lot and your ability to BUILD. How is your lot right now? What is your value?

The blueprint of your church is the outline of your life. It’s your plan that will eventually lead you to your purpose. I had been struggling with my purpose for years and I finally realized it during the pandemic at the age of 37.  When the world closed down, it allowed me the opportunity to get still and focus on what God called me to do here on this earthly journey. Carefully designing your church takes prayer, concentration, and also the help of your congregation. You hire yourself as the designer and building company because ultimately, YOU are in control of YOUR life. Have you ever rode by a beautiful and breathtaking church and thought to yourself, “Wow! I would love to see how it looks inside”? That is the same effect that your God driven purpose is to have on others around you.  Design your church to be attractive, where every person you encounter leaves inspired and motivated.  Let your presence be felt beyond your years, leaving a legacy.  You know when the Pastor of a church passes away and the ministry continues? Well, that happens the same way when you design your church in the way that God made fit.  Do you have your blueprint ready?

Last but certainly not least, understanding the building and zoning codes are a must! The tedious paperwork has to be done in life in order to do right by your congregation. Navigating through life takes adulting and this is where your t’s are crossed and your I’s are dotted.  Do you have life insurance? Do you have a will in place? If you have a child(ren), there is no excuse for you not to have these in place. Let’s face it, we all have an appointment with our maker, so please have your church in order when it’s your time. Understanding that with leveling up, there comes responsibility.  I recently drafted my will last year with an attorney and it was such a relief to get that out of the way. I put everything down from my medical demands to my funeral arrangements. There is no confusion.  Just like your church home, navigating the laws and paperwork is crucial.  Make it a necessity to have these things in order, as times a wasting.

So, I’m building a church right now. If I am unavailable, distant, or short with you please don’t take it personal.  As I mentioned this process may take one to four years to complete. I suggest that you start building yours too. For church is not for the perfect human being, it’s for the imperfect one who needs structure and guidance every day.

#church #growth #selflove #congregation #godlovesyou #construction #blackauthors #blackbloggers #newblogpost

[nyasha-of-germa-66]

hi! 💕i really like your blog! it’s so detailed and well written! not only that but it’s accurate as well! you’re doing great! ☺️ if someone hasn’t asked already, can u write general relationship hcs for the vinsmoke brothers! (excluding Sanji lol.)

You two are so sweet! Your words really mean a lot to me and I hope I continue to meet your expectations haha.~ But I’m not gonna lie, writing for these boys was hard. I thought Yonji was going to be the easiest, but he probably gave me the most struggle out of the three (can you tell which brother I’m partial to? lol). With that being said, I hope they’re not too OOC, and if they are... my bad. I really hope you guys enjoy it, though!~ Thank you for the requests!~ 😁

General Relationship HCs - Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji Vinsmoke

Ichiji

Ichiji is probably the hardest one to form a proper relationship with as he tends to let his strong sense of superiority dictate his behaviors, though his actions aren't necessarily governed by choice. In order to be in a relationship with him, his S/O ought to meet his standards. He doesn't want someone who's weak-willed or easily discouraged by a challenge; he wants someone who can keep up with him and share his unwavering mentality.

He's often distant in the relationship, only seeking his S/O if he wants something from them or wishes to brag of Germa's victory from their latest battle. He's mostly talking about how he practically does all of the work each time, but it strokes his ego when his S/O listens intently and compliments him.

Being the eldest brother, he prefers to keep a dominant role in the relationship where he gets to make a majority of the decisions, feeling content as long as he isn't undermined. His S/O will have some say, of course, but if he feels like he's being forced to do something he hates, he won't refrain from putting his foot down.

Ichiji will only behave romantically if the mood calls for it, so if he's not craving attention from his S/O, he'll just remain unbothered despite his S/O's advances. He'll smile at their gestures, but he values his autonomy too much to let anyone, including his partner, sway his actions.

He puts a lot of value in his S/O's beauty, but not nearly as much as Niji and Yonji do. He tries to compliment their most alluring features, but they often sound like lecherous comments.

He certainly wants his partner to be loyal to him at all times, disliking when they scold him for his cruel and callous behaviors. It's confusing when his S/O claims to love him one second only to wish for him to change in the next. He feels belittled, and this doesn't sit well with him.

On a brighter note, he is very protective of his S/O, reacting violently when his S/O is in threat of danger. He can never keep a solid explanation for why he behaves in such a way toward them, but his S/O can speculate a few causes for his protectiveness.

Ichiji is not as active as his brothers, so time spent with his S/O often includes lounging around in silence or going for leisurely walks. Surprisingly, he does enjoy a good conversation with his S/O, finding amusement in their stories and hopeful plans for their future.

The eldest brother is rarely, if ever, affectionate with his S/O in public or in the presence of his family, but in private, he's much more willing to slink an arm around their waist or allow them to hold his hand. He doesn't quite understand his S/O's liking to his small affectionate gestures, but he will admit that he gets a good feeling from it.

Although maintaining a relationship with Ichiji comes with it's grueling challenges, there will always be moments that remind Ichiji's S/O that he willingly accepted to be in a relationship with them, and he does value his S/O. He just can't bring himself to say it so blatantly.

Niji

Of the three brothers, Niji comes across as the least desirable in terms of relationship material, but he may as well be the most considerate brother. Sure, he may lack sympathy and compassion for others, but he's still capable of forming a proper partnership with someone.

A relationship with Niji thrives on the idea of costs and benefits. He'll be more than happy to go on the little date his S/O planned for them as long as he gets something out of it, whether it may be a dessert he's been craving or a heated make out session by the end of the night. As long as he gets what he wants by the end of the day, he'll oblige his S/O's wishes.

He may be a tad more hotheaded than Ichiji when it comes to being questioned for his morally questionable behaviors. He'll yell and argue with his S/O, and maybe breaking something, but he won't raise a hand to them as he holds too much respect for them. The servants, on the other hand, may end up on the receiving end of his wrath, unfortunately.

Since he's got an explosive temper, his S/O has to be able bounce back from any fights or arguments that they have, or they should at least be comfortable with letting him have his episodes and not stir the pot. He'll calm down sooner than you might think, and he'll go back to being his regular self, as if the fight never happened. He never apologizes, but if his S/O does, he'll say that the feeling is mutual.

Among the three brothers, Niji is perhaps the most romantic and that's saying a lot on it's own. He's more attuned to what his S/O wants in the relationship, and he'll oblige so long as he gets what he wants, too.

Like Ichiji, Niji is very protective over his S/O, becoming visibly upset and worried when his S/O is hurt. He's the type to never show any mercy to those who harm his S/O, even if it was only an accident. In his mind, people ought to treat his S/O as if they're the most sacred person on the planet. Otherwise, they'd have to deal with him.

Niji also has a great sense of humor, as long as he doesn't feel like he's the butt of someone else's joke. He's prefers to laugh at someone else's expense, but if his S/O says something clever and sarcastic, he'll have a good laugh.

Being in a relationship with Niji is complicated and tricky, but if his S/O can navigate him towards his better self, he could make for a relatively charming boyfriend. And he may not come upfront with his love for his S/O, but he’ll remind them in his own unique way.

Yonji

Yonji is the most honest of his brothers, often speaking out about his desires and openly expressing what he likes, so it's obvious when he fancies the idea of a relationship. As long as his partner meets his standards, he'll gladly start a relationship with them.

He's terribly blunt, so when he flirts with his S/O, he's guaranteed to sound a bit sleazy. He doesn't mean to sound perverse all the time, but he honestly thinks he's being romantic and sweet with them. His S/O will have to teach him the difference, and whether he learns from it or not depends heavily on how mischievous he's feeling.

Yonji has a much better sense of humor than his two brothers, so his S/O is free to joke with him all they want. Pranks wars are another story. His competitiveness may lead to him taking things a bit too far if his S/O doesn't watch him. Aside from that, he genuinely enjoys making his S/O laugh until they're blue.

The green-haired Vinsmoke always tries too hard to impress his S/O with his strength and prowess. His idea is that if he keeps going over-the-top with everything he does, his S/O will continue to think highly of him, but he doesn't know that he looks like a dork sometimes. It might give his S/O a good laugh, though.

He particularly enjoys taking his S/O on dinner dates or picnic outings, as long as he's doing two of his favorite things: eating some good food and spending time with his S/O, one of his favorite people.

He absolutely loves it when his S/O is feisty. Nothing gets him more riled up than a partner who challenges him, and he'll sometimes push their button just to get them all fired up. He can't think of anything hotter than an irritated, yet gorgeous S/O.

As much as Yonji likes to spoil his S/O with expensive gifts and all the worshipping he can offer, he’ll never deny that he likes being spoiled. He wants his S/O to cuddle up to him, he wants them to surprise him with home-cooked meals even if those meals go wrong, and he definitely wants them to shower him with loving gestures and sweet praises. He is the baby, after all.

He's definitely a ride or die kind of guy, so if his S/O gets into trouble, he'll hop to the rescue in no time. If his S/O wants him to bend the rules a little bit, he's all for it. As long as he and his S/O are living it up and having a good time doing it, he'll gladly neglect his duties to Germa to have some fun.

Like his brothers, Yonji is very protective of his S/O, but he's less likely to throw punches unless he finally gets fed up with whoever was starting trouble. For the most part, he'll shield his S/O from any danger while bragging to his S/O that he doesn't feel a thing.

Yonji is also the most affectionate out of his brothers, always wanting to hold his S/O's hand and kiss their cheek. And though he can't explain why being with his S/O makes him feel warm and fantastic on the inside, he has a much easier time showing it through his actions. Even if Yonji's actions are a miss sometimes, his intentions are always there, and his intentions are to make his S/O happy.

#one piece headcanons #ichiji vinsmoke #niji vinsmoke #yonji vinsmoke #ichiji #niji #yonji #germa 66 #nyasha of germa 66 #thank you for the ask!

[talas-starlight]

Scarred Spirits - Zuko x fem! reader (pt.5)

SUMMARY: y/n wakes up in an unfamiliar place and tries to find her way back to her mission (i suck at summaries LOL)

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

WARNINGS: swearing, fighting? kinda?

OTHER PARTS:  pt1   /   pt2 /   pt3 /   pt4 /   pt6

MASTERLIST: Here!

A/N: anddddd we’re back!!! hehe thank you to everyone who has been so so patient with me i am so greatful && hopefully youre just as excited as i am for this series heheh

Bricks. You felt as though you were just hit with a tonne of bricks. The idea of even opening your eyes to the harsh sunlight, which you could feel through your eyelids felt like the worst idea in the world. Your dry throat didn’t help at all either. Maybe if I just lay wherever the fuck I am, I’ll magically gain the energy to move again. Or better yet, maybe the ground will swallow me whole, and I can forget about this mission altogether.

Abruptly interrupting your painful stillness on the ground, there was a small kick into your left side. The sudden shock immediately sent your brain swirling into all the ways you could eliminate whoever disturbed your peace.

“Hey… I think she’s dead.”

Ah, the wonderful sound of an annoying, teenage boy. They’ll be easy to take out.

A second female voice emerged. “She's not dead Sokka! She's literally breathing!" Sokka? As in Hakodas son? Oh Spirits, you never fail to amaze me with how you choose to dictate my life. Hmmm, then that means the girl is Katara. Yay.

"Yeah?! Then why the hell hasn't she even moved a single inch since we found her!"

"Well, maybe she's protesting against your annoying poking!" Spirits they're annoying and loud.

A third voice attempted to intervene, "Guys…. Stop, she's fine. Trust me." Hmm, that's considerably younger. 10 years old perhaps? Or a bit older? 12 maybe? Male?

"Oh yeah? How can you be so sure Aang."

"Well Katara is right, she is breathing for one. But…. There's something else about her, I can feel it."

"What? Like an avatar thingy?"

"Yeah."

Wait the Avatar? Wasn't he on that dragon from when I was-

"Hmmm right, well what are we going to do with her?" At that statement, the annoying boy who seemed to be so confident that you were dead, kicked you again. Sick of his irritable presence, with as much strength you could muster, you took your right hand quickly snatching his ankle, and yanking it towards you, causing him to lose balance and ultimately backwards. Letting out a high-pitched yelp as he thudded onto the hard ground, you quickly rose to your knees. Taking the hand gripped around his ankle to tug him closer to you, you moved between his legs until you were able to straddle his waist, placing all of your weight on top of him. Finally, you grabbed both his arms, holding them above his head, completely hindering him from moving.

"If you kick me one more time, or even trying anything like that again, I WILL chop your legs off. Got it?"

Staring at you with pure horror in his eyes, he visibly gulped, nodding. "Yes! Yes! Hear it loud and clear. Totally got it! Just call me Sokka, the guy with perfect understanding."

Moving your right hand from his wrists, you firmly gripped his jaw, forcing him to keep eye contact with you. Taking in his scared features, you smirked even though he couldn't see it. "You sure about that, water boy?"

"YES! YES!", frantically nodding, you could tell that if you kept pressing on, he'd probably burst into tears soon. Bringing his voice down to a pathetic whimper, he let out, "please don't hurt me."

Finally lifting yourself off him, you let out a dry laugh, satisfied with his compliance. "Uh-huh. Right."

Turning your head to the people that belonged to the other two voices, you took in their stunned and weakly defensive stances. Chest heaving at your sudden physical movements, you nodded, acknowledging them. "Hey, Avatar. Katara. So, where am I?"

After a few moments of silence, the Avatar spoke up first. “You’re just outside of Omashu.”

Katara elbowed Aang, instantly alarmed at his calm nature towards you. “Aang! You can’t just say that. We don’t know who this person is or how she even knows my name! She could be with the Fire Nation for all we know!”

“Katara it’s alright! Calm down.”

“Calm down?! She just attacked Sokka! I mean, rightfully so- but it’s a little suspicious. We don’t know who she is or her intentions.”

Sighing, you looked around, taking in your surroundings. It seemed that rocky mountains surrounded you with a small group of tents in the distance. Interesting… why are they all Earth Kingdom people, when Omashu is so close by?

Shifting your attention back towards the three, you decided against telling them who you were. “It doesn’t matter how I know any of your names. What matters is that I need to get back to my original mission.”

Sokka scoffed, moving to stand beside his sister. “Your mission? Let me guess; you’re here to kill Aang too.”

Raising an eyebrow, his eyes immediately widened in fear. “Trust me, water boy, if I wanted him dead, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. I’m here on… other confidential business.” Met with silence from all three of them you moved on, “so let me guess, you found Omashu invaded by the Fire Nation, and you three were the ones that helped that tiny camp of people over there escape from their rule. Interesting choice considering there are bigger things you should be worrying about. Yet, why are all of you still here? Surely the Avatar and his friends don’t need to train them in how to look after themselves.”

“We’re going back into Omashu. To make a trade for King Bumi and to give the governor his son back.” Why does he keep willingly give me information? Now that’s interesting. I can barely feel any fire within him either, it’s almost as if it's not there at all…

“Okay. I’ll accompany you all into Omashu, and once we arrive within the city, we’ll go our separate ways.”

“Sure!”

“NO!”

“NO!”

Bursting out into a fit of laughter, you shook your head at the water tribe siblings. “Naw, it’s sweet how you think you all have a choice in this. Don’t worry, nothing will happen to any of you, I’m just hitching a ride and you’ll never have to see me again. Regardless, Aang said yes, and considering he’s the Avatar and all, I think his choice overrules yours.”

Katara didn’t seem to like your suggestion that her and Sokka’s opinion didn’t matter. “No, it doesn’t work like that! We’re a family, and we make these decisions together! You can’t just wake up after who knows how long you were laying there for, and expect us to trust you immediately! For one, you attacked Sokka a little too easily without any bending, and you literally said that you were on a mission! If I’m honest, you sound like trouble, especially since we don’t even know your name! Or what you even look like!”

“Just as I said before, it doesn’t matter. It’s sweet you all care enough about each other’s safety, but I’m not here to cause any of you ‘trouble’. Get me inside Omashu, and we’ll never have to speak or interact ever again. If it means so much to you, I’ll let water boy tie me up, and watch me the entire journey there as reparations for my small attack against him. How does that sound?”

Aang more than satisfied with your offer let out a quick, “Yes!”.

Grumbling under her breath Katara shook her head, clearly understanding that this was as good as it was going it get. “Fine. But he ties you up now. If I see you even move an inch out of line, don’t think I’ll go easy on you. I am a waterbender after all.”

As if you being a waterbender would have stopped me. Holding your arms out and casting your attention towards the ground, you were ready for Sokka to bind your wrists together with some cloth, he tore off his clothing. Unknown to you, he seemed to notice that despite how tough you were, you were weak. All of the sudden movements and the argument with his sister clearly drained you physically.

“Hey… I don’t really like you since you threatened to kill me, but are you sure you’re ready to be travelling so soon? You’re breathing really heavily. You need some water and food.” Gently wrapping your wrists together, he tried and failed to make eye contact with you.

At the mention of water, you throat physically constricted in pain. “Nah, I’ll be alright. Just need to get to Omashu.”

“Doubt it. Let’s get you on Appa and I’ll nag Katara for something.”

Silently following him to the Sky Bison, you were grateful that your mask covered the wide smile that broke out onto your face. It’s beautiful.

Finally, parting ways with them, you let out a breath of relief. That was the most silent journey I have ever been on and I travel by myself… Spirits, I hope I never have to run into them again. I think I’m going to lose my mind if I ever do. What was Hakoda thinking?! I’d be an awful big sister to them, they already hate me! It didn’t help how much they kept bickering either. Argh, what a mess. Aang kept looking at me funny the entire time too! What was up with that? Do his Avatar powers allow him to see into my soul or something? Spirits, he’d probably wants to unleash his Avatar state on me for all of the lives I’ve taken. Yikes.

Before setting off to find Azula, you needed to take precautions to blend into the small kingdom. Stealing some clothes, you found you chose to duplicate you last disguise with the only main difference being that it was in green cloth instead of pink.

After securing your final blade underneath your robes, you knew there was no more time to waste and you needed to find Azula quick. You weren’t sure how much she has progressed in her mission to find Iroh and Zuko and the guilt of not helping them when they ran off the Fire Nation ship was already nagging you like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

This city is too big to wander around aimlessly.

Closing your eyes and letting out a deep breath, you chose to look for her the quickest way you knew how. By sensing her fire.

Come on y/n; you can do it. Unsure of how far your abilities would work, you grew worried that she may be too far away for you to even feel her.

After a few minutes, you started to feel irritated. Of course, you could sense fire, you felt so much of it. The city was crawling with Fire Nation after all, but it wasn’t hers. You emitted a few more deep breaths, trying to clear your head.

Suddenly a deep, familiar voice entered your mind. Inner peace. You need to find your inner peace y/n. That’s why you keep losing control; you need to find it.

Is this that dragon again? As if you didn’t have a random voice inside your head, you were met with silence.

Look you can’t just randomly enter my mind you know, and who in Spirits name transports me to some random mountainside?! I don’t know who you are, but I’ve been doing fine all of these years on my own. So kindly, get out of my head.

Letting out a small scream into your hands as the voice never came back, you closed your eyes again.

Stupid voice.

Stupid inner peace.

Breathing in and out, you wracked your brain for something that made you feel at peace. Come on, you can do it. Then after a few moments, it hit you. Not your inner peace, no. You’d have to find that another day. What did hit you was Azula’s fire, you felt it.

Immediately following the tugging feeling, you ran as fast as you could until you came to a tall piece of scaffolding. Even though you were so far below, you could still hear the fight that was occurring many levels up. Can’t she keep herself out of a battle for at least a day?! I bet it’s not even Zuko up there. Scowling, knowing that you can’t ignore her completely, you climbed up until you reached the fight but still remaining hidden.

By the time you reached the platform, you felt that Azula had already moved from this part of the fight. That didn’t mean that there weren’t pressing matters right in front of you, though.

“How are you going to fight without your bending?” A Fire Nation girl before you brought out her blades ready to attack Katara. Holding back a verbal groan, you knew you were going to have to help her.  

Quickly jumping in, you deflect Mai’s knife with your arm while simultaneously catching a boomerang that you spotted in the corner of your eye. As the flying bison approached your quickly dodged its tail as it sent the two fire nation girls flying back. Seeing a distraction between all parties, you threw the boomerang back to Sokka while running for the scaffolding, making your way into the shadows. So much for never having to see them again.

When you ran away from the scene, you knew your disguise was too recognisable considering the two girls saw you when you intervened. This left you to painstakingly have to find a new set of clothes, just to make babysitting Azula and her friends so much easier. Despite finally being back on track with your mission, it didn’t make it any less tedious as you followed from a distance in the shadows. “So, we’re tracking down your brother and uncle, huh?”

“It’ll be interesting seeing Zuko again, won’t it Mai?” Huh? Is that coal brains girlfriend or something?

Azula spoke up at that comment, “It’s not just Zuko and Iroh anymore. We have a third target now.” You have got to be fucking joking. I guess I better start finding my inner peace after all, you know, so I don’t blow her FUCKING BRAINS OUT!

a/n: hehe thank you so much for reading!!! what did you think?? hehe i know its been a while so im kinda rusty so pls let me know your thoughts or any feedback!! hehe i know this wasnt that juicy and kinda short but ive got a lot planned so dw hehe we’ll get there ;)

taglist: @slythergirlimagines​​ @mangoberry43​​ @eridanuswave​​ @whiskeywinter89​​​ @kaylove12​​ @simplyfandomish​​ @khaleesi-of-assassins​ @callums-keith​ @ilovespideyyy​ @calciumcow​ @blackhood5sos​ @nnon-it-up​ @lozzybowe​ @scarletemeterio​ @reclusive-chicken-nugget​ @simpinforsukka​ @chewymoustachio​ @tiffy119​ @spearbatty​ @sokkassuki​

#zuko #zuko x reader #zuko x fem!reader #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #sokka #katara #aang #toph #prince zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko x fem!reader #avatar #atla #avatar the last airbender #sokka x reader #katara x reader #aang x reader #prince zuko x you #prince zuko x y/n #azula #mai #ty lee

[fletchphoenix]

Forget What I Said, It’s Not What I Meant

Chapter 14!!!!! I’m not gonna say much other than thank you for your support and onwards with the chapter :) Also late update because I had D&D and then had to study so sorry!

------------------------

When Varian arrived at Rapunzel’s house, everyone seemed to pick up on what happened. There were no ‘Where’s Hugo’s or ‘Why do you look so sad?’s or any questions, just everyone treating him like he was porcelain or really really delicate..it annoyed him. Sure, he didn’t want to talk about it, but tip-toeing around the subject and acting as though he’d break down in tears at even the mention of Hugo just felt demeaning. It was his decision, admittedly an incorrect once, but his decision nonetheless. He was the one who initiated the breakup, so why would he be the upset one? That wasn’t to say he wasn’t either, it’s just...agh! Feelings were confusing!

  Things didn’t change at dinner, everyone averting their eyes from him as they just sat down and proceeded to shovel food into their mouths as fast as they could, as though trying to avoid the elephant in the room - that being Hugo’s empty chair beside Varian’s. He frowned and ate as everyone avoided eye contact with him. Now this was just a joke. He wasn’t upset- He really wasn’t! Sure, he desperately wanted the other boy back and every second without him felt like agony, but hey! He wasn’t having a blatant mental breakdown at least! He desperately tried to make conversation, but everyone else seemed unbothered, just staring at their own plates, so he quickly relented with his attempts and joined in with their unspoken pack to silence.

  After the dinner was done, he sat outside on the porch with the wind slowly blowing through his hair as he shut his eyes and let himself be taken away, deep in thought. Was what he did right? Was his mother being truly honest with him? There was no way Hugo could’ve known that his...well he still didn’t even know the relationship between him and Donella, Hugo had never had the chance to tell him, had done what she did to his mother. He couldn’t have been too old when it happened either, only around five or six so it was unfair to just dump all of his baggage on him and take out all the anger. He just didn’t know if Hugo would even forgive him for how he acted out…god, he’d really messed up this time. He still couldn’t wipe the thought from his mind of how broken-hearted Hugo looked as he screamed at him in the apartment hallway, their happy photos relentlessly staring them down to mock the hurricane of negativity he’d created. He let out a sigh. Maybe he was a monster and everyone before was right..maybe he should’ve been the one to go into a coma, not his dad..maybe-

  “Hey kid, you alright?” Cass asked as she sat beside him, a frown on her face before she closed her eyes and let herself relax, Varian averting his eyes and avoiding the question. A weight on his back prompted him to look over at the woman, the hand there rubbing small, soft circles like Hugo used to. “I get it, breakups are hard. And they really do suck when you still love the person you hurt, but...I can tell this wasn’t what either of you wanted. You still love him and I can tell from every little movement you make. So talk to him. Chances are he still loves you just the same as he did before, he just doesn’t feel as though he can express it to you. You’re gonna have to be the one to tell him you still love him if that’s what you want. If he’s what you want. I love you, kid, and you love Hugo. And I sure as hell knows he loves you. Just..do what you think is right to reconcile with him, we all can’t bear to see you sad.” she finished, her eyes still shut as Varian stared at her in confusion.

  The rest of the night and the whole of Thursday, Varian had thought about what Cassandra had said, it echoing in his brain to no avail as he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Was she right about Hugo truly loving him that much? Surely he couldn’t after all the..less than desirable things he’d yelled at the other boy. Regardless, he’d brought his phone out and pressed Hugo’s contact, immediately typing before hesitating when done. He had the text typed out ‘Hey Hugo, can we meet up at two at the coffee shop? We need to talk.’ but he couldn’t bring himself to send it. It felt like when they first talked, him struggling to even send a simple ‘Hi’, but this time the stakes were higher and their whole relationship depended on it. He sighed heavily and glanced over at his cat, who was sitting in his lap, and he could swear Ruddiger gave him a slight nod. Shakily, he pressed ‘Send’ and prayed to God that Hugo didn’t hate him or ignore him. 

---------------------------------------

  Today was Friday, and Hugo didn’t know why he’d decided to read the text Varian sent him, or agreed to meet up with the younger boy, but here he was, walking down the pitch black streets of Corona town at two in the morning with the only light emitting from his phone screen and helping guide him through the winding roads. He still wasn’t even sure why he’d even picked up his phone and read the text, let alone agreed, after he’d torn his heart in half right in front of him with seemingly no remorse, but hey, he was on his way so might as well agree. There was no backing out, not anymore. He had to face his problems head on - he was done with running from the other boy, even if he’d caused him so much heartache and trouble in the past few days which he DEFINTELY didn’t deserve whatsoever.

  He quickly made his way down the road, the uncomfortable heat and humidity of summer causing his clothes to stick to his back. It felt as gross as it sounded, him cringing at the sensation. He hated summer, he always had. Always way too warm, and the orphanage never had air con, neither did Donella’s house so he suffered this time of year with no remorse from the sun until autumn saved him from his pain. Hopefully it’ll all be worth it, he thought as he opened the doors to the place he knew oh so well, immediately strolling to their signature booth and spotting the raven haired boy already sitting there with two coffee cups: a vanilla latte and a black coffee for him, a familiar sight minus the coffee cups. “Hey, don’t I usually buy the drinks?” Hugo asked, forcing a grin on his face before taking a seat.

  Varian still looked as beautiful as the day he’d told Hugo to leave, Hugo’s eyes taking in every detail as all the memories flooded back to him and tears threatening to roll down his cheeks as he let them take down the wall he’d placed there. He missed him so much it was hard to even describe. He’d missed the freckles on his shoulders, the way he’d subconsciously cuddle closer to his boyfriend when watching a horror movie, the way that when he laughed, he’d let out little snorts...he missed all the little things, the little imperfections that he adored. However, there were more worrying aspects now that he looked closer: dark bags under his eyes, his skin unbelievably pale. It wasn’t noticeable if you hadn’t known him long, but..Hugo knew him well enough to know he was troubled. Still, Varian forced a slight smile and shuffled closer. “Yep, well I thought I’d switch it up a little being as I kinda..forced you out of your house at two in the morning. Which..brings me to why I brought you here.”

  The boy paused, a look of hesitation on his face before he bit the inside of his cheek, let out a deep sigh and proceeded. “I was wrong, Hugo. I was so so wrong to pin this all on you when you didn’t even know. I don’t want our mother’s pasts to dictate our future, because the truth is..I love you. I still love you and I never stopped. You brought..so much light into my life over the past six months and once I let it go, I couldn't focus again. You may hate me and..I don’t blame you whatsoever, but I adore you with every fibre of my being and I mean it when I tell you that. I love you, Hugo Atkinson.” He concluded, tears building in his eyes as silence followed his confession.

  Before he knew it, arms pulled him into an embrace and Hugo placed teary-eyed kisses all over his face, laughing shakily as he kept saying “I love you” over and over to the other, those three words forming a symphony that Varian knew he would never get bored of. He exchanged the kisses with gentle pecks of his own, whispering confessions to the other boy as he finally let himself admit just how much he truly missed the other’s presence in his life. But now..now he had him back and he wasn’t going to lose him.

  “I love you too, Varian. I..the past few days have been agony without you. I don’t know how I managed and-oh my god I’m so sorry for yelling at you on campus I-I should have listened to you..it wasn’t fair of me to act like that towards you when you were trying to apologise I just-I felt so alone and lost without you-”

  “Hugh..hey, look at me. I forgive you. Now..how about we get outta here and back home?” Varian asked, Hugo nodding eagerly in agreement with what he said. After all, it had been a few days since he’d been back at the apartment and, in all honesty, Varian wanted someone to cuddle with him for the night..

  The two boys stood, hand in hand, and completely discarded the two coffee cups on the table as they strolled down the street towards the apartment. It was dark, but they didn’t care, content to finally be in each other’s arms once again and happy. It was all either of them ever wanted for the agonising few days that they were apart, and now they finally had it, neither were going to let it go. Even as the uncomfortable heat pounded down on them, Hugo’s complaints just made Varian laugh and giggle even more, moving closer to the other male and squeezing his hand a little tighter. He could listen to the other complaining all day, but now wasn’t the time.

  As he’d unlocked the door to let both of them in, Hugo stood in amazement. Everything was the same, pictures still hung on the walls as they had been before, books still in the same places and his goggles still on the table in the hall where he’d left them beside the bowl they kept the keys in. He let himself adjust to the sight, though it was familiar, it still felt different despite nothing changing. Varian however paid it no mind, simply stating “What can I say? I missed your incessant use of green.” before pulling Hugo along towards their living room.

  Almost immediately as they went through the doorway to the living room, Hugo had pulled the younger boy into a passionate kiss, Varian’s hand threading his fingers through his hair gently as he took in the taste of the boy which he couldn’t quite forget, but desperately wanted to remember ever since they parted. It tasted just how he remembered - bitter like freshly ground coffee, just how he liked it. He let Hugo deepen the kiss and pin him against the painted green wall, hands roaming aimlessly over each other as they both reminded themselves of just how much they adored each other, before Hugo picked him up and carried him along the hall towards their room, Varian giggling the whole way across. 

  Hugo promptly dropped him on the bed and laid beside him, a wide smile on his face as he peppered kisses over his face and shuffled backwards slightly to allow Ruddiger to sit in between them. The cat had gotten a lot skinnier somehow, Varian had assumed Hugo was sneaking him extra snacks sometimes. Ruddiger seemed much happier to see his old rival too, purring and nuzzling his cheek as he greeted his other owner. Hugo also seemed relieved to see the proclaimed ‘fat bastard’ as he gave Ruddiger many many cuddles and an abundance of kisses to his furry forehead. Varian felt his heart fill with more and more love for the boy lying across from him, his hand slipping over his.

  “I’ve missed you both so much, I love you so much Varian.” He’d whispered to the boy, cuddling both the cat and the raven haired boy closer to his chest and placing gentle kisses to his forehead too without a care in the world before slowly kicking off his shoes and jacket before laying down again. Varian followed suit, his head now resting on his boyfriend’s shoulder and Ruddiger sitting at their feet as they cuddled even closer than before.

  Now everything was how it should be, back to normal with him in his boyfriend’s arms as they both drifted off to sleep. Just how he liked it and just how Hugo liked it, finding comfort in each other with their rekindled love. It felt right. Like the universe was back to normal.

  Varian could get used to this.

#varigo #varian and the seven kingdoms #varian x hugo #varian tangled #tangled varian #hugo tangled #tangled hugo #alchemy boyfriends #varigo coffee shop au

[princeaemontargaryen]

~Roses of the Dawn~

«In this alternative story, Margaery Tyrell is a noblewoman who, from the age of seven, was sent to serve Princess Daenerys Targaryen as her lady-in-waiting and become her playmate. But they became more than that, going as far as becoming the sisters they never had within their own families. 

That way, Margaery grows close to Daenerys and remains in her retinue of ladies, especially after she married Prince Rhaegar. However, with Robert Baratheon's rebellion and the uncertaintity of Rhaegar's death, Daenerys is forced to flee to the Free Cities, specifically to Essos, and Margaery with no second thoughts decides to accompany her mistress and friend to the forced exile in spite of herself. 

There also comes with them Rhaegar's closest friend who also happened to become a King's Guard. Ser Arthur Dayne thus makes sure that the depart of the apparently last Targaryen princess is successful, for his friend and lord who was supposed to be the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms told him that he should first and foremost protect the princess, his wife.» 

--

Essos, the Green House.

It's been a long year for the loyalists, Margaery knew it well. She remembers bitterly of the long days spent at a glorious court where she was the center of every poet's ballad and every courtier's eyes. She remembers how richly she used to dress, how fancied she used to be. The endless flirtatious, the dances until late of night, the strolls in beautiful gardens…All of which seems to be part of a world that is now ruined by the war-axe of Robert Baratheon. Her grandmother tried to persuade her to go back and marry him, becoming queen herself, but alas! Would it be worthy to so easily swift loyalties? 

One should always do whatever it takes to survive, even if it must to play these games of thrones, would say the Queen of Thorns. But Margaery would not become Queen at the cust of Daenerys Targaryen, who needed her the most at such a perilous time. Thus she declined to make it true the dreams of building a family of her own. A regret that she would not carry to her conscience, however, seeing whom Robert Baratheon managed to become as the new usurping king of Westeros: a whoring and drunkeous lad with a crown over his head. Rumour has it that he loved Lyanna Stark, the reason why he waged a war against the Targaryens. Margaery wondered if Dany was aware of it, but she decided this was a matter where she should not speak of it.

She sighs in thought. That day, she was spending her leisure moment in the gardens of the house of one of the Braavosi men who was living for his own reasons in Essos. He had been an ally to the Targaryens and was formerly contacted by Rhaegar when he sensed the Rebellion was more deadly than it appeared to be.

The man, named Asouri, was kind enough but Margaery could tell he was uncomfortable for receiving such persons in his household. Robert Baratheon likely knew it too, and it was only a matter of time before he sent someone out there to kill them all… A risk that Asouri reasonably feared. But it was thanks to the gold of Margaery's family that was paying his silence and granting his loyalty. Discreetly, and in concord to the Martells of Dorne, that was how she was surviving… She and the Princess who was more than a mistress to whom she owes obedience, but a reliable friend.

In such thoughts was Margaery, who decided to let her auburn curls fall loose for an instance. Essos was very warm, so that day she was dressing a green gown with no sleeves and very loose from her belly down to her legs. She decided to have some time for herself whilst Daenerys had her own business to attend. In contemplative mood, she did not see Arthur Dayne coming.

The bearer of the Sword of the Morning and the most skilled Knight of the whole Seven Kingdoms, Ser Arthur of the House Dayne was accepted into the King's Guard when in earlier days Elia Martell was betrothed to Prince Rhaegar. There were festivities and when the Dornish were received in the capital, one of the greatest honours was bestowed to such a man who, ever since from Starfall, had been keeping up with his chivalrous reputation. However, from the days of exile, Ser Arthur had been more discreet and certainly doing what he can to help the princess.

On that particular morning, however, he was making the usual round of the household to make sure there would be no enemies found sneaking at the backyard as it sadly happened in the first months of their arrival… or when Daenerys was close to be poisoned at the local market. It was when then Arthur noticed Margaery. He was well acquainted with the Princess's favourite lady-in-waiting, whose friend remained loyal to the Targaryens and kept sending gold, cloth and food whenever it was possible. He also knew her merry, talkative moods. Admittedly, though, he's been observing her more than he would care to admit.

These moods had been swifting, however, and that brought a concern to himself. But because he does not know how to approach her when she is not speaking to him, he usually prefers to be in his own place. Aye, they were both highborns, but an oath prevented Arthur for taking further steps.

Yet, on that particular morning, there was Margaery, beautiful in her green gown and contemplative. Starting at the sea, certainly missing her home. Arthur was observing the auburn curls that dropped loose against her porcelain skin, wondering how soft must it be to touch her… And whilst such unprogrammed thought crosses his mind, a blush runs out of nowhere over his features, which by misfortune is perceived by the aforementioned damsel, who, noticing his presence, exclaimed somewhat amused:

"Ser Arthur! What is it that could be making you blush?" She waves gleefully, a warm smile lightening her features. Such scene gives Arthur's unexplainable chills.

He approached and bows his head as costume dictates.

"My lady, I fear you might have confused it with a tun. How could it be otherwise when I've been daily exposed to this sun?" He laughs at himself. "Has it not occurred you how hotter this is than our homeland?"

Margaery is not convinced, but she is not in the mood to persuade him otherwise. 

"Is it hotter than Dorne, though?" She inquires, her head tilting to the right side, her chocolate eyes filled with curiosity.

Arthur steps forward again, but not daring to take a seat next to her side.

"It is, I think. A different kind of heat. Although Starfall is not any like Sunspear", he laughs.

Margaery smiles. She likes the sound of his laughter, and appreciates his undying chivalric loyalty to the Targaryens. She also happens to notice how introspective is the sound of the words of Arthur. How shy his gaze can be when running out of her decisive eyes. To perceive this makes her blush, but she turns her look away briefly, so he does not notice it.

"Do you miss it?" She inquires gently, her thoughts going back to High Garden.

Arthur looks deep into her eyes, for a moment they share a long gaze, a very significant one because they share the same sentiments. Sentiments that were stolen by the Baratheon who unjustly rules Seven Kingdoms who are not his by right.

"Aye. Every now and then. But duty comes first above all", says he, resignated. Margaery, to her own surprise, finds herself saddned by these words.

"I agree", and before she holds her tongue, word roll out. "Some might even say that duty is the death of love."

Arthur is stunned at her words, and wishes he could counter-say that, but before he could say anything, comes Ser Jorah Mormont inquiring after them both.

*                                   *                            *

Margaery knows her mistress has been melancholic as of late, although good news--as both ignored--are on the way (which will be most propriatedly exposed in another story), she decides to cheer her up. In order to sweep away the thoughts that more than lately have been carrying herself to Arthur Dayne, she occupies herself with a small festivity.

"Marg, I don't think it's a good Idea" said Dany. "We rely too much on your family to cover the custs of this stay, but…"

"That's not the point", Margaery gently cut her off. "You have been too sad these days, reasonably so, but people cannot forget that a Targaryens remains alive."

Dany, despite the good heart of her dearest Margaery, is hesitant to agree.

"That is how we become a target, Marg."

"Did you not attract one in the market? We cannot hid forever, Dany. There is good cause to celebrate, is there not?"

Dany is six months pregnant of Rhaegar, but she barely had time to share the news joyfully due the circumnstances that forced her to go to Essos. Despite the lack of news on the part of Conningham about Rhaegar’s state, she knows life cannot hold for long. Looking right into her friend’s eyes, Dany finds in Margaery the hope that she had thought long abandoned her own. In them, she is reminded of life and hopes. So there is going to be a feast, after all. 

It does not escape Arthur’s own eyes the swift in Margaery’s mood and it makes him smile to himself. For it’s long been gone ever since the royal household held some festivity of the sort and it’s good to see the ladies warming their hopes, in spite of all. He, for once, finds himself very captivated by the lady’s spirits and every now and then he is encouraged by Margaery’s own gaze never to run off from her own.

The day of the feast finally arrives, though, and the once captain of the King’s Guard and close friend to Prince Rhaegar is found looking for the princess’s confidante and lady-in-waiting. But there is not too much for the waiting, however, and soon a sweet voice reaches his ear:

“Looking for someone, my lord?”

It’s a new sensation to feel it within, and Arthur is not quite sure how to react. He turns his head slowly, his heart pounding against his chest, only to find Margaery Tyrell and her auburn locks before him in a beautiful dark-blue silk gown. On her part, she cannot help herself admiring the tall, elegant and tanned-skin Dornish male, whose chivalric ideals reminds her of the stories she spent her childhood reading. Although advised by Dany of her involvement with a man as Arthur, who was linked with his vows through the fact he’s now the Captain of the Princess’s Guard, Margaery’s heart has long decided which road to follow. 

“Not entirely, my lady”, he lies, rather unsure how to behave before her forwardness. Even so, a smile gives in amidst the shade of pride that conceals his true feelings. “I was merely around.”

“Oh.” Margaery could not hold back the disappointment. Once used to be very admired by all men, she feels her heart pounding... and not in a very happy tune. But she is quick in hidding it, though not enough to go unnoticed by the Dornish male. “I see. Is the feast of your liking?”

Trying to amend things, although quite awkwardly, he says:

“I am not one of feasts, I’m afraid, but it’s very enjoyable to see a smile set on the princess’s face. Hope is returning and all of this scenario reassures it.”

“I could not agree more. She has to have her moods lift up, so the baby can come properly”, says Margaery, sensing there’s no particularly way to flirt, but nonetheless wishing to remain in his company. “If a boy comes, do you think he’ll take the grandfather’s name?”

Before he could hold back his tongue, so says Arthur:

“By the Seven, I hope not. I mean...”

Margaery chuckles and leans almost unconsciously against his arm, her soft hand patting his shoulder gently. Arthur, in turn, breathes the smell of roses that, should not surprise him, is so typical of a Tyrell as herself. It also gives another warm sentiment that a man like him is not used to feel. He shifts uncomfortably.

“I understand what you mean, there is no need to concern yourself, Arthur. We are friends, are we not? Loyalists, as some would call.” She says confidently, but only to mask the hurt she noticed when he took a slight away from her. 

“Aye.” He smiles, but very timidly. And the moment ends when the door opens only to announce the arrival... of the prince himself. Rhaegar Targaryen /is/ alive, after all.

*                                                                 *                                                         *

There is preparation to move out of Essos, maybe going to Braavos. The destination is uncertain, but Daenerys, as Margaery observes, regains confidence with the return of Prince Rhaegar, who now styles himself King Rhaegar. Daenerys is now Queen.

But in the midst of such gleeful moment, a tragedy occurs. Mercenaries sent on the orders of King Robert attempted to assassinate the princess... ignoring the fate of Rhaegar. In the midst of the chaos that comes from it, there is the prince and his men (or some of them anyway) prompted to defend themselves and the princess. However, as a result, a violent fire rises. 

Margaery is in the princess’s chambers, who is refusing to leave because of the eggs of the dragons, trying to convince her to leave when the next moments happen too fast. Arthur comes to her rescue and so comes Rhaegar after Daenerys. For some reason, though, Daenerys remains behind. Margaery does not remember quite well, for she had lost her conscience due by inhaling smoke. 

*                                                               *                                                     *

There is a new scenario that is rising hopes. Margaery, to her joy, is glad to be there to see in first hand. However, as promised to Dany, no word of the dragons that came out of the fire would reach even the allies that await in Westeros. Despite the miscarriage, the legend of the Targaryen ancestors seems to relive. Daenerys, even Rhaegar could tell, is no longer the young princess whom he married three years ago. She is now a woman, a queen, his equal, his partner. His lover. 

In the meantime, Margaery is saddened by the new distance between herself and Arthur. She wonders whether she should question him about it, but decides otherwise and shield her heart. Yet, by the time she is Braavos with the small court, when Dany and Rhaegar are sleeping, she escapes to the outdoors for a brief time only to play the lute. Thinking to be alone, she sings:

“No merriment in the world

Can warm the cold

Brought upon the damsel’s heart with a sword

By a knight who left with no word.

Could every smile conceal the pain,

Then shall my eyes tell no longer the same

Of the soul this knight took joy as he came

Yet to the mundane 

Is where he might remain.

For duty, it is known, 

When set the love upon

Causes immediate death

Of what may have been sown...”

“I wonder who might be the terrible knight who broke the damsel’s heart”, says Arthur, who, ever since the fire day, despite the distance he took from her for the sake of himself, remained attentive to her ways. But when the lullaby reached him, something... changed.

Unused to be caught off guard, Margaery’s cheeks bright in red as a result. She, however, does not look away and says:

“Oh well, must we speak of it?” She laughs, trying to dismiss the subject and recollecting the lute. “It is late and I should be off to my chambers, but...”

“...she is occupied with her wifely duties”, he smiles weakly. “I came here to talk to you about how unfair I have been to you. I should have not been so rude, but there is a reason for it.”

In other days, Margaery would have aquiesced and listened eagerly for the words to be spoken of his part, but she, by now, is not prompted to it. Not anymore. 

“You are forgiven for whatever you have done, my lord. I should go to bed”, she insists, now looking down as she tries to make her way.

But he does not let her. Not anymore. So Arthur very gently turns her at him and says:

“I love you.”

Margaery, far from expecting to hear what she heard, could not keep the mask at her face anymore. She places the instrument somewhere aside and stares at Arthur in complete astonishment.

“Arthur, what are you saying?”

“I... I’ve never loved a woman as much as I love you”, he professes such words with a passion that to him would one day sound absurd, but he cannot wait for more time to pass and colect any more regrets. “I’ve taken the vow seriously for all my life, and yet, your smile, your manners, your eyes... Make me down on my knees and pledge to make another vow to you.”

Margaery’s eyes begin to tear, her eyes barely blinking when encountering the purple eyes of Arthur. Her heart amends, she can tell, but even so...

“You cannot be serious. I would not wish you to break your oath.”

“I’ve been released from it. Even if I were not, for you I’d do it myself.” He speaks so intensely his chest seems burning inside. “Be mine, lady Margaery. For you I give ardently my love and devotion.”

He would not have to ask any longer. Margaery could not refuse him, her love for him is too high to pay the price for a foolish pride. She leans towards him, then, and presses her full lips against him. As if breathing relieved, Arthur places his arms around her and kisses her in turn passionately so. 

*                                                             *                                                             *

Posface: years later.

Margaery Dayne, lady of the Reach and of Starfall, was greatly rewarded for her services by Queen Daenerys and King Rhaegar after years of loyalty, which she continuously displayed throughout her life by the side of the man she loved. She and Arthur had ten children, of whom only one did not reach adulthood. These were their names: Arthur, Loras, Daella, Ashara, Rhaegal, Leo, Luthor, Maya, Jeyne and John. 

#Game of Thrones #House Tyrell #House Dayne #alternative universe #Margaery Tyrell #Arthur Dayne #Margaery x Arthur #Margaery Tyrell x Arthur Dayne

[itsclydebitches]

Ironwood tucked tail and ran, he didn't actually consider his options he reacted with paranoia and literally did the thing the villains (Watts) told him to his face was the thing they wanted him to do. Ironwood neglected Mantle for ages, like seriously he was going to tell everyone while Mantle had a huge hole in its wall. And no he wasn't doing everything possible the whole season was all about how he was sacrificing Mantle's safety for his own end.

There are a lot of different points here so I’m going to break things up: 

“[Ironwood] didn’t actually consider his options” except he did. We had an entire, if heated, conversation about it. Is Amity ready? No. So can we use it? No. Are we in any state to keep fighting? No. Has the perimeter been taken out? Potentially. Is Salem approaching? Likely. They ran through a number of different factors and came out with two options: leave now or hold their ground. Based on what they know, Option Two is a death sentence and when no one was able to come up with an Option Three that combined saving Mantle with keeping the rest of the populace alive + keeping relics/a Maiden out of Salem’s hands, Ironwood went with Option One. People also have to remember that from their perspective she could be here any second. This is the opposite of Volume 6 where the group actually had time to come up with various options and chose not to. Here, they can’t afford to spends hours or days trying to come up with additional solutions when Salem may be on their doorstep in a matter of minutes. 

“literally did the thing the villains... wanted him to do” yeah, he did, but again... what’s Option Three? What’s the solution where Ironwood keeps people safe without creating a single bit of division among them? Right now it doesn’t exist. Just because the hero ends up doing what the villain wanted doesn’t mean that decision wasn’t logical or justified. It doesn’t mean they had another way out. It just means that the villain did their job and crafted a scenario where the hero is screwed no matter what they choose.That’s what makes Salem so hard to beat. It’s akin to a trick. She crafts plans wherein even the best solutions have horrific consequences attached, but that’s not Ironwood’s fault. This is gonna sound weird, but I’ve had that Matrix scene stuck in my head the last few days. Neo is offered a red pill and a blue pill and told to choose, now. The fandom’s response to Ironwood’s dilemma is akin to going, “I can’t believe Neo didn’t take the time he wasn’t offered to choose the green pill instead.” That green pill... doesn’t exist... Not yet anyway. 

“Ironwood neglected Mantle for ages” again, building Amity necessitated that neglect. We can argue that Ironwood never should have built Amity in the first place then---letting Mantle have their resources is more important than building a communications tower/thinking you can defeat Salem---but the fandom and the RWBYJNR team don’t get to have both. We can’t demand that Ironwood finish this project and then drag him for doing what’s necessary to achieve that. Amity was not “for his own end.” Nor were things like the military presence. We can argue the ethics of whether it’s ever appropriate to keep soldiers around town, but the intent has always been to keep the people safe. And given how many times grimm broke through the walls this volume? Those soldiers probably saved a lot of lives. If we’re truly going to criticize Ironwood for his treatment of Mantle than we likewise need to criticize the group for staying on his back about Amity. It’s because they allowed him to think that this was a way to defeat Salem for so long and pushed him to get it done that the mistreatment of Mantle continued. How do you keep Ironwood from taking resources from the people? Idk, maybe tell him that the thing he wants the resources for won’t actually save the world like he thinks it will... 

“like seriously he was going to tell everyone while Mantle had a huge hole in its wall” 100% agree there. I think it was stupid af to tell the people about Salem at all, let alone during a grimm attack. But remember that our heroes were very pleased with that development. That’s the one thing Ironwood has been praised for. Again, if we’re going to criticize him for that then Ruby likewise deserves criticism for pushing him towards telling others about Salem and then giving her  little, “He’s doing it.” As I’ve mentioned the last two volumes, my primary issue with the writing is not that the characters make mistakes, but rather the hypocrisy that occurs when that happens. Team RWBY is continually let off the hook by both the writing and the fandom despite the fact that their actions contributed immensely to all of Ironwood’s mistakes. Their mistakes are just as much at the center of all this, but no one wants to acknowledge how keeping that secret forced Ironwood to work under hugely false information. Even though we just got a whole volumes articulating how horrific that sort of manipulation was for Team RWBY under Ozpin. Their choice to repeat Ozpin’s actions had far more devastating circumstances, namely hurting Mantle in the name of a plan they knew was doomed from that start. RWBYJNR could have spared Mantle at any time. 

“...Ironwood’s plan sucks” yeah, it has a million holes in it, but again, does anyone have a better plan? If Salem’s flying grimm army is such a threat to a hypothetically sky-high Atlas, why aren’t people acknowledging what a threat those + grounded grimm are to an Atlas that sticks around beside Mantle? To be blunt, there are way bigger priorities here. No one should be asking, “But what will we do about food days/weeks from now?” when Salem is theoretically coming to kill them in the next hour. How about we survive the immediate threat first. If we’re all alive to worry about food later that will be a miracle. 

“take apart a military vehicle or two and used the material to fix Mantle’s wall” maybe he could have. We as the audience have no idea what exactly these “resources” are and how they might be replaced, but if we’re really going to nit-pick like that... why didn’t anyone else? Why didn’t Team RWBY suggest that instead of just yelling at Ironwood to fix everything himself? Why didn’t Robyn do that instead of stealing the materials on their way to Amity? Everyone keeps insisting that Ironwood isn’t united with the others, but it’s everyone else who insists that he fix everything himself while simultaneously betraying, lying, criticizing, and undermining him along the way. I likewise don’t buy the “Ironwood is the adult and he’s responsible for Team RWBY” argument I’ve seen floating around because that’s by the same group who was going, “Team RWBY are adults now Ozpin and Qrow need to trust them more” last volume. They have their licenses. They’re working with a military inner circle. They, as I’ve said before, don’t get to flip-flop between vulnerable children and responsible adults as they please. If the group is mature enough to fight this war at Ironwood’s side then they’re mature enough to go, “Hey, how about the eight of us try to think up ways to help instead of just yelling that we don’t like what Ironwood, as just one very stressed person, has managed to come up with?” 

“maybe he could have updated Mantle’s security” again, we don’t know what Ironwood might or might not have done after the Fall of Beacon in terms of updates. All we do know is that he didn’t have the one crucial piece of information that made Mantle’s security seem vulnerable: Watts is alive. Ironwood only found that out after Watts had already taken over. 

“Maybe he could have told the council and worked with his own government” sorry but this argument always makes my brain go “????” The only thing we know about this council is that they were fully backing Jacques at the meeting, which is not a good indicator of how trustworthy they were pre-his arrest. If we’re praising Team RWBY for not trusting Ironwood---someone who has been fighting Salem for years and who immediately shared his own secrets---why in the world would we expect Ironwood to trust two lackeys of Jacques Schnee? One of these options seemed a whole lot less trustworthy than the other. And I guarantee you that if we had gotten a story where Ironwood brought in the council and then we learned they had been working closely with Jacques? People would criticize him for that too. “Maybe he could have kept things quiet like Team RWBY did and not give information to a corrupt government.” It’s a lose-lose, apparently. 

“did what the kids wanted and it WORKED” literally only because the plot went wonky to accommodate them. No one freaking out, no one angry anymore, everyone coming together to sing the Remnant equivalent of Kumbaya... I’m by no means against hopeful results superseding “realistic” ones, but this was a seriously extreme example of the plot accommodating the group’s preferences. In the same way it accommodated them in Argus. It’s a deliberate choice not to have there be any repercussions to starting huge grimm battles ,or telling an angry mob about the sorceress sociopath out to kill them all, and RT grabbed hold of that choice by both hands. It’s hard to argue who is really “right” or “wrong” when the narrative itself makes sure that only one party’s actions ever have bad outcomes whereas the others always come out rosy. It has been a rigged system the last two volumes. Team RWBY’s choices are always “right” not because they’re justified, but because the writing ensures that nothing bad ever happens as a result. Even when logic dictates that it should. 

“idk maybe tell them to fight on their own they can” this would be a good option if the group were actually interested in just defending Mantle. But they’re not, their goal is to stop Ironwood from leaving Mantle behind. We get that moment where the whole team stands in front of him in a semi-circle, making it clear that if he wants to enact his plan, he’ll have to go through them first. It’s not a, “You do your thing and we’ll do ours” situation, it’s a “We’re not going to allow you to do your own thing.” So Ironwood responds to that with, “Fine. You’re forcing me to move you? You’re under arrest.” 

“maybe see about getting their system back up” Watts had complete control over the system. The conversation at the dinner made it clear that everyone was locked out: Ironwood, the council, even Jacques himself. And I doubt Watts, wherever he is now, is just going to hand that control back because Ironwood asked. Which again, comes back to time. Do they have time to interrogate Watts? No. Do they have time to sit other tech experts down and try to get them to reclaim the system? No. People keep insisting that these are all options that Ironwood willfully ignores, but every one of them results in the same thing: Atlas twiddling its thumbs as Salem slams in with her grimm army. This would be a very different situation if she were days out and they had some time to try these things, but the setup is very much, “If she’s coming she’s going to be here in no time at all. Whatever we’re doing, we have to do it right now.” Long-term “options” of these sort simply aren’t on the table. Telling someone to take the hour-long “option” when you literally have five minutes is just illogical. Rejecting that doesn’t make you a bad person, it makes you the one person thinking the situation through. As I’ve said before, Ironwood and the Ace Ops are the only ones weighing these issues in a “Is this actually possible? manner. Team RWBY is riding purely on confidence and hope. 

“there’s no proof Salem is coming” you’re right, there isn’t. We only have her promise and the silent perimeter, so no, that’s not proof. ... but are you really willing to risk that? I sure as hell wouldn’t be. There’s no way I would trust that many lives to “Well, she might be pulling our leg.” Calling her bluff is a BEYOND risky choice and the only reason the fandom thinks it’s such a good option is because we’re looking at this from a storytelling perspective. We know it’s unlikely that the group will face off against Salem before the final volume. We know it’s unlikely that Salem would start attacking the world in earnest because she’s so damn powerful that this would wipe everyone out in a mater of weeks and then, you know, there’s no story anymore. As characters in this world they have no reason to believe that Salem would lie about coming, especially after Watts, Tyrian, the chess piece, the perimeter... Salem has clearly been setting up something, but Ironwood should just ignore all that to call a hypothetical bluff, risking every single person in the process? That goes so beyond endangerment I’m not even sure what to call it. That would be the action of someone I wouldn’t trust as my leader. Risking the Maiden, two relics, and the lives of an entire kingdom on an entirely unfounded hunch. That’s straight up insanity and if Ironwood had done that I would have hoped the Ace Ops would revolt. You’re clearly unfit to serve, sir, if you’re going to risk all our lives---the entire world even---on a theory that has 4 points against it and 0 in favor. 

#rwby #rwby volume 7 #rwby volume 7 spoilers #mymetas #Anonymous

[chiagappy]

- A continuation from the previous au-

They had a long journey ahead of them, still the travel felt less fatiguing since they kept each other company. With the small fortune they both were able to carry and the sword Josuke had hidden underneath his cloak, Josuke and Rohan trailed through darkened woods and discovered a windy road headed through the outskirts of the town. They followed it for a few hours before retreating back to the forest in fear of the chance of being noticed.

As they both continued on their path, Josuke couldn't help but consider himself lucky that if it wasn't for Rohan he would have been murdered on the spot without exception. Even so, he doubts that he'd get a second chance after kidnapping the clairvoyant this time around; 'they might have already placed a bounty over my head by now', he thought to himself grimly.

Still the samurai hadn't regretted his decision, he managed to rescue Rohan from the imminent danger in the shrine, and especially now watching how content Rohan seemed to be with all native species of plants and animals surrounding them. They decided to take a break by a river bank that followed up to the mountains. If he had remembered correctly, he was told by the prisoner that all they have to do is cross over the mountain until then reach a small town outside the emperor's rule. This town was known to welcome refugees and foreigners, he needed to find a man named Avdol. He never received the prisoner's name but he can tell but his silver hair and blue eyes that he was a foreigner himself; as for his reason for being imprisoned he had broken a priceless artifact from the Shrine and was waiting for his comrade to pay for his release, but had given Josuke tips on how to sneak out undetected.

As much as Josuke wanted to reach the mountain as soon possible he knew that he couldn't force Rohan to push himself, more so with the injury, so he decides it would be best to salvage food for the both of them, but when he turns around to tell the clairvoyant, he sees that he had disappeared. In a panic, the samurai called out for him only to find Rohan crouched down by some nearby bushes collecting berries and herbs telling the taller man to be quiet before they get caught and how he was finding food for them; Leave it to Rohan to assess the situation they were in rather quickly.

Josuke should have suspected his lov- partner wasn't in any real danger but still he warns Rohan to stay close just to be sure. Rohan jokes that he's being treated like a child and that he could have survived out here longer than Josuke would have, as he watched Josuke pick some poison ivy next to him. 

It wasn't an ideal situation to be in the woods during nightfall, so they both continued their trek and discovered a small tavern at the base of the mountain. Relieved to find a warm shelter before sunset, they both hurried to it without a second thought.

From the outside it looked pleasant, rustic and homey. Soft wooden planks and marble stones make up most of the building's outer structure. Although the windows were covered by curtains, they could see a soft glow of light illuminating and faintly hear a traditional melody playing from within. Enticing them to go in.

The tavern was cozier than anticipated, almost vacant, saved for the bartender cleaning a wine glass at the countertop and a worker wiping off the tables. It was safe to assume the bartender was in charge so both walked up to her and asked if she had a room available to stay in, informing her that they were simply travelers heading to the next town over. The bartender eyed them cautiously, her stern cobalt eyes looking over Josuke's for a rather long time before she gave a collected sigh and accepted their payment, warning them not to cause too much trouble as she called over her worker to take them to the guest room. 

Josuke and Rohan never thought a woman with such beauty could be so intimidating but they assumed she must have dealt with suspicious people coming to her tavern frequently. On the other hand, her worker, Suzie Q, was delighted to have them as guests as she fawned over the two, telling them how much of a cute couple were. They both immediately became flushed, Josuke being the first to protest her claims before Rohan did, however Suzie Q had a strong suspicion about it and only giggled at them before she took her leave, leaving the two to mull over what she just said.

Were they actually a couple now? Sure they both eloped together, and shared a few kisses here and there but that was in the heat of the moment. They haven't done anything else beyond that. And besides, it wasn't like they knew how to go 'that far,' right? Then it finally dawns on the pair that they were alone in this room with nothing but a lantern and large futon with two pillows, creating just an awkward atmosphere for the two. After a brief moment of silence, Rohan was the first to speak and tells Josuke they should share the futon, how it would be warmer with the both of them there, while Josuke rejects it completely, insisting he can sleep on the floor with just a pillow. It wasn't that he was embarrassed he just respected Rohan's space and wanted him to get better.

Rohan rolled his eyes but didn't press him further, telling him he's headed for the restroom down the hallway. 

By the time Rohan returned, Josuke was acting even more self-conscious, finding the idiot ruffling his own hair as if he was being tormented by an evil spirit or deep in his thoughts. Rohan had attended several ceremonies of marriage and read stories of romance in his studies before but he couldn't help but find Josuke's reaction rather charming. He would have never guessed the other man would be so vulnerable to love, not that it was surprising given he could read the other like an open book. 

To save his love from his inner turmoil, Rohan pulls at Josuke's robe to come join him in the futon, insisting that he needs help with placing the new bandages on his wound. Josuke reluctantly followed afterwards.

Josuke made sure he was careful around Rohan as he delicately wrapped the bandages around his injury and chest, while trying his best not to ogle at Rohan's skin for so long. It was soft and if it wasn't for the wound marking his skin, Rohan would have been flawless. Unfortunately for him, Rohan had caught on to his lingering stares and leaned back against the samurai just to tease him, causing the taller one to gently push him away, and try to dress Rohan back. Of course, Rohan didn't make it easier on his behalf and decided to cling to him in retaliation and ended up pushing Josuke to lie on the futon. 

The sight of Josuke's face was enough to make Rohan burst in laughter, he's never seen someone so red, almost like a freshly picked tomato while Josuke only pouted, looking away from the object of his torment while he tried to peel Rohan off of him. But the clairvoyant was very stubborn and after some struggle Josuke gave up, with a cheeky Rohan smirking triumphantly as he laid against his chest.

They spent the night talking about their past, about how Josuke and his mother joined the shrine, everything, and Josuke finally learns about Rohan's childhood. How Rohan was raised within the palace where Josuke's mother had once lived, Rohan's mother served as an oracle there before she was caught in an accident alongside her husband. Thankfully for the king, he had no worries as he discovered Rohan's gift early on and soon he was deemed a replacement for his mother. His parent's funeral was a short one, with only the king and a few royal subjects attending and offering condolences to the young child. He vaguely remembers spending his days in the palace with a pinked haired maid who would offer him sugary confections and journals during his private lessons and being prohibited from stepping outside. He was given his own room where he would offer his prophetic readings to the King and the nobles who requested his presence- extending to feudal lords and military dictators as well. He distinctly remembers the strong smell of cigars and alcohol that filled his room as he offered his readings. He always had to feign ignorance otherwise it would cause conflict, but he knew deep in his heart he wanted nothing more than to quit because he could sense how corrupted these individuals were. But for the sake of survival, he continued on.

Then he was sent out to various shrines to offer his services before arriving at the Kishibe Shrine to continue his studies, however not welcomed as the first son of the Kishibe household who lost his family but still the prophet whose purpose was to bring prosperity and wealth to the Shrine. Just a pawn to use, Rohan described bitterly to Josuke as he buried his head closer to him.

Josuke wasn't certain of what to say, instead he pulled Rohan closer, wrapping his arms around him tightly, reassuring him that he would never let that happen to him again. And on that note, they both fell asleep.

---

The bartender smiled to herself, as she walked past the couple's door and made her way back to the bar.

She couldn't quite place her finger on it, it must have been curiosity that made her keep a close eye on the pair- or maybe Suzie's eccentric chatter falling into eyeshot when she warned her to keep it down during the evenings. 

She sat in one of the empty chairs by the countertop and pulled out a folded sheet of paper from her pocket. This man look awfully familiar to the photo she received earlier that day, recalling how two police officials visited her inn to warn her about a prisoner who kidnapped some priest, and before she was able to address it, Suzie appears right next her and looks over her shoulder to say,

"I'm surprised you didn't send them out tonight, considering the hefty bounty over their heads; you do know you could be suspected of treason for helping a criminal, right Lisa Lisa?" 

"You act as if I'm doing this for the first time, but yes, I do. And I can tell that they are good people too."

Maybe she should offer them breakfast before they leave.

#josuhan #✒☮ #the neighbors kept me up all night so I ended up writing this~ #chia thoughts

[lavenderboneswrites]

Heart Over Ice

***please read the tags*** ***trigger warning***

Chapter 3 has been updated! Also available on AO3

Chapter Summary:  

Shizuo tries to take positive steps to move on with his life, which would be a hell of a lot easier if Izaya wasn't in it. Shizuo finds drinking plus Izaya leads to bad decisions and even worse consequences.

Tags: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Murder, Sexual Assault, Attempted Sexual Assault, Non-Consensual Drug Use, drug induced paralysis, Medical Procedures, Trauma, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Discussion of Rape, Discussion of sexual assault, Discussion of Death, discussion of trauma, Triggers, discussion of triggers, Panic Attacks, explicit descriptions of panic attacks, Canon-Typical Violence, aka Shizuo typical violence, Protective Heiwajima Shizuo, Shizuo-centric, Binge Drinking, Angst with a Happy Ending, Minor Kishitani Shinra/Celty Sturluson, minor original characters, Minor Character Death, Eventual Smut, eventual consensual smut, Eventual Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, Pre-Relationship, First Aid, Mentions of Yakuza, Drug Dealing, Thoughts of Self-harm, Self-Harm, Torture, Disassociation

Chapter 3 - Over Active

If Shinra didn’t have a fully stocked bar, Shizuo doesn’t know if he’d actually be here.

It had been a few days since the nightclub incident, and Shizuo is determined to put everything behind him. He starts by trying to take a little better care of himself. He’s forcing himself to eat, three meals a day, and he’s trying to cut back on the smokes.

Shizuo had also taken up jogging, thinking that maybe if he exhausts his body he’ll be too tired for insomnia and nightmares. There is something nice about the anonymity. In his exercise gear no one seems to notice him, the citizen’s blissfully unaware of the infamous monster of Ikebukuro running around the neighbourhood.

He still feels anxious, still sees Izaya being assaulted when he closes his eyes and hears those thoughts of self-harm … but he tries his best to ignore them. It’s not an easy feat. Though thankfully, there haven’t been any more of the really violent flashbacks like in the alley. Probably something to do with not being around Izaya. Leave it to the flea to be the one to set him off, he was aptly skilled in that department after all.

The running helps, but Shizuo finds his mind would wander too freely even though his body was occupied. So he got some headphones and signed up for Spotify, trying to replace any risky thoughts with music. He doesn’t really know much about music, and he follows Kasuka for guidance. Shizuo finds his tastes are varying and wide, from rap to obscure indie; he isn’t fussed and more importantly, it helps. He’s enjoying it.

This new self-care routine also dictates he reach out to his friends, which is why he found himself unable to refuse an invitation to dinner at Shinra and Celty’s.

They greeted him at the door cheerfully, Celty in a pink frilly apron over her black catsuit and Shinra already a drink deep if his glass was an indication.

The apartment was warm, with a delicious smell was wafting from the kitchen. Celty quickly left them to get back to preparing her feast, leaving Shizuo to cross the room and jump behind the bar.

“What are we drinking?”

It was just the three of them, which Shizuo was secretly thankful for … he didn’t think he could deal with huge crowds of people right now. Just the thought of anyone accidentally touching him had Shizuo wanting to scratch off his own skin.

Shinra sat down on one of the stools at the counter, answering lively. “Whiskey!”

The same kind the colour of Izaya’s-

Nope, don’t go there.

“Gross,” Shizuo shot at Shinra, who scrunched up his face in response.

“Then make me a drink, oh wise bartender-sama,” Shinra sniggered into his drink.

“Shut up.”

Shizuo pulled down various bottles from the shelf, lining them up on the benchtop. “My, my, looking to get lit, Shizuo-kun,” Shizuo shot a disparaging look at Shinra and his use of the word ‘lit’. Where did he come up with this shit? “We’ve got vodka, tequila, gin, Cointreau, and even white rum!” Shinra tapped each of the bottles on the lid as he named them.

“Some of these aren’t even opened, this bar is wasted on you shitty doctor,” Shizuo grumbled, looking for lemon juice and sugar syrup.

“What can I say, I’m the only one who can drink … do you expect me to clear out all these bottles by myself?”

“I think you’ll be flat on the floor from just one.”

“You’re soooooo meeeeaaaaaan~!” Shinra wailed dramatically.

“Lightweight.” Shizuo added with a grin. For the first time in a long time he actually felt not terrible. It was nice, seeing his friends, bantering with Shinra and getting drunk. This is what he needed.

“Where’s your ice?”

“Kitchen-, no,” Shinra held up a hand to stop Shizuo who had turned to head just there. “Don’t think I’ll let you go and steal my chance to have a moment alone with Celty!”

“Just get the ice you dumbass.”

Shinra giggled as he ran like an idiot to the kitchen, Shizuo rolling his eyes at the lovestruck fool.

“Lemon too!” Shizuo called out as an afterthought, but he doubted it was heard over Shinra’s squeal of ‘Ceeeellllltttttyyyyy~!’

Thankfully the door swung shut on the doctor’s wails of love.

Shizuo pulled out a silver cocktail shaker out from underneath the bar, setting up all his tools and ingredients in a line with two glasses on standby.

It shouldn’t take more than thirty seconds to get ice, yet Shinra had been gone at least a couple of minutes.

Yeah, Shizuo really didn’t want to know…

The kitchen door swung open, giggles and black smoke pouring out. Shizuo half wanted to roll his eyes and half couldn’t help but think Shinra and Celty were kind of cute.

I’ve lost my goddamn fucking mind.

Shinra basically fell out of the kitchen door, his cheeks rosy red, ice in one hand and a chopping board with lemon wedges in the other. “I will miss you every moment you are not in my presence my love~!”

Black smoke pushed him out the door, motion belaying Celty’s mortification at Shinra’s frankly embarrassing behaviour.

You horny fuckers.

Shizuo could only shake his head as Shinra skipped back to him and dumped the ice try on the counter.

“You’re disgusting.”

“Huh?” Shinra said aghast. “My love is beautiful and pure, Shizuo-kun!”

“Like I said … disgusting.”

Shinra chuckled as Shizuo split the ice between the glasses and cocktail shaker and started measuring out shots

“This drink actually has all five of these? Are you trying to kill me?”

Shizuo gave a mischievous grin, “step up your game, shitty doctor … I thought we were getting ‘lit’.”

“Ugh,” Shinra groaned. “Why are you in such a good mood anyway?”

Shizuo shrugged, pouring shots over ice. Maybe it was the self-care, or maybe just good food and good people. Whatever it was he would take it, if only for tonight.

“Hmm,” Shinra had a shrewd look on his face, like he was suspicious. “Celty’s theories on alien imposters might not be far off…”

“Piss off.”

Shizuo finished adding the various liquids into the cocktail shaker, before capping the lid over the top and picking it up.

“It’s a shame you know,” Shinra said as Shizuo started to shake the cylinder over his shoulder, “you’re really good at this, you should try and get another bartending job.”

Shizuo snorted, careful not to lose his cool and send the cocktail shaker into the mirrored shelves behind him. “What? So I can get fired from that too? Anyway, I have a job.”

A perfectly fine one, thank you very much … and if Shizuo didn’t bring up why he got fired from those other jobs, well, whatever.

“But this suits you, you seem…” Shinra trailed off, like he couldn’t quite think of the word to describe Shizuo. “Content?”

Another half shrug, Shizuo placing the shaker back on the bar and hitting the sides of the metal lightly. Very lightly. He’d exploded his fair share of these shakers when he had first been learning to tend bar. The ice caused the container to get cold and expand, making the lid stick; the tapping helped pull it off easier.

“You have a lot of control when like this!” Shinra sounded fascinated as Shizuo grabbed the strainer. He didn’t really think about it to be honest, but he could see where Shinra was coming from. Personally, Shizuo thought Shinra would be equally fascinated if he were to crush the entire bar instead.

Shinra gave an over the top ‘oooh’ when Shizuo flipped the strainer one handed, doing a spinning trick with it between his fingers before placing it over the rim of a glass. Heh, he’d have to show Shinra some more tricks later, maybe when Celty was around to watch.

“Maybe you should be the one to take up the knives! You’re plenty dexterous.”

Shizuo made a face at that, somewhere between revulsion and disgust “don’t be gross Shinra.”

The doctor just sniggered in reply.

Shizuo split his creation into two glasses filled with ice. For final touches he topped the drinks with cola and a lemon wedge each. “Here you go, one long island iced tea.”

Shinra took the drink Shizuo slid across the bar, looking down at the black-brown concoction. “You really are trying to kill me.”

“Hah!” Shizuo laughed, pulling his own drink to his lips and inhaling the scent. “Weak.”

“Not all of us have a superhuman tolerance! Why would you even choose to make this?” Shinra sounded plenty aghast yet he still drank all the same.

“Alcohol tastes like shit…” Shizuo said as if that explained anything.

“So you make this five shots abomination!?”

“Doesn’t taste like alcohol.”

“That’s what makes it so dangerous! Jeez Shizuo-kun, you’re such a sadist.”

Shizuo only smirked over the rim of his glass. Taking a sip, he gave a noise of satisfaction at the way the drink flooded his mouth and rushed down his throat.

It was smooth as hell.

“Still got it,” Shizuo said more to himself than Shinra. To which the doctor only groaned in reply.

“Izaya’s right, you are arrogant.”

Shizuo immediately felt his pleasant mood snap.

Izaya kicking him, threatening him. Izaya’s dead eyes. Izaya’s jerking head. A dark stain on denim.

“I’m warning you Shinra … don’t fucking bring him up.”

Shinra sighed, “you guys really need to come to some sort of truce, I’m getting tired of the constant fighting.”

Shinra was tired? Well Shizuo was fucking exhausted.

“Fuck off Shinra … never gonna happened.”

Shinra didn’t answer, just took small sips of his drink, looking thoughtful.

“By the way, how are you doing with all that?”

“With all what?” Shizuo snapped, his gut clenched uncomfortably.

Shinra gave him a deadpan look, as if he knew Shizuo was being purposely dense. “I just meant … it was pretty traumatic.”

Shizuo slammed his glass down with more force than necessary. “I'm not-”

-Not what? Not traumatised?  

“I mean … just-just shut up Shinra.”

Shinra looked at Shizuo calmly, only the slight raising of his brow to show he clearly thought differently. It was the same kind of patronising look Shizuo saw on the flea. The doctor obviously had a death wish or something, because he was silent for only a moment before he opened his big fat mouth again.

“Izaya is acting like he’s not affected, but I think he was really shaken by it all.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“What do you mean you know?”

Oh shit, fuck, now Shizuo was the one who couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“We had a run in, he was…” Shizuo tried to think of a sufficient way to describe the flea’s almost manic behaviour. Though compared to Shizuo’s own, it was probably a lot less pathetic. “He was pissed.”

Pissed was putting it lightly, raging lunatic more like it. Which was ironic as hell considering Shizuo’s own anger issues.

Shizuo himself was still furious at the fact the little bastard had kicked him and then almost gouged out his eyes.

Fucking psycho.

Shinra made an exasperated sound, “he won’t talk to me at all! He keeps leaving me on read … why, oh why did I choose the two most difficult people in the country to be my friends?”

“Sounds like a blessing in disguise to me … you should take this as an opportunity to ditch him once and for all.”

“Shizuo-kun!” Shinra admonished, though he sounded a little entertained. “No! Stop changing the subject! How are you? Are you eating well? Sleeping enough?”

“What are you, my mother?”

“Celty would want me to ask these questions about my friends!”

“Ah, so you’re doing her dirty work.”

Shinra made an ‘oh shit’ face. Of course Celty had sent Shinra to do some digging, seeing how Shizuo had been purposely avoiding her. It was only right she was worried.

Shizuo took a longer sip of his drink, finishing the entire last half in one gulp. Really, he was just buying time.

“You can tell her, yes, I’m eating. Three meals a day and all.”

“And what about your mood? Have you got a good sleep pattern going?”

“You’re about to fucking see my mood, Shi-n-ra!”

Shizuo and Shinra managed to get one more drink in before dinner; yuzu hachimitsu sour, weak. After all, he didn’t want to actually kill Shinra, not really. They moved to the dining table, a veritable feast laid out on the table. Shizuo tried to ignore the way his mind went to memories of Izaya laid out on his own table.

“Wow Celty, this looks amazing.”

It was like a huge order at an Izakaya, with lots of individual dishes. Shizuo could spot edamame, karaage, yakitori, and takoyaki … just to name a few.

Shinra was hanging off the Dullahan, singing her praises. “My Celty is a MasterChef~!”

“Mm, more like Iron Chef!” Shizuo added, feeling pleasantly buzzed two drinks deep.

Celt’s smoke merely puffed in that flustered way of hers. [Stop it, both of you!]

Shinra and Shizuo only laughed, Shinra exclaiming how cute she was when embarrassed.

It was only when they were all taking a seat at the table, about to dig in, that there was a knock on the door.

“Hm, who could that be?” Shinra asked, standing up as Shizuo’s brows furrowed.

Apparently, no one good.

Shinra was only gone for a few minutes before he returned, “look who I found!”

Celty’s black smoke exploded, almost like one giant explanation point. Shizuo on the other snapped the flimsy wooden chopsticks in his hand clean in half.

Standing in the door, in all his shitty glory, was the fucking flea.

“I told you Shinra I’m not staying-,”

“-Nonsense!” Shinra flapped his hands, as if waving Izaya’s protests off. “There’s plenty for all of us, and you could do with a good meal, you’re skin and bones!”

“What are you, my mother?”

Shizuo growled as Shinra let out a high pitched laugh, no doubt remembering Shizuo exact same expression from earlier.

“What’s so funny?” Izaya snapped, looking far from pleased with the situation. His eyes caught Shizuo’s, narrowing in a look nothing short of hatred.

Next time, come at me like you want to kill me.

Shizuo’s hand gripped the underside of the table. Shadows were immediately tugging at him gently, and Shizuo realised he had stood without thinking.

Shizuo growled, slumping back down into his seat. It had been established long ago that Shinra and Celty’s apartment was a neutral zone, Switzerland if you will. Though it was less a decision on Shizuo’s part and more the fact Shinra and Celty were sick of having their furniture thrown through their walls after missing a certain slippery bastard.

Hell, Shizuo was going to need a hundred more drinks before he even thought of letting the flea have dinner with them.

At least this time he wasn’t threatening to cut out Shizuo’s eyes. Or drugged.

He still looks like he’d try and skewer me given the chance.

“No way Shinra … get rid of him.”

“Yes please Shinra, ‘get rid of me’,” Izaya parroted back, raising his fingers to do mocking air quotations. “You know I think I might actually stay now.”

Izaya sat down in the chair opposite Shizuo with an infuriating smirk. “Watching a beast eat in its natural habitat, a video of that is bound to fetch a high price.”

“Izaya,” Shinra warned as Shizuo threw his broken chopsticks across the table at the flea. The bastard merely leaned to the left and avoided them with a gleeful little laugh.

[Please don’t throw things]

“Sorry Celty,” and now Shizuo felt guilty.

[Don’t be sorry, I don’t want him here either!]

“Why do I get the feeling Courier-san is not writing anything too kind about me, ne?”

Celty pulled her PDA close to her chest, like she was afraid Izaya would try and take the device from her and read it.

“Because no one likes you, shithead.”

“I do.”

“Shut up Shinra.”

“Yeah, shut up Shinra,” Izaya mocked, once again copying Shizuo.

“Can you not be annoying for more than five minutes?”

“That depends, can you not be a beast for more than five minutes?”

“Argh!” Shizuo wanted to flip the table but then all Celty’s hard work would go to waste.

“How fascinating, the language of Neanderthals…”

“Give it a rest, both of you!” Shinra’s words did not match the amusement in his voice or the way he was trying to stifle his laughter. “You’re ruining my Celty’s wonderful dinner!”

[Ah Shinra- it’s fine]

“I want a drink-“

“-Oi!” Shizuo yelled as the flea reached out and snatched away his drink. “Get your own, you damn parasite.”

Izaya took a sip and made thoughtful face, “this is good … a little sweet for my taste but the sour really cuts through it. I’m amazed someone without a head is such a capable chef, well done Courier-san.”

[Oh…]

Shinra burst out laughing, collapsing to the floor in hysterics.

“What?” Izaya snapped, glaring at Shinra who was struggling to pull himself back up through his laughter.  

“Oi, oi, oi...” Shizuo could feel a vein throbbing in his temple.

Shinra wheezed as his head popped up, tears of laughter visible in his eyes. “Celty didn’t make that.”

Izaya looked down once at the drink in his hand, then once to Shinra, who had collapsed again in a fit of giggles, and then to Shizuo.

Shizuo watched as the flea’s eyes widened in realization and something akin to horror, before narrowing in distaste, “…gross.”

“Fuck you, you just said it was good.”

Shinra was howling.

“I lied, it’s called being a good guest … you should try it, Shizu-chan.”

“Bullshit!”

Izaya answered with a smirk, taking another long sip of Shizuo’s drink and then spitting it all back out.

“What the fuck flea!?”

“Want your drink back now?”

[Are you children!?]

“You couldn’t pay me to drink your dirty flea backwash.”

“You couldn’t afford my backwash.”

[How is this conversation happening?! Shinra, do something…]

Shinra was however too busy cackling on the floor, as if this was the funniest thing he had ever witnessed.  

[Shinra!!!!!!!!]

*

Dinner had been nothing short of hairy. Shizuo barely managed not to leap over the table and throttle the flea. Shinra was wasted, though he finally managed to pull himself back into his chair after much amusement at Shizuo’s and Izaya’s expense. Celty just raised her arms to where her head should be, as if holding it in her hands and crying.

The food was amazing. Though Izaya found ways to sneak in those backhanded little comments every now and again. He would also contradict Shizuo at every turn. If Shizuo would say he really liked a sauce or the karaage, Izaya would say he wasn’t a fan and make some slight criticism of it.

‘It’s too salty’, or ‘I’ve had better’.

Though every time he did Shinra would vehemently defend Celty’s cooking and admonish Izaya’s manners or lack their off.

Now that had been satisfying. Especially the way Izaya’s nose would scrunch up in that annoyed way of his, like he almost felt betrayed by Shinra.

That was until Shinra told Shizuo to stop antagonising Izaya. Like, what the fuck? Shizuo was doing no such thing. It was all the flea! He had said as much anyway.

After dinner, which Shizuo was honestly surprised hadn’t turned into a full on food fight (which had happened many times before), they had moved back into the living room, Celty suggesting drinks and desert.

Though Shizuo had imagined she had tea or coffee in mind and not more alcohol.

“I want a desert cocktail Shizuo-kun~!”

“Mm,” Shizuo agreed as he and Shinra headed to the bar.

[No! No more alcohol!]

“Let’s put on some music.”

“Yes! Impromptu dance party!”

[Shinra you’re drunk!]

“I don’t think they’re paying attention Courier-san.”

Celty slumped into an armchair, apparently giving up all hope of calling any of them to heel.

Shizuo once again slid behind the bar while Shinra scrolled through his phone. “Any requests?”

“Rock.”

“Pop.”

Shizuo and Izaya spoke at exactly the same time, then proceeded to glare daggers at the other. Shizuo quickly opened his mouth again but it seemed Izaya had a similar idea.

“Rap.”

“Punk.”

Son of a bitch was just doing it on purpose now.

“I wanna listen to WAP!”

“Shinra no.”

“Shinra yes.”

Shizuo couldn’t help himself, if Izaya said pop Shizuo said rock, if he said punk than Shizuo said rap, and if Izaya said no then he had to say yes.

Maybe Shinra had a point and they were both as bad as each other?

No way. Shizuo might have his flaws, huge gaping ones, but compared to the flea he was miles ahead.

He is the worst.

Izaya looked extremely affronted at the music starting playing out of the small portable speaker next to the tv. Shizuo merely grinned, feeling victorious as he mixed together something sweet and smokey.

“Yeah, you fucken with some wet ass puss-,” Shinra made a muffled noise of protest as Izaya clasped a palm over his mouth to stifle his singing.

“I can’t believe you’ve done this,” he said deadpan.

“What the hell carl!” Shinra yelled back. Shizuo frankly had no idea what language they were talking anymore. It must be some weird flea-Shinra code only discernible to their ears.

“You’re going to scar your girlfriend for life, and me,” Izaya said as he and Shinra wrestled over control of the music. “What is this, YouTube? Shinra you heathen, where is your Spotify?”

Shinra replied by wrapping his arms around Izaya’s neck and hanging off him like some sort of tree monkey. “I don’t have it” Shinra sobbed.

“Yes you do it’s right here … wait,” Izaya snapped a wicked smirk onto Shizuo, “you’re following this neanderthal?”

Shizuo huffed, topping off two golden yellow drinks with a cinnamon stick each. “Shizuo-kun has really good taste Izaya … here I like this playlist.”

“Hmm,” Izaya hummed thoughtfully, scrolling through the list as if he was searching through dirty laundry. Just what secrets did he think a fucking playlist held for fuck sakes.

“Oi, Shinra.”

The doctor was quick to drop his attentions of Izaya and bound over like an excited puppy. “Oooh it looks so cool Shizuo-kun!”

“Ha, wait for it,” Shizuo pulled out his lighter, Shinra letting out more sounds of awe as he lit the ends of the two cinnamon sticks. They caught fire quickly, before simmering down to a small smoky ember. “My twist on an old fashioned.”

Shinra clapped happily, meanwhile Shizuo could see Izaya glaring from over the doctor’s shoulder. Bitter fucken flea.

“It’s goooooooodd! What is that? Maple?”

“Yeah.”

“Ooh I’m getting hints of citrus too!”

“That’s the orange peel.”

“Celty, you’ve got to try this!” Shinra ran over to his girlfriend with his drink outstretched, seemingly forgetting she couldn’t taste without a head.

Shizuo took a satisfying sip of his own drink, the end of the cinnamon stick still smoking lazily. His eyes met Izaya’s over the rim of his glass, the flea looking down his nose at him with that same scrunched up look again. With a sigh he selected a song, throwing Shinra’s phone to the couch before making his way over.

Shizuo stilled his breath, body tense as if awaiting an attack. It would be just like Izaya to try and kill him to some jaunty pop tune.

“I want a drink.”

“Haaah?” Shizuo would say he was appalled at Izaya’s lack of manners if he hadn’t know the bastard for nearly a decade. The flea sat down in front of him, looking up at him with an expectant smirk. “I’m not wasting a good drink on your dirty backwash.”

Izaya rolled his eyes. “Something bitter.”

“Like you need it.”

“So quick-witted, don’t hurt yourself, Shizu-chan.”

Shizuo was half tempted to pull the cinnamon stick out of his drink and shove it up Izaya’s nose. “Fine, you want a drink … I’ll making you a fucking drink.”

Izaya only looked entertained as Shizuo started grabbing bottles with a rough fury.

“Celty let’s dance!”

“Ugh, they’re so precious it makes me want to vomit,” Izaya mocked as Shinra started trying to twirl Celty around the room, much to Celty’s protests.

“I think they’re cute,” Shizuo snapped, unable to not contradict Izaya.

“That’s disgusting Shizu-chan,” Izaya looked like he was one step away from trying to wash Shizuo’s mouth out with soap. “I shudder to even think about what you consider romantic.”

“Then don’t think about it.”

“There’s some new gorilla’s at the zoo, maybe you could attract one with your beastly wiles.”

“You really never fucking shut up.”

Though Shizuo could vividly remember a time when Izaya had been silent. Unmoving.

Don’t.

Izaya put a finger to his lips, but the action was ruined by the way his mouth turned up at the corners, as if he wasn’t even trying all that hard not to laugh. Shizuo took in the way his eyes danced with playful amusement. It was a good look on him, much better than-

-don’t think about.

“Of course you’d pick this trash song, matches your shitty personality.”

“Oh?” Izaya leant back on stool, balancing on two legs before falling back to four. “Isn’t this your playlist Shizu-chan?”

“I’m deleting it,” Izaya just had to go and get his flea stench all over a goddamn song of all things. Shizuo would never be able to listen to it again without thinking of him and that was just too gross to think about.

Izaya let out a peal of laughter, similar to the way he had laughed at Shizuo in that alley. “Your single cell brain works in such mysterious ways, it almost makes me sick … but here’s hoping I can ruin this playlist, nay, music entirely, for you.”

Shizuo had half a mind to spit in the bastards drink and then force it down his throat … but annoyingly enough he was pretty proud of this creation. “There,” Shizuo slammed the almost black drink down in front of Izaya. “The Flea.”

“Should I feel honoured? To have my own genuine beast of Ikebukuro creation.”

“I hope you choke.”

Shizuo found himself staring as the flea smirked over the rim of the martini glass. Amaro Arvena, an Italian liqueur, bitter and black, infused with herbs and with a slightly red tinge to it. It matched Izaya perfectly, brought out the crimson in those mischievous eyes. Shizuo watched, captivated, at the flash of pink as Izaya’s tongue poked out of his mouth just before he took a short sip.

Shizuo felt like his body was starting to warm, like pleasant fire burning low in his gut. He couldn’t help it, the way he watched Izaya like he was almost prey, eyes drawing to the pale expanse of his throat when he swallowed. The flea’s eyes were hooded and the way he licked his lips was downright sinful.

“Mmmm,” Izaya made a sound of approval, “not too bad, Shizu-chan.”

Fucking hell.

“You’re a goddamn pest,” Shizuo spoke into his drink. He was way too sober for this.

Izaya gave a shrug, a sly look on his face as he downed the entire glass in one go.

“Oi, you’re not supposed to skull it.”

“I’m catching up, you and Shinra had a head start after all,” Izaya placed the glass back down and slid it back over to Shizuo. “I’ll have an expresso martini next.”

“You’ll get whatever scraps I feel generous enough to give you, louse,” Shizuo growled, ideas for his next creation already coming to mind.

“Your customer service could do with some work.”

“Shizuo-kun!” Shinra arrived in a flourish, slamming down in the stool next to Izaya so violently that the flea was almost pushed off his own. “I need another drink!”

“Both of you are demanding fucks.”

Izaya gave Shinra a playful shove back, laughing as the doctor’s arma windmilled before grabbing the bar before him. Shizuo felt slightly winded at the carefree look on Izaya’s face. He doesn’t think he had ever heard him laugh like that before. Completely at-ease and genuine, with not a hint of deception.

Shizuo could watch him laugh like that forever.

Wait.

“Here,” Shizuo slammed a bottle of tequila and a shot glass down in front of Izaya. “Catch up.”

Izaya answered Shizuo’s challenging grin with one of his own.

“Shots, shots, sh-shots, shots!” Shinra started singing.

“You will actually die shitty doctor,” Shizuo snapped a warning, but he was ignored in favour of Shinra trying to follow the glass with his lips, as if he could get a sip in before Izaya. It was surprising, Shinra was so handsy with the flea, and the flea actually allowed it … Shizuo thought maybe with everything that had happened maybe the flea wouldn’t like being touched so casually, Shizuo knows he wouldn’t, and yet the flea doesn’t seem to have a care in the world.

It was kind of infuriating, that Shizuo was so messed up and Izaya wasn’t.

Fucking shitty flea.

Izaya held a hand on Shinra’s face and pushed him away, quickly downing the shot before he could steal it.

Shizuo was once again caught himself staring at the flea’s throat.

“Dammit Shinra, go paw at monster girlfriend,” Izaya said batting the doctor’s hands away.

“She went to bed,” Shinra lamented, an ugly pout on his face. “You two have to entertain me.”

“Shizu-chan could try juggling furniture for you, if you want,” Izaya said with a condescending smirk.

Feeling a little buzzed, Shizuo met the flea’s smirk with a cocky grin of his own.

Careful not to shoot anything through the ceiling, Shizuo swung the bottle of Midori backwards. It flipped up and over his shoulder, and Shizuo raised an elbow to meet it as it came back down. With a flick of his arm the base of the bottle bounced off and spun once again, before he snatched it from the air with his other hand.

“Woo, go Shizuo!” Shinra clapped as Shizuo flipped the bottle in his hand and went straight to the pour.

The flea had a sour look on his face, like he was trying with every part of his being to not be impressed, because that would be too disgusting to even contemplate for someone like Izaya.. “It’s like watching a dog walk on its hind legs.”

“C’mon Izaya, even you have to admit that was pretty good.”

“Yeah Izaya,” Shizuo mocked with his best flea imitation.

“What exactly is this? It looks toxic,” Izaya picked up his new drink, raising it to eye level as if to inspect the contents.

“It’s green!” Shinra shouted, sounding thoroughly amazed at the lime colour.

Shizuo ignored the two idiots, taking a sip of his own drink. A burst of sour apple exploded on his tongue, zingy and tingling.

“Wow this is so good!”

“It taste like pure sugar,” Izaya complained.

“It’s like a dance party in my mouth,” Shinra added, slurping at his drink happily. Shizuo had to agree with the doctor, Izaya was just an ungrateful bastard.

“Too much for you flea?” Shizuo laughed. “Maybe you should slow down if you can’t handle it.”

Izaya’s withering stare turned into wicked grin that made Shizuo’s blood sing. He answered by knocking the entire drink back in one go. “Who can’t handle what, Shizu-chan?”

Never one to back down from a challenge, Shizuo answered by downing his own drink.

“W-wait for me!”

“Shinra no!”

“Shinra yes!”

Shinra, in his eagerness to catch up, ended up choking which had Izaya laughing in that same laid-back way as before.

“Y-you,” Shinra choked out, “you guys are going to kill me.”

Izaya only held one arm around his waist as he laughed harder.

Cutecutecutecutecute.

“Oh there’s a cherry in here!”

Just a little surprise at the bottom of the glass. Shizuo had unfortunately swallowed his whole when he downed his drink earlier.  

Izaya took a look down into his glass, as if surprised to see his own cherry there too. “Heh.”

Izaya looked back up and Shizuo was pinned with eyes full of mischief.

Ohshit.

“Wanna see a trick, Shinra?”

“Ooh yes!”

“Watch this.”

Shizuo knew he would never be fucking prepared enough as Izaya gripped the cherry by the stem and lifted it to his mouth. He was facing Shinra on the barstool, but he kept his eyes locked on Shizuo.

Whose mouth was feeling incredibly dry.

Izaya lifted the cherry above his mouth, opening wide as he dropped the fruit in. Shizuo was hypnotised, and he couldn’t think past anything but mouth, lips, teeth, and tongue.

The louse gave a crooked closed-mouth smirk as he chewed, eyes closing in concentration and Shizuo followed the way he moved the cherry around in his mouth unblinking.

Shizuo couldn’t stop staring.

“Aaah.”

“Whoa!”

Shizuo almost passed out right then and there.

Izaya had swallowed visibly and then opened his mouth, a cherry stem tied into a perfect knot resting on his stuck out tongue. Shinra spoke up, his voice childlike and wonderous, nowhere near the level of depravity of Shizuo’s thoughts.

“Wow! You’re really good with your tongue, Izaya.”

The glass in his hands shattered, shards exploding outwards and showering over them all.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuuuuuuucccccckkkkkkkk.

Shinra jumped and fell off his chair, while Izaya absolutely howled with laughter. Shizuo could feel his cheeks heating up and he made sure to look anywhere but the flea. His hands reached for the broken glass, as if he could sweep this whole thing up along with the pieces.

“Ooowwweeeeelllllttttyyyyy~!”

Shinra’s groan of pain turned to delight at the appearance of the Dullahan. She was in pink pyjamas and cute fluffy bunny slippers. Celty fingers were flying as she typed on her PDA, holding it out for Shizuo, [What happened? Are you okay?]

“It’s fine, do you have a dustpan?”

Izaya cackled even harder and Shizuo answered by shoving him off his barstool. The flea landed next to Shinra, and they both took one look at each other before cracking up again.

Shitty, crappy, annoying, dam, flea.

Celty quickly helped Shizuo clean up the broken glass, both of them flat out ignoring the pair of drunkards rolling around on the floor.

“Sorry.”

Shizuo didn’t know if he was apologising for the broken glass or just the entire night in general. He might have gotten a little carried away, which he firmly blamed on Shinra’s bad influence. Also, Izaya’s shitty presence hadn’t exactly helped matters.

[It’s fine.]

[I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.]

Shizuo scrunched up his face. He didn’t know if would go as far as to say that … but the night hadn’t been a total letdown. It was hard to beat himself up too much about losing control when the alcohol had left him feeling warm and content.

Not to mention the heated look in the flea’s eyes.

Dammit, damn him. That shitty fucking flea was just too good at getting under Shizuo’s skin. Probably thought he had gotten away with the joke of the century on Shizuo. Shit, he had.

Whatever, Celty was an actual saint to put up with them all … especially Shinra, the lout.

“Celty my love~!” Shinra reached out with grabby hands as the Dullahan pulled him up and dumped him over his shoulder.

[Bed time.] Celty showed on her PDA, Shizuo merely raised his eyebrows in reply as the Dullahan turned and left.

“Kinky,” Izaya spoke over his shoulder.

“Ah!” Shizuo jumped, “don’t just pop up like that!”

Izaya snickered, moving back to the bar. He pulled himself up to sit on the benchtop, hands placed on either side of him so he could lean back suggestively. “Shinra is so getting pegged.”

Shizuo just groaned, rubbing between his eyes as if he could erase the images from his mind. He couldn’t help but notice the playlist had shuffled to a particularly sensual sounding song.

And now the flea has ruined The Weekend for me too…

“You’re disgusting.”

“Oh? You didn’t seem to think that before, far from it actually,” Shizuo looked over at the flea. Was he crazy or were his eyes screaming out ‘come here’?

Was the flea a mind reader? Could he tell Shizuo was thinking exactly about the way he could slot himself perfectly between parted legs with the pest sitting like that?

“F-,” Shizuo quickly cut himself off, no, don’t say fuck.

Izaya knew exactly what he’d been planning to say, if the devilish grin on his lips was anything to go by. The flea reached a hand for a small pot on the counter, whole body curving with the motion as he pulled out another maraschino cherry.

He’s a demon.

Shizuo quickly turned away, not wanting to watch Izaya put that damn thing in his mouth. Not seeing turning out to be even worse though, because now Shizuo was imagining all sorts of things.

Like taking that damn cherry out of the flea’s mouth with his own tongue.

Fuckingfuckfuuuuccck.

Shizuo was either too drunk or not drunk enough for the flea’s mind games. Either way, he was going not going to stick around to find out … and he definitely wasn’t going to fall for such a dirty trick just to have the louse laugh in his face.

“Im’ma bail,” Shizuo gave a half-hearted wave over his shoulder. “Stay out of ‘bukuro, flea.”

Shizuo had only just made it to the door when he was attacked.

Izaya grabbed him, swinging him around and slamming him up against the wooden frame. “Fl-,” Shizuo didn’t even get the words out, didn’t even get a chance to discern the flea’s expression before Izaya’s mouth was descending upon his.

Shizuo’s head was dizzy from the sudden movement, body struck dumb as Izaya twisted fingers into his hair.

What was happening? What the FUCK was happening!? Izaya was kissing him. Izaya was fucking kissing him. Shizuo. Shizuo who Izaya hated. Shizuo was being kissed by Izaya. The flea. What the actual fuck!?

Shizuo’s hands came up to Izaya’s shoulders, ready to push him away, “W-.”

He doesn’t even get the words out. Izaya taking advantage of his open mouth to shove his tongue inside.

He tastes like cherries.

All thoughts of confusion and protest vanish as instinct kicks in, and Shizuo can’t help the growl he lets out into the flea’s mouth. His arm moves down to Izaya’s waist, pulling him in flush against his body. The louse lets out an eager moan and he licks into Shizuo’s mouth in such a filthy way it makes Shizuo’s head spin. Shizuo grabs the back of his head, forcing him to turn so he can kiss back even deeper.

If Shizuo’s body had been hot before it was practically on fire now. Like his blood had turned to molten lava, coming to a boil in his gut before an eruption. Holding onto Izaya right now was like trying to hold onto a wild animal. He pulled Shizuo in by the collar of his shirt, and at the same pressed in even closer if that was possible, rubbing his body up against Shizuo’s with untamed fervour.

Shizuo groaned at the way Izaya’s hips slotted against his, the way their groins rubbed together. He moved a hand to Izaya’s ass, desperate to pull that friction closer to him, gripping so hard he was sure there would be bruises in the shape his fingerprints left behind.

“Fuck,” Shizuo’s forced to break the kiss, forced to come up for air. Izaya dives down to his neck, leaving a trail of fire behind as he licks and sucks at Shizuo’s skin. Shizuo’s mouth is parted as he gasps for breath, hand kneading at the taut muscle of Izaya’s ass. God, his fucking ass, it was perfect.

Izaya’s hands move from his neck to his chest, clawing at his clothes. He moves downwards, coming to the collar of Shizuo’s shirt. Shizuo’s not even able to take a breath before Izaya is ripping his vest and shirt open, the buttons flying off in several directions.

You-  

Shizuo didn’t have a chance to even get angry at the cocky smirk on Izaya’s face before the flea was diving in to lick and kiss at his chest, his hands roaming their way downwards to the top of Shizuo’s pants. Every point of contact searing.

Fuck.

Shizuo’s mind was catching up to his dick, coming to terms with what was actually happening right now. When Izaya’s tongue licked over his nipple, Shizuo quickly raised a fist to his mouth and bit down.

He could hear Izaya’s satisfied chuckle against his skin, mouth biting and sucking on the hardening nub. He swirled his tongue around the tip, and Shizuo couldn’t help but groan as his dick jumped in his pants, his mind conjuring the image of the tip of that tongue circling the head of his cock.

Shizuo was completely floored, Izaya’s entire mouth should be deemed illegal. Hell, he should be fucking arrested for crimes against decency and just-just fuck, that fucking tongue.

Shizuo could only pant into the fist in his mouth, hearting racing as he looked down at the top of Izaya’s head as he traced Shizuo’s abs with his tongue, slowly making his way downwards.

“Oh fuck.”

Izaya was on his knees, tugging Shizuo’s pants open roughly.

This couldn’t be reality. They were standing in Shinra and Celty’s living room for fuck sakes, and the flea was on his fucking knees, looking like a man starving.

“Fuck, Izaya.”

“Heh, I quite like this side of you Shizu-chan,” how the hell could Izaya still sound so dam smug as he nuzzled Shizuo’s clothed cock. “You’re making really cute noises.”

Shizuo whimpered as Izaya mouthed his erection through his underwear.

Fucking hell.

“Oh? You’re getting quite wet here,” Izaya pressed his fingers against a wet patch above the head of Shizuo’s dick.

“Fuck, Izaya!”

Izaya closed his eyes, as if savouring the pleading way Shizuo had said his name. “I could almost come hearing you sound like this.”

Illegal. That mouth should be illegal. The absolute filth that spewed from it. Shizuo felt his cock twitch, and if Izaya’s self-satisfied smirk was anything to go by, so had he.

I could almost come at the sight of you on your knees flea.

Shizuo’s hips jerked a little as Izaya pulled his underwear down, exposing his hard cock to the air.

“Easy beast,” Shizuo could feel Izaya’s breath brush over his cock, as the flea braced a forearm across Shizuo’s navel.

How the hell could Izaya make that stupid nickname sound so dam sexy? He said it like he was hungry, no, ravenous.

I wanna touch you too.

With a trembling hand, Shizuo ran fingers through black silky locks. Izaya was staring up at him with those hooded eyes from earlier, black-red amaro liqueur overtaking brown whiskey, just like the cocktail he had made him. Dark and bitter and hot.

He is stunning.

Without breaking eye contact, Izaya brushed his lips against the head of Shizuo’s cock in a chaste kiss.

Shizuo almost came right then and there.

“Fuck!”

Izaya laughed, the fucking tease. “That’s the idea, ne?”

And then Izaya swallowed his cock down almost down to the root, and Shizuo buckled at the waist, barely keeping on his feet. The moist heat that enveloped him was enough to drive him crazy, enough for him to want to grab Izaya by the head and fuck into that wet mouth with a ferocity only befitting a beast.

Izaya hummed, the noise a vibration against his cock. Shizuo’s hand was fisted in his hair, twisting so harshly it had to be painful, but the flea just looked back up at him with those eyes like dark Italian liqueur.  

“Y-you look so fucking good right now flea, with my cock in your mouth.” Shizuo’s is surprised the words come out, his voice low and filthy.

Izaya moans at that, palming his at his own cock over his pants at Shizuo’s words. Shizuo can’t help the way his hips buck at the sight, but Izaya’s arm holds him down.

Slick velvet heat moves up his shaft, Izaya tonguing at the slit before releasing Shizuo’s cock with a harsh suck to the head. “If you can still talk I must be doing something wrong.”

Shizuo brain was meanwhile leaking out of his ears from Izaya’s rough treatment. Izaya shoots him a wicked grin, a devilish turn of his lips that promises sweet, hot things to come.

The flea dives back down, Shizuo’s mouth parted and panting, unable to stop the moans as Izaya’s head bobs up and down.

His head jerking.

Wait, no.

Lifeless eyes.

Stop.

Rutting, grunting. The revolting sound of pleasure as a dark stain bloomed outwards.

No, no, no.

He can no longer see, thrown back into that hellish day. Shizuo is standing in the doorway, body frozen as Izaya’s lifeless eyes stare out at him. The body atop of his is grunting with its brutal onslaught, Izaya’s head forced to bob with each violent thrust, and Shizuo can’t move, can’t do anything but watch.

Watch as someone fucks Izaya’s dead body.

“What the fuck Shizuo!?”

Shizuo lashes out, against the horror of it all, throwing Izaya away from him with violent strength and fear. He can’t hear the sound Izaya’s body makes as it hits the floor, the huff of air that is forced from the flea’s lungs as he is winded by the force, it doesn’t piece through flashes of memory, through a mind trapped by terror, because all he can hear is the sound of groaning sick pleasure.

Shizuo hunches over, trying to put his softening dick back into his pants with shaking hands. His breathing is coming out in harsh gasps, and a small part of his mind thinks he might actually pass out from lack of oxygen. But none of that matters, all that matters is he has to get out, has to get away.

Izaya moves from where he had landed painfully on the floor, hands reaching out for Shizuo.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

Izaya flinches back, Shizuo’s voice ripping from him like a physical blow.

“Shizu-chan...”

Shizuo can’t fucking breathe.

“Don't, just don’t.”

Get out, just fucking get out of there.

His mind was far away, still trapped in that apartment, that day, fear pushing his body forward.  

In a flash he was out the door and running, leaving Izaya on the floor wide-eyed and stunned, wondering what the hell had just happened.

#shizaya #orihara izaya #heiwajima shizuo #drrr #durarara #orihara izaya x heiwajima shizuo #orihara izaya/heiwajima shizuo #whump #whumptober2020 #heart over ice #fanfic #my fic #fic mention #writing mention #shizaya whumptober 2020 #B A N T E R

[fromwinnipeg2everywhere]

Winnipeg is Good: Support Local Businesses!

My husband and I love to dine out and all of our favourite places are small, locally owned restaurants. I also enjoy posting pictures of food on Instagram, and though it may seem a tacky habit in the eyes of some people, for me it is my way of showing appreciation and support for the restaurant. Whenever I post something, I am hoping that it encourages other people to try that place or make them aware that it even exists in the first place!

The local restaurant industry is one of the hardest hit during the Covid-19 pandemic. Restaurants, with their razor-thin margins, depend on customers to stay afloat, and with everyone stuck at home, the sad reality is that there is a lot of laid-off restaurant staff, and local restaurant owners are having to find creative ways to keep their doors open. Instead of closing their doors, some restaurants have pivoted to delivery/pickup only services, some are selling pre-prepared meals to heat at home, and some like King’s Head Pub and Bodegoes have re-opened as a grocery-delivery service. My husband and I are making an effort to support the local restaurants by still ordering delivery/pickup with the hope that whatever little support we can give help them make it to other side of these crazy times. How else can you support restaurants during the pandemic? Follow them on Instagram, buy gift cards, order directly from them and do pickup if you can (food delivery services such as Skip and Doordash pretty much eats what little profit restaurants make in commissions), and tip generously!

Even before the pandemic, we made a conscious effort to support locally owned businesses and restaurants. Of course, not everything (or everyone) local is good (ahem, Nygard and Fun Mountain) so do your research, but I can say with certainty that everything good is local! There are many reasons to support local businesses. Many of our local businesses pay living wages. What does that mean? It means, yes, you will have to pay a little bit more for your coffee or your donut or your book, but that also means you are supporting a business that ensure their staff are paid fairly. Many of our local businesses and restaurants focus on sustainability – for example, they use environmentally friendly containers and they support local growers, farmers and suppliers (which means the ingredients and raw materials don’t have to travel far!). Supporting local means more of your dollars stay within the community – to the owners, the suppliers, the staff – local people who are very passionate about their craft and their business, and their profits are then reinvested to our community. Aside from the economic reasons, our local businesses are also very active in giving back to the community, for example, the first week when all the restaurants were forced to close their dining rooms to customers, many of them came together to donate their extra inventory to Chef Ben Kramer who then cooked all the food donations for local soup kitchens. Last, but not the least, these local businesses are what makes Winnipeg unique. Think of the last time you travelled somewhere? Where did you go to eat? Somewhere local, that you can only find in that place, I hope! Well, why wouldn’t you do the same at home?

So how do you know which businesses and restaurants to support? A lot of them have social media presence, so follow them on Instagram. They usually have stories that gives you a glimpse on how they run their business, for example, I saw a story where the owners visited a farm and showed us how it practiced ethical farming practices. I mean, I wish we could all be vegan or vegetarian, but the reality is the majority will not be, but that does not mean we have to support inhumane, factory farming methods. Instagram stories and posts will also have specials that you won’t normally find on the menu, so it’s a great way to try new things! I know that it is sometimes hard not to let the prices dictate where we decide to buy something, but if you can, think of the reasons why something is a little bit more expensive (fair wages, economies of scale – small businesses can’t compete with Bezos! -- quality of ingredients, keeping local dollars local) and make your decisions on value, not cost.

I have put together a list of our favourite local businesses and restaurants with the hope that it encourages you to support them. Not sure which ones are open now, but check out their Instagram pages for latest info.

Restaurants and their specialities (in no particular order)

1.     Merchant Kitchen – Asian Fusion. This is our go-to. You can’t go wrong with the Thai Fried Rice and Korean Fried Chicken.

2.     Yujiro/Saburo – ramen, premium sushi, donburi bowls

3.     Gaijin Izakayya - reasonably priced, good sushi

4.     Blufish – premium sushi

5.     Sushi Cushi – reasonably priced, good sushi

6.     Cho Ichi Ramen – I like their noodles, closest to Ichiran (Japanese ramen place) that I’ve tried

7.     Dwarf No Cachette – Japanese food that is not sushi – okonomiyaki, takoyaki, donburi bowls, Japanese curry

8.     Sabai Thai – Thai food

9.     Pho Hoang – Vietnamese food

10.  Kum Koon – lunch dimsum service is the best!

11.  Maque – Asian fusion, for a super fancy anniversary dinner (or for a regular Tuesday night dinner, whatever!)

12.  Myrna’s – Filipino breakfast, cash only!

13.  Kyu – ramen, rice bowls, heroshima sandwiches

14.  Mitzi’s – chicken fingers

15.  Passero – Italian. Another fancy anniversary dinner place. Make sure you make a reservation!

16.  Harth – Italian. The prosciutto di parma plate!

17.  Kevin’s Bistro – If you are a fancy mac & cheese fan

18.  Red Ember – Our favourite pizza place in Winnipeg

19.  Pizzeria Gusto/Gusto North – A close second

20.  Burrito del Rio – Hands down THE best burritos/tacos in town

21.  Hermano’s – South American Food

22.  La Fiesta – Salvadoran food.

23.  The Good Fight Taco – Good taco

24.  King and Bann – Fancy sandwiches. Best BLT.

25.  Clementine – Brunch. They don’t accept reservations so go early and/or prepare to line up

26.  Miss Browns – Brunch. The menu on William is more extensive compared to Hargrave Street Market.

27.  Pineridge Hollow – come for brunch, stay for the petting zoo!

28.  Forth Cafe – cocktails, coffee, light lunch – avocado toast is delish!

29.  Langside Grocery – breakeven scotch bottles every Sunday! Check insta for more details!

30.  Amsterdam Tea Room – cocktails, snacks

31.  Thom Bargen – coffee and pastries

32.  Fools and Horses – coffee, breakfast sandwiches, banana brulee french toast (Broadway location only), the Forks and Hargrave Street Market locations only sells coffee and pastries

33.  Deer & Almond – small plates, fancy dinner place

34.  Little Goat – mussel specials!

35.  One Great City – beer and yummy food

36.  Yellow Dog Tavern – beer and cheap eats!

37.  Nonsuch – beer and THE best burger in town

38.  Yard Burger – second best burger in town

39.  Punjab Sweet House – best samosas in town, and they’re like $8 for a dozen giant size samosas – best value in town!

40.  Famena’s  - best roti and stand up routine by the owners

41.  Tehran Cafe – Iranian food

42.  Jenna Rae Cakes – macarons and cupcakes

43.  Chaeban Ice Cream – best ice cream (also available at Sobey’s)

44.  Oh Doughnuts – go early, they sell out! Or order online the night before for a discount.

45.  Camille Bakery – closest to Dominique Ansel cronuts I’ve tasted

46.  The Common – Food hall

47.  Hargrave Street Market – Food hall

Other non-restaurant businesses

1.     Morden’s Chocolates – Russian mints!!!

2.     Fromagerie Bothwell – award winning cheese made in Manitoba!

3.     Banville and Jones – for all your wine needs

4.     DeLuca’s Wine – more wine!

5.     Torque Brewing – beer!

6.     Stone Angel Brewing – more beer!

7.     Little Brown Jug – and more beer!

8.     Kite and Kaboodle – Toys

9.     Toad Hall – Toys

10.  McNally Robinsons – books!

11.  Browluxe – eye brow pencil and cruelty free

12.  Coal and Canary – candles

13.  DeLuca’s – Grocery

14.  Piazza di Nardi – Grocery and bakery

15.  Hilary Druxman – jewelry

16.  EMK Clothing – clothing

17.  U.n.luggage – luggage store

18.  D’arcy’s ARC – pet shelter and pet supplies store

19.  Winnipeg Pet Rescue Shelter – pet shelter and pet supplies store

20.  Lavilash – eyelashes

21.  Brows by G – eyebrows

22. We Heart Winnipeg - hoodies!!

#winnipeg #manitoba #canada #supportlocal #smallbiz