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fruitcoops · 10 months

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can you write something with this quote I found? It’s so fitting for coops !

“I hope the most beautiful thing you ever see if another human”

In honor of final exams, here's some Harvard FinnLo fluff to share in the suffering--or, you're in a library with a beautiful boy...

Character credit goes to @lumosinlove , who shattered me into a thousand pieces with the new art and will be receiving a UPS box containing my entire heart soon. It's just easier that way.

(and to my friends, who do not know this blog exists but have spent their night/ early morning sitting across from me while we work, I love you v much)

“I’m gonna die.”

“Non.”

“I’m going to fail out of Harvard.”

“Non.”

“Yon.”

Logan’s eyes flicked up over the edge of the wooden table divider and narrowed, the green made bright by the black band of his chunky headphones. “You’re not failing out.”

“Might.” Finn slumped further into the palm of his hand. Another half-inch of Logan disappeared on the opposite side of their table. They had been here for hours. His body ached. His mind fizzled softly, like bacon fried so long it crumbled at the first touch.

Huh. Maybe he could use that in his paper. Reformation-era literary techniques had to fit somewhere in there.

A sigh gusted out of Logan; Finn straightened just enough to peek over the mahogany separating them. Blunt fingertips pressed against the inner corners of his eyes and turned the skin white, then dragged along the first hints of exhausted shadows before pulling down until Logan had to blink. He caught Finn watching and the almost of a smile shimmered across his face before he pointedly pulled his headphones back over his ears and bent his head to his notebook.

They had learned their lesson from midterms season—any tables where they could see each other only led to hours upon hours of talking instead of studying. But working alone was not an option (not that Finn had ever suggested it), so. Dividers. They had blinders on the sides, too. Finn sort of felt like he had been put in a filing box when they worked here.

“Lo,” he hissed. The scratch of a mechanical pencil answered. “Logan.”

A girl at the table next to them shot him an unamused look. Finn hoped his smile seemed apologetic, or at least sincere.

“Tremzy.”

The toe of a worn-out sneaker found his ankle. Solid, but gentle.

“Fucker,” Finn whispered, hiding his grin behind their divider.

A puff of air would have rustled his notes if they had been studying at their usual place at the dining room table. He listened to Logan scribble; always stilted when his hands got tired. Their room would smell like Tiger Balm tonight. He’d get to see the funny little wrinkle of Logan’s nose, too. Warm light from the swirling green lamps beside them made his hair glow chestnut and maple. It curled at the ends from his shower after practice, now far enough gone that each thick lock was mostly dry. He hated going to bed damp.

A faint ripping noise made the girl next to them glance over. Something gave a faint plastic rattle. Finn had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep his laugh back when Logan’s hand appeared over the divider and haphazardly taped a torn corner of notebook paper to Finn’s side.

SHUT. WORKING.

Reformation literature could wait.

Finn’s pen smudged blue streaks across the side of his palm. He took Logan’s note and carefully peeled the tape off, then smoothed the curling edge over the section he had torn from his own notes.

On what?????

The sliver of Logan’s back he could see heaved.

Finn waited for a long moment.

The tape came free with a nigh-imperceptible snick.

Econ. Logan’s fingernails were ragged at the edges from biting.

Econ-your-mom-ics.

The crumpled-up note came sailing back over without a response—he caught it half an inch from his forehead and tucked it into the waterbottle pouch of his backpack before carefully sliding his chair back and leaning forward, far enough to rest his chin on top of the divider.

Logan’s work station was a disaster. Hurricane Tremblay has entered the building, he thought as Logan’s marking of a demand curve slowed to a stop. Highlighters of three different sizes were scattered among half a dozen pens and dull pencils. A thin layer of used-eraser confetti littered every page and worksheet.

Logan had switched to a blue pen—one of Finn’s, he realized. Likely borrowed during their last study session. Finn pressed his chin harder to the wooden edge and waited. Always patient. Logan would crack soon.

Ever so slowly, Logan looked up at him from under his lashes. His hands flattened over his notes. He would have looked immensely unimpressed if Finn didn’t know better.

The cold press of a ballpoint to the tip of his nose was…not unwelcome, but not unexpected. Finn scrunched his face up and heard a short, amused exhale. The pen retreated. Logan was really smiling now, tiny and mischievous. “There.” He was always better at whispering than Finn. “Rudolph’s fucked-up cousin.”

Finn had to duck into his sweater at that, shoulders shaking with the force of a contained bark of laughter. The girl next to them made a show of turning up her music in her earbuds. God, he should feel bad, shouldn’t he? They should go home—go to their room and try one more time to be productive without the laws of Harvard’s libraries looming over them. Percy had been trying to convince him to bring one of the library lamps home for ages.

Logan finally looked away from his notebook, grinning wildly as he shook his head and gave Finn’s forehead a light push. The chair creaked when Finn sat again and scooted forward. He didn’t even want to think about how old these things were, or he’d start getting philosophical. It was much more fun to wax poetic about the importance of Harvard history regarding antique chairs when he was drunk and in Will’s care for the evening.

Logan would listen, Finn thought as he woke his computer up and flexed his hands over the keyboard. Some of the letters were worn nearly bare from his fingers. Logan would laugh at him, but he would listen. He could hear it now. Okay, Harz. Uh-huh. Oh, really? Should I leave you and the chairs alone for a while?

No, no, he would say. I gotta show you. You gotta know.

Logan would shake his head again. Finn figured he’d have a fifty-fifty chance of getting Logan to come with him on a late-night library run versus letting him wrangle him back to bed. He’d be happy either way.

For now, Microsoft Word was waiting with a heading, six sources, and an impatient cursor tapping its foot over his bolded [TITLE!!!!] notation.

Midnight came and went between paragraphs four and five. The girl next to them packed her things five minutes later, slinging her satchel over her shoulder as if it weighed eight hundred pounds.

Logan dropped a pen—black, this time—just after one o’clock.

The library lights flickered when the clock hit 1:30. They gathered their things, not bothering to pack their bags, and relocated to the first floor’s 24-hour room with the rest of the pitiful souls relinquishing their night to the altar of academia.

Finn’s eyes began to burn at 2:37.

The first soft snore sounded at 2:51.

He had been so good. So good. He hadn’t bothered Logan at all, not counting the friendly slap to the back of his head when he came back from the bathroom. Nine glorious pages of semi-decent analysis were finally in existence.

The next snore was a touch louder, like Logan had breathed away whatever muffled it before. Finn leaned up on his elbows to see over the edge and smiled to himself at the curls pressed flat to spiraled aluminum. Logan’s lips were parted on the paper. His pencil—back to the pencil? Finn would never understand him—hung limp in the valley of his thumb. His other hand rested on the back of his neck, like he had been supporting himself on it before sleep made him slump right over.

“Tremz. Logan. Hey, number ten.”

Logan’s finger twitched.

Finn sat back, stretched his leg out, and landed a light kick on Logan’s shin. He heard a snort before Logan’s jolt reached his foot. “Calice de crisse—”

“Good morning.”

Logan was blinking hard and slow when Finn leaned up again, both hands wrapped around the table edge and maybe, maybe, one foot on earth. “When time?”

“It’s three o’clock.”

“…practice?”

“In the morning.”

Logan nodded, slothlike, eyelids drooping. Graphite stamped the round part of his cheek; he scratched at it, yawned, and stretched both arms out in front of himself in an Oscar-worthy performance of someone who was any kind of awake.

“We should go back,” Finn suggested.

“Non. All-nighter.”

“It’s officially morning.”

Logan exhaled through his nose for several seconds. He was staring into the middle distance again, right along the seam of their barrier. “I have another chapter.”

I ‘ave anuzzer shapter. Soft, and low, and raspy. So close to his morning voice, but not quite. Finn nudged him with his toe. His heart gave a flip at Logan’s light frown. “I’m going to run through my paper one more time,” he offered. “We can head out after that.”

Logan looked up at him, the picture of confusion. “You’re going running?”

“Editing.”

“Oh.” He nodded. “Okay.”

“Finish your chapter.”

“Okay.”

He cracked his knuckles twice before bending over his notes. One hand rubbed through the back of his hair, left long for the end of the season. He’d probably get it cut over winter break. Finn sort of didn’t want him to.

There was a throbbing behind Finn’s eye that had started somewhere around his first attempt at a concluding paragraph. His fingertips were numb and his wrists were sure to hurt as soon as he stopped writing. He wasn’t sure when exactly his mouth had gone so dry, but it had, and he spared a moment’s thought toward the drink station in the lobby. They always had coffee around finals—it was decent, if a little burnt. He wondered if they’d have mint tea.

Logan’s pencil moved audibly slower than before. Loops and swirls and scratches, a language Finn would never understand. Words were his place: endless white pages and safe letters to curl up in. But numbers and statistics, the things with straight answers, were all for Logan’s clever mind.

Those same words echoed in his head and blurred as he scrolled through a halfhearted read-through. It wasn’t long before he shut his dying laptop and finally let it rest, sagging low in his chair. He turned his face to the ceiling and closed his eyes. It would be easy to fall asleep here, with Logan’s foot against his and the gentle sounds of the library wrapping him up.

“Harzy.”

“ ‘m awake.”

“I’m not.” Something tapped the back of Finn’s hand. “Allez, or I’m leaving without you.”

As if. Finn took the proffered hand without opening his eyes and let Logan pull him up, groaning at the pinch in his legs. The crinkle of paper as he shoved it into his bag made him wince, but that was a problem for the morning. It looked like Logan hadn’t bothered to organize, either.

“Zipper,” Logan reminded him, not looking up from his phone. “I don’t want to hear you complain about more lost pens.”

“Thanks.”

“That’s why you have me.”

How Finn wished that was true.

“You know, I read something kind of neat earlier,” he said as they left the study room. At Logan’s hum of mild interest, he turned to walk backward for a few steps. “I hope the most beautiful thing you ever see is another human. Kinda nice to think about, huh?”

“Hmm.”

“I dunno.” Logan tapped them out of the library with his ID. Finn hadn’t bothered to reach for his own in a long time. He smiled to himself as December bit their cheeks, jostling Logan’s shoulder at the first scrape of brick below their feet. “I like it.”

“You would.”

“Shut up.”

“Non.”

“Yon.”

#finn ohara #logan tremblay #finnlo #harvard finnlo #coast to coast #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #fluff #studying #all-nighters

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squiddy-god · 3 months

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Ryusei comfort fic

Wrote this in my feel bad era btw , as always sorry for the delay but I'm back darlings

Tw : angst with comfort, rich people shit, no pronouns because bi Ryu is cannon actually <3 and I need more rep. Use of pet names beauty, doll and handsome

His eyes were beautiful, lovely hues of brown reminiscent of the antique nautical books he adored. Umber like the peeling boards of old ships, or the orange streaks that danced along dusk and kissed dawn. His beautiful eyes that always held nothing but adoration for you, a burning want seated just behind the black expanse of his pupils. Today those eyes haunt you. Searing into you as your own eyes watered under his gaze.

Truly you had kept stronger than stone, smile unbending as you simply took the verbal onslaught unleashed by the head of the nanami family. The way you carried yourself in your walk, the slight calluses forming on the palms of your hands from work, the slight tan of being in the sun. All indicative of the gap between the two of you, the class divide that separated you from that hairy air of privilege. Throughout all of it you had remained strong, but even stone cracks, and those beautiful brown eyes had broken you.

Soft rushed footsteps padded along the hardwood floors, elegant French style double doors passing in a blur as you walked down the halls of the nanami estate with an urgency akin to a gnawing paranoia. The need to escape choking your pulse with every second you spent in these ornate corridors.

Cursing to yourself as you came to a particular set of doors, realizing too late that you had instinctively gone to Ryusei's room. Luck seemed to hate you on this particular day seeing as how the oak doors flew open for you to be met with an ecstatic ryusei, insufferable smirk morfing beautifully into his smile as he turned his full attention to you.

“Ah ha! Just the beauty I always want to see-” the tears stung your eyes as your breathing hitched and fell off to that bottomless pit in your stomach.

The motion was quick, a wordless understanding flashing in his eyes as if he had always known this would happen, and really, he probably did. “Come on now doll, what's with those tears?” His hand cupped the back of your head, fingers planted firmly against you as if he was both your cradle and protector. You pressed yourself further against his regardless of the voice screaming to shut away and leave before he has a chance to agree with them. His other hand immediately splayed across your back, locking you against him. “Told you we weren't a good match huh?” He asked, voice holding the lilt of a smile. You nod looking up at him as much as his grip would allow. Then you see it. Those beautiful eyes, and that gorgeous fire they always held, not dampened, not exatiguiesed, but raging as if gas was spilled in his head. “got yourself all worked up over them?” His laugh was deep and reverberated from somewhere deep in his chest. “When have I ever been in the listening mood? When I want something I'll move the sea and mountains to get it” his hands released you, oddly callused fingers worn from sailing came to wipe your cheeks free from tears. “And how could I not want such a handsome love like you?” He asked, that beautiful fire not flickering once.

#dr stone #dr stone x reader #ryusei x reader #dr stone ryusui #dcst x reader #dcst ryusui #ryusui x reader #dcst

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lumisails · 2 months

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Black Sails really changes everything, especially if you're a pirate fan. Which may sound obvious but what I mean is... I've always loved Pirates of The Caribbean so fucking much, some of my favorite movies of all time. And then today I... Was looking at this Jack Sparrow figure I have and it... Dawned on me. The whole thing about pirates being stories. Being portrayed as a stereotype of the actual people who lived through that era, people who were probably closer to what we see in Black Sails than what we see in PoTC... And yet, we grow up with these stories. "Stories they tell their children". Treasure Island is a children's book. Most of the stories that feature pirates are meant to be told to children. It's just...Insane how now, at 32, I'm presented with something that changed my entire view on something that has been with me ever since I was a kid. I can't even remember when I started going crazy about pirates?? It may have been bc of PoTC when I was like 11. But I know that I have watched Muppet's Treasure Island at a younger age and many of the things I watched growing up featured pirates in some episodes like Pokémon, Powerpuff Girls, Spongebob. Freaking Peter Pan and all of its adaptations.

And the same could be said to other types of figures that we mostly know stereotypes of. Fe, I am a Norse Pagan and I research and learn a lot about the ancient Norse people and they are very different from the stereotypical image we have of Vikings. And these are the examples I can think of rn because they are the ones that are most present in my life, but I'm pretty sure it goes beyond pirates and vikings.

And then, you can go beyond historical stuff. What about the way we see people who are not from the same culture as ours? Especially poc cultures. All we know are stories and said stories are often painted in a bad light. Sure, these people can advocate for themselves, but not everyone will do their research and try to learn what's beyond the stories.

This post definitely went way farther than where I first intended when I started it out lol. But I hope it all makes sense and that I don't sound completely insane. But at the end of the day, Black Sails changes the way you view the world itself.

#black sails #wow it's 1h30am and I'm here going nuts thinking about stories being true and untrue and whatnot #and how that relates to pretty much... everything like society as a whole and--#me a few months ago oh ppl are saying bs is not queer enough that sounds unfair from what I've heard about the show #maybe I'll watch it for funsies :)#me now well shit I will never be the same person ever again #lumi rambles

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missyourflight · 4 months

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some stuff i read and watched january - may

i had to stop doing f1 stuff (because it was making me miserable lol), redirected most of that energy into reading romance novels (occasionally other things but mostly romance novels lbr) and watching films. anyway now interview with the vampire's back and i'm fully deranged about that etc. highlights below!

black sails (s1 & 2 rewatch): i do enjoy s1 for my sins (marcus aurelius foreshadowing!) but it's Wild how much s2 kicks up a gear the instant they start properly pairing off flint and silver. coming back for the rest of the rewatch once i've calmed down about the vampires so the true devastation lies ahead etc. also i rewatched twelfth night for toby stephens reasons, his orsino remains a formative piece of nonsense

mary & george: i'm not going to get into the whole nicholas galitzine filmography deepdive i was compelled to do for reasons not even known to myself but i raced through this. very sexy obviously but often in a way transactional or empowering or tender without necessarily being romantic. like it's not reinventing the wheel but it felt like a more expansive presentation of intimacy than you usually see in a costume drama. tony curran great in this!

shōgun: god what a show!! epic and tragic and funny and specific and just like an unbelievable showcase for craft and talent. fuji forever

a moment of romance: andy lau so gorgeous i could die, neon bloody hong kong action with a love story that's almost chaste until they finally kiss and it's fire actually. the rain! sparklers! explosions! a motorcycle helmet that says "safety!" on it!

tampopo: spent way too much money on a bunch of criterion collection blu-rays and i Loved this one, even the freaky egg stuff. an all-time food film and also baby ken watanabe is there with a little bandana!

all that heaven allows: i always feel like i came to sirk backwards because i saw far from heaven first; did magnificent obsession and written on the wind as well and the colours are always gorgeous but this was far and away my favourite. at one point a teapot gets smashed and i gasped like my heart was breaking

thief: god this absolutely rips! unfortunately your girl Is a michael mann bro (austin butler heat 2 let's gooo) and incredibly into things like blowtorches and shots of windows exploding outwards like a shower of diamonds

challengers: feral about it obviously, itemised list of derangements here

la chimera: it's josh o'connor season and i loved this even more than challengers, there are moments in this that felt like miracles

emma. (2020): rewatched this with the blu-ray commentary which only made me love it more, also i've warmed on callum turner since i saw his trip to the criterion closet, what a babe

queen of the damned: watched this in a vampire fever and in the spirit of "how bad can it be?" and the answer was: worse even than that

furiosa: a mad max saga: i really felt the saga of it all, like the almost mythic telling of it, and hemsworth's great and the action's great, but most importantly OH GOD TOM BURKE IS SO HOT AS PRAETORIAN JACK. OH GOD HE'S SO HOT AND STOIC AND SOLID and i was not prepared for it to be a Romance like that oh god

land of milk and honey by c pam zhang: near-future dystopian unbelievably sexy food book, i still think about some of those images. a duck breast split open like a geode!! fuck!!

the spymasters series by joanna bourne: i haven't loved a romance series like this in a While, it's napoleonic era spies! everyone's in love and constantly betraying and shooting each other! it's Not lymond but it was twisty and detailed enough to scratch the lymond itch for me. you can basically read them in any order because they weren't written chronologically, but take my advice and start with the black hawk, because then you can play "what's hawker up to?" in all the other books and hurt your feelings, then go back to the spymaster's lady and do the rest in publication order. i love my terrible spy family!!

practice by rosalind brown: i'm so obsessed with this, it's about a student trying to write an essay but really it's about shakespeare and yoga and the elaborate gay fictions she's constantly making up in her head

henry henry by allen bratton: henry iv by way of brideshead and patrick melrose, i deeply loved this and i deeply loved this hal. one for the hal/hotspur yuletide enjoyers etc

you should be so lucky by cat sebastian: i also read and loved her cabot series but this one really got to me. as a brit i can never truly be a baseball understander but this crossed the bull durham/everybody wants some!! line of making me yearn about it a bit

kaliane bradley, the ministry of time: loved this so wildly that i committed multiple counts of reverse wage theft to dazedly copy the best parts into my notes app and yowl about it with my friends who'd had arcs. sexy time travel roommate situation, my beloved

add me on goodreads or letterboxd if you're into that sort of thing etc

#monthly media #sophposting

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shade-pup-cub · 8 months

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Febuwhump 2024, Day 5: Legend & Warriors - Rope Burns

Fandom: LOZ/Linked Universe

With memories haunting his dreams, Legend goes for a needed walk that leads him to the ocean. His Mer curse was wanting to be used, but when Warriors comes looking for him, it isn't only Legend who has eyes on the Captain. Sirens lurked just under the surface.

CW: slight blood, minor injuries, mild language (its Legend... its gonna happen)

Just like the rest of the Chain, Legend had secrets. They had only recently found out about Wolfie being Twilight, though he already knew. Only Twilight and Sky knew of his pink rabbit form, but no one knew of the curse laid on him and it was itching to be used.

He kept away from water for a reason, grumbling every time someone splashed him. It wasn’t what he turned into that he hated, it was the transformation part itself. It was painful in a way that only the Old Man and Twilight would understand.

They had once again landed in another unknown era between heroes and they guessed this one was right after the flood that Wind talked about since there seemed to only be clusters of islands all around, no civilization to be seen.

Legend had woken from his restless sleep that was filled with dreams of a girl with red hair and a voice that was so sweet. There was no going back to sleep when she showed up in his dreams, so he stood quietly to make his way to the person on watch.

Warriors gave a small smile as he approached. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nope. I’m going to go for a walk, clear my head.”

The Captain’s brow furrowed with worry at that. “Need some company? My shift ends in less than an hour.”

“I’m a big boy, Cap. I can handle a simple walk by myself.”

“Legend.”

“Warriors.”

“If you aren’t back in an hour, I’m going to come looking for you.”

Legend waved him off as he made his way through the entanglement of bodies that were still asleep.

Wind was Starfished partly on Sky, who was smiling in his sleep, Sail Cloth tucked under his chin. Four and Hyrule were still back to back where Legend had left them. He had been on the other side of Hyrule to make sure the young teen knew that he was safe as he slept.

On the other side of camp, Time was laid on his back, Wild under his right arm and the blue tunic secured in his fist. Twilight- Wolfie at the moment- was draped over Wild’s legs and hip. The group had found out the hard way that Wild sleepwalks and he had gotten into some dangerous situations while doing so. Thus Twilight and Time made it their duty to keep him where he slept.

Legend fondly shook his head, though he would never admit to caring about this group of crazy heroes. Caring meant attachment. Attachment meant parting. Parting meant pain. Legend had too much of that in his life already, he didn’t want it with his companions.

Breaking through the treeline he took a deep breath of the salt in the air. The sand was not normal to him or the others since it was black sand and when it was stepped on near the water, it glowed in blue and purples with micro life. Where there was such beauty, there was always danger.

He walked the shore, past a few rock formations that stuck out into the water. He chose to go further down the coast where a cavern was visible due to the low tide. Looking around one more time to make sure no one had followed him, he took off his tunic, cap and boots, leaving him in his shorts. The water was warm to his surprise and he allowed himself to enjoy it, a purr like humm leaving his chest.

With some hesitation, he sat in the deepest part of the water that still hid him behind the rocks. He bit the inside of his palm when the curse took hold. The transformation of two legs becoming one tail and fins was the most excruciating pain he had ever felt. Bones were broken and reformed, scales grew out of the thick skin. Gills formed and opened up along his ribs while his hands became webbed. His eyes were a bit fogged from the protective film over them, but it would clear when he went under water.

Everything about him was dramatic and beautiful. The gold and pinks with an accent of black shimmered in the water and he admired his long flowy tail once the pain subsided.

Not even thinking about how long he had been gone, he froze in fear when he heard Warriors calling out his name.

“Legend? Leg?”

He sat up in the water that came up to his chest, debating on swimming a little ways out or crawling back onto the sand. Going back on to the sand would give him his legs back, but with the cost of a pain. No doubt Warriors would hear that.

“Vet, where did you go?” Warriors was getting too close.

There was a splash in the water that caught Legend’s attention since there hadn’t been any disturbances since he left camp. It clearly held Warriors attention too as Legend peeked around the rocks to see what it was. Warriors walked out to the tip of the rock formation, peering into the water curiously as he went to one knee.

Black, long, silky hair was seen first, then the pale skin. The voice of the person was hypnotic and loring as they sang. A hand from under the water came up to touch Warriors cheek, brushing hair back from his eyes.

‘How is it that everywhere we go, this dumb Pretty Boy attracts-’ Legend cut off his thoughts. That wasn’t just a woman in the water…

“WARS, NO!” Legend hollered out to warn the other, but Warriors was too far gone into the spell of the Siren that now had her lips to the Captains.

Effortlessly, Wars was pulled into the rising water by slender arms around his neck and Legend knew how these things ended. He wasn’t going to let one of his bro- fellow heroes be another victim to the creatures lurking below.

He pushed off the rocks to get into deeper water, wishing he had done it sooner or just agreed to the company in the first place so this would have been prevented. Submerged fully, he kicked his tail to propel him to the depths where Warriors was being dragged down to. The fact that there were six Sirens all twirling around Wars didn’t falter him and neither did the fang filled mouths or the hisses that greeted him.

Two of the Sirens, each carrying a single head spear, screeched in a high frequency before moving in to attack the invading hero. Weaponless, Legend dove deeper, hoping to swim under all the action before rocketing up, snatching Warriors and getting the hell out of the infested waters. Of course that is not what happened.

Instead, a spear was launched towards him at frightening speed, clipping his side. Red mixed with blue water, but he didn’t have time to think about it as the Siren who cut him was gaining on him. He looked to the spear that was sticking up from the sand below. Legend raced for it, gills rapidly drawing in water for the oxygen needed.

Both hands gripping the thick spear, he spun around, swiping the first monster away. The second one didn’t have time to slow down and he used that to his advantage. He thrusted the spear upwards, impaling the second Siren through the chest.

The first one grabbed the end of the spear, then Legend’s arm. He gave a swift punch to the nose and used his tail to batter it away. His spear thoroughly stuck, he tried to pry the dying Siren’s weapon from its hand with no luck. Gnashing teen headed for his neck, he pivoted the spear he was still fighting for to the side, catching the original bastard like he had with the other.

A split second thought of twisted humor came to mind, ‘Looks like Wild’s fish skewers.’ The sound of clicks and whistles brought him back to reality though.

There were four more of those monsters swirling around Warriors as he stayed under their charm, all trying to get him to their nest, wherever that was. Legend was going to have to play this carefully. Sirens needed a fresh kill to feed off of and every time they kissed Wars, it was a breath of air to his lungs and caused him to be paralyzed by the spell. Take that away at the wrong time and he was going to drown.

Stick to the plan.

Legend used the ocean’s sandy floor for cover, stirring it up into a murky mess. He pushed off the sandy floor, dodging the Sirens and grabbed Warriors under his arms. He could see the light from the moon dancing on the surface of the water, heart hopeful that he was about to breach with the Captain in tow.

Claws dug into the meat of his tail, opening it up some for the salt water to pour into. He screamed and wished he could join the bubbles upwards that left him. Another set of claws grabbed his largest fin, slicing it into two sections. That would cause a problem with swimming.

The other two Sirens had swam above the heroes and Legend looked around for anything of use. He should have thought about it sooner, but he hadn’t. Warriors never went anywhere without his sword that was currently strapped to his back. Legend pulled it and tried to push the Captain out of harm's way towards the surface. A part of him almost begged that one of the Sirens would take him again if it meant he was given air. And one of them did.

Sword in hand, Legend curled back downwards and the blade caught the nearest Siren across the face, making it bellow in pain, but also made it let go. One attacked from behind, jolting him forward and it latched its teeth onto his shoulder like the Zoras in his era always tried to do when he got near or in the rivers. He angled the sword over his shoulder, praying he didn’t stab himself as he thrusted the sword through the Siren’s skull.

The one that he got across the face was back with two ropes in hand, one tossed to the one Siren that wasn’t “attending” to Warriors, who hadn’t moved a muscle in nearly ten minutes. Dodging the attempts to be roped, Legend kept charging the two creatures. When he would, that one would flee, the other rounding around his backside.

He lunged one more time, sword oh so close to evening the numbers, but he had gotten ahead of himself. The one behind him slammed into his back and wrapped its rope around his hips, pulling it tight before getting out of range of the sword that whipped around.

Legend roared in anger, eyes locking with the monster in front of him. He raised the sword up to cut the rope, but he dropped it due to the second rope wrapping around his throat. His hands automatically went to grapple with the newest one as he began being pulled backwards away from Warriors. He could still breath nearly perfectly with the ropes where they were since his gills weren’t interfered with, but that didn’t make it any less uncomfortable or difficult.

A flash of blue in the corner of his vision and he saw the lone Siren pulling Warriors into the darkness of the ocean. Panic and determination swirled in his veins, pumping adrenaline through him. He pulled against his foes with no care to the ropes digging into his skin, making it raw. He could care later for the rope burns, they had stocked up on poisons before the last portal appeared. He could care for all of his injuries once Warriors was back on dry land and these things were killed for targeting him in the first place.

The ropes were pulled taunt, now cutting deep into his skin to the point that he was sure that his skin would break and bleed. He still didn’t care, he needed to get to Wars, but the more he fought the further that seemed to get. He reached one last time towards the fading image of blue and tan, but it disappeared. Desperately he pulled more, black dots filling the outer parts of his vision.

He finally let his body go limp, giving the rope some slack. He floated there for a moment, bringing back his sight and oxygen rich blood to his brain. Though he floated, he never let go of the rope that was in his left hand at his neck. He kept his eyes mostly closed as the Sirens swam closer, most likely seeing if he was still alive.

A shadow passed over him, halting in front of his face and a clawed cold hand tilted his head from side to side. A few clicks that were moving away told him it was time. He moved quickly to wrap the ropes in both hands as he looped the section between his hands around the leaving Siren’s neck. His gills were on his ribs, but theirs were right below their ears, allowing him to effectively strangulate the monster.

Legend was pulled through the water as the Siren thrashed to get free. It tried to plow him into the underwater rock formations, drag him through the sand to disorient him, but he was relentless on his hold and his mission to get Warriors back. Who knew what was happening to him.

‘Oh look, sword!’ he thought as he was dragged across the sand next to it. Reaching a hand out he gripped the hilt, running the blade clean through between the shoulder blades in front of him. He never liked stabbing anything in the back, but Warriors was about to be out of time.

Getting a good breath in, sword still in hand, he followed the trail of bubbles, sand and the hint of blood. In this form, he was able to track the blood trail no matter how diluted it was. There was only one issue, his tail fins had holes torn into them from the fight. This was going to slow him down, reducing the clock for Wars even more.

“Fuck it!” Legend hollered at himself. He had been through worse, dealt with worse and made it, damn it! This was not going to cost a person's life. No matter how annoying and egotistical and stubborn Warriors was because Legend deep down cared and loved each and every one of those dumbass heroes that he has been so lucky to call his brothers!

He moved through the water like an apex predator hunting down its prey. He took in the scent of the blood trail through his gills, turning right, then left, diving under the reef's arch, another left then dove deeper down to where the water was darkest. There the nest laid and Warriors was about to be the sacrifice.

With rage and no plan, he pushed himself harder than ever, gaining speeds and ground. Seeing the one he had fought earlier protecting the other who was still dragging Warriors, Legend didn’t waste a second thought on barreling into it. The Siren seemed surprised by this and moved to get away, but Legend had no mercy to give it as he pierced the monster in the upper gut, knowing that was a slow way to go.

The final one that had taken part in the attack on the Captain looked back at him and dumped Warriors. Legend smirked, but it didn’t last long as he saw Warriors begin to wake from his spell. Legend swam to him, covering his mouth and nose so he wouldn’t take in water.

Wars first reaction was to fight, but Legend didn’t let go. “Hey, Cap, it’s me. It’s Legend. You’re safe now, but I need to get you to the surface. Do you understand?”

Warriors looked him over and nodded.

“Hang on to me.” After sheathing the borrowed sword, Legend gave him what would normally be a hug, letting the others arms go around his neck. Warriors could swim, but not as fast as Legend even with a damaged tail. He kept in the hiss from the tunic Warriors worn rubbing up against the damaged skin from the rope.

He made the turns to get back to where he had been, but with Warriors, who was bigger than him normally, he was weighed down. His muscles burned from the exertion to save the others' life before he couldn’t hold his breath any longer. That was approaching quickly as Warriors audibly struggled with spasming lungs that were in dire need of air.

“Hold on! We are almost there!”

Warriors let out a stream of bubbles and went limp in his arms, eyes rolling back.

“Cap? Stay with me!”

Seeing the moonlight on the water, Legend kicked his tail back and forth as hard as he could, begging for it to be enough. Breaching the surface, Legend turned Warriors still limp body around so they were back to chest. He looked for land, smiling from ear to ear when he recognized the island they had been on, fire in the distance. They had drifted a small distance closer than this nightmare had started.

Legend kept both arms around Warriors chest, only using his tail to make it to shore. The panic had truly set in as Warriors head lulled to the side, but not into the water speeding past them. Legend cupped the other man’s chin, redirecting it so he could breathe, only Warriors wasn’t breathing.

The landscape and the water no longer held the same beauty, nor did it call to Legend in the way it had when the curse was itching to be used. It was only hidden dangers that he couldn’t see.

The sharp rocks met him first, cutting his skin as the waves of high tide pushed and pulled them against the rocks. He struggled to keep Wars head up as another wave crashed over them, then threatened to rip the Captain from him. It was like the ocean was helping the Sirens to bring the nearly lost soul back to them.

He firmly gripped a rock that was almost out of arm's reach and used the incoming wave to surge them both forward. He tried to ignore the all-consuming pain as he pulled him and Wars up onto the sand, last rock carving a wound through his left set of gills, but he couldn’t as a scream was torn from his throat, tears falling from his eyes without permission to do so.

They finally made it to the shore, to the warm sand that changed colors when touched. To the sand that was now packing into his bleeding flesh. He let out another holler as he gave a last effort to pull Warriors up next to him. He placed a hand over Warriors mouth and nose-

“Cap?” Legend’s throat was raw and hoarse. He laid his head on the other’s chest to listen for any sign of life. Nothing. “Warriors, buddy, I need you to breathe.” He raked his knuckles over the too still of a sternum, trying to stimulate him to breathe.

“Shit. Shit! ” He hit Wars chest, nothing. Camp was in earshot surely and if he remembered correctly, Twilight was on third shift. “Help! Someone help!”

Legend would have done CPR, but he was beyond exhausted, unable to get up onto his hand and would be knees and still had too much water covering him to transform back. Though it was a curse, it was still magic. Magic that would drain him fully and not be able to call to anyone that was looking for them if he went back to his normal form, so he kept hit against Warriors chest over and over again, begging him out loud to wake up.

He didn’t hesitate to blow air into the others airways as he grew desperate. He would never forgive himself if Warriors died because of some dumb secret that the others wouldn’t have minded. He was just too stubborn and untrusting, yet Warriors had shown him full trust since the beginning.

Another breath.

Hit to the chest.

Another struggling breath.

Weaker hit to the chest. Legend was fading.

Warriors coughed, spewing water from his mouth. Legend let out a relieved sob, rolling Warriors to his side as best as he could.

In the distance were two figures that Legend could just make out as Wolfie and Time. “Over here!!” He felt the adrenaline dropping, darkness calling to him. He let out a soft, “Over here…”, placing a protective arm over Wars, then drifted to the sound of the waves and the warmth of the sand.

They were safe. Him and his brother were safe.

#ao3 writer #febuwhump 2024 #febuwhump #linked universe #hero of legend #hero of warriors #lu legend #lu warriors

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kcrabb88 · 1 year

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New Intro Post!

I feel like I've gotten a fair amount of new followers lately and also wanted to kind of put all my important links/info in one place, so hence, it is time for a new pinned post!

Fanfic Stuff!

I'm KChan88 over on A03! Link is here.

If you follow me for Les Mis (and other French nonsense) the fics I'm most known for are Les Hommes de la Misericorde and Between the Soul and the Star (plus, a lot of other Les Amis fic).

If you follow me for yet more French nonsense, i.e. Phantom of the Opera, my big fics in that fandom are my Lesbian Girl Raoul fics, She Was Bound to Love You and When She Heard You Sing.

If you follow me for magic space monks, i.e. Star Wars, I'm most known for my Shoulder the Sky series, which includes the RoTS fix-it of the same name and its sequel, Whispers From the Dead. I also write a lot of QuinObi fic and run a week for them each October. You can find the sideblog for that here. I love the Jedi, Obi-Wan, Anakin, Padme, Quinlan, the Skywalker twins, Kanan, Ezra, and you know, many more.

I'm currently working on a new prequels-era long fic called Kill the Lights! I've also got a QuinObi AIDS Crisis AU going now called Blood Makes Noise.

Original Writing Stuff!

I also have an ongoing historical pirates series called The Constellation Trilogy, of which the first two installments (Sailing by Orion's Star and Sailing by Carina's Star) are out now! The third installment, Sailing by Gemini's Star, came out in June 2024. This series started out as a Les Mis fic many moons ago, so if you're looking for that fic it is now an original trilogy! All the important buy links and other info (newsletter, website, other social media) for the pirate trilogy is right here in one handy place! And if you read the books and like them, feel free to drop a review on GR or Amazon! It always helps.

Other Stuff!

This blog is a grab bag of all kinds of things! Les Mis, musical theater, PIRATES (including the best TV show ever, Black Sails), history and historical fiction, queer stuff, fanfic and original writing, Star Wars (Obi-Wan my dearly beloved and the prequels especially), and other books and movies and TV shows I like.

Also I'm very friendly so please feel free to message me or send asks!

#Intro post #Been meaning to make one of these for a while since I feel the blurb at the top doesn't have enough info #Anyway hello followers old and new I love you all #KCrabb rambles

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thekissofaphrodite · 8 months

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𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ 📌

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ Hello! My name is Krystal, and I'm the owner of this blog! I'm Syrian 🇸🇾 and I was born on the 20th of September! English isn't my first language. I am Bisexual, my pronouns are She/Her

★﹐Masterlist．﹗﹑

!Requests: Closed!

જ⁀➴ Please read my blog rules first before requesting! (If I haven't replied or responded to your request, it might be violating my blog rules!)

જ⁀➴ The average wait of request might take 3 - 7 days! I'm always active, although I am a student, that's why synchronising schoolwork and request might be a hassle for me. But I am trying to make requests as soon as possible.

જ⁀➴ I write my fanfics MOSTLY on my phone because it's much more convenient, I tend to write in SCHOOL, rather than my house bc I like to keep myself entertained in breaktimes, But overall my FFs are still Proofread!

જ⁀➴ Collaborations with other writers and Monthly writing prompts are the best! So if you want to collab or write prompts with me, That'll be awesome!

જ⁀➴ I do not appreciate my works being posted in another social media platform without my consent! If you're trying to repost my work, at least tag me or give me credits!

જ⁀➴ Comments, Likes and Reposts are deeply appreciated by me! ε(´｡•᎑•`)っ 💕 Don't be afraid to submit a request ✨️

「 ✦ Fandoms that I write for ✦ 」

Harry Potter (Marauders Era Only)

Percy Jackson

Blood of Zeus

Scream

Black Sails/ Treasure Planet (Mostly Captain Flint and Max)

Shadow and Bone

Narnia

Greek Mythology

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

🎀🪞🩰🦢🕯️

#thekissofaphrodite #navigation

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aintgonnatakethis · 9 months

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Tag game: tag 9 people you’d like to get to know better

I was tagged by @bagheerita thank you! ❤️️

Last song: Inmate 8576 by Adam Jensen

Currently watching: Motive, a Canadian police procedural which has the hot as fuck Louis Ferreira as one of the leads. Highly recommend 👍

Three ships: Any combination of the three SGU boys Telford, Rush, and Young, though I'll count that as one for interest's sake. I've been reading a fair bit of Daniel Craig era Bond/Q recently and something I always like is James Flint/John Silver from Black Sails!

Favorite color: Red

Currently consuming: A baguette.

First ship: I think classic era Doctor/Master, specifically 3/Delgado. Grew up watching reruns of it and their swordfight was a big highlight.

Relationship status: Will have been with my boyfriend for 12 years this March, been together since we were 18.

Last movie: The Killer, with Michael Fassbender in it. It was... kinda bad lol

Currently working on: Chapter 4 of the second part of my SGU vampire AU, which I had no idea was going to take over so much of my brain when I started writing part 1 earlier this year. Young's gonna have my teeth marks in his brain by the time I'm done with him!

Tagging (no pressure): @judgeverse @queerautism @transmascpetewentz @eldritch-gay-frog @paracosim @emptyblankvoid @tfagswag @tigerinkangel @yharnamsnewslug

#tag game #about me #writeblr #mine #bagheerita

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free-for-all-fics · 2 years

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Either Namor or Attuma fic ideas. Pls tag me if you write or get inspired by any of these. Like always, there are no rules. (Warning: Some of these may possibly have Dark! Fic leanings/potential and will be marked with 🥀. If Dark! Fics aren’t your thing, that’s okay. Just ignore those prompts. Please don’t harass me or others or start arguments in the comments. Thank you.)

1. While scuba diving in an underwater cave system full of beautiful stones and underwater plants, you get lost. Trying to escape, you find a trident. Upon touching this trident, millions of voices ring out, "The Princess/Queen has returned." (up to you if familial or romantic story).

2. The Blue Lagoon AU where you and Attuma/Namor are just humans who get shipwrecked and stranded on an island. You fall in love as you build a home there over the years. Possibly takes place in the Victorian era.

3. You work as a mermaid performer for an aquarium, and on your day off you take your tail out to the beach to play in the ocean. You're soon surprised by a group of Wakandans, who, having mistaken you for an actual mermaid, are begging you to help them rescue their kidnapped princess from Talokan. Wait, what? You’re struggling to process any of what was just said. You can hold your breath for a long time by human standards, but not that long.

4. Ponyo AU where either Namor or Attuma have a very small daughter who’s curious and in love with the surface to the point she slips away from the sea and befriends a human child. Namor or Attuma tries to bring his child back to Talokan, but the girl is like 😠 because she likes this human!! The human is her best friend now!! “Daddy go away can’t you see we’re sailing in a boat, eating ham sandwiches, making sand castles and other fun kid stuff!!”

🥀5. You're a deep sea welder. You've noticed a hatch on the seabed through which a light flickers for a while. One day, you check it out. To your surprise, you see the panicked face of your friend who went missing, through the hatch glass. They’ve been kept prisoner in Talokan all this time and you offer to take their place. Beauty and the Beast AU

6. A woman gives birth to a girl who's been cursed to slowly transform into a “sea monster”. She tries desperately to make her child normal, to the detriment of her daughter. As reader grows into an adult and continues to change, her mother fears the day that she will leave her for the ocean, especially when she goes off to college and meets a man who claims to be from the sea. Sort of Hades/Persephone AU.

7. Ever After “a bird may love a fish, but where would they live?” AU

8. Period drama AUs. Bridgerton, Jane Austen, victorian AU, regency AU, gimme that good stuff but with Namor or Attuma.

9. After getting shipwrecked on an island you’ve never heard about, you meet a princess who asks you to help her take back her kingdom. She mistook you for a warrior, and misunderstood everything you said. You have never fought a battle in your life. You just wanna go home. You’re far too tired and hungry for this.

10. Creature from the Black Lagoon AU. During an expedition, reader is noticed by Namor or Attuma, who admires her beauty and falls in love with her from afar over the course of however many months. I just want to fall in love with and be carried away bridal style by a fishman to his underwater home, my dudes.

11. Shape of Water AU where Attuma/Namor is held captive in a facility and over time forms a special bond with reader, eventually falling in love with her. They bridge their language barrier and when reader helps him escape, oh fuck turns out he is a god.

12. When you were a child, you had an imaginary friend around your age who lived in the sea. You used to go on adventures with him. The last time you saw him was when you were teenagers, when you shared in a strange personal ceremony where you joined hands. Now, after all these years, a hooded Attuma/Namor arrives on your doorstep claiming to be your betrothed and tells you that you must come to Talokan with him at once. It’s not safe here. (Could take place in a different time period/timeline. Either way, let’s pretend reader and Namor/Attuma were either born around the same time or age at about the same rate/speed so the age gap isn’t weird and we divert the creepy “adult Namor meets reader when she’s a child” thing. Maybe reader isn’t exactly human. Maybe she’s a mutant too. Idk. Don’t think too hard about it.)

🥀13. A scuba diver was in the middle of exploring a shipwreck when they discover a body. It’s the body of a young woman and it looks oddly intact. Like she just fell asleep. But the ship’s been down here for years. The diver is in the middle of contemplating this when the body’s eyes open. The woman is you, and Attuma/Namor is furious that someone dare disturb his love while you were resting. Why are you in this situation? Who knows. Maybe you were dying from an incurable disease, maybe Namor/Attuma was faced with your mortality after a near death experience. The why and the how is up to you. Sort of Sleeping Beauty AU.

14. You kayak every day, and over time some of the dolphins in the bay have started swimming along with you as you kayak. One day, the dolphins are acting oddly. After much chattering, and bumping into your boat, three of them push you and your kayak out to sea, as if commanded to by an unseen presence. Suddenly you’re surrounded by blue skinned people and they all have weapons pointed at you. A man with wings on his ankles hovers above you. Well, damn. This was not in your summer getaway plans.

15. You are stranded on a gloomy beach after a shipwreck. The only other survivor is your loyal dog after you saved it from the burning ship. The full moon shines on the dark water, where debris of the wreckage are floating. Suddenly, you hear something in the woods. You turn around and see someone walking towards you... (Possibly Little Mermaid AU? Idk. I just love that scene when Eric stays on the burning ship to save his dog, Max.)

16. Pirate AU? You were born with special eyes. The sea is as clear as glass to you. By the time you’re old enough to join a ship’s crew, you’re smart enough not to tell them about everything you’ve seen below the waves.

17. The red string is tied around your finger and lets it lead you to your soulmate, someone who understands you. You’re a navigator and a cartographer, so when your string leads you to an unexplored part of the sea not marked on your maps, you think it must be a mistake. It’s not.

🥀18. You and your parents are labeled eccentric. You’ve all avoided the ocean, yet when they’re killed, you arrange a sea burial for them. As their bodies sink, you watch the rest of your family swim up from the murky depths below to take them home, and some of them pause to wave at you. How is this happening. Is this a vivid nightmare or a haunting reality? Are you in the twilight zone?

19. You're a novice shipwreck treasure hunter. One day you dig up a map that seems very old, all of the continents and islands are correct, but the map ends at places with waterfalls or hidden underwater cave tunnels. You see an X that reads "only way out". Only way out of where? What’s down there?

20. You are riding your boat through a fog. Suddenly, you come upon an island ringed by shipwrecks. On closer inspection, the entire island is an overgrown pile of ships, all from different cultures and eras. As you near the shore, you see a bunch of blue skinned people and a man flying above them. They seem to be burning something. They spot you. Oh no.

21. You’ve just survived a shipwreck and pull yourself onto a small island. From the shade of a palm tree a man steps out and says “Well well well. We meet again. But this time the advantage is mine!” You have no idea who this guy is or what he’s talking about.

22. You’re a young Aztec woman. Your canoe gets caught in a torrent and you black out and wake up alone on an unknown beach, where you see a golden glow in the distance. Describe the first year of your life in Talokan. Could take place centuries in the past before the canon timeline.

🥀23. You’ve just inherited a mysterious Aztec looking, revolving puzzle box from your late grandfather. In the note that came with it, it states, “this puzzle box will reset every hour, each time to a new sequence, but the prize inside will change your life forever. Good luck.” Sort of Hellraiser inspired.

24. You’re an archaeologist studying the Aztec and you’ve just uncovered an artifact with your newborn child’s name and birthdate on it.

25. You love building sand sculptures on the beach, but recently someone has been changing your sculptures, moving them, or making copies. This time, you are going to hide and watch, to see what is happening.

26. After you finished college, you went on what you thought would be a dream cruise vacation. Instead you were the sole survivor of a sunken ship. Despite many difficulties and challenges, you managed to find some comfort and joy on a deserted island. Fish and crabs seemed to wash up on shore daily, providing you with food and you kept finding useful items you could create clothing or other supplies with. On the tenth anniversary of your life on the island, you find the following words written on the sand on the beach: “I’m a friend. I think It is time we finally meet.”

🥀27. Your dad always said that putting your ear to a conch shell sounded like the ocean. While walking along the beach, you come across one such seashell. You decide to relive childhood memories of listening to the sound of ocean waves, but are frightened by what you hear. “Help me!” A distressed voice calls. “Help me! Please!”

28. Iron Giant inspired AU. The “Hey Dean, watch this!” scene except it’s Reader who’s swimming in the water and being like, “Come in, the water’s great!” While failing miserably at hiding the fact it’s freezing. Meanwhile Namor is sitting smugly in the sand, just trying to relax like “Haha no thanks,” until a HUGE wave crashes over him, leaving him totally soaked and dampening his mood (no pun intended) 😂

OR reader is a single mother and waitress and Namor is an artist who comes into the diner and over time falls in love with reader and bonds with the kid, becoming their dad. Possibly modern AU.

#namor x reader #namor imagine #namor x you #namor x y/n #namor fanfiction #namor fic #attuma x reader #fic ideas #some of these I got from Reddit so I can’t take all the credit #others are my own random thoughts #don’t think too hard about it

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reinarandraw · 2 years

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Title: The Last Voyage Fandom: Our Flag means Death Pairing: Sam Bellamy / Izzy Hands Rating: E Word Count: 116,820 Tags: Israel Hands-centric, Soft Israel Hands, Gratuitous Smut, Fluff, Light Angst, Romantic Comedy but sexier, Original Character(s),canon characters will make appearance, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Edward Teach's Kraken Era

Izzy Hands thought his life was ending when Blackbeard banished him. With no ship and no captain to serve, he was ready to just drink his misery away. Then he met with Sam Bellamy who offered him a chance to sail with The Last Voyage as his first mate.

Hello tumblr! May I offer you a novel length Bellhands I wrote since October? It’s a romcom with smut, so it’s basically a smutty pirate novel. I have tons of fun writing this one. I’m a bit sad that it’s done, but it’s done!

Thank you for those who have read it! Below is some details from the fic so there’ll be spoiler! This my commentary and fun facts about this fic so if you want to read it, do click read more

This fic ending changed so much compared to the ending I wrote in my initial plan. I didn’t plan to write Ed this dark and I def had a plan to make Stede more stubborn and idiotic. I honestly didn’t know why Edward became darker and darker the more he showed up in the stories. I’m still conflicted with Stede’s ending because he became this tragic man whose crime was falling in love with the wrong man at the wrong time. I’m using Flashlight Method when I write so that’s why I always end up in strange plot points.

My original plan is to have Sam rescued Izzy at the end of chapter 9 then he signalled Hornigold to catch Ed and Stede. Izzy was furious when he knew that and in chapter 10, Izzy and QAR would try to save Ed and Stede. This plan no longer work because Ed and also Sam became darker than my original plan :’)

I was planning to include a Treassure Hunter scene to mirror the canon tv show. Sam’s real life collegue Olivier Levasseur was infamous for levig this cryptic message about the whereabout of his treasure. I was planning for Izzy and Sam to find that treasure together. I got a headache planning a treasure hunting

I told @laughingandcryingwhilewriting that I wanted to write a sensual bathing scene. I didn’t get a chance to write one :’)

I implied that Paul was struggling with suicial thought when he was young. That’s why he wore a handkerchief on his left wrist. He kept touching his left wrist when he told Izzy about Maria.

That’s also why Sam didn’t tell Paul about his depression and suicidal thought because he knew Paul was struggling with that issue. Bellhands shippers, we should exploit Sam’s survivor’s guilt in our fic because it’s delicious.

I’d like to think Bones was so self indulgent because if he didn’t focus on himself, he would start thinking about others because he was very emphatetic and it burned him out. He was your burnout health care worker. He was actually stressed 24/7. Dirk and Izzy would help him with his mental health.

Beasley was a bit of blank card for me. I just wanted to make him super chaotic but super competent. He was also super random, which was fun to write. He’s also super into music, which I thought would be funny but it worked out.

Dirk was your typical grandpa who like to give your advice. I really didn’t know why Dutch became such an important language in this fic. I blamed Dirk.

Peddle is my baby. He’s from the same ethnicity as I am. The blessing he gave Izzy at Chapter 10 is actually a prayer for newly wed in my enthnicity language :D

I renamed Queen Anne’s Revenge to New Concord because QAR’s name was La Concorde. I thought I was being clever.

Sam making a deal with Badminton and Rogers is supposed to mimic what Izzy did in canon. Again, I thought I was being clever.

I made a mistake of googling Woodes Rogers and found Rogers in Black Sail. I am in love. That’s why Rogers appears in the beginning of chapter 10

I had an idea of making a sequel to this fic. Rogers didn’t excute Edward, but instead he hired Edward as a pirate hunter so he could sicc Edward at Sam. He knew Sam was a pirate and he knew if he made a move against Sam, he would be fucked. The Sequel would delve more in political situation in The Bahamas and war prep against Rogers. I won’t write the sequel though because I want to write my Billionaire and Coffee Shop Manager AU.

The premise of ths fic is Izzy finally healed through the power of love and friendship. Actually Izzy is the one who healed Sam. Of course, I thought I was being clever.

My initial plan for Stede’s ending was too horrible. If you play video game called Dishonored, Sam was going to do the same thing low chaos!Corvo did to Pendleton Twin.

My take on Sam is he’s usually very generous and kind but he became super cruel to those who wronged him. He tortured someone in chapter 3 and he had someone tied to a mast of a sinking ship. I thought he would want to physically hurt Stede and Ed especially with the burn wound on Izzy’s face. Maybe this is just me trying to justify my choice because I lowkey regret what I wrote.

Paul is the aroace friend who gives great love advices. He told Sam not to sleep with Maria and looked what happened next :<

I almost didn’t write the matelotage. I’m glad I wrote it.

Most of the songs in my LV Playlist are sung by Home Free because my face and voice claim for Sam is Tim Foust.

Please listen to Take Us Home by Alan Doyle. It’s the perfect wedding song for LV Bellhands

Thanks for reading my musings. I just need to let it go. If you have any questions or prompt for Last Voyage Bellhands, do send your question my way!

#bellhands #sam bellamy #izzy hands #Our Flag Means Death

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etoilesombre · 11 months

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20 questions for fic writers

Thanks for the tag @hms-tardimpala <3

I have noooo idea who has done this already, so tagging @lichfucker @frau-kali @tiofrean @lupismaris @verdanthoney no pressure, also anybody else who wants to

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 18

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 257,419

3. What fandoms do you write for? 95% Black Sails. I have one story for Fetch Phillips Archives, one for the tv show of The Exorcist, and I've committed to one for A Charm of Magpies (book series)

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? long as amber of ember glows, to pull me from myself again, The Salt and the Sea, Another Way, Such Terrible Hungers

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Absolutely! I love talking about these guys, my writing, fandom in general, anything, and if somebody takes the time to comment i want them to know its appreciated. that said i DO either miss some sometimes or just get overwhelmed with life but it is always my intention.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Uhhh for all the angst IN the stories i'm actually secretly a softie i usually leave things pretty good. but. ok if we're doing story not series, then its definitely A Composite Unity

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Princes of the New World, the end there is PURE wish fulfillment in a way I had never done before and likely never will again. Wanna see Silver be a pretty princess and then get fucked so good it breaks canon? Also Kittenfic if you want something that is actually not smut for once. Yes it has actual kittens. It is sad and sweet and i think reasonably plausible in canon, but. It was written for a ficfest prompt "betsy has kittens and silver adopts them on maroon island.'

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not yet.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? OH BOY DO I lol. I'm not gonna say this is what I'm here for, but, sex is definitely one of my main lenses for exploring character dynamics and psychology. 'What kind' has varied a lot.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? Not yet, though I've done some concepting. I got pretty far into planning a Hannibal/Black Sails crossover with a friend (set in Black Sails canon era) and that concept still haunts me.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? No

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? No

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No

14. What's your all-time favorite ship? Lol. You mean, the whole reason I ever started writing at all? Yeah, Silverflint. I'm Still Processing.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Uhh ot3 swimming

16. What are your writing strengths? Making fic feel true to canon. Dialogue, character exploration through sex.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Showing things in summary rather than getting into every damn detail. Heavily plotted fic, fic that covers a long period of time. At least, these are things I don't do intuitively and have not yet pushed myself to do? Also imagery, my writing is pretty functional.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? Absolutely fine, but do it well. Which to me means, if it is not a language you speak fluently, google translate is not enough, ask a native speaker to review it. Also, needs to be there for a reason. There's gonna be some Spanish in longfic once I finally get back to it.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Black Sails.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written? Oh god I really don't know if I can pick. Honestly it might be By Faith of My Body, the one where pining!Flint and Madi have highly fraught conversations about books. But that's what I'm working on now and its possible 'favorite' is just 'whatever's in front of my face.'

#ask game #my writing #fanfic

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hopeheartfilia · 2 months

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awww that was so cute, chrome and ryusui and senku on the hot air ballon was great

Also just. I lvoe that we gave gen currency and more people, he is really keeping this opperation together, i love my man

And I lvoe our queen Yuzuriha even more, the crafts team deserves all of our love and support and its terrible that theyll need to make sails, overall the cloth production is incredibly hard and yuzuriha always pulls through but she has some of the most work intensive tasks and i truly wish that she gets some help soon, the scuence team has chrome and old man kazeki, the craft team basically takes all the kids and elders and everyone helps but fundamentally yuzuriha is doing the work of so many people and like

I know clothes making and such is not the focus of dr stone. However i have a long standing interest in handsewing and historical dress. Please give that girl an experienced sinstress or 10. and tailors and just. more people for the crafts team please

Also who is making all the paper? Also when do they find time for ink? The dragos are red, which to be fair i expected they would be using lamp black, but theyre probably using some type of local red clay, or maybe bugs? Which is probably more time effective but also. Fake printing money is going to be SO easy that i dont think well even get to when gen attempts to do it, he simply wouldnt have to

Anyway im enjoying this era but also i feel like i dont have a sufficient timeline for all of this stuff, so im going to assume it took longer then it seemed, becausr it nakes sense honestly,

the large majority of the audience probably woulsnt have been interested in a closer look into tailoring and paper and the cloth

because like spinning fibers is a skill that takes quite a bit of practice and if you had me jsut spin hemp fibers id likely miserably fail for at least a few days, i think

But like when did they get the time to make gen cards? It was a great idea and i bet it will be usefull in the future as well, gen should absolutley have cards. maybe even guve him dice as well?

but yes Gen is scary in this special and by scary i mean that i love him and he gets to showcase how usefull it is to manipulate people when there are people to manipulate

everything is running very smoothly and its absolutely because of the people on the side of the kingdom of science, they are some truly remarkably skilled individuals that put genuine effort into working together

#dr stone

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birrdies · 2 years

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the king & the exile | (part 1/? of third life dnd au)

It’s odd how a place that once bit with sharp teeth now welcomes him with open arms, the iron gates at the northern wall wide open and granting entry for all. Come and rejoice, the open gates scream. Come and witness the new era of the kingdom. A coronation, as he had heard by word of mouth. The first in nearly twenty years.

A new King is to take the throne. Etho always knew this day would come. But it always felt like something so distant, back then. Intangible, even. Someday rather than today. But the day has arrived, and the jubilant coronation has claimed every inch of the city. Festive banners and streamers, ice blue and white, hang between the awnings of local shops on either side of the narrow street. Just up the hill, through the winding shopping district, the path leads to the base of the Frost Kingdom’s sanctioned chapel.

He’s never seen the city so crowded. But then again, he hasn’t seen it (or walked these cobblestone paths) since he was half as tall as he is now. The world always felt so much larger when he was that small. When he still had to crane his neck back to take everything in, when his bow was too big to fit in his hands. A minnow lost in the depths of what he saw to be a bottomless ocean. To young eyes, the curve of the world would give away to that black water and carry on deeper and deeper and deeper until there was nothing.

Etho knows better now. He knows, now, the tightness of these alleyways, the deals that are made in the shadows of them, and the worse ones made underground. He knows how much space he takes up, and how much he needs, and that he’s bound to brush against a stranger’s shoulders more often than not. He also knows the tight muscles behind the smile on the parchment portrait plastered on every free surface in the kingdom. But most of all, Etho now knows that all oceans end somewhere.

“There’s seven of them!” The young prince splays out a large book of maps, the edges of the paper worn yellow with use and age. His small hands trace the outlines of the continent and over the names of oceans that Etho can’t read. He hasn’t been taught yet.

Etho hooks his chin on the table's edge and frowns at the book. How impossible it all seems. “But where does all the water go?”

“It’s like a soup bowl,” Tango says, cupping his hands over the pages. “Because of the way the ground is shaped, it can hold all that water! And it just goes on and on for miles! You need to ride a big ship to go over it all. My papa says he’s sailed over at least three of the oceans!”

The thought is scary, a place so far and vast. Endless, it sounded. “Are they really that big?”

Tango smiles at him and it’s so certain that it manages to melt some of Etho’s worries away. “Well, it doesn’t go on forever and ever. You’ll hit land eventually, no matter what direction you go. There’s always a new place to go, and new people to meet. Isn’t that so cool?”

Etho adjusts the fur-lined hood around his head, shielding his face from guards standing post outside of a leather shop on his way up the cobblestone path. Best not to be caught reminiscing in a place like this: a place meant for hiding. Etho’s not welcome here. He hasn’t been for quite some time. But there’s unfinished business for him to take care of before he goes on his way.

The fanfare carves a path through the merchant’s district towards the base of the massive hill on which the royal family’s Frost Castle had been erected. At the base of the hill is the chapel, an old building made of worn stone and oxidizing copper. It hasn’t changed much since Etho last sat on its front steps, his feet unable to touch the ground. The chime of the churches' bells draws the crowds to the lush courtyard. Alstroemerias grow on the buses lining the courtyard, great wefts of graying veins clinging to the stone walls.

The crowd’s so thick around it, Etho can hardly move— not as well as he’d like to. So he steps out of the mass of townspeople and slinks into the alleys. It’s easy to find shortcuts and workarounds in a place like this. The city may have changed some over the years, a new king on its horizon, but its secrets never truly fade.

Etho finds a narrow passage through an empty tavern just as he’d found it several years ago. There’s a door with a broken hinge hiding a rickety staircase that leads to the roof. The steep roof allows a broad view of the entire church courtyard and front steps. From here, the chapel seems even larger than it ever did on the ground, the steeple puncturing the sky like a great sword cuts through the northern waters’ ice.

He can’t risk getting any closer than this vantage point; not with wandering eyes that could recognize his snowy hair. So he stays perched, his hood drawn, and eyes heavy in wait. It’s beautiful if Etho blinds himself to the rest of the city and the memories that refuse to die here. Not all good, these memories, but not all bad either.

“Take me to the library again today?” Etho’s itching to go. He’s taller now and he’s started to make sense of more of the letters. Tango has esteemed tutors to teach him these things, to sit him at a desk and straighten his collar and teach him names of oceans and the histories of men that came before him. And Etho has Tango, who taught what he learned right back to him.

Only today, Tango lies upside down in bed, his feet propped on the headboard. It’s not very prince-like, from what little Etho learned of princes during his time in the castle. But it’s Tango-like, and to Etho that’s all that matters.

“We just went yesterday,” Tango argues, a bit tired and worn, as he had said the day before and the day before that.

He may argue, but he never says no. Today, like every day, Tango pulls himself from his bed and escorts Etho to the royal family’s private library. Fading are the days Tango would sit beside him in chairs that didn’t allow their feet to quite touch the floor yet, ogling over old history texts and ancient atlases. But Tango goes with him anyway, mindlessly stacking books or tossing a small ball back and forth against the wall as his hands grow more restless.

“What’s this word mean?” Etho asks, showing Tango the open book in his hands.

Tango squints at the page. “Pitiless,” he reads dutifully, as he always does when Etho stumbles upon a word he has yet to learn. “It means to be cruel or show no pity. Like my dad, for example. He's, like, classically pitiless.”Etho knows better than to agree out loud. Tango’s father is not a man Etho particularly likes, but he keeps a roof over Etho’s head and food in his bowl at the end of a long day of training. Nor does he punish Etho beyond a lash on the wrist when he discovers him studying with Tango in the late hours of the night. Not exactly a just king, as his parents would say. But they also taught him that was an opinion to keep to yourself, lest you wanted an axe through your neck.

The Barbarian King was not known for his kindness. Etho, even as a child, knows as much. Tango, however, is the only person in this castle who treats Etho with a morsel of kindness. It’s hard to imagine how he and the King came from the same branch.

Etho sets the book in his lap. “You’ll be King too one day, won’t you?”

Tango turns his toy ball over in his hands, rolling it between his palms like the bakers roll dough for biscuits. “I guess so.” He’s less than thrilled. “Someday. Hopefully far, far away.”

“Will you be like him, when you do?” Etho clutches the book in his hands and remembers the pain that laced through his wrists at the Barbarian King’s hand. The skin had been red for nearly a week after. “Will you become pitiless?”

Tango’s face crumples at the question. It’s an honest question, but not a harmless one. He lets the ball drop between his feet; Etho watches it bounce and roll away underneath the table they always sat at to study before supper.

“I don’t want to be,” Tango admits quietly, his all-blue eyes glassy.

Etho turns his gaze to his own boots, worn at the heels as they are and muddied from a long day of training in the muddy courtyard. “What do you want to be?”

“Kind,” Tango says as if he’s had it decided for years and was waiting for someone to ask him the right question. His face softens when he says it, but those tears still fall from his cheeks and into his lap. “I want to be kind.”

As the parade weaves its way through town, led by a band of brass and string instruments, Etho slides from his perch and disappears into the crowd. A disconnected view suddenly feels too clinical, too impersonal. He despises the crowds (and the extravagance of this particular one), but his desire to see things up close is too powerful. Especially as the royal carriage, wedged in the center of street performers and a procession of armed King’s Guard soldiers, approaches the cobblestone entry of the chapel.

It’s heavy and oversized compared to the rest of the parade floats, the wooden fixtures painted ice and blue, like the frozen ocean just north of here. Etho can practically feel the chill of it, several hundred feet away as he slips his way through the crowd.

Etho follows the madness until he’s among the few lucky civilians who managed to slip into the crowded space of the courtyard. It’s risky, being so close, but what is Etho without a little danger? Besides, he deems his own curiosities worth it for the time being. It’s been years since he’s laid eyes on the little prince. He wants to see if he’s grown into his ears yet.

Still, he is not without caution. He sticks on the outskirts of the lawn, back pressed against the stone walls and hood obscuring most of his face. The crowd helps him in this regard— remaining hidden— but the importance of such a day only makes the wandering eyes of patrolling guards much more dangerous.

The music tapers from a roar into a dull static, silencing the crowd just enough for a bard with an extravagant head of bluish hair to stand atop one of the parade’s floats. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he announces the King’s presence, his voice loud and boisterous yet musical in a strange sort of way. Etho pays him no mind. His eyes never leave the doors of the carriage.

It rattles as the door finally cranes open. Etho holds his breath. He’s not sure what he’s expecting. Years change a man in more ways than one; he knows this better than anyone, perhaps. But the idea of his friend changing is a startling one, a damn near impossible one. Kind, Tango’s voice is all he can hear above the growing roar of the crowd as their new King steps into the daylight.

He looks the part, adorned with black fleece and furs that pile high around his neck. A golden circlet sits on his hair, the glint of it enough to blind Etho where he stands. His sharp chin, held high and poised, resembles his father’s. There’s a practice to the way he moves, but his uncertainty shows. A prince masquerading in a King’s armor much too big to fit.

Tango’s always been far too honest for his own good.

The guards carve a path from the carriage toward the entrance of the chapel. It takes four men to pull open the oversized, grand wooden doors. Tango allows the guards to take the lead. He gazes out upon the courtyard, upon his people. His smile is small and forced; the burden he carries is always too heavy. Etho can feel it from here.

Through it all, there’s a single and brief moment. Maybe Etho only imagines it; he can’t be too sure. But Tango takes his time scanning the crowd, studying the faces of the people who will, in a few hours' time, become his subjects. And for that one selfish second, Etho thinks Tango’s icy eyes meet his own.

“Why won’t you agree to fight?” Tango asks, cornering him in his quarters with fury in those eyes. Fury he knows Tango hates because it makes him look too much like what he is— a barbarian.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Etho says. The words catch in his throat. He feels like choking on them. It’d be easier than this: Tango’s anger. It’s not the first time he’s faced it, but it doesn’t get easier with each passing time. They’re older now, too. Tango’s words hold far too much weight.

But they’re still just two boys. A prince nearing his time as a reluctant King. A nobody who is equally afraid but cannot show it.

Tango’s hands fly in the air in exasperated surrender. “Then help me to. You know what they’re going to do to you if you refuse, don’t you?”

One night. Etho’s been gifted that much time to consider his invitation: shackles disguised as an extended hand, masked in promises of glory and a new suit of armor. He’s been asked to fight for the King in the upcoming war. A place in the King’s Guard as a respected soldier. But that’s not Etho; it’s never been Etho. Had they been children still, maybe Tango would remember that.

“I know quite well what your father will do to me if I refuse.” It’s cruel to choose such wording; Etho knows. Maybe it’s Tango’s fault for arming him with these weapons. “You know what he did to my family. What he’s done to me. I can’t do it.”

“He’ll kill you,” Tango pleads, as if somehow Etho hasn’t realized his own fate. “He’ll call you a deserter, a traitor. A private lynch if he’s feeling merciful. A public execution otherwise. I can’t watch him do that to you. I can’t bear it.”

“Don’t beg me to stay.” It’s the closest he’ll ever come to asking Tango for anything outside of sneaky trips to the library in the dead of the night.

Tango’s face is as telling as any open book on the tables of those libraries. Tango taught him to read the words on the pages just as he unwittingly taught the cartography of his face: the vulnerable crease in his brow, the crooked downturn of his lips. His face is as kind as it is devastated.

“I won’t beg,” Tango says. “But that does not mean I’m going to let you die either.”

The coronation passes as the sun carves a path through the sky. Two hours, by Etho’s count. He sits idle for a while, eavesdropping on the idle chattering of the crowd around him. Public opinion seems nervous, about the new King, the new era, and the future of their beloved Kingdom.

Etho can only sit and listen to their doubts for so long. The coronation must be nearly over, so he makes his own path through the crowd. He slips behind market carts lined up outside the chapel (sellers capitalizing off of the hungry and thirsty crowd) and circles around toward the back of the church. King’s Guard members crawl the grounds like an army of fire ants. Their armor makes them easy to spot and avoid, Etho making like a shadow between families walking in tandem and dark corners around buildings.

Unfortunately, his hair and eyes make him entirely too noticeable for his own liking, even with a hood and cloak. If he stands a chance of making it inside the chapel, he needs to get close and personal. He cracks his knuckles and approaches the back door of the chapel. Two guards stand by the door, their broadswords sheathed on their hips.

Their first mistake.

Etho approaches them, his chin tilted down so as to hide his face in its entirety. He hobbles to the pair with a fake limp in his left leg and one shaky hand outstretched. “Halt,” the taller of the two orders, hands on the hilt of his sword.

“I’m sorry. I just need some help.” It’s been a while since Etho pretended to be elderly, so the voice certainly could use some work. But there is no time like the present to shake the rust off, he supposes. His hand trembles when he points to the guards and then once over his shoulder. “My satchel was stolen by some pickpocket!”

“Sorry, sir, but we’re not able to help you,” the other guard says, though his voice is uncertain. Etho can hear the way he glances at the other guard for approval. “You better be on your way. This is a restricted area.”

“Oh, that’s a shame.” He stares at their hands from beneath the safety of his hood. The first guard removes his hand from his sword hilt. The second mistake.

Etho makes quick work of them. He’s no stranger to fighting, and he’s taken on far worse than trained members of the King’s Guard. The thing about royal soldiers is this: they pretend they have a certain kind of class and dignity. In the streets or fighting rings, there’s no room for such petty things. Pulling hair, breaking noses, cracking teeth; everything is fair game. There’s no room for grace or honor or justice. Only the game. This is something the King’s Guard has yet to understand. They’ve never really had to fight and dig their fingernails in the dirt.

After the fight, he knocks them unconscious with their own swords. But he doesn’t succeed unscathed. One of them knocked his elbow right against Etho’s right eye, the skin there already starting to bruise, red seeping into the white of his eye. It certainly hurt, being hit upside the head with a sheet of metal. But he quickly clears the stars from his eyes and begins prying the armor off their unconscious bodies.

Etho kneels before Tango’s father. All eyes are on him; something that has not happened since he was a child, unruly and needing to be tamed. He stares at the marble flooring, and studies the patterns in it, lest he goes insane at the mercy of the royal court’s curious gazes. Worst of all, Tango sits among them, just behind his father with his face a terrible shade of white that reminds Etho of nothing but death.

It won’t be Tango’s death that is secured tonight. But it nauseates Etho all the same. He’s made his decision. Now all that’s left is to lie with it, let it bury him with dignity. He likes to think his parents would be proud.

“Your decision, child?” The Barbarian King asks from his place upon his ice throne.

Etho pretends to debate it. Small mercies not for himself, but for Tango. The prince with a bleeding, tender heart. The best of them all. Etho’s only regret will be not being there to see how he becomes what he’s never wanted. A King.

“I won’t fight.” Etho gives himself the dignity of raising his head when he says it. He’ll look the King in the eye when he signs his own death sentence because he isn’t a coward. And he refuses to be remembered as one. “You’ll have to find another mercenary.”

The Barbarian King’s eyebrow twitches (the same way Tango does when he’s perplexed), and his knuckles turn white from his grip on the arms of his cold throne. “Think about this very carefully, you pest. I’ve all but raised you from the dirt. I fed you, put clothes on your back, and trained you. You would be nothing had it not been for this kingdom. Does that debt mean nothing to you?”Etho looks past the King’s shoulder to Tango. Tango stares right back, eyes red-rimmed and brimming with tears. There’s a small part of him that believes Etho will change his mind. The same part that giggled and smiled with Etho as they hid beneath the tables reading ghost stories and mythology tales. The same part that started to die, little by little like a candle running out of wax, as the burdens of his bloodline began to grow too heavy.

“It means nothing,” Etho says, returning his gaze to the King. “We never asked for your help. Our debt was forced upon us. I will not fight for you.”With that, the King sits back. Etho remembers thinking as a child he was always so big. Impossibly so, like a mountain from Tango’s atlases that he claimed no man could ever overcome. How silly that seems now. A few words are all it takes, really.

“Very well.” The King speaks with the finality of a rope around Etho’s neck. “To defy the crown’s call for arms is an official act of treason. Without a trial, you are to be sentenced to public execution in the square. Tomorrow morning. Guards.”

The guards blocking the door come forward. They’re men Etho knows well. Men that trained him, men that picked him up from the dirt when he was too weak to carry a sword or pull back the string of a longbow. He feels their sadness in their gentle hands as they pick him up from the floor. He doesn’t fight. There’s no reason for it now.

Instead, he focuses on Tango. He cries in earnest now, open and unhindered by even his father’s cruel stare. Etho thinks better of trying to comfort him at that moment. Tango won’t listen. All he can do is offer him a smile as he’s escorted from the throne room, heavy stone shackles around his wrists and the title traitor nailed to his chest.

He finds Tango alone. In the back of the chapel, in a type of confessional suit with the middle partition taken down in the name of saving space for the King. The sallet covers Etho’s hair and eyes, and the golden broach on his chest is a strange mockery of a life he could have led.

Tango turns upon hearing the door shut behind Etho. His eyes are tired and wet. A familiar sight. “Leave me,” the new King demands, lacking the bite his father always had.

“Forgive me, Your Highness,” Etho says, no longer disguising his voice. He pulls the sallet from his head and allows his hair to fall in his face.

“You…” Tango’s eyes widen with the relief of sighting an old friend. Or the disbelief of seeing a ghost. “ Is that— Etho? What are you doing here?”

“Maybe I just wanted to see a friendly face.” Etho leans against the doorway, head tilted to the side. This day, again, was always an inevitability— a throne separating them and the crown atop Tango’s head. Though he always imagined it a bit differently, when he was young and innocent. Etho at his side, maybe, wearing a set of armor that actually belonged to him.

It had been nothing but a child’s fantasy. One built upon his own naivety. Etho knows this now, nor does he grieve the opportunity missed. But he had grieved for his friend— the only one he’s ever had— and he’s grieved for Tango and what he’s been forced to become.

Tango was always too gentle for a crown; they both know it well.

Tango smiles sadly— the same smile he gave Etho that day in the library. I want to be kind, he had said. Back then, Etho hadn’t known what to say. Or how to comfort. It seems neither of them has changed. Not where it mattered. It’s a comforting realization.

He pulls Etho in for a hug without warning; Etho lets him. He rests his chin on Tango’s shoulder and wraps his arms around his old friend. A brother, he may have called Tango several years ago. He’s not sure brotherhood is something you can wash from yourself like blood from your knuckles. Nor does he know if it’s something that strains with distance, something lost if not reminded constantly of how strong it had once been.

Because returning to Tango’s arms feels a lot like coming home. For a moment, Etho can pretend nothing’s changed, even though he’s wearing stolen armor and has his arms around the officially crowned Frost King. Tango never wanted this. They both know it. But there’s nothing either of them can do about it. Defeat tastes the same in Etho’s mouth as blood.

Tango pulls him back and holds him at arm’s length. His smile never fades. “You look like death,” he laughs.

Etho reaches up to prod at the bruise around his right eye. It’s tender to the touch, and he imagines it’s rather unsightly. “I’ve certainly looked worse,” Etho says with a quiet chuckle. “I had to take out two of your guards in the back. Sorry.”

“Please. They’re still my father’s men more than anything.” Tango scoffs, taking in Etho’s face. The bruise is not the worst of Etho’s changes. There’s a new addition Tango hasn’t seen before, the scar through his left eye, puckered and pink. There’s a story behind it, but now isn’t the time for such things. Tango understands this so he doesn’t ask about it. Their time now is precious.

“You’re a fool for coming here,” Tango says but his tone suggests he believes anything but. “If someone were to recognize you—”

“There’s still a bounty on my head?” Etho teases with a tilt of his head. “You’re the King now, aren’t you?” “Hey,” Tango admonishes but his smile remains contagious. “It’s not like I expected you to ever come back. It’s not like you had anything to come back for.”

“I didn’t?” Etho challenges, his own smile faltering. He can’t blame Tango for believing otherwise. Etho had thrown everything away with a few simple words for his own pride. For his own freedom.

Tango falters, staring at Etho with wide eyes. It’s like they're in the library again, studying under the dull light of a nearby oil lamp. Tango’s knees are knobby and Etho still can’t make out half the words in front of him. Everything feels simple because things are simple yet. Neither of them carries the weight of the world on their shoulders; instead, it’s spread out in front of them. Ripe for harvest, for exploration.

“Will you stay?” Tango asks with a hand resting on Etho’s armored shoulder. But he already knows the answer.

Etho shakes his head. “You know I can’t. Not for long anyway.”

“So why come all this way?” Tango’s tone is one of defeat. It’s strange how small he makes himself seem, even adorned with black silks and armor and crowns. He’s suddenly drowning in his wardrobe. He averts his eyes to the confessional booth. “Why take the risk?” “When I heard the Frost Kingdom was to crown its new King, I had to come,” Etho says truthfully. He’s never been one for deceiving friends. “I wanted to know if you changed your mind.”

“About what?” Tango turns back to him in surprise.

Etho looks down at himself. The armor fits snugly in the wrong places, and pinches him in others. He remembers why he never chose this life, why Tango hadn’t been enough to keep him there. Not any fault of Tango’s. No, the matter of Etho’s pride is no one’s concern or fault but his own. But that does not mean that a tiny part of Etho— the childish one who loves library books— wishes it could have been different.

“About what kind of King you want to be. Do you still want to be kind?” Etho asks.

Tango’s lips press into a fine line, his eyes level and calculating. It’s the most kinglike Etho’s ever seen him. Like he suddenly fills the holes in his armor with that single look. This, Etho realizes, is where Tango’s strength is.

“I do,” Tango says. “And it’s not just a want. I will be kind.”

Etho’s smile is one of relief. “Good. It’s a promise, then.” He extends a hand to his old friend.

When Tango accepts it, he grips it tightly. Like he’s afraid Etho will disappear into the shadows if he lets go too soon. Etho doesn’t let go either. Not for a minute or two. They don’t know the next time they will see each other, but this little bit is enough.

“I can work on getting your bounty cleared,” Tango promises before he releases Etho’s hand. “That way, you can visit whenever you want. No worry about getting arrested.”

Etho lets go. “Eh, leave it. It’s more fun with a bounty anyway.” “You’re still a troublemaker, I see.” Tango’s hand returns to his side. He rights his posture as if suddenly remembering himself and the crown in his hair.

With a shrug, Etho says, “I like to keep things interesting.”

The roar of the crowd outside starts to stir again. It’s nearly time for the King to return to the castle in a flurry of joyous celebration. Tango’s saddened smile returns with a vengeance. He’s making peace with saying goodbye. Etho is too, though he keeps it hidden beneath the borrowed chest-plate.

“Don’t be a ghost to me.” Tango doesn’t leave room for argument. It isn’t a request, it’s an order. From the Frost King. “I will see you again, Etho. Understand?” Etho bows deeply, a hand over his heart. The same way a member of the King’s Guard would swear his loyalty to the King. A promise on the golden medallion engraved in his armor. But the type of promise he makes here is far more potent, deeper than any blood debt.

“Understood, Your Highness. I will return.”

“Go on, then. Before you get yourself arrested.” Tango fixes the furs around his collar, preparing to go meet his court and subjects once again before the sun sets and the day ends. This time, when he lifts his chin, he doesn’t resemble his father. He’s just Tango.

Etho returns the sallet to his head and leaves the way he came. Like a shadow in the crowd, nothing but a speck in a jubilant kingdom.

“What are you doing here?” Etho asks the damp darkness of the dungeon. For it’s not an empty darkness. Behind the rusting bars is the fearful face of the prince. Tango clutches the bars in his bare hands, his eyes narrowed and certain.

“I’m getting you out,” Tango says. There’s a soft jingle in the darkness. Metal hitting metal. A keyring in Tango’s hands. “I told you I would not let you die.”Etho sighs and sits from the cool bed of straw in the corner of his cell. The shackles are heavy, designed to prevent him from being able to fight. A problem Etho had been trying to think through before he’d heard Tango’s breath in the darkness. “I don’t need your help. I can escape on your own.”

The keys rattle in the cellar door. The metal screams as it swings open, the cool air flooding into Etho’s cell. He shivers against it, but it seems to only cling to the air around Tango as he steps inside. “Maybe,” the prince relents. “But I’m not willing to risk it. Let’s go.”He kneels at Etho’s side and takes another key to the shackles binding his wrists. The skin there aches, but the cool touch of Tango’s hands hurts far more. He shouldn’t be doing this, risking his own safety and crown for someone like Etho. A nobody.

Tango tells him there’s a tunnel beneath the kingdom. It wings beneath the city streets and empties by a river bed just outside the kingdom walls. Etho remembers the tunnels, used as an escape route during the Great Wars when Tango’s father had just been a baby. How could he forget such a story? Tango’s the one who read it to him, one of many nights they’d spent in that library.

At the entrance of the hallway, a void-like maw ahead of them, Tango hands Etho an oil lamp and a pack of rations. They don’t say anything in this exchange. Maybe there’s nothing left to say. Tango can’t plead for him to stay anymore. Etho’s already seen to that. Their nights together, reading, studying, and sparring, are to be buried with the rest of their unwritten history. Nothing but stories and memories to keep to themselves.

The last thing Tango hands him is a book. An atlas, with pages worn and small enough to fit in his pocket. It’d been Etho’s favorite; the book he’d smuggle into his bunks in the basement and read in the darkness so as to not be caught.

Etho accepts it with a soft smile. He tucks it away with the rest of the belongings Tango had gifted him.

Then, he turns to the empty tunnels. The light barely touches the darkness. He’s never been on a ship, but he imagines this is what the oceans feel like at night. Black and abyssal. Endless. It’s a childish fear that sneaks back to the forefront, not because he fears what hides in that darkness, but because he fears what happens after it. If there even is an after.

#the target audience for this is pretty much me and me only #(and worm thank you worm for supporting my etho & tango bromance endeavors)#this dnd au has been haunting me for a month now so it feels good to finally start writing bits and pieces #etho #ethoslab #third life #third life fic #last life #last life fic #hermitcraft fic #tango #tangotek #dnd au #summary: etho was raised in the frost kingdom basically to become a soldier. tango is the prince of the frost kingdom #my writing #birdie writes

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