#i finally remembered their ship name lmao

[cantgetworsethanthistbh]

dumping more of my stancest feels here because i cannot NOT think of them. i read journal 3 for the first time this week and its great because Ford acts like stanley's biggest hater which is pretty fking funny (if not absolutely infuriating at times because omfg stfu you smug prick)

but the moments like this get to me

Ford being blinded by his quest of grandeur, accolades and praise for world changing discoveries, so obsessed with greatness, being the first name people remember, and all the other things his npd-isms tells him he wants.

And then there's "reminds me of camping with my brother. i wonder what he's up to..."

i mentioned in my previous post that stan acts quite a lot like the anchor to ford's boat, keeping him grounded and most importantly, safe from both the bitter and the sweet kinds of evils. but he also represents something so much simpler to ford too: the simple desires he represses so much because its not "good enough" for someone special like him.

he resents stan so much because he represents a "block" against that percieved good enough success he wants, the obstacle that made it impossible to get in a fancy college, become the world renowed researcher, the one who wanted to destroy his journal's and lifes work (even though it was the better, safer option if Bill really WAS that dangerous, which he was) that could still make him famous. because if ford's not "praised and weird" then he's just "weird" and being "weird" was nothing but a pain his whole life that kept him rejected and isolated from the masses. and stan prevented him from that.

(btw "maybe he can prove himself to me" is nasty work my god ford is a douche lmao)

a lot of his projections of something greater comes through with how he treated dipper in the show (his whole spiel in damvtf) and fiddleford in journal 3 where he looks down on the happy life that fiddleford had with his wife and child and saying he was "wasting his talents" making computers. and like, we all know by the way he takes them on high stakes adventures they're not as prepared for compared to him (and end up causing more trouble than not by doing so), he's trying to fill a gaping hole left by someone else. we all know this obviously, we all know what we ship here, but what i came to appreciate the most about it is how much that gaping hole exists in the low stakes

everytime ford is thinking during the "down time" moments, his thoughts always drift back to his childhood, and one person who represents it.

childhood memories, making fun of stans favorite snack, scribbling out a design of the stan o war, whenever Ford lets his mind wander it expresses such an intense yearning for the past before he became obsessed with wanting something more. these are his most utmost and most unfiltered thoughts, which is why he scribles them away or and writes in code. and the fact that he directly says they are about NOT getting married, followed with "wondering what he's doing right now", painting the picture of what his most ideal idylic life is. wanting a return of something lost. wanting Stan back more than anything.

he finally accepts that his dream never really changed, just the same as stan's and so they saild off together for the rest of their days, in ford's own words (which ironically sounds like a marriage to me either way so tough shit ford)

[scribz-ag24]

Still not getting over Celebi greeting Grovyle for the first time since he traveled to the past with "Oh, you've failed, right?".

[volvolts]

You're not quite sure that you've gotten yourself into...but that still wouldn't justify getting in this amount of trouble with another Warlord But like hell you're going to give Doflamingo the satisfaction

a snippet i wanted to draw from Habenera by Nana on ao3

talking about it under read more

so habanera is the second part of a multipart series between crocodile and mihawk called L'amour est un oiseau rebelle. its in mihawk's perspective and written in 2nd person perspective. also mind the ratings

its really good and i highly recommended if you haven't already! it's also fairly short reads, between 1500 to 3500 words depending on the story.

[acertifiedmoron]

proposing eye contact as an alternate ship name for jonelias in honour of mag 120 eye contact ofc wherein elias records his nightmares/dreams because he's a freak and also because he knows jon would want to hear the tape i.e. feeding your archivist a statement on the topic of himself which you personally extracted from him. in a feedback loop of feeding their god! (actually got sidetracked here but do you ever think about how jonah/elias did two proper original statements in the podcast and they're both about jon and one time he did a joint statement with the archivist — mag 193 a stern look — which is also really about jon "why did you heed the call? / because this is the place i know i should be" gothic romance. to me) and anyway yeah mag 120 eye contact which also had totally normal lines such as: "He. Is. Whole." also because they're. y'know. eye avatars. the only ones left even. whatever i'll leave...

[tervaneula]

WAHOO it's finally the 11th of March – my birthday! To celebrate, I'm hosting my very first draw this in your style challenge!!! Featuring the NQK Future Fam, of course. I love them so much. 😭

If you want to, you can change the framing, the poses, their clothes and expressions (but not the character designs, eg. turtle markings). All I ask is that the love is there.

//EDIT: The new end date is April 14th!// The competition will run for one month, March 11th – April 11th. You can join the DTIYS even after that (or without following me) but won't be eligible for the prizes.

Just remember to have fun, this isn't about the skill, it's about the heart. I love y'all so much and I'm so happy to have found such an amazing community of fans and writers and artists alike in the Rise fandom <3 Thank you for loving what I do as much as I do.

To participate in the competition, you must:

Be following me

@ me in the description of your piece

Tag your post with tervs33dtiys

More info and prizes under the cut:

If it's been days and I haven't reblogged your post I most likely didn't see it, so please message me the link! Sometimes tunglr likes to withhold notifications.

I will pick two winners myself and two will be left to fate – a randomised name wheel 😎 The prizes are all free digital character commissions and I'll draw any OC or canon character (with existing visual references) in my "better sketch" style.

Terv's pick 1st prize: A free full body commission of one character 2nd prize: A free waist up commission of one character

Lady Luck's pick 1st prize: A free full body commission of one character 2nd prize: A free waist up commission of one character

I was hoping to have prints and stickers as prizes but turns out that shipping outside the EU is pretty much a nightmare so sadly that won't be happening, but I hope the commissions are a good alternative!

There y'all have it!! Hope you have fun!!! <333

My commission sheet for reference:

AND also the full dtiys pic without any text:

The peepaws are boring and are wearing what they always wear when I draw them lmao. Casey is wearing a turtleneck with extra long sleeves (for maximum hands-tucked-in comfort) and a long skirt, complete with black boots! But as I said at the start, feel free to give them something else if you'd like to <3

[gyuswhore]

Never Shall We Die (2)

«« Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line. »» 

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader

PLAYLIST: right here!

pirate lingo glossary (pls refer!)

SYNOPSIS: Deadliest pirate on the high seas or a damn fool? The stupid King and his men have snatched Hoshi's precious pirate ship with their too clean, too soft hands; grounds to question his own vices. Except, when he and his crew land in the quarters of a navy ship, revenge on their roster, they stumble across a princess in its gallows. Hoshi wonders if he's just struck gold, or if you'd become the final tread to his downfall.

GENRES: pirate!au, enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut [minor dni], some pirates of the carribean vibes but ? idk

WORD COUNT [full fic]: 48.1k

Part 1: 17.07k | Part 2: 15.2k | Part 3 [final] : 15.8k

@highvern's out of context comment box: new fear unlocked: hoshi with explosives, victorian ankle moment, HATE HIM (need him carnally), hoshi covered in soapy water would distract me enough, strip for me pirate mingyu [hes litrally taking off his jacket], your honor hes a bitch, freaks!, mingyu crushes hoshi's head like a grape, WONWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, massive dick, the way i literally gasped like an old scandalized woman

masterlist

WARNINGS: slowburn, plot heavy, happy ending bc no angsty endings in this household, being taken hostage, knives, bombs, and guns, mentions of blood, mentions of SA (does not happen and it is not explicitly mentioned), alcohol, mentions of death (patricide), hoshi is ✨selectively moral✨but kind of moral nonetheless, side character death, [pls lmk if im missing something its alot] smut tags in following parts

[AN]: part 2 !!!! ty for reading pt1, hope you guys will enjoy this too <3 as always, ty to @highvern for beta-ing and sitting through this entire thing lmao <3 happy reading, and remember to tell me what you think !!

THE FOREVER EMPTY DECK, for whatever reason, was occupied when you trudge up the stairs in an attempt to free yourself from the stuffiness of your quarters. 

You make out Seungkwan sitting cross legged on the floors, very carefully pouring himself a bottle of something unmarked into a bowl. Chan is there as well, very meticulously explaining a happening to…Hoshi, who sits by with an interested expression, mouth turned into a frown with his brows furrowed. Chan is using his hands as he continues, unaware of your presence. 

“Oh!” Seungkwan calls you out by name, causing the rest of the clique to turn their heads to you. “Come have a drink!” 

“What’s this?” Hoshi starts. He’s smiling, but his reddened cheeks give away his very obviously intoxicated state. “Has miss princess decided to grace us with her presence?” 

You ignore him, acknowledging Chan when he asks why you were up at this hour as you sit between him and Seungkwan. 

“Just needed some air,” you mumble. 

“Well,” Hoshi is loud when he spills half the drink out of the cup he was pouring it into. “Air pairs well with rum.”

He holds out a cup of the liquid for you, swaying slightly from the effort of holding it far out towards you. 

“I am a lady.” You resist the effort to turn your nose up. 

“Okay lady, bottoms up!” he slurs. 

When you continue to keep your hands folded, he retracts his hand with what you think is a  prominent scowl, but it looks more like a disappointed pout if anything. He takes a dejected sip from the cup. 

“Come on, just one!” Seungkwan tries to convince you. 

“Leave her alone, Kwan, miss princess is too good to be drinking with pirates,” Hoshi chides. 

You aren’t sure if it was meant to be a jab at all, considering the strange switch in behaviour he seems to have adopted as his drunk persona. You watch in silence as he reaches over to plant a big kiss on Seungkwan’s cheek in affection, grabbing his head strongly. He yelps, pushing his captain off with a face. 

But regardless of what he meant, the defiance sparked within you anyway, and you find yourself gripping the neck of the poorly dusted bottle that sat in the middle amidst even more bottles, cups and twine. The motion has all eyes on you, even as you bring the bottle to your lips, preparing yourself for one of the dumber things you’ve done. 

Locking eyes with Hoshi’s sharp ones over the bottle, you chug it of its remnants, ignoring the fiery burn and the trickles of liquid that trail down the corners of your mouth. 

You hear Seungkwan and Chan cheering, Hoshi remaining stoic as he refuses to be the one to look away from above the bottle. 

By the time you’ve slammed the bottle back onto the hardwood, you’re struggling to maintain your vision and you’re forced to tear your eyes away from the man that sits across from you, unwavering. 

Resisting the urge to vomit, you can only smile weakly at Seungkwan and Chan who are overly excited over your endeavour, clinking their own cups as they down another one in your honour. 

It kickstarted your spree in any case as the night commenced, continuing to accept refills as you sip slower than before, savouring the taste that you couldn’t really say you enjoyed. The feeling, however. 

Seungkwan and Chan took longer than you’d expected to pass out, noting the way they continued to clink and drink with no regard. 

Hoshi seemed to need little to be washed away, something you found yourself silently snorting at, even as both boys continued to snore quietly behind you. 

“What’s so funny?” Hoshi asks, taking a sip from his cup. 

You snap your head up, drunk and hot. You consider shaking your head to indicate a null, but you can’t say you have much control over yourself at the moment. 

“You take so little to get tipsy,” you comment with a little giggle. 

“What makes you think I’m drunk?” he asks.

His red face? The uncharacteristic warmth he’d been treating you with all night? Who knows? But right now you ignore his question, zeroed in on something. He’s wearing one of his stupid linen shirts that are always buttoned too low, the ones that make it impossible to keep your eyes on his face. 

Your eyes find the distorted slash of tissue that resides on his chest, right over his left peck, right over his heart. You’ve noticed the scar on multiple occasions. Not that he seems to ever try to hide it. You decide to mention it. 

“How’d you get that?” you whisper. It feels right to talk like that; the deck is silent, the sea is calm in her regard to pushing the ship where it needs to go. Your legs are pulled up to your chest, cheek on your knees. 

He follows your gaze to his scar, coming round to answer you with a drunk, dopey smile on his face. “Got hungry.”

Possible, but you also get the feeling he wasn’t about to give you a straight answer if you pushed anyway. But your gaze remains on his chest, ingraining the ridges of the scar to memory. 

And with every moment that passes, it looks less and less like a scary altercation of someone trying to carve his heart out, and more like he may have fallen off his horse while riding. Accidentally cut himself with a steak knife at the supper table. Took a bad blow during a practice sword fight. 

And with every moment that passes, the backgrounds of your mind’s pictures turn from the rugged sea to the grassy training grounds of the palace, the hay and brown of the stables, the silver glints of the dining hall. The thuds of rusting cups and cheap sailors rum turn into clinks of wine glasses, Hoshi’s hand wrapped around the stems, skin free of every scar and darkened slash. 

And with every moment that passes, you imagine what this deadly, ferocious pirate would look like if his life was a little different. If his life was a little like yours. Would he be able to be a better match against your father, would he have taken every missed opportunity to become a ruler that you only wish you could be? Could he lead a kingdom as well as he leads his beloved band of pirates?

There’s not a thought of what you’re doing in your mind as you find yourself reaching over, not to the bottles that lie empty, but to the pirate captain’s hands, taking his rough calloused palms in your soft, unscarred ones. 

He does little to resist, letting his hand fall limp in yours. 

“What’s this one?” you ask, tracing over the biggest scar that slashed across his knuckles. 

“Piece of wood sticking out of the mast.” 

It’s an older scar, clear with the way his skin has settled into the healed wound like it’s always been that way. 

“This one?” you ask, tracing over another nick. 

“Fell on glass.”

“This one?”

“Punched Mingyu.”

You frown at that, looking up at him and in accusation. 

“I apologised,” he defends. 

Was it strange that a pirate captain would apologise for assaulting his crew? Slightly, yes. But you liked to think you understood Hoshi a little better than you’d first met him, and that he considered his crew more like his family than anything else. 

Never in a million years, in your pirate hating household, would you have thought that the deadliest band of pirates would soon be the ones you’d be sharing drinks with, tracing scars with, feeling somewhat secure being alone with. 

Entrusting to save your future with. 

You turn his hand over to his palms, now staring at a fresher looking gash that seems to still be healing. It looks painful, the redness yet to fade into its darker hues. 

“What about this one?” you ask, being extra careful to not touch the wound. 

Hearing him let out a small laughing exhale, you look up.

“Thought you’d recognize your own work.” 

And then you remember. 

The spray of blood in the air as your dagger made its first ever maim at your hands. 

“Oh,” you breathe out. 

When you look up from your hunched position, you’re closer to Hoshi than you’d initially thought. He went from an arms length away to brushing shoulders with you, his palm remaining cradled in both of yours. 

“Do you regret it?” he asks as he looks at you like he’s gotten lost somewhere in your face. 

His breath hits your face in a delicate fan, the smell of alcohol mixing from your own mouth. 

Glancing down at his scarring wound, you look back up at him with your lips in a tight line. 

“No.”

He smiles, less of disbelief and more of contentment, a pleasant look on his face as he reads your expression. 

You felt like you’d passed some kind of test. 

“Good.”

And then you’re so close you can barely make out the tip of his nose, his warmth infiltrating your own. You can smell him past the rum, a faint woody scent that makes your head spin. You push up to the alcohol. 

Your stomach is on fire as you expect the final push to come, the eager build in your chest becoming near unbearable. 

Just as you’re about to flutter your eyes closed, ready to take whatever he might give you, you find his face disappeared. 

Hoshi turned his face away, your face infiltrated by the cool breeze once more. Your palms are cooling as his warmth retracts from them as well, leaving you cold and confused. 

Blinking, pushing your chin closer to your chest, you attempt to catch your bearings, catch the notes in the air as you feel him move to his feet quickly. 

“Get some sleep, it’s late,” he announces in a low, gravelly voice before trudging towards the staircase. He seems to have sobered up. 

All that’s left on the deck is your empty palms, the stinging sea spray, and two snoring pirates. 

HOSHI SPENT THE REST of the morning trying to sleep off the imminent feeling of spontaneous combustion. 

The tingle in his right hand refuses to go away, even when he plunges the darn thing into a freezing bucket of water next to his cot, assuming his wound was acting up. 

He sleeps fitfully, the frustration that simmers refuses to let him have a staggering moment of peace. His head is as dense as a whale, throbbing in the seeping light. The sounds of the sea, ones that once brought him calm, were now triggering an irrational reaction from his entire being. 

Swinging to his feet is easy, it’s the aftermath of such a reckless action that has him stumbling like a fawn. Slipping into his boots, he thuds to the lower decks, to the storage area where all of the rations are. 

And where all of the alcohol is. 

He bumps into Minghao on the way down, who’s filling his canteen as he keeps morning watch on deck. 

“Go sleep, I’ve got it,” he says to him, and Minghao does little to refute as he makes a beeline for his beloved hammock. 

It’s too early for anyone to be awake, despite the afternoon sun that lingers. He takes full advantage of it as he hauls the first crate of rum up to the deck. 

There isn’t an inch of hesitation as he lifts the death juice and sends it splashing into the ocean. He stares for a moment as heavy bottles disappear under the water, still full of the very thing he’d shoot his crew for wasting a single drop of. 

Even more determined than before, he goes back down into the brig, this time lugging two more crates of rum, all to be met with the same fate, going down to touch the bottom of the ocean.

With every echoing slam of the wood hitting the water, he feels himself freeing. 

But you plague him anyway. 

Lifting a particularly heavy box, he thinks of how close you had gotten to him on this very deck. How he could breathe in your exhales. How he could feel the tactile of your fingertips tracing over every mauled slash on his hand. How you consumed his mind in ways he couldn’t fathom. 

It was the rum. The rum was doing this to him. 

At least, that’s what he’d chosen to blame. 

Who was he to deny the effect you seemed to have on him?

The answer was that he was a pirate, especially with the way he chalked his muddled brain to not having had a woman around for so, so long. 

He’d considered indulging once they reached Port Ash, slipping away for an hour into one of the beaded doors of women ready to give him what he wanted. The thought seemed like an unwanted remedy. 

Every solution felt fruitless, a balm that only seemed to make the itch worse. Even as he commits a sin as heinous as feeding perfectly good rum to sea foam, he only does it in the hopes that the sea will take it as a sacrifice, to give him the kind of peace his being has begun to crave. 

Hoshi has been moved to insanity. 

Even as he feels the cool cylinder of Jun’s revolver on his temple, he pushes the last crate overboard as his final answer. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hears Jun ask. 

When he turns around, the revolver remains stationary as it now points into the smack middle of his forehead. He has an audience, Mingyu’s face has leftover sleep on it, a mildly horrified look on his face. Chan looks like he could slice his own Captain’s throat open. 

“Where’s the rum?” Mingyu asks in an airy voice, disbelief prominent. 

“The rum’s gone.”

“Why is the rum gone?” 

Hoshi doesn’t answer as he moves Jun’s loaded gun out of his face and makes his way back to his cot downstairs, in no mood to squabble with his too sober crew. 

There’s calls of his name that follow him all the way to below the deck, even as he snatches a stray hat on the floor, placing it above his face in the hopes that he was relieved enough to sleep. 

It’s snatched away as Mingyu stands above him like an angel of death, his hat in his equally deathly grip. 

“Did the spirits possess you?” 

“No,” he replies begrudgingly. “But good sense has.”

“Captain,” he hears Chan begin, looking about five seconds away from committing a murder on the seas. “You know I can’t fight sober.”

“Learn.”

“What is this about? Where was the rum at fault?” Jun grits. 

Hoshi swings up once again. If Mingyu was an angel of death then he was the king of hell. 

But he has no threats left to give, his menacing soul left with the rum. There is only a snarl that turns into him dropping his head, sighing a loud, loud sigh. 

He tells his crew a sad affair as he expresses his sorrows like a eulogy. Blaming the rum was stupid, but it was what he had done. And now the fruit of his decisions sit forgotten in the reefs so far below.  

His crew is not happy when they find out, in any case. 

“But what did the rum do?” 

“Kissing beautiful women is part of life’s pleasures!” 

“I have half a mind to make you fish it all back up.” 

Mingyu has simply crumpled onto the floor in his heartbreak, Chan has his face in his hands. Hoshi doesn’t look up to witness Jun’s reaction. 

The crew would get over the lack of alcohol on board, perhaps a morbid brawl or two to help them get by, but what was more concerning was whether it did anything for Hoshi at all. 

At the very least, he knows he won’t go around kissing people sober, but when it comes to the matter of the war inside his chest…

A phantom ache throbs across the scar on his chest. 

Perhaps his heart would finally be the next to go.

PORT ASH WAS A depraved man’s heaven. 

One that could easily become his downfall if he doesn’t play his cards right. 

Too covered was suspicious, too much of the opposite was an open invitation to all the drunk and debauched population of Ash; pirates, criminals and councilmen alike. You were comfortable enough in what you were given to put on, to become the perfect blend in the rowdy, barely lit streets of the brothels and bars. 

Despite everything, Seungkwan assured you that no one would bother a woman flanked by obvious pirates, for whatever reason that may be. If it were up to you, you would’ve remained on the ship, safe and buried in your quarters, but the threat of an ambush on the docks plagued the crew enough to risk bringing you directly into the dragon’s den. 

Jun disappeared quickly, ducking behind an unmarked curtain with a nod to his captain. You could only assume this was where he’d obtain his remaining supplies for the explosives he seemed to be so good at creating. You’ve awoken to multiple median bangs during the night, so you can only assume he knows what he’s doing to a certain extent. 

“Jun said it might take a while, so we might have to wait on him a little bit.” Hoshi stands at the front of the group, addressing his crew. 

“Spread out, do whatever. Don’t linger, don’t drink yourselves to death—” he sends a pointed look at a shifty Chan and Mingyu, “—and meet back at the ship at six bells or we’ll leave without you.”

The announcement doesn’t seem to apply to you. You’re sandwiched between Hoshi and Seungkwan as they lead you into the throng, to wherever it was they were to pass the time till it was time to return.

If Ash was anything, it was alive. Men and women scatter in all states of drunk and sober, arms latched with their partners for the night as they let the oil lamps carry them to their abode for the night. It’s a wilder Hasry, a scarier Hasry. 

The nighttime does nothing to help your nerves, every single face shrouded in the half shadows, seemingly resembling every person you’ve ever met in the Kingdom. 

It makes you feel better that both men are pressed against your sides, as strange as the thought sounds in your head. Safe between two pirates.

“Nobody’s tried to kill you yet, I’d call that a record,” Seungkwan comments, but it’s not directed towards you. 

Hoshi scowls as you shift your gaze from Seungkwan to him. The usually nonchalant pirate captain looks…cautious. His eyes dart around the crowded streets, like he was looking for familiar faces all the same as you. 

Your eyes land on his curled lips and force down a shiver. This was the first time you’d been around him since that drunken night, since you’d promised to never drink again. 

He doesn’t mention it, so neither do you.

“Captain Hoshi Kwon? How wonderful of you to show your face again!” 

A woman’s voice rings shrill amidst the loud buzz and hollers of the streets, emerging like a white ghost from the throng. Dressed to the nines, face painted intricately, fan clenched in her hand that perches on her hip. She’s joined by another gaggle of women that crown behind her, displaying a rainbow of coloured gown and fans, but holding the same disdained look. 

The pirate captain freezes beside you, and you feel Seungkwan’s hand on your back burn. 

He seems shaken at the sight of the new woman initially, but puts on a smile you’ve only seen a few times. One that dazzles with his teeth on display, eyes squinted.

“Delilah!” he exclaims, almost too happy to see this mystery woman. “How’ve you been?”

“Who did that? I’d like to send them flowers,” she refers to the scar above Hoshi’s heart. 

“Jellyfish don’t really like me, learned that the hard way.” 

His answer seems to only annoy her. Delilah has a wicked snarl on her face, threat in her stance. “When was the last time I saw you?”

“Uh,” Hoshi stumbles. 

“The Crowded Inn, was it? When I fell asleep to a promise and woke up to an empty bed?”

“Our dear captain seems to have thrown memory at sea,” one of the girls behind her calls out, followed by a collective giggle. 

Hoshi looks cornered, at a loss for words as he attempts to save face. Regaining his prior easygoing expression, he continues. 

“There’s no promises after I’ve had a drink or two, you know that, Delilah.” It scares you a little how easily he can inject all the sugar and honey in the world directly into his words, flirting his way out of the predicament. 

Except, she doesn’t seem to be buying it, because as soon as the words leave Hoshi’s lips, you hear a loud thwack and a blur of colour. You gasp before you can help it, covering your mouth in shock. 

There’s a reddenning mark on his cheek in the shape of a hand. Hoshi remains face scrunched, coming round, hand slowly coming up to touch his no doubt stinging cheek. 

Your reaction seems to have roused this woman, because she sends you nothing but a look laced with pure venom, completely ignoring Seungkwan who stands aside doing nothing to help his captain. 

“Where’d you pick this one up?” She asks, her fan now shucked open, fanning herself even in the pleasant weather. Her pale face, red lips, dark eyes all remain on your shabby form, a hint of a smirk on her face. “Is she as disappointing of a performer as she looks?” 

That seems to do it, as you watch Hoshi’s facade of a cheeky bed trotter image drop to something with more depth. 

“Delilah,” he says, warning in his voice. 

“Ah! Looks like I’ve struck a nerve.”

You watch Hoshi take a step forward and you’re suddenly hyper aware of the crowd of people that continue to pass and linger, reminding yourself of the repercussions of causing a scene in a place like this. Turning slightly, you attempt to push Seungkwan to do something.

“Captain,” Seungkwan says, a casual but careful voice. A starting attempt at calming things down. 

“That’s enough,” Hoshi says, ignoring Seungkwan’s warning. “Quit pretending you weren’t warming that privateer’s bed right after I left.” 

There was no reason for you to say anything, do anything. But when you find yourself pushing forward, leaving Seungkwan’s hold, you can’t stop. Perhaps he’d have punched Seungkwan, his own crew, if he’d done the same as you were right now, but you’d like to think you know the pirate captain enough to assume he’d react less so with you. 

There’s a shift in the woman’s jaw as she watches you wrap your arm around one of Hoshi’s, trying your absolute best to mimic a bright smile. 

“We should go,” you announce, the stretch of your cheeks unfamiliar even to you. You turn to catch Hoshi’s stare, he’s looking at you like you’ve grown an extra head. “Right, Hosh?”

“Go on then, Captain. Your little princess awaits.” 

You flinch without meaning to. Princess. 

This woman doesn’t know what she’s talking about, at least, that’s what you recite in your head as your trio goes back to pushing walking through the streets. She doesn’t know who you are. 

“She doesn’t know,” you hear Hoshi say under his breath, but you hear it loud as day.

You exhale, “I know.”

“Sorry about her. And him, “ Seungkwan says, before turning to Hoshi. “I told you not to get involved with that one, she’s a menace.”

You’ve let go of Hoshi’s arm at this point, now simply watching him attempt to calm himself down as you walk. He doesn’t reply to Seungkwan’s jab. 

You feel strange, a feeling you can’t exactly pinpoint. You’re too aware of yourself, in a way that’s different than just the fear of being recognized. Shifting your eyes to your attire, your usual linen skirts and corset, an added grey shawl for your own anxious sanity.

The woman’s voice rings in your head. Shabby. 

“You didn’t let her get to you, did you? She’s always been vile, she can’t live without being a bitch about something every five minutes.” 

Seungkwan’s grumbling goes in one ear and out the other as you don’t answer. He seems to read you better than you thought he could. He sighs.

“Congratulations Delilah, you’ve made a princess feel shabby,” he says in a sarcastically chipper voice, one that earns a hiss from his captain for being too loud. 

Before you know it, you’re being led down a flight of stone stairs and you’re informed that it was an underground pub of sorts. Something about his undertone told you it was probably more, but you ignore it as the darkness is let alight beyond the musty curtains of the basement entrance. 

It’s a sizable expanse, a bar on one of the long ends of the hall, busy and overflowing with mugs, jugs and plates. Wooden tables and chairs, almost all of them occupied by patrons of all kinds that do nothing to regulate their volumes. It smells like a rancid mixture of alcohol and people, but you push past as you find yourself seated on one of the wooden seatings in the corner. 

“I’ll go get us drinks,” Seungkwan announces as he walks up to the bar. You watch as he’s greeted by nearly every passing customer, all smiles. 

Hoshi sits beside you like a begrudged toddler, arms crossed and glaring at nothing. 

“Didn’t realise how popular you were around these parts,” you comment, scanning the crowd in excruciating detail, blaming force of habit as you do. 

He clicks his tongue, and you can’t see him, but you can almost visualise his grimace.

A too clean councilman that has his hands on the upper thighs of an outlandishly dressed woman. A man so grimy and dusty who has nothing but an array of empty jugs for company. Another flock of fan yielding, hair towering, gown exploding women that swarm a man you cannot see past the bodies. 

It’s organised chaos, immoral yet is the only thing that seems to work on this island. 

Another entrance is being made from the curtains that block the pub from the outside, you steer your eyes automatically. 

Looks like he could be a pirate, beyond just the dark hair and chiselled face. He has a girl under his arm, a pretty brunette that giggles at his side as he whispers something in her ear. She’s wearing something similar to you, a corset and a linen skirt, and a pirate's hat that’s too big for her that’s perched on her head. 

Subconsciously, you feel better about being so severely underdressed. 

Hoshi sits up next to you and you glance over your shoulder to assess his shift. He’s also staring at the couple that’s just walked in. You briefly wonder if this was going to be another showdown.

The man catches Hoshi’s eye from across the room, and you notice how his smile falls a little. 

“Who’s that?” you ask quietly. 

Your question is answered when the man himself begins to walk towards your table, leaving the girl at his table, a confident strut as he makes his path. 

Hoshi rises next to you before you realise what’s happening, and you have the sudden urge to call out for Seungkwan. 

“Why are you getting up?” you hiss. He doesn’t answer, yet again.

“Captain,” the man greets. 

“Captain,” Hoshi replies. 

Captain. So he was a pirate. 

“Hm. That’s not gonna go away, is it?” The man comments with a smirk, eyes trained on the scar on Hoshi’s chest. 

“Wonder who’s fault that is.” Hoshi’s voice is levelled. 

Oh. Was that scar his doing?

“I hope you won’t mind if I don’t apologise?” The smirk on his face remains as he continues, motioning towards his own cheek, eyes trailed on the side of Hoshi’s face. “Looks like you’ve got enough enemies without me trying to carve your heart out.”

Hoshi doesn’t answer as he grimaces, a frustrated blink and a hand that runs over his sore cheek. 

“Delilah was quite adamant on having your head on a pike after that,” the stranger adds with a chuckle of his own, before trailing his eyes behind Hoshi. Right where you sat watching the two men interact. “Perhaps she does have some consideration left.”

“Delilah cared more about looking like a fool than she ever did me leaving. You’d know all about that wouldn’t you, Wonwoo?” 

There’s a flash of irritation on Wonwoo’s face at the jog of a memory. “Handled it better than you did. At least I wasn’t walking around with a handprint on my face.”

“No, no you weren’t. Just a leash around your neck,” Hoshi’s own eyes darted towards the girl seated at Wonwoo’s table, a silent jab.

Wonwoo’s face morphs into something a little more dangerous than just irritation, his jaw tightening as he takes a step forward. They’re nearly nose to nose. 

To your surprise, Wonwoo smiles. “I guess brothels don’t teach many manners after all. My mistake.”

For the second time that day, you spring from your position in the shadowed table, giving up on praying for Seungkwan’s arrival. The man seems to have disappeared somewhere along the barline, and you curse both the men that stand before you for their horrid temper management skills. 

You don’t have to do much, however, as you find Wonwoo pulling away by himself. At least, you thought so, finding a hand wrapped around his upper arm. The brunette spares neither of you a glance as she simply murmurs furiously under her breath, hand now on her lover's chest as she pushes him to move back from the brewing altercation. 

Hoshi doesn’t seem to be breaking, remaining standing with his eyes shooting daggers at the man that’s reluctant to walk away from a budding fight.  

Being gentle wasn’t going to work right now, and you weren’t feeling so soft anyway. Instead, you reach over to grab his wrist tight, positively yanking him back as hard as you could. 

“Wh—ow!”

He slams into the seat next to you, deadly eye contact with the other captain broken as he winces at the impact. When you glance up, Wonwoo is gone. 

“You said to blend in, how is this blending in?!” 

“I didn’t do anything!”

“You were two seconds away from drawing knives,” you hiss. “We’re in a pub, for goodness’ sake!” 

Despite your irritation, and with the newfound information that rests in the back of your head, it’s difficult to keep your eyes off the scar that stands against the lamplight of the pub. 

Someone did try to carve his heart out. 

Context for an altercation that could lead to something like that remains unknown, and you doubt you’d ever get a straight answer from him if you asked—as always. Besides, you forget they’re pirates. 

Hoshi goes back to simply ignoring you as he festers in his grumbled silence. Choosing to keep his arms folded and staring straight ahead. You make no moves to entertain him. 

“I guess brothels don’t teach many manners after all.”

This mystery captain’s left you with enough ammo to keep you wondering for days. What on earth was that? 

As if Hoshi’s (and yours) mood wasn’t sour enough, your attention is brought to the front of the room where another entrance is being made, quite loudly so. You very quickly recognise the gowns and fans and shrieking giggles of women as Delilah and her posse. 

You note the woman herself is nowhere near. 

“Fucking hell,” you hear Hoshi swear under his breath. He’s sitting up, eyes darting around the room, almost like he was trying to find a hiding spot. You doubt he's too excited over another conversation of similar nature, let alone a matching mark on the other side of his face.

The women hadn't seen him yet, and were approaching far too quickly for him to get up and leave anywhere to hide. A quick scan of the room yourself and you realise there’s only one remaining option. 

They didn’t seem to recognise you for your title before, and you assume the current extent stays within simply being another seductress in the pirate captain’s company. You push the sickening feeling away as you realise you might have to play the part. 

So you do the sensible thing and push Hoshi’s head under the wooden table, forcing him to leave his seat and crouch beside your legs. In a split second, you’ve lifted your linen skirt and draped it over his hunched body. 

This would have to do. 

And it seems to have been the right move because as soon as the man is out of sight, you find the opposite end of the table more occupied than you ever would have been comfortable with. 

“Oh! You’re that Hoshi’s girl aren’t you?” one of the women who's made themselves comfortable asks, fan in front of her mouth and nose as you note her sharp eyes. 

“Uh,” you laugh nervously. 

“Oh, nothing to be embarrassed about,” she assures, a snap in her voice. 

Another woman decked out in a green ensemble speaks in a teasing voice, “We’re all quite accustomed to his…mannerisms.”

The table erupts in a fit of giggles and cackles and you’re forced to laugh weakly along, hyper aware of the man that sits under your skirt right below. You try not to flinch as you feel his clothes brush against the side of your calf. 

“So, tell us,” she says, taking your hands in hers, a contact you really wish you could break free of. If only you weren't quite as terrified of the women seated at your table. “How far along in heaven has this man taken you?”

She spares you an answer as you gape with square shoulders. She fans herself in a whimsy as she looks like she’s reminiscing. “He’s almost as good of a pirate as he is a beast in bed, I don’t think I’ll ever forget that night.”

“Quite generous with the tongue too, if you know what I mean.” 

The pirate captain’s breath hits your bare knees in its own fan, goosebumps almost immediately erupting across the expanse of your skin. You fail to suppress a shudder.

Goodness, this man stays busy.

“Oh look at her, she’s gotten all flustered!” one of them laughs. You take it as an opportunity to slip your hands out of the tight grasps of the bold ladies. “It seems he’s taken to a newer liking. How innocent.”

These women seem to like talking more than they wish to hear a word from you, of course, you couldn’t tell them anything they already didn’t know. Of which, according to their interests, you knew nothing of it anyway. 

“Don’t get too attached now, we’re all mere expendables in this busy pirate’s—”

Slam!

Rum. You smell rum. 

It’s like you’ve been transported back onto the main deck, the smell of rum mixed with….with—

“Ladies!” Seungkwan announces, slamming bottles of alcohol on the table with a force unnecessary. “Funny seeing you again.”

For a moment you may have even thought Hoshi had clambered up to the table to announce himself, and you feel a hand fly down to your skirts. 

He’s still there, head now actively leaning against your knee. You pray the man hasn’t fallen asleep as you attempt to greet Seungkwan. 

“Took you long enough,” you grit through a sickly sweet smile. 

With your hand somewhere on Hoshi’s upper back, you guide him with you as you make space for Seungkwan next to you. 

“The—oh!” Seungkwan is quick to notice the breathing lump under your skirt as he sits himself next to you, but manages to compose himself with a cough. “Long line. What were you ladies talking about?”

One of them smiles big as ever, slowly lifting themselves from their seats, “We were just…leaving. Wonderful speaking with you!” 

And with that, you can finally feel your breath coming back to you, the table significantly lighter with the lack of colours, perfume and humans. 

Releasing a long exhale, you let your shoulders drop and lean backwards. 

“Are you going to explain why the captain is hidden under your skirts?”

With a jolt, you're forced to consider his presence under the table, scanning the room to find the women gone from the pub altogether. 

Hoshi emerges from under the fabric, and shuffles over to the other side of the table to sit down, bringing an instinctive hand towards the fresh bottles on the table. Halting, he instead reaches for the jug of water on the edge and pours himself a helping.  

You refuse to look at him. Refuse to acknowledge the red in his face. Refuse to acknowledge the sudden cold under your skirt. 

Seungkwan’s stare is burning holes into the side of your head, even as he uncorks one of the bottles as an offer. You also refuse; both to look him in the eye and the drink itself.

Bottle to his lips, he moves his glare to his captain, who sits nursing his water like it was something stronger. 

“I haven’t gotten an answer yet,” he finally breaks. 

Instinct has your eyes lifting to meet Seungkwan’s inquisitive one’s, answers frozen in your throat. 

“Why are you asking like you don’t know who they were?” Hoshi snaps. 

“I can understand not wanting a matching handprint on your other cheek!” he refutes. “But how do you decide the solution is to dive into yet another woman’s skirts?”

Your only solace to the heat that prickles your body is the way Hoshi himself flushes. 

Seungkwan sighs as he takes another sip of his drink, eyeing Hoshi’s still red cheek. “I’m starting to think you deserved it.” 

Hoshi makes a motion like he’s about to send his half full cup flying into Seungkwan’s face but stops short. Perhaps he’s realising he’s become the problem child for today. 

You contemplate telling Seungkwan about Wonwoo and the near pub brawl you would’ve had to deal with, but decide it to be a story for another time. Besides, you weren’t about to risk mentioning his name while it was still fresh. 

You realise just how unstable this island can turn a person; not just the pirate captain.

Because as you look at Hoshi on the other side of the table, you find how difficult it is to look away.

“YOU NEED TROUSERS.”

“What?”

“Oh don’t look so scandalised, you’ve been prancing around with pirates for goodness’ sake.”

Seungkwan haggles with the stall owner over the price of padded coats, blankets and an array of other things the crew would need. The journey was only going to take the ship further North, and it was only going to get colder as you neared the icy water of the Green Islands. 

Seungkwan’s suggestion to buy you trousers came out of the blue, but it seems you couldn’t refuse when you find both Hoshi and Chan (who joined you after he was tired of the others) agreeing. 

“You can’t possibly stay warm in linen,” Chan argues. “Trousers are the only way you won’t freeze your limbs off.”

“Too much airflow in a skirt,” Seungkwan agrees, eyes closed, head shaking solemnly. “Captain would know.”

“Hm?” Chan looks at him confused. 

“Fine!” You snatch the folded brown lump in Seungkwan’s hands. You keep talking in a louder than necessary voice in the hopes that Chan won’t ask any more questions. “I’ll wear them.”

“Perfect! Now we need to get you boots.”

“I have boots!” 

“Warm boots!” 

“But—”

It was difficult to argue with Seungkwan once he’s got his mind set on something. But that paired with the loud noises of the Ash port market was sending pulsing throbs across the sides of your head. You simply surrender as Seungkwan leaves Hoshi to pay the vendor before pushing you across the street to where a stall held boots and slippers for sale. 

In the midst of his bargaining, Chan had disappeared into the throng, returning with a steaming plate of something that smelled doughy and delicious. 

“What is that?” you ask as Chan shoves the tray in front of you. 

“Whatever they are, they’re delicious. Try one.”

He was right, one bite of the warm, soft goodness covered in syrup had you taking a moment to ponder. It melts in your mouth, barely registering the rest of the group scarfing down the tray like it was their last.

“God, you can never get them this good on the mainland,” Seungkwan cries. “We’ll get another tray before we leave.”

Speaking of leaving, you turn to ask about the time. 

“How many bells has it been?” you ask Seungkwan whose cheeks bulge with the amount of dough balls he’s stuffed in. He looks like a child caught stealing when you ask. 

“Oh—”

“Five,” Hoshi answers instead, eyes remaining on the pile of goods that he’s gathered to remain in his line of sight. You suppose there was no delivery system here like in Hasry, and you doubt how secure it is to be walking around with a pile of supplies on this island in particular. 

“You need to hurry, I told the rest of them to meet at six bells.”

Seungkwan’s quick to wrap up, but not before shooing Chan away for another tray of those sweet dough balls for the journey. You manage to whisper to him to bring extra. 

By the time Seungkwan’s done with the last vendor, dropping the giant coil of rope onto the already large pile of supplies, you begin to wonder how you were supposed to get all of this to the ship. 

“Shove those in a bag and carry some of this,” Hoshi says to Chan who has returned, brandishing another steaming tray of the sweet treat. He grumbles as he complies, complaining about how the sticky sweet syrup was going to ruin the inside of the pack. 

You look a little lost as you attempt to help, all three men grabbing their share of the load. 

“Let me hold something,” you attempt, reaching for a wrapped pile. 

You watch as Hoshi snatches it before you can grab it for yourself. “Keep an eye out instead.”

“But—”

“Here.” Chan drops the pack with the now rolling dough balls inside. “Snacks for the walk too, how lucky.”

There’s a light push from behind you as Seungkwan urges you to move forward, face slightly obstructed with the tower he’s holding in his arms. “Go on, straight and then left. We’re close to the port anyway.”

You’re left feeling slightly useless as you remain caged with Chan in front while Seungkwan and Hoshi follow you from behind. The walk is short, but crowded nonetheless. 

It’s only later in the night, which means the crowds in the bustling streets and alleys of Ash only multiply, clear with the case you’re pushed into right now. You pause in front of a particularly busy patch, needing to take a breath before following Chan’s fearless footsteps. 

It’s immediate suffocation, bodies on all sides as you try your best to not lose Chan in the midst of the crowds. Perhaps they were right to keep your hands mostly unoccupied—it would’ve been impossible for you to not completely lose yourself here. 

Gaining a rhythm of walking with the crowd before moving slightly against to near your exit, you’ve almost made your way out. 

Just as you find the bend leading to the open air of the port, you hear a distinct rip sound from behind you. 

If your skirt was airy before, it was a windstorm now. 

Craning your neck at an impossible angle, you find the bottom of your skirt ripped so high up the back of your knees are out for the population of Ash to see. 

Gasping loudly, you halt in your tracks. A horrible mistake, because you’re only being bumped and shoved by the evermoving bodies. 

“Why are you stopping?” Seungkwan hisses, before realising what’s just happened. “Uh oh.”

“I…”

Both Seungkwan and Hoshi push past the throng making their way out of the crowd, leaving you there frazzled and practically naked 

You barely consider that they’ve just left you there as you scramble to cover your calves with what overlapping fabric you had left, registering the threats and curses being sent your way for being the idiot that stops in what is essentially a fast paced parade. 

The rational part of your brain checks out, refusing to consider that perhaps the back of your knees were the least scandalous thing this island has seen, especially after the conversations you’ve had in your short time here. But alas, a few months of the pirate life wasn’t enough to push the princess out of you, and you stand like a paralysed fool about to get stampeded. 

Just as you’re convinced you’d die here, embarrassed and utterly panicked, you feel a body press up from behind you. 

It was too close to be a bystander pushing past, which was saying something since most of these patrons were practically climbing over your form. 

You whip your head back to look at the person who’s invading your space more than usual, hands tight around your upper arms in an effort to push you forward. 

Hoshi stands behind you as his body covers the ripped damage of your skirt, eyes trained in front to survey the crowd.

“Come on, I’ve got you,” he grunts, pushing to get you to move your legs. You stumble in the beginning, still not registering anything.

He was helping, but with the way you can feel every dip and shallow of his chest and abdomen pressing into you, you can’t help but think he’s only made matters for your already speeding heart worse. 

Your legs move automatically, letting him steer you wherever. Trying not to think about how his entire front is pressed onto your back like a mould. He’s so close you can even smell him despite the crowd.

Like your head isn’t spinning enough.

By the time you’ve exited the main rush of people, you’ve begun counting your minutes. 

Emerging to the bend that leads straight to the docks, you find the rest of the crew already there, running sprints to get all the new supplies to the ship that remained a few yards away. 

Despite having left the crowd behind, your exposure remained, which meant you’d have to be tailed all the way to the ship. You curse your luck as you watch Jun quirk an inquisitive brow at the both of you stuck like you’ve been glued. 

You pray you never have to show your face here again, because the looks don’t seem to stop until you’ve reached the ship. Perhaps the crowd where nobody was paying attention was better.

In any case, you respond to Minghao’s questioning noise with half shut eyes and a joint sprint towards the stairs leading to the lower decks. 

Hoshi keeps behind until you’ve gotten to the heavenly doors of your quarters, springing inside before Hoshi could register looking lower. 

It’s silent for a few sparing moments as you breathe tightly, convincing yourself that you were alone and uncompromised. You're pressed up against the door, almost like you’re afraid the entirety of Ash would barge through to witness your calves. 

“I’ll handle the boys, don’t worry about that,” you hear Hoshi speak from the other side of the door. 

There’s nothing you could do other than slide down the door in a beyond dramatic fashion, head in your hands as you grip the strands like you were moments away from ripping them off. Every instance of your upbringing flashes before your eyes, every crack of your mentor’s canes on your thighs and calves, every waking pain in your back from the impossible postures, every bruise and nick on your feet from being stepped on and trodden over. 

Despite the ridiculous nature of the situation, you feel your eyes grow heavy with tears. 

Was this panic? 

Taking in the circumference of your cramped quarters; the unmade bed, the strewn clothes, the thrown covers. 

It was nothing. Yet, at the same time, it was everything. 

Amidst the pile, there’s a glint of metal where your knife lies on your nightstand, the tiniest smear of uncleaned blood on the blade. From your position on the floor, you find the half broken lamp discarded under your bed, shunned from your sight. The desk in the corner is empty, save for the staggering mountain of letters from your father. 

The only suggestion of normalcy, yet the one you itch to be rid of the most. 

The letter opener necklace that was exchanged for the ring on your finger sits warm against the valley of your breasts, a reminder of the first weapon you plucked from this very room. The weapon that began it all. 

The smell of gunpowder fills your nose, the forever echoing bang of Jun’s revolver as you took that child sailor’s life with your own two hands. 

You lay like that, on the cold floors of your quarters. Refusing to touch the court appointed comfort of your bed, for fear of reigniting the guilt with a fire stoked. 

You aren’t sure if you sleep, but you do dream.

LIDS OPEN, EYES WIDE, but nothing to perceive.

It’s a pit of obsidian, unrelenting and unproposing in its press against your lungs. 

The familiar ball of prickling embers makes itself known in the pit of your stomach, rising and penetrating your senses in ways worse than even the darkness. It's alarm, dread and swivet; the concoction sticking to the walls of your lungs, throat and mouth. 

And then there’s pressure. 

Something envelopes you from behind, an unidentified lump that pulls you into something warm and sturdy. There’s another pressure at your stomach, another pull keeps you grounded between a wall built just for you. 

The air is perfumed, something beyond a flower or an incense. You know what it is.

And then you're falling, slipping into nothingness and landing between sheets warm enough to suggest you never left. 

The scent remains, and this time, Hoshi towers over your frame in something that might have been domineering. But with the distinct feeling of a wet mouth over your collarbone, a small whisper of words unintelligible, you melt like frost in front of a fireplace. 

“What?” you question his muttering, hands hovering just above the expanse of his covered back, barely touching. 

He rears his head like a gentle beast, wet lipped and zeroed in on your face. His response comes in the form of his lips enclosing your own. 

He tastes like rum.

OPENING THE DOOR TO an expectant Seungkwan, you only wave off his reference to you looking like you have one foot in death’s mouth, grabbing the stack of clothes and boots he delivers. 

He leaves you alone, something you cannot decide is a blessing or a curse as you take in the unchanged state of your quarters. 

Sleep gives you nothing but more troubling images to keep your mind utterly occupied, so you take what you can control in consciousness. 

You drop the clothes on a cleaner corner, yanking one of the thinner pairs of dark brown trousers to change into from your still torn and tattered skirt.

Moving inside the room, you pick the littered papers, ropes and rags on the floor, swerving and crouching with more vigour than necessary.

Hoshi’s scent sticks to you. 

Grabbing the pile of letters on your desk, you shove them in a sack and throw them under the bed. 

Hoshi holds you like he might die if he doesn’t.

Ripping the covers off the bed, you fold them into a giant ball of fabric, hoisting it into your arms as you strut to the door.

Hoshi’s lips have left a bruise on your chest.

The late morning sun combats the chill in the air, the salt sticking to your hair. 

Hoshi’s mouth is hot and wet on yours. 

Hoshi stands before you, manning the wheel on the deck. 

You halt in your tracks. 

He turns to register you with your arms full and shielding most of your body. 

Clearing his throat, he states, “You’re up.”

Eyes darting, you respond. “I’m up.”

Somehow, his presence makes you forget the audacity of your own brain to stew the play it did. Depositing the sheets on the floor of the deck, you attempt to look for a reasonably long coil of rope. 

In your pointed distraction, you miss how distracted the pirate captain has also become. 

His elbows, initially perched on the wheel, slip in a comical manner, unintentionally pushing the wheel to the right. 

You don’t expect the minor lurch of the ship, landing on your bum with a yelp when you lose your footing all of a sudden. Your elbows take a worse hit, spiking pain across your upper limbs at the hard contact. 

His hands are pulling you to your feet before you can register what’s happened, coming round as you open your eyes to an open mouthed captain.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you grunt, dusting off your brand new pants as you move past him, refusing to make eye contact. 

Picking up a coil of rope, you bring one of the ends to a mast on the end of the ship, stepping on a crate to tie it around the pole. By the time you’re stepping off the crate to tie the other end to the opposite mast, you find it already done, the pirate captain tightening the knot from across the ship. 

He meets your eyes for a moment, before you step in the direction of your piled sheets, breathing in a heavy inhale.

Untangling the mess, you pull them over to the suspended rope, throwing the sheets over with a grunt. You’d only ever seen the palace maids do this when they’d beat the carpets to oblivion, dusting the ages of dirt. 

“I just…”

When you turn around, the pirate captain is closer than you anticipated, hands encased around a smaller slab of wood. He trails off when you turn to face him, like he hoped he could speak to the back of your head instead. 

You take an instinctive step back, putting space between the both of you. You bring your expectant eyes up to him.

“I just wanted to tell you to ignore what happened at Ash.”

You flush, stuttering, embarrassed at your previous predicament all over again. “Oh, um—”

“Wait no!” he drops the wood onto the floor, hands flying as he waves them all over, seemingly as flushed as you are. “I meant—what Delilah and the others said. I just– they’re horrendous gossips—”

“What are you trying to say Hoshi?”

He falters. 

“I’m trying….” he exhales. “There’s nothing on my roster. Nobody. You aren’t expendable or disposable or whatever it was she said, you aren’t a used rag—”

“What am I then?” 

The question is tumbling out of your mouth before you can help it, stoned jaw and tight fist. 

“What?”

“What am I then? If I’m not expendable or disposable, what am I then?”

“You’re…” 

Taking a step forward, you move back to your initial spot, closer to him, chests almost touching.

“I’m?”

“You’re a princess and I’m a pirate!” he blurts, his previously apprehensive face morphing into something intense. 

You huff a short breath, an incredulous stretch to your lips. Of course. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” you ask in a low voice. 

“Like what it is,” he heaves, chest inflating and deflating like he’d run the course of the deck about thrice. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

If your ears weren’t deceiving you, it sounded more like he was trying to convince no one but himself. 

You take a step closer as he takes a step back.

His face is scrunched ever so slightly, eyes blinking quicker than normal. The sunlight blurs the edges of his features; his usually sharp, stinging stare is hazy, the slant of his nose curvier, the ridges of his lips blending into your muddled perception of his face. 

The only thing dividing you is the silence, the bore of your stare and the war in your mind. You cannot speak for him, but you also aren’t a fool. 

“Everything they say about you is wrong.” 

“What?” he asks again. 

“You don’t have a deadly bone in your body. You’re a coward that hides behind his knife and his big bad pirate ship that you can’t even defend.”

For once, he remains speechless while you persist.

“To think we spent all these years trying to subdue you, push you to the edge,” you can feel the anger seep into the hottest centre of your bones. “All for you to be some scared sailor all along.”

“Your father ruined my life,” he says. It’s a strange voice he uses, one that’s somewhere between disbelief and a warning.

“And mine with it.” 

He laughs, blinking rapidly, backing away even further, running a hand through his hair. Coming around, he looks over his shoulder. He looks like the man you met the day your life fell apart, a strut in his step that runs your blood cold. 

“Are you sure this has nothing to do with you simply wishing to spite the man?” He walks back over. “Prance around with the filthy pirate he hates just for the fun of it?” 

“Oh and you haven’t just been itching to ruin the kingdom’s beloved princess.”

Your mouth seemed to have a mind of its own, spewing the accusation with a vigour you never realised you possessed. Lies. Lies. Lies.

This was your own deteriorating mind’s doing. You were the debauched princess painting lewd pictures of a pirate in your mind. It was your heart that couldn’t stand being near the man for longer than necessary. It was you that had the scripture somewhere in your chest, the tiniest speck of a daydream, that perhaps this inner turmoil didn’t end with just you. 

Did you want to be another woman he doesn’t have to remember? 

You don’t know. All your mind registers is the unbearable twist in your chest, and how it feels like you can’t do nothing about it.

You’re used to getting your way, and you hate that your mind seems to have drifted away from you.

Hoshi’s expression is nowhere in your mind, too preoccupied with sucking in inhales and trying not to begin spiralling right on the main deck. 

“You’re projecting.” 

Eyes snapping up like he’s proposed to sink the ship itself, you feel yourself hit a mental wall. And a physical one as you feel the brush of the suspended sheets against your hair, having taken an unconscious step back. 

He’s cornered you. Yet again. 

“Everything about you screams vulnerable,” he says, moving closer. “Not very sharp to show in front of a pirate.”

“Hoshi.” A warning. A sharp, hurtling sting of fear. 

“What? Big bad pirate too emotionally removed? Beloved princess trapped and defenceless on unfamiliar lands?” 

He’s moving closer, too close.

“I take it back,” he says. “Perhaps drunken Ash does speak the truth—”

Not a familiar plane on his face, like the pirate king had absolved a long held mask. His eyes mortified you, his stance was a walking threat. 

Despite the morning sun, the cave of the hung sheets, the shadows of the high masts and the towering gloom of the pirate captain creates enough darkness to throw a shadow in your mind. 

It’s like the day his crew dropped on the deck for the very first time. The emotions you wished you’d never have to feel again. 

“Stop.” A whisper. 

“Itching to ruin the kingdom’s beloved princess—”

“Do not move any closer!” you shout, eyes squeezed shut, hands fisting the suspended sheets so hard you can feel your fingernails dig into your palms. Scarring.

The world halts, and you feel the darkness beyond your eyelids, lighten. The air is forgiving, cool and blowing.

When you open your eyes, you’re alone.

THE WAR ROOM LOOKS the same, but everything has changed.

For one thing, you were significantly more bundled up with coats and lined boots. The cold of the green islands wasn’t the creeping frost you’d anticipated. You simply woke up one day without feeling in your fingers and toes, fog in the air as you breathed. 

The coat wasn’t nearly as thick as it needed to be, but you doubt you would’ve found anything better even at the ports. The green islands weren’t meant for life.

“You need to get into the hold unnoticed, and as quickly as possible,” Minghao says. “We don’t know what’s gonna happen after the exchange is made but we know we can’t help you once you’re on that ship.”

Clenching your jaw, you nod tersely. It was high stakes, you couldn’t hurt any of the soldiers to keep it clean; planting a bomb where a King resides was difficult—princess or not.

“Getting you out of the wreckage is our job,” Hoshi says, and you pointedly refuse to look at him. You weren’t quite convinced. “We’ll be on Tigress by the time the bomb goes off. Leave nothing of importance on this thing, we’ll be blowing it up too.”

“You need to get in the water as soon as that bomb goes off,” Jun says. “Their priority is gonna be you and your father. You need to make sure they can’t find you when they realise the ship’s sinking.”

The ship the King should be transported in was the same as the very naval vessel you sat in right now. 

“They might be on one of the smaller ships,” you say.

“Why?”

“You know what the ships that hold royals look like, they aren’t risking you having that advantage.”

If your father was bringing out all the guns of deception to take down these pirates once and for all—which you don’t doubt he was—every move you were about to make was based on assumptions. Assumptions that might as well cost this entire crew’s heads.

“Do you know what those ships look like?” Minghao asks.

“I’ve only been on them a few times, but never in the hold,” you say. “I think I’ll figure it out well enough, they’re all the same more or less.”

There’s a blanket of silence, a quiet regard to how utterly unprepared all of you were. Limited information and the most important man’s head at the butt of the target; your bow pulled too taut, too wobbly, your arrow too blunt. 

“Are you sure we can’t risk shooting a couple of ‘em in the head?” Chan asks from across the room, running a tired hand across his face.

Sighing, you ignore the burst of fog erupting from your mouth, answering, “I can convince an entire Kingdom their King drowned, but I don’t know if I stop them from trying to find his body. Imagine their surprise if they find a supposedly drowned man with a bullet in his head.”

“It’s fine,” Hoshi interrupts, eyes downcast and arms folded. He leans against the wall of the war room and you can’t help it when your mind flashes to that stormy night. Your hands finding refuge on his chest, the heat of the moment. 

Nose flaring, you look away, the rage hurtling up your throat like vomit. 

“We’ll just have to figure it out. Stay vigilant, we all know what’s at stake. We all know what we have to do,” he continues, a glance around the inhabitants of the room. 

Something about it almost insinuates an underlying question of trust, a confirmation to sweep an unanswering room.

“The bomb’s done,” Jun says, and heat crawls up your entire being. “I made a couple extras, I’m gonna chuck ‘em out into the water for a test and that’ll be it.”

Somewhere on this ship lies the bomb that would kill your father, and if you didn’t do your job like you were supposed to, it might as well kill you all. 

YOU LEFT YOUR SOUL on your bedside table the moment Seungkwan entered your quarters with a rapt knock, informing you that the ship was nearing the rendezvous point. 

It had only been a few hours since that meeting in the war room, and it felt like only a week since this had all begun. 

Seungkwan invites himself in as he continues to talk. You aren’t sure if he’s doing it to calm you down or not, but you appreciate it regardless. 

“Keep those trousers on and make sure you look good. You have to look like we cared while we kept you prisoner,” he says, and you can’t help but smile just a little. “Take anything important—pocket it, give it to us. We’re not gonna see this ship after we’re done.”

The idea is strange, that your home for so many months would soon be forgotten, resting on the frozen ocean bed for eternity. You think of what you wish to keep, eyeing the stack of letters on the desk. You won’t be able to keep them on you if you were going to be jumping into the ocean at some point. 

Collecting the smaller pile, you hand them to Seungkwan. “You might have to take a dip in the ocean too, but at least you may have a chance to skip that bit if luck’s on your side. Keep these for me?”

Seungkwan smiles as he takes the stack of letters, pressing them to fit inside his coat. “Aren’t these all from your father?”

“Yes, but…” you trail off. “I’d like to remember them in case I forget why I did what I’m about to do.”

Seungkwan stands in front of you, an unreadable expression on his face. “You know this can’t work unless we trust one another. All of us. The entire crew.”

“I trust you,” you say. “Pirates are impatient. If you wanted me gone I wouldn’t be here.”

He sighs, almost like he was dissatisfied with your answer. With a laugh you ask, “Did you want me to say no?”

“No, it’s just,” he starts. “I wasn’t going to bring it up but, since we don’t have time…I don’t know what’s going on with you and Hoshi but…”

You stiffen at the mention of his name.

“I need to make sure you aren’t about to do something rash because of him.”

Your corset lies on the sheets, and you snatch it off, a bite to your movements.Your coat is already off, your linen shirt is the only thing that covers your upper body

“It was my mistake. I misunderstood. I won’t be letting it affect anything tonight.” You push the loosened corset over your head, too frustrated to unlace it and lace it back up. Your fingers are freezing cold, even too much for your palms to bear as they come in inevitable contact. 

Beyond yourself, you continue to grit through your chattering teeth, the pulses of irritation in your brain only encouraging you to spill. Turning around, back now facing Seungkwan, you fiddle with the strings on your corset as you rant.

“I can’t say the same for him, but you can ask.” Your arms are bent at a strange angle, but you attempt to make the loops and knots anyway. Having never had to do this by yourself ever, you’d found a practice after your peculiar situation. You were alright, but the cold was making it near impossible to simply loop the string through the existing holes.

“He seems to have a lack of emotional control, of course, you’d know, but I can’t say I find it too charming,” your grunting front he effort as you speak.

Seungkwan seems to have noticed your struggle because you feel a pair of warmer hands replace yours, unlacing the loop you’d just made only to loop it again, tighter this time. He takes the liberty to tie the final knot, tighter than you’d usually have it but you’re too busy to correct him. 

“I don’t think I need to explain what happened, your captain seems to be content with the way he is,” you scoff slightly before continuing. “I’m not quite sure what else I was expecting. Actually, I do know what I was expecting, but again, that’s just seems to be my fault—”

“I’m sorry.”

It’s like an entire ocean’s worth of ice water has been poured down your back. Perhaps being buried under the glaciers of the Green Islands would be more forgiving. 

Turning around, you find the hands on your waist do not move, Hoshi’s face coming into view instead of Seungkwan’s. 

The room is bare besides the both of you, the door to quarters closed. You don’t know when he came in nor when Seungkwan left, but he stands before you now, hands touching you where you shouldn’t let him. But you do. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, his eyes locked in on yours. 

“W-what?” you breathe.

“I’ve been quite stupid.”

“Have you?”

It sounds like he breathes out a laugh, but composes himself. “I didn’t realise I was cornering you on the deck the other day. I’m sorry for making you feel unsafe. I’m sorry for everything I said.”

Every fibre of your being wants him to suffer, to withhold your forgiveness. But then you realise where you are, in the middle of an ocean that’s been designed by the heavens to kill. 

“Thank you for saying that.” You don’t have the courage to look him in the eye. “I’m sorry too. You aren’t…you aren’t what I implied you were. You’re right. I was projecting.”

“I don’t want us to go out there walking on eggshells around each other,” he says as his breath fans your face. Warm. “We have to come out the other side. All of us.”

You nod slowly.

“You have it the hardest out of all of us, I just…” he trails off and you feel his fingers tightening on your waist, even through the material of your corset. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone. No matter what you lose, I think it’s safe to say you’ve gained me. All of us.” 

The thought of not making it out alive has you flexing your numb fingers in front of you slightly. You might die. This crew might die. Your crew might die. 

The man that’s begun to mean more than just a saviour might die. 

Not considering your frozen fingertips, or the absurdity, your body moves on its own. 

In a split second, your iced lips are in contact with the pirate captain’s warmer ones. 

You don’t doubt they’re cold as well, but they differ from yours enough for them to feel like the only warmers you need. 

Your hands have grabbed his face, light brushes against his skin as you tiptoe to reach his lips. They’re soft. Softer than you could’ve ever imagined on a pirate, and you find yourself forgetting where you are for a moment as you feel the plush of his mouth against your own. 

Pulling away first, your noses still brushing, you whisper to him through the creaks and groans of the drifting ship. “I had to do that. Just in case.”

“In case?” he whispers back.

“In case… we don’t make it.”

It only takes him a moment to remove his hands from your waist. For a heartbreaking second, you think this is him pulling away from you. Again.

And then both of his arms are looping around your waist, pulling you into his chest hard, your lips slamming into each other even harder. 

He takes the liberty to move his mouth against your own, hot even in the cold air. Moving with a restrained pace, yet appropriately desperate nonetheless. The cold tip of your nose brushes against his cheek and he pulls away to hiss. 

“God, you’re freezing.”

The discovery only seems to urge him to pull you impossibly closer. If your lungs weren’t already occupied, you wouldn’t have been able to breathe. Despite it all, you find your arms coming up around his neck and shoulders, one hand finding refuge in his light hair.  

You might never need a drink of anything ever again, not with the way his mouth alone seems to have you drunk and deranged, begging for time to stop so he’d never stop kissing you, never stop moving his beautiful, glorious mouth against your own. 

There isn’t a thought in your mind as you pull away for wretched air, eyes closed and breathing heavily. 

Hoshi places his forehead flush against your own, both of you exhaling into each other’s faces, still holding you so tight it hurts. It’s warm, his breath seemingly defrosting the formed icicles on your face. 

“Hoshi,” you slip from your mouth instinctively.

“Soonyoung,” he breathes, and it takes you a moment to realise he’s talking. “My name. Soonyoung is the name my mother gave me. I want you to have it.” 

Opening your eyes, you register his face so close to yours. His eyes are screwed shut, he’s still breathing heavily. 

“Soonyoung,” you repeat, hands finding his face again, stroking his cheek with your thumb. “Soonyoung.”

He opens his eyes.

“I like it. It’s very you.”

He smiles and you can’t help but think how beautiful he looks when he does, and when he leans forward to give you another elongated peck, one that has you chasing his lips again. He relents for one more.

“Well, Soonyoung, can I give you something too?”

He looks at you expectantly. 

Reaching up to the back of your neck, you find the knotted bind of the leather cord that hangs from your neck. Undoing it, you bring the charm out from under your shirt, leaning forward to tie it around his neck this time.

He stares at the charm that dangles down his front as you give it a light tug, “A letter opener. So that’s what you were getting from that lady at Hasry.”

“You knew when I left?” you ask, brows furrowed.

“I was more worried about you wandering off than I was about anything else, what made you think I didn’t know exactly where you were?” He has a cheeky smile on his face, one that you’ve never seen without an underlying threat or the usual glint of unhinged in his eyes. 

You can’t help but grin, of course he knew.

“If you wanted a letter opener as a weapon, you should’ve just asked.”

“Aren’t knives just bigger letter openers?” you ask with a soft chuckle.

He responds with a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose before saying, “Since we’re exchanging gifts—”

“You started it.”

“And I’m ending it.”

He emerges from one of his many pockets with what looks like a bracelet in his hands. 

“That’s—”

“From Hasry,” he confirms. “I bought it for no real reason, never even wore it.”

He rolls one of the pink and blue beads between his thumb and forefinger, and you remember it sitting at the stall in Hasry like it was yesterday. 

“Didn’t realise I only bought it because I saw you looking at it.”

The twist in your heart is the worst it’s ever been, even while he holds you closer than anyone ever has, you feel the need to squeeze him beyond measure hoping it’ll fix the turmoil in your chest. 

He attempts to take one of your hands, in an obvious attempt to slip the bracelet on your wrist. 

“Wait.” 

Hoshi stops. 

“Keep it,” you say as you grab his wrist, pushing the beads down his hand so it sits on his wrist instead.

“But—”

You cut him off with a kiss. “A reason for you to come out of this alive.”

There’s a silent understanding between the two of you as you stand in each other's arms. 

“We still have much to talk about. But I think this is alright for now,” you say. 

“We will,” he confirms. “But when we go out there and put everything on the line, remember you aren’t just a princess anymore. You’re a pirate, too. So fight like one.”

THE COLD HAS COATED the deck in a fine layer of ice, one that makes it a hazard to simply walk on. Your boots feel unstable and it takes a conscious effort to plant your feet firmly on the wood to ensure you don’t fall like Chan almost has the last four times and the one time he did. 

It’s less foggy than you’d anticipated, and you can see Mingyu and Minghao working overtime to ensure the giant ship doesn’t hit one of the absurdly large icebergs that float in the freezing water, the crow’s nest occupied by Hoshi himself as he peers through his telescope. It was strange seeing him use it, you’d begun to think he only kept it like an accessory.

He yells something from his place high up; it’s unclear, but you know.

And then you see it, the naval ship with the unmistakable flag that ripples proud in the cold air. Your family crest is barely decipherable, but knowing what lay ahead was enough to have you taking significantly deeper breaths. 

Your father’s—the King’s— ship bobs in the water with a near empty main deck, not a soul on board. 

You hold your breath, and as one of the blocks of ice are swerved, you find a second ship. The indicative jolly roger is nowhere to be seen, but it's obvious what ship that was. 

The Tigress stands proud with her years of darkened wood, the unmistakable figurehead at the prow in the distinct shape of a fanged siren. 

And only a smaller sailboat away, lay a flat of ice. 

Another white flag with the royal crest, lines of uniformed soldiers that stand at attention like protectors of the ice, a pattern of dotted blues. The admiral stands next to your father, who’s donned his own Naval uniform complete with a purple cape pinned at his shoulder. 

The purple cape of a victor that returns home from battle. The purple cape he’s donned before the battle has even ensued. 

The King has noticed your arrival, his face becoming clearer the nearer the ship gets to the block of ice that would act as common ground. 

And then the ship stops, you turn around and realise the rest of the crew has their eyes on you, expectant. 

“We have a message,” Mingyu says, looking at you but handing the thing in his hand to his captain. 

In your fixation, you did not notice the small boat that had floated near the ship, bearing a scroll with the royal seal. 

Hoshi reads it, lips tight shut and jaw clenched. 

In the next few minutes, all seven of you are cramped into a single, tiny wherry to be rowed onto the iced land. None of you speak, none of you acknowledge the other. The canister that Jun had given you presses against the side of your bare hip, your knife strapped inside your boot. 

That was it. That was all you had. 

But there was some confidence in it, the way the entire crew was asked to present themselves at the exchange was enough to tell you there was truth in what you presumed of your father’s plans. 

He had knives of his own up his sleeve, and he intended to provoke his worst enemy while looking him in the eye. 

As the boat reached what was a hardened shore, the crew stepped off the boat one by one. Very carefully, you stepped on the block of ice as the group moved forward, reaching a point where you stood parallel to the other rigid party. 

In a purposeful attempt, you were kept in the middle of a herded circle, shielded by the crew as Hoshi stood front and centre, the crew’s mouthpiece. You can’t help but swallow, the ringing in your head growing louder than ever. 

There’s a loud voice that plagues the sheets of ice, and your stomach flips so violently you lose both your vision and your hearing. You take an unconscious step back before you feel a hand on your back. 

It was Chan, who whispered, “Keep it together. Calm down, it’s okay.”

It was the obvious response from him but you find yourself calming in any case. 

“The crown commands you, Hoshi Kwon, to bring forth Her Royal Highness, the princess,  at once.” Your father’s right hand man, the royal advisor, and his more trusted friend speaks for the throne, his voice recognizable as it rings on behalf of his king.

From standing behind him, you watch as Hoshi simply raises his fist to place at his hips. 

“Captain. Captain Hoshi Kwon,” he corrects, before continuing. “And my hostage will not be brought anywhere till I have my money ship.”

“As proposed by Hoshi Kwon, His Majesty, The King will cooperate in the exchange of Her Royal Highness, the princess for said ship.”

“Give me my ship first.”

“Hoshi Kwon—”

Hoshi groans loudly, loud enough for the other party that stands multiple feet away to hear, before continuing, “This is why I despise dealing with you insufferable lot, why must everything be so formal?”

But you knew what game he was playing at, the deadliest pirate on the seas does not comply with government officials so easily, and he wasn’t about to drop his masquerade now. 

“You know what,” Hoshi starts, and you see him eye the wooden boat you had just reached the island on. “We do it this way.”

There’s a pause. 

“Me and my harmless little crew will sidestep back over, zip our way to our ship and leave you with your precious princess. Is your royal highness majesty in agreement?”

“Hoshi Kwon is commanded once again to bring the princess forward.” There’s less formality in his tone now, and you realise very quickly that there was no other way to separate yourself from the crew.

“Hoshi,” you whisper under your breath, hoping he would understand. Taking the risk, you move forward in the little space you had, hand very gently placed on his back. 

There’s a pause before he speaks, “Fine. Have your princess.”

Turning around, back facing the crowd, he makes eye contact with you before moving to discreetly meet the eyes of his crew. “Let them take you.”

That’s the last thing you hear him say to his crew as you find a larger shadow approach from behind Hoshi.

“Ho—”

Hoshi grabs your arm harsher than he usually would, dragging you forward in his attempt to present you, but you find that Hoshi’s turned back was taken as an opportunity, the dozens of soldiers having already made their way across. 

If you hadn’t heard what he had whispered to the crew, his shocked face would’ve fooled you too. He looks like he wasn’t expecting the way the crew was immediately surrounded by swarms of armed soldiers, guns perched directly at each member of the crew. He looked like he wasn’t expecting to be cornered. 

But you liked to think you knew this man, and he had once told you to never turn your back to an enemy. Too much to be a rookie mistake of his, so you trust him. 

And then you’re being tugged by someone who’s not from the crew, the distinct feeling of softer, more respectful hands that wrap around your elbow, urging you forward. 

You find it within yourself to not look back, sending a prayer to every entity in the world to keep them safe, to keep the trust in your heart that they knew what they were doing. 

Eyes downcast, you know immediately who you’re being led towards, and when you stop, bracing yourself to meet your father’s eye, you find yourself feeling nothing. 

“Are you hurt?” he asks in his strange form of greeting. No embrace, no sign of relief that his daughter and only heir was alive and well. 

“No, sir,” you reply, shifting your eyes back down to your shoes. 

“Go back to the ship with the guards. We leave as soon as I’m done with this lot.”

Your stomach jolts, but you bite your tongue and let yourself be led to one of the smaller boats. The canister burns against your skin. 

Seated in the smaller boat, flanked by guards, you can’t stop your neck from craning to look at the scene behind you. 

Far away, on the other side of the glacier, the pirates are being ordered to strip themselves of their weapons. 

Hoshi’s dagger glints against the sunlight and you spot Jun’s revolvers in the pile. 

Hoshi looks up and catches your eye, face unchanged. 

“You’re safe now, your Highness,” one of your guards assured you, taking your gaze as a fearful look back instead of one laced with something else. 

Please be okay. 

As soon as you're led up to the main deck, your eyes dart. It doesn’t take long for you to figure out that your father had not chosen to take one of the smaller ships as you’d expected of him. Instead, you stand in an exact replica of the ship you had just disembarked, except for the flag that fluttered with your family crest. 

You’re pushed into one of the quarters in the lower decks, hearing the distinct click of something outside as you find yourself in the mostly barren indoors. 

It looks like a colder version of your quarters on the other ship, the same dimensions, the same window that displays the clear waters of the Green Islands. Except it’s only occupied by a single bed that’s pushed into a corner, stripped of its sheets. 

It looks like a prison cell. 

When you turn around to try for the door, you try to wrench it open but it refuses to budge. You can’t help but question how many times you’ve landed yourself in this exact situation.

Why on Earth would they lock you in? Did they suspect you of something? But whatever for?

You give up, turning to untuck your shirt from your trousers, feeling for the bomb against your hip to make sure it hadn’t slipped. After that, you crouch down to check the inside of your boot, despite feeling the dagger this entire time, you couldn’t help but need to check. 

There was nothing you could do, not when you knew nothing of what was happening on the other side of the door. The window gleams, and you find yourself bolting towards it, peering through the glass to check for any bodies that may land in the water, praying your father would keep them alive.

Hang them publicly. Guillotine them and suspend their heads at the gates of the palace. Just keep them alive for tonight. 

The sun is proving a sorry resource of time, especially when you can’t tell how long it’s been since you were shoved in here. The sun seems closer to the seas when you hear the jingle of the lock. 

Nearing the risk of whiplash, you turn to the door to find your father walking into the room. He walks in, his cape gone, immediately turning to lock the door from the inside once again. 

Once he comes around, he stands with his hands clasped in front of him, eyes boring into your soul. 

“It seems the pirates have changed you,” he comments, eyeing your new trousers that you sport. It was strange, a woman in trousers, let alone a princess. 

“Not at all, sir,” you respond. 

“Your newfound friends are strapped into the brigs, finally subdued and ready to stand trial for their crimes.” His voice is rough, and he looks older than when you last saw him months ago. 

He acts in less alarm than you would’ve thought, assuming his definition of ‘friends’ was simply a sick way to prod at you than any indication that he suspected an alliance. But you fight the effort to let out a sigh of relief; they were in the brig, they were fine, they’d stay alive in time for you to get to them. 

“I thought David less than for a fool,” he refers to the Admiral as he talks. “He proved me quite incorrect when he showed up on some shoddy fishing boat with a message from a pirate. Like some messenger boy.”

You don’t answer as you simply stare at the toes of your boots. It was foolish to dare make eye contact with him.

“A stupid proposal from a stupid pirate,” he chortled in a genuine laugh. “That pirate ship was easy bait. If only you hadn’t gotten yourself roped in like a simpleton.”

His sentence ends with a harsher undertone as he blames you for something you couldn’t possibly have controlled. 

“In any case,” he continues, the gruff in his voice clearing out. “What’s a pirate to a King?”

Everything in you screams at you to halt your already moving tongue, yelling about how horrible the idea was. 

“He’s more of a man than you ever could be.” 

The ringing in your ears becomes a sounding blare, your vision going white at the sides. Your hands shake and you don’t know why you keep staring your father in the eye. 

There’s a furrow in his brow, eyes unyielding and face stoic. 

It’s silent for goodness knows how long as you wish you could sink in that very moment. 

“That load of filth’s done more than just put you in trousers, is it?” he grits through his teeth. He’s seething. “Henley had said you were acting strange when he saw you at that port market, it seems he was right.” 

“No matter,” he continues, exhaling loudly. “It only makes my job easier.”

He unclasps his hands, pulling his white gloves at the fingertips. 

“Perhaps we may live in a world where princesses prance around with pirates, but that won’t be the reason I fulfil my duty as King today.”

He slips them off his hands entirely. 

“I tried shaping you into something worthy of the throne for so many years, and I’d begun to realise that perhaps, not everyone is fit to be ruler after all.”

Was he about to strip of your inheritance? The crown was why you were born. Despite everything your father had put you through, the throne was your god given right. 

“Unfortunately, I cannot simply renounce your title. Not without reason,” he continues as he takes a step closer to you, dropping the gloves to the floor soundlessly. “And while perhaps the court may not consider inadequacy as enough reason, I’m quite sure an exchange gone wrong would be enough, even for them.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, dear daughter, that our time together has come to an end.”

And then his hands were around your throat.

[AN]: HEHEHEHEHEHEHE rb or send an ask telling me your thots as always, one part left to go!!!!!

[dunmeshistash]

What do you think about Shuro? And more specifically his relationship with Laios, and idk if you talk about ships but what are your thoughts on laishuro

I have this headcannon that Laios has some sort of unrequited crush on Shuro just because it's sorta funny

I ship pretty much everything. Like, as default I think everyone should kiss everyone 👍

If I'm honest I'm not much of a Shuro fan, he's a little boring to me and reactions to the chimera episode made me dislike him a bit lmao.

Ignoring the fandom I like him as a character and I LOVE his fight with Laios. Shuro's relationship to Laios is my favorite part of that character so laishuro pretty much saves him for me.

In universe Shuro is said to be quite the introvert even for people from his country. He's not the standard for someone from the eastern archipelago and it bothered me a bit when people used that to justify how he wasn't honest to Laios. I understand the idea that he comes from somewhere where reading social cues is not only expected but required but he's also someone who avoids confrontation and is quiet/shy in general.

Here's a bit from Maizuru's description from the adventurer's bible

"People tend to describe Shuro as "drab" and "shy" (...)" so specifically HE IS the exact type of person who would cause the biggest misunderstanding with Laios, just compare him to how his retainers or even his father and brothers act.

It took them saying they used ancient magic on Falin/seeing chimera Falin for him to finally snap, everything else he decided to just take it cause he thought it was better to take it than to confront Laios directly.

So besides the cultural differences you have to take into consideration this was pretty much the perfect storm brewing for that confrontation, and it's as much who Shuro is as a person and who Laios is as person that caused it.

I also disagree that the fight was a "they're both in the wrong" situation. Don't get me wrong, Laios was VERY culturally insensitive to Shuro and even more insensitive to his feelings, but there was nothing he could have done differently with the information that was available to him.

Specifically I see this comic being used to justify how Laios was to blame too, making Shuro into the victim

Like that's a major white guy move but he DIDN'T HEAR Shuro's name and Shuro never corrected him. I'd understand it if his reaction was "Your name is too complicated so I'll call you Shuro instead" that would be a major dick move, but Laios did not hear his name because Toshiro mumbled it, and for someone that forgot Kabru's name several times I imagine he made an effort to remember Shuro's.

Laios never met someone from the eastern archipelago before this, nobody ever explained to him he wasn't acting in an appropriate manner and most of all he thought they were friends. He trusted Shuro to set boundaries for him, he always respects boundaries that are set even when he doesn't fully understand them (Recalling the "I forgot about feelings.." when Chilchuck says it feels wrong to eat merman)

Instead of explaining ANYTHING to Laios, Shuro instead held it all in until it exploded all at once, he blamed Laios for not knowing something he couldn't know, and accused him of not being serious about saving his own sister.

Just imagine how this must have felt for Laios, everyone is always underestimating how serious he is, everyone accuses him of being stupid, clueless, and now this guy is telling him he isn't serious about saving the person he loves the most in the world and wants to protect always. To me this wasn't a "they're both in the wrong" situation, Shuro is far more in the wrong than Laios. But that's just how I see it.

That all being said, they understood each other finally and made peace after that fight.

And several times after this we see that Shuro really cares for Laios, and Laios still wants to be his friend. He even offered to save Laios if he fails (and he's sure he's gonna fail). So their relationship is dear to me, especially cause after this they finally have the foundation for a true mutual friendship <3

I think my dislike of Shuro comes from relating to him to be honest, it happens often that I see my own failures on a character and get angry at them for being angry at myself lmao. I also got a little annoyed cause I only saw people defending him, apparently those were made as a response to hate he had gotten? But since I never actually seen the hate it just felt annoying to see Shuro being white knighted.

Anyway I love the two of them together and I'm really happy they finally understood each other better. laishuro might be my favorite Laios ship, one sided crushes are great.

[thoundcarriers]

a final explanation to my ghost AU for graphical novel which was teased here. a fair warning, I'm a terrible story teller, but I'll try to summarize everything short as possible, plus a lot of arts down below. ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ as been told before, Charlie and co rummage through the old mall at night, trying to find problems (as usual). nothing out of the ordinary happens, except when she notices someone tall and dressed in a security guard uniform waddling lazily in the dark, but seemingly paying no attention to the kids invading the space.

she calls out to him, and oh how his eyes widen when he realizes she can see him, and even talk to him back.

he immediately recognizes her as his old partner's daughter, which leaves her stunned, as she haven't heard about someone talking about her father in a long time. when she asks the stranger to tell her about himself, or his name, well...

but, as snarky as he is (try inhabiting the same old, crumbling place for more than 10 years!), he apologizes and says he doesn't remember why he's here, as he's stuck and can't leave the place, let alone remember his name. charlie is surprisingly calm admitting she's dealing with someone long gone, and asks Dave if he could show her more of the place, although she warns him that she has friends with her (who thankfully doesn't seem to notice him at all).

he agrees, yet still gets the chance to mock her at the animatronic control panel lmao. he's disappointed to see a daughter of the best engineer he's ever known fail miserably. but HEY, she's not so bad.

eventually, they have time alone to discuss everything. Charlie's eager to know more about her father, who died a very strange way, and Dave has a little hope of setting his soul free or at least remember who he was. to her surprise, he lets her know the first thing is somewhat doable. he needs a physical vessel to roam free and to help her get around the place (which is horribly falling apart). it's pretty easy to arrange, as she needs to track down all the parts of the old spring bonnie suit, which are scattered all around the old pizzeria (it's definitely not haunted), put the costume back together, then invoke the spirit inside by...

that's right, baby! if you want a ghost in a metal carcass walk, just spill a blood or two. who knows why, but Charlie is on her quest anyway, and does everything in said order (my girl is reckless, give her some slack (っ◞‸◟ c))

she thinks it doesn't work ar first, yet...

it does! somewhat excited and dubiously kind, the man's spirit rises up in the clanky costume and tries to fix the parts, which were hastily put together. she gulps at the 7-foot monster, casually moving around and asks how must Dave feel in there.

as it turns out further, ghosts need some rest too. as politely asked, Charlie disassembles him before leaving the place. pale grey eyes in the dark socket die out, and the costume parts peacefully lay in the dusty room, as if they weren't just moving a minute ago. she learns to assemble and disassemble pretty quickly, as she tends to visit old Freddy's place more and more often. she doesn't mind the whole blood thing, she just prays her friends don't notice the scars on her hand. with more information given everyday, poor girl becomes restless, as missed college studies catch up to her too. her ass is NOT learning

Dave proposes that she can take the Bonnie head with her, if she wants to. he still would be asleep, but he is aware of what is happening around. this way he wouldn't be so bored and somewhat can see the world. perhaps, this way Charlie wouldn't be so stressed, too. ummm yea for now this is pretty much it!! feel free to ask anything, I hope I can make a continuation to this if I find the strength lmao. thank you for reading!! p.s. this is NOT a ship. plz be respectful. ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

[gartenofbanny]

So here's a quick review of the latest Helluva Boss episode. It's meh if I'm being honest.

I don't know if it's because the episode itself is uninteresting or if it's because I'm just losing interest in Helluva Boss overall.

I predicted that the episode would be the Queen Bee of Season 2 and I wasn't completely wrong, but I wasn't completely right either.

Not much happened in this episode, with the only major thing happening being that Fizzarolli finally stands up to Mammon and quits his occupation as Mammon's merch boy.

The Fizzmodeus ship throughout the episode was another highlight that I found entertaining, but everything else was just meh to me.

I still have no idea why Blitzo was there because he had no reason to be there. I'm pretty sure Asmodeus would've killed that creepy stalker dude either way.

My main issues with this episode are Mammon and Fizzarolli's relationship having no actual build-up, Fizzarolli being insecure of himself, and Fizzmodeus no longer being a secret but everyone just already knew anyway.

So, starting off with the first issue: Mammon and Fizzarolli's relationship was barely hinted on throughout the series mainly because Fizzarolli never had much screentime. As a result, his entire confrontation with Mammon feels very rushed. Similar to his and Blitzo's development.

Fizzarolli being insecure about himself is tiring. Because there are a lot of characters in Helluva Boss who are just insecure about themselves, and they all keep getting the same resolutions. That being, they just talk with another character and end up getting a self-confidence boost. It happens too many times throughout the series, and I'm just very tired of it.

Lastly, the Fizzmodeus ship actually being known. We don't know what the repercussions are if there are any, why Stella had an issue with it if A. She didn't care about it, and B. Two of the Seven Deadly Sins are also actively engaging in it, and what was even the point of having a conflict about it when there are no negatives.

That entire plot line just feels like a waste of time, and that's honestly what most of the overall episode felt like, a waste of time. At least it wasn't to the extent of Unhappy Campers. I didn't care for the Panty and Stocking parodies, I don't even remember their names lmao.

Mammon was..eh too. I'm glad that there's finally a Sin that's actually mean and stuff, but even then, he's not all that menacing. Not to mention his full Demon form is VERY underwhelming. He literally just turns big, has bug legs, and has more eyes.

Anyway, the episode gets a meh/10, thank you all for reading and I hope you all have a good one.

[esperastra]

It’s been three weeks and I still have not sorted my feelings about Legends Con. So have this random, unorganized list of things that happened that I still remember (more under the cut):

Nick tried to flash (stood on a chair and pulled up his shirt) Tala and Maisie during their panel but no one noticed him in the back

On the other hand when Arthur showed up during Caity and Jes’ panel they immediately saw him and greeted him

Caity was asked what Sara’s safe word is at the Meet&Greet and her answer was “Chiquita Banana”

When asked who they would eat first on a deserted island, pretty much everyone immediately said “Dom”

Caity and Jes kept talking about doing a podcast and asking people for stuff to talk about. Jes suggested they should just do Stabcast but Caity said she doesn’t like True Crime (which fair, I don’t either lol)

Adam said Avalance’s kid is named Rose and that Gary would be a great babysitter but he definitely would lose her at some point

At the opening ceremony Caity was like “I think the last time I said I was getting married. And I did it. *shows her ring* And Jes had our baby!”

When talking about the hardest goodbyes, Caity being Caity forgot Dom left and wasn’t even in the final season. Her answer was Franz btw.

A kid asked Amy, Caity and Jes if they would rather jump in lava or drown in water if they had to die and Jes was like “How old are you? Where is your mother?!” lmao

Jes recited the condolence card from Meet The Legends to the best of her recollection and kept laughing

Arthur kept mentioning how weird it is that all these fans and the cast are in his hometown

I could listen to Maisie talk for hours, just wanted to throw that in here

Jes was talking about how beautiful the gold dress from 502 was and Caity replied with “Anything you wear is beautiful 🥰” before Amy chimed in that she is still looking for the video of Liv and Jes laughing at Matt falling off his chair that was mentioned earlier lol

When asked about a crack ship (Rishop = Rip/Bishop) Arthur went on to talk about how he loves fanfiction lol

When asked if Nick or Matt is the better kisser Tala said “Maisie”

Adam started singing I Will Always Love You (forgot why) and Maisie left him hanging by not joining in and just smiling/laughing

Poor Matt didn’t know about the Human Centipede but now he does

Jes came up with the pick up line “I can be your legend until tomorrow” and then was like “someone try this tonight at the bar!”

On the second day Adam brought a water pistol to the panel and used it on everyone who got up to ask a question

Adam was THE hype man all weekend. He kept starting “When I say DC you say Legends of Tomorrow” chants

The fandom organized a group gift to give each cast member a trophy of the Waverider. We were allowed to present it to them at the closing ceremony.

Nick was called “Brad Pitt” during the trophy ceremony and Adam being Adam stood up instead

Amy sang Future Favorite with one of the kids at the closing ceremony

Adam said something about how he doesn’t like being emotional in front of people and everyone started chanting “SHOW EMOTIONS”

By the end of the closing ceremony everyone was super emotional. Caity was too emotional to speak when it was her turn and started crying and Jes hugged her. She said “I miss you guys” to the cast and went back for another hug. Jes was like “stop the emotions. stop the emotions” in reference to the earlier chant

A small list of some of the things that happened to me personally. I won’t share it all in detail here though, for reasons:

When I got my solo photo op with Caity, she saw my Real Housewives Sara shirt and was like “That’s funny. Can I take a picture?” and then she posted it on her IG Story

Amy spoke German to me out of nowhere when she noticed my accent. She also called me back during our photo op to ask me how I was and if I slept alright.

Jes gave me this 🥺 look when I talked to her at the autograph table

Nick held my hand for like a minute which was super overwhelming especially cause I struggle with eye contact lol. He also kept lovingly teasing me the whole weekend.

Me and a bunch of people did the 709 costumes as cosplay and won ‘Best Group’. It was a lot of fun.

[tunamayuuu]

Hii!

I've seen a little bit of your Kny!bsd au through a rb from one of my mutuals, and I think I'm being sucked into a rabbit hole/pos

I love your art sososo much, and I would see it on my dash on occasion (it brought me happiness, but I never really kept up with the account, and I honestly high-key regret it), so when I saw your alt cast art, I remembered rbing the Kyōkenji x Inokana sketch you drew a while back, but I had no idea it was associated with an entire au!! I was estatic since I love the au concept, and I love both ships so much!!

Then, trust me, I was innocently scrolling through the tag when I came across rengokunikida... This man has no right being so jdbdjdbd

My thoughts immediately went to Murata when I saw TecchōGiyū, like yes he's such a pretty man, but my brain really likes to digress from the main point lmao.

Urokodaki as Fukuchi feels a little weird, but it's accurate dynamic-wise with Teruko, and Tachihara. What is Jōnō's relationship with Fukuchi in this au anyway?? It could go in so many directions I'm curious djehdhbd

I love this au sm and your art of it is delectable, so I just felt the need to send an ask your way. I hope you have a great day (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

–Anon you could call 'Grace'

I might come on here from time to time, so I might as well give myself a name.

this was the first grace ask i never got to answer oh my god anyway.

thank you so much!!! i actually stopped being into bsd for a full ass year and ever since that shin soukoku doodle i made, it comforted a big part of me that felt horrible everytime i'd post bsd onto socmed knowing my more passionate works didn't get as much engagement as shitposts ahaha...

the kny-ified bsd au was and still is an au project i want to keep working on!! i have a looong list of the full cast, it's just that i always get side quests and wanting to draw OTHER things and getting into OTHER new medias i wanna draw and yeah that's why it's taken years for me to complete anything orz (i have plenty of files of the au that i never posted because they're all unfinished or uncolored and i thought i won't do my au justice if none of them were colored yk?)

i'm not an inokana fan myself but i'd love to hear your take on them! i just wanted to draw kyokenji at that time ehehe

i will always say that rengokunikida was def not my idea. it was an idea from a bsd friend! they even explained to me how it could work and i never looked back

i'm actually not sure who would take murata's role in the au because we know next to nothing about canon tecchou. michizou already takes sabito's role so.....?

ALSO I FINALLY GOT TO ANSWER THIS BECAUSE! fukuchi is not urokodaki in this au! fukuchi takes kokushibo's role

jouno and fukuchi unfortunately do not interact in this au..

i'm so happy to see my au still getting love even after the years i've been on and off in activity! comments like these fill me with so much motivation to upkeep this au!

[wlw-imagines]

In The Name of Love - Clara Oswald/Reader (Doctor Who)

prompt: "you have some awesome writing friend, anyways may i request an imagine with Clara Oswald from Doctor Who? an unrequited love type of imagine?" - anon

a/n: these are from my old tumblr thefandomwritings from back in 2018 ! re-vamped and re-purposed!! hope u enjoy and forgive the 2018 me style writing + the drama lmao   

The Doctor and you had been travelling together for a while. You'd always remember travelling the universe with Amy and Rory, River even joining in every now and then. You were like a family, the five of you together.

When Amy and Rory left things fell somewhat apart on the Tardis. River disappeared off somewhere and the Doctor fell into a silent mood, moping around his ship for hours on end.

But it hadn't taken long before another adventure was underway, and you were the first invited to join the team again. Of course you had said yes, life back on Earth was nothing compared to the stars and there were still creatures of hundreds and thousands of planets to meet.

The adventure this time? An apparent wild goose chase to find a woman who had died two times, an act that you were quite impressed with so when Clara was finally found you happily invited her with open arms onto the Tardis.

And you had practically watched yourself fall in love with the woman.

You had also watched Clara fall in love with the Doctor.

There had always been something between the two, something you couldn't place a finger on. You just wished you had some time to think it all through. However, by time you didn't mean you wanted to be stranded on an abandoned planet for weeks on end. That just seemed to be the universe's misinterpretation of your wish.

The weeks had passed by slowly. It had only happened because you had somehow been taken off course when trying to return to London, 1888 in an attempt to return Madame Vastra, Jenny and Strax back home. How it had ended this badly was difficult to understand and something you simply decided to blame on the Doctor, besides you had been persuaded that it was good fun to hang around on an empty planet.

Until you found out it was infested with Cybermen. That wasn't fun. It also wasn't fun to find out they were planning on transporting down to Earth once their upgrade had finalised and kill everyone and take over and make humans a part of their army.

Obviously the only saving grace was the old bomb the Doctor had found that seemed to have been built as a failsafe many years ago, something which greatly excited the Doctor.

"So we have a bomb!" The Doctor smiled, clapping his hand together and rubbing them happily. After 4 long weeks on this planet, that might have been the best thing you had heard so far... and you had been told that Vastra all but cried when Jenny had told her she had loved her. "Big bomb on a small planet infested with Cybermen. Sounds like a recipe for fun." He straightened his bow tie and ran off down a corridor, "Wait there, I'll be back." He yelled over his shoulder as everyone shared confused glances but stayed put anyway - apart from Clara who insisted on running after him. You knew the pair too well and so made no attempt to stop either of them, knowing your efforts would be futile.

You stayed where you were on the floor, watching as Clara ran the opposite direction and just hoping she would stay safe and not do something too stupid like sacrificing herself for any of you.

You were too caught up in your thoughts that you didn't see Jenny approaching before speaking to you, "You love her." Jenny said simply, shooting you a sympathetic smile as she slid down next to you.

You let out an emotionless laugh, "Is it that obvious?"

"I like to think I come a'customed to seeing those kinda feelings." She smiled, sparing a glance to Vastra who was in deep conversation with Strax.

You were about to respond before the Doctor came bursting through the door with Clara close behind him. He clapped his hands and hopped up on a slight step. "Okay so I have good news and bad news, which one first?"

You smiled and answered for the group. "Good news."

"Oh, okay, well... funny thing, there really is no good news."

Raising an eyebrow you sighed and answered again. "Right... Bad news then?"

"Yes, so, the bomb can only be detonated by hand and from in this room and the cybermen are closing in."

"Which means...?"

"Someone has to push this big red button - I love big red buttons-" He grinned before going straight back to being serious, "and, uh, well... boom." He rubbed his hands together and suddenly looked almost guilty as well as serious, if that was even possible for the Doctor.

"Brilliant. There you go, we're sorted! We can leave and save the world by just pressing that big red button." Clara, being the ever optimist, smiled and approached the button. You, having been carefully watching the Doctor, stepped forward to intercept her.

"So the person who presses the button...?" You asked slowly.

"Yes, well there is that. Once the big red button has been pressed then there won't be time to escape," He admitted as he raked his hand through his hair. "Before the... boom."

Everyone stayed silent as the information sunk in. You took a moment to look around the room. The Doctor couldn't do it, too important. How could you let Clara sacrifice herself? Vastra and Jenny were married and you weren't in any hurry to force them to split up and Strax was just an innocent bystander in this whole shebang. You sighed and stepped forward, clearing your throat.

"Doctor, you always hog the fun of pushing big red buttons." You smiled, looking straight at him and watching as he immediately realised what you were planning. "I think it might be my turn to have a go."

Jenny gasped lightly and shook her head, "Well, no, there must be-"

"Vastra, take Jenny back to the Tardis." You gave apologetic eyes to your new found friend who struggled against her wife's grip.

"No, Y/N, I-"

"As you wish." The lizard bowed her head to you in respect before walking briskly to the Tardis, Jenny's cries of frustration muffling as they left. Strax, looked up to you and gave you his formal goodbye, soldier to soldier before walking solemnly after his mistress. Clara watched them leave with a confused look on her face, having not caught on to what you were planning.

"What-?"

"Clara, you need to go." You held her shoulders making sure she was looking at you. "You need to go." You repeated, becoming more and more wary of the clanging footsteps approaching from behind you as the Cyberman upgrade date loomed closer. She licked her lips and nodded, preparing herself to leave.

"Wait, what about you?" She asked

"I can try and slow them down." You held your head high in order to convey confidence that you were severely lacking right about now. "No need for all of us to die." You turned away, facing the direction the Cybermen were walking from. You glanced at the bomb - a weapon that frightened you to no ends but you had made a promise and you were going to save the world.

The feeling of Clara grabbing your arm and turning you around made your heart skip a beat but you stayed steady, refusing to let her get hurt.

"I'm not letting you do this Y/L/N." She shook her head, preparing her own weapon and coming to stand next to you. 'Not on your own."

You looked desperately behind you to see the Doctor standing still. "We can all get out, don't be silly. All three of us." The Doctor put on a brave face, one you had seen plenty of times before.

After walking up to him and taking him to the side you whispered, looking back at Clara. "We can't Doctor and the longer we wait then the less time you'll have to escape." You lowered your voice even more, "You know the bomb can only be detonated from on the planet. Take Clara and run." You insisted on staying, not wanting to let anyone else risk themselves for the cause. The Doctor stayed still, just looking at you for a while before taking your head in his hands and kissing your forehead gently.

"Say hello to Amy for me." He smiled and blinked a few times as you saw his eyes get slightly glossy. That was the only emotion you got from him as he swiftly turned around, grabbing Clara's hands and walking out much to her protests. "Clara, let’s go!" He shouted, using his sonic screwdriver to open a door in front of him.

He paused before nodding his head in recognition of your sacrifice. You smiled in response, sending him a mock salute before positioning yourself by the bomb again and turning around. You could faintly hear the sonic screwdriver locking you in before you met your fate.

You gingerly looked over the small box with wires - an old machine that had rusted over with age. Gripping onto the edge of the table, you closed your eyes and held your breath, praying that the Doctor was correct in saying that the bomb would definitely work. You also quickly reminded yourself that if you didn't do this then the thousands upon millions of cyberman on the other side of the door would otherwise infest the world that you had come to grow with and love, along with your friends and family. You had seen what those monsters could do and you weren't prepared to ever see it happen again.

There was hesitation in your movements as you placed your shaky hand on the button. The clanks, noises and voices of the cybermen could be heard coming closer. You knew you had to give the Tardis as much time as you could before you pressed down, as they had to have time to escape but the threat was looming nearer and nearer.

You could feel a bead of sweat drip down your temple as thoughts of your family and friends started to flood your mind, events and adventures you had forgotten about were becoming fresh and brought tears to your eyes. The heat in the room was suffocating as the door began to creak and crack under the pressure of an army of metal and you knew it was time.

"Good luck." You whispered, just having to hope that the Tardis had escaped, as you put pressure down on the button and took one last breath.

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

"She'll be alright, won't she?" Clara asked, the pair finally joining everyone else in the time machine. The comment made the Doctor stop abruptly so he was facing the controls. He ran his hands through his hair a few times leaving the group in silence.

"We need to leave before this place blows up." He mumbled almost incoherently as he flipped a few switches. Vastra took a deep breath and took place next to the Doctor. "i should have done something. I shouldn't let her do this."

"On the contrary Doctor. I believe you'll find that the fault of Y/N's actions should be sought elsewhere." She sent a pointed look towards Clara who frowned and advanced on her. The move caused Vastra to grasp the hilt of her swords and hiss slightly.

"What are you accusing me of?" Clara's brow furrowed and she took another step closer to Vastra who hissed again but louder.

"I think what my dearest means," Jenny stepped in, always acting as the pacifier when her wife lost touch with human emotions, "is that people do strange things in the name of love." She gave Vastra a pointed look, still sour about being dragged away before looking at Clara more carefully, knowing she was completely unaware of any feelings you may have had for her.

Clara's head snapped up at the word and her lips parted. "Love?" She shook her head, "No, Y/N never... She didn't..." Clara trailed off as everything clicked into place. "What's she done? Doctor?" She dashed towards the doors and tried to open them but too late as the Tardis powered up.

"It's too late, I'm sorry." He pulled down a final lever which sent the Tardis flying. The noise of a bomb drowned out any other words and left a deep silence for a long period after. The impact of the planet, and everything on it, being blown apart caused the Tardis to rock and everyone inside to stumble slightly.

And it wasn't Clara falling over that hurt the most but rather the pain of losing a friend, the pain of a sacrifice that she didn't even know was happening under her name. Clara could never speak to her, joke with her, laugh or sleep alongside her like she had many an adventure.

Y/N had died for Clara in the name of love.

[pikahlua]

OK, I'm someone who's been gunning for the "Katsuki's villain foil is All For One" probably longer than anyone, been theorising this for over a year, and I have dozens of drafts abt it (I just turned on anon, my MHA account isn't my main anyway so...) and I never posted because it was getting too long. I think I had these since Bakugo died? If I had posted them with me saying "Bakugo will fight AFO at the end of this!", y'all would've called me crazy. Y'all could've called me a madlad, but noooo, it happened LOL

I think a few people have already noticed parallels, as there are some parallels in Yoichi and AFO's interactions Bakudeku in Ch 193. I noticed them too, and there were a few posts going around abt it, never realising the implications (since it would mean that AFO is the villain foil as he's the only one who had such similarities to Bakugo).

I mean chapter kept putting Yoichi and Midoriya together, obviously connecting the two. But where does that put AFO?

Bakudeku can be considered "siblings" since they knew each other for as long as they can remember. One was gifted and strong, while the other was quirkless. The gifted one telling the other that since they're quirkless, they can't achieve their dreams (Compare Ch 1 Bakugo to AFO's statement about Yoichi).

Yes, people are saying that AFO is terrible and Bakugo shouldn't be compared. But I think that's exactly what makes them foils. Horikoshi described Bakugo as the "light that would never surrenders to the dark", and AFO is the complete opposite, someone I would describe as "the darkness that never comes to the light".

They're the ultimate representation of "good vs evil", and that's why Horikoshi had pitted them against each other.

And AFO being Bakugo's foil makes sense as it goes in line with something Best Jeanist has said in the past. "What makes the difference between Heroes and Villains?" The villain foil theme actually started with Bakugo.

What makes AFO and Bakugo mirror each other? Look at how AFO looks down on the weak, calling them all "extras", the way he called Bakugo a "pebble in his path" the same way Bakugo did.

Rather than motivations and origins, it's through their behaviour especially towards others. AFO is more extreme, but he calls and views others that are "weaker" as "extras", he looked down on the person "closest" to him for his weakness. He once believed that "might makes right" and acts upon it. He view himself as "God". (Remember how Bakugo's hero name has "God" in it??? Hehe..)

And I feel that there would be more parallels between them once we get to see more of how AFO views Kudou, because he seems to be angered or even "threatened" by him in a similar sense to how Bakugo was to Midoriya. He is the extreme representation of Bakugo's past.

Katsuki means "victory over the self". Of course, the best way to finish your character arc is to beat up a character that represents your past LMAO

All through his arc, he had to see his weakness, and even through foils like Endeavor to face his mistakes. All For One is the final step.

Of course, for Bakugo to fight unwaveringly, he had to get his "rising" moment and also apologize to Midoriya. So that he can truly become the light that opposes the dark. To truly distinguish himself from the villain, like what Best Jeanist told him.

(Sorry if I got anything wrong, I was inactive around MHA for a while, so I could be misremembering, but hell yeahhh, this is what I've been waiting for lets gooooo!!!!)

I think you've got a lot of good stuff here, and yet... My apologies, anon, normally I wouldn't lead with this point I'm about to address, but I must address it first or else no one will read past this point and instead run to dogpile me in my askbox.

While I understand where you're coming from, it's just not tenable to argue the relationship between Izuku and Katsuki is akin to that of siblings.

Some people would make this argument from what may seem like a shipping standpoint, but I'm going to make it from a cultural one. At no point in the manga are Izuku and Katsuki ever referred to as nor behave as nor speak like they're family. There are important hierarchical and social expectations present in Japan for siblings that are different from what's expected of friends (note that even twins are still distinguished as the older and younger brother). Izuku and Katsuki treat each other as peers, social equals, NOT as a big brother-little brother dynamic. Their dynamic is best described as that of childhood friends. Childhood friends is an important trope in Japan, and one can't just gloss over it and pretend like siblings and childhood friends are equivalent or that they work the same as with western story dynamics. They're not and they don't.

And the social distance between Izuku and Katsuki is VITAL to the way their characters and relationship work. Izuku has to be unrelated to Katsuki--a "pebble in his path," some random extra--for Izuku's heart to shake Katsuki so badly, for the "meddling where you don't need to" theme to apply to Izuku rescuing Katsuki, for Izuku reaching out to be so offensive to Katsuki. So for reference, you can accurately describe this relationship parallel with Yoichi and AFO as "they knew each other since childhood," "they don't remember ever not knowing each other," "they have always been a part of each other's lives," etc. But I must stress the trope you're invoking here is childhood friends. It's okay, you don't NEED BakuDeku to be "like siblings" to make these parallels work. They grew up together, and that's sufficient.

Sorry to nitpick on that.

Anyways, I do think that there is something intentional on Horikoshi's part about Katsuki "Self-Victory" Bakugou facing off against All For One as if AFO is implied to be one of Katsuki's "selves" for him to defeat, particularly his old self he's already basically defeated in every sense except somehow fighting it out physically.

Can I tell you a secret though?

I'm not convinced MHA ends after Katsuki vs AFO and Izuku vs Tomura.

No, I don't mean like a falling action epilogue. I just mean...

Heroes Rising didn't end when Izuku and Katsuki sucker-punched Nine. It didn't end when Nine had been bested in fair combat. It ended after Nine employed a desperate gambit to win no matter the cost and became a giant purple butterfly rage monster.

What I'm saying is...I kinda think AFO will successfully transplant his quirk into Tomura or something.

[tempo-takoyaki]

I love how you completely forgot FengQing names and only remembered their ship name lmao. Do you ship them?

I don't what's up with FengQing but since I decided to use their ship name for their name, the more I learn about them the more confused I am... But to answer you: I don't know.

They're a set to me, a package deal, you buy one and you get the second automatically. Please do not separate. Do I ship them? I don't know since I don't know enough about them to. Just based on vibes they seem like a nice ship but not one I would overly invest myself into (like beefleaf, I only know vibes for beefleaf but I'm already sold).

I also recently learned that Feng probably had a fiancée? So I'll need to see that for myself once I start reading.

So my final answer is "eh maybe a little bit but honestly I still don't know"

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

in which this story comes to an end. (fucking finally.)

part eight of the post-marineford portion of the near miss fics! (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7) if you have no idea what i’m talking about but would like to read a shanks/buggy story about kissing in disguise and then having to deal with the emotional fallout of doing that, click on this link, that’s the tag for the whole thing in chronological order. (plus a fair bit of complaining about writing, one inspirational improvised musical number, and a snippet of shanks pov) if you do know what i’m talking about: it’s done! it’s done!! i wish i could say i planned to end this on 3/8 but lmao, did not know the significance of the day until, like, this tuesday. but it’s done. i’m taking a break from the world of this story to work on some gift exchange fics, but i will be uploading the first few fics to ao3 soon, and should start posting the shanks POV post-marineford story in late april. if there are scenes you’d especially like his POV on, let me know! i’ll do my best to incorporate them.

Buggy spent a very cathartic half-hour shouting at a bunch of guys who ate up his words with a spoon.  Always eager to please, the men obediently found themselves disembarkation buddies, cleaned up the messes they’d made, and started gathering their things (mostly weapons they’d stolen off the guards at Impel Down).

It was nice to be respected, Buggy thought as he watched them scurry around the ship.  However misplaced the respect, it made people listen to him, something Buggy had wanted for as long as he could remember.  He’d never been able to get enough.  Probably never would, if the hunger that grew every time these men cheered his name was anything to go by.

He wandered up to the room he shared with Galdino—thankfully empty, he didn’t want to end up in another slap fight over details—and took care of his own possessions. (It wouldn’t do to have any excuses to delay or hang back when they got to the meeting point.) With the modified Marine jacket and hat back on, Buggy could fit everything else in a small satchel that he strapped around his waist, neatly hidden by a twist in a sash and the way the jacket fell.  He left the room… more or less the way it had been when he arrived—there was no way to hide that dent in the wall, and Galdino would have to be the one to deal with the smear of wax across half the bed—and exited the room for the last time, taking in the view of the deck below with a contented sigh.

The Red Force was a well-run ship—a compliment Buggy would never voice aloud, but in the privacy of his own mind he allowed himself to think it.  Even with hundreds of strangers aboard who couldn’t help but get in the way, she was clean, well-equipped, and sailing smoothly.  Buggy didn’t know if he’d be able to say the same in a few hours, when all these men would be trying to squeeze onto the somewhat smaller Big Top.  Buggy rubbed a hand across his mouth to hide his involuntary grimace at the thought.  Maybe the island they were meeting up on had some industry he could put them to work at?  A farm would be fantastic, if he could get paid for their labor and get the produce at a discount as well… 

Buggy looked over the deck in search of one of Shanks’ senior officers.  He didn’t know most of them by name, but those cloaks and capes they wore were distinctive enough that he thought he should be able to identify them on sight, and surely if the one he found didn’t know anything about the island, they could point him to someone who did.  The navigator?  Roux, who seemed to know a little about everything?  Beckman, whose job it was to know something about everything?

And, think of the devil, one of the doors to the interior of the ship opened to reveal Beckman, speaking with a few of those cloaked men.  They each went their own way, and Beckman crossed to the railing, taking up a pose not dissimilar from Buggy’s a few levels above him.  That was a first mate for you, always keeping an eye on things, one way or another.

Buggy sent his feet down the stairs and the rest of him took the shorter path, swooping down to Beckman’s side like a giant white bat.  To his credit, Beckman didn’t react to this unusual approach. Instead, calm as anything, he said, “Whatever you said to those men, it seems to be doing the trick.  Thanks.”

Buggy waved the praise off.  “If they’re so eager to be under my command, they’ve got to start learning to behave themselves sooner or later.  Might as well be now.”  Leaning an elbow against the railing, Buggy looked Beckman over.  He sure did seem a lot more relaxed now than he’d been outside Shanks’ rooms.  Relaxed enough to share intel?  “Tell me something.”

Beckman glanced sideways at Buggy.  “Hm?”

“What do you know about this island where we’re meeting up with my crew?  Is it populated?”

“Ah, I don’t think so, no,” Beckman said, tilting his head back, recalling the facts.  “Snake picked a jungle island that’s a bit out of the way of normal trade routes.  There’s some ruins, but no signs of recent habitation.”

Buggy tried not to visibly wilt.  “Ah.”

Beckman’s eyes lingered on Buggy.  “We didn’t want to risk a naval presence on the island getting word out to the rest of the Marines.”

“No, no, it makes sense.”  Buggy sighed, shoving a hand under his hat to scrub at his hair.  “Just trying to figure out how the hell I’m gonna feed all these guys in that case.”  No way had anyone thought to tell Alvida that Buggy was bringing new guys with him, let alone a lot of new guys.  She’d have gotten the ship supplied with their normal numbers in mind.

Well, the new guys were a tough bunch, maybe they’d see hunting for their dinner as a fun challenge.  Assuming there was anything safe to hunt and eat on this island… Buggy dug his fingers into his scalp, biting back a frustrated groan.

Beckman laughed.  “Yeah, I don’t envy you that job. At least we were expecting to take on passengers.”  He whistled to get the attention of someone up in the crow’s nest and flashed a hand sign at them.  After a few exchanges, he stopped signing and rolled his eyes.  “Stubborn, overworking little—” He cut himself off and glanced at Buggy.  “Was that all you wanted from me?”  Buggy nodded.  “Then I’ll see you when Shanks finally gets up the nerve to talk to you… or when we land.  Whichever comes first.”  With that, he walked over to the mast, got the attention of a young man who’d been leaning against it, and grabbed onto a low-hanging rope.  The two of them pulled themselves up into the rigging—to harass whoever was up in the crow’s nest into taking a break, probably.

Buggy watched them climb for a minute, a frown crawling its way across his face.  When Shanks finally gets up the nerve to talk to you… so there was something Shanks was hiding that he didn’t think he should, huh?  Buggy had figured the feeling he was getting off Shanks was about one of those topics he’d had private conversations with Roger about way back when, not something that Shanks would consider any of Buggy’s business.  But apparently that wasn’t the case.

Buggy’s frown deepened.  He could come up with a list of topics Shanks wouldn’t want to broach but would still feel obligated to bring up, no problem.  But that list was short, and Buggy didn’t like the thought of discussing anything on it.

Unsettled, Buggy leaned back against the mast, arms crossed.

“Look out below!!!”

Buggy looked up and shrieked at the sight of a man falling head-first out of the crow’s nest.  He scattered—it wasn’t like his body would soften the blow enough that the guy would live—and then blinked, as a rope he hadn’t noticed went taut, and the falling slowed to a gentle, somehow mechanical motion.

“The hell is wrong with you?!” he demanded, floating up to be eye-level with the slowly descending man.  This was, if Buggy remembered correctly, Shanks’ sniper, Yasopp, of the infamous years-long tempting out to sea.  Someone with good aim, and a keen eye, but not particularly decisive—or, at least, he hadn’t been back then.  He was also apparently someone with a shitty sense of humor; he wasn’t answering Buggy’s question because he was too busy laughing and pointing at Buggy.

“Your face!  Oh, my stomach hurts,” he said, clutching at his waist.  “Oh man, that was almost worth getting kicked out of the nest.”  As they approached the ground, he shifted his weight so his feet would touch down first, and untangled himself from the rope with practiced ease.  “Phew.  Sorry, uh—Buggy, right?  Yeah, sorry about that.  The crew knows better than to stand so close to the mast when the watch changes, and I didn’t think to check before I jumped.”

“Jumping from the crow’s nest for fun.”  Buggy shook his head.  “And here I thought you people were almost respectable.”  Yasopp, the maniac, cackled.  Beckman, drifting down to the deck on his own rope mechanism, in a much more orderly fashion, chuckled a little.

“It’s possible we’ve been on… well, not our best behavior.  Let’s call it better behavior than usual, these last few days,” Beckman admitted.  “Except for Yasopp, who doesn’t know the meaning of the concept and so stays up in his nest.”

“You haven’t been on your best behavior, you’re as mean as ever,” Yasopp said, putting on an over-the-top pout.

Beckman rolled his eyes.  “Because I need to be, to get anything done around here,” he said.  “And you need a break.  Drink, talk to someone, tinker with one of your ridiculous trick bullets, I don’t care, just—let someone else keep an eye on things for a few hours, okay?”  He nudged Yasopp in the side with an elbow.  “Or are you gonna say you didn’t train your juniors well enough at their job?”

Yasopp crossed his arms, sulky.  “No,” he conceded.

“Good,” Beckman said.  Giving Buggy an apologetic grimace as he untied himself, he said, “I trust he’s apologized to you already?”  His tone suggested that if he hadn’t, Yasopp would soon regret it.

What a mother hen of a first mate, Buggy thought, fighting down a smile. “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” he said, shrugging off the incident like it hadn’t carved a decade off his lifespan.  “I should’ve known you people had to be at least a little crazy, since you run around with Shanks.”

A small smile crossed Beckman’s face, and Yasopp muffled a snort of laughter in a fist.

Someone called out in a panicky tone for Beckman from a far corner of the ship, and the smile fell off his face.  “If you’ll excuse me?”  Not waiting for a reply from either of them, Beckman walked off.

“So mean,” Yasopp said, fondness creeping into his voice.

“That’s first mates for you,” Buggy said, unable to keep a similar fondness out of his own voice.  Shanks had done a good job finding this guy.  When you grew up with the gold standard first mate (or, heh, the Silvers standard?), it was hard to find someone who could measure up.  “Keeping things in order when your captain’s lost his head.”

Yasopp chuckled.  “Ah, the boss isn’t that bad off.”  When Buggy gave him a skeptical look, he smirked.  “Lost his heart, maybe, but he knows where his head’s at.”

“I—uh.”  Flustered, Buggy cleared his throat.  He’d really just gone and said it.  “You’re a lot less subtle than your crewmates.”

Yasopp shrugged.  “I leave subtlety to subtle men.  I’m not built for it; I’m built for getting to the heart of the matter, and doing it fast.”  He extended two fingers towards Buggy, lifted his thumb into the air, and twitched his hand like it was a gun recoiling.  “We both know where things stand.  What’s the use in dancing around it?”

“Sure,” Buggy muttered, his thoughts going back to what Beckman had said.  What was it Shanks both didn’t want to tell him and needed to tell him?  What was there left unsaid, besides the sort of thing Buggy had already decided didn’t need saying?  He crossed his arms.  Damn it, he’d been trying to avoid thinking about this shit!

“Hey,” Yasopp said, snapping his fingers to draw Buggy’s attention.  “You work with bombs, right?  You make them yourself?”

Welcoming the change in topic, Buggy scoffed.  “Of course,” he said, “only an idiot trusts the kind of weapons manufacturers who are willing to sell to pirates to make explosives that are good, reliable, and cheap, and I have better things to spend my money on.”  He narrowed his eyes at Yasopp.  “Why?”

“Because Beck just gave me permission to tinker with my trick bullets, and if you make your own explosives you might be able to figure out what I’m doing wrong with this one.”  Digging around in one of his oversized ammunition pouches, Yasopp presented Buggy with an unusually lightweight cartridge.  “Here, what do you think?”

Buggy cracked the cartridge open, curious.  Inside was a pool of silvery-black gunpowder and a thin-walled hollow bullet, which proved to have some other kind of powder inside.  Buggy pinched that powder between two fingers, rubbing them together to feel the grit and then sniffing at the residue left behind.  He stared at his fingers, baffled, and smelled them again.  “What is that, aluminum and an ammonium salt?”  Yasopp nodded.  “Are you trying to make a cartridge that explodes in the barrel?”

Yasopp sighed, running a hand through his locs.  “What I want is a smoke bomb I can fire out of a gun.  What I’m getting is… that, more or less.”

“Yeah, of course you are, a big velocity change ignites this stuff easily.  With a different catalyst, though, or maybe a better sealed chamber…” Buggy trailed off, considering the bullet.  A miniature smoke bomb, huh?  Something that could stand up to the initial shock of gunfire, and turns to noise and powder on impact… “Do you have a chem lab around here somewhere?”

Yasopp grinned.

The two of them didn’t emerge from Yasopp’s workroom until the bell rang out announcing last call for lunch.  Buggy wasn’t sure he’d ever get the metallic burnt smell out of these clothes, but he didn’t care; this had been fun, the kind of idle experimenting with explosives that he hadn’t had time to do in years.  Buggy hadn’t realized how much of a man’s free time it ate up, captaining even a smallish crew, until he’d gotten a fraction of that time back.

“Too bad we didn’t figure out a solution for your smoke bullet problem,” he said, dusting the last of the gunpowder off his shirt sleeves.

“Eh, I’ve been working on this on and off for months, it wasn’t gonna be an easy fix,” Yasopp said, shrugging his star-spangled cloak back on.  “But it got both of us out of our heads for a few hours, so I’d hardly call it a waste.”

Buggy blinked at him, frozen with one arm in his jacket.  “Both of us?”

“You were fretting, I don’t know what about.  Shanks, at a guess.  And I’m… not good at letting other people take on my responsibilities.”  Yasopp grimaced.  “Beck doesn’t always have to toss me out of the nest, but…”

Buggy frowned, sliding the jacket up his other arm.  “I wasn’t fretting.”

Yasopp gave him an unimpressed look.  “Sure.  And what kind of concealer do you use to hide the frown lines you must have, if you make that face every hour of the day?”  When Buggy scowled at him, Yasopp said, “I’m not a subtle man, remember?  If you want somebody to pretend to believe your lies, you’re looking at the wrong guy.”

Buggy sighed.  As Yasopp locked the workroom up behind them, he admitted, “It… was good to get out of my head for a while.”  Yasopp gave him a squeeze on the shoulder, and they left it at that.

Lunch was a bit less exciting than the past few days had led Buggy to expect: the fried rice with pickled cabbage and ham that had been served with Shanks’ breakfast was the main dish on offer, with other repurposed leftovers making up the rest of the meal.  When Roux wasn’t looking, Buggy gave him a curious look.  The rest of the crew had been on their best behavior, according to Beckman… so, had Lucky Roux been showing off?  If he had, it had worked on Buggy; he still wanted to poach Roux for his own crew, even if this less impressive offering was his usual fare.

Eating his bowl of rice with a couple promising-looking toppings—all well-spiced and delicious, of course—Buggy made his way out onto the main deck.  A few Red-Haired and Whitebeard Pirates glanced Buggy’s way, but most of them had gotten used to Buggy over the last few days and returned to their meals without paying him any mind.  He peered down at the lower deck, crowded with men in worn prison uniforms standing in surprisingly well-organized clusters of twos and fours, finishing their lunch.

“Afternoon, men!” he called.

“Captain Buggy!” they cheered.

“Let’s see,” Buggy said, and on a whim set aside his bowl to chop off his feet and swoop down, close enough to excite his men but just out of reach.  “Aren’t you arranged all nice and orderly?  It looks like you did as I asked.”

“Of course!”

“We’d do anything you asked, Captain Buggy!”

Buggy grinned.  Music to his ears.  “Then I suppose I should reward you, shouldn’t I?”  A few excited sounds rose from the crowd as Buggy returned to his spot on the deck above them.  “Hm… I’ve told you a few stories of the old days with Captain Roger, and a few more adventures of the great Captain Buggy’s crew.  But there’s someone I’ve yet to introduce you to, a captain who’s been allied with me and mine these last few months.”  Someone who might need some convincing to cooperate with the sudden appearance of all these guys… and who was more eager for praise than even Buggy.  “Let me tell you how the strong, beautiful Iron Mace Alvida saved my life.”

A hush fell over the crowd.

“Yes, I know what you’re thinking: the great Captain Buggy, in need of rescue?!”  The wide-eyed stares Buggy received confirmed this.  And by the look of it, some of the men were mentally tacking on the phrase by a woman? to that question, as he’d suspected they would.  Yeah, best to nip that potential problem in the bud.  “Well, I’d been through a terrible trial in the days leading up to our first meeting.  Separated from my crew, from my body, alone on a half-wrecked ship, starving, a vicious sea monster rising out of the waves before me, his many-toothed maw dripping with drool, eager to eat me—when suddenly!  A great iron mace came down on his skull!”  Buggy slammed his lunch bowl against the railing, the crash of metal on wood drawing the eye of every man below.

Buggy grinned.  If they hadn’t been hooked before, they sure were now.

He fudged some of the details, of course—no need to reveal exactly who had put him through that terrible trial, or how his crew had behaved in his absence.  But the broad strokes were true enough, and the changes he made were in support of his reason for telling the story: to convince these guys to respect Alvida, to flatter her as they did him, to make this joining of forces go as smoothly as possible.  Sure, it didn’t put Buggy in the best light, at least not at first, but he didn’t want Alvida taking a perceived slight out on a man who might be able to stand up to her mace.  If revealing one of his weaknesses was how he avoided that disaster, so be it.

He was just reaching the ‘rescuing his crew from cannibals’ climax of the story when a cry rang out from above: “Land ho!”

Finally.  The relief that rushed through Buggy nearly made him cry.  After all the many hells he’d been through since being arrested… things could finally start getting back to normal.

“We’ll continue this story after we disembark,” Buggy announced, to a few disappointed groans from his men.  “Find your buddy if you lost track of him during lunch!  Make sure you both have everything you’re taking with you!  Stay out of the way of the Red-Haired Pirates while they’re get us to shore, but be ready to leave the second we’re docked!”

“Aye, Captain!”

But of course, it wasn’t quite that simple.

Buggy found Galdino sitting in the empty mess with Lucky Roux, making polite conversation over a pot of tea.  Though, with these two, it might not actually be the conversation it seemed to be—something about the island Roux sourced his tea from?  Apparently it was a distinctive blend, and hard to acquire.

“Did you need something, Buggy?” Galdino asked, an undertone of irritation to his voice.  Because of course Buggy needed something, why else did he ever seek Galdino out?

Well, if Galdino didn’t want to be used, he shouldn’t have made himself so useful.

“The dock’s gone,” Buggy said.  “Either rotted through or swept away in a storm.”

Galdino glanced up at him, and set down his teacup.  “Well, at least it’ll be a challenge.  Lucky Roux, it’s been a pleasure.”

“It’s sure been something, having you people aboard,” Roux said with a wide smile.  “Hopefully not for the last time.”

Buggy snorted.  “In your captain’s dreams.”

Galdino muffled a laugh in his fist; Roux didn’t bother concealing his amusement.  Buggy realized how his words had come off, scowled, and stormed out of the mess with a mutter of, “Come on, Galdino.”

The two of them joined Beckman and the Red-Haired Pirates’ navigator at the bow of the ship, and considered the space where a dock clearly used to be.  A ship this big, an island with such a sharp drop from shore to sea?  They wouldn’t be able to land without a dock. 

“Can you do it?” Beckman asked.

“I’ll need to begin from the shore,” Galdino said, thoughtful.  “If it isn’t well anchored from the start it’ll drift away.”

“That’s no problem.” Buggy chopped his feet off and leaned forward, letting Galdino sit cross-legged on his back.  He flew them to shore, where Galdino made some long wax spears that Buggy wedged into place.  When they were securely dug in, Galdino melted the tops of the spears and, starting from that spot, created more wax to mold into a floating dock.  Nothing that would be any good at anchoring a ship the size of the Red Force long-term, but they didn’t intend to be here any longer than necessary.  So long as it could hold firm while the men disembarked, that was all they needed.

While Galdino worked, Buggy hovered above the canopy, looking for any kind of promising location to settle his men.  He quickly spotted the ruins Beckman had mentioned—several of the old buildings were tall enough to be seen well above the treetops, the gray of the stone standing out against all the greenery of the jungle.  There was one with a large paved area around it, not far from the shore, which seemed promising.  Buggy took a moment to fix the spot in his memory, then went back to tell Galdino about it.

Galdino barely paid him any mind. He was focused on his work, and confident enough in it to stand on the dock as he was building it, a foot or two of wax all that separated him from the awful, helpless death that awaited any Devil Fruit user in the ocean.  It was bold of him; Buggy preferred a nice, reliable boat any day.

“Any messages to pass on to the men?” he asked, hovering at Galdino’s shoulder.

“They’ll need to be light on their feet, and should stick to the center of the dock,” Galdino said.  He was starting to sweat; extruding this much wax in one go must take a lot of effort.  “If their weight isn’t balanced right, one wrong move could capsize this whole thing.”

Buggy blanched.  Yeah, he could never.  “Noted,” he squeaked, and flew back to the Red Force to convey these instructions.

Despite Galdino’s warnings, the disembarkation went well.  Buggy watched with no small amount of pride as the buddy system worked beautifully, each pair of men walking down the gangplank, across the waxen dock, and onto the shore without any signs of a bottleneck developing.  Being listened to was nice—it was very nice—but being listened to, having your orders followed, and seeing them work exactly as you imagined, now that was heaven.  Buggy might not be the strongest pirate the world had ever seen, but damn it, he was good at this shit.

As the last dozen pairs prepared to leave the Red Force, Buggy felt a gentle weight press down on his foot.  He frowned, tried to remember where he’d left his feet, and only then noticed a presence on the main deck that made his hackles rise.

Shanks.

“Are you holding my feet hostage?”

“That depends,” Shanks said, giving Buggy an unreadable look.  “Are you leaving without saying goodbye?”

Oh, this guy.  On his own ship, surrounded on all sides by his most trusted officers, and still managing to look like some kind of miserable wet cat, terrified of being left alone.

“And how was I supposed to say goodbye to someone who’s been hiding from me?” Buggy asked, instead of the dozen meaner things he wanted to say.

Shanks glanced away, suddenly awkward, and Buggy took the opportunity to look him over.  The shower had done him good, gotten him clean of all that secondhand makeup—though it had not, Buggy noticed with a quiet little thrill, removed the bruises that had apparently been hiding underneath some of that makeup.  His hair looked nicer, almost healthy, even pinned back by the sunglasses Shanks had propped up high on his forehead.  “Are these the shame glasses I’ve heard so much about?”

Shanks’ hand rose to fiddle with the temple of the glasses.  “Ah, yeah.”

“I thought your crew was supposed to laugh at you while you were wearing them?”

“They’ve been laughing at me, all day,” Shanks said, tired.  “And they’ve been right to, given… everything.”

Well, that was ominous.

With a sigh, Shanks said, “There’s something I should have told you earlier, Buggy, but there never seemed to be a good time, and… I didn’t know how to say it.”  A sheepish smile pulling at the corner of his lip, he said, “I still don’t, to be honest,” and pulled the sunglasses down over his eyes.

It took Buggy a moment to put it together.  Shanks’ discomfort, the way the large mirrored lenses took up so much space on his face, the nervous twist of his lips… then Shanks ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead, and it clicked.  All the blood draining out of his face, Buggy caught Beckman’s eye; he nodded, ever so slightly.

(Fuck.)

Buggy got up in Shanks’ face, looking past his own wide-eyed reflection to confirm that spark of recognition.  Shanks leaned back, Buggy reconnected to his own feet, and at this angle… yeah, he knew that face.  He’d kissed it, once.

(Oh fuck, he’d pickpocketed that guy, too.)

Fighting down a hysterical burst of laughter, Buggy said, voice high-pitched from the strain, “Well, uh, thanks for the ride, Shanks!  I’d say I owe you one, but I’m pretty sure you still owe me another two or three dozen favors before we’re even.”  He backed up, hands brushing along the railing as he inched towards the stairs, and beyond them the gangplank, the dock, the island, freedom.

(Somewhere he could have a little breakdown about this revelation in private.)

“Buggy…” Shanks cautiously held out a hand.

Buggy pulled back out of reach.  “I’m not saying goodbye to you, Shanks!” he snapped.  Shanks faltered, his hurt visible even past those ridiculous sunglasses, and Buggy sighed.  Did he have to spell it out?  “Stupid.  I already told you.”

Confusion wasn’t a much better look on Shanks.  Well, either he’d figure out or he wouldn’t.

Buggy rolled his eyes, spun around, and ran off.  Over his shoulder, he promised, “Until next time, Red-Hair!”

[starplusfourletters]

I read vision of the future (hand of thrawn book 2 aka Who Scams the Scammers)

(spoilers) and once again it turned into a liveblog, apologies

Hold up are we doing Warrior Cats? Is this Warrior Cats Planet??

What base is “arm around your waist to serve as a psychic translator conduit”

Omigod I WISH my Warrior Cat name were “Jaded of Mara”

Everything I know about Soontir Fel I learned from x wing but I would not have guessed his primary motivation to be "dirt"

@ luke and mara: the girls are talkingggggg

North Barris Spaceport has me twitching

Ghent not remembering who the president is and just assuming it’s probably Leia. I mean fair

What base is "holding hands to brace yourselves over a swarm of flesh eating insects"

So we’re finally asking why Mara ISN’T actually dark side and the answer is… shrug emoji?

Man Zahn really is stuck on “character bonding hike” as a device huh. But consider I eat that shit up

Oh No Lando is racist

LMAO at “so oblivious you need a child pterodactyl to tell you to just kiss already” to “besides I don’t want my life to be like spiderman three I hated that movie” to “kissing with dubious consent” ALL ON THE SAME PAGE like Zahn finally realized he really needed to get this show on the road

LMAO at Ghent getting a free pass from Pellaeon to hack the empire. Like you’re just going to get the thing you need and not steal all of our military and political secrets right? Riiiight? Even more LMAO at the fact that that would probably not even occur to Ghent

When everyone assumes they're the protagonist so finding this one macguffin is their job personally. Like guys I like the energy but maybe we've got enough different plans to do the same thing (the exception, hilariously, being Luke) (and Oh No it turns out Luke is the one to find the macguffin because You Have to Follow Your Heart and Let the MacGuffin Come to You. I eat that shit up also)

Mara’s just... So great.

Not to make everything about my blorbo but absolutely to make everything about my blorbo I do wonder to what extent Ahsoka’s characterization post-Rebels doesn’t click for me is because a lot of the more obvious directions for Oldsoka overlap with Mara, and the powers that be didn’t want to reinvent the Mara Jade wheel. Not to say they have similar characterization – Mara has terminal sam coded dean girl syndrome – but idk, in dynamic range maybe? Calling out bullshit, weaponizing her own abrasiveness, covering insecurity with humor, being Kind of a Lot with a side of trust issues at any given moment – there are modes Mara and Youngsoka share that didn’t pass to Oldsoka apparently. Idk possibly all this is just me wanting them to TALK

Establishing that you can do evil things for selfless reasons without necessarily being in any danger of falling to the dark side is... Philosophically interesting

We interrupt this tale of political espionage to bring you Jedi Relationship Counseling (spoiler alert: communication is key)

"That part of her life [Mara’s time with Palpatine] had died unmourned" I mean mourned a little bit. Mourned for at least a book and a half

I've been willing to suspend my disbelief on everything in this book until "both Luke and Mara forget that ysalamiri exist"

I will never not be a sucker for The Movements and Transferred Ownership of Emotionally Significant Weapons

Oh No thrawn made a second foundation

The Aing-Tii seem OP but whatever

Oh No the second foundation forgot to close the garage doors

(Re: The Jade’s Fire) I know Mara’s having a Moment, and I promise I’m taking it seriously, but when the warrior cat asked “What is it you want, Mara Jade” my WHOLE BRAIN responded with "I want Hermione Granger! And a rocket ship!"

Moranda has real Kevin from home alone energy and I'm living for it

Is it bad that I’m actually kinda happy the Imperials’ Bothawui shield plan worked? Like, they had a really interesting plan and I’m happy for them. They earned it

WAIT IS MORANDA DEAD FR?

What base is “full mind meld while you’re fighting for your lives”

Who would win: ~1.5 Jedi, 2 sentinel droids droidekas, or Artoo with a sauntering gun

If I had a nickel for every time this duology explicitly established Jedi can’t go completely without oxygen, even when in a trance, I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot but which makes me feel like the Ahsoka show had a weirdly specific axe to grind with the source material

Luke’s proposal to Mara is Just. The. Funniest. Thing. That’s some Anakin-level cringe and the prequels aren’t even out yet. He truly is his father’s son.

I mean POV there’s this guy and for a couple years you want to kill him, and then you realize that’s more of a You Problem, so then you’re friendquaitances for a decade mostly because you don’t approve of the shit he’s getting into, and then you have one (1) honest conversation and get caught in a death trap and he’s like “so I think the next step for us is marriage”

LEIAAAAAA! Full Jedi Knight Leia is both terrifying and hot. I would run.

“So it is treason” – Some random guy

Lando needs to be on the New Republic payroll simply for being willing to speak to any of the other characters and also he needs a raise. This poor guy getting called on to command the entire New Republic fleet mid-battle and he’s like “I’ve been a civilian for 15 years and also I knew you would pull some horse piss like this steve”

Mara Jade, Imperial protege. Skills include: Identifying load-bearing walls. (Now all I want is Property Brothers: Sith Edition)

Mara please. Luke please. These absolute idiots. This is some pear scene shit. I hope nothing bad happens to them ever

The whole back half of this book has been an emotional rollercoaster for me specifically because I wanted Flim to be Thrawn FR soooooo baddddd. And now I’m sad. His name literally means scam don’t do this to me Zahn

I’ve been amused by all the Star Wars universe idioms but I gotta take a moment to specifically showcase “burned your sky-arches.” Karrde is a delight to have in class

Having an independent intelligence agency that’s supposed to work for both the New Republic and the Empire seems absolutely unhinged but go off I guess

When the New Republic and Empire sign peace accords and Luke can’t even be bothered to show up

Mara is great and her arc is fuckin hilarious to me. The narrative has identified her as The Damaged One and I’m like???? She came to terms with her troubled past, drew her own boundaries regarding the Dark Side, recognized that there are people who care about her instead of pre-emptively pushing them away, and resolved to form deeper emotional connections. Smash cut to ROTS Anakin whose physical and psychic damage has literally turned his brain into oatmeal

Again I know this was before the prequels Mad points for explicitly saying Mara needed to form attachments to become a Jedi. Zahn being pretty gangsta there

OH NO THEMB