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toasted-buguette · 19 days

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Into Your Own Hands

Summary: Ryis decides to pine from a distance in order to be a better wingman for March. The farmer has other ideas.

Ryis is many things: A son, a brother, a nephew, a pretty good woodworker if he were to say so himself. A friend, and he tried to be a good one.

Ryis is also in love, although he would desperately like to not be.

Mistria is, despite its constant activity, a very small town with a very close knit community. It’s one of the things that made him love it there, that and the quiet that let him hear birdsong with more clarity and variety. Everyone knew each other and everyone had some manner of bond that had existed for at least a year or two, so it made sense that the arrival of a new member of the community would spark interest in everyone. Ryis wasn’t exempt from this, after all the last time someone new came it was him, but he liked to think himself a little bit chiller about it than some others.

Chiller than March, he means.

March is, as much as he likes to hide it, a pretty good guy underneath all his bluster. He just doesn’t like change, when Ryis first moved in it took March a week to stop sulking and talk to him. It was only once Friday came along and Olric dragged his brother to the inn that he and Ryis actually got to have a conversation and that (Plus one or two of Hemlock’s drinks) was all it took to spark a friendship that would surely last a lifetime. Because besides being craftspeople and their mutual adoration of Mistria and its citizens, the quality Ryis and March shared in the highest quantity was their loyalty.

Which is why Ryis can’t acknowledge his growing fondness for the new farmer.

You see, after the earthquake a lot of things needed repairing and the citizens of Mistria needed a distraction, so a new face was just what the town needed. Ryis, on his part, was eager to welcome the new farmer into town, after all he knew better than anyone what it was like to be the new member of a well established community. Besides, he knew they would be working together on the myriad of reconstruction projects, so it was only natural that they get along outside of work. It helped that they were very easy to get along with.

March, as is his wont, was not as receptive to this newcomer. No one was surprised when any conversation with him eventually led to him grumbling about the no good farmer who was only here for their own gain and totally wasn’t going to last the season. Ryis, at least, was surprised when these grumblings continued past the first week of the farmer being there.

After all, the farmer went to very great lengths to talk to everyone frequently, March included, and usually once he got to know someone he mellowed out at least a little. But no, it seemed that March’s ire only grew with every attempt to make peace the farmer made. Ryis tried to reassure them that March would warm up to them eventually, (He had to, they were just too charming even for March to hate for long), but his reassurances could only go so far when March seemed to go out of his way to antagonize the farmer. It wasn’t until late spring that Ryis found out why March was being so… like that.

For all his guardedness it only takes a couple drinks to get all of March’s walls to crumble like a termite infested fence, and once they did the blacksmith was the most open book in the world. There was no such thing as secrets with drunk March, so Ryis got a front row seat as March got to rambling about the farmer once more, and it instantly became plain as day that March’s blush that night was not caused by the beer.

Ryis couldn’t remember a time March was ever so enthralled with someone. He sat there and listed out Ryis’ thoughts verbatim about how interesting and capable the farmer was, how helpful and hardworking, and Ryis realized two things simultaneously.

One: He was developing a crush on the farmer.

And Two: He could not, under any circumstances, let it continue to grow.

When was the last time March was so enamored with anyone? When had he ever been this animated when talking about something that wasn’t made of metal? March had always been a happy drunk but this was beyond anything that Ryis had ever seen from his friend and he wanted desperately for that happiness to continue.

So he resolved himself to try and help March realize the feelings he had while he was sober as well as pushing the farmer in his direction whenever possible. It was easy for Ryis to ignore his own feelings, at first, after all the farmer hadn’t been there long and was always running around going who knows where to do who knows what. Out of sight out of mind and all that, and when they were not out of mind Ryis could always find a project to take his mind off them for a little while. And when that failed to work he could always tell himself that once their novelty wore off so too would his unfortunate crush.

And then the general store was ready to be remodeled and all that flew out the window.

Unlike with the bridge Ryis couldn’t do the whole thing alone in a single day, and aside from his uncle (Who he loved very dearly and wanted to enjoy his retirement as much as possible) the only person qualified to help was the farmer. So the two of them set to work and Ryis tried very hard not to think about how every time their hands touched when exchanging tools a shock would go up his arm and send his heart racing, or how every so often he’d look up from his work and see them so deeply focused that he fell just a little deeper in love.

That, he thinks, is what finally broke the dam and now when he aims the farmer in March’s direction (Because he still does, because he loves March) it is accompanied by a horrible pang in his chest that he knows he’ll never be able to get rid of.

‘It’s fine.’ He tells himself. He’ll make do with what he can get and he’ll blame the work on why he’s so flushed every time he joins the farmer on a project and when March can finally admit to himself that he doesn’t hate them Ryis will look on as two of his favorite people can freely admit their love for eachother and it will be because of him and maybe the ache in his chest will get a little easier to live with.

The next time he sees the farmer, Ryis wants to hide in his scarf. They’re sweaty and out of breath and he can tell why when they hand him a stack of hardwood so big he wonders how they fit it all in their bag. They smile so wide when he accepts it and their face makes him want to melt. That doesn’t stop him from inviting them to the shop, of course. After all, it's hot and he can’t move all of that himself (he can) and wouldn’t they like to sit down and cool off for a second after all that work? Really it’s the least he could do after everything they’ve done for the town (for him).

And now they’re alone in the shop and the wood is all put away and Ryis would talk about all the projects he has planned for it except the farmer makes it really hard for him to think and of course Landen is gone and can’t distract the farmer from him so they’re just watching him stammer with those intensely beautiful eyes of theirs and Ryis realizes a little too late that he said that last part out loud.

Mortified, Ryis looks away and it takes him a minute before he can bear to take his eyes off the pile of sawdust they landed on and return them to the farmer. The sight that greets him when he does is not what he expected; The farmer is staring at him with a sort of half-smile and did they get closer? Their face is definitely closer to his than it was when he looked away. He bashfully tells them that he’s sorry and they should probably forget what he said and after a second they say that maybe they don’t want to. Maybe they gave him all that hardwood because to them his smile is the prettiest thing in the whole town.

And every plan Ryis ever made to play matchmaker for March goes in the trash because hearing that makes his heart stop and when the farmer kisses him it is the most right anything has ever felt. And soon they’ll have to leave because it’s late and their chickens are still outside and then Ryis will have to grapple with the fact that he just kissed the person his best friend is in love with but for now none of that matters because after a season and a half of pining and pushing his feelings down it feels like he can finally breathe.

And as the farmer leaves, trailing promises to see him soon behind them, Ryis revels in not having to dread their next meeting any more.

#fom #fields of mistria #fields of mistria x reader #fom ryis #fields of mistria ryis #ryis x reader #in a sense #if you squint #I did it guys #I actually posted a fic!#I wrote this in a couple hours and didn't proofread it so if you see any mistakes no you don't <3 #also this is on AO3 too #enjoy this bullshit #feast my fellow Ryis enjoyers I hope I wrote him decent #Also sorry to the person who requested this #I know this isn't really what you asked for but I couldnt deny the idea I had

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might-be-tiny-gt · 5 months

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Listen to the Audio Next Chapter

Read The Story Index | First Chapter

Welcome to Chapter 1 of the TAoLaW "dramatic" reading. What can I say, the theatre kid in me needed to record this in audio format. Have I mentioned how much I love this fic? Yes? Well I'm saying it again, I LOVE THE ART OF LOVE AND WAR!!! If you haven't read it please go read it.

The Art of Love and War Is written by @fireflywritesgt and the audio reading is recorded and posted with permision.

#OK IM ACTUALLY DOING THIS #I’ve been wanting to record dramatic readings of GT fics for a LOOOOOONG time now #but have been admittedly self conscious of my voice #but I finally bit the bullet #I did it #I recorded this chapter while I had the house to myself #Personally I still hear flaws in the audio which I assume were from getting too close to the mic #none of my edits were able to fix it so I guess I have to live with it now #if and when I have time I might re-record this chapter to fix this later #I recorded chapter 2 in the same sitting so that audio will be ready sooner rather than later #personally I think it sounds better #Hope you guys enjoy this #it was really fun to do and I’d like to do more in the future #g/t #giant/tiny #gt #giant tiny #borrowers #g/t fluff #Mighty Records #the art of love and war #taolaw #taolaw audio drama

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 4 months

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Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 112

Part 1 Part 111

Eddie feels anything but serene as he follows Steve up to the front door of the Harrington house. There’s no expensive car in the driveway aside from Steve’s own, but that doesn’t account for all the neighbors. He still remembers the curtains shifting that night, all the rich folks ready to watch the spectacle Billy, Eddie, and Carol were making of themselves.

“What if someone calls the cops?” Eddie whispers, looking behind them at the seemingly abandoned street. When he turns back around, Steve’s frowning down at his keyring. There’s an empty spot where his house key should be. Right. “Wait, let me–”

Eddie bends down to grab the key from the pot where he’d hidden it. He hands it to Steve with a sheepish smile. Steve doesn’t ask. He turns, fits it into the lock, and twists. The metallic clang of the tumbler turning portends their doom.

“Steve!” Eddie hisses, looking back at all the houses hemming them in.

Steve just scoffs. “Why would they call the cops on a kid going into his own house?” He opens the door wide, ushering Eddie inside until he has no choice but to follow. As if there was ever a world in which he wouldn’t follow Steve anywhere. “There’s no way they told anyone they kicked me out.”

Steve closes the door behind Eddie, clicking the lock and deadbolt home like a bad habit. “Besides, you think Chief Hopper’s going to arrest us?”

Steve doesn’t take off his shoes, so Eddie doesn’t either. Steve skips, light-footed up the stairs, but Eddie clumps, muddy boots leaving clods of dirt with every step. When they reach the top of the stairs, Eddie makes sure to ground his heel extra hard into the new white carpet.

When Eddie takes a little too long to follow, Steve clasps his wrist and pulls him into his old bedroom and shuts the door. He’s not surprised when Steve leads him over to his closet.

He’d known right when Steve’d pulled onto the street.

Steve drops his wrist. He puts his back to the closet wall, slides down it, and sort of crouches there, feet planted on the ground, eyes looking up at Eddie. When he doesn’t move, Steve pats the spot next to him.

Eddie slides down the wall beside him. He ends up sitting criss-cross on the carpet, thigh overlapping Steve’s own. As if waiting for Eddie to take his place, Steve drops his own alert position, falling onto his ass and crossing his own legs so his thigh stays pressed tightly into Eddie’s.

Steve didn’t turn on the bedroom light, but the curtains are open, and there’s still plenty of daylight to burn.

“So…” Eddie trails off leadingly, gaze trained on the atrocious plaid wallpaper that covers the room. “What are we doing here?”

Steve sighs. Eddie feels him shift. He looks over, and Steve’s picking at his fingernails. “I just wanted, I mean, you’re just,” Steve stumbles. He groans, burying his head into his hands before peaking up at Eddie through his fingers. “You know?”

Eddie smiles down at him, equal parts endeared and utterly lost. “Not in the slightest.”

Steve laughs, turning his face fully back into his hands. “Yeah, fair,” he replies, voice muffled into his palms. He groans again, long and loud. “Carol and I practiced this.”

Eddie reaches out to pull one of Steve’s hands free. He resists for a second before dropping them both and pouting up at Eddie. He links their fingers together, and Steve latches on like a drowning man. Eddie runs his thumb across his knuckles.

“Fuck what you practiced.” Eddie’s looking down at their hands. “Just tell me.”

Steve breathes in deep, lets it out slow. He squeezes Eddie’s hand once and speaks, all in one go, like he needs to rush it all together to get the thought out. “This is the first place I ever wanted to kiss you.” Steve laughs. “This was supposed to be romantic, but I forgot all my lines.” He laughs again, but Eddie barely hears it. He’s staring down at their hands, eyes so wide they feel like they’re about ready to pop free from his skull. “Should’ve written it down, I guess.”

Eddie thinks he’s smiling, but he can’t quite feel his face anymore. He can’t imagine Steve sitting next to him, reading off notecards as he stumbles through whatever the hell this is.

Steve doesn’t immediately continue, but he’s already given Eddie so much to pour over, that he hardly notices. Steve Harrington wants to kiss him, has thought about it enough to have a first time, is stumbling over his words trying to talk about it.

“Wait the first time?” Eddie asks, shocked enough to look away from their hands and up at Steve’s eyes. “That first night?”

All Eddie remembers of that first night is fear and Steve Harrington’s body pressed close to his.

“No!” Steve says forcefully, almost glaring over at him. But then he winces, eye twitching half closed as he rocks his head to the side. “Well, yeah probably. I’m always sort of thinking about kissing people.”

“What?”

“But I meant that night on Halloween!” Steve raises his hands in defense, bringing Eddie’s up right along with them to hang in the air awkwardly. “You saved me, you know? And you were wearing my clothes.”

“That does it for you?” Eddie asks, something shaking through his lungs, and making him choke on his words. It emerges as a laugh, unhinged and uncontrolled as he pulls his knees up to his chest, bending down to compress his ribs into them as he shakes with the power of his laughter.

Steve’ still holding his hand up, arm bent awkwardly to the side as he leans forward. “Don’t crack on me now, Munson.”

Eddie leans back, waving his free hand in front of his face as tears stream from his eyes. “Hang on, hang on.” He uses his elbow to wipe the tears away, uncurling as the laughter peters out slowly and dies an awkward death at his feet. “Sorry, sorry.”

He peers at Steve out of the corner of his eyes, afraid of what he’ll see. Steve’s biting his lip against his own amusement, eyes crinkled at the corners the way Eddie loves.

“Can I continue?” he asks, mirth audible in every word.

Eddie rolls his eyes, wiping them dry one last time. He turns away from the ugly plaid wallpaper to face Steve, pulling at their joined hands until Steve turns right along with him, the knees of their crossed legs knocking together.

He’s starting to get an inkling of what this is, and he wants to be able to see Steve’s face as it happens.

“Go on,” he says, squeezing Steve’s hand.

It’s Steve’s turn to look down at their hands as Eddie watches a blush bloom on his face. Eddie keeps holding onto him, and waits. He’s waited a week, a year, a lifetime, for this. He can wait a few minutes more.

“Tommy was my first kiss.” Steve says. Eddie’s shoulder’s hunch then freeze that way. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t that. “And Carol was my second.”

The words hang in the air for a second, an arrow to Eddie’s heart. Tommy fucking Hagan who trampled all over Steve’s heart, and Carol fucking Perkins who’d followed right along in his wake.

Eddie doesn’t know what the fuck this is. “What does that…” he starts to ask, voice croaking against whatever feeling is bubbling up in him, but he can’t finish it. What does that have to do with us? He bites his tongue against the words, both hoping and dreading that Steve will pick them out of his brain and answer them anyway.

Steve tugs at his sternum. Eddie shudders and tugs back.

“Carol and Tommy were the ones that were dating,” Steve says, eyebrows furrowed. “That’s what everyone always said, but I was there too, you know?” He looks up at Eddie like he’s expecting something, so Eddie nods, even as his mind spins and spins, never quite clicking back into place.

“I was at most of their dates, and we were each other’s first everythings.” He’s still frowning, but it’s up at Eddie now, and it’s starting to look less like sadness and more like confusion. “They were my everything” He’s squeezing Eddie’s hand hard enough to sting. “So, what was the difference?”

Eddie doesn’t answer. He barely understands the question, even as things start clicking into place. Steve’s heartbreak had always been obvious. In the teddy bear on his bed, and the way he clutched back onto Carol and clung.

There’d always been an empty spot by Steve’s side. The gossip around school was that Steve was too much of a player to ever fill it. It’d continued like that until the trio had imploded upon itself, fracturing into thirds. Even Nancy Wheeler hadn’t made the cut.

Now Eddie’s wondering if there was ever a spot open at all.

Steve still looks like he wants an answer, so Eddie says, “I don’t know.”

Steve shudders, closing his eyes like Eddie had struck him. He pulls Eddie’s hand up to press it to his forehead for a second,

“I don’t know what the difference is,” Steve reiterates, eyes still closed. “But then you kissed me.” Steve pulls Eddie’s hand down his face, pressing a kiss to the back of it as he finally opens his eyes. “And I didn’t know what it meant.”

There’s something burning through Eddie, scorching his veins, cauterizing his words in his throat as he tries desperately to grasp at them. Steve’s looking at him practically begging for answers, and Eddie’s floundering.

Steve throws him a life preserver.

“I heard you talking to Uncle Wayne,” Steve says, and it doesn’t connect until he tacks on, “and Jeff.”

His breath catches. Not a life preserver, an anchor, and he’s at the bottom of the sea drowning.

Steve’s peeking up at him under his lashes. The thing is, he can’t even remember exactly what was said. But he remembers the embarrassment, the pleas for them both to lower their voices.

Was the L word used? He can’t fucking remember.

“But you didn’t…” What? Say anything? What was he supposed to say?

Steve started acting weird that next morning, hadn’t he?

“You said you loved me,” Steve says, a bandaid ripped off a festering wound. “What did that mean?”

Oh. Here’s Steve asking again, what’s the difference. You kissed me, and I didn’t know what it meant.

What does it mean?

Steve’s ears are so red they’re almost bioluminescent. Eddie wants to reach out and see if he can feel the warmth pooling beneath the thin skin. He turns the hand Steve has clasped in his own and held against his face to do just that. The angle’s awkward, and it ends up with Steve’s own wrist bent awkwardly and smooshed against his cheek.

Steve shudders as Eddie trails his pointer finger against the delicate skin. He pulls Eddie’s hand back and for a heartstopping moment he thinks Steve’s going to let go, but all he does is turn Eddie’s hand to press a kiss to the back of it and then drop their still-joined hands into his own lap.

“It meant I wanted more,” Eddie says, scooting closer in the space they don’t have between them. “Means I want more.”

Steve’s laugh is more like a quiet breath, puffing against Eddie’s face, they’re so close. “More like dating?” Eddie’s heartbeat is all the way up in his throat as he nods. “That’s so stupid, Eddie.”

Eddie sucks in a breath, pulling at his hand, but Steve doesn’t loosen his hold. “No wait!” He drops Eddie’s hand, but before Eddie can get any distance, Steve’s clambering into his lap, patting at his chest like he’s looking for a wound. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Eddie’s breath shudders out of him. He sinks into the carpet more firmly, closing his eyes as he focuses on Steve’s grounding weight atop him. This is Steve. Steve, who would never hurt him. Who let him into his home. Who bleed for him, who tried to die for him, who lives with him.

Steve’s so close, when Eddie opens his eyes. His cheeks are still pink, eyes shining. In the dim light, they look like flat pits of brown. Eddie wants to be this close in the light of day, sunlight shining bright enough to reflect the gold in them.

“I know,” Eddie says, reaching out to clutch Steve’s sides. Whatever prey drive had been thrumming through him thoroughly squashed out under Steve’s bulk. He breathes again while Steve waits, in, out, in, out, in. “What did you mean?”

Steve’s smiling a little as he meets his eyes. The angle’s funky, this close. He can barely see his lips, has to crane his head down a bit just to catch them quirking. “I just meant–” He starts before biting his lip and looking away. His brows furrowed again, like he’s thinking hard about what he wants to say.

Maybe notecards wouldn’t have been such a bad idea.

Steve nods, apparently having reached an accord with his own mind. Eddie loves him so much.

“I just meant, that there is no ‘more,’ Eddie.” He lets go of Eddie long enough to make air quotes around the word “more,” because even in emotional situations, he’s fundamentally a bitch. “You can’t get more than we already are.”

Steve doesn’t settle his hands back on Eddie’s chest; he reaches up to cup his face. “We’re the most we ever could be. Dating doesn’t change that. Kissing doesn’t change that.” Steve’s thumb trails along Eddie’s bottom lip emphasizing the point. “You’re already everything.”

Something untenable is running through Eddie. It’s too big, too untamed. Eddie has to do something with it, or he’s going to immolate on all these feelings.

He leans forward and kisses Steve.

It’s not like last time. Last time was soft, sleepy comfort. It was the warmth of a late night and shared bed.

This time, it’s an inferno. Eddie wants to burn up in it.

Eddie wants to consume Steve; he wants to devour. He wants to die in this perfect, infinite moment.

And Steve’s kissing back, just as ferociously. Eddie wants to get lost in it. But he’s got to know, so he leans back, lets their lips brush as he asks, “but kissing’s okay, right?” He leans in, licking the corner of Steve’s mouth, getting some of his teeth as he laughs. “And you’ll just kiss me?”

Steve doesn’t answer right away, except to reel Eddie back in and press into him, hard and needy. “Just you.” He delves in when Steve gasps, ready to burn up on their connection. Steve bites his lip hard enough to sting.

Eddie loses himself in the moment.

It’s less pulling away, and more kisses slowing, gentling even as they linger.

The light’s almost gone, and both Eddie’s legs are dead beneath Steve’s weight. He reaches out to tuck a hair behind Steve’s ear, smiling as it immediately springs free, Steve’s usual gell released from Eddie’s brushing hands.

Eddie’s lips sting, and his throat’s parched. He never wants to get up.

“Was that anything like you and Carol practiced?” he asks, throat a dry croak.

Steve’s eyes are twinkling as he leans back into Eddie’s space. “Well, I hit all the right beats, at least.”

He leans back into Eddie, slotting their lips back together, lingering, lingering, lingering. Eddie pulls back, the desire to kiss Steve and the perpetual need to be a smartass warring within him. “But in the wrong order right?”

“Hey!”

Eddie kisses him before he can make any more complaints. Steve doesn’t seem to mind.

Part 113

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #my fic #steddie upsidedown au #THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!!! also part of my steve harrington is arospec agenda <3!#anyway. hope you guys enjoy 😊#i kept it vague bc Eddie doesn’t Quite get what steve is talking abt. and to be fair. neither really does steve #he's like. devotion is devotion. anyway what is romantic attraction. should we make out?

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seyaryminamoto · 6 months

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Fic-to-Art #39: Gladiator's ELEVENTH Anniversary! (+ BONUS: Fic-to-Art #36...)

And here we are! March 26th arrived and I did not forget about it, but I paid for my ambitious madness with my wrist and forearm. Somehow, I finished my intended pieces on time, but I do not advise that you ever try to make 9 artworks in 3 days. No, sir. Bad life decisions, that's what that was... but this fic, as anyone knows, moves me to do things I never thought possible, starting with writing the fic itself!

It's really crazy every time it hits me that I've been doing this for as long as I have. It's been a complicated, chaotic journey, with its many ups and downs, but ultimately, it has been our journey. For some people, this is just one more fic in the pile: for me, it's been the best adventure of my life so far. Everyone who has ever been touched by Gladiator, who has ever cherished this story, who's looking forward to the big conclusion, who wants to see how the chaotic war is going to end... you're all part of this crazy adventure along with me, and I can only thank you for joining me.

This year, I had no time to make as big a project as I usually go for. Thus, I did a sort of free-for-all edition of Fic-to-Art over at Patreon and challenged myself to draw as many scenes as I could, out of their suggestions. I even sprinkled in a few scenes I impulsively wanted to draw because I loved writing them or because I look forward to writing them... and this is the result!

In order, the scenes are as follow:

Sokka combing Azula's hair, a common occurrence throughout the story.

Azula watching over a convalescing Sokka in the Chase of Jeong Jeong arc.

The outcome of Sokka's final battle in the Superior Gladiator League, namely a moment where Sokka and Azula more or less gave away their relationship's true nature to the public by raising their hands towards each other...

And now, spoiler territory! Some were by my choice, some by Patreon requests:

An important moment shortly after Sokka and Azula reunite.

Azula confronting her father, with a LOT of backup.

Xin Long's long-awaited freedom.

The aftermath of the final battle.

The full-blown confirmation of their relationship to the general Fire Nation populace.

Sokka, Azula and Hotaru's first night together

And the big final one is ACTUALLY Fic-to-Art #36 but hahaha woops I didn't post it here on time because it was super hard to finish since I had a LOT of things going on... but here it is now! :'D it's a glimpse VERY far into the future of this fic's timeline!

Alright, that should be enough talking and explaining. Some things are vague, some things aren't, but ultimately I really hope you guys will be looking forward to the scenes you haven't seen yet, and to Gladiator's eventual outcome.

So now... with all this being said and done, I'm gonna go take a trip down memory lane and watch my Tenth Anniversary video once more! Feel free to do the same thing if you'd like to commemorate the fic, I think it's a good way to experience Gladiator all over again, hahaha.

Thank you if you read all this, and if you read all THAT: 5 million word landmark, here we come! Thanks for hanging out with me across ELEVEN years of Gladiator!

#sokkla #sokka #azula #gladiator #fic-to-art project #zuko #aang #katara #rui shi #fei li #tai wei #and a rando #yes that guy is a rando he's there to symbolize all the randos in that scene #do not look too deep into it it isn't deep at all hahahahahaha #Xin Long continues to be the bane of my existence I love him I hate drawing him #I don't know if he's good enough but I hope the emotional punch of THAT MOMENT #is enough to make up for any flaws ahahahaha welp #... also yes I'm not even sorry this was my excuse to go wild drawing as much Sokkla as I could #and my patrons were so damn nice to give me so many excuses to do just that!#how could I refuse? :'D #anyway I really hope you guys enjoy #the new pieces are glazed #nightshade killed itself when I asked it to work with them #I got annoyed and left it as it was #the last one did get both things #OKAY! DONE!#I HAVE AN HOUR AND A HALF LEFT OF ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATION IN THIS TIMEZONE #Seyary out (?)

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neppy-34 · 3 months

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Puzzle pieces

3900 words/lee Lyla ler Miguel/romantic relationship

The orange lights of Miguel’s office illuminated his facial structure, highlighting his cheekbones and extenuating the contours of his face.

Tapping away at numerous screens, watching and cataloginging, almost as if it was Miguel's second nature.

His efforts were tireless, consistently observing different encounters between anomalies and spidermen alike, outsourcing locations and listing the number of captives that needed to be sent to their original dimensions.

His posture was a rigid Miguel‘s shoulders hunched as he put all focus and energy into the screens in front of him. Steady breaths were the only thing that could be heard beyond the whirrs and hums of the machines surrounding him. Totally engrossed in his work,Miguel was unable to register the gentle, yellow hue that materialized itself next to him.

The yellow contrasted with the orange light, yet miguel still was unaware of the presence next to him.

“Hey, big guy”

Miguel had to force himself to refrain from jumping at the newly noticed noise, simply bristling for a moment then smoothly looking over to the source of the noise.

Miguel's eyes landed on a pair of bright pink glasses, much too large for the face they were resting on. The yellow light shone like an angelic presence. Illuminating the dark room with soft, hopeful hues.

“Lyla, don't sneak up on me like that”

Miguel's voice sounded more disinterested than he had hoped, the cold tone seeping into his now shared environment with venomous vigor. Red eyes glowed in the darkness, the velvet colored spheres seeming almost to float, the rest of Miguel's body fading in the background.

Both of them glowed, watching each other.

Miguel opened his mouth, fangs falling on his bottom lip. He tried to conjure up some type of an apology, he hadnt meant to be so cold. The tone of his reprimand now creating an uncomfortable, awkward silence.

Before he could speak, lyla glitched closer to him, her hologram standing at what would be her regular human height. Still so much smaller compared to the monument Miguel's physique had become after all these years.

“I want to be in my body today.”

Lyla blinked a few times, and Miguel had to suppress a smile at how unneeded blinking was for her. Finding a sense of amusement in the undeniably human behavior that she had picked up.

Lyla’s physical body was finicky to say the least it often disconnected her from its metal casing. It often ran out of battery prematurely. It often felt strange for lyla to walk.

Her body was still a glorified prototype, but Lyla loved it all the same. Finally to interact with her world, with Miguel. To cling to him, to finally connect with him in a tangible sense.

“Okay”

Miguel blinked, realizing how sterilized his answer had sounded.

“Yes of course, we can do that Lyla.”

Still awkward, but at least he sounded more enthusiastic. Lyla only smiled, her thick eyelashes clumping together behind her glasses.

“It will get me away from these screens anyway.”

Miguel chuckled, glancing at lyla as he took a step from the abstract orange inner workings of his technology.

“Just like how you've been asking me to do all day”

Sass seeped out of Miguel’s words, his hips swinging to the side as he fully turned away from his tech. A smug smile appeared on his face before he smoothly jumped off his platform. Looking back at lyla, waiting for her to follow.

Lyla’s glitching form cascaded down, jumping from place to place, before settling herself next to miguel.

“Margo, please see to it that all the channels are being monitored, Lyla and I have some matters to attend to”

Miguel spoke gently, yet confidently into his watch. His long legs allowing him to stride across his office with ease.

Lyla giggled, wondering if Miguel had noticed that he had used what lyla proclaimed as the “Miguel customer service voice”

Miguel turned his head to the source of the giggling, his eyes half lidded. While his mouth remained in a neutral line, his brows had remained unfurrowed.

He was sufficiently amused.

——————-

The doors to the “special lab” as Miguel liked to call it, opened with a woosh, closing right behind Lyla and her companion.

Despite its flaws, lylas body was beautiful.

Silicone casing that mimicked human skin so perfectly, near flawless wiring, and implanted synthetic hairs. Ignoring the seams, and the mechanical core of the body, she would look fully human.

The yellow cast of lylas body glitching around the room brought a small smile to Miguel’s face, slowly striding to follow Lylas excited glitches

Finally reaching the table her body rested upon, Miguel sat beside the husk, reaching to support the back of its head with his hand. Holding it gently, like a glass sculpture.

“Go on then”

Miguel encouraged motioning for lyla to connect with her physical form.

A bit surprised at her lack of hesitation, Miguel chuckled to himself when Lyla immediately began to synchronize with the husk, her holoform slowly fading away.

After a few moments, the machine wirled to life, the hydraulics began to generate noise as Miguel helped lyla slowly sit up. Still acclimating to her physical form.

Her body hummed with life, electric fields resonating inside of her.

Deeming Lyla able to properly sit up by herself, Miguel slowly got up, padding over to retrieve her coat from the hook it was hung upon. Acquiring an exact replica of Lyla’s fur coat had not been easy, Miguel had to scout multiple tailors before finding one who was willing to embed such an intricate design onto the soft, near fuzzy material of the coat.

Yet he didn't regret any of it. Miguel would do anything for his Lyla.

Miguel slipped the coat around lylas shoulders, taking extra care to make sure the garment wouldn't fall off. Fastening the lapels firmly around her chest.

Lylas giggles caught Miguel by surprise, rearing his head to the side to look at her. Yet Lyla, absolutely loss in a haze of giddiness, puzzled him slightly.

“Lyla?”

Miguel's inquisition was nearly cut off by Lylas exclamation.

“It tickles!”

Puzzled, Miguel looked down at his hands, unbenounced to him, he had begun to rub and massage the base of lylas neck. Subconsciously trying to sooth the AI, not realizing her sensory settings had still yet to be fully developed.

“Oh- sorry Lyla I didn't mean-”

“It’s fine”

Lylas interruption utterly perturbed miguel, such an adament statement with such a large smile on her face.

Miguel knew lyla, he knew her quirks and the way lylas eyebrows would knit when she was being serious.

But the expression on lylas face was far from serious. A wide, toothy grin was plastered on her face. Her glasses slightly crooked from lylas hyper giggling.

“Don't be sorry Miguel”

Lyla leaned into Miguel's frame, nuzzling her cheek into his wide chest.

“It feels nice… I like it when you tickle me”

Miguel's face burned a deep shade of red. Something about lylas casual confession embarrassed Miguel to his very core. Perhaps it provided an unwanted looking glass into his own desires.

Miguel shook away the thought with a series of blinks, noting to himself to never indulge in such a thought again.

Rather Miguel chose to focus on Lyla, the culprit of his newfound confusion. He watched as Lyla’s grin held steadfast, looking up at Miguel expectantly. As if Lyla had hoped her confession would be rewarded with more of the sensations she enjoyed so thoroughly.

Miguel only stared back at her, feeling more than compelled to provide her with all she desired.

He waited a Moment, averting his gaze. Unsheathed claws began to pick at one another before Miguel raised his wrist towards his chin.

“Unexpected obligations have come up, please excuse my absence.”

Miguel didn't think he could register a portal fast enough. The omni colored hues of the gateway illuminating both him and his Lyla.

————————-

His bedroom was dim, just how Miguel liked it. Lyla felt nearly weightless in his arms, despite the metals she was composed of.

Despite Miguel's ornate urge to playfully throw Lyla onto the large bed the two often slept together on, He simply laid Lyla down gently. Taking great care as to not jostle her too hard.

“Miguel you big softie”

Lyla smiled, wrapping her arms around Miguel's neck as he maneuvered himself to cage her between his muscular arms.

Miguel's eyes glowed an invigorating bright red, as he stared Lyla down, analyzing every little feature of hers before leaning down, and softly locking her lips with his own.

Miguel always felt some ornate guilt every time he indulged in moments like this with Lyla. He always felt as if he was taking advantage of her in some way, despite her protests and reassurance. Some part of Miguel was afraid that Lyla had some predisposed reason to love him. That she felt required to love him due to Miguel being her creator.

“Miguel, don't be an idiot.”

Lyla’s round eyes stared back up at his, her lips forming into a disapproving pout. She always knew what he was thinking. All these years together it was a bit impossible not to understand every little change of expression or falter in words.

“I like you, that shouldn't be wrong.”

Her pout morphed into something akin to a scowl, lylas brows furrowed as her eyes narrowed. Obviously she seemed to be frustrated with Miguel's constant self retribution.

Lips locked once more as Lyla leaned up, kissing the corner of Miguel’s mouth in quick, succeeding pecks.

Miguel leaned down, resting his forehead on his companion’s, breathing steadily. He would give up his disapproving thoughts for now, Miguel never enjoyed making Lyla unhappy.

“Did you still want me too uh…”

Miguel swallowed, his words no louder than a murmur.

“You know”

He closed his eyes in an attempt to avoid Lyla’s gaze, focusing on peppering kisses along her neck. Keeping his attention at the junction between her collarbone and jugular. Miguel hoped that keeping Lyla entertained in this way would deter her from prying about his sheepishness. Unfortunately Miguel’s efforts proved futile.

“I'm the one asking to be tickled, but you’re the one getting embarrassed”

Lyla chuckled, mostly due to the barrage of kissing but the humor of her current situation failed to escape her.

“That's pretty funny”

Her chuckle transitioned into bubbly giggling as Miguel’s fervent kissing began to contain more fangs than lips, as he began to gently nibble at the vulnerable skin on lylas neck.

Lyla eagerly craned her head to the side. She hoped that if Miguel gained access to more skin, he would continue his love bites with ease.

And so he did.

Passionate kisses and nibbles trailed up Lylas neck with no hesitation. Causing electric shocks to glide through her body and settle in her chest. Her giggling never faltered. Elated chirps of laughter filled the room as Miguel began to wander his hands up and down Lyla's sides.

Miguel relished in Lyla’s sweet laughter, lifting his head up from her neck in an attempt to see her smile. Lyla’s teeth were ever so crooked, and her nose crinkled in her mirth.

His admiration for lyla had overshadowed Miguel's self doubt, egging him on. Beckoning his fingers to wiggle and squeeze just a bit faster.

“Miguehehel!!”

Lyla squeaked, her hands smoothed down Miguel's back, clutching onto the excess fabric of his shirt. Completely lost in her joyful hysterics.

Her pink,heart-shaped glasses sat crooked on her face, jostled due to the cheery wiggling that Lyla seemed to be unable to contain.

Miguel felt a response was unneeded, he simply remained listening to Lyla's laughter. Wiggling his fingers into the backs of her ribs, or at least the welded steel that mimicked where her ribs would be.

“Miggy!”

Lylas use of his nickname caused Miguel to look up from his diligent work. Slowing his motions down slightly, in fear that he was pushing Lyla too far.

“Lyla?”

His inquiry was soft, barely heard over the residual giggling that was escaping Lyla’s lips.

“It tickles” lyla took in an unneeded breath “Tickles real bad”

Lylas smile never faltered, her brown eyes glistened behind her glasses. Looking up at Miguel, she slipped her arms down from miguels back, dragging her fingertips down Miguel's shoulders, finally holding his large biceps in both hands.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Miguel frowned, concerned about a possible short circuit due to the constant stimulation being provided to Lyla’s servers.

“Do you want to stop?”

Lyla’s smug smile taunted Miguel and his patience. He knew full well that lyla was only trying to get a reaction out of him. goading Miguel into really letting loose and devouring her like she desired..

He could see as lyla began to calculate the most plausible outcome of her teasing, hoping that she would receive the response that she so desired.

How could Miguel deny her such a thing?

With a sort of playful roughness, Miguel pressed Lyla into the bed with his own weight, nuzzling into her neck to nip and gnaw at her nape. He dragged his fangs across her jugular, letting out small snarls and growls as he did so.

Miguel didn't mind playing monster for her, for his Lyla. Whatever made her happy, made him happy. Not to mention the playfulness seemed to actively draw out dread from his heart, leaving him feeling lighter, happier.

Lyla’s gleeful giggles and squeals filled his mind as he snuck his taloned fingers under the hem of her top, dragging the pinpoints ever so gently on her pseudo-skin.

“Miguel! Oh god- it's so bahahad!”

Lyla was wriggling fully, the tickling and teasing seemed to cause her software to somewhat lose control of her bodily function. This only made Miguel chuckle fondly, retracting his claws to skitter up and down Lylas' bare stomach with his blunt nails.

“I'm glad to see your body is functioning better now”

Miguel observed with an utterly neutral tone, trying to tease Lyla even further, as if he wasn’t currently drawing a barrage of sweet giggles from the AI. It was interesting to see how functional she was, a mere 2 weeks ago and this interaction was most likely impossible.

“I think the- the software!”

Lyla cut herself off with a hearty round of giggles, accompanied by a couple snorts.

“The software update helped, I think!”

The sentence was very much rushed out, Lyla obviously trying to fight against the steady stream of laughter. She tilted her head back, subtly signaling to Miguel that she wanted him to nibble there once more. If Lyla wasn't Lyla, and Miguel wasn't Miguel, the signal may have not worked. But Lyla was so very pleased when it did.

Miguel lightly blew cold air on Lylas neck, chuckling when she flinched.

“Just making sure your sensors are working”

Lyla simply scoffed, it was easy to catch Miguel in such a silly lie. She knew exactly why he did it; to mess with her. Miguel could be such a pain sometimes, especially when he was feeling playful.

Fangs suddenly unsheathed as Miguel nipped and nibbled at the exposed skin below Lylas ear. His fingers continued their expedition, wiggling up and down Lylas torso. He even lingered around her hips, giving them a few rapid squeezes before climbing up to just below her underarms.

Her body tensed up at the constant changing of sensation. Her algorithm could hardly keep track of the stimulus changes detected by her sensors. The preoccupation caused the underlying mechanisms of her psyche to cloud. Leaving her mind in a blissful state of static. Just what she wanted. No having to track Miguel’s vitals, or categorize the many anomalies that still occasionally slipped through the metaphorical cracks of space and time.

Lyla loved Miguel, loved him as much as her pulsing wires and chips could manage. But she got tired, so many hours of watching, learning, teaching. She needed a break, and she was so grateful Miguel was here to give her one.

All she could think of was his kisses, and his fangs, oh his fangs. Lyla had grown to adore the sharp canines that Miguel possessed. How they so gently poked into her skin, how they peeked out of his lips in every smile, how the fangs would often catch on his lip, causing her to giggle and point out the accident as Miguel would flush and look away as he adjusted his lips.

Right now, Miguel was nibbling into her with utmost care. Dragging his teeth across her jugular as he growled out praise and horribly embarrassing observations about Lyla arching her stomach up towards him. Miguel was so warm, such a soft and comforting force emitting from such a stark and rigid man

His hand lay its palm flat on lylas stomach, flexing and relaxing his fingers in a steady pattern. Miguel's fingertips played with the silicone, feeling the incredibly smooth surface. Gently prodding and guiding his fingers along her softness, savoring how her body ebbed and flowed along with his perfectly.

Even when lyla arched her back, her stomach and hips seemed to connect perfectly with his torso. Two puzzle pieces perfectly intertwined.

“Should I.. no.. no that’s childish.”

Miguel cut himself off before his thought could be fully realized, shaking his head and continuing to wiggle his fingers gently into lylas middle.

“Whaha- what, what is it miguel?”

Lyla fought back her giggles for a moment, forcing out coherent words. Giddiness be damned, her desire to make Miguel express himself won all her mental battles.

Miguel flushed for a moment, his ears becoming hot. He looked away, changing focus to the neatly printed on freckles that sprinkled Lyla’s arms.

“Miguel, I’m waiting”

He bit back a growl, keeping himself from scribbling his talons wildly into her stomach. His fingers stilled and he lay his head onto Lyla’s shoulder. Positioning himself so that only his cheek made contact with her form. Laying on his side next to her, he let out a sigh.

“Do not laugh at me.”

“Wouldn't dream of it, Miguel.”

Despite her situation Lyla possessed a rather smug grin, finding joy in his awkward and self conscious mannerisms. She found it quite amusing how Miguel bore embarrassment for his theoretical next move, but none for the barrage of tickling he had just put the AI through.

Miguel swallowed, closing his eyes momentarily before opening them. Zeroing in on lylas exposed midsection. He lifted his hand and dangled his fingers about a half foot above her body.

“The.. uh the itsy-bitsy spider, crawled..”

Talons were unleashed, and his hand plunged ever so softly into the soft synthetic flesh right below Lyla’s belly button. Crawling his fingers ever so slowly up her torso, acting as if his hand was a spider itself.

Miguel's brows knit together as he fought the blush currently creeping up his neck. Scrunching his nose as he pushed through the shame.

“… up the water spout. Down came the rain and…”

Miguel grimaced, crawling his talons all the way up to the middle of Lyla’s ribs. Taking a moment to tweak a couple of the bones. Which earned sweet giggles from Lyla, which were already bubbling up due to Miguel’s both goofy and reluctant singing.

“Washed the… spider out- oh god. okay okay I’m sorry Lyla I just can’t .”

Miguel let out a dramatic sigh, burying his face into Lyla’s shoulder and letting out a defeated breath of air. Lyla burst into bright laughter, partly due to Miguel dragging his claws down her stomach, but mostly because of Miguel’s now shattered ego.

Miguel chuckled as he shook his head into lylas shoulder, the cringing feeling of shame rushing over him. It was an uncomfortable chuckle, a sort of laugh whose only purpose was to attempt to alleviate some of the tension accumulating onto his psyche.

Lyla smiled and adjusted her position, bringing her knees up and planting her feet flat on the mattress. Focusing on how Miguel’s tickling turned into gentle rubbing.

She sighed happily, focusing on how her sensors registered the palm of Miguel’s hand, repeating soft, circular motions on her stomach. Settling herself into her pillow, she wiggled against Miguel’s frame. Settling herself between his arms.

Miguel followed her lead wrapping his body around hers. Strong arms crossed over her chest and he tucked lylas head under his chin. Puzzle pieces fully pressed together. Making one perfect, beautiful shape.

He leaned his head down, nuzzling his nose into Lyla’s head before inhaling gently. She smelled soft. A sort of gentle, nearly bland smell. A slight hint of mild perfume, and the fresh scent of laundry. The calming smell began to release the tension between his shoulders. As Miguel’s body began to relax a soft purr began to rumble in his throat.

His body closed comfortably around his Lyla, clutching her like a stuffed toy. She was so perfect, so soft. So comforting. Lyla was Miguel’s perfect companion; she combated his worst and complemented his best.

They were two different people intrinsically intertwined. Fated to never be fully apart from each other. Both Miguel and Lyla held the other in their hearts, never to be discarded.

Miguel opened his mouth to speak, mumbling into the top of lylas head. His words were soft, lacking the edge they usually did when Miguel held the persona of the spider society's leader.

“I love you Lyla.”

He spoke gently, yet with confidence. Miguel's words were not a confession, rather an affirmation.

“I love you too Miguel.”

Lyla intertwined her fingers with Miguel’s, feeling the rough calluses that had formed where his talons would emerge. Such rough hands always treated her so gently, with utmost kindness and care.

The pair laid there, both taking the other in. Miguel nearly began to dose off, sleepless nights finally rearing their heads to nip at his conscience.

That was until his eyes shot awake with realization.

“I left Margo alone”

His words cut off as he unlatched himself from Lyla’s body, rolling off the bed and landing on his feet in quick succession.

“Alone to monitor all the channels.”

Lyla finished Miguel’s thought for him, scooting off the bed herself before she was able to touch the tips of her toes onto the floor.

Miguel stretched out an arm to Lyla, offering a stabilizing force to help the AI steady herself as she stood.

“Please excuse my uh, long absence. My obligations seemed to draw on longer than I had expected.”

Miguel took a short breath, changing the channel of his watch and speaking once more into the device. His voice much less authoritative in tone.

“Margo please take a break at your earliest convenience”

He paused before continuing, playing with his claws.

“Sorry for leaving you for so long, I’m back in the building already, so don’t worry.”

Miguel winced at his own awkward attempts to sound friendly, and the blatant lie he had told. Yet some of the shame was relieved when Margo responded to his message with a deadpan, albeit playful response.

“Back to work Miguel?”

Miguel flicked his wrist and opened another portal, the orange hues lighting up the cool tones of his bedroom.

“Back to work Lyla.”

The pair held hands as they stepped through the portal. Always together, fitting like matching puzzle pieces.

———————————

thank you everybody for taking the time to read my fic!! I know lyla and Miguel can be a bit of a rare pair but this ship is very near and dear to my heart. I hope that you enjoyed reading! If you have any suggestions for another fan fiction please leave me a message in my ask box!!

#nep rambles #sfw tickles #tickling #atsv tickle #miguel o'hara #ler miguel #lee lyla #lyla #sfw tickling #spiderman tickle #across the spiderverse tickle #spiderverse tickle #tickle fic #holofang #thanks to my gf and buddy who beta read this :33 #i really hope you guys enjoy this one

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loopnoid · 7 months

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i got commissioned by my dear mutual @nedlittle to make a mock 1950s-pulp-lesbian-novel-style cover for their incredibly good Peg Hunnicutt-centric lesbian fic "trouser role" which you should all go read right now if you haven't! have i mentioned it's really really really good! it is! go read it!

#mash #m.a.s.h #m*a*s*h #peg hunnicutt #my art #commissions #lesbian pulp #fake book cover #fanfiction cover #this was actually quite fun to do and i hope to make more mock lesbian pulp covers when i have the time #for some other vintage femslash ships i enjoy #alas: when i'm not broke #also more fic covers!!! guys did you know that mash fanfiction is really good

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wysteriaisapenguin · 30 days

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Smitten often dreams of the ocean. The ocean reminds him of Her.

Was inspired to draw some art for this fic "Nascita di Venere" by @pink-november cause it gave me so many feelings (Please check it out, it is very lovely! 🩷)

Just the thought of Smitten struggling with his grief and having his ideal fantasy of true love be shattered, but also continuing to indulge in it as a coping mechanism gets me so. The way he wades into the ocean is a great representation of that. (Also Skeptic coming in to save him despite his fear of the water is great too! I love how supportive he is towards his counterpart.)

Monochrome variant of the 1st drawing down below!

I thought it'd be fitting to have the 1st drawing full of color since it is in Smitten's POV. But the moment he's saved by Skeptic, reality sinks in and everything goes back to being grey.

Funny how I made my Smitten a swan, which is a waterfowl, so he probably should have some tolerance to the water. Maybe.

#wysty draws #slay the princess #voice of the smitten #voice of the skeptic #grey brothers #gah they have such a great moment here #AND SMITTY MY LOVE I FEEL SO MANY EMOTIONS FOR HIM #he deserves all the love and healing he can get #for real though I enjoy Pink's fics and I really loved this one #so I'm really happy they love this and I hope you guys like it too <3

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myokk · 21 days

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before it felt like a sin, ch. 3

ch.1, ch.2

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 2300

summary: Eloise never wanted to be different.

And yet, her differences are what have defined her life up until this point: growing up as a squib in one of the most prominent wizarding families, being exiled to muggle society, and then attending Hogwarts at the age of sixteen.

She finds herself thrust into the life she should have been prepared for from birth but was denied. As she navigates this new life and her new precarious position in her family, she must come to terms with the fact that maybe what she dreamed of her whole life isn't turning out how she ever expected it would.

a/n: this is how I wish the duel could have gone in the game...😇🙏

I also want to reiterate that this fic is REALLY CANON DIVERGENT!!!!! I will NOT be following the game’s plot at all really with this (it really starts to diverge around chapter 6/7 maybe I don’t remember), and I don’t see Eloise as the game’s MC either.

Eloise was being woken up altogether too soon for her tastes. Something soft was hit her face, and she sat up groggily, pushing it away. She blinked as she looked around, not recognizing her surroundings. It was disorienting not knowing where she was, although, as she rubbed her eyes, it was slowly starting to come back to her…Something happened yesterday, she thought. I…

“Come on, sleepyhead!” exclaimed Imelda, throwing more clothes on top of Eloise. “The house elves left these last night at the foot of your bed while we were sleeping. If you don’t hurry up, there won’t be any more food left for breakfast. And, you know that the first day of classes is the most important…”

As she continued rambling on, Eloise got up and started putting on her school robes. A dark grey tartan skirt with dark green and silver stripes, a cream button-up with puffy sleeves that she tucked into the skirt, a black ribbon to tie around her neck, and her Slytherin robes on top. She didn’t know how to feel about the day that was ahead of her; she felt a strange mixture of elation and apprehension.

“…you’re taking too long. I’ll wait for you in the common room,” Imelda concluded, giving Eloise one last look before striding out of their dormitory. All of the other girls had already gotten ready and left for the morning, which wasn’t really a surprise to Eloise. As soon as her head hit the pillow the second time, she had fallen into a deep sleep and hadn’t heard the bustle of the girls preparing themselves for the day.

She finished lacing up her boots, and after one last glance in the mirror to make sure nothing was out of place, headed out to find Imelda.

When Eloise walked into the atrium, she was struck by how different it felt in the morning. It was truly as beautiful now as it had been eerily peaceful the night before. Once again, light piano music playing in the background - Eloise smiled to herself, recognizing the Gymnopédies by Satie. Her piano lessons had been the only bearable classes at the muggle school, and she had excelled at the instrument, often practicing during her free time.

The piano music blended in with the murmurs of students standing or sitting in small groups around various tables filled with breakfast foods and scrolls of parchment. The greens and blues coming through the windows felt refreshing, and the whole room was glimmering under the reflections of the water playing across various surfaces. She could see plants swaying under the water, with schools of fish weaving between them. It felt…magical.

Eloise’s eyes were drawn to Ominis and she started walking to him, standing by the same window where they had been sitting earlier. Instead of being in shadow, however, he was now illuminated by the rays of sun shining through the water. He was smirking to himself as he listened to the two first-years next to him. As she got closer to them, Eloise heard them speculating about the possibility that they would get to see a mermaid.

“Oh! I think I just saw one!” one shouted at his friend, pointing out the window. “Oh, wait…it was just algae.”

Eloise walked up to Ominis, smiling despite herself.

“Is this your idea of a good time?” she asked him, while he was simultaneously asking her how she had slept. They both paused as soon as they heard the other start talking, and then both started speaking at the same time after an awkward pause.

“Oh…I’m sorry. I…I slept well,” Eloise said, blushing. “And you?”

“As well as I ever do,” he replied. She noticed that the dark circles under his eyes were still very prominent, although they didn’t look eerie in the morning light. He indicated the first-years with a jerk of his head, changing the topic. “I doubt mermaids find us that interesting. I rather think they purposefully avoid our common room so as to not be treated like creatures in an aquarium.”

Eloise laughed at that and tilted her head playfully. “And just where did those two even get the idea that they might see a mermaid?”

“That, my dear, is a mystery. I surely have never seen one before,” Ominis said, standing up straight and taking his wand out. “I have been hearing a lot of chatter about you this morning, you know. It seems like reality has been mixed with fantasy in the tales of your journey here, and nobody knows the full truth.”

“Except for you,” Eloise pointed out, stepping into place next to him as they walked through the common room. She spotted Imelda, supervising some students playing chess and instructing them on the moves they should be doing. Imelda looked up and saw Eloise, and interrupted her own advice mid sentence.

“Eloise!!” Imelda bellowed as she practically ran across the room. Was this girl ever not purposeful in everything she did? The students around them looked up from what they were doing to watch her, and maybe get the chance to hear a first-hand account of what actually happened to Eloise. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were attacked by a dragon last night?”

“Oh, er…” Eloise couldn’t figure out how to respond to the other girl. Imelda didn’t seem worried or scared about what Eloise had gone through the previous day; rather, she seemed indignant that she hadn’t been told about the attack. Beside them, Ominis was laughing.

“It must have been terribly exciting,” Imelda went on, ignoring any response Eloise may have started giving. “A real dragon and all. I wish I was with you guys, I’ve actually prepared for what I would do in that very situation. I would definitely have diverted its attention away from you on my broomstick, and actually the best strategy would have been to…”

“I doubt you really would have been able to do anything,” Eloise interrupted. “It was terribly frightening, but at the same time the whole thing was over so quickly that I haven’t had time to process it yet.”

“Well, you can tell me about it on the way to breakfast. Maybe once you learn how to ride a broom, we can practice what to do together. You have first-hand experience, after all!” Imelda looped her arm through Eloise’s. She shot a look to Ominis. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m taking her now. We have a long day ahead of us, lots to do you know. The usual. Anyway, Sebastian’s coming over so it’s not like I’m leaving you completely alone.”

Before Eloise could even react, she was being marched up the spiral staircase that led out of the Slytherin common room and they were off to breakfast.

“Duelists, take your mark,” Professor Hecat said to the two students standing on top of the platform in the middle of the room. The duelists in question looked at each other warily, steadying their wands. Eloise was exhilarated. This was the type of class she had been daydreaming about while she sat wasting her time embroidering landscapes.

Professor Hecat hadn’t wasted any time putting the students to work. Although at first, many of them had scoffed at the thought of Leviosa being a useful spell in combat, Eloise listened attentively and focused on the correct wand movements. Maybe it didn’t actually matter, but she was determined to make sure that nobody would think that she didn’t deserve to be there. She had a lot of catching up to do, but between the books Professor Fig had given her and the knowledge she retained from reading from her family’s library as a child, she already knew a lot. She was quite pleased when the feather levitated as soon as she said the incantation, as there were other students who struggled to get theirs to even twitch in an upward direction.

Now, Eloise gripped her wand tightly in her hand, shifting a bit as she stared Sebastian in the eyes. He had said that she would get ‘a proper Hogwarts welcome’ and she was looking forward to it.

If the rumors she had heard before class were true, Sebastian was the best duelist in their year, and quite possibly at Hogwarts. Although she felt a little apprehensive at the thought of facing him, she hoped that he wouldn’t hold back on her just because she was new. Even if she had fought the guardians yesterday in Gringotts, she wanted to prove to herself that she could keep her wits about her in the heat of battle.

Maybe her stance was a little too stiff, her movements too by the book. But that could only be changed with experience.

Sebastian smirked slightly to himself, no doubt thinking that this would be an easy victory. In the background, Eloise heard Professor Hecat say they could begin, but she was more focused on her opponent’s face. As soon as she saw him raise his wand and begin to open his mouth, she shouted “Protego!” and the shield blocked the spell he attempted to send shooting her way. His eyebrows raised in surprise - apparently he hadn’t been expecting her fast reflexes.

Quick as a whip, she shouted out “Levioso” and Sebastian was in the air. She hit him with a few more curses before he fell to the ground, breathing heavily. He pushed himself up quickly and went back into position. Wand out, now more wary of her capabilities. He blocked her next attack and went in for one of his own, which hit her shoulder. Eloise hissed in pain and immediately shot out a volley of quick jabs in his direction, a few hitting their mark before he put up a shield.

Sebastian was grinning as they circled each other, looking for an opening. The rest of the class surrounded the platform they were on, cheering them on. Both continued to attack and put up shields, without any clear winner in sight. It was obvious that they were very evenly matched.

“I’m pleasantly surprised,” he said as they were catching their breath between attacks. “I haven’t had a fight this good in a long time.”

Eloise just grinned in response, before shooting off another spell in his direction. It was expertly blocked with a flick of Sebastian’s wrist; in response he volleyed off a jinx towards her.

Eloise crumpled to the ground, yelping as she grabbed her ankle. Sebastian was immediately at her side, crouching down and looking at her with concern.

“Eloise? Are you okay?” He looked down at her ankle and then abruptly looked up and back at her face, a faint pink redness dusting his cheeks. He may have been dueling her, but it was distinctly different to be so close to her like this.

In response, Eloise grinned mischievously and quickly levitated him off the ground, getting to her feet at the same time. With a few quick curses sent his way, soon Sebastian was lying sprawled on the ground outside of the little arena Professor Hecat had erected.

“Not fair,” Sebastian exclaimed, rushing to his feet. He looked at Professor Hecat, who was looking between the two with a pleased smile.

Eloise smirked at him, only responding with, “Slytherin.”

Sebastian laughed and ran his fingers through his hair, making his brown curls even unrulier than they had become in their duel. He held his hand out to her and she shook it formally. “Good duel. You can definitely hold your own and I won’t underestimate you again.”

Professor Hecat clapped her hands together to get the attention of the class. “I hope you all paid attention to these two. Ten points to Slytherin for an excellent demonstration of what we learned today. On Wednesday, we will continue with practical application of the techniques learned during this class. I expect to see flawless wand work and concentration. I demand excellence from my students as I know you are all capable of achieving it. Class dismissed.”

As Eloise was gathering up her things, Sebastian sidled up to her. “Really, that was quite impressive. You seemed stiff at first, but it would seem you have fought before. You definitely give as good as you get.”

Eloise blushed and tucked some strands of hair that had come undone behind her ear. “Well, really, I had only read about the techniques before. Haven’t really had much time to put all of that theory to use yet.” She smiled shyly ad Sebastian, who was looking at her with his jaw open. “You fight really well, too. I had to use all of my focus. It’s kind of exhausting, actually.”

“But exhilarating, right?” Sebastian asked eagerly. The two of them started to head out of the classroom together, dwindling behind the rest of the students. Entirely absorbed by their conversation. “Everything else goes out of focus and the only thing in the world is you and your opponent.”

“Yes! Exactly that,” exclaimed Eloise. “I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

“Well,” Sebastian said slowly, dragging the word out as he thought. “You know, there might be a way. To continue. I normally would never do this, but…you know…”

“Know what?” Eloise prompted as Sebastian trailed off.

“You’re a really good duelist. Intuitive. There’s a certain exclusive club of sorts, one that may or may not be unsanctioned, where you can continue to hone your dueling abilities.”

“Exclusive and unsanctioned?” Eloise asked with a smirk. “You can count me in.”

“Excellent,” Sebastian replied, smiling broadly. “Sometimes, to make the most out of your experience at Hogwarts, you need to bend certain rules. They’re more like guidelines, anyway.”

“Merlin, Sebastian,” said Imelda, walking up to them and crossing her arms. “Don’t let yourself fall into any of his schemes. That boy is in detention practically every other day.”

“Or maybe,” Eloise said, “he’s just not good enough at avoiding getting caught. I, on the other hand… Come on, Imelda. Let’s go to lunch.”

She laughed as they walked away, leaving behind a dumbstruck Sebastian. He shook his head in disbelief and headed off to his next class.

next chapter

#only 2 more chapters and then the story gets very canon divergent🙏🙏#I was simultaneously so happy to not have to watch YouTube videos of these scenes to see the dialogue #and sad bc now I 100% rely on my imagination😭😆#I was actually rereading it starting from chapter 17 (I just randomly choose chapters sometimes) and I was like 😳😳 omg what comes next…#(the benefits of having an awful memory & writinf something for myself😆)#I’ve really been enjoying these illustrations and posting here thouch🥹🥹🥹 I hope you guys like these chapters/updates I post !!!!!!!#updated here as soon as I have my next illustrations…but that is an inconsistent thing bahahahahahahahahha #(sorry)#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanart #hphl #hogwarts legacy oc #hogwarts legacy mc #eloise babbit #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow fanart #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fic #omg ALSO IM SORRY FOR DOING TWO POSTS SO CLOSE TOGETHER…idk I don’t want to be annoying #but I just want to post this and move on to the NEXT illustration bahahahahahaahhahaha I have 22 chapters already posted #& I’m almost done with the next one…

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gojoed · 1 year

Text

I SEE THE SAME. | vash x reader. | 1.9k words.

“Did you really think letting them shoot you was a good idea.”

A wince was let loose in the otherwise quiet room. The only noise was the bustle from the town outside, even if it was night, and the static voices of the small radio that Vash always carried. Dim lights made it a little hard but not impossible to see his fresh wound.

Thankfully the bullet only grazed his waist, not getting lodged or going straight through him like other unfortunate instances. But it was still bleeding and if it were up to Vash, he’d let it continue so. But thankfully you were here, so that wasn’t happening tonight.

Sighing, you set down the first aid supplies down on the desk that was positioned near the bed and set yourself down on the chair, wheeling your way over to where Vash was. Seated on the bed, with his head held low and eyes that were shielded by his sunset tinted glasses. His blood seemed to seep through his black turtleneck more, he wasn’t applying any pressure to the wound whatsoever.

Being a plant yourself, you understood that you both healed quicker than a human, but still it seemed unwise to just leave it like that.

Waving your hand in an upwards motion, you silently told Vash to lift his shirt. He obeyed, lifting it on the side that the wound presided. Vash leaned himself back slightly against the heel of his mechanical hand, while his flesh one held onto the fabric.

Unscrewing the cap from its bottle, you tilted it against a clean rag, letting the water soak it slightly before moving the bottle upright and setting it down on the desk. You moved your hand with the rag over to his exposed waist, but let it hover as you looked up at Vash, asking for permission.

The glare of the desk light reflected against his glasses in a way that blocked his eyes from view. But he offered a smile, one that felt empty, as if saying “yes.”

You didn’t need his glasses to be off to know that his eyes would give him away. Guilt. It was one of the most frequent emotions you always could see swimming within him. They say the eyes are the window to the soul, and by God, Vash’s was drowning.

Brushing those thoughts away, you bent forward, slouching a bit to dab at the bullet wound. The bleeding had stopped on its own, that’s good. Vash twitched a little when your free hand placed itself on the skin of his stomach, moving his shirt up. He lifted his arm a bit more.

There he goes again, helping others before himself.

“You know, you didn’t answer my question.”

He stiffened up a bit, but then relaxed as a small chuckle escaped his lips.

“Well.. it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Your brows furrowed. Vash has had that “good idea” plenty of times during these hundred years or so. The evidence being the canvas of scars that was his body. Just how many more times would he allow himself to be hurt like this, you wondered. Knowing him, he wouldn’t stop, not with the insane amount of guilt that he always seemed to have.

Once you were satisfied with your work, you tossed the rag onto the bed beside him and grabbed the bandages that were on the table. Ripping the package open with your fingers you placed a bit of medical tape to the free end. Leaving that on the bed for a moment, you placed a piece of gauze on the bullet wound before reaching for the bandages again when you saw that Vash had already gotten it.

You whispered a small “thank you” for which you got a soft “anytime” from him as you placed the tape on his skin, beginning to wrap the bandages around him.

Straightening your back you leaned closer to fit the bandages snuggly around his waist; which Vash then prompted to open his legs wider, moving the chair with one of them to move you along with it. Placing you directly in front of him in between his legs.

Thankfully the wound wasn’t too severe, so you didn’t have to worry about using too much bandage. You had just bought it too, having restocked in town an hour prior to crashing in a pretty decent hotel. The townsfolk didn’t seem to recognize Vash from the wanted paper floating around, so you considered Lady Luck to be on your side.

Finished with the bandages you cut it off, placing another piece of tape on it to then press it down lightly. You blew out a bit of air through your nose, looking at your handiwork.

“Ok, all done Vash.”

“Thank you.”

Looking up you saw him staring at you, glasses gone. He must have taken them off while you were fixated on wrapping him up.

“Anytime.” You parroted his words back to him.

Light blue eyes made contact with yours before they didn’t, his eyes closing to give you another smile. It seemed a little empty this time. But he still must be thinking about the events that happened in the town before this one. Quite a bit of collateral damage was done to the town, as a result of bounty hunters having spotted you both and decided to see if they could get that sixty billion double dollar prize on their dirty hands.

There weren’t any casualties to add to the mountain of guilt and shame Vash carried, but there were still injuries. Not to mention that the town’s plant was almost damaged thanks to the recklessness of those bounty hunters. And one of the townspeople who did harbor resentment towards Vash, caused him to have yet another scar. One that you had just cleaned up.

Did Vash really think letting people take their anger out on him would solve anything?

Leaning back onto the chair, it squeaked under the weight of your back. You crossed your arms and sat there, patiently.

“You’re still thinking about them, huh?”

Vash makes a little noise akin to a squeak. He knows you caught him, and he doesn’t deny it. Opening his eyes you could tell they were a little watery, tears threatening to spill. But he just sniffled and laughed softly. Running a hand through his mop of hair he looked at you.

“Yeah, I am.”

You were waiting for it.

“But.. I don’t deserve to cry.”

Ah, there it is.

Those same words that you’ve heard countless times as well as the countless times you’ve seen him worry over others than himself. He wanted to cry, but he felt like he didn’t deserve to. To him, it was his inability to act that denied him of such rights. Funny, how he also thinks the actions of his brother are also his fault.

Uncrossing your arms, you reached for both his hands. You would think that his prosthetic arm would be cold to the touch, being made of Lost Technology. But no, it was warm, just like his hand made of flesh.

Your actions were unexpected for Vash, and it made him even more confused (but curious) as to why you not only grabbed his hands, but when you followed that with holding yours against his. Palm to palm, each of your hands held in the middle of you both. You lined your fingers up with his, his being a little larger than yours but you didn’t mind. In fact it was one of his traits that you loved about him. The same hands that could hold a gun and pull a trigger were the same ones that held onto your own when traveling in the dunes of the desert.

“What do you see?”

Vash blinked. Once, then again. His tears had subsided slightly so he could see clearer. Looking down at where you two were making contact, he said:

“Well, I see our hands.”

The tone in which his voice was laced with made you laugh, almost snorting.

“Okay, that’s a little obvious. So, what do you notice about them?”

He cocked an eyebrow upwards slightly, biting his bottom lip a little bit. Vash’s hair bounced a bit, as he also moved his head a bit to the side.

“They’re.. They’re like mine.”

“Bingo! If I had some, I might have given you a golden star, y’know.”

That made Vash laugh, his usual cheerful self peeking out a bit now.

“Okay, what else do you notice about them?” You swayed your hands together, as if doing so would make the answer come easier to him.

“We each have the same amount of fingers?”

“Right on, we both have ten to be exact!”

It was your turn to give him a smile, looking him right in the eyes. But he didn’t meet them, he knew if he looked at them he would break down in an instant. So he kept his eyes on his hands that were connected to yours, he liked the way it felt.

“What else do we have that are the same?”

The comfort he felt was disturbed just a pinch when you intertwined your fingers with his and swayed them side to side, moving both your arms in the process.

“We have two arms!” Vash straightened his back a bit more, your zeal seeming to be infectious and he was your victim.

It only wavered a little bit when your hands left him too soon, now pointing a finger rather delicately at his face.

“What do we have here that’s the same?”

Vash continued to list off whatever he found that he shared with you. If he said eyes, your fingers would touch right under them. When he said a nose, he chuckled when you booped him, letting your finger stay on the tip. He mirrors your actions, touching wherever you touch him except on you. He let his hands cup your cheeks like you did to him, he let his fingers gently graze your lips just as you did to his.

Vash felt his shoulders relax, the tension slowly releasing. But he felt them quiver when you leaned your forehead against his and closed your eyes.

“See, we’re not so different from everyone else right? So if they can cry, if I can cry, then that means you can too.”

Biting his lip he resisted the urge to let the tears fall, but he broke when your hands returned to his and squeezed. Only then did he let a broken sound come out of his equally broken soul. His eyebrows scrunched while he sobbed, the pain in his ribs came and went as his own cries racked within them. Vash wished he could stop, but how could he? When you were the one who pried him open and let the damn fall.

You switched positions, pulling him into a hug so he could bury his face into the crook of your neck. It was a little awkward on your end thanks to the chair but you didn’t mind, didn’t care. All that mattered to you was that Vash let the pain leak out just like the tears did.

It took him a few minutes to stop, his chest jumping thanks to the surprising force his sobs contained. He sniffled as he wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Vash broke the hug first, but returned to placing his forehead against yours and having your hands hold his.

“So.. I’m thinking pizza and donuts, what do ya say?”

Vash’s laugh broke the nonexistent tension, it sounded a little broken but he smiled. Really smiled.

“I like the way you think.”

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jakescaravel · 1 year

Text

The Caravel (series)

🏴‍☠️ ⚔️ ⚓️

Part 1

Pairing: Jake x reader

Word count: 3,317

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, mentions of kidnapping, pirate life 🗡️🗡️ (it’s pretty tame for now. Make sure to read the A/N below before jumping in!) 18+ MDNI!!

A/N: Hello all! The Caravel is a slow-burn series about pirate Jake, I don’t want to give away too much here because the summary is already written into the story! One more thing! ⬇️

I have very carefully created a mood playlist for this specific part

If listening to music while you read isn’t your thing that’s totally fine but I do highly recommend it. The songs are kind of in a specific order but it shouldn’t matter too much if you shuffle. Okay it’s finally time…

🏴‍☠️ 🏴‍☠️ 🏴‍☠️

Exposition

Jacob Thomas Kiszka was a pirate aboard The Caravel. A ship that had once belonged to his father.

Captain Thomas Kiszka was his name. He had met a woman on shore and 9 months later, Jake was born on the very ship. Thomas had insisted his son live the life of a pirate. And his mother, having nothing much to offer him, had no choice but to hand over her precious child to become the next captain of the infamous ship. However Jacob Thomas Kiszka would not be the next captain of The Caravel.

The only two things Jake’s father had left him were his sword fighting skills and a little coin necklace from the great Atocha, a ship with immense treasure that Thomas’s crew had pillaged before he was killed in battle.

The crew aboard The Caravel were the only family Jake had ever known. They had taken him in, taught him how to fight, sail, how to handle his women and his rum. They had taught him how to navigate the seas and how to uphold The Caravels legacy.

It was late summer, the time of year when the seas were the angriest. It had been storming for longer than any of the men on board had ever seen. The crew was well equipped for bitter weather but they had never had to endure it for this long. They were running low on everything but more importantly, they needed a doctor.

The current captain of The Caravel was named James Calico. He was Thomas’s first mate and the one who was to lead the crew of fearless men to find the lost treasure at The Gardens Gate before Jake was of age. Captain Calico had heard of a young woman off the coast of the town they were nearing who was a doctor. All they had to do was collect the needed supplies for their voyage, and then collect the girl too.

🏴‍☠️ 🏴‍☠️ 🏴‍☠️

Jakes POV

Your mind is fuzzy from the rum you've been drinking all morning but all you have to focus on is your job. Go in, get the liquor and get out. Fast.

You roll your eyes at the thought. They know I can handle more than this, It isn’t fair.

Everyone on board knows who you are. They know who your father was. They respect you and treat you well. They took you in as one of their own and taught you everything you know but they do not give you as much power as the son of Captain Thomas Kiszka deserves.

You had heard parts of the plan from Reed, Captain Calico’s first mate, and a well respected man on board. He had always been the one to tell you more than the captain intended for you to know. You think of him as the closest thing to a real friend.

You know the plan has something to do with kidnapping a doctor but you don’t have time to worry about that. You have your job and you are ready to do it.

You look down and grab the handle of your sword. You run your hand along the smooth leather (a nervous habit you picked up) keeping it in place and you instantly feel calmer. You’re confident in your ability to fight. I’m ready.

The boat docks and the anchor is lowered. You look to your Captain for instruction and he gives a slight nod. Within seconds, you’re all running off the ship and making your way through the town. You are ready to defend yourself if anyone tries you. However, as usual, no one does. You smile to yourself hearing the familiar shrieks and cries.

“Pirates!”

This is a feeling you’ll never get sick of. The feeling of straight adrenaline coursing through your veins and raw… power. You feel your heart beating out of your chest and you know nothing can hurt you in this moment. You’re invincible. Soon the entire square is clear and you make your way to the pub knocking over boxes and crates in the process.

You don’t have to look around for long. The rows and rows of bottles line the walls and you grab two cases and fill them up, and then one more for good measure.

You make your way back to the square where you see the rest of your crew, taking supplies and one by one returning to the ship.

You look over and see a man everyone called ‘Brute’ holding a woman by the throat threatening to cut off her head if she didn't give him the rest of the meat at her stand. We don't have time for this. You hear the commanding voice of your captain telling him to let her go. And when he speaks, people listen, that's the rule.

Back on the ship you only take two steps before you hear the anticipated cheering. Time to celebrate. You set down the cases and help pass out the bottles of rum. You feel a small jolt and soon The Caravel is gliding across the water.

When you reach to grab a bottle for yourself, something catches your eye, or rather someone. It's a girl.

Wow.

You’ve heard of sirens in stories but you thought they were make believe. She is unlike anyone you have ever seen. She’s beautiful.

Your eyes travel up and down her body, slowly taking her in. You can't help yourself when you stare at the exposed skin on her stomach through the tear in her dress, or the bit of thigh that was showing. Your eyes meet hers and she quickly looks away.

She’s scared of me. Usually this revelation would please you but it feels like a stab to the chest. You think for a moment. She must be the doctor.

You hadn't expected it to be a girl, let alone someone this beautiful. She looks confused and panicked. Now that you pay closer attention, you see that she's being held roughly by two men, Patrick Lock and Robin Evers. They were good men but they obviously didn’t know how to control themselves in the presence of a lady.

A realization washes over you when you look into her eyes. The storm is gone... strange.

You shake the thought when you see Patrick and Robin wearing identical evil grins that make your hands bawl up into fists. Let go of her. You want to grab your sword and slice through their hands but instead you stay by the liquor cases continuing to study her.

🏴‍☠️ 🏴‍☠️ 🏴‍☠️

Her POV

Your mind is racing and your heart is pounding. It’s hard to think clearly when your arms are being held so tightly. Do they have to be cutting off my circulation?

Just moments ago you were sitting at home with your sister reading to her and now you were on a pirate ship. One of the ones you had only heard about in the stories your father used to tell you.

Your eyes flutter closed hoping to wake up from this nightmare. You can smell the ocean. Of course you always could but it was so much stronger now. The cool breeze on your skin is refreshing in contrast to the sun's harsh rays. You let the sound of the water distract you from the dull pain growing in your arms.

SWOOSH.

One particularly strong wave crashes against the side of the boat causing your eyes to open again.

Crash against wave upon wave.

The realization hits you once more. This isn’t a dream, this is real. Your eyes search the ship frantically. If they let go of my arm maybe I could jump off the side and swim back to shore. You look around once more.

The ship is like most that you’ve seen around the dock. Perhaps a little bigger. You don’t know much about them but you recognize the familiar ropes and watchtower. Your dad is a sailor but you’ve never gotten to see his boat. Now I never will.

There is something else near the tower, it’s a flag. A black flag. An exposition.

There is a symbol of some kind. What does that mean?

Your thoughts are cut off by the dozen men that surround you beginning to close in. You can hear the sound of their boots hitting the wooden deck.

Creeeeeek.

Each of them looks slightly different than the last. Some of them wear hats and carry swords, some of them wear shirts and some of them don’t. But they all look ragged and their eyes share the same slight yellow tint. Scurvy. They all eye you with dangerous expressions and wild eyes. It makes your stomach turn.

However, there is one man who stays back. He looks younger than the rest of them. He has long brunette hair and entrancing brown eyes. He has on a white button up shirt with only one button done up just above his belly button. Classy.

You can see his tanned chest and his strong arms from where the sleeves are hiked up. He has on a pair of black breeches and a piece of cream colored fabric wrapped tightly around his waist. He wears a brown hat and a small white knit bracelet on his wrist. The mysterious man wears two silver hoops and has a clean shaven face. A small coin necklace hangs loosely around his neck.

You look back up to find his eyes boring into yours. The sword he carries tightly against his body seems to be staring at you too. The sight of the sun reflecting on the pointed silver makes a shiver run up your spine.

Your gaze is broken by someone walking towards you. You know he's the captain by the way the men part leaving a clear path from him to you, some of them bow slightly.

He walks slowly and carefully, not breaking eye contact. He doesn’t look anything like what you've heard of in the stories. No peg leg, no eye patch.

He has a long beard and he wears a hat or a tricorne as your dad taught you. When your eyes travel down you see his sword swinging slightly by his side and the wood shifting beneath him with every step. You struggle against the two strong hands holding you causing them to grab you tighter. That’s gonna leave bruises.

The captain finally reaches you and towers over you. He looks strong and powerful. He lowers himself so that his face is level with yours and you smell the rum on his breath.

He speaks with a hint of amusement as if he thinks this whole situation is funny. “Hello young lady.” He smiles showing you his singular golden tooth.

He looks to the men holding you “Patrick, Robin, is this how we treat our guests? We don’t wanna scare the poor girl.” His eyes widen.

“Aye.”

They let go of you causing you to stumble forward. The men laugh as the captain catches you and lifts you back on your feet. You recoil at his touch. “Come on matey, I'm not gonna hurt cha.”

You think about running but fear plants your feet firmly to the ground. What does he want?

Unable to meet his gaze, you look back to the young man, he’s… smirking? When he sees you look at him, his face drops and he looks back to his captain.

He speaks again “Welcome aboard The Caravel. What’s yer name?”

You can't seem to form words so you stare at him, lip quivering. The captain laughs at you. The rest of his crew laugh too. The young man laughs slightly but trails off when you look at him once more.

You feel yourself getting dizzy. You can hear a small voice in the distance that you recognize as the captains. He’s explaining to you how they needed a doctor for their ship. He tells you you have no choice but to oblige and there’s no point in trying to run away. He points to something but you can’t see what. You’re trying to absorb his words but your thoughts are still clouded. You turn back and see that you’re already far away from shore. You watch as your town grows smaller and smaller until it's a dot to strange horizons.

The captain yells something that you can’t quite hear and you watch as the men assume their positions. Some of them go straight for the cases of liquor. Some of them climb the many ropes that stretch to the top of the ship, and some of them laugh at a joke being told.

These men are loud and dirty and not very kind. I need to go back home, I need to find my sister.

The captain keeps his eye trained on you, it was almost as if he was saying, ‘try to escape, try to swim away, I dare you.’

In the next hours, no one speaks to you, no one addresses you, they don't even acknowledge you. As The Caravel got farther and farther away from home, your body felt smaller and smaller. Weaker and weaker.

Oh my god, my sister. I can't imagine what she’s thinking right now, I hope she’s safe. My father won’t be home for another week. I hope he’s okay too. There was a storm that seemed to have fizzled out but he must have survived it… he must have. He's strong. Maybe when he returns home and finds out I've been captured he’ll come to save me. Him and his crew.

You look up again, and there is the young man, just across the deck taking sips of his drink. He doesn’t seem to be doing much of anything. His eyes fall to yours then drop back down again. He then looks out into the vastness of the ocean, seeming to be thinking about something important.

I want to know his name.

Time doesn’t wait for your thoughts to collect and soon the moon replaces the sun. One by one the men go below deck to sleep for the night. The harshness of your reality is starting to set in. I’m only of use to them when someone is injured, other than that am I just a lost thought?

You are left alone on the deck, it's cold and lonely. It reminds you of your first day of school when you didn’t know anyone. That night you had gone home and cried in your fathers arms but this night, your father was miles away, on the same ocean but still, miles away.

The boat rocks gently to the rhythm of the sea. Your body becomes a part of the ship, swaying with the water. You feel the little droplets splash over the side and trickle down your face.

It's almost calming, almost. Maybe if I wasn’t a prisoner. At least I'm not tied up.

The moon is full tonight. Its light illuminates the deck and the water in its path. It’s breathtaking.

After several minutes of staring, you accept your fate and try to find somewhere to sleep. You decide a sandbag will have to make do. You attempt to find a comfortable position which proves to be difficult.

As the boat moves with the water on the salty sea, your salty tears begin to fall. It’s scary how quiet it is, and you miss your home, and your bed. For miles in every direction, there is nothingness.

Just as you close your eyes preparing yourself for an uncomfortable sleep, you hear a noise. It’s footsteps. You look up to find the young man approaching you. He’s holding something.

Where is his shirt?

The little coin necklace bounces on his chest when he walks. He ventures closer and kneels beside you.

“Are you cold?”

This is the first time you’ve heard his voice, it’s low and raspy but comforting. He asks his question with caution and genuine concern. You nod.

“Here.” He holds up the shirt and wraps it around you. You can’t help but smile.

He smiles back but doesn’t leave. He pauses for a moment. He looks lost, as if he doesn’t know if he should stay or go. He offers you a small smile and breaks the silence once more.

“What’s your name?”

You tell him your name and watch his lips curl into a perfect, addicting smile. You feel your cheeks flush. He was… pretty.

“What’s your name?” You ask.

“Jacob Thomas Kiszka, mates call me Jake.” He pretends to curtsey causing you to giggle.

This warms Jake’s heart, He couldn’t bear seeing you so sad earlier. You had looked… horrified.

You allow yourself to admire his face. The way his lips fall into a perfect heart shape, the way his eyes sparkle underneath the moonlight, the way his cheeks move when he smiles.

What he does next surprises you. He goes to sit behind you and asks if he can help you. What? You turn to face him with a confused look on your face. He smiles at you. He brings one of his hands up to your hair and drags it down the length of it exposing the many tangles that you hadn’t even registered.

“Is this okay?”

You wonder how you could possibly say no to him so you let him carefully comb his fingers through your hair.

You close your eyes and let yourself bathe in the feeling of his calloused fingertips gliding across your scalp. His hands move slowly and carefully so as to not hurt you.

You don’t really understand why you’re letting him do this or why he wanted to do it in the first place. Maybe it was the kindness in his eyes or the way his voice sounded when he asked. But you just sit there and let him continue.

Jake starts working on a particularly large knot and starts humming to himself. You smile at this small act of vulnerability and let out a small chuckle. He stops singing and you turn around to be met with his reddened face, flushed with embarrassment.

A few minutes of comfortable silence pass as you look up at the stars.

“Do you do this to your own hair?” You couldn’t help but ask. You had grown curious about life as a pirate and Jake was the only pirate you’d seen on board with long hair.

“Hmm? Oh.. oh yeah I do. It takes a while with all the salt in the air and everything, and you know I just thought…” He trails off.

He looks up at you smiling again and you decide, I can trust him.

He parts your hair and moves half of it to drape gently over your shoulder. You feel his warm breath on the back of your neck sending you goosebumps. Oh.

He finishes brushing through the second section and it’s over far too soon. His hands leave your hair and quickly run down your shoulders making you shiver.

He did that on purpose.

He stands up and faces you, he’s wearing a similar smile to the one that paints your face. Now much more relaxed than before, you look into his eyes. How can a person's eyes be so comforting?

You're sad to see him go. Part of you wishes he would stay, and that he could warm you instead of his shirt. You’re wondering if maybe he had the same idea but then he speaks.

“Goodnight then mate.” He winks at you. There’s that butterfly feeling again.

You watch him slowly descend down the stairs below the deck. His hair blows with the wind. I can still feel his hands in my hair.

You rest your head on the sack of sand and eventually your eyes close. That night you fall asleep thinking of your sister but smiling at the new friend you’ve made.

Part 2

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