#like hello do you know what eugenics are??

[zevranunderstander]

this person doesn't even particularly seem to understand what IQ tests have to do with eugenics (though I totally would get what they are trying to say here if the other examples would make any sense at all), but someone claiming that the MBTI test and the HOGWARTS HOUSE TEST were designed to group people into hierarchies so we can kill or eradicate certain groups has got to be the most insane thing ive read this morning

[viharbinger]

Hi there! Saw your post of Ken Sato request. I was thinking about one I have and I had a OS in mind, a Ken Sato x Fem! Reader with the Bad Boy x Good Girl trope. Similar to Rapunzel and Eugene's relationship. Reader is an amazing artist and such a Sunshine while Ken is the opposite.

It's up to you how you wanna write it. Take your time and no need to rush.

Good Girl's Bad Boy

pairings: Kenji Sato x fem!reader

a/n: I loev him so much help

warnings: erm idk, parents disapproving of Ken lol, this is fluff!!

You and Kenji started dating when you both were in LA and were teenagers. Your parents hated his guts. He was egotistical, had a big bike, got into fights often, he's basically in every parenting 101 on who your kid should not date. Despite your parents disapproval however, it didn't stop you from dating him and they can't pull you away from him anyway. So the only thing your parents can do to protest is roll their eyes at him whenever he picks you up on his bike for dates.

They did not like having him around either, but that also didn't stop him. Up to 12am when you're doing your art assignments, he would often climb up your bedroom window. And get a couple of injuries along the way.

A soft knock was heard at your window. You peer at the window away from your painting, and notice a familiar figure. It was your boyfriend, Ken. Smiling, you move to pull up the window, helping him in so he doesn't trip all over your stuff. "You just don't listen to my parents, do you?" You deadpanned, smirking. "You didn't listen when they told you not to date me." He raised his hands up in defense.

As you were watching him talk, you noticed he had fresh injuries on his cheeks. You furrowed your eyebrows, placing your hands on his cheeks to check for further injuries. "Did you get hurt getting up here? Next time just call me and I'll let you in quietly from the front door." You pouted as he places his own hands above yours. "But then it wouldn't be so thrilling, right?" He raises an eyebrow, grinning.

"You're too much." You walk away to look for your bandaids in the bathroom. Unfortunately all you had were hello kitty bandaids, but that didn't stop you from giving it to him. Placing it onto his face, you can't help but giggle at how cute he looks. "You look so silly." You laugh, covering your mouth with your palm. "What? What did you do?" He furrows his eyebrows, walking to your mirror to look at his face. "Aww, seriously?" He whines, to which you stifle your laugh.

"I think it's adorable. You're adorable." You place a firm kiss to his cheek, his ears warming and turning red from the contact. "I can't let anyone see me in this... I've got a... A reputation to live up to!" He makes up an excuse. "Oh be quiet. It wouldn't kill you to have a hello kitty bandaid. I think it's pretty badass." You reassured him. "Seriously?" He laughs for a moment before flickering his eyes to your art piece.

"What're you working on?" He asks, watching as you move to excitedly show him what you were painting. "It's a cat!" You excitedly show him, it was detailed and coloured halfway, but there were outlines to show what you wanted to paint of course. He chuckles, he loves seeing you gleam when showing your work. "Beautiful artwork, sweetheart." He presses a kiss to your forehead.

Let's not forget he has a bike. A cool one. The first time you rode on it, you were like a scared cat, holding onto his waist tightly. Your parents hated this of course, because they much prefer a well suited man with a car.

Man... You wished Kenji would've shown a little less attitude when talking to other men that showed you even the slightest attention. The amount of fights he's gotten in for you. And the amount of first aid you've had to do for him. And meeting your parents for the first time, he had a bunch of bandaids on his face and arms, looking like a total thug that fights a lot. -10000 points for him. Your parents just want their angel daughter date someone nicer, you know?

Over the years, your parents eventually accepted him because he has been getting a lot of brownie points for being a big baseball star and.... Being considerably rich. Despite your family's disagreements on this, you moved to Japan with him, as well. After taking the most confusing and unbelievable news of him having to take over Ultraman, of course.

I mean, Japan is beautiful. It's a brilliant place to start your art career— that is, what Ken says when he convinces you to move with him. Moving in the same house was one thing, but moving together to a different country was a bigger thing! Hell, you've both done so many things behind your family's back that you just went right with it.

"Oh, what the heck! Let's move to Japan." You agreed to his proposal, to which he smiled brightly, planting a sweet kiss to your lips. You can definitely see the rest of your life in Japan. Cheering for him in the stands, treating his injuries after any kaiju incidents, and morning coffees together before work... What you didn't expect was a giant pink lizard wanting Ken as her daddy.

He was so frustrated of having to take over his father's job, and stressed out, only you could reassure him. He needs a little sun in his cloudy days, AKA you. You're like the soft breeze on a hot day, or the rainbow at the end of the road!

[landograndprix]

「Mini me, mini you? ๛ l.n || c.l」

part ix - ending 1

✧.* a little surprise becomes a welcome surprise and life does get better.

✧.* ending one! there will be one part after this to finish it off completelyl this is a psa for the people who wanted to be on my taglist but never got tagged, i didn't forget or ignore you, I simply am unable to tag you and therefore removed you from the list since it's a mess to tag that many people when half of it doesn't work, hope you understand! Some people are tagged in the comments, I can only tag 50 peeps in a post. Love ya ❤️

✧.* prev part - next part

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𝟐 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

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y/nusername

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell and 229,782 others

y/nusername the goodest boy(s) 🧡

tagged: landonorris

view all 421 comments

hannahh I would die for Benji 🥺

norry4 so this is basically saying they're back together..right? (In my delulu era ✌)

maxfewtrell the best norris there is

landonorris are we talking about me or my son?

maxfewtrell since when are you the best norris there is? You never were mate..

hamilt44n hello, is Benji looking for a sister? I'm putting myself up for adoption..just so you know..I'm nice and will do the dishes...please..

norrizz I just know this dog is living his best life 😭

carlandooo I need a Benji in my life and a lando..and a y/n..

sharl16 good news guys, I'm still obsessed with this little icon

landonorris what a little lad ❤️

y/nusername love of my life actually but okay

chilisainz you've been booted to p2 my dude 😂

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y/nusername

liked by carlossainz55, riabish and 278,656 others

y/nusername 💙👶🏻

tagged: landonorris

view all 527 comments

julieeeexo oh my fucking god lando's gonna beba dilf?!😭

norrizz I called it! I told y'all!

zhou_ey stop it, Benji looks so proud to be a big brother 😭

carlossainz55 congratulations guys, you'll name him Carlos no?

landonorris not a chance mate..

carlossainz55 very disappointed

landoscar OMG OMG OMG

maxfewtrell you're going to tell me there's going to be two of lando in a couple weeks?

charlos16 WEEKS?

norrislando4 a lot of us have been saying she's been pregnant for a while so I guess were right? 😭

hamilt44n my parents becoming actual parents and they're getting a lil dude? Life is beautiful 😢

landonorris 💙💙💙

landooofour congrats on becoming a dilf my dude!

charles_leclerc congrats you guys!

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y/nusername posted to their story

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Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @softboystarkey @buffysummrsx @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs

Mini me taglist: @myloverjk-blog @allywthsr @myescapefromthislife @justdreamersdream @celestialams @ihrtdan @sunnytkm23 @yunnie-f1 @stevesworld9 @azxulaa @raizelchrysanderoctavius @leclercdream @opchelia @ssararuffoni @mqcherie @c-tangerine @au-ghosttype @changetyre @elijahslover @roseseraj @luciaexcorvus @evans-dejong @rinhvnt @champomiel @ohyoureaqueenbutuncrowned @hearts4joao @escapism-writer @eugene-emt-roe @bb-swift @christianpulisic10 @bladestark @ayoana @greigreyhiyyih @f1mockingjay @ironmaiden1313 @enhacolor @loxbbg @babyvinnie @wibi96 @celesteblack08

Lando taglist: @beatricemiruna @simp-for-fictional-people

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ iii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: hi hello welcome to part three. i flunked the quiz. lemme know what you think. NOT BETA READ. NOT EDITED. this chapter kinda sux. can't believe i went through a breakup just last week and i still cant write decent post-breakup scenes.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab hope i didn't forget anyone.

masterlist.

you: *sent a link*

him: ?

him: what's this

you: benefits of crying

you: read it it's enlightening

him: some people do not cry over a breakup you know and that is totally okay

you: why crying helps.

you: 1. tears release toxins, stress hormones to be specific. it is good to let all the bad energy out.

you: 2. it aids sleep. no need for further explanation.

you: 3. crying releases oxytocin and endorphins. i know you don't know what an oxytocin or an endorphin is but they're happy chemicals.

you: 4. crying helps you receive the support you need from the people around you. EMOTIONAL VULNERABILITY is okay, max. stop treating it like an STD.

him: it feels like an std

you: pussy

you: emotional vulnerability is a thing and it's normal so stop trying to be a big strong man when you're barely holding it together.

you: you may look fine now but i know you

him: please stop

you: no

you: 5. crying has a self soothing effect. very nice actually. it activates the rest and digest system.

him: what even is that

you: the parasympathetic nervous system

him: ??

you: this is why you shouldn't have dropped out of high school

you: education is important yknow

you: youre already lacking in three forms of intelligence, academic, emotional n social intelligence

him: fuck you im smart

you: fuck you 2 and yeah you're smart but only in geography

you: you probably can't do your taxes

him: im dutch so the company's account department do it for me by default

him: the american system is just weird

you: cant argue w/ u there

you: also, 6. crying helps restore emotional balance

you: see? you need that

you: yknow now that i think abt it you should consider seeking therapy

him: what makes you think i’m not in therapy right now

you: well have you considered getting MORE therapy?

You stand in front of the body mirror, holding the Red Bull polo shirt against your body to see how it looks on you for one last time. On your right sleeve, the word MANAGER is written in bold, white text. Because that was what you were. Just a manager.

In another universe this is not the shirt that you’d be wearing. The MANAGER would have been ENGINEER. In another another universe where your family has been well-off enough to continuously send you to karting school and you would have been the one driving the fucking car by now.

You know, if Max has even tried talking to Horner and suggested that you should be moved into the engineering team, then you wouldn't be stuck wearing this god-awful polo that burned your skin every time you wore it for work. Everybody reduced you as Max’s American manager and because you are American, most of them kind of just assumed that you're dumb, you know?

Does the world even know how smart you are? That you graduated top of your class, got the best thesis award, and that you had finished your masters just this year? Did they even know that a Japanese car company wanted you on their research team? That a NASCAR team wanted you on board as one of their engineers? Does Max even know?

Fuck no. He only knows that you're the best at ironing clothes and organizing his Google calendar and memorizing his entire coffee order by heart. He knew you're good at extinguishing kitchen fires and kicking ass in YSL Opyum heels. You doubt he knows that you can do Calculus in your sleep.

You can take it if the world puts you down for your appearance. But if the world puts you down because of your intellect? That's a different story. You'll take any insult to the face but not to your intelligence.

You have four days left in Monaco so you have begun packing already. You're right, everything did fit into three suitcases. Also, you haven't told Max yet. For some reason, you’re too anxious. Which is shocking to say the least because you never ever gets anxious when it came to Max Verstappen. You wouldn't have lasted this long working alongside Max if you were a pussy.

Max Max Max Super Max Max—

“[Name] here. Need anythin’, champ?”

Hearing a sob on the other end of the line immediately activates your fight or flight response. Your eyes widen and you toss the Red Bull shirt aside. Your legs leads you to the nearly empty shoe rack stationed beside the front door, grabbing the pair of shoes at the very top of the tiny shelf and throwing them on.

“I’m comin’ there. Hang on, Max. You wait for me, okay?”

He doesn't answer, just continuing to sob and the sound absolutely breaks your heart.

You run to his penthouse at a speed that will even put the RB19 to shame. Not even bothering to knock, you barge in and yell his name in the empty halls of his penthouse. You search in the kitchen. He's not there. The living room. Not there either. The room where his simulations are. Not there. You run to his bedroom upstairs.

The door is locked. Dammit. Panic overflooded your system.

“Max, sweetheart, you there?”

No answer, but you can hear a faint sound behind the door if you press your ear against the wood. Firefighter training covered how to open a fucking door when it was locked so this once again becomes a situation where you're grateful that you did that tiring and borderline suicidal volunteer work.

Max keeps a fire extinguisher inside his penthouse as per your advice. There is one stationed in almost every room inside his house. You knew there is one inside his room and another one just at the end of the hallway. You make a quick run for it and once you have the extinguisher in your hands, you run back to his door.

“Step away from the door!” you instructed while your mind mentally calculates your payment plan as you hit the door knob with so much force, the walls tremble at your strength. You're functioning on pure adrenaline. Your instincts only yell one thing and that is: go to Max. No one and nothing in this world will keep you from him. It isn't long until his bedroom door broke down. With one last final kick, it crumbles down from its hinges and you forcefully pry it open and sprint inside.

Max tucks himself in the tiny space in the corner of his huge bedroom, his knees shoved up to his chest. A 181-cm tall man trying to make himself as small as possible.

This is it. This is the bottled-up emotions he's been storing since Abu Dhabi. You cannot say you have not anticipated this. Max is bound to explode sooner or later.

Panic attacks have made a home in Max’s body since he was a child. That's what one gets when they’re parented by someone like Jos Verstappen. He killed Max’s soul and made the boy a machine and for what? To shape a child into a man, a racer that he wanted to be but failed to become at the cost of Max's mental health and childhood.

When Max looks up with that heartbreaking look on his face, you almost crumble. Almost, because you cannot crumble. Not when Max needs you.

Sometimes, you forget what it took for Max to become the champion that he is today. A childhood sacrificed for his dominance on the tracks. A whole lot of hatred from the people to become a WDC. And now, a love lost for his third consecutive championship.

“You came,” his voice cracks towards the end.

Your eyes soften, “You called, Max. Course I’ll come.”

You barely brace yourself for the impact that is Max’s body wrapping around yours in a tight hug. The man have literally launch himself from the floor to you at sixth gear speed. You stumble backwards slightly, holding his bed for support so the both of you won't fall down.

“Max—”

“No,” he whispers and his grip on your tightens as if he's afraid that you’ll slip away if he even tried to give your lungs space to breathe. “Don't speak. Stay.”

What Max wanted, what Max would get. So you shut your mouth, shuffle slightly so he'll be in a more comfortable position and allow him take whatever he wants from you. This will be the last chance he’ll ever do it anyway because in four days time, you’re flying to Texas.

You stay for what is probably hours in that position. Crumbled together on the floor, leaning against the side of Max’s king-sized bed. Your shirt is completely damp from his tears but you cannot even bring yourself to care about it.

“Your shoes…” It's the first time Max has spoken since the start of his meltdown.

“Hm?” you turn your head and your nose nuzzles against his hair, making you scrunch it up a little. His hair is tickling your nostrils. If you lean a little forward, your lips will meet the skin of his temple.

“They’re mismatched.”

Brows furrowed, your eyes move to your feet and see that Max is right. Your shoes are indeed mismatched. On your left is one of your Adidas slides and the other is your slip-on Skechers. You ran from one building to another in mismatched shoes. Fucking embarassing.

“Ignore them.”

Silence.

“You good now?”

“No.”

“Okay,” you say. “If you want to talk, I’ll listen.”

You hear Max let out a shaky breath, “Just stay for a while. Don't leave me alone.”

“Okay.”

Eventually, you manage to talk Max out of the hug. You're beginning to feel claustrophobic but you do not want to say it out right so you try to negotiate instead. That's how you and Max found yourselves inside his kitchen again. You're trying to replicate your Abuela's cheesecake, which she was known for back in Austin, and Max is…well, he's Max and he’s trying to be helpful in any way he can. If it's some other day, you'd have shoved him out of the way because you prefer working alone in the kitchen. Having eyes on you gives you anxiety. But given today’s circumstances, you do not have the heart to make Max leave so you task him with doing the little stuff like mixing things and throwing shit to the trash can nearby. And he does so splendidly.

“Thank you, by the way.”

“For what, baby?” You internally wince at your own slip of the tongue. Damn that habit of yours of calling people with affectionate call signs. Thankfully, Max seems to have not noticed it.

“For coming here.”

You shrug.

“I only did what you did for me in 2021.”

Again, your breakup with Leo was bad bad. You spent a month crying for a love lost and Max was there for you. For the most part, at least. You want him to focus on winning and winning alone that you pushed him away a lot of times but you appreciated how he was more obedient to your commands, that he held his tongue so he wouldn't piss you off even though he was not liking your words, and that he was considerate of you.

“I hope you won't go into fights though,” you chuckle. “Like I did after my breakup.”

He smiles, shaking his head lightly and you know he's recalling the memory. 2021 is a hilarious year for you, the Red Bull manager. You went viral after getting into a cat fight with a girl and a whole fist fight with her boyfriend.

You and Leo called it quits a week before Monaco and even though it had been four races since then, your heart was still in a quite fragile state at that specific race weekend. One minor inconvenience was enough to ignite a wild blaze of fire within you and nobody could extinguish the flames.

After Silverstone FP1, you were leading Max to the cool down room to brief him with Horner’s relayed instructions and someone had thrown a glass bottle towards the both of you while walking. Originally, Max was the main target of the bottle but you happened to have moved towards the line of trajectory and the bottle landed on your temple, hard enough that you stumbled upon impact.

You barely heard Max’s shocked gasp and shout of panic over the sound of glass shattering on your foot because the only thing you could register was the terrifying feeling of a thick liquid trickling down the side of your face and you didn't even need to see it to know it was blood.

The only thing you saw was red and it was on fucking sight.

Fucking Hamilton fan. Fucking Hamilton. He’s in Max’s way. He’s in your way. He’s the wall that was dividing you from your dream position in the engineering team.

You shoved the iPad you were holding to Max’s hands and marched down to the woman wearing the Merc #44 merch, swiftly jumping over the barricade and grabbing her by the collar of her pristine white Versace top.

The events that followed were too fast. You grabbed her collar. She pulled your hair. You also pulled her hair. Someone pulled her away from you. You tried to grab her, clawing her bare arms with your manicured nails. She screamed. You screamed back. You pulled out some curse words in Spanish as well because cursing her in one language alone is not enough. Her boyfriend appeared. A quick punch to your cheek. You fell to the ground.

The world stood still. There was a sting on your palm because your skin got torn from the hard surface of the concrete ground. You let a bloodcurdling war cry and your Dad would definitely be disappointed at you for using the boxing techniques he taught you for self defense purposes only to fight a guy two times your size.

Everything was a bigger blur from there. But you did remember the sensation of Max’s strong arms around you, stopping you from lunging forward again. He was saying sweet words to your ear to calm you down but your brain failed to intercept them so you could hear the words, could hear his voice, but not understand any of it. You remember Christian Horner's disappointed face that haunted you even two years later. You remembered feeling so terrified as you sat outside Christian Horner’s office waiting for the final verdict while he and Max and a few of the Red Bull higher-ups argued about your future with the team. You remembered hearing Max’s loud snarl on the other side of the mahogany door: “Did you see her face?! There was blood everywhere! On her nose, on her mouth, on the fucking side of her head!” You remembered the girl taking the case to court. You remembered fearing that you’d be sent to jail. You remembered that she lost the case because it was ruled as self defense and your injuries were grave. You remembered discovering that it was Max who used all his power and got the best lawyer to fight your case. You remembered the atmosphere in the Red Bull garage shifting when you entered it a few weeks later and everyone stared the bandages and bruises. Everyone thought one thing: of course, it would also take a monster to manage a monster like Max Verstappen. You remembered Lewis Hamilton, seven-time world champion, apologizing personally for the fight caused by his own fan. He didn't need to but he was so sincere with it that you cried when he handed you the apology flowers. God, how could you even hate this man? Your anger towards him was misplaced.

You’d been living with the guilt ever since, that you were horrifyingly violent for a day, that you were capable of killing for a day. And it could happen again. One day. God, you hoped you wouldn't have to see that day. You knew all your coworkers have been careful with angering you ever since. They're terrified of you even. Max should be, too. But then again, why would he when he already saw the horrors done by his father’s hands ever since he was a child? He was used to it.

“I won't,” he says, smiling at you. “I wouldn't want to add anymore problems for you to clean up.”

But you will not be the one cleaning it up because you resigned. You didn’t tell that to him though. Not right now. He just had a meltdown over Kelly leaving him and the news of his manager leaving him too will destroy him.

The cheesecake is a little burnt when you take it out of the oven but it actually adds more flavor to it so yeah, that's a win.

“We should drink,” you suggest.

“It’s mid-afternoon.”

“We drank at mid-afternoon yesterday,” you give him a blank stare. “With Alex and Charles, remember?”

He doesn't say anything as you make your way to his fridge and pull out two bottles of beer. Max has champagne stored somewhere but you have enough of those expensive champagnes. You need beer. Beer is good. Beer is nice. You're a beer type of person and it is time Max becomes one, too.

“I’m no scientist,” you begin, biting off the beer’s bottle cap. “But according to chemistry, alcohol is solution.”

Well, technically, edible alcohol or ethanol is not a mixture. Rather, it's a pure substance that happens to be a liquid at room temperature and typical atmospheric pressure. Pure ethanol is not a solution. Hard spirits though? That's a solution.

Beer is not a hard spirit. It's more of a fermented drink. But Max doesn't know that, though, so you don't bother explaining the science behind it.

Somewhere down the road, the two of you move to his living room. You use the Youtube app in his TV to search karaoke video and have the bestest time of your lives. You're screaming along some Daddy Yankee and El Alfa songs and Max doesn't know how to speak Spanish so he’s just vibing to it.

At 5 PM, you pull out Max’s expensive vodka bottle. Now this is the real shit. The ten bottles of beer? Those are just pregame. Max is already drunk with just those because he’s a pussy but you’re no pussy, so the only right answer is vodka! Viva la vodka or whatever.

Your throat gets tired of singing and Max gets tired from dancing, too, so you both decide to just go entertain yourselves in other ways. First, you introduced Max to beer-pong. He loses, of course. He sucks at everything not racing. Then, the two of you move onto chess. Max gives up mid-game. He cannot understand the rules. Then, lastly, you move to the billiard table Max owned. He only used it when the other guys are over and you do not even know why he bought it when he sucked at playing billiards.

“You know what Kelly said the morning before the race?” Max suddenly says and you look up at him, brow raising slightly. He’s drunk; his skin is flushed and he is all giggly and smile-y as he sits on the billiard table’s side rail and using the billiard stick as some sort of support stand to keep him from falling. You hope he won't accidentally poke himself. You're no better, too. Ten beer bottles and a few glasses of vodka. But you’re not as drunk as Max, and you still have a straight vision and you can still sink the colored balls into the pockets of the billiard table.

“Hm?”

“That it was unfair for her.”

You raise a questioning brow, “Why?”

“I bought shoes and they don't fit her.”

You blink. He laughs at himself as if he has uttered the funniest joke in the world.

“Three years of relationship gone because of a single pair of shoes,” he continues. “She wanted those shoes, too.”

Kelly….what the fuck?

“But that's okay. She….She made me open my eyes, you know? She made me realize what I truly love.”

“Racing.” It's not even a question. It's the truth.

Max stares at you, long and hard, and you look away first because you fear that if you allow yourself to stare too long, you’ll drown in those beautiful blues. This is enough heartache for the day. No need to add more.

“Hey [Name],” he begins. “If I asked you to kiss me, would you do it?”

[hurts2think]

Hello!! I read your Red x Reader one-shot and LOVED IT, she's such a distinct character and you did such a good job writing her <3

Would you be able to do Red x tall!fem reader? I'm 5'11", much taller than a 5'5" Kylie Cantrall LOL, and I think the short and angry x tall and calm dynamic is so fun. Thanks so much!

♥️Red Hearts x Reader♥️

Reader pronouns: She/her

Pairing: Red Hearts x Tall!Fem!Reader

Plot: You're the daughter of Rapunzel and you took interest in the new girl. But all of your friendly advances just anger her... But maybe she'll warm up to you during a friendly game of ball.

Word Count: 2k

Extra: Thank you so much, that's genuinely one of the sweetest compliments I've ever gotten🫶 I combined this with another request. I had a really hard day today so I'm sorry if it's rushed and not as well chatacterized. Please enjoy <3

Extra pt2: I never ever specify race or features in this, but the reader is described with very long hair. Interpret it as you will but I'm sorry to all of my friends with afros :(

Despite being a royal, you never were a 'typical princess'. Your parents always accepted you no matter what you were interested in or how princess-y you acted because they were the same as you.

When your mother, Rapunzel, returned to her kingdom for the first time, she could never fit into the royal ways. And of course your father, Eugene Fitzherbert (Aka the infamous Flynn Rider) was a criminal before meeting your mother. So you never had very royal influences growing up.

Because of this, when you started going to Auradon Prep you tended to be drawn more towards the VKs who weren't confined by the royal standard. You began to really go full force into the idea of parkour, sword fighting, and adventuring in general. It was much more thrilling for you than any etiquette class your kingdom forces you to take.

So running around, jumping off walls, and friendly fighting was how you spent any afternoon with your friends. And recently you've met someone new. She just transferred from Wonderland which immediately intrigued you. Her name was Red and she was the daughter of the Queen of Hearts. Naturally, you had hundreds of questions and filled with excitment but she would always give a snarky reply before walking away from you.

Though she seemed to not like you very much the two of you had many of the same interests, so you'd end up seeing her and running into her multiple times a day. You never gave up on trying to be her friend but she was as stubborn as a mule. And unfortunately for her, so were you.

"Ya know, Red, you're really good at all this parkour stuff. Where'd you learn it? Are you self taught?" You asked her with a smile.

The two of you were in chemistry class and you were really just trying to start up casual conversation, but she didn't seem too amused with it.

"Wonderland was ruled by a tyrant, kinda had no choice but to bounce off walls and slip through the cracks. Otherwise it's 'off with your head'." She replied with the same sassy attitude she always had.

"Oh... Well. It's still cool how good you are at it. Especially considering..." You trailed off, suddenly shutting up because you didn't want to offend her.

Red looked back at you with a skeptical look, "Considering what?"

An awkward giggle escaped your lips, "Well, you're not very... Uhm... Tall?" You finally coughed out, desperately not trying to come off as offensive.

Though it was in vain. Red gave you a dirty look, suddenly standing up straight and crossing her arms, "What does that have to do with anything?"

You lucked out when it came to the height department, unlike your older sister. Your mom was short but your dad was super tall, and you somehow came out looking more like him anyway. So at almost six feet, Red definitely seemed far shorter. "Nothing! Just uh, ya know, I imagine it's not very easy getting up high walls and stuff." You involuntarily giggle.

"And you're freakishly tall. Don't you ever trip over your own feet while doing anything?" She rolled her eyes, her expression never changing.

"Uhm, no..."

"Then no. See? Your assumption was stupid." Red declared, looking away from you as if just looking at your face was making her angry.

You went silent, slowly going back to working on your weird chemistry project before clearing your throat, "It's not a bad thing. People love snarky short girls, it's totally a desired trait now-a-days." You meant for it to be a compliment but really you were just digging a deeper hole for yourself.

"So what? Are you hitting on me or something?"

The bluntness almost made you drop the flask of chemicals in your hand, "Wh—?! No! No... That's not what I meant." Your face heats up a little and your eyes trail away from her, "I just... I didn't mean anything rude about you being short."

Red let out a long breath, "Mention something as unimportant as height one more time and I swear I'll strangle you." She threatened calmly.

This made you pause and stiffle a snicker, "Would you even be able to reach?"

The look Red gave you almost felt like it could've shot you dead on the spot. "Sorry, sorry! I was just kidding... Just joking. I'm done now."

You finally decided to just shut up and work on your project in silence. She really might try and strangle you if you kept talking.

------

It was nearing closer to the end of the day and you really started feeling bad for making Red upset like that. What if it was an insecurity? You didn't mean to hurt her feelings! So you decided to make it up to her. Just invite her to a casual one on one game of basketball, all friendly! No harm done or anything.

"Oh so you invited me to play basketball as another jab at my height? You think I would lose because you're like a giant?"

How did this girl manage to take every single thing you said and did the wrong way? "N, No... Of course not. I just wanted to try and—"

"You know what? I'll show you what I'm capable of. Maybe it'll teach you a thing or two, princess." Red declared, snatching the basketball from your hands.

Great. This was going wrong in every way! She took your invite as an insult and now it's a not-so-friendly match.

But nonetheless, it was official. The two of you played a one on one, and she was unsurprisingly amazing at it. She really was great at everything she did. And after a long time of dribbling, throwing, and blocking, it seemed like Red was finally going for the winning shot.

Just as she jumped, you stumbled after her to try and prevent the shot. The stumble was less than graceful, and while she technically made the shot and won, you still fell over and dragged her down with you.

"Ow—!" You heard the girl beneath you groan in pain after the hard thud against the ground.

After regaining yourself in a moment, you quickly shot up and got off of her, "Oh my gosh! Red, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" You worriedly ask, reaching to try and help her up.

Red slowly sits up, swatting your hand away, "Yeah... I'm fine." She grunted. She tried stepping up to her feet before immediately recoiling back down from the pain in her ankle.

"Oh no no. You're hurt. I hurt you, I'm so sorry. Here, look, I'll make it better! Don't worry!" Without another word you scooped Red into your arms without much of a warning.

"Hey!" She yelled in protest.

You hurried her over to the bench and sat her down in it to which she immediately scooted away from you.

"I'm so sorry, Red. Let me heal it for you."

Red's expression suddenly shifted to one of confusion, "Heal?" She figured that was a weird word to use.

"Yeah..." You pulled the hair tie from your hair and let down your hair that was much longer than it looked when it was tied up. You crouched down but before you could hold your hair to the injury, Red scooted away again.

"Woah woah. What're you doing??" She asked, clearly still very confused.

You were mostly used to everyone knowing the qualities that you received from your mother, of course the girl from Wonderland had no idea about it. But you didn't quite piece that together, "Healing you..." You repeated, now confused by her confusion.

"Right... With your hair?" Her brows furrowed in confusion and judgment.

"Oh!" You then understood why she was confused, "Basically when my grandma was pregnant with my mom she was going to die, so they found a magic flower to heal her but then the magic flower gave my mom healing abilities, I also got those abilities when I was born. So now I have magic hair that glows and heals when I sing." You explained with a goofy grin, almost as if you were bragging.

Though Red didn't seem impressed. Actually, she looked at you like you were insane.

"Just... Trust me."

Finally she let you get closer. Your wrapped your hair around her sprained ankle and began to sing the healing incantation that your mother taught you. Slowly your hair begin to softly glow and Red stared in astonishment.

After you finished you unwrapped your hair and her ankle was fully healed.

"What the—" Red stuck her leg out and moved her ankle around as if to test if it was really okay, "How did you—?"

"Told you. Magic flower." You grinned up at her before standing back up.

"Woah..." She said in disbelief, staring at her magically healed ankle before her eyes darted towards you, "Will I get super strength in my ankle now or something?"

You chuckled and shook your head, "No... I don't think so."

"Man..." She muttered in disappointment.

Your smile slowly faded to a frown. You suddenly felt guilty again for hurting her physically and possibly her feelings, "I'm sorry again... I guess I should get going now..." You force a laugh, tying your hair back up.

Red went pretty silent for a moment before speaking again, "I just don't understand."

"Me either, honestly. The flower thing is kind of confusing. It's suppose to be a drop of the sun or something and—" You started to explain before the red headed girl interrupted you.

"No. That's not what I meant." She rolled her eyes, "I meant, why are you suddenly being so genuinely nice?" She asked with clear suspicion on her face.

Your own expression turned puzzled, "What do you mean suddenly? I've been trying to be your friend since we met."

Has she seriously not caught on this whole time? You always talk to her and try to be nice, how could she not have known? It's all you've been trying to do for the past month or so.

"Really?" She seemed unconvinced, "You? Miss princess trying to be friends with the girl no one likes from Wonderland? I always hear your friends whispering about me. You're just one of those kids who thinks she's being funny by trying to befriend the 'weird kid'." Red said with a little bit of a snarl. She seemed pretty convinced there was no way you were ever genuine before.

Your eyes widened slightly at the bold assumption. Your friends whisper about her? Your friends know you think she's cool... They've never said anything bad about her before... "Red, I was always genuine. You're the exact person I want to be friends with! You're cool, smart, talented, insanely gorgeous." You listed off on your fingers, that last descriptor slipping out on accident, making your face suddenly burn in embarrassment. "Forget that last part..." You mutter.

Red laughs. That was probably the first time you actually heard her genuinely laugh. It wasn't mocking or mean, it was genuine. Man, you could get addicted to a laugh like that.

"Well. I guess I was a little harsh to you... You're pretty cool too, I guess." She smirked, nudging you with her elbow, "And pretty cute."

"Shut up." Your face only heated up more and you buried it in your hands, making Red's smirk grow. "So... We're cool now?" You ask, peaking from behind the hands covering your face.

Red hummed in thought, tapping her chin, "Mayyybe... If you can beat me in another one on one without spraining my ankle, I'll consider it." She winked.

You chuckled. Who could deny that? "It's a deal. Don't get too excited when I win." You teased with a grin.

After all this time, you were finally able to get along with the beautiful VK from Wonderland. Her sassy attitude, bad girl look, and insane skill only made you fall on your face for her. You couldn't help but fluster just at the thought of her... This was a crush you had a feeling would go away so easily.

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Moonflow

Bitter Karella: hello, fellow esteemed authors! King: wow it's bitter karella! Lovecraft: bitter karella! Koontz: WOW bitter karella! Poe: OMG it's THE bitter karella! Barker: Barker: what the fuck is wrong with you guys

Karella: yes it's me, bitter karella, beloved bon vivant, gadabout and real author Barker: well, i've never heard of you Karella: Barker: wait did i say that? i meant to say bitter karella is the kindest, bravest, warmest, most wonderful human being I’ve ever known in my life

Karella: [sitting backward on chair] you know me as a very cool & also good-looking goblin Karella: but i'm also the author of such luminary works as The Ballad of Horse Girl in Split Scream 5 (currently available from Tenebrous Press) and Moonflow (coming soon from Orbit US!)

Poe: i see you're wearing an "Ask me about Moonflow" badge Karella: You mean the latest masterpiece of horror storytelling from Orbit's™ Bitter Karella™? Why it's an extraordinary adventure with an interface of eldritch folk horror, queer squelchcore splatterpunk and raccoons!

Karella: Not to mention a psychedelic fantasmagoria of mushroom trips, terf cults, cop eugenics, fat sex, AND elegant point 'n' click control of characters, objects, and magic spells! Karella: Beat the rush! Go out and buy Moonflow™ today!

Karella: Moonflow has something for everyone! Scary forests! Mysterious gods! Gallons of blood! Exploding heads! Karella: and don't think i forgot about you ladies Karella: there's also multiple lesbian orgies

Poe: wow! Moonflow sounds incredible! i can't wait to read it! Koontz: what was that name again? i forgot Karella: it's Moonflow! And you'll have to wait Karella: CUZ IT'S NOT COMING OUT TIL FALL 2025!!!

Karella: yo yo yo they call me bitter karella Karella: i'm half joe camel and third Fonzarella! Karella: i'm a real cool goblin & i'm here to say Karella: i love reading Moonflow in a major way! Poe: wow that bitter karella is one outrageous dude! Koontz: he's totally in my face!

Mary Shelley: [reading cue card] "sup fuckers" Shelley: "are you ready for a nerd-shivvingly good time reading moonflow" Barker: [reading cue card] "i can't think of anything cooler than buying & reading bitter karella's moonflow" Poe: Barker: edgar Barker: edgar that's your cue

Poe: what? oh wait Poe: wait i've got it, i've got it Poe: uhhhh Poe: line? Barker: Barker: you're supposed to say "clive" Poe: right right "clive" of course Barker: like you always do Barker: it's literally your thing

What's this all about? IT'S ABOUT THIS!!

[the-kr8tor]

...And The Deep Blue Sea

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader

Word count: 13.2k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, No specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), CW food mentions, TW blood, CW violence, TW death, CW gore, CW injury, CW guns.

A/N: it's the end.

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Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

CHAPTER 15 >>>

“Hello, little birdy.” Mathias cackles like there's a pebble stuck in his throat.

He roams his sickly yellowed eyes at your body, sending shivers down your spine with every glance. “Or should I say Viscountess?” He laughs again. “You wear that gown well,” his eyes flick behind you, “Eugene, my boy!” The man beside you stiffens up. “Come get your bride and sit with me.” He drums at the table. “The Food is comin’, I heard that the bride and groom usually don't get to eat after everything is said and done. We don't want you to starve, ain't that right, lieutenant?”

The eye patched man standing in the corner nods slowly. His hands are neatly tucked behind his back like an obedient dog waiting for his master.

“You're alive?” You say breathlessly, teeth gritted, knuckles clenching tight on the skirt of your dress. Pulse rapidly thrumming, sending alarm bells to ring in your ear.

“‘course I am! No one can kill the king's flame, not even the red hydra,” he spits the name out. “or even a real fuckin' hydra.” Chuckling, scars mar his neck and hands, the only visible ones under his navy blue officer's uniform. It's still red and angry, you can tell some parts of it hasn't healed yet. You plan to add more, whether it's by your bare hands or a piece of cutlery; you're prepared to hit him where it hurts.

Numerous medals are on display on his jacket, shining under the sunlight filtering through the closed curtains. “Can you believe it? I go out to hunt the red hydra and I get myself a pretty bird.” He continues annoyingly, voice crackling, a dry cough escaping his pale mouth.

Mathias notices you still standing in the doorway, his eyes are dull, like a hurricane that's about to devastate a whole town. Eugene notices and he reaches for your arm to sit you down. You flinch away from his touch, eyes trained on the man before you.

“I said sit down!” Mathias’ booming voice rings out in the dining hall, his fist slamming on the table, champagne flutes fall over like dominoes with a harsh crack. “Fuckin’ grab her, Eugene! Don't be such a fuckin’ cock and grab her!”

“Y-yes uncle.” Your ‘fiance’ tentatively guides you towards the chair by your elbow, you brush off his touch, angry eyes gazing at his cowardly face.

Sitting down on the right side of Mathias, you intentionally choose a chair as far away from him as possible. But before you could sit, he clicks his tongue, finger wagging in front of his scarred face.

“Not there, gorgeous.” He pats the seat closest to him. “Right here.”

“No,” you stand your ground, shaking from anger, or is it fear that climbs in your stomach and crawls upwards to your quickening heart?

You refuse to get near the monster as Eugene stares across from you with anxiety in his eyes.

“Sit. Down.” Mathias enunciated, “or Lieutenant Dubois here will make you sit down.” Said uniformed man grunts, hazel eye roaming across the table, gaze boring a hole in between your twitching eyes. The sheath of his cutlass is engraved with tally marks among the ornate laurels and lions. “You already know what he'll do to you, he's quite amazing with a sharp object.”

“I am too.” You clench your jaw, still refusing to sit.

To your surprise, Mathias grins, a sickeningly hideous smile, teeth bared, tongue lapping at the gold in place of the fangs, lips wrinkling, he chuckles softly as something passes by his yellowed eyes.

“Sorry ‘bout that, you just reminded me so much of your father.” He leans on the back of his chair, hands gesturing towards you. “I literally saw him instead of you! It's fuckin' crazy innit?” He shoves Eugene by the shoulder, the viscount flinches, wincing at the ache. “Y’know, I recognized you— wait, lieutenant! Grab her and make her sit down! This story deserves to be listened to properly.”

“No!” You try to run back to the hallway, but the man is too fast for you. With the heavy skirt and weak leg, you didn't have a chance against him. “Motherfucker—!” With his arms around your torso, you kick and flail about, Mathias gives him a look and the man headbutts you from behind.

The room spins as he carries you towards the chair. The ceiling swirls, ears flooding with your rushing blood. With your muddled hearing, you swear you heard Eugene defend you, and you swear you heard a slap right after.

With a heavy thunk, the door closes behind you, your exit closes behind you. The only remaining door is across you, it's currently closed but you're sure it's unlocked judging by the draft coming from it. Head still aching, vision warbling, the one eyed man stands in front of the only exit.

“Now where was I?” Mathias continues like nothing happened. You glare at him through the corner of your eyes, your skin feels like spikes from the goosebumps rising above. “Ah, yes! I recognized you on the ship, before a literal myth came eating my crew. By the way, what the fuck was that, huh? Fuckin' weird, right?”

“Shut the fuck up.” You say weakly.

“Anywho, You looked a lot like your father but with your mother's beauty. I knew them, your father more so. Once upon a time he was my lieutenant, he was pretty good at it too. Too bad he had to disobey orders and marry above his station.”

“Why don't you ever shut up?” You lay your elbows on the table, arms flat, slyly covering the steak knife under your arm. “Are you a narcissist? Do you like hearing your own voice—?”

Mathias hurls a salad plate at your head. You dodge it in time before it shatters on the floor. You don't have time for this, you need to get to Hobie immediately, before it's too late. You have no plan, no weapons, but you'll be damned if you don't try. And you can still hear his screams echoing in your ears, as if he's already dead, as if he's already haunting you.

You need to try. Or it'll be your end too.

The monster before you clears his throat. “Don't be rude.” He points a finger at you.

You now notice how worse for wear he is, under the white paint and powdered wig lies injuries that haven't healed since the fight. You smell it, the herbs hastily smudged, and the rot in his flesh. It seeps into his bones, poisoning his body. You just wish it'll eat at him faster.

You're suddenly not afraid anymore.

“Anyway, before I was rudely interrupted. Your father, well, he fought a good fight on the Demeter. He stood his ground till the very end until a dozen or so bullets pierced his skin.”

The crescent in your palms gets deeper.

“He was smart though, smarter than you probably. You see, he rigged the ship to blow. He had the fuckin' balls to do it even though his entire family was inside. Ain't it funny—?” The double doors swing open.

The butler interrupts his speech, a handful of staff bring in an entire chicken at his plate. One pours him a glass of wine before he snatches the entire bottle and places it right next to his glass. Hot soup and meat pie is brought in also, the smell is appetizing but you place your hand over your plate wordlessly, telling them you're not hungry at the moment. How could you be when Mathias eats in front of you like he hasn't eaten in decades?

The tension is thicker than the cream placed in front of Eugene.

He munches loudly as he takes apart the roast. String of meat flies all over, the former white table cloth turns brown when he wipes his hands on it. Eugene spares you a look, eyes staring forlornly at his empty plate. His hand inching closer towards his goblet before deciding to just drink the ruby liquid.

You're on your own.

The wolves devour their fill whilst you plan your escape. Your mind screams for you to run, to run where no one can find you. The voice echoing in your ears is right at one thing, but you'll never hide anymore, not from Mathias, not from your past, not from anyone. You'd face it with fire in your veins just like your father had.

Mathias snorts, and you wish it was a choke. “He fought well, got a few of my men. How do you think the lieutenant here lost his eye?” He points at the stoic man using a half eaten chicken leg. “Your father was brilliant with a sword. A crack shot with a blunderbuss too. But, eh, it was all in vain. He shouldn't have messed with the crown and polite society.”

He continues to loudly eat, hands slick with oil, mouth full of meat. “You see, your mother was that fuckin' woman. Wealth, looks, title, she had it all. And the king wanted it too, greedy bastard he is.” There it is, the confession. But you still listen because you know something else will come after. “But your mum decided to run off and elope with the bastard son of an unpopular lord. The king was pissed off.”

Mathias laughs roughly. “But he got over it.”

Your eyes widened, but before you could hide it, the devil noticed.

“I knew you ain't as smart as your dear old dad.” He smiles, you can see the meat stuck in his golden teeth.

“He was the crowned prince,” Mathias rips open the chicken in half messily. “And he needed a wife from one of the big families.” He doused the meat in salt, “and the greedy fuck chose someone who didn't want him, just for the fun of it. Who could blame her, all he ever wanted was a brood of children to pass on his blood.” He takes a generous bite, teeth meeting flesh, the sound of his chewing makes you hasten your plan. “Thank fuck Frederick's father ain't as stupid as his son. That man sought out the opportunity when given to him and fuckin' took it. Too bad he didn't live long enough to see the fruit of his labour.”

Anger settles in your stomach, fury in your eyes and flesh, you want to damn him, and everyone involved. Especially her.

“It's her isn't it?” You say as you slither your hand towards the ceramic bowl. “The Queen, it was all her.”

Mathias smiles genuinely, “You finally got it, little bird!” He claps. “She's fuckin' brilliant, and so are her coffers. The pay,” he whistles out, “the pay was magnificent, still is by the way. I didn't even need to become an admiral for the money when I'm earning more than a fuckin’ duke.” Kicking Eugene under the table, he makes his godson choke on his drink. “See, I told you the little duchess here is just your type.”

His voice fuels your fury. Each vowel is grating in your ears, every wheezed breath he takes is a reminder that he still lives. A reminder that your knife isn't stuck in his throat.

“It ain't as bad as you think it is,” The navy man continues. “Married to my boy, you'd have a title, a home and a decent family. At least now you don't have mister Brown crawling all over you. He'd be dead by sundown, and I can't wait to see it.”

Mathias thinks his words would make you do something drastic that'll have his hands wrapped around your neck. But you've learned your lesson, so you bide your time, taking their attention away from your wandering hands.

“You're dying.” The heat from the bowl matches the fire in you. Your voice doesn't shake, nor your resolve. “Even with all the coin she gave you, you still can't save yourself. You are riddled with sepsis, I can smell it on you. A collapsed lung from the way you cough, and whatever the fuck disgusting shit you have in you. You are dying, rotting from the inside like how it's meant to be. And the world will be better off without you. They will forget you, first, your poor family, then your men, then the entire country. Even your bitch of a queen will forget you. Then the world. But Hobie will be remembered. His name will be etched in the annals of history while your name fades into obscurity.” You laugh humorlessly, teeth bared, eyes aflame. “And I can't wait to see it.”

He seethes in his seat, hand clenching around the cutlery. The devil doesn't show his anger bluntly this time, he hides it because you struck a nerve. With a grin, you promise to Hobie and to your parents that Mathias won't live to see the day end.

“Do you remember what I told you in the revenge?” You continue with a smile that sends shivers down the spine of everyone in the room. The quiet lieutenant remembers the day he lost his eye. “I intend to fulfill that promise.”

Through a clenched jaw, he coughs again, hiding his weakness from everyone in the room and how a drop of blood stains his pale lips. “I love it when women show me their claws. But I can't stay. I would love to see the ceremony and the festivities, but I can't miss the execution. That's why I came here earlier so I could pass on my blessings.” Mathias wipes his mouth clean harshly. “If you'd excuse me, I places to be—”

Before he could stand up, you quickly fling the bowl right on his painted face. The hot soup splashes on his skin, melting the white powder off his face. With his guttural scream, within a split second before his man could intervene, you take the steak knife and plunge it into his hand and into the table.

The screams he let out was music to your ears, holding the hilt of the weapon, you twist it before yanking it out of his flesh, tearing his hand in half, ripping the nerves and letting waterfalls of crimson into the white tablecloth. With a determined yell, you aim for his throat.

Mathias recovers a second before steel meets his skin, he backhands you with the same injured hand. The knife falls off your hand. Pain blooms on your face, and you go blind as your head hits the floor. His blood dirties your pristine white gown, splotches of red drenching the bodice.

Your left eye stings, cheek heated from the harsh slap. Despite your lungs gasping for air through your possible broken nose, you crawl over to Mathias. Your scorn drives you to grab his leg, pulling him down with a strong tug, he falls hard on his back, splitting the floorboards in half. Taking the crown off your head, you use the pointy end to stab his leg and his knee in quick succession. He yells and yells but you don't stop. The ichor from his wounds drenches your face and hands, you see red, and you see his untimely death in your blood soaked hands.

Climbing further up, you use the opportunity to aim at his groin. But a pair of arms stops you before you could hit your mark. Thrashing, slashing the hands around your shoulders, you mark the man with the same bloodied tiara.

“Fuckin’ bitch!” Mathias stands up, limping, he unsheathes his lieutenant’s cutlass from his hip. With a stomp over your thigh, he pushes in the heel of his boot as you let out a cry. The steel is pointed at your heart, his eyes demand blood for blood. “I should've just killed you instead—”

A shot rings out, the bullet hits the blade, breaking it in half. Mathias flinches before he smiles at the one who shot him. There on the opposite doors, stands Miguel O’hara with his gun raised, barrel aimed at his former comrade. Lyla stands next to him, her own blunderbuss raised towards the man holding on to you.

“Let her go and there won't be any more bullets flying around.” Miguel's voice is steady, back straight, eyes flicking over to you writhing on the floor.

“You better listen, cyclops, O’hara here might hesitate but I won't. Let our girl go.” Lyla reassures you with a nod, and you bite your captor's hand.

You tear his flesh open with your teeth, ichor filling your mouth as he hisses in pain, dropping you unceremoniously on the floor.

Mathias looks at you with wide eyes, disbelief in his burned face. “I guess you learned a thing or two from your man.”

You spit out the chunk of flesh whilst your eyes never leave his. Crimson dripping off your lips like rain, teeth the same colour as the wine spilled on the table, you smile at him.

“Come near me and I'll show you what else he taught me.”

The man before you laughs genuinely, yet his eyes never leave yours, making sure you stay away from him. You're more than ready to close the gap. The cutlass is still trained on you, you're about to pounce when Miguel calls your name with urgency. As if he can read your mind.

“Your girl is fuckin' insane ain't she?” Mathias addresses Miguel, like how a family member speaks about a niece he hasn't seen in years. Proud, there's a sense of pride laced in his tone. “Just like her dear old parents, eh?”

“I'm warning you, Mathias.” Miguel keeps an eye out for the uniformed man behind you. “Take your captain, Alexander, before I put a bullet in his heart.”

Mathias scoffs, legs shaking from the wounds you caused. “Please, you'd shoot me? You didn't have the balls back then, why would you do it now?”

Miguel raises his gun higher, aiming for the man's head. “Because she wasn't there,” he cocks his head towards you, “you didn't have a weapon aimed directly at my goddaughter.” Eyebrows knitted together in anger, his hand doesn't shake, eyes glowing red in the sunlight. “Now let her go.”

Mathias posture sags, “fine, but only because I've got an event I cannot miss.” He nods at his godson. “Make sure you're married to her by the end of the day or there will be consequences.” He clicks his tongue, Eugene melts into his chair, face turned away from you and his godfather.

Mathias gives you one last look. “Happy marriage, birdy.”

“You're going to die today Mathias, one way or another I'll get my hands on you.” You flick your eyes towards the man clutching his hand. “Death is coming for you too,” you say nonchalantly. “I'll finish what my father started.”

They leave with their fronts turned to you, not even twisting around to show you their backs that are susceptible to your attack. Or in this case, your teeth.

Lyla appears next to you, helping you by the crook of your arm. Pain lingers on your leg and face. “Christ, he burst your fucking capillaries.”

Sure enough, you feel the sting in your eye, a throbbing pain that leaves you nauseous. Miguel, tentatively closes the distance, weathered hand carefully holding your chin. You wince, as he moves your face.

“Fuck, you need to see a doctor.” He says whilst you flinch away from his touch.

“I'm alright, I need a horse.” You begin to walk away, Miguel and Lyla follow close behind you. “And I need my fucking knife.” I need him back, your mind whispers to you. “I need to save him.”

“His execution is in two hours.” Eugene says meekly, and you stop in your tracks. “I heard the officers talk, they're not going to hang him for his crimes, the crown gave him the ax.”

With quick steps, you take Eugene by his collar, gripping tightly as you spill venom. Miguel tries to hold you back but you blindly kick his leg.

“Delay them.”

“I can't—”

“Do you want to be under his boot your entire life? If we marry I'll be crushed with you,” You stare determinedly at his scared eyes. “because that will happen if you don't help. You said you cared about me, then help me and all will be forgiven. Please, you're a viscount, you have the means to help.”

He sniffs, lips curled into a frown. “I'm sorry, I-I can't—”

You scoff, letting him go. “If I fail, Mathias lives and that means you'd be dead too.” Walking away, leaving him cowering in his seat, your small entourage follows.

“Where are you going?” Miguel matches your stride, walking next to you, he stares with concern. “Y/N, where are you going?”

“To my room to pamper my nose.” With adrenaline coursing through you, his face flashes in your mind with every step. Save him, your mind yells, save him, save him, or it'll be the end for you too.

“Cousin?” Collette asks as you make your way towards the apartments where your chambers lie. She roams her worried eyes around your bloodied wedding gown, her hands that are clutching a bouquet of flowers shakes. “Are you hurt? What happened?”

“I stabbed Mathias and bit through a man's hand.” You say without stopping, she squeaks in place.

John stops in his tracks, “w-what the fuck happened?” The twins are both dressed to the nines, all fine fabrics and hair all made up. “Cousin!” He calls after you whilst you don't stop for anyone.

“Thanks for the hot tip, kids!” Lyla yells back to your cousins. “A bit of advice, tell the catering staff the wedding’s off!” She cackles. “Save me a macaroon though!”

“They called you?” You ask, your heeled feet ache but you press on. “Where were you Lyla?”

“I'm sorry, duchess, I overslept.” She shrugs. “But I'm here now ain't I? Also I got Miguel here so...”

“You should stop, Y/N.” Miguel says sternly. “You're hurt—”

“No.”

“Y/N.”

You whirl around to face him. Anger flares up once again. “You should've shot him where he stood.” You poke his sturdy chest roughly. “He's the one who killed them, yet you let him get away!”

“I know, I— there are repercussions to killing someone. Especially if they're an officer.” He falters but he composes himself. “Revenge is not the answer—”

“He killed them, Miguel!” Your broken voice echoes out into the vast hallway. “Him and the queen are the reason why they're dead, and you let him get away so he could kill Hobie.”

“It was the queen? Not—”

“Yes, not the idiot king.” You turn around to continue your trek. You curse the large estate. “I have no idea why she did it, but I'm gonna get her too. But I won't live to see that day if I don't save him.” Your tone falters as you pass by your mother's portrait. “I need to save him, even if it's the last thing I do.”

“You won't succeed.” Miguel stands in front of you to stop you, and you roll your eyes, wanting to kick him in the groin. “He's a pirate, Y/N, he won't do the same for you.”

“He has, and he would. I need to try, I can't let him die.” You choke back a sob. Reality crashes around you. What would you do once you get there? Will you be able to save him on your own? You have no one, you have no idea where the crew is, and he's going to die. You can't live with yourself if you don't try.

“Y/N.” Miguel says your name like a reprimand.

“You said back in the carriage that I can leave whenever I want, all I needed to do was ask.” You chuckle without humour. “Here’s me asking, Miguel.”

“You'll die, Y/N, I can't lose you too.”

“And I can't lose him.” Tears gather in your eyes. “If no one will save him then who will? I have to go whether you like it or not.”

“The people will,” Lyla pipes up, she casually leans against the wall, checking her nails. “there have been…whispers since they announced his execution. If you go, I'm sure you won't be alone.”

You face the taller man again. “See, I have help—”

“Rumours aren't enough! Don't you get it? You're better off marrying Thompson at this point.” You blink in surprise. He backtracks. “I–I didn't mean it that way, I meant, I'd rather see you settled than dead.”

“You might not be as bad as Mathias, but you might as well be.” You brokenly say. Miguel's face falls at your words. “You claim to love my parents and me by extension, but you're complicit,” you spit out the word full of venom. “you're only helping them by not letting me go. I don't want to be settled, Miguel.” You shake your head. “It isn't love if you make me.”

Miguel visibly shatters in front of you. None of the composure he showed to Mathias is left in his body. He hasn't seen this much devotion since your parents. He hasn't seen this much love since he felt their presence. He hasn't felt this hurt since his daughter left this world.

“You had time to grieve for them, I didn't.” You push him out of the way, controlling your sob. “Please don't stop me, or I'll fight you like how I fought Mathias.” You open the doors to your chambers.

Miguel lingers outside as you and Lyla make your way inside the familiar room. The man that has your dagger sits in front of the vanity, the large man is currently trying on a spare tiara, and is wearing one of the ruby earrings.

“You can keep those,” Your sudden voice makes him jump away, large eyes staring at you with slight embarrassment. “I won't tell a soul, just take them, give me my dagger and get out of Hazelside.”

The cogs in his head move, swallowing thickly, he nods curtly. “Can I keep the necklace too?” He asks gruffly.

“Sure,” You shrug, Lyla stifled a giggle.

Wordlessly, he shoves a ruby necklace in his pocket, then he unsheathes your dagger and places it on the vanity.

“We good, duchess?”

“Actually,” you have an idea. “You're a muscle for hire, correct?” You've noticed how he doesn't move like the other foot soldiers do, or the guards for Hazelside. His disheveled uniform solidifies your theory. The man nods proudly. “How would you like to take my entire jewelry box in exchange for you and your men's services?”

“That depends, what kind of work are we talkin’ ‘bout?”

Lyla adds to the conversation. “Murder of some pompous nobles and free a bunch of pirates. With a main focus on the red spider of course.”

“Kill the red spider too?” He asks, a thick eyebrow raised.

“No!” You say quickly, “free him and kill anyone who stands in the way.” You mutter a curse under your breath. “I don't have time for this.”

The mercenary thinks once again, he seems to be weighing the pros and cons.

Stepping closer, you practically breathe down his neck. “I'll throw in my shoes and gowns too,” you raise a hand for him to shake. “As long as you'll be there before the execution starts, and you keep my uncle and aunt distracted, scare them is all. Just don't touch my cousins or the staff.”

The scarred man chuckles deeply. “An offer I cannot refuse, duchess.” He clasps your hand, shaking it once. “Creating chaos is our main specialty.”

“Yes and I saw a glimpse of that in the barn.” You give him a tight-lipped smile, eyes lit with tamped down anger. “You better hold your end of the bargain, or you'll have my dagger in your throat instead of my necklace.”

“‘course, my lady. My men will be there.” He leaves with a grin, shoving Miguel by his shoulder.

“What just happened?” Your godfather asks as you lift your skirt to rip the metal of your petticoat off using the dagger. He turns around, closing the doors to your chambers and shuts his eyes while still turned around.

“Our girl here just used her charisma to strike a bargain. Oh they grow up too fast.” Lyla dramatically wipes a nonexistent tear in her eye. “Don't forget to change your shoes, my lady.”

You stare at yourself in the vanity, blood coats the front of your gown, a smattering of crimson coats the lace, splashes of ichor paints the front of the bodice right next to the pretty embroidery. Your face isn't any better, the makeup the handmaidens painted you with is still there, but now it coincides with Mathias' drying blood. It drips down from your cheeks down to your neck, it hides the gold underneath the crimson. Your left eye shares the same shade, capillaries burst, spreading your blood into the whites of your eyes. The gloves meant to hide the callouses and fresh scars are sticking to your skin, drenched in ruby, drenched like the floors of the revenge.

You leave it on, a reminder of your goal.

“I haven't forgotten.” Tossing the heeled shoes away, you make your way towards where you hid your old friend.

The sight alone of the weathered leather shoes would make you weep but you don't have time for that. Lifting your skirts up, still wearing the ridiculous wedding gown that has become significantly lighter, you quickly run towards the unicorn tapestry.

Dagger in hand, you're surprised to hear Miguel's heavy strides following you inside the hidden tunnels. Once the sun greets you and the grass crunches under your feet, you beeline for the barn.

A stable boy jumps at the sudden intrusion, he stutters, moreso when he sees your blood drenched form.

“Can you saddle Bernard quickly?” You ask, and the poor boy almost has a heart attack. “Please? I'm a friend of Hobie and—”

“Oh, Hobie! You should've said it earlier then. You're her! He told me a whole lot about you." He smiles at you, already picking up the heavy saddle. "You know how to ride, My lady?"

“No need for that.” You wave away the title. “And yes, perks of running away for years, you learn how to run away in different ways.”

He chuckles, yet the nervousness is still palpable in his eyes. “I'm on it, your grace.”

Smiling softly, you don't correct him anymore. Turning around, you see no one accompanying you. “Lyla?”

“She went off to get her horse,” Miguel appears from behind the barn door. “I'm keeping a lookout.” He returns to his post, acting casual while leaning on the door.

“You don't have to be here if you don't want to, Miguel.” You walk behind him, the wooden doors are blocking you from his view and vice versa.

“I…pondered your words, Y/N, and you're right. I don't want to make you do something you clearly don't want. I won't make that same mistake again, it cost me years without you. It won't make me lose another day without you, even if it means saving a damn pirate.” He chuckles, and you take his hand from where you stood. You hear his breath hitch, “I'm sorry. I think your parents would hate me right now.”

“I don't know them very well but, I think they'll be proud of you. You found me, you brought me home. You were doing the best you can with good intentions.” You squeeze his rough hand, placing your forehead against the door where his shoulders would lie. “Thank you for letting me leave. I think it's best for you to move on, uncle. They'd want that for you.” You hear him sniff, squeezing your hand back.

“Yes, I think it's best.” He lets your hand go, “starting with this,” Placing something round in your hand, he closes your palm around it gently. “They’d want you to have it, something to keep close to you when you're at sea. It helped me back then, I'm sure it'll help you now.”

“You're not coming with me?”

“Not yet, I'll follow you once I can. I'll keep your aunt and uncle here, making sure that they don't get their footmen to follow you. And I'll make sure the ruffians you hired won't go overboard and actually do what you asked them to.” Miguel tearfully chuckles, “just promise me you won't lose your humanity after you take your revenge.”

“I promise, I won't let it consume me.” You whisper your promise just for him.

Taking a peek at the object in your hand, your heart almost shatters at the familiarity of it. It's the same one your mother was clutching in her portrait. Opening the golden locket, you see a portrait of your mother on the left, and on the right, your father. They look younger in the painting, happier, more alive. They were right, you bear a resemblance to your father just as much as to your mother's features. You finally got a good look at them together, and your heart squeezes at the thought.

Sniffing, you look up at Miguel with gratitude, “tell my cousins ‘thank you,’ please.”

“I will. Keep the locket safe for when we meet again?”

“I will, I'll see you in the water, uncle.” He's the only person who's worthy of the title you've bestowed him. Lyla gallops her horse in the distance. “Now get out of here, or I'll end up not letting you go.” You tease, it has half truth in it. Your smile falters, "Tell my mother—"

“Come back and you can tell her yourself. She's still staying in the same town. I know she's waiting for you.” He finally turns around to face you. “Before you go,” shrugging off his coat, he hands it to you. “You'll get cold.”

You look at the fabric with tears in your eyes. Taking the blue coat, he helps you put it on. Sniffing, he turns you back around, rubbing the creases in the sleeves away.

“There, it's perfect but it's missing something.”

“Something blue, and now I've got something borrowed.” Joking, you smile at your godfather.

Miguel hands you a blunderbuss, it's an ordinary looking one, save for the purple leather handle that decorates it.

“It was your father's, he gave it to me when he named me your godfather.” He points at the silver barrel where three letters are etched on it crudely. “It's our first initials. He said that it gave him extra luck.”

“I—I can't take this.”

“Well, you've already taken my locket and coat, what harm falls on me if I gave you his gun? You're gonna need it wherever you're going.” Miguel shoves it in your hands, “just— save a bullet for Mathias and the queen.”

“That I can do.” You grin at him despite the pain in your chest.

“The party's here.” Lyla’ horse stops just outside, she exclaims with fanfare. “Ready to kill some motherfuckers?”

“Aye,” you nod with determination. The fire is blazing under your eyes, lightning in your fingertips, you wear the locket around your neck with pride.

For your parents that you've never met but came to love. For Miguel, for the crew and for all they've sacrificed for you. for Hobie, the love of your life. And for MJ.

—

You ride off on Bernard's back, flames in your chest, wind whipped cheeks, and hands clutching the reins tighter. Your father's blunderbuss weighs heavy on your hips, the smell of Mathias' drying blood stings in your nose. But the putrid smell keeps you awake, a reminder of your goal, a reminder of what truly matters— Hobie. Your love that is currently in shackles, hands bound tighter than the rope around his neck.

Lyla snaps you awake, her own horse huffing from the intense speed.

“Your eyes keep glossing over, duchess, keep ‘em clear for me, yeah?” She yells above the loud hoofbeats.

“I will, are you sure about your plan?”

“My guild consists of a bunch of sacks of shits that'll do anything for a quick coin.” You knit your eyebrows in worry. “But they're loyal to a fault, ‘sides, your captain used to be one of us, once upon a time.”

“What?” You spot the capital's sign, entering the city without stopping. There's a fork in the road as you ride towards the center of the city. The familiar smell of the sea fills you as you ride closer and closer to your destination.

“A story for another day, gorgeous.” She rides faster, her guns clinking against the saddle. “I'll ride ahead, gather as many as I can. Go to him, and disrupt the festivities.” Her voice fades as she hurries off.

Lyla heads towards the left whilst you ride on the right, trying to remember the directions she told you during the short ride.

Numerous buildings whizz by you as you ride faster and faster. Rickety stone buildings turn into elegant carved marble. The streets become smoother as you get closer to the palace. You heard the crowd before you saw them.

Bernard stops in his tracks, right at the edge of the thousands of people clambering to see the execution. He whines as you try to calm him down. Some of the common people are quiet, eyes straight towards the stage where a large man with a black hood stands. The scraping of the ax getting sharpened makes your heart stop.

The palace looms overhead, its golden terrace holds the royals, faces smug, wigs high as they look down at the crowd. Right next to them stands Mathias, hand hastily bandaged, still dripping in blood. His face contorts into pain as he clutches at his injury. You draw your father's gun out, resisting the urge to shoot at the man, but with how far you are, you know you'll miss.

Scanning the stage, you bite your tongue, preventing a pained whimper from getting out.

You've made it, and he has too.

Clad in a white undershirt with the sleeves too big for his frame, trousers too short for his legs, hands tied behind his back, face beaten. Hobie stands with his back straight despite all the red gashes under his thin shirt.

You whisper his name like he can hear you above the yells of the people. You're frozen, hands shaking, eyes unblinking at his form.

The uniformed men make him kneel, his knees slam harshly against wooden floors.

Hobie was never afraid of dying before, he avoided it a hundred times. Yet, his binded hands quiver, dull grey eyes scanning around the crowd, he tries to find familiar faces amidst all the strangers. Trying to find his crew, not for help, but the thought of dying in front of them fills him with sorrow. He doesn't see them, and he's glad. Moreso when he doesn't see your face, he doesn't want you to experience what he had seen before.

But there's a part of him that wants to see you for one last time before steel kisses his neck. He wants to feel your lips against his again, but for now, having the memory of it is enough. The pearl you gave him is cold against his chest, he wishes to hold it again.

Having you in his arms however brief is enough for him, he'll think of you when the blade strikes him down for the last time.

Even with his imminent death, he still finds the will to smile, the same smile you love so much. It's enough to snap you awake.

A navy officer yells above the crowd, scroll in hand, voice booming and commanding. “Here stands the notorious pirate Hobart Brown, he stands here waiting for his sentence. The crimes he has committed are atrocious enough that the crown has automatically given him the guilty verdict!” The people don't cheer, some even boo and hiss at the man. You inhale deeply, hand holding on to the reigns tighter, as you weave Bernard through the crowd. Surprisingly, they part for you.

“What say you, Hobart Brown?”

Hobie chuckles deeply, lips split and bloodied, he grins. “It's captain, actually!” His voice drives you to ride faster, gun raised. He twists around to look at the nobles in their high tower. “It's captain Hobie Brown, you fuckin' wankers!” Cackling, the officer kicks him down. He falls, gasping, neck landing harshly at the stone slab that still has remnants of its last guest.

Still, Hobie yells obscenities, “you haven't won! You might cut my head but two more will replace me! Just like how I replaced the emerald bastard from the south!” He tries to sit up but another man holds him down. “They'll be stronger and better than me! From my death, the people will gather at your gates and break your golden walls!”

The executioner raises his large ax, the sun bouncing off the metal.

Hobie quiets down at the glimmer of the ax shining in his eyes. Whispering the names of his loyal crew, then he softly calls for you like an acolyte prays for forgiveness.

The crowd parts for you like the sea parts for a sailing ship. Giddying up, hooves hitting loudly against stone, you aim.

It's the end, but it doesn't have to be.

“Hobie!” You scream as loud as you can before you shoot.

He blinks in surprise for a second, the man holding him down scampers away as a shot rings out. Now free, Hobie quickly moves away from the stone slab as your bullet hits the executioner's hood right in-between his eyes.

Gasping, the ax falls next to Hobie's head with a thud. The edge is embedded in the wood, missing his face just a few inches away. Eyes staring at the clear sky, he thinks he has died when your face suddenly appears in front of him.

“Scuttlebutt,” he softly says in disbelief.

“Hi, captain, I'm here to rescue you.” You smile at him, “hold on a minute.” Sitting up right, you shoot at the remaining officer. A body thuds, and you return to his side. “I've got you.” You say as you help him sit up, hands already untying his bonds.

Hobie looks at you like a sailor looks at the sea for the first time, with reverence, and awed by the sheer beauty. “You've got me.”

Ropes falling off his aching wrists, he moves to hold your face desperately. Without a second thought, he kisses you fervently. Life spreads back to him, fingertips electric as he holds your face close. Lips warm, you kiss back like it's just you and him. Hands instinctively sliding to his head, you pull away when you feel scruff under your palm.

“What did they do to your hair?!” You almost weep, hands roaming across his bare head. “Oh my god, they have to pay for this.”

Hobie laughs, still holding your face like holding on to a precious pearl. “It'll grow back.” Tears prick your eyes, mirroring his own. “I love you, you did good, scuttlebutt.”

“I did good?” You peck his chapped lips once more.

“Yeah, love.” He prevents you from looking at the military that has their weapons raised and their eyes targeting you and him. “You did very well—” tears escape his grey eyes when he hears the familiar click of a gun.

It's the end.

“I love you too,” you know it's the end. “I'll see you back at the revenge?”

“Save some of Finn's bread for me, yeah?” Hobie leans his forehead atop yours. “I'm sorry.” His voice falters.

“Don't be, I'm glad I fell in that net.” You hold on to him for dear life. Etching his warmth in your brain so you remember it until you're cold. “I'd run towards that dock all over again if I had the chance again.”

It's the end, and you hold him close.

As you embrace each other, as your love is displayed for all to see, your warmth radiates through the crowd. You burn together with him.

Fire consumes and burns but it also lights the way.

The silence wraps around the city center, then, someone yells, pushing off the officer who has his gun aimed at your head. The people follow, rioting against their oppressors.

You both stare below in disbelief, hand cradling your head, he shields your eyes from seeing the violence unfold. Just when bullets hit flesh, and knives slash at necks, an explosion booms above.

Hobie holds onto you tighter, battered arms wrapped around you protectively as debris and smoke fills the whole place. The building across the palace is in flames, and from the billowing ashes out comes a familiar face.

Gwen takes off her hood, feet precariously standing on the ledge, then another form comes out of the smoke, Miles takes his stance next to the first mate, handing her a long rope.

“Holy shit! It's them!” Hobie exclaims, letting you see them with your own eyes.

You grin as you spot them above, “it's them,” you say in shock. A second later, they jump off the building effortlessly, guns raised as they land on their feet right next to the stage.

“I'll cover you!” Miles yells above the chaos as more and more buildings around the palace erupt in a chorus of explosions.

Gwen clambers next to you, relief on her face, hugging the two of you. Embracing back, she leans away to stare at you and her captain.

“You fucking idiots! I'd slap you over the head if I didn't love you both.”

“We love you too, Gwendy.” Hobie smiles amidst the aches.

“What he said, Gwendy.” You beam at her with overwhelming love.

“Love you too, now we need to get you out of here.”

“I have a ship docked somewhere, it's called the osprey. Take it and—” You start but Hobie and Gwen interrupt.

“You make it sound like you're not comin’ with us.”

“Y/N,” Gwen warns as she helps you two on your feet.

“I’m coming with—” a gun goes off.

Blood splatters across your faces. Crimson blooms across Gwen's stomach.

“...oh” she looks at you with her eyebrows knitted together, hand pressing on her belly. You catch Gwen in your arms as you feel the fear in you spread. She calls your name weakly.

Hobie stares at you with terrified eyes as he clutches the back of Gwen's head.

“No, no, don't speak—just… oh fuck!” You try to stop the bleeding by ripping a part of your gown to stuff it inside her wound. Ichor spills out of her like waterfalls. “I've got you!” She yells in pain and you simultaneously hear Miles scream.

Flicking your tear filled eyes over to Miles, he has his back on the ground, face contorted into pain whilst Mathias has his boot on his shooting hand. Miles still fights, kicking and scratching at the man's leg.

“This is what happens when you disrupt—” Red appears on his side as Hobie uses your fallen gun to shoot him where he has his foot crushing atop Miles’ hand. Mathias yelps in pain, a throaty sound escaping from his pale lips.

Hobie is filled with rage, embers flickering in him, turning into flames and then a blaze that burns his insides into ash.

Miles coughs as Mathias runs away towards the enormous church right next to the palace. He pushes away people, blood trailing behind him.

“Miles!” You yell, in your relief, he stands back up, weaving around people to clamber up the steps of the stage.

“I'm here!” He crawls over to Gwen, gently clutching her pale face. “Oh god no, please,” Miles looks at you. “Fix her, please.” Tears slide down his cheeks. “Please.”

You look towards Hobie, not knowing what to do, but said man is nowhere to be found. You briefly spot him running around the crowd, cutting down coppers swiftly with your father's gun and a stray cutlass, following after the man who has shot at his family.

Not again, you think, hands drenched once again in crimson. Not again, not again. You've failed once again.

Someone calls next to you, familiar hands holding yours.

“Tell us what to do.” Yuri thaws you out from your frozen state. Gwen gurgles, grip around your wrist weakening. James appears next to Yuri as you see in your peripheral the same mercenary and his men shooting at soldiers. Lyla cackles near them, adding her guild to the mix in the chaos. “Y/N,” Yuri calls again sternly. “We need you.”

With a sniff, you compose yourself, for Gwen. “Keep your hands on her wound, pack it with cloth then keep pushing.” Gwen groans, you look at her apologetically. “I know it hurts, I'm sorry but we need to do this. Let us do this.”

“I saw a doctor's clinic near here.” James pipes up, “if we take her there will you be able to save her?”

“Yes, we need to—”

Pavitr runs towards the group, guns raised, eyes full of rage once he sees Gwen. “No…” he says weakly. He fixes his composure, for Gwen. “James and I will cover you while the three of you carry Gwen.” He instructs, voice steady.

“No, no, no!” Gwen protests. “It hurts— I can't—”

“You can!” Miles beats you to it. “D’you remember what I told you when we realized Y/N and Hobie weren't behind us after we got attacked?” She nods weakly, lips bitten to stop her pained whimpers. “I meant it, Gwen. I meant all of it yet I haven't shown it because I'm a goddamn coward. Let me show you how much I love you, but I can't do that if you don't let us carry you. So please, let us carry you.”

Gwen smiles, icy eyes staring fondly at Miles. They have a wordless conversation, then Miles gives her a gentle peck on her forehead.

“As long as the d-doc here follows our captain.” She says.

“What—? No, you need me.” You shake your head.

“We already know what to do,” she winces, “you're the only person that can stop him, he'll die, Y/N. Meanwhile I've got a chance with them beside me. And he's all alone.”

You look at the others, they all nod and you blink in surprise. “But—”

“We have her, wifey.” Yuri smiles kindly at you. “This isn't our first bullet wound. Go and fetch our captain for us would ya?”

You have no time to think about it, so you choose what they instructed you to do. “Keep your hands on her and support her back—” your eyes find the familiar large man wearing your rubies. “Oi!” He pauses from crushing a soldier's arm. “Get a handful of your men and help them get to the doctor's!”

“Do I have to?” He asks, shrugging.

“Yes! I paid you!”

The man sighs then he gestures to a few of his people to climb up the stage. Before you let go of Gwen, you stare daggers at the men in the fake uniforms. “Keep all of them alive and I might just give you a piece of Hazelside.”

“Say no more, duchess, we got ‘em.”

“Gwen—” You take one last look over to her.

“Go, I don't plan on dying today.”

“You better. Meet us back at the ship.” You roam your eyes at the crew like it's the last time you would see them. With a nod towards Yuri, you slide your hands away quickly, Yuri replaces the space you left with her own.

Wordlessly you turn away from them. You fight yourself from looking back. Running away towards Hobie, you hope that it's not too late.

Weaving through the crowd, dodging bullets and swords, you keep your head down and keep your eyes forward at the grand church waiting ahead. The spires are tall and sharp, reminding you of the dragons that rose up from the sea and blocked out the moon. Gargoyles decorate the roofs, all stone and eyes large, mouths agape, unmoving.

You lift the skirt of your tattered gown, it might be covered in blood but the white colour of it is a stark contrast to the dark chaos surrounding you. It acts as a beacon to the people as they see you in their ranks, a noble in their eyes that bears gold and silver around her neck and sleeves. Someone who fought everyone just to get to her pirate captain, they find it in themselves to continue fighting. A few even helps you get to your destination by blocking any guards or soldiers from laying their hands on you.

Smoke in your lungs, steel clanging against steel. Blades slashing at limbs, people screaming in all directions, both with rank and without, they all end up in the same fate. You run through the blood soaked field.

Feet sprinting across the field, people are few and far in between once you get nearer and nearer towards the church. Hands on the large doors, you push the heavy oak to no avail. It's locked, the evidence of it is the rattling noise it makes as you shake it in desperation.

Hobie's in there, and you'd do anything to get to him.

You go around the structure to find a window that's big enough for you to slither into. But all the stained glass windows are too high up for you to reach even if you try to break one. Losing hope, you turn a corner towards the back. You finally breathe when you see a wooden door. Without wasting time, you push it open with your shoulder, shoving it, the rust covered hinges creak with your strength. And finally, it bursts open with one final push.

The sight alone made you stop in your tracks. Clutching your dagger, a finely dressed man lays dead in a pool of blood. A sword embedded in his back, a cracked crown sitting next to his bloodied head. The person standing over the king is none other than his own wife, her face isn't one of sadness but of sheer happiness as she grins at her husband's dead body. Blood dripping off her royal hands, she lifts her head to gaze upon you.

“Hello, little bird, you finally made it.” Caroline stands in front of the altar, the kaleidoscope of lights from the glass windows acts as her spotlight. Her gown is in rich velvet, furs covering her shoulder. And a large tiara on top of her intricate powdered wig.

“You killed him.” Gripping your dagger tighter, you stay away from the bloody queen.

“I did,” Caroline giggles, a sound that sends shivers through your spine. “You look marvelous in your wedding gown by the way. A shame that you didn't get married to that fine young man.” Her voice echoes around the large church, its ceilings are high and painted with saints. They look down at you, eyes lifeless. “Lieutenant.” She calls and the man answers, coming out of the shadows and into the pews. “Do me a favour and kill her for me.”

The disheveled man walks over to you, hand still decorated by your bite.

“Why don't you kill me yourself? Like how you killed your husband.” You address the woman, taunting her.

The queen raises a hand and the navy man stops immediately. She smiles and takes the sword out of her husband's body with ease, then she steps over his body without remorse.

“With pleasure.” She unclasps her cloak, the heavy cloth thuds against the marble. “If I couldn't kill your mother personally, I'd settle for killing you instead.”

“What the fuck—!” The queen arches her sword, thankfully you parry it with your dagger. You know you'll lose in the duel with your smaller weapon against hers and her swordsmanship. A yell echoes from above, a distinct scream from who you hope is from Mathias.

“I wasn't lying when I said you remind me of her!” She slashes, right foot pointed towards you, dodging the sharp edge, the heels of your feet hit a pew, then you fall backwards, back and elbows hitting the hardwood. “But she wasn't much of a fighter just like you!” Her eyes are ablaze as you scramble away.

“Why are you doing this?!” Your voice carries off around the church. “You said you were friends!”

Raising your dagger to shield your face when she tries to slash at your chest, she stands atop you, knee right next to your thigh, leg perching her up. Steel dangerously close to your face, wrists aching from her push, you take your free hand to grip the sharp edge of your dagger to combat her own strength. You feel the knife dig into your palm.

“Why?” The queen cackles, leaning her mad face close. “Because she's the reason why I'm here, she's the reason why that man has ruined me until I couldn't even recognize myself—!”

Lifting your legs, bending your knees, you kick her right in her chest. Making her lose her balance, face falling flat on the marble floors. You take the opportunity to crawl and stand up, sprinting away from her. As you bolt off towards the altar, and towards the door to the bell tower, the stairs are within your reach, but Caroline yanks you by your skirt. You fall off the steps of the altar, body and dagger sliding off the smooth marble.

Groaning, she points her weapon towards your neck, taking your mother's necklace by her blade. “Why did you kill them? For revenge?” You ask, vision blurring from the way your head hit the floor. Everything aches in you, but you continue to fight.

“No, for the satisfaction of them being dead.” She eyes the golden necklace and you glare at her. “She was meant to take the crown, not me. Instead she ignored her duty and ran off with a bastard, and I was forced to marry that fucking beast!” Her voice booms, the saints above look down at the chaos. “Forced to carry his children, children I never wanted but loved nonetheless. Children that I never saw grow up because they were taken from me the second they came out of me!” Her hand shakes around the sword.

You slyly inch your hand towards your dagger that's only a hair width away from your fingertips. You let her continue as the tears in her eyes fall on your bloodied face.

“I never wanted to be queen, all I've ever wanted was to see the world. Your mother took that away from me, and now her daughter is living my fucking dream! The second I knew you were alive I wanted to wring your fucking neck. To hurt you just like her choices had on me.” She twists her sword so the blunt edge is kissing your neck, torture, she's planning on sawing your head off with the blunt edge. “If she can't pay, I'd settle for making you hurt instead.”

“You want to kill me because of what happened decades ago? You're fucking mad if you think sins are passed from parent to child! I never knew them!” You fight back despite the blade near your neck. “Do you understand that you caused the same pain to me that the king has caused you? Whatever you want to call it, it's still revenge!” Caroline pushes the cutlass closer, so close that you can feel it in your throat, choking you. “You're blaming the wrong people for your misfortune, blame the people who used you, who said yes to his every whim, not the couple who only wanted to marry the one they love!”

“I’m the victim here—!”

“You are, but who points the sword towards the innocent?” She blinks, lips wobbling. “Look at you, Mathias told me you're brilliant, but you never thought this part through, haven't you? What do you think the nobles of the land will do to you the moment they hear of your regicide? Who will they blame? Me, who bears the mark of your cruelty? Or you, who has the king's blood on your golden hands?”

You distract her enough to finally reach the dagger, swiftly, you plunge it to the nearest part of her that you can manage, her thigh. She screams in agony, sword and crown clanging loudly on the floor. The once favoured queen clutches her wound that's gushing blood, seeping out of her velvet dress and spilling over the white marble.

Unexpectedly, she cries as she desperately wraps her skirt around the gushing wound. You clamber up to your feet, eyes flitting over the stoic man when Caroline calls for him to kill you where you stand. He doesn't move from his position near the confessionals.

“Are you gonna fight me too? An eye for an eye?” You ask, hands shaking while you bend down for your crimson drenched dagger.

“No, your father and I are even.” The simple words turn your eyes the same shade as the fluid pooling around the queen.

“You're just gonna stand there?” You ask while Caroline's wails echo around the expansive church.

“I'm waiting for you to leave so I can help her.” He seems to be unbothered. A scream rings out from above, louder than the woman's screams. Alarm bells trigger in your mind. “Sounds like someone needs your help.”

“Don't follow me,” you threaten, knife pointed at him as you slither towards the door. “Don't help your captain.”

“Alexander!” She screams for the lieutenant.

“You're right, he's already dead anyway, not my problem anymore.” His eye follows you, “Good luck, duchess.”

With one look towards the mysterious man, you get a glimpse of him crouching next to the woman, hands casually tamping down the rushing blood. Locking the door behind you, you run once again.

The winding spiral staircase seems to go up forever, hand clutching your dagger, you don't even feel the pain in your ankles anymore. Numbness flashes over you for a second, but you carry on. The walls get smaller and tighter as you go on, the stone scratches your hands, the small windows barely provide any light for you. The sounds of struggle get louder, so you speed off with the last of your strength.

Rushing, you make it to the top where Mathias has his hands wrapped around Hobie's neck, with no ounce of hesitation, you plunge your dagger in the devil's flesh, right in between his clavicle.

With a shriek, Mathias lets go of Hobie. Your captain gasps for air, clutching his neck. You wrap your hands around his shoulders, relief washing over you just from seeing him breathe.

“I have you!” Holding his face, you thank the stars that he holds you back with his warm hands.

Hobie utters your name softly, “You have a habit of savin’ me, eh, scuttlebutt?” He smiles at you even with his left eye swelling, even with his mouth full of ichor.

You grin, getting him back to his feet. “The others are waiting—!” A large hand picks you up, wrapping a thick arm around your waist, the other is holding your own weapon in his cracked knuckles. Your own blade is placed harshly against your throat.

A trickle of blood drips from your flesh, and Hobie has the same look back on the revenge. Terrified, the swirling greys of his eyes are mortified at the scene in front of him.

Mathias still lives despite the laceration on his neck, despite his life rushing off of him in waves. He stands precariously on the edge of the tower, his back against the sea, the waves lapping against the cliffs below. He holds you tight as a noose when the wind rushes from behind.

There's a bout of silence hanging in between, Hobie's breath hitches in his throat at your fearful face.

“Don't—” Hobie's voice is broken, pleading desperately. “Please,” Not again, not again. The words scream at him. Not her, never her. “Take me instead.”

Mathias gurgles a response. “Just like old times, eh?”

As the blade kisses your neck, you could only look at Hobie. The copper bell is hanging behind him, large and magnificent, and he stands there with his hand desperately reaching towards you, his gun holds no bullets, sword lay broken in half near his feet.

It's the end, but he declines for it to end, for your life to end at hands of the same man that ended his old love three years ago.

He thinks fate is cruel, he thinks the fates hate him. He thinks his life is a Greek tragedy that was waiting to be written for the fates’ entertainment. He refuses to give them the ending they wanted.

You know it's the end, but it doesn't have to be the end for him too.

There's no other option, no other hope but, "No more sacrifices." You whisper to him even though you know he couldn't hear you, at the same time, you whisper an apology to him.

Images of the past six months flashes in your mind. Images of the tavern you once called home, images of the ship you still call your home. Images of the people you've come to love, images of your island and the sand in between your toes, and the sun on your back. Images of Hobie smiling down at you, images of him holding you close as you cry in his arms.

Images of you learning to love him.

You love him and all his sharp edges, all his anger and all his warmth. You loved him, and that's all that matters in life. To love someone so wholeheartedly that it burrows into your bones and digs deep into your marrows, never letting go. You loved him, and he's worth it for what you're about to do. To be loved back is a gift that he graciously granted you, you intend to cherish it until your end.

You call his name like the softest of silk wrapped around your tongue. "Hobie," and you smile at him, letting your smile tell him that he wasn't born to be a knife, letting your smile tell him that you love him more than the moon loves the tides.

He whispers back your name, pleading with you, for he knows you more than he knows himself, and he knows what you're about to do.

With a loop of your foot around Mathias' ankle, you pull hard, then you let yourself fall backwards.

“Alis volat propriis” You softly say, prying the knife from Mathias’ hand.

And fly you did.

Fear encapsulates him as you fall, the same fear flows out of you like spring water as you plunge into the dark depths.

Hobie refuses to look, frozen on the spot, unblinking eyes still staring at the space you left. His heart feels like it's about to give out as he says your name over and over again like a mantra.

He's a knife meant to grieve.

Slowly, his feet move for him. Body stiff, he makes it to the ledge. Grief stricken eyes darting below, he lets out a guttural wail that carries on with the wind.

Clutching his broken heart, he falls to his knees. He keeps repeating your name as he stares at the bubbles rising up on the surface, the waves deliver seafoam on the beach below, and with it, hope still clings to him.

“No,” A sob breaks through when you don't emerge a second later. “...no, c'mon scuttlebutt, don't fuckin' leave me.”

Grief rolls over his skin like tiny pinpricks of sorrow puncturing his insides and into his scarred heart. Your face flashes in front of him, and the voice inside him asks, 'will it be bad if you follow?'

“Brown?” A familiar voice calls behind him, Hobie whirls around, grief evident on his face, Miguel already knows what happend. He shakes his bloody head profusely, “where's— where is she?”

Hobie doesn't answer, he turns back towards the sea. Agony filling his very being as he stares below.

“No!” Miguel follows Hobie's eyes. And then he screams for you. He searches for you under the waves.

Hobie lays his head on the wall of the bell tower. A minute, it's been a minute since you fell, yet no sign of a body has floated up. The sky is still calm, the sun still shines, yet, you don't resurface.

He blinks away when he sees fingers reaching amongst the waves. “Did you see that?” Praying, praying to any deity out there that is listening to him, he prays that his mind isn't playing a cruel joke on him.

“What?”

Hobie stands up, taking Miguel's face to turn it towards the waters. Something moves under the seafoam, someone moves under the seafoam.

His heart picks up speed, and he rushes down the stairs. Miguel follows close by, their feet thudding loudly on the stairs. They ignore the various pains in their body, what matters is you, and they intend to get to your side as quickly as possible.

They go through the broken door that Miguel kicked, and they run over a puddle of blood without a body. Sprinting outside, the sea breeze greets them. They don't stop for anyone or anything, even though the palace burns to the ground behind them, even though the heat from the melting golden gates sears their backs. They continue downward towards the path to the beach.

Hobie trips on a rock, Miguel helps him up swiftly.

From the tides, you rise once more.

Heaving from the swim, drenched and sore. You grin at the two men rushing towards you. Like the waves lapping at your feet, relief washes over them.

You raise your arms in time just before Hobie crashes his body to yours. His face finds safety in the crook of your neck. Arms holding you tight and comfortable, he breaths you in, taking a deep shuddering breath. You smell like the sea. He can't believe you're alive, can't believe that you're back in his arms.

“I lost the dagger,” you say against his cheek as you press cold kisses on his skin.

“I'll get you a new one.” Tears flow out of his eyes, he feels like he's dreaming, he feels like fate has finally granted him reprieve. “I’ll get you a hundred more, fuck that, a thousand more if you asked.”

“I just want one.” You chuckle.

“I'll get you one then.” Hobie peels himself off you, fingers roaming your face, the heel of his hand is placed atop your pulse, making sure he didn't fall off the tower himself. “You're alive.” He says breathlessly, “you fuckin' swam!”

“I had a good teacher.” You say as you hold him tenderly. “He's dead, it's over, Hobie.” Salty tears in your lashes, he pulls you in for another hug. Eyes closed, you savour the calmness with the sound of the rushing sea behind you, knowing that Mathias lays beneath its waves with your dagger embedded in his eye. “It's over, and I'm alright.”

Holding your hand towards Miguel who sits on his knees on the sand, eyes glowing with consolation. You flex your hand towards him so he could hold your hand. He stands up, taking it willingly, squeezing once like how he held your parents’ hands once upon a time.

Miguel nods proudly at you, gently pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckles, he gives you and Hobie space. You mouth a thank you towards the man.

—

“Shit!” James exclaims, jumping up and down on the docks. “Look at her! She's magnificent!”

“Spell ‘magnificent’, James.” Yuri taunts.

“Don't ruin this for me!” He turns towards you, grinning from ear to ear like a child in a sugar shop. “You're actually giving us this ship?”

“Mm-hmm—” before you could finish nodding, James sprints off towards the fine ship. Yuri winks at you before she follows behind James.

The sun slowly sets, bathing the waters in pink and orange light. James isn't wrong, the ship is magnificent. It's bigger than the black hellion, much bigger. Two crow's nests sit at the highest point of the masts. The body is well maintained, oak still shining in the late afternoon sun. Silver violets and hazelnuts decorate the sides, a reminder of what could've been.

Looking at your new home, you shift your gaze to Hobie, knowing wherever he is, as long as you're with him, you're home.

Your tired eyes flick over the figurehead of an osprey with its wings outstretched around the head of the ship. Hobie taps your head with his own gently.

“It needs some work done.”

You chuckle as you fix your hold on him. Still in your wedding gown, skin still smelling like the sea, you move impossibly closer to him. You're both winded, but Hobie has sustained more injuries than you and needed more help in standing up straight. “Do you think we should change the name?”

“Love,” he turns his head towards you, his smile almost makes you kiss him right there and then. “I think I've got a few ideas, for now let's get the fuck out of here.”

“Alright— wait, where's Gwen?”

“Here, worry much, landlubber?” She asks on her stretcher. Miles, Pavitr and an unknown blond man carry her.

“Well you were shot, Gwendy, I think I have every right to be worried.”

“I'm fine now, can't even feel a thing!” She smiles and you recognize her state.

“I think that's the medication talking.” You eye the stranger, “and who might you be?”

“Oi,” Hobie points at the man. “You better not cause any trouble Stacy.”

You lightly gasp, finally noticing the resemblance.

“Not planning on causing any, captain.” Gwen's father smiles and gives you a curt nod.

“Can we hurry the chit chat?” Miles groans.

“You telling me I'm too heavy, Morales?” Gwen teases but the fatigue must've taken a toll on Miles as he takes it seriously.

“W-what? Of course not!”

“You calling my daughter heavy?” Her father jokes back. They're father and daughter alright.

“No! Let's just get on the ship.” Miles pouts, you send him a smile, wordlessly giving him your thanks. He shakes his head, hiding his grin in reply.

“Pav!” You call after Pavitr, “tea later?”

He beams at you, happiness almost blinding you. “Hell yeah!” Jaunting happily, he practically skips off, to Gwen's protest, who still lays on the gurney, shakes from his little dance.

Miguel taps your shoulder, Hobie lets you go so you could hug the man.

“Room for one more?” He asks while patting your back.

Leaning away, your eyes widen, smile widening. “What!”

“I meant for Lyla, kid.” Miguel laughs, smile lines appearing.

“Oh, you're not coming with us?” Disappointment is evident in your voice.

“No, sorry. Maybe one day. I've got unfinished business” He holds your shoulders, “you better take care or I'll chase you again.”

“Oh god, don't say that!” You giggle whilst he mirrors your smile. “If you're not coming, then you can have this back.” Taking off the locket, you place it in his rough palms. “A reminder of them,” you close his fingers around the gold. “Besides, I already have his gun. You deserve something of theirs too.”

The sun shines in his eyes. “This was Gabriella’s, she gifted it to your mother when she got sick. It's a family heirloom.”

“She was Gabriella's godmother, wasn't she?”

“Yes, and your father was her godfather.”

You tap his hand. “It's back in the right hands then.”

“Thank you,” Miguel sniffs, neck craning towards Hobie who sits on a crate. “And you,” Hobie dramatically points at himself. “Take care of my goddaughter, or I'll come after you again.”

Hobie, smirks, “aye, aye, admiral.” He mocks a salute.

Miguel shoots you a look, “you sure about that one?”

You gaze at Hobie, your Hobie. “I'm sure.” He winks at you and you wink back.

“God, I gotta let you go before I get sick.” You chortle as Miguel hugs you one last time. Pressing a kiss on the crown of your head, he nods once, staring at your face, seeing his friends’ faces in yours, saying goodbye to the three of you. “Be good, I'll see you in the sea.”

“Looking forward to it, uncle. Don't get caught by the coppers.” He lets you go with a laugh, unhitching his horse and then getting on, he rides off.

Lyla suddenly appears from the dust with a big grin on her face, she carries suitcases upon suitcases in her arms. “Where to, captain?” She asks you.

“Not the captain, he is.” You gesture towards Hobie who doesn't even correct Lyla. He just waves at her with a small shrug.

“I thought whoever owned the boat was the captain, anyway! Off to adventure!” She cackles into the sunset, feet thudding loudly as she hurls all her luggage on the ship. You vaguely hear someone yell ‘who the fuck are you?!’

You ignore it for now, how could you not when Hobie stares at you so sweetly that you prefer this than chocolate?

“She's not wrong y’know.” He says whilst you saunter towards him. Stretching his legs, he gives you space to stand in between them.

“Are you planning on giving me your title, captain?” You tease, sliding your hands up and down his arms. His own is wrapped around your middle, staring up at you with endearment.

“You're already a captain,” you raise an eyebrow, tilting your head. He sighs, so full of love for the woman in his arms. “of my heart—”

“I knew you would say that!” You laugh, feeling like the weight off your shoulders has finally turned into dust. And he feels like the fish bone stuck in his throat is finally gone.

Hobie smiles softly at you, heart shaped grey eyes full of life. “Are you sure about this? Stayin’ I mean.”

You squeeze the back of his neck, already missing how his hair would tickle your palms. But you love him even with his scruffy head. He looks handsome with or without it, you'll never tell him or his ego would implode. At least now you get the pleasure of seeing it grow, you can't help but press a sickeningly sweet kiss atop his head.

The sound of the anchors getting lifted up fills your ears so you lean closer for him to hear your words better.

“I'll stay as long as you want me too.”

“Forever then?”

“Forever.” You kiss the tip of his nose. “Until I'm cold, you can't escape me.”

Hobie has a lopsided smile on his lips, grey eyes aglow with affection. “You're still in your white dress,” you raise an eyebrow. “Y’know what that means—” Lifting you up like a bride, he carries you towards the ship as you yelp and giggle in his arms. “Off to our honeymoon then!”

As the sun sets, you set off to new beginnings. You've found where you belong, you've finally found home.

A/N: And it's done!! Thank you all so much for reading, interacting and genuinely showing your support whether it's by making fanart or sending your thoughts, I'm forever grateful for all of them!! Love you ❤️

Already missing the crew? They'll be back for Between the Devil and the Sea Book 2!! You can check out my ☕ page for a lil sneak peek!

[w2soneshots]

Break up era -W2S

words: 0.8k+

warnings: angst, break up.

summary: Harry breaks your heart so you book a solo trip to Greece.

notes: I don't love this but I had to get something out for you all!!😚💞 (also please send requests to my ‘ask me anything’✉️)

Liked by mollymae and 242,179 others

y/username: meh

-comments-

taliamar: my girl, my girl🫶🏼

-> y/username: you already know😘

freyanightingale: love u

-> y/username: love u more

y/nfanpage21: she's healing😭✨

user40137927: my faith in love has disappeared.

Me and Harry broke up last week and I've been struggling. We were together for just over two years and I truly loved him with my whole heart (still do). He broke up with me because he said he'd 'lost feelings', which completely shocked me. Faith, Talia and Freya have been desperately trying to cheer me up and get me out of my apartment. I went on a shopping trip with Frey and T, as well as lunch with Faith. I also went to the gym for the first time in a while since it's meant to act little bit like therapy. None of it helped.

y/username just posted a new story!

After sitting in my apartment crying over Rapunzel and Eugene's love life I decided that I needed to get out of London, so I booked a last minute flight to a random island in Greece.

I spent the next week buying things for my trip, packing and trying to distract myself from Harry. When the day finally came I woke up early and headed to the airport via Uber. When I arrived I went through security, checked my suitcase in then spent the rest of my time in the business class lounge. Once my flight was called I left the lounge and headed to check in. When I got on the plane I found my seat and got situated, not soon after we took off.

y/username just posted a new story!

When we landed a few hours later I went to collect my bag. Then I got a taxi from the airport to a small boat that took me to the island. When I saw it on the booking website I thought it looked beautiful but it was seriously breathtaking in real life. The air smelt clean, the people are so kind and the food looks incredible.

The hotel is so rustic looking but also very well kept and clean. "Hello dear, do you have a booking?" The sweet lady at the front desk asked. "Yes I do, it should be under 'y/l/n'." I replied. "Ah! Yes, I'll show you to your room." She gestured for me to follow her with a big smile. "And here we are!" She said as I set my suitcase in the corner. "Wow this is beautiful, and what an amazing view!" I said enthusiastically while looking out of the window. She smiled "enjoy dear." And with that she left.

I spent my afternoon exploring the island then went back to the hotel to get changed for dinner. I wore a simple white knitted dress, along with some black flip-flops. I had an incredible (and surprisingly fancy) steak, along with some wine. I spoke to one of the locals for a little while before I decided to call it a night so headed back to my room.

The next day I woke to the bright sun shining through the sheer curtains. I practically jumped out of bed, got dressed then went into town to get some fresh fruit for breakfast. I then got into a swim suit and made my way down to the beach.

I sat enjoying the peace and quiet when I got a call from none other than Harry. I answered reluctantly "hello?" "Hey." He replied slowly. "What do you want Harry?" I asked with a sigh. "I'm sorry I- I know you're on holiday but- but I just wanted to apologise, and I couldn't wait any longer." He started. "Apologise for what? Because you don't love me anymore?" I said quietly. "That's just it... I do love you. I just didn't how much I did until you were gone. I don't know why I felt that way I don't know what happened." He said. "But- Harry you broke up with me... you broke my heart." He sighed "and I'm so sorry y/n," A tear slid down my face "I want to be with you but I- I understand if you don't want me anymore I-" "I still love you Harry, I always have. Of course I wanna be with you." I cut him off. Even know he hurt me I know that he wasn't trying to, he just didn't want to lead me on.

y/username

Liked by taliamar and 540,129 others

y/username: umm... that was a weird week.

-comments-

wroetoshaw: 😶

shannonlangdon: stunning stunning stunning!!

-> y/username: ❤️❤️

faithloisak: iconic⭐️

y/nfanpage21: love a good solo trip🤭

user63071426: omg!! Are they back together??

[cripplecharacters]

Context:

I know the first question on your QNA says your general answer is “if you are talking about your own disability, you can talk about it however you please”, so for clarity: I am mentally disabled. I am not physically disabled. My story features characters with a range of different disabilities, many of which I do not have.

The story in question is a satire on the mental health industry and my personal experiences with ableism (especially about ableist societal pressures about needing to be “fixed”).

It follows the daily life of many characters who underwent a fictitious sci-fi “cure-all” treatment which was pushed onto mentally ill people who were considered “lost causes”. The “cure” is inherently flawed on a conceptual level, but also just doesn't work.

Here's what I'm worried about:

A lot of the featured characters wind up with disabling side effects from the “cure” (for example, two characters end up with acquired neurological disorders), or exacerbations of symptoms they had previously (some through adverse reactions physiologically to the "cure", some through the emotional trauma of the experience, etc).

I don’t want it to seem like the takeaway should be “eugenics is only bad because it makes people more disabled”, and I'm worried that might be an accidental implication here.

Do you have any advice on preventing that implication?

This isn't the whole plot, but I don't know how relevant the rest is the mention.

Hello,

Okay, so this is a matter of consent and the violation of it. Focus on that. That's an absolutely massive violation of bodily autonomy with no concern for the patient. In fact, this violates the Hippocratic Oath, which is the number one rule of science and medicine, to do no harm, but it's okay to just disregard that when the patient is disabled. That's what's messed up about this. Their bodily autonomy was violated and their bodies and minds were permanently modified without their consent in a way that caused major undue harm, and the government and doctors associations (or whoever can take away a license to practice) are okay with this because the victims of this crime are disabled people.

Focus on it that way. It's not about the resulting disability, it's about the fact that these people had their right to their bodies taken away from them because they're disabled, and they were denied basic human rights and humane medical treatment on the same basis. The resulting disability isn't really the problem, it's the fact that undue harm was done to them by medical professionals that's the problem.

You have a basic human rights issue, something that is violating the international agreement on basic human rights. That's the huge deal.

Mod Aaron

[genericpuff]

You should watch Jack vs. Webtoons video on Lore Olympus before it gets wrongfully taken down.

His video pointed out something I wasn’t able to put into words until now. Lore Olympus has a real bad dialect problem. One second the characters are talking like they’re in a Shakespeare play which makes sense, sense they’re gods or what not. The next second you’ll have characters saying shit like “blue balls” “clout chaser” and “you’ve got a young wife with a fat ass”. It probably wouldn’t bother me if certain people talked a certain way like how Hera doesn’t use any slang and how Hermes uses some but all the characters vocabulary are the exact same.

Honestly I can look past the art and it’s inconsistencies but having dialect jump from regal to tiktok facebook slang makes my brain hurt more than glossy lipped Hades and bug eyed Persephone.

I checked it out, it's pretty great haha and yesss this is something that's been discussed before but I haven't really ever made a post about, the dialogue is CONSTANTLY flip-flopping between royal talk and "hello fellow teens" quipping. Sometimes it feels like it's trying to be like Marvel and then other times it feels like it's trying to be Bridgerton. I can think of no better example than all of the "pedigree" talk, it makes me squirm every time I read it because in the modern context of LO, it SCREAMS eugenics. The whole B-grade goddess thing made sense, until they started talking about Persephone like a poodle:

But then you ALSO get INCREDIBLY stiff dialogue that makes it seem like the comic is either being written by AI or Rachel is actually a real life version of Michael Afton post-scoop:

And yes, there is a tinfoil hat theory that LO is being written by bots at this point because I don't know how a single person could write something so tonally confused. That said, I do think the more reasonable explanation is that Rachel is likely copying dialogue from shows and movies she's watching and just tweaking it slightly before slapping it into LO. She's not observing why the dialogue works in the media she likes, she just knows she likes it and slaps it in there without any regard for context, tone of voice, or personality.

And that leads to, as you said, all the characters sounding the exact same, and that metric by which they all sound the same changes all the time. I think at this point the only reason we haven't seen Hera dropping TikTok language is because she hasn't been onscreen long enough for her to get the chance LMAO That said, we've definitely gotten some weird inconsistent dialogue with Hera as well:

(like she's essentially saying the exact same thing across both of these panels but one is being said by an adult and the other is being said by a teenager lmao)

I think the dialogue is definitely one of the most glaring issues with LO, among all of its other problems. It just never feels like it's being written by a human, there are problems with this even as far back as S1 but it's become especially apparent in S2 onwards.

To finish off this ask, here's one of my favorite dialogue mishaps in the entire series, from S1, in which Apollo literally adopts an askew English accent:

[wannaeatramyeon]

HELLO!!! OMG I LOVE YOUR WORK SO MUCH ❤️✨. I WAIT FOR YOU EVERYDAY TO POST 💖 YOUR WRITING IS LIKE THE BEST THING IN THIS WORLD 🙇 CAN I PLS REQUEST LOOKISM MEN WITH A HOUSEWIFE READER. THANK YOU SO MUCH LOVE YOUR WORK 😍🥰

Hey anon, thanks for reading my brainrot and your request! You are adorable and I am loving the energy in this ask.

Gone for hc, but lemme know if you want a lil fic/drabble. I started to write a snippet for Jake and Goo and then realised I wanted to write for more of the boys but it gets a bit repetitive, yknow?

Lookism Boys with Housewife S/O headcanons

Jake Kim

After what feels like a lifetime of instant ramen and worrying about Big Deal, it's nice to have some homecooked meals and know that at least one part of his life is running smoothly.

Will always try to split the chores and errands evenly with you, because it's Jake. And if you wave him away and say no it's fine, he will follow you around anyway because spending time with you? Yes please.

Goo Kim

If you want to be a housewife, knock yourself out, honeybun. If you want to just sit around on your ass all day and do nothing, that's fine too. Goo will hire cleaners. Whatever makes you happy.

Actually loves doing shared chores with you though, and canonically he loves to cook. You do the prepping, he does the actual chef work. A little because it's a fun roleplay for him, and a lot because he does appreciate time together where he can just ramble on to you.

Gun Park

Housewife is.. fine. He can provide more than enough for the both of you. Honestly doesn't have any feelings about it one way or the other.

From a practical and pragmatic sense, it's nice to have someone he trusts look after your home. And then if/when there are kids coming along then it's also a lot easier if you are a stay-at-home parent too.

Samuel Seo

You're not so much a housewife, as a kept wife. Samuel has the vibes that if he can afford to so, and he absolutely can, then you are not lifting a finger.

Yes, he loves you but more because it's a matter of pride that he can provide for you in all areas of your life. You keeping the household running smoothly? Fine. But doing dishes? He has the ridiculous notion that it's below you.

Eugene

Yeah, you're also not going to be a housewife with Eugene. You can be in a power couple with him, but there is zero expectation to be a traditional housewife. You guys employ people for that.

Enjoy your shopping and brunches and being on the board of charities or whatever with other socialites.

DG/James Lee

This guy has enemies and unhinged fans coming out of his butthole, so for your safety and his peace of mind, housewife is great. Leaves pretty much most of the errands to you as his fame prevents him doing even the most simple things (but yet no one catches him beating up minors).

Extremely private with his personal life and with you. You're the only bit of normalcy in his insane life (lives?) and appreciates the sanctuary and home you have both built. Seeing you do the laundry, dust, cook, whatever? It's a sigh of relief for his soul.

Zack Lee/Vasco Tabasco

The two of them are pretty similar here.

Are you kidding? Absoutely loves that you are a housewife, there's something about the fact that you are looking after their wellbeing that they adore.

Has very traditional ideas of gender roles, much to the chagrin of you at times, so them being the financial provider, and the household being your domain sounds great to them. Any issues with that? Don't worry, just let them know and they will bend over backwards to make sure you're happy.

Xiaolong

Takes a long time to get used this, and even then you being a housewife and looking after the household and family never quite feels right.

Don't blame Xiaolong though, he has had a lifetime of servitude. Always feels a little guilty about not looking after you in all areas of your life. He never quite fully breaks out of this mindset but is forever grateful for you and all that you do.

Vin Jin

What housewife? You're on the road touring with him when he's an international platinum-selling rapper.

Johan Seong

Well a positive of you being a housewife is that the further away from danger you are, the better.

However, being the sole financial provider does stress him out. He's had to scrape so goddamn hard for his mother's surgery, and the thought that the he has to do that forever? It does freak him out a little.

Much much prefers an equal partnership.

Eli Jang

Loves the stability of having you being a housewife for Yenna.

He trusts you with his life, and more importantly with Yenna. Eli knows she is in a safe pair of hands with you so that is a massive weight off his mind.

Overall it does a lot for healing the shitty childhood he had. Experiencing the loving home you have cultivated means more to him than you will ever know.

Warren Chae

He is the best househusband, and no one can convince me otherwise. Being able to have a calm life, with a loving partner and his biggest concern are looking after the home and family? After worrying about Hostel? Sign him the fuck up.

Warren will wave you off to work with a smile, the most delicious home-cooked lunch ever and a little note for you to read and perk up your day.

[bunchesofoats]

Dancing In Your Downpour.

Feat — Rowan Laslow x Siren!Reader

Contains — Mutual Interest, No Established Relationship, Fluff, Only One Bed (/j) - Only One Umbrella, LIGHT WEDNESDAY SPOILERS (By that, I mean the absolute tiniest sprinkle), Literally saving this boy’s life from an asthma attack, etc

Length — ~1.4k words

Notes — Inspired by The Weekend Run Club’s song called Holliday and also the fact that Calum Ross is really really pretty. Also, Rowan had at most 10 lines, and here I am making this because he stole my heart… SO ENJOY! (Not proofread, I’m so sorry)

“The rain’s getting a bit heavy, don’t you think?”

Everyone gathered around the windows as they watched the rain pour outside Ms. Thornhill’s Greenhouse. Class was already 3 minutes over, you were all sure to be late to your next ones due to the downpour.

“Children, I have a few extra umbrellas and rain coats! You can use them to get to your next class!” Your teacher called from the front, drawing everyone’s attention. They all scrambled to the front, grabbing umbrellas and coats and filtering out of the greenhouse in groups. The only people left were you and Rowan Laslow at the entrance of the class waiting your turns.

You didn’t know the boy personally well enough, just that he was Xavier Thorpe’s roommate, he had Telekinesis, and that he was fairly cute. You tried to make a habit of being nice to everyone despite most people’s assumptions of sirens. The most you’d ever spoken to him was being partnered with him for an English assignment. After that, it was nothing but Hellos and Heys in the hallways. You did catch him staring once during lunch, you had given him a small wave and he immediately looked away.

You were lost in your thoughts, hand outreached into the rainfall, feeling your scales slowly come out. You let out a smile, water was the element you always felt at home with, so what was a little rain gonna do to you?

“I only have one umbrella left.” Your attention turned to Ms. Thornhill and then to Rowan. He gave you a weak glance before attempting to hand you the umbrella.

“You can take it.” He mumbled shyly. You eyed the boy, brow creasing in confusion. Rowan Laslow looked like he’d get sick from eating an ice cube, why would he offer you the umbrella when he’d absolutely get drenched out there?

“What are you talking about? You’d practically die out there without this.” You joked grabbing his wrist, taking the umbrella within your other hand. He yelped as you pulled closely him to your side before opening the umbrella with the other. He understood what you were up to pretty quick, adjusting himself to a safe distance where he wasn’t squished against you but still under the umbrella. He hesitated wrapping his arm around you, balling his fist to avoid making you uncomfortable.

“Ready?” You awaited his response. He stared wide eyed into the rain, gulping before he gave you a small nod. That was all you needed before you both stepped into the rainfall. You could feel the heavy patters hit you almost as if it were hail. It wasn’t too bad to walk in, but it seemed the wind had other plans.

Your umbrella blew backwards, the wires breaking in on themselves. It was a useless shield now, you were both drenched head to toe. Your back hit Rowan’s chest as you both pushed against the wind. You both definitely couldn’t make it to class at this rate.

“Hold on, there’s a shed!” You could hear Rowan’s attempt to shout. You looked in his direction, finding Eugene’s Hummers shed. That would have to do.

Each step you took was harder than the last. You were going the opposed direction of the wind, the only thing keeping you from being blown away was Rowan holding onto you. Thankfully, you both made it in and set your belongings down on whatever dry surface you could find. There were a few leaks in the roof, you could tell it was handmade.

You had no time to think about that though. You could feel Rowan’s touch leave you as he dropped to the floor wheezing. You quickly reached for his bag, rummaging through unorganized bits of assignments and loose sheets of work. You’d expected the boy to be more organized considering how great his grades were, how neat his uniform was kept, and how he styled his hair so nicely to the side. Not that you were paying that close attention or anything. Who would do such a thing? Definitely not you. Totally.

You couldn’t find his inhaler anywhere, and to be frank, you were panicking. You were totally about to watch this kid die in some shed and you were gonna go to jail or something. It wasn’t until you felt Rowan’s touch lightly against your wrist that you snapped your attention his way. He peered up at you, brows creased, eyes leading you to his blazer pocket behind his fogged up glasses. You got the message, reaching into his pocket you brought his inhaler to his lips. He lifted his hand to yours, instructing you before he breathed in.

You let out a breath of relief, you hadn’t realized you were holding onto it. He was breathing easier now and you could feel him loosen up in your arms. You dropped your head into his chest before pulling back into a laugh.

“Gods almighty, do not scare me like that again!” You lightly punched him. Rowan looked up at you, the hand gripping yours loosened as he sat up. Realizing the position you two were in, he glanced away from you.

“I didn’t think you cared all that much.” He coughed out awkwardly. You tilted your head, what did he mean?

“Why would I not care about you?” His gaze met yours. You finally managed to see his deep blue eyes past the dissipating fog in his glasses.

“I just mean, I never thought it was possible to be an outcast in a school full of outcasts. Yet you seem to actually care.” He mumbled mostly to himself. Why wouldn’t you care about saving someone’s life? Was he stupid?

“I mean, is it not common sense to save someone who’s on the ground with breathing issues? What do you want me to do, mouth to mouth?” You questioned incredulously, the response managed to make him smile.

“Gods forbid one of the most popular sirens in the school is seen kissing the Telekinetic crazy kid.” He breathed out a laugh.

“Oh please, if I was popular then I’d be in the notoriously super secret Nightshades.” You rolled your eyes at the idea of the division in popularity standpoints, the kissing part didn’t seem so bad though.

“They kicked me out a couple weeks ago, you’re really not missing much.” He fiddled with his hands as you both fell into a comfortable silence. You had positioned yourself next to him, sitting upon the ground as your backs leaned against the shed walls. You two were absolutely missing class, but you were kind of glad it happened like this. The only thing that seemed bad was the fact that you were utterly freezing. Forget what you said about a little water not hurting you, it was terrible now that you were shivering.

“Here,” Rowan pushed off the wall, removing his blazer. He spread it out, presenting it like a blanket to you.

“You’re really stupid, aren’t you?” He gave you a confused look as you took his blazer and removed yours to spread them around you both. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was the best you could do. He was literally on death’s door a second ago from an asthma attack, yet here he was offering you his coat. He froze as you curled your legs up, leaning into his side.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you ok with this?” You pulled away, noticing his sudden change. He looked pained for a split second at the loss of your proximity.

“No, no. It’s fine! I just didn’t know if you were uncomfortable with me holding you or anything. I didn’t want to assume and-” He rambled on and on. You hushed him by wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling the blazers back on. You really wouldn’t have been this forward if he hadn’t approved.

“Let’s just take advantage of this rainstorm, we can wait out the downpour.” You hummed, listening to the sound of his breathing and the pitter patter of the rain. It was an easy rhythm to fall asleep to. Besides, what was one day of missing classes?

-

“O-M-G!” You heard not so hushed whispers ring through your ears. “I have to put this on my blog!”

“Enid, do you not remember the fact that they’ve been missing all day? They better have a good explanation for this!” That was definitely Principal Weems voice.

It took you a second to gather where you were. The warmth holding you was, in fact, a person. Not just any person, but Rowan Laslow. You began to remember what happened before you fell asleep. You bolted upright, looking at the source of all the commotion. Squinting, you managed to look past the beaming flashlight to find pretty much everyone you knew and their mothers’ at the door of the Hummers shed.

That was an exaggeration of course… but Principal Weems did not look happy.

-

Pt. 2, My Heart Is My Sleeve: Here

[mishacakes]

how do you connect to your character? like how do get to know them so well? how do you pick out their likes, dislikes, habits and those itty bitty bits about them? I've been struggling to do that for sooo many of my ocs, and i'm also at a lost of how to design them. like i once had a clear idea of what kind of character they are, but i wanted to change them a bit, make them a little better, and i feel like I've lost that character and that character i'm working on doesn't exists, no matter how much i loved them and enjoyed writing an drawing them. this has happened with every single character i made and it just makes me think that i may not be cut out for drawing or writing characters. i look up to you so i thought of asking you for help

sry for the long rant idk wat im doing

HELLO HELLO THANK YOU FOR ASKING!! So basically I took this question and turned it into a 1.6k word essay on writing characters and how I like to do it, so, uh, hope you enjoy!! and hope it helps!

OK!! character writing. How do you do it? or, well, how do I do it. I’ve got a few methods that help me out the most and are the most fun for me to think about. Here’s my big secret, if it’s not fun I don’t do it. I’m not here to do homework I’m waaayyyy out of school. I’m a legal adult. I pay my taxes. I’m not gonna do something that doesn’t give my brain the good fun juice. Anyways. My methods are: symbols, archetypes, and character inspiration. I use all these to figure out the CORE of a character, their very beating heart, and most importantly, what haunts them. Everything about a character, in my opinion, comes from this core and their ghost. Their habits, their fears, their joys, their coping mechanisms. So long as you have a clear grasp on their heart, you won’t go astray. Let’s dive into it! The characters I’m going to be using to describe how I use these methods are Alice and others characters from my webcomic—namely Edith, Hatter, and Rougina—and Tomiko (you know her you love her, catgirl supreme).

Symbols! I love using symbols, they’re something that can describe a character through metaphor, even without going into detail about their whole backstory and habits. Tomiko’s symbols are lanterns (specifically light), cats, ghosts/yokai, shapeshifting, and gold. They all work to further her character as a rough around the edges monster cat with a heart of gold, who uses shapeshifting as a method (both literally and metaphorically) to mold herself into what others need her to be. Alice’s symbols are hearts, eyes, and flesh in general. Try picking one general symbol (the ocean, the forest, the city), and see how specific you can get from there. Or pick a god or goddess that resonates with your character and see what symbols are used for them. Rougina (the antagonist in my webcomic) is a war goddess fallen from grace, and is symbolized with land and volcanoes, so I’ve used volcanic plants to evoke her. Personally I also love going through the tarot for symbols, assigning a tarot card to characters (of the major arcana) is a fun exercise. Which leads us nicely into our next method:

Archetypes! The tarot deck’s Major Arcana is pretty much only archetypes. The Empress as the Mother. The Magician as the Wise Mentor. The Tower as The Worst Thing That Could Possibly Happen Oh Jesus Shit. These can help a lot with who your character is. I’m extremely storytelling oriented, so it helps me knowing What Role a character serves in the story they inhabit. Another thing I love in archetypes in the Zodiac. Yes, I am an astrology bitch. The whole reason I love talking about my methods is my Sag rising, I love giving my wisdoms. But astrology can be used for writing, and not just for excusing and not reflecting on shit behavior (can’t help being a gemini!). The zodiac is FILLED WITH ARCHETYPES!!! From elements to how they function! The four elements (you A:TLA bitches know this), and three modalities. If you’re interested please watch Eugene’s Rank King video, it’s very informative on the signs. Also many symbols! For example, Alice is a Taurus—May 4, Alice Liddell’s birthday—so she’s pretty stubborn while also loving creature comforts. Tomiko’s birthday is August 23, making her a Virgo, so she likes being precise in her work. More archetypes you can look for are DnD classes! I love using that to design costumes. One of Edith’s recent costumes is very wizard inspired, since that’s the class I see her having as she’s very studious and driven. Heck, all of Alice and the Nightmare is derived from the character archetypes of the Alice in Wonderland characters! Rougina is specifically the Red Queen, NOT the Queen of Hearts!! The confusion started with the 1951 Disney animated movie when the two characters were merged!! Lewis Carroll himself said the two were different! The Queen of Hearts is an “embodiment of ungovernable passion” and the Red Queen is “the concentrated essence of all governesses”!! GOD!!! Tim Burton meet me in the fucking pit you’ll pay for your alice crimes. anyways.

Archetypes help a lot in costumes too, figuring out what kind of fashion they’d like to wear. You can start broad and get more specific with it (like going from a wizard type character to a wizard character with steampunk themes). Fashion is just an extent of character. What are they comfy in? Are they confident in their body? What colors do they like? Bright high fashion or simple dark sweaters? Ryoko Kui is a master of character design I HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend checking out her work.

Another method I like using, specifically for Alice and the Nightmare characters, is what I call the “three trait method”. When I was in middle school we did a production of Alice in Wonderland (I was the White Knight), and too many girls auditioned for Alice. So the director’s solution was to split the character into three parts, and assigning each part to an actor. Her temper, her intelligence, and her innocence, all used in different scenes. Now I use that to think about my own Alice character, except with “polite, temper, and curious”. Edith’s keywords are “nervous, tactical, and intelligent”. Hatter’s are “kind, enthusiastic, and intuitive”. Using keywords can help figure out how they’d react in a situation, what side of them would shine the brightest. Hatter’s want to help everyone is his kindness, but overstepping his bounds can be attributed to his enthusiasm. Edith can know what path to take in a pinch, but her nervousness can freeze her in place. Reading the source material helps a lot with Alice characters too, which brings us to our final point:

Character inspiration!! The art of taking things you like and shoving them into your own characters and stories. DISCLAIMER THO!!! If you take things without really EXAMINING what about them you like, WHY you like them, and how you’d like to evoke that same love in the things you make, the interpretations can come off as shallow. (for more on this subject, watch HBomberguy’s RWBY video essay, specifically the section on “anime homework”)

Tomiko’s biggest inspirations are Izutsumi from Dungeon Meshi, April Ludgate from Parks and Rec, Power and Reze from Chainsawman, San from Princess Mononoke, and Mei from LMK. It’s a good cocktail of aloof, biting, vicious, weird, fierce, loving, and bright. Figuring out what I love about the characters and what I want to write in a character like that helps a lot in writing Tomiko. It’s also really fun in a sense for screenshot redraws and memes.

Music is also a HUUUUUUGE source of inspiration for me, I love making playlists. And even as playlists can change as characters grow and change, having a couple of core songs still helps me ground to that character’s center. For Tomiko it’s “Make Them Gold” by CHVRCHES, and “Nice Girl” by Ashnikko. Alice’s is “Headlock” by Imogen Heap and “Demons” by Hayley Kiyoko, Edith’s is “Warrior” by Kimbra, and Hatter’s is “Dementia” by Owl City.

Ok, we’ve gotten though symbols, archetypes, and made a couple of banger playlists. Next is something that can help write your character, the Big Lie. The thing that keeps them up at night. Their biggest fear, their ghost, what haunts them. What’s holding them back from their goals? What do they need to overcome? That can be as central to their theme as any symbolism. For Tomiko it’s the lie that her emotions don’t matter, only what she can do to be of service to her mother. Her arc is about overcoming her dismissing her own emotions and learning to not run away from the people who she truly cares for. Alice dismisses the literal ghost that is haunting her believing that that will let her have a normal life. Edith pushes down abilities that come naturally to her for fear that she’ll be exiled, not just from society, but the world. Rougina believes she must burden the world’s problems on her own shoulders with no one’s help. The outer character and the inner ghost can reflect, mirror, and inform each other.

Now, listen, sometimes characters are hard to get to know! Tomiko was lol. Quinn was for a looong time. And in times like this, I just, let them be. I listen to some music to get inspired, and let them tell me about themselves when they feel like it. And they will, it just take a little while. And a few dozen quick exploration drawings. But they come through. Also, try not to get bogged down with habits and little details of their character, keep their core in mind, what their heart is. Start broad and get specific. That way, if you feel like you’ve lost your way or the character feels different to you, recenter yourself at their heart and go from there. Or, if you find that their center no longer fits, don’t be afraid to change it! Characters are meant to be fun! First and foremost!! I make characters cause I like writing and storytelling, and drawing little comic for fun and me time. Sometimes characters stick around, sometimes they fall by the wayside. You really have to find what sparks joy, and chase your bliss!

So as long as you have your character’s essence in your hands, and you WANT to keep working on them and drawing them, there’s really no wrong way to go. This whole essay I’ve given is just a set of tools that works for ME, and I HIGHLY encourage you to find stuff that works for you! I really really hope that all this has made sense and isn’t just the ramblings of a madman. Good luck and happy charactering!!

[altf4d3lete]

Episode One this is single-handedly bringing back my obsession even though it never left

- its 2022. Why is everyone freaked out bc a girl wears all black. Like people do that on a daily basis nowadays

- PUGSLEY POOR GUY :(

- “I want names” didn’t you JUST see them walking away from the locker

- Stop shoving him in a locker tied up is actually so mean wtf

- I see people use this piranha scene as justification that she’d be okay with murder, but really it’s justification that she wouldn’t be okay with people hurting her friends and those she cares about AT ALL. She’s trying to KILL these guys just for bullying their brother. Imagine what she’d do to Tyler for hurting Eugene and Enid.

- The intro is SO fucking cool

- Emma was so far down on the list of actors and now my girl is #3 behind Jenna and buscemi. She’s a main character now B)

- If I were Wednesday I’d be pissed too. I CANT with the parents. Like I love you but RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER 😭

- It’s five minutes in and I have so many notes

- Have to say again with the “terrible, they’d know I didn’t get the job done” that Wednesday is MORBID, not okay with murder unless she deems the person deserves it

- Ergh there is clearly so much discrimination against outcasts

- Weems and morticia r lowkey giving homoerotic rivalry…

- I FORGOT HOW FUNNY WEDNESDAY IS

- I genuinely can’t even like… I CANT WHY DID WEEMS PAIR HER WITH ENID 😭

- Guys Enid is SO cute holy fuck. She is UNPHASED bro, she’s just so excited to have a roommate she’s so cute I’m sobbing. She just wanted to accept Wednesday.

- YALL WHEN THEYRE WALKING DOWN THE STEPS WEDNESDAY LITERALLY GRAVITATES TOWARDS ENID. LITERALLY RUNS INTO HER

- Wednesday just lies about killing two kids to Enid and Enid just moved on like nothing happened.

- Also HELLO? THEIR BANTER? Enid takes NO shit 😭

- Hmm part of me wonders if those wolves howling were making fun of Enid.

- They’re literally leaning into each other wha

- “You better watch your back” and Wednesday is behind her that’s so funny

- How do you go from “cute but clueless” to “obsessed” enjax was lowkey forced whereas wenclair had chemistry from the beginning

- AW PUGSLEY HES SO CUTE

- Wednesday being a housewife will NEVER make sense

- I know people hate the relationship between Wednesday and morticia but it’s very realistic. You can easily tell they still love each other despite the harsh words.

- YEESH THE HYDE TORE HIM APART (I think this works with my theory that the more Tyler is aware of the Hyde, the more controlled his attacks get. Which also means that he knew what he was doing when he killed Kinbott, leaving her alive to taste her fear. And he knew what he was doing in the forest when he tried to kill Wednesday and nearly attacked his father)

- WENCLAIR FIGHT THEYRE SO FUNNY TOGETHER THEY ARGUE LIKE AN OLD COUPLE

- when did Wednesday check out enid’s blog. How and why.

- THE LITTLE SCOFF BEFORE “you mean emojis?”

- Enid huffing is crazy girly is ANGRY

- The way they just stare each other down is crazy wenclair is SO full of banter I forgot how hilarious they are

- ENID SIDE EYES WEDNESDAY SO MUCH

- Bianca lowkey eating everyone up…

- Bianca is so aggressive in her fighting style, whereas Wednesday is precise. It’s really cool

- THE GASPING IN THE BACKGROUND AFTER “let’s see if you bleed in black and white.”

- Xavier scoffs so much in this show and every time he does it lowkey makes me hate him more

- “No good deed goes unpunished” okay elphaba

- Girly was smiling when she was about to die.

- DUDE WHY WAS XAVIER LEANING OVER HER? WHO DOES THAT? JUST SIT DOWN NEXT TO HER.

- “Call it instinct” shut up actually

- Bro she had NO clue who Xavier was 😭

- It bothers me that ppl think she cared Xavier was in the coffin. She just wanted to see the godmother come back to life fr

- THING HAHA MY FAV

- I would be flabbergasted if my therapist read the equivalent of my journal before our sessions. She never should have been sent that.

- Ergh Tyler…

- The deep voice lowkey sounds really forced, idk what it is about Tyler’s voice but it bugs me. I think it’s the way his lines always kinda have the same delivery.

- Twenty bucks when he probably makes that in like half a day of work 😭

- The pilgrims look like such dorks bro who are they tryna scare 💀

- Why are they asking her if she’s “been with a normie” that’s so weird

- “THIS LITTLE THING TOOK DOWN THREE BOYS???” HELP

- Her playing with the necklace means everything to me

- Damn the hiker was the third victim

- The sheet music doesn’t match what she was playing but that doesn’t rly matter

- Love that enid went from disgusted to things bff

- Their roof scene is so meaningful to me. They work so well together. Enid doesn’t need anyone but Wednesday and Wednesday doesn’t need anyone but Enid. Enid teaches her how to relate to others and feel empathy and Wednesday teaches Enid to unapologetically be herself.

- Nero :(

- Them bonding is so cute 😭 this is rekindling my obsession

- Notice the immediate disrespect from Tyler but Enid gets close with thing so quickly

- Damn Enid is suspicious. Bro has some killer instincts

- “Hint taken” and Xavier proceeds to KEEP talking to her

- So Wednesday gives Tyler a time and place and you’re telling me it’s just a coincidence that those three pilgrims show up at that exact time at place? Literally there WAITING? No way. Tyler had to have told them, sorry about it.

- I lowkey feel bad for Weems. She’s a little controversial but she was just trying to do her best for nevermore

- Nah man that was an absolute ploy. There’s no way they just happened to know where to be. Tyler was trying to keep her from leaving. He already knew who she was by then and that they needed her.

- Rowan was so conflicted he didn’t deserve to die. He was just trying to protect people

- The way she scrambled over to him even after he tried to kill her :(

- YALL I LOVE THIS SHOW WTF 😭

[joenotexotic99]

Hello Doll! New fan here! You're so precious! 🥰 we NEED pt 2 of BoB "Sleeping with them for the first time", my request: Speirs, Toye, Eugene, Webster, Buck. AND pls wrote more Lovetropes! I've read it so many times, that I can quote from memory! xoxo

A/n this might be dirtier than pt1. Will do a pt 2 of love tropes ofc. Lmk if you have some people in mind for that

<3

-this is a work of fiction based on the actors portrayal only. Every ounce of respect to the real heros-

Warning: NSFW, plain sinful smut. Lots of language. Minors dni

Masterlist

Ronald Speirs

- this man will change your whole perspective of sex afterwards. You've both been pinning each other for a while and decide to go on a date. Yet the whole time you both have been practically removing each other's clothes with your eyes. Lingering touches, flirty behavior. Lets just say that you didn't quite make it through all the courses before Speirs asked for the check. You make it back to his place before he immediately kisses you. You start removing clothes while grabbing and feeling any skin you can both get your hands on. He turns you around to unzip your dress, taking it off your figure. He spun you back around to pick you up and set you down on the kitchen counter. You remove his belt and tug at his pants and boxers until the both of you are head to toe naked. He gives you a looks off 'are you sure' you nod yes before he lifts you legs up and fucks you. Praise after praise, surface after surface. It's a wild ride.

"Fuck you feel so good you know that princess?"

Joe toye

-he's sweet and spontaneous. It's a similar experience to George luz where it happens after a few dates. It starts slow, careful almost. But eventually you melt under him. He kisses you harder, Backs you to a wall. You remove each other's shirts. His hands unclips your bra. He makes hickies after hickies up and down your neck. He picks you up and brings you to the bedroom. Kisses down to your skirt to take that off as well. This man would love to praise you. And his voice!? He will mutter the most downright bad into your ears. He could make you come from just that alone. I feel like he's big on moaning you know. Your make him feel so good he's going to let you know that. Will do anything you ask him to do. You want him to touch you. He's instantly rubbing your clit, you want him to suck you Titts, he'll do that too. Fuck you harder and faster. He'll break the mattress. Will make you finish at least twice. Once on his cock. Then he'll clean you up with his tongue. But he is sooo sweet with the after care.

"God I wish you could see yourself right now doll. Getting fucked properly"

Eugene roe

-he's honestly a little nervous. He doesn't want to hurt you. It starts back at your place. Some wine after a good home cooked dinner. The alcohol helps with confidence. It's slow and passionate. He would be completely fine with kissing you for hours on end. But you've had one too many dirty dreams about this man so it's now or never. Eugene will be so great with foreplay. Makes you feel worshiped like no man has ever made you feel before. Always checking to make sure you're ok. When it gets time to really dance if you know what I mean he's super scared that something is going to go wrong. This poor man. You are so worked up from his touch that you have to tell him to just shut up and fuck you. It's like a switch goes off in his head. And the only thing he can suddenly think of is you. He fucks you until the only thing you can think of, only thing you can scream is his name. He robs you of every last breath in your lungs. It's dirty, passionate, sweaty and oh so good. Best God damn orgasm of your life. When you both finish and clean up. He definitely raps you up in his arms.

"Thank you"

"For what?"

"Giving me the best dick of my life"

David Webster

-HERE ME OUT! One bed trope. But it's not at a hotel or anything. You head to his place, have dinner, watch a movie, whatever. Oh no it's dark and raining. How about you stay the night? Oh crap this is a one bed apartment. You get the point. He offers you the bed and he'll sleep on the couch but you say that's silly and to just share the bed. Webster already had a huge crush on you so his ears turn a bright red, but how can he turn down the offer to share a bed with you? You get ready and both go to bed. It's awkward at first until he breaks the silence with one of those deep questions and you start talking for hours. One thing leads to another and he's on top of you. He kisses you until you lose your mind. You run your hands up his bare chest until you reach the stubble on his face. You slowly remove each article of clothing on the both of you. The air is thick and warm. Can you imagine how feral this man will go if you praise him. This man just wants some love ok? He asks you how sure you are about this, not wanting to cross any boundaries. You agree enthusiastically. You tug at his hair. Run your hands down his back. He kisses your neck, holds your waist. He's so gentle with aftercare too. From here on out you stay the night more often.

"Just like that web don't stop, so good, you're so good"

"Fuck sweetheart you're gunna make me come"

Buck Compton

-I know this is sorta cliché but fire sex. It's around the holidays. It's cold, snowing and dark outside. Inside it's warm, cozy and comfortable. You are still in puppy love faze. It's sweet. You are both on the couch blanket on top. Fire crackling. Buck reading you a book. You have thought about it a lot, sex. Yet you've never really got there. Steamy makeout sessions. Been there and done that. But it hasn't made it farther than that. But gooood you want it to. Your hands wander over him. Getting more and more close south each time. You rub his thigh, testing the waters. You can tell he notices by how his adams apple moves. You slowly undo his belt as he continues to read the book. He lets you pull his jeans down and slowly remove him from his boxers. You move your hand tauntingly slow. Not moving any faster in hopes of riling him up. He puts the book down and pulls you up to his lips. He removes your shirt and bra. Flips you over to remove your pants and underwear. He's sweet and confident in each move he makes. He kisses up and down your inner thigh until he finally makes it to the center. He gives you a taste of your own medicine. Slowly keeping you on edge with his tongue until you beg him to fuck you. And he does just that. It's better than you could have ever imagined.

"For fucks sake buck if you don't get up here and dick me down"

[boyinatown]

Hello love may i request the sending them lingerie pics but with gun, goo, samuel and Jake?

SNEAK PEEK!

Pairing: gun, goo, Samuel, jake x f! Reader

Warning: sexual theme, doggy style mentioned, mating press!

A/n : it’s finished finally omg.

★ GUN PARK / PARK JONGGUN

Sending this man nudes wasn’t an weird thing at all, considering how much you guys fucked and how dirty you two were together he didn’t blush at the sight of your pictures but when you sent him a black lace set lingerie with his favorite material he couldn’t help but grip his steering wheel wishing he was done driving crystal around.

Finally when he’s off the clock he immediately raced back home to his beloved sinner <3

Watching gun slam the door open and immediately go towards you taking off his blazer he grabs you up and lifts you attaching his lips to yours, and you both propped onto the he couch.

“Show me that set, I wanna see it up close.”

Lifting up your shirt teasingly making him pout jokingly you hurried up revealing the top then strip teasing him while lowering your shorts slowly until he got tired and huffed tugging them down faster and then whistling.

“Do a twirl for me baby, I wanna see the back to..”

But when you twirl he immediately slaps your ass causing you to yelp and he chuckles dragging you down onto his lap when he attaches his lips again but onto to your neck making you shift against his hard on making him groan.

“You look so pretty f’me beauty, now I wanna see it all messed up,”

And with that he sneaks his fingers down your laced underwear and latches onto your neck while you let out noises he loved.

You were worth dropping Crystal off without meeting the chairman. <3

★GOO KIM / KIM JONGOO

oh god this man, this man LOVES nude pictures I’m even sure he would jerk off to them privately while cursing and moaning your name beautifully and whining like a damn baby

He’s filthy , but when you send him a lingerie picture with his favorite color that he told you to get earlier he immediately got off a broken and defeated gang member he just beat up and his eyes beamed reflecting them on his glasses . Stepping over the injured men he skipped to his car saying: my baby is waiting at home, I’ll deal with you all later

“Darling! Where are you? Let me see ya in the set! Don’t be a tease come on out-“

And there you were standing and losing hands on your hips and eyes batting at him, he couldn’t help the smirk grow on his face and he could just cum right there and then if it weren’t for his tight pants holding back the monster wanting to be released.

“Do you like it, goo?”

“Like it? I love it! It matches you perfectly I know I made the right choice telling you to get it why don’t you listen to me first!”

“Just come over here and fuck me moron.”

“Yes ma’am!”

While walking towards you you could swear a flashing light just beamed in his eyes and he throws his glasses away immediately pouncing on you causing a small yell to leave your throat , at the same night you left real ones leave your mouth <3

★ SAMUEL SEO / SEO SEONGEUN

Samuel loves you a lot, your voice your laugh your taking your looks…your nudes. And ofc lingerie pictures , when he’s fighting he knows you’ll send him one but what he didn’t ex left is you to send one while he’s in a meeting with Eugene and the rest..

A small ping caused everyone to turn to Samuel, ‘didn’t I turn off my phone?’ He asked his self pulling his phone from his pocket and when he clicked on your notification immediately taking him to your picture he didn’t notice ryuhei behind him and heard a small uh noise turning to ryuhei he glared making the blondie swear he only liked Mitsuki.. he cursed at you but at the same time he loved it the fact that ryuhei knows your his and just how lucky he is. He couldn’t wait to come back home

“I swear I only have eyes for Mitsuki! She’s all yours I promise-“

“Get out of my face and don’t even look at my phone again without permission.”

Samuel sighed once ryuhei left and the meeting was over, he walked towards the exit to take a small smoking break he called your number and waited after 3 buzzes to pass until you picked up.

“Hey Sammy, liked the picture?”

“Not only I, but a co worker to, now he’s seen lucky bastard..don’t do that again without a warning.”

“Didn’t you like it?” “ I did , but next time-“

“Fine I got it I learned my lesson! When are you done with work?”

“I’ll call you when, and it seems like I gotta teach you another lesson when I come back home.. your in for it.”

“What-“

Before you could protest Samuel hung up leaning his head against the wall he was already imagining you crying on his cock, sucking on it gagging and his hand pushing your head down further while your pathetic eyes looked back up for mercy only to be met with his evil dark ones, how you’d bounce your ass back on him and back arched moaning for more and how you-

“Samuel, Eugene said you’d drive us to the location.”

Fuck, Eli jang. He hated how whenever he’d have these thinking moments of you someone always interrupts. He was holding his self back from slamming Eli into the wall but instead just groaned and walked towards the car with both Eli and Warren following suit.

Guess he’d recreate those scenarios at home for your ‘ lesson’ <3

★ JAKE KIM / GIMYEONG KIM

ah the leader of big deal , fearless and powerful sweet and caring , perverted and mean when he’s balls deep inside you. Your pathetic cries and protests all get silenced when he pushes his lips aggressively against yours and just keeps pounding away

Why? Since you thought sending him a lingerie picture while he was busy trying to fill in papers to get sinu back, since he hadn’t been giving you attention and you decided to act bratty. Now facing the consequences once he slammed the door open.

“you say I’m not giving you attention? Have you gotten lonely my love, my apologies I’ll make up for it now.”

Jake Kim now pushing you further into the bed and legs dangling on his shoulders all while he held the back of your thighs to push into your chest almost near your ears .

“H-hah’ your mean! Stupid…fuhk!!-“

“That’s not nice , you say that but your gripping on to me for dear life look.”

Jake pulls out slowly making you gasp and look up at him with desperate eyes for him to push back into your soaking hole that was clenching around air desperate for friction. Anything, now rubbing back against the tip of his cock whining and he just keeps pulling away holding you in place by your thighs.

“Aht aht aht, didn’t you say I’m stupid? I guess I’ll keep my stupid disease away from you.”

“No! Put it back in…please Jake I’m sorry, I want more don’t pull out fuck!”

“Ask nicely and I might.”

“Fucking put it into me, please moron!”

“It was worth a shot.”

Guess he had to fuck the bratiness out of you, looks like a long night ahead. <3

★ ok byeeeeeeee