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c-is-for-circinate · 4 years

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The Mighty Nein have exactly three ways of dealing with enemies, and that is so fascinating to me.

Befriend. Between Essek and Isharnai, this has been pretty front-and-center lately, but it’s not actually a recent development. The M9 have been cozying up to potential threats and making nice as far back as Zadash, when they first discovered the Gentleman’s operations and then promptly decided to go to work for him. It happens in Hupperdook, when they spend all day swearing bloody murder and hunting down the pickpockets who robbed them, and then promptly adopt four more children and nearly die getting their parents out of prison. It happens in the Bright Queen’s throne room, when they walk into the innermost heart of the nation they’ve been told for fifty sessions is their enemy, and become heroes of the Dynasty. There’s a tribe of giants who owe them their home and their gratitude and a band of no-longer-bandits who owe them their lives and their pants-wetting terror, because sometimes that is just how the M9 roll. There are so few people this party actually has a stake in killing. Monsters, whatever, needs must, but like--who the hell are they to judge? (The first monsters and enemies they ever made friends with, after all, were each other.)

All-out slaughter. When the Nein do decide they really want to kill someone, they fucking go for the jugular. True, murder is pretty standard in D&D, but the Nein often throw both caution and reason out the window when something hits their kill button. This is almost everything about the pirate arc, starting that day in Nicodranas where they tried to talk threateningly to two guys and ended up committing domestic terrorism and then also murdering their way into ownership of a ship, ending that time they got kicked off Pirate Island in less than 24 hours because they decided to rend Avantika asunder the first instant they had the chance. It’s their entire brief enmity with Lorenzo--they would not wait, they would not plan, they would not stop, and they would not under any circumstances, no matter what Matt wanted of planned, let him go. Hell, this is how ‘prank call Essek in the middle of a dinner party’ turned into ‘paralyze, kidnap, and interrogate’ in the first place. This group does not do long games if they can possibly help it.

Absolute avoidance. There are, sometimes, enemies the Nein dislike too much to befriend and aren’t strong enough to kill. U’kotoa. Trent Ikithon. These opponents are relatively rare, because the Nein do absolutely everything player-ly possible to distance themselves from them at every opportunity. Don’t want to unleash an immense immortal sea serpent? Fuck just saying ‘no’, we’re headed to the opposite side of the continent from the ocean, and then we’re going to yeet that magic sword directly into a volcano for good measure. You can’t threaten or blackmail me. This party is very, very good at avoidance on both a personal and collective level. So much of the early game was built around getting the fuck away from the entire concept of war and law in general, once upon a time. They have all of them stayed away from their own families, steering clear around Felderwin and Kamordah until they couldn’t any more, putting off visiting the Menagerie, sleeping on the boat instead of going back to Marion’s for one more night. They run away from their own pasts and selves and inner demons. They are not all entirely fond of mirrors.

The thing is, I’m always so fascinated by the moments when the party seems to surprise or vex Matt by derailing his plans, and while he’s generally so proud of them for it, what I’m thinking about tonight is his endless, futile attempts to give them a fucking nemesis already. I’m thinking about why it just keeps not working. And I think it’s this!

This three-pronged approach to dealing with enemies, avoid-befriend-destroy, is basically a three-step guide to making sure you don’t have enemies any more. In fact, I would say not-having-enemies-anymore is one of the highest priorities the M9 hold, and it has been, almost accidentally, since before the game even started. The M9 have since the very beginning played what I can only describe as an extraordinarily defensive game. They don’t go looking for trouble unless it’s specifically connected to some immediate threat to themselves or someone else. The handful of mercenary contracts they’ve taken have almost universally been about, “hey, let’s do this thing for the Gentleman so he doesn’t decide to mistrust and kill us,” or, “let’s do this thing for the Gentleman so we can get the fuck out of town before they start conscripting to fight the Krynn Dynasty,” or, “hey, let’s do this thing for the Krynn Dynasty so they don’t decide to mistrust and kill us.”

And it’s not about trying to thwart Matt! It’s about a party of characters who are all extremely defensive and avoidant in their own ways. Some of it’s about the sheer trauma of everything to do with Molly, and some of it’s probably about the sheer trauma of everything to do with Vax and Raishan and Anna Ripley and every C1 mistake or villain that ever came back to haunt them, and some of it’s just baked into these new characters. Everyone in this party is so fucking hurt and defensive before they even start. The only thing that’s changed so far is the bit-by-bit careful broadening of their circle of ‘who to protect’ to include each other, and their friends, and maybe more or less half the world.

The one exception here is, of course, Obann, who has them on the ropes for almost 20 episodes--who they could not kill, and tried, and he had Yasha and they could not possibly join or befriend him, and he had Yasha and they could never forgive or ignore him, and he had Yasha and they could not kill him. And the thing is, all I can remember right now is how painful so much of that arc was. Everybody was so desperate. Everybody was so miserable. And still, and still, they could not think how to go around this problem any back way, could not recruit allies or head it off. They could only just distract themselves with brief side quests in hopes that it might help them next time they hurled themselves head-first into trying all-out slaughter again, and again, and again. It wasn’t like the Chroma Conclave. They didn’t back out of the first desperate battle and decide to take the long way around on purpose, to measure and trick and evaluate and gather specific resources and plan. They were so utterly lost. They were so desperate.

I think that probably, Matt’s hope for Essek was indeed that he’d become the party’s long-term nemesis that Lorenzo and Avantika didn’t have the chance to be. I think he was hoping the other night for Essek to get away and leave them all feeling suspicious and betrayed. I think he was hoping a month or two ago that the M9 would head off away from the peace talks and never even find out about Essek until he tried to call in some of those favors for increasingly suspicious things or it all came back around to bite them in the ass. I think he hoped for a very long time, maybe even a year ago when they met Essek in the first place, that this traitorous mole would become their Anna Ripley--the cold dark super-intelligent mirror to their own broken super-intelligent knifeblade of a friend, someone they could loathe and fear and despise and eventually, eventually destroy.

But the M9 don’t do nemeses if they have any way whatsoever to help it. Good luck, Matt. Pretty sure for this crew it is Trent Ikithon and U’kotoa and Tharizdun himself, and absolutely nobody else is big or bad enough for them to actually run up against for more than a single rematch, unless you get real fucking creative.

#CR spoilers #driveby meta attack #critical role

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chaseatinydream · 3 years

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pirate king (76) || atz

Tortuga is not happy to have you back.

“You were the man who took our town leader hostage! You cannot simply just stride back onto port and walk here as if you have not just committed the gravest of sins!” A portly man dressed in velvet and gold waves so furiously that his expensive silk cravat has become stained with sweat. “You, hooligans, don’t ever come back to this town!”

Wooyoung simply shrugs and makes to pick his ear with his pinky, entirely without a care in the world. You kick him in the shin and he yelps, shying away.

“Say you’re sorry!”

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” He protests, and Yeosang tilts his head back slightly in the middle of negotiations to fix Wooyoung with a glare so menacing you can practically see the darkness rolling off him. Wooyoung must feel the same sensation - of death stepping across his grave - because he shivers and rubs the back of his neck. “Okay, maybe I might have done a thing or two-”

“This man… utterly unbelievable!” The official continues to rant, and even the soldiers lined up behind him are starting to wince from how piercing his voice is. He jabs a finger at Wooyoung ferociously. “I respect you, Pirate King, but the disrespect this man has shown us! Breaking into the officials’ town headquarters! Knocking out the guards! Dragging the head of this town out of his chambers in his… in his sleepwear! Preposterous, I tell you!”

Hongjoong raises his hands, a calm smile on his face to placate the official. “I deeply apologise for my crew member’s behavior. It must have been a terrible experience, but I can assure you my crew regrets his actions and is extremely repentant about his behavior.”

You look dubiously at the supposedly repentant man.

“He sleeps naked.” Wooyoung whispers loudly into your ear, a cheeky smile decorating his face. You stare at him, and then shake your head. He’s incorrigible.

“However, I ask you to understand that the situation at hand was dire, and that we had no other choice in order to go after our captain. As thanks for letting this matter slide, we’ll compensate the town head appropriately.” Yeosang’s angelic smile is at full power, and for a second you’re almost blinded by the halo settling above his head. The bag of gold coins in his hand (polished by Wooyoung for the whole of last night as punishment) somehow seem dull in comparison. “I’m sure you won’t regret it.”

The official’s eyes are like magnets, drawn to the gold. You can almost see him licking his lips. “... compensate?”

“Very handsomely.” Yeosang shakes the bag once. The sound is more alluring than any symphony or sirens’ song to your ears. Apparently, that must be the how the official feels too, because his hand reaches out to touch it, before he jerks it back to his chest, coughing lightly. “Well then, I suppose it couldn’t hurt just to let it go just this once...”

A soldier behind the official rolls his eyes to heaven in exasperation.

“However! That man is not allowed to step foot into the town, and must stay on the ship at all times. This in nonnegotiable. Also,” Yeosang hands over the bag of gold, and the official beckons Hongjoong closer. “There have been... ah... rumors... among the townspeople... Royal Navy... searching for a woman.... bounty... alive... five thousand...”

You glance over at Wooyoung, who’s sulking miserably. “You kind of deserve it. Although... thanks for doing it, to get captain and I back.”

At your words, Wooyoung instantly brightens. “No problem! It was the most fun I had in weeks anyway!” You send him a flat look, intent on chiding him, but then your captain calls your name.

To your surprise, his lips are drawn into a thin line, and there is a furrow to his brow that definitely wasn’t there before. “Chin Hae, do you... remember ever encountering the Royal Navy before meeting us?”

Frowning, you shake your head. There’s tension would tight into his face, and you feel something in your stomach sinking. “No. Why?”

Hongjoong opens his mouth to answer, but then closes it with a sigh before he can say another word. He wears a fond smile as he ruffles your hair gently, lithe fingers carding through the strands. “No matter, this isn’t the place for it. Will you come see me in the captain’s cabin tonight? We have some pressing matters to discuss.”

When he walks away, the smile melts into a grim, worried look on his face.

>>>

“Your legs are starting to hurt?”

San’s expression is filled with concern as he crouches in front of you, gentle fingers kneading and massaging your calves with practiced movements. You nod quietly, watching him as he works. “Yeah. Honestly... the same thing that happened with my hand might be happening to my legs, master.”

His fingers still, and when he looks at them, they come away white. San rubs at his temples, his face drawn taut with worry and something bordering dismay. He stares at your legs as if they could give him an answer to this question. “But this isn’t supposed to happen. Nothing happened to them, you didn’t get hurt, or stabbed, or-”

Your heart warms at the desperate concern burning in his eyes, and you reach out your hand to take his into yours, gripping it gently. When his pained gaze meets yours, you do your best to put on a reassuring smile. “It’s alright, master. I have no intention of dying. You’ll help me out, won’t you?”

San looks at you for a moment with his mouth parted, as if surprised, before it draws into a sharp, determined line. He squeezes your hand back tightly. “Of course I will. As if I’d let anything happen to you!” He rises to his feet, gestures over to the multitude of books and scrolls haphazardly piled and stuffed into every nook and cranny of the sickbay. “There’s got to be something here somewhere similar to your condition, and even if there isn’t, it’ll be somewhere in Tortuga. If it exists on this earth, I’ll definitely find it.”

Something hot stings behind your eyes, but you blink it away, gripping San’s hand tighter. “Hey, master... I... really want to live, you know? I want to keep sailing with the crew... and I want to be with all of you forever. You know that, right?”

It’s fear.

The ugly, twisting feeling coiling deep in your belly is fear. Fear that you’ll never feel the warm sunlight on your face again. Fear that you can never talk and laugh and cry with the crew again. Fear that everything might be coming to an end; an end that you simply cannot come to terms with.

You’d do anything. Anything to stay with the crew, and keep on living.

“Silly apprentice.” San rests a tender hand on your head, looking at you with so much affection you could cry. “Of course I know, because that’s exactly what I feel as well. If there’s any way, I’d take it in a heartbeat! Even if it means getting rid of captain!” He jokes, and you snort, swatting him on the arm.

“Don’t be silly, master, both you and I know that you’d never do that.”

San grins, a large cat-like smile spreading across his face, and rises to his feet, striding over to his workbench.

“Hey, we’re going to cure you. This is your master you’re talking about! You know,” he turns back to give you a little wink, “back in my home village, they called me something of a medical prodigy.”

You rise to your feet, heart so full you can barely feel the pain in your legs and press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Then, master... I’ll be counting on you. I’d help you out, but first, there’s something I need to do.”

“Something you need to do?” San peeks over, curiosity brimming in his eyes as you fish out a red fox fur coat from beneath your pillow. A sly smile turns up one corner of his mouth. “Oho. Is that a gift for a certain someone?”

You poke at his side playfully. “He lost his jacket, so I thought I’d make him something to thank him. Why, unhappy you’re not getting one as well?”

San pouts and turns away, arms crossed. “As if! Now get going, I need some silence to concentrate, so shoo!” Under his breath, he mutters, “stupid captain stealing my apprentice... stealing her first handmade gift... maybe it’s really time to get rid of him...”

Giggling lightly, you step around him and out of the room, the fox fur gathered in your arms. It’s soft and warm and light, perfect for a sea voyage and comfortable to wear. You only hope your captain will overlook the some of the stray threads sticking out here and there; your sewing still isn’t perfect, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

As you step out onto the deck, empty save for loose coils of rope and a pair of wooden cleats lying on the floor, you glance down at the fox fur in your arms.

You’re going to be giving him a gift... that you made with your own hands.

What if he doesn’t like it? The thought pops into your mind and you groan, burying your face in your hands. Your cheeks feel hot, and you step over to the side of the ship to cool off and calm down. Beneath you, the ocean is like a mirror of glass, stretching out as far as the eye can see.

Calm down, Chin Hae, it’s just a jacket. And even if he doesn’t like it, so what? You could just give it to someone else!

With that thought in mind, you clench your fist, ready to get it done and over with. But before you can go, there’s a strange sound from beneath you, and you glance down in surprise as the water.

To your shock, the surface of the sea begins to ripple and swirl, disrupted by whatever’s beneath it. You can feel something rising, coming up to the surface, and its intent focused solely on you and you alone. Something in your mind screams for you to run, but your feet only stay rooted to the spot, your hands trembling and cold sweat running down your neck.

What is this?

And out of the depths emerges...

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #ateez pirate king #w;ot8 #w; pirate king #w; fanfiction

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themattress · 3 years

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OUAT AND ME: SEASON 5

Story - The story for the first half of the season is the Dark Swan Saga and the story for the second half is the Underworld Saga. The Dark Swan Saga is split between a flashback story where the main characters travel to Camelot to help free Emma from the Dark One curse and a present day story where they are back in Storybrooke with no memories of their time in Camelot and Emma appears to have become a full-on villain who seeks to claim the power of the sword Excalibur for herself. The Underworld Saga is a direct follow-up to the Dark Swan Saga, as the heroes brave the dangers of the Underworld, a limbo zone between life and death that curiously appears to resemble Storybrooke, in order to retrieve a fallen friend.

The Dark Swan Saga...should not have happened. Or to put it more clearly, Emma should not have ever been the Dark One and Storybrooke should not have been a setting here at all, as it ends up ruining the potential inherit in a Camelot-based arc. And that potential is all over the place, everything about this show's interpretation of Camelot is subversive and unique and reminiscent of OUAT at its best, and yet it takes further and further of a backseat in favor of Emma as the Dark One....whenever it's not taking a backseat to elements from Disney/Pixar's Brave! Yes, this is a problem I neglected to point out when talking about Season 4: the Disney influence on the show that was always there in moderation has started to become more pronounced, and it's to the show's detriment. Brave isn't even an adapted story, not even loosely like Frozen was, it's a pure Disney/Pixar invention. And yet the show is linking it to Camelot and the legend of King Arthur!? Frankly, I find that to be a little insulting.

And on top of everything, the arc pulls a plot twist in the last third that is completely unnecessary and merely overcomplicates things while pleasing virtually no-one: Emma isn't evil at all, but Hook is because she turned him into a Dark One against his will in Camelot when he was dying of a mortal wound! Given that the arc was doing an equally asinine thing with Rumple in claiming that he had become a pure hero worthy of pulling Excalibur from its stone because he threw some magic dust at a bear, this twist just adds to already mounting frustration. And then they pull ANOTHER twist where after Hook comes to his senses and has his big self-sacrifice moment, we learn that Rumple was still evil all along and has invalidated Hook's sacrifice to destroy the Darkness by taking it all back, becoming the Darkest Dark One who is more powerful then ever before, with Belle being none the wiser.

So after that bullshit is through, we get the Underworld Saga and...it's honestly the best that OUAT has been since Season 3! It seriously feels like the Neverland Saga and the Wicked Saga mixed in a blender, and while that's not always ideal, for the most part it works perfectly. Many of the characters begin to feel like their old selves again, we actually start to get moments of hope and happiness back even amidst the bleakness of the setting, Zelena finally begins changing for the better, we get an influx of returning characters who - for the most part - it's great to see again, and we are provided with an excellent Big Bad, Hades.

But sadly, it was not to last. The Underworld Saga ends with a highly questionable decision, in the third-to-last episode, leaving just a two-part season finale left. If that decision hadn't been made and the show hadn't been renewed, we could have had ourselves a blowout finale that left most viewers satisfied. But because neither of those things happen, we instead get a weak finale which sets the stage for weak finales in the next two seasons as well, and all three of these finales hold elements that could have worked blended together into one finale, but are underwhelming when taken on their own. If there was any need to confirm that this show's best days were long behind it, this absolute joke of a finale was that confirmation.

Characters - Misery, misery, misery. That's what you've chosen.

* This is Emma Swan's worst season, bar none. From beginning to end, the writing is all about Emma Torture Porn, putting her through metaphorical and literal Hell and turning this once proud hero into a punching bag. No matter what she does, no matter what choice she makes, it's always the wrong way to do things and she is endlessly shamed for it. This is a natural follow-up to what was happening in Season 4, where the definition of Emma's role as "the Savior" underwent a drastic shift. Initially, it was simply to break the Dark Curse, but then Emma took control of her own destiny and redefined it to mean the protector of the residents of Storybrooke so that they can maintain their happy endings or be free to obtain them. But in Seasons 4 and 5, it suddenly got redefined as Emma being personally responsible for giving everyone their happy endings, her own happiness be damned. That's why she was obligated to sacrifice herself to the Dark One Curse for Regina, and why her being the Dark One instantly causes her to be treated as the worst Big Bad to ever menace Storybrooke despite barely doing anything actually villainous. In fact, "Emma gets punished for doing good" is a pretty recurring theme at this point. It's tiring to root for such a perpetually miserable heroine, and so while other things hold my investment in this season, Emma is sadly not one of them.

* Snow and Charming have one good episode in the Dark Swan Saga, but that's not enough to make up for what utterly boring characters and utterly horrible parents they are in every other episode. The fact that they don't lift a finger to find Emma, talk to her, and get her to see reason when they think she's evil is beyond disgraceful, especially when it happens in the same arc where them being written as surrogate parents to Regina is taken to a whole new level of creepy. Like, a sickening level of creepy. They are suddenly written well, in regards to their parentage of Emma and in regards to everything else, in the Underworld Saga, but again, the show not ending means that it's not going to last into the next story arc.

* Henry really comes into his own this season. Being written like a teenager instead of a child does wonders for his character, as even amidst fantastical fairy tale backdrops and with the magical position of Author, he struggles with real teenage issues that anyone who is or has ever been a teenager can relate to. He experiences his first crush, struggles with trying to stand as more of an equal with the adult heroes, and even undergoes what's basically a crisis of faith. And now that he's past puberty, Jared Gilmore is a much better actor than he's been in the past, finally selling the material that's written for his character the way it needs to be.

* Regina starts off in full Mary Sue mode, following up naturally from Season 4. "The Price" is an episode that is everything wrong with her character in microcosm. However, after a few episodes pass she settles down into a relatively inoffensive, bland character for the most part. In The Underworld Saga, there are even times when she is downright likable, which almost distracts from how ludicrously good she has it in a place that is allegedly full of her resentful victims, whom she does absolutely nothing to help. Unfortunately, because of the questionable decision that was made by the writers in the penultimate episode, the two-part finale brings her full circle, with both said finale and the show going forward suffering for it.

* If Rumple had a return to form in Season 4, then Season 5 makes the issues with his character in Season 3 look miniscule by comparison. His imp self, whether featuring in flashbacks or as the form the Darkness takes to needle Emma or Hook into embracing it, is still a delight that Robert Carlyle clearly enjoys playing. But his human self, Mr. Gold, is handled atrociously. First he is an over-the-top coward beyond what he ever was in the past, then insufferably smug about being a "hero" even though he doesn't deserve that position, then it looks like he might just make the final turn to good before he swings in the opposite direction and becomes the Darkest Dark One, and as the Darkest Dark One he is a cold, abusive dickwad who isn't fun to watch and Robert Carlyle doesn't seem to be having as much fun playing, as he starts phoning it in on more occasions than is usual for an actor of his caliber. It's only in the last five episodes, when Belle is taken out of the picture by a sleeping spell, that he suddenly regains some of his former glory and becomes engaging again, but even then the series not ending deprives him of a conclusion at a point where he could have one, so we're stuck with the Darkest Dark One for a whole 'nother season.

* Hook is mostly great in this season. In the Dark Swan Saga, he is badly handled and often behaving insufferable in the Storybrooke parts of the story, culminating in his turn as Dark Hook which, while Colin O'Donoghue performs it amazingly, was highly unnecessary and only serves to convolute an already heavily loaded arc at the last minute. However, in the Camelot parts of the story, he is on top form as a romantic hero, complete with his original pirate garb. And he really gets to shine in the Underworld Saga, where we see him be brave in the face of bloody torture, recover from depression and rediscover hope, find closure with his older brother Liam, confirm his and Emma's relationship as True Love, and finally be resurrected by Zeus after being ordained a True Hero by him. He sadly has precious little to do in the finale and next season will totally forget about all this, but taken on its own, it's good stuff.

* How do you solve a problem like Belle? Put her to sleep, apparently. Yes, after having her re-enter a romantic relationship with Rumple (following a ridiculous, not-fooling-anyone tease that maybe she won't take him back), Belle learns that she's been duped again since Rumple had taken back the Darkness before she slept with him. But it's too late now - she's pregnant with his child! And she learns this from Rumple, at the same time he reveals his deception to her and finally gives her a "This is who I am, take it or leave it" ultimatum. She spirals into an erratic mess, tries to redeem another bad boy romantic interest only to end up condemning his soul to the River Styx, and then puts herself under a sleeping spell after giving Rumple the extremely poorly-worded order to "do whatever it takes" to get her and their unborn child out of the Underworld safely. Rumple then literally objectifies her by placing her in Pandora's Box, which he lets slip through a portal in the season finale. And that's literally it. The writers aren't even trying with Belle. They just don’t care about her. She's done as a character.

* Robin Hood's soul is obliterated. I know it's weird to start off like this, with the last thing that happens to him in the season, but that really does overshadow what little else he does in the season where he was ironically made an "official" regular. This is the culmination of the misuse of his character: being made Deader than Dead by his rapist's psycho boyfriend. And yeah, the next two seasons retcon this fate, but when Season 5 is taken as is, then you enter the finale on a sour note because the bleakest thing possible happened to someone who really didn't deserve it, all so that Regina can make certain developments that would have better off not being made. It again makes me wish that Season 5 was the final season, since then there would be no option to make those developments and Robin could be spared. But as it stands, it's the last indignity inflicted upon the legendary hero, and on Sean Maguire.

* Zelena is promoted to regular this season, to the surprise of no-one. What is surprising is that the writing issues she had in the previous seasons are all but absent here. Zelena is an incredibly entertaining, funny, deliciously wicked, sympathetic, nuanced and ultimately redeemed character this season, with Rebecca Mader doing some of her best acting work. Her joining forces with the villainous King Arthur, her giving birth to her child, her tragic romance with Hades, and her reconciliation with her mother and sister are all highlights.

* Hades, the Big Bad of the Underworld Saga, is the best Big Bad this show has had since the Neverland Saga's Peter Pan. He's devious, underhanded and hateful, but he's also funny and smooth and, when it comes to Zelena, legitimately romantic. Greg Germann's performance is naturally the glue that holds it all together; he is just so charismatic. Hades is also a great example of a nuanced villain who doesn't end up getting redeemed, as in a great twist the curse that Zelena's True Love's Kiss breaks, a curse to stop his heart and dull his feelings, was put on him by Zeus for a damn good reason, as he is an absolutely sadistic psychopath with his heart beating. The only downside to Hades (besides the needless Disney-esque fiery blue hair effect they occasionally use on him) is that his defeat is rather anticlimactic, hinging entirely on the fact that he forged the only thing in existence that could kill him. If he hadn't made such a monumentally stupid blunder, taking him down would have been much harder. His actual death scene is well-done, but in context it’s pretty silly.

* Camelot introduces an onslaught on new characters: King Arthur who is reimagined as an insecure, self-righteous tyrant, and his wife Queen Guinevere whom he has under mind control so that she's unwaveringly loyal to him. There is also the short-lived Sir Percival, the even shorter-lived Sir Kay, and Sir Morgan who ends up being the Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court. Sir Morgan's daughter, Violet, is Henry's adorkable new girlfriend. The nearby kingdom of Dunbroch gives us Merida and her father King Fergus, whom was surprisingly allowed to get killed off. And we even have some returning characters like Sir Lancelot (not killed by Cora after all), Mulan (suddenly a lone mercenary despite having last been seen joining the Merry Men), and Ruby (and oh boy, I'll get back to Ruby soon...)

Two absolutely pivotal characters to the show's overall lore are Merlin and Nimue. Merlin, who contrary to usual depictions is a young black guy, is the Sorcerer who was constantly alluded to in Season 4, responsible for such things as the position of the Author. His ex-lover Nimue became the first Dark One through drinking in the power of the Holy Grail and then perverting it for murderous vengeance. It was Merlin who reforged the Holy Grail into Excalibur afterward, then breaking it in half and creating the Dark One Dagger out of the top half. Nimue, meanwhile, is the closest to a Big Bad that the Dark Swan Saga has apart from Emma and Hook, influencing them as an avatar of the Darkness prior to her actual soul, still bonded to the Darkness, rejoining the land of the living alongside the other dead Dark Ones. With her ashen-gray face and creepy monotone voice, Nimue is a truly unsettling figure.

* While there are a few new characters encountered in the Underworld such as Hercules, Megara and Zeus, the main attraction is all of the returning dead characters they were able to get back on the show. Neal, Cora, Henry Sr., Peter Pan, Cruella De Vil, the Blind Witch, Prince James, Milah, Liam, Gaston, the Sorcerer's Apprentice....even obscure characters like Stealthy and Claude! Some are utilized better than others, but it's great to see all of them.

And then there's one living character whose return I could have done without - Dorothy Gale, who is even blander as an adult than she was as a child! And to add insult onto injury, the writers clearly set up a gay storyline between Mulan and Ruby in the Dark Swan Saga, only for Disney to apparently step in and not allow it since Mulan is in the Disney Princess lineup and her in a gay romance is bad for the brand (then why'd you allow her to have feelings for fellow Disney Princess Aurora then!?), and so out of nowhere we get the Ruby/Dorothy romance in the span of just a single episode. Watching Meghan Ory desperately attempt to act like she's in love with the wooden actress who plays Dorothy is painful to watch, and this being Ruby's final appearance just hammers how how utterly wasted this poor character was.

* The two-part season finale brings another unwelcome return: the Dragon from the abominable "Selfless, Brave and True" episode of Season 2 (like Lancelot, he is retconned into having survived). We are also introduced to Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and the Land of Untold Stories in which they reside...and as I'll detail in my next post, this is a place and a concept that is so wasted, even by the standards set by this show, that it's mind-boggling. Last and most certainly least, we have the Evil Queen that Dr. Jekyll's serum brings out of Regina, with Lana Parilla in full camp mode while playing her. And after a fake-out where it looks like she's dealt with, she's shown to be alive and will be our next antagonist. Joy.

Atmosphere - Whether you like this season's atmosphere or not, there is no denying that it has distinct atmosphere: dark and morose and foreboding, to the point of bleakness, coupled with a sweeping epic and romantic feel. I personally feel like this atmosphere is perfectly appropriate when the stakes are raised so high and the show is dealing with two of the oldest mythologies in the world, Arthurian and Greek respectively, but it seems that too frequently the show doesn't know when to hold back and reign it in a little. This is especially the case in the final two episodes of each arc (not including the two-part season finale). I must definitely give props, however, to the designers of the Underworld's version of Storybrooke, or as fans liked to call it: "Scarybrooke". With the decaying buildings, red sky filter, and broken clock tower in the middle of the street, you really feel like the characters are traversing an eerie new world even though it's technically the regular old Storybrooke set that is being used.

Also, despite being featured in the wretched episodes "The Price" and "Dreamcatcher" and has the first part of the wretched finale named after it, I really like the usage of the song "Only You" by Alison Moyet. It adds kind of a (suitably romantic) theme song to the season.

Episode Quality - While the Dark Swan Saga may not be a good one overall, its episode quality is a mixed bag. "The Broken Kingdom" and "Nimue" are easily the best episodes, since they are almost exclusively focused on Camelot. "The Dark Swan" and "The Price" are easily the worst episodes, starting the arc on off the worst possible foot. "Dreamcatcher" and, especially due its Brave connections, "The Bear and the Bow" are vey weak episodes, while "Siege Perilous" and, in spite of its Brave connections, "The Bear King" are surprisingly strong episodes. And then there's the Dark Hook trilogy of "Birth", "Broken Heart" and "Swan Song", which have some amazing visuals, brilliant acting, and dramatically thrilling moments, but they unfortunately can't shake off just how badly the Dark Hook twist affects the story. I never liked the idea of making Emma the Dark One, but if the show was going to do that, then they should have gone the whole way with it rather than pull this kind of bait and switch.

The first four episodes of the Underworld Saga, dedicated to saving Hook, are its strongest: "Souls of the Departed", "Labor of Love", "Devil's Due" and "The Brothers Jones" flow really well into one another and all have their share of memorable moments and interesting character development. "Our Decay" and "Sisters" are also strong episodes, although they have some drawbacks such as a well-acted but painfully uncomfortable scene between Rumple and Belle in the former and the inexplicable wasting of Prince James in the latter. "Her Handsome Hero" and "Ruby Slipper" are the only truly weak episodes in the arc, and even they have their moments, usually courtesy of Hades. Finally, the climactic "Firebird" and "Last Rites" are of the same quality - everything that transpires in the Underworld is fantastic, but everything that doesn't is flawed. The flashback in the former is completely nonsensical and does Emma's character a huge disservice, which is especially a shame when her present-day material is some of her best in the season. The Storybrooke-based events in the latter culminate in Robin Hood's death and I've already made my thoughts known about that, but the quest in the Underworld shared between Hook and Arthur is something I never knew I needed, with Colin O'Donoghue and Liam Garrigan's chemistry being off the charts and the resolution we get for both the Underworld and Arthur's character being absolutely perfect.

And then there's the two-part finale, "Only You" and "An Untold Story", which I think actually holds up even worse than it did when it first aired. Emma revealing to everyone else that Hook is back alive, Rumple absorbing all Storybrooke's magic into the Olympian Crystal, Emma and Regina's argument that makes Henry think Regina is regressing, Henry blaming magic for everything and setting out with Violet on a quest to destroy it, and both the heroes and Rumple reacting accordingly all happens within the first 10 minutes. Just 4 minutes later, Emma and Regina are in Boston, Henry and Violet are in New York, and Snow, Charming, Hook and Zelena are in the Land of Untold Stories. And then, despite all this rushing, we end up spending 7 fucking minutes on a woe-is-me, martyr complex speech by Regina to Emma in Neal's old apartment. Regina and her angst ends up slowing down the second part as well, as the process of her using Jekyll's serum and separating the Evil Queen from her (encouraged by a re-idiofied Snow) goes on forever. The final scene being the Evil Queen's return, with her promising to be the next Big Bad to threaten Storybrooke, is the exact opposite of how to get me hyped for next season. At least with Season 4′s finale, there was the promise of going to Camelot in addition to Emma as the Dark One. What does this finale have to accompany the Evil Queen factor? Mr. Hyde and his invisible friends? Weak!

There are some elements in this finale that work and that I would have liked to see in a series finale at this point - Henry and Violet hanging out together, Rumple with his Olympian Crystal plot, Neal having some posthumous relevancy, the Land Without Magic outside Storybroke being a setting, and the full-circle element in regards to "New York City Serenade". But none of those things are worth how they were utilized here, alongside the reappearance of the Dragon, the wasting of the Land of Untold Stories, and Henry's cringe-inducing speech about believing in magic that Jared Gilmore probably won't be putting on any career highlight reels.

Overall - Season 5 is probably the most personally frustrating season of the show to me. I love it, I hate it, I find joy in it, I find despair in it, I can enjoy it for what it is while also agonizing over what it could have been. The one consistent I have in regards to it is that it should have been the final season of the show. If Adam and Eddy had allowed that, they still would have had enough goodwill from viewers to potentially do more in the OUAT universe afterward (ex: more spin-offs like Once Upon a Time in Wonderland; maybe one where they could utilize their Land of Untold Stories idea which seems tailor-made for an anthology series). Because as lows as this season's low points are, its highs are not going to be matched by the next two seasons, and that was the death of OUAT as a profitable franchise.

#Once Upon a Time #ABC #OUAT and Me #Opinion #Analysis

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majoraop · 4 years

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In Which His Eyes Are Shown

Surprised? I know you are… You were expecting to see me in a predicament, weren't you? Maybe hanging from chains in a dark and dirty cell, injured and starving. Or, if you were feeling particularly sadistic, you would probably be imagining me crucified like in a parody of my miserable childhood. Not at all. Look around you. The cell is small, but shackles at my wrist and ankles aside—a mere formality—it doesn't feel like a prison at all. I have a proper bed, books, even a gramophone! Music was an unexpected occurrence for the uneducated prisoners locked at the bottom of this pit, but they haven’t complained. Not that it would have made any difference. I've connections—yes, even here in Impel Down. They get me newspapers too, so I know what’s happening on the surface even while sitting here in a replica of my feather coat. (Its shade is wrong, but it isn't so bad: reddish-pink matches better with my current black-and-white striped clothes.) As expected, people are still killing each other as they always do. I'm laughing my ass off while the marines—the so-called "protectors of justice and peace"—are desperately trying to avoid the world crumbling under this mess caused by the pirates of the “Worst Generation”. Fufufu… as if my generation was any better! At least, down here a certain “Emperor” (a sloshed lunatic) won't find me. Then, after the fall of those cursed Celestial Dragons, I'll rise again and take back what's mine. You weren’t expecting to see me enjoying my confinement like this, were you? I bet you wanted me to shatter, to go insane—or worse, to change... Don't make me laugh! I've seen too much, learned too much, to change at this point of my unfortunate life. Sure, I may tone my ways down a little to play along with whoever will find usefulness in my skills and knowledge—granted, only if such... partnership were beneficial to me too. But I digress. I know why you’re here and what you want to see, so let’s get to the point. I know perfectly well what you crave for, each time you check on me in one of your sick fantasies and imaginary scenarios in which I'm what I’ll never be. I know what you yearn for, and what you've been waiting for all this time. And since I'm in a particularly good mood—say thanks to the top-grade wine they brought me earlier today—I’ll show you what your inquiring eyes have been silently asking for a while now. Be attentive though—I will concede you just a moment: my time is precious even in this so-called “hell” (I've seen worse). I won't waste too much of it for a mere peasant like you. Are you ready? I hope that after this you'll leave me alone at last. “...” Why that expression? Are you disappointed? You sure love to fantasise about me! I don’t know if I should feel flattered or crept out by your morbid curiosity... I'll just laugh it off, I guess. And no, I won't put off my glasses for you again, so don't bother asking. Now, shut up and get lost! I need to think... A clownish monkey and a whiny duckling blew up my plans last time, but I'm already weaving my web again: connection after connection, thread after thread... people are so easy to corrupt! My strings get everywhere, farther than what you would ever imagine even in your wildest dreams—or nightmares. I must be ready, and you should start preparing too: the craziest part of this treasure hunt for the “One Piece” is yet to begin. --- Doflamingo jolted awake. Panting, he tried to get up into a sitting position but couldn't move an inch. A dream...? He blinked behind his glasses, trying to control his breathing and slow down his heartbeat. Next, he tried to get up again but to no avail. Slowly, he recognised the sicking sensation of the seastone chains binding his arms, legs, and torso. With his limbs spread open like that and his back pressed against the cold ground, he felt utterly vulnerable. Where is the music? Where are the wine and the newspapers...? Doflamingo’s thoughts raced frantically while he tried to remember. Why had he been imprisoned? However, he only recalled a wrongly coloured coat and useful connections… But all of that had disappeared now, and he was alone with his glasses and his nightmares. The assassins! While fighting against his mind, which was going crazy from isolation and boredom, he started remembering. The assassins may be here already! Doflamingo laughed. Loudly. He wondered if someone could hear him down there, the deranged “FUFUFUs” sounding alien to him since his voice was hoarse from lack of use. How long had he been into solitary confinement? Weeks? Months? Years? He didn’t know, but he knew he had no influence nor relevance down there. They're here to kill me! His worst fear assaulted him again: he knew the secret of Mary Geoise, so he had to die. But to his surprise, he almost welcomed death now. Anything would be better than being unable to move, alone in a damp cell, with whatever was left of his sanity inexorably slipping away from his grasp. His threads had been severed. He felt impotent. He was a weak child again, screaming in fear while an angry mob vomited its hate on him. Stay away!!! Doflamingo's breathing turned frantic. As much as he tried to gulp air down his sore throat, it never was enough. He pulled at the chains around his wrists desperately, craving for oxygen. He felt tears forming in the corners of his eyes but fought them back: he would not cry again, no matter how painful it was. He hadn’t been able to hold back his tears as a child, hanging from cruel ropes while flames scorched his skin and smoke intoxicated him. Or when he hadn't been readmitted back to his homeland, his father's blood still on his hands. But now it was different. It had to be. The assassins from back then... they’re still after me! Doflamingo felt nauseous, defenceless. He hated that feeling: he was born to rule, not to succumb. And yet, even in the depths of hell, his ambition was still miraculously intact: he was a king—he had always been. But now that he was alone in that isolation cell, he felt the weight of his failures. He had killed his father—his brother too—but it all had been for nothing. He finally understood why he had surrounded himself with people not bound to him by blood and had made them his new family: he felt alone. He had always felt alone since that damned day when his mother died. Curse you, father! His mother had been the only person he had ever loved. Only Roci, his brother, had come close, but it hadn’t last. Flashes of Rocinante joining his pirate crew appeared in Doflamingo’s feverish mind, mixed with more memories of his terrible past. He recalled hastily eating trash in the streets together with his little brother, people beating them, and the smell… That lingering, disgusting smell as they lived in a shack hidden in a rubbish dump. Doflamingo took a few deep breaths not to throw up—as much as the chains around his chest allowed him to do that at least. He felt pain in the areas where the cold metal bit his flash, the black and white prison uniform not offering much protection. I’m miserable right now, aren’t I? He tried to laugh that feeling off but failed to do so. Enshrouded in complete darkness, Doflamingo realised not even his glasses could hide the helplessness filling his eyes.

Short story written for @callmedrafter, for the Set Sail! One Piece Mid Year Exchange @setsailexchange. The draft of this fanfic had been sitting in my folders for way too long, and this was the perfect occasion to edit and publish it at last! (When characters start talking to you and even mocking you for the way you write them, you know it's time for them to reappear in their canon glory… which Doffy actually did after I wrote the second draft of his story—meaning that this fanfic isn’t completely canon anymore. I should have expected him having connections in Impel Down, too.)

#setsail2020 #onepiece #one piece #doflamingo #donquixote doflamingo #opfanfic #opfanfiction #majoraop #(As usual if you find any typo or something else to fix please let me know! ^^ )#queued

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marvel-ousnesss · 4 years

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The pirate and the witch (part two)

Word count: 2568 Pairing: Harry Hook x daughter of Narissa!reader

Summary: Y/N, an orphan vk who was taken to Auradon at a young age, returns to her old home by request of the crown prince. However, things tend to go south at the Isle of the Lost.

Warning: Mild cursing

A:/N: Okay people, here's the second part! I'm really enjoying writing this and already working on part three. Feel free to ask if you wanna be tagged and to point out any mistakes or typos that you see. Enjoy 😬

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE DISNEY DESCENDANTS CHARACTERS NOR THE SANDERSON SISTERS. All credit goes to the creators, writers, and producers. Same with the HP charms, credit goes to J.K Rowling.

Part one Mobile masterlist Part three Part four

— So, how was it? — Asks Ben, who's currently sitting on the couch of his and Chad’s dorm, with the brightest grin plastered on his sweaty face. His tourney gear discarded on the floor next to him, I can tell he took it out in a rush right before he called me.

I chuckle at his excitement; kind of resembles a golden retriever puppy. Sitting cross-legged on the simple bed, I stare at the screen of a tablet with the royal crest of Maldonia on its green case. Just parted ways with Harry and, even if it’s hardly four pm, I’m utterly exhausted; but Ben won’t stop calling me until I tell him everything.

— Where to start, where to start,— I pretend to think, scratching my chin with my index finger and frowning my brows. — Being chased by bandits, being kidnapped by wicked witches, who, by the way, may have found a way to practice magic, or having a VIP ticket for Uma’s pirate ship?

— That does sound like quite an adventure, but let’s cover the basics first. How’s the place?

I sigh, setting jokes aside. — Miserable, Ben, whatever you discussed with your father will seem like a children’s tale.

—Something needs to be done about it — he states, — but I’m gonna need your help in convincing my father.

—I’m sure it will be fine, he’s all about second chances, right?

I don’t even know if I completely believe what I’m telling Ben. I remember standing outside of the Royal Courtroom, fidgeting, uncertain of what those who I thought were meant to be good and forgiving would decide for me. The funny thing is that Auradon’s oh so great and just king was the most reluctant to let me be part of his kingdom, claiming that I had an intrinsically wicked nature.

However, I manage to spit my words between gritted teeth— See? You’ll do great.

— I really hope so.

— Look, for now, just sit tight and behold my wonderful narrative skills. We’ll plan our scheme later, — I wink.

— Okay, go on.

So, I tell him everything, no detail spared. Even if it is supposed to be a prison island, it is atrocious to have people living in such conditions. From the poorly constructed infrastructure to the lack of resources that has resulted in people fighting like animals over things such as a rotten apple or half a loaf of bread.

— I’m glad you saw it all first hand, and with all of this, I really believe that we can convince my father to do something about it.

— What I’m most worried about is the embargo that he placed, many goblins are out of jobs because of it, and the malnutrition and sickness here have drastically raised since.— I frown my brows.

— We’ll need statistics to show that, and maybe he’ll abolish the limitations on resources and re-establish the goblins’ jobs.

— Keep talking Mr. crown prince, I only yawn when I’m utterly fascinated.— I roll my eyes and smile when I hear the familiar voice of my second favorite prince.

— Manners, Charming, the grownups are talking,— I fake scold as Chad pops on the screen behind Ben.

— Wow Y/N! Really looking like the evil witch you are— he snarls.

I don’t give it any thought ‘cause a) it’s Chad who’s talking and b) I am dressed in a purple leather jacket and a navy blue top, not to mention my smokey eye makeup. So, I brush him off.

— I miss you too, Chaddy. But, I'd love you to shut up before I go and make you.

—I guess it is true, ‘once a villain, always a villain’.

— Guess it is true, Prince Chad charming, of Cinderellasburg, is even more delicate than his mother’s set of porcelain.

— Seriously, though, don’t let the Isle get to you too much.

— Are you, gods forbid, worried about me?

— Nah, just don’t want real VKs living among us, do we? — when he says this, he playfully punches Ben on his shoulder.

…

—And so, I ended up flirting with none other than Harry Hook in the flesh.

When I utter the word flirting, Chad’s nose scrunch makes both me and Ben burst into laughter.

—Yes, Chad, we flirted, and, dare I say, I enjoyed it. Anyway, after we escaped the cage, we walked together and he ended up inviting me to ‘keep the heid’ back at Uma’s ship,

— I think that may be good for getting to know them, — suggests the crown prince. — You know, figuring out which of them are in worst scenarios.

— Sorry to break it to you, Ben, but it wouldn’t be safe for Y/N to go hang with a bunch of pirates.

Even if our relationship is playful and full of bickering, Chad can get super protective sometimes. It is something that I appreciate, really, but when he smells possible danger, he tends to get worse than my mom.

— I did decline his offer but, seeing that not going would mean agreeing with dearest Chad, — I shrug — I’m gonna go. Right now.

Much to Chad’s dismay, we say a brief goodbye.

— Be careful,

— Don’t let them infect you!

I chuckle at them and hang up. Then, I put the tablet under the bed, grab my cloak, and head out the door.

…

Now closer to the docks, my ears are flooded with the stomping of dancing feet and the cheers of shanties, accompanied by what sounds like a piano and guitar duo. I arrive and cannot help but smile at the sight. Before my eyes, I find some of the most dangerous and vile people of the Isle dancing and singing around a fire that’s set on a barrel in the middle of the ship.

I approach the crowd and, when I catch the first mate’s eye, he stops playing and laughs.

— I knew you’d come. Couldn’t resist m’charms.

I smirk, — just came for a good time, Hook. Don’t you ruin it already.

— Aren’t you gonna introduce me to your new toy? — asks the sea witch, emerging from the crew of pirates, who are now quizzically looking at our interaction.

— I’m Y/N.

— Ooh, the witch, — she inquires. — Harry hasn’t shut up about your little encounter earlier today.

— Hasn’t he? — I quirk a brow at him but don’t even get him to blush.

— Gonzo, — intervenes Harry. — Take over would ya? I’ve business.

The music continues to play and the pirates continue to sing and dance. A blond guy, Gil, I believe, offers me a pint of beer, but I politely refuse. He doesn’t seem to mind, as he drowns the whole thing in one gulp and I quietly chuckle. I proceed to take off my cloak and leave it in the rack, embracing the cold wind. Then, I approach Harry.

— So, are you gonna teach me how to dance this thing, or did you invite me to stand in the corner of the deck all night?

— Are you trying to flirt with me, lassie? — he asks.

— Do I look like someone who’s interested in you? — He’s about to respond but I cut him off, — you know what? Don’t answer.

I grab his hands and pull him to the designated dance floor with me. I’m genuinely curious about this type of music, back home we don’t have anything similar. Next thing I know, he hooks his arm through mine and we’re jumping, spinning and cheering around the dance floor, avoiding a collision with the rest of the crew members.

After a few songs, I suggest we take a break and grab something to drink, so we make our way to the barrel located at the end of the deck.

— Ain’t gaunnie tell me that was yer first time dancing shanties, ‘cause I ain’t taking mince.

He speaks as he fills the first glass with beer and hands it to me, then he scratches the back of his neck with one hand and places the other on his belt buckle.

— Well, believe it or not, it was — I defend myself, fixing my simple hairdo.

— then let me tell ya, yer a natural.

— thanks, — I smile.

He looks at me with curiosity.

— err... I mean, of course I am.

After he fills his own glass, we sit on the front edge of the Lost Revenge’s plank and let our feet hang above the water.

— Why haven’t I seen you 'round, — he takes a gulp of his drink.

I try to do the same but encounter an unpleasant sensation, so I take a small sip and place my glass on the floor, next to me. — I already told you, lone wolf.

—Bullshit. I know the lone wolves, —he claims — easy prey for the crew. Besides, ain’t seen you at school either.

— I don’t go too Serpent prep.

—Oh… you attend the Witch school?

— Not exactly, — I release a breath, not wanting to get further into the topic — but, let’s just say I don’t like having attention on me. How bout you, Mr. first mate, aside from the badass handsome pirate act?

Truly, not to my surprise, he avoids my twist to the conversation. —Ooh, so ya think I’m badass and handsome too…

— Don’t let it get to your head, sailor, no one likes a cocky pirate. — My words come together with a playful side push.

— Aww lass, yer just lying to me in me face, — he whines, — you seem to drool over this cocky, badass, handsome pirate.

A bit frustrated, I exclaim, — Such a dickhead!!! How do they put up with you?

Then, our eyes land on the figure who had just stopped behind me.

— We just do this… — Uma tries to push her first mate off the ship, but he holds onto the railing.

— Funny, captain, — grumbles my date (if one could call it like that) — ya know the crew’s all at my feet.

Uma rolls her eyes, — Yeah, right. The only one ‘at your feet’ is little hellcat here.

At this, he scoots closer and smirks, attempting to place an arm around me, but I slip away. — Don’t get your hopes up, Pirate, haven’t hooked me yet.

Once again, the captain’s voice captivates our attention. — Hey Harry, why don’t you bring me and your new conquest some more beer?

I glance at my half-full glass, — I’m good.

— Nonsense, I insist.— Uma’s gritted teeth hint that she’s not asking out of politeness. In fact, she’s not asking at all.

— Aye aye captain.

As soon as we are left alone, Uma takes the spot that was previously occupied by her first mate, — Don’t know you, so don't trust you. Straight to the point, why would a random wannabe witch like you pop out from nowhere and come to my ship?

My answer is simple and blunt, — If you haven’t noticed, I’m here with Hook.

—That’s not what I’m asking so don’t play dumb with me —, she does her best to stay calm. — Just wondering… haven’t seen you around and, when I do, you have the biggest flirt of the Isle suddenly interested in you, there’s gotta be more to your tale; power, dominance, what d’you want?

My feet swing as I think of a quick response. — Nothing, really. As for Harry, guess I’m that irresistible.

Uma chuckles at my words, but her smile disappears faster than it came.

—Take this as a warning, don’t you dare try anything stupid. Have that in mind and you’re welcome whenever you want. — she mocks, with an overly excited grin. — Any toy of Harry is a friend of mine.

Before I can reply, the shanties stop playing and low, menacing growls are emitted by Bonny and Jonas. We turn around and notice that the two female members of the squad that rules the Isle are now on deck with us.

Mal glides into view, with leather boots hitting the wooden floor. — Awww shrimpy… you threw a party? It kind of hurts that you didn’t invite us.

Uma huffs before standing up and then faces Mal with a demeanor that gives me the creeps. Both Harry and Gil stand at her sides, with a hand on their swords; everyone else takes no time in mimicking their stance. As for me, I stand in the middle of the crowd and begin channeling my powers, just in case.

—You know snooty little witch, you’re sounding just like your mother; a cheaper and less intimidating copy, though.

She did kind of paraphrase Maleficent.

Raging, Mal growls and her eyes emit a bright green glow.

— See? My point exactly.

Now, with more tension in the scene, Harry steps in. — And what a cute little lap dog, — he laughs, approaching Evie. When he gets to her, he deadpans — sit.

The evil queen's daughter refuses to let herself be affected, so she limits her reaction to an eye roll. — Charming, Harry.

— Okay, as much as we’d love to stay and chat, we have an Isle to run. Not that you’d understand, anyway.

On cue, they both laugh and walk away.

— Now, boys.— Mal’s voice is heard through the length of The Lost Revenge, and Jay and Carlos, who must have managed to sneak inside while the crew focused on the girls, kick and spill casks full of water and rotten shrimps all over the ship.

However, their smirks turn into frowns when Carlos’ barrel rolls over and knocks the bonfire down, making the flames take grasp of the wooden floor.

Both intruders and some crew members jump to the water as the fire grows, but I approach it and firmly say ‘aquamenty’. The water shot from my hands extinguishes the fire.

Pirates gasp and Uma approaches me with an expression of simultaneous anger, relieve and, dare I say, gratefulness. — Not such a wannabe, after all.

Harry stands next to her, smirking at me, yet his expression changes when his eyes dart to the damaged deck.

—Still, — he sighs, — the damage is pretty bad. Can you do something about it, doll?

I hesitate — I mean, I could try. But I haven’t perfected that spell yet.

I place a hand over the burnt wood of the deck and whisper — reparo.

Immediately, the floor of the deck restores itself and the broken barrel that previously contained the blaze stands back up. Satisfied, Uma goes to check on her crew.

Mental note: ask about the gang war.

Harry, however, gets a step closer to me and helps me up,— you’d be useful ‘round here, I could get Uma to let you in.

— As captivating as that sounds, I'm not really a team player.

I turn around but, before I can part, he captures my wrist, —yer breaking me heart, dollface.

— We already had this conversation, handsome, you don’t have one of those.

Tags: @aspitefullittlebeing @treestarrrrrrrr

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cbk1000 · 5 years

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So You Want To Read Literature In a Foreign Language

I’ve had a few language asks here and there and thought I would do a write-up specifically on reading in a second language, as that is A. My specialty and B. Most language courses are going to focus on speaking and listening comprehension. Which certainly isn’t a bad thing, but the vocabulary necessary to carry on a competent conversation in a second tongue is much smaller than what you’ll need to read even popular fiction, let alone books of more serious literary aspirations. I’ve arranged this list in order of approximate difficulty, but of course it will always depend upon the exact book/article/comic you’re reading and whether or not its vocabulary coincides with your own.

I’ll put this under a cut, as it will be quite long.

A few tips, however, before I get on with the list: the more you read, the faster you’ll improve, as with anything. If you have the time and drive to read an hour or more a day in your target language, you’ll be knocking out books in no time. In my first year of Russian I was reading for 2+ hours a day, and by the end of that year I was reading fluently with no help from English translations (as I used in my earlier months) and I could pick up just about any genre I liked. My Russian vocabulary, of course, was still not as advanced as my English, but I was able to read fairly complex literature and to understand the majority of the text.

If a piece is too hard, put it down. I can’t emphasize this enough. Trying to read something massively beyond your reading level is frustrating and will only put you off. There were books I had to set aside in my first year and even beyond just because, stylistically speaking, they were over my head. I could follow the main story, but I was missing enough details/subtleties in the author’s style that I knew I needed to set it aside and try again later when I could fully appreciate it. There is absolutely no shame in this; get a few more books under your belt, and try again in a few months. I have now gone back and read several books I had to set aside; you’ll get there eventually. Some pieces are very difficult; I didn’t attempt Solzhenitsyn’s ‘Red Wheel’ series (which was the series that prompted me to learn Russian in the first place, since later volumes hadn’t been translated) until I had been reading prolifically for over two years. My dude is dense, and also wants to go over every minutiae of the fucking Duma’s every meeting with you. It was also around this time that I started reading poetry; it was just too difficult for me prior to that.

Most of all: have fun! Reading not only improves your vocabulary, it expands your understanding of a culture tremendously, and allows you an access to it that you can’t get through translation. Think of all the history you can read!! The primary sources!!

Anyway, away with this rambling introduction, and onward to the actual useful part of this post.

Adapted Classics: I found a series of these in Russian very early on in my studies, and you’d do well to see whether or not you can find something similar in your target language, especially if you’re a beginner. These are essentially long-winded summaries of well-known classics with simplified grammar, so that you can expand your vocabulary without breaking your head over more complex sentence structure that you can’t yet comprehend. I read a simplified version of ‘Anna Karenina’, ‘Jane Eyre’, one of the Sherlock stories, ‘The Adventures of Tom Sawyer’, and ‘20,000 Leagues Under the Sea’ this way. They were extremely useful in growing my vocabulary while not overwhelming me with long, meandering sentences that would utterly lose me in the beginning of my studies (Tolstoy, I love you, but this is aimed directly at you. I REMEMBER THE CITIZENS FLEEING MOSCOW. 200+ WORDS BEFORE YOU THOUGHT TO PUT IN A FUCKING PERIOD).

Comics: Comics are great. I read some Star Wars graphic novels in Russian, a few manga, part of ‘The Walking Dead’ series, and also some Archie comics, which I used to read all the time as a kid. Not only do you have pictures to help with context, but you don’t usually have challenging descriptive passages to contend with. It turns out that Russians pirate just about everything, so I was able to find lots of sites with huge selections of comics available to read free online. Do a bit of googling and see if you can find something similar in your own target language.

Fanfiction: If you’ve followed this blog long enough, then you know that actually I got my start reading gay Captain American porn in Russian, and it was brilliant, thank you very much, and I bet you I was just about the only beginner Russian student on this planet who could barely introduce themselves but definitely could have had gay phone sex. Fanfiction is not generally written in a highly literary style, so it’s easier to follow. Moreover, you’re dealing with characters, tropes, and plotlines you’re already familiar with, and that familiarity helps enormously. While English is of course the most widely-used language on AO3, you have many language options to choose from, and in a large fandom like Marvel or Harry Potter, you’re bound to find something in your target language. You might check as well to see if any massively popular fics in a fandom you follow have been translated into your target language; I’ve noticed that quite a lot with Russian.

News Articles: News articles are generally written in a simplified language designed to be accessible by the average reader, who’s actually not very good at reading at all. I’m sure this varies somewhat by country and language, but here in the States most clock in at something like a 7th or 8th grade reading level, as that, depressingly, appears to be the average reading level of the majority of the reading public. They’re short and will introduce some new words into your vocabulary in an easily digestible way. Also: most big magazine publications such as Cosmopolitan and People have several different versions of their websites. The Russian version, for instance, is cosmo.ru instead of cosmo.com. The French edition is cosmopolitan.fr. Figure out what designation your target language uses in place of .com and you’re in business (unless you accidentally get a porn site). Do I like Cosmopolitan magazine? Not particularly. Did it teach me new sex terms in Russian? Absolutely. And that’s what we’re all looking for, right?

Dual Language: At around 4-5 months into my studies, I started reading dual language texts. I did this first with short stories, and later with full novels. This is not for everyone as it requires you to constantly switch back and forth between your native and target language, and especially if you’re farther on in your studies, this might muddle you more than help you. I found at about 8 months or so I had to take off the training wheels, as my vocabulary and grasp of grammar was good enough that looking over at the English text was actually confusing me, because I had gone from laboriously, awkwardly translating everything in my head to just reading it naturally. But in the beginning, it was a much faster way to check vocabulary, and it also helped me to sort out grammar by comparing it to my native language. All languages are trying to accomplish the same thing, which is to communicate; they just do it in different ways. But you can find a common ground even between languages that are vastly different, as English and Russian are. You can find some dual language texts, or you can do what I did, which is to put the English translation on an e-reader, and get hold of a hard copy of the Russian. I would always read the Russian first, and only if I was confused/missing a lot of words would I look over at the English text. Make sure you compare a couple of translations and pick the one that is most literally faithful, even if it’s not a great translation in and of itself. I used some English translations that I actually didn’t care for as a translation, but they were very literal and therefore very helpful in sussing the original text.

Books You’ve Already Read In Your Native Language: It doesn’t have to be a book you have practically memorised (though that will certainly help). Anything you’ve read at least once in your life will do. You’d be surprised how much will come back to you, and how much context will help you figure out any unfamiliar words. I picked up the Russian translation of Ken Follett’s giant-ass ‘Winter of the World’ about a year into my studies. His style is neither particularly difficult nor...impressive, but as it’s the second in a trilogy that follows three generations of multiple families from WWI all the way into the Cold War, it has a lot of military and political terminology that you don’t encounter in everyday speech. It’s also over 1,000 pages, so it’s rather daunting in a second language regardless. I had read it once before in English, probably some five years before I read the translation, and going into it I really didn’t remember that much. However, while reading, I found that certain plotlines would start coming back to me, and helped a lot in piecing together unfamiliar terminology, in addition to the words I already knew. Don’t focus overly much on every single word and trying to remember what it is in your native language; trust me, you will absorb a lot from context. Just let go and let it wash over you.

Translations: Translations are almost always going to be easier than a book originally written in your target language, if the texts are of comparable difficulty. For instance: ‘Les Miserables’ is easier for me in Russian than Solzhenitsyn’s ‘The Gulag Archipelago’. Both are massive, rambling texts with long asides on history and politics, and in English I’d say they’re pretty equally difficult reads. Certainly neither is what I would classify as light reading. So why is ‘Les Miserables’ easier? Because in a translation I’m not dealing with uniquely Russian slang and turns of phrase. Yes, some of it has to be Russified in order for the target audience to better comprehend it in their native tongue, but generally speaking it doesn’t feel Russian, if that makes sense. I can tell pretty much as soon as I pick up a book if it’s a translation. Now, French isn’t my native language, but I’ve used it as an example because I’ve read quite a bit of French literature in Russian translation, and fairly difficult authors/texts at that: Hugo, Stendahl, Zola, etc. etc. None of these authors are light beach reads, but they’re also not difficult for me to follow in Russian. And anything translated from English is even more accessible; most texts translated from English into Russian I can follow very nearly as well as I can read the original English. When you’re dealing with a heavy-hitter that’s writing in your target language, they can get up to all kinds of shenanigans and word play; a translation, generally speaking, is not going to be nearly so experimental.

Dumas: Why does Dumas get his own section? Because you should read him, dammit. HISTORY. SWASHBUCKLING. REVENGE. Dumas is fucking fun. He also has a huge oeuvre to choose from. Additionally, while he does have a lot of plotlines to follow (and this is the difficulty of Dumas when reading him in a second language) and you definitely need to get your historical vocabulary up to snuff, he is not an overly philosophical author. His novels are fun, action-oriented, and someone’s always eavesdropping on a Secret Political Conversation of the Utmost Importance. I’ve read quite a lot of Dumas in Russian (actually more than I’ve read in English) and they are easy, entertaining reads. You might get a little lost in the politics of the era, but unless you’re already familiar with them, you’d probably be a little lost in your native language as well. Don’t worry; people will start dramatically challenging one another to duels again very soon. Also: READ ‘THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO’ SERIOUSLY FOR FUCK’S SAKE DO IT.

#language #reading #books

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ikesenhell · 5 years

Text

Used to It

You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here or become a Patron of mine! NOTES: I had SO MUCH FUN writing this commission for @tarralin! She wanted an answer to a slight throwaway line from The Measurement of Time--the part where Abbot wrote to have a mage brought to The City, which was never resolved. Well, she wanted a resolution! THIS WONT MAKE MUCH SENSE IF YOU HAVEN’T READ THE SERIES.

The crumpled missive that made it on the feet of a bedraggled falcon to their walls called for a mage. Abbot’s clean, curt handwriting made it plain: this was an emergency. It wasn’t typical for their northern brethren to call so desperately for magical aid elsewhere. Doubtless it really was urgent.

Still. They couldn’t spare their best--that was the aide directly to the Southern King. The second in command had a horrific fear of water, so she wouldn’t do. So it fell to their third. With little more than an hour’s time to prepare himself, they boarded the finest they could spare onto their fastest ship and sent it upriver, praying they weren’t too late.

---

“His highness of the Southern Kingdom sent me.” Vervan Bistei hadn’t suffered through seasickness, foul food, the constant threat of pirates and the damned northern rain just to deal with the guards of the port. He flapped the royal seal at them. “Lord Tirian Kennyo the Youngest called for our aid.”

Both of the guards stared. Finally, Vervan sighed. “He’s also referred to as ‘Abbot’.”

“Oh!” The taller of the two laughed. “Why didn't you just say so?”

“Because it’s rude?” Honestly, what was it with these guards? Vervan tapped his foot impatiently. “Will you let me through?”

“We can’t exactly do that,” the shorter one explained. “The city is sort of on lockdown. I’ll have to get one of the Nine to clear you, so I’ll just get Abbot up here, and hopefully we can get this whole mess sorted out.”

Simple enough. Vervan nodded. “Right. Then I’ll wait right here. It shouldn’t be too long, right?”

---

Wrong.

They left him waiting in the harbor for the better part of four hours. He nodded off from the bench where they’d let him settle in, and when he awoke it was to a gentle tap on his shoulder. Vervan started, blinking up at the intruder.

“I--oh!”

“I--” Abbot paused and let the mage hastily drop to his knee. “That’s not necessary.”

“Of course it is. Greetings, your highness Lord Tirian Kennyo the Youngest, I am Vervan Bistei. Your brothers sent me with their compliments in return to your letter.”

“I--thank you.” Was the man blushing? He hesitated. “Please get up. I am just a soldier here.”

Vervan jumped to his feet. “Of course. My most sincere apologies.”

“And mine as well. Since I wrote that letter, the situation has, ah… resolved itself.”

Oh. So… “What you mean to say is, you have no further need of me?”

“No.” Abbot was silent a sheepish moment. “No, we had another mage sort of--ah, surprise us with his arrival. Unfortunately my missive was long gone by the time he arrived.”

Vervan did his best to shove down his disappointment. “Of course. I suppose it can’t be helped. No harm, no foul. I should just be on my way, then.”

“Of course. Err, where is the ship you arrived on…?”

What a question! Vervan almost laughed. “Why, none other than the Red Flagship! It’s right--”

Where previously the ship had moored there was now nothing at the dock--just a vast red sail in the dusky distance. Vervan blinked once, twice, three times, doing his best to comprehend what was happening. They’d left him. They’d left him! The bastards! He’d only insulted their cooking once (or twice, frankly, but that second time he’d apologized); how dare they just leave him on this slip of nothing!

“Ah,” Abbot noted thinly. “Apparently they were in a hurry.”

“You don’t say.” Vervan couldn’t bite back his disdain. “It seems I am at your disposal regardless.”

The young lord cast him a long, penetrating look before shrugging. “Well, there is the college here. I suppose we could lodge you there while I send for another ship for you--or would you prefer to go with one of the overland caravans?”

The caravans? Through the dusty desert? Perish the thought! Vervan just shook his head hastily. “No, no, I can wait for another ship.”

“Fair enough. Come along, then. I’ll see what we can do for you.”

---

The City was miserably cold in the mornings. Vervan hated how the salty spray gathered in thick bands across his windows, how he could see his breath spiraling overhead in the unvarnished rafters of the mage barracks. Down south, the sun greeted him long before he rose. Here, they were lucky to have it at all. He bound himself in thick layers of cloaks and waddled his way to the Nine’s quarters.

Captain Uesugi greeted him with a penetrating stare. “You’re dressed for winter.”

“Captain,” he replied stoically, doing his best not to make a fool of himself before her. She had such a storied lineage--how could he not know of her? “I’m not quite accustomed to the climate. At least it grows warmer soon, aye?”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Our seasons are reversed from the Southern Lands. It hasn’t yet come to winter.”

What? Vervan nearly collapsed. “It gets colder yet?”

“This is balmy. Come. You wanted something to do, yes? We can give you some rounds on the parapets.” And with that, she swept past him, her shoulders bare to the chill. Vervan granted himself five seconds to wonder what god he’d angered before he scuttled after her.

The work they gave him was grinding and manual. Much of it revolved around just walking around the walls and staring out over the ocean and fields, standing out in the rain and sleet, shivering in his layers. How could anyone stand this place? The water crashed like a horrific cacophony against the black cliffs. Its people were drab and lifeless. It was nothing, nothing like the wonderful, colorful, plush life he’d gotten accustomed to in the Southern Lands.

They had him on dock duty in the dead of the damnable night when he met her.

Truth be told, he was barely paying attention. He’d found a dry patch between some pillars and was stuck to it, lighting a little flame to warm his hands when he heard the splash.

“Who is there?” He called.

“No one!” Came a cheery answer.

Someone thought they were being smart with him. Vervan rolled his eyes and extricated himself from the small hole, confronting the woman on the dock’s edge. “By order of the City, these docks are closed come nightfall.”

The woman in the cloak just smiled prettily at him. She had bright eyes like an ocean tide and dark skin, thick ringlets of hair draping around her neck. His first thought was that she didn't belong in this godforsaken place--a lady like her should be someplace civilized, like down south. “I haven’t seen you before. What’s your name?”

“My name?” That took him just off guard. “Err, Vervan. But that really doesn’t matter. You have to leave.”

“Do I?” She shot him a smile and extended her hand, offering him a smooth black stone. “Come on. Throw rocks with me. Are you the one they sent from the south?”

“I--yes, but you can’t be here--”

Finally she peeled back her cloak hood and smiled at him. Jewels dripped from her earlobes, her neck, the trim of her dress. Who was she? Vervan paused, utterly speechless at her beauty. “This could be our little secret.”

“I--” He hesitated once more. Was this a trick? “I’m sorry, my lady, but--”

“It’s alright,” she soothed. “Just ‘Talia’ will do.”

Talia? Talia. Where had he heard that name before--oh!

“Your highness!” Dropping to his knees, Vervan put his forehead to her palm. “I am so sorry, I didn't know--”

“I said ‘just Talia’.” But the queen laughed and touched his head, soft as a feather. “Please. Rise. My mother would have nothing of this thing, and neither will I.”

“I--” Vervan staggered to his feet. He’d never come so close to royalty before. “I apologize. You, certainly, can walk wherever you like.”

Talia shot him a sly wink. “You’d find that Captain Uesugi will disagree, but she’s not here to chastise me now, is she? Come. Would you like to throw a rock with me?”

“I’ll--I’ll decline.”

“Perhaps that’s for the best,” she mused, allowing a laugh only a half second later. “If someone hits my grandfather, it would be best if it were me.”

He didn't know what to say. Tongue-tied and shaken, Vervan hugged back into the shadows of a nearby statue (it featured a man and a woman dancing, the man wearing a uniform of the Nine) and watched her until she left.

---

The Nine soldier called Sasuke Sarutobi greeted him the next day. “You have a new assignment.”

“Is it outdoors?” Vervan groused. “I hope not.”

Sarutobi shot him a look and offered him the slip of paper instead. “As it happens, yes.”

“Marvelous!” Snatching up the paper, Vervan shook it open with a roll of his eyes. “Shall I stand in the wettest part of the city, perfectly still? Shall the Captain have me walk knee-deep into the blasted surf for eight hours? Shall I clean a rock with a toothpick?”

“Actually,” the other man noted, “It’s a detail assignment. The Queen requested you.”

Vervan dropped the letter from sheer shock.

---

The job was simple enough: serve as her guard while she took the rounds on the walls. Vanity kept Vervan from wearing all his plain cloaks, so he did his best to disguise his shivering in his best southern wear. The Queen took one look at him and unclasped her own cloak, offering it to him.

“You’re freezing.”

“I refuse. You are too kind, your highness.”

She laughed and offered it to him again. “It won’t do for you to chatter the whole way around the walls. Your clothes are not suited to our weather.”

Reluctantly he took it, clasping it gratefully around his neck. “I haven’t yet gotten used to your climate, it seems.”

“No. Few do.” And she smiled--smiled!--at that. “How do you like it?”

“Well enough.”

Apparently that didn't satisfy her. She shot him a knowing look until he broke down and admitted, “Not very well.”

“I imagine. It grows on you.”

“Perhaps like mold,” Vervan answered before he could stop himself, “Or a particularly potent fungus.”

“Oh! And your sharpness returns! And here I thought you’d shamed yourself once already before me.”

His ears were red and he knew it. “Begging your pardon, your highness. I simply can’t fathom how a lady of breeding and charm likes it here.”

“I told you,” she replied, innocent and sweet. It sent shivers up his arms. “It grows on you.”

---

She summoned him more often after that. (“Dare I ask why, your highness?” “Talia. And I find your cutting humor refreshing, Vervan.”) Sometimes they huddled in the library as the storms raged outside, salt and wind rattling at the stained glass. Sometimes he followed her on her long walks around the walls or the city streets at night, watching the way she watched everything else.

And it was impossible, after long enough, not to sense her in the things around him. The freezing mornings no longer bothered him. He watched his breath curl in lacy spirals around the rough-hewn ceiling and wondered at the pattern of it. One day he caught himself swinging the window open and inhaling the tang of salt (and he shivered at how barbaric he’d become, hastily shutting it as soon as he could). Finally he went down to the marketplace--which wasn’t as awful as he’d expected--and purchased a set of new clothes for himself better suited to the weather.

“I received word today,” Abbot informed him. “Your ship will come back in springtime. It’s too choppy in the winter to send a boat.”

“Marvelous,” Vervan allowed. “So I shall be here for the whole blasted freeze?”

Abbot shrugged before allowing a small smile. “You get used to it.”

Damn it all, he was getting used to it. The Southern Lands didn't have stars the way they did in The City. He paused in the empty street center on his way home some nights, staring up into the yawning abyss, trying to guess how many pinpricks of multicolored light hung overhead and failing utterly in his estimations. Snow spiraled in over the ocean and he watched the water freeze in thick sheets by the docks, drifts settling along the houses.

“Your highness,” he inquired one day from his place behind the throne, watching the angry winter ocean break against the obsidian cliffs. “Could you answer a question?”

She cast him a smile. “Talia.”

Vervan swallowed hard. “Forgive me, Talia.”

“Indeed. What is your question?”

“What does one get used to, here?”

Her smile faded. At last she rose and reached for him, entwining her fingers in his. “Come with me.”

Together they braved the frigid chill and took the long, winding path to the docks. He warmed her with a simple spell as they pattered alongside the ocean, the planks bucking and swaying underfoot. There--at the very end--she paused and thrust her hand out toward the horizon.

“Yes?” Vervan asked, uncertain what was happening.

“That water,” Talia announced, gravely serious, “connects us to every single piece of land in the world. It takes us to the Trinity Island, where my grandparents fell in love and my city was saved. It takes us to the river that steers us south. It threatens our destruction and brings us life-giving rain and rocked me to sleep every night as a child. In that water is the spirit of everyone I’ve ever loved. It gives and it takes and it transforms, and still, we know nothing of it. Can you say the same of your land?”

Vervan took a step closer to the edge and stared into the inky-dark water, the sheet of ice over top the only barrier between him and it. It simply dipped down, down, down, well past his eyes, well beyond what he could fathom--like the stars uncountable.

“No,” he admitted. “No. My land is known to me.”

The Queen smiled serenely at him. “That is our beloved city, my dear. It is unknowable, and we love it for its mysteries.”

---

The boat came for him that spring, ferried by the same captain as before. He took one look at Vervan and laughed.

“My, but you look more weathered!”

Vervan could only shrug. “They don’t have lotion like they do in the south here. It’s all for staving off the cold.”

“The bloody north. Well, up you come.” The captain paused to grimace at the City, wrapping his fist tight around the ropes. “I don’t envy your being trapped here. I can’t imagine it was something enjoyable.”

He paused, one foot on the edge of the ship, the other still braced firmly on the docks. What could he say to that? Floundering, Vervan hesitated only a moment longer--

And imagined a world without all those stars.

He backed away from the edge of the boat.

“No, thank you.” And after a pause, he laughed and said, “You sort of learn to love it.”

#Commission #My writing #The Measurement of Time #Used To It #what do I even tag this as?#TMOT #Captain Uesugi #Female!Uesugi #Sasuke Sarutobi #ikesen descendants

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slytherhell · 6 years

Text

THE RHYTHM OF US (D.MALFOY X H. POTTER )

━ ❛ THE START AND DOWNFALL OF SOMETHING (THAT WAS ONCE) BEAUTIFUL. ❜

"the rhythm of us is so complex,

so fuckin' chaotic,

and yet,

it's the most beautiful thing i've ever seen."

( i was feeling pretty angsty,

and i'm not very good at explaining myself,

nor am i good at poetry.

so don't expect this to be (too) good.

-teia )

THE RHYTHM OF US STARTED OUT STEADY.

Two young hearts found their way to one another,

and still made it seem like they'd been together for a full lifetime.

We'd hug,

like we'd been apart for years.

We kissed like,

it was our last one.

We laughed until we cried.

and we stayed in each other's company like we were the last two,

on Earth.

Pain and heartbreak,

jealousy and envy,

there wasn't any between us.

Just from those around.

Snickers, and rude remarks,

of whether or not we were accepted,

went in one ear and left out the other.

Pride was something,

we were not afraid to show.

They'd always question,

of how we went so well together,

considering our backgrounds,

And even we didn't know,

It just happened.

You lead,

whether it be down the street,

down the hall into the bedroom,

or the relationship in all.

And I followed,

the smile never leaving my face

as we created new memories,

and new moments.

I loved every second,

but not more than you.

It was steady and nice,

and oh-so perfect.

So tell me...

What went wrong?

THE RHYTHM OF US BEGAN GETTING MESSY.

Our hearts began getting confused,

and sad,

for we listened to our brains,

our thoughts,

instead of them.

Mine cried for yours,

and you ached to hold me one last time,

but we didn't listen.

Because we never do.

Ignorant,

they'd say.

Independent,

we'd say.

You wanted to do this,

and I wanted to do another.

You tried to lead,

in a way,

like down the stairs,

but I refused

and failed to follow,

us both falling down on different ends.

We were in pain,

but didn't dare utter a word,

because we said we could take care of ourselves.

But deep down,

we needed one another.

But our inner emotions conflicted with everything else,

and suddenly,

this new feeling,

this new emotion,

was on the rise.

It was mutual,

and against each other,

and it burned.

It burned our souls,

and our throat with the words on that seeped out,

so badly that tears were constant flooding out of our eyes.

And we didn't know why.

I laid on my back on the cold cement ground,

while you had your back against the last step.

Neither spoke,

neither cried.

Though the tears were still there.

And in the moment,

it was evident that,

our perfect world was fading.

THE RHYTHM OF US WAS GETTING WORSE.

We were miserable,

and exhausted,

and everything was simply sloppy.

So we tried another song,

another rhythm.

It wasn't like our previous one,

but we held onto it,

as we struggled to keep us alive,

to keep us as one.

I tried to lead as you once had,

and you tried to followed,

as I once had,

but we failed,

oh,

so fuckin' badly.

Filled with embarrassment,

and utter frustration,

we stopped for a moment,

silent as we stood impatient.

Neither lead,

and neither followed.

The feeling was weird,

and uncomfortable at first,

but after adjusting onto,

it became our favorite thing.

The downfall only being,

we danced alone,

and alone,

only,

is how we danced.

THE RHYTHM OF US WAS TIRED.

It was tired of trying,

tired of caring,

And it was tired of suffering.

Tired of suffering from our constant bullshit,

of keeping to ourselves,

instead of returning to each other.

We stopped blushing,

and our cheeks,

didn't heat up at the mention

of each other's name.

Our hearts no longer raced at the thought of one another.

We didn't even look at each other.

And it went on for so long,

that we began to forget to get each other's features,

how we looked.

And when we did,

we were always frightened.

To see one ,

that we loved so much,

looking and acting,

like a completely different person.

Our hearts,

they weren't sad,

they weren't happy,

and they weren't angry.

They were just there now,

keeping us alive.

Unlike our love.

But we were still here,

living this miserable life,

of complex love.

So despite the inner protests,

despite the nights spent crying to ourselves to sleep,

we gave it a break.

THE RHYTHM OF US TRIED GETTING FIXED.

But like the fools we were,

we tried yet again.

It started back slowly,

slower than most,

and just when we thought we were getting it back,

just when our favorite part of the song was beginning,

it vanished.

All our hopes,

the love that was still evident,

the smile we shared,

gone.

We were dancing,

we were there,

together,

but we were alone.

You were on one side,

and I was one the other,

yet we were staring at each other.

I was moving at a fast pace,

quicker than lightning,

and more complex,

than how we were now.

And yours was slower,

steady,

melodic,

and just utterly beautiful,

just like how we started out.

Your eyes opened, revealing a calm grey,

though,

they remained empty.

And mine,

still evident of tears,

were greener than usual,

still full of hope.

You took a step forward,

but still behind me,

for i'd taken four.

But just like earlier,

no matter how hard we tried,

it just made things worse,

than they already were.

I stepped on a spot you didn't like,

and you yelled.

You made a wrong move,

so I criticized.

We kept at it,

throwing words harsher,

and stung worse,

that the fires that raged on in hell.

We stood there,

our breathing heavy,

as if we'd been swimming,

and just survived a near drowning.

As if we'd woken up from a nightmare.

Your silver grey eyes showed a storm

while mine revealed lightning.

They went together,

yet,

didn't always work out.

You stood back,

and I continued to rage out,

before you let out your thunder,

silence now between us.

Our eyes were now dark,

yours signaling danger.

A shade thicker than prowling clouds of a thunderstorm,

that sat overhead a pirate's ship during a trip gone wrong.

But with streaks of silvers peaking out,

I knew you were still there,

but just barely,

for your gaze was cold,

so cold,

that I shivered like I'd been stripped of my clothing,

and laid out on the winter's ground,

with an expectation to survive.

And mine,

smoked with green,

and black flecks that intertwined,

clashed into an intimidating shade,

so intense,

that you flinched upon looking,

flinching as if you'd been slapped.

We waited for tears,

that never came.

So with a look,

you went one way,

and I went another,

calling it quits.

THE RHYTHM BETWEEN US HAD FAILED.

I'd found someone else,

like you had.

Mine was a guy,

while yours was a girl.

Two different people,

yet they resembled us.

May had untidy black hair,

golden-honey skin,

and also had a slim face,

along wobbly knees.

Except she didn't wear glasses,

and her eyes were olive,

instead of my signature emerald.

Finn also stood at six feet,

had paled out skin,

and had an extended vocabulary.

He had grey eyes,

though,

his were tinted with blue,

and his hair had been dyed bleach blond,

instead of your natural platinum.

May couldn't follow like I could,

instead,

questioning of your intention.

And Finn didn't understand why I played the song I'd played,

why I danced the way I danced,

nor did he tell me why he wouldn't lead,

instead,

telling me it was meaningless,

and that I should stop.

But it wasn't meaningless,

nor should I stop.

Because it reminded of what once used to be of us,

and I didn't have the ability,

the motive,

to stop.

I still longed for you,

and I hoped it was the same for you.

Because despite looking like you,

Finn couldn't kiss me like you had,

and despite looking like I do,

I knew May couldn't hug you like I had.

And somehow,

we met back on the dance floor,

with our song playing,

everything remade,

as it had been from the starting day.

We stood there,

hoping something would signal you,

to start,

and for something to push me,

to follow.

But it never did happen,

no,

it never did come.

Our lips parted as we began to speak,

but you stopped,

and gave me one final look before leaving the floor.

a fool,

stood there,

hoping one last time you'd come back,

but you stayed on the other side of the room,

looking back at me.

So I finally got tired,

like my heart,

and not only did I leave the floor,

but I left the building all together,

us both realizing,

that we had failed.

THE RHYTHM OF US DIED.

Our song never played again,

and the dance floor had been destroyed.

Creating a new place in our hearts,

that can only be described as a void.

The building that started us,

had been burned.

Our love,

becoming a lesson learned.

Not only physically,

but also within our minds.

Free of the misery,

and guilt,

we are no longer confined.

As the flames went on,

and the memories began to fade,

we knew that today would be,

that last time we'd see each other's face.

Neither cried,

we just went about our lives,

our last memory,

a semi-goodbye.

The music stopped,

and so did we.

I guess it shows,

that some things,

were,

in fact,

not meant to be.

-fin

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #sad #poetry #failed relationship #shorts

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goforwardgreenwriter-blog · 6 years

Text

The Worm Reads: Empire of Storms, Ch 5 - 6

“Last chapter was probably my favorite, and gave me hope that maybe everything won’t be so bad.” -a fool’s last words.

Aelin stared and stared at that piece of paper, at the names that had been signed long before tonight, the men who had decided against her without meeting her, the men who had changed her future, her kingdom, with just their signatures.

I feel like SJM is trying to make us feel sorry for Aelin, but.... no? She hasn’t proved herself worthy of being a queen at all! She flat out admits that these men have never met her - does she really expect these people to hand over the throne of their kingdom to someone they’ve never met?!?!?! WHAT IS gOING ON WHERE IS THE LOGIC

Aelin breathed, “Our doom gathers in the South of Adarlan—yet this is what you focus on?”

Umm yeah because the ruler of the kingdom is a very important job and one that is needed for war?? They need a strong leader to help guide them through the upcoming battles, Darrow is absolutely right to be concerned about this.

“The Bane,” Darrow spat, “is now ours to command. In the event that there is no fit ruler on the throne, the lords control the armies of Terrasen.”

You go Darrow! He’ll be the leader Terrasen needs and defend his kingdom while Aelin prances around demanding her crown be handed to her without her doing any work and threatening anyone who refuses to kiss her ass.

Something cold and oily clanged through [Aelin]. Marriage to a foreign king or prince or emperor. Would this be the cost? Not just in blood shed, but in dreams yielded? To be a princess eternal, but never a queen? To fight with not just magic, but the other power in her blood: royalty.

Hoo boy, the “I can’t marry for love but I have to marry for my kingdom” trope. I don’t mind this trope if it’s done well ( I guess I’m a sucker for that drama) but SJM is either gonna A. sweep it under the rug afterwards and never address it again, or B. milk the angst for all it’s worth and then come up with a last minute solution that doesn’t make Aelin have to make any decisions or compromises or work for her happy ending.

She had laughed once at Dorian—laughed and scolded him for admitting that the thought of marriage to anyone but his soul-bonded was abhorrent. She’d chided him for choosing love over the peace of his kingdom.

Karma is a bitch ain’t it

Aelin spoke into the dark, toward where Darrow was seated. “I suggest, Lord Darrow, that you become accustomed to this. For if we lose this war, darkness will reign forever.” There was a scratch and a hiss—then a match sputtered as it lit a candle on the table. Darrow’s wrinkled, hateful face flickered into view. “Men can make their own light, Heir of Brannon.”

Darrow literally takes no shit!! Why isn’t there fanart and posts dedicated to this bad ass old warrior instead of countless fans gushing over Aelin? Seriously, I’d ask for a Darrow backstory novel but SJM would fuck it up, no doubt.

But Aelin looked to Ren, his face tight. And over the roaring in her head, she said, “Whether or not you vote in my favor, there is a spot for you in this court. For what you helped Aedion and the captain do. For Nehemia.”

*chokes back on sobs* I miss when it was just Nehemia, Aelin, Dorian, and Chaol in the glass castle..... they really were simpler times.

Darrow expresses that Nehemia was a better princess than Aelin is (which is true) and references her death and Rowan fuckin’ threatens to kill him. So gg, you all are just proving Darrow’s point that none of you are fit for the responsibility of ruling/helping Aelin rule.

A messenger arrives and informs them that Rifthold will soon be under attack from the Ironteeth witches.

Aelin wondered if Manon Blackbeak would be leading the attack—if it’d be a blessing. The Wing Leader had saved them once before, but only as a payment for a life debt. She doubted the witch would feel obliged to throw them a bone anytime soon.

Ohhh is this foreshadowing that Manon is going to join Aelin’s side or am I reading into this too much? I’m worried that SJM is gonna reduce Manon to just another blind follower of Aelin hnghhh.....

Rowan’s hand brushed [Aelin’s]. “I will save him,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t ask this of you unless it was … Dorian is vital. Lose him, and we lose any support in Adarlan.” And one of the few magic-wielders who could stand against Morath.

Uhh and you’d lose one of your first friends you made after you were freed from the mines? The guy who you were once in love with? Seriously, she’s talking about Dorian as if he’s some weapon right now and not one of her best friends! I s2g as soon as Aelin met Rowan it was like Chaol and Dorian never existed in the first place and all that development she had with them got swept under the rug.

Since Darrow said that they needed allies, Aelin plots for them all to meet up in Skull’s Bay after Rowan rescues Dorian. Wait.... Skull’s Bay is from The Assassin’s Blade. But that means-

“I thought you knew Rolfe,” Aedion said. Aelin gave him a grim smile. “He and I parted on … bad terms, to say the least. But if Rolfe can be turned to our side…”

Rolfe!!! He was another interesting character from the first book (not a good guy, if I remember correctly, he owned slaves) who actually made Aelin work in order to beat him and gain victory. I’m excited to meet him again.

Alone with Rowan, Aelin said, “Darrow expects me to take this order lying down. But if we can rally a host in the South, we can push Erawan right onto the blades of the Bane.” “It still might not convince Darrow and the others—” “I’ll deal with that later,” she said, spraying water as she shook her head. “For now, I have no plans to lose this war because some old bastard has learned he likes playing king.”

Uhh fuck you?? For acting like Darrow is the bad guy here?? He cares about his kingdom and rather than let his grief over his deceased lover consume him, he fights hard to protect his people and makes sure the crown doesn’t go to anyone who will start a war over the stupidest shit. Fuck you Aelin, Darrow would be a much better ruler than you.

But if Rowan was caught, if Dorian was caught … “I can’t—I can’t let you go—” “You can,” he said with little room for argument. The voice of her prince commander. “And you will.” Rowan again traced her mouth. “When you find me again, we will have that night. I don’t care where, or who is around.”

That really is their only motivation at this point, huh? Aelin just wants this war to be over so she can bone her fae prince whenever she wants without any interruptions. I need a drink.

So Rowan leaves in hawk form to go rescue Dorian and Evangeline is going to stay with Murtaugh, since Aelin at least has the sense to not bring a child to a pirate paradise.

Aelin kissed the girl’s cheek and whispered into her ear, “Work your magic on these miserable old men while you’re at it.” She pulled away to wink at the girl. “Win me back my kingdom, Evangeline.”

I almost felt my heart melt at this cute interaction, but then I remembered that Aelin means Darrow and SJM wants the audience to hate him and that mood flew out the window. I’ll be the only Darrow stan on this website if I have to, damnit.

Aedion said to Ren, “Unless you want to swap one tyrant for another, I suggest you get the Bane and any others ready to push from the North.” Murtaugh answered for his grandson, “Darrow means well—” “Darrow,” Aedion interrupted, “is now a man of limited days.”

LITERALLY WHAT THE FUCK AEDION!!!! Darrow rightfully denies Aelin the crown and you’re gonna fucking murder him? You need his alliance if you’re gonna win this war holy shit y’all are so fucking stupid!

Aelin said, “We don’t touch Darrow.” “What?” Aedion snapped. Aelin said, “I’d bet all my money that he’s already taken the steps to ensure that if he meets an untimely death, we never set foot in Orynth again.” Murtaugh gave her a grim, confirming nod. Aelin shrugged. “So we don’t touch him. We play his game—play by rules and laws and oaths.”

For once Aelin is finally using another method of negotiation other than killing people but stop framing Darrow as if he’s ~evil~ for not giving you your crown when you’ve done nothing to prove to any of the lords that you’re fit to rule! I am utterly baffled that SJM really thinks Darrow is in the wrong here.

So Murtaugh has been loyal to Aelin’s family, treated her with respect and kindness, and offered to look after Evangeline while they’re gone, so Aelin.... slices her palm and threatens him that if anything happens to Evangeline she will burn all of them. I’m not even joking.

Aelin clenched her bloodied palm into a fist, holding it in the air between them. “Because of that loyalty, you will understand what blood promises mean to me when I say if that girl comes to harm, physical or otherwise, I do not care what laws exist, what rules I will break.” Lysandra had now turned to them, her shifter senses detecting blood. “If Evangeline is hurt, you will burn. All of you.”

Seriously, can someone tell me if I’m going crazy?? AELIN THESE ARE PEOPLE WHO WANT TO BE YOUR ALLIES YOU CAN’T GODDAMN THREATEN ALL OF THEM!!!!! Murtaugh has not said one bad word to you and you’re threatening to burn him!!! WHAT THE FUCK AELIN THIS IS WHY YOU ARE NOT QUEEN YOU STUPID DKAHDFJAHFKDH

“Threatening your loyal court?” sneered a cold voice as Darrow halted a few feet away.

Oh thank god Darrow is here, a character who isn’t brain dead stupid. Seriously, number 1 Darrow stan right here.

Her heart strained, but Aelin said to Ren, that scar hidden by the shadows of his rain-drenched hood, “I wish we had time to speak. Time for me to explain.” “You’re good at walking away from this kingdom. I don’t see why now would be different.”

HOLY SHIT REN IS JOINING IN THE AELIN ROASTING!!! Ren and Darrow are the only good people in this entire goddamn kingdom.

Aelin said, “I promise you that no matter how far I go, no matter the cost, when you call for my aid, I will come. I promise you on my blood, on my family’s name, that I will not turn my back on Terrasen as you have turned your back on me. I promise you, Darrow, that when the day comes and you crawl for my help, I will put my kingdom before my pride and not kill you for this. I think the true punishment will be seeing me on the throne for the rest of your miserable life.”

>IMPLYING THAT DARROW WILL EVER NEED YOUR HELP YOU STUPID FUCKING ASSHOLE WHO CAN’T EVEN GET THROUGH A SIMPLE MEETING WITHOUT ALMOST STABBING SOMEONE

I FUCKING HATE AELIN SO MUCH TO THINK I WAS ON THE FENCE BEFORE HOLY FUUUUCK

Ungh... I can do this. So they finally get their asses moving and Aelin sees the Little Folk have left her another present.

Brannon’s temple on the coast had been rendered carefully—a clever little contraption of twigs and rocks to form the pillars and altar … And on the sacred rock in its center, they’d created a white stag from raw sheep’s wool, his mighty antlers no more than curling thorns.

Obvious foreshadowing is obvious.

Finally chapter 6 holy shit. Chapter 4 gave me hope that the book was picking up but chapter 5 just shit all over my hopes and dreams.

Dorian Havilliard, King of Adarlan, hated the silence.

Dorian’s POV! Sadly since the books utterly forgot of his existence aside from torturing him emotionally after book 2, Dorian doesn’t get a lot of attention anymore. I liked him in the first three books, but given what happened to the other characters, let’s see how SJM butchers him..........

He lifted his hands before the view, his palms callused from the exercises and swordplay he’d made himself start learning once more.

A ruler who teaches himself how to fight in order to help protect his kingdom? Fuck yeah.

Dorian has some inner turmoil about being held captive and tortured and the revelation that his father had been possessed by a demon for years, and it’s.... good? It’s well written, Dorian’s problems are understandable and sympathetic, and he’s clearly taking precautions so it doesn’t happen again. Nicely done!

Dorian flexed his fingers, frost sparking in his palm. Raw magic—yet there was no one here to teach him. No one he dared ask.

I mean, the poor guy can’t even control his magic because all his friends who have magic are off pretending to be a good queen. *glares at Aelin*

He was halfway through the pillars of books and papers when he spied the horizon. When his city began screaming. Spreading into the distance, blotting out the sunset like a storm of bats, flew a legion of wyverns. Each bore armed witches, roaring their battle cries to the color-stained sky.

And here we go! I’m hoping for a good action scene, since the witches are so badass (even though I feel bad for Dorian and his people). We also switch to Manon’s POV.

With the height and distance, Manon fully beheld the carnage as the horizon at last revealed the sprawl of the capital city. The attack had begun without her. Iskra’s legion was still falling upon it, still spearing for the palace and the glass wall that crested over the city at its eastern edge.

This build up is really good! I’m excited to see Manon kick ass (even though again, the people she’s fighting are innocent).

Manon aimed Abraxos for the stone castle atop the hill, barely peeking above that shining glass wall—the wall she had been ordered to bring down— and hoped she had not been too late in one regard. And that she knew what the hell she was doing.

A cliffhanger to end the chapter. Although the wording leaves me to believe Manon isn’t actually going to do any fighting, but we’ll have to wait and see.

#the worm talks #the worm reads: eos #anti sjm #anti tog #anti eos

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chaseatinydream · 3 years

Text

pirate king (46) || atz

At that one word, everything in your mind evaporates.

Gunho?

You don’t know how many times you feel like your brain has been reduced to a weak, steaming pile of mush, but you’re very sure about this, just one more bombshell dropped on you and you might as well just slip into a comatose state for the rest of your life.

You’re familiar with the word, most of all from Yunho’s lips. The lookout speaks of old tales about his brother nearly every day, recalling fond stories about their time in the arena, how their brotherhood blossomed, especially so in the bleakness of the arena. You’re well versed with the tales of how the two of them had looked out for each other, watched each other’s backs, grown up to become comrades and best friends.

In the rigging, you had listened to him recall days of training and fighting as the three of you, you, Yunho and Wooyoung, had worked to raise and adjust the sails together. When the wind was constant and the weather was good, all of you would sit in the ropes and listen to Yunho talk. You had not much past to speak of and Wooyoung steered clear of speaking about any history of his, thus his tales entertained the two of you greatly and helped to pass the time. You didn’t mind, the lookout was a good speaker, peppering his stories with funny anecdotes and often poor attempts at acting which always brightened your mood.

But behind every happy tale, there had been a lingering sadness in Yunho’s eyes, a pained smile to the end of every story, an unspoken, sad conclusion to what should have been a beautiful chronicle of brotherly kinship.

Gunho’s death had weighed heavily on Yunho’s mind, you know, from the way his eyes sadden minutely every time you bring him up on accident. Yunho prefers remembering the happy, good times with his brother, when the two of them had been together, but the thought of his brother always brings up a single fact that he can never ignore.

He had been too late to save his brother.

It’d been like a bitter pill for Yunho, hard to swallow and even harder to accept but he’s done it already, biting back his tears to face the big, wide world with a positive, cheerful smile. He’s supposed to have moved on already, putting the past behind him as he continues to move forward… but you doubt that he would have expected for his past to be dredged up again once more, upturning everything he had once believed.

Gunho is alive.

It’s as if time stands still for a moment as the once hooded man straightens up to stare at Yunho in surprise, sword nearly falling from his grip from the shock of seeing his older brother after so long. Deep brown meets deep brown as the two of them simply take in the appearance of the other, as if they can’t really believe that fate was kind enough to let them cross paths once again in this lifetime.

You’re almost ecstatic for Yunho, knowing that this must be the most heartwarming reunion that you’ll ever have the luck to witness. A grin pulls widely at your face as you turn to look at Yunho, who’s simply gazing upon his brother in disbelief. Slowly, you see him blink, once, twice, as if trying to prove to himself that this really isn’t a dream, before his jaw clenches and you see a single tear spill over his eyelashes and down to his cheek.

“Gunho… you’re alive?” Yunho chokes out, voice overcome with emotion and the brown haired man looks as if he’s been snapped out of some sort of daze. A blinding, dazzling smile of sheer joy spreads over his face as tears rolls down his own cheeks.

“Brother, I’ve been searching for you so long!”

Hesitantly, Yunho looks over to his captain, who looks just as stunned as everyone else on board is. Then he nods, slowly, and Yunho is stepping forward slowly, as if still in a daze. Gunho throws his longsword to the side in his excitement and runs straight into his brother’s arms, embracing him tightly.

The moment the two of them meet, the entire crew seems to heave a sigh of relief. There is no one on this ship who doesn’t know exactly how dear Gunho was to Yunho, or how much Yunho regrets not being able to save his younger brother from that godforsaken arena. But now, even if it had to be through this terrible meeting with the Royal Navy, Yunho can be reunited with Gunho.

Something warm blooms in your heart as you watch the two of them hug, squeezing the life out of each other.

“I can’t believe you’re alive.” Yunho sobs into his brother’s shoulder, now that you see them side by side, Gunho is shorter than Yunho, more stocky and built as compared to Yunho’s taller and longer stature. Gunho nods, one hand reaching to pat his brother on the back reassuringly as his other reaches to his belt.

And something sinks in your chest.

“I missed you so much.” Gunho rests his head on his brother’s, voice soft and soothing, rocking Yunho back and forth gently as Yunho continues to cry, shaking his head and mumbling incoherent apologies into Gunho’s shirt. “I really do love you… brother.”

What happens next is almost too fast for you to see.

You don’t think anyone could have expected it, really. Not a single person on the ship could have possibly even guessed in the slightest that this was coming. Even though it happened right in front of your eyes, you merely stood there in shock and watched as everything seemed to fall apart in that one split second, unable to move, mind incapable of processing the events that had just happened.

One blink of an eye, the two brothers are embracing.

In the next, Yunho is crumpled on the deck, blood gushing from his side.

For a moment, no one moves.

Incomprehension.

Shock.

Disbelief.

What?

It’s a razor sharp knife, the steel drenched in dark red blood. Your eyes, wide with terror, follow the weapon as Gunho merely raises the blade to his mouth, licking the blood off the knife while he looks upon his brother writhing on the ground with what you can only describe sick, twisted amusement.

“Oh? I didn’t think you’d be on guard enough to react so quickly around me. And here I thought you were glad to see me again, brother.” Gunho merely sighs as if disappointed, shaking his head as his tongue darts out to catch a little smear of blood at the corner of his serene smile. “But then again among of the two of us, you were always the lucky one, weren’t you?”

Yunho chokes in pain, a muffled scream ripping from his throat as he curls into a ball, crimson spilling over his fingers and staining the deck red with his blood.

His brother turns around, facing Commander Kang as your brain tries to understand what has just happened, but it’s failing miserably. “Let’s go, Commander.”

Nothing makes sense to you, you manage to think blankly to yourself, as the world pitches and rolls around you. Absolutely nothing. But one thing you do know, that you’ve been trained to do ever since you stepped onto this ship, is to treat the wounded, and you know that Yunho is going to die if you don’t get to him as fast as possible.

But you’re terrified. Your master isn’t here, he’s in the captain’s cabin, together with Mingi, there is no time for you to call him, and you will be utterly alone. There will be no one to instruct you, to make choices for you, to share the responsibility with you.

If Yunho dies...

For a moment, you so desperately just want to stay rooted to the spot in fear. But you do know that every second you think, Yunho’s life drains away little by little, and with a curse, you throw all rational thinking to the wind. Hurrying forward, you tear your outer shirt from your shoulder, kneeling at Yunho’s side as you inspect the wound as fast as possible, trying to remember everything your master has taught you through the haze of panic.

The second you spring into action, your captain moves too, pulling his musket from his belt as he takes aim at Gunho, eyes narrowed with blazing fury.

But Gunho doesn’t seem intimidated in the least, simply smiling amicably and sliding the knife back into the belt as if he hasn’t just stabbed one of your crewmates in the gut in an attempt to kill him. Hongjoong’s fingers tighten on the trigger.

The crew too, begin to stir into movement, raising their weapons to fight, but then one voice cuts through the noise.

“Hongjoong, no!”

Only his true name, shouted so desperately by one of his closest friends, could have any chance of stopping your captain in the blind rage he is in. His green eye is clouded over with pure, undiluted wrath, the usual flames in his gaze fanned to a blazing inferno. Normally, you realise, no one would have a chance against him when he’s like this.

But then, it’s Yunho telling your captain to stop. Yunho, who’s just been stabbed by his long lost brother, one who he had once thought the world of. Yunho, bleeding out and dying next to you.

He can’t bring himself to kill his younger brother.

And because it’s Yunho who tells him to stop, Hongjoong does. But you can see every muscle in his body just screaming to pull the trigger, but he holds steady, the barrel of his musket trained at Gunho’s head.

“Why did you do that?” Hongjoong snaps, his voice somehow ice cold yet burning with rage, every syllable is ringing with fury. Gunho merely shrugs, a cheerful, remorseless grin on his face that honestly is starting to look a little deranged to you.

“Just a little siblings’ spat, captain. Nothing too much to worry about.”

Breathing, you recall, your eyes snapping to Yunho’s face as you check him over. He’s panting, gasping from the pain as his fingers press against his wound, trying to stem the flow of blood. There are tears of agony in his eyes and you start ripping your overshirt into strips, pressing your makeshift padding against Yunho’s wound.

At the pressure, Yunho cries out in agony, the sound tearing at your heartstrings. You try your best to ignore the sound of one of your best friends sobbing right next to your ear, but each cry is so heart wrenching you wish you could just cut off your own ears to stop the heartrending sound. With Yeosang, it was a lot easier to just treat his wounds as he was nearly unconscious from blood loss, but with Yunho writhing around screaming in anguish right next to you as you press down hard on his wound?

No amount of training with San could have prepared you for this.

You glance upwards, seeing Seonghwa drop from the ropes and sprint across the deck to your side, crouching next to you as he takes in his friend’s ashen face. Heart racing in your chest, you take one look at the wound and you know simply stemming the bleeding with your pathetic replacement of actual bandages isn’t going to be enough. Making up your mind as fast as you can, you turn to Seonghwa. “Tell San to get here as fast as he can and grab my healer’s bag from the sickbay.”

The cook doesn’t even bother giving a nod in response, pushing through the crowd on the deck and racing to the cabin. A second later, your master bursts out of the door, face white with horror as he catches sight of Yunho on the ground. Then he’s by your side, checking Yunho’s breathing and pulse as his critical eyes rake across the wound.

“Stab wound, about two and a half inches wide. Serrated on one edge, and deep, but likely to have missed all his vitals organs.” San rattles off as he moves to inspect the wound more carefully. “Pulse is weak, but the blood isn’t pumping out, which means it luckily didn’t hit an artery. But he seems to be in too much pain for a wound this size…”

Then his face turns ashen in realisation and he leans in to sniff the wound, before his eyes widen with horror. You feel your heart drop in your chest at your master’s expression.

“The wound is poisoned.”

Your captain hears San’s words over the din and all of a sudden, you feel every hair stand on the end at the sheer anger that’s rolling off your captain in waves. Hongjoong’s fury almost seems like it’s on the verge of setting the very environment around him ablaze, every survival instinct screaming for you to get up and run away from him as fast as you can.

“Where is the antidote?” Hongjoong snarls, grip tightening on his gun, but your heart sinks at the words. Somehow, deep in you, you can already guess where it is. Gunho merely laughs like a tinkling bell, tilting his head to one side as he grins at your incensed captain with an innocent smile that might just be the most terrifying thing you’ve ever seen.

“Why you got to be so serious about this, captain? The antidote isn’t with me right now.” Gunho sighs, shaking his head as Commander Kang steps towards the rowboat they had come from, followed by the guards. At the bulwarks, he turns to smile at his brother one last time. “I hope you live, brother. It’ll be a lot more fun killing you slowly that way.”

You can’t help but stare at the younger Jeong brother in shock as he simply turns around and steps off the ship, not the least bit concerned about the muskets all trained at his back. Commander Kang eyes all of you coldly from the rowboat.

“Meet us on the Cayman Islands when you’re ready and bring along the four parts of the deal. The antidote will be there. Harm us in any way and the deal is off. I expect to see you there soon, captain.”

With that, they simply lower themselves to the sea, disappearing from your sight.

You now know why they had the audacity to step aboard this ship even though they were so vastly outnumbered. Your captain can’t possibly kill Commander Kang or Gunho. He needs them alive for answers and to save Yunho’s life. And it seems like such a cruel joke, that you and the crew have all been played along like this, like marionettes on a string.

Hongjoong screams in fury, his fingers tightening so hard on the musket that his fingers go white.

Why? What does the Royal Navy want with you?

Two months ago, on the sea witch’s island, you had chosen to give up your memories. Two months ago, you had decided to walk down the path with your crew mates and family instead, leaving your history behind you as you started on this new journey.

But now?

It seems like that elusive past is finally begin to surface, bringing with it all sorts of dangers and darkness that you hadn’t once thought existed.

And you're terrified at what is to come.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #ateez pirate king #w; ot8 #w; fanfiction #w; pirate king

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sortamaliicious · 6 years

Note

Ramwood 22 uwu

🔪 Kissing Prompts | Accepting | Also on AO3

Geoff doesn’t make a habit of coming down to the pirate’s grotto. No, he had very good reasons not to step foot in these intricate cave systems.

What, with him being the king and all.

At least he had the common sense to change. Fine robes and flashy jewelry was traded for rags and a cloak. He even cut down most of his beard in an attempt to blend in better. The skulls carved into the crashed ships wood make him feel like he’s being watched with every corner he turns. He’s going to get himself killed.

Scratch that.

Gavin is going to get him killed.

As he wades through the mass of pirate bodies screaming drunkenly, he barely catches the flash of red as a fox makes his way between leather boots. He grumbles under his breath and pushes past two burly pirates. It’s hard not to scream out in frustration. To use his status as ing would sturr up far too much. Doing that really would get him killed. ( Worst case: death. Better case: held hostage. )

They’re insufferable, and smelly, and loud, and-

Geoff’s train of thought halts as he steps down into the area where the mouth of the cave meets the ocean. There’s a half sunken ship sitting off to the side with plenty of gold and chests rotting away beneath the sea. Bridges hung high past it’s crows nest with pirates walking across it with ease. What has Geoff’s attention, however, past the bustling pirate markets and up a set of steps, was the creature wrapped up in a net, swinging from a hook.

He twists in his confines, hissing and clawing at the spears poking through the net. It isn’t until he’s left alone that Geoff dares to move closer.

Blue eyes latch to him. A sharp-toothed grin sets on the mermaid’s face. He twists once more to press his face against the rope, giving Geoff a better view.

“Hello, your majesty,” He purrs lowly.

Geoff can’t hide his surprise, nervously pulling his hood closer to his face. He glances around but no eyes seem to be on them. So he looks back and before he can speak, the mermaid laughs.

“You can change your hair but only a fool wouldn’t recognize your eyes,” He reaches through the net, long scaly hands pointing towards blue eyes. He grins, showing off his teeth once again that has Geoff swallowing in discomfort. Yet he doesn’t flinch.

He feels something compelling him to step forward. The cold of nails press against his cheeks; their eyes lock. Geoff is a simple king. A fool at times, sure, but he can’t help the way his heart breaks as those pride blue eyes fill with sadness. He reaches up to hold his hand, leaning in slightly to the touch.

It’s gone as quickly as it came. Geoff reels back when a familiar weight drops onto his shoulder. He turns to see Gavin, fox fur bristling in anger, teeth bared to the mermaid who in turn hisses right back.

“What are you doing Geoff?” He whispers angrily into the king's ear. “We’re here to find your treasure, not flirt with fish!”

“You! You’re the one stealing my fish!” Ryan moves to try and swat at Gavin. Geoff steps back, his own face barely missing claws. Gavin hisses in his ear to move it before jumping off to run. They’re going to attract attention. He pulls his hood over further and spares just a glance back. Like a coward, he bolts.

It takes days to forget his face, let alone those vibrant blue eyes; they haunt Geoff for quite some time. He shouldn’t have lingered around to listen in on drunken ramblings from pirates but intrigue had kept him rooted to the floor of the makeshift pub. Each little tale of mermaids had him thinking back to the one in the net. They would clink their cups together and laugh at their victory while his heart clenched in his chest. A fearsome, man eating creature of the sea was reduced to hissing like some water-logged cat. All for the possible taste of knowing the future.

To say the least, Geoff’s attempts to shake every thought of him may have been weak. Every so often he found his thoughts wandering back. And every so often he found himself taking far too many walks along the beach like some hopeless romantic, staring out at the ocean.

He lets out a tired sigh before he turns away. A rock tumbles across the way, catching his attention. When he turns back, water splashes in his face. Geoff sputters. He wipes away the water frantically from his eyes.

There’s the mermaid from the grotto wearing that same damn smirk as the day they met. Though, he was a little more banged up compared to the last time. Geoff could see a scar now sat across his eyebrow and several across his arms.

The king does nothing to hide his surprise.

“How in the hell did you get out?” He asks, taking a step towards the ocean.

“I convinced a maiden to spend all her gold on me.”

Geoff found that hard to believe. He scoffs. ‘Convinced’ made it sound like she willingly did it. With how easy it was to get sucked into his words that day, Geoff’s not sure the maiden, or if it was just a pirate, did it of their own volition. “And you decided to come back here to the same area where you were captured?”

“It keeps things interesting.” And the bastard had the gall to wink.

Geoff runs his hands down his face.

He’s not going to sit here and get charmed by the mermaid. Not again. He turns to stomp away but gets splashed by water again.

“Hey! Tell your pet not to steal my fish!” The mermaid shouts.

“Go bother someone else, mermaid,” Geoff says angrily, keeping his gaze straight.

“It’s Ryan!”

“What kind of mermaid name is that?!”

“Fuck you! What kinda name is Geoffrey?!” The mermaid- Ryan, throws a rock at the back of him again.

Geoff does the childish thing and throws it right back. He misses as the mermaid dives back underwater.

Ryan’s giggling follows him all the way back to the castle.

So much for getting the mermaid out of his head. Now that he knows his name, it makes it harder to do so. He rubs his tired eyes with a groan.

Yet, they keep coming back, making a habit out of it.

Somehow Geoff always finds himself walking along the beach time and time again. They always end up spending time together. It’s not easy. Geoff’s still a king after all. He still has duties to attend to but on some occasions he’s free, when the weather is nice, he’s out on the beach. He’s utterly charmed by the man.

Like any other day, Ryan slides up on the beach. He watches as Geoff raises the book over his head to avoid getting water on it. With a smile, turning to look up at him, he rests his head on his hands dopely. His tail bats against the sand lightly, almost like a dog happy to see his owner.

However, his smile drops when he notes the serious look on Geoff’s face. It’s not his typical concentrated look when he reads a book. Ryan rests his chin on Geoff’s arm, gently rubbing him as he looks up.

“I have to go away for a few days,” Geoff says after a moment. He closes his book with a sigh. “It’s some stupid meeting with a few nobles complaining about pirate problems they can’t deal with on their own.”

Ryan perks up. “You should let me come with you.”

It wasn’t his intentions but it makes Geoff laugh. He places the book down on his chest and despite the fond look in his eyes, it doesn’t make Ryan feel any better.

“Where are you going to go, Ryan? There’s no rivers up north and even then it’s freshwater,” Geoff reaches up to pet the mermaid’s cheek. “The last thing I need is you to get sick or something stupid.”

“But-”

“No, end of discussion. Stay here and watch over Gavin.” The mention of the name makes Ryan pull a face of disgust. It quickly fades when Geoff laughs again, gently putting their heads together.

“I hate that fox,” Ryan grumbles, pouting like a child. Still, he concedes, nuzzling his head against Geoff’s. He makes a soft clicking noise and then pulls back.

“He’s not any better when he’s human,” Geoff jokes, shaking his head. He pushes the hair from Ryan’s face to behind his ear, holding it gently in his hand. He wants to kiss away the frown on his face. It’s not like he can transport Ryan. Unless he miraculously grows legs. Trying not to snicker at the thought, he distracts himself by rubbing his thumb along Ryan’s bottom lip. The desire to kiss him rises in his chest but he refrains and pulls away. “I won’t be gone long.”

He didn’t want to go either. Just the thought of it was giving him a headache.Was it too much to ask just a few people to run a damn city without issues? The pirate and thieves problem has gotten too far out of hand but maybe that’s his fault. It doesn’t make him want to deal with any more than before.

Which is why when he heads up to the door, he’s a miserable looking mess. While he’s dressed professionally, he’s too exhausted from the trip over to look presentable. At least, not until the doors open to reveal a nervous looking man. Geoff should’ve taken the time to remember his name. Thankfully, his tired smile is lost on Mr. Mouse as he ushers him inside.

He politely fights off drinks and foods, listening to stuttering rambling as they walk down an insufferable amount of hallways. Nothing that came out of the mouse’s mouth seems important. Geoff’s no even sure the guy said ‘pirate’ once which now that he thinks about it seems very odd.

Then he finds out why really quickly. His own knights are held at gunpoint when he turns around. Mr. Mouse is groveling at his feet, asking for forgiveness; some bullshit about having no choice spewing out of his mouth. Pirates are by all means the most annoying thing he’s ever had the displeasure of meeting.

“Oh Geoff,” He says in defeat.

Something whacks him over the head and he’s out.

Trying to keep himself busy in Geoff’s absence felt unusually difficult. Time seems to crawl by. He would’ve spent more time with Jon & Jeremy if they didn’t continue teasing him over it. He did not have a crush god damn it! He wasn’t some pup.

Though, Ryan couldn’t say he wasn’t acting like a child as he sat himself on the beach, pouting. Every so often he’ll glance up at the castle, expecting to see Geoff making his way down the steps. With a storm coming in, black clouds moving in the distance, he knew the king wouldn’t come. The waves were battering the shore as the winds pick up.

It hasn’t even been a fortnight either and yet he still aches with loneliness.

He spares another glance to the castle just in time to see a figure sprint towards the little dock. From here, Ryan can tell it’s not Geoff; whoever it is, they’re too scrawny. Still, he pulls himself off the beach to investigate. The human is either incredibly brave or stupid and he might want to figure it out since they hop into a rowboat.

As he swims closer, staying under for a bit, he catches a flash of familiar green eyes glowing as the world around them continues to grow dark. He pulls himself out of the water to grab the wood, nearly dragging the boat under from the sudden force as he stops it. “Fox! What are you doing?!”

Gavin squawks in a panic, trying to catch his balance. Shock quickly flashes on his face before he realizes what’s going on. He tries to bat the oar at him. “It’s none of your business Fish!”

“Are you an idiot! Go back to the shore, there’s a storm coming!”

“I can’t, I have to save Geoff!”

Blue eyes widen. Lightning cracks from a distance.

Ryan’s head snaps to the side, spotting the pirate ship not far out. How had he not seen it before? He doesn’t give Gavin any time as he pushes the boat roughly, forcing him to face the shore. “I have this, go back before you get yourself killed!” And with that, he swims.

Despite the chaotic waves and the violent winds, he makes it to the boat, watching it rock against the sea. His claws curl into the wood sides to keep him from floating away.

“You’ve got all the gold you need and you dumb fucks don’t bother buying a house?!” Ryan hears Geoff screaming from up top and he tries not to laugh. Of course he’s like this.

He blames the rain and sea water for his eyes going strangely blurry as he fights down a hiccup of a cry. Thunder booms around them. His eyes start to glow bright like the lightning flashing around him. Newfound strength has him diving under the ship to pull it apart plank by plank. He doesn’t stop either. Even with the ship now taking in more water he continues to tear it apart beneath them.

The ship starts to capsize. Screams of pirates muffle when their bodies hit water.

The force of the fall knocks the air out of Geoff when he too hits water. He fights against the ropes tying his hands behind his back. His legs kick weakly to push himself to the surface. He’s sinking too fast. The crows nest barely misses him as the ship turns completely over. It blocks Geoff’s way to the surface.

Flashes of lighting momentarily give Geoff sight under the dark waters. Blood is everywhere, diluted by it but still very present. He catches the faintest sight of Ryan between these flashes tearing men limb from limb. The last thing he ever imagines seeing is glowing blue eyes boring holes in his head.

His head is pounding. Still, he wouldn’t let any water in. Not until the very last second.

Then he feels air filling his lungs, light being breathed into him as the pain in his head subsides. He opens his eyes to see Ryan kissing him. When they part, Ryan’s eyes aren’t glowing anymore but hope fills them when Geoff starts coughing up water, heaving.

“The pirates-” Geoff tries to say, wanting to stand. Ryan holds him down.

“I took care of it,” The mermaid brushed Geoff’s bangs from his face, just like the king would do for him. It’s to no avail with the rain continuously pouring down on them. He laughs a bit, pushing his forehead against his. Emotion overwhelms him and before Ryan knows it, he’s crying. Relief washes over him like the waves battering against his backs. “I thought I lost you,” He says, voice watery like his tears.

He’s faintly aware of Geoff mumbling to him, petting his hair, telling him reassuring words that make his heart swell. He’s still there. He’s not going anywhere. Of course Geoff is too stubborn to die. It makes him laugh again.

“Kiss me again,” Geoff says quietly. They stare at each other for a moment. Smiles spread on their faces.

Ryan happily obliges.

Just like before, he doesn’t hesitate to bring their lips together. Geoff wraps his arms around Ryan’s neck, deepening the kiss. They’re not exactly careful with it considering Ryan’s sharp teeth scrape against his lips. It’s not enough to bring blood to the surface but he feels the way Geoff shudders and moans under him. He can’t help smirking into their kiss, letting his eyes flutter shut.

Content washes over him.

He’s only faintly aware that the storm calms down when they part once again. Geoff’s breath is still hot on his lips.

“You should head back before you get sick,” Ryan says as he pushes himself off the king. “And hey, next time? Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

Geoff laughs loudly. It makes both their chests warm and a blush spreads across Ryan’s cheeks. He presses a kiss to his forehead. “Sure thing.”

#gcldenfool #mine #okay to reblog #ragehappy #slight/vague depictions of violence at the end #hmu if you think its graphic so i can change it

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seriouslyhooked · 7 years

Text

Souvenirs (A CS AU) Part 4/14

A Modern CS AU where Emma has grown up in Maine her whole life and runs a store with Ruby and MM. Killian Jones is the new guy in town, who just bought the local bar. Only Emma and Killian have met before and now she can’t help but wonder if their past has influenced his plans for the future. Includes tons of fluff and a happily ever after. Rated M.

Part One Here, Part Two Here, Part Three Here

A/N: This chapter includes the after-effects of the first date and Emma has a flashback to the night she and Killian met. It also features fluff and smut and gossip amongst friends, so really just your typical fare from me. Hope you guys enjoy and thanks for reading!

Never in her life would anyone have accused Emma Swan of being a romantic. In fact, the only place she truly showed a softer sight was in her design work. She had a reputation as someone who was fiercely loyal to her friends, hard working, and a little guarded. That was the person she portrayed to the world, and doing so had long made her feel more in control.

This past weekend had easily destroyed that reputation. After a fantastic first date (and first night) with Killian, Emma had been positively glowing and even she could admit it. Everyone got an extra bright smile and a chipper ‘good morning.’ Perhaps she could have kept the cause for the good mood under wraps, but it was a dead giveaway since most of the weekend, as she was passing those surprised townsfolk, she was walking hand in hand with Killian.

What started out as a single date expanded to essentially a full weekend of them being in each other’s company, and come Sunday night when the real world was knocking at both of their doors and the reality that she had work the next morning set in, Emma was sad to see the happy bubble they’d been in go.

“I should have known you’d be the type to parade your boyfriend once you finally found someone half decent to like.” Ruby’s comment pulled Emma back from thoughts of this weekend and into Three Fates once more.

“I didn’t parade him around.” She totally had.

“Oh really? I got ten texts from five different people over the course of two days with different Emma and beau sightings.”

“Beau? It was the gaggle of ladies at Granny’s sending you those updates?!” Ruby nodded.

“They tweeted about it too.” Mary Margaret’s off-handed comment from the back pulled a groan from Emma.

“Of course they did.” Emma sighed as she organized the layout of the jewelry case, but she could feel the stares of her two friends, as if they were waiting her out. She had two options. The first was to tell them everything they were no doubt dying to ask her, and the other… well basically she could try to run and miserably fail because Ruby was taller and faster and in way better shape.

“So…”

“It was perfect, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

“Yes!” Both her friends happily yelled as they did individual happy dances. It was borderline hysterical since neither of them had any shame or any rhythm, but Emma knew the moment would end and an interrogation would begin.

“Where did he take you?” She told them. Queue the expected dreamy sighs and protesting of jealousy.

“How did you end the night?” They hadn’t technically, and the admission gained favor from Ruby and surprise (but less judgment than anticipated) from Mary Margaret.

“What took him so long?” Since Emma didn’t really have an answer to that, an awkward lull passed between them all for a moment.

“I think it was something to do with his brother, but I didn’t really push.”

“Good for you. He’s here now and that’s what counts right?” Mary Margaret was so good at keeping positive, but Ruby looked less enthusiastic.

“Not knowing doesn’t bother you?” Emma considered the question.

“No. I know he’ll tell me when he’s ready and honestly, the person I was then might not have given him a fair shot.”

“The person you were?” Ruby asked skeptically.

“You know. Closed, guarded, nice but isolated.”

“Emma, you were literally that person the day he came in here.” Okay, maybe. But Emma liked to think that those moments just before he’d come in, the Universe had readied her, prepped her for the possibility. She was going with that.

“What did he do that convinced you to let him in?” Mary Margaret’s question was sincere, like she really wanted to understand why the chance at love would be on hold.

“We met at a bar my last night. I told you guys that.” They nodded. “I was two full weeks into my trip abroad and the entire time I’d been alone. Even surrounded by people at the conference and at the sights, I was by myself. Then he sat next to me at the bar I’d finally been brave enough to walk into and he saw me. He didn’t let me duck away, and I didn’t want to.”

“I knew I liked him.” Ruby announced decidedly.

“Here here!” Mary Margaret toasted her cocoa as an influx of customers came into the store for them all to attend to. The afternoon was very busy, but in the moments of quiet that came and went swiftly, Emma thought back on that night, trying to remember everything she possibly could.

……………………………………..

The pub was packed. Clearly Emma had chosen a spot that was off the beaten path enough to keep tourists from flocking, but nice enough to entice the locals. She’d managed to find a stool along the bar and was currently nursing a drink that was surprisingly fantastic given how many options their menu had. Emma selected one at random, named after the pirate ship in Peter Pan and was already wanting another. That being said, the crowd was loud and she was tempted to ask if they had to-go cups, which of course they wouldn’t.

“Considering if a fast getaway is your best option, love?” Emma turned to a man who sat beside her in a miraculously open stool at the packed house. It took no time at all for a fierce reaction to set in. Her eyes widened slightly, her breath caught, and she felt a low flutter in her stomach that was so foreign she couldn’t remember ever having felt it. The man was sinfully attractive – blue eyes, black hair and a smile that was simultaneously roguish and charming? Check. Clearly fit? Check. Accent to die for? That too.

Oh shit, Emma thought to herself as she tried to gather the courage to respond.

“You say that like you know me or something.” Now the smile changed and she saw a flash of humor in his eyes.

“Perhaps I do, love. Well aside from the particulars, like your name.”

“Smooth. I’m Emma.” She extended her hand and he took it in his, sending a charge of pleasure coursing through her.

“Killian.”

“So what do you know?” He quirked a brow up at her in question. “You said perhaps you know me. So?”

“You’re beautiful but you hate that to be the first thing people comment on.” She had to work hard to keep her jaw from dropping. That was dead on.

“Yet you did.” He scratched behind his ear in what she could only assume was a sign of his embarrassment.

“Aye, to prove myself. You’re also smart and talented but it’s a mix of natural inclination and drive that keeps you going. People call you kind, but distant and sometimes don’t understand you but assume they do. You’re traveling alone, clearly in a foreign country from whence you hail, so you’re independent. You could have people with you, but you chose not to. And you’re already mourning the end of a trip that’s still going on.” There was no stopping it this time. She was gaping and she didn’t care. Was he a psychic?

“Anything else?” the words were more a whisper than anything else.

“You hate that I got all of that so quickly and now you want to run again.” He looked defeated at the prospect and she couldn’t help but like that. For whatever reason she could tell he was genuinely interested in getting to know her. Call it a sixth sense or a superpower or whatever, but she knew he wasn’t lying.

“That’s the first incorrect assumption you’ve made. I dislike that you seem to know me so well, but if I run, I can’t even the playing field.” He smiled at that, clearly relieved.

“I apologize for analyzing like that. It’s a hazard of my profession, I fear, and I’m a bit nervous.” She smiled, appreciating the fact that it was a sense of being off balance that prompted him to do this.

“What do you do? Shrink? Detective? One of those facial expression specialists you only hear about in bizarre international crime cases?” He laughed at that and Emma loved the sound of it.

“I own this bar.”

“That… I did not expect.”

Emma had always thought herself so good at reading people, at figuring them out, but she couldn’t explain this simultaneous craving for more information about him and an inability to surmise it on her own. He was intriguing. A little dangerous, at least to the cold, austere vibe she was always putting out. And he was fuck-me hot which her body wouldn’t let her forget. Maybe she didn’t need to know everything for once. Maybe she could just go with it. After a while she said it.

“I think you should take me home.” Emma nearly slapped a hand over her mouth after the comment, and she couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol. She’d been careful to drink minimally so as not to lose her head and her chance at this. Yet watching the heat that tore through Killian’s expression made the momentary embarrassment disappear.

“As you wish, love.”

The entire night had been exactly that – a study in every possible thing Emma could have wished Killian would do to her. She had never been as turned on or as utterly sated as she was with him. Everything was a revelation, a coming to the light. The chemistry between them was huge and scary and breathtaking. It made Emma wish for more than one evening, for more than what felt like a stolen moment.

While the sex was incredible, though, it was the connection that made leaving hurt worse. He was right, she did keep people at a distance and yet whether it was because he lived so far away or because of those bright blue eyes that Emma could read each and every truth in, she had given him a piece of herself. Come morning light, when she grabbed a taxi to the airport and said her goodbyes, there would be no taking it back. But the memories would be worth it. One perfect night with him would be worth the heartbreak of later.

……………

When Emma was eventually done at the store for the day, and the door to Three Fates was locked behind her, she finally considered what tonight would hold. She was exhausted. It seemed round after round of really good sex all weekend followed by a restless night and a long day at work would do that to a person.

Emma turned around back out to the street, still contemplating what the future might hold, when she noticed Killian standing there leaning against his car arms crossed and grinning at her. As always, her pulse sped up at the sight of him and she couldn’t contain the big smile that appeared on her face. Not that she wanted to. He was dressed for the meetings she’d known him to have today, looking all together too good in a three-piece suit. He was so formal and all Emma could think was that she wanted to rip every one of those fancy pieces of clothing from him immediately.

“Hey. Did we have plans?” she asked.

“Explicitly? No. But a man can dream that the woman he fancies might find some time today for him.” He really did look so hopeful that even if Emma hadn’t wanted exactly that she probably would have caved.

“What did you have in mind?” She asked as she made her way right in front of him, stopping just before they touched.

“I was thinking I’d cook you dinner. Perhaps convince you that you were as miserable without me last night as I was without you, and beg you to take pity on me this evening by staying over my place.”

There was no convincing necessary. The reality was that she hadn’t slept as soundly without Killian beside her last night. Even with their… interruptions… the actual sleep she did get with him was exactly what she needed and precisely what she didn’t want to turn down.

“I think you should take me home.”

She ran a hand up the lapel of his suit, reveling in the change it caused to his breathing. She’d used the same words from that first night they met back in London and she watched as he fought for control. This was a side of Killian she so dearly loved to see, and truly enjoyed provoking.

“As you wish, love.” With that they were off, to grab some things from her home first and then to a night that would no doubt be more fulfilling than the one before it.

He made pasta from scratch and Emma sat there staring at him like he had three heads through the entire ordeal. Not only had a man never made something like that for her, but she couldn’t seem to understand why he would know how to do this in the first place. Despite Killian’s explanation (that most of his friends were likewise restaurateurs and had chefs who had given him some tips), Emma couldn’t help but wonder at how a guy like him could still be single.

“You’ve got to have something wrong with you. Something I haven’t seen yet,” she said as she nearly moaned pushing away the heavenly dish he’d concocted and she’d devoured.

“Why do you say that, Swan?”

“You cook, you’re thoughtful. You look – well like that.” Emma waved her hand at him as if that would be all the explanation she needed. “What’s your deep dark secret Jones? Because I have to say, this isn’t making much sense to me.”

Whatever she’d expected him to say, he didn’t, instead opting to get up from his spot immediately and pull her to her feet. He tilted her chin up so she was looking in his eyes, forced to see the sincerity in them. She felt captivated by him and the feelings that moments like these provoked and Emma held her breath as she waited for his reply.

“I have faults enough, Swan. I’m by no means perfect, but my secret? My secret is that I let love get away from me once five years ago and let life become the excuse not to fight for it.” Emma gulped. Did he just say love? Okay shit, well… she could work with that.

“Something happened with your brother, Killian. I know you did what you had to. I don’t blame you for anything.”

She traced the line of his jaw as she said the words and in seconds his lips came crashing down against hers, demanding her connection as his hands roamed along her body. Emma felt a spark of raw energy pulsing through her, and she went from somewhat relaxed to frenzied in mere moments. It wasn’t until he pulled back that Emma thought to take a breath.

“You’re wondering why I love you, when I’m standing here wondering how I’ve somehow managed to gain your trust, thanking every God I know of in the process. You are everything, Swan, worth more than a home cooked meal and my personal charms. But I’m not questioning it this time – this time I’m striving to deserve you.”

Killian’s words were so big, his gestures had proven to be just as enormous, but right now, Emma needed a way to express how she felt too. The words wouldn’t work. They were still catching in her throat and forcing them would cause her to misspeak, so she’d have to show him too. Only she wasn’t exactly the pasta-from-scratch, or a thousand flowers type. She started slowly unbuttoning his vest and felt his muscles tighten beneath the material as he waited for her.

“You really want to work for this, huh?” He nodded and she smiled at the tick in his jaw as he bit back any more professions. She pushed the vest off of him and started working at the shirt. “I can think of a couple of really persuasive moves of yours that I particularly like.”

He growled low as her hand touched the bare skin of his abdomen and she let herself be distracted by the hard lines of his muscles there. That distraction was all it took for him to gain the upper hand again. Swiftly, he removed her top and he traced the black silk of her bra in appreciation.

“I aim to give you what you want, Emma, but I can’t promise anything but hard and fast this time.”

“Good.”

The whispered word between them had Killian lifting her up onto one of the cleared portions of the dining room table. Emma squeaked. This was not what she’d been expecting, but then his lips were back on hers and his hand was snaking its way past the hem of her skirt, making its way to her waiting sex and she was all for the new course of action.

“You’re already wet for me, love.” He groaned as his fingers bypassed the damp silk of her panties to where she wanted him most and Emma moaned into him, gripping at him tighter in silent reminder that he’d promised fast. She was in no mood for teasing right now. Killian didn’t disappoint her, making her reach that first release with his hands like no one else ever could. He broke away from their kiss and knelt before her, removing the scrap of silk before kneeling down before her and kissing her inner thigh.

“Killian.”

She closed her eyes and his name passed her lips like a prayer. Her skirt at this point was pushed so far up her hips, she just wanted it off, but the feel of him, licking and sucking and nipping at her was so consuming, she couldn’t care. She gripped the edge of the table tightly, writhing beneath his ministrations until he blessedly let her catapult into another stunning climax. She was never going to get used to that.

“Been thinking about taking me on this table for a while?” She asked.

“Only since I bought it, love.”

Emma shimmied out of her skirt and removed her bra as he shed his remaining clothes. With anyone else, she likely would have been worried about being naked in the middle of a well illuminated dining room, but the unbridled passion in his eyes had her feeling confident and entirely too turned on considering the two orgasms she’d already had.

“Don’t be gentle.”

Those were the last words she could get out other than a string of curses and repeating his name as he gave her everything she’d been hoping for in a good old-fashioned table fuck. Hell, who was she kidding, it was fantastic. The best part, though, came after everything when he’d caressed her cheek lovingly, looking at her like she hung the moon, and then picked her up and carried her to bed. She’d fallen asleep in no time at all, so fast that Emma didn’t note the happy smile that Killian couldn’t seem to stop as he held her in his arms, planning out how to make her his always and forever.

Post-Note: Just fluff everywhere, and declarations of love, and happiness and smut and just everything you guys know I am a sucker for. Expect more of the same from your next installment. Hope you guys enjoyed and are having a great day! Thanks for reading!

#captain swan #captain swan au #cs modern au #captain sawn fic #captain swan ff #cs au #cs fic #cs ff #cs fluff #cs smut #emma swan #killian jones #ruby lucas #mary margaret blanchard #ouat au #souvenirs #souvenirs cs au #souvenirs 4 #seriouslyhooked repost

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