#sea of thieves patch

[patchemall]

Sea of Thieves drop! Just in time for the newest season!

Head over to thepatchemallshop on Etsy to check out our Meg commendation patches.

[thaida-quintus-amat]

[daistea]

Since you take requests, would I be able to ask for something with Mithrun and Kabru with like a reader that's kind of dense with social cues/hints (especially if they're romantic)?

(I had people confess their love to me, and I still didn't get it till they put it in very clear terms)

(it's probably the 'tism, but I digress. )

I think it's potentially an absolutely hellerious dynamic since Kabru always plays 5D chess with every social interaction. As for Mithrun, I think it's funny to think how the other canaries would just be repeatedly hitting their head on the wall because their captain won't say it straight and they just don't g e t i t.

Ps: I absolutely love how in-depth all of your understanding of characters and their personalities are, and I just hxfhxdvgudts.

This blog just brings me so much joy

Yaaa!!

“Iᴛ’s ᴀ Dᴀᴛᴇ” Kᴀʙʀᴜ x Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, M��ᴛʜʀᴜɴ x Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

gn reader

5000 words ;P

Warning: reader is very oblivious. Like incomprehensibly oblivious (for the lolz)

.��。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

♡ Kabru ♡

- Kabru has had little flings here and there throughout his life. He treated every partner with respect, of course, but Kabru wasn’t particularly looking for love. He doesn’t dislike the idea of love, it just hasn’t happened yet.

- So, when Kabru starts to genuinely fall in love with someone, it’s a new feeling. He’s observant enough to recognize what it is.

- Unfortunately, the person he’s falling in love with is you.

“He’s been unusually quiet lately,” Holm remarked. Who he was remarking that to remained to be seen. Mickbell didn’t care much. Kuro had other things to worry about. And Rin had already made the same observation three times earlier that day.

The first floor of the dungeon was always crowded, and Kabru’s ears were usually open for anything that could be of use. The leather armor merchant to his left had recently raised his prices. The cobbler to the right was in an argument with an older lady over the shape of a patch he’d made on her favorite boots. And Holm was concerned about Kabru’s recent lack of observations; as concerned as Holm could be.

“Is that really such a shock?” Kabru sent Holm a smile over his shoulder. “I’m not exactly a chatterbox.”

But he was aware of himself enough to know that his behavior lately had been odd. He was usually so good at hiding it, too, but the comfort of his friends seemed to lower his walls. Without realizing it, Kabru had spent their latest dungeon expedition sighing to himself, staring at walls, and missing the details of important things. On the third floor, they’d encountered thieves. His party always relied on him to clock the intentions of approaching adventurers— thieves tended to be overly familiar, friendly, and a bit too eager— but Kabru’s mind was elsewhere. The thieves attacked, and it had genuinely taken him by surprise. The fight wasn’t hard, but Kabru’s lack of preparation set off alarms in Rin and Holm’s heads.

“You’re not,” Rin agreed. Her brow furrowed and she got that cute little line on her forehead again. “However, you’ve really been out of it.”

“Have you been thinking about that person again?” Holm asked.

That person. That person? Kabru knew a lot of persons. The whole first level was filled to the brim with persons, half of them being his acquaintances. Kabru had zero desire to admit that he knew precisely who Holm was referring to, though, and decided to keep his gaze straight ahead as he weaved through the crowd.

When he didn’t respond, Mickbell laughed, “Yeah, he’s thinking of them alright.”

“Heat?” Kuro asked.

Mickbell scoffed from his place on Kuro’s shoulders, “Tall-men don’t go into heat! At least I don’t think so. But they catch feelings, like a cold. Kabru’s caught a cold.”

“Not sneezing,” Kuro mumbled.

“A feelings cold, I mean! The worst kind.”

That was one way to put it. Kabru couldn’t help but sigh as he led the party towards a quieter spot in the corner. Once they were out of the sea of people, he leaned against the stone wall and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t have feelings, I’m simply curious,” he said.

Curious. Right. Mickbell sent him a scrunched up, narrow-eyed look that was reminiscent of constipation. Yet, Rin interjected before the half-foot could say something heinous. “What’re you curious about, particularly?” She asked.

“Good question,” Kabru folded his arms over his chest and tilted his head in thought.

What was he curious about? You held so many secrets. You had this look in your eyes that drew him, a look that reminded him of a room in his mother’s house. She always told him to not go inside. Her rules only made him want to turn the knob even more. And when he finally did disobey her and go inside, all he saw were boxes full of ceramic unicorn miniatures. Still, the rush of satisfaction he’d felt at finally knowing what was in there couldn’t be matched. That’s what he wanted to do to you, open your door and take a peek.

Or, perhaps a ‘peek’ was an understatement. He wanted to meticulously inspect every inch of your mind with a microscope, to know the atoms unseen by the human eye, to be intimately acquainted with every molecule you possessed.

“He’s zoned out again,” Holm muttered, ripping Kabru out of his thoughts.

He looked up, eyes widening at the observation. Holm was right, he was zoned out again, staring at the dirt on the floor and contemplating you.

He forced a smile, “Don’t worry about me, really. I’m just preoccupied. It’s that person, I simply want to know their intentions.”

“Intentions for what?” Rin asked.

For everything. There was no simple answer.

“Oh hey,” Mickbell glanced over his shoulder. His voice was flat as he scanned the room, “There they are.”

Kabru followed Mickbell’s gaze, a straight line that led directly to you— all lines seemed to lead directly to you lately. His heart clenched in a way that was both unpleasant and addictive. Without realizing it, he pushed away from the wall and began striding toward where you stood.

“Wait,” Rin grabbed his arm as he passed. Kabru blinked, looking down at her and waiting for her to speak. She met his eyes and frowned, “I think you’re going to be disappointed. They’re not as mysterious as you think they are.”

Nonsense. You were incredibly mysterious. Kabru could tell you had secrets, layers. He dreamed of pulling them back one by one.

“They couldn’t disappoint me,” he sent Rin a smile that he hoped was reassuring— he knew it was, he’d practiced it in the mirror and on other people all the time.

“I think they will,” she argued.

“They won’t,” his smile faltered just the slightest. Rin didn’t usually get involved in Kabru’s… hobby. Did she know something he didn’t? He decided to not ask outright, accepting the challenge of figuring out the meaning behind her concern on his own.

Rin let go of his arm and Kabru was free to go. His mind switched elsewhere, onto you, and before he knew it he was already slipping through the crowd of bodies to reach you.

You were in front of the vegetable seller’s stand, inspecting a lumpy potato. Kabru knew the vegetable seller was cheating on his wife. Usually, he’d try to get more out of the man, digging deeper simply for the sake of knowing. Yet, you stood there, beautiful and mind-consuming. What did Rin mean by ‘I think you’re going to be disappointed’? Kabru was rarely disappointed with secrets.

“Hey,” he raised a hand as he neared. You looked up from the potato and returned his smile. There was that look in your eyes again, that closed door he desperately needed the key to.

He loved crowds. He loved the hundreds of voices. He loved listening to each one and assigning them meaning, picking apart their words, filing them away into neat little categories. Yet, the crowd might as well have disappeared. All he saw was you. All he wanted was you and your words and your thoughts and your fears and your goals and your likes and your dislikes and your intentions and your—

“Oh hey,” your voice cut through the wants like the slash of a sword, “Kapru.”

Kapru.

His brows furrowed and he plastered on a polite smile— also practiced in the mirror. “It’s Kabru.”

“Right, sorry,” you shrugged.

Were you playing with him? Were you sending your pawn out, a piece that you expected him to take for the sake of a larger, more powerful move? Was it bait?

“How are you?” He forced himself to ask, though he could hear the weakness in his voice. He desperately hoped you wouldn’t notice.

You only tilted your head in thought, “I’m fine. Just buying potatoes.”

“It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other,” Kabru said. It was a lie, you saw him last week. “My party and I are about to go back to the surface to restock. We could grab a drink if you wanted.”

“Why?” You asked.

Why? Why? Kabru couldn’t say why. He wouldn’t say why. ‘I want to take detailed notes on every word you say, every gesture, every breath’ wouldn’t be helpful to his cause in the least.

“Because we’re friends,” he slowly explained. Again, there was that hint of weakness lacing every syllable. He wanted to tear his voice box apart and reconstruct it in a way that wouldn’t falter every time he saw you.

But you didn’t seem to notice. “Alright,” you sent him a smile that made his heart clench.

Alright. Kabru’s smile relaxed, “Alright,” he echoed. “It’s a date.”

‘It’s a date’ was a common saying, of course. But it still held implications, it still held desires, it still signified something more— At least to him it did.

You remained unphased by it, though. Usually, when Kabru said that, there would be a laugh or blush or the widening of eyes. You gave him nothing of the sort. No flirtatious looks, no intention-laced smile, no flicker of recognition.

“See you then,” was all you said.

Rin was wrong. You couldn’t disappoint him. Opening your doors and peeking inside your mind would be so satisfying.

- You go on several dates with Kabru without realizing they’re dates.

- After one date when you make friends with the next table over and invite them to join your meal, introducing Kabru as ‘my friend’ and not ‘the man who is courting me’ or ‘my boyfriend’, he begins to wonder…

- Do you not realize that these are dates?

Kabru knew he had the tendency to stare, but he usually kept that urge locked away for the sake of masking. Always masking. Always aware of his surroundings and the people and the words and the looks.

He kept his staring urge hidden at first. Yet as time passed, as you went on more dates, he couldn’t help himself. He had to stare. He had to drink in every detail of your face, coveting it all as a desert wanderer would covet water.

And you didn’t seem to mind. You would give him this look sometimes, a look he couldn’t quite decipher. It was a mixture between affection and confusion and bashfulness. It was his favorite expression of yours and never failed to put butterflies in his stomach.

Kabru knew he was falling in love. He wasn’t opposed to the idea, but he’d never been truly in love before. At night when he forced himself into bed, he stared at the ceiling and mused on the future you had together. Neither of you had said anything to make the relationship official, but was that even needed? It was obvious that you were together— to him, at least.

Kabru held your hand as he led you through the crowded streets. Once you caught up to his side, he placed his palm on the small of your back. He wasn’t much for PDA, but it was a necessity when traversing the island together. He didn’t want to lose you in the crowd.

Once you were in a more quiet spot, he sent you a smile, “I have to ask, I’m too curious; What’s your favorite date that we’ve had together?”

You thought for a moment, “Hm… I would have to say last week. It was a Thursday. I like Thursdays anyway. I think it was the 7th? Yeah. June 7th, Thursday. That’s a good date, it’s a bit cool outside and all the flowers are blooming. But if I had to say which one was my favorite, I think it would be April 18th. I’m not sure that we spent that date together, though.”

…Okay.

Like the sunset rising over the mountains, it began to dawn on him.

Were you stupid?

No, you weren’t stupid. He had seen you in the dungeon before, how you fought and strategized and reacted. You couldn’t be stupid.

Then what? Were you playing hard to get? Were you teasing him? Was this a move on the board, your Knight piece pressing forward to continue the assault? Kabru needed to know.

He kept his hand on your back but his gaze straight ahead. “That’s nice,” he said. It wasn’t nice, actually. “What about when we hold hands? Do you enjoy that?”

You shrugged, “It helps us keep track of each other as we go through a crowd.”

“But I hold your hand even when we’re not around other people.”

The face you made betrayed your true thoughts. “Yeah, it seems like your hands are cold a lot. You really should start keeping gloves with you.”

“...Do you think I’m holding your hand because my fingers are cold?”

Another flash of confusion, another furrow of your brows. “Why else would you hold my hand?”

The sun rose completely over the mountains and the daytime, clear and bright, engulfed his world.

You had no clue.

- This stresses Kabru out immensely.

- He starts taking notes. He has a special little book just for you. A lot of the pages are filled with scribbles and question marks.

- He makes a plan on what to do. He’s going to up the ante, he’s going to make his feelings so clear that you can’t ignore them or be oblivious even if you tried.

- He starts getting more touchy. He kisses your forehead often. He kisses your knuckles. He’s around you all the time, every chance he gets. He tells you you’re beautiful. He says that he wants you to meet his mother. He talks about your future together.

- You say, “Oh, your mom? Cool. You think we’ll get along? I’m always up for making new friends.”

- “You want a future with me? Well, I’m free next Wednesday.”

“I like you,” Kabru was breathless and wide-eyed. His hair was a mess from how often he’d run his fingers through it. He was disheveled and hadn’t slept the entire night.

You glanced up from the book you were reading, “Oh? Cool, thanks.”

He sent you a look. “No, I mean I love you.”

“Yeah,” you flipped a page in the book, “love you too.”

“You do?” Hope bloomed and unfurled like a spring flower. Kabru felt his cheeks grow warm, a fire igniting within him.

“Yeah,” you said lightly, “I love all my friends, of course.”

That spring flower suddenly wilted. The fire was doused by a cold bucket of water in the form of your words. Kabru wanted to scream and bang his head against the wall.

“You don’t get it,” he hissed through clenched teeth, fingers tensing as he leaned forward, desperate. “I’m in love with you. This is really hard for me to say, but I think you need to hear it like this. I love you. I love you. I love you…” Somehow, his cheeks went even hotter. His adams apple bobbed as he swallowed his embarrassment, “I-I… Sorry. I just need you like I need oxygen. I…”

You snorted, “You don’t need me to breathe, I’m a person not an organ. You’re breathing right now just fine.”

He was not breathing just fine, but that was beside the point.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Kabru said. He could hear how strained his voice sounded.

You watched as he walked away, rounding a corner and disappearing from sight. Then he screamed. It sounded like he also kicked something, a crate or box maybe.

How odd.

- When it finally gets through your head, he’s actually a bit satisfied by your embarrassment at it all. Yes, please do acknowledge your obliviousness. Please do apologize for treating his love confession so casually. When you do so, he feels as if he could melt from the relief.

- He still wants to bang his head on the wall, though.

- And he’s spent a lot of nights screaming into his pillow.

- Kabru continues to play 5d chess with you, just simply out of habit, but you’re playing Hungry Hungry Hippos the entire time. He still finds himself trying to pick apart your actions and responses, but he’s learned how to take things at face value when it comes to you. It’s a difficult adjustment, but one he’s willing to make.

- He starts to learn, take more notes, observe your behavior. For dates, he lays it out carefully. You two are going to do this specific thing. Why? Because he would like to see you happy, and hold your hand, and kiss you. Why? Because he loves you. Now you get it.

- You’re fascinating actually. Genuinely, he starts to adore how your brain works. He wants to pick it apart and hold the pieces up to a magnifying glass.

♡ Mithrun ♡

- He does not care.

- Be as oblivious as you want, that’s not going to stop Mithrun.

- The Canaries, however, are going insane.

“How’s it going with them?” Pattadol asked. Her hands were folded in front of her in that polite way, the way that told Mithrun that his second in command had something on her mind. Pattadol thought she was subtle. She was not.

And he knew precisely who she was referring to. Might as well give her an answer that’ll satisfy her curiosity, lest she keep asking questions.

“Fine,” he answered, “just fine.”

Yet, Pattadol’s brow furrowed. Not a good sign.

“Just fine?” She asked. Her voice went up a pitch. “It’s just fine? Really?”

“Really.”

She unlaced her fingers and spread out her hands as if gesturing to something, but all that surrounded them was Mithrun’s under-decorated living quarters. There was really nothing to gesture at besides the wooden cabinets and the bed. Mithrun waited, aware that she was picking through her piles of thoughts— probably thoughts mixed with screams of frustration— to find the right words.

Finally, Pattadol forced a shaken smile, “It’s clear to anyone that knows you that you’re in love with them, Captain.”

That was what she decided to say? It was a bit blunt for Pattadol’s usual style. Mithrun only shrugged, “Yeah, you’re right. It’s pretty obvious.”

“So why haven’t they noticed yet?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I want you to be happy for once!” Pattadol snapped, but she then took a deep breath, “Sorry, Captain, I didn’t mean to sound that way. This is hard for me, talking so openly about these things… But it’s so frustrating to watch.”

Mithrun could understand that. While he personally wasn’t frustrated by the circumstances, he knew that the Canaries couldn’t stand watching his interactions with you. It wasn’t a big deal in the long run, in his opinion. They’d get over it.

“Thank you,” he answered.

“Do you have any ideas on how we can do that?”

“Do what?”

Pattadol’s eye twitched ever so slightly. Her fingers tensed like claws, and Mithrun felt the corner of his lips turn up in a barely-there smirk. But genuinely, he wasn’t sure what she referred to. Did she mean the part about him being happy, or the part about you being oblivious? She should’ve been more clear.

“About…” she hesitated. Obviously she wasn’t sure what she meant either. She then nodded as if deciding, “About everything. About the obliviousness, your happiness, etcetera.”

He didn’t know what the etcetera referred to, but didn’t care to ask. “You don’t have to do anything,” Mithrun assured her as he leaned back in the chair and folded his arms. The wood creaked slightly from the movement. Everything on this boat creaked, as was the nature of boats, he guessed.

“I would like to do something,” Pattadol nodded, determined. “We all would.”

A shrug, “Alright. Then do something.”

- Pattadol, over-achiever and top student and certified Girl Who Cares Too Much, takes that as a challenge.

- Cithis only joins because she thinks it’ll be funny.

- Fleki also only joins because she thinks it’ll be funny.

- And Lycion also also joins because he thinks it’ll be funny (though he does care on some level. Not really about you, but about Mithrun. And it’s painful to watch.)

- Otta is forced to join.

- The attempts are weak at first, like dipping a toe into the water to see how cold it is. Mithrun only has so much patience for interference with his life, so they have to be smart and tread carefully.

- Pattadol gives Mithrun a hint. “There’s some pretty flowers growing beside the road over there. You should give one to them!”

- “What would they need a flower for?”

- Mithrun asks that on purpose. He knows precisely what he’s doing. Yes, people generally like receiving flowers, he knows that. But he also believes that flowers are useless gifts.

- “Then what present do you suggest?” Pattadol asks.

- Mithrun has an idea. He gets you soap. Everybody uses soap (hopefully) It’s a useful gift, and if he gives you the same kind he uses then he’ll get some weird sick flicker of pleasure from having his scent on you. (He wisely chooses to not say that part aloud.)

You held the little bar of soap in your hands as if it were an injured baby bird you found on the ground. Yet your feelings towards it were far from protective or empathetic. This soap said something. It had a mouth and it used it to scream.

You met Mithrun’s flat gaze, “Soap…”

He nodded, “Yeah. Soap. It’s a gift for you.”

For you?

Mithrun continued, “It’s the same kind I use. Smells the same.”

It felt as if you’d swallowed a handful of pebbles and they all had gotten stuck in your throat. “Do you… think I’m stinky?”

You cursed yourself for even asking that. What a useless question. Obviously, he thought you stank! He gave you soap! He was trying to tell you something, being subtle and polite for once! Usually Mithrun would just say it bluntly, but he’d been working on his desires lately. Perhaps he’d also decided to embrace societal expectations? You weren’t sure. But soap. Soap!

You didn’t notice how Mithrun tensed. You didn’t see him quickly blink several times and tilt his head. You didn’t see the slight widening of his good eye. “No, I—“

“I’ll go use this right now,” you interrupted, “I’ll go wash away my stench so you can finally stand to be near me.”

Despite the horror, you were a bit proud of yourself. You’d taken a hint, maybe you were getting less oblivious.

- In your defense, a bar of soap is a weird gift.

- Alright. Mithrun admits it, he needs help. He’s not so prideful anymore that he won’t admit that he doesn’t know what to do.

- Pattadol is really triumphant about that but does her best not to show it.

- Plan B: make it so obvious that you have no choice but to realize his feelings.

“This has to be the most physically uncomfortable I’ve felt in a very long time,” Mithrun said as he tugged at the ends of the fancy, over-decorated blouse the Canaries had put him in. “I honestly prefer Cithis’s frilly dresses.”

Which was saying something. Mithrun had a preference? That was a good sign.

“It makes you look handsome,” Pattadol said.

“The only thing it makes me is itchy,” he corrected.

The Canaries had somehow found a blouse— not a shirt or tunic, a blouse— that made Mithrun feel something other than indifference. He usually didn’t care about what he wore, as long as it was comfortable, but the clothes they’d stuffed him into were offensive to human-kind, like vegan bacon.

It had a big frill on the front and puffy sleeves. It was somehow both too flowy and too tight at the same time. The trousers weren’t much better, digging into his legs. And the shoes…

Mithrun didn’t want to talk about the shoes.

It was clear to him that Fleki and Cithis had only contributed to the outfit because they thought it would be amusing. Good for them, he supposed. Pattadol seemed to genuinely like it, Otta looked horrified, and Lycion was in some in between state where he wanted to show pity but couldn’t quite stifle his giggles.

“Remind me again what the point of this is?” Mithrun asked with a sigh.

“We got them to agree to a date!” Pattadol said, grinning, “I said outright ‘it’s a date’ so there would be no confusion. I made it clear that the date was with you. Now, if you show up looking like a million gold with a bouquet of flowers, they’ll get the hint.”

Mithrun did not want to do that.

Mithrun rarely wanted to do anything, but this just felt wrong. In his opinion, the relationship between you and him would develop naturally in a way that fit both of your personalities. He didn’t mind waiting for you to realize his intentions, he had time. As long as you didn’t fall in love with someone else, and didn’t stop him from staring at you or touching you, then he wasn’t in a rush.

But since the Canaries insisted, seeming to think that this was the right course of action, he would go along with it. Maybe it would be an utter disaster and Pattadol would realize that she knew very little about relationships— especially a relationship involving Mithrun. He was aware enough of himself to know that it wouldn’t be conventional.

With his hair pulled back into a tight ponytail and the ridiculous outfit on, Mithrun entered the restaurant Pattadol had chosen. He found you immediately. You sat in a chair with your elbow on the table and your ankles crossed, waiting.

Mithrun held a bouquet of pink roses as he approached. You lit up when you saw him, but your brows then furrowed.

“Where’s Pattadol?” You asked.

His stride faltered, “She isn’t coming.”

“Oh,” you shrugged, “well since she set this up I assumed she’d be here.”

Why would she be here? It was a date Pattadol had set up for you and Mithrun specifically.

You probably didn’t know it was a date, he realized. Pattadol thought she’d been clear by saying ‘it’s a date’ but failed to realize that that was just a common phrase among people and meant nothing to no one.

Calm, he slid into the seat across from you and watched as you raised a brow, “What’re you wearing?” You asked.

“My team picked it out for me.”

“You look like you’re part of an opera or a ballet, like you’re about to stand beneath a balcony and start spouting poetry to your lover.”

That was a good description, actually. Those were the words Mithrun had been looking for earlier when he saw himself in the mirror.

He nodded, “Yep.” Then, wordlessly, he held out the bouquet to you.

Your eyes widened, “For me?”

“I’m handing them to you, aren’t I?”

Gingerly, you took the flowers and held the stem of the wrapped bouquet with both hands as you inspected each petal.

A flicker of surprising satisfaction ran through his chest. You liked the flowers. It made sense, most people liked flowers, even if he didn’t see why.

You dipped your head down toward them presumably to smell them, but your lips then parted and you dug your teeth into the nearest rose.

Mithrun froze.

You chewed on the rose, your nose wrinkling in disgust. You gave the flower a good shot, a proper taste, but it didn’t take long until you grabbed a napkin and spit up the pink slobbery mess into it.

“Sorry,” you sent him an apologetic smile and tried to hand the bouquet back to him, “they don’t taste that good, and I don’t think I could season or cook them in a way that would help.”

Mithrun knew he was staring. He knew he was making a face, slightly tilting his head down, intensity in his eye. The kind of face someone made when they were internally screaming.

He was not internally screaming, but he was thinking— about you, how your brain worked. And how it was so damn charming for some reason and all he wanted to do was kiss you until he was all you could think about.

He wanted something. The feeling was sweet, a shot of adrenaline, one of Fleki’s drugs. Addictive. Like the slow drip of honey. He could survive off that want for ages.

Wordlessly, Mithrun threw the bouquet over his shoulder to get rid of it. Judging by the gasp that followed, it probably hit someone in the head.

Loving you was as natural to him as breathing.

- Mithrun decides to not let the Canaries interfere any longer. He was wrong earlier in thinking he needed their help. He doesn’t.

- Also, watching them go insane over your obliviousness and his lack of communication provides a good bit of entertainment.

- When he finally decides to give into that all-consuming, new, exciting desire and kiss you, your response is, “But I wasn’t casting a spell, no reason to try and stop me.”

- God, he adores you.

- He takes kisses whenever he wants them, with no care about what you think his intention is.

- After a certain kiss that involves tongue and teeth and fingers digging into your waist, you start to openly wonder… Are you in a relationship with Mithrun?

“Yes,” Mithrun didn’t even glance up at you, remaining unphased by your rather serious question, “We’re in a relationship.”

He continued to jot down notes about a monster he saw, as if he’d just casually answered a question about the weather. ‘Is it going to rain today?’ ‘Yeah looks like it.’

You gulped, “How long?”

“A year now,” he kept writing. Truthfully, he’d been expecting this. A flash of disappointment crossed his mind; there goes one of his hobbies, watching the Canaries have a crisis over his love life.

You buried your face in your hands. Mithrun stopped writing and patted your head as if comforting a dog.

- The Canaries are pleased that this is over. But actually, they’re going to have to watch you not realize it when you’re engaged to the Captain.

- At your wedding you’re in regular clothes. Someone asks why and you say “Mithrun told me we’re going to a wedding. He didn’t say it was ours.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

[irreverent-saints]

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Unwanted Visitors

Idun had salt in her nostrils and a breeze through her hair. There were no clouds upon the sky, no whitecaps in the sea, and no buildings for miles. She snuck into a dense patch of growth and hauled out a narrow boat. To even call this vessel that was generous. Worms had left intricate patterns as they burrowed into it. The planks had warped apart, held together by straw, tar and faith. Were it not waterlogged, it could have made for decent firewood. Not much else. Idun looked over her shoulder. She dragged the boat over the most sandy part of the bay and mounted a makeshift trolling line with a bright red bobber. Then she pushed herself out. She did a test run in the shallows, making sure no holes were leaking. After gathering confidence she rowed out at sea.

She ventured further, a long stretch of bright white sand. Then she passed an underwater cliff, and there was nothing under her but black sea. She swallowed, staring back at her line. She rowed carefully, testing the give against waves. The sea remained calm. She held her hand against tar. Dry. For now. Idun moved slowly for about half an hour. The red dot ebbed. She leaned over, wrapping the line around a sturdy stick. The boat kept jerking. She pressed her thighs against the edges and lowered her torso, intent on reeling in her catch. With each wrap around the stick, the fight grew heavier. The first glimmering fish emerged near the surface. A sizeable cod. Two more. She grinned, strands of hair sticking to her face and briny grime up to her elbow. She lugged them in and bled them. Then she rowed back to shore. She hid her boat near the roots of a tree, covered with twigs and straw. Then she put her catch into a waxed cotton sack, tucked her flyaways to the side and softened her face. She walked up to the road when she gleaned a figure near the shore. She adjusted her coat and straightened her back. The man approached. Idun tensed up.

“Good day, nice place to go for a walk, isn’t it?” Paal said. Idun nodded.

“Fresh air is good for you.” she said.

“Are you sure thieving from the ocean is a good idea,” he asked bluntly. Idun froze.

“What. Why?”

“I saw you. Don’t do that again. At best you could drown, at worst the curse could spread to our seas,”

Iduns heart pounded as she stared at the man. He stood in the middle of the road. A stern look on his face as he carried himself with the understated discipline of a soldier.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” she said, continuing to slowly walk. He stepped in front of her.

“These waves have pulled so many good men under, I would hate to see you go as well,” he said. Idun took a deep breath.

“Would you?” She sneered. “I’d be shocked if anyone at all cared what happened to this hag,”

He smirked.

“They are scared of your curse, not you,” he said, bringing out a small notebook. He scribbled something down. “in fact, I’m sure they would love to be able to talk to you under less… tense circumstances,”

He handed her a small piece of paper.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Summer festivities. I will help host it. Give yourself a break from all this suffering and have some fun for once,”

Idun looked at him stunned. He kept that same sly grin.

“I’ll… see if I can fit it into my schedule.” She said, tucking it away.

They parted ways, and she hurried home. She glanced at the paper one last time before settling in to prepare the fish. She put them in a smoke chamber and bundled up in her chair. There she grabbed hold of a large cape. One side was pale and dusty, the other a deep, varied green with hundreds of scraps poking out. She sewed bits of dry moss, old rags and whatever she could find onto it until it moreso resembled peat than an outfit. If nothing else it meant she could spend her evening stabbing something a few thousand times. By dusk she looked over her piece, satisfied with her progress.

And by early morning Idun was back in the birch forest. The trees grew sparse, rarely taller than her head, She held a long spike in her hand, making her way to the Deep Woods. Her steps were silent, always aware of her intrusion. She reversed her cape to the beige side and put up the hood. The cloth limited her vision. Small price to pay. She picked up speed. On the way she looked out for lichen, birchbark and the odd spire. Those giant trees loomed in the distance, shrouded by mist.

She trudged her way through a dense patch of birches. As she emerged from the foliage, a large shadow shifted. She jumped, tripping over herself. There, so deceptively quiet, a Jotun walked across the terrain. The fog softened his outline, and it was as if every sound had been wrapped in cotton. A gentle wind howled throughout the landscape. She froze in place, ever so slowly moving closer to the ground. He was in no hurry. Each step gingerly placed ahead until he was close enough to reach out and grab her. Idun cowered. He sauntered in her direction. She tried to shuffle backwards as his paw landed a few meters from her. The faintest sound of gravel shifting, and a wash of displaced air. Were she to close her eyes, nothing more would indicate his presence. Another step. Closer. She could barely think as his massive shadow fell over her. A few hairs from the tip of his tail grazed her, and with that he had passed through. Idun felt as if her chest was going to burst. The Jotun looked to the side, assessing his surroundings with curiosity. He glanced down. His whole body seized. His tail flung and he slammed his foot down, quaking the earth. Idun ran towards the trees. He stood still. They both stared at each other.His shoulders slowly sank, and the quills that had stood out in all directions soon laid neat against his skin. He nodded slightly, lowering his ears.

“morning. I didn’t see you there,” he said. Idun laid there dumbstruck.

“G-good morning...” she stuttered.

“You look familiar,” he said, taking a step closer, she hid behind a birch, it failed to provide cover, “you’re the one that didn’t attack,”

“Oh no, I would never,” she said.

“How interesting. What are you doing here?” He asked, Idun shrank.

“Oh the usual, enjoying this wonderful nature we have all been blessed with,” she bluffed, doing her best to project her voice.

He squinted.

“And what does that entail?”

“Observing the birds, getting some fresh air in my lungs, exercising my body,”

The Jotun nodded.

“What great activities. Have fun with that, and don’t go further into the woods,” he said with a grin. Then he stood up, looking over his shoulder with narrow eyes, “also. I don’t recommend wearing those colours out here, I can barely distinguish you from the ground,”

“Thanks for the advice!” she said, clenching her jaw. He reached into a satchel strapped to his waist, retrieving a bright red leaf. The giant knelt down before her, in doing so his thighs encased her like walls. Any and all escape routes cut off. He stretched his hand out, leaf pinched between two claws that somehow failed to even bruise it.

“Here, carry this. Lets not startle each other again,” he said. She reluctantly grabbed hold of the leaf, big as parasol above her head.

“How nice of you,” she said. With no further courtesies the Jotun left.

Idun stared, puzzled and amazed. The Jotun disappeared into the Deep Woods. She didn’t follow.

Idun then spent a few days eating cod and pondering her life.

Then more time passed, the Jotun’s word had fallen on deaf ears, and she was halfway up an almond tree. She had arrived by vine, and from there it grew so tall that she could more or less walk upright along the branches. She inched toward the drupe when the ground shook. She froze in place. The huge wooden doors opened, as if the very mountain pried apart. In between foliage she gleaned the Jotun as he stretched and looked around. He hunched slightly over, letting out a deep rattle, almost a yammer. She draped her camouflage over herself and flattened against the tree. One gruelling pull forwards, one glance over her shoulder. Repeat.

The jotun scratched his chin. He proceeded to move in a casual, yet deliberate fashion, scanning the ground. A lean on caught his eye. He furrowed his brows, gently poking at it with his paw. Idun stared, praying that no human remained inside. He paused, ripping a part of the wall off before studying the makeshift shelter further. Satisfied with his assessment he kicked it apart as if it were made from tissues and matchsticks. She heaved. He made his round. When he was on the very opposite side of his garden she crawled further out on the branch. One almond of this size could make for several meals. The best way to go about it was to cut the stalk, and hopefully not go tumbling along with her catch. She could then collect them on her way back. She wrapped her legs tightly, retrieving a machete as she began to hack off a pod. As each fell down, the branches shook. She clutched against the branch, palms sweaty and a heartbeat in the hundreds. Four down, and she didn’t die on the way. One would have to consider that a victory.

She inched backwards, always aware of the fifty feet drop. She made her way down one branch, and from there she could climb the vine she had come from.

A huge shadow moved between the leaves. She seized. Then she flattened against the branch, barely gleaning a huge torso. She put up her hood and ruffled her cape, making sure every single piece of her was covered up. The Jotun browsed the shrub. He snapped an almond off of the branch. Idun clutched, knuckles white. He popped the whole thing, pod and all, into his mouth. A sickening crunch rang out. She laid there frozen as he helped himself to more. His wrist went past her, barely avoiding her cape. The spurs on is arm flew over her head. His chest hummed subtly, rapid, deep clicks.

He froze in place. Idun held her breath. His hand hovered just over her, radiating heat. He turned his head to the side. His eye flashed, a strange, crescent pupil. His ear flicked. Iduns arms began to tingle, numb from holding onto the branch with all her strength. This being was infathomable in scale. Not just in mass, but in the way he seemed tuned into the most subtle of movements. As if his very senses moved through the land in fractals, any and all intrusion accounted for. She felt as if a single stray hair, or a little too sharp an inhale would betray her location. She had his breath on her neck. Warm, slightly damp air washed over her. She clenched her jaw, moving only her eyeballs to gaze up at him. The side of his face took up most of her view as he slowly continued to chew the almond. She stood still. His pupil moved. He stared directly at her. A single, yellow eye through thick foliage. His pupil narrowed. Neither of them moved an inch.

A loud crackle. Singed fur. She grappled the twig, breathing in sharply. The jotun twitched. He stumbled backwards, holding his hand up to under his armpit. She gleaned a bright red stain. He heaved. Her ears rang. The jotun rubbed his wound. He glanced back at the tree before stepping away, slumped back and ears hanging low. He moved sluggishly, massaging the bloody spot as he slowly retreated to his cave.

Idun hurried down, collecting her catch. She rushed away from his garden. On the way she passed three bright red puddles in the soil. If not him, me, she thought, looking away.

[inthefallofasparrow]

[xi-vz]

The Sea Gave Me You

•

•

•

The net wasn’t meant to catch anything special.

It was old. Patched a dozen times over.

Mobei Jun dropped it into the shallows out of habit more than hope, salt in his mouth and wind tugging at his collar. The sea had been stingy that week—stingier than usual—and the gulls were beginning to laugh at him.

He didn’t expect it to catch a man.

No. Not a man.

The creature thrashed in the ropes like a fish too smart for a trap, eyes wild and too amber to be anything human. Long hair clung to his face, soaked and tangled with kelp. The net had torn something—a seal pelt, Mobei Jun realized with a jolt—and blood darkened the water around him.

Mobei Jun didn’t think. Just cut the lines.

Lifted the shaking body into his arms and rowed back to shore, heart thudding slow and steady like a storm still far from land.

•••

He didn’t know what to call the man.

He didn’t ask.

The sea had given him a wounded thing, slick with brine and myth, and Mobei Jun didn’t need answers to care for something in pain.

The man—selkie, Mobei Jun supposed—slept for two days. Feverish. Shivering even beside the hearth. His hands curled like he still held waves between his fingers.

On the third morning, he opened his eyes.

“Where am I?” he croaked, voice hoarse.

“My home,” Mobei Jun said simply. “You were caught in my net.”

“Oh.” A pause. Then, dryly: “That’s rude.”

“You bit me when I tried to help you.”

“Fair.”

He said his name was Shang Qinghua.

He didn’t offer more. Mobei Jun didn’t push.

He helped him sit up. Fed him broth. Let him keep his torn seal skin close, wrapped tightly in oilcloth and tucked beneath his pillow like a lifeline. Shang Qinghua healed slowly, awkwardly, as if unused to solid ground.

“You don’t have to keep me,” Shang Qinghua said one night, curled on the cot he’d been sleeping on, with the moonlight dripping through the shutters. “Selkies are bad luck, you know. Thieves. Liars. Seducers.”

“You’re also bad at cooking,” Mobei Jun said flatly.

“Hey! You don’t even season your food!”

“It’s food. That’s enough.”

Shang Qinghua huffed, but he didn’t stop smiling.

•••

Mobei Jun learned his rhythms.

How Shang Qinghua liked to sleep with his hair damp and the window cracked open, no matter the cold. How he talked in his sleep—soft things, in languages Mobei Jun didn’t recognize. How he clung to his seal skin when he was scared, pressing it to his chest like it held memories he didn’t want to lose.

And Shang Qinghua learned Mobei’s silences.

When to speak and when not to. How to read the way he paused with the kettle, or stared at the ocean like it owed him an answer. He started helping with chores, slowly—fixing nets with clumsy fingers, offering opinions on bait, leaving shell buttons and smooth stones on the windowsill like gifts.

“You don’t have to earn your keep,” Mobei Jun said once, quiet.

Shang Qinghua blinked. “I know.”

But he still did it anyway.

•••

Winter settled in with heavy hands.

Snow crusted the dunes. The harbor froze. Mobei Jun’s joints ached, and the sea refused to give up its fish.

Shang Qinghua stayed. Even when the wind turned cruel, even when the tides sang to him.

He stayed.

“I’ll go back eventually,” he said one night, curled near the fire with Mobei Jun beside him. “Just to swim. Just to remember.”

Mobei Jun didn’t look up from his mending. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I know,” Shang Qinghua whispered. “That’s why I’ll come back.”

•••

The first time Shang Qinghua left, Mobei Jun didn’t follow him.

He watched from the bluff instead, arms crossed, heart heavy and still.

The full moon hung low. The ocean was a mirror. Shang Qinghua walked naked to the edge of the shore and wrapped himself in his pelt. The change was quick—elegant, wild.

One moment a man.

The next, a seal slipping into the dark.

Mobei Jun watched until he couldn’t see him anymore.

Then he went home.

And left the window open.

•••

Shang Qinghua came back the next morning.

Soaked, grinning, hair full of seaweed.

“You should’ve seen the kelp forests,” he said, flopping dramatically into the chair by the stove. “They’ve gotten taller since last winter. And there’s a new reef shelf near the cove. And the crabs—”

“You smell like fish.”

“I am fish.”

Mobei Jun lifted him like a sack of potatoes and put him in the tub to wash. Shang Qinghua grumbled. But he didn’t stop smiling.

•••

The full moons became a rhythm.

He would go.

But always came back.

Sometimes with treasures—driftwood, coral, sea glass. Sometimes with stories of dolphins that teased him, or old friends that still thought he was lost. But always, always with the same tired eyes softening when he saw the cottage.

His cottage.

His place at the hearth.

His fisherman.

•••

Spring came. Then summer. The village talked.

They always did.

About the strange man with no past who showed up barefoot and damp.

About Mobei Jun, who had never brought a soul into his home until now.

About moonlight and magic and the way the tides seemed to favor Mobei Jun’s nets again.

He didn’t care.

Shang Qinghua planted herbs outside the door and left half-eaten crab legs in the sink. He hung laundry to dry and made tea with too much sugar. He dragged Mobei Jun into the water on warm days, laughing when Mobei Jun cursed about sand in his boots.

He never said the words aloud.

Not those words.

But Mobei Jun heard them in every return.

•••

One warm evening, as the moon rose silver and full, Shang Qinghua stood at the door with his pelt clutched under one arm.

He hesitated.

“You know,” he said softly, “I could stay.”

“You do,” Mobei Jun answered.

“I mean permanently. I could… bury the pelt.”

Mobei Jun looked at him for a long moment.

“No,” he said.

Shang Qinghua’s face fell. “Oh.”

Mobei Jun added quietly. “I want you to come back because you want to. You don’t need to cut yourself from the sea.”

Shang Qinghua blinked. Slowly.

Then smiled.

“Yeah,” he said.

•••

He left with the tide.

And returned, hours later, with seawater in his hair and sand between his fingers.

Mobei Jun met him at the door.

Shang Qinghua didn’t say a word—just stepped into his arms.

And stayed.

[willtheweaver]

A writer’s guide to forests: traveling through the woods

Getting from point A to point B is something that both people in real life and the characters of your story will have to figure out. Whether as a means to get to a plot point, or as a part of the plot itself, travel presents opportunities for the writer.

Hack ‘n slash- Where paths are nonexistent, your characters will literally have to blaze a trail (the ‘blaze’ in this case has nothing to do with fire. Instead it is a trail marker made by carving a mark into a tree. The mark resembles the white patch seen on the forehead of mammals, most often horses.) Being the pioneer is slow going, especially if the undergrowth is thick and requires clearing. Cut bamboo can go through the foot, poison oak and poison ivy can give a nasty rash, and biting insects can make life miserable. And then there is the matter of marking the trail. A character on the run will not want to advertise their location and will do their best to keep their trail hidden. But for others, they will want to mark the trail. Stone cairns, arrows, blaze marks in trees, and even sticks and knotted grass can point out the path to other travelers. This can be helpful to others, but it can also present a danger. Thieves and outlaws can create false trails that lead travelers into a trap or ambush.

Game trails- Animals have their habits. They like to take the same path between places. Over time these develop into trails that crisscross the forest floor. For a character on the run, or those who needs to make haste, these are a tempting choice to follow. But be careful. Some animals are able to traverse terrain too difficult for humans (narrow ledges, near vertical faces, and the gaps underneath fallen trees are not fun places to be). And your characters may encounter more than deer or rabbits. Predator species hang out around game trails as they can be fruitful hunting grounds.

Existing paths and roads- Roads can range from simple dirt paths to paved highways. These will be the most direct routes between the principle settlements in your story. Prosperous areas will have well maintained roads with travelers and patrols using them frequently. Characters may also encounter watchtowers, farms, and inns along the way. Poorer regions, those affected by war, or more remote regions will have less well maintained roads, fewer travelers, and few to no amenities between towns. And if your characters can use the roads, expect hostile armies, outlaws, and highwaymen to use them as well. And where the roads go may be limited to the most populated regions, forcing your characters to leave the path if they want to get to isolated villages, caves, temples, or even a wizard’s tower.

Use the water- Of course, you can have your characters forgo land transportation and use the rivers, lakes, and seas. Rafts, ferry boats, and ocean going ships are all viable options. It should be noted that these are not perfect solutions. Rapids and waterfalls will force characters back onto land until they find gentler waters. Storms can delay or sink vessels, and cold winters will freeze water over. Of course, a frozen river or lake is just an excuse to get out the ice skates. Droughts will dry up streams and small lakes, and recent rains can turn placid waters into unsurvivable whitewater.

Up in the trees- Hate to burst your bubble here, but swinging from vines is something that only exists in fiction. If you try to do this in real life, it will not work out well…provided you can even find sufficient vines or fig roots. Of course, in your story, you are free to do what you want. Nothing is going to stop you…well except maybe for your readers and the critics who will pan you for using what may be considered an overused and unoriginal trope. Other options include bridges, cable cars, or even zip lines.

Taking flight- Of course, the forest will not pose an obstacle if your characters can simply fly. This can be achieved by characters that possess wings of some sort. They could have a winged mount, or they could hitch a ride on a vehicle like a helicopter or ultralight plane.

Underground- If in doubt, take a cue from moles and dwarves. Tunnels can serve the same function as roads, with all the benefits and drawbacks included. Of course your characters will also have to be aware that cave-ins are a real and present danger. These can be natural, or deliberate sabotage. And your characters best hope all the recent tunneling hasn’t awaken any ancient evils from long ago…

[msweebyness]

MiracOlympus- Alix

Be nice to your delivery goddess! @imsparky2002 @booksrbetterthanpeople @nerdy-chocomallow

Alix, Goddess of Travel and Messengers (aka Hermes)

Appearance/Attire: Short, choppy brown hair with salmon-colored tips, tied in a low ponytail, tanned skin with patches of windburn, bright cerulean eyes with splotches of amber and electric green, short but lean and muscular. Golden petasos with blue feathered wings on the sides, lime green knee-length chiton with silver piping, bright blue sash with cloud patterns, brown braided leather belt, thick golden wristbands, golden sandals with blue feathered wings and retractable wheels. Always has a brown leather satchel with magically infinite containment space for her deliveries.

Bio: The swiftest deity on Olympus and also one of the most cunning by a large margin, Alix always has a trick or two up her sleeve to help her get the job done. A known prankster, she loves pulling little jokes on her fellow gods to liven things up in the heavens and keep them on their toes. They’ll never be able to catch her even if they get angry, after all! But even with her love for mischief, Alix is still one of the most hard-working deities out of the whole bunch, constantly zipping here, there and everywhere to deliver whatever needs delivering to whoever it needs to be brought to. Breaks are practically unheard of for the fleet-footed goddess and it worries her friends quite a bit. Despite her busy schedule, Alix can show quite a bit of care towards mortals, especially children or those who’ve been cheated or treated unfairly. She’s known as the patron goddess of travelers and the one who ensures safe passage for a reason after all. So before you dismiss her as a mere jokester, take a closer look at this goddess.

Fun Facts!

Alix didn’t get the title of the patron deity of thieves for nothing. She earned that title for one of her greatest pranks. After a comment from the sea god hit the wrong nerve for her, she swiped his trident right from under his nose. But she didn’t stop there! She managed to swipe Adrien’s Master Bolt, Kagami’s shield, Rose’s magic belt, Juleka’s bow, so on and so forth. And when all the gods entered the throne room the next morning, all of their prized possessions were glued to the ceiling. No one talked shit after that, I’ll tell you that much.

As mentioned earlier, taking a break is a foreign concept to Alix. And from this began a tradition on Olympus. Every year on Alix’s birthday, after the party has ended, the young gods have Marc and Mylene’s younger brother Kiran, the god of sleep, use his power to keep Alix in a deep sleep so they can finish all her tasks for the next few days and give her time to enjoy herself. She tries to find ways to circumvent this every year but always fails.

Alix isn’t just the messenger of the gods, she plays an equally important role down in the Underworld. Since she was young, she’s been responsible for leading the souls of the recently departed down to the Underworld. She drops them off at the River Styx and helps Charon collect their payments before returning to the world above. This is a big part of the reason for her close friendship with Nathaniel.

She’s got the need for speed! Leave your thoughts in the comments and reblogs!

[homeboygirl]

sea of thieves has been great so far. a guy shot himself out of his sinking ship ONTO my ship, stole it, and sailed it into two krakens to finish the fight. this was during my first mission ever. a couple hours later a crew of dudes pulled up on me and said if i could 1v1 their captain they would give me all of their loot. i politely declined and offered them fried chicken and played the accordion for them, which somehow got me accepted into their crew too. we sailed and plundered for a bit before they dropped me off back at my ship and waved goodbye. a day later, i was killed by a small ship like my own, manned by 2 people. on my way back to get my shit out of the water i was attacked by them again, and accidentally rammed my ship onto land and beached it during their barrage. they climbed aboard my ship with an explosive barrel, ready to make me meet davy jones, when they realized i was alone and had nothing. they immediately started helping me patch up my ship and gave me food to heal my wounds. we then set off fireworks and searched for the buried treasure on the island together, and they gave me all the loot before sailing away into the distance. (picture is me showing them the map)

[blade-liger-4ever]

RWBY X Transformers Partnerships 4: Ruby Rose and Smokescreen - Destiny's Children

"It's just so confusing. First I'm told I have this special power to incinerate Grimm with my eyeballs, then I find out it means I have a destiny to be some legendary warrior, and now I learn my uncle is my dad and my dad is my uncle, and I - I just don't know what to do, Smokescreen."

"I get it, Ruby. Really, I do. Look, last year, when Optimus and I were alone for a while, and it looked like he wasn't gonna make it, the Matrix...the Matrix chose me as his successor. It uh, is a divine power source that empowers a worthy Cybertronian with the power of all the Primes before him, and gives him access to the previous Primes for guidance and quick healing. Before that, I used to think - no, I knew - that there was something big and important in my future, but...I always felt it would be simpler, like becoming a famous general. But when the Matrix chooses you, either immediately or for the future, it's a permanent mark, even if someone else is ultimately chosen. So, whether I like it or not, whether I or anyone else thinks I'm worthy, I'm a designated candidate for my race's future."

"That...really IS scary. How - how do you DEAL with something like that?"

"Honestly? Think through your actions more carefully. Don't worry about how your deeds reflect on your image around others, but remember that whatever you do will shape your growth in your fate. You don't need to be rigid, or anxious, or let it all eat away at you. Just...take a step at a time, correct your footing when you stumble, and push on. It's all we can do."

"....You're smart, Smokescreen. Thanks. Um, I don't want to sound immature, or ungrateful, but...could we, talk about something else? Or find something else to do? Like, drive through Patch, or kill some Grimm?"

*laughs* "Don't worry, Ruby, we've got time before that responsibility is on our shoulders. Granted, I don't know how far away it is, but we have time to be kids. I say we make the most of it."

"Thanks, Smokey - um, is it okay if I call you that?"

"Sure, but since it's my nickname from my 'battle uncle' Wheeljack, can I call you 'Rubes'?"

*giggles* "Sure thing!"

"Then let's see what this island's like, Rubes!"

Smokescreen's no stranger to change, or rolling with life's punches when a sucker punch comes his way. After all, he'd gone from the thieves' den that was the Mithril Sea to the hardcore Elite Guard enlistment service without batting an optic. Moving to Iacon afterwards was a bit of a shock, but that was mostly because Smokescreen had only briefly seen the city before being overwhelmed by the sheer number of data-scrolls within the Hall of Records, which would have captivated his long-buried interest in reading if he weren't so impatient to play his part in the War. Landing on Earth was less of an event to process and more of a joyous delight, as not only did he get to meet his hero Optimus Prime and his team, but he also got to be on the planet that brimmed with light and color that Alpha Trion had spoiled him rotten with on stories from their time in the Hall.

Although his zeal was greater than his rationality at the time, Smokescreen absorbed everything he could about the planet and his new team. He learned human anatomy and fragility from a hovering Ratchet (who's ever-present wrench may have inspired his good retention on the subjects), the Earth's fauna and flora from Bumblebee, cycles and events from Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, an update of the war efforts from Ironhide, and Earth culture from Miko. To be quite honest, Smokescreen trailed after Optimus like a lost cyber-pup, soaking up his words and wisdom while memorizing his fighting techniques. Wheeljack, upon their first meeting, made quite the impression, even though he'd read every article and battle strategy of the Wreckers the moment Smokescreen had enlisted. Desperate to prove himself to Wheeljack (and impress "dad", as Miko had later referred to Optimus), Smokescreen emulated the Wrecker-scientist's tactics and guile while shadowing him at the base and on missions.

That ended preemptively after Smokescreen had tailed Wheeljack during the Wrecker's vendetta against the Constructicons, which resulted in Smokescreen narrowly avoiding death, Wheeljack's isolation to base after a HEAVY reprimanding from both Ratchet and Optimus, while Ironhide had taken him to the side while dragging the twins along with him. To his surprise, Smokescreen had only gotten a mild scolding from Ironhide (a noisy scolding - it WAS Ironhide, after all); once the bodyguard had finished, he'd told him to focus less on proving himself to others and more on bettering himself for himself. To that end, Ironhide tasked Sideswipe and Sunstreaker with his training and integration to both the team and Earth. Smokescreen was grateful for that, as it helped ground him and allowed him to shake off his starry-eyed imaginings that he'd brought with him to Earth - and in the process, gave him older brothers, something he never realized he'd wanted.

So those past experiences, coupled with downtime spent with Miko and her various manga, anime, and comic reading sessions, made adjusting to Remnant and the mutant-like humans a walk in the park for Smokescreen.

It surprised no one that Smokescreen could adapt as well as he did, and it was quite easy for him to do so himself. Smokescreen just heard one briefing on Aura, Semblances, Dust, Faunus, and the kingdoms before quickly categorizing it as, "a world populated by Marvel Comics' mutants, with a third of normal humans, mixed with a half-animal offshoot species, and stuffed into medieval fiefdoms spruced up with Ancient Cybertronian tech and all purpose rocks of concentrated element juice."

Although their new friends at the Xiao Long cabin gave him varying looks of utter bafflement, Miko's thumbs up, combined with Optimus' smile, Sideswipe's grin, Irohide's facepalm, and the rare image of Wheeljack's "I don't know how, but that made sense" expression (matched by his even rarer head scratching motion), satisfied Smokescreen's suspicions that he'd summed up the world in one sentence.

Hanging around the cabin, while uneventful, was a pleasant experience for Smokescreen. He got to know Tai, a retired Huntsman who gives him advice on improving his fighting style. The man is rather laid-back, and took his enthusiasm in stride. Although he can't yet see it, Yang is apparently a hard-hitting party girl, though from what he does see as she spends time with Ironhide and Sideswipe, Smokescreen could believe it. Neptune is like the best of both Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, if you asked him. The guy had Sunstreaker's knowledge of his good looks and versatility, but Sideswipe's easygoing personality and grit when the chips were down. Smokescreen liked hanging out with him, Yang, and Sideswipe when they had the time, though he often feels like a third wheel, and thus began checking in with the others more often.

Mercury is quiet and lax, though having grown up seeing 'Bots with that attitude, Smokescreen knew the older boy was an experienced fighter, and watching for the slightest hint of a threat. He respected that, though recalling what that type of hypervigiliance had done to the processors of his old contemporaries in the Mithril Sea, Smokescreen attempted to bond with him to help him "chill out" as Miko was fond of saying. However, whenever he reads his vitals and sees his heart rate picking up and a flash of annoyance hidden in his eyes, Smokescreen backs off and sees fit to distract Miko when she's eager for socializing once out of Ironhide's sight.

Qrow is an interesting fellow. He's got the same swagger and presence as Wheeljack, who he tends to hang around, and that makes it easy for Smokescreen to bond with him. Wheeljack gets a kick out of their interactions, and although the man's Semblance is apparently bad luck, he couldn't care any less, even if it causes a tree to fall on his foot. That seems to endear himself to Qrow, and judging by the looks he sometimes shoots the other humans, Smokescreen's willing to bet that the Huntsman is lonelier than he lets on.

It's Ruby he feels a connection with the most, though.

The girl wakes up and about draws a blank when she gets told about Beacon Academy's destruction and her powers, never mind learning about "alien robots". She's confused and scared, and that primarily drives her into the arms of Tai and Mercury (not necessarily in that order, he muses.) However, Smokescreen wants to know her more, and for that, he appoints himself as her liaison to the Autobots, telling her about the War and the factions, while also listening to her gush about weapons and explain some of the Dust she uses. Even though he knows when to leave her alone with Mercury, who he's become certain is her boyfriend, Smokescreen feels happy. She's a sweet kid, and they're so similar, it's no real difficulty for them to get along, especially given her father gets along with Wheeljack so much.

He's just as shocked as Wheeljack to learn that she was unaware of this familial fact.

Maybe he just wasn't around at the right times, but Smokescreen could have sworn on the All-Spark that every time she said "Dad", she'd meant Qrow. The deathly silence and betrayed look on her face broke his Spark, and somehow, he understood that she needed a friend. A friend who understood what it was like to have your identity crash and burn in front of you.

Although she took off at Warp Factor Ten, Smokescreen wasted no time transforming and driving after her. About a quarter of a mile away he realized he'd left Mercury in the dust, and though he felt bad about doing that to him, he knew he had to follow Ruby before she completely broke down.

He followed her trail to a cliff edge, where there also seemed to be a grave. Smokescreen rolled to a stop a short distance away, transformed, and gave her a few minutes to collect herself. When she had, Ruby still burst into tears. She ranted about it all - her Silver Eyes, the loss of her school, that her family had lied to her, and that now aliens were on her planet - it wasn't fair, they both knew that, but she still needed to release the thoughts and pain, and Smokescreen let her do that.

Once she finished and tried to get her sobbing under control, Smokescreen felt his optics drawn to the water. It wasn't the water that drew his attention, or the numerous other pieces of foliage and space he stared at that garnered his direction since events from a year ago. It was that they could be a fixed point of his thoughts and fears, and a location to let his mind wander into both the past and the future.

And so, he told her about how Optimus almost died that day.

As Ruby stared at him, listening in what he could only guess was morbid curiosity and shock, he told her how Optimus nearly died, and how the Matrix had chosen Smokescreen to be his successor. It didn't matter that he lived, or that Smokescreen, in all his years of daydreaming, had never once entertained the thought of Primacy, he was forever marked as a candidate. Even now, the raw terror that that had instilled in him - both Optimus' close call and being chosen as a future Prime - was a visceral feeling etched into his chassis. But even though Ruby was the first soul he ever told about the experience, Smokescreen felt a weight being lifted from his shoulders. And once he was done, he knew how to finish his speech:

"Just because you're destined for something bigger than you ever anticipated, doesn't mean you have to shoulder it alone. It doesn't mean you're alone anymore than when your family is someone you didn't expect. Qrow is your father, Optimus is my uncle, and we didn't expect that. And regardless of our heritage, we're chosen for something bigger than ourselves. But that doesn't have to define us, or drive us to walk alone. Sharing a burden, or a fear, or a dream - that's what's important. And who we share it with gives us strength, not isolation."

The silence after is heavy, but hopeful. And when she embraces him, Smokescreen knows he did the right thing.

Smokescreen and Ruby develop a bond much like the split-Spark Lambo brothers. They're always on the same wavelength, tuned into each other's emotional needs, and can warn the other of danger moments before disaster. They have differing fighting styles, but enough similarity that Smokescreen learns from her sharpshooting skills while Ruby picks up his adaptive close combat techniques. When not spending time with their friends and family, they can be found driving around together, killing Grimm, or chatting by the shoreline. Ruby only wants two specific people to be with her on the cliff edge where her mother is buried after their first heart-to-heart, and although it takes a while for Qrow to work up the courage to visit and spend time with his daughter and late wife, Smokescreen respects her wishes and has no problem letting Mercury and Qrow keep her company.

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

Oh boy, I swear, I thought I'd have this out sooner. Man, when life kicks you in the teeth, it kicks hard!

Anyway, these two were a pair I had in mind ages ago. I love Smokescreen, and he's the only one who would understand how she'd feel (Hot Rod fans, do not interact; it will be a bloody fight we get into.) As for their team name, while I do hate that Arcee used it to pick on Smokescreen, "Destiny's Children" does fit them. They're both young, both destined for greatness that overwhelms them, but still push on in spite of those fears.

Well, that's all for now. Just pray I can keep this up, peeps. I didn't expect to be this far behind!

Be seeing y'all!

[patchemall]

The pirate legend patch is now available in our store! Keep an eye on our Etsy for more exciting Sea of Thieves news coming next week!

[skill7spark04]

And They be SHIPMATES!:

It’s bound to be known upon the high Seas that Wood and Zeal are all you need

 when faced with the ballads, sirens, monsters and thieves.

Beings run all amuck, don’t give an- URK!

And willing to screw you so hard that needles and Tar couldn’t patch you together

And yet in an ocean fair of weather Captain Carter Gull

Drove his mighty ship through all the dull rocks and pathways long since collapsed

Straight to a place one naught find on a map.

Ought to ‘ve brought a bucket or two

Considering his crew now stand in mud stew along the bottom deck of the “Sacre’ Bleu”.

Soon straight after they’d shout “THAR SHE BLOW”

 as they land on the land and in beginning to stand saw a maiden of Mer,

And none but his wife were a beauty as her, but for lack of a life of care and manners

Captain C. Gull met straight with his planners on where to dig on the blessed rock.

His wife more interested with the mermaids of lore,

 much kinder than sirens, less determined to gore any of whom would land on their shore.

She would talk, chat, party, love and more,

Soon to find them people she adored.

She gave up on Gull, he could go eat a pike.

He cared more for treasure than seeing is wife,

So she left with the merfolk, a curious mission

Their presence signified by a sign reading: “gon fission”.

When Carter got back, his crew was speechless after reading the signs on the beaches all pondering where the pretty girls went,

“Forget it all, we’ve got it! We’re all set!”

Captain Carter had dug up the treasure, what a wondrous find.

 But it took him a while to notice:

He’d left one behind!

“Those blasted sea wenches swam off with me wife!”

“I swear if I spot her again, I’m taking ‘er life!”

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 3/12/2024

beat breath of the wild and have no real interest in rot13’ing spoilers for a seven year old game. also early thoughts on the first couple hours in tears of the kingdom. so if you don’t want to see that don’t read the playing section

listening

there is a particular piece of exploring ambient music that plays in a particular cave in genshin impact's fontaine and i adored it. i kept going back to that cave to trigger the music. it reminds me very much of Erich Wolfgang Korngold, who won several Oscars for early Technicolor swashbucklers-- The Sea Hawk, The Adventures of Robin Hood, et al. this particular piece leans into it the most and really grabbed me bc that's what Fontaine is all about: the romanticism, the folk heroism, the seafaring swashbuckling. i wish they leaned into it a bit more across fontaine, but i haven't played since i got fired and had to give my laptop back so perhaps the last patch has more similar music?

the use of bells in this is super great and pulled my attention first, but the way it ends-- a sort of sliding violin halt, some woodwinds fluttering up, a flute twining in. i hope their composing team wins some fuckin awards this year bc all the genshin music is good but the fontaine music is really a cut above.

either you've seen enough lavish technicolor adventure movies to know what the fuck i'm on about or you haven't, i hope this makes sense for why i was so excited about hearing this particular style in such an unexpected medium. here actually listen to this

-

reading

The Water Outlaws by S.L. Huang, i think a post on here influenced me bc it promised gay genderfuckery but i put it on hold SO long ago i could not tell you when that was or what the post was. it’s not NOT gay and genderfucky. but that’s really not the point of the book. this also wasn’t the easy read i was expecting it to be. let's yoink both the photo and the pitch from macmillan:

Lin Chong is an expert arms instructor, training the Emperor's soldiers in sword and truncheon, battle axe and spear, lance and crossbow. Unlike bolder friends who flirt with challenging the unequal hierarchies and values of Imperial society, she believes in keeping her head down and doing her job. Until a powerful man with a vendetta rips that carefully-built life away. Disgraced, tattooed as a criminal, and on the run from an Imperial Marshall who will stop at nothing to see her dead, Lin Chong is recruited by the Bandits of Liangshan. Mountain outlaws on the margins of society, the Liangshan Bandits proclaim a belief in justice—for women, for the downtrodden, for progressive thinkers a corrupt Empire would imprison or destroy. They’re also murderers, thieves, smugglers, and cutthroats. Inspired by a classic of martial arts literature, S. L. Huang's The Water Outlaws are bandits of devastating ruthlessness, unseemly femininity, dangerous philosophies, and ungovernable gender who are ready to make history—or tear it apart.

this book kept me company through a particularly bad bout of insomnia and i did enjoy my time with it, i'm glad it exists in the world and i'm glad to have read it essentially in one sitting. if i owned a hard copy, i don't think i would hang on to it. it was Fine, it's simply not for me. a bit too chewy and for bigger fans of Chinese history and/or wuxia i think.

there is an extremely large cast of characters (i often found myself referring back to the dramatis personae) and quite grim in parts. sexual assault, cannibalism as revenge, a very realistic war. a lot of really terrible, really grievous things happen to bodies. the fight scenes are clear and competent and will in fact unfold in your head like a martial arts movie.

it does take quite a while to get going and unfolds more like a TV show than a political thriller movie. this is a fat fucking book. this is a twenty hour audiobook. it strongly benefits from shifting POVs over its length, Huang is particularly good at differentiating tone and what each character pays attention to for maximum effect. she's also really good at one of my favorite things, displays of political deftness where you can’t see how someone would have made any other choice. some really top tier leftist infighting

while it is gay and it is genderbending, i would not say discussions of sex and sexuality are at the forefront. this is a group that has been pushed to the margins for their gender and sexuality, but this is a book concerned with how they survive and there isn’t a lot of space for discussions that aren’t about survival. there’s no fucking on page, but this book did not advertise itself as a romance or erotica so i don’t fully understand other readers' criticisms here.

this is a very competently written book. i am not going to remember it in a month's time. i don't normally emphasize it to this degree bc i feel a little bad about going "meh" at this tale of women fighting for societal and personal freedom, something i too have done but with less gore, but there is a wide gray sea of books that are simply fine and i don't particularly love or particularly hate bc they weren't quite what i needed or what i expected at the time. so it goes.

-

watching

there is a revelation in Yellowstone season 3 episode 7 (picture unrelated i just like having a picture for each section) that made us (me, my bestie, my bestie’s husband) all SCREAM and have to pause it and leave the room for a moment to compose ourselves. the amount of Things per episode that happen in that show. they really fuckin use all of their forty-four minutes.

i watch so little modern prestige tv i i keep thinking about why this has its hooks in my brain so, and i think this is the same concept as homestuck and soap operas and war and peace: once you get sucked into a huge sprawling semi-nonsensical drama you are In It BayBee

-

playing

i didn't know lizalfos could do that. i don't like that. stop it.

somehow i had never gotten up to this platform near dueling peaks stables and was rewarded with...some arrows. but the sun rising turned the marsh all gold, and all the atmosphere shading was firing on all cylinders, and it looked real pretty. the weather in breath of the wild is fun.

i had been under the impression that the divine beasts had been slowly siphoning away ganon’s energy or something and had not realized that they were lining up shots and were the equivalent of little laser sniper dots. hearing that joyous musical cue and watching ganon get got by that tremendous beam of light was maybe the funniest moment in the game???

anyway did finally beat breath of the wild!!! did tear up at the end! im annoyed that the postgame just vworps you back immediately pre-castle but i get it from a game architecture perspective.

at the very last bit of the fight i fell off my horse who got stuck against the beast’s leg taking damage and i was SO scared it was going to kill my horse but we were ok!!! i think i overprepared for that fight. the thunderblight light ganon fight was way harder imo.

popping that map back open postgame and seeing a cheery little 43% completion in the corner was. good god. i had 105 shrines and 66/77 side quests, all but four of the shrine quests, and like 250 koroks. i guess the koroks count for way more than i thought??? or perhaps i didn’t actually discover as many named places as i thought??? i would probably have more coherent thoughts about the end of this game if i were not Extremely Depressed and wasn't able to immediately jump to tears of the kingdom. as it is, i feel sort of "huh. ok. that's checked off. next task: ganon But More"

on to tears of the kingdom: i love zelda with her little bi bob. i do NOT love link with longer hair. give him his ponytail back

i loooooove these little grotesques on the temple of time-- i was spoiled for the end of tears of the kingdom bc i watched my bestie’s husband play through the last three hours. i have just enough context to make everything more confusing. also, i was fully expecting the time skip to be like several thousands of years but it’s like a month at most???

it is So Funny to me that the lord of the mountain in the last game is an extremely rare occurrence you have to go visit at a specific place, and in this game he just wants his appy slices :) this is an excuse to talk about other rideable animals: i started a new switch profile to replay botw lo these many weeks ago, forgot to choose that one when starting totk, and don’t have any of the horses i spent the last month with :( the horses from my first playthrough several years ago are, quite frankly, not very good stats wise.

i went right to hebra to start the rito quest (where is the divine beast??? what has happened to the divine beasts???) but keep getting my shit kicked in one blow so i think i will fuck around the castle and do some more shrines. my overall impression is that this game is way more fiddly. there’s more Stuff to combine and keep track of. i wish i could premake fire and ice and bomb arrows instead of having to select them every time. that’s a lot of button presses in the middle of a fight. also my controller is succumbing to some fatal connectivity issues so this portion of the tuesdaypost may be slower for a bit. i will scrape up some money for a new controller bc this is a real loadbearing activity but it’s going to take a minute to ship to me i assume.

-

making

listen i deep cleaned my living/dining and bedroom today in a fit of remarkably productive anxiety, that’s about all that’s happening this week. i finished repainting some large frames, i framed one thing but don't like it, i fucked up framing another thing and i have put it back in the closet to simmer/until i remember how to measure things again

[theproperweirdo]

Nara and Sonja story for @noisette-tornade 🤞all copy and pasted directly from the in game stories

Nara - Heartcarver

The city known as Rustport may have once had a more conventional name, but if that is in fact the case, it has long been forgotten. A sprawl of ramshackle structures that sway and creak in the salty winds blowing in from the sea, taverns lean against gambling halls and establishments of ominous repute like crooked teeth. For every baker there are two thieves, for every blacksmith two pirates. When the sun sets, the woefully few honest citizens bar their doors and secure the latches on windows. It is a rare night indeed that passes in Rustport without a murder and a rare resident who has not seen the body of a victim by the time they are able to speak.

Within this city lies a district where not even the city watch will tread after dark-Mire Town.

It was here, among sludge-slick alleyways and chittering swarms of rats that Nara was born and raised. As an infant, her mother abandoned Rustport and the family she had there, unwilling to suffer the place any longer or see her daughter do the same. Nara's father was deeply in debt to a criminal enterprise, but still managed to keep his daughter fed and sheltered, paying meager installments to the gang without incurring too much physical injury. This continued for a long time, until Nara was nine years old and the criminals discovered that not only had her father not been paying as much as he could, but that he in fact had enough coin stashed away to pay off the entirety of his debt.

After abducting and "interrogating" the debtor, a confession was pulled out. He had been saving the money to skip town and start a new life with his daughter somewhere far away. Having what they needed, they disposed of him: A lesson to other would-be debt evaders. Orphaned, Nara was thrown out of the hovel she had shared with her father. She wandered the streets, stealing and scavenging to survive.

Every day was a fight for survival, and Nara quickly became callous and mistrustful. The other people on the street were simply targets or hazards, and she began to lose any sense of warmth or compassion she once had. The people she did engage with were invariably others like herself- orphaned children and runaways getting by however they could. Eventually, she found herself at the head of a small thieve's guild alongside Sonja, the only other child who could match her abilities.

They called themselves Whispers, for the faint whisper coins make on cloth while being picked out of pockets.

As season after season blended into another, they subsumed the smaller child gangs until they were the largest network of thieves in the city. The size of their operation had grown tremendously until there was hardly a street corner in Rustport that didn't have a Whisper lingering, waiting for a chance to make a quick profit. Other gangs of course wanted in on the Whispers' turf at first, but Nara was quick to show that she was capable of much more than theft. After the initial disputes, those who didn't work for her stayed out of her way.

After dominating the city's criminal underground while still just a teen, she began to look at expanding her horizons.

The most profitable market in Rustport certainly wasn't pickpocketing, even at the scale she commanded. Rustport has a bustling slave market, a plaza drowning in the noises of commerce and despair.

Maulers slump in their chains next to Wilders, men, and other peoples of Esperia.

Here the only distinction is between master and slave. If she wanted to make the real money, she'd need a good ship and lots of manacles.

The first expedition she attended personally. Though she was well past the stage in her career of doing the dirty work herself, she wanted to oversee this new venture. She selected Azure Cove as her target, a patch of water lending access to the forests of the Wilders. What she didn't know was that Azure Cove had a new protector. When her ship sailed in, Seirus the elemental sensed the malicious intent from the crew. In a single great wave, the ship was capsized, drowning all aboard.

Nara's body sank softly to the bottom of the cove. Her story was over, it would seem.

For days she lay there, the seaweed brushing against her pale, open eyes. Then, one night, the husk that had been Nara received the call. With a sickly flicker of green light, her eyes cast about the seafloor and she stood, trudging toward the shore.

If Nara was cruel and violent in life, she is far worse now. She takes great pleasure in the harm she can cause others, and does so as often as she can.

“How would you like to die?”

Sonja - Ruler of the underworld

Sonja and I have known each other for years. Back then she was a wan, listless little thing, scurrying around with us in the dark, lawless alleys of the slums. She had long, flowing blonde hair - not that you'd know it under all the mud and fleas - which she still stubbornly spent ages braiding.

She was one of us: another weak and downtrodden worm, mired in the silt of chaos and turmoil, all too often caught and beaten for her thievery. Now and then I would share with her some of the vegetables I'd managed to obtain and, maybe in response to such unexpected kindness, she in turn would tear off some of her stolen bread and return the favor. As the days, weeks, months dripped by, we inevitably got to know each other better.

Oh, Sonja was a clever one. She was in and out of the various traders all year long, and knew the black market better than anyone else. Am I the slightest bit surprised that she hit it off so well with Nara? Of course not. After all, Nara was the most agile and fierce of all our dank alley thieves.

Ever since they started working together, the two of them complemented each other so well that they were never again caught, instead going on to make a killing with every single job. They made sure to share their profits and goods with us, yet we still remained the target of extortion and bullying by the various other gangs.

One evening, Sonja came looking for us.

She and Nara, tired of the other gangs lording it over us, wanted to form their own group. This would give us orphans, the scurrying inhabitants of the alleys, a proper foothold in Rustport. Together with Nara, she told us of their vision, something we never would have countenanced in a million years: they wished for us to live well, able to eat and drink our fill, as one family. And so it was that the Whispers were born, and we felt we'd finally come home.

It didn't take long for the Whispers to earn a reputation for itself in Rustport.

While Nara's obvious ruthlessness and brutality terrified the other gangs, they still hadn't realized Sonja's strategy, which aimed to elevate the Whispers head and shoulders above the other Rustport gangs.

Blood and roses... These, to me, perfectly symbolize Nara and Sonja. Nara's savagery stained the ground of this sinful land with the blood of countless opponents, while Sonja was more a gorgeous, mud-encrusted rose, tangled and bristling with the thorns of sin.

In order to make real money, we Whispers had to carve out our own unique niche. We gradually found an emerging market in the trade of... "Special" goods, which became our best chance to make it big. Nara bribed her way to ensure the sea routes were open for the Whispers to bring back our plunder, which she held at port for Sonja to dispose of. The excellent coordination between the two have allowed us to really profit from this emerging new industry. As our business grew, Sonja discovered that smuggling was not without risk: while she had always respected and followed the unwritten code of smugglers, the expanding gang brought in more and more people, some of whom may not be so faithful to the criminal creed. There were those who were not above playing multiple sides for their own personal benefit. Once the smuggling lines were leaked, the Whispers had to contend not just with the threat of robbery, but also with the fact that the leaker may well be a member of our own little "family".

Inevitably, this fear became reality. Our secret smuggling routes were leaked to rival gangs by those closest to us. Nara wiped out those who ambushed our goods, while the leaker defected to our rivals.

Faced with those who had once shared bread and battle by our sides, and who now worked to harm the interests of our family, seeds of suspicion were sown and took root in the hearts of many of the Whispers.

This caused the very first argument to erupt between Nara and Sonja. Nara wanted to publicly execute those in the Whispers who were suspected of being traitors, to serve as a warning to others.

She even thought to begin with the earliest members of the gang. Her rage and distress terrified me, yet I was also cognizant of the arrogant, entitled attitude amongst many of these old "veterans". They were no longer satisfied by the wealth the Whispers generated for them, desirous of ever more power, and secretly making moves within our own ranks by leaning on the newest members.

Sonja, however, was more hesitant to take such drastic measures. Perhaps she was reluctant to dig too deeply into the treachery of those with whom she had risen from the mud of the slums. Whatever her motive, she was unwilling to kill the traitors, preferring instead the "merciful" option of banishment.

Their quarrel ended as Nara slammed a door and stormed off. Sonja said not a word, perhaps in resentment of her own hesitation, as she had never before had such a major disagreement with Nara. My own conjecture is that Sonja still believed in the Whispers' original purpose: to provide a stable home for the worms struggling in the mud of the slums. Now that this dream was realized, how could she evict her own " family"?

Nara vanished. One day she set sail on an ordinary voyage, and just never returned. Sonja exhorted all Whispers to search for them, but no trace was ever found. The other gangs felt that with Nara's disappearance we had lost our most powerful deterrent, and began eyeing what had previously been unequivocally under our command. Discontent inside the Whispers also surged, and even I could hear the tavern rumors that there were plans afoot to overthrow the Whispers from within.

Not everyone was rooting for Nara. Some of the veteran members secretly rejoiced, as they eyed Sonja's position as leader and dreamt of seizing power for themselves. For Sonja, these circumstances opened her eyes, stripping away her tolerance of and faith in the old guard. She abandoned her merciful approach, shook off the pain of Nara's disappearance, and began to ruthlessly screen all those around her. She discerns the traitors in her midst and, after a mental and physical flaying, rejects them back into the mud and slime of the slums, broken and dejected.

No one could have seen this coming. That the girl who used to cry because her moldy bread was stolen could make such a cruel decision. Sonja retaliated against the traitors even more than Nara, until no one even dared think of betrayal, and all of Rustport was in awe. Sonja no longer showed pity to those who shared her background, while those orphans she rescued from the slums had to pay everything for the privilege.

I almost do not recognize Sonja now. She has shaved off her long, golden hair, and carved roses into her temples. She no longer smiles at me, but beneath her ice-cold expression constantly wonders if I am tempted to betray her. She had trusted us, and we were unable to repay her with unerring loyalty. She can but watch over the Whispers and, even if she feels the task too heavy to bear alone, will never give up. She knows that only by making the Whispers even stronger, will Nara be able to find her way home.

Sonja is an iron rose blooming among thorns. She has trodden on the corpses of countless traitors, turned her back on the last vestiges of goodwill, and climbed step by step onto the throne of power. The Whispers is not just an empire she built with Nara, but also testament to her ambition and greed.

I am but a bystander to her life of sin, which one may call cruel, another great.

She will never be satisfied with what she has and, while she used to be kind, she now wields total control over life and death in the Whispers, despite never needing to ever again dirty her own hands.

"Desire is the rose that cuts its way through the sinful soil which is covered in blood. That is my weapon.”

Whispers and Shadows (Nara & Sonja union story)

1. The towering waves overturned thecargo ship from Rustport, causing the hull to flip onto the surface of the sea.

The crew cried out in despair as they were swallowed up by the raging waves.

Nara tried to grab the broken spar in front of her, but before she could press her body against the mast, she was dragged into the sea by the person next to her, her arms covered in blood. The pain of salt water rushing into her wounds was quickly drowned out by the crashing waves. During the last throes of her consciousness, the crimson blood that spread in the sea blinded her eyes, and the pungent seawater poured into her nostrils, suffocating her.

The last time she felt such suffocation was when she was a child. Back then, she used to hide with her father in the alleys of Rustport to avoid their creditors. They would bury themselves in piles of garbage reeking of rotten fish soaked in stale water - the same odor that invaded her nostrils now as the salty seawater threatened to drown her.

Nara's memories of her father were filled with hatred. The shameless old man had promised her time and time again that he would give her a stable home once he paid off his debts. But his broken promises only brought her endless disappointment. Eventually, even the disappointment faded away, because she no longer held any hope for her father. When her father was killed by his creditors, Nara hid in a garbage heap and struggled to hold her breath.

Perhaps when she woke up from her suffocating stupor, everything would have passed.

Nara became an orphan, wandering alone in the slums and surviving by stealing. Being beaten up black-and-blue was par for the course with her, and sometimes she even had to fight over scraps of food with wild dogs. She had lost all the innocence that she should have had at her age. Instead, she had to be cunning and even resort to deception to get a measly piece of moldy bread.

Life was like a bone-chilling deep ocean, and except to hold her breath, she was helpless.

She never harbored any hope for a rescuing hand to pull her out form the depths of this ocean. Not until Sonja appeared.

2. The seawater no longer stung Nara's scarred skin like a sharp blade. She even felt a soft touch. She tried to open her eyes, but could only see faint dots no matter how hard she turned her eyeballs. Gradually, the dots took on the familiar shape of Sonja's hand reaching out to her.

Their meeting began with a theft in a dark alley. Sonja, also an orphan, used to wander in the alleys of the slums before she met Nara. Sonja relied on her exceptional intelligence to secretly learn various knowledge that might benefit her.

Compared to Nara's roughness, she seemed particularly cautious. After all, given her lack of agile physical skills, she could easily be caught, beaten, and perhaps even die from that.

On that day, Nara, who was starving, went to a bakery in Rustport. Hunger made her clumsy and her mind dull. So much so that when she smelled the freshly baked bread, she almost lost her faculties and wanted to burst out from her hiding spot in the kitchen's corner and grab it right away. Even a piece of moldy bread was a delicacy that the homeless orphans in this stinking harbor could only dream of, yet at that moment, such a slice of heaven was within Nara's arm's reach.

When Sonja came across Nara, the latter was pinned to the ground by the shopkeeper, covered in blood and filth.

Such was common sight for Sonja, who was even considering using the distraction to swipe something useful from the cupboard. However, when their eyes met, Sonja changed her mind. Nara' s gaze was deep and filled with intense resentment and despair, as if she was calling for help while also declaring war on life.

Carefully, Sonja retrieved an unburnt piece of coal from the stove and used it to ignite the discarded wood planks in the back alley, while the shopkeeper was distracted. The sudden thick smoke frightened the shopkeeper, who abandoned Nara and rushed to put out the fire. Seizing the opportunity, Sonja pulled Nara out of the bakery, taking a few freshly baked loaves of bread on the way.

In this dog-eat-dog world of Rustport, exposing one's weakness to others meant putting oneself in danger. Yet Nara had allowed Sonja to witness her most vulnerable state, perhaps hoping that someone would see through her feebleness and offer a helping hand. For so long, Nara had been wandering the dark alleys alone, but now she asked Sonja if she would be willing to join forces and move forward together. She wanted to prove to Sonja that she was more than just the girl who was beaten and covered in mud, and show the nimbleness and agility that had kept her alive for so long.

Their bond began on the day they met and from then on, they established the Whispers together, building a sanctuary for Nara's soul. As long as she could return to Sonja's side, there would always be warm hands waiting to soothe her icy soul.

Yet, as the spark of life within her dwindled, Nara realized that she was stil a helpless victim of fate, unable to grasp the hand that was reaching out to her.

3. Nara no longer felt any pain, and the last glimmer of light in her eyes faded away. In fact, she knew from the beginning that everything up until now was just a dying dream. Nothing more than an illusion.

Before their latest voyage, Nara and Sonja had a fierce argument. Nara had angrily stormed out of the room, leaving Sonja behind. It was their last conversation, which yet ended in an argument. Nara could not understand Sonja's "hypocritical kindness." Perhaps as an intelligent person, Sonja had her own thoughts on the matter, while a reckless person driven by instinct like Nara could not weigh the pros and con like her. Nara had always relied on Sonja, believing that it was her friend's plansand decisions that had neutralized numerous threats to the Whispers.

Only this time, Sonja made a decision that went against Nara's beliefs.

Sonja often warned Nara not to be satisfied with the status quo, as they had already sacrificed too much for their cause. Nara's injuries, Sonja's sleepless nights - they were all for the sake of protecting those they wanted to keep safe... And yet they had been given tyrannical and cruel labels by the very people they were trying to help.

Nara knew that the argument over how to deal with the traitors was just a reflection of the Whispers' plight, but if she could become stronger and prevent the traitors from doing anything that would harm the Whispers, maybe she could bring everything back on track?

As she sank into the cold abyss, the darkness consumed Nara's vision, leaving her with no chance for regret.

The ocean currents pulled her deeper and deeper until she reached the ocean floor. In her final moments, she realized that none of it mattered anymore. The survival of the Whispers, or punishing the traitors—they were all irrelevant now. All she wanted was to return to Rustport, to the Whispers, and to Sonja's side, where those warm hands could once again comfort her icy soul.

4. "O slumbering assassin. Thou whose nature shy not from killing or plundering, shall be reborn. Serve me, and I will grant thee immortality."

After what felt like an eternity, a low whisper echoing through the deep sea stirred Nara's dormant, icy soul. She was surrounded by a hollow darkness, submerged in the depths for what felt like ages, until the voice infused her with a power that lifted her above the waves.

Penetrating dim light shafts came into her line of sight, and she caught a glimpse of brightness once again.

However, this light was tainted with the color of decay, just like her own rotten body. Her longing to return home had led her to hear the call from the abyss.

Despite knowing that the voice must have malicious designs, she did not hesitate to say yes. For even after spending dozens of days and nights at the bottom of the sea as a corpse, which had left her memories on the verge of shattering, she still remembered that there was someone waiting for her return in a place called Rustport.

As for the cost? That was never a consideration. Nara would gladly give all that she had.

"Go back. Return to where you belong, and embrace the pleasure that death brings you."

As her decayed body ascended from the seabed, her shattered hands regained strength. As she approached the sea surface, sunlight penetrated the dark water and shone on Nara's cold body once again. In a trance, she saw the blurry figure of an old acquaintance reflected on the surface, reaching out a familiar yet strange hand towards her.

Without hesitation, Nara reached out and grasped at that hand.

Yet there was nothing but air.

[marvelmaniac715]

Ranking the Disney direct-to-dvd sequels through the eyes of my child-self, who ate these movies up as a Disney aficionado, from least favourite/don’t remember watching to most favourite (this isn’t a mark of their quality, just whether or not they entertained me as a kid):

Tarzan & Jane - I don’t remember watching this movie, and I was never the ultimate Tarzan fan, not to mention that the short film movies have annoyed me ever since I was able to form conscious thoughts, so it gets my lowest ranking

Tarzan 2: The Legend Begins - I think I watched this but I can’t remember the plot at all, don’t think I was a big fan though

All Stitch sequels - It feels unfair to lump them together but my memories of the sequel involve the yellow one that made sandwiches and just being kind of bored so my rankings would be too similar to separate them

Bambi 2: The Great Prince of the Forest - I feel bad about this because it seems like a beautiful movie, but I didn’t like the first movie as a kid so the sequel didn’t make me much happier

The Jungle Book 2 - I watched this one when I was a bit older and it didn’t leave any impression on me

An Extremely Goofy Movie - I like Goofy but I don’t remember enjoying the skateboarding parts (actually, thinking about it, I don’t think I ever watched this movie in full)

Aladdin 2: The Return of Jafar - Not a bad movie, but my least favourite Aladdin movie, the franchise suffered without Robin Williams

Brother Bear 2 - Nice animation and cute bears, but I lost interest really quickly

Cinderella II: Dreams Come True - I was a super big Disney Princess fan, I had loads of merchandise and costumes, Cinderella wasn’t my favourite princess but I remember thinking Anastasia’s romance with the baker was really cute

The Hunchback of Notre Dame 2: The Secret of the Bell - I can’t tell you anything about the plot, but my child-self’s magpie brain loved the shiny jewelled bell and that’s really all that matters

101 Dalmatians 2: Patch’s London Adventure - I loved dogs even as a kid, and I’m British, so I liked this movie

Mulan II - I really liked the songs and the three princesses, even though I thought Mushu was annoying in this movie

The Lion King 3: Hakuna Matata - The origin of my love of reaction videos, but seriously it’s so funny even as an adult

The Fox and the Hound 2 - The first movie made me really sad as a kid but I loved the country-singing dogs and the theme park scenes

The Little Mermaid: Ariel’s Beginning - I remember enjoying the music and Ariel’s sisters, plus I liked the backstory of Ariel’s mother, this one was just fun

The Little Mermaid 2: Return to the Sea - Melody was one of my favourite Disney characters for a while and I find the song ‘For A Moment’ catchy to this day

Lady and the Tramp 2: Scamp’s Adventure - A dog lover’s dream, Angel and Scamp’s relationship was so cute to me even then

Pocahontas 2: Journey to a New World - This movie wasn’t well-received, I think the only things I enjoyed were Pocahontas’s dress at the ball and the whole “I am the ghost of John Smith” scene which has stuck in my mind for years

Kronk’s New Groove - I was a big fan of the first movie, the sequel made me laugh so hard as a kid, not as much nowadays but I would still happily watch it

Beauty and the Beast: Belle’s Magical World - Beauty and the Beast was my favourite childhood movie, in my eyes the sequels could do no wrong, I guess nostalgia does that to you

Beauty and the Beast: The Enchanted Christmas - I loved Beauty and the Beast and Christmas equally as a child, this was practically my dream movie

Cinderella 3: A Twist in Time - This movie was funny and iconic and foreshadowed my love of timey-wimey plots (the Doctor Who obsession is real)

Aladdin and the King of Thieves - I’m pretty sure I was in love with Aladdin’s dad, and the plot genuinely interested to me, not to mention the triumphant return of the brilliant Robin Williams

The Lion King II: Simba’s Pride - This was one of my favourite movies, full-stop, I loved the music, the plot, Zira as a villain, and this film is particularly special because it taught me about fictional crushes… by giving me a crush on an emo lion… Kovu definitely established my ‘type’ 😅

[practically-an-x-man]

Which of your OCs has the most traumatic backstory, and why?

Oh man, now THAT'S a tough question... let's round up a few of the top competitors, and you can decide which is the most traumatic:

Ophelia: Grew up in a stable household with a loving family, but was forced to watch nearly every single member of that family die in a series of superpowered events. First it was Norman, who she viewed as an uncle or perhaps even a third parent in her life. Then it was her mother, then her father, then the man she saw as her brother. She got herself through college and graduate school but failed to maintain a healthy social life as she became utterly absorbed by her work. Her attempts at romance all failed due to her lack of emotional vulnerability and work/life balance, and the one partner she thought she'd stay with was killed in her sleep by a supervillain. Finally, she was killed in a laboratory explosion, and sent into the multiverse without knowing whether or not she would survive upon returning.

Gia: Watched her younger sister die of childhood leukemia. Entered a medical study hoping to prevent future cases of childhood cancer, which turned out to be a front for HYDRA. Was imprisoned and experimented on by HYDRA, had her life force irreversibly bound to a patch of clover, had her leg cut off, and was trained to be a supersoldier. Most of this was so traumatic that she doesn't even remember it. Came out of HYDRA incredibly traumatized and depressed, and had to pry herself out of that entirely on her own as she couldn't bear to come clean to her family.

Quinn: Was disowned by her parents after coming out as transgender, had to drop out of college due to losing their financial support, ended up at her lowest in an alleyway. Joined a parkour/thieving crew, met her best friend and love of her life while he was dating another woman, that other woman grew jealous and dropped them both off a twelve-story building during a botched mission. Sustained damage to her legs, pelvis, lumbar vertebrae, and brain in the fall, now lives with mobility issues, chronic fatigue, and hallucinations. Also had to recover on her own, all while believing her lover had died in the fall.

Eris: Was treated as a monster by others on Themyscira after his violent streak first showed itself. Was deemed a harbinger of strife and violence rather than being given support for their issues, was cold-shouldered from their family and everyone else around them, while those others refused to even use her given name. Eventually left, and spent close to a thousand years wandering the Earth, always following the biggest wars and battles. Had to watch each of their rare friends and even rarer lovers die as his regeneration kept him alive for hundreds of years.

Nikoletta: Grew up impoverished in New Orleans, though it was a reasonably stable life until her father passed away when she was a teenager. Left alone, she began running a voodoo scam for gullible tourists to keep herself afloat as she got herself through high school. After continuing this scam into her adulthood, she was captured by STAR Labs and infused with liquid shadows through a series of painful treatments. After a month in the lab, she returned to the streets, only to be captured and sent to Belle Reve for superpower-assisted B&E in multiple houses. She escaped once, but it was only a matter of months before she was captured again, this time for "disfiguring" several civilians with her shadow-touch. From there, she spent 15 years in prison, crafting an icy and reclusive persona known as the Queen of Belle Reve as a means of keeping herself safe.

Vivienne: Met her first husband, a sea captain, while he was at port between trips. Due to the nature of romance during her time period, it wasn't until after marriage that she discovered that he was a coarse, unfaithful, and abusive man, and she could not divorce him due to societal taboo and a lack of evidence for that abuse. He taught her to sail and often took her with him (as an extra crewmate that he wouldn't have to pay) on his ventures. While at port one night, she discovered him cheating on her with multiple other women, and intended to confront him the following morning. Instead, her husband waited until they were far out at sea, then tossed her overboard and left her to drown. Instead, Poseidon took pity on it, and turned it into a siren in exchange for never again giving its heart to a captain of the sea. This in itself becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy - while it does find love and marry another sailor, this one man who loves her and treats her right, he dies before he officially becomes the captain of his ship.