#seadog's writing

[frigateslut]

A Foolish Plot

[James is a broad, sturdy lieutenant in the Royal Navy, set ashore during the Peace of Amiens[March 1802-May 1803]. Andrew is his Particular Friend, an especially scrawny doctor-turned-playwrite. Silly little Regency OCs]

~~~

It had started off innocently enough. James certainly had not planned for things to go so far in the beginning. But now here they were, three months into his plan to put some weight onto his friend's spare frame, and he could feel a sort of lee-shore weighing down on him.

He had begun by leaving Andrew's breakfast - usually pilfered and picked over by James due to Andrew's slugabed ways - unmolested; Andrew had been grateful, and gave James half the bacon he would have typically taken for himself anyways (but only half). Then he had started ordering larger, and more rich meals for the both of them - at first only when they dined at their club, but after a week or so he had consulted with their housekeeper, Mrs Ellis, and requested more hearty meals at home, as well - Andrew's absentminded tendency to forget to eat anything at all when left to his own devices had been a bane to her existence since he was a colt of a boy, and she took happily to James' suggestions.

James had not been truly certain that his efforts were having any effect at all until two months into the attempt: Andrew had drank more than his usual at dinner that afternoon, and in accordance had also eaten a good deal more to match, leaning back in his chair in a particularly indolent way as he adjusted to the weight of food and drink in his belly. James' mouth had been dry as the bones of the horses he'd seen abandoned in the deserts of Africa as a boy, too busy watching (and harbouring his gratitute that Andrew was too out of it to notice his fixed eye) to touch his own wine.

"I- *hic* -pardon me, my dear," Andrew had slurred as a footman took out the empty plates that had once held their dessert - a figgy dowdy soaked in brandy - away to the kitchens. "I d'not ush-usually over-*hic*-indulge to- to this extent." He had blinked slowly, in a daze, stretching his eyes in surprise at his own lack of coherence; James had been obliged to chew the inside of his cheek to keep his countenance. "You will excuse me, of course?"

"Of course, dear Andrew." The focus his friend had placed into the final sentence had only served to highlight his intoxication, and James' course had been set.

Daily he plied Andrew with fine wine, stout porter, and luxurious brandies, naming them as gifts from friends or vintages he'd been desirous of sampling, despite rarely having more than a taste himself. His original goal, to keep Andrew from fading away entire, had begun to fall by the wayside a week or so ago - though in fairness Andrew did eat far more when he was kept in his cups. A steady stream of expensive spirits and rich, heavy foods found their way into Andrew's belly under James' watchful eye for an entire month, and then-

Here they were. Andrew was once again drunk, and James was - as he had been each night since the beginning of this foolish plan - harder than iron in his trousers.

~~~

to be continued?

[foxboyclit]

fire and ice

for day 12 of @flufftober, this one is a guest spot written by @hyenagirlbulge, enjoy these lovable idiot pirates, and of course, you can read on ao3 here!

“What the fuck are ya doin’,”

“Would ya believe me if I said it’s nae what it looks like?”

“It looks like ya froze a bottle of whiskey in a block of ice and are tryin’ to blow it up,”

“Nae that's fair, that’s exactly what I’m doin’,” Adain held the block of ice in one hand, match in the other. Her tail swished excitedly with the rocking of the ship.

“And why are ya doin’ this?” Liberty slouched against the door frame, raising an eyebrow at the stupid stupid woman she was unfortunately in love with.

“Because I thought’d be cool!” A flash of teeth with her equally disarming and shit eating grin, “Since when do ya nae think explosions are cool? Plus the ice’ll make it safe!”

“The ice’ll turn it into fuckin’ shrapnel! do ya want to sink the Molly? Where’s Miri anyways?” Liberty lifted a cigarette to her lips, breathing in deeply and exhaling through her nostrils.

“Oh she’s fetchin’ the rest of the crew, she told me to wait till they were assembled,” There was that stupid fucking smile again, “Arent’cha just a wee bit curious whats gonna happen? c’mon Libby it’ll be so cool.”

Another long draw of her cigarette. She was a bit interested to be honest, it had been so long at sea with nothing happening, it was starting to get boring.

“Fine,” she sighed, “But’cha gotta bring it up above deck, it’ll look cooler now that the suns down.”

“I knew ya’d come around!” A spring in her step as she strode over, kissing Liberty passionately on the cheek before clambering up the stairs. This girl was going to be the fucking death of her.

[arkham-ayden]

Part Two of following a prompt list for October! Descendants themed ofc

Part One here!

• Pairing: Mal/Evie/Carlos/Jay as found family

• Prompt: visiting a haunted house

• Word Count: 1736

• Additional Warnings: depiction of a dead body, insects, specifically maggots

“Come on Carlos, it’s not that big a deal.”

“Jay, we really shouldn’t be here. Just looking at it gives me the chills.”

The house in front of them was none other than Hell Hall. Grandiose and ominous, the dark of night made it look even more intimidating. Atop the roof were two gargoyles on either side, snarling mouths carved wide and the stone was eroded in places, caverns in the sides and one of the wings was missing. Carlos shifted in his spot, looking to his friends, Jay had his arms crossed, snarky grin plastered on his face, Mal in a similar stance, though noticeably less confident, and Evie was holding herself together, sharing Carlos’ timid demeanour. Her lips were pinched in a tight line, she’d also protested coming here but Mal had convinced her to come along despite her protests.

Carlos hadn’t been back here in some years, since his mother had passed. He ran away to live with Evie, hearing of his mother’s demise only a few weeks later. Rumour had it that she had died from the madness that followed his absence; she was used to Carlos maintaining the house and herself, when he left, she’d lost what little of her sanity she had left, she’d gone around hurling abuse at other villains and confining herself to one small room, barricading herself in with no food or water, mistakenly believing she was above the human needs, claiming herself a god. He didn’t go to her funeral. He never wanted to see that woman again, never wanted to return to the house that held him hostage for sixteen years of his life. That house stood for everything bad that had happened to him, coming back made all the hairs on his body stand to attention.

Jay had begun pulling at the tarnished silver door knobs, clearly closed tightly.

“We should go back. I have a weird feeling about this.”

The taller boy stopped pulling for a moment to jest back.

“Oh, too scared? Come on dude, you lived here, you can handle one night back.”

“You’re not funny Jay,” Evie shot back, anger laced in her usually soft voice. “This place is creepy enough, let alone on Hallow’s Eve.”

“Isn’t that exactly why we’re here?” Mal questioned. “Move back, tugging at the doors clearly isn’t working for you.”

Jay stepped back, hands raised in mock defence. Mal had pulled a bobby pin out of her hair, fiddling with the locks. Evie rolled her shoulders in an attempt to ease out some of her tension.

“Why don’t we just go to my castle, we can scope out the dungeon. I know the way around it.”

“E, we’ve seen that dungeon enough. Plus, you got your ass handed to you in there, I’m not making you do that.”

Carlos flinched at her words. He never spoke about much of the abuse, but he’d dropped details here and there. Clearly no one had paid attention to him. That fact hurt him more than expected, he had half a mind to leave alone, let them have their own fun. For some reason though, he stayed. He half wanted to show them around, show them the closets he was locked in for half of his life, show them the traps he had to step around for fear of his life, show them the weapons he’d become friends with. Maybe they’d finally take him seriously.

After a few moments, Mal had got the doors unlocked. They swung open with a loud creak, hinges barely holding the heavy blocks of wood up.

“We’re in. Let’s go.”

No sooner as the words left the girl, Jay ran in, staring around at the main hall, tall ceilings and blank walls with a decaying staircase in the middle as the centrepiece. Carlos felt his blood run cold as he spotted one of the closets he’d be thrown in.

“Where was her room? Hey, Carlos, are you listening?”

“Upstairs, third door on the left hallway.” He replied, almost on autopilot.

Evie was the first to notice his discomfort, offering a weak rub on his arm, unsure how else to help. He rested his head on the arm, taking a deep breath, lungs suddenly feeling like he couldn’t take in enough air. All four of them walked the staircase, Jay leading the charge. Suddenly it crossed Carlos’s mind, had anyone removed Cruella’s body? He felt the blood run out of his face and his hands felt numb. A loud bang resonated in the hall, doors had been slammed shut. There was no breeze and none of them were close enough to have done it. Footsteps came from in front of them, the clacking sounds of heels hitting the tiles were too familiar to Carlos. His mother would never go without them. Jay whipped around, questioning the two girls if they’d done it to mess with him, to which they denied.

“It’s not them. It’s my mom.”

“How the hell do you remember what her footsteps sounded like?”

“I had to! If I heard her in time, I could hide from her.”

His eyes rolled and Carlos felt fire in his cheeks, a sudden surge of anger ran through him.

“What? You’re telling me you never had to hide from your dad? You never ran away to avoid him flogging you?”

“Not cool, man.”

“Whatever.”

Carlos forced himself to the front of the group, walking to his mother’s old room. His fingers lingered from turning it open. He was scared to look in there, praying someone had taken her body and buried her somewhere. There was a funeral, she had to be six feet under, there was no way she’d still be here. A menacing laugh echoed in his mind, judging by the tentative looks on the others’ faces, it echoed in the corridor too. He took a breath, and opened into the room. Immediately, a pungent smell of death violated Carlos’ senses. He retched, covering his nose with both hands to try and staunch the smell. Everyone followed, covering their mouths and noses. The laugh was louder now, the breaths in between sounded high and strained, like someone clinging to the last tendrils of life. When Carlos regained his composure, he looked back at Jay.

“Still want to check it out?”

The boy didn’t speak, eyes wide and unblinking. Evie had thrown up, Mal tending to her. If no one else was going in first, Carlos would. He stepped further into the room, the smell becoming more pronounced and pungent. He covered his nose with his t-shirt as he continued in.

“Okay, okay, you’ve made your point, we can go.”

“No. You wanted a haunted house, I’ll show you a haunted house.”

His voice was slightly muffled under the shirt but Jay had heard it loud and clear judging from the tight line of his lips and harsh angle of his shoulders.

The bed looked made, as if done that morning. The side table he could see was caked in a thick layer of dust, in similar fashion were the trinkets Cruella had collected over her years, all in her red, black and white colour scheme. Nothing looked out of place by any means, the pillows and cushions were fluffed, the curtains were drawn and he could see the boards lining the empty window frame. He rounded the corner of the bed and fought to not vomit himself. His eyes darted, hardly believing the sight. But there was a funeral, there was a coffin, this couldn’t possibly be right. Jay had entered the room, guarding his own nose.

“You don’t have to do this, I’m sorry, you were ri-” He cut himself off.

The girls had entered to see what the commotion was about, Evie let out a squeal that almost turned into a scream, Mal turning away with a fist to her mouth. The laughter was unending as they stared, unending and only becoming more unhinged.

It was a skeleton. He could almost convince himself it was fake if there wasn’t residual black and white hairs scattered on the floor, he could convince himself it was fake if there weren’t clinging patches of decayed flesh on the bones, he could convince himself it was fake if there weren’t swathes of maggots wriggling around on the floor and burrowed into the tiny flesh patches. It wasn’t fake.

Carlos collapsed to his knees, unable to worry about the writhing white masses only a foot away from him.

“There, there was a funeral, I don’t, I don’t, t-there was a coffin. She, she’s supposed to be, this isn’t-”

“Carlos, Carlos, get up,” Jay was pulling at his arms but it was like he was rooted to the ground. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, we can go. Let’s go.”

He sat there, panting heavily. He’d wanted her dead, he’d wanted her dead for years. With her laugh in his head and her corpse right in front of him, he realised he never wanted it like this. He felt more arms grab at him, Evie and Mal but he felt a third, icy cold pair wrap around his waist, beckoning him to stay. With some effort, the three got him to stand, tugging at his jacket to pull him out of the room. Only when he was out could he stop staring at the yellow-white bones and the chilling laughter stopped. None of them spoke until they were out of the house again.

“Do, do you want to talk about it?” Evie finally spoke up.

“No, no I don’t.”

There was an awkward silence for what felt like agonising minutes.

“Can we go home now?”

“Yeah,” Mal chimed in. “We’re never coming back here. You’re never coming back here.”

“Okay.” His voice was barely audible, and he felt something hot run down his cheek. He reached up to brush away whatever had grazed him, but it was wet. He had been crying.

“I’m so sorry ‘Los.”

He didn’t answer.

The image of that night, he knew, would be burned into his mind. He closed his eyes to try and ignore the thoughts. The image was etched into the back of his eyelids, a photo of perturbation.

Carlos knew he was in for a restless night, only seeing her skeleton slung across the floor and further defiled by maggots. At least she was gone.

Then, the laughing started again.

[netherworldpost]

With the various rumors and releases of Tumblr possibly changing how they do things... (gestures to the vague rumor mill)...

Zines.

I really think we as Folks Who Make Things and Folks Who Like Art Writing Poetry Music Comics Other Things need to explore zines. And I mean ZINES. Nothing glossy. Nothing fancy.

Very. Cheap. Zines.

I've been threatening mentioning I was going to create a guide on how I'm going to approach this -- and I'm going to -- but I am also realizing in the writing I Do Things Highfalutin because I am who I am + had a career in graphic design.

Let's talk about how you can make a zine very cheaply and very pretty.

STEP ONE: SUPPLIES

Very bright paper. I like "Astrobrights" because they are absurdly bright. Here is a link in a store I like. I buy a lot of paper and envelopes from them. You can generally find Astrobrights in big box office stores. It prints on laser printers and ink jet and photocopiers.

Very bright envelopes. What's that? Astrobrights has envelopes?! AM I SOLVING PROBLEMS let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Letter paper is 8.5" x 11" and is the most common size in the united states (overseas folk will have to use this advice with a grain o'sea salt and search yer own waters).

A9 envelopes are a letter sheet folded in half.

A2 envelopes are a letter sheet folded in half, then folded in half.

#10 envelopes are your common long envelopes, letter paper folded in thirds.

Pick the size you like.

If you want to get big and fancy, Tabloid is 17" x 11" -- so double a letter sheet. This gets tricky to work with but is neat in sizing.

STEP TWO: ZINE CONTENT

Do you know how to use InDesign or similar program? Use that.

No? Use Google Docs or Word or whatever other program and ramble.

Want something special? Write out some or part with a sharpee or pen.

Mix and match both.

If you are feeling fancy, design it like a booklet -- mock up a sheet of blank paper as if it were a brochure. If not, just design it straight up and down like a letter. There are no zine laws.

STEP THREE: ZINE PRINTING

Print at home on your home printer.

Don't have a printer at home? Print it at work (don't get fired)

Can't? Your local library may be able to help.

You need 1 copy on white paper.

FedEx Office has photocopiers. Your local library may too. Or your job.

Print 1 copy of your zine on white paper and then photocopy the rest onto colorful paper (or white paper, it be yer zine seadog).

Or print everything on the color paper if you have access to free printing, that's fine too.

The photocopy setup is purely "printing tends to cost more than photocopying."

If you want to slash prices, print 2 per sheet and have FedEx office cut them for you, this will cost $1 - $5 depending on how many sheets you are dealing with. This is for when you're doing a LOT of zines at once.

Or use their manual paper cutter yourself for free.

STEP FOUR: ZINE STAPLING

"Long reach stapler" is what I recommend. There are a few varieties. They tend to be $20 - $30.

Or just use 1 sheet!

STEP FOUR: ZINE POSTAGE

A single first class stamp for 1-2 pages. If you get up to 3+, go to the post office and ask them to weigh a comp you have assembled.

This is a guideline.

It's a really good idea to check at least once how much your zine weighs just in general. Post offices have scales. And are pretty. And have stamps.

OKAY ENOUGH LUSTING FOR THE POST OFFICE FROM THE GHOTS POST OFFICE BLOG BACK TO WORK

STEP FIVE: ZINE MAILING

This is actually the most difficult part. Label printers exist with various costs -- if you're starting out? Go with printable labels.

Your office supply shop will have them and they'll have templates you can drop in the customer addresses.

Save yourself time by using this label as the thing that seals the envelope -- don't lick envelopes.

A key tenet to staying in business is constantly reviewing physical (and mental) labor and stressors and reducing them as much as possible.

Return address labels are intensely cheap in literally every online printer, google "return address labels." Make sure you have this because at least a few of your shipments will come back to you.

STEP SIX: ZINE PRICING

Okay here is where we get uncomfortable because we're talkin' coins.

Prices are based on above links. You can get whatever paper you want, so this is guidelines. All numbers rounded up.

Payment processing ($0.30) + $0.05 sheet + $0.15 envelope + $0.66 first class postage = $1.16 base cost

$1.16 + 2.9% of $1.16 payment processing = $1.20

Plus taxes. I'm not getting into tax figures YOU DO THAT (just say 30% for easy math, this is not saying "your taxes are 30% or that mine are" I am saying "I am going to factor 30% for this equation to complete this guide".)

I did not include the mailing label (it will be $0.01 - $0.05 depending on how fancy and how many you buy) because you have the option to just write things and also it fits into the rounding of the above.

If you use Patreon, include your fees. Probably replace the above processing fees with your patreon processing... fees? I don't use patreon I don't know how it works.

Retail option 01: $1.50 - 1.20 = $0.80 gross - 30% = $0.09 / net / zine.

Retail option 02: $2 - 1.20 = $0.80 gross - 30% = $0.56 / net / zine.

Retail option 03: $3 - 1.20 = $1.80 gross - 30% = $1.26 / net / zine.

Should it be $1.50? Should it be $3.00? MORE? LESS?! That is for you to decide. Base it on what your zine contains, how long it takes you to write/draw/etc. it and how you want your flow to be.

STEP SEVEN: ZINE FREQUENCY

When my shop launches, it'll have a zine once a month. We are going to offer a subscription option + a "I just want 1" option.

You can do a zine monthly, or every few months, or whatever.

Keep in mind that the purpose of doing this is to break the dependency on social media marketing.

KEEP IN MIND AS AN AUDIENCE MEMBER TO A CREATOR YOU LIKE THAT THEY ARE DOING THIS TO BREAK THEIR DEPENDENCY ON SOCIAL MEDIA MARKETING.

If you have a lot of energy and an audience that comes to your shop a lot? Consider doing a zine monthly.

If you do not have a lot of energy and/or your audience is tapped for cash frequently? Considering doing 1 zine per season.

Consider 2 zines a year if that works better for you!

NO RULES ONLY JOY

Not sure? Experiment! Be upfront! "This is new. I'm figuring this out. Billionaires are tinkering with these things and we gotta figure something else out."

BONUS STEP: NETHERWORLDPOST.COM

so hi I'm atty and I'm your loud long rambler today

Netherworld Post Office used to be @evilsupplyco and now we are rebranding in prep of relaunching. Same person behind the rambles and comics, new name with a more focus (mail instead of mail + seemingly everything else in experiment)

if you enjoyed this ramble and/or like ghosts, monsters, witches, mermaids, and fun stories and projects focused on cozy Halloween, you may like us when we finish the rebranding and relaunching in autumn 2023.

email sign up (the zine will come when we are open)

WHETHER YOU JOIN MY LIST OR NOT

I really, really, really hope you consider doing a regular, or irregular, zine. Something outside of email, something outside of social media, something that connects I MADE A WEIRD THING and the people who say I LOVE THIS WEIRD THING YOU MADE.

The walls are closing in on free social media as a platform for people who make weird things to build audiences for free or very cheap.

And with that...

netherworldpost.com as one final hat pass

good luck folks

thanks for listenin' to the ol' ghost

[maximwtf]

Izzy Hands x reader fanfic where the reader courts him by sending anonymous love letters.

Izzy Hands x Reader

words: 2760

google docs pages: 4,5

warnings: Oddly enough for something I’ve written, none! Is this lowkey corny though? Yes, maybe that needs a warning of its own. 

opening: Your desperate earlier attempts at courting the first mate of Blackbeard’s had gone unnoticed, so you resort to writing love letters. Maybe he’d realise if it was laid flat in front of his eyes. 

AN// Reader can be any gender! It’s been a good while since I’ve written anything fluff-like, so apologies if that affected the quality of this :”D! Requests are still open <3! (please someone request something sword-fight related, or I’ll have to think of something myself)

 “Not worth your time”

How many attempts would it take for him to realise what you were trying to say? How did he not notice even when you thought you couldn’t get any more obvious? Or was he just on purpose ignoring you? Were thoughts that had been on your mind for a long time now.

Izzy Hands, the first mate of Blackbeard's, was either too focused on his work and just didn’t realise or was ignoring your confessions on purpose. Of which you hoped wasn't the latter. For the past few weeks you had tried almost everything you could have thought of, not counting in just telling him how you felt. The only reason why that card hadn’t been used yet was because you didn’t know if he cared for you in the same way. You wouldn’t be able to bear the heartbreak of confessing to him and being rejected would cause. Not to even mention having to be on the same ship with him after, you’d rather take a jolly boat and leave at that point. So you had resorted to hinting your feelings for him through actions, which had proven to be unsuccessful. 

As long as you’d known the man, he had never been too good at expressing his feelings. If he was upset, he might have said something about it to you and then disappear for a moment to resolve whatever was going on in his mind. Never had you seen him cry, but you expected he was just the kind of person to cry whenever he was alone. But even when he was happy, he’d show it through very small actions, sometimes not even his expression changing. You weren’t even sure if the man had ever been in love. Maybe he just didn’t know how to express that either? Or perhaps that was you hoping the earlier attempts of getting him to realise how you felt hadn’t been for nothing. 

Either way, it was clear you’d chosen a man who was harder to read than a map drawn by a toddler. He hadn’t and seemingly wasn’t going to notice you flirting with him, but maybe something else would work. Flirting had never been your strong suit anyway, you’d always been much more skilled with written down words. It was easier to think of what to say and carefully choose the right words, which you couldn’t do while spending time with the first mate. And perhaps you could blame yourself even for the bad success, knowing your flirting and how it usually played out. So your plan was clear. To start writing anonymous love letters to him, and slowly make it as obvious as possible. 

To be quite honest, you weren’t so sure if the man even knew how to read. Though, surely for one to become a first mate they had to know how to read, right? Or maybe that was just your last hope speaking. You’d seen first mates get chosen and there wasn’t a job application that came first. The person who was thought out to be the most experienced with piracy was chosen ultimately over the skill of literacy. Though, Stede appreciated the skill understandably more than the seadogs you’d sailed with for most of the time. 

Literacy had been the reason why you and Lucius started talking as well. You’d started to take turns writing notes for Stede after you had gained his trust. Due to this new formed relationship with the man, you would sometimes talk to him about Izzy. From what you collected, Lucius wasn’t the biggest fan of him, understandably. But Lucius hadn’t been against you trying to court the man either, he’d even encouraged you to write the letters. Perhaps he was hoping you’d succeed and manage to change Izzy for the better somehow. But that was thinking too far ahead. 

Firstly you had to figure out what to write in the first letter. It ended up not being anything too obvious, but you made sure to put an emphasis on the parts where you mentioned admiring his seamanship skills. Not leaving a signature or anything that could retrace the letter back to you, you folded it nicely and sneaked it to his quarters by sliding it under his door. It was only at that point that you truly realised how silly this was for an adult to do. Though, you forgave yourself for the sake of this being the last trick you had up your sleeve. 

The evening passed quickly, night cooling down the air and bringing a slight fog with it to hug the vessel sailing across the water gently. You’d taken the lookout shift for tonight, knowing you wouldn't have been able to sleep. It also gave you time to write the second letter, knowing there was almost never any activity on the sea in a weather like this. It was going to be a calm night.

You sat down in the crowsnest, leaning over slightly as your pencil danced on the small piece of paper. The contents of the letter may have been more flirty than intended because of your sleep deprived mind, but you scrapped none of it. Letting your thoughts run as they pleased, the second letter was finished with a small heart as a signature at the bottom. You folded it nicely like the first letter, using a drop of wax from the candle you had up in the crowsnest to seal the paper. 

The sky began to change colour when the sun decided to make its return. You climbed down, back on the main deck. You’d walk by Izzy’s door before going to sleep and slip the letter under his door like before. Most of the crew was still asleep, it only being the very early hours of the morning. Pure luck for you, since no one would notice you sneaking around like this. 

Izzy was one to wake up rather early, so you didn’t dare to make any noise. At times it felt like you were holding your breath just in case that would alert him, though thinking about it after, it sounded silly. But nevertheless, you’d gotten the letter delivered and made an escape for it. All the way to one of the free hammocks where you got comfy and fell asleep rather quickly. 

After that you took a break from writing the letters. Not a long one, but you had to think the third letter through more thoroughly. You’d sat down with Lucius, and chatted with him about it. As far as Izzy knew, the two of you were the only ones who could write and practised it actively. So the first mate didn’t have many options on who could have been writing the letters. “Lucius, I need to ask something from you.” You started, knowing he might just do this for you. The ‘mhm?’ he gave was all you needed as a sign to explain further. “Give the third letter to him.” You said quickly, biting your inner lip. The plan was to ask Lucius to give the letter, and when Izzy would eventually realise it wasn’t written by Lucius, he wouldn’t have many options left. Lucius stared at you for a moment before a faint smirk formed on his face. “Alright.” He said, raising his eyebrows in a knowing manner. It seemed he didn’t need a further explanation, the plan being clear to him.

After the conversation, you got to writing. This letter was more bold, more straight forward. You allowed your handwriting to differ more clearly from Lucius’, making it more obvious it wasn’t from the other man. Half way through writing, you leaned back on the chair. Was this even going to work? You had continued talking to Izzy after the first two, but he didn’t seem like he was even trying to figure out who was sending the letters. Or maybe you’d just missed his eyes wandering across the deck when he thought no one was looking, desperate to find who’d written words like that of him. Who in the crew would ever think of such things of someone like him?

You shook your head, resuming back to the letter. Writing the third one took the longest, only because it had all your thoughts in it. A proper confession with an ‘I love you’ at the end. You thought of signing this one, but then decided against it. He was witty enough to figure out it was you based on the letter, and if he felt the same he’d come looking for you. Hopefully.

That same evening you delivered the letter to Lucius, almost scared to let go of it. With a swift wink Lucius took it, and promised to give it to the first mate just before the crew usually went to rest. That way you’d be up in the crowsnest, the look-out shift taken by you yet again, and you could get some fresh air before having to face the first mate. 

Time passed, the tension within your body building up. With stiff steps you got up to the crowsnest and slid against the mast to sit down. A deep breath. Lucius would have given Izzy the letter around this time. There was no turning back now, but there was also still that part of you that didn’t even want to. You’d waited for long enough, and this was like ripping off a bandaid, only you didn’t know what the damage under would be. If any. 

Lucius had found Izzy, handing the letter to the man with that same amused grin on his face which he had tried to hide. “What is this?” Izzy asked, furrowing his brows slightly as he accepted the piece of paper. “Have you-?” He was about to add, but Lucius was already turning away to leave. “That is for you to figure out.” He said, before leaving Izzy alone with his thoughts and the letter. His eyes stared blankly at the folded paper, carefully opening it for reading. 

The first mate’s eyes scanned through the words, his free hand going slightly over his mouth. This letter had far more passion in it than the other two mysterious letters he’d received. But yet it was written tenderly with care, still anonymous. Lucius had been such an asshole about revealing who it was. Of course he had thought it must have been Lucius playing with him from the start, but after the second letter it had gotten far too advanced to be just a crude joke anymore, he hoped. But there weren’t many literate men on the ship.

Izzy took the time to find Stede’s diary in his hands, scrolling through it just enough to be able to compare the two handwritings together. He knew you and Lucus took turns writing notes for Stede, and to his luck he was able to match the styles. Lucius’ handwriting looked different from the one used in the letter, but the other style in the diary matched the one in the letter’s almost perfectly. It was you, had been this whole time.

Izzy slammed the book shut, folding the letter into his pocket and making his way to the main deck where he knew you were. Just today he’d told you to skip and leave the shift for him, but you'd strongly insisted against it, saying you didn’t feel tired due to the full moon. He’d wanted to ask what you were talking about, the time of the moon being full still at minimum a week away, but you had left before he was able to. But now he knew why you’d left so abruptly. 

Izzy appeared on the main deck, gaze searching for you. The deck itself was empty, it wasn’t yet so dark that he couldn’t see as much. The sky was clear of clouds, no fog in sight. No lookout in this weather would be on deck, you must have been in the crowsnest. His gaze travelled up, seeing the faint light of a candle up in the mast. “Aye!” He called out, voice keyed up. He hadn’t even thought of what to say, just wanting to know why you thought such things of him, still in the belief it must have been a bad joke being played on him. 

Izzy’s voice made your heart skip a beat, making you tense. He’d figured it out, of course he had. You swallowed, finding your mouth dry and jaw tense. “Yeah?” You called back, frozen in place. It didn’t take long for the man to reply. “Come on down here!” Another hard swallow. You should have just jumped over the gunwale earlier or left on a jolly boat, this was terrifying. “In a moment!” Your voice wavered as you got up and started climbing down, through the lubber’s hole, towards the main deck. 

It felt like the wooden flooring was lava as you stepped on it, finding Izzy standing there. The faint light of a singular lantern giving some light in the otherwise dark environment. You felt like running away as Izzy pulled the latest letter from his pocket. “Did you..write these?” He asked, breaking the silence which had been creeping its way between the two of you. You hadn’t even realised the force you’d been biting your inner lip at, before now. “I- Yes.” Your voice betrayed you yet again, the words coming out shaky. Almost like you thought you were in trouble? “So Lucius is off the hook.” Izzy said, the words not making you feel any better. “So I’m still- on the hook?” You asked, a light joke in an attempt to make the nervous sweat back down. “You could say so.” He put the letter back into his pocket. “Surely you don’t fucking think of me in that way?” The first mate added, the tone of his voice giving you the impression of him thinking you were tricking him. 

You wanted to reach out to him, to somehow tell him that you were speaking the truth, but your mouth was still dry. All words that were so beautifully written on the paper, now somehow gone, disappeared into thin air. Or in this case thick air, you felt like you couldn’t bloody breathe. “Izzy, I meant every word.” You said, voice almost so silent you feared it might have gotten lost in the light wind. Though, in truth there only being a cat’s paw on the water. Izzy’s eyes snapped on you, almost dropping the cigarette he’d been about to light. “You-” He started, but you wanted not to hear the things the man thought of himself. “Yes, I love you, you moron.” You allowed yourself to say, taking an awkward step closer to him. “Dear, I’m not worth your time…” He started yet again, which you wanted so desperately to end. He did not see the things you saw in him. “Shut up, please.” You took the cigarette from his hand, daring to look into his eyes, your gaze searching for his answer. Did he feel the same? 

Izzy must have seen the question marks in your eyes, as his expression softened to one of slight worry. “Please, don’t do this to me.” He said, his hand rising but not quite sure what he should do. “Say it.” You pleaded, eyes glued on his. ���I do, more than I should. I love you” You bit back a relieved smile, gently placing your free hand on his collar. He didn’t pull away, rather leaned in which you took as a yes to kissing  him. It didn’t last long, the tension of it making you pull away slowly, but not far. His face left with a mix of emotions, of which most he didn’t know how to express. You smiled, turning to light the cigarette with the flame of the lantern. You took a quick drag from it before placing it near the man’s lips. He raised his hand enough to take a hold of the cigarette, mouth left softly agape. “I love you-” He said, voice lost, like he had to repeat the phrase just to make it sound real to himself. You wanted to reply, but a wave hit the bow of the ship. You wouldn't have otherwise reacted, but the moment had caught you off guard, just like the wave. It swayed the ship softly, pushing you against him. There was no real danger of tumbling over, but the first mate still placed his free hand swiftly behind your back, looking rather awkward after. “I know.” You smiled, now knowing saying that was true. Finally you knew he cared for you too, knew that he’d realised how you felt.

AN// It's yet again 4am when I proof read this, so if there are any mistakes I apologise for that!

[lostfirefly]

Bugust. Day 29. Buggy x Reader. "Treasure Hunt." (I thought that this story deserves "Enemies to Lovers" vibe, so Chapter 2 will be posted as a separate story). We are approaching the end of our Bugust. It was fun to write something every day, but I am a little tired) Haha! I hope you are not tired of reading and even though the quality of the stories became very bad towards the end, I enjoyed writing small sketches)

The raucous tavern was packed to the brim with rowdy patrons, the air thick with the pungent aroma of spilled ale and the boisterous laughter of drunken pirates. You and your weathered crew had just returned from a successful plundering expedition, нщгк hold brimming with the spoils of their latest hunt.

"I told you everything would be great! You all deserve a break! I truly have the best crew! Here's to you guys!" You shouted loudly.

"Here's to you, Y/N!" Your crew shouted in unison, raising their glasses of drinks.

Eager to celebrate their triumph, your crew, the salty seadogs wrapped their calloused hands around glasses of foaming, amber liquid as they regaled each other with tales of their daring exploits on the high seas.

The din of clinking glasses, raucous singing, and riotous cheers echoed off the wooden walls, creating a cacophony that seemed to match the celebratory mood. Tankards were slammed down on the scarred tabletops, sending frothy splashes onto the floor, while burly men with wind-chapped faces slapped each other's backs heartily.

Amidst the revelry, you and your crew revelled in the spoils of your successful hunt, your hearts swelling with pride and your spirits high as you toasted to another triumphant voyage on the open waters.

"Who's our best captain?" Your crew shouted loudly. "Y/N!!"

"Come on, guys!" You burst out laughing. "Although yes, I'm the best! And the best thing is that we sto--" Your voice was drowned out by someone else's loud laughter. "That.. Fuck! That we stole another map that should lead us to even more treasure. Tomo---. Tomor--." You turned the scroll over in your hands. "Tomorrow we will gather in my cabin and plan everyth--- out. Fuck! Who's laughing?" You looked around and noticed several men in the corner.

In the corner, a group of scruffy-looking scallywags were engaged in a raucous game of dice, their hushed curses and raucous laughter mingling with the general din. 

"Okay." You downed your beer and walked over to the table. "Hey, you… You're at the table!" You wobbled slightly as you approached the group. "Could you stop laughing like crazy? We're celebrating."

"I don't give a shit what you're celebrating." A tall man, half-turned to you, rolled the dice. "Yeah, I won!"

"Listen, me and my crew…"

"Your crew? That bunch of idiots sitting by the bar?" The man turned to you, pointing at the bar.

"Oh, my God!" You wobbled slightly as you saw the big red nose and face painted with makeup. "Oh, wait, I know you! I saw your wanted poster in Shells Town. But apparently you're so inconspicuous that I don't even remember your name."

"Hey, honey, you're talking to the future king of the pirates." The clown crossed his legs and started tapping his fingers on the table. "And I'm Buggy, by the way. Who are you?"

"Y/N. The Captain of Cherry Blossom Pirates. And I'm worth a lot of money, unlike you, Buggy from Shells Town or wherever you are."

Buggy silently scanned you from head to toe. He noticed your crisp white shirt, cinched at the waist by a worn leather belt, gave way to well-fitted trousers tucked into sturdy boots. He looked at your eyes for a second and burst into laughter.

"Fuck! I'm so scared." Buggy started to mimic you. "Captain of the Cherry Blossom, and I'm worth a lot of money. I don't care who you a--" He noticed the scroll in your pocket. "What's this?"

"Nothing." You carefully lowered the scroll deeper into your pocket.

"That's the map!" Buggy pointed at the paper. "And more over, that's my map!"

"Does it have your name on it?" You shrugged. "That's my map, I stole it from some scatterbrain at the port."

"Hey! I'm not scatterbrain. I got distracted! Listen, strawberry queen. Give me the map back!" Buggy stood up from his chair and reached for your pants.

"Cherry, actually. I told you the name of my crew two minutes ago, idiot." You narrowed your eyes and slapped his hand.

"Give me back the fucking map!" Buggy was about to touch your thigh, but you grabbed his hand. "Ugh! You took my hand. I like that!"

You quickly pulled a knife out of your boot and held it to his throat. "Don't touch me, clown. I'll cut you into pieces."

"Oh, I'd like to see that too." Buggy winked at you and saw how your team got up from the table, slowly walking towards you, drawing daggers. "Okay, you know, cherry blossom or whatever your name is, I think things are getting tense. And I think... I'm gonna get out of here." Buggy took your hand, kissed it and snapped his fingers at his team, abruptly leaving the bar.

You shrugged and, ending the evening, you returned to your ship. You decided to take a walk along the deck before going to sleep, at the same time checking that everything was in order, and that the guard shift was in their places. As you strode across the deck of the mighty galleon, your presence commanded the attention of all who laid eyes upon you.

"A quiet night tonight, huh, captain?" One of the crew members came up to you and handed you your favorite lemon tea.

"Yes." You took a sip. "Delicious. Well, everything is fine. I'm off to bed. We'll dock at the island in a few days, where I hope to find the treasures that this map points to." You patted your pocket with your hand.

As the golden rays of the morning sun peeked over the horizon, illuminating the gently lapping waves of the tranquil island shore, you set out with a sense of eager anticipation. You split up with the team to get a better look at the island. The weathered, aged map you clutched in your hands had led you to this remote, secluded locale, its faded markings promising the potential discovery of long-lost treasure. With each step you took across the powdery white sand, your eyes scanned the lush, verdant landscape, searching intently for any sign or indication that would point you towards the elusive coordinates the map had indicated. The soft crunch of your footsteps was the only sound that broke the peaceful silence, as you made your way deeper into the island, ducking under the broad, hanging fronds of towering palm trees and pushing through the dense, tangled underbrush.

"Damn, I feel like someone's watching me." You looked around.

"What, Y/N? Your precious crew abandoned their captain?"

You heard Buggy's voice from behind you and turned to him.

"Oh, my God! What are you doing here?" You jumped in surprise, clutching the map in your hands.

"I came to take what's mine. My map and my treasure. And by the way. Thank you for bringing me here! You made my treasure hunt job easier." Buggy came closer to you. "I really had to follow you for a few days. You take so-o-o-o long to plan everything. I thought I'd get old."

"Oh, my God," You rolled your eyes, "are you so-o-o-o lazy that you can't even find your way around, and you just decided to follow a defenseless girl? Don't you have anything better to do?"

"You're defenseless? Don't make me laugh, baby!"

"Don't call me that!" You barked. "Wait. Were you following me? How did I not notice?" You whispered quietly.

"You must have been so enchanted by my beauty that you couldn't think of anything else." Buggy took two big steps and pressed himself against you. "Wait." He put his finger to your lips. "Do you hear that?"

"What?" You mumbled.

"The sound of you losing." Buggy gave you a sharp peck on the lips, grabbed the map from your hands and ran away. "I told you it was my map, and I'll give it back! Bye, strawberry queen!!!"

"IT'S A CHERRY!!!" You shouted after him. "Fucking clown!! Stop!" You ran after Buggy, and seeing part of your crew, you signalled them to run after you.

As you raced after the fleeing figure, your heart pounding with exhilaration and anticipation, you finally caught up to him near a remote, overgrown area that according to the map to conceal a hidden trove of valuable treasure. Breathless, you watched as Buggy furtively began scouring the ground. His eyes were narrowed in intense concentration, darting back and forth as he searched for any signs or clues that might lead him to the elusive prize.

"Hey, you!" You shouted at Buggy. "Didn't your mother ever teach you that stealing from girls is bad?" You pulled the knife out of your boot.

"What?" Buggy came at you like a predator at its prey. "You want a piece of me? Come on, let's see what you got."

Your face, set in a determined scowl, gripped the hilt of your knife tightly, the metal glinting in the afternoon sun. Your lithe form coiled and ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation. The air was thick with tension, the sound of the crashing waves and cawing gulls providing a wild, primal backdrop. You and Buggy began to circle each other, your footsteps leaving imprints in the pristine white sand, each one trying to anticipate the other's next move.

You swung the dagger, but Buggy grabbed your wrist, squeezing your hand with each passing second, and then suddenly hooked your leg with his own, winked, threw you down on the sand and fell on you with all his weight.

"Listen, you haven’t even taken me out to dinner yet, and you’re already practically lying on me." You chuckled. "Let me go, fucking clown!!" You tried to kick him in the knee.

"Calm down, strawberry!"

"CHERRY, for heaven's sake!"

"You know," Buggy ran his finger over your cheek, "I've read about you since our first meeting and I don't understand why we need to fight."

"What? What are you talking aboyt?" You looked at Buggy with a surprised look.

"We are both smart, famous, amazing, fabolous and scary pirates."

"What? Are you afraid of losing the battle for fucking ego and dominance to a girl? Let me go!" You tried to jerk away, but he pressed you even harder to the ground.

"No, I'm just going to take what's rightfully mine and get off this fucking island." Buggy leaned closer to you and began to whisper in your ear. "But under good circumstances I would offer cooperation, Y/N. But we are not in good circumstances."

You noticed how your team jerked from their place to begin the attack. "Don't! I'm fine, guys!" You shifted your gaze to Buggy. "Give me at least one reason to cooperate with you, clown?"

"I'm handsome and funny, isn't that enough?" Buggy shrigged, sqeezing your hand.

"You're an idiot." You rolled your eyes. "Okay, listen! Let's do it this way. I agree to cooperate, theoretically, what next?"

"Well, for example, although I don't want to suggest it, for starters, we'll split the treasure. 50\50, okay?" Buggy lost in thoughts for a second. "Then we'll go to the nearest bar and discuss our plans. We can create a strong alliance, baby."

"An alliance? Well.. Sounds good. Let's try. Just let me go." You sighed and felt him release his grip.

Buggy helped you up and you both gave orders to your teams to start digging in the area indicated on the map.

As you and Buggy stood on the sun-drenched beach, watching intently as your respective crews began furiously digging into the golden sand, you couldn't help but steal occasional glances at your notorious pirate companion out of the corner of your eye. Buggy's typically animated and mischievous demeanor had been replaced by an uncharacteristic air of confidence and self-assurance, his muscular arms crossed firmly over his broad chest as he observed the proceedings with an unwavering gaze. There was a distinct sense of certainty in his posture, a silent conviction that this treasure hunt would yield the coveted prize he sought. You couldn't help but be intrigued by this shift in Buggy's normally jovial persona - it was as if he knew something you did not, some secret that gave him an advantage over the situation at hand. The way he carried himself, with an almost regal bearing, suggested a deep-seated belief that victory was all but assured, that the chest of riches lay just beneath the sandy expanse, waiting to be unearthed and claimed as his own.

"There's nothing!" Your teams said in unison, digging a deep hole.

"What?" Your eyes widened. "No way! I definitely read the map. Here, look." You stood next to Buggy, pointing your finger at the map.

"Let me see." He picked it up. "Fuck. It's mine. Fre-e-aks." Buggy looked at his crew.

"Yes, Captian!"

"It's time to run!" Buggy chuckled.

"WHAT??" You squealed. "What do you mean, Buggy?"

"You read the map wrong! You miscalculated the coordinates." He winked at you, putting the map in his pocket. "Sorry, sometimes I like to do things right, but not today."

"What about the alliance? Did you deceive me?"

"I'm a rogue and a deceiver. But about the alliance." Buggy folded his hand, pointed his thumb at you and winked. "Maybe later, strawberry queen!" Buggy screamed, disappearing between the trees.

"THIS IS A CHERRY!!!"

[nightmyst14-blog]

Happy Birthday to Wildberry and Clotted Cream!!! Can't believe its been a year since Odyssey already!!!

I'm making 2 parter what I imagine happens on their birthday

Setting: In the Creme Republic, Clotted and Financier walking back to House Custard after a meeting.

Clotted Cream: *stretches, sighs* Another long meeting.... again.

Financier":* nods, quiet* ....You seem tired, Consul.

Clotted Cream: *sighs* I am. I think I'm having what I heard others called "burnout." But a Consul's work is never done.

Financier: Hm.

Clotted Cream: It didnt really help Lady Oyster and Captain Caviar didn't show up. Usually Late Oyster is never late, if she is , she has a viable reason why. Sir Caviar is sometimes late with.. reasons, but this is quite ridiculous.

Financier: * nods* Mhm.

Clotted Cream: And why was Lady Sable and Mulled Juice so giddy during the whole thing? They were laughing and talking amongst themselves. It was odd I must say.

Financier: Yes sir.

Clotted Cream : And then- * stops, looks at Financier* Are you alright, Financier? You're more quiet today.

Financier: Just listening to you, sir.

Clotted Cream: *sighs* Never mind...

*they head inside, Financier shutting the door behind him*

Financier: Shall I bring some tea to your office, sir?

Clotted Cream: Yes please.

*Clotted Cream walks to his office, which found the place dark*

Clotted Cream: *slowly walks in, confused* Did I forget to turn the lights?

*As he said that, lights turn on* *Light Cream, Custard III, Oyster, and Captain Caviar were standing there with party hats, surrounded by presnts*

All: *in unison* Happy Birthday!!

Clotted Cream: I- what- huh??

Light Cream: *smiles* Happy Birthday, sweetie...

Oyster: Financier had a feeling you would forget and had set up a little party for you.

Clotted Cream: Financier.. did this?

Financier: * walks over, wearing a party hat* Yes sir. You have been quite busy this past year and it's only fair you have a little fun.

Clotted Cream: Does Father even know about this?

Captain Caviar: That old seadog is at his villa, not that it matters anyways. Its your day, shark bait!!

Light Cream: Yes, this party is about you.

Custard III: *hands him a party hat and a present* Yeah!! Happy Birthday, uncle!

Clotted Cream: *takes it and smiles, begins to tear up*

Oyster: Clotted?

Light Cream: *worried* Oh honey...

Clotted Cream: *sniffles* Im fine, I'm fine... Just... * wipes his eyes, smiles* Thank you. Thank you all.

Oyster: Of course, hun. Now open the present. Its a one someone specail sent to you.

Clotted Cream:*puts on the party hat, opens the present*

*there was a locket inside along with a small letter it read: *

" Happy Birthday, Clotted Cream!!!! You're probably a bit confused about this, whoever you think sent you this, its not. I'm just a friend of your mother's. She had asked me to write this.

I'm so proud to hear about all the amazing things, you have for the Republic from your mother. You stayed kind, compassionate, and hard-working as I hoped you would be. I hope you meet with you soon.

For now, enjoy your birthday, young Consul. I gift you a piece of my heart.

From,

A friend"

Clotted Cream: Did one of the ancients write this?

Light Cream: *laughs* No dear, it will make sense soon.

Clotted Cream: *takes out the locket, opens it* * inside was a slightly worn photo of a younger version of his mother, and a baby version of himself* Mother... Where did you get this?

Light Cream: Im afraid I can't say. But my friend really wants you to have it.

Clotted Cream : *stares at the locket and letter, smiles* *holds it tight* Well, I love it. Be sure to tell this friend thank you for their kind gift.

Light Cream: * smiles* I'm sure they know already.

Custard III: *pulls on their hand, leads him to the table* C'mon uncle!! Open another one!!

Oyster: Oh Caviar, don't forget to light the candles on the cake soon.

Captain Caviar: I won't!

Financier: I'll go get the cake, its in the kitchen

Oyster: Okay then.

Light Cream: *smiles at the scene*

While everyone was peroccupied, and sneaks off to balcony where a cloaked figure was waiting for her*

??: Did he get it?

Light Cream: *nods* He said thank you for the gift. He loves it.

??: Im glad.I do hope he enjoys his birthday. Divines know he needs it.

Light Cream: *smiles* It makes me happy to see him so happy.

*from down the hall*

Custard III: Nana, c'mon! We're about to light the cake!

Light Cream: *giggles* Im coming!!

??: Well, I won't keep you up for any long. Go on have fun with your son.

Light Cream: "Our" son, dear.

??: *laughs, a smile could be seen* Haha, right. Bye now. * with that, the stranger leaves*

Light Cream: *waves, heads back to the party*

[jovialtorchlight]

DUFFLEBAG--A PLAY IN ONE ACT

DUFFLEBAG

A play in one act by Jonny Bolduc

CONTENT WARNING: This play contains a depiction of suicide, as well as gunshots, murder, and implied violence against children.

CHARACTERS:

ALEX: A washed up journalist.

AJ: Demon incarnate. 

DETECTIVE: Trying to piece the case together.

BETHANY: Alex’s sister. 

WOMAN/WAITRESS

SCENE 1

LIGHTS come up on an empty newsroom. ALEX, an overweight middle aged man, hangs his coat up on the back of a rolling chair in front of a computer.  SOUNDFX: A police scanner sputtering out a traffic stop. 

 ALEX:

Anyone home? Chuckles. Of course not.  ALEX notices a manila envelope on his keyboard. As he sits down and boots up his computer.  Wonder if those are the Seadog tickets I put my name in for yesterday. 

ALEX is about to open the envelope when the phone rings. As ALEX answers, the lights fade on him and come up on the EDITOR and DETECTIVE sitting at a table downstage. 

DETECTIVE:

Are there any cameras in the newsroom? Security cameras?

  EDITOR:

  Yeah. 

DETECTIVE:

If I got a warrant to look at the footage, it would all be there, right? Everything from Saturday, March 16? No mysterious gaps? 

EDITOR:

Look. I can’t speak for Alex. At this point, if he fucked with the footage, it wouldn’t suprise me. I thought…I thought I knew him. As well as anyone knew him…I never thought he would..

DETECTIVE:

Alright. As far as you know, on Saturday, what time did he get into the newsroom? 

EDITOR:

3:30 p.m. 

DETECTIVE:

Was anyone in the newsroom?

EDITOR: 

No. He worked the skeleton hour, the time between the morning and night shift. When I first started at the journal, the cop beat came in in the morning. But staffing cuts--

DETECTIVE:

I don’t need a history lesson.  I just need to know why Alex did it. 

LIGHTS down on EDITOR and DETECTIVE. Lights up on Alex, speaking on the phone, typing on his computer and eating tortilla chips and salsa. 

ALEX:

Thanks for talking to me on the weekend, Chief Perry. Do you know the condition of the nine year old injured in the crash?  Critical? Ok, thank you. A huge glob of salsa falls onto his shirt. 

Any other information? I understand. I’ll wait for the press release. Have a good weekend. Hangs up. Looks at salsa on his shirt.  Shit.  Raises salsa glob to his mouth and licks it clean.

Good enough.  On his computer, ALEX reads aloud as he types. 

“Dear Mark,

Regretfully, I am writing this letter to inform you that my last day of employment with the Twin Town Journal will on April 1st. 

This dimly lit basement office, stale, moldy.  Sometimes, I feel like I exist inside a slowly rotting carcass. It’s time for me to live. ”

No. I can’t.

ALEX aggressively hits the delete button. ALEX eyes the unopened manila envelope. He opens it. 

Lights down on ALEX, back up on the DETECTIVE and EDITOR. 

DETECTIVE:

Where did Alex sit?

EDITOR:

Alex’s desk was in the back corner of the newsroom.

DETECTIVE: 

Why was he in the corner?

EDITOR: 

Well, he earned it. It’s a hierarchy thing. New reporters were stationed at the front next to the copydesk, mainly so they couldn’t just Facebook all shift, look at cat pictures or pretend like they were answering emails. 

DETECTIVE:

So he was a good employee?

EDITOR: 

At one point.  He won us seven Press Association awards, that he kept framed, and lined up on his desk, reminding us of his best work.  2012, an unreplicated year. The rest of the years were bad, full of mistakes and errors and mediocrity. But those seven awards kept him in the newsroom. 

DETECTIVE:

Was there ever any problems with his behavior? Anything concerning?

EDITOR:

Every couple years he would be out for a few weeks for an unspecified “emergency.” I learned after the second one that he was admitted to the psyche ward. I don’t know the details, but I summized that he had pretty serious breakdowns every so often. But he never brought that to work. 

LIGHTS HALF DOWN on EDITOR and DETECTIVE, LIGHTS UP ON ALEX. ALEX is reading the letter that was in the envelope.

ALEX:

Fuck. Fuck. Oh god. FUCK. ALEX puts his head in his hands. 

ALEX vomits into the trash can beside him. 

LIGHTS UP on EDITOR AND DETECTIVE.

EDITOR: 

When we searched his desk, we found the note he read underneath a pile of vomit and soda cans. Tell me if you can make any sense of it. 

“A.J.. favor. River behind Bethany’s, Mechanic F., 2:30 a.m., Monday.”

EDITOR:

It’s closed now, but Bethany’s was an ice cream store in Mechanic Falls. As for the rest… who AJ is…I have no idea. 

Back to ALEX.

ALEX:

I think I’m having a fucking heart attack. Fuck. AJ. That crazy goddamn bastard is back. Fuck. Fuck. 

Back to EDITOR. As the EDITOR speaks, the upstage is cleared. 

EDITOR: 

Alex didn’t do much for the rest of the night. Around 9 p.m., he went out for a three vehicle crash, out on Goff Hill.

DETECTIVE:

Yeah. I pulled the report, pieced it together. When Alex got there, police had already shut the road off, so he parked at Denny’s, waved at the cop directing traffic.  Officer Moltisanti knew Alex from other scenes, and said, and I quote, “I thought we were going to have to call an ambulance. He was breathing heavy, like a panting, St. Bernard and he looked really pale. But he walked up the hill. Took some pictures of the crash. Headed back down the hill. We pulled some surveillance photos of Denny’s; he came in at 10:00 p.m., ordered a black coffee, and took out his computer to write the story. 

EDITOR:

He never came back to the office. 

Lights back up on Alex, drinking coffee at a counter.  A waitress is setting a plate of food next to him.

WAITRESS:

Rough night, Alex?

ALEX:

Laughs. Yeah, you could say that. It’s the kind of night that makes me wish I never stopped smoking cigarettes. Do you remember when you could smoke in Denny’s?

WAITRESS: 

Yeah, hon, I do. I’m pretty ancient. 

ALEX:

You’re not ancient. You still got life left in you, Betty. Me, not so much.

WAITRESS: 

What do you mean?

ALEX:

Nothing. Nothing. Thank you for talking to me.

WAITRESS: 

  Are you alright, hon? 

ALEX:

Yeah. I’m ok.

I just..when I was a kid, my dad smoked. His flannels, the garage, everything had the smokey smell…and shit, I loved it. Even when I was old enough to know that the smoke was killing him. Do you know what I mean? When the thing that’s killing you gives you comfort?

WAITRESS:

Are you sure you’re ok? 

  ALEX:

Yeah. Yeah, thanks, Betty.

WAITRESS exits. ALEX reads as he types. 

Comfort. Where does it come from? At what expense? Comfort comes from booze, food, Lexapro.  Fleeting interests, the, distractions, anything to to get himself one step ahead of the chest tightening, stomach twisting, breathless, empty attacks. But still, the strange dread creeps into me. An alarm malfunctioning, blaring empty signals into my head.

But it’s real, this time. If you’re reading this, I’m dead. This is goodbye. 

ALEX pays his check and leaves. 

BLACKOUT. 

SCENE 2

Lights up on a dream. A WOMAN appears. ALEX is with her. 

ALEX:

Exactly as I remember you. You smill like dirt. Not unpleasant, more like you had been gardening. Green jeans, white tank top, humid August night…

WOMAN:

I’m drunk, stumbling. Both of us were, honey. But you were walking straight. I could smell your breath, though. And when I looked into your eyes, trying to kiss you, you were half on earth, half somewhere else. 

ALEX:

Don’t get into the passenger seat.

WOMAN:

I have to. This is how it happened. 

ALEX:

Fuck. I can’t…I can’t keep losing you. 

WOMAN:

Alex. Remember something, when you wake up. 

ALEX:

Of course.

WOMAN:

It was your fault. 

 LIGHTS DOWN. In the blackout, ALEX runs to his bed. LIGHTS up. ALEX wakes up violently, in a panic. 

He throws the sheets off, and stumbles into the bathroom offstage. SOUNDFX of some nasty bathroom business. 

He emerges. 

He is talking to his dog. 

Maisey. Girl. I love you. But I got to go. I hate this. I really do. 

Want to come up on the bed? 

ALEX lays down on the bed. BLACKOUT. 

LIGHTS UP. ALEX is passing his sister, BETHANY, a collar. 

ALEX:

She eats Nature’s Pride. Exclusively.

BETHANY:

I know. I’ve dogsat for you before. How long are you going to be gone, again?

ALEX:

Three days. It was kind of last minute. I’m going up to Presque Isle for a job interview.

BETHANY:

You’re leaving Twin City?

ALEX:

Yeah. Maybe moving up north. 

BETHANY:

Alex? I need to…ask you something.

ALEX:

Sure.

BETHANY:

Are you ok? You seem…not ok.

ALEX:

I’m fine. 

BETHANY:

I don’t believe that. Come on. If something’s wrong, I can help you. 

ALEX:

I swear to god, Beth, nothing’s wrong. 

BETHANY:

Alex. I love you. You’re my brother. And we’ve been through hell. I know you well enough to know when you’re going through some shit. And look, after last year, you promised you would be honest.  Please, be honest. 

ALEX:

Beth. Nothing is wrong. 

BETHANY:

You know what my worst fear is? What keeps me up at night? I get a call saying that you’re dead, that you killed yourself, that the worst day is here. I can’t picture life without you, Alex. So please. Come on. Tell me what’s wrong.

ALEX:

A heavy pause.

I…got a letter. 

BETHANY:

What did it say?

ALEX:

It was..it was from…A credit card company. I’m getting sued for like 15,000 dollars. I might lose everything

. Lights down on ALEX and BETH. 

Back up on DETECTIVE and BETH.

DETECTIVE:

Before we start, I’m sorry for your loss. 

BETH:

Doesn’t answer. 

So. You think it was him? 

DETECTIVE:

Yeah. We do. Almost cert--

BETH:

It was A.J. 

DETECTIVE:

A.J? A.J Gutenski? 

BETH: 

Yeah. 

DETECTIVE:

Huh. Look, I shouldn’t tell you this, but Bethany. Forensic confirmed that Alex fired the bullet that killed AJ. 

BETH:

No. No, you don’t understand. Whatever happened, that bastard was behind it. Alex didn’t even own a fucking gun. 

DETECTIVE:

He bought one the night he died. 

BETH:

What? Well, come on- iIt must have been self defense. 

DETECTIVE:

Ok. Look, I understand you’re grieving--

BETH:

I know what you’re going to ask me about. When I last talked to him. Look, he lied to me. I had no idea AJ was back in town. But you have to understand. If he told me AJ was back in town, I would have personally escorted Alex to the gunstore. AJ was less of a person and more  a fucking demon. 

DETECTIVE:

Bethany. I know you’re upset, but AJ was a veteran. A former police officer. An upstanding-

BETH:

With all due respect, detective. He’s a sociopathic fuckhead. He killed my brother.

LIGHTS UP on Alex in his apartment. It is dark. He is looking in a mirror.

ALEX:

Look at this. A fucking disgusting piece of shit. Pale skin, gross, scaby graying beard, greasy ass hair, lumpy, overstuffed disgusting. I’m such a fucking piece of shit. 

Pause.

AJ. That fucking bastard.

Alex screams, guttural, and punches the mirror, shattering it. He grunts in pain. He picks glass from his knuckles and wraps his hand in a bloody papertowel. 

END SCENE.

SCENE 3:

Lights up on Bethany and Detective. 

Detective:

We know that early in the morning, after Alex dropped off his dog-

BETHANY:

Maisy. 

DETECTIVE:

Sure, yeah, Maisey--he drove Bethany’s Ice Cream. He parked in the back lot, down where there’s a steep bank that leads to the river underneath the railroad trestle. Why would he go to Bethany’s? Did he have some sort of connection to the place?

BETHANY:

We grew up in Mechanic Falls. We used to joke that I owned the place. Mechanic Falls wasn’t like…dead back then.  When Alex was a boy, this small mill town still had a mill, and it still felt like a town. He’d walk from our massive Victorian home on Main Street to a three room school that served all 25 kids in town, he’d ride his bike down the trails to the brooks and he’d rip around on his dirt bikes, up and down Main Street. 

The town was his. Ours. Which is why I think the fire effected him so much. 

DETECTIVE:

The mill fire? 2018?

BETHANY:

Yeah. He wrote about it. I’d read it to you, but I still haven’t been given any of his belongings. 

DETECTIVE:

They’re in evidence. Why do you think the fire effected him?

BETHANY:

We watched the town go up in flames. 

DETECTIVE:

Just the mill. And no one was hurt. 

BETHANY:

Yeah. But he worked his first job in that mill. I think he saw it like…the past was burning down. Like the fire was destroying every good memory he ever held. 

DETECTIVE:

Huh. Ok. 

So. Answer this. 

When did your brother become a far right extremist? 

BETHANY:

What? What the fuck are you talking about?

DETECTIVE:

We found a vile journal with all kinds of shit in it. He listed all the people he wanted to hurt. He was radicalized. For christ sake, he tried to--

BETHANY:

That wasn’t him. It was AJ. It had to be AJ. 

LIGHTS DOWN.

LIGHTS UP on AJ. He is standing, hands in his pockets, shivering. He is down by the river; the sound of rushing water.  The sound of tires screeching.  AJ is here. Car door slams shut. AJ strides onstage. He is ex-military, clad in a green tank top and cargo pants. Cleancut.

AJ:

Look. The fat bastard’s waiting. Get in my belly. Bring it in bud. 

AJ grasps ALEX in a unwilling bearhug. It’s too long, too tight. ALEX wiggles in protest. ALEX is checking for a wire. When AJ lets go, he pushed ALEX, and almost sends him scrambling back. 

Thought I was going to get lost in all that blubber. It’s good to see you, friend. 

ALEX:

It’s…uh..good to see you too, AJ. Where have you--

AJ:

Like a flipped switch. He’s violent. He grabs ALEX by the shoulders.  None of your fucking buisness where I’ve been, you fat fuck. Why do you need to know? Are you a fucking narc? You don’t ask me shit. Knees ALEX in the groin. ALEX collapses on the ground, rolling. AJ makes as if he’s going to stomp AJ in the head, but lands on the ground beside him, howling in laughter. 

I forgot how easy to are to fuck with, friend. Now, look. I got a favor to ask you, once you find your balls again. As ALEX gathers himself, AJ reaches into a bag beside him and pulls out a pair of fishing waders. 

You’re going to go for a little swim. Throws the waders at ALEX.

ALEX:

What?

AJ:

Sure, it ain’t going to be warm. But, you know something? The Russians, those crazy bastards, cut holes in the ice and started swimming in the winter. It’s supposed to cleanse their bodies of toxins from vodka or something. Then, some rich Norwegian socialist fucks started doing it, and it spread over to the US, and now, there are, and I shit you not, people that jump in ice cold water for fun. Fucking crazy assholes.

Look, you’re going to do have to do some physical activity. You may have a heart attack. But look. It’s real shallow under the bridge. You’re going to wade out. The current shouldn’t be too bad. About halfway, your left foot is going to nudge a cinderblock. Lift it up. There’s going to be a chain. Dig a bit. There’s going to be a duffle bag tied to a rock. I don’t want my DNA on that bag. Laughs. Grab it, bring it over here. 

At least I got you some waders. Gear up, Mr. Belvedere. 

ALEX clumsly puts on the waders, and hobbles offstage. AJ sparks a cigarette, leans back, and watches. He yells OS to ALEX.

“Look! A fuckin’ whale in his natural habitat! Keep going tubby! Hariet fucking Tubbyman over here.”

After a pause, ALEX screams. Splashing. 

ALEX:

From OS.

MY WADERS ARE FULL OF WATER--I’M--

AJ howls with laughter. He moves to the side of the stage and pulls a soaking wet, hacking, miserable ALEX to the center of the stage. He’s clutching a dufflebag. ALEX gets on all fours and starts hacking life a halfdrowned cat. 

AJ:

You’re fucking fine, you goddamn pussy.

AJ slaps ALEX on the back, three times, hard, then kicks him hard in the side. ALEX wheezes, falls over on his side, clutching himself. 

Let’s get this gear off you, soilder!

AJ yanks the waders off of ALEX, but purposefully removes his pants as well, leaving him in his underwear, huddled, shivering, half drowned, and bruised on the bank. 

Alright, alright. It’s ok, baby. 

AJ leans down next to ALEX to cuddle him, spooning him. 

Big fat baby. You chunky son of a bitch. Get up. Get up. GET UP!

AJ leaps up, and pulls ALEX to his feet.

Open the fucking dufflebag. 

AJ, trembling, gets down on all fours, again, and slowly unzips the dufflebag. He peers inside. The horror of what’s inside hits him after a pause. He screams. 

BLACKOUT.

LIGHTS UP on DETECTIVE and BETH.

DETECTIVE:

 Did anyone tell you how he died?

BETH:

My brother? I mean, I know he took his own life. 

DETECTIVE:

A single gunshot wound to the head. A pretty obvious suicide. 

I have a photo for you, Bethany. 

BETH:

Are you fucking serious? I don’t want to see his head--

DETECTIVE:

No. Not of his head. Of what was in the dufflebag he pulled out of the river. You need to see it. You need to see it to really understand what we’re dealing with. 

BETH:

Nods. DETECTIVE slides the photos to her. She opens the envelope, looks, and dry heaves.

Fuck. 

DETECTIVE:

I know you think your brother had nothing to do with this, and I wish the facts supported that. But what we have, everything we have, points to him. 

BETH:

Through tears.

Fuck.

    LIGHTS back up on ALEX and AJ.

AJ:

Peers over the duffle bag, doesn’t touch it. 

Ha. That’s her alright. Damn. She’s looking a little…waterlogged, isn’t she. 

ALEX:

Through tears. 

What the fuck did you do, AJ? What the fuck did you--

AJ:

Shut up. Here’s what’s you’re going to do. You’re going to get the fuck up. You’re going to pick up the bag, put it in your car. Your going to go to your apartment. I got some hydrocloric acid. We’re going to take care of this, and tomorrow, we’re going to make some people fucking pay. Get up. Get up. 

ALEX:

She was fucking innocent, AJ. She was a…a…

Gets up, stands over the duffle bag for a moment. In one motion, ALEX suckerpunches AJ hard, in the head, and AJ crumples. ALEX grabs the dufflebag, and as AJ comes alive, ALEX scrambles up the bank.

AJ:

Time for a fuckin’ hog chase! Squeal squeal, you fuck! Squeal squeal! 

BLACKOUT.  END SCENE

SCENE 4

ALEX  is in his car, death gripping the steering wheel. The soggy dufflebag is beside him. His phone rings. He answers.

ALEX:

Hello, AJ. 

AJ:

Where the fuck you think you going, lardass?

ALEX:

The police.

AJ:

Why the fuck would you do something like that?

ALEX:

Because the decomposed head of your child is in a duffle bag next to me. 

AJ:

They’re going to think it was you. 

ALEX: 

So what? I’ll tell the truth. That’s all I can do.

AJ:

Huh. Well lookie here. I think I’m coming up behind you. Silver Subaru Impreza, 98142TW. Yup. That’s you. Here’s a little nudge, buddy.

AJ rams ALEX’s car from behind. ALEX tries to brace and steady himself.  Sound FX of a car skidding. It’s not enough to go off the road. 

I’ll be harder next time. And here’s a little sting. 

Gunshot. A bullethole in the sidemirror. 

Next time, I won’t miss. 

ALEX:

Do you remember when we met, AJ?

AJ:

I sure do. I was an Oxford County Deputy. I rolled up on you, rolled over in a ditch. Your sweet--Jane, was it? Was dead. Head caved in from the door crunching around her temple. You were crying, drunk as hell. I recognized you from the paper. Took you into my cruiser, drove you home, put your drunk ass to bed, saved you from being arrested for manslaughter. Told them it was just her in the car.  I saved you, you fuck. You owe me. 

ALEX:

I didn’t ask you to save me, AJ. You know, when I dream about her, she tells me..it was my fault. 

AJ:

That sucks. It’s true. It was your fault.

ALEX:

Yeah.  It was my fault. 

This is the first time I’ve said that out loud. And it didn’t even kill me.   AJ. I have a question. How many others are there? How many others have you…killed?

AJ:

Lost count. 

ALEX: 

Children?

AJ:

We all have our vices.

ALEX:

ALEX cranks the steering wheel. Screeching tire sound. BLACKOUT, just long enough for car to clear. ALEX is outside of the car, still in his underwear, holding a gun. Car door slams shut. AJ enters from the opposite side of the stage, and stops when he sees ALEX holding the gun.

AJ:

Well look at you. When you get the balls to buy a gun? I shouldn’t be too worked up. You’re too much of a puss--

ALEX:

Shoots AJ. AJ dies. ALEX takes AJ’s phone from his pocket.  Puts the phone on speaker. Kneels stage center. Answering machine.

Beth. I’m…sorry. AJ’s dead. I wish… it didn’t happen like this. I wish I was better.  Take care of Maisy. I love you. Goodbye.

GUNSHOT AS BLACKOUT..    END

[daily-fun-animal-facts]

talk about lobsters 🦞. Please... pretty please. There like little seadogs ooo thats a animal fact right there gotta write that one down. They are cool I like them. Before you ask no I am no one you know personally I am simply a man of the lobsters

oh you're not the stinky bastard that I know? That's good because if he ever showed his face around here I would curb stomp him and steal his birds <3

anyway here is your fact person I do not know.

The Norway lobster is omnivorous and will feed on just about anything edible it can find: other crustaceans, mollusks, polychaete worms, as well as carrion. The lobster itself is eaten by a variety of bottom dwelling fish like cod.  

Have a wonderful day friend! :)c

[dear-mrs-otome]

Ok so, a favorite old movie of mine is The Ghost and Mrs. Muir and tell me it's not a perfect setup for Silvio and Emma??? The ghost of a surly sea captain and the spunky widow that moves into his house by the ocean, only to eventually write the stories of his adventures down and fall madly in love with her resident salty seadog spirit

Wish I had all the hours in the day to write that I wanted, because this deserves to exist.

[tumblerosestudios]

Stardew Valley Pirate Playthrough Day One

Ahoy, The name is Ruthless Rose, Dread Pirate of the Coriander Archipelago and Captain of the Old Shanty, a ship I inherited from me Grandad.

I seem to have crashed on this "Stardew Valley" while looking for the old scurvy seadog that was my grandad, however when I crashed here, I was informed he had died on this beach. Lucky for me I was given some seeds by the local mayor. I threw them in the ocean, who in their right mind eats parsnips, I needed potatoes, and I needed them fast. So I ventured into town.

This is where I met a few new faces that I'm sure I'll be able to rob materials to fix me ship from. Including A girl named Penny.

After this I wandered into a large building, assuming it to be a store I could plunder, instead I found a bloody Cowboy!

What?

Bloody hell, hate when the place I was planning to thieve was already robbed. After this the barnacle breath asked if I'd return any of the items if I happen to find them. I laughed so hard me leg almost splintered down the middle.

Once I left I met a few more villagers around here, and eventually went inside, where I met the local Livestock dealer

After getting the potato seeds I needed for a real meal I left towards the beach I marooned.

After planting seeds for a while I was barely able to keep me eyes open. Turns out Grandad left a small shack, it was in terrible disrepair but it was a roof over me head so I slept in there.

I am drifting off to sleep as I write this, I'll send another letter in 3 days time if I'm not dead yet. -Ruthless Rose

Hey, I hope you enjoy the first day of my Stardew Valley Pirate Playthrough, where my main goal is to amass cash like a pig and get Willy's boat to Ginger Island fixed. Shenanigans abound.

[queenfisher1]

A Hug

I am going to try and keep up with @writeblrfantasy's 12 days of writer's self-love. I am going to write short stories about my character Queen Fisher, which is inspired by Krew.io, an online game. Queen Fisher is also my username for a lot of social media platforms. The prompt for this first one is Hug.

A mysterious fog clouded the calm sea. There was no breeze to push the black sails of the Grumpy Potato. The small boat waded in the unknown waters as if it were a patient lion waiting for its next meal. Captain Fisher whistled a fine sea chanty while waiting for a fish to nibble her hook. Everything has been at a stalemate for almost half an hour. The humid, cool air curled her hair gently and damped her wings. The line on her fishing rod suddenly jerked tight and bent the rod. She quickly started reeling in the supposed catch and pulled out a six-inch smiling tuna. The slimy fish squirmed in her grip as she tossed it into the ice box.

“It seems I’ve been running a little low on luck now,” she told herself. “The fish keep getting smaller the more I cast the line, and the wind has been silent for a long time now; however, every little bit still counts.” In the blink of an eye, the wind picked up once again. She took a deep breath and let the breeze flow through her hair, letting out a great sigh. “Ah, there it is. Took long enough.”

She adjusted the sail and let it loose, increasing her speed. The wind whistled in her ears, and the fog slowly faded away. Seagulls flew alongside the starboard, freely gliding along the breeze. It was a peaceful little moment in the sea. Out of the blue, something heavy splashed into the water, causing the entire ship to rock violently in the current. The sound of cannon fire echoed through the air. She pulled out her eyeglass and faced the stowage. A small boat with black sails was slowly catching up to her. The men on board, however, were firing their cannons somewhere else. After angling the eyeglass, a large navy ship came into view. It was advancing quickly on both of them. Cannonballs had fallen upon the waters surrounding the Grumpy Potato from a far distance. Her boat is under attack, and there is little to no escape. She quickly steered to the starboard side and adjusted her sails in an attempt to leave the battle. The atmosphere became progressively intense with fear and death.

“GET THOSE SAILS ADJUSTED, YOU SEADOGS!!” a captain called out. The voice felt familiar to her ears and soul that it frightened her. “WE NEED TO LOSE THEM!!” Looking back at the battle, she could see the most dangerous pirate standing aboard the small boat. Captain Tango, captain of the Tango; furthermore, is notorious for his boat’s speed and firing distance to destroy anything in his path. His two whimpering seadogs were scurrying about the ship, trying to follow his orders as quickly as possible. The captain impatiently became furious and took over the situation.

“FINE!! I’ll do it myself!!” he shouted. Captain Fisher hadn’t realized they steered their boat toward her until they were speedily heading her way. She could feel her heart beating faster than ever as doom seeped into her soul. Before she knew it, the Tango glided right past her on the starboard side. Terror spilled over her face seeing the stern face of a legend. Captain Tango’s whispy black hair and dark chocolate eyes pierced her soul. His fedora stood fast on his head, and his bowtie flowed in the wind. “Load the cannons!”

“OH, HAVE MERCY!!” she exclaimed as she steered to port to avoid them. Captain Tango quickly moved the ship alongside the Grumpy Potato.

“FOCUS ALL FIRE ON THE TANGO!!” another voice called out. Captain Fisher looked to the port side and stared at the large boat in awe. It was the infamous RHS Gargantuan. Cannonballs flew over her sails as they targeted the Tango. The ship slowly drifted away from the Grumpy Potato as they prepared to fire. She quickly headed her way toward the Gargantuan for safety. Behind her, they shot a cannonball and nicked the stowage, sending wood splinters into the air. 

“Why did I have to end up in the crossfire?!” she exclaimed. A shadow cast over her boat, and she looked to see the Gargantuan sailing in-between her and the Tango. Upon the great ship, she could see the aarakocran captain shouting orders to his men. His dark grey, blue, and white feathers glistened in the sun, and his sapphire eyes shone in the shadow of his hat. She sighed in reluctant relief; after all, it was her half-blooded brother protecting her. He turned to look at her and gently smiled. ‘Oh great, he’s giving me that smug look again,’ she frowned.

“Do not worry, Queen,” he shouted. “You are now under the protection of the RHS Navy.”

“Thanks,” she responded unamusingly, “and it’s Captain Fisher to you!”

“Come on, cheer up!” he chuckled. “I’m your brother!”

“Correction: Half brother!” she interjected.

“Alright,” he shrugged. “Just stay behind us, and you’ll be safe.”

“Alright, King,” she sat down, folding her arms. Before returning to the battle, he looked at her with the smuggest facial expression. It continued for hours before Captain Tango finally retreated to the northern seas. King Fisher’s first mate, a dragon borne, looked at Captain Fisher and smiled.

“Are you the sister General Fisher keeps talking about all the time? Queen Fisher??” he called out.

“For the last time! It’s Captain Fisher,” she protested.

“A captain, huh? Where’s your crew?” he asked.

“They’re on vacation in the eastern islands of Fantasia,” she scoffed sarcastically.

“Haha, VERY hilarious,” he rolled his eyes.

“It’s been so long since you last treated me with such sarcasm,” King Fisher commented happily. “My crew have to leave for Halbird Island soon. Consider my heroism as a brotherly hug for old times’ sake.”

“A figurative one?” she responded questioningly.

“Did you want an actual hug from your loving brother?” he taunted.

“Don’t you dare touch me!” she scolded angrily. King chuckled before grabbing the brim of his hat.

“By the way, can you fly yet, or do you need flight lessons again?” he teased.

“Leave me alone!” she shuddered. “We both know that wasn’t a great experience!”

“Alright then… Farewell until next time,” King smiled. Captain Fisher adjusted the sail and sped away from the Gargantuan without saying a word. 

[rudemonkeyy]

Must Love Flowers

“‘M not sure about dis…”

“C’moooon, it’ll be great! It beats trying to talk to randoms right?”

“Yeah…”

“And it would easy if you just met someone you knew had thing in common, riiiiight?”

“Yeah…”

“Then you’ll be fine! I’m sure you’ll be gettin folks lining up to get a date with you!”

Rei’hua looked up from the paper his small goblin friend had given him. Dazzil had given him a dating questionnaire when the troll had mentioned he was feeling like trying to find a “special friend”. With the both of them sat in a quiet corner of the inn of Razor Hill, the troll had his nose down scanning over the text, his blue and purple mohawk threatening to brush against any who stood in front of him while his small shaman companion waited patiently with a smug looking grin plastered on his face. Needless to say the druid was struggling to fill out most the boxes. He already had the basic details written down; name, age, race, etc. But when it came to the more personal stuff he found he was having a hard time talking about himself. The best he could put in his interests was flowers.

Dazzil was trying his best to peek to no avail.

“Hhhhnnnmm…” Rei’hua was making strange noises again. Dazzil had come to learn that meant he was becoming very unsure of something.

“Just be honest. And it don’t have to be fancy or nothing, the company takes ‘em so no one dating you is really gonna see it.” Alas his words did little to comfort his now trembling friend.

“What… what if dey t’ink ‘m boring?” asked Rei’hua. His voice was shaky, anxiety seemed to be setting in again. Dazzil could only shrug.

“Well hey, it happens you know? People just have different ideas of boring or whatever. Not everyone, trust me,” he paused. “I think yer a cool guy.”

“Heh… thank ya, Dazzil,” the troll gave a small smile. He still looked worried but now he was feeling more motivated to give this whole thing a shot. Minutes would pass, and soon they turned into an hour of Rei’hua pausing to think over himself. He wanted to help people, yet trying to heal people out in the fields of battle proved difficult for the young troll, he instead helped by making medicines and brewing potions for those that needed them. He was a tall and lanky looking fella, but he wasn’t lacking for any strength. He would rather spend time in peaceful and lush jungles or forests than the hustle and bustle of the cities (Thunderbluff was an exception). Soon he found himself finishing the last of the trivial questions, and keeping vague or plain skipping the all too personal stuff.

“Uh, I t’ink I finished it!” the druid chirped happily, hold up the piece of paper. Dazzil, who had decided to take a nap, woke with a startle. With drowsiness still lingering over him he took the paper and made sure the details were in order, he nodded and gave his trademark grin to his friend.

“Good stuff, man! I’ll take it over to the right folks and they’ll let you know if you got a date,” said Dazzil, standing up. He told Rei’hua he’d be right back and waved a quick good-bye before running off, leaving the troll on his lonesome. Rei’hua thought over the past hour and smiled to himself.

“I hope dey like flowers.”

[girlactionfigure]

Algoth Niska was a Finnish athlete and bootlegger who saved 151 Jews during the Holocaust.

Algoth was born in Viipuri, Finland in 1888. As a youth, he excelled in soccer and played on the Finnish national team at the 1912 Olympics in Stockholm. During World War I, Algoth entered navigation school and got married and divorced twice. In 1919, Finland, like the US, enacted a law prohibiting alcohol and Algoth saw a lucrative business opportunity. An experienced sea-goer, he bought a boat and started smuggling liquor from Sweden, Germany and Estonia into Finland.

Algoth became known to bon vivants in Finland as the man who could get a large variety of intoxicants. He tried to keep ahead of the police boats, but was shot at and arrested multiple times. Algoth served prison sentences in both Finland and Sweden. Though a tough seadog, he was well-liked by prison authorities and often released early.

In 1938, Algoth’s focus shifted to a new kind of illegal cargo: Jews. Finland was relatively safe for Jews at the time, but Germany was becoming a death trap. Over the next year and a half, Algoth took German Jews over land and sea to Finland, thus saving them from concentration camps. He provided the Jewish refugees with passports – some stolen, and some fake.

Algoth refused payment for smuggling Jews. Perhaps he welcomed the opportunity to redeem himself for past mistakes. In 1939, Algoth’s smuggling operation was discovered by the Nazis. He fled to Estonia, only to find that the Soviet Union had occupied the country. Finally, Algoth returned to Finland in a rowboat.

After the war, Algoth was broke. He made a little money from writing two books about his colorful life. Algoth died of a brain tumor in 1954 at the age of 65. Twice divorced, he left two children. Well-known Finnish musician Ilkka Lipsanen is his grandson.

For risking his life to save 151 Jews, we honor Algoth Niska as this week’s Thursday Hero at Accidental Talmudist.

[krabs-quill]

I personally hc that puffy was apart of a pirate crew before the SMP and I'd just love to know how puffy'll react to seeing [prefferably male, he/it] reader working in las navadas? maybe they're even cousins or something? sheep hybrid reader maybe! no idea but he's mighty fine good at insults and sassy remarks to cover up his emotions

seadog ~ c!puffy x pirate!reader

characters: puffy, quackity (only mentioned)

main characters pronouns: he/it

trigger warnings: blood mention, killing mention, alcohol, minor arguing

authors notes: AHHHH MY FIRST REQUEST IN A WHILLEEE!!! this was really fun to write, learning some pirate slang was an interesting feat! i havent written for puffy a lot though so i really hope its okay aha--

ENJOYYY

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Puffy and Y/n had been close for a while- blood bound together as family. Their sailing days had been rich in both wealth and joy, overtaking numerous other aggressive pirate crews. On land or at sea, Puffy's crew always had a distinct signature look that was held in sheep ears and the wooly locks and arm hair on each of the crew members. Some would have horns of a ram or various colors of their fur, but what connected them all together was the appearance from their sheep hybrid traits.

Puffy took the title “Captain Puffy”, while Y/n appealed to be Puffys right hand man. This seemed like an easy role for Y/n to take since he and Puffy had been bonded as closely as the chains attached to the anchor of their mighty ship.

Puffy taught Y/n the ways of sympathy and concern for people who he is closest to. Y/n taught Puffy the ropes and strings of wit- snappy remarks that'll always lead to the response you're looking for from anyone.

It was a smooth and rewarding life for what it was; a family of pirates finding treasure all over the globe and sharing it amongst each other.

But greed got in the way.

There was too much gold and gems to go around, some crewmates stealing from one another to the point of slitting the throats of brothers, sisters, siblings and cousins alike. Y/n knew what it had to do, so it took all of its belongings and simply left. Puffy was alone with her pirate crew, manning all the chaos as best she could with the absence of her right hand man. She never blamed him, of course. It just took some time to try and polish up the crew again.

Y/n had always been looking for money. Anything it could cash in on, you bet it would. From thievery, to scams, to breaking and entering into the homes of the snobbiest people you can think of, Y/n was the slickest scum out there. His infamy would soon bring him to a new nation, akin to his desires of green.

The sight was astonishing- bright blinding lights shooting out of gleaming windows owned by million-dollar businesses, huge attractions, streets made to align to the convenience of spenders wallets, and a regal casino smack-dab in the center of it all. Although Y/n still had his pirate hat and ascot, he found that it would soon be abandoned for white fitted button-ups and dashing suspenders paid with the money of drunken gamblers alike.

Y/n didn't have any sort of hesitance when offered to join Quackity’s nation. It had been a while since it had a family like its former pirate crew, and as much as it hated to admit it, it craved that familial bond every second it was gone. The world seemed suffocating without that bond, but after Quackity offered him the role as a manager in his casino, Y/n was making the big bucks.

“AYE, AYE!!”

Y/n shouts over the angered yelling of the casino floor. He storms up to a burly pale man, grog blossom on his nose and his ears red from anger.

“Alrighty, then, what seems to be the problem? Can't have you causin’ such a ruckus, so go on then!” The man, now clearly wasted out of his mind barked, “THAT f-cking lady right over there! Just cheesed me outta my money!”

“And you think the lass hornswagglin’ you gives ya the right to make a F-CKING mess of my casino?! Just look at all the cards you swept onto the f-ckin floor, aye!” Y/n fumed at the man, glaring him down. The drunken man was shell-shocked, tongue tied, frozen! Before Y/n walked over to the lady the man was pointing at previously, it commanded to the man, “When I come back, all o’ these cards better be picked up off the ground, shuffled, and stacked into a neat pile on that there table or else you'll be in for it, got it?” The man snapped a “yes, sir,” to it before scrambling to gather up the cards.

It had made its way towards the lady standing with her back casually against the corner. A mischievous grin was slapped on her face, the tips of her mouth sharp and wild with glee.

She was counting various diamonds and gems in a small velvet sack that didn't seem to belong to her. Closer and closer Y/n approached the lady, and it seemed to pick up on smaller details: Sturdy leather boots with a strong black heel, a flowy pearl white blouse with sleeves rolled up revealing white, tight curls of hair on the lady's arms, and a black tricorn hat. What stood out the most, however, were the long, white sheep ears on the sides of the lady's face.

“Wh- Puffy? Captain Puffy, is that really you?!” Puffy snaps her head up at the sound of Y/n’s voice again after years without it. The pouch of gems almost slips from her hands as she stares in shock. “Y/n? My right hand man! Oh my god- it's been YEARS!”

Puffy and Y/n clasp each other's hands before pulling into a tight hug. Y/n exclaimed after letting go of the hug, “Why in the world are you here?! The crew can't keep em’selves together without ya around, y'know.” Puffy's face seems to drop slightly when he says that.

“Oh- well, there were some complications and..well…” Y/n tenses up, worried for what's to come from Puffy. “..it came to be too much for even me to resolve. The crew got greedy the more treasure we found. Turned to killing each other. I didn’t wanna be a part of it anymore, so I up and left. Who knows what they're up to now.”

A grimace glazes over what was once a snarky smile on Y/n’s face. It sighs, patting Puffy's shoulder.

“Well, I don't blame you. What can ya do when there's too much greed in a family, y'know? That was always too much of a burden on ya, anyway.”

She doesn't say anything, but both it and her know that Y/n has a solid point. Despite this, there's still a saddening solemnness in the air. Y/n clears its throat before retorting back with a sly grin, “Ah, well, doesn't mean you can't enjoy a pint with an old friend now, aye? Come on and have a seat somewhere!”

Y/n’s cheerfulness is refreshing, there hadn’t ever been anyone like him that Puffy has ever met. Him ushering her to sit down really was like a blast to the past- their days on the ship at sea.

Velvet-cushioned stools lined up at the floor's bar, and Puffy pulled one out to take a seat. She turns to Y/n, who pulls out a seat next to her.

“Don't worry, drinks are on me this time.”

And with a sly grin, he drops the same velvet pouch filled to the brim with gems on the table. Puffy frantically checks her pockets before sighing in defeat, chuckling.

“You really haven't changed one bit, have you?”

[queenofwiltingroses]

Puppet History Not-Lore Part II

Keeping up-to-date with the Not-Lore found thus far. 

I lot of people have already pointed this out, and it may have just been a joke (I mean, I know irl he didn’t go on a meditative retreat, but as for his in-show narrative). It’s no secret Ryan’s been acting strangely this season. Getting along with the Professor, accepting his losses with dignity, participating in the seadogs bit, enjoying the musical numbers... Sometimes it seems like he wants to make a snarky remark about the “complex victory algorithm”, but he doesn’t for some reason. 

Now if this were any other show, going on a 30-day retreat in the span of a week would be a funny joke. But this is Puppet History, and we know time travel exists. So, is it possible Ryan got his hands on one of those magical items disguised as something ordinary? Or did he just make a joke that happen to align with the not-lore of the show?

Right as the Puppet Pop-in began today, the guest (Satan) told some mysterious glowing figure to “get outta here”. My guess is that this is the genie, and my only evidence to back this up is the fact that this mysterious figure’s glow is the exact same as that of the genie:

Same white outline and blueish-purpleish overlayer. 

There wasn’t a lot during this particular Puppet Pop-in. No weird glitches hiding secrets. But we did learn that one of Satan’s minions will be in the season finale. 

Also, this Hell looks a lot like what we were seeing in the molasses horse glitch from last episode. We already presumed he was in Hell, but this almost confirms it.

Finally, does Satan know Ryan? On his way out he asks the Professor to say hi for him. That would mean that Satan is acquainted with both Ryan and the genie. And I wonder if that means they’re acquainted with each other. Perhaps that’s how Ryan got his hands on a time travel device. 

Lastly, and I’m just acknowledging this at this point, ‘cause we all already know it. The Professor is an immortal time traveler. Not only has he lived through all these events he’s talking about, but he also has a device to go back to them. And while back in time he uses his magic jellybeans to transform historical figures into puppets.

Add that to the list of sentences I never thought I’d write. 

I’m relaying all of this information because I’m hoping if they’re all in one place, we can better piece them together and figure out where it’s all going. Also, I’m hoping MatPat will see it and want to make a video about it. I think that would be funny.