#until i realised it was horizon lol

[vault81]

went ahead and used this picrew to create my new fo4 oc's!!

I've decided to name this one Sullivan, he's my pre-war ghoul OC that used to work for the DIA and now the Railroad (this is him pre-ghoulification in his late 20's)

and this is Marie, my scientist/scavenger OC, scrounging ruins for artifacts and data on the old world (more than likely will end up joining The Institute)

[gyuswhore]

Never Shall We Die (1)

«« Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line. »» 

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader

PLAYLIST: right here!

pirate lingo glossary (pls refer!)

SYNOPSIS: Deadliest pirate on the high seas or a damn fool? The stupid King and his men have snatched Hoshi's precious pirate ship with their too clean, too soft hands; grounds to question his own vices. Except, when he and his crew land in the quarters of a navy ship, revenge on their roster, they stumble across a princess in its gallows. Hoshi wonders if he's just struck gold, or if you'd become the final tread to his downfall.

GENRES: pirate!au, enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut [minor dni], some pirates of the carribean vibes but ? idk

WORD COUNT [full fic]: 48.1k

Part 1: 17.07k | Part 2: 15.2k | Part 3 [final]: 15.8k

@highvern's out of context comment box: new fear unlocked: hoshi with explosives, victorian ankle moment, HATE HIM (need him carnally), hoshi covered in soapy water would distract me enough, strip for me pirate mingyu [hes litrally taking off his jacket], your honor hes a bitch, freaks!, mingyu crushes hoshi's head like a grape, WONWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, massive dick, the way i literally gasped like an old scandalized woman

masterlist

WARNINGS: slowburn, plot heavy, happy ending bc no angsty endings in this household, being taken hostage, knives, bombs, and guns, mentions of blood, mentions of SA (does not happen and it is not explicitly mentioned), alcohol, mentions of death (patricide), hoshi is ✨selectively moral✨but kind of moral nonetheless, side character death, [pls lmk if im missing something its alot] smut tagin following parts

[AN]: thank you so much to @highvern for betaing for me and helping out with the plot so much, this fic would not exist if it weren't for her!!!! and thank you reader!!! for clicking on this and reading it, this one's been about 7 months in the works and I would love to hear what your thoughts are when you're done, plsplspls leave a rb or a reply with your brainrot lol <3 happy reading

HOSHI’S BOOT IS STUCK in the ground. 

No, that’s a branch. 

Or is it a plank? 

He doesn’t try to find out as he yanks his foot out of whatever stopped him from moving. A tree root, he finds as he kicks the remnants of jungle rubbish from the surface of the shrouded root. He kicks it to satisfy himself. 

His crew resides on the beach; where he can see them attempt to build a fire before sundown, the mound of discombobulated twigs making up most of the sad pile of wood. Hoshi trudges up to it and drops another handful of puny branches into the mix. 

Exhaling loudly as Mingyu calls for him, he falls to his bottom and sits cross legged on the sand. Mingyu trudges up next to him to inspect his pile, sighing when he realised this was all he had to work with. He picks up two hefty looking stones and begins to strike them together, putting his faith in the primitive fire. 

Hoshi stares into the horizon, watching the died down waves drift onto the shore, moving closer by the minute. 

Hoshi thinks, which he can’t say is something that he does very often. Perhaps that’s why he was sat on this nature-overrun island as a shipless captain of his shipless crew. He chews on his tongue as he thinks of his Tigress, his beloved hunk of wood and metal; the beloved hunk of wood and metal that he could not see on the shoreline, because she was taken by the royal navy. 

He wonders if Tigress would ever forgive him for letting that happen to her, for letting those clean, soft handed soldiers rip her away from his grasp. 

Hoshi needs to start thinking more often.

Mingyu is frantic over the small flame that erupts in the middle of his leaves, dropping his rocks to blow into the fire, encouraging it to grow. 

“Captain, it’s done! We can rustle up those fish we caught, have supper sorted.” 

“Hm.”

The bustle of the entire crew lasts until night has fallen and they’ve gotten food in their stomachs. Hoshi hasn’t moved from his spot for hours, something the others noticed very quickly, but decided not to mention for fear of waking something dangerous. They understood he was suffering from a broken heart. 

It isn’t until the first of the crew had begun to doze off that Hoshi speaks. Chan is propped up against a tree while Seungkwan laughs at the dangerously low coconut that hangs above his head. Mingyu readjusts his trousers after a full meal. Minghao stretches onto the sand, feet facing the water. 

His voice isn’t loud, nor is it commanding, nor does it have his usual edge of jest—in fact, it sounds nothing like Hoshi at all. 

Or does it?

“Who wants to steal a ship?”

YOU'RE AWOKEN BY THE sound of yelling. Which is never a good sign in any case, but especially not when it’s pitch black outside and you’re on a ship in the middle of the ocean.

The grogginess is quick to fade as you try to understand what’s going on outside your quarters. Your room isn’t a mess, all the trinkets and royal seals remaining in their places on the walls and shelves. Nor is the ship lurching or moving in odd angles to indicate an unexpected spat from the skies. A quick peek outside the window shows you clear, calm water amidst the mostly dark expanse of ocean. 

There is only one other answer in your head that would cause this much commotion—especially on a boat where the admiral resides (and a princess). 

Slipping out of the covers, your feet hit the cool hardwood floors of your quarters, a small shiver going through your spine from the cold, with nothing to cover you but your thin nightgown. You’re in the middle of tying your robe to see what the ruckus was about outside when a particularly loud thud hits outside of your door. You immediately freeze. 

Staring at the doorknob, you attempt to move backwards in the space, heart beating faster as you watch the knob move slightly. The back of your knees hit the bedside table with a thud, the sound has you gasp out loud. Whoever it was outside your door jiggles the knob harder, the force exerted having you scan the room for something you could use as a weapon. 

Spotting the letter opener on your desk, you lurch across the room to grab it, holding it in front of you as you back away from the door. The knob continues to bang against the wood as you refuse to take eyes off of it. There’s sounds of men outside, loud and rambunctious, momentarily halting the grievances. 

Until the knob moves again, slower this time, a light click that could be heard as it unlocks itself, opening into the low light of your quarters. 

You recognise the frazzled looking soldier at your door. 

“Lieutenant,” you voice in recognition. “What’s going on?”

He eyes the letter opener that you hold defiantly in front of you from across the room, and it has you retracting your force slightly. 

“Pirates, your Highness,” he breathes out. “We must get you to lower deck—”

“Where is the Admiral? The Captain?” you ask as you take a couple steps forward. 

“They’re handling the situation, your High–” 

An arm has come up behind the soldier that pulls him into a headlock, a swift pull to have him dragged away from your vision. You would’ve gasped if your voice hadn’t been caught in your throat, refusing to make itself known as fear brews in the pit of your stomach. Your hold on your makeshift weapon is tighter than ever before, yet you doubt how it’s going to help you as the culprit finally steps over something to appear in your doorframe. 

His clothes are in a disarray; slashed, torn and covered in grime. There’s a deadly looking machete in one hand, the blood that coats it has you eyeing the trail that drips onto his hand and on the floor. His forearms are perched up on the doorframe as he inspects you, tongue to cheek as he stares. 

Threatened as you feel, there was less hunger in his gaze as you had expected, more like he was trying to figure out who you were. He eyes your tiny letter opener you hold like a knife and lets out a little exhale you think might be a laugh. It has you gripping the handle impossibly tighter. The man moves his face into the hallway, to where you know the staircase to the main deck is. 

“Hoshi!” he yells loudly. “How’s this for bait?” 

Your back is pressed inexplicably against the wall, wanting to sink into the wooden boards as you attempt to gain your bearings amongst the nauseous bouts of mortification that surge through you. Your only exit is blocked.

No. You have one more option. 

The sound of more men bounding down the hall has you praying there were more soldiers here, but the calm regard the man has for the approaching people has your heart sink to the depths of this very ocean itself. 

More faces peer into the room, men with the same haphazard, grimey clothing complete with  equally sinister weapons in their grasps. One of the men breaks out into the biggest grin as he lays his eyes on you. You nearly throw up. 

For the first time in your life, you wish you’d listened to your father. 

“Jun, you savvy motherfucker,” the grinning man explodes, slapping the man who found you on the back. 

Another voice speaks from behind him, “Ships cleared, captain.” 

“Perfect. Bring a spring upon ‘er. Get as far away from those cleans as you can, let them fend for themselves in a tiny boat for once.” 

Captain. The grinning, stupid looking one is their captain. 

He regards the rest of his crew as he finally steps through the threshold, waving them away as he enters your quarters.

It was taking everything out of you to not buckle your knees as you stood, every step he takes is turning your strength into dust. He keeps his eyes on you, eyes on your sorry excuse of a weapon. He registers the mix of fear and determination in your eyes. 

He stops a few feet away from you, looking directly at you past the makeshift knife you hold. 

He says nothing as he drops the knife in his own hand to the ground with a loud clang. He removes a pistol, a couple more knives, a grenade and a sword. Weapons drop to the floor one after the other, emerging from all over his body and clothes. All in a pile on the wooden floors. He puts his hands in the air.

“No weapons on me. I merely wish to talk.” 

The look on his face is not ordinary, some strange combination of mock innocence and jest. You don’t answer him.

He continues, “You can keep your… scalpel… if you so wish.” 

“What did you do to the soldiers?” you finally rasp out.

“They’re not dead, if that's what you’re asking.”

“Yet?” you ask with a slight tremble to your voice. 

“They’ve been shoved into a boat with a map and a compass to fend for themselves. I’m not entirely ruthless,” he adds with raised brows and a hint of a smile. “Admiral, were they calling him? You must be his wife.”

“W-what?”

“Oh, guess not. Daughter? Captain’s wife, Captain’s daughter?”

Your previously stagnant brain is now running a derby with all the thoughts galloping across your mind. He doesn’t know who you are. Yet, anyway.

He’s scanning the room now, nodding at the trinkets and trophies scattered across the place. “Can’t imagine giving a lieutenant’s anybody quarters like this.” He circles back on you, eyes sharp. “Who are you, darling?”

You don’t think you have anything that should give you away, but the way he starts pacing the room has your anxiety going through the wooden roof.

He has his back turned to you. You’re not sure if he’s confident or careless considering you could drive your weapon into his back and make a run for it. But then what? By the looks of it there’s an entire crew of pirates pacing the deck. Perhaps the soldiers haven’t gotten that far; they know you’re still on board, they know it’s their heads on a pike if they leave you here. 

He’s reached your desk during your thinking, inspecting your stationary, picking at the bejewelled quills and paper weights as he mutters nonsense to himself. 

“Oh!” he announces, a little too enthusiastic. “What’s this?” 

He brandishes the loose leaf of paper, and you recognise the print on the back immediately. It was a letter from your father, the King.

“How on Earth did you read this, the writing is illegible.” He flips the paper over, double taking when he sees the royal seal on the back. He looks into the letter closer now. 

You wait with baited breath. 

“The kingdom needs their princess…your father…ah.” 

Should you plunge the knife into him anyway? You almost do it, but stop when he begins to turn around to face you again. His eyebrows are raised, a slight hint of exasperation on his face when he begins to laugh a loud, loud cackle. 

It’s mortifying, especially when you don’t understand what on earth was so funny to elicit a reaction like that. The man is downright hysterical. He wipes a lone tear from the corner of his eye as he drops the letter back onto the desk.

“W-what’s so funny?” you try to sound brave.

“It seems, miss princess, that we’ve gotten more than we bargained for,” he says, looking straight at you as he sobers up. “You’re the King’s daughter, now, are you? What are the odds the first ship I hop onto with a royal seal slapped on it, held the crown jewel of the kingdom in its gallows.” 

And then he starts walking, towards you, for that matter. Imperative because you know for sure that this is how it all ends. 

You know you still have your one last option, the option that is now pressed against your back as you shimmy to it with miniscule movements. The window is cool on your hand that rests on the glass, you know the lamp will be enough to break it, enough for you to push through and fall into the abyss of the dark, dark sea. He knows who you are now, and you’d rather drown than die at the hands of a pirate—or go through whatever it was that’s curling the minds of all the men on this ship. 

He takes another step forward, hands on his hips. “He’s not going to like this, is he? His dear daughter in the hands of the Kingdom’s favourite degenerate captain.” 

What?

He then adds in a whisper to himself mostly, “Or least favourite with all the wanted posters off the churches and brothels.” 

Hoshi. Hoshi. Hoshi. 

The man who had found you had called him Hoshi. Hoshi the pirate. Hoshi the pirate that’s been giving the Kingdom and its court absolute hell for as long as you can remember. 

The man that you are now trapped alone with on a ship is the most feared pirate the Kingdom has ever seen. 

You don’t doubt your face has gone grey, feeling your breathing turn near erratic. “Oh God.”

He smiles wryly as the life is sucked out of your very soul. 

This was bad. Very bad.

“Now, fear not, you will soon be returned to daddy dearest,” he places a mildly dramatic hand over his heart. “Pirate’s honour.”

He paces back to pluck the letter off the table, pocketing it. “All you need to do is relax and tell me a few things so we can part ways as soon—”

“No.” The word blurts out of your mouth before you can stop it, horrified at the thought of giving information to any pirate, let alone this one. 

“No?” Hoshi looks genuinely shocked, his eyes wide, eyebrows raised. He laughs a little incredulously, “Oh, I see, can’t tell all the delicate details to a scary ol’ pirate.”

He smiles a little bit, “Worry not, miss princess, we shall only need a few minor details. Just enough to have your father sprinting to get you out of here. We all win.”

He stares at you almost expectantly, and you wonder if you look as confused as you feel. 

“Well, I’ll be bidding you goodnight now, I’m sure we’ve interrupted your beauty sleep enough. Rest assured we won’t be bothering you for the rest of the morning.”

Hoshi begins to make his way to the door, picking up his pile of weapons off the floor before wrenching the door open. He’s calm as ever, but your mind is in a disarray.

A ransom, but whatever for? Gold could’ve been retrieved by raiding any ship, and it sounded like he’d chosen to hop on a ship belonging to the navy. Come to think of it, as much of a nuisance this man has proved himself, you don’t remember a case where he’s directly meddled with the Kingdom. All of this can’t just be for gold. 

Steeling yourself, you bet your odds against your voice and asked him, “What do you want from my father?” 

You watch as he halts in his tracks, halfway through the door as he finally looks over his shoulder. The look on his face has you wanting to break open the window immediately and let the water flood in, once and for all as you take these bastards down with you. 

“Your father has something of mine. And I intend to take it back,” he says, before finally slamming the door shut. You hear a shuffle and a thud, and you do not doubt that he’s locked you in. 

Your knees give out almost immediately, dropping to the ground as you breathe in quick, shallow breaths. Trying to look past the dizziness, you try not to think about the last thing he’d said before he left, moreso the look on his face as he did. 

The first rays of morning sun are beginning to shine through the windows, casting the beginnings of a glow in your quarters. You think of the supposed assurance he had given you, that they wouldn’t hurt you, that they intended to return you. 

The thought leads to a faraway memory, yet one that’s tucked itself into a front corner of your mind, you can almost hear your father's voice as he says it; never trust a pirate.

You remain on the floor, and you remain wide awake. 

THE SUN IS HIGH in the sky by the time you put your limbs to work. 

The first hours after the pirate locked you in your quarters were spent trying to reign yourself to earth. You can’t be entirely sure your soul has come back to your body, but whatever little of it that has landed is whispering some very dangerous things. 

The lamp remains, the ornate jewels glinting almost enticingly in the afternoon light. The flame inside it has long died, but you itch to give it another purpose. You don’t note the trembling of your hand as you reach for it, pushing yourself to your feet as you get a feel for the heavy hunk of glass and metal in your hands. 

If there was a level of regard before, it disappears when you set eyes on the bright window and the creases of crystal blue water. With all your strength, you don’t think twice when the lamp makes hard contact, a loud thud erupting as a result, but no damage when you pull away. 

You go again, harder this time, and only vaguely register the glass of the lamp that shatters into your hands. Gripping the metal bit tighter, you swing for the third time, pulling back for the strongest blow yet. 

A hand wraps around your elbow and you’re yanked backwards, landing on the floor. There’s a kick at your hand that’s flown into the air, the one that holds the bludgeoned lamp. It goes flying across the room as you retract your hand into yourself. 

You don’t register a thing as you’re suddenly being pulled back up to your feet. Face to face with the pirate captain, your soul finally clicking back into place. 

“Didn’t think I scared you this bad.” He’s made a joke, but all you can see is his face that’s a mask of rage.

The initial instinct is to move away, pulling your elbow out of his grasp in an attempt to flee. You fail as he tightens his grip to a painful degree, hauling you towards the ajar door of the quarters. 

It’s only then that you realise that there’s more people in the room.You note another big, burly man next to the window you just assaulted, inspecting it with another shorter man. You don’t get to note more as you’re pulled into the narrow hallway, begging the saints he doesn’t take the turn towards the lower decks. Instead you find he leads you upstairs to where the main deck is. 

Walk the plank? Did navy ships have planks to walk on? Not that you’d mind too much, you were trying to drown yourself and this ship in any case. But then there’s a settle of dread in the pit of your stomach, realising death may be the most merciful thing this man could give you. 

The pirate captain pushes you against a mast, one of his other minions rushing in with coils of rope on his shoulder. The sun beats down on the deck, not a gust of reprieve from the wind. 

“Keep the ropes tight, she’s got less wit than I’d thought,” the pirate captain says with a grunt, huffing as he lets go of you. He takes a few steps away, hands at his hips, the image of vexation. 

The person who ties the cords around your hands whispers slowly, “Stop moving.”

But you can’t, not when the panic is near the lip, not when all the possibilities are flashing gore filled images into your vision. It's scary to blink. 

“Why won’t you let me die?” you ask to the back that’s turned.

He turns around, not even bothering hiding the exasperation that paints his face, mouth opening furiously before closing again. “Why won’t—Because you were trying to take us all with you!”

“Kill me!” you all but scream. “They won’t know till you’ve gotten what you want, I’d rather be dead than let you try whatever’s brewing in all your sick heads!” 

He’s silent for a moment, noting your defiant gaze, your pull against the ropes, the heaving of your chest. Taking a few steps forward, Hoshi seems to be attempting to bring the boil in his blood to a low simmer, “Listen, princess. We’re pirates alright, but me and my crew, we keep to ourselves. If your daddy the king hadn’t decided to meddle and steal my fucking ship, you would’ve been home in your pretty palace, asleep in your bed of gold by now.” 

The pirate captain’s face is closer than you’d ever be comfortable with, seething in a way that has you pressing further into the mast. “We may be degenerates but we keep our own morals, as twisted as your people heed them to be.” 

When he finally pulls away, you take a breath and thank the air that simply exists, eyes downcast as you attempt to look braver than you feel. 

“I’m not pushing you overboard. I’ve duped your people once, they’ll be more prepared next time. We need you alive while you’re in our hands.” 

“How are you going to summon a ransom? You sent away your only messengers,” you ask, a sad attempt at a mock, but also because you wanted to know what his plan was. 

“Your useless Admiral’s taken up that job.”

“By lifeboat? You’ve left them all for dead, how do you expect this genius plan to work?” 

“They could’ve swam to shore if it came to it, we were close enough.”

“How are you so sure?” you spit.

“Do I need to gag you too?” he gives you one last irritated look before stalking off towards the lower deck. You’re left alone in the cooling afternoon heat, the sound of the sea keeping your ears company along with your own slowing breaths. 

Everything he said has a good enough chance to be a complete and utter lie. Never trust a pirate. No weapon to cut yourself out of your impossibly tight binds, nothing to protect you or give you reassurance besides a pirate’s word—the worst pirate’s word. 

Your battered thinking leads you straight through the setting of the sun, the orange glow of the sky shrouding the ship in the dreamiest backdrop while you live what you can only sum as a nightmare. Perhaps not, for you doubt your mind could ever conjure up a terror like this. 

This was life, the most terrifying nightmare of all. 

Having managed to wiggle your tied hands downwards, you had seated yourself with your head against the wood of the mast, staring into the translucent skies. So much freedom that taunts you in its illusion of proximity, yet so far still. 

There’s murmurs below deck, the only semblance of life you’ve heard in the past few hours after the stupid pirate captain stormed off. It seems to be on the stairs, a heated argument. 

“Obviously this wasn’t part of the plan, the chances were supposed to be zero to absolutely none. We landed with that scumbag’s successor, that’s just our piss luck and nothing more.” 

“You wanted a woman for bait, this should work the same.”

“Hao, I wanted a woman for bait to trigger a lukewarm reaction, this princess could either doom us all or make our job a fat punch easier, and I’m not betting on the latter.”

There’s a pause. 

“If only she’d cut it with the random hysterics and creepy-staring-at-the-sky we could actually get something useful out of her.” 

“Pray that window holds up or any chance of a miracle is gone to the wind.”

It’s like you’ve woken up with the way the stupid idea begins to form in your head. You think of your father, the kind of man he is, the kind of ruler he is. All the ‘if’s are guiding you to a conclusion. One that gives you a fighting chance, one that may go beyond this massive navy ship and clear into the rest of your life—if you make it that far anyway. 

Your father and his men would come, give this unhinged pirate what he desires so dearly, you know that for sure. But you also know it wouldn’t be for you, but for the crown that’s destined to fall upon your cursed head. 

If it’s his ship that he wants…

The next time you see one of the pirate captain’s goons on the deck, you ask for an audience. 

“DID YOUR STUPID FATHER drop you on your head as a baby?” 

Hoshi stands before you under the light of the midnight moon, an incredulous expression on his face. You try to keep the scowl off your own but it proves difficult when his voice pierces your skull. 

You ignore him from your position on the floor, “I know my father, and I know he loathes you enough to finally want you and your incompetent crew gone for good.”

He scratches his chin, “Can’t be that incompetent if he hates us so much.”

“I can help you.”

“You were ready to die than to be on the same ship as us a few hours ago. What’s changed?”

“Perspective,” you shrug in an attempt to remain nonchalant. 

“Are you gonna go back to wailing in the morning then?” 

God, this was going to be the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. 

“You want your ship back and you were hoping for someone less important to exchange it for. But you’re stuck with me and you know it’s not going to end well for you. You need my help.” 

“Why so merciful, miss princess? Are you not on your father’s side?” 

You gulp as discreetly as possible.

“I want something in exchange.”

He raises his eyebrows, staring at you to continue. 

“I want you to kill my father.”

If his eyebrows were raised before, they’ve broken for the skies now. He leans his head back, eyes closing for a moment before reopening, reigning back to you before asking very gracefully, “What?” 

“I want you to kill my father.”

“No, I got that bit,” he snaps. “Your father as in, the King?”

“Yes, as you’ve pointed out far more times than anyone ever has.” You can’t help but roll your eyes despite the weight of the situation and the hammering in your chest. 

He stares at you in an expression you can’t quite read, and it unsettles you deeply. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve gravely miscalculated, watching as he moves around the mast you’re tied to. Out of the corner of your eye you see the metal glint of a dagger, and you nearly short circuit. 

Is he about to cut your hands off?

You feel a distinct tug at your wrists, the sound of slicing, and the voice in your head asking why it didn’t hurt. 

Suddenly your hands are free, intact and free as you achingly bring them in front of you, wincing audibly at the pain of moving them after so long. 

“You can jump into the water if you’d like, I won’t stop you.” He walks back over, sitting cross legged opposite you, at eye level. 

“What?”

“You’ve clearly gone mad, I’ll find another way to get my ship back.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Of course, and I utterly enjoy having a kingdom’s worth of blood on my hands. Shall I take the entirety of the court down while we’re at it? Carry out a fucking waltz with Jack Ketch?”

“Why are you acting like you’re above murder? Another part of your strange moral code?” 

“No, no, not above it at all. But I like my head and rather not have it guillotined. They might skim over the death of some too-nosy soldier but I doubt they’d leave me be after I put a bullet between the King’s eyes.”

“I’ll protect you.”

He looks at you for a moment, “Quite reassuring.” 

You sit up straighter, licking your lips as you prepare yourself. “My father isn’t a good man.”

The pirate captain snorts, “Oh, I’m well aware.”

You try not to stare too hard at the still unsheathed dagger that he digs into the floorboards, knifing out splinters in disregard. 

“My father doesn’t want me home, he wants the crown home. He wants me to be a carbon copy of himself, he wants to be in control long after he’s gone.” You try not to grind your teeth too hard but it’s difficult when your father’s face burns behind your eyelids. “I want control over the throne, full control.”

“And your conclusion is to eliminate him.”

“I don’t have another choice.”

“Then what? You’ll pardon me and my crew after we get our hands dirty for you?” he asks, eyes wide in mock hope. 

“Yes. You can do whatever it is that you sail about doing and no one will be of bother. I might ask you for sparing favours. For a wage of course. But other than that, you can live as lawlessly as you wish.”

“You’re asking me to become your personal lackey?”

“Having a queen’s favour is no small feat I hope you’re aware. Besides, it's a leap better than the hoops you’ve been jumping through during my father’s reign.” 

You realised his face had been shrouded by the dark between your negotiating and the clouds that had veiled the moon. Every moment that was supposed to strengthen your understanding of the man that sat across from you only brought you more confusion. 

“You want your ship and freedom of land and sea,” you continue when it’s silent for a beat too long. “I only ask for a small favour in return.”

“I’d argue the miniscule nature of what you’re asking from me,” he scoffs.

“Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line.” 

There crawls in the silence once again, the same one that seems to grab you by the throat for every moment that ticks past undisturbed. 

“We’ll have to see to that,” he says, huffing as he gets back on his boot clad feet. You follow him with your eyes as he walks towards the creaky stairs that lead to the lower deck, utterly confused. 

“Where are you going?” you ask, bewildered at his strange behaviour. 

Turning around, just as he had a mere day ago in your quarters and you feel yourself suppressing a shudder. “I have a crew to consult.”

So he was considering it. 

“But you’re the captain.”

“And?” 

THE SKY IS A lighter sheen of blue, leaning towards the premature hours of the morning. He’d left you untied, and as you gaze into the duned waters in the minimal light, the urge to jump in and create a ripple that goes beyond just the water is less tempting than you’d thought. The prospect of having a dead father, and a dead king, was enough to snap you out of your hysteria despite it being a plot of your own devising. 

You’ve been alone for a while, little indication that there was other life on this ship at all with the lack of human activity. There wasn’t much that you knew of sailing or ship handling, but leaving the deck unmanned for this long gave you the vague impression that you were on a vessel with poor practising pirates. If they’d thought you’d be equipped to handle any hiccups, they’d either find out the hard way, or whenever it was that you could find the wit to bring it up to the pirate captain and his strangely attached crew. 

Something that sounds distinctly like boots are thudding gradually up to the main deck, the unmistakable blond of the pirate captain himself coming into view. You aren’t quite sure what it is, but the low thuds are sending your heart racing, panic overcoming your senses for a brief moment before you recalibrate. It’s only then that you realise it’s been more than 24 hours since the ship was hijacked. Somehow, you could have believed it was a lifetime. 

He’s disturbingly nonchalant, hand at the sheathed hilt of the dagger at his hip, a casual glance around at the empty abyss of ocean and sky. When he reaches the far end of the deck, right above the prow, he stops. 

“Are you going to push me off the rails?” you ask, half genuine, half trying to fill the silence as you face one another. 

“No.” He said it plainly, the single word reply leaving you even more uncomfortable. 

“Have you thought about what I said…with your crew?” you ask, hand coming up to grab the railing for support. 

“I did.” 

“Do I sense an objection?” you ask, swallowing the lump in your throat

“Not exactly,” he says. “We want to hear your master plan for this heist before we agree to anything.” 

He’s asking for a plan, a plan that you do not have.

You aren’t sure how he figured it out, perhaps it was the slight darting of your eyes as you thought of a response, but he seemed to read you like a book. He snorts loudly, “You don’t have a clue, do you?”

“You’ve done this before, you’d know better.”

“And if I led you astray?”

You look at him, this time right into his dark eyes, “Then you lead me astray.” 

“Your contentment with death is wildly unsettling.” There’s a ghost of a sneer at his lip. 

“I’d rather be lounging in the bottom of the ocean than live with a prospective future with my father.” 

“So I’ve heard.”

There’s a huff that leaves you as you steel your voice. “I’m not trying to set you up if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“I doubt you’d have that capability,” he says as he leans his forearms over the railing. You briefly consider pushing him over but think better of it. 

As much as you wanted to be a sneaky link, you simply didn’t have that trait. You blame all the dependency your father’s fostered into you, ensuring that you couldn’t rule without his influence. 

“Are you willing to brew a plan or not? I need to time my dip in the ocean accordingly,” you say, sounding almost disgruntled.

He lets out a big sigh, “Follow me.”

He’s made himself familiar with the ship, you soon realise, as he leads you right downstairs to the lower deck towards the war room. When he opens the door, the room is lit with lamps, casting a golden glow on the reddish interior, warmer than the rest of the ship. 

“Stay here, and don’t do anything stupid,” he tells you as he shuts the door behind him, leaving you alone in the cabin. 

You only exhale in response as you turn away from the door, towards the large table in the centre. It’s slightly cluttered, studying the scrawled notes as you realise they’re all from the Admiral, his directions and plans of course littered across the table. Turning towards the map on the walls, you lift a finger to trace the lifted ridges of snow capped mountains, trailing towards the dipped shallows of the blue water. 

It was an exact replica of the tactile map in the war room back home, and you’re suddenly hit with a pang of nostalgia. Not that you’d been away from home for too long, but the end result of what you're about to do, regardless of the outcome, would change your life forever. 

You feel yourself breathing in the lingering scent of mildew, a strange comfort in the warm quarters.

There’s a creak at the door, and you quickly retract to find the pirate captain back at the door, walking in with a trail of men behind him. You recognise them by their faces, watching as they all take their places in the edges of the room. They look relaxed. You note the pirate captain taking his place behind the main drawing table. 

“Your throne, miss princess.” He gestures exaggeratedly towards the lone cushioned chair across from him. You’re hyper aware of all the eyes that are trailed on you, and you feel almost embarrassed to take the only seat. 

It only lasts for a moment. You walk up to the chair with what you hope exuded confidence and take your place across from the pirate captain. His men circle the edge of the room, and you count five other men. 

He sighs, “I think introductions are in order.”

“Mingyu, Minghao,” he points to the two men that had inspected your window right after you tried breaking it open. 

“Jun,” he gestures to the one who had found you in your quarters the night it all went wrong. 

“Seungkwan and Chan,” you recognize the latter as the one who’d tied you to the mast at his captain’s command. 

“They’ll be helping kill your dear father.” 

It’s silent for a moment as you attempt to moisten your mouth. You’re reminded you haven’t eaten or drank for hours, not since one of them had come up with a tray of whatever they could find for you from the reserves. 

“I know I may not be the most admissible person to trust, or vice versa—” You hear someone snort but choose to ignore it. “But I’m willing to make myself useful to you if it means you would help me too.”

“Would it not be easier to lock him up instead?” someone asks, and you turn to find Seungkwan asking the question from next to the tactile map. 

“He has too many people indebted to him, too many that are too loyal for their own good. I cannot truly rule for as long as he’s alive and well.”

“And how do you expect his loyal court mongers to let you bid favour to the people who killed their king?” the pirate captain asks with a raised brow. 

“Which is why it needs to look like an accident.” 

“How do you reckon we go about that?”

“What message have you given the Admiral?”

“You don’t answer a question with another question—”

“We need to be transparent with each other if either of us wants to make it out relatively unscathed.”

He doesn’t look too happy but he answers anyway, “My ship and five hundred thousand for all our trouble. Two months from now at the Green Islands up north.”

The Green Islands were anything but green, the glaciers being near uninhabitable owed to the ruthless weather. It was smart enough, it’d be near impossible to bring as much violent power that far north, no matter how influential anyone is.  

“Is five hundred thousand all I’m worth?” you feel the beginnings of a sneer rise up your mouth. You aren’t sure what prompted it but you don’t want to fight it either. 

“Didn’t know I was bartering for a fucking princess�� case, did I?” he snaps. “Now tell us how you want us to commit the undetected homicide of a King.”

“We need to blow up his ship.” To your surprise (and maybe even a little horror), the pirate captain breaks into a slight grin. Neither do you miss other bits of his crew releasing a bit of a snicker. 

There’s a flare of defiance within you, “Do you have any better ideas then?” 

“No, no. Go on,” he says with his head hung. You’re surprised he has the character to shield his smile. 

“He doesn’t frequent the seas but I’m almost sure he’d be present at the exchange.”

“Almost?” he questions.

You hesitate. The combined chance of needing the crown home and seeing to the downfall of his enemies would be enough warmth to send him to the greenlands himself. You were confident, but your father could also be unpredictable.

“He’ll be there. I’m sure of it.” 

The pirate captain lifts his head, locking eyes with you. You try not to look as weak as you felt, as unsure as you felt, pooling all the remaining confidence into your face. 

He swallows before looking away, addressing one of the crew members. “How big are we talking?”

Jun looks up like he’s only just begun to pay attention, fumbling over the revolver in his hands as it thuds to the ground like a theatrical mistake, “What?”

His captain sighs before replying, “Explosion. How big does it need to be to blow up a naval ship with a King on it?”

The man brings a hand up to the back of his head, scratching his nape. “If it’s anything like this one, we’re gonna need a lot of ammo.” 

“Just enough to sink it,” you speak before you could decide not to. “Even better if they don’t realise it’s happening.”

He thinks for a moment. “We could plant it in the bilge somehow.”

“But how do we get on that ship? When they’re giving us a tour of the lower decks?” The man you recall as Seungkwan scoffs. 

“Throw a grenade on board somehow?” you hear one of them suggest. 

“Real subtle, Chan,” you hear another mock. 

The war room is in shambles before you know it, loud voices talking over threats to slit throats and to shove people overboard. The room is humid and it feels as though the light from the oil lamps are fading. You close your eyes amidst the utter chaos, rubbing the heel of your palm on your temple in an attempt to soothe the throbbing vein. 

“Enough!” The pirate captain has spoken and you have the urge to ask what took him so long. 

Tranquility once again and you almost thank the man. Before anyone can say another word, nausea begins to build in your stomach. 

It takes you a minute to realise the room was spinning and that you weren’t completely losing your mind. The ship begins to rock harder as the seconds tick by, everybody in the room seemingly still as they perceive the change.

“Batten down the hatches,” the pirate captain says to no one in particular.

Chan is the only one who moves to the door to leave before he’s interrupted. 

“All of you. Those clouds weren’t looking too nice up there, we’ve got a storm on our hands.”

By everyone he surely did not mean you, because as the room rushes out and you hear the thuds of boots clamouring up to the main deck, you’re left alone with the captain. Yet again.

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep steady, and you wonder how he’s able to remain balanced while on his feet. It isn’t long before your chair begins to slide as well, the legs croning as they slip on the hardwood. You spring up on instinct, hands coming to the bolted down drawing table to stabilise yourself. 

The pirate captain seems unphased, moving the curtains on the far end to try to get a glimpse at where the water breaks. He steps like he knows exactly where the evermoving floor would be, barely glancing below to gauge his footing. 

“Shouldn’t you be up there?” There’s effort in your voice, your grip on the table as hard as ever as the ship banks to a hard left. He barely grabs the wall in support. 

“Huh? They can figure it out themselves, they’re big boys,” he grunts.

“Your big boys were at each other’s throats a moment ago,” you grunt back, stumbling at a particularly forceful lurch. 

“If you weren’t so ill prepared they wouldn’t need to use their brains, that’s always dangerous,” he shoots back. He’s on the other end of the room, pushing the unbolted cabinet back in its place 

“I gave you a job and it's up to you to see it done, I’m not—ah— I’m not supposed to be planning at all!” 

“Are you?” He’s turned to look at you know, mouth hitched in a snarl as his forehead reflects a light sheen. “Because trying to murder a—”

“Trying to murder a King isn’t a normal task,” you finish for him in a hiss. “Yes, as you’ve reiterated a million times.”

“Great, so you know!” Sarcasm is a deadly look on him, you realise as he walks over from the cabinet to where you were in the middle of the room. The waves have given in, the rocking becoming significantly slower. “Now do you mind telling us about a plan that actually has better odds?”

Your white knuckles have relented, the hands that gripped the table coming loose as you stare back at the pirate in defiance. “I should just hand you over.”

“It’s sweet you think you’re in charge here,” the grit in his voice is evident. “This isn’t your turf anymore, miss princess.”

“You don’t trust me, and you don’t give me reason to trust you—ugh.”

The waves seemed to have decided she hadn’t had enough just yet, this particular lurch sending you hurtling backwards into the wall, back hitting the hardwood as the stable pirate himself loses his footing. You could almost believe you’d landed sideways with the gravity that’s lost its way beneath your feet. 

The chair you were once sitting on is hurtling towards you with a vengeance, gaining momentum as you simply watch it approach like a wooden bullet. A boot clad foot kicks it to the other end and you realise the pirate captain’s gotten hold of his bearings before you have. 

“What happened to being transparent with one another?” he huffs, breathless and wide eyed as he attempts to pull himself to his feet. 

There’s another lurch that sends you both skidding towards the table, just short of grabbing on before you’re hurtled into the cabinet that had moved again, and now slams back into the wall with the weight of the sea and two humans with a bang!

“Fine. You give me your ammo to blow up the bilge, let me on the ship with my dear father and one of you scoops in and saves me before I drown with him,” you yell over the sounds of clanging and banging of everything on this cursed ship, and the whooshing and thunders of the skies, winds and water. “And if I riddled the chances of you letting me drown with my father? Where does that leave me?”

“On the bottom of the seabed,” he deadpans. “But that also leaves me without my freedom.”

You find the opportunity to look at him for a moment, and he’s looking at you too. He looks away towards the door, already making moves to walk out and join his crew above deck. The conversation was over, and it was evident in your lack of reply.

Mother nature, however, sends another one in as a surprise and you're both sent flying to the other end of the ship, yet again. 

There’s a cushion to your blow this time as you find yourself landing right into the pirate captain’s chest, hand above his heart in your instinct to save yourself any more bruises. Between your bickering and the staggering of the ship, his shirt had flown open nearly down to his navel. 

Your eyes barely register the nasty scar across his left pec, instead moving upwards to lock eyes with him. It’s insanity, how you instinctively dart your eyes towards his half open mouth. 

“If you wanted me that bad, miss princess, you could’ve just asked.”

Whatever airborne drug that’d been willy nillying in your noggin seems to spin into a rage as his words register a moment too late. Clenched jaw and a vice grip on his shirt, you spit back. 

“I don’t ask for things. They come to me.”

There’s a crash above you and you realise the oil lamp that was suspended above has shattered, raining glass over your forms. 

Expect you don’t feel it, because he’s ducked over you and suspended his arms in the air to catch the crystalline. 

Before you can decide whether it was instinct or not, you hear a yell at the door.

“Captain! One of the—oh.” 

A barely balancing Mingyu, is staring into the now dimly lit war room, his captain and their supposed prisoner pressed against one another in a dark corner of the room. 

Your instinct forces you to take a slow step backwards. 

“Get back up,” he snarls, already pushing past you to stalk towards the door. He actually makes it this time, shoving Mingyu into the hall towards the stairs. 

Not as much as a glance back before he slams the door shut, leaving you in the tattered war room alone, shards of glass at your feet.

THE STORM SEEMS TO have done its damage as it calmed itself for the rest of the morning and well into the day. 

One of them had come down and escorted you to your quarters, Chan telling you that you could keep it while the rest of them adjusted in the other cots and quarters aboard. Changing out of your ragged, days old clothes felt luxurious, the familiar scent of your quarters putting your tense shoulders at ease; or at least a semblance of such. 

Neither you nor the captain have attempted to speak to each other after the incident in the war room. Having berated yourself for letting your guard down enough, you chalked it up to the lack of food and sleep and put the matter to rest in some deeply buried chest in your head. 

For now you board up the door of your cabin (because you haven’t completely lost it), and burrow under the covers for some much needed shut eye. 

You aren’t sure how long the universe lets you rest, because unless you’ve slept all the way to the Green Islands the banging on the door seems incessant enough to warrant an arrest of its own. The sleep is slow to leave, and it’s hard enough to push an entire drawer against a door, the bleariness paired with whoever the fuck was outside the door isn’t making it easier to push it away from the entrance either. 

By the time you’ve wrenched the door open, you’re thoroughly annoyed, and met with a very alarmed Seungkwan. 

“Oh thank goodness, I was about to try opening it,” he says, looking genuinely relieved. “I thought you might’ve….anyway.”

“You weren’t trying to break in before?” you ask.

He only thrusts a tray of rations and water towards you, “Captain said to give this to you.”

Accepting the tray, you try to balance it in one hand with furrowed brows, “Oh.”

“Um. That’s it, sorry for waking you up.” He makes a move like he��s about to turn around and leave but falters. “If…if you need anything a bunch of us are on the main deck.”

And then he’s gone. 

You take it as your cue to shut the door, kicking one of the heftier pieces of furniture against it before moving back inside. 

When you peer up your tiny window, it’s late afternoon and the beginnings of orange on the surface tell you the sun is beginning to set. You decide it was a good enough amount of sleep. Setting the tray down on the smaller than usual desk, you find that these pirates do not have a knack for subtlety. Many of your letters and papers are haphazardly stacked and shoved into one corner of the table, very obviously sifted through. 

Not that you care too much, there was nothing awfully important that you wouldn't have told them yourself. Ripping off a piece of bread from the tray, you take pleasure in chewing as loudly and as open mouthed as you wished, plucking the parchment at the top of the pile to study. 

It’s another one signed by your father, not a question of your wellbeing in sight as he scrawls ink on paper all the incorrect things you did in the Southerner’s banquet last month. If anything, you were glad the stupid Admiral was away from your presence, his incessant habit of reporting your every breath and turn to your father was becoming too much to handle. 

This was one of his tamer letters, less insults attached to his criticisms but a pain to read anyway. You don’t brush away the crumbs that fall onto the parchment. 

There is not a diplomatic bone in your body. Perhaps move on from drinks and dessert and into more important territories besides the Duke’s son. Our kingdom needs a ruler that’s strong, not one that forgets where she is after a sip of brandy!

If you squint hard enough, it almost reads as a parent scolding a child for a spill, like regardless of what you did, he might just love you the same. 

You wonder how good of a mood he was in when he wrote this. 

Sifting through the rest of the papers you take a mental note of every reason he’s given you to believe that you’d be a hopeless ruler, a few years ago you even questioned why he kept you around before realising his contradicting intentions. As you read, letter by letter, you think of reasons you know are going to make you a better ruler, better than him and better than his stupid court of old men.

These pirates are a blessing, you think, and you aren’t about to let this chance from the universe drown in these waters.

HOSHI ISN'T IN TROUBLE. No, he isn’t. On his butt on the sleek floorboards of the ship, his own golden dagger glinting in the sunlight as it's held in a threatening hold, except it isn’t in his hands. 

It’s pointed right into his jugular vein, held by some grimy sailor who considers himself something akin to a pirate. Perhaps the stench this sorry excuse of a crew carries around may be their idea of a criteria, but as Hoshi remains inches away from death, all he can think about is the atrocious fingers around his dagger, and all the scrubbing he’s going to be doing after this is all over. 

Mingyu had warned him, told him to take down the flag of the navy from the mast, the royal seal in the smack middle of the ginormous thing. He brushed it off. He wasn’t quite sure if he was tipsy, hungry or just plain exhausted when he made that decision, because he’d forgotten just how stupid some of these simpleton sailors could get. 

They were taken by surprise, their only weapons mops and buckets of soapy water as they were ambushed by some overlooked wherry that had suddenly thrown hooks over their railing and climbed up like uninvited sewer rats. 

In the initial confusion, interrupted mid-chorus of some pretty siren and her pirate prince, the first few intruders had simply crumpled over onto the slippery deck, a few slipping overboard completely from the suds and water on the wood. His crew, and Hoshi himself, could only stand and watch as the newcomers sabotaged themselves for a few incredulous moments before they gained their bearings. 

Chan and Seungkwan swang their mops right into the necks of a couple, sending them into the ocean without waiting for a splash. 

Hoshi slips out his dagger with practised ease, swinging the butt of the hilt over the head of another ambushing intruder, right on the head as he crumpled to the floor with a loud thud. He kicks him over for an indication of where he came from. No ink that shows an alliance, no brooch or jewels with a crest. 

New guys, ones that were clearly still learning the ropes. 

Hoshi’s crew had better senses than required for him to yell out orders, and it only took a few more disgruntled minutes to disable the remaining extra men aboard. 

“Where the fuck did these guys come from?” he asks no one in particular, mostly just annoyed that they were disturbed. 

Minghao, who’s peeking over the railing replies, “It’s a tiny thing. They either lost their actual boat or didn’t have one at all.”

He vaguely registers him making a jerking arm movement over the exterior before he hears a wail and a splash. “Disgusting.” Minghao holds his hands away from his body like he didn’t want it anymore. 

Hoshi’s mistake was keeping his guard down, because before anyone could warn him, the dagger that he held loosely against his hip had slipped out his palm. The next thing he knows, his neck is in some grimy sleeve’s grip, and the point of his dagger is lodged into his own throat. He holds his breath, afraid he might pass out completely from the stench alone. 

“Not a move.” He sounds like a boy more than anything, but his grip indicates a harsher life. “Everybody into that fishing boat. I’ll throw this one in when you’re done.” 

He sounds unstable, but that only makes him more dangerous. Hoshi can’t try to wiggle his way out of this one, one wrong move and it’s the end. His crew can’t do anything as they stand with broken mops and empty buckets as their weapons. 

It was stupid of him to even allow himself to be cornered like this, not when he’s weaselled his way out of more dangerous situations with more ease than this. 

His crew looks at him, and he can only close his eyes in encouragement. He watches as Jun steps over one of the defeated bodies to reach the hooks that’ve lodged into the railing. His movements are slow, and he can tell he notices the unhinged nature of this boy that he doubts is barely over 17. 

Chan follows, then Seungkwan as Jun double checks the integrity of the ropes. He’s stalling. 

“Hurry!” It was supposed to come out as a threat, but it sounded more like a plea from the boy. 

And then Jun stops completely, his eyes trained on Hoshi. His eyes are wide, his grip on the rope so tight he can see the whites of his knuckles from the other side of the ship. 

No, he wasn’t looking at him, he was looking behind him. Before he can register, there’s a loud bang of a gunshot, and Hoshi feels the body of his captor slump against his back, his dagger dropping to the ground with an ominous clang. He falls with him, turning over to push the dead weight of the body off of him. 

There’s smoke in the air when Hoshi looks back and it takes him a moment to realise who just basically saved his life. 

You stand in your nightgown, shawl over your shoulders, and a revolver, Jun’s revolver, clenched tightly in both hands. It remains frozen in the air, hovering as he takes in your face. Eyes wide, mouth open slightly, the colour drained from your face. 

Hoshi scrambles to get up as the rest of the crew swarm both him and you. He grabs his dagger before anything else, looking back to see a bullet lodged in the back of his captor’s skull, blood pooling the deck. 

He looks back at you shoving the revolver back into Jun’s hands eagerly, like you didn’t want to feel the warmth of the metal any more than you wanted to make that shot. 

He looks back at the cooling body, and then back at you, an undeniable warmth overcoming his chest. 

You just saved his life.

“Are you alright?” he hears Chan ask you. You nod slowly, and then quickly. 

“Where did you find this?” Jun asks. 

“Uh, in one of the quarters. Downstairs. I went down because I thought it’d be safer, you were handling it and I didn’t want to get in the way. But then…all your weapons were there.” 

Your voice sounds airy, like you were in a daze. Hoshi comes to the stark realisation that this may have been your first time with a weapon, and then even more horrifying, your first kill. 

“I’m sorry, I just thought it was getting out of hand and—” 

“It’s alright,” Seungkwan says. He watches as you let him lead you back down the stairs below decks. 

It was like the shock turned you into a different person, complacent, less defiant. Seungkwan clearly had more of an emotional range, because it certainly took Hoshi too long to realise you might be on the edge of panic. 

Hoshi doesn’t say a word as you disappear, the smell of gunpowder from the singular shot wafting through the deck. He doesn’t realise he’s staring into space until Mingyu interrupts. 

“Should we—”

“Throw them overboard,” Hoshi says, voice flat. 

“But, this one seems like he’ll come around. We could question him and drop him off wherever next—”

“He’s a shit seaman, if even a pirate, he’s got what came for him. Throw. Him. Overboard.” Hoshi is out of breath, yet grits the words out through clenched teeth. “All of them.”

Hoshi slips his dagger back into its sheath at his hip. All he can think about is your blown pupils and you in your nightgown. All he can think about is how they were almost bested by a child. All he can think about is how you had to make that final shot to save his ass, that he couldn’t do it himself. 

Mingyu senses his mood and asks no more questions, simply pushing the remaining bodies out into the water. He vaguely registers Minghao sending the men a prayer into the sea. Mingyu’s already trying to get the stupid naval flag off the mast, stripping off his jacket and disposing of it at the base to start climbing. 

Chan pushes a clean rag into his chest, and he looks down to receive it and notes a tinge of blood at his collar. Right, he was bleeding. 

They go back to cleaning, except it’s a lot more silent. 

Jun walks back up to help, but this time he has both of his clean, black revolvers strapped at his hip.

THERE WERE FEWER PEOPLE in the war room this time around, the captain sits beside Mingyu, Jun and Minghao as they attempt to sketch out a crude rendition of your discussion. The pirate captain does nothing but use his dagger to pick under his nails, barely speaking as he listens in on the conversation. 

Not that you cared, you and the rest of his crew seemed to get along better than you did with the captain anyway. Saving the man’s life seemed to hold no weight to him, not that you expected it but a ‘thank you’ would have sufficed. 

“Keep the grenade til the last minute if it makes you feel better, so you’ll know I’m not trying to sink the wrong ship,” you sigh as you clarify. Minghao doesn’t reply as he scribbles the details. Jun rolls his eyes at his meticulous nature. 

“We need to port in the next couple days if I’m gonna finish this grenade in time,” he says, looking at his captain pointedly. 

“We can stop at Port Ash,” Hoshi says. 

Port Ash was no man’s land, which also meant it was every man’s land. 

Being mostly occupied by pirates and other thieves and criminals it was considered dangerous territory for anyone who didn’t speak in lies, deceit and fists. This crew would fit right in, but you worry for yourself. 

“That’s not gonna be till a week and a half,” Mingyu interjects. 

Jun frowns as he looks at Mingyu and then back at his captain, “I can’t wait that long.”

“We’ll pick up what we can at Hasry when we stop for rations,” Hoshi replies. 

“But—”

“Deal with it. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

Jun looks like he wants to say something, and Mingyu has the good sense to interject again to ask more questions about the plan. 

“How much manpower do you think the king’ll have?” he asks.

You sigh, crossing your arms as you lean back in your chair. “I have no idea. Could be five, could be fifty.”

“Not even an inkling?”

“Considering how he wants the lot of you gone, it’s probably on the larger side. But…” you pause. 

“But?”

“He’s smart. Always seemingly one step ahead. I wouldn’t be surprised if he catches us blind.” 

“I know enough about that,” Hoshi snorts. There’s a glint in his eye that suggests something, but you don’t press.

“I was wondering…we should probably change course even if it takes us longer. My father might intercept—”

“Did that. Didn’t take the obvious alternative route either,” Mingyu replies, and you note that he looks proud of himself. “We can take our time too, the ransom note suggested we took the way past Scarsfield.”

“We should be careful of other boats anyway,” you say, gulping down a lump in your throat before continuing. “Those other sailors could’ve been my father’s men too, for all we know.”

“They were on a smaller boat too,” Hoshi adds, he looks like he’s making connections in his brain. “What’re the odds they were dropped farther back into a smaller boat?”

There’s a pause as you absorb what he’s implying. “Are you saying they’re on our tail?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” he says, exhaling heavily through his nose. “He’s done it before. It was a sorry attempt then and it was a sorry attempt now.”

“How did you shake him off last time?”

The panic in your chest is barely there, but as you register the possibility, you find yourself breathing increasingly heavy. 

“Circling farther out before going the opposite way so we wouldn’t cross paths.” He shakes his head. “But we can’t do that now, not when we can’t afford detouring. The port stops are as late as I’m willing to go.”

“What if we skip Hasry? It’s our more obvious stop, we’ll just stop at Ash later,” Minghao suggests. 

“We’ll starve, we’ve got no food,” Hoshi gruffs.

“Portwater?” 

“Too far.”

It’s silent yet again as everyone racks their brains. You feel very useless all of a sudden, you didn’t know the names of harbours or ports this far out.

“We’ll just port at Hasry and be extra careful, there’s nothing we can do.” Hoshi sighs at his own ultimatum. 

He gets up and walks around the table to the door, “I’ll update the others.”

You glance as he walks past you, his figure leaving a gust of wind in your face. He smelled nice, which was saying something considering the state some pirates are known to be in. As he brushes past, your gaze is met with the other side of the war room, an empty oil lamp bracket on the wall. 

The memory of the storm floods your mind, and suddenly your cheeks are burning. Snapping your head back, you're thankful they’re all absorbed in the papers and plans on the table, oblivious to the memory that’s flashed before your eyes. Mingyu was the one who saw you in your compromising position, and you didn’t know him well enough to decide whether he’d do something as dumb as dish out his captain’s ‘affairs’. 

You file out the room with them. They don’t escort you to your rooms, make sure you stay in one place, restrict your wandering anymore. Perhaps they’d realised you weren’t actively attempting to sink the ship anymore, or that if you jumped off the edge it didn’t matter to them that much, but you appreciated the space anyway. 

Briefly catching Seungkwan filling Mingyu in on the past couple hours they’d been below deck, you turn over to catch his eye. He waves, and you wave back. You don’t realise what you did till it already happened, noting the smile on his face as he did it. You choose to move past it and find the captain. 

There was something you wanted from him. 

There’s no trace of him on the main deck, eyes scanning the area to no avail. A movement from above catches your peripheral attention, eyes squinting as you crane your neck up to look. Hoshi has leaned his back against the railing of the crow’s nest, arms crossed, visible hand occupied with a brass telescope that glints in the sunlight. 

He isn’t using it though, merely gazing at the horizon with furrowed brows. As though he could see better without the device in his hand. In the few minutes that you’re looking at him, you notice the muraled, multicoloured shirt that blows with the wind, a kaleidoscope of beiges, greens and reds. The crop of his blonde hair blends in with the clear blue-white sky. 

Briefly wondering how he’s managing the impossible heat, a hand coming over your own eyes as a visor, you simply look back down. Seungkwan is next to you. You aren’t quite sure how he got there, but he stands next to you, hands on his hips, a pleasant expression on his face. 

“Is there anything you want when we dock? We’re trying to make a list,” he says. Somehow, the prospect of pirates making lists boggled you a little. It was a little jarring, not quite sure why he asked a captive anyway.

But then again, were you a captive anymore?

“I don’t think so, no,” you reply and then juggle whether you should push it with another measly formality. “Thank you for asking.”

“That was your first kill, wasn’t it?”

“What?” You knew what he was talking about, but you weren’t expecting him to bring it up in the moment when he’s asking you about restocking supplies. And especially not with a smile on his face. 

“That day, when you used Jun’s revolver to shoot the lad.” 

A kid. He was a child. 

“I…yeah I’d never done it before.”

“What made you do it?” he asks, remaining as nonchalant as ever. 

“I—I don’t know, it looked like there wasn’t another option,” you say, not quite sure of yourself either. 

Why did you shoot him? You’d never laid hands on a gun before, your father forced you into the category of archery and crossbows, not that you were very good at them either but it was also because you simply wanted to spite your father by being plain bad. It worked, because it only took a year and a half and an arrow straight into his study window to retire from the sport entirely.

Even then, your targets had been apples, barrels and tree trunks. Never a person. 

You’d heard of what people tended to do in pressuring situations, and with the way the aftermath unfolded, it didn’t seem like you made the wrong decision to pick up that revolver anyway. 

But the feeling lingers, the same one that you saw as you gazed into the back of the boy that held the captain of this ship hostage. It felt wrong. Like watching the pirate captain cornered was a picture you couldn’t quite make sense of in your head. 

So you pulled the trigger. 

“In any case, we’re glad you made that decision. We all owe you for it.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you gulp, inhale and press your lips in a line. “That’s a lot for a pirate to say.”

“I know.”

BY THE TIME YOU manage to corner Hoshi it’s already the next day, and you’re only a couple hours away from docking at Hasry. 

It’s an anxious ordeal, the crow’s nest constantly occupied by someone trying to catch sight of a possible tail. There was no sign, yet anyway. 

“I want to learn to use a knife.”

He was piling coiled ropes when you’d said it, pushing the heap to the side, sweating through his clothes. There was a flash of confusion on his face as he registered you. 

“Why? So you can slit all our throats in our sleep?” he grumbles as he pushes a barrel against the railing. He’s too aggressive, and the force has the splashback soaking his clothes in freshwater, tsk-ing audibly. 

You ignore the way his previously loose shirt now sticks to him, ignore the way the droplets land on your boots when he shakes his sleeve. 

“We’ve discussed what we might be up against, I don’t want to be useless when the time comes.”

“Seemed pretty alright with that revolver.”

“Anyone can shoot a gun,” you say, getting the sudden urge to fidget with the front of your shirt. You try to make your voice sound as declarative as possible. “I want to learn to fight. With a knife, with a sword, with my hands if I have to.” 

He doesn’t say anything as you look down, fiddling with the tassels on your shirt. Your excuse was the sun and the way it was beating down on the deck this afternoon, getting tired of squinting to simply look straight. When the silence prolongs you look up to push further, juggling with bringing up the fact that you saved his life and that, as Seungkwan very graciously told you, he owes you. 

The sound your throat makes is unhuman, because when you look up the captain's soaked shirt is now off his back. 

The skin is near white from the glare of the sun, remnants of glazed water that’s somehow made its way to his back as well. The dip in his shoulder blade reflected a dark marking, one that you couldn’t make out. 

He wrings it as you can only watch, mouth gaping like a fish. Hanging it over one of the suspended ropes to dry, he mutters as he walks to the lower decks. 

“Fine,” he says nonchalantly. “We’ll get you a knife at Hasry.”

Hasry. Right. 

The port is quiet, at least as quiet as a port can be. There’s not much to see but fishermen both returning and leaving for another week's worth of fish supply. Minghao manages to pay and convince the harbourmaster that they were merchants on their way back to the Kingdom, stopping for supplies. The naval make of the ship helped, and then the crew pulled lines and ropes secured from masts in ways you couldn’t quite decipher. 

You assumed you would stay on board, yet when Chan knocked and brought you some roughspun clothes from the town, you were informed you’d be joining them. 

Hoshi deemed it safer, keeping the rest of the crew on board while he, along with you and Seungkwan, ventured into the village to get what was needed and leave before the sun fully set. If they really were being followed, the ship was going to be the first thing they seized. 

Pulling the grey shawl further up your head, you attempt to look as blended as you could, Chan pressing down your shoulders to force you into a slouch. 

“Stop walking like you're important,” he had said. 

“I’m a princess,” you snapped back, but he wasn’t listening, only jabbing at you to keep the haughtiness out of your tone before it caught somebody’s attention. 

The town was a quaint little place, something out of what you were read from storybooks, reminiscent of the paintings that you’d run past on the walls of the palace. The streets cleaner than you’d expected, the faint scent of baked goods in the air mixed with, onion soup, was it? In any case you were glad you were past the fish market, the yelling and the stench nearly sending you to the pavement, gagging. 

When Hoshi returns, you and Chan are looking at a jewellery stall that’s selling necklaces, bracelets and anklets that look like rosaries; colours of deep ocean blue and sunset pinks, beautifully vibrant against their grey canvas backdrop. 

You can only observe from afar, instructed to not interact with anyone while he was gone. Hoshi was gone to get food supplies, but returned empty handed. Systems were in place, that the crates would be on their way to the “big naval ship” at the docks for the rest of the crew to receive.

“They said there was a blacksmith up this alley” Hoshi says, eyes also trained on the uncharacteristically colourful jewellery stall, but he does nothing to move towards it. “We can get your knife there.”

“Knife?” Chan asks, confused. 

“Miss princess wants to learn to fight—”

“Don’t!” Chan hisses, eyeing the men in black uniform that patrol the market from the shadows. 

“It’s fine, they’re too far,” Hoshi says. “Let’s get this over with.”

You do find a blacksmith, an older man with a greying beard and bloodshot eyes that presents Hoshi and Chan with an array of knives and daggers. Either they were able to give an excuse, or he gave no mind to the third woman that trailed behind, the blacksmith continued to deal with the two men as they haggle over prices. 

There’s another seller a ways away, and she’s laid out her goods on the floor on what looks like old drapes. It’s a woman, not much older than you were, unravelling a long string of leather cord. She cuts it, strings a charm through and seals the frayed end with a candle flame that burns at her side. 

The curtain she’s laid her accessories on is patterned with bright colours, and you realise you can’t make out any of it from where you stand. 

Glancing behind you, the men are still occupied with their bartering, seemingly forgetting of your presence. Taking a step back, you pretend to skim through the neighbouring stalls, glancing breezily at woven baskets, layers of folded fabric and towers of painted ceramic cups. 

You stop before the laid out array of more necklaces and earrings, scanning the ground. The vendor looks up and gives you a big, crooked toothed smile, urging you to come forward, to take a look at what she has to offer. 

Something does catch your eye, and you immediately crouch down to see it better. Picking up the necklace from the charm, you let the gold and red rest on your fingers as you study the make. 

“That one’s new,” the woman says. “Practical too.”

The small brass letter opener that’s looped through the cord looks like it could do its job just fine despite its miniscule size. 

“It’s quite popular among the busy merchants,” the vendor speaks in a rough tone, almost like she had a perpetual sore throat. “Easier to use this instead of looking for those bulky ones in their neverending drawers and—and in their cabinets.”

She lets out a laugh, “Quite pretty too.”

You stare at it for a moment, “How much?”

“Ten coin.”

You sigh, setting the necklace back down onto the cloth. Standing straight, you turn to walk away before she yells again. 

“I’ll do seven!” 

You consider whether you should speak, but you also doubt you’d be recognized just by the sound of your voice.

"I don’t have coin,” you rasp. 

“How about that pretty thing on your finger then?” she asks. 

The ring on your middle finger is a simple band of silver, a coming of age present from your father’s court a few years ago. You stare at the band, worth boatloads more than what this woman in an alley was offering you.

But you find yourself moments later, middle finger empty, and pocket lined with the long leather necklace with the miniature letter opener charm. 

By the time you return to the blacksmith’s shop front, Chan is handing the man his coin as Hoshi holds an object sheathed in fabric. They turn around just soon enough to make it seem like you never left. 

“Why are you standing so far away?” Chan asks. “Come closer.”

You listen, moving closer to the both of them as they get ready to make the trek back to the docks where the ship waits. 

“The crates have probably been loaded too,” Hoshi says, his hands suddenly empty. You assume he’s pocketed the knife somewhere. “Let’s hurry and leave before—”

“Princess?”

It was your mistake that you turned around to acknowledge the title, something you realise as soon as you register the man that spoke to you. 

Henley was a stout man, dressed even now in the finest suit of a berry colour, hair white as a ghost. There was no reason for a merchant so rich he had ties with the royal family to be wandering in a harbour market, but he also had every reason to be here. 

If it was the recognition in your eyes, or the fact that they were just being smart, you feel one of the pirates wrap their fingers around your upper arm and pull you to walk away from the alley. 

“Princess!” Henley yells and you cringe at his volume. People are looking now, and you briefly wonder why you aren’t running yet. 

Your heart is pounding against your chest so hard it’s deafening any other sound in your ears, you still don’t know which one has a hold of you, but you let them guide you into a speed walk as you exit the narrow alleys of the main market. 

The shawl above your head is pushed further down, shielding your face in a shadow. There’s nothing in your mind other than Clarence Henley and his rich suit, his gold pocket watch, his trimmed, white hair. His face that you only ever saw within palace walls, always accompanied by your father. 

There’s a good chance you’re shaking, because you can feel your body rejecting it with the pain in your palms that you can only consider to be your own nails pressing into your hand. 

The stench of the fish market helps, bringing you back from your daze as you finally register the ground beneath your feet. It’s only a few more minutes till you reach the docks and you’re suddenly being pushed up the ramp that leads to the main deck of the ship.

It’s immediate comfort, the familiar brown of the floorboards, the scent of saltwater and warping sounds of the sails. You’re led to your quarters, where you finally let the makeshift hood and cape fall. 

“Are you alright?” 

Snapping your head up, you’re met with Seungkwan and his concerned gaze. 

“Oh, erm.” Your voice sounds…not like your own. 

“It’s okay, breathe.” It helps, because it really did feel like you’d forgotten to breathe. 

“We’re leaving in just a few, everything’s been loaded. Nobody followed you on board, don’t worry.”

Right. You were on the ship, you were in your quarters with some of the most feared pirates on the seas. 

The way Seungkwan is easing you through your gulps of water suggests legends in the mix, but you appreciate it regardless. 

When you’ve come round, feeling more like yourself, the ship has already left Hasry Harbour, sailing into the deeper waters of the ocean. 

“Captain said they couldn’t run because it just would’ve been more suspicious,” Seungkwan informs you as you nod. “Did you…did you recognise him? The man at the market.” 

The thoughts come flooding back, the colour of his suit, the jarring nature of a man of such wealth standing in a rundown port market. 

“He’s a merchant, one of the wealthiest. A friend of my father’s. If he even has any friends.” 

You pause as you think about the near blackout you’d had, the way the panic more than boiled over, taking over your senses and your rationality. 

“I think…” you trail off. “I think I just felt like it was the end. I finally had an opportunity to get rid of that tyrant and seeing something that was from home, felt…it felt like I was going to end up right back where I started.”

Seungkwan doesn’t say a word as you digest your own words, accepting your own fear that had rendered you useless in the time it probably mattered most. 

“Do you feel better now?”

“A little,” you answer. 

“Maybe a weapon can help.”

At the door stands Hoshi, a stern expression on his face as he looks directly at you on the bed. In his hands, the same fabric covered knife he acquired at the market. 

You know that you asked for this, but the jolt in your stomach still makes itself known. 

“He’s right,” Seungkwan says, lifting from his chair. “Blades have a way of calming you in any case.”

You note the glinting hilt of Seungkwan’s sword sheathed at his hip, remember Hoshi’s own daggers that he seems to be emotionally attached to. 

Lifting your head back to Hoshi, you ask, “Can we start now?”

He smirks. 

ALL NIGHT, THE STUPID pirate captain had you taking swings at the air. 

“Your opponent’s baked a fruit cake by the time you were done with that swing,” he comments, continuously unhelpful. “Swing faster.”

It’s nighttime, nothing but a few oil lamps on the floor of the deck keeping you and Hoshi in the light. Your shoulder burns, your forearms are liquid, and your non-existent opponent remains forever stronger than you. 

“I’m done,” you huff, thoroughly spent. Crumbling to the floor, you bring your non-dominant hand up to your aching shoulder in an attempt to massage it. 

It’s been a while, the moon high up in the sky when you finally decide to quit it for the night. He lets you go without a fight, and you doubt you’d have the energy to if he decided to do it anyway. 

The following day, he’s tweaked his regiment a little, and you find that you’re finally swinging at something tangible; him. 

He leaves himself open, an invitation to strike wherever you want. You feign for his shoulder, but he sees you coming from a mile away, already deflecting your flattened blade that comes for his thigh.

“Don’t look where you want to strike, you’re giving yourself away.”

Furrowing your brows, you dislodge your knife from his own and back away again. He’s immediately cocking a brow, telling you to come at him again. You go for his middle, slashing your knife in an arc as he simply deflects. 

“Come on, find a pace,” he grunts. 

Coming down with your knife again, he blocks you but this time with his forearm, pushing you back by the wrists. It was a battle of strength, as he forces your wrists down. He was stronger than you, and there was no way you could push away, so you dispel your own force. He stumbles from the sudden forward force, and you pull away to take a swing from above. 

He recovers faster than you thought he would, already coming up when you’re ready to swing. He raises a hand to deflect, half a moment too late as your blade slashes across the heel of his hand. 

There’s a brief splash of red against the blue backdrop of the sky, and you gasp on instinct, immediately moving away. 

There’s an apology ready on your lips, mouth gaping as you watch him inspect the wound. You don’t get to say anything because he beats you to it. 

“Deep enough,” he comments, like he was inspecting a painting. “Keep this up and you might actually be good by the end of the week.”

Oh. 

“Alright,” he says again, moving back into position.

“Are you gonna wrap that?” you ask, referring to the bloody hand. 

“It’s fine, I’ve fought with worse,” he says. 

You blink as you reluctantly get back into position, bracing yourself as you continue to look at his hand dripping blood onto the deck. 

“You’re getting the hang of pacing, but you need to start considering your blade as an extension of yourself—JESUS!”

You’ve swung at him faster than you ever have, putting everything into that single tug of your knife. He wasn’t expecting it, still talking over your glances at his palm. He had his guard down, and you took the chance. He ducks on instinct, but it could’ve been another scar for him to remember if you’d made it. 

You stumble as he circles you to the other end, flattening his blade on your back.

“Nice try,” he says. “Really nice try. But you never turn your back to your opponent.”

“I lost my footing,” you defend, but even you knew that wasn’t an excuse. 

“And I just stabbed you in the back. And now I’ll have to present your corpse to your father and hope he’ll accept it and give me my ship. We all lose.” 

The pressure of the blade leaves your back and you're suddenly left looking stupid despite doing something somewhat right. 

“You’d just swindle another poor sailor off his boat and move on,” you say. “You’re a slippery thing.”

He has a smile on his face that borders a smirk yet is innocently mischievous enough. It’s a strange sight, bloody hand, relaxed face. There’s a clean-ish rag on a nearby closed barrel that he uses to wipe the excess blood off his hands. 

“I keep going because I live without regret.”

You can only roll your eyes as a scoff leaves your mouth before you can stop it. You simply turn around, settling to the floor, going back to massaging your still aching shoulder. That last blow only made it worse.

“I don’t regret things, miss princess. Ask me why.”

You remain silent. 

“Come on,” he urges, that silly smile remaining on his face. He’s washing the wound now with freshwater from the barrel.

Sighing, you ask him, “Why?”

“Because I don’t ever do things I’d regret.”

“That insinuates you think before you act.”

“Right-O,” he declares, wrapping another torn cloth on his cleaned wound.

“Funny,” you answer. “Because I dont think I’ve ever seen any hint of light behind your eyes.”

He turns around to you, sheathing his dagger at his hip, a dangerous look in his eye.

“You’ve looked into my eyes?” 

The clench in your jaw must have been visible, or the look of disgust on your face might’ve been apparent just the same, because the pirate captain simply laughs out loud before retreating towards the stairs to go below deck. 

“I’ll send Jun up, practise with him.”

You wanted to send your knife, point first, hurtling into his retreating form. 

Never turn your back to your opponent, my ass. 

But you don’t, mostly because he’d probably manage to deflect that too. So you resort to sitting cross legged on the deck, staring at your dagger while waiting for Jun to meet you upstairs. 

Hoshi said he picked the knife based on a number of things you’d already forgotten, something about carbon steel and having a good grip. It’s quite pretty, you’ll have to admit. It’s plain silver, but the reflection it makes in the sun makes it difficult to look away. You’d gotten used to the handle and how it fit in your palm, Hoshi assured you that the more you used it, the more the hilt would mould into your grip. 

Jun stomps onto the deck, revolver-less and instead equipped with an array of knives that he deposits on the deck. 

“Should’ve picked a plain old gun,” he grumbles as he holds one of the longer blades in his hand. “Job’s done and you don’t need to get within ten feet.”

“Don’t have to reload a knife, do I?” you comment, taking the first swing. 

Jun may have an affinity for guns and explosives, but his handling with a knife was still nothing below an expert level. He pushes your arm off before spending you into a ballroom spin, flatting his blade at your collarbone. 

That could’ve been your throat.

“No, but by now I could’ve shot you, thrown you overboard, and been on my way to a nap,” he says in your ear, before releasing you as you get back into position again. 

That could’ve been your throat.

THE FOLLOWING WEEK PASSES with your days and nights muddled into a strange mixture of swinging knives and taking breaks slumped against the deck of the ship, unmoving. 

It’s a particularly hot day, the giant glowing orb beating down on the deck with no mercy. Not that it stops you, because the sun remains unwavering, high in the sky, and you remain unwavering in your wide legged stances as you lunge for Chan again. 

Chan’s entire being glistens in the afternoon light, the beads of sweat that he wipes off his forehead only seem to reappear every couple minutes. His clothes cling to him like a second skin, taking long breaths through his teeth amidst the difficult, humid air. 

You don’t doubt you look the same, one hand in your hair suggesting you just took a bath in your own sweat. But Chan seems accustomed to the heat, and while you weren’t, you couldn’t deny your growing comfortability with it all. 

It’d been a while since your meal, hence your sluggish movements were slowly turning increasingly sharp, having cornered Chan multiple times in the duration. You’re determined to not be the one to call for a time out, so you find yourself pushing beyond what you’ve been doing for the past week or so. 

There’s a particular punch of heat at your sides, and you can feel yourself slowing. 

One deep breath, a slow exhale.

It’s all clangs and reflections of knives, tiny droplets of blood as evidence of both of your tiny, unintentional nicks and cuts. You’re succeeding, pushing the man further and further back. 

“You’re getting sloppy, aim for the blade not my tendons,” Chan seethes through his teeth. 

“I’m trying,” you grunt through the effort. 

You’re set back for a couple minutes before you go back to pushing. Your lungs burn, your entire side is numb from exertion, but you give more than your body is made for, and you succeed—kind of. 

Chan back is against the railing of the deck before he realises it, and perhaps it was momentum, or sheer exhaustion, because one minute you’ve got eyes on Chan’s hands and his blade, and the next he’s gone. There’s a loud splash, and you suddenly realise what you’ve done. 

You just pushed Chan overboard. 

You scream before you can help it, dropping your knife with a loud, resonating clang. Pushing against the rails, you peer down to find a giant ripple on the surface of the ocean, whipping your head around to the stairs leading below deck to find Mingyu and Hoshi bounding upstairs. 

“What? Where’s Chan, he was supposed to be with you,” Hoshi asks, whipping his head around the deck. 

Your wide eyed, horrified response from near the edge tells them all they need to know. 

By the time Chan’s pulled himself on board, soaked and dripping like a wet poodle, you’ve sat yourself the furthest away from the railing to prevent any more trouble. He drops onto the floor, creating a human sized puddle. 

With the way the two men had merely sighed and threw the ladder over the exterior of the ship, you concluded that this must happen enough for them to be beyond the point of concern. It only adds to it when you see Mingyu nudge Chan’s unmoving but heaving body with the toe of his boot, giggling at his expense. 

You make your way over, crouching beside Chan sheepishly. 

“Sorry about that, got carried away.”

He’s sitting up now, quickly pulling himself back to his feet and you spring back from your crouched position. 

“It’s fine, happens.” He has a small smile on his face as he says it and you conclude that he may find the situation laughable as well. 

“Now, Chan,” Hoshi says, not letting Chan move into the deck any further from the railing. “What’s the first thing you learn about brawling on a ship?” 

Chan looks slightly embarrassed as he answers, “Be aware of your surrounding—ARGH.”

Hoshi pushed him into the water. 

You jump as you run back to the rails, watching as Chan’s head re-emerges at the surface after his second dip in the ocean. 

Just as you’re about to say something to Hoshi, he’s stuck his head over the railings as well, yelling at Chan in some singsong voice. 

“One time was a mistake, twice is a problem!”

To your left, only adding to your horror, is Mingyu doubled over in his fit of laughter, heaving as he giggled uncontrollably. He’s also holding onto the railings for dear life, but clearly, for reasons completely different from yours. 

The situation resolves itself as both you and Chan learn a few lessons of practicality. Deciding you’ve done enough damage to your body, you announce that you’d be retiring for the day. 

“Thank goodness, I was about to confiscate that stupid knife, I’ve been hearing clanging in my sleep,” Mingyu mumbles as he pulls the rope ladder back up to the deck. 

In any case, you have the urge to take a dip in the ocean yourself, feeling increasingly uncomfortable in your drying sweat. 

Grabbing a clean washcloth, you fill a bucket of freshwater from one of the barrels on deck and lug it into your quarters. The soaked washcloth does wonders for your overheated body, feeling enormously better after a change of clothes. 

Your scalp, however, remains itchy and burning, so you decide to go back up to the main deck, hoping to manoeuvre a hair wash situation without needing to mop the floors of your quarters. 

Refilling the bucket of freshwater, you set it down before scanning the empty deck for another spare bucket. You try not to scoff at the unwavering determination of the pirate crew to keep the deck unoccupied for such long increments, that last altercation teaching them absolutely nothing. You wonder how they’ve managed to survive for so long like this. 

Shaking the thought, you use the spare bucket as a way to deposit your waste water as you pour cups of clean water over your aching scalp. The feeling does wonders for you, letting the water wash away weeks worth of grime, sweat and stress. 

You’re almost back home in your quarters when the whiff of your hair salts hits your nose, the ones you’d packed for yourself, closing your eyes for a moment as you rub them into your scalp. You don't expect the clench that seizes your chest, but you falter when it happens anyway.

It’s nostalgic, and you hate it. 

It smells like the palace, like the incense your ladies in waiting always burned, the stench of citrus having made its way into your bones from the years of exposure to the scent. It’s too much as you blink back tears, owing them to the suds that have made their way into your eyes. 

The sting helps bring you back, opening your eyes to an orange glow and the waft of seasalt  hitting your nose. You’re more aggressive when you dunk your cup into the bucket this time, too aggressive as you feel the half full bucket tip over and spill water all over the deck as you cause yet another accident. 

Cursing loudly, you try to blink away the suds from your eyes, soap still in your hair as you try to figure out how to get another bucket of water without ruining your fresh change of clothes, mentally kicking yourself at not thinking this through.

“You realise we have to make do with that freshwater till we make it to Ash?” 

Wet hair still in your hands, you attempt to peer up at the voice, only to find Hoshi standing above you, arms crossed over his chest with a funny expression on his face. Huffing, you grumble out in response, “Can you just get me a fresh bucket?”

“Hm, I don’t know, can I?” He removes his gaze and begins to pretend looking over at the horizon and the setting sun. 

Chiding yourself for even bothering to ask, you reach for the tipped bucket yourself, deciding you’d figure it out yourself if this dumb pirate was choosing to be of no help. But before you could latch your fingers on the handle, the bucket’s snatched away. 

At first you think he’s being funny, taking the bucket away to watch you struggle even further. “You—”

Except you watch him as he dunks the bucket back into the barrel of freshwater, lugging it back to where you could reach. “Try not to paint the deck with it this time, I’ve already mopped twice.”

The thank you freezes on your tongue, and for some reason you can’t say it to him. So you make a scene of splashing into the bucket with vigour, sending spills over the rim and taking mild satisfaction in hearing him sigh at the sight of more mopping. 

He’s already gotten hold of the worn mop by the time you’re done as you remerge with clean hair, wringing your own mop of hair to deposit the excess water. Straightening out your back, you take hold of the spare cloth you brought along with you, patting your hair with it. 

The sun remains in its mission to cast its golden glow, but only illuminates Hoshi’s grumbling form as he mops up all the water you’ve spilled. 

“You know, I should really be making you—” He halts as he makes eye contact with you, your hands still occupied with patting your hair dry, flicking the wet strands. You have a rebuttal already prepared, waiting for him to finish his jab. 

“Make me what? you grind. 

You can’t make out the look on his face, somewhere between constipated and on the edge of a yelp, he keeps staring at you. You note a slight trickle of water making its way down your neck and chest, bleeding into your shirt as yet another water stain. 

“Nothing,” he says, to your surprise. 

And with that uneventful climax, you trudge back down to your quarters, a strange brewing in your chest.

[AN]: congrats you made it to the end of part 1!!!!! reblog ur thots and opinions or send me an ask, id love to hear the turmoil in ur minds lol

[oceantruffle]

hotline

Characters - reader x Lando Norris

Location - I know Miami doesn't have any mountains but here I just felt like it so just go with it lol

summary - after being up and celebrating the whole night, you and Lando see the sunrise together.

A/N - It would be so nice if I had uploaded it before three days but I was very sleep deprived and the fact that I was in the middle of a forest for 4 days. anyways happy reading ✨

[y/n - your name]

Third Person's POV -

"I was meant to fly but Zak just told me we fly tomorrow so I'm not going to sleep. I'm going all the way. I might have more than just a scratch on my nose tomorrow, so I don't care, but I'll enjoy my time. This only happens once when you're taking your first win. It's nice to do it here in Miami,"

This was enough for you to know that the night is going to be absolutely crazy and wild. And you were very sure that none of you were gonna board the flight in one piece.

You were beyond the clouds. This was a feeling that no one could describe in mere words. The absolute bliss on Lando's face was ethereal. You could watch just him for eternity as he soaked up the sun on the podium. You were smiling so hard for so long seeing him this happy and you didn't realised that until your cheeks started hurting.

'I DID IT!' he had said holding the trophy towards you when he got back to the driver's room.

'YES!!YES YOU FUCKING DID!!' you said as you hugged him over the shoulders.

After 6 hours of clubbing and celebrating this sweet win with your boyfriend you had decided to go to a mountain top, alone. Maybe it was the alcohol which made the decision. You were more sober than him though. It was stupid. But nevertheless here you were now, sitting in the peaceful silence of the forest.

His head was in your lap and he could barely open his eyes. The alcohol was very heavy on his eyes. You both were freezing. Maybe not him since he had a jacket on but you definitely were cold.

You let your hand run through his soft curly hairs. A little chirp above in the tree got your attention. The stars in the sky above you had been staring had started disappearing. The dreamy dark night was filling with beautiful hopeful sunlight. That's when you realised it was morning. So it did happen. You were very happy for Lando. There are many more to come but wining this first one was a different feeling.

Lando was kind off in a passed out state but he was still very active and he quickly jolts his head when he hears little sniffs. Your tears fell onto his forehead as looks up to you.

'y/n?' he asked worriedly.

and when you sobbed a little louder he quickly sits back up to face you. 

'Baby?' he frowns. He got worried and all the exhaustion & sleep deprivation wasn't helping him much.

'What why are you crying?' he managed to frame a question,

'I don't know!' you sobbed.

'hey?' he said, his large hands cupping your face.

'I'm proud of you Lan. I'm so proud of you!' you smiled as tears rolled down your cheeks.

'Come here.' he said pulling you in his arms.

'Stop crying.' he soothed you.

'Please stop crying! haven't you already cried enough?' he said, now his own voice had started to break.

'Y/n?' he chuckled.

You look up to him to see his face and you see tears threatening to leave his eyes.

'I'm sorry! we're in the middle of nowhere, you're hungover, our phones are dead and i'm crying!' you shivered a little as cool breeze passes through.

'I love you y/n' he says.

'You deserve this Lando, You deserve the world..' you smile at him teary eyed.

'Thank you love!' he says softly resting his forehead against yours.

He wiped off your tears and kisses you on the forehead. You snuggled into him once again and watched the sun as it rises from the horizon.

There were countless times when you were up all night partying and eventually pass out in the morning. But this. This morning had something different in it. It had the feeling of glory, the joy and celebrations. You wanted to stay like that forever, in his arms. It was perfect and it wasn't a dream.

__________________

[word count - 875]

not edited

[writing-house-of-m]

Falling for you

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natasha is in love with you and decides to tell you

A/N: I was so impressed with myself when I came up with the title lol The request can be found here. Comments, reblogs and likes are appreciated!

Prompt: "Oh, I'm falling in love."

"It was when I saw you giving flowers to Wanda once. I saw the gesture and it hit me like a ton of bricks. The way you looked at her. I wanted someone to look at me like that. I learned afterwards not 'someone,' I wanted you to look at me like that.

"It was as if my mind held up a queue card telling me how I felt about you. I realised, 'Oh, I'm falling in love,' but the more I thought about it the more I realised I've been in love with you for a while and I didn't know what to do."

Natasha started speaking after you made a joke about her playing hide and seek. Nobody knew where she was when you noticed her missing for a while and got curious where she might have been. She was looking out at the view motionless before you got there for you don't know how long.

You regret making your joke.

"I don't even know why I'm telling you all this. Maybe because I'm sick of holding it all in.

"In the red room it was always 'love is just something used to brainwash childish minds', 'A chemical reaction, nothing more' and for the longest time I agreed. I have never experienced it before and didn't think I ever would…

"Until you."

She looks at you emotionally. It's the most vulnerable you have seen her. The 'Black Widow' on the verge of tears because of you,

"Natasha,"

And there is nothing you can say to make her feel better.

"I do love you, just not in the same way. I'm really sorry," you see in the way Natasha drops her head, the devastation she is feeling, "but my heart will always belong to Wanda."

She lets out a sad laugh, looking out at the setting sun in the horizon, orange and pink painting the sky, "Figures," she scoffs, "the person I fall for, already taken," she says, sniffling.

There are a few moments of tense silence before you decide to break it, in hopes to lighten the mood a little, "Well, if it's any consolation Wanda aspires to have your 'hot bod'," you jest, then raise your hands and eyebrows innocently, "her words, not mine."

It does make her laugh but shortly after, silence prevails and you both bask in it. You stay there in each others presence long after darkness takes over and white dots fill the night sky.

…

Shortly after your conversation on the roof you move out of the compound. It was something you and Wanda had been discussing anyway but you thought it would be easier for Natasha if you weren't there. To you it would have felt like you were rubbing your relationship in her face after her confession. But for Natasha, she missed seeing you everyday.

As always life continues, work takes over. Your time together is reduced to when you are assigned to the same missions. Natasha realises quickly her feelings for you will never falter. So she makes the most of the time she gets with you.

It doesn't take long for that to be taken from her as well.

…

Natasha felt your presence missing from this world. Prior to everything that happened, you hadn't been at the compound for the longest time but at least she knew you were out there and happy. But now? There was a gaping hole in the shape of you that was missing and it was unfair for everyone, not just herself.

It is why she makes the decision to go to Vormir.

The world is better with you in it.

Even if she won't be here to witness it.

As she is falling to her demise, the sound of wind rushing past her ears she closes her eyes to see your smiling face.

The memory of you stood on the rooftop trying to make her laugh. The picture can be compared to a piece of artwork with the way the warm setting sunlight hits off your skin and makes your eyes shine.

Natasha is glad to have such a picturesque image of you in her final seconds that she can find comfort in behind her eyelids.

Despite the cold climate and the circumstances her body is filled with warmth knowing she is the reason there is the possibility to bring you back. At least then you will have a chance at starting that family you and Wanda announced.

As that final image slips away along with her consciousness, Natasha thinks about the fact that even though she could never have you. You always had her.

[yellow-faerie]

For the prompt list I have several ideas !

5: Dirist and Rochind

10: Children Rochind and Mentelossë

12: Second Age/The Break Up Rochind and Mentelossë

And finally prompt 10! I would have got on this sooner but I suddenly realised that TRSB was a thing that I needed to get onto doing lol (you can find the other prompts I did for Rochind and Mentë here and here)

Send me a prompt from this list.

10 - "I've got you. It's alright, you can relax now, I've got you."

The day had been just starting, the sun rising bright over the horizon, when Mentelossë had slipped from her dutiful maids and run off into the woods.

She had not had much of a plan when she had taken her opportunity to get away, except for thinking that it would be nice to have a walk without several other people hanging all over her and trying to carry her over the slightest bump in the trail.

And it had been! It was warm enough that as she wondered down to the lake, she had stripped off her surcoat and kirtle and chemise and gone skinny-dipping in the water, and the sun dried her enough that she was dressed again within the hour and ready to return home.

It was then, as she decided to make her way back to the keep, that the problems started.

For one, she was hungry and though there were large, juicy looking berries hanging from the bushes that lined her path, she knew full well how sick some forest fruits could make someone if they didn't know they were poisonous so she didn't dare snack on any on her way.

And then, as the sun started to set, she realised that she didn't know where she was going.

The stars were just starting to rise when the panic sets in. She'd tried retracing her steps to the lake, from where she knew her way home, but in the gloaming, the paths had looked alien and unfamiliar and she found herself getting even deeper into territory that she didn't recognise.

"No, no, no," she mutters, crossing her arms over her chest as the cold starts to creep in. She wants to yell for help, for her father or her grandfather or-

But she can't. There is no-one else out here but other things that will hear her yelling and know she could make an easy meal.

"You idiot," she tells herself, bobbing on her toes as she's unable to decide whether to keep walking or stay put, until she decides that more walking gives her some chance that she might catch sight of the fortress again and find her way home. "This is why you aren't supposed to leave home alone. This is why-"

Something howls in the woods and Mentë squeaks.

"I'm going to die."

She walks faster, searching for anything in the fading light that might guide her home, and feeling increasingly panicked when she can't find anything.

Not a thing.

And it might be her growing paranoia but there's something following her.

"Come on," she tells herself, pinching the skin of her wrist to pull herself back into her body. It doesn't help very much.

She wraps her arms around her waist and walks a little further, getting the distinct feeling that she's being followed and her imagination going wild about wolves or bears or orcs coming to eat her-

A twig crunches behind her and Mentë's heart jumps in her chest as on instinct, she picks up her skirts and starts running as fast as she can. The forest floor is hard and uneven under her soft shoes but even though it hurts, she doesn't let it slow her down.

Blind panic had overtaken her.

Something warm reaches out and grabs her arm, and she screams like she's never screamed before.

Let there be guards around, she thinks wildly, squeezing her eyes shut as she waits for the inevitable blow, let them be searching for me and let them have heard.

"Mentë."

Her eyes fly open at the familiar voice and meet the quier face of her dear friend Rochind.

"Oh, it's only you," she says and promptly bursts into tears.

Rochind is always a little awkward when it comes to comfort but she falls into him anyway, taking solace in his bony, slightly angular embrace.

"I've got you," he says softly, "it's alright, you can relax now. I've got you."

He speaks in the slightly robotic manner of someone who has been given lines to speak but does not yet know how to speak them; Mentelossë cannot help herself, and she laughs.

She laughs and she laughs, until her tears are from hysteria more than they are tired relief.

"I do not think you are meant to find this funny," Rochind says, sounding slightly confused, as Mentë finally gets herself under control.

"I didn't-" Mentë starts, pulling out of the hug, and then realises she does not have the energy to explain herself this evening. "Oh do not worry about it Rochind. I am just very pleased to see you and feeling very emotional."

He returns the smile she gives him with a small one of his own. "I did not do anything wrong?"

"Not a thing. You could be wearing a banana costume and be calling me horrible names, and you wouldn't be doing anything wrong. Just you being here is..." She lets out another, slightly hysterical laugh. "It is a gift beyond words."

And then she links her arm with his and they make their way back to the fortress; and the next time Mentë sneaks away, she makes sure to bring him along to begin with.

[ryuichirou]

what fandoms were you in long before twisted wonderland? I mean like over 10 years ago.

Anon, thank you for this question because it made us sit down and actually look through the albums of my old art and write a list LOL We thought it’d take like 30 minutes tops + 10 minutes to write all of this down, but it took 2+ hours yikes… So sorry, no other replies today :(

And made us realise just how much we revisit certain fandoms 🤦‍♂️ I guess we’re loyal!

Some of them were just very brief phases when we watched/rewatched something, I drew like 5 sketches for this thing and we moved on after about a week. But it was still prominent enough for us to feel like “Oh right, Ryu was drawing (this) back then”. Damn, 2013-2016 were insane, we were jumping around so much… When did these people have time to watch and draw so much shit??

Since this blog is very old, you can find some of my very old shitty fanart for a lot of those here. In all honesty, I really want to draw fanart on some of the more obscure and old ones again… if you have questions about any of this, feel free to ask!

2007: W.I.T.C.H., Oban Star Racers, Naruto lol my very young years

2008: Petshop of Horrors, Yami no Matsuei, Gravitation

2009: Hetalia, Vocaloid

2010: Vocaloid, Terra e…, Shoujo Kakumei Utena, Hetalia

2011: Terra e, Kaze to Ki no Uta, Sound Horizon, Hetalia, Magi (mostly Judal), Kuroshitsuji (a little bit)

2012: Homestuck, Prince of Tennis, Sengoku Basara, Sound Horizon, DC (Batman + Robin, mostly Tim Drake), Thor, Danny Phantom, Amnesia: The Dark Descent, ATLA, Adventure time, D. Gray-Man

2013: Ed Edd n Eddy, Sound Horizon, Penumbra Overture, Lucius, Thor, Hetalia, Dan Vs, Hannibal, Shingeki no Kyojin, Death Note, Bakuman, Neon Genesis Evangelion, South Park, Durarara, The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya, Litchi Hikari Club, Hellsing Ultimate, Yami no Matsuei, Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei, Game of Thrones, Hannibal, the Simpsons

2014: Kuroko no Basket, Hadaka Shitsuji, Hoozuki no Reitetsu, Gravitation, Shingeki no Kyojin, Tytania, Panty&Stocking, Soul Eater, Bleach, Kill la Kill, Hellsing Ultimate, Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood,  Ace Attorney (trilogy + Apollo Justice), Priapus (by Mentaiko/Itto lol I drew him a lot), Togainu no Chi, Outlast, Daria, Scooby Doo, Haikyuu, DMMD, Katekyō Hitman Reborn, Tokyo Ghoul, Free, Kuroshitsuji, Psycho-Pass, Yowamushi Pedal (HUGE!!!!!), D. Gray-man, One-Punch Man

2015: Metalocalypse, ATLOK, Gravity Falls, Guns n’ Roses (yeah the band), Hannibal, Steven Universe, View Askewniverse, the Addams family, Ace Attorney Dual Destinies, DMMD, Life is Strange, Over the Garden Wall, Rick & Morty, South Park, Miraculous Ladybug, Undertale, Watchmen

2016: Supernatural, Peanuts, Osomatsu-san, Outlast, Until Dawn, BioShock Infinite, Code Geass, LoTR, Game of Thrones, Hetalia, House MD, Zootopia, Shingeki no Kyojin, D. Gray-man, Hellsing Ultimate, LA Noir, Percy Jackson books, South Park

2017: American Horror Story, Danganronpa, Neon Genesis Evangelion, ATLA, Homestuck, Yuri on Ice (super briefly), Outlast 2, D. Gray-man, DMMD, Hetalia, Gravitation, Monster, Dream Daddy, Junji Ito, Boku no Hero Academia, Osomatsu-san, South Park, Hannibal

2018: Voltron, Danganronpa, Devilman (Crybaby and classic), Homestuck, Berserk, Gravitation, Bungo Stray Dogs (briefly), Gintama, Hellsing Ultimate, Hetalia, BTS, Priapus (he came back), LoTR, Togainu no Chi, Sweet Pool, Detroit Become Human

2019: Tanya Grotter books, Hannibal, Homestuck, D.Gray-man, Hunter x Hunter, Danganronpa, Durarara, ACCA: 13-Territory Inspection Dept., Soul Eater, ATLA, Witcher 3, Shingeki no Kyojin

2020: Shingeki no Kyojin, briefly Uncharted 4 and BioShock Infinite

2021: Shingeki no Kyojin, ATLA, Sk8, Jujutsu Kaisen, Squid Game

2022: The Great Ace Attorney, Sadistic Beauty, Hades, Mirai Nikki (suddenly), Akira, Encanto, the Gray House (the House In Which, it’s a book),  Cowboy Beebop, Fight Club, It (2017), Stranger Things, LoTR, Uncharted, Hetalia, Frozen (more like Hans/Anna lol), Kuroshitsuji, Twisted Wonderland

2023-2024: Mostly Twisted Wonderland, but we also posted some Scott Pilgrim stuff at the very beginning of this year.

I guess this is it. Woah…

[charlottedabookworm]

#9 - Lend an Ear

feat Nadir

this one actually did fight me ngl. had no idea what to write (outside of considering a joke about nadir not having ears lol) until i decided to let him talk to a scion. it was originally gonna be thancred but then i realised he's already possessed at this point so decided on good ol' yda and papalymo

“You look tired for a man sat alone in the dead of night.”

“Pardon?”

The hyur - Ida? - grimaces at him sympathetically as her companion seats himself at his table. “Can’t sleep?” She asks.

Falling asleep is not the issue, Nadir thinks bitterly. He has not slept the night in moons, in years, and it has only become worse since Ifrit. Mayhap he should have stayed in his chambers, as he has every night previous to this, but staring at the same dull stone had had his scales itching. “No.” It’s short and sharp and dreadfully impolite and he grimaces. “My apologies.”

“Dreams, huh?” Ida falls into the chair beside her partner, sliding down until her neck is level with the back of the chair.

It looks horrifically uncomfortable.

He resists the urge to do the same, knowing that even if his scales were to thank him his back would not.

Dreams, Nadir could laugh. Are they still dreams when they are memories? Perhaps they would be, except-

Except there is no need for his memories to be warped in his dreams, not when what he remembers is the destruction of everything he loves. Not when he remembers his world burning, his people screaming, his brother-

No, he would not call them dreams.

He nods anyway.

Ida smiles at him and does not ask further.

Her partner - his name begins with Papa, of that he is certain - simply pushes a steaming mug in his direction.

Nadir takes it and they sit, drinking in the firelight, until the sun rises over the horizon and the rest of the scions awake.

(Something in his chest aches a little less, after that morning)

[sugarsnappeases]

HELLO can i have infidelity sybillily both words i love very much also yay uni!!

SUDE HELLO!!! literally as i was writing that list i was like wait HOW have i never told sude about the infidelity sybillily bc i think i came up w it literally before the ghost one but anyway

basically it’s seventh year hogwarts so lily is dating james and the war is heating up and newts are on the horizon and lily just has A Lot going on, w school and her friends and her sister and her boyfriend and being head girl, so sometimes she needs a moment where she can just like. exist. without all the expectations so she goes at night to this little clearing she finds in the forest where she thinks she can be alone...

little does she know that that clearing is sybill's Spot, like she is there alllll the time, to escape things (you already know my sybill thoughts, like my girl is going through it with all her visions and the ridicule and the weight of it all), so the two of them meet there accidentally one time in the middle of the night.... and then they just kinda keep doing it..... and things develop...... sybill thinks maybe this is what love is like....... lily has never felt so unburdened...... etc etc

and then!!! then its the end of the year, at graduation, and james is on one knee proposing to lily!!! LOL!!!!

anyway that's the kinda vibe and here's a little snippet which is literally all i've written of it:

The first time she was there, Sybill was looking at the stars as she walked and hadn’t noticed her until she was stood right over her. “Oh - hello,” Sybill had said, finally realising that there was someone else in the clearing with her, someone who was lying among the flowers, eyes shut, arms spread wide, in the exact place where Sybill usually sat.  Lily Evans had opened her eyes, a vibrant green even in the darkness of the night, and looked up at her.  “Hello,” she had replied, “What are you doing here?” “I come here all the time,” Sybil had said, because this was her spot, her clearing in the Forbidden Forest, the place that she had found in her third year where she could sit by herself, far away from anyone else - anyone else apart from Lily Evans apparently. “What are you doing here?” “Oh,” Lily had replied, “Well, I guess I just wanted somewhere quiet and I stumbled across this clearing” Sybill had nodded, she could understand that, it was exactly how she had found the clearing, and then, because she certainly wasn’t going to hold the need for peace and quiet against anyone, not when she was constantly searching for it, “Okay, sorry for disturbing you, I’ll find somewhere else to-“ “You can stay if you want,” Lily had interrupted her

[hendolish]

think we need to have the tables turned a bit so how about a fic where Hendo is the one who first starts pining for Jack and he goes into a moral dilemma and keeps telling himself that Jack would never consider him cos he's "old" but he's actually wrong and finds that some time ago Jack started liking him as well. I don't really know how you'd end it so that's up to you. Lol I just feel like we have so many fics where Jack is the one who starts crushing first and barely any where Hendo starts it. Thank youuuu so much and the the WC Jude Captain fic was so adorable I loved it💗💗

jack grealish/jordan henderson - unspoken understandings ♡

The warm glow of the setting sun bathes the room in a soft, golden light as Jordan sits alone at the window, lost in thought. His mind swirls with conflicting emotions, a turbulent sea of longing and uncertainty.

For weeks now, he's found himself unable to shake the feeling that something is different between him and Jack. At first, he brushed it off as nothing more than a passing fancy, a fleeting attraction that would soon fade away. But as time went on, his feelings only grew stronger, until they became an ever-present ache in his chest.

He knows he shouldn't feel this way. After all, Jack is younger, more vibrant, and undoubtedly more attractive than he could ever hope to be. And yet, despite all logic and reason, Jordan finds himself drawn to him in a way he can't quite explain.

He wrestles with his conscience, telling himself that Jack could never feel the same way about him. He's too old, too set in his ways, too… ordinary. But deep down, he knows that's not true. There have been moments, fleeting glances and subtle touches, that hint at something more between them.

As he sits there, lost in his thoughts, Jordan can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there's a chance for them after all. And as the sun dips below the horizon, casting shadows across the room, he makes a decision. He's tired of denying himself happiness, tired of pretending that his feelings don't matter.

As Jordan approaches Jack, he clears his throat nervously, his heart pounding in his chest even though he's spent a countless number of hours around the younger.

"Hey, Jack," he starts, his voice gruff.

Jack looks up, a small smile quirking at the corner of his lips as he sees Jordan approaching. "Hey, Hendo," he replies, his tone easygoing.

Taking a deep breath, Jordan plunges ahead and grits his teeth through it, his words coming out in a grumble. "Listen, Jack, I need to get something off my chest. I've been… feeling stuff lately, and I know it's probably stupid, but I just couldn't keep it to myself anymore. I… I've been thinking about you more than I should, and I…"

Before Jordan can finish his rant, Jack interrupts him, holding up a hand to stop him mid-sentence before resting it on his arm. "Hendo," he says, his voice calm but firm, "I know."

Jordan's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and he meets Jack's gaze with a mixture of confusion and relief. "You do?" he asks, his voice softer now.

Jack nods, his smile warm and genuine. "Yeah, I do," he says, his tone reassuring. "And it's fine."

Jordan lets out a breath he didn't realise he was holding, a weight lifting off his shoulders. "Oh," he says simply, his mind struggling to catch up with what Jack just said.

Jack reaches out, giving Jordan's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Yeah," he says, his smile widening. "It's fine, Hendo." And as they share a knowing look, Jordan feels a sense of relief wash over him, knowing that he doesn't have to navigate these feelings alone anymore.

♡

[h4zardousch3micals]

Performance Of A Lifetime - Prologue

Previous • First • Next

Wow. I can't believe I actually finished writing something for once lol.

I really tried to make sure I wasn't copying Plushii-gutz's Fallen Stars (which you can read the first part of here, please do it's fantastic) but "bad things happen to the Celestials" is a really niche topic so I'll absolutely take this down if it's too similar ^^"

Content warning for brief mentions of injury? Also keep in mind that if I'm able to continue this it will get darker so keep an eye on this segment for content warnings and stuff

So, uh, yeah?

___

Celestial Island was quiet, at first.

Amongst the shattered bricks and swirling sands, twelve stone statues stood motionless. Anyone that could see it knew it was a tragedy, but few truly knew just what had happened here. One sculpture sat at the middle of the island, as though it were the centerpiece. It stood tall and magnificent, with its staff held high into their air. Its expression was strange: so calm and yet so petrified with the strangest hint of sadness. Not even a critter dared to move, as though the entire monster world had plunged itself into silence as a form of respect.

That was until, a little boat appeared on the horizon. Two pairs of curious eyes watched the island: crimson red and penny brown. They had been observing this strange place for a while now, only just gaining the courage to approach.

"...Oh my Galvana..." One uttered, their soft voice barely above a whisper, "Is it really? Do you think it—"

"Looks like it." The other replied.

They didn't want to believe it, they couldn't believe it, "...But how do you know for sure?"

"Let's take a look."

The water was an inky black as the smaller one grabbed the oars and started rowing again; the moon sparkled and shimmered in each hypnotising circle of ripples. When they reached the side of the island, they scrambled clumsily up the mess of floating boulders and ancient bricks. The more timid of the two nearly fell off, hitting their back on the sharp rocks and only narrowly being caught by the tail. They could feel something crack as they struck the cliffside, but it subsided after a moment and no tingling or numbness followed - they prayed that meant they hadn't damaged their spine.

"Come on." Though they didn't offer any sort of concern through their words, even though the darkness their worried expression was as clear as day.

"I'm fine." They reassured, dragging themselves up the rest of the way. When they saw what lay before them, their jaw dropped, "It- It's really?"

"By the stars..."

A dozen statues stood before them: as tall and as mighty as the legends claimed. Floating chunks of the Island displayed each element's symbol, as though they were the information plaques in some kind of museum. The ground felt unstable beneath their feet, as though the whole island could crumble away at any given moment and yet, paradoxically, so strong and sturdy that it could survive the end of an era a thousand times over.

"Wh-... What's wrong with them?" The one with the quiet voice whimpered, sympathetically glancing at two sculptures which resembled a tiny-but-mighty fae and a column of crystals. Something felt very, very wrong; as though they had stumbled upon the most forbidden secrets of the universe.

The other ran their hand across the fluffy mane of one statue. Instead of shifting and moulding to the movement like fur should, it remained as still as, well, a statue. The cold stone seemed to sap the warmth right out of them, "No life in 'em... Like statues..."

"What?!"

"Statues... Statues!" Their eyes widened at the realisation, as though everything made sense now, "Remember that Island off in The Storm? With the living statues?"

"Yeah..." Though they had never visited themselves, they knew well the stories of the artificial and alien Wublin Island. Ancient scrolls suggested that the monsters there were connected to this place through their creator: so it made logical sense. An awful thought crossed their mind, "Do you think—"

"Yes, something happened here." They didn't need to hear the end of that sentence; their colleague was extremely predictable.

They waved their paw frantically in front of one of the carving's faces, as though that would wake them up, "What are we gonna do? We have to tell someone, right? Let an archaeologist know or something?"

"And tell them their Gods fell out of the sky dead as a doornail?!" They bristled, a mix of anger and disbelief swelled into a furious screech, "That'd create chaos!"

"Well what are you suggesting we do?" They yelped, fearful of their teammate's outburst despite being physically much stronger than them.

Neither dared to utter a word for a few too many uncomfortable seconds, as though neither dared to wake the slumbering deities that surrounded them. Then, they got an idea. It hit them like a meteorite, the whole world suddenly morphing into a new reality as the pieces fell into place. It was ridiculous - dangerous, even - but it might just work. And if they were able to pull it off: they'd be the most powerful beings to ever walk this planet. Maybe even more powerful than...

"We do what we always do..."

"...we put on the performance of a lifetime!"

[druckkugelschreiber]

since i saw you posted a WIP game, and listed 3 of your processing works

i'mma ask about Winter's Wrath, cuz Atla and Ravenna is my favorite (i love Andy and Ari as well but let say i'm obsessed with Atla & Ravenna more =))) )

I'm so happy you love Atla & Ravenna. I love them too. Also this made me realise I have two major ocs with names starting with A, it's a curse at this point lol.

Anyway, yes! Winter's Wrath! So, Freya is back and she's angry. She obviously didn't take well to Atla just leaving her for Ravenna and for love of all things.

But Ravenna doesn't want to believe Freya is actually a threat, while Atla knows 100% she is and still getting haunted by not having been able to safe Sara (which will come back to bite her in the ass).

Also, sadly, I've not been happy with the pacing of what I've been writing so it's been on the backburner for the moment until I figure it out. Now that I'm finishing Vengeance maybe I can get back to it.

More under the cut (at that point in the conversation they've been arguing for a hot moment):

“I increased the border patrols.”

“Why?” Ravenna said clearly surprised.

I turned to her, not bothering to hide my annoyance. “I just told you why.” 

“And I told you Freya is no concern of mine. You should have told me before taxing our soldiers needlessly.”

That’s it. “But she is a concern of mine! Don’t you get it?!” My anger drew any hint of cold from my cheeks and fingers. “She’s just as proud as you, Ravenna and you took her most prized hunter. She’s not just going to forgive and forget.”

Ravenna frowned, scanning my expression closely. “You’re afraid.”

I hissed wordlessly. My fear was only one half of the issue. 

“I will protect you, Atla.”

“How?” I sneered. “By doing nothing and assuring me you’re oh so powerful while Freya sends her winter? Hardens the ground? Kills the late harvest?” I locked eyes with Ravenna. “You have never had your people try to pull through a hard winter. You have no idea how quick the hunger sets in. How fast they turn on each other. How fast the lifestock dies.” Darkness flickered at the edges of my mind. “I have seen it all.”

Anger furthered Ravenna’s frown. “If you think I will let my little sister turn my kingdom into a frozen wasteland you don’t know me at all.”

“And if you think I’m going to sit idly by when I know exactly what’s coming, you don’t know me at all.”

For a moment we merely stared at each other, the anger making the air thick and it seemed even the snowflakes were avoiding us now. 

“You said you’d stop fighting.”

“No, I said, I’d be more careful, but you can’t take fighting from me. I never said I’d give it up”, I said, even as I could see how the peaceful months we had would lure Ravenna to that conclusion, “I can’t turn my back on this, Ravenna.”

Ravenna pursed her lips. Clearly considering something, but reading minds had never been a skill of mine. “You’re not the only huntsman here, let your team do it.”

She really was dead set on infuriating me today. “Why do you think I’m still here and not out there?” I jabbed my finger toward the horizon. 

“Stop snapping at me”, Ravenna finally had enough of my shit. “You’re whining about things you can’t control.”

My anger snapped and I rounded on her, pressing her against the railing one hand on her neck the other wrapped hard around her right wrist with the claw rings. 

Ravenna smirked and pulled me in for a heated kiss with her free hand. Not exactly where I was going with this, but as soon as I had touched her I knew I was lost.

[gunsatthaphan]

Hi Doreen! Im coming to scream at you about UWMA because you’re the only person I follow who I know has watched it so sorry in advance.

I’m up to ep 7 and I just realised IT WAS IN’S BIRTHDAY??? The first five mins of the first episode happened on his BIRTHDAY?? I am so upset 😭😭😭 I had an inkling feeling last ep when he was talking about his birthday in that shirt but now Korns bringing out a cake and singing happy birthday and I am so distraught. How can this show take me from sobbing to happy cutesy feeling to absolute heartbreak (and why do I love it so much!) Thank you for listening to my rant, if you are looking for me I will be ugly crying my way through a box of tissues 😭 (and please tell me there is a smidgeon of happiness on the horizon)

hi there!

Feel free to scream lmao but yeah it's been 3 years since I watched this show so forgive me for only remembering the essentials djkghfd

But anyway I remember it was a sob-fest for me too back then lmao. It was a lot. I think it was for everyone. It was one of my first bls and I had no idea what I was in for lol. But I loved it. I'm generally not a fan of shows with more than 13-14 episodes because they always get boring at some point but this one was packed with action until the very last minute which was nice. And yes, there is a happy ending! (at least in the present lol)

xxx

[tempobrucera]

Director's cut on whichever story or part of a story you really want to talk about but never had the chance 💕

Hi Laura 🥰

I picked You Weren’t Supposed To Say It Back for you.

I love writing Thomas and Vic in polyam relationships and together because I think it works really well for them and I love the fake dating trope. So it was super nice to write them into this scenario

I wanted to write something different which is why I went for a different structure. That's why I started with the end, waking up in Vic's bed between them and then have first thing, second thing, ect before it goes back how to it came to this point and then back to the end where they are back in bed

Through the whole story there are different small things I come back to later in the story. That was really important to me.

For example, there's the room. Which first isn't clear which room it is, then further down the line we learn it's not Thomas' room, then we learn it's Vic's and that she changed the curtains in the room which in turn was mentioned before (the unfamiliar curtains). So, I said that this fic is kind of metaphor stacked upon metaphor. Even tho it's something familiar I wanted it to be not familiar enough on first inspection anymore - like the relationship that changed between the three of them. Vic changed the curtains to lighter ones because she wanted to let in more light into her life

There's the headache after a night out that flows through the whole fic - it's not something that just disappears in the span of like half an hour, that's why it stayed for the whole thing

"Your head still hurts; your thoughts still a storm." might be an uninteresting sentence but actually it goes together with the storm everyone was talking about for a while now which Vic mentions later -> The storm in itself was standing for something that's looming on the horizon and in this case it was their feelings which everyone knew about if the would have paid more attention

I tried to integrate that into the fic without saying it but showing it. Like how Vic looks at Thomas and that reader is wondering if they look at both of them in that same loving way she looks at him. And then Damiano who looks at Reader looking at Thomas and Vic and sees how they look at them

I loved writing the details in this fic so much, and portraying their friendship. Like going out together, and singing, and counting Thomas' freckles while also watching Thomas and Vic together so closely but then almost forgetting about it because it's so normal

I tried to have more focus on things that are noticed the first time, like "How come I didn't know what Thomas' favourite restaurant is", "Is he like this with everyone when he hugs them?", stuff like that, things you ask yourself when it dawns on you that you're falling for someone and can't really get yourself out of it again

I wanted to make Thomas visibily sad because he is. "Thomas looks at your linked hands on the table until he lifts up his head. He smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes this time. Still it looks like he understood something, he wasn’t ready for." -> He is happy because he would always be happy if Vic (and Reader) are happy if that's without him or not. But he's also in love with both of them and he just realised that, thinking it doesn't matter because he sees the linked hands and thinks that there's no space for him in that scenario anywhere, while it also dawns on him that he's in love with both of them but thinks that Vic just realised that she wants Reader and nothing else (silly boy is wrong, lol)

There's the coffee stain on the dress because of the cup Vic knocked over, Thomas trying to catch it but bc he tried to catch it, it actually (and only because of his involvement) landed on Reader's dress leaving the stain behind. It's a chain reaction, that has different outcomes if different people do different things. Thomas could have not tried to save the cup and it could have just ended on the floor, but that'll be unknown because it happened this way and he can't change it as he can't change the feelings he has or the feelings anyone else in this scenario has. If that means, Vic asks Reader for a date and he ruined a dress even with it not being his fault, it still feels like he ruined something

On the other hand they all three are struggling, Reader thinks they have to decide at one point even tho they know they can't, Vic seeing it as an opportunity whatever she can get out of it but she doesn't want to hurt Thomas in any way even if that means she would get nothing in the end

There's the wine that Thomas spills on his chest and "looks like spilled blood" which just happened after he realised this and after Vic asked if she can ask Reader for a date. I wanted to show that he's hurt, his heart spilling blood (that's why it was on the left chest pocket), but not say it because he also wouldn't. He would rather keep it shut if that means it can make the people he loves happy

It only clicks for Reader as well when the memory of Thomas at Vic standing at the bar together comes back to them. That they bought wine and dessert without them knowing if Reader would join them, because it doesn't matter, they would drink it just the two of them as well because they also love each other equally whatever or whoever is there. It just happened to be that there's someone else that gets the same love from them that they give to each other

There's more spilled wine, dream and later not wanting to pinch themselves in case it's really just a dream

Thomas only takes one spoon from the restaurant, even tho they are three people, he isn't comfortable with getting more when one does the job just fine, tho now it's more complicated and they have to share one spoon. And he's also uncomfortable to take more than he was told he needs which is one person to love but he needs more, he just doesn't know how to go about it, making everything more complicated but he's afraid he'll have nothing when he says something. Like with the spoons where someone maybe would have noticed if he took three and then would have ended up with zero spoons. Because he didn't think of asking, he didn't think it would have been an option to ask for three spoons which would be reasonable as he could ask them and in the end he does get over himself and his worries and just spills it out

In the end it's him who gets it out in the open, even tho or maybe especially because he was the most afraid of it and he was ready to be hurt anyways which is why he just went for it, there was nothing to lose in saying that he thinks he loves them both because he made peace with the ending that there's no space for him before already. But he had to get it of his chest because he needs to be honest with them, he can't lie and he can't just pretend everything is normal when his world is upside down. And luckily he does because Vic and Reader feel the same but they wouldn't have said anything without him

[first-and-last-neocount]

Whumptober Day 5

After all the kerfuffle on the Whumptober blog over the prompt, I had to pick Hyperthermia for this day, lol.  

This is set pretty far in the future of the Goodbye!AU, a little glimpse of where that storyline is eventually heading. The next few prompts in this ‘verse will double back and fill in some of the gaps, so consider this a teaser for things to come. 

Also, I realised after the fact that I’ve kinda implied they use Celsius on Erna, because the temperature swing between day and night in a desert is more in the neighbourhood of a hundred degrees on the Fahrenheit scale. I’m Canadian, just let me have this one, m’kay?

P.S. I had entirely forgotten that there is canonically a desert somewhere on the main continent until I was rereading BSR with a fine-tooth comb for the mapping project. There’s one single mention of the ‘sandlands’ on page 28. Clearly it was inevitable that I was going to take that info and run with it. XD

Day 5 - Theme Chosen: Hyperthermia

The heat of the wind was the first warning. 

The sandlands cooled precipitously once the sun was down; most nights, it had already dropped thirty degrees by Coreset. What heat did linger was only that which shimmered up from the dunes, rising in gentle waves from the baked sand. This, tonight, was something else; a hot, dry gust breathing fitfully in from the north. 

He scanned the northern horizon warily, eyes narrowed, wings beating a little harder to balance against the unpredictable push of the wind. There were a few low clouds on the skyline, blocking the last of the light from the setting Core stars, but aside from that the night skies seemed peaceful enough. Prima was full, shedding her soft greenish light over the desert, but Domina was a mere sliver overhead and Casca less than half round; with such modest illumination from above, the currents shone brilliantly, flows of liquid radiance winding over the sands below. 

The wind gusted again, and this time he had to shut his eyes for a moment against the swirl of fine grit that pelted him. He blinked away the irritating grains and looked more closely at the clouds on the horizon again. The air was still warming, eddies of heat swirling over him as if he were standing too close to a fire - but when he realised what he was seeing, his blood abruptly ran cold. 

That was not merely a regular stormcloud rising above the sand. 

Cursing inwardly, he tilted his wings, banking into a gradually descending spiral as he turned his gaze on the dunes below. His skin prickled uncomfortably beneath the feathers, the unsettling heat of the air beginning to rouse a deeply-rooted instinctual dread, but he forced himself to focus past the growing unease; within moments, he picked out the distinctive swirling pool of currents that marked a cave’s entrance. Destination chosen, he dipped into a steeper dive, heart beating fast. 

This is not going to be pleasant. 

The ground rushed up to greet him, and at the last possible moment he flung his wings wide, arresting his own momentum aggressively and pitching his taloned feet forward. Giving himself over to the will of the fae, letting go of his sense of self enough to shift between forms, was always a terrifying endeavour; the anxiety that had already gripped him didn’t exactly make it easier, but he forced himself past the fear, flinging himself forward into that mental abyss. 

As always, the currents answered. 

Raw power roared through him, and blue-white fire erupted from the sand below his claws; for one wild, disorienting moment he was formless, feathers melting into the flame as the flood of Erna’s lifeblood sought to drag him under - then his flesh solidified once more, and he staggered, gasping for breath as his heart thudded in his newly-human chest. Though in many ways it was a relief to feel like himself again, there was that tiny twinge of loss he always felt, the quiet ache at giving up the freedom that his wings brought him - but it was buried quickly enough, this time, by apprehension. 

From the ground, it was much more obvious how quickly the storm was approaching. The wind was stronger and steadier, now, whipping over the dunes and sending sprays of fine dust into the air. The ridgeline he had found wasn’t much to look at, a low spine of stone that had once been a mountain’s foothill and was now all but buried in the sand, but it was the only thing dulling the edge of that rising gale; he sought out the mouth of the cave quickly, conscious of the hiss of swirling sand that was beginning to fill the air. 

When that cloud got closer, the untimely heat in the air would be the least of his concerns. 

Thankfully, the opening was narrow but deep, more of a fissure than a typical cave. He pressed deep enough to be certain that it was entirely empty, and to check that the jagged walls were entirely stable; then, assured that he had found a suitable shelter from the coming storm, he finally allowed himself to drop his shields and reach out to the link that hummed, cool and deep and unceasing as a river, at the back of his mind. 

I’m not going to make it back before dawn.

An instant spike of emotion echoed through the link, and the answer came back to him, wreathed in concern. 

What happened? Are you hurt?

He let himself lean up against the fissure wall, the rock warm against his back as a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. 

I’m fine, Gerald. Found a nice little hole in a cliff and everything. Only problem is, there’s a sandstorm bearing down on me.

The Hunter’s vicious mental curse made Damien chuckle out loud. He turned his head to gaze out at the desert, watching the darkly roiling cloud as it approached; it was only minutes away now, and he could hear the rising growl of the wind, laden with its scouring burden. 

Damien, this is no laughing matter, his other half reprimanded him sternly through the link. Do you have any idea how much the temperature can rise inside those storms? The sand is still warm from the sun, and with the friction of the wind - if you’re properly sheltered, it shouldn’t actually harm you, but it’s going to be extremely unpleasant.

Damien sighed, the smile slipping from his face. 

Yeah. I know.

He could feel it happening already, the air around him beginning to tingle with heat as the storm’s leading edge reached out to embrace his place of refuge. From what Gerald had told him when they first came to the sandlands, Damien knew that it hadn’t been like this on Terra - there, sandstorms had been dangerous only for the wind, and the abrasive grit it carried. Erna’s deserts were blanketed in earth-fae, though, and the power infused the grains of sand and volcanic debris that blanketed these lands; tossed against each other in the tumbling winds, that power ignited, and turned an Ernan sandstorm into such an inferno that it wasn’t uncommon for rock formations to end up coated in a thin layer of fresh glass after a sandstorm had passed. 

That extreme heat, though, was from earth-fae making direct contact with earth-fae. Here inside his shelter, Damien wouldn’t be at risk of direct contact with those burning particles - only suffering the excess heat they bled into the air. Already, he was starting to feel dizzy, the air stinging his lungs as he breathed. Swallowing against the growing dryness of his throat, he sank down to sit with his back against the fissure wall, drawing his knees up to his chest and reaching for the link again. 

Any helpful tips for this particular scenario?

Not really, Gerald replied, and Damien could feel the bitter trace of real regret in it. Nothing but the obvious; stay still as much as possible, try to brace yourself for when the lightheadedness comes. Make sure you rehydrate as soon as you can once the storm has passed. A pause, weighted. Do you want me to leave you alone?

Damien drew in a deep breath, feeling the first serious wave of dizziness sweep over him. The storm was at the ridge, now; he could hear the wind howling past the mouth of the fissure, the hissing scrape of thousands of grains of fae-charged sand dragging along the cliff face. The heat came on in waves, stirring a kind of animal panic in the back of his brain, twisting his stomach with nausea and slicking sweat along his skin. 

Moments like this were a keen reminder of how different things were for him, now. There was a time when he would have been entirely unbothered by this level of heat; oh, he might have been sweating a little, but it would have been a minor irritation compared to many of the conditions that he’d faced as a Knight. The overwhelming dizziness and sickness, the clench of fear around his heart - that was a product of his new existence, his hypervigilant instincts warning him that heat meant death and that he needed to escape. A reminder that a sandstorm’s heat, from within shelter at least, was a trivial matter for a human… but he wasn’t human anymore. 

Tonight, though, that thought wasn’t as bitter as it sometimes was. After all, he’d flown to this cave, a feat no human would ever claim. And while there was nothing that could block out the oppressive heat from his awareness entirely, as it filled the cave and wrapped around him, he found that the fresh memory of the cool night wind through his feathers was as good of an antidote as he could ask for. 

No, he sighed, shutting his eyes. Stay.

An entirely different warmth flickered through the link, and Damien felt the Hunter’s awareness curl a little tighter around him, powerful and endless as the coils of an ouroboros. 

Of course.

Deliberately turning his senses away from the sickening heat that rolled through the fissure, Damien sank into his awareness of the link, letting Gerald’s chill power wrap around him instead. The former Knight still couldn’t say he’d made his peace with the way things were now - he wasn’t entirely sure that he’d ever really, truly be free of remorse for how it had all turned out. This, though - the unwavering certainty of Gerald’s devotion, the bedrock of safety and strength that their link had come to represent - was not something he could truly bring himself to regret. 

Here, wrapped in the Hunter’s power, not even nature’s fury could touch him. 

[pioneeroverc-my-5000th-sideblog]

weekly fun stuff: HOLY SHIT IT'S OVER edition

so uh... not drawing another duo design again for a loooong time lol - at least not until I get it into my head that *you need to draw people with a horizon line in mind*. I spent ages troubleshooting the faces and I'm still not super happy with them, but I did at least learn some good things in the process that will hopefully help me in the future. Also pretty pleased at how I drew the bow in perspective (though the design is severely uninspired) - thank you Drawabox - and it's always a nice morale boost to see how much my rendering ability levels up without my ever trying to improve it, though I wish I could have this power for literally any other art skill instead xD Overall, though, this was just too much for my skill level and caused me severe frustration + totally drained my creative energy. I still haven't had a Video Game Day despite trying to schedule them this month because I literally never run out of ideas and have a severe case of FOMO when it comes to realising them (he says, with several Post-It notes on his monitor with ideas dating back to late 2021).

Anyway, I have a commission I need to check thumbnails for at the moment, and then a very quick (hopefully) FE doodle, and then I really am going to try not to draw anything for the rest of the day (even though I'm behind on my studies). Yes, I am a mess this week lol

[delphibay]

rosehip’s residents on the day we earned 3 stars!

billy is the last remaining starter, as ursula asked to move out pretty early on. the newest resident is alli!