#But the darn book was longer

[cnwolf-brainrot]

My friends: how’s it going?

me: *sobbing* it’s done. It’s finally DONE. I can REST.

November is my favorite month of the year I’m about to go into a coma for the first few days of December, happy NaNoWriMo everybody 🫡

[leafpool-loves-ashfur]

calling it now people are going to ship Flipclaw and Podlight

[kestrel-wish]

Honestly almost forgot how much I loved reading books. I love the unfathomable amount of joy they give me. I love the little stifled half squeal half scream of delight that blocks my throat for a few moments when a part of the book makes me particularly laugh or smile at a joke or wholesome moment. And when I have to try my best not to let it escape my mouth so I don't screech out loud seemingly out of nowhere like a little kid at a McDonald's playground playing tag.

[mysweetsinfulobsessions]

Who knew being honest and direct could be so sexy? Gemma (right) spares no time in taking a little white lie about them dating told by book nerd Tansy (left) and turning it into a deal that could benefit them both. Confidence is hot!

[ohnoitstbskyen]

PINNED POST, FAQ, INFORMATION

Hi, I'm TBSkyen. I make videos on YouTube sometimes. This is my main tumblr blog, the "brand" blog as it were, where I maintain my Social Media Presence™ on this site.

I use the ironic ™ to signal my personal discomfort with the work of being a minor media personality even while I still do that work and make a living off it.

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---

About Me

I am a thirtysomething content creator whose primary expertise is character design.

I have a bachelor's degree in English, never finished my master's, did most of a bachelor's degree in history, and that's it. These are my academic qualifications, no more and no less.

My professional experience is primarily being a freelancer and self-employed creator. I spent the better part of a decade working as a commission artist, running webcomics, drawing fanart, and the occasional animation work and not safe for work commissions, and I have at this point a decade of experience and self-study in the subjects I cover. I have also done online community management for, god help me, almost twenty years, so that's a part of my skillset I'll never escape.

I do not have any particular professional creative industry experience, although given what I hear from my professional friends, sometimes that seems like a blessing.

Please maintain a critical distance when engaging with my work. I am a critic. My work is very rarely meant to be taken as authoritative or didactic, and when it is, I will make it clear in my writing. Just because I speak with confidence doesn't mean I am trying to assert objective truth.

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Yes, I know the spaces are inconsistent. It's not on purpose, I just typed them in haphazardly when I started using them and it's stuck.

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FAQ (before you ask)

Q: Will you ever do a video about ____ ? A: The answer to this question is almost universally "maybe someday, if I have time, and if I feel I have anything worthwhile to say." And the more realistic answer is "no, because I already have far too much on my plate and I have burned myself out too many times." In general, please don't ask me this question, I will most likely not answer it because I have given the same answer a thousand times, but I still feel guilty about not answering them.

Q: Will you continue your series of videos about ____ ? A: Yes! I will continue the let's plays I started, I will finish the Boss Designs series, I will do another What's the Deal With, I will do more shorts about the subjects I've got going on. The main obstacle is, again, my tendency to overload myself.

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The rest of it is for me to know, and for you to speculate about, although preferably somewhere I can't see it. I accept that this is a part of being a Personality, but it still feels weird, y'know?

Q: Is it weird if I find your voice kinda hot? A: I've put a lot of work into developing this voice and making it nice to listen to, so that's not weird at all and I find it quite complimentary, thank you.

I generally don't mind people doing flirty/thirsty posting about or at me, just so long as we all understand that 1) you should never give a stranger like me information which could be used to harm you. Nicer-seeming YouTubers than me have turned out to be monsters.

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Think of me like a comedian doing crowd-work at a show - you can chat to me in the bar after the show, but when I asked you what you do for work I wasn't looking for a personal connection, I was doing my work as an entertainer. Please no sending me nudes, or propositions, or confession letters in my email inbox. We are strangers, and I am always performing a persona in public.

[nastasya--filippovna]

So I finally finished Rivals

so here's my review followed by my episode-by-episode, PowerPoint presentation, Danny Motta style reaction (which no one asked for)

⚠️so massive spoilers heads-up⚠️

WHAT A WATCH! for the first time in, well, forever I did not binge the show immediately after it came out. I gave it time. Watched one episode each day and I think I liked the experience! I remembered a lot more stuff that I do when I binge things. But that's not what I'm here to talk about. Pfft let'g get into it huh!

So I read the book like ages ago when the show was first announced and though I remembered some stuff from the plot, I mostly let myself be shocked by it. Would I have watched it if David Tennant wasn't in it. Hmmmm? Probably not!

I mean this show....ugh... man there's no one word to describe it, is there! It's not all romp and pomp although it may seem like it. The strangest part is that for a show that's dealing with some really dark matter it (for some darn reason) refuses to take itself seriously (as @davidtennantgenderenvy wonderfully put it). I mean one minute we're dealing with woman rights, the other Matador Ole is playing while Rupert and Cameron stare each other like that.

I think it's unfair that the media constantly limited the premise of the show to its sexual aspects. The story is a clear socio-political critique of the power politics, sexual politics, and elite culture of the time and it's still quite reflective of the same things in our time too. In fact, the very fact that it disguises itself as a period piece makes it all the more applicable to our time. While watching the show I felt as if each character represents a different segment of the upper class; like Antonio Gramsci said the capitalist class is not a unified group. We have Rupert who represent the political elite, the ones that come from powerful families and then we have Declan who's the intellectual elite, Tony who's one of those new-money business elite people who will never really fit into this cult, Fred the technology millionaires, and Monica who represents that fading, waning part of old British aristocracy that was all about decorum and honour and values and virtue, something that is no longer valued in all the new kinds of elites that are springing up.

It's a very turbulent time. We're on the brisk of turning the world into the way we have it now, pulling it out of another era that is now fading away.

Rupert.... um man! Alex Hassell should be banned from playing this character because he injects more charisma in it that he deserves. I almost started liking him. And it's weird to me that his character development is fine, it's great it's wonderful, he goes from a careless heartless scoundrel to a nice caring person. The only problem I have here is what he did to Taggie in the beginning. How can someone ever possibly expect a woman to forgive a man for s3xual abuse or harassment. That's like major rizz-killer. But his friendship with Lizzie was one of the things I really liked. Made him seem so much more human.

Talking of Lizzie. My girl. My favourite character. Although if I'm being honest EVERY single woman in the show was impeccable. Every one of them ten thousand times more complicated than any male character. We need more women written by women. Sarah looks like a dumb blonde but she's not. She's just a woman who's trying to make something of her life in this male dominated world. Cameron Cook. Absolute goddess. She's powerful. She knows what she wants and how to get it. We just don't have enough ambitious women in media portrayed as "good". Ambitious women are always shown as bitches. And she's not passive in regard to her sexuality. It's her weapon and she uses it with her full agency. Monica, what can I even say about her. Perfectly embodies the crumbling grace of old aristocratic families. Beautiful performance, beyond words. Maud. Oh boy. I lowkey hated her for a bit but her last scene was so amazing.

Aaaaaaand Tony. Tell you what they should NOT let David Tennant play bad people. 'Cause he's gonna do it so good it will give you nightmares for ages. I love that he is always in command of the kind of response he wants to elicit from the audience in regard to his character especially when playing an antagonist. I mean if we compare them, Des makes you feel like you're gaping at the fucking abyss, Tom Kendrick is just awful and scary like a bad father, Kilgrave is (like the character's personality) the kind of performance where you want to hate this person bcs you know they're awful but something about them is sucking you in and you hate that feeling but you can't stop it somehow (cz that's what Kilgarve does!). For Tony he knew what he was doing. He knows how to turn on maximum rizz and then turn it off. He reels in the viewer, making them think oh this is the most charismatic human being I have ever seen (just like Tony does to other characters) and then he strikes when you're in deep.

Another interesting bit about this character was how (esp in eps 7 and 8) there's bits where you think that maybe he's not altogether bad, that maybe there's a bit of kindness and love hiding there somewhere. But then you realise there isn't. All that tenderness is deliberate. He does it on purpose because it draws people in. He cannot love because he doesn't have it in him. Everything is, for him, about social status and winning. He doesn't love his wife. He doesn't love Cameron. He just wants to have them because she feels like he didn't have the things he deserved at some point so now he's gotta have everything. Like he says "just let me have this one"; it's all about winning. Heard someone call him a cartoon villain. Nope guys he's very real. Also the only time you feel like he's being genuine is when he's being a sopping wet pathetic mess in the end.

And he's also very relatable to some extent. I get that what he goes through. His insecurities and whatever complex he has. I do. I go to a university with rich kids from filthy rich families. My parent's parents weren't rich. They just made their fortunes in the last generation and even though I get to be in the same circles as these rich pricks, I feel always (or they make me feel) left out. Like I'm an imposter. Like I could never really have any real class. And that itches a very particular itch in my brain.

As an afterthought, I think you can measure men's personalities and worthiness in terms of DT characters: On a scale of Alec Hardy to Tony Baddingham what kind of man are You!"🫵

On the whole it was a great show. Lovely music. Loved the introduction of each character and how it just lets you know what kind of person this guy/gal/person is! Wonderful cinematography and visuals. Gripping sub-plots. An what an ending! Perfect cliffhanger. And tbh I'd really like it if they left it here. To me a good story doesn't always need to be resolved. There's something to be said for those little ambiguities and uncertainties in life and all the thigs left unsaid. [and if someone is really anxious they can go read the book] Remarkable watch. ★★★★★ (5/5)

And now the reaction!

(Tap for full picture and better quality)

Anyways, here's some memes I made while watching Rivals

Episode 5 Live Reaction:

[hikariyuushi]

HCs about the boys and human language

Because no one asked but I wanna get this out anyways. I'm not a blog dedicated to this or anything, but I still wouldn't mind if anyone asked about my headcanons on the boys or any residents or anything about Homicipher lol.

Mr. Crawling would be a very enthusiastic student when it comes to learning the human language. After all, the more he learns, the closer he is to understanding MC! But as enthusiastic as he is, there will be plenty of things that trips him up. Could probably expect him to speak at a toddler level over the course of a month or so (which is still pretty impressive).

Mr. Hood takes a practical approach, learning the most basic of words to get across what he deems are the most important points at any given time ('you safe? you injured? they enemy? you need help? they good? they bad?'). He's not too interested in the culture of humans, but he does feel better knowing some of the most basic terms in case he comes across other humans who haven't learned the language yet.

Mr. Gap would be most interested to learn to read instead of speak, just so he can see what these papers and articles are saying about him. He could also write his requests easily. It's a win-win! He'd probably most like some sort of textbook or self-teaching book so he could research and teach himself at his own pace instead of having MC teach him.

Mr. Silvair wants ALL the knowledge. He will take notes on absolutely everything, viewing every single aspect from a very pragmatic lens. He'd be the one marking which words were possessive, which were an interrogative, which were particles, etc. He'd also make a few notes of human culture which can add context to the words said.

Mr. Chopped is not the best student, but gosh darn is he trying. His head just starts hurting when it tries to take in too much information and he constantly has to take breaks. Usually a nice scalp massage or combing session helps to calm him down enough for him to continue a little longer. He would also be the first to be able to detect sass/sarcasm being used, and be able to effectively use it in return.

[4hournap]

Test run might continue this, might not (;-ω-)ノ

Twst NB/MR insert! I'll be using both terms interchangeably

Mexican inspired reader

Don't mind any spelling/grammar mistakes plz

Ah...my beloved, Beautiful flower of evil

You are the most beautiful in the world

Mirror, Mirror on the wall, who is the best?

There is a person setting marigolds in a vase by an altar, the sound of galloping horses caught his attention.

“At this hour?”

Opening the rolling gate enough for them to slip out stepping into the street their eyes landed on the most peculiar thing.

“Un carro fúnebre?” looking around, the street was dead silent. No person in sight.

"Oye amigo, odio decirte esto pero…” Their words came to a stop as they saw, there was no coachman. Their eyes widened as they stumbled back a few steps.

'What in the white-chick, horror movie situation is this' they thought. Curiosity consumed the figure, they stepped closer to the carriage, as they did, a dizziness took over until everything turned

Black.

‘Perdóname amá’

Guided by the mirror of darkness,

If you ever so desire,

Take thy hand that lies within the mirror.

Flames that can turn the moon into ashes,

Ice that can freeze time,

Earth that can swallow the sky.

Show no fear to the power of darkness.

Come now, show me your power.

We only have a little bit of time left.

At all costs, do not let go of that hand.

Welcome to the villain's world.

Dark.

That was all they saw when they came to, everything was a blur and they weren't there completely. Nothing but darkness surrounded them. In that darkness came a sound.

"Darn it! People are coming soon! I have to get this uniform on fast!" said the voice

A voice?

"Unngh!! This lid is so heavy! If this happens... it might come down to, Ngghh...that's it!"

A sudden burning sensation woke them up, right out of their daze. Falling forward with a thud they groaned and looked around. There was a coffin that looked like it was blown open, which is where they must have been previously.

"Alright, here's what we're looking for!" the voice said again

They looked before them and saw a fluffy creature, it turned to face them and they both stared at each other for a few seconds before both of them let out a screech.

"GYAAA! You!? Why are you awake?!" it yelled.

"A talking raccoon dog?!" They stuttered.

"Who are you calling a raccoon dog?" said the flaming raccoon in an offended tone. "I am the great Grim, you know!"

"It doesn't matter. You, human! Gimme those clothes!" Grim demanded. "If not, I'll burn ya!"

"Clothes?" They muttered, looking down they saw that his previous attire was no longer on them. Instead, they wore a black robe with a violet lining, as well as gold accents along the hem. With the top, he had on black trousers and dress shoes of the same color. Looking up from their clothes to Grim they shook their head.

"A dream where I get burned alive by a raccoon? How wonderful?" They remarked sarcastically.

"I said I'm not a raccoon!" Grim roared in anger.

The figure scrambled off the floor and booked it out of there. They ran through hallways and courtyards until reaching the library. They placed their hands on their knees as they panted.

"Where am I? What kind of dream is this?!" They then saw blue as Grim appeared.

"Did you really think that you could run away from me? Now if you don't want to get burned gimme those clothes- FUGYA?! That hurt! What is this? String?" Grim cried

"That is not a string. It is the whip of love!" said a man with a plague doctor type of mask.

"A whip of what now?" They muttered to themselves.

"Ah, I finally found you. You are the new student, correct? Well, this isn't good, without authority you just went through the gate." the man continued.

‘No manches’

"And on top of that, you brought a wild familiar with you against the school rules." He then held up a squirming Grim by the scruff.

"Let me go! I'm not this person's familiar!" complained Grim.

"Yes yes, that's what they all say. Let's try to be silent now, shall we? Honestly, it's unheard of for a new student to go through the school by themselves." Crow man then sighed. "Are you this impatient?"

Hijo de- I was running for my life! I'd like to see what you would do when being threatened to become a barbeque! They huffed in their head as they held an 'are you kidding me' expression.

"Well, come along then. The opening ceremony started long ago. Off to the Mirror Chamber, we go." The man then started to walk away with Grim. Our main character would be lying if they said they didn't feel a little bad.

"Wait, wait, wait, new student you say?" They said as they darted next to the crow-like man.

'This has to be a mistake I was tending to our ofrenda a minute ago’

"The room in which you awoke in. The one with the coffins. Every student before you went through that door to come here. However," he paused. "Usually students don't awaken until we open the door with a special key but..."

"Does that mean the fire 'opened' the lid?" The outsider asked as they recalled the lid being blown off.

"So in the end it seems that the main culprit was that familiar huh? If you were the one who brought him here, then you must take responsibility for him." He explained

"Oh...This is not the time for a long talk. If we don't hurry we'll miss the opening ceremony. Come, come, let's be on our way." He said turning to the entrance of the library.

"I'm not a dog," They huffed "-wait, never mind that. Who are you if I may ask?"

"Oh? Are you not fully awake yet? Maybe your memory is distorted from magic transportation. Well, it does happen often. I will explain as we go." He said. "Well, I am quite kind after all."

The “new” student followed Crowley out of the library, down the hallway, and out into the courtyard. The bird-man coughed to get the attention back on him and began to explain.

"This is 'Night Raven College' a place where Magicians with Talent come together. Twisted Wonderland's most prestigious magicians training academy. And I am the Headmaster of this Academy, the board chairman, Dire Crowley."

"Magicians?" The shorter person asked.

"The only ones who can enroll in this school are those with exceptional qualities of a magician. And those who the 'Mirror of Darkness accepts', and those chosen are called to the academy through the 'door' from all over the world." Crowley took a breath before continuing. "But for you, I believe an ebony carriage came to pick you up,"

Grim then started to struggle even further, to this the headmaster paid no mind. "Now then, on our way to the opening ceremony."

[iridescent-solstice]

Fic 1/2 made for the amazing @cinsilly for winning this contest I hosted a while back. I hope you like it and also thank you for participating in my silly little shenanigans. If I did my job right, hopefully you’ll join future events too! 🙆🏻‍♀️

The candle by his side burns faithfully as Julian leans over his cluttered desk. Wispy strands of his ginger hair wave back and forth as he grumbles in frustration. With an aching back and cramped wrists, his sleep deprived mind urges him to take a break.

But he won't. Because there is much to be done. Far too much.

He chides himself internally for not working enough. For not being fast enough. Because, despite the countless hours he’s spent here, there are still too many old journals to comb through. Too many documents he’s scribbled and had to scrap or re-read. He's frustrated. Tired. Hungry and extremely worried for all the people out there in worse conditions than he is. The physical states of those already infected aren't getting much better, and the count's temper is only getting worse. "DAMMIT WHY IS NOTHING WORKING!" He curses slamming his fist down on the poor table. It's like he's walking around in endless circles, isn't he? There has to be a cure! He chants in his head. With a library as huge as this, there must be something here about a plague spreading by beetles.

It’s almost beginning to feel like he’s drowning in pile and piles of unending assigned reading. Even with an apprentice, there’s still so much he has to do. If he doesn’t . . . No. Julian shakes the thoughts away. He doesn’t want to think about those consequences. Finding the cure is too vital a task to slack on. And he won't discover it if he spends all his time wondering about what will happen if he doesn't manage to uncover it. He can do it . . . Well, even if he couldn’t, there are too many people's lives at stake to not try his darn hardest. Too people relying on him. The countess. The citizens of Versuvia. The count. But most importantly . . . his apprentice is counting on him too. So, he has to find a cure. No.matter.what.the.cost.

Books, letters, documents and other knick knacks are sprawled all over the cinnamon-coloured table. But the mess inside his head is even worse than the one infront of him. A looming giant window behind him gives a glimpse into the internal state of the city. Cold, dark, deserted and in complete disarray. The normal hustle and bustle is no longer as usual as it once used to be. You’d be lucky if you saw a single person in sight. Not anymore though. They’re all hiding away inside their homes. He has no doubt that you would be too if you gave yourself the luxury too.

But he’s glad you haven’t taken that liberty. That you care enough to stay by his side. To risk your life. He has no idea how he'd do this without you. Throughout all his travels at sea, he's spent a great deal of his time alone. But he doesn't think he could ever go back to that lifestyle anymore. He needs you. 

He needs you to check up on him. To hold his hand and cheerfully tell him everything will be alright again. To not give up. He nee- No he wants you. Wants you to sit suspiciously close by as he navigates the medical forms. While he relays the important findings he just discovered. As he flips through the records. Patient after patient, case after case. It’s almost too much, but he knows he can handle it. With you by his side, he’s sure he can handle anything. Fatigued eyes search all over the table but his thoughts wander to you again. Like they always do when he’s stressed out. Are you hunched over a desk like he is? Huddled up in your shop researching old tomes? He wonders if you think about him too. He wonders if you miss his company as much as he misses yours. He can’t imagine those talking books to be good company. 

[ ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀꜱ ʙʏ: @/fairytopea]

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

Aaah open requests! Yay! I loved the fic about the peacocks interrupting Baldwin and I NEED more light-hearted reader x KOH's Baldwin. Could you pretty please do reader "arguing" with Baldwin over something silly where he ends up teasing her into giving in to what he wants? Basically them behaving like two lovesick teenagers instead of king and queen. Thank you!

♤ All In Good Fun - King Baldwin x Reader ♤

♤ Crack Fic ♤

A/N: Hello Anon! I'm so glad you enjoyed that fic! I agree, I need to do more lighthearted stories and hopefully this one turned out how you wanted it to! As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

PS: I used the same scenario from the “Those Darn Birds” fic, just maybe like a week later from when it was set :)

The union of Baldwin’s cousin and her, now husband, had proceeded as planned.

The king did his best to not speak to his new cousin in law and avoided him at all costs to prevent an uncomfortable and insulting interaction.

Y/n stayed beside Baldwin all day, as the king and queen should, so other than a brief awkward congratulations to the newly married couple, there was no other issue.

Still though, Baldwin was not enjoying the event at all. For the entire day, all he could think about was retiring to the royal chambers and getting away from the chaos.

Finally, evening arrived and the guests went to their rooms to prepare for dinner. 

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

“Oh thank the lord that is over!” Baldwin sighed as soon as the door was closed.

Y/n chuckled, “it's not over yet my love, we still have dinner”.

This earnt a heavy sigh from her husband as he removed his mask and veil, sitting his tired body down on the couch.

“Must I go darling? I am sure my presence will not be missed. I barely spoke all day?” he protested.

Y/n laughed again as she sat down at the vanity to fix her makeup.

“You're the king sweetheart! You're the single most important man in the kingdom! You must attend!”.

This earnt another tired groan from Baldwin, “you could just tell them I was too sick to attenddd?” he asked, raising his one good eyebrow.

“Are you suggesting we lie to our own friends and family about your wellbeing?” the queen gasped sarcastically, turning dramatically to look at him.

Baldwin grinned at her reaction.

“Maybe I am! As you say, I am the king after all. I can do what I please” he added in a sarcastically upper class voice, standing to approach his wife.

Y/n laughed again, turning back to the mirror as Baldwin wrapped his arms around her shoulders and rested his chin on top of her head.

“Is that so? Well I guess you must stay then if you are soo tireddd” y/n teased.

“Well are you going to attend?” he asked with a smile.

“Yes, I must attend. Besides, I need to tell the guests that you ‘were so exhausted’ and that you ‘couldn't possibly even stand up any longer’”. 

The king’s smile widened.

“Thank you my loveee” Baldwin said, kissing her head before going to get changed into a nightgown while y/n continued to ready herself for dinner.

She finished getting ready just as Baldwin was snuggling underneath the bed covers with a book in his hands.

Y/n smiled and rolled her eyes as he looked up at her with a cheesy grin.

“Well, you sure look comfortable” y/n teased again, standing from her seat.

“Yes I certainly am, but I would be much more comfortable with you in here thoughhh” he teased back.

The queen bent down to kiss her husband on the forehead.

“Well I shall be back in about an hour, would you like me to bring you some food your highness” she curtsied dramatically causing Baldwin to chuckle.

“Yes pleaseee, you look beautiful by the wayyy” he replied, the goofy grin on his face widening.

“You're lucky that you're sweet” y/n replied, turning to leave.

“I love you!” Baldwin called out.

“I love you too!” y/n called back, slipping out of the room with a small smile on her face.

[bokettochild]

I absolutely love fics that give all the Links different written languages.

BUT

For the ones that don't...

Who do you think can or can't read/write cursive? I firmly believe that Wind's grandma taught him how to read it, but he never writes in it so he can't without double checking certain letters multiple times.

Ooh!

Yes, Wind is quite proficient in Hylian cursive! He and Aryll actually both are since Granny doesn't really use anything else except back when she was first teaching them how to read, and even then, her letters are all swoopy and graceful (they love that). He reads it well, but his handwriting is still awkward and crooked (JoJo had it overlapped onto Warriors'). Aryll spends more time writing things down so she's a bit better than he is, but only a bit.

Four is familiar with cursive, since he spends a lot of time at the castle and most of the royals use it. he can read it well, and he can sort of write it, but Blue finds the excessive loops to be ridiculous and while Red thinks they're pretty, it's too tricky to do all the time, so only really Green uses cursive, and only when split. Vio likes how it looks, but he writes to get things down, and he thinks too fast to care about how his writing looks (it looks like chicken scratches).

Legend is also quite used to cursive, and he can write in it, when he takes the time to try. Most of the time, he's like Vio and just trying to jot things down, but if he's writing a letter or a note to someone, he tends to at least try and make it look nice, and cursive does a decent job of that. I'd like to note, also, that since he's a bit of a book collector too, Legend is very good at reading even the crappiest of handwriting, not just cursive.

Hyrule hasn't got much expose to written materials, but most of what he has seen are old books with the gilded letters and the like, so he doesn't even know cursive is a thing until Aurora introduced him to it. He's not very good at reading it, and definitely can't write with it, but he's getting better.

Wild might have been able to write in cursive before he lost his memories, but he doesn't any longer. Most of Hyrule doesn't bother with cursive, not even Flora, since she, like Legend and Vio, has only the intent of writing things quickly and no longer has anyone to tell her to make it look nice. Purah and Robbie are the same. Sidon and the Zora do use cursive, but Wild doesn't really care enough to try reading it, since most of the time anything they bother to write is just official mumbo-jumbo to him anyway. He does have rather neat printing though!

Sky can read cursive, as can all the students at the academy, but he prefers to print things out, because it's easier and he was always a rather lazy student. Zelda feels the same way, but Groose actually has the best penmanship out of them all (he wanted to be better than Sky). They can all write cursive, but again, Sky never cared to practice enough to make it look very nice, so he sort of struggles to do it.

Twilight on the other hand! Twilight has the fanciest gosh-darn handwriting out of the whole chain! Since he's a total book nerd (look at his house), I'd say he's probably been exposed to all sorts of handwriting, and as a kid decided he would make his handwriting look like the stuff in fancy books. Ulli helped him to learn, and he now writes with a very neat hand indeed. Most of the time he prints things, to save time, but this man could be a calligrapher if he so chose! He really likes to do those embellished first letters like in old books, and while sometimes he gets teased about it, Shad may or may not have asked him to help with some of his publications because of his skill.

Warriors has very neat handwriting, but unfortunately, cannot read or write in cursive. I'm a street-rat Wars truther, so this man probably only recently learned to read in my take on him. He makes sure his handwriting looks nice, but cursive is a bit too much for his needs. Soldiers don't get sent things with cursive most of the time, so when he does, he can usually just ask Impa to help him read it, as it's usually in regards to an official frivolity anyways.

Time cannot cursive. Malon can, but she's not very good at it either (reading or writing). Time doesn't care to learn, Malon doesn't really care to improve, and the only way to get Time to even try would be to tell him he could use it top mess with Wars.

[thegnomelord]

Shark

- 🦈

(WOBSVHDVUH. HOLY MOTHER OF SHARKS. HOW DO YOU WRITE SO GOOD. Gosh you, darn you, daum you. Fuel my god daum brainrot.

Now im thinkin of angst. DONT WRITE IT, I CANNOT HANDLE YOUR WRITING IN ANGST. THIS IS JUST A BRAIN BLURB.

Price is close to death whether it be the ultimte battle between the destruction of all that can die or of a horrid enemy, they have yet to defeat.

Price is alive, but too far to be ever saved. The boys want to summon their captain's ole friend, to say a well had goodbye, maybe even save him. But no books, no scrolls, nor anything etched in stone on the surface depicts them. Nothing.

Price dies knowing hes lived a good life, praying to all the gods that his beloved eldritch dosent destroy the surface he called home.

The only way the poor eldritch finds out, are when Prices ashes are swallowed by the waves.

In every storm, waves tower over the heights of skyscraper, to the point not even those that could fly can cross. Death is quick when it comes to the ocean, like it trying to collect all power it can withhold. Creatures are cruel when it comes to what has killed their gods beloved, relentlessly acttacting what they can. Sharks are rare, to the point their sighting have come near myth or legend. Yet, they will always come come towards any that is draconic for they miss them. Ocean creatures, humanoid or not, would cry with no control, close to fire, dragons or smoke. They grieve. They all grieve.

But, Dragons seem to live longer when close to the waves. Saving them in dire situations when the fall from they sky, wounds healed when submerged in the salty sea. Even if you were pure fire, absolute whole magma. You'd be saftely cradled in any and all water. Water is the safest, the safest they have ever felt in all of their exsistence. They know this feeling, it is old, it is familiar, it is embedded in blood.

For the ocean rembers, it always remembers.)

Okay honestly your brain farts are always so good but. . . But . . . I'm so sorry sharky. This came to before you even wrote your ask and now I have to do it, you're just the sacrificial goat. . .

CW: SFW, angst, made myself cry :/ Got some idea inspo from @heliumknife

John Price doesn't die on a notable day. He doesn't die on the day of reckoning, doesn't die on the day fire rains from the sky and blood muddles your oceans, doesn't die alongside human gods, doesn't die on the day he may meet what made him and hear he was a good man.

John Price dies on a regular Tuesday night.

Not even a blip on the radar.

Having saved the oblivious world yet again he retches a bloodied cough as he stumbles on the beach he'd ended up on. His legs give out, the course sand rubbing his skin when he falls, red blood slowly seeping between the grains. Distantly he can hear his boys calling for him, watching the waves wash onto the shore, the tide too low to reach him; too low for you to sense him.

He can feel Gaz scrambling to stem his bleeding, Soap desperately searching through the first aid kit, Ghost barking on the coms that Price is hit. And as the world begins to grow quiet, the low murmur of waves washing upon the sand filling his ears, washed up amber glittering in his blurring eyes, the scent of seaweed and brine filling his rapidly slowing lungs—

Price smiles — he'll slumber with you soon.

Only when the morning tide comes in do you sense his blood, do you rouse from the depths like lightning, waking from a nightmare to find it has followed you to the waking world.

You're too late.

Like always.

He's so still.

Peaceful — worry lines and wrinkles smoothed out and face relaxed you could delude yourself into thinking he's just sleeping. Oh those dragons with their slumber; he'll grumble when you go to wake him, demanding five more bloody minutes of your attention as if he's the god here. Cling to you like a barnacle and growling like a kitten until you give in and lay down next to him. Give a rumbling purr and laugh at how he got a god wrapped around his finger until you shut him up with a kiss.

But you can't.

Your vessel's eyes keep darting to the blood staining his clothes, the crusted red lines trailing from his lip down his chin, the stillness of his chest, the silence.

They tell you John Price died protecting his team from a brutal foe. John Price died protecting the world. John Price died protecting the very people who in your recent shared memory had been happy to sharpen sticks and melt rock into to steel all in an vain attempt at glory. . .

John Price died a hero.

Your John died.

And you weren't there.

"Hey. . ." You look at Gaz when he speaks, standing on the opposite side of the medical table they've laid his body on. ". . .I know you two were, close." He chokes up, voice rough and nasally, fresh tear tracks staining his cheeks.

You envy him for it. For once you wish you were the ant on a circuit board instead of it's maker, just so you could see the world like they do, mourn like they do — open, visible, showing you cared, showing he wasn't just a toy in your sandbox. That Price was the voice you'd hear when loosening the noose of the rope, the beckoning call beyond the reach of your waves, the one that held that wretched excuse you call a heart.

But you can't.

All your treacherous vessel manages to achieve is a small dip in the corner of your lip. "So were you." Your voice is low and garbled like you're drowning, the rumble of icebergs scraping on the ocean floor filling the silence behind each syllable.

Gaz flinches like he'd been slapped, unable to look at the man he loved as much as you did. "Yeah," His gaze flickers everywhere like fleeing fishes in a reef, "I'm sorry." He blurts out.

"Don't be." You don't look at him, your cold hand reaching out to trace Price's jaw, coarse beard scratching your flesh. "You loved him when I couldn't." A part of you wants to be angry at Gaz for harboring John's affection and attention, that it's not fair for him to be able to mourn when you've known your John long before Athenians and Spartans decided to throw hissy fits in your waters. But you can't call yourself a lover he deserved when you met him so rarely, a blink of the eye for you and a century passes.

"Are you going to kill us now?" Kyle asks, not scared, as if he's expecting it.

It shames you, but you thought about it; of sea life growing gigantic and voracious under your influence, of making the sky weep in your stead, of violent waves rising up and devouring the planet for taking away your world. What's the point of it's existence when the one who made it shine has been snuffed out?

"No," You sigh in resignation. You can't, not while there are still people and places John loved, not while vestiges of him remain. You can't kill what's left of him, protect them like you couldn't do with him.

Gaz tells you they plan to cremate him in line with dragon customs, only to take a step back when you pick your John up to cradle in your arms, his loose wing draping over your shoulder, his head resting on your shoulder, nose buried in your neck as if he's scenting you once again.

"I'll come to collect the rest of you when you pass." You say before disappearing with Price, because if you had to answer Gaz's questions — Why are you taking his body when you weren't even there when he died? Why do you act like you care when you saw him so rarely? Why are you taking him away from Gaz when he was the one who loved Price? What gives you the right? — you would have drowned a country.

Water rushes around him the moment you are back in your element, holding him in a cradle made of your waters like the first time he'd fallen into the ocean so many millennia ago. Water bubbles escape his open mouth as your waves caress and kiss each inch of him, crusted blood muddling the brine around him as you pull him as close to your real body as you can.

Searching.

You can feel his soul once your waters have kissed every inch of his skin, faint yet stubbornly clinging on somewhere in the aether, no doubt giving Death a headache.

You were once a soul too were you not? Just a dead thing too dumb to know it died; somewhere deep beneath the individual writhing sharks and decaying corpses and fossilized bone making up your body resides your original one, nothing but a chunk of rock with the imprint of what you had as a skeleton at the time.

For if Death doesn't come to claim it, a soul won't die until the body's gone. You had slipped past the cracks, grew fat and large on the other souls until Death could no longer touch you without fear of being swallowed whole.

You doubt it would let Price slip through like it had with you, fortunately you put claim on his soul long ago. You swim to the deepest part of the earth where burning geothermal vents spew minerals into freezing cold waters, where you slumber and feed on the souls of the dead.

You curl around him, living and dead bodies parting until Price rests wrapped around the oldest part of you.

Embracing you like he always wanted to.

He waited so long for you.

Now it's your turn to wait. This time you will be there.

And if the oceans above rage for months, if the season long rain floods the streets, if the weather makes it so that in the crushing depths no one can pick out your tears from the ocean brine, all the better.

[hunnitastic]

🌸~Kisses and Confessions~🌸

||art by @/partycoffin ||

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Wally Darling x GN!Reader

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||Work is also available on my ao3 account ||

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Third person p.o.v

It was a lovely day in the neighborhood. You were sitting outside playing julies complicated hop scotch game while frank stood by reading a hook. Right now you were shockingly winning even though you couldn't understand a lick of the rules she came up with. "Gosh darn it! How am I losing to you so quickly?" Julie complained as she stomped her foot in anger. Frank looked over and scoffed. "Julie if (y/n) is so confused by your rules and yet still manage to win at this game then don't you think maybe you ought to change the rules and make it more playable?" He spoke keeping his eyes peeled to his book. With you hands placed proudly on your hips you let out a victory laugh. "Hahaha! Well, looks I win Julie! You owe me that cake now!" You beamed in joy.

Julie threw her hands up in defeat. "Arg! Alright fine you win!" She cried out loud and playfully slapped your arm. You let out a chuckle and patted her back. "Hey frank how long did it take for us to finish the game?" You asked looking over at the other who was very well invested in his book. "Approximately 1 hour and 35 minutes." You blinked in awe. "Wow it felt way longer then that!" Julie nodded in agreement.

As the 2 of you cleaned up the sidewalk and proceeded to doodle with colored chalk you looked up and saw wally strolling down the sidewalk, hands rested behind his pockets. "Hi wally! Wanna join me and Julie for some chalk art?" You asked as you waved your arm. Wally stopped looking down at your little drawings. He held back a chuckle seeing a doodle of frank looking like an angry monster. "Those look really good. I particularly like this one of frank looking mad." Wally hummed as he pointed at the drawing. "EXCUSE ME?!?" Frank yelled as he scrambled to look at the drawing. "I do not look like that! Julie!" Frank yelled some more. "How did you know I was the one who drew it?!" "Because (y/n) doesn't draw me like that!" Frank and Julie argued as you and wally watched them bicker back and forth.

"So you up for some drawing?" You asked holding up some chalk. "It seems fun but I'm afraid I might have to pass." You cocked your head to the side. "I'm on my way to howdys shop to grab a few things." "Oh! Sorry to keep you waiting then! Go on and head to the shop, oh and tell howdy I need some more glitter glue please? Julie used up all of mine for Sally's last play" you spoke with a pout.

Wally softly chuckled and nodded his head. "I'll be sure to let him know." He hummed getting ready to head off. "I'll see you later then (y/n)." Before you could wave goodbye you watched with wide eyes as wally lifted his hand, pressed it against his lips and sweetly blowing you a kiss with a wink. Your face flushed a bright red and your heart skipped a beat as you watched your neighbor walk away.

Since...when did he know how to blow a kiss? You don't ever recall barnaby ever teaching wally how to blow a kiss. And barnaby usually teaches wally a whole bunch of things. Perhaps you'd have to ask barnaby yourself.

"Me? Teaching wally how to blow kisses? Nope sorry little bud but I never taught him how to do that." Barnaby hummed looking down at uou as you walked beside him. Holding a hotdogs in his hand. "Really? So...you mean he learned how to blow kisses all by himself?" You asked slightly surprised by this fact. "I guess it is kind of shocking isn't it? Little wally learning how to do something without my help this time! My buddys growing up" Barnaby spoke as he faked a sob causing you to chuckle. "Might as well start getting used to it. Once wally learns something new he'll be doing that non-stop for days." You blinked slightly confused. Who would blow kisses every single day?

That sounds absolutely ridiculous!

.

.

.

Oh wow barnaby was actually right. As each day passed wally would continue to blow kisses to every neighbor he ran into. He'd blow a kiss at Eddie as he passed by delivering his mail, He'd blow a kiss to howdy after leaving the store and even blowing a kiss to frank while he was out catching butterflies. But for you, it was completely different. Wally wouldn't just blow kisses in your direction. Whenever he greeted you he would grab your hand a place a soft kiss on your skin. Whenever he'd pull away he would never let go of your hand. He'd firmly grasp it between his fingers. His thumb rubbing in slow circles over the top of your hand in a soothing notion. You didn't mind of course. It was rather nice to be greeted with a kiss on the hand. Especially when it's someone you fancy over.

Day by day you'd gotten very used to the casual greeting of the platonic hand kisses. But today was much more different than it was before.

You were at poppy barn helping her make sugar cookies for julies little tea party and sleepover that was going start in the afternoon. As you were busy mixing the dough poppy plopped down on a chair next to you. Dusting the flour off her apron with her feathers. "Thank you once again for helping me dear." You shook your head with a smile. "Aw it's no problem poppy! I always enjoy baking with you. It's much more fun than staying at home." You hummed as you begun to roll out the dough. "I'm looking forward to what the others will bring to the tea party!" Poppy nodded in agreement. "I believe frank told me he was going to bring lemon custard." Your mouth watered-down you heard the word 'lemon.' Frank had always told you how rich custard was and it seems today you'll finally be able to try it!

"Wow that sounds yummy. I hope this time Julie has actual tea instead of fruit punch. Last time she added too much sugar! I didn't get a wink of sleep that night either!" You huffed while cutting out cookie pieces. Poppy let out a chuckle, flinching when she heard the oven ding. "Oh! The first batch is done!" She got up and grabbed her mits and pulled out the pan of freshly baked cookies. "Now we need to wait for them to cool and then we can decorate them!" Poppy sung, her feathers ruffling in excitement. You smiled as you proceeded to place the next batch of cookies onto another tray. You hummed a sweet tune looking forward to the party and sleepover later tonight.

As the hours pass, and after you helped poppy stack the cookies on a bigger tray, you rushed home to get your sleeping bags and dress in another more casual outfit. Once you made sure you were neatly dressed and had everything you needed you quickly ran back to poppys barn. The two of you happily walked towards julies hose together. Chatting about you've been up to. You even brought up how wally has been greeting you with hand kisses. Poppys eyes widened. "Oh does he now. I know the dear likes to blow everyone kisses these days but I dont believe I've ever seen him be as gentlemanly with anyone else other than you (y/n) hun!" Poppy chirped. You lightly blushed looking at the ground. "Oh I'm sure he's just trying to be more neighborly. I am still pretty new to home after all!" You stumbled over your words.

Poppy squinted her eyes leaning her head down towards your level. "Perhaps it's something more than just wanting to be more neighborly hmm?" The bird teased. You chuckled and shook your head. "Oh stop! I'm fairly sure wallys just trying to be nice" you softly spoke thinking about what poppy had just said.

Could wally possibly...be doing more then just trying to be friendly towards you?

As the two of you reached julies house you noticed you were the last ones to arrive. Uh, you didn't think baking cookies would have kept you that long. After setting down the tray outside in the back on a neatly decorated table you noticed wally talking with howdy and barnaby. Your face wanted up when you made eye contact with your little crush who begun walking your way. Your heart fluttered once wally was a few inches away from you. "U-uh hi wally! Nice to see you at the tea...party....today-" you paused as you noticed wally leaning forward.

He lifted his hand and cupped your cheek. Tilting your head to the side wally softly pressed his lips against your cheek giving you a gentle loving kiss. Your eyes widened and face flushed a bright red. A few seconds passed before wally pulled away holding both of your hands, intertwining your fingers with his. "Hello (y/n), I'm glad you were able to come today." Wally spoke in his casual monotone voice. You couldn't manage to stare at your neighbor in the eyes. "O-oh wally, I couldn't pass up the chance to spend some time with all my friends!" You stuttered feeling wallys soft grip on your hands. You glanced up looking at the others droopy eyes and sweet cat like smile. "Ahahahaha-" you let out a nervous laugh. Wally tilted his head to the side. "Is there something wrong? You look rather nervous." Wally asked leaning closer to your face. You shook your head. "NO, NO, NO of course not! I'm all good!" You exclaimed out loud.

Good going (y/n), way to make yourself look like a fool!

Throughout the duration of the teaparty wally didn't seem like he wanted to leave your side. At the table while the others mingled over sweets and tea, wally scooted his seat close to your seat, your shoulders brushed up against each other. You listened to julies story about how one time her and frank where chasing butterflies and frank ended up rolling down a hill. You chuckled as Eddie held back frank from tackling julie to the ground for bringing up the story while poppy and howdy panicked at the scene.

As soon as night time fell and everyone cleaned up outside the rest of the gang set up their sleeping bags in the living room. Of course some furniture had to be moved around to make enough space for poppy, barnaby and howdy to all fit in. But once everything was set up, Sally rushed to set up a pillow fort for her special puppet shadow show. She's been working on it for days just for this special occasion and she's been very eager to show off her skills!

Crawling underneath the fort and finding a comfortable position to sit in you waited for the show to start. You chatted with howdy about his day. He told you about his massive shipment he received early in the morning that took him hours to stock up on the shelves. You promised him next time you'd be there to help. A moment later Sally crawled underneath the fort, a big flashlight in hand. "Ok guys! I finally found my flashlight! Now, gather around as I tell you the tale of a princess and her knight who saves her from a big scary dragon!" Sally exclaimed waving her arms up in the air as she plopped down in the ground. 

Just as you were getting comfy in your spot, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist. You looked behind you to see wally staring right at you with his usual droopy eyes. "Are you excited for the shadow puppets (y/n)?" He asked pulling you closer resting up against his chest. You were thankful it was ŕatger dim under the fort else wally would gave been able to see you blush like crazy. "U-uh yeah! Sally's been talking about it all week, I've been looking forward to...it..." you slowed your speech when you felt wally lean down rubbing his cheek against yours. "I've been looking forward to it too. I'm glad I get to watch it with you" he softly hummed pressing a kiss against your cheek once more.

You were extremely confused on how wally started to randomly become very touchy with you. You didn't mind it at all! Really, you enjoyed it but you still didn't know if wally saw you as something more then just a neighbor. Which it slightly frustrated you not knowing if he reciprocate his feelings back. Perhaps maybe after the shadow puppets show you'll talk to wally privately to finally ask. 

You adjusted yourself in wallys grasp while the others crawled into the fort, while poppy slightly struggled she currled up behind wally. You looked over and patted your lap motioning for poppy to rest her head on your lap, which she gladly did. You hummed softly patting her head as the phppet shadow show began.

In the middle of the little show wally would sneak kisses in between. One kiss on your cheek, one kiss on the crook of your neck, one kiss at the back of your neck etc. You couldn't help but shiver with every kiss given. It distracted you from focusing on Sally's play that you flinched when she let out a loud "ROAR!!" Startling both you and poppy. Well that definitely woke you up. "And after the prince destroyed the dragon, he took his princess by the hand and rode happily into the sunlight. The end!" Sally finished with a bow.

Everyone clapped while julie hooted and hollered. "WHOOPIE! HOORAY!" she yelled furiously clapping. You let out a chuckle. "That was really good sally! I'm impressed you managed to learn shadow puppets so quickly." Sally proudly grinned. "Why thank you (y/n)! I bothered howdy for days as practice!" Howdy nodded his head letting out a chuckle. "I'll admit it gave me something to do during slow days. You've gotten really good the first time you showed me sal." howdy spoke before yawning.

Julie clasped her hands together, Startling frank who glared at her. "Alright I think its time for all of us to hit the hay!" The others nodded in agreement while yawning in synch. You let out a yawn as well and stretched your arms as wally finally let you go from his grip as you each crawled to your sleeping bags. "Julie why must you insist on sleeping next to me?" You heard frank complain as he settled in his blankets with julie snuggling up beside him. "Because frank! I like sleeping next to you!" Julie sleepily sung while rubbing her tired eyes. "But Julie do you not recall the other times we had a sleepover and you kept repeatedly hitting me in the face while you were sleeping?" Frank grumbled while julie let out a weak laugh. "I pinky promise I won't hit you at all! And if I do then next sleepover I'll sleep next to (y/n)" you snapped your head looking over at the two. "Hey- what!? But I don't want to be slapped in the face by Julie! She hits hard!" Frank smirked as he settled in his sleeping bag. "Trust me, I know." He ended with a snicker. You let out a groan laying your head down on your pillow waiting for the others to fall asleep.

A few hours had passed. You opened your eyes and peeked around the room seeing the others sleeping peacefully while frank was being squished to death by Eddie and julie. You smiled before looking over at wally. You reached out about to tap his shoulder when you paused. You began to grow nervous. You never had to talk about your feelings to anyone before other than poppy at times let alone wally. Would it be a good idea to talk to wally? What if he didn't feel the same way? What if he brutally rejected you? The fast racing of your heart got your nervous shooting up. You shot up out of your sleeping bag and quickly, yet quietly, ran out of the living room to the backyard.

You sat on the swing set outside. Lightly swinging back and forth. Shivering at the cool air that hit your skin. "Agh...what am I thinking? He's just being nice is all..." you looked up at the night sky. Staring at the stars that twinkled brightly. "Wally probably thinks I'm weird..." 

"I think you're very lovely (y/n)."

You flinched hearing the sound of wallys voice coming from behind you. You jumped off the swing stumbling as you turned around seeing wally standing a few feet behind you. His figure luminated by the moonlight. Drowned in a soft light glow.

'He looks so beautiful...' you thought to yourself.

"OH-UM...wally I thought you were sleeping hehe" you nervously laughed fidgeting with your fingers. "I couldn't really sleep. What's got you up at this time of night neighbor?" He asked walking forward standing much closer infront of you. Your face scrunched up as you looked down at the ground. "Well...I uh-...the same with me. I couldn't really sleep either" you lied while rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. Wally tilted his head to the side. You could feel his eyes piercing right through your lie. "Hmmm is that right?" He asked resting his chin in the palm of his hand while his arm rested underneath. You slowly nodded your head, refusing to make any sort of eye contact with your crush. "You seemed rather tired during Sally's shadow puppet play. I saw you yawn many times."

You hitched your breath.

"You seemed to sleep peacefully a few hours ago before you woke up so suddenly. Are you sure it's because you couldn't sleep and its not something else?"

Your face flushed red as the embarrassment grew. He watched you sleep so he most certainly knew that not being able to sleep wasn't an excuse. You looked up finally feeling defeated when you gazed right into his eyes. You let out a sigh and shook your head. "No...it's not because I couldn't sleep." You turned around wrapping your arms around yourself. "What seems to be bothering you friend?" Wally asked. You cringed at the word 'friend'. "Well...I just...wally I-" you struggled to find the right words to say. Wally patiently waited for you to speak. You let out a shakey breath before you finally found the courage to confess.

"Well..you see..these past few days you've been...er...doing certian things that make my heart flutter. At first you only blew kisses, not just to me but to the others as well. Hehe I was rather impressed you learned how to do that without barnaby teaching you. But, later you've been giving just me all kinds of kiss. Fist it was in the hand and then it was on the cheek, my neck and- ARG" you slapped your hands over your face feeling more embarrassed than ever. "Wally... I'm just confused if you...see me as just your neighbor or as- something more. I can never understand what you do or say." You mumbled into your hands.

Wally walked up behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders and carefully turned you back around facing him. He reached up and slowly removed your hands from your face before cupping your softly. His eyes staring right into yours. "Silly (y/n). You're so sweet and kind," he begun, his thumb softly stroking your cheek. "I love all my friends the same but, you're much more different then they are." His smile widened when he saw your eyes light up. "I only begun to notice it a while after you moved to home. But I very much adore everything about you." Wally could feel your face heat up between his hands. "I don't think there's anything about you I could ever dislike. To me, you're the most wonderful person I've ever met." He finished as he went and leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

A smiled painted its way onto your lips as you reached up and softly grasped his hands with yours. Your heart skipping a beat as you leaned into the kiss. All of your nerves suddenly disappeared. You pulled wally into a hug. His body going limp yet he didn't seem to mind it at all as you squeezed him tightly.

"I love you wally..."

.

.

.

"I love you more (y/n)."

While the two of you were outside having your moment the others had woken up and watched the entire thing go down behind a window. Julie happily stimming from excitement while slapping frank on the back. "I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT, I KNEW IT, I KNEW IT!" Frank let out a grumbled grabbing julies hands and placing them down by her sides. "It was very much obvious that these two had a thing going on. However I think wally may have been a bit TOO obvious." The others nodded in agreement.

As you pulled away from the hug you glanced over and noticed the other peeping from the window. "HEY!" you yelled causing them to scrambled and fall. Poppys feathers flying in the air as she squawked. You shook your head and let out a chuckle. "We sure do have some crazy neighbors don't we?" You asked as the both of you began walking back inside. Wally nodded in agreement. "But I enjoy their company very much." He leans down to give you another sweet kiss on the cheek.

"But I enjoy your company most of all~."

||THE END||

[[OUAGH I hope I did a good job here. I tried to add as much fluff as possible so it ended up being pretty long. My apologies. But with this story finally out of the way ill be able to work on requests in about a week or so! Thank you all for the support! It means alot to me♡]]

[uglypastels]

Not Wholly Evil |V| Pirate!Eddie au

a/n thank you to @eddies-house for helping me figure out this darn chapter. you saved me from a menty b.

please remember to support by reblogging and commenting!! you don't know how much it helps writers

Series Masterlist

word count: 8.2k

"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. mention of severe wounds. minor character death. allusions to suicide. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. pirates are pigs: mentions of non-con, but it does not actually occur. malnourishment and weight loss. paranoia. mention of poisoning. abuse. manhandling. lying.

Chapter 5: Flintlock

“A taste for adventure is by no means a masculine monopoly” ― Lloyd Alexander

It was certainly strange, seeing the cabin through the daylight. The wooden panelling of the walls and floor looked softer, and the decorations on the walls were no longer covered in menacing shadows. The bed, however, was softer than your dream made it seem. It was better than the ground, but knowing who usually occupied it made your back stiff with dread. 

The room was empty as you got up, stretching your body out of the foreign feeling of a bed. Another thing to thank the captain for— perverting the concept of a bed. There was no space for anyone to hide in the cabin, but you still looked around, waiting for him to appear out of thin air. It seemed like just the thing he could do and had been doing all your time on board. Only once you checked every corner could you properly set your mind at rest.

Besides the sunshine, nothing had changed from the night before. It was as if you had stepped through time, from night to morning. Your old clothes hung on the edge of the bed. The bookcase was missing the one book you had pulled out, leaving the rest at an awkward angle. Your dinner plate and ale jug, alongside the captain’s empty rum bottle, were left behind on the desk, but as you walked towards the table, you noticed the cup to be filled again, and on the plate stood two thick slices of bread and some brightly coloured fruit you had not seen before—more food that must have been retrieved during the brief exploration of the nameless island. You sat down on the throne and tried to push aside the feeling that came whenever you touched something, anything, to do with the captain. It was like he haunted all his possessions, never leaving you alone.

The bread was the safest option; it was your first bite, breaking your fast. After the delicious meal you had been given last evening, the salty dryness of the dough did not compare by the slightest, but the cool fresh water that had also been left for you made up for it.

And the fruit… 

You were still unsure of what it was, but the juice of it felt healing to your senses. You ate it slowly, trying to savour every bite. 

Once done, you noticed that all the documents the captain had thrown off last night still lay spread out on the ground. This, in particular, unsettled you. Just seeing the mess of it all splayed out there. So, without much thought, you went to pick up the papers, stacking them in neat piles and placing them on the corner of the large desk. Soon enough, you were done, and only one piece of paper was left. It had fallen right under the desk. You went to pull it out when you noticed it.

The drawer you had tried to open the night before. The one Munson had unlocked with the key around his neck and had taken a bottle of rum from. It was ajar. So close to being locked that Munson must have thought he had closed it when he slammed it. But no, with a quick pull at the handle, it opened up for you. 

Inside was a collection of bottles in different shapes and sizes. Most were still full. You picked one up out of sheer curiosity. Why lock up this stock? Unless it was valuable, or dangerous? Maybe he tried to keep it away from everyone else on board. But as you held the bottle, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Just a simple, red glass bottle, the cork wedged sturdily into the neck. The liquid sloshed against the container like any other drink as you tipped it around. Still trying to understand the content of the locked drawer, you put it down in its place.  

Or were about to. Because that is when you noticed the paper sticking out from underneath the other bottles. That gnawing feeling in your stomach returned as you contemplated what to do. The captain had made it very clear he did not appreciate you looking through his things, and you were sure that if he were to catch you again, it would not end as simply as you having to star-gaze for an evening. The warnings were loud and clear. 

Then again, when did you start caring about those? Or anything he said. 

Moving the biggest bottles around carefully to create space, you pulled the paper out of the drawer. At first, you thought you had ripped it, but upon closer inspection, you realised it had been torn in halves long before you had gotten your hands on it. The paper was browned at the edges, a corner half-burned as if someone had decided against its destruction at the last minute. The words meant little at first, but as you read on and became more familiar with the hand they were written in, pieces fell into place. And they fell hard. 

Like the loud clash you heard from outside the cabin, startling you. Scared you were about to get caught, you put the paper down into the drawer and shut it with your leg, holding your breath for the door to open. You waited for several seconds, but nothing moved. 

You did not know what caused the commotion or if you were about to be greeted by someone outside the door, but you knew you could not stay in the cabin alone for much longer. The more time passed, the more similar the situation felt to the night before. The gnawing urge to look through all the drawers and nooks was just as big as the risk of being caught, and it was dangerous. Fortunately, the door opened flawlessly when you pulled at it. 

It had remained a cloudless sky, but now the dark navy sprinkled with stars was exchanged for a vibrant and youthful blue. The sun hung above your heads, piercing the air onto your skin in a warm glow. 

The crew was below you, spread out around the deck, and now one had looked up or probably even noticed your presence. So, making yourself comfortable on the stairs, you sat by, peeking through the balustrade bars, and watched what was happening. After all, it was a morning full of observations. 

The men were spread out over the ship in groups, all busy with their own activities. The easiest to make out were those in a circle, watching as two of them attacked eachother with swords. The smiles on their faces told you enough; it was merely another session of training or some form of playfighting. The last time they had been doing it, you did not care to stand by and watch, not at all interested in their antics. This time, however, you took the opportunity to observe how they went about it. Since it was nothing but leisure, the moves were wide, easy to block, but once in a while, they would nick eachother just to stay sharp. Then, the attacked would groan in pain, grabbing at the part of their body that was hit in agony. 

Each time it happened, the small crowd observing would show their satisfaction or disappointment, depending on which side of the duel they supported, with shouts and encouragement. 

‘C’mon Harrington! Get him!’ 

‘Shut it, will you,’ “Harrington”, as he was called by his audience, turned to look in their way, annoyed, but in that short second, his opponent took a shot with his sword’s pommel, hitting him in his temple. Harrington was knocked back a few steps and had to shake the hit off but remained on his feet. 

You were unsure what the game's rules were and how one would win in the circumstances, but one thing was clear—Harrington stood little chance as his opponent managed to get another cut in. A bruise, most likely from a previous encounter much like this one, had already formed under his eye, but even with the dark purple shade on his skin, you could not deny he looked quite handsome… for a criminal. You had seen him around, pulling at ropes, carrying around their precious cargo, and keeping other crewmates from breaking out into fistfights—he must have brought your meals down to the cell once too. 

His brown hair was sleeked back but tended to move around as he did, so he constantly had to push it out of his face. The collar of his shirt was wide open, revealing a sweat-stained chest. 

‘I really don’t get it,’ a raspy voice spoke from above you, making you strain your neck to look back up at the quarter-deck. Somehow, in your spectatorship of what was happening below, you had completely missed the fact that someone had been steering the ship and had, in fact, stood beside you next to the captain’s door all along.

You had not expected to hear your thoughts reciprocated and voiced anywhere near this ship, so they left you stunned. And perhaps this was the reason why you had not got up and run off at the sound of them or the presence of someone at your side but instead stammered out a clumsy response. ‘Sorry?’ 

‘They run around with their shiny sticks, hit each other just to cry about it like children,’ your new conversation partner said, ‘I just do not understand the appeal of it.’

‘No, me neither, really.’ In your opinion, there were much better, less barbaric ways to release energy and tension than this brutish behaviour. The fight below was still firmly underway, but you had gained a new interest in the person by your side. You couldn’t help but notice how they wore clothes in a very similar manner to you—a large shirt tightened by a leather vest, long trousers kept in and shorter with rope. It was as if they made do with things that had never been intended for them. Their hair could be short or long, depending on who you spoke to, but you could not tell. 

‘I’ll tell you this, I’ve sailed across all possible seas in the world and men are still one of the biggest mysteries I have not been able to solve.’

You blinked slowly as the words reached your barely awake mind. A revelation that had struck you more than anything on board. 

You weren’t the only woman here. The other just sat down next to you on the steps. 

‘You can stop staring,’ she said, slightly frazzled, and you quickly looked away, mumbling an apology. Despite that, you kept stealing glances her way. Her hair, light as sand, was chopped messily as if done by hand with a blunt knife. Her skin was sunkissed with freckles and perhaps a bit of dirt. ‘I’m Buck. I know who you are, of course.’ 

‘How—’ How had you not seen her before? How were you not aware of a woman on board all this time? And perhaps it was wishful thinking to assume that she might be someone you could be comfortable with just from that one common trait, but you could not deny that something in you felt more at peace than seconds before.

‘Surrounded by this type, I understand you’d want to keep your head down,’ she smiled awkwardly, ‘but you can’t forget how to look up.’ She tilted her head back as she said it, so you followed suit. The sun blinded you, but as you focused on what was above you, you saw the masts towering tall in their black silhouettes and there, atop the tallest one, was the lookout point. 

‘You sit in the crow’s nest,’ you smiled understandingly.

‘Robin’s nest, I took it upon myself to rename it, don’t know why, I just resonate more with them— call it superstition, I don’t know— and I’ve earned the right considering none of them want to make the climb.’ she pushed her chin towards the rest of the crew. ‘But it’s a good view, you should join me up there some day. If you ever need to get away, you know.’

‘I— I’m not the greatest with heights.’ The speed at which Buck spoke left your brain gripping onto words to keep up, and so your reply came out a bit frazzled.

‘Me neither,’ Buck shrugged. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t seen me get stuck in the nets before. It happens twice a day, at least.’ 

‘And they still let you climb up there?’ Surely, she could not be the smartest choice for the task. Robin snickered at your shocked expression. 

‘Like I said, none of them will do it.’ 

‘Why do it at all, then? Why risk your life every day for… them?’ These hooligans, criminals, fraudsters, monsters, villains…

‘Because I am one ofthem.’ She knew what you had meant with your comment as she spoke softer, giving you a gentle tap on the shoulder with her hand in reminder. 

You glanced at the men in front of you and then turned back to Robin. ‘No, you’re really not.’

‘What because I’m a woman?’ Robin raised a brow.

‘Well, for starters.’ From a very early age, you knew that men and women were two entirely different beings. Just the way mankind treats eachother on that principle is evidence enough. 

‘Intelligence wise, you would be correct,’ Robin stated, leaning back on the steps, resting her weight on her elbows. Despite her petite frame, you noticed she wasn’t afraid to take up space. Despite a comfortable distance between you, her knee still met with yours as she sat in a wide position. ‘But we are all just people.’

You had wanted to reply but thought better of it. She saw herself as a part of them, and so an insult to the others would be an insult to her, and for some reason, you did not want to say anything that might hurt her. Strangely, for a second, you considered the idea of actually liking her. Out of everyone aboard the Hellfire, the barrelwoman seemed like the most likely person you could find yourself befriending. 

But before any more of the conversation could be led, giving you a chance to let those thoughts bloom or rot, another voice boomed over everyone else’s to prompt Buck of her duties. 

‘Robin! The ship won’t steer itself!’ It was none other than Munson, but you could not find him among his people.

‘Aye, captain.’ Bunk, or Robin as she also went by apparently, rolled her eyes, getting up with a heaved breath. ‘See you around then.’ 

You didn’t say anything, too confused by your own thoughts. You couldn’t keep your eyes away as she returned to the helm; couldn’t stop thinking about what had brought her here? What had made her choose this life to live with all these men and act in such ways? You had wondered about everyone aboard the Hellfire, but Robin… a lady sea robber. You had never heard of such a thing. It was spinning your world around but also genuinely fascinating to think about. As you sat on that step, more things came to your mind: you wanted to ask Robin about life at sea, her crewmates, and her captain. But this opportunity had sailed; it would have to be another time. 

You also could not believe you had just had a… civil exchange of words with one of them and that you had not even minded it all that much. As you looked around, it all did not feel as bad as it used to. You could see the idea of pleasantness in the actions happening before you; the laughter and the antics. 

These antics continued. The fight you had been watching had not yet ended, but by the looks of Harrington, it could not possibly last much longer. His, to you unnamed, opponent had just pushed his blade flush against Harrington’s throat, locking him into an uncomfortable tight spot. With a tap on the arm, heavier than Robin had done to you, he tapped out of the game. Half the men cheered while the rest groaned and cursed out their wager.

As the winner of the match was picking out his next match, the audience was slowly losing interest, and one of them must have found you sitting on the sidelines. Curious glances were shot your way as they all slowly caught sight of you, not saying much. Just as they had gotten used to the new addition to the ship, you appeared in clothes that were unmistakably the captain’s. Feeling all their eyes on you, as if your seat on the stairs was a pedestal, you moved away and tried to make your way down to your designated space on board below decks. 

However, your path was obstructed by one person specifically as he dried his face off with a piece of cloth.

‘Excuse me,’ you dared to say, hoping they would move out of the way. Something about having had an entire conversation with Robin made you feel a bit more comfortable speaking to the rest of them. After all, they—you—were all just people.

‘I wouldn’t run away if I was you.’ Harrington said. ‘Or you’ll never stop.’ 

‘You think they’ll let me stop?’ If you stayed, letting them near you, look at you like that, wouldn’t that be surrendering to their power.

‘I let you,’ he said, throwing the cloth over his shoulder. 

‘I’d say you made me, rather than let.’ You crossed your arms. He had, after all, stood in your way and objected to letting you pass.

‘You could always,’ he turned a quarter of a circle, pointing to his side, ‘move. Unless I am that terrifying.’

‘It may come as a surprise but I have very little reason to be afraid of you at this moment.’ It was a half-truth, as his skills in the fight have shown you little to worry for, but there was little you knew about him or what he was capable of. 

Harrington nodded. ‘I take it you watched me from up there.’ 

‘I watched the fight, yes.’ You could not admit that you had not paid as much attention to whom he was fighting as you did to Harrington himself. ‘It was… entertaining.’

‘I’m glad my suffering amuses you. Yes, that makes this all worth it.’ He pointed up to his bruised eye. 

‘You cannot blame me for your misfortune.’ 

‘Well, you are to blame for my inattentiveness.’ 

His words left you too dumbstricken to respond, and unfortunately, the commotion around you diverted the entire conversation. Another duel had begun, and men were already cheering for their victors as swords clinked together. 

Harrington, being nothing but a simple man, ran over to his designated spot in the crows to cheer on his successor. However, it was all a bit too loud, and instead, you noticed what else was happening on the deck. From where you had sat before, there had not been a clear view of it, but now you were only a few feet away from another small group of the crew. 

They sat around a small table. It wasn’t clear what they were doing, but someone would shout out every few minutes and slap their hand on the surface while the rest groaned in frustration. 

That is where you found the captain. Huddled between two other men, sitting on a low-built crate, occupying more space than there was with his legs, arm on one thigh as he leaned forward, laughing at whatever was happening at the table. It was a scene like no other. The casualness and pleasantry of it all felt foreign.

You had been used to the men on the Red Tail and their routines, but the ship always came first and, with it, their work and duty. There was never any time for… games. And you would never have caught the captain participating in any of it. Not even at home. This wasn’t something men did. Children, maybe, but no soldier or respected merchant. Only drunks and frauds. But as you looked at it, you had no idea why it was deemed so peculiar to find pleasure in these silly activities.

You were still trying to figure out, from a safe distance, what it was that they were playing when you caught Munson’s gaze. Or more so, you met it, as his eyes had already been on you. Much like everyone else’s had been previously, and yet there was an intensity there that no one else could remake.

‘There you are!’ He shouted out once you saw him, making everyone around him stop and look your way. A dozen pairs of eyes were directed at you now as you stood frozen in place. ‘Took you long enough to join as, darling.’ Some men from across the ship, around the duel circle, stopped to look at what the captain was doing too.

‘If I had known I was invited, I wouldn’t have come.’ You quipped back and felt a gust of pride at the sound of a few chuckles from the men standing nearest you, who were quickly stopped by the stern look of their captain. 

‘Now, now, don’t be like that.’ He got up from his seat, raising his voice and gaining the attention of all now. It was like a siren’s call, making everyone stop in their tracks to listen. ‘My thanks are in order for, gentlemen, our princess has led us back on course. Worked all night, in fact, to find the correct coordinates and directions—which is more then I have seen of some of you in the past days.’ With this, he raised a cup in your honour, and while no one else had anything to raise, they all cheered. You stood there, speechless and confused, unsure of what was happening. Why was the captain suddenly so openly appreciative? So… nice?

You ignored the feeling to reciprocate the thankfulness and instead opted for the unfiltered thoughts going through you. ‘You do know “princess” is not my title, right?’ 

‘And I was never ranked captain… yet here we are, princess. So let us enjoy this fantasy we live in!’ He encouraged another cheer from his crowd. Then, once the rest settled down, he spoke directly to you from across the ship. ‘Come, why don’t you join us, darling. We were about to start another round.’

‘I don’t think there are any seats left.’ The space around the table seemed rather crowded, with each seat taken and many more men standing around. You had no business or interest in getting involved in that, but the captain, as always, persisted. 

‘Wheeler was just leaving.’ He pointed to the man sitting across from him.

‘No?’ The man said slowly.

‘Well, you were loosing anyway,’ Munson shooed him away, creating an empty spot for you. 

‘I don’t know the rules.’ You persevered in your own opinion. 

‘You’ll learn soon enough, come.’ 

You were about to object, but what else could you expect than the captain calling over another of his crew, this one at least a head taller than you and probably triple your size overall. The giant walked straight, making everyone else move, until he reached you. Then, with a grin, he showed you the path in a straight line towards the table.

Unimpressed, you just said, ‘Thank you.’ and made your way over. 

‘Glad you decided to join us.’ Munson said as you looked at the table. On it were six cups; only one turned the right side up. ‘Please, do take a seat.’ You felt a large hand on your shoulders, pushing you down on the crate.

‘Rules are simple,’ the captain began explaining; he picked up the cup before him, ‘5 dice. You roll them for yourself and place a bet, indicating the number of dice you think should be on the table. Speak the truth or bluff, it doesn’t matter, but if you’re caught on a lie… well,’ he shrugged, with it saying enough. The rules sounded simple enough, but one piece of vital information was missing.

‘What are the stakes?’ This was a betting game, so there must be something they were all betting on. You took the cup in front of you and pulled it closer. The dice rattled underneath.

‘We are but humble sailors,’ Munson said, already shaking his set of dice under his cup with a swift wrist move, ‘it’s mostly ship duties and chores. Sometimes meal rations if you’re brave. Anything that speaks to you, darling?’ Oh, there was plenty, but you had to play it smart.

‘If I win,’ you began shaking your dice as well, hovering over your words for a moment to think, ‘I get your cabin… until the end of the journey’ ‘I’ll happily share my bed with you, princess,’ Munson snickered. 

‘I wasn’t finished.’ You smiled back. ‘I get your cabin. You get mine.’ Honestly, you did not have a preference for either sleeping option. The bed in Munson’s quarters was stiff, so you might as well have slept on the floor. It was more about what it meant to kick the captain out of his own cabin. You enjoyed the idea and the prospect of encouraging the captain to bring you home faster so he could return to his quarters.

Something flinched in the captain’s muscles as he tried to remain unbothered by your words. The dice kept rolling underneath the cups. The crowd backed off, quickly understanding that this was a game only two of you could play. 

‘You sure about that?’ he tried to play it off smoothly. You simply nodded. 

‘Name your price, captain.’ 

‘How about… If I win…’ a small smile grew on his lips, ´we just play another round?’ 

‘What?’ That couldn’t be it? ‘And if you win again? What happens then?’ Would you be playing this game until the end of time? 

‘Got such low chances for yourself?’ He leaned forward a bit while you pushed away from the table. 

‘I would just like to know the game before I play.’ 

‘I think you’ll learn best if we just play, so, shall we?’ He shook his cup with one last flick of the wrist before putting it to a halt, his ringed fingers clutching to the top of it, eyes locked on you as you did the same. Lightly, you tilted the cup to show the dice. They were wooden, carved out with a knife, most likely by someone on this ship. The sides were uneven, so who knows how even the odds were for the game, but to you, they seemed alright. The eyes were dug out of the panels like small holes. 

One large eyes, two pairs of threes, a four and five. 

Putting the cup back down, you looked up at the captain, his face untelling of any emotion.  

‘Ladies go first,’ he announced with a hand gesture. It was up to you to start the betting. With the numbers twirling around in your mind, you thought of what would be the best move to make. To predict his dice was impossible and would only drive you crazy, but perhaps you could predict his next move by what you presented. 

‘Four fours.’ You did your best to speak with a flat tone, to not show any emotions. Keep your breathing steady and keep your hands still. To not show any signs of nerves. The captain nodded and took another glance at his dice. There were maybe two before his rebuttal. 

‘Five fours.’  There was nothing you could read off of him. The tension across the table only intensified, growing thicker with every moment of silence that passed by.

‘Three fives,’ you replied. The captain raised a suspicious brow. 

‘Three sixes.’

‘Four sixes.´ You spoke slowly but confidently. Or with what you hoped could be seen as confidence. It was a lost battle, really. With you having none, there was no chance the captain held four sixes under his cup. He must know it, too, in your case. You knew it just is how the corner of his mouth raised in amusement. 

‘Four sixes?' he asked, and you simply nodded again, but he wanted more from you. ‘Speak up, princess.’

‘Yes.’ You spoke sternly, remaining as still as possible. The captain shook his head once, grimacing.

‘See, darling, I don’t believe in beginner’s luck.’

‘Well, captain, I couldn’t tell it’s your first time playing. But don’t worry, you’re doing really well.’ You gave him a sweet sort of smile. So sweet that it could make you sick to your stomach. A few men around you pushed down their laugh, ignoring their captain’s deadly glares.  He refocused his attention your way. 

‘Show up, princess, because I doubt luck is this much in your favour.’ He tilted his chin, nudging you from across the table to reveal your dice, which you did with a sigh because when is it ever. Since you had stepped foot on this ship, luck seemed to have been missing from your life in its entirety. And yet, with this being a known fact, you were confused to see Munson’s reaction at the reveal of what you had rolled. It was not quite pride nor disappointment. His shoulders slacked down, and something pulled at the muscles in his face. He needed a second to compose his reaction to his winning. 

‘Congratulations,’ you muttered without looking any longer at him. Ready to play the next promised round, you grabbed the cup to roll your dice again but were surprised to see Munson get off his seat. ‘What are you doing?’ 

‘Time for round two, darling.’ He smirked, walking past his crewmates to the centre of the deck. He had moved so far back that you had to turn in your seat. The confusion blocked your speaking ability, but fortunately, the captain was ready to explain. ‘I never said what game that would be, now did I?’ He stood there, surrounded by his men. His stance was wide, and his forearm hung lazily over the helm of his sword, which hung by his side. He let his fingers dance daintily across the silver while waiting for your response, the rings adorning them glistening in the sun. 

‘What–’ you took a deep breath as you felt it getting stuck in your throat, ‘what game will this be?’ 

‘I have been rather looking forward to a little duel, in all fairness. I think we all have.’ He pointed around to everyone in the audience around you. You looked at them. Their smiles were big, and their posture relaxed but eager. They were expecting a show, and, in all fairness, you wanted one too. It’s the least of what you deserved after days of this hell. 

Your shirt, still rather ample on your frame, slid down your shoulder as you got up, but you pulled it up with a swift move. Munson, and the rest, watched as you walked up. 

‘Any new rules for this round?’ You asked loudly enough for everyone to hear, but the captain had other plans. He closed the gap between the two of you to answer, whispering the words right against your ear.

‘First one to be on both knees loses. How about that, princess?’ He pulled away again to ask you the question, but only a step. You blinked, took one more deep breath and nodded. 

‘Oh, this will be fun,’ he smiled, and of course, he had. You could only imagine how much joy it would bring him to humiliate you in front of all these men. Especially since you had already, in front of everyone, admitted that you had not been taught to fight. How easy will it be to win, then?

He called out: ‘Someone give the lady a sword!’ It was aimed at no one, precisely who had handed you your weapon. You barely had the time to look around to see who had given you their sword, as it was thrust upon you with quite a lot of force, pushing you a step back. You tried to get a good grip on it, but no matter how you held it, the sword felt awkward in your hand. 

‘You expect me to fight with this?’ You looked at your sword, suppressing any visual reaction to its form. The blade looked tethered and most visibly abused in the previous battle. 

‘Not alluring enough for the lady?’ the captain said, pulling his sword out of its scabbard. 

‘No, it is not that,’ you kept inspecting your sword apprehensively, ‘though I am sure you have more handsome weapons in your property. I just hoped for a more balanced blade.’ While already at a large disadvantage, with a sword like this, you had absolutely no chance at winning. You tried to hold it up on your hand, balancing the blade against the grip, with the former immediately falling to the ground no matter how you attempted to hold it. You gave the captain an apologetic smile as the sword clanged across the floorboards. He, in response, avoided your gaze by looking at his men for a substitute. 

‘Harrington!’ he called out. Harrington stepped out from the ring of spectators, a bit stunned by the sudden call. Munson cocked his head your way, so the crewmember approached you and handed you the sword you had watched him fight with earlier. Closer up, you were taken aback by the harsh scar across his throat, like a deep indent from what must have been a rope tightened around it once upon a time. Another bruise, you noticed, was also already forming around his temple. There was his earlier opponent who had hit him. 

‘Thank you,’ you said softly as he handed you his weapon. Just from your initial grip, you could tell it was much better. Harrington nodded and moved away quickly from your and his captain’s fireline. 

While you knew enough about the objects to know what quality was good enough to use, the sword still felt foreign and awkward in your hand. You did not know how to stand while holding it, and seeing Munson opposite you, with his full confidence aglow, made you feel even smaller. But despite it all, one thing was for sure. Enough time had gone by, and enough had come between you for you to know that he could no longer treat you the same as he had the day you were broad on board. He could not do whatever he pleased with you. You wouldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t. So, while he looked you up and down with his casual smirk, you made a point to, somewhat confidently, keep your head up. 

‘What do you say, princess,’ Munson swung his sword back and forth, ‘I’ll go easy on you.’ With a weak attempt to release some tension from your shoulders, you rolled your head from side to side before copying the captain and letting the sword smoothly move around with the slightest wrist movements. It cut the air with audible slashes, leaving the captain and everyone else mute. 

‘It’s appreciated, captain,’ you didn’t forget to respond to his generosity. 

The captain simply nodded. No formal duelling rules were aboard the Hellfire since no one had time for the silly rituals. He simply stepped into position, and so you followed behind. He was, naturally, also the first to attack. 

You were just in time to block it. The blades clinked at the point of impact, and there was a moment of confusion on Munson’s face. Hesitation. It was brief and all-telling in his eyes and brow, and lucky for you, it didn’t go unnoticed. It was a blink of an action as he tried to process what you had just done. The instinct at which you performed. Did he see your smile? 

But the moment was soon as he proceeded with his next swing. And the next. Next. one after the other, locking you in with his movement. From each new angle, never passing on the theatrics of it all with turns and bends at which you should not have been able to keep up—but you did. You counteracted every attack, perhaps not flawlessly, straining to keep up with the speed and agility at which the captain moved, but it was more than anyone had expected you to be capable of. 

And finally, the opportunity presented itself. A brisk moment of stillness gave you a chance to swing your sword. Of course, he blocked it, steady on his feet, but Munson took a small step back as you kept coming forth. The metal practically echoed over the ship. Cheers from the audience subsided as everyone got lost in the duel. There seemed to be no end; you only moved faster, harsher, harder.

As you kept moving, the crows had to move along with you, making space for the extended movements of the blades. If it had not been for the well-times duck, there would have been a head short on deck. The captain kept moving back from you until there was a thud. He had nowhere else to go as you backed him up against a barrel. There was that brief flash of panic on his face again as he came across a situation he had never expected to land in, but it washed away just as quickly. There was no time for him to react to the situation, for your sword was coming closer and closer to him again, and this time he had nowhere to go. With a final move, you pressed the blade against his throat. You were both breathing heavily. Sweat poured down on both of you underneath the scorching sun. The tip of your sword remained under his Adam’s apple, which moved up and down as Munson heaved in the air. And yet, even with his neck tightly stretched as he was forced to look up because of the sword digging into his skin, he had a bemused smile upon his face.

‘You said no one taught you how to fight?’ It was more of a question than a statement, as if he was confirming his memory.

‘Which is true,’ you pulled away, happy to see you had left your mark as a small cut. ‘No civil man would teach their daughter how to draw a sword, or let a lady compromise her polite statue with violence, or put her in any compromising and potentially dangerous situation, for that matter. 

‘But they will also not let an opportunity to boast go by.’ You watched him swipe his hand at the blood pooling from the cut you had made, and you could not ignore the pride you felt with it. ‘So, I observed as they made me watch them train.’

‘That much is obvious,’ he wiped his now bloody fingers on his trousers, but the blood came pouring, slowly, down his neck. A thin red line marking your moment of victory. You couldn’t help but smile. And yet, he spoke with the most confidence, leaning against the barrel that had locked him in. ‘but we’re not done yet, princess.’ And then he attacked with a strike so flush and quick you had almost missed it. It cut the air by your side in half, and you could feel the repercussions hit you in your cheek. 

Of course, the game was not over just yet. The winner was meant to be the last one standing, literally. You might have locked him in, but he would not give up until he was down on his knees.

Munson attacked once more, taking advantage of the incoordination that came with his first blow. His target had become low, with a focus on your legs. He swiped at your feet with such an intensity that you knew if he hit you, it would leave its own mark and one much worse than the cut you had made. The only thing you could do to avoid his force was to backtrack, jumping from one leg to another. You moved around the ship like a dancing monkey in the circle of everyone’s attention. Your attempts to attack had become poorer as the captain’s smile grew wider. 

He took one long swipe down at your ankles, to which you could only respond by jumping as high as possible. The new clothes you had taken the night before certainly aided you in the acrobatics necessary when dealing with a duelling partner such as Munson, but you still wore your own shoes. The heels buckled as you landed on the ground, throwing you off balance. You felt yourself falling, but the final drop never came.

Your side hit someone’s sturdy frame. When you looked up, your eyes met a pair of brown ones. Brown, surrounded by a sea of dark purple bruises. Harrington held you up with one arm. 

‘Your footing is all wrong,’ he spoke softly, but not enough to keep it a secret between the two of you as he pulled you up to your feet.

‘Funny, as I was just copying you,’ you laughed.

The captain called out to you impatiently. ‘C’mon, princess, the fun isn’t over yet.’ But perhaps it was, as he went in for a poorly calculated strike, and you screamed out, silencing everyone to their core, bending in two as a searing pain met your side. Still holding you, Harrington kept you up as much as he could. A task that came harder to be when you went limp. He stumbled back, almost falling over himself.

When you looked down, you saw your shirt, brand new in a sense, now had a large gash. The bottom half of it hanging on by loose threads. What once was pale ivory was now coloured crimson. You looked up at your attacker, who stood only a few feet away, his weapon hanging loosely in his grip. Higher, you saw his eyes, big in fear. An indescribable expression was painted across his face, but you hoped that he could read yours. 

Trying to ignore the pain that was now overwhelming your whole body, you pushed yourself away from Harrington and passed the captain. His hand reached out to you, but you froze before he could anchor himself. Before getting yourself into more trouble, as a million thoughts raced through your mind, you dropped the sword to the ground. It fell onto the floorboards with a deafening clatter, and like that, you walked on quickly to the trapdoor, ignoring the captain’s calling of your name and the feeling it brought upon you to hear it for the first time in so long. There were more important, more painful things on your mind now.

Everyone moved out of your way, but their eyes stayed on you until you passed them. Robin had just reached the bottom of the stairs down from the helm, but she stood there just as everyone else, unsure what to do. She glanced at what was happening behind you, as you could hear people talking and moving but could not bother to turn around. You just wanted to get away from it all. The last thing you heard before heading below deck was someone angrily calling out the captain’s name, but it all felt like a blur around you.

Only once you were in your cell did you dare look at the damage he had caused. With a deep breath, you pulled the shirt’s material up to reveal a long narrow cut on your ribs. The only thing that made you feel alright was the fact that it did not look deep. As far as sword wounds go, it was a graze, but the blood continued streaming. And so did your tears. But you let that pain, and fear, boil down to anger and strength to rip the last few inches of the loose hanging pieces of shirt and wrap them around your middle as tightly as possible to stop the bleeding.

This is what happens when you let your guard down when you do not run away and instead stay and let yourself be hurt by these monsters. You did not what to think that Robin and Harrington had been a play, some kind of ruse of the captain’s invention to give you that fake sense of security, to slip you into dropping your apprehensions and lead you to… where you were now, bleeding out on the heap of hay, back in your cage. 

With your heart beating into your ears, you didn’t realise that someone had followed you down to the lower deck, or hear the footsteps coming down to see you, nor the chuckle of the chains and buckles that came with the steps.

‘For what it’s worth,’ he said once he had already stepped into your holding cell, ‘I am truly sorry.’

You had no idea what it was lying beside you, but you grabbed it and, without saying a word but with as much power as you could muster, you threw it in the general direction of his face. With a small lean, he managed to dodge it and the item fell through the railings of the cell to shatter on the ground. You stared at him darkly, hoping the message was clear. He had never seemed to be able to do it, but maybe this one time, he could let you be alone…

Of course, it could not be that simple. He would not start listening to you now. Instead, the captain bent down to his knees, meeting your line of sight. In his hand, he held one of the bottles from his drawer. 

‘Please, may I?’ he showed you the spirit bottle, and you got the idea of what he meant with it. It still took you a moment to formulate your response as you took it all in. ‘No, you may not.’ With a snap of your words, you removed the bottle from his grip and pulled the cork out with your teeth. You kept it in your mouth as you poured the alcohol over your fresh wound. The groan that left you as the alcohol burned away at the wound was only slightly muffled. 

‘It was never my intention to hurt you.’ He said in that same, defeated tone.

‘And yet,’ you had spit out the cork, this time hitting him in the chest, ‘that seems to be what happens any time you come near me.’ 

‘There is no excuse for me, I know whatever I will say will mean nothing to you.’ He watched you scoff at his response. ‘See?’ 

‘What are you doing here?’ You sighed, already tired of his presence. To think that maybe not an hour had gone by since you had woken up, moderately at peace, in his cabin and now you were lying before him, hands covered in blood and spirit, and your mind dizzying with pain and rage. 

‘How– how bad is it?’ There was a shake in his words, and you could not understand whatever for. Each move you made sent shocks down into your ribs, but as you did not feel like saying much more to him, you tilted your arm up to show the severity of the cut. The alcohol had washed off most of the excess blood and left behind the thing and precise cut over your side. Munson looked at it and another muscle in his face flinched at the sight of what he has caused. ‘It does not seem to be perilous.’

‘Yes, considering I am not dead I had figured as much.’ As you still had the bottle in your hand, you lifted it up to your lips and took a large sip. The burn at your throat was comparable to the feeling of the liquid touching your wound, but it was much more appreciated. After one more sip, you looked back at Munson. ‘Anything else, captain?’

‘No, I— I do not know what came over me, and I will not forgive myself for what I have done.’ He was stumbling over his words, but those he managed to produce left you in a whirl. How genuine it all was, you could not tell, but the deep regret he seemed to have reflected in his being. But you had learned your lesson to fall for such weaknesses.

‘Yes, it must be horrible seeing your investment get compromised.’ You took another swig of the drink. The captain opened his mouth to respond, but decided against it. He stood up already turned to leave when a final thought came to you.

‘From what I remember of the rules of the game,’ your words paralysed him mid-step as you called out, ‘I never fell to my knees.’ He, however, had. 

The captain turned enough for you to see his profile and how the corner of his mouth turned up in amusement. ‘Fine, you win.’ Then he continued walking up to the ladder.

You smiled to yourself as he left.

You won.

Chapter 6

thank you so much for reading!! if you want more of where this came from, check out my masterlist.

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taglist (part 1)

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[universaln0b0dy]

The new NCR students (twisted wonderland x reader)

This oneshot was inspired by this:

warning: Toxic behaviour?

Summary: Yuu has always had a slightly snide side to them and now, the longer they spend at NCR the more mean they become.

You didn't get to return home. It was to be expected but when you heard the news it hit you like a ton of bricks. It was the very first time you dropped that very nice facade you had build up for yourself, because to say the truth....

You weren't kind.

You weren't loving.

You weren't hard working.

But that is what people thought about you, adding that they thought that you were naive. So imagine their suprise when you look at Crowley, your face scrunching up in disgust and calling him a useless, greedy bastard, before smiling sweetly and exclaiming that you had expected that out come.

Now, months had passed and all the first years had changed, but the biggest transformation was coming from you. Usually you wanted to uphold the reputation of a nice and polite kid, but now? You acted like a fucking thug.

You sigh heavily, looking down on your food. Because you and your friends had fought so many Overblots you guys were constantly the hot topic around the campus and the subtle but noticable change didn't help with that.

"Ace has been getting into more fight! He has developed such a bad temper. Just like Housewarden!"

"I swear to good Jack's worse than Azul when it comes to returning favours."

"Deuce acts exactly like Trey-senpai. You remember? Last years vice housewarden?"

"Epel has gotten so darn mean, sevens he is a master at snide remarks."

"What about the Ramshackle student?"

"We don't talk about them."

You stand up rolling your eyes, they were making an elephant out of a fly. It wasn't like any of their behaviour was weird in NRC, so why were people so suprised. You had done your very best to uphold your good grades, after all even in this world education was important.

In the hallway you run into Ace, who is holding a bunch of papers grumbling under his breath, the second he sees you he rushes over. "Man! I haven't seen you in a while! Who would have thought that being a second year would make our schedule so tight."

You smile quietly, not wishing to tell him that you had reduced all contact with twisted wonderland to the bare minimum. You never really cared about this place anyway, but not being able to leave had made you extra bitter.

"Yeah, seems like it." You mumble, starting to stare into the distance, you didn't know how much time had passed until you feel Ace brush past you, hitting your shoulder in the process. He was rambling on about being ignored by everyone and how angry he was about it.

He sounds like Riddle...

You think to yourself before contining your way.

The days passed in a daze, sometimes you met some of your friends in the hallway, but you always cut short any contact.

"Uh, have you done your part of the assignment yet?" Sebek asks annoyed, dragging you out of your mind. You shake your head sheepishly. "Sorry, I promise I will work on it right away."

Sebeks shook his head standing up. "Forget it, you won't do it anyway. Your promises don't mean much you know?" And so he left. You just shake your head in annoyance.

"My promises mean a lot, asshole." You mutter under your breath, before making your way back to Ramshackle. Grim looked at you, his eyes filled with worry, but you brush past him only passively mentioning that there was tuna in the fridge, before looking yourself in the bedroom.

Said bedroom was filled with books. Books about portals, magical realms and even forbidden rituals. You wanted to leave this fucking place and there was nothing holding you back from doing so. Not even your "friends".

You look up from the book your holding for a second. Wasn't it wrong to think that? Despite everything they had been there for you when you needed it, right? You smirk slightly, you had proven to yourself that NRC was only bringing out the worst in people, so who ever ended up here was bound to become an ass one day, right?

You snicker before contining to read the book, even trying out some of the spells by improvising with diffrent types of magic you could use, because it was more of a sacrificial nature.

That went on for months.

But the person who had it worst was Grim. He watched his only family fall apart because they started to adapt to their surroundings, but what hurt the most was you dismissing everyone and thing.

So he did what he always did, lay down on the sofa and wish for everything to be a bad dream and that when he woke up, everything was back to normal...

[localcanadiancreature62]

Fiddlestan au,post reconciliation musings

Welp this au isn't stopping,i continue to have the Fiddlestan brainworms. I have like two other gf aus to work on but nah brain said gay con man hillbilly au so here y'all go.

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• Stan gets REALLY clingy and affectionate with Fiddleford by the time they officially get back together. Because he's secretly afraid of him leaving again and thus he tries to act extra lovey dovey with him in an attempt to make him stay forever but he just ends up smothering the poor southern man. Fidds notices this so he has to reassure the con that he won't be going anywhere as he'll stay with the grifter til' death do they part,this comforts Stan for a while but he still gets antsy when the southerner has to go on errands or something without him. Which goes on to the next point.

• Stan has abandonment issues now. He ended up getting traumatized by the fact that he literally watched his beloved nerd lose himself in real time for years as the hillbilly then NEVER talked to him about the whole ordeal even when he was still sane enough to properly talk about it i.e his time within the Blind Eye Society,like being with Fiddleford was the happiest he's been in his life despite outright avoiding talking about his issues with him only for the man to leave midway into their relationship because of the memory gun (Mcgucket,what the hell have you done to this poor man?). So now Fiddleford has to reassure Stan that he won't be leaving for longer than a few hours/minutes whenever he goes out for groceries or something lest he'd be met with a bajillion texts and missed calls from a very worried,crying con man. Fidds doesn't mind having to do this all the time since it IS his own fault that the man is like this,although sometimes it can get annoying and he regrets leaving Stan for so long because of it.

• Stan and Fidds are switches. Fidds is usually the bottom cuz he's an effeminate scrawny twink but also he likes fucking that smug smirk off of the con's face,meanwhile Stan only bottoms for one very specific reason which is the fact that he can trust the hillbilly to take care of him when he's vulnerable and weak despite otherwise being a tough and macho dom. The toxic masculinity that Filbrick drilled into Stan never went away,but he can forget that for a bit whenever he lets Fidds take control for a few nights.

• Stan and Fiddleford's ideas of a nice date are hilariously contrasting. Stan's idea of a date is a rowdy midnight crime spree with a fancy restaurant dinner at the end while Fidds' idea of a date is a cozy night in reading books or rambling about their lives/interests together while eating some hearty stew. However they find a common ground and eventually compromise by either doing both or by going with the other's idea interchangeably between date nights.

• Fiddleford is riddled with guilt over him indirectly causing Stan to mentally break from his mistakes. He made his grifter have a mini mental breakdown everyday during the building of the portal after the car crash because of how much the man missed him yet couldn't talk to him because of his shattered mental state,he ended up causing his beloved pain because of his darned memory gun invention destroying what they had,and his insane state hurt Stan from the inside whenever he saw him. These are the things that Stan told him after they had another casual talk about their past again,and at this moment Fiddleford realized that he's a terrible partner. He wasn't able to properly process it during their reunion/argument back then as he had to deal with Stan's outburst,but now he can thoroughly feel the shame guilt and anger at himself for doing such horrible things to his grifter. And the worst part is,Stan still stayed even after all of that. He ignored it at first as he didn't want to worry or upset Stan more than he already did,but he eventually couldn't bottle it up anymore as he straight up started sobbing one day while he and Stan were watching TV together. Stan got worried and asked him what was wrong,only for the hillbilly to dejectedly say that he doesn't deserve him. "Oh oh this is the good part where Ducktective has a flipper fight with his brother after he corrected his grammar." Stan remarks as he excitedly watches Ducktective with Fiddleford who's enjoying his beloved's favorite show despite feeling the heavy guilt in his chest. Fiddleford then took a glance at the con,smiling as he looked at him with adoring eyes while the man didn't notice due to being too invested in his favorite program. 'How did fate bring me to this wonderful,goofy man?. He is everything,i want to cherish him forever. He is so forgiving,even when ah.. ruined his life with me leaving.' Fiddleford thought to himself as he felt himself tearing up from guilt and shame from everything he did to Stan. He then starts loudly sobbing,being noisy enough to bring Stan out of his Ducktective obsession induced trance as the grifter noticed him bawling. "Hey- Hey Fiddlesticks,what's wrong?." Stan asks as he then turned off the TV while looking at his hillbilly in concern. "Ah don' deserve you.. I treated you so terribly with that memory gun experiment,and me leaving only to never talk about what happened after that car crash. I forced you to watch me lose mahself in real time,while not realizing how much my dwindling sanity affected you. You warned me about the memory gun and the cult being dangerous,but i didn't listen and i only ended up hurting you further with my mistakes. I'm a terrible partner and you shouldn't have stayed. Why did ya stay?,even after everythin'?." Fiddleford says as he kept crying while looking at the man in guilt. Stan looks at him in shock over such a sudden outburst,but then he sighed in relief as he realized what this is actually about and that he didn't end up saying something dumb that hurt his beloved. "Because being with you was all i ever wanted. Sure you were stubborn with that weird cult stuff and you messed up A LOT but that doesn't give me any reason to stop loving you. I spent those 30 years being angry at you,at myself for what happened but even then i still cared about you and kept worrying about your safety in the dump everyday. You hurt me really bad,and even then my stupid heart still wants you. It's okay Fidds,you don't have to beat yourself up for something that happened years ago. And you ABSOLUTELY deserve me,especially with your kind personality and charming looks." Stan explains as he smiled at the southern man who has his mouth agape in surprise due to how loving and forgiving the con is. "Stanley. Yer a treasure. Why did the universe grace me with such a caring man?." Fiddleford replied as he wiped off his own tears as he kissed the con on the cheek who then blushed from the gesture.

"Well why did the universe give me such a charming nerd?~." Stan teases as the southerner blushed in response. "Oh hush you. C'mere." Fiddleford says as he then grabbed the swindler at the back of his head and pulled him closer to his own face as he kissed him,with him mouthing the con's lips as they lightly made out. The hillbilly groans in delight as he's glad that Stan doesn't hate him for what he did and he truly DOES want to stay rather than feeling obligated to like the little negative voice in his head said.

• Ford supports his brother's relationship with his best friend,although he could've been given a heads up before discovering them roughly making out in the kitchen. He already knew about it the moment Stan got his memories back and ended up telling him about the hillbilly,which is why he told Fiddleford about how much Stan was hurting from his mistakes soon after being given knowledge of their horrible break up (that one part in the argument drabble). He is totally fine with his best friend dating his twin however he can and will kill Fiddleford if he catches the southerner breaking Stan's heart again.

• Fiddleford absolutely KNOWS that Stan is touch starved after going without any affection from him for years,which is why he makes sure to hug him kiss him and caress him every time he sees him. Also another thing related to this point,Stan is fucking HUNGRY for Fidds after 30 years of not tasting his lips or feeling his member so the two make sure to fuck often.

• Fidds and Stan make sure to ACTUALLY talk about their issues this time in their relationship as refusing to communicate was what indirectly lead to their relationship falling apart with the hillbilly opting to use the memory gun after every argument while the con buried his feelings until they burst back then. They do it even if it's scary or confusing,as they need to otherwise they'll end up with heartbreak and hurt again.