#Sea Grape Plant

[mebrob]

funny fakemons :)

[morethansalad]

Concord Grape Muffins (Vegan)

[photographsbyblue]

Sea Grape in the Sunset

[iseungsgf]

some color in your life

[thecupidwitch]

Elements And Their Correspondences

Earth

Direction: North

Time: Midnight

Season: Winter

Color: Green, brown

Zodiac: Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn

Ruling planets: Venus and Saturn

Tarot Cards: Pentacles, Coins

Tools: Pentacle, salt, stones, dirt, crystals, wood, flowers

Cystals: Emerald, Jet, tourmaline, quartz, onyx, azurite, amethyst, jasper, peridot, granite.

Animals: gopher, bear, wolf, ant, horse, stag, deer, dog, cow, bull, bison, snake, worms, moles, voles, grubs

Herbs: Oak, cedar, cypress, honeysuckle, ivy, primrose, sage, grains, patchouli, nuts, magnolia, comfrey, vetivert, moss, lilac, lichen, roots, barley, alfalfa, corn, rice.

Rules: Grounding, strength, healing, success, stability, sturdiness, steadfastness, foundations, empathy, fertility, death, rebirth, wisdom, nature, animals, plants, money, prosperity.

Water

Direction: West

Time: Dusk

Season: Fall

Color: Blue, Indigo, Sliver

Zodiac: Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces

Ruling planets: Moon, Neptune, Pluto

Tarot Cards: Cups

Tools: Ocean, sea glass, cup, bowl, seaweed, hag stones, cauldron

Cystals: Moonstone, pearl, silver, aquamarine, amethyst, blue tourmaline, lapis lazuli, fluorite, coral, blue topaz, beryl, opal, coral

Animals: fish, snake, frog, crab, lobster, eel, shark, dragonfly, seahorse, dolphin, sea otter, seal, whale, alligator, crocodile, beaver, octopus, penguin, salamander, turtle, starfish, koi, coral, barnacle, manta ray, manatee, jellyfish, nautilus, heron, duck, geese, crane, swan, water birds, ammonite, dragons, serpents

Herbs: seaweed, aloe, fern, water lily, lotus, moss, willow, gardenia, apple, catnip, chamomile, cattail, lettuce, kelp, birch, cabbage, coconut, cucumber, comfrey, eucalyptus, gourd, geranium, grape, licorice, lilac, pear, strawberry, tomato

Rules: emotion, intuition, psychic abilities, love, unconscious mind, fertility, self-healing, reflection, lunar energy, deep feelings, curses, death

Fire

Direction: South

Time: Noon

Season: Summer

Color: Red, Orange

Zodiac: Aries, Leo, Sagittarius

Ruling planets: Sun, Mars

Tarot Cards: Wands or Swords (depends on belief system)

Tools: Athame, candles, swords, wands, dagger, lamp, flame

Cystals: Carnelian, red jasper, bloodstone, garnet, ruby, agate, rhodochrosite, gold, pyrite, brass, fire opal, lavastone, tiger's eye

Animals: Lion, snake, coyote, fox, ladybug, bee, shark, scorpion, horse, mantis, tiger

Herbs: Cinnamon, cloves, ginger, allspice, basil, cacti, marigold, chilis, garlic, mustard, nettle, onion, heliotrope, hibiscus, juniper, lime, orange, red pepper, poppies, thistle, coffee, jalapenos, lemon, cumin, saffron, coriander

Rules: Energy, will, destruction, strength, courage, power, passion, lust, sexuality, anger, war, new beginnings, protection, loyalty, transformation, action, movement, achievement, creativity, desire, willpower

Air

Direction: East

Time: Down

Season: Spring

Color: Yellow, gold, white, light blue, pastels

Zodiac: Gemini, Libra, Aquarius

Ruling planets: Mercury, Jupiter, Uranus

Tarot Cards: Wands

Tools: Feather, wand, staff, incense, broom, bell, sword, pen

Cystals: Amber, topaz, citrine, jasper, agate, pumice, alexandrite, amethyst, fluorite, mica, clear quartz

Animals: Birds, flying insects, spiders, bats

Herbs: Bergamot, lavender, marjoram, peppermint, sage, dandelion, bluebell, clover, frankincense, primrose, lemongrass, pine, aspen, yarrow, violets, vervain, myrrh, dill, anise, aspen

Rules: Intelligence, wisdom, knowledge, logic, thought, communication, truth, inspiration, intuition, memory, creativity

Tip jar

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Ace Trappola: Trouble, that Trappola

Wow, different pjs??? I wonder if each student will truly have unique sleepwear or if it’ll be like “everyone in the same dorm has similar sleepwear, just recolored and with a different motif”. I’ve been laughing about how Ace is dressed and posed, it’s very… Justin Bieber-coded. His bedhead though, it reminds me of Sylvain from FE3H.

Fun fact, I have an irl friend that has the same birthday as Ace... Therefore, I am legally obligated to celebrate it with them/j This year, we're going to an Alice in Wonderland-themed afternoon tea, which I think is very appropriate for Ace! Aaaaaah, My Alice in Wonderland-loving heart can’t take it 😭

Rise and Shine!

He was having a pleasant dream.

There was a path, and the longer he walked on that path, the more the scenery morphed into nonsense.

First was a forest full of twisting turns, colorful signs that pointed this way and that. There was mewing coming from the trees overhead, but every time he looked, he’d find no one there.

Next was a field of progressively bigger and bigger plants. The flowers had faces set in them, and they taunted Ace as he passed. He had plucked the underside of a mushroom cap and chomped down on it. A mistake—Ace had an out-of-body experience, ballooning to the size of a giant and then back to his regular size.

Then he washed away in a sea of tea, spilling from a gigantic glass bottle labelled Drink Me. He swam with the sugar cubes drifting in the fragrant rapids. He caught a current of milk and rode it past trees of chocolate. A dollop of grape jam had dropped down from a branch and landed on his nose.

When Ace, at last, fished himself out of the tea, he was left sticky, skin caked in sugar. As he made to wring his clothes of Darjeeling, he spotted an iced cookie by his feet. Eat Me, it said. There was a trail of them, confections dotting the road ahead in a neat trail. He had followed it—followed until the cookies became crumbs and he was left wandering in a white void, a blank canvas.

Wandering… wandering… where?

Just as that question cropped up like an unwanted weed in an otherwise flawless lawn, a soft sound tickled his ear.

Someone was calling his name.

Who is it…?

He picked up his pace. A casual stroll to a speed walk, then a speed walk into a jog, a job into a run, then a run into a full-on sprint.

"I'm coming! I'm coming already, darn it!!" Ace shouted into the blinding white. "I'm coming, so...!!"

Wait for me. I'll meet you there.

I'll definitely, definitely...!!

His eyes snapped open.

He was lying on his back, wrapped up in his comforter and staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom. Ace blinked several times, slowly adjusting to the sunlight that was spilling in through drawn curtains. A groan escaped him--it was too early for this.

“Mmm… What time is it?” He rolled over in a groggy daze, reaching for his phone. It was still connected to a charger, but it snapped right out of its socket when Ace jolted up. "WHAT?!"

The time, it couldn't be correct. But the line of text messages in his history confirmed the building dread in his stomach.

Gm, Ace! I'll be over soon. Cya then.

I'm here!

Hey, are you up? It's 10 minutes past.

Did you stay up late talking to your bro and sleep through your alarm again?

Hellooooo?

I'm gonna leave without you if you don't come out in 5 minutes.

"Crap, I'm running late!!"

Ace leapt out of bed and flew across his room. The comics and magazines littering his mattress scattered to the floor, but he didn't stop to pick them up.

He moved like lightning, hurriedly dressing and rushing into the communal washroom. While he brushed his teeth with one hand (lest he face the wrath of his vice dorm leader), he teased out his hair with the other. After splashing his face with water (who was going to clock him, Vil?), Ace scribbled on his signature heart, grabbed his backpack, and slipped into his sneakers.

He had his technique down pat thanks to years of practice.

Ace bolted down the hall, stuffing a protein bar into his mouth as he cleared the door. The day greeted him--and so did you, glancing up from your own phone.

"There you are! You kept me waiting, wise guy," you lectured him. It wasn't anything serious--not like his dorm leader's lengthy tirades--just paling around.

"Excuse you," Ace huffed, running a hand through his hair, "I'm fashionably late. There's a difference."

You laughed. Typical of him to always have a snappy comeback prepared.

"Well, c'mon then, fashionably late loser," you urged, playfully nudging his arm, "or we'll both be tardy."

"We'll be late, but at least we'll be late together," he grumbled, nudging you back. "That's fine by me. Wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to be stuck in a room with ya for the afternoon."

"That's a weird way of describing detention with Crewel-sensei."

"What can I say? I'm a poet," he shrugged, letting his sarcasm drip like thick nectar. "Besides, I can't leave you hangin'."

"No?" Your eyebrows hitched. "Funny, cuz I clearly remember you ditching me for cleaning duty on the first day of classes. I almost thought you had left for class without me today too."

"Oi, that was then and this is now! Come on, do you really think I'd do that to you? Me? Really?"

"Absolutely," you said without missing a beat.

"Pfft. You're so wrong about that." He rolled his eyes. "If you were really that worried that I'd gone without you, you could've poked your head in to check on me."

You frowned. "That'd mean I'd have to go into your room."

"So? I've been over at your place and in your room before. What's the big deal? You'd just be returning the favor."

He leaned in, so close that your noses almost touched. Your heart stood still. The corners of Ace's mouth lifted into a smirk. It suited him well, loathe as you were to admit it.

"Or is it that you're being shy?" he asked in a singsong. "Prefect 🎵"

"I-I'm not!" you squeaked, stepping back to put distance between the two of you. "Quit assuming things, Ace! This is why you're so annoying."

"And who is it that's decided to hang out with my 'annoying' ass, huh?" he countered smoothly.

"Urgh...! Maybe I shouldn't have wasted my time waiting for you to get ready after all..." you muttered, turning away from him. "My morning would be way more peaceful without you."

"Way less interesting too," he quipped--getting in the last word.

You shook your head, but didn't bring yourself to argue. However meddlesome his tongue was, he had spoken the naked truth.

He's trouble, that Trappola.

[gyuswhore]

Never Shall We Die (2)

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

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader

PLAYLIST: right here!

pirate lingo glossary (pls refer!)

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

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

WORD COUNT [full fic]: 48.1k

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

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

masterlist

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

[AN]: part 2 !!!! ty for reading pt1, hope you guys will enjoy this too <3 as always, ty to @highvern for beta-ing and sitting through this entire thing lmao <3 happy reading, and remember to tell me what you think !!

THE FOREVER EMPTY DECK, for whatever reason, was occupied when you trudge up the stairs in an attempt to free yourself from the stuffiness of your quarters. 

You make out Seungkwan sitting cross legged on the floors, very carefully pouring himself a bottle of something unmarked into a bowl. Chan is there as well, very meticulously explaining a happening to…Hoshi, who sits by with an interested expression, mouth turned into a frown with his brows furrowed. Chan is using his hands as he continues, unaware of your presence. 

“Oh!” Seungkwan calls you out by name, causing the rest of the clique to turn their heads to you. “Come have a drink!” 

“What’s this?” Hoshi starts. He’s smiling, but his reddened cheeks give away his very obviously intoxicated state. “Has miss princess decided to grace us with her presence?” 

You ignore him, acknowledging Chan when he asks why you were up at this hour as you sit between him and Seungkwan. 

“Just needed some air,” you mumble. 

“Well,” Hoshi is loud when he spills half the drink out of the cup he was pouring it into. “Air pairs well with rum.”

He holds out a cup of the liquid for you, swaying slightly from the effort of holding it far out towards you. 

“I am a lady.” You resist the effort to turn your nose up. 

“Okay lady, bottoms up!” he slurs. 

When you continue to keep your hands folded, he retracts his hand with what you think is a  prominent scowl, but it looks more like a disappointed pout if anything. He takes a dejected sip from the cup. 

“Come on, just one!” Seungkwan tries to convince you. 

“Leave her alone, Kwan, miss princess is too good to be drinking with pirates,” Hoshi chides. 

You aren’t sure if it was meant to be a jab at all, considering the strange switch in behaviour he seems to have adopted as his drunk persona. You watch in silence as he reaches over to plant a big kiss on Seungkwan’s cheek in affection, grabbing his head strongly. He yelps, pushing his captain off with a face. 

But regardless of what he meant, the defiance sparked within you anyway, and you find yourself gripping the neck of the poorly dusted bottle that sat in the middle amidst even more bottles, cups and twine. The motion has all eyes on you, even as you bring the bottle to your lips, preparing yourself for one of the dumber things you’ve done. 

Locking eyes with Hoshi’s sharp ones over the bottle, you chug it of its remnants, ignoring the fiery burn and the trickles of liquid that trail down the corners of your mouth. 

You hear Seungkwan and Chan cheering, Hoshi remaining stoic as he refuses to be the one to look away from above the bottle. 

By the time you’ve slammed the bottle back onto the hardwood, you’re struggling to maintain your vision and you’re forced to tear your eyes away from the man that sits across from you, unwavering. 

Resisting the urge to vomit, you can only smile weakly at Seungkwan and Chan who are overly excited over your endeavour, clinking their own cups as they down another one in your honour. 

It kickstarted your spree in any case as the night commenced, continuing to accept refills as you sip slower than before, savouring the taste that you couldn’t really say you enjoyed. The feeling, however. 

Seungkwan and Chan took longer than you’d expected to pass out, noting the way they continued to clink and drink with no regard. 

Hoshi seemed to need little to be washed away, something you found yourself silently snorting at, even as both boys continued to snore quietly behind you. 

“What’s so funny?” Hoshi asks, taking a sip from his cup. 

You snap your head up, drunk and hot. You consider shaking your head to indicate a null, but you can’t say you have much control over yourself at the moment. 

“You take so little to get tipsy,” you comment with a little giggle. 

“What makes you think I’m drunk?” he asks.

His red face? The uncharacteristic warmth he’d been treating you with all night? Who knows? But right now you ignore his question, zeroed in on something. He’s wearing one of his stupid linen shirts that are always buttoned too low, the ones that make it impossible to keep your eyes on his face. 

Your eyes find the distorted slash of tissue that resides on his chest, right over his left peck, right over his heart. You’ve noticed the scar on multiple occasions. Not that he seems to ever try to hide it. You decide to mention it. 

“How’d you get that?” you whisper. It feels right to talk like that; the deck is silent, the sea is calm in her regard to pushing the ship where it needs to go. Your legs are pulled up to your chest, cheek on your knees. 

He follows your gaze to his scar, coming round to answer you with a drunk, dopey smile on his face. “Got hungry.”

Possible, but you also get the feeling he wasn’t about to give you a straight answer if you pushed anyway. But your gaze remains on his chest, ingraining the ridges of the scar to memory. 

And with every moment that passes, it looks less and less like a scary altercation of someone trying to carve his heart out, and more like he may have fallen off his horse while riding. Accidentally cut himself with a steak knife at the supper table. Took a bad blow during a practice sword fight. 

And with every moment that passes, the backgrounds of your mind’s pictures turn from the rugged sea to the grassy training grounds of the palace, the hay and brown of the stables, the silver glints of the dining hall. The thuds of rusting cups and cheap sailors rum turn into clinks of wine glasses, Hoshi’s hand wrapped around the stems, skin free of every scar and darkened slash. 

And with every moment that passes, you imagine what this deadly, ferocious pirate would look like if his life was a little different. If his life was a little like yours. Would he be able to be a better match against your father, would he have taken every missed opportunity to become a ruler that you only wish you could be? Could he lead a kingdom as well as he leads his beloved band of pirates?

There’s not a thought of what you’re doing in your mind as you find yourself reaching over, not to the bottles that lie empty, but to the pirate captain’s hands, taking his rough calloused palms in your soft, unscarred ones. 

He does little to resist, letting his hand fall limp in yours. 

“What’s this one?” you ask, tracing over the biggest scar that slashed across his knuckles. 

“Piece of wood sticking out of the mast.” 

It’s an older scar, clear with the way his skin has settled into the healed wound like it’s always been that way. 

“This one?” you ask, tracing over another nick. 

“Fell on glass.”

“This one?”

“Punched Mingyu.”

You frown at that, looking up at him and in accusation. 

“I apologised,” he defends. 

Was it strange that a pirate captain would apologise for assaulting his crew? Slightly, yes. But you liked to think you understood Hoshi a little better than you’d first met him, and that he considered his crew more like his family than anything else. 

Never in a million years, in your pirate hating household, would you have thought that the deadliest band of pirates would soon be the ones you’d be sharing drinks with, tracing scars with, feeling somewhat secure being alone with. 

Entrusting to save your future with. 

You turn his hand over to his palms, now staring at a fresher looking gash that seems to still be healing. It looks painful, the redness yet to fade into its darker hues. 

“What about this one?” you ask, being extra careful to not touch the wound. 

Hearing him let out a small laughing exhale, you look up.

“Thought you’d recognize your own work.” 

And then you remember. 

The spray of blood in the air as your dagger made its first ever maim at your hands. 

“Oh,” you breathe out. 

When you look up from your hunched position, you’re closer to Hoshi than you’d initially thought. He went from an arms length away to brushing shoulders with you, his palm remaining cradled in both of yours. 

“Do you regret it?” he asks as he looks at you like he’s gotten lost somewhere in your face. 

His breath hits your face in a delicate fan, the smell of alcohol mixing from your own mouth. 

Glancing down at his scarring wound, you look back up at him with your lips in a tight line. 

“No.”

He smiles, less of disbelief and more of contentment, a pleasant look on his face as he reads your expression. 

You felt like you’d passed some kind of test. 

“Good.”

And then you’re so close you can barely make out the tip of his nose, his warmth infiltrating your own. You can smell him past the rum, a faint woody scent that makes your head spin. You push up to the alcohol. 

Your stomach is on fire as you expect the final push to come, the eager build in your chest becoming near unbearable. 

Just as you’re about to flutter your eyes closed, ready to take whatever he might give you, you find his face disappeared. 

Hoshi turned his face away, your face infiltrated by the cool breeze once more. Your palms are cooling as his warmth retracts from them as well, leaving you cold and confused. 

Blinking, pushing your chin closer to your chest, you attempt to catch your bearings, catch the notes in the air as you feel him move to his feet quickly. 

“Get some sleep, it’s late,” he announces in a low, gravelly voice before trudging towards the staircase. He seems to have sobered up. 

All that’s left on the deck is your empty palms, the stinging sea spray, and two snoring pirates. 

HOSHI SPENT THE REST of the morning trying to sleep off the imminent feeling of spontaneous combustion. 

The tingle in his right hand refuses to go away, even when he plunges the darn thing into a freezing bucket of water next to his cot, assuming his wound was acting up. 

He sleeps fitfully, the frustration that simmers refuses to let him have a staggering moment of peace. His head is as dense as a whale, throbbing in the seeping light. The sounds of the sea, ones that once brought him calm, were now triggering an irrational reaction from his entire being. 

Swinging to his feet is easy, it’s the aftermath of such a reckless action that has him stumbling like a fawn. Slipping into his boots, he thuds to the lower decks, to the storage area where all of the rations are. 

And where all of the alcohol is. 

He bumps into Minghao on the way down, who’s filling his canteen as he keeps morning watch on deck. 

“Go sleep, I’ve got it,” he says to him, and Minghao does little to refute as he makes a beeline for his beloved hammock. 

It’s too early for anyone to be awake, despite the afternoon sun that lingers. He takes full advantage of it as he hauls the first crate of rum up to the deck. 

There isn’t an inch of hesitation as he lifts the death juice and sends it splashing into the ocean. He stares for a moment as heavy bottles disappear under the water, still full of the very thing he’d shoot his crew for wasting a single drop of. 

Even more determined than before, he goes back down into the brig, this time lugging two more crates of rum, all to be met with the same fate, going down to touch the bottom of the ocean.

With every echoing slam of the wood hitting the water, he feels himself freeing. 

But you plague him anyway. 

Lifting a particularly heavy box, he thinks of how close you had gotten to him on this very deck. How he could breathe in your exhales. How he could feel the tactile of your fingertips tracing over every mauled slash on his hand. How you consumed his mind in ways he couldn’t fathom. 

It was the rum. The rum was doing this to him. 

At least, that’s what he’d chosen to blame. 

Who was he to deny the effect you seemed to have on him?

The answer was that he was a pirate, especially with the way he chalked his muddled brain to not having had a woman around for so, so long. 

He’d considered indulging once they reached Port Ash, slipping away for an hour into one of the beaded doors of women ready to give him what he wanted. The thought seemed like an unwanted remedy. 

Every solution felt fruitless, a balm that only seemed to make the itch worse. Even as he commits a sin as heinous as feeding perfectly good rum to sea foam, he only does it in the hopes that the sea will take it as a sacrifice, to give him the kind of peace his being has begun to crave. 

Hoshi has been moved to insanity. 

Even as he feels the cool cylinder of Jun’s revolver on his temple, he pushes the last crate overboard as his final answer. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hears Jun ask. 

When he turns around, the revolver remains stationary as it now points into the smack middle of his forehead. He has an audience, Mingyu’s face has leftover sleep on it, a mildly horrified look on his face. Chan looks like he could slice his own Captain’s throat open. 

“Where’s the rum?” Mingyu asks in an airy voice, disbelief prominent. 

“The rum’s gone.”

“Why is the rum gone?” 

Hoshi doesn’t answer as he moves Jun’s loaded gun out of his face and makes his way back to his cot downstairs, in no mood to squabble with his too sober crew. 

There’s calls of his name that follow him all the way to below the deck, even as he snatches a stray hat on the floor, placing it above his face in the hopes that he was relieved enough to sleep. 

It’s snatched away as Mingyu stands above him like an angel of death, his hat in his equally deathly grip. 

“Did the spirits possess you?” 

“No,” he replies begrudgingly. “But good sense has.”

“Captain,” he hears Chan begin, looking about five seconds away from committing a murder on the seas. “You know I can’t fight sober.”

“Learn.”

“What is this about? Where was the rum at fault?” Jun grits. 

Hoshi swings up once again. If Mingyu was an angel of death then he was the king of hell. 

But he has no threats left to give, his menacing soul left with the rum. There is only a snarl that turns into him dropping his head, sighing a loud, loud sigh. 

He tells his crew a sad affair as he expresses his sorrows like a eulogy. Blaming the rum was stupid, but it was what he had done. And now the fruit of his decisions sit forgotten in the reefs so far below.  

His crew is not happy when they find out, in any case. 

“But what did the rum do?” 

“Kissing beautiful women is part of life’s pleasures!” 

“I have half a mind to make you fish it all back up.” 

Mingyu has simply crumpled onto the floor in his heartbreak, Chan has his face in his hands. Hoshi doesn’t look up to witness Jun’s reaction. 

The crew would get over the lack of alcohol on board, perhaps a morbid brawl or two to help them get by, but what was more concerning was whether it did anything for Hoshi at all. 

At the very least, he knows he won’t go around kissing people sober, but when it comes to the matter of the war inside his chest…

A phantom ache throbs across the scar on his chest. 

Perhaps his heart would finally be the next to go.

PORT ASH WAS A depraved man’s heaven. 

One that could easily become his downfall if he doesn’t play his cards right. 

Too covered was suspicious, too much of the opposite was an open invitation to all the drunk and debauched population of Ash; pirates, criminals and councilmen alike. You were comfortable enough in what you were given to put on, to become the perfect blend in the rowdy, barely lit streets of the brothels and bars. 

Despite everything, Seungkwan assured you that no one would bother a woman flanked by obvious pirates, for whatever reason that may be. If it were up to you, you would’ve remained on the ship, safe and buried in your quarters, but the threat of an ambush on the docks plagued the crew enough to risk bringing you directly into the dragon’s den. 

Jun disappeared quickly, ducking behind an unmarked curtain with a nod to his captain. You could only assume this was where he’d obtain his remaining supplies for the explosives he seemed to be so good at creating. You’ve awoken to multiple median bangs during the night, so you can only assume he knows what he’s doing to a certain extent. 

“Jun said it might take a while, so we might have to wait on him a little bit.” Hoshi stands at the front of the group, addressing his crew. 

“Spread out, do whatever. Don’t linger, don’t drink yourselves to death—” he sends a pointed look at a shifty Chan and Mingyu, “—and meet back at the ship at six bells or we’ll leave without you.”

The announcement doesn’t seem to apply to you. You’re sandwiched between Hoshi and Seungkwan as they lead you into the throng, to wherever it was they were to pass the time till it was time to return.

If Ash was anything, it was alive. Men and women scatter in all states of drunk and sober, arms latched with their partners for the night as they let the oil lamps carry them to their abode for the night. It’s a wilder Hasry, a scarier Hasry. 

The nighttime does nothing to help your nerves, every single face shrouded in the half shadows, seemingly resembling every person you’ve ever met in the Kingdom. 

It makes you feel better that both men are pressed against your sides, as strange as the thought sounds in your head. Safe between two pirates.

“Nobody’s tried to kill you yet, I’d call that a record,” Seungkwan comments, but it’s not directed towards you. 

Hoshi scowls as you shift your gaze from Seungkwan to him. The usually nonchalant pirate captain looks…cautious. His eyes dart around the crowded streets, like he was looking for familiar faces all the same as you. 

Your eyes land on his curled lips and force down a shiver. This was the first time you’d been around him since that drunken night, since you’d promised to never drink again. 

He doesn’t mention it, so neither do you.

“Captain Hoshi Kwon? How wonderful of you to show your face again!” 

A woman’s voice rings shrill amidst the loud buzz and hollers of the streets, emerging like a white ghost from the throng. Dressed to the nines, face painted intricately, fan clenched in her hand that perches on her hip. She’s joined by another gaggle of women that crown behind her, displaying a rainbow of coloured gown and fans, but holding the same disdained look. 

The pirate captain freezes beside you, and you feel Seungkwan’s hand on your back burn. 

He seems shaken at the sight of the new woman initially, but puts on a smile you’ve only seen a few times. One that dazzles with his teeth on display, eyes squinted.

“Delilah!” he exclaims, almost too happy to see this mystery woman. “How’ve you been?”

“Who did that? I’d like to send them flowers,” she refers to the scar above Hoshi’s heart. 

“Jellyfish don’t really like me, learned that the hard way.” 

His answer seems to only annoy her. Delilah has a wicked snarl on her face, threat in her stance. “When was the last time I saw you?”

“Uh,” Hoshi stumbles. 

“The Crowded Inn, was it? When I fell asleep to a promise and woke up to an empty bed?”

“Our dear captain seems to have thrown memory at sea,” one of the girls behind her calls out, followed by a collective giggle. 

Hoshi looks cornered, at a loss for words as he attempts to save face. Regaining his prior easygoing expression, he continues. 

“There’s no promises after I’ve had a drink or two, you know that, Delilah.” It scares you a little how easily he can inject all the sugar and honey in the world directly into his words, flirting his way out of the predicament. 

Except, she doesn’t seem to be buying it, because as soon as the words leave Hoshi’s lips, you hear a loud thwack and a blur of colour. You gasp before you can help it, covering your mouth in shock. 

There’s a reddenning mark on his cheek in the shape of a hand. Hoshi remains face scrunched, coming round, hand slowly coming up to touch his no doubt stinging cheek. 

Your reaction seems to have roused this woman, because she sends you nothing but a look laced with pure venom, completely ignoring Seungkwan who stands aside doing nothing to help his captain. 

“Where’d you pick this one up?” She asks, her fan now shucked open, fanning herself even in the pleasant weather. Her pale face, red lips, dark eyes all remain on your shabby form, a hint of a smirk on her face. “Is she as disappointing of a performer as she looks?” 

That seems to do it, as you watch Hoshi’s facade of a cheeky bed trotter image drop to something with more depth. 

“Delilah,” he says, warning in his voice. 

“Ah! Looks like I’ve struck a nerve.”

You watch Hoshi take a step forward and you’re suddenly hyper aware of the crowd of people that continue to pass and linger, reminding yourself of the repercussions of causing a scene in a place like this. Turning slightly, you attempt to push Seungkwan to do something.

“Captain,” Seungkwan says, a casual but careful voice. A starting attempt at calming things down. 

“That’s enough,” Hoshi says, ignoring Seungkwan’s warning. “Quit pretending you weren’t warming that privateer’s bed right after I left.” 

There was no reason for you to say anything, do anything. But when you find yourself pushing forward, leaving Seungkwan’s hold, you can’t stop. Perhaps he’d have punched Seungkwan, his own crew, if he’d done the same as you were right now, but you’d like to think you know the pirate captain enough to assume he’d react less so with you. 

There’s a shift in the woman’s jaw as she watches you wrap your arm around one of Hoshi’s, trying your absolute best to mimic a bright smile. 

“We should go,” you announce, the stretch of your cheeks unfamiliar even to you. You turn to catch Hoshi’s stare, he’s looking at you like you’ve grown an extra head. “Right, Hosh?”

“Go on then, Captain. Your little princess awaits.” 

You flinch without meaning to. Princess. 

This woman doesn’t know what she’s talking about, at least, that’s what you recite in your head as your trio goes back to pushing walking through the streets. She doesn’t know who you are. 

“She doesn’t know,” you hear Hoshi say under his breath, but you hear it loud as day.

You exhale, “I know.”

“Sorry about her. And him, “ Seungkwan says, before turning to Hoshi. “I told you not to get involved with that one, she’s a menace.”

You’ve let go of Hoshi’s arm at this point, now simply watching him attempt to calm himself down as you walk. He doesn’t reply to Seungkwan’s jab. 

You feel strange, a feeling you can’t exactly pinpoint. You’re too aware of yourself, in a way that’s different than just the fear of being recognized. Shifting your eyes to your attire, your usual linen skirts and corset, an added grey shawl for your own anxious sanity.

The woman’s voice rings in your head. Shabby. 

“You didn’t let her get to you, did you? She’s always been vile, she can’t live without being a bitch about something every five minutes.” 

Seungkwan’s grumbling goes in one ear and out the other as you don’t answer. He seems to read you better than you thought he could. He sighs.

“Congratulations Delilah, you’ve made a princess feel shabby,” he says in a sarcastically chipper voice, one that earns a hiss from his captain for being too loud. 

Before you know it, you’re being led down a flight of stone stairs and you’re informed that it was an underground pub of sorts. Something about his undertone told you it was probably more, but you ignore it as the darkness is let alight beyond the musty curtains of the basement entrance. 

It’s a sizable expanse, a bar on one of the long ends of the hall, busy and overflowing with mugs, jugs and plates. Wooden tables and chairs, almost all of them occupied by patrons of all kinds that do nothing to regulate their volumes. It smells like a rancid mixture of alcohol and people, but you push past as you find yourself seated on one of the wooden seatings in the corner. 

“I’ll go get us drinks,” Seungkwan announces as he walks up to the bar. You watch as he’s greeted by nearly every passing customer, all smiles. 

Hoshi sits beside you like a begrudged toddler, arms crossed and glaring at nothing. 

“Didn’t realise how popular you were around these parts,” you comment, scanning the crowd in excruciating detail, blaming force of habit as you do. 

He clicks his tongue, and you can’t see him, but you can almost visualise his grimace.

A too clean councilman that has his hands on the upper thighs of an outlandishly dressed woman. A man so grimy and dusty who has nothing but an array of empty jugs for company. Another flock of fan yielding, hair towering, gown exploding women that swarm a man you cannot see past the bodies. 

It’s organised chaos, immoral yet is the only thing that seems to work on this island. 

Another entrance is being made from the curtains that block the pub from the outside, you steer your eyes automatically. 

Looks like he could be a pirate, beyond just the dark hair and chiselled face. He has a girl under his arm, a pretty brunette that giggles at his side as he whispers something in her ear. She’s wearing something similar to you, a corset and a linen skirt, and a pirate's hat that’s too big for her that’s perched on her head. 

Subconsciously, you feel better about being so severely underdressed. 

Hoshi sits up next to you and you glance over your shoulder to assess his shift. He’s also staring at the couple that’s just walked in. You briefly wonder if this was going to be another showdown.

The man catches Hoshi’s eye from across the room, and you notice how his smile falls a little. 

“Who’s that?” you ask quietly. 

Your question is answered when the man himself begins to walk towards your table, leaving the girl at his table, a confident strut as he makes his path. 

Hoshi rises next to you before you realise what’s happening, and you have the sudden urge to call out for Seungkwan. 

“Why are you getting up?” you hiss. He doesn’t answer, yet again.

“Captain,” the man greets. 

“Captain,” Hoshi replies. 

Captain. So he was a pirate. 

“Hm. That’s not gonna go away, is it?” The man comments with a smirk, eyes trained on the scar on Hoshi’s chest. 

“Wonder who’s fault that is.” Hoshi’s voice is levelled. 

Oh. Was that scar his doing?

“I hope you won’t mind if I don’t apologise?” The smirk on his face remains as he continues, motioning towards his own cheek, eyes trailed on the side of Hoshi’s face. “Looks like you’ve got enough enemies without me trying to carve your heart out.”

Hoshi doesn’t answer as he grimaces, a frustrated blink and a hand that runs over his sore cheek. 

“Delilah was quite adamant on having your head on a pike after that,” the stranger adds with a chuckle of his own, before trailing his eyes behind Hoshi. Right where you sat watching the two men interact. “Perhaps she does have some consideration left.”

“Delilah cared more about looking like a fool than she ever did me leaving. You’d know all about that wouldn’t you, Wonwoo?” 

There’s a flash of irritation on Wonwoo’s face at the jog of a memory. “Handled it better than you did. At least I wasn’t walking around with a handprint on my face.”

“No, no you weren’t. Just a leash around your neck,” Hoshi’s own eyes darted towards the girl seated at Wonwoo’s table, a silent jab.

Wonwoo’s face morphs into something a little more dangerous than just irritation, his jaw tightening as he takes a step forward. They’re nearly nose to nose. 

To your surprise, Wonwoo smiles. “I guess brothels don’t teach many manners after all. My mistake.”

For the second time that day, you spring from your position in the shadowed table, giving up on praying for Seungkwan’s arrival. The man seems to have disappeared somewhere along the barline, and you curse both the men that stand before you for their horrid temper management skills. 

You don’t have to do much, however, as you find Wonwoo pulling away by himself. At least, you thought so, finding a hand wrapped around his upper arm. The brunette spares neither of you a glance as she simply murmurs furiously under her breath, hand now on her lover's chest as she pushes him to move back from the brewing altercation. 

Hoshi doesn’t seem to be breaking, remaining standing with his eyes shooting daggers at the man that’s reluctant to walk away from a budding fight.  

Being gentle wasn’t going to work right now, and you weren’t feeling so soft anyway. Instead, you reach over to grab his wrist tight, positively yanking him back as hard as you could. 

“Wh—ow!”

He slams into the seat next to you, deadly eye contact with the other captain broken as he winces at the impact. When you glance up, Wonwoo is gone. 

“You said to blend in, how is this blending in?!” 

“I didn’t do anything!”

“You were two seconds away from drawing knives,” you hiss. “We’re in a pub, for goodness’ sake!” 

Despite your irritation, and with the newfound information that rests in the back of your head, it’s difficult to keep your eyes off the scar that stands against the lamplight of the pub. 

Someone did try to carve his heart out. 

Context for an altercation that could lead to something like that remains unknown, and you doubt you’d ever get a straight answer from him if you asked—as always. Besides, you forget they’re pirates. 

Hoshi goes back to simply ignoring you as he festers in his grumbled silence. Choosing to keep his arms folded and staring straight ahead. You make no moves to entertain him. 

“I guess brothels don’t teach many manners after all.”

This mystery captain’s left you with enough ammo to keep you wondering for days. What on earth was that? 

As if Hoshi’s (and yours) mood wasn’t sour enough, your attention is brought to the front of the room where another entrance is being made, quite loudly so. You very quickly recognise the gowns and fans and shrieking giggles of women as Delilah and her posse. 

You note the woman herself is nowhere near. 

“Fucking hell,” you hear Hoshi swear under his breath. He’s sitting up, eyes darting around the room, almost like he was trying to find a hiding spot. You doubt he's too excited over another conversation of similar nature, let alone a matching mark on the other side of his face.

The women hadn't seen him yet, and were approaching far too quickly for him to get up and leave anywhere to hide. A quick scan of the room yourself and you realise there’s only one remaining option. 

They didn’t seem to recognise you for your title before, and you assume the current extent stays within simply being another seductress in the pirate captain’s company. You push the sickening feeling away as you realise you might have to play the part. 

So you do the sensible thing and push Hoshi’s head under the wooden table, forcing him to leave his seat and crouch beside your legs. In a split second, you’ve lifted your linen skirt and draped it over his hunched body. 

This would have to do. 

And it seems to have been the right move because as soon as the man is out of sight, you find the opposite end of the table more occupied than you ever would have been comfortable with. 

“Oh! You’re that Hoshi’s girl aren’t you?” one of the women who's made themselves comfortable asks, fan in front of her mouth and nose as you note her sharp eyes. 

“Uh,” you laugh nervously. 

“Oh, nothing to be embarrassed about,” she assures, a snap in her voice. 

Another woman decked out in a green ensemble speaks in a teasing voice, “We’re all quite accustomed to his…mannerisms.”

The table erupts in a fit of giggles and cackles and you’re forced to laugh weakly along, hyper aware of the man that sits under your skirt right below. You try not to flinch as you feel his clothes brush against the side of your calf. 

“So, tell us,” she says, taking your hands in hers, a contact you really wish you could break free of. If only you weren't quite as terrified of the women seated at your table. “How far along in heaven has this man taken you?”

She spares you an answer as you gape with square shoulders. She fans herself in a whimsy as she looks like she’s reminiscing. “He’s almost as good of a pirate as he is a beast in bed, I don’t think I’ll ever forget that night.”

“Quite generous with the tongue too, if you know what I mean.” 

The pirate captain’s breath hits your bare knees in its own fan, goosebumps almost immediately erupting across the expanse of your skin. You fail to suppress a shudder.

Goodness, this man stays busy.

“Oh look at her, she’s gotten all flustered!” one of them laughs. You take it as an opportunity to slip your hands out of the tight grasps of the bold ladies. “It seems he’s taken to a newer liking. How innocent.”

These women seem to like talking more than they wish to hear a word from you, of course, you couldn’t tell them anything they already didn’t know. Of which, according to their interests, you knew nothing of it anyway. 

“Don’t get too attached now, we’re all mere expendables in this busy pirate’s—”

Slam!

Rum. You smell rum. 

It’s like you’ve been transported back onto the main deck, the smell of rum mixed with….with—

“Ladies!” Seungkwan announces, slamming bottles of alcohol on the table with a force unnecessary. “Funny seeing you again.”

For a moment you may have even thought Hoshi had clambered up to the table to announce himself, and you feel a hand fly down to your skirts. 

He’s still there, head now actively leaning against your knee. You pray the man hasn’t fallen asleep as you attempt to greet Seungkwan. 

“Took you long enough,” you grit through a sickly sweet smile. 

With your hand somewhere on Hoshi’s upper back, you guide him with you as you make space for Seungkwan next to you. 

“The—oh!” Seungkwan is quick to notice the breathing lump under your skirt as he sits himself next to you, but manages to compose himself with a cough. “Long line. What were you ladies talking about?”

One of them smiles big as ever, slowly lifting themselves from their seats, “We were just…leaving. Wonderful speaking with you!” 

And with that, you can finally feel your breath coming back to you, the table significantly lighter with the lack of colours, perfume and humans. 

Releasing a long exhale, you let your shoulders drop and lean backwards. 

“Are you going to explain why the captain is hidden under your skirts?”

With a jolt, you're forced to consider his presence under the table, scanning the room to find the women gone from the pub altogether. 

Hoshi emerges from under the fabric, and shuffles over to the other side of the table to sit down, bringing an instinctive hand towards the fresh bottles on the table. Halting, he instead reaches for the jug of water on the edge and pours himself a helping.  

You refuse to look at him. Refuse to acknowledge the red in his face. Refuse to acknowledge the sudden cold under your skirt. 

Seungkwan’s stare is burning holes into the side of your head, even as he uncorks one of the bottles as an offer. You also refuse; both to look him in the eye and the drink itself.

Bottle to his lips, he moves his glare to his captain, who sits nursing his water like it was something stronger. 

“I haven’t gotten an answer yet,” he finally breaks. 

Instinct has your eyes lifting to meet Seungkwan’s inquisitive one’s, answers frozen in your throat. 

“Why are you asking like you don’t know who they were?” Hoshi snaps. 

“I can understand not wanting a matching handprint on your other cheek!” he refutes. “But how do you decide the solution is to dive into yet another woman’s skirts?”

Your only solace to the heat that prickles your body is the way Hoshi himself flushes. 

Seungkwan sighs as he takes another sip of his drink, eyeing Hoshi’s still red cheek. “I’m starting to think you deserved it.” 

Hoshi makes a motion like he’s about to send his half full cup flying into Seungkwan’s face but stops short. Perhaps he’s realising he’s become the problem child for today. 

You contemplate telling Seungkwan about Wonwoo and the near pub brawl you would’ve had to deal with, but decide it to be a story for another time. Besides, you weren’t about to risk mentioning his name while it was still fresh. 

You realise just how unstable this island can turn a person; not just the pirate captain.

Because as you look at Hoshi on the other side of the table, you find how difficult it is to look away.

“YOU NEED TROUSERS.”

“What?”

“Oh don’t look so scandalised, you’ve been prancing around with pirates for goodness’ sake.”

Seungkwan haggles with the stall owner over the price of padded coats, blankets and an array of other things the crew would need. The journey was only going to take the ship further North, and it was only going to get colder as you neared the icy water of the Green Islands. 

Seungkwan’s suggestion to buy you trousers came out of the blue, but it seems you couldn’t refuse when you find both Hoshi and Chan (who joined you after he was tired of the others) agreeing. 

“You can’t possibly stay warm in linen,” Chan argues. “Trousers are the only way you won’t freeze your limbs off.”

“Too much airflow in a skirt,” Seungkwan agrees, eyes closed, head shaking solemnly. “Captain would know.”

“Hm?” Chan looks at him confused. 

“Fine!” You snatch the folded brown lump in Seungkwan’s hands. You keep talking in a louder than necessary voice in the hopes that Chan won’t ask any more questions. “I’ll wear them.”

“Perfect! Now we need to get you boots.”

“I have boots!” 

“Warm boots!” 

“But—”

It was difficult to argue with Seungkwan once he’s got his mind set on something. But that paired with the loud noises of the Ash port market was sending pulsing throbs across the sides of your head. You simply surrender as Seungkwan leaves Hoshi to pay the vendor before pushing you across the street to where a stall held boots and slippers for sale. 

In the midst of his bargaining, Chan had disappeared into the throng, returning with a steaming plate of something that smelled doughy and delicious. 

“What is that?” you ask as Chan shoves the tray in front of you. 

“Whatever they are, they’re delicious. Try one.”

He was right, one bite of the warm, soft goodness covered in syrup had you taking a moment to ponder. It melts in your mouth, barely registering the rest of the group scarfing down the tray like it was their last.

“God, you can never get them this good on the mainland,” Seungkwan cries. “We’ll get another tray before we leave.”

Speaking of leaving, you turn to ask about the time. 

“How many bells has it been?” you ask Seungkwan whose cheeks bulge with the amount of dough balls he’s stuffed in. He looks like a child caught stealing when you ask. 

“Oh—”

“Five,” Hoshi answers instead, eyes remaining on the pile of goods that he’s gathered to remain in his line of sight. You suppose there was no delivery system here like in Hasry, and you doubt how secure it is to be walking around with a pile of supplies on this island in particular. 

“You need to hurry, I told the rest of them to meet at six bells.”

Seungkwan’s quick to wrap up, but not before shooing Chan away for another tray of those sweet dough balls for the journey. You manage to whisper to him to bring extra. 

By the time Seungkwan’s done with the last vendor, dropping the giant coil of rope onto the already large pile of supplies, you begin to wonder how you were supposed to get all of this to the ship. 

“Shove those in a bag and carry some of this,” Hoshi says to Chan who has returned, brandishing another steaming tray of the sweet treat. He grumbles as he complies, complaining about how the sticky sweet syrup was going to ruin the inside of the pack. 

You look a little lost as you attempt to help, all three men grabbing their share of the load. 

“Let me hold something,” you attempt, reaching for a wrapped pile. 

You watch as Hoshi snatches it before you can grab it for yourself. “Keep an eye out instead.”

“But—”

“Here.” Chan drops the pack with the now rolling dough balls inside. “Snacks for the walk too, how lucky.”

There’s a light push from behind you as Seungkwan urges you to move forward, face slightly obstructed with the tower he’s holding in his arms. “Go on, straight and then left. We’re close to the port anyway.”

You’re left feeling slightly useless as you remain caged with Chan in front while Seungkwan and Hoshi follow you from behind. The walk is short, but crowded nonetheless. 

It’s only later in the night, which means the crowds in the bustling streets and alleys of Ash only multiply, clear with the case you’re pushed into right now. You pause in front of a particularly busy patch, needing to take a breath before following Chan’s fearless footsteps. 

It’s immediate suffocation, bodies on all sides as you try your best to not lose Chan in the midst of the crowds. Perhaps they were right to keep your hands mostly unoccupied—it would’ve been impossible for you to not completely lose yourself here. 

Gaining a rhythm of walking with the crowd before moving slightly against to near your exit, you’ve almost made your way out. 

Just as you find the bend leading to the open air of the port, you hear a distinct rip sound from behind you. 

If your skirt was airy before, it was a windstorm now. 

Craning your neck at an impossible angle, you find the bottom of your skirt ripped so high up the back of your knees are out for the population of Ash to see. 

Gasping loudly, you halt in your tracks. A horrible mistake, because you’re only being bumped and shoved by the evermoving bodies. 

“Why are you stopping?” Seungkwan hisses, before realising what’s just happened. “Uh oh.”

“I…”

Both Seungkwan and Hoshi push past the throng making their way out of the crowd, leaving you there frazzled and practically naked 

You barely consider that they’ve just left you there as you scramble to cover your calves with what overlapping fabric you had left, registering the threats and curses being sent your way for being the idiot that stops in what is essentially a fast paced parade. 

The rational part of your brain checks out, refusing to consider that perhaps the back of your knees were the least scandalous thing this island has seen, especially after the conversations you’ve had in your short time here. But alas, a few months of the pirate life wasn’t enough to push the princess out of you, and you stand like a paralysed fool about to get stampeded. 

Just as you’re convinced you’d die here, embarrassed and utterly panicked, you feel a body press up from behind you. 

It was too close to be a bystander pushing past, which was saying something since most of these patrons were practically climbing over your form. 

You whip your head back to look at the person who’s invading your space more than usual, hands tight around your upper arms in an effort to push you forward. 

Hoshi stands behind you as his body covers the ripped damage of your skirt, eyes trained in front to survey the crowd.

“Come on, I’ve got you,” he grunts, pushing to get you to move your legs. You stumble in the beginning, still not registering anything.

He was helping, but with the way you can feel every dip and shallow of his chest and abdomen pressing into you, you can’t help but think he’s only made matters for your already speeding heart worse. 

Your legs move automatically, letting him steer you wherever. Trying not to think about how his entire front is pressed onto your back like a mould. He’s so close you can even smell him despite the crowd.

Like your head isn’t spinning enough.

By the time you’ve exited the main rush of people, you’ve begun counting your minutes. 

Emerging to the bend that leads straight to the docks, you find the rest of the crew already there, running sprints to get all the new supplies to the ship that remained a few yards away. 

Despite having left the crowd behind, your exposure remained, which meant you’d have to be tailed all the way to the ship. You curse your luck as you watch Jun quirk an inquisitive brow at the both of you stuck like you’ve been glued. 

You pray you never have to show your face here again, because the looks don’t seem to stop until you’ve reached the ship. Perhaps the crowd where nobody was paying attention was better.

In any case, you respond to Minghao’s questioning noise with half shut eyes and a joint sprint towards the stairs leading to the lower decks. 

Hoshi keeps behind until you’ve gotten to the heavenly doors of your quarters, springing inside before Hoshi could register looking lower. 

It’s silent for a few sparing moments as you breathe tightly, convincing yourself that you were alone and uncompromised. You're pressed up against the door, almost like you’re afraid the entirety of Ash would barge through to witness your calves. 

“I’ll handle the boys, don’t worry about that,” you hear Hoshi speak from the other side of the door. 

There’s nothing you could do other than slide down the door in a beyond dramatic fashion, head in your hands as you grip the strands like you were moments away from ripping them off. Every instance of your upbringing flashes before your eyes, every crack of your mentor’s canes on your thighs and calves, every waking pain in your back from the impossible postures, every bruise and nick on your feet from being stepped on and trodden over. 

Despite the ridiculous nature of the situation, you feel your eyes grow heavy with tears. 

Was this panic? 

Taking in the circumference of your cramped quarters; the unmade bed, the strewn clothes, the thrown covers. 

It was nothing. Yet, at the same time, it was everything. 

Amidst the pile, there’s a glint of metal where your knife lies on your nightstand, the tiniest smear of uncleaned blood on the blade. From your position on the floor, you find the half broken lamp discarded under your bed, shunned from your sight. The desk in the corner is empty, save for the staggering mountain of letters from your father. 

The only suggestion of normalcy, yet the one you itch to be rid of the most. 

The letter opener necklace that was exchanged for the ring on your finger sits warm against the valley of your breasts, a reminder of the first weapon you plucked from this very room. The weapon that began it all. 

The smell of gunpowder fills your nose, the forever echoing bang of Jun’s revolver as you took that child sailor’s life with your own two hands. 

You lay like that, on the cold floors of your quarters. Refusing to touch the court appointed comfort of your bed, for fear of reigniting the guilt with a fire stoked. 

You aren’t sure if you sleep, but you do dream.

LIDS OPEN, EYES WIDE, but nothing to perceive.

It’s a pit of obsidian, unrelenting and unproposing in its press against your lungs. 

The familiar ball of prickling embers makes itself known in the pit of your stomach, rising and penetrating your senses in ways worse than even the darkness. It's alarm, dread and swivet; the concoction sticking to the walls of your lungs, throat and mouth. 

And then there’s pressure. 

Something envelopes you from behind, an unidentified lump that pulls you into something warm and sturdy. There’s another pressure at your stomach, another pull keeps you grounded between a wall built just for you. 

The air is perfumed, something beyond a flower or an incense. You know what it is.

And then you're falling, slipping into nothingness and landing between sheets warm enough to suggest you never left. 

The scent remains, and this time, Hoshi towers over your frame in something that might have been domineering. But with the distinct feeling of a wet mouth over your collarbone, a small whisper of words unintelligible, you melt like frost in front of a fireplace. 

“What?” you question his muttering, hands hovering just above the expanse of his covered back, barely touching. 

He rears his head like a gentle beast, wet lipped and zeroed in on your face. His response comes in the form of his lips enclosing your own. 

He tastes like rum.

OPENING THE DOOR TO an expectant Seungkwan, you only wave off his reference to you looking like you have one foot in death’s mouth, grabbing the stack of clothes and boots he delivers. 

He leaves you alone, something you cannot decide is a blessing or a curse as you take in the unchanged state of your quarters. 

Sleep gives you nothing but more troubling images to keep your mind utterly occupied, so you take what you can control in consciousness. 

You drop the clothes on a cleaner corner, yanking one of the thinner pairs of dark brown trousers to change into from your still torn and tattered skirt.

Moving inside the room, you pick the littered papers, ropes and rags on the floor, swerving and crouching with more vigour than necessary.

Hoshi’s scent sticks to you. 

Grabbing the pile of letters on your desk, you shove them in a sack and throw them under the bed. 

Hoshi holds you like he might die if he doesn’t.

Ripping the covers off the bed, you fold them into a giant ball of fabric, hoisting it into your arms as you strut to the door.

Hoshi’s lips have left a bruise on your chest.

The late morning sun combats the chill in the air, the salt sticking to your hair. 

Hoshi’s mouth is hot and wet on yours. 

Hoshi stands before you, manning the wheel on the deck. 

You halt in your tracks. 

He turns to register you with your arms full and shielding most of your body. 

Clearing his throat, he states, “You’re up.”

Eyes darting, you respond. “I’m up.”

Somehow, his presence makes you forget the audacity of your own brain to stew the play it did. Depositing the sheets on the floor of the deck, you attempt to look for a reasonably long coil of rope. 

In your pointed distraction, you miss how distracted the pirate captain has also become. 

His elbows, initially perched on the wheel, slip in a comical manner, unintentionally pushing the wheel to the right. 

You don’t expect the minor lurch of the ship, landing on your bum with a yelp when you lose your footing all of a sudden. Your elbows take a worse hit, spiking pain across your upper limbs at the hard contact. 

His hands are pulling you to your feet before you can register what’s happened, coming round as you open your eyes to an open mouthed captain.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you grunt, dusting off your brand new pants as you move past him, refusing to make eye contact. 

Picking up a coil of rope, you bring one of the ends to a mast on the end of the ship, stepping on a crate to tie it around the pole. By the time you’re stepping off the crate to tie the other end to the opposite mast, you find it already done, the pirate captain tightening the knot from across the ship. 

He meets your eyes for a moment, before you step in the direction of your piled sheets, breathing in a heavy inhale.

Untangling the mess, you pull them over to the suspended rope, throwing the sheets over with a grunt. You’d only ever seen the palace maids do this when they’d beat the carpets to oblivion, dusting the ages of dirt. 

“I just…”

When you turn around, the pirate captain is closer than you anticipated, hands encased around a smaller slab of wood. He trails off when you turn to face him, like he hoped he could speak to the back of your head instead. 

You take an instinctive step back, putting space between the both of you. You bring your expectant eyes up to him.

“I just wanted to tell you to ignore what happened at Ash.”

You flush, stuttering, embarrassed at your previous predicament all over again. “Oh, um—”

“Wait no!” he drops the wood onto the floor, hands flying as he waves them all over, seemingly as flushed as you are. “I meant—what Delilah and the others said. I just– they’re horrendous gossips—”

“What are you trying to say Hoshi?”

He falters. 

“I’m trying….” he exhales. “There’s nothing on my roster. Nobody. You aren’t expendable or disposable or whatever it was she said, you aren’t a used rag—”

“What am I then?” 

The question is tumbling out of your mouth before you can help it, stoned jaw and tight fist. 

“What?”

“What am I then? If I’m not expendable or disposable, what am I then?”

“You’re…” 

Taking a step forward, you move back to your initial spot, closer to him, chests almost touching.

“I’m?”

“You’re a princess and I’m a pirate!” he blurts, his previously apprehensive face morphing into something intense. 

You huff a short breath, an incredulous stretch to your lips. Of course. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” you ask in a low voice. 

“Like what it is,” he heaves, chest inflating and deflating like he’d run the course of the deck about thrice. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

If your ears weren’t deceiving you, it sounded more like he was trying to convince no one but himself. 

You take a step closer as he takes a step back.

His face is scrunched ever so slightly, eyes blinking quicker than normal. The sunlight blurs the edges of his features; his usually sharp, stinging stare is hazy, the slant of his nose curvier, the ridges of his lips blending into your muddled perception of his face. 

The only thing dividing you is the silence, the bore of your stare and the war in your mind. You cannot speak for him, but you also aren’t a fool. 

“Everything they say about you is wrong.” 

“What?” he asks again. 

“You don’t have a deadly bone in your body. You’re a coward that hides behind his knife and his big bad pirate ship that you can’t even defend.”

For once, he remains speechless while you persist.

“To think we spent all these years trying to subdue you, push you to the edge,” you can feel the anger seep into the hottest centre of your bones. “All for you to be some scared sailor all along.”

“Your father ruined my life,” he says. It’s a strange voice he uses, one that’s somewhere between disbelief and a warning.

“And mine with it.” 

He laughs, blinking rapidly, backing away even further, running a hand through his hair. Coming around, he looks over his shoulder. He looks like the man you met the day your life fell apart, a strut in his step that runs your blood cold. 

“Are you sure this has nothing to do with you simply wishing to spite the man?” He walks back over. “Prance around with the filthy pirate he hates just for the fun of it?” 

“Oh and you haven’t just been itching to ruin the kingdom’s beloved princess.”

Your mouth seemed to have a mind of its own, spewing the accusation with a vigour you never realised you possessed. Lies. Lies. Lies.

This was your own deteriorating mind’s doing. You were the debauched princess painting lewd pictures of a pirate in your mind. It was your heart that couldn’t stand being near the man for longer than necessary. It was you that had the scripture somewhere in your chest, the tiniest speck of a daydream, that perhaps this inner turmoil didn’t end with just you. 

Did you want to be another woman he doesn’t have to remember? 

You don’t know. All your mind registers is the unbearable twist in your chest, and how it feels like you can’t do nothing about it.

You’re used to getting your way, and you hate that your mind seems to have drifted away from you.

Hoshi’s expression is nowhere in your mind, too preoccupied with sucking in inhales and trying not to begin spiralling right on the main deck. 

“You’re projecting.” 

Eyes snapping up like he’s proposed to sink the ship itself, you feel yourself hit a mental wall. And a physical one as you feel the brush of the suspended sheets against your hair, having taken an unconscious step back. 

He’s cornered you. Yet again. 

“Everything about you screams vulnerable,” he says, moving closer. “Not very sharp to show in front of a pirate.”

“Hoshi.” A warning. A sharp, hurtling sting of fear. 

“What? Big bad pirate too emotionally removed? Beloved princess trapped and defenceless on unfamiliar lands?” 

He’s moving closer, too close.

“I take it back,” he says. “Perhaps drunken Ash does speak the truth—”

Not a familiar plane on his face, like the pirate king had absolved a long held mask. His eyes mortified you, his stance was a walking threat. 

Despite the morning sun, the cave of the hung sheets, the shadows of the high masts and the towering gloom of the pirate captain creates enough darkness to throw a shadow in your mind. 

It’s like the day his crew dropped on the deck for the very first time. The emotions you wished you’d never have to feel again. 

“Stop.” A whisper. 

“Itching to ruin the kingdom’s beloved princess—”

“Do not move any closer!” you shout, eyes squeezed shut, hands fisting the suspended sheets so hard you can feel your fingernails dig into your palms. Scarring.

The world halts, and you feel the darkness beyond your eyelids, lighten. The air is forgiving, cool and blowing.

When you open your eyes, you’re alone.

THE WAR ROOM LOOKS the same, but everything has changed.

For one thing, you were significantly more bundled up with coats and lined boots. The cold of the green islands wasn’t the creeping frost you’d anticipated. You simply woke up one day without feeling in your fingers and toes, fog in the air as you breathed. 

The coat wasn’t nearly as thick as it needed to be, but you doubt you would’ve found anything better even at the ports. The green islands weren’t meant for life.

“You need to get into the hold unnoticed, and as quickly as possible,” Minghao says. “We don’t know what’s gonna happen after the exchange is made but we know we can’t help you once you’re on that ship.”

Clenching your jaw, you nod tersely. It was high stakes, you couldn’t hurt any of the soldiers to keep it clean; planting a bomb where a King resides was difficult—princess or not.

“Getting you out of the wreckage is our job,” Hoshi says, and you pointedly refuse to look at him. You weren’t quite convinced. “We’ll be on Tigress by the time the bomb goes off. Leave nothing of importance on this thing, we’ll be blowing it up too.”

“You need to get in the water as soon as that bomb goes off,” Jun says. “Their priority is gonna be you and your father. You need to make sure they can’t find you when they realise the ship’s sinking.”

The ship the King should be transported in was the same as the very naval vessel you sat in right now. 

“They might be on one of the smaller ships,” you say.

“Why?”

“You know what the ships that hold royals look like, they aren’t risking you having that advantage.”

If your father was bringing out all the guns of deception to take down these pirates once and for all—which you don’t doubt he was—every move you were about to make was based on assumptions. Assumptions that might as well cost this entire crew’s heads.

“Do you know what those ships look like?” Minghao asks.

“I’ve only been on them a few times, but never in the hold,” you say. “I think I’ll figure it out well enough, they’re all the same more or less.”

There’s a blanket of silence, a quiet regard to how utterly unprepared all of you were. Limited information and the most important man’s head at the butt of the target; your bow pulled too taut, too wobbly, your arrow too blunt. 

“Are you sure we can’t risk shooting a couple of ‘em in the head?” Chan asks from across the room, running a tired hand across his face.

Sighing, you ignore the burst of fog erupting from your mouth, answering, “I can convince an entire Kingdom their King drowned, but I don’t know if I stop them from trying to find his body. Imagine their surprise if they find a supposedly drowned man with a bullet in his head.”

“It’s fine,” Hoshi interrupts, eyes downcast and arms folded. He leans against the wall of the war room and you can’t help it when your mind flashes to that stormy night. Your hands finding refuge on his chest, the heat of the moment. 

Nose flaring, you look away, the rage hurtling up your throat like vomit. 

“We’ll just have to figure it out. Stay vigilant, we all know what’s at stake. We all know what we have to do,” he continues, a glance around the inhabitants of the room. 

Something about it almost insinuates an underlying question of trust, a confirmation to sweep an unanswering room.

“The bomb’s done,” Jun says, and heat crawls up your entire being. “I made a couple extras, I’m gonna chuck ‘em out into the water for a test and that’ll be it.”

Somewhere on this ship lies the bomb that would kill your father, and if you didn’t do your job like you were supposed to, it might as well kill you all. 

YOU LEFT YOUR SOUL on your bedside table the moment Seungkwan entered your quarters with a rapt knock, informing you that the ship was nearing the rendezvous point. 

It had only been a few hours since that meeting in the war room, and it felt like only a week since this had all begun. 

Seungkwan invites himself in as he continues to talk. You aren’t sure if he’s doing it to calm you down or not, but you appreciate it regardless. 

“Keep those trousers on and make sure you look good. You have to look like we cared while we kept you prisoner,” he says, and you can’t help but smile just a little. “Take anything important—pocket it, give it to us. We’re not gonna see this ship after we’re done.”

The idea is strange, that your home for so many months would soon be forgotten, resting on the frozen ocean bed for eternity. You think of what you wish to keep, eyeing the stack of letters on the desk. You won’t be able to keep them on you if you were going to be jumping into the ocean at some point. 

Collecting the smaller pile, you hand them to Seungkwan. “You might have to take a dip in the ocean too, but at least you may have a chance to skip that bit if luck’s on your side. Keep these for me?”

Seungkwan smiles as he takes the stack of letters, pressing them to fit inside his coat. “Aren’t these all from your father?”

“Yes, but…” you trail off. “I’d like to remember them in case I forget why I did what I’m about to do.”

Seungkwan stands in front of you, an unreadable expression on his face. “You know this can’t work unless we trust one another. All of us. The entire crew.”

“I trust you,” you say. “Pirates are impatient. If you wanted me gone I wouldn’t be here.”

He sighs, almost like he was dissatisfied with your answer. With a laugh you ask, “Did you want me to say no?”

“No, it’s just,” he starts. “I wasn’t going to bring it up but, since we don’t have time…I don’t know what’s going on with you and Hoshi but…”

You stiffen at the mention of his name.

“I need to make sure you aren’t about to do something rash because of him.”

Your corset lies on the sheets, and you snatch it off, a bite to your movements.Your coat is already off, your linen shirt is the only thing that covers your upper body

“It was my mistake. I misunderstood. I won’t be letting it affect anything tonight.” You push the loosened corset over your head, too frustrated to unlace it and lace it back up. Your fingers are freezing cold, even too much for your palms to bear as they come in inevitable contact. 

Beyond yourself, you continue to grit through your chattering teeth, the pulses of irritation in your brain only encouraging you to spill. Turning around, back now facing Seungkwan, you fiddle with the strings on your corset as you rant.

“I can’t say the same for him, but you can ask.” Your arms are bent at a strange angle, but you attempt to make the loops and knots anyway. Having never had to do this by yourself ever, you’d found a practice after your peculiar situation. You were alright, but the cold was making it near impossible to simply loop the string through the existing holes.

“He seems to have a lack of emotional control, of course, you’d know, but I can’t say I find it too charming,” your grunting front he effort as you speak.

Seungkwan seems to have noticed your struggle because you feel a pair of warmer hands replace yours, unlacing the loop you’d just made only to loop it again, tighter this time. He takes the liberty to tie the final knot, tighter than you’d usually have it but you’re too busy to correct him. 

“I don’t think I need to explain what happened, your captain seems to be content with the way he is,” you scoff slightly before continuing. “I’m not quite sure what else I was expecting. Actually, I do know what I was expecting, but again, that’s just seems to be my fault—”

“I’m sorry.”

It’s like an entire ocean’s worth of ice water has been poured down your back. Perhaps being buried under the glaciers of the Green Islands would be more forgiving. 

Turning around, you find the hands on your waist do not move, Hoshi’s face coming into view instead of Seungkwan’s. 

The room is bare besides the both of you, the door to quarters closed. You don’t know when he came in nor when Seungkwan left, but he stands before you now, hands touching you where you shouldn’t let him. But you do. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, his eyes locked in on yours. 

“W-what?” you breathe.

“I’ve been quite stupid.”

“Have you?”

It sounds like he breathes out a laugh, but composes himself. “I didn’t realise I was cornering you on the deck the other day. I’m sorry for making you feel unsafe. I’m sorry for everything I said.”

Every fibre of your being wants him to suffer, to withhold your forgiveness. But then you realise where you are, in the middle of an ocean that’s been designed by the heavens to kill. 

“Thank you for saying that.” You don’t have the courage to look him in the eye. “I’m sorry too. You aren’t…you aren’t what I implied you were. You’re right. I was projecting.”

“I don’t want us to go out there walking on eggshells around each other,” he says as his breath fans your face. Warm. “We have to come out the other side. All of us.”

You nod slowly.

“You have it the hardest out of all of us, I just…” he trails off and you feel his fingers tightening on your waist, even through the material of your corset. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone. No matter what you lose, I think it’s safe to say you’ve gained me. All of us.” 

The thought of not making it out alive has you flexing your numb fingers in front of you slightly. You might die. This crew might die. Your crew might die. 

The man that’s begun to mean more than just a saviour might die. 

Not considering your frozen fingertips, or the absurdity, your body moves on its own. 

In a split second, your iced lips are in contact with the pirate captain’s warmer ones. 

You don’t doubt they’re cold as well, but they differ from yours enough for them to feel like the only warmers you need. 

Your hands have grabbed his face, light brushes against his skin as you tiptoe to reach his lips. They’re soft. Softer than you could’ve ever imagined on a pirate, and you find yourself forgetting where you are for a moment as you feel the plush of his mouth against your own. 

Pulling away first, your noses still brushing, you whisper to him through the creaks and groans of the drifting ship. “I had to do that. Just in case.”

“In case?” he whispers back.

“In case… we don’t make it.”

It only takes him a moment to remove his hands from your waist. For a heartbreaking second, you think this is him pulling away from you. Again.

And then both of his arms are looping around your waist, pulling you into his chest hard, your lips slamming into each other even harder. 

He takes the liberty to move his mouth against your own, hot even in the cold air. Moving with a restrained pace, yet appropriately desperate nonetheless. The cold tip of your nose brushes against his cheek and he pulls away to hiss. 

“God, you’re freezing.”

The discovery only seems to urge him to pull you impossibly closer. If your lungs weren’t already occupied, you wouldn’t have been able to breathe. Despite it all, you find your arms coming up around his neck and shoulders, one hand finding refuge in his light hair.  

You might never need a drink of anything ever again, not with the way his mouth alone seems to have you drunk and deranged, begging for time to stop so he’d never stop kissing you, never stop moving his beautiful, glorious mouth against your own. 

There isn’t a thought in your mind as you pull away for wretched air, eyes closed and breathing heavily. 

Hoshi places his forehead flush against your own, both of you exhaling into each other’s faces, still holding you so tight it hurts. It’s warm, his breath seemingly defrosting the formed icicles on your face. 

“Hoshi,” you slip from your mouth instinctively.

“Soonyoung,” he breathes, and it takes you a moment to realise he’s talking. “My name. Soonyoung is the name my mother gave me. I want you to have it.” 

Opening your eyes, you register his face so close to yours. His eyes are screwed shut, he’s still breathing heavily. 

“Soonyoung,” you repeat, hands finding his face again, stroking his cheek with your thumb. “Soonyoung.”

He opens his eyes.

“I like it. It’s very you.”

He smiles and you can’t help but think how beautiful he looks when he does, and when he leans forward to give you another elongated peck, one that has you chasing his lips again. He relents for one more.

“Well, Soonyoung, can I give you something too?”

He looks at you expectantly. 

Reaching up to the back of your neck, you find the knotted bind of the leather cord that hangs from your neck. Undoing it, you bring the charm out from under your shirt, leaning forward to tie it around his neck this time.

He stares at the charm that dangles down his front as you give it a light tug, “A letter opener. So that’s what you were getting from that lady at Hasry.”

“You knew when I left?” you ask, brows furrowed.

“I was more worried about you wandering off than I was about anything else, what made you think I didn’t know exactly where you were?” He has a cheeky smile on his face, one that you’ve never seen without an underlying threat or the usual glint of unhinged in his eyes. 

You can’t help but grin, of course he knew.

“If you wanted a letter opener as a weapon, you should’ve just asked.”

“Aren’t knives just bigger letter openers?” you ask with a soft chuckle.

He responds with a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose before saying, “Since we’re exchanging gifts—”

“You started it.”

“And I’m ending it.”

He emerges from one of his many pockets with what looks like a bracelet in his hands. 

“That’s—”

“From Hasry,” he confirms. “I bought it for no real reason, never even wore it.”

He rolls one of the pink and blue beads between his thumb and forefinger, and you remember it sitting at the stall in Hasry like it was yesterday. 

“Didn’t realise I only bought it because I saw you looking at it.”

The twist in your heart is the worst it’s ever been, even while he holds you closer than anyone ever has, you feel the need to squeeze him beyond measure hoping it’ll fix the turmoil in your chest. 

He attempts to take one of your hands, in an obvious attempt to slip the bracelet on your wrist. 

“Wait.” 

Hoshi stops. 

“Keep it,” you say as you grab his wrist, pushing the beads down his hand so it sits on his wrist instead.

“But—”

You cut him off with a kiss. “A reason for you to come out of this alive.”

There’s a silent understanding between the two of you as you stand in each other's arms. 

“We still have much to talk about. But I think this is alright for now,” you say. 

“We will,” he confirms. “But when we go out there and put everything on the line, remember you aren’t just a princess anymore. You’re a pirate, too. So fight like one.”

THE COLD HAS COATED the deck in a fine layer of ice, one that makes it a hazard to simply walk on. Your boots feel unstable and it takes a conscious effort to plant your feet firmly on the wood to ensure you don’t fall like Chan almost has the last four times and the one time he did. 

It’s less foggy than you’d anticipated, and you can see Mingyu and Minghao working overtime to ensure the giant ship doesn’t hit one of the absurdly large icebergs that float in the freezing water, the crow’s nest occupied by Hoshi himself as he peers through his telescope. It was strange seeing him use it, you’d begun to think he only kept it like an accessory.

He yells something from his place high up; it’s unclear, but you know.

And then you see it, the naval ship with the unmistakable flag that ripples proud in the cold air. Your family crest is barely decipherable, but knowing what lay ahead was enough to have you taking significantly deeper breaths. 

Your father’s—the King’s— ship bobs in the water with a near empty main deck, not a soul on board. 

You hold your breath, and as one of the blocks of ice are swerved, you find a second ship. The indicative jolly roger is nowhere to be seen, but it's obvious what ship that was. 

The Tigress stands proud with her years of darkened wood, the unmistakable figurehead at the prow in the distinct shape of a fanged siren. 

And only a smaller sailboat away, lay a flat of ice. 

Another white flag with the royal crest, lines of uniformed soldiers that stand at attention like protectors of the ice, a pattern of dotted blues. The admiral stands next to your father, who’s donned his own Naval uniform complete with a purple cape pinned at his shoulder. 

The purple cape of a victor that returns home from battle. The purple cape he’s donned before the battle has even ensued. 

The King has noticed your arrival, his face becoming clearer the nearer the ship gets to the block of ice that would act as common ground. 

And then the ship stops, you turn around and realise the rest of the crew has their eyes on you, expectant. 

“We have a message,” Mingyu says, looking at you but handing the thing in his hand to his captain. 

In your fixation, you did not notice the small boat that had floated near the ship, bearing a scroll with the royal seal. 

Hoshi reads it, lips tight shut and jaw clenched. 

In the next few minutes, all seven of you are cramped into a single, tiny wherry to be rowed onto the iced land. None of you speak, none of you acknowledge the other. The canister that Jun had given you presses against the side of your bare hip, your knife strapped inside your boot. 

That was it. That was all you had. 

But there was some confidence in it, the way the entire crew was asked to present themselves at the exchange was enough to tell you there was truth in what you presumed of your father’s plans. 

He had knives of his own up his sleeve, and he intended to provoke his worst enemy while looking him in the eye. 

As the boat reached what was a hardened shore, the crew stepped off the boat one by one. Very carefully, you stepped on the block of ice as the group moved forward, reaching a point where you stood parallel to the other rigid party. 

In a purposeful attempt, you were kept in the middle of a herded circle, shielded by the crew as Hoshi stood front and centre, the crew’s mouthpiece. You can’t help but swallow, the ringing in your head growing louder than ever. 

There’s a loud voice that plagues the sheets of ice, and your stomach flips so violently you lose both your vision and your hearing. You take an unconscious step back before you feel a hand on your back. 

It was Chan, who whispered, “Keep it together. Calm down, it’s okay.”

It was the obvious response from him but you find yourself calming in any case. 

“The crown commands you, Hoshi Kwon, to bring forth Her Royal Highness, the princess,  at once.” Your father’s right hand man, the royal advisor, and his more trusted friend speaks for the throne, his voice recognizable as it rings on behalf of his king.

From standing behind him, you watch as Hoshi simply raises his fist to place at his hips. 

“Captain. Captain Hoshi Kwon,” he corrects, before continuing. “And my hostage will not be brought anywhere till I have my money ship.”

“As proposed by Hoshi Kwon, His Majesty, The King will cooperate in the exchange of Her Royal Highness, the princess for said ship.”

“Give me my ship first.”

“Hoshi Kwon—”

Hoshi groans loudly, loud enough for the other party that stands multiple feet away to hear, before continuing, “This is why I despise dealing with you insufferable lot, why must everything be so formal?”

But you knew what game he was playing at, the deadliest pirate on the seas does not comply with government officials so easily, and he wasn’t about to drop his masquerade now. 

“You know what,” Hoshi starts, and you see him eye the wooden boat you had just reached the island on. “We do it this way.”

There’s a pause. 

“Me and my harmless little crew will sidestep back over, zip our way to our ship and leave you with your precious princess. Is your royal highness majesty in agreement?”

“Hoshi Kwon is commanded once again to bring the princess forward.” There’s less formality in his tone now, and you realise very quickly that there was no other way to separate yourself from the crew.

“Hoshi,” you whisper under your breath, hoping he would understand. Taking the risk, you move forward in the little space you had, hand very gently placed on his back. 

There’s a pause before he speaks, “Fine. Have your princess.”

Turning around, back facing the crowd, he makes eye contact with you before moving to discreetly meet the eyes of his crew. “Let them take you.”

That’s the last thing you hear him say to his crew as you find a larger shadow approach from behind Hoshi.

“Ho—”

Hoshi grabs your arm harsher than he usually would, dragging you forward in his attempt to present you, but you find that Hoshi’s turned back was taken as an opportunity, the dozens of soldiers having already made their way across. 

If you hadn’t heard what he had whispered to the crew, his shocked face would’ve fooled you too. He looks like he wasn’t expecting the way the crew was immediately surrounded by swarms of armed soldiers, guns perched directly at each member of the crew. He looked like he wasn’t expecting to be cornered. 

But you liked to think you knew this man, and he had once told you to never turn your back to an enemy. Too much to be a rookie mistake of his, so you trust him. 

And then you’re being tugged by someone who’s not from the crew, the distinct feeling of softer, more respectful hands that wrap around your elbow, urging you forward. 

You find it within yourself to not look back, sending a prayer to every entity in the world to keep them safe, to keep the trust in your heart that they knew what they were doing. 

Eyes downcast, you know immediately who you’re being led towards, and when you stop, bracing yourself to meet your father’s eye, you find yourself feeling nothing. 

“Are you hurt?” he asks in his strange form of greeting. No embrace, no sign of relief that his daughter and only heir was alive and well. 

“No, sir,” you reply, shifting your eyes back down to your shoes. 

“Go back to the ship with the guards. We leave as soon as I’m done with this lot.”

Your stomach jolts, but you bite your tongue and let yourself be led to one of the smaller boats. The canister burns against your skin. 

Seated in the smaller boat, flanked by guards, you can’t stop your neck from craning to look at the scene behind you. 

Far away, on the other side of the glacier, the pirates are being ordered to strip themselves of their weapons. 

Hoshi’s dagger glints against the sunlight and you spot Jun’s revolvers in the pile. 

Hoshi looks up and catches your eye, face unchanged. 

“You’re safe now, your Highness,” one of your guards assured you, taking your gaze as a fearful look back instead of one laced with something else. 

Please be okay. 

As soon as you're led up to the main deck, your eyes dart. It doesn’t take long for you to figure out that your father had not chosen to take one of the smaller ships as you’d expected of him. Instead, you stand in an exact replica of the ship you had just disembarked, except for the flag that fluttered with your family crest. 

You’re pushed into one of the quarters in the lower decks, hearing the distinct click of something outside as you find yourself in the mostly barren indoors. 

It looks like a colder version of your quarters on the other ship, the same dimensions, the same window that displays the clear waters of the Green Islands. Except it’s only occupied by a single bed that’s pushed into a corner, stripped of its sheets. 

It looks like a prison cell. 

When you turn around to try for the door, you try to wrench it open but it refuses to budge. You can’t help but question how many times you’ve landed yourself in this exact situation.

Why on Earth would they lock you in? Did they suspect you of something? But whatever for?

You give up, turning to untuck your shirt from your trousers, feeling for the bomb against your hip to make sure it hadn’t slipped. After that, you crouch down to check the inside of your boot, despite feeling the dagger this entire time, you couldn’t help but need to check. 

There was nothing you could do, not when you knew nothing of what was happening on the other side of the door. The window gleams, and you find yourself bolting towards it, peering through the glass to check for any bodies that may land in the water, praying your father would keep them alive.

Hang them publicly. Guillotine them and suspend their heads at the gates of the palace. Just keep them alive for tonight. 

The sun is proving a sorry resource of time, especially when you can’t tell how long it’s been since you were shoved in here. The sun seems closer to the seas when you hear the jingle of the lock. 

Nearing the risk of whiplash, you turn to the door to find your father walking into the room. He walks in, his cape gone, immediately turning to lock the door from the inside once again. 

Once he comes around, he stands with his hands clasped in front of him, eyes boring into your soul. 

“It seems the pirates have changed you,” he comments, eyeing your new trousers that you sport. It was strange, a woman in trousers, let alone a princess. 

“Not at all, sir,” you respond. 

“Your newfound friends are strapped into the brigs, finally subdued and ready to stand trial for their crimes.” His voice is rough, and he looks older than when you last saw him months ago. 

He acts in less alarm than you would’ve thought, assuming his definition of ‘friends’ was simply a sick way to prod at you than any indication that he suspected an alliance. But you fight the effort to let out a sigh of relief; they were in the brig, they were fine, they’d stay alive in time for you to get to them. 

“I thought David less than for a fool,” he refers to the Admiral as he talks. “He proved me quite incorrect when he showed up on some shoddy fishing boat with a message from a pirate. Like some messenger boy.”

You don’t answer as you simply stare at the toes of your boots. It was foolish to dare make eye contact with him.

“A stupid proposal from a stupid pirate,” he chortled in a genuine laugh. “That pirate ship was easy bait. If only you hadn’t gotten yourself roped in like a simpleton.”

His sentence ends with a harsher undertone as he blames you for something you couldn’t possibly have controlled. 

“In any case,” he continues, the gruff in his voice clearing out. “What’s a pirate to a King?”

Everything in you screams at you to halt your already moving tongue, yelling about how horrible the idea was. 

“He’s more of a man than you ever could be.” 

The ringing in your ears becomes a sounding blare, your vision going white at the sides. Your hands shake and you don’t know why you keep staring your father in the eye. 

There’s a furrow in his brow, eyes unyielding and face stoic. 

It’s silent for goodness knows how long as you wish you could sink in that very moment. 

“That load of filth’s done more than just put you in trousers, is it?” he grits through his teeth. He’s seething. “Henley had said you were acting strange when he saw you at that port market, it seems he was right.” 

“No matter,” he continues, exhaling loudly. “It only makes my job easier.”

He unclasps his hands, pulling his white gloves at the fingertips. 

“Perhaps we may live in a world where princesses prance around with pirates, but that won’t be the reason I fulfil my duty as King today.”

He slips them off his hands entirely. 

“I tried shaping you into something worthy of the throne for so many years, and I’d begun to realise that perhaps, not everyone is fit to be ruler after all.”

Was he about to strip of your inheritance? The crown was why you were born. Despite everything your father had put you through, the throne was your god given right. 

“Unfortunately, I cannot simply renounce your title. Not without reason,” he continues as he takes a step closer to you, dropping the gloves to the floor soundlessly. “And while perhaps the court may not consider inadequacy as enough reason, I’m quite sure an exchange gone wrong would be enough, even for them.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, dear daughter, that our time together has come to an end.”

And then his hands were around your throat.

[AN]: HEHEHEHEHEHEHE rb or send an ask telling me your thots as always, one part left to go!!!!!

[simdertalia]

🫧🐚 ACNH Tidepool Set 🦐🫧

Here is the winner of July's poll, the tidepool set! There are lots and lots of creatures, some rocks, plants, and other items to add even more to your aquariums!

Sims 4, Base game compatible | 59 items | As always, extra swatches added by me! hope you enjoy! 💗

Set contains: -Abalone | 1 swatch | 600 poly -Acorn Barnacle 1 | 6 swatches | 600 poly -Acorn Barnacle 2 (on rocks) | 6 swatches | 816 poly -Chambered Nautilus | 5 swatches | 816 poly -Clam 1-3 (3 items) | 2 swatches each | 402, & 338 poly -Flatworm | 3 swatches | 600 poly -Giant Isopod Decor | 2 swatches | 1014 poly -Hermit Crab 1 & 2 (2 items) | 4 swatches each | 804 poly each -Hermit Crab Pet | 8 swatches for lid color | 1380 poly -Hermit Crab Shell | 4 swatches | 200 poly -Horseshoe Crab | 2 swatches | 1000 poly each -Mantis Shrimp | 1 swatch | 882 poly -Mussel (single) | 3 swatches | 140 poly -Mussels (in a bunch) | 3 swatches | 830 poly -Oyster | 1 swatches | 300 poly -Oyster Knife | 6 swatches | 74 poly -Pearl Diving Pool Bars | 2 swatches | 1256 poly -Pearl Diving Sign | 8 swatches for frame color | 170 poly -Pearl Diving Table | 6 swatches | 138 poly -Pearl Oyster 1 (partial open) | 1 swatch | 602 poly -Pearl Oyster 2 (open more) | 1 swatch | 602 poly -Pearl Oyster 3 (open more, pearl inside) | 4 swatches | 644 poly -Pearl Oyster 4 (shucked, bottom half) | 1 swatch | 322 poly -Pearl Oyster 5 (shucked, bottom half with pearl) | 4 swatches | 364 poly -Pearl Oyster 6 (shucked, top half upside down) | 1 swatch | 294 poly -Pearl Oyster 7 (shucked, top half) | 4 swatches | 294 poly -Pearl Oyster 8 (shucked top half with collected pearls) | 4 swatches | 420 poly -Plant 1 | 1 swatch | 72 poly -Rocks 1-7 | 5, 3, 3, 1, 1, 3, & 3 swatches | 141, 258, 114, 218, 74, 283, & 118 poly -Scallops 1 & 2 (2 items, lying down and swimming) | 5 swatches | 604 poly -Sea Cucumber | 5 swatches | 596 poly -Sea Grapes | 2 swatches | 969 poly -Sea Pig | 3 swatches | 862 poly -Sea Pineapple 1 & 2 (2 items, #2 is on rocks) | 2 swatches | 662 & 878 poly -Sea Slug | 5 swatches | 590 poly -Sea Star 1 & 2 (2 items) | 5 swatches each | 402 poly each -Sea Urchin | 4 swatches | 602 poly -Seaweed 1 (growing) | 1 swatch | 602 poly each -Seaweed 2 (pile) | 1 swatch | 778 poly each -Sea Anemone | 5 swatches | 868 poly each -Shrimp) | 1 swatch | 598 poly each -Slate Pencil Urchin | 6 swatches | 799 poly each -Small Pool (lots of slots!) | 6 swatches | 2360 poly each -Tiger Prawn | 5 swatches | 608 poly each -Turban Shell | 1 swatch | 702 poly each -Whelk | 6 swatches | 798 poly each -Wood and Plants | 1 swatch | 4255 poly each

Type “acnh vacation" into the search query in build mode to find quickly. You can always find items like this, just begin typing the title and it will appear.

As always, please let me know if you have any issues!

📁 Download all or pick & choose (SFS, No Ads): HERE

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Will be public on July 27th, 2024 💗 Midnight CET

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*Deco sims by starrysimsie, Insanity, & Lazysimmies (airport deco sim 9) | Lazysimmies (christmas market #11) | Akuiyumi (Vendors #01b) | xldkx (Coachella set 2, cheering 1)

*Deco sims by starrysimsie, Insanity, & Lazysimmies (airport deco sim 9) | Lazysimmies (christmas market #11) | Akuiyumi (Vendors #01b) | xldkx (Coachella set 2, cheering 1)

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The rest of my CC

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[sylusjinwoon]

{ 166 }

too sweet.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ you know, you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain | pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape | if you can sit in a barrel, maybe i’ll wait until that day… }

@nyashykyunnie said: HELLLOOOO. Since you granted me permission to request a daydream uhm… Jinwoo with a reader who hyperfixates on a lot of things! The fungi, the stars and most especially the sea!! Reader lovesloves whales and jellyfishes and sharks lots!! She loves the sea so much,,!!!!, She also draws a lot><!!! Art is her biggest passion most of all!! She’s like a free bird always so cheery and happy!! Loves all things pretty and cute! A very very childish reader who is just a ball of sunshine and energy!! Loves messing ariund with Jinwoo by putting little dabs of paint on his face heheh… And loves comparing hand sizes and cuddless><!!! Sorry it’s so long ueueueu

there were times when jinwoo sung had to wonder just how he got so lucky to be with someone as bright as you.

whereas he was the pure and true embodiment of darkness-

jinwoo was certain you were light personified.

everything about you was achingly sweet to the core-

too sweet, actually.

the moment he had fallen in love with you was one that happened so… naturally. that day, he had taken some time off in order to take his mother and sister to the nearest beach. he rented out a tiny cottage by the sea, giving them the perfect view of the ocean.

while his mother and sister spent some time walking on the beach together, jinwoo wanted to give them a chance to have the much needed mother-daughter moment they both deserved, deviating from the mainland beach when he sees rugged rocks with tide pools settled beneath the harsh terrain. he thinks about all the fascinating creatures that lived within such little pools and steps closer to the area.

however, the closer he got to the tide pools, the quickly he realized that he was not alone.

for settled against one of the rocks was a young woman that was sketching within the confines of her sketchbook-

it was you.

jinwoo was suddenly rendered speechless at the mere sight of you, taking a moment to admire the way your hair shone from beneath the sunlight. your cute features were turned into a look of concentration, with your lips pursed and your eyebrows furrowed in response.

as you inched closer to the shallow pool, you had somehow lost your balance and nearly face-planted within the waters-

had it not been for jinwoo’s quick thinking, making a mad dash toward you as he captured your frame within his arms. his eyes were glowing with amusement, fighting back a smile when he sweetly asks, “are you alright?”

jinwoo helps you safely lean back against the rock, with your hands gripping on tightly to his wrist before meeting his gaze.

not a hint of fear was seen settled in your eyes, and jinwoo found that he couldn’t look away from you. your smile goes wide as you eagerly introduced yourself to him. already mesmerized by your bright and sunny nature, he repeats your name, ready to introduce himself as well when you suddenly beat him to it.

“you’re jinwoo sung, i know.”

you know?

“that’s interesting.” jinwoo couldn’t stop himself from letting out a chuckle. usually, those that met him treated him like some celebrity or idol, getting tongue tied as they bowed down to him, stuttering out their greetings while avoiding his gaze-

but you-

you were oh so different.

your gaze met with his in an unflinching manner, with your lips tilted up in a smile that manages to make his heart pound in response. the more he looked at you, the more he could feel his heart becoming filled with your sweetness and light.

after trading pleasantries, he helps you down from the rock, walking along the beach with you while softly asking if he could see your sketchbook. you would give him a sheepish expression, your cheeks being filled with heat before giving him your sketchbook as you told him your sketches “weren’t much.” as he flips through the pages, you were clearly downplaying your talents as each and every sketch was filled with a vibrancy he had never seen before.

but that all changes when jinwoo sees a sketch of himself hidden amidst the pages.

your gasp and the way you immediately tried to take the sketchbook away from him was amusing, with jinwoo holding the book up high, his eyes glowing while they took in the sight of the drawing you had made of him.

from the soft expression to the way his hair was carefully layered, jinwoo couldn’t help but feel a hint of pride, seeing how pretty you had made him.

“beautiful…” after ensuring that your sketch of him was burned into his very memories, he returns it back to you, basking in your shy expression and the way you suddenly couldn’t meet his gaze.

“you weren’t supposed to see that. now, i’m sure you find me… strange, right?”

yet instead of teasing you further-

he asks you out on a date later that night.

and the moment you accepted his offer for a date-

the rest was history.

a single date meant as a simple thank you for allowing him to see your sketches turned into something a bit more frequent; a bit more permanent.

jinwoo would find himself spending every weekend to visit you, allowing the seemingly simple and innocent crush to grow into something much deeper.

and truly, how could he not fall in love with you?

each time you spoke passionately about your interests-

(of the sharks and colorful jellyfish that lives within the crystal blue depths of the ocean;

of the strange mushrooms seen growing within your backyard, seeming to have a life of their own as they lengthened and grew beneath the emerald green grass;

of the constellations seen shimmering within the night sky from beneath the light of the full moon…)

never once did jinwoo get tired of hearing your musings and rants that pertained to your current hyperfixations, and more often than not, he would find gifts for you that further helped strengthened your love for each and every one of your interests.

(an encyclopedia for the ocean creatures and various fungal life; a book that goes into each legend of each constellation seen within the night sky and a telescope…)

in jinwoo’s eyes, no gift was ever too much for you. for you were the sole person that stole his very heart at first sight.

when he finally put a label on his relationship with you, he swore he would never forget the look of utmost joy within your eyes. your sweet voice would call out to him before you wrapped your arms around his neck, already planting a kiss against his parted lips.

a choked sound of surprise escapes from jinwoo, making you gasp as you quickly pulled away from him. a slew of apologies were heard coming from you-

and jinwoo wasn’t having it.

with a grunt of your name, he keeps your head still before diving in for another kiss, basking in the way you momentarily let out a gasp before practically melting against him. in mere seconds, jinwoo quickly became addicted to the soft and sweet taste of your lips.

already so enamored with you, he pulls away from you, only to murmur against your lips, “you’re too sweet for me… but… i have a feeling i could get used to your taste…”

it came as no surprise when jinwoo decided to move in together with you, not being able to handle a single moment spent separated away from you. each and every day was spent in an almost blissful manner, with the s-rank hunter cherishing each and every part of you.

and tonight was no different.

for your one year anniversary, jinwoo had taken you back to the beach where you had first met, preparing a home cooked dinner that consisted of all your favorite foods. after your meal, you had laid against jinwoo’s chest while resting on the blanket, simply enjoying the colors that seemed to set the sky aflame while the sun began to set over the horizon.

jinwoo’s eyes were closed, simply basking in your warmth and the way the setting sun had painted his whole world in hues of a gentle twilight. while he was resting, he could feel your hand inching closer to his as you carefully held on to it. jinwoo could feel a smile begin to spread across his full lips as you flattened the palm of your hand against his, clearly measuring the size of your hand in comparison to his.

a soft chuckle escapes from him, “sarang, silly love of mine, just what are you doing?”

he opens up one eye to look at you, a half-smile painting his handsome features as he allowed an arm to wrap around your waist, bringing you closer to his chest as he remained laying down. basking in your giggles once more, he feels his heart began to race again the moment you lean down to press a kiss against his chest.

“i love you so much, jinwoo.”

“heh, i love you more, sarang.”

jinwoo presses a kiss against your hair while letting you play with his hands. he watches you with adoration, seeing you pick up his hand before interlocking your fingertips together. a wide grin paints his features when he gives your hand a squeeze before turning you around so that you were now settled with your back against the blanket.

your breathing comes out as gentle giggles, and jinwoo takes this chance to press several, audible smooches against your features. the more you let out those melodious sounds of your laughter, the more he kept littering your face with those achingly sweet kisses.

jinwoo successfully distracts you, and you couldn’t help but frown when you felt a sudden weight against your left ring finger. catching your shocked expression, he allows you to sit up while looking at the ring settled against your finger.

it was an incredibly cute and endearing ring, with your favorite gemstone shaped into a heart as you met jinwoo’s gaze, eyes going wide with your lips parted in response. “jinwoo… what’s this?”

“a promise.” his reply comes out as hoarse and shaky, taking your hand as he presses a kiss against the ring he had just gifted you. “i know it feels… a bit too soon to propose any… ah… commitment. but still, i wanted you to know that i’m completely serious about you.”

“this ring will serve as my promise to you… of what is to come.”

with a choked sob of his name, you lean forward to kiss him once more, perfectly slotting your lips against his as jinwoo kissed you back with just as much passion.

jinwoo knew right then and there that he had made the right decision of keeping you; for you were (and always will be) his sole light.

a.n. - when kyunnie made a second part to her most gut wrenching angst, i was so elated and happy that i wanted to write / make a daydream of hers come true. i hope i wrote your daydreams well enough! 🥹

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[travelingthief]

Selene Offerings and Devotional Acts

*indicates things that are purely UPG

Offerings

Water

Purples/blacks/dark blues/white/grays

Moon imagery

Nightlights

Selenite

Moonstone

Black cherry-flavored items*

Red grapes*

Silver jewlery

Moon flowers

Pomegrantie

Amythyst

Mooncakes

Moon water

Star imagery

Bull imagery

Star/moon projectors

Horse imagery

Silver/gray hairs

Red wine*

Ocean water

Moon phase posters

Telescopes/Binoculars

Grape juice*

Dew

Animal horns

Crescent-shaped objects

Sea salt

Seashells

Tarot/oracle decks

Divination tools

Moon tarot card imagery

Black/white/gray animal hairs

Silver coins

Zodiac/constellation depictions

Triple-Moon Goddess depictions

Devotional Acts

Night time walks

Keep a dream journal

Moon magic

Moon gazing

Star gazing

Make moon water

Use moon water in your daily life (bathing, watering plants, cleaning, etc.)

Study astronomy

Study astrology

Learn Indigenous moon names

Follow the moon cycles

Water scrying

Sit by the water (at night)

Full moon walks

Horseback riding

Devote Mondays to Her (‘Monday’ is named after the Moon!)

Learn about the tides

Learn about the moon

Learn about the constellations

Track your mood during the moon cycles

Track your menstrual cycle during the moon cycles

Study esoteric material by night

Have a new moon/full moon ritual

Astral projection

Drink water

Have a nighttime/bedtime routine

Pray to Her before you fall asleep

Do your shadow work

Swim at night (safely)

Charge items by the light of the full moon

Listen to ocean sounds

Learn about the powers and importance of water

Learn to navigate by the moon/stars

[bitter-bats-cult-of-the-moon]

Six Grounding Exercises

1. Tree Yourself.

Being ungrounded happens when you are out-of-balance. When energy is blocked, you are unable to access the support of the earth and the higher awareness of your spirit.

A simple grounding exercise involves the visualization of yourself as a tree. First, close your eyes. Next, visualize roots growing out from your feet. “Extend” these roots through the ground and going all the way down. Anchor them at the center of the earth.

2. Meditation.

Meditation helps bring about awareness. You notice the subtle energy changes within your body. You know if you are out-of-sync or if you have become ungrounded.

Practicing body awareness or moving meditations is helpful.

You bring your awareness into the now, rather than the past or the future.

You are aware of your physical existence even while increasing your spirituality.

If you are grounded, you are conscious of yourself and your current surroundings.

You don’t have to spend hours doing meditation. In fact, just half an hour a day is enough to expand your awareness.

3. Get Physical.

Physical activity helps to remove any accumulated toxic energy in your aura. When you shift your energy from an overloaded mental focus to a physical one, you can clear away any mental debris. Getting connected through physical activity does not necessarily mean that you must join a gym. All it means is to allow your mind a chance to take a break.

4. Nature.

Going out by the ocean or just being in nature is a wonderful way to revitalize. Working with soil or clay helps in grounding. Simply touching the earth helps. Gardening is a wonderful grounding activity as it reconnects you with nature.

5. Grounding Foods.

According to Ayurvedic Medicine, there are grounding foods that you can eat, and it suggests Potatoes, Sweet Potatoes, Carrots, Ginger, Avocado, Mango, Papaya, Grapes, Olives, Berries, Coconuts, Figs, Melons, Green Beans, Egg Plant, or Yams.

For flavoring your food, use warming spices such as ginger, nutmeg, garlic, cinnamon, cumin, coriander, and cloves. A dash or two of fennel and/or sea salt also works.

6. Grounding Crystals.

Obsidian

Black Tourmaline

Smoky Quartz

Jet

Blue Kyanite

Simply hold the crystal in your hands, and visualize any unwanted energies flowing outward, and into the crystal itself. Occasionally, you will need to cleanse the crystal by putting it on the soil of the earth to drain and clear it of any negative charges.

[nikethestatue]

Salted Cashews

Despite all the ickiness in this fandom, my Elain Archeron Week continues.

This little fic was based on the quiz that is found on SJM's website.

Happy Summer Solstice!

June was in full bloom across Velaris. The city was always a thing of beauty, but springtime and early summer were especially lovely. The sea took on a special cerulean colour and all the parks and boulevards were clad in blooming flowers and trees of every hue and blossom.

The River Estate of the High Lord and High Lady of Night Court was swathed in blue and white. These were the colours that Elain Archeron had decided on for the garden’s colour palette. There were fat, shaggy hydrangeas of every shade of white and blue, beds of violets, rows of forget-me-nots, tall stalks of grape hyacinth, a smattering of bluebells, and plenty of white and cream peonies. She had taken special care to plant blue wisteria around one side of the estate, and jacaranda trees had been delivered from Day Court and replanted here. 

Currently though, all the beauty around her was lost on Elain. She was, what one might call, hate gardening. Whether that was a real thing or not, Elain didn’t care. She was hot, the soil was giving her pushback, her knuckles were skinned, something was digging into her knee and her dress was sticking to her back. Also, she was giving real serious consideration to just cutting off her hair and going with a nice, short haircut. The heap that was currently baking her head was enraging her. Even in a tight braid, the hair was still hot and uncomfortable.

She was almost elbow deep in the ground, sweating and cursing under her breath, when finally there was some relief from the sun. A cloud covered the blazing rays and offered a bit of shade. Elain sighed, wiped her brow and continued to dig and pull. 

It was Summer Solstice and she wished that there was something interesting and entertaining happening in the city today, but there were only smaller, localised celebrations happening, and she didn’t want to go alone anyway.

“Cauldron damn it to Hel!” she groaned, when she pulled on a weed, but it didn’t budge, and instead, she rolled back on her ass and jerked like a fish.

To her utter horror, she heard a hearty snort, followed by a chuckle.

She scrambled to her hands and knees and looked up. 

Azriel stood above her, arms folded on his broad chest. He was dressed in a simple shirt and light jacket, instead of his leathers. A day at the office then…She already knew what he typically wore, depending on what he had planned for the day. If the day demanded a lot of flying, he usually dressed in his leathers. If he spent most of the day with the High Lord or in Velaris, dealing with his informants, then he typically dressed in a simple tunic, or a shirt and a jacket. And if, by some miracle, he ever had a day off, he just wore a black, knit shirt. Elain wouldn't admit it, but those shirts were her favourite–the way they draped over his immense, muscular form, subtly emphasising every curve of his biceps and his shoulders, not to mention the perfect washboard stomach that he possessed so casually. 

Which brought Elain to her current reality–she was on her hands and knees, her breasts straining the neck of her dress, her ass up in the air. Like she was ripe and ready for mating. Azriel was watching her with a smirk, his massive wing stretched out and blocking the sun.

“It was…you…you,” she muttered, embarrassed. 

“Gave you a bit of shade? Yes,” he confirmed.

“How long have you been standing here?”

He smiled.

“A while.”

Gods. He was standing there, watching her for however long, shading her from the sun.

“Well, you shouldn’t do that!” she said primly.

“Oh?” he cocked his head, “which part? The shading? The standing? The watching?”

“All of it!” she exclaimed, blushing like a strawberry. “You...you shouldn't sneak up on people.”

“Spymaster, remember? It’s kind of my job. To sneak up on people.”

“Well…well, you shouldn’t! And also, you shouldn’t use your wing like that,” she scolded him.

“Why not?”

“Because it can burn!” she said firmly.

“And you are such a wing expert?”

“I know enough. You shouldn’t sneak up on unsuspecting people.”

“Did you not enjoy a bit of a cool down?”

“Maybe. But that’s not the point!” she insisted.

She didn’t like being alone with him. It confused her.

He said that they were a mistake.

Which was his right, of course.

But then he shouldn't have been chasing after her in his own way. He shouldn't be here right now, shading her from the sun and watching her.

He was always watching her. She knew it. She could feel his eyes on her, even when she was in the garden, or in the kitchen. Once, she noticed a blob of shadowed darkness in the corner of the kitchen. She wouldn’t have noticed it, if it weren’t for that blob reminding her of something. She had continued shelling peas, and then sliced the green beans, and went to fetch basil from the garden. When she returned, the blob was still there. It hadn’t moved. And just when she began telling herself that it was nothing more than shadow play, and nothing to worry about, she remembered. In the recess of her mind, an image came to her–a memory–of the same dark shadowy blob keeping vigil in her room, right after she was Made. Typically, only Nesta would come and visit her. Sometimes the twins, who became her friends, because they brought food. But no one else really visited her in those miserable weeks. No one. But she’d noticed the darkness in the corner. And for some reason, when it had gathered there, and stayed, ever watchful, she didn’t feel quite so lonely.

Azriel was watching her face and then commented, “Seems like something just dawned on you.”

She didn’t answer, shocked by her realisation. Was it true? Did he hide himself within his shadows and did he watch her? Has been watching her since day one?

“What might it be?” he pondered.

“Nothing!” 

He made a sound, but didn’t push. Instead, he extended his hand to her.

“Not that I mind watching her like that,” he teased and she coloured even further at the remark. “But I think that you should probably get up, lest someone gets the wrong idea.”

She was scandalised by his implication, but took his hand and he lifted her with alarming ease. 

“You sure you don’t want to tell me what it was that you had suddenly realised?” he probed.

She shrugged impudently and said, “no, not at all!”

“Shame,” he murmured to himself. 

She smoothed her dress on her hips and legs and muttered nervously, “I have to go…go see about dinner.”

“Well then,” he announced jovially, “then we are going in the same direction.”

His broad warm hand lay on the small of her back and she had no other choice but to walk next to him. 

“Do you, by any chance, keep a journal?” he asked suddenly.

“Umm, no. I don’t. Why do you ask?”

“If you did,” he said with chilling honesty, “I would’ve wanted to read it.”

Her head whipped to him and she asked, shocked, “what?!”

“Yes, I would’ve loved to be a daemati–and believe me, I wouldn’t have been asking anyone for permission to read their thoughts, unlike Rhys–but I am not a daemati. And as much as my shadows provide me with useful information, reading someone’s thoughts must be incredible.”

Elain glared at him in disbelief.

“Wait a minute!” she cried. “That’s horrible! That’s utterly dishonourable too! You cannot read people’s thoughts or their diaries!”

“You can, and you should,” Azriel contradicted her ruthlessly. 

They entered the quiet, cool mansion and walked towards the kitchen. Everyone was out, and it was just the two of them. The twins were probably around somewhere as well, but they didn’t make themselves known.

“See, if I had that information,” he continued nonchalantly, “I would’ve known how often you think of me. What you think. What worries you. What excites you.”

She paused by the cupboard, as she took out two bowls and turned away from him, so he wouldn’t be able to see her face.

“I don’t think about you,” she whispered.

He didn’t say anything for so long, that she thought he’d left. So when she turned around, she was faced with his wide chest and the fact that he was standing almost right next to her.

“Gah,” she gasped.

“We both know that’s a lie, don’t we, Miss Archeron?” he breathed, bowing to speak into her ear.

“No,” she shook her head, breathing heavily. “No it’s not. I…I don’t think about you.”

“Hmmm.”

“I, I need to cook,” she stammered. Despite the coolness of the house, she was feeling very hot.

“Cook then. I will help,” he offered. 

“Umm, you don’t have to.”

“Why not? If I am going to eat, I might as well cook as well. What will you have me do? I am putty in your hands,” he opened his arms widely in invitation.

She sighed dramatically, and then dumped a bunch of cucumbers in front of him and said, “you may slice these. Not with Truth-Teller!” she added quickly.

He chuckled and took a knife, and then began slicing.

She pulled a fresh chicken out of the ice box and placed it in a baking dish, before grabbing a bulb of garlic, some onions, lemons and fresh thyme. 

Glancing discreetly at where he was standing, she noted how precise his slices were, as he ran his knife through the cucumbers with ease.

“You know,” she said suddenly, “I don’t need to read your diary to know everything about you.”

He looked at her in amusement and inquired, “is that so?”

“It is,” she nodded. 

“And what do you know about me?”

“If you listen closely enough, and observe, you can find out everything you need to know,” she said confidently.

“Alright then, indulge me,” he welcomed.

She minced garlic on the chopping board, and said, 

“Fine. Here it goes: You are haunted by your past and cannot reconcile your need for peace with your warrior nature. You cherish the gifts that you receive from some of your friends–and strangely, you like jewellery. You have silver rings and your syphons that you tend to closely, polishing and cleaning them often, you wear leather bracelets and a silver forearm band, and you have a pierced ear. You don’t show it to others often, but sometimes, you wear an earring.”

At her words, Azriel stopped slicing and just listened, his face inscrutable.

She continued, 

“You have a terrible sweet tooth, because you didn’t have sweets when you were a child. However, your favourite snack is salted cashews. What’s more, you like reading people’s diaries, and when you cannot find what their thoughts or motivations are, it frustrates you.”

“Anything else?” he asked, his voice stony.

“Sure,” she nodded. “You are loyal to a fault, but your loyalty battles the need that you have for freedom and independence. It’s a constant struggle. You like to eat. You especially like to eat what I’ve cooked,” she said the last part so quickly, it came out slurred. “And you don’t realise what others value in you the most. And it’s not your bravery, or your acerbic humour, or your shadowsinging abilities,”

“What is it that they value then?”

“Your incredible kindness.”

She finally looked at him. 

His face remained expressionless.

“How did I do?”

“Wrong about everything,” he told her tersely. 

“Oh.”

“Except one thing.”

He got up and laid the knife down.

“I just remembered that I had to be somewhere,” he lied.

She knew it was a lie.

“Alright, thank you for your assistance,” she said simply.

“But I do like eating what you cooked,” he said at last.

Elain watched him, her big brown eyes following his every move.

“I will see you later,” he said and headed for the door.

“Wait!” she called out, and hurried to the cupboard.

He stopped, a slight expression of annoyance on his face.

“I have something for you,” she said, wiping her hands on a towel. The next moment she emerged from the pantry, holding a packet.

She walked over to him and then extended her hand, so he had no choice but to take the packet.

“I know I was wrong about everything, but I still got you this. Happy Solstice.”

He looked at her for a long time.

“Happy Solstice, Elain.”

With that, he turned and walked out of the kitchen.

The moment he was out, he shot into the sky, his breathing heavy. 

She…she saw too much.

Too much.

Once high up in the air, he soared over the roofs of the buildings and then curious, he opened the packet. Inside, he found a bag of salted cashews.

His favourite snack indeed.

[morethansalad]

Vegan Peanut Butter Jelly Cake

[serpentface]

hello i would love to hear about culturally specific dishes in the blightseed setting. what do the animals taste like hows their fat content... herbs and seasonings and the trades involved perhaps..... hows the salt economy? love your setting and if you have a list of ingredients i will invent meals in my head and be well satisfied... i just love food and cooking in world building it is so important to me :-)

OK this is crazy because I had literally just cooked a Lore Friendly Meal the night before I got this ask.

Since this is a super broad question gonna default to Imperial Wardin since that's what I'm writing in right now and has the most developed food economy. (Sorry.)

This region currently dominates the eastern Inner Seas tradeway so has a very broad access to imported foods and spices, and many of its staples are not originally native to the region. Its regional cuisine is quite diverse and varied, largely owing to its status in the tradeway and a long history of immigration to the region (as well as a wide variety of native regional variations in diet).

For simplicity's sake I'm mostly going to stick to staples that are grown in-region (whether native or not) or commonly imported. Also mostly sticking to domesticated plant life, or very common and easily acquired wild plants. (Also not all these plants/herbs/spices would be 1:1 with real-world equivalents, or would be of unique variants that don't exist irl, but if they're basically the same thing I use the IRL word)

Staple base foods: maize, barley, wheat, and rice (closer to O. glaberrima than O. sativa), red yam (a yam regarded as very delicious), white yam (a hardier but poorer tasting yam, often associated with poverty), cassava, chickpeas, other legumes.

Staple vegetables (regionally varies): Cabbage, lettuce, okra, onions, garlic, chili peppers, celery, peas, kolis (a drought tolerant, cactus-like plant. Young stems are tender and edible), camiche (a tree that produces edible seedpods and young leaves).

Staple fruits: Dates, figs, pomegranates, olives, melons, apples, bitter cherries, kolis fruit, nara (a type of citrus, comparable in flavor and sourness to lime).

Widely used spices/herbs/flavorings: cumin, saffron (VERY expensive but natively grown), coriander, culantro, thyme, fennel, sage, tumeric, cardamom, ginger, firebug (an insect that is dried and crushed, provides a reddish hue and slight acidic flavor), anuje (a tree sap which is the region's most popular sweetener).

Livestock: cattle, horses (the small 3 hooved kind), hogs, ducks, geese, one domesticated species of gazelle, some camelops (rare in this region, imported), one type of small domesticated lacetor, several types of fowl.

Other meat (common wild game, or livestock raised in smaller or more localized capacities): crocodiles, gazelles, aurochs, salutachin (a meat dog breed), doves, nechoi, lacetor, hippegalga, anara (a large semi-aquatic rodent), hespiornis, unkata (a large flightless bird), ibis, pheasants, rabbits and hares, caviar ants.

(Of the fantasy game, most nechoi have a strong, lean gamey meat, but an-nechoi is fattier and milder. Lacetor is generally mild and tough (with a few very fatty cuts) and benefits from slow cooking and heavy spices. Hippegalga is lean and mildly gamey and has a nutty quality. Anara tastes like wild rabbit, but slightly fattier. Unkata kind of just tastes like turkey.)

Alcohol: Wine is very important and is consumed (mostly watered down) on a daily basis. Date wine is most common and least expensive by far; only small parts of the region are ideal for viniculture and grape wine is somewhat uncommon. Other fruit wines are common (bitter cherry and kolis fruit being most popular). A very strong liquor is produced from anuje sap, with sweeter and lower ABV versions available as a kind of dessert wine. Grain-based beers and liquors are widely available, but not as prized as fruit/anuje drinks. Mead is somewhat rare and is mostly seen as inferior to anuje.

Salt economy: this region is a dominant player in the salt trade, having a large area of salt flats and marshes in its south. Salt is widely accessible throughout the region via internal trade routes.

Fishing: The region has a huge fishing industry along its coasts and the diet in the coastal cities is enriched with seafood. Pretty much any edible sea life is eaten. (Dozens of fish species, octopus, squid, clams, urchins, oysters, scallops, crabs, lobster, shrimp, etc etc). The tiny, schooling larval form of yotici are also sometimes eaten.

There's also a 'whaling' industry for leviathans, which have very rich, blubbery meat high in iron (I guess I'd describe it as a fattier, stronger, bloodier version of alligator meat), and uhrwal, which have very tough, gamey meat and are considered an acquired taste, used specifically for delicacy dishes.

Misc lore:

Arthropods are not widely eaten in the region and have stigma as peasant or famine food. Some local exceptions are made for locusts, and the eggs of caviar ants (there is a very small industry of ant farming in Ephennos, brought by White Sea qilik immigrants).

Dogs have been used for meat in this region for hundreds of years (largely in the form of the salutachin, a breed specifically developed for meat), but the practice declined under the 3rd Burri empire (in which context it was seen as an 'unclean' food). Cultural trauma from feral dogs eating the dead (and in turn being eaten by starving civilians) during a siege-induced famine has made it specifically taboo in Godsmouth. Dog is now widely considered a famine/poverty food in most of the region, though corn-fed salutachin is still a delicacy in the city-state of Wardin.

Animals that eat human flesh are taboo to consume in most parts of the region (whether this extends to all/most predators or just obligate scavengers varies).

Eggs of skimmer gulls and ibis are considered delicacies.

The basic diet varies across the region, but a huge proportion of the established cuisine revolves around cumin, onions, and peppers for flavoring.

The majority of the diet for an average person is built on savory grain porridge and mashed legumes.

Dairy products are important to the everyday diet in the eastern 'dairy belt' of the region, but are of lesser significance elsewhere. Horsemilk and cow's milk are both common.

Maize is usually consumed after nixtamalization for greater nutritional content.

Most people (especially in the cities) do not eat meat on a regular basis, as even for self-sustaining farmers and herders, the value of livestock for milk, textiles, labor, sacrifice, and trade means that frequent slaughter is often unsustainable. Most get their everyday protein needs met with legumes, and those in coastal cities have broad access to seafood.

Animal sacrifice is vitally important to the practice of the Imperial Wardi faith, but the meat of sacrifices is not eaten (outside of a few specific rites and festivals) and is instead burned.

Khaitmeat is rarely eaten outside of desperation (or opportunistic slaughter of old/injured animals) due to their great value and a developed taboo around its consumption in some parts of the region.

Hunting is a pastime for the urban upper class and typically forbidden within the territories of the city-states without an expensive 'license' (unless one one's own lands, which also generally requires having big money). Poaching for meat in the outskirts of cities is common among the urban poor.

Hunting is a key part of the diet throughout the rural parts of the region, many rural commoners eat meat more frequently than their urban counterparts on this merit.

Some established dishes (either vaguely conceptualized, or have come up specifically in writing):

Pounded white yam and nothing else (a famine food).

Pounded white yam with whitefish and pepper soup, a hearty common meal in Godsmouth.

Savory cornmeal cakes (cornmeal cooked in vegetable broth, lard or olive oil, peppers, onions, cumin, salt, cheese, wrapped in a corn husk and cooled to be eaten on the go).

Shitty cornmeal cakes (a famine food) (cornmeal with weevils in it, you can't really get the weevils out and it's protein so might as well, salted and cooked in water).

Grain festival beef/horse stew (tough bone-in cuts slowcooked with peppers, onion, garlic, and any other available vegetables. Usually heavily spiced. The resulting broth is used to cook the grain (usually hominy, rice, or barley), the meat and vegetables are served on top, sometimes with cream or cheese).

Hominy porridge with milk and sprinkled cheese.

Wheat porridge with dried dates and anuje.

Reed duck boiled in date wine, flavored with peppers, coriander, cumin, and saffron (VERY fancy).

Pickled kolis stem bulbs.

Fermented kolis stem bulbs and cabbage.

Gannegal soup (made with bull penis, hominy, garlic, onion, cabbage, and chickpeas in a spicy broth, supposed to support fertility)

Raw hippegalga meat, thinly sliced with onion and hot pepper, all marinated and cured with nara and eaten cold atop barley or rice (also supposed to support fertility)

Anaebi soup (made with reed duck, lily bulbs, rice, and okra, supposed to support a healthy pregnancy)

Cow tripe and cabbage soup

Finely chopped meat/fish/shellfish or vegetables with onions, wrapped in dough and fried or baked.

Peledyo (A strong, heavily fermented fish sauce favored in the coastal cities (this is pretty much a garum ripoff), which is mixed with wine, vinegar, honey, etc to form the base of other sauces)

Very spicy shellfish soup with a peledyo, wine, and pepper broth.

Caviar ant eggs marinated with nara, vinegar, chopped onions and cabbage, mixed with rice.

A sweetened bean porridge made with cream and anuje.

Hummus-esque spread made with chickpeas, garlic, onion, peppers, and olive oil, usually eaten with bread.

Whole spitroasted horse

A type of root vegetable sausage (intestine casing stuffed with mashed cassava or yam, onions, garlic & cumin seeds which have been cooked down in lard, sometimes with minced meat/offal. Boiled all together.)

Blood sausage (usually horse or cattle)

A kind of donut fried in oil and then soaked in anuje and fruit syrup.

Roasted peppers and onions sauteed in heavy cream, usually served atop grain or a grain porridge.

Toasted locusts, locusts fried with rice or barley, pounded white yam stuffed with fried locust and onions (opportunistic meals during locust plagues)

Fried sprats with pepper and onion sauce

Crab stock soup with onions, peppers, crab meat or whole softshell crabs, and crab roe (sometimes with cream)

Squid ink soups (variety of seafood or seafood-stock soups, blackened by squid ink)

A simple 'trail mix' made with dried camiche seeds and hominy

Dessert bread glazed with fruit syrup or anuje, covered in dried dates

Raw minced lacetor with peledyo, garlic powder, cardamom, coriander. Used to top grains or to be eaten with pounded yam.

Thinly sliced uhrwal flank simmered with date wine and vinegar.

Fatty cuts of an-nechoi belly, usually slow cooked and eaten in soups.

Minced kolis stalk, onion, and pepper, salted and marinated with nara or vinegar

Roasted figs with cheese

Also here's the lore friendly meal I cooked, the grain festival beef stew. Here served in only the lore friendliest of dollar store paper bowls

This specific dish is eaten as a part of yearly grain festivals celebrating the end of the harvest. In most contexts it's an agricultural community event with each family contributing whatever vegetables and spices are on hand, and each donating some of their harvested grain. It's cooked in a huge pot and usually serves dozens of people.

The exact vegetable/herb/spice components would vary wildly within the region, timing, and by the success of the various harvests, but will generally be farmed (rather than foraged) due to the nature of the festival as an agricultural celebration and thanks-giving. Cumin, peppers, and onions are considered the absolute bare minimum necessity. The grain will usually be maize, barley or rice, and may be mashed into a savory porridge instead of eaten whole.

This will usually be one of few times a year where meat is eaten in abundance in the agricultural context. The meat is almost always beef or horse, usually tougher bone-in cuts are chosen for this specific dish. These animals will have been slaughtered specifically for this festival, with the best cut of meat from each being burnt in an offering of gratitude to Ganmache and Anaemache (ox-face and river-face of God, both of which are associated with agriculture and harvests), at the base of what will become the cooking fire.

The meat and vegetables are cooked on low heat in water until the meat is soft and tender and a broth is formed (which should be very strong and spicy, as it will be used to flavor the grain). Some of the broth is drained and used to cook the grain, which is then served with the meat, vegetables, and a few spoonfuls of broth on top. In the eastern dairy belt, milk/cream may be added to the broth, and/or it may be topped with crumbled cheese or sour cream. This is next to heresy in the west.

---

For my easily accessible grocery store equivalent, I used a beef shank, 2 onions, 2 jalepeños, one habanero, a bunch of garlic, okra, and cabbage. Seasoned with cumin seeds and tumeric (very lore friendly) and a sazon packet because I had it (most of the spices involved are at least passably lore friendly). Also jasmine rice (not lore friendly but it's what I had).

I first toasted cumin seeds in olive oil, then added the vegetables and stirred until they were cooked down. The meat and vegetables/spices were cooked in water on low heat for ~5 hours and seasoned to taste. Some of the broth was then removed to cook the rice. Meat + vegetables are spooned on top of the rice, along with some broth.

Results: It's preddy good. Might be a little better with roasted or sauteed rather than heavily cooked down vegetables, but the latter is how it would be eaten. I also had a sore throat at the time and ended up just drinking the rest of the broth. It felt amazing. 6.5/10.

[goodqueenaly]

Hi and I hope you are well! I don’t know if this is a weird question, but I’m always fascinated by the legends of the Reach particularly regarding the children of Garth Greenhand, and how that connects to the Faith in those areas. I think I saw a post you wrote some time ago about how for example Rowan Gold Tree’s story might have been adapted by the Faith into a parable about the Mother (apologies if I’m mistaken). I guess my question is, do you think Rowan and the others might have been actually worshipped as gods before the Faith, like Garth might have been? Also if I may ask a second question: do you have thoughts about Floris (my personal fave) how her story fits into Westeros’ patriarchal attitudes towards women? Does the fact that she founded three houses mean that she’s not vilified by the Faith for being non monogamous? Thanks and sorry again for weird questions!!

(I was mistaken, I think it was actually about Rowan’s story as a parable about the Maiden, like that her hair turned into a tree as a sign of being favored by the Maiden? I don’t quite remember who wrote this post.)

I have a vague memory of a post I wrote along similar lines a very long time ago too, but I couldn’t find it, so either I never did or I deleted it. Anyway, I do very much like to headcanon that the myth of Rowan Gold-Tree was co-opted by the Faith during its early establishment in the Reach as a myth about the Maiden - that Rowan, abandoned by her love for a richer rival, prayed to the Maiden in her heartbreak, and the Maiden, guardian and benefactor of virtuous maids, gave Rowan her golden tree, almost Cinderella style, perhaps as a sort of dowry to show that maidenly virtue was literally worth more than gold.

Whatever the particular relationship between the Faith and the myth of Rowan Gold-Tree, do I think that some or all of the legendary children of Garth Greenhand may have been worshiped as gods themselves? Very possibly. We know that there was at least some tradition of Garth being worshiped as or at least considered a god by Westerosi: Yandel notes that “[s]ome even say [Garth Greenhand] was a god” and that “[a] few of the very oldest tales” present Garth as a “considerably darker deity, one who demanded blood sacrifice from his worshippers to ensure a bountiful harvest” and a “green god [who] die[d] every autumn … only to be reborn with the coming of spring”. Yandel also compares Garth to fertility gods and goddesses worshiped by “[m]any of the more primitive peoples of the earth”, as Garth not only “taught men to farm” and “showed them how to plant and sow, how to raise crops and reap the harvest” but also scattered a seemingly divinely plentiful bag of various seeds and “brought the gift of fertility” to people and crops alike. Nor was this early history of Westeros an era without the worship of local deities beyond the old gods: the myth of Durran Godsgrief features a sea god and a goddess of the wind, the people of the Three Sisters worshiped the Lady of the Waved and the Lord of the Skies, and of course the ironborn believe in the eternal divine struggle between the Drowned God and the Storm God.  

So I could see where, depending on the era and the location, various individuals among Garth’s legendary children might have been worshiped as gods or semi-divine heroes themselves. If Garth Greenhand was worshiped as a god for teaching the First Men to sow, cultivate, and reap, might Gilbert of the Vines have been similarly worshiped by the people of the Arbor for teaching these people “to make sweet wine” from their island’s lush native grapes (and indeed, might there have been some local tradition that Gilbert had inherited his father’s fertility and made these grapes grow “so fat and lush across their island”)? If Garth was treated as a god for his apparently mystical and/or divine ability to bring and cultivate life from the land, might Ellyn Ever-Sweet, Rowan Gold-Tree, and/or Rose of Red Lake have been similarly worshiped by the locals of Beesbury, Goldengrove, and/or Red Lake, respectively, for their supernatural, perhaps also seemingly divine, connections to and power over the natural world? If the earliest worshipers of Garth Greenhand offered him blood sacrifices in return for bountiful harvests, might worshipers have given Bors the Breaker similar blood sacrifices in return for grants of strength and courage, since he himself had supposedly drunk the blood of bulls to gain the power of 20 men? If Garth’s divine power included the gift of specifically sexual fertility so strong that he “[made] barren women fruitful with a touch” and caused “[m]aidens [to ripen] in his presence”, “mothers [to bring] forth twins or even triplets when he blessed them”, and “young girls [to flower] at his smile”, then might Harlon and Herndon have been similarly worshiped for the seeming eternal fertility they apparently enjoyed and represented as husbands to their woods witch wife, or Foss the Archer worshiped as a similar roving fertility god casting a welcome eye on maidens as his father had done (with his arrow and apple exploits perhaps a sort of sexual euphemism)? Again, these are just a few creative examples, but the larger point is that I could very well see where Garth’s children may have been seen not only as extensions of his own legend, but gods in their own right who took over aspects of the worship of Garth Greenhand. (To say nothing of whether any of them might have been worshiped for their own persons and/or deeds - if, say, John the Oak, Owen Oakenshield, and/or Brandon of the Bloody Blade might have been viewed as a sort of proto-Warrior or god of war, or if Maris the Maid became a sort of mother goddess for Oldtown and House Hightower.) 

As far as Florys the Fox goes … eh. I think that strict monogamy was not an entirely consistent or mandated practiced among the First Men before the arrival of the Andals, including in the Reach: not only do the myths of both Florys and the twin ancestors of House Tarly feature as their protagonists participants in polygamous (and, indeed, polyandrous) marriages, but King Garland II successfully brought Oldtown into the Gardener kingdom by putting aside his wives, plural, to marry Lymond Hightower’s daughter. Nor indeed should we ignore the fact that Florys seems to have been considered clever not just for having three husbands but for keeping each a secret from the others - a suggestion, perhaps, that the expected (read: patriarchal) order of the universe, playfully subverted by the literally extraordinary Florys, was that a woman should be the submissive partner to a single man, rather than the dominant mistress keeping three men at her nuptial leisure. So I think the pre-Andal Reach may have accepted two beliefs as true at the same time - namely, a patriarchal world in which women were expected to serve and obey men and also a pro-polygamy world in which a demigod/heroine/goddess figure could be lauded for having kept multiple husbands simultaneously without being caught. 

Too, I think it’s possible that just as septons and maesters downplayed the mythology and divinity of Garth Greenhand in later accounts - with Yandel noting that legends of Garth Greenhand, “though cherished by the smallfolk, are largely discounted by both the maesters of the Citadel and the septons of the Faith, who share the view that Garth Greenhand was a man, not a god” - so these same post-Andal Invasion academics may have deemphasized the myths surrounding Florys the Fox, including her celebrated polyandry. Perhaps dynastically persnickety maesters or septons argued that Florys had not really been married to three men, but rather that the myths had conflated her marriage to the ancestor of House Ball/Peake/Florent with marriages by other women, or perhaps remarriages by Florys, to the ancestors of the other two Houses. Perhaps the myth was bowdlerized to have Florys merely be courted by the founders of each of these Houses, rather than having her marrying each, with Florys perhaps then serving as more of a spiritual or romantic ancestress rather than a literal matriarch of this bloodline. Of course, it’s also possible that septons did look down on and preach against Florys for her polygamous marriages, branding her a “wanton” - though to what extent they could or would do so, while also looking to convert these powerful aristocratic families of the Reach, is speculative at best. 

[slutforsnow]

His Sunflower

A/N: Chapter 2 and Sunni, btw, is based off my innocence/ignorance before... ahem... wattpad. YES I WAS A WATTPADER BUT IM A BETTER MAN NOW

CW/TW: Obsessive/possessive Coryo, implied possible SA, drugs, manipulation

Sunni was humming as she waited for her test results. She was watching her favorite anime, Tokyo Ghoul, and smiling every time Hideyoshi came on screen. She always considered herself to be a Hide kind of girl, always smiling and happy.

"Ms. Plinth?" Sunni looked up, turning her phone off and putting it in her pocket.

"Yes, Dean Highbottom?" She replied, sitting up.

"Welcome to Panem Academy. You aced your exam," the dean said, handing her the exam sheets back as a smile grew on her face. She beamed happily, taking the exam sheets back politely and shaking her new headmaster's hand.

"Thank you, sir," She replied before he shooed her off to the office to get her schedule. Sunni was squealing to herself as she made her way to get her schedule. She couldn't wait to see the look of excitement on Sejanus' face!

"Well, well, well," a sudden voice came, pulling Sunni out of her excited pace. "You must be Sejanus' Plinth's little cousin."

Sunni giggled, pushing her brown hair out her face as the newcomer called her Sejanus' little cousin. She wasn't little by any means.

"Well, I dunno about little, but yep, that's me!! Sunni Plinth," She introduced, extending her hand to the mystery man. "Spelt with an 'i' not a 'y'."

"Festus Creed," He introduced, taking her hand and bringing it up to his lips to gently kiss her knuckles. "It's a pleasure to meet such a beautiful woman."

During lunch, Sunni could be seen with Arachne Crane and Clemensia Dovecote, and Coriolanus didn't necessarily mind it because the girls were his "friends." What pissed him off, however, was seeing Festus being so close to her. Making her laugh and having her full attention made his blood boil, and yet... he had no idea why. He had just met her and had no knowledge of her aside from her being Sejanus' cousin.

"Hey, Coriolanus! Sej!" She called, waving him and Sejanus over. The two boys looked at each other, wondering what the fuck she was doing with people who would fully take advantage of her kindness, and joined her at the table.

"So how'd the test go?" Sejanus asked, taking a bite out of his sandwich while trying not to glare at Festus for having an arm around Sunni's shoulders in a very romantic way.

"I aced it!" She replied, beaming and pulling out her graded exam paper and sliding it over to Sej and Coryo.

"Oh me, oh my, looks like you'll have to fight for top spot, Snow," Arachne mocked, taking a sip of her drink as the blonde's eyes scanned the paper.

'Pretty, smart, and innocent as can be,' Coriolanus thought. 'I need to get her away from Festus.'

"Mm, perhaps," He mused in response to Arachne, popping a grape into his mouth.

"Well, whether you do or don't, I don't think fighting for top spot really matters," Sunni interjected, taking a sip of her soup from her silver spoon. "After all, we're all smart in our own way."

"Oh, sweet simple Sunni," Clemensia began, shaking her head. "You'll understand what Arachne means soon enough."

"We have to be smart in every way here. Otherwise, we drown in a sea of work," Festus added, taking a bite of out of his apple.

Sejanus were seething. He wanted to push Festus off Sunni and yell at him for being anywhere near her. Sunni didn't need his bad influence on her—she didn't need to get into drugs or have a forced first time with him. He would do everything in his power to keep them separated.

But Coriolanus? He was plotting. Plotting how to get rid of Festus and get Sunni to trust him. Yet he couldn't figure out why he wanted to protect the ball of sunshine who was named after a plant. He just felt like he had to. Like he needed to.

Glancing at each other, the two friends nodded curtly to each other. A silent vow to protect Sunni no matter to the cost.

Tags: @etfrin @hearts4court @snows-wife @delusionalbunni @kiraflowersworld @victory-scream0462 @curled-hair-red-lips @morallygrayboys @phoward89 @xoxo-eyeballs @thereeallink @graciouslyc @acidaciruela @wanda-maximoff-enthusiast @firstworldproblemthings @nowitsmissing