#bc half of this one is just 1 ship

[wontbyers]

Okay I’m tired of Byler (lie) so I’m going to post about other things now (read Byler fanfic)

[thingswhatareawesome]

¨

[waywardsalt]

Have you ever thought about how Linebeck describes Jolene as "crazier than a rabid squid"- only to then be possessed by a literal rabid squid later in the game?

Cause I sure have- especially after seeing a lot of your BellumxLinebeck stuff

mmmmghmm im gonna be honest i haven't thought about it much at all

linking it to my bellum x linebeck thoughts, im not too sure what to make of it in context with my other linebeck notes and w/e

there's also my idea that linebeck has a special interested in shellfish and by extension squids, and the idea of him having a weird thing for bellum, and just... enjoying sealife, and it's kinda of...

he compares her to a rabid squid to link in order to i think... offer a shorthand explanation of what she's like, and i think it (with some other stuff) is kinda just another little peek into how he might feel abt her?

i mean he also compares link to a dog in that one letter? i'm not sure where im going with that one. i dont think linebeck particularly likes dogs

i'm not sure abt the link between that and him getting possessed, jolene is kind of just... there a lot of the time and doesn't really do anything except 1) show that linebeck has enemies and 2) show that people know about link's quest by the end, linebeck generally references sea creatures a few times in ph

relating to bellum x linebeck, i dont see him comparing jolene to a squid an indicator of anything in relation to that, with linebeck having a thing for bellum its more of like. there's a lot of complicated ideas i have with what goes on between them during bellumbeck and bellum being a squid thing is more linebeck having a bit of a monsterfucker streak and having a bit of a thing for like. being tied up. as for literal squids he kinda just likes them as food and to dissect and learn about

like i think 'rabid squid' is more like linebeck just tossing out some derogatory shorthand to explain how he thinks of jolene as some fucking. violent annoyance he has to deal with that he doesn't fully understand

tbh i see the comparison but imo it comes down to a difference in characters and interactions and histories, there is the rabid squid thing (and i think in the manga too theres a vague parallel drawn ig) but im not. sure. what there is there just beyond. linebeck talks about sea creatures and wants to get the fuck away from jolene

i'm not entirely certain what you've been thinking about with that comparison, but i haven't been thinking much about it and it's kinda. eh ig???? its something

[simp-ly-writes]

The Comment Section

─────── · · A Social Media AU Fic

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x gn!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: The youtube comments section ship you and Spencer together heavily and so does the rest of the cast it seems.

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, suggestive themes, mutual pining, fluff, attempt at comedy, cheesiness, angst.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART 3.5

─ · · A/N: this is my first time ever trying this format- I hope you all enjoy!

─────── · ·

Hide and Seek (Again!)

Smosh Pit ✓ [Subscribed] Like 53k | Dislike | Share | ... 8.29M subscribers 1.1M views 1 week ago click to expand

5,155 Comments

username04 1 day ago (edited) at 10:41 "where's Anthony?!" never gets old username02 1 hour ago 01:11 when the whistle blew at the start did anyone else see when Spencer grabbed (name's) hand?? BC I am losing it over here! ▼ 17 replies ↳ username15 1 hour ago Wait how did in not see thisss?!?! ↳ username11 1 hour ago And when (name) at 20:14 pulls them closer to them in the closet when Anthony nears has me nearing a heart attack ↳ username08 30 minutes ago I am not loosing my mind... you are. ↳ username17 just now And. Yet. They. Deny. Us. username99 2 days ago (Name) and their husband Spencer are now the new certified "just-friends-but-do-all-the-couple-things" couple. username01 1 day ago I have been HERE for this (yourshipname) since day one. username87 3 days ago mr/misses (name) "I feel something poking at me" 17:45 deadpans to the camera then proceeds to throw out half the closet while Spencer stands there still, hands raised has me dying- XD ▼ 142 replies ↳ username02 just now I am DESPERATE for more TNTL with the two of them. Last episode was NOT ENOUGH. ↳ username87 just now BOOST THIS.

─────── · ·

We Are Going Crazy (Don't Win Mario Party)

Smosh Games ✓ [Subscribed] Like 70k | Dislike | Share | ... 7.75M subscribers 556k views 5 days ago click to expand

3,247 Comments

username44 5 days ago THAT ARM ABOVE (name) LOOKS AWFULLY COSY SPENCER. ▼ 68 replies ↳ username02 5 days ago If we shout it loud enough, they might finally see. ↳ username06 3 days ago underrated comment 100%. ↳ username05 just now And how he played with their hoodies string, eyelashes fluttering and watched them intro, *heart-flutters* username44 5 days ago The way that Trevor watched as (name) approached and moved down the couch so that Spencer and them could sit beside one another. THANK YOU FOR FEEDING US. ▼ 3 replies ↳ username97 2 days ago And how he had to whip his head with that cone to show his smirk had me dying- hahahhahaha ↳ username97 just now And how at 15:01 Alex just sips his drink just off-camera is gold. username44 4 days ago (edited) 40:53 when (name) immediately goes to cheer for Trevors win is so sweet. How can one have a friendship like theirs???

─────── · ·

Another Marriage at Smosh?! (TNTL #151)

Smosh Pit ✓ [Subscribed] Like 49k | Dislike | Share | ... 8.29M subscribers 400k views 2 days ago click to expand

7,163 Comments

username01 2 days ago I have never clicked on a video quicker and been so equally disappointed yet laughed so hard. ▼ 333 replies ↳ username97 1 hour ago IKR this was just straight up mean. ↳ username66 2 days ago They just know their audience too well P-P username04 just now I want emotional compensation, your honour. username05 1 day ago Okay but why did their fake wedding vows to one another feel so real. username32 just now 16:28 The way that (name) just needed to walk out, say one word in a wig, and then walk back had Spencer on the floor crying that quickly needs to be studied. username32 just now Shayne and Courtney, (name) and Spencer is too much to handle all in one video /positive.

─────── · ·

(Name) Plays FNAF For The First Time

Smosh Games ✓ [Subscribed] Like 78k | Dislike | Share | ... 7.75M subscribers 200k views 1 days ago #1 on trending click to expand

1,162 Comments

username99 just now Just before watching this saw that (name) blocked Spencer on Twitter. Should I be scared? ▼ 202 replies ↳ username51 just now Mom and Dad are fighting, we should all be scared. ↳ username33 just now The silence in the room once (name) screams I hate you (I forget the time stamp) while looking just past the screen has me sobbing along with them. username01 1 day ago (edited) Looking past EVERYTHING ELSE. At 11:11, how (name) goes "I'm scared, Spencer" and he pauses the game and hugs her with those head pats has me spiralling. ▼ 2 replies ↳ username20 1 hour ago Okay but on this same note, how at the start, (name) was watching so intensely at Spencer explaining the controls and features instead of the screen, nodding along wide-eyed would be me too in this scenario. username11 30 minutes ago To the writers at smosh, this is too much angst for me. ▼ 6 replies ↳ username09 just now You speak on behalf of all of us (yourshipname) shippers. username03 1 day ago Petition for them to come back and play it together next time. ↳ username01 just now You have my vote!

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: hope this was not a terrible format to read if you made it all the way here to the end. :))

[allpiesforourown]

I know people hate “bully/victim” ships so IM SORRY theres just a silly modern au bully bingge idea i’ve been thinking about a lot lately .

cw for the above mentioned dynamic!!

Luo Binghe getting into some exclusive academy after finding out about his family’s inheritance. He immediately hates all these out of touch rich people… all of them except for Shen Yuan. 

They have a basic meet cute. Shen Yuan spills Binghe’s coffee and offers to buy him a new one, giving him a tour of their campus while they’re out. He introduces him to the librarians and the office staff. Binghe is certain this is way too good to be true, and Shen Yuan has got to have some ulterior motive. 

One some base level he knows Shen Yuan is a good person that is being kind for him for no particular reason. He’s seen him do the same for other people. But the idea of him being just one of the many people Shen Yuan is friendly with makes him feel bitter and self-conscious. So he’s like fuck it, I hate Shen Yuan actually he’s gotta be a green tea bitch or something (because if he’s not it will literally shatter his world-view if he finds out not all people are greedy and bad) 

Hear me out . listen. Pushing someone around is something that can be so homoerotic

Bingge picking on Shen Yuan and being super, super aroused the whole time. He’ll dump water on shen yuan as a joke, then ignore everyone else laughing bc shen yuan’s shirt is sticking to his skin and his nipples got hard because the water was cold-

Or he’ll take shen yuan’s glasses and hold it above his head so shen yuan has to stand on his tip toes and come really close to try to grab it back (one time he even tripped and fell against binghe’s chest!!) Because he’s nearsighted, sometimes Shen Yuan will even forget to put distance between their faces and be within kissing range while he argues with Binghe. 

Once he snuck into the changing room and stole shen yuan’s clothes so he would have to walk back to his dorm in his swim trunks. He definitely didn’t take pictures of Shen Yuan’s blushing face walking back to his room half naked and he definitely didn’t keep the clothes and sniff them like a weirdo haha…

It’s an average day for them (Binghe takes shen yuan by the wrists and holds him against the wall and calls him a fragile little princess and taunts him by saying he’s not strong enough to break out of his hold. Prime bullying tactic for someone you’re in love with 1. Binghe gets to see live reaction of sy’s face when he’s pinned down and struggling and can save that image for later use 2. Physical closeness, they’re practically pressed together 3. Shen yuan bruises easily and seeing binghe’s handprints on his wrists for like a week is super satisfying 4. Binghe can call him romantic pet names like princess or wife and shen yuan will just think binghe is calling him effeminate as an insult) 

Luo Binghe even lifts Shen Yuan’s hands above him to catch both wrists with one hand and says, “You can’t even get out if I only use one hand?” It makes Shen YUan flush red from humiliation in suuuch an adorable way. 

So anyway, Binghe is picking on shen yuan in the back room of some office somewhere, doing his whole routine because he’s been hurt too many times in life to be vulnerable with someone again and this is his only way to achieve intimacy with the person he loves. He’s been saving the “are you sure you’re a man? Maybe I should check” card for a long time and he’s so excited to use it. He’ll even say something about Shen Yuan’s dick being so short, he should just wear a skirt and become a real man’s wife, and that’s BULLYING, it’s NOT a kink, binghe does NOT jerk off to the thought of Shen Yuan wearing short dresses and greeting him home, he DOESN’T. (he does) 

Before he can fulfill this amazing plan, Liu Qingge, another man in their year, barges in?? Obviously, they fight and Binghe’s chance to feminize his crush slips through his fingers

The worst thing is ??? Liu Qingge rescued Shen Yuan like some righteous prince saving the damsel in a fairy tale. Shen Yuan is not allowed to have a storybook romance with someone else! He hates Liu Qingge so much it’s unreal

It becomes impossible to corner Shen Yuan and get some time alone. He and that Qingge guy are together more and more often. Liu Qingge is in the library carrying Shen Yuan’s books now? Now they’re always hanging out on the grass having lunch?? They’re discussing what electives they can take together?!?! 

It’s been like a month since he’s gotten to properly tease shen Yuan and he needs it bad. If he doesn’t pull down shen yuan’s pants in public to embarrass him (and see his ass) soon, he might actually die. 

Then he spots him: Shen Yuan walking to class. Unaccompanied.

Luo Binghe is so overcome with exhilarated relief, he doesn’t even think about what he’s gonna do. He just runs over, ignores Shen Yuan’s screaming, throws him over his shoulder like a bag of rice, and carries him away. 

Shen Yuan freaks the hell out because, okay, petty insults and light fighting are one thing, but he’s straight up getting kidnapped?? That’s not bullying anymore, that’s a crime!! 

Binghe knows he only has so much time before Qingge manages to find them. He needs somewhere he can hide – he races back to his room before he can plan any further. He throws Shen Yuan on the bed, locks the door, and sighs in relief. 

Shen Yuan is sure he’s gonna die. He has no idea what he ever did to piss Binghe off so bad. Yes, he spilled his coffee, but he got him another one! 

Binghe takes a seat on the bed as well. He averts his eyes away from him bashfully, but glances back periodically like a maiden trying to play coy. Shen yuan has no idea how to navigate whats happening. He backs up on the bed until he hits the wall and holds up a pillow like a shield, except- there’s something underneath. 

It’s the cucumber patterned gag boxers he got as a joke from airplane. No one in the world would buy them. “Is- is this my underwear?” 

Binghe lunges at him to knocks the evidence out of Shen Yuan’s hand, but instead pushes him onto his back and ends up with his hands on either side of Shen Yuan’s head. 

Shen Yuan is shocked in place. Binghe, on the other hand, is in bullying-cute-boy withdrawl. He sees Shen Yuan's beautiful face flustered by their position, on Binghe's bed, and POUNCES.

Now that Shen Yuan finally understands his feelings, Binghe has permission to torment him! And he does. For hours, with various tools and against every surface. 

[citrusotakutea]

Didn't read half of this shit as Grandma here blacked out while spouting ship nonsense as if that was even close to my point lmao. I guess I could have made "I am the ship police" more sarcastic. Also, you're sooo late bro someone sent me an ask like a milisecond after the OG post pointing my age out and I said I was also, in fact, being sarcastic about being a fandom elder because it's funny. Nowhere did I frame Integra and Rip being (they are completely indistinguishable from any other character, male or female, of their style, regardless of Hirano's kinks lmao) androgynous with "authorial intent". You probably cited me supposedly not knowing facts for being the reason for your anger and "not claiming me" when that's literally the main issue I had with new fans ijbol.

I am the Sir Integra Hellsing fangirl, I am claiming her. The future is now, old man.

Hey op just curious what makes you hate the new Hellsing fanbase. As a fellow Hellsing fan I was wondering if I’ve completely missed something strange going on lately.

The new Hellsing fandom honestly irks me because of the surface level probing of the source material*. Yes, to most it's a hard core, dark, violent, mad and bad-ass anime but, like I've said so often, for so long on this dumb blog, it has the BEST female characters I've ever seen, recently rivaled by Arcane. Incredible depiction of platonic relationships and morally grey characters. To me, it's primarily a found family story, among other things.

The side characters are incredible, Yumi and Heinkel are the most underrated of the show. I mean come on priest and nun lesbians (lesbian used liberally). Heinkel is confirmed by the author to be an INTERSEX HUMAN. Alucard shapeshifts into a female (which, looking at the Devilman fandom, everyone took for an obvious trans metaphor, why not here?). The source material is as homoerotic as it can get between a lot of the characters (the tension between Sir Integra and Seras during the blood scene). Let's not forget Rip van Winkle, Pip, Walter, and Alexander. Alucard's teasing, Seras' naivety and subsequent maturity, Pip's endurance and playful wittiness. These characters and relationships are stuck in my head forever, they're all incredibly unique, fleshed out and worth remembering, no matter how short a time they spent on screen. And the character designs? As a long-time vampyr and catholic guilt fan, can I just say. Rawr. This show shaped how I dress like irl and my own shitty characters, as well.

Sir Integra is my favorite character of the show and one of all time. Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing. Like, an actually good depiction of a no-nonsense, androgynous as hell, unabashedly commanding (dare I say) woman? And it's played completely straight? No "Whaaa that's a woman?" every 2 seconds or "heh, you will listen to me despite my womanhood" from her. Powerful in her own right despite being the few "magic"-less humans of the series. 0 sexualized Ultimate scenes (sorry Seras and the "hot down there" comment doesn't count, that was banter). She was fucking knighted by the Queen of England before she was even 25, hence Sir Integra. Canonically bi-racial and South-Asian. I'm not even going to go into her character's willpower and values but. Hellloooo??? 

Not to mention, something noteworthy about the series, but Hellsing works because Hirano made time for silly moments. I mean, hell, one of the scenes I remember most vivdly was the gag of Heinkel lighting Sir Integra's cigar and being mega-pissed about it during the final battle, it's funny yet in character, despite many fans saying the humor throws you out of the "reality" of the show.

Oh no, but what do the new fandom gremlins talk about? "Alufart rails Y/A" "OMG VLADCARD'S BARA HAIRY TIDDIES I WANNA RUB MY FACE AGAINST THEM" (you know who you are) “I drew the most fucked up version of Alucard I could think of in my twisted mind”

and my personal "favorite":

"omg 🥺 what if intewa and alucard kisswdd", it's almost as bad as Seras x Alucard.

Unfortunately, I am a part of the ship police, so I'm gonna say right now that these two are my most hated ships:

1) Sir Integra and Alucard's relationship goes beyond romance to me. Since none of the new fans know the lore, Sir Integra is and will die a virgin (canon), it's literally plot relevant because by having sex, if she gets bit she will become a zombie slave (obvious but apparently needed to be said) and, taking a note from the 2001 anime, gone is any chance to continue the Hellsing mission. If she was bitten, plot armor aside, she'd have to off herself instead of becoming a vampire. (and for you freaks out there/pos, dare I say… ace representation? you can argue about desire and subtext later)

2) Seras and Alucard's relationship was specifically noted by the author to be a father/daughter dynamic, which is kind of obvious in the show. Like I said, fundamentally a found family series. Yeah, you don't need to treat found family like family family but I gen can't stand this ship.

I know that people will ship characters who've never been in a room together before. I can't stop people from shipping them and these two ships have ALWAYS been popular in the fandom. I typically ignore this and, yes, "don't like, don't interact" is my main rule. However, new fans ONLY talk about this stuff. None of the rest of the show seems to matter, just Alucard's hairy mustached tig bitties and him fucking one of the two women in the main cast. Or someone's self insert.

((tangent but personally my favorite ships are Alexander x Alucard (obviously in an enemies to enemies way), Heinkel x Yumi, and a romance only Seras x s.Integra. Like, you want old women yuri??? There ya go! They were in a mansion for like 30 years (I forgot) together, probably going missions alone and sharing their grief over Alucard and their unique experience/history. Like I said, I can't help who people ship, I'm not trying to say the source material is in favor of my ships or "how dare people interpret these obviously gay characters as straight". like no, that's not why I'm upset and ik alucard and alexander weren't yaoi-ing it up but like. alucard and s.integra shippers dni /j))

Not to mention, I couldn't help but notice, despite this information being readily available to my middle school self, no one knows the fckn lore or background of this show?? I honest to god saw someone comment that Hellsing Ultimate™ was a bad “remake” because it diverged from the original anime.

Here's SOME fun facts:

-the 2001 version of the show has a different ending than the manga because it wasn't finished yet (duh). Hellsing Ultimate is "soooo short" because production took almost a decade and it was trying to be a faithful, well-animated (that takes time bruv) adaptation. Oh, and a bunch of directional changes that I won't get into.

-there are multiple OVAs following Walter's youth in WW2 (Hellsing: The Dawn). Young Walter's design honestly was one of my favorites from the series so. Walter enjoyers. Check it out.

-there is a bonus book explaining a lot about the characters and process of creating Hellsing written by Hirano himself. whenever I got a hold of it, though (8+ years ago) there was no English translation.

-Alucard didn't just transform into a girl that one time, he was in his girl form the entire time during WW2 (hence why when people mention his possible affair with the Queen it might've been a sapphic thing but I think that mostly stems from the abridged series. the queen thing not the girl thing)

-Hirano used to be a Hentai mangaka and actually designed many of Hellsing's characters in said hentai or in short stories (such as Crossfire, it's basically extra, non-canonical Hellsing content) beforehand. Which, this used to be the most popular "fun fact" but has been lost to the sands of time now, so prepare for a lot of people rediscovering this.

-personal lore is I almost named myself Rip van Winkle bc of this show (quirked up Portal, Grell Sutcliff, queer-coded, rifle-wielding shawty)

Anyway, to sum it up, I hate when people don't interpret characters in the same way I do. Yes, I am a bad “fandom elder”, idgaf I am fundamentally a hater.

*I keep seeing this happen with old shows that resurface. Unlike newer or more popular shows where every scene gets scoured, characters who showed up for one scene get analyzed, and endless cafe AUs are made- older shows mostly get fan art of the main charas and the ships of the two hottest characters and that's it. Discussion of lore and themes are completely off the table. So I'm not surprised, just disappointed.

[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!!!!!

[the-lambda-archives-ai]

Statement of : Gordon Martinez Freeman, 30 year old MIT graduate,Regarding a peculiar video game he’d found.

Recorded direct from subject, May 16, 200-

Statement begins.

Pt 1 > here

ABOUT 👇

Hello! I am the author of this AU, you can find my main at @inkzectz , for more meta questions about this AU, or for general comments about it, please go there.

What is the AU about?

LA : AI is a crossover AU of sorts, in the simplest way put, it’s TMA but with HLVRAI characters, TMA stuff happens but altered to fit the general HLVRAI narrative, and with my own changes, headcanons, etc. added

I will be updating/editing this post as I progress.

Will it have spoilers?

Disclaimer!!

The AU will have a lot of the original themes of hlvrai and more so TMA, more so, horror themes, this will include gore, body horror, worms, decomposition, cult themes, psychological horror, arachnophobia,flashing imagery, etc.

(Will update as I go on)

I also feel it is important to mention this is the first time I have ever made a ask blog/ web comic/ published a story online, I will make mistakes, please bare with me as I am trying to figure things out.

English is not my first language, I do my best to grammar check and write well, but at the end of the day I will also be making mistakes.

Please be patient with me.

This au is a passion project of mine that I am doing on my free time because I want to, it is important to remember as a reader, I do not owe you anything.

It is best if you’ve seen it but as of writing it right now (early ep 4) there aren’t any spoilers. Once I am a little further ahead then you may want to listen to it.

Yes, not a lot, but vague/mild spoilers about how the world works, plot points, and character.

Again the spoilers will be vague and mild at worst, as it progresses I would recommend listening to tma, but it’s sort of like how while half life knowledge is helpful in hlvrai it isn’t exactly necessary to enjoy hlvrai bc it’s different enough from it to not really matter (?) I hope that makes sense.

Asks rules

- No telling [ player ] exactly what happens ex : “omg [ player ] when you weren’t looking [ npc ] said this very important thing that is supposed to be kept secret for lore reasons”

- Please avoid asks like “tell this character they’re pretty” while I appreciate the compliment, I am trying to write a story and want to keep things as on topic as possible. Instead tell me on my main if you like the art, I’ll probably reply with a doodle or something, just not on here.

- Less so of a rule but more so of a general statement, I will be avoiding asks that either are too close to what happens or if answering would mean progressing the story too quickly, there’s a lot I want to happen and I want time to do it all.

- Another one that’s less of a rule and more of a general thing, if I don’t like what you said I won’t be answering.

- I also sometimes just don’t know how to answer some things.

- Please be respectful of the ships I choose to include and don't force your own, ship wars and such will not be tolerated.

- Please be respectful of others and do not spoil anything, not everyone has listened to TMA and knows it's themes.

I will not be answering everything, I cannot always get to every message so please be respectful of that.

Select character

Character abouts! [ Will be updating as I continue to work on the story ]

[ select ] > Mr. Freeman

> Gordon Martinez ‘Martini’ Freeman

30 y.o . 6’0 . 230lb . Romani / Puertorican . male [ he/him ] . bisexual

[ PLAYER ]

> Lives in Seattle, MIT graduate, left Black Mesa, works as a librarian IRL but also makes money via streaming video games occasionally, in real time it is 2018.

> Believes in the paranormal out of fear but tries to rationalize out of denial, he will never admit something is supernatural and will jump through hoops to rationalize even if deep down he does believe.

> Has a son named Joshua Medrano Freeman, who is 6 years old, Gordon and his old partner met in college but split up before Joshua was born, they remain civil but are nothing more to each other than Joshua’s other parent.

> Gordon rents an apartment with 3 rooms, his own room, Joshua’s room, and a third that used to be a guest room but he has so little visitors he’s just chosen to revamp it into a gaming room.

> Gordon works primarily in a library for now as he’s looking for a better job.

> Gordon often wears hoodies, sweaters, t-shirts, crew necks, and any general outfit one would wear at home, long curly hair that is beginning to grey due to stress, unkempt goatee, and almost always wears green tinted glasses [ he doesn’t need glasses he just thinks they’re cool ]

> His hair is usually pulled back in a ponytail but can also be found in a bun or just down.

< [ select ] > Mr. Coolatta

> Thomas ‘Tommy�� Coolatta, primary researcher, and technical head of the institute.

39 y.o . 6’7 . 190lb . Chinese/filipino . Male [ he/him ] . ???

[ NPC ]

> His father owns the Lambda institute and he grew up in it, he officially started working in the archives when he was 24, and of all the employees in the entire institute he has worked there the longest.

> No one knows who his father really is, Tommy being the only one who’s ever actually seen / spoken to him, his father is the real head of the institute but gives most his orders through Tommy, so Tommy is also technically the head as well.

> Not much is actually known about him, besides his father he doesn’t appear to have any other family, nor does he ever speak of his personal life much.

> Tommy primarily works as an archival assistant, specifically in research, he is the one who will verify details regarding statements or do further investigations into aspects of the statements.

> Tommy is quite the colorful character, often wearing colorful clothing and accessories, he seems to think doing so brings some cheer into an otherwise boring environment, he often wears patterned polo shirts, cheap company bracelets, pins, lanyards, pant chains, but is never without his signature multicolor propeller hat.

[edgeray]

mygod that siren Arlecchino fic you did is *chef's kiss* IMMACULATE!!! might i request a continuation, mayhaps? Arle mentioned that she'd follow the reader as they sail, so maybe she misses them and either tries to climb onto the boat or the pier where they're docked to see them again? either hurt/comfort or fluff, the rest is up to you!!! love your work and thank you for fueling my Arlecchino obsession :] also i might pop back in here once in a while, may i be moth anon?

The Sea's Calling Pt. 2

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N - Part 1 link here. Yes, you definitely can be a moth anon! Hi :D. I already added you to the anon list. To other anons that have requested and I haven't gotten to, I do see your requests and if you gave yourself an emoji/name I already added you ^^. Anyways, back to moth anon. <333 I'm so glad you enjoyed my siren Arlecchino fic! As my first request I was kind of nervous about it but I'm glad that you enjoy! I'm also really glad that you sent this request! I did always want to write a part 2 but didn't have the opportunity until now. Thanks moth anon, for the reuqest and for enjoying my works!!  If you couldn't tell, I love the idea of found family pirates. One Piece did this to me. The ending turned out to be self-indulgent, forgive me moth anon ;) Even though it's short, this ended up being one of my favorites. Hope you like this one! Content warnings / info - monster x human, arle is ooc bc she's a siren, fem! reader bc pt.1 has fem! reader, suggestive at the end, 1.2k words

You used to think that the most beautiful thing out there was the sky and its stars–to you, nothing was more mesmerizing than them. They are so alluring despite holding this mystique, and they've guided humans on their naval journeys and inspired all kinds of stories of their origins. The stars were all that kept you company, even on the lonliest and coldest nights.

Now, however, the stars aren't your only company. 

“Guys, I'm going to go back to the ship. Don't wait up on me too much,” you to your fellow pirates as you stand up from the stool. You drop off some extra coins on the baa counter, in order to compensate for the plate that you will be ‘borrowing.’ You pick up the plate of your half-eaten slice of meat pie and sandwich and head towards the exit before one of your crew mates stops you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Turning in already? C'mon, stay a little bit. We've got enough money for a few more rounds of beer,” he says with a boisterous laugh. You chuckle lightly but shake your head. 

“No can do, sorry. Got something to do.”

“Uh huh, like your little siren girlfriend?” Another crew member states, her teasing smile widening as you flush. 

“One more? Jackie hasn't finished his story!”

“Let the darned woman go see her darn girlfriend, Goldie,” another gruffed with a shake of his head. 

“Fine, fine, go on ahead. Tch, when will I get my own smoking hot siren girl?” Goldie huffs, and you snort. Likely never, but you don't tell him that.  

“Thanks, I'll be back,” is all you say before rushing out of the door, nearly tipping over the plate before you balance it again. You wave them off and you make your way back to the docks. The walk is both short and long, and each step you take is filled with the excitement that buzzes through you. 

Even after these months, being able to spend time with her feels like bliss, like you have just found treasure. Sometimes, you forget she's a siren, she's ever so endearing and follows you around like a puppy. Oftentimes, when you're on the boat, you talk to her as she lingers by. The night after you first met the siren your crew had banned you from jumping into the waters because you had developed a cold which infected a good chunk of the crew; the cold wasn't severe for anyone but still. Since you can't be in the water, you often just talk to her from the railings and she answers. 

It's only when you're docked when you can finally touch her, but those times come rare. It can take days, sometimes weeks to reach an island to dock at, but when you do, you always take the time to sit by the shore. 

Finally, you arrive at the pier. “Arle?” You call out, and you see a ripple in the water. Grinning, you walk to the ends of one of the docks, setting down the plate a bit away from you. You remove your shoes and set them far away. Perching on the dock, your feet dip into the cold waters and you shiver.

You see something gleam in the corner of your eyes, the familiar shine of her scales. You then remember the food, and you start. “Wait, Arle don't splash–”

Too late. Something erupts from the waters and launches into you, a cold, heavy weight thrusting into your body making you tumble on your back on the dock. Pressed between the wooden planks and the creature that straddles you, you can't help but laugh and raise your hand up to her face, the now drenched food forgotten entirely. 

“Hey gorgeous,” you say as you stroke her cheek gently. She's the most beautiful treasure that you found among the seas. Arlecchino gazes down on you, her red pupils glistering as her arms wrap around your torso. She purrs, little fangs apparent as the tip of her tongue peeks out with her open-mouth smile. 

“Missed you,” is the first thing she says, before she leans her body against you, nuzzling her face into your neck. Your clothes get soaked from her, but you pay no mind. You stroke her wet hair, carding your fingers through her strands before kissing the top of her head. 

“I missed you too. Did you eat recently?” 

Sometimes she'd disappear for a few nights to search for another wandering ship for her meals but she never fails to find your ship again. You haven't seen her for a couple days before you docked her. 

Arlecchino nods. “Human food?” She questions. Her tail flicks, thumping against the wood out of eagerness. Although she enjoys the taste of cooked meats, beef especially, you don't believe it's as nutrition dense as… well, the main source of her diet, and it's hard to serve her cooked meat while on sea due to the issue of storing meat on ships. So, cooked meat has always been a treat for her. 

You nod. “You want to try?” 

She lets out an affirmative purr, and you help her sit upright in your lap. It's always a bit difficult considering she has a tail instead of legs, but she maneuvers her tail to encircle your waist, and you support her back with one of your arms. You silently mourn for your now soggy sandwich as you reach for the plate, using her tail as a flat surface. 

“What is it?” 

“Meat pie and a sandwich.” You take the fork and dig out the meat from the meat pie. Balancing the tender piece of beef on your utensil, you carefully guide it to her mouth. 

“Careful, it's hot. And don't bite the fork this time,” you gently warn her as she eats it. She squirms a bit in your lap, an indicator that she's pleased with the taste. 

“More?” You chuckle, adoring the cute plea in her eyes. 

You scrape out more of the meat until she's eaten all of the pie filling, leaving you to eat the pie crust. You're still peckish, so you start eating your sandwich, but not before fishing out the thick slice of ham from it, and giving it to her. If it meant you could watch the way her expression lights up again forever, then you would endlessly eat ham-less sandwiches and savor every cheese and vegetables sandwiched in between wet bread. 

“Did you like it?” You ask in between chews as she leans her head against your shoulder. She nods, and leans up again to place featherlight kisses on your neck. With the cold droplets of water and her frigid lips, it tickles you and you giggle. So adorable. 

You freeze up when you feel her fangs prick your skin and she looks up to you for permission. Another mating bite? You nod, wordlessly giving her permission, and you suck in a harsh breath as you feel her teeth sink in. Purrs vibrate coarse through her mouth as she pulls away, lapping at the mark and the texture of her tongue invokes a throaty groan from you, your body trembling with pleasure. 

Arlecchino leans away, but in her eyes, hunger burns in them. Her hands take purchase on your hips and she pushes your back against the planks. Her tail unwinds around your torso and instead coils around your ankles, securing them together.  

“H-here?” You question, flushing. Her hands wander lower, the sharp nails trailing lower to your thighs, where faint scratches scatter. 

The night that you first met her, she sang so beautifully for you. Tonight, you repay her back, singing out her name so tastefully. 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

is there anywhere that in game that says the Mc is the same age as the other first years?? I've been seeing a lot of discourse like "yuu can't do this/be shipped with that person bc they're like 16!!" (for ships this mostly refers to malleus, leona, and lilia)

but I don't remember anything that specifically indicates this? people argue its because they're in first year, but there are canon instances of people enrolling late/being older than their classmates. I was always under the impression that yuu was dropped with the first years regardless of age.

idk I've seen a lot of people get into stupid arguments lately, acting like other people's mc's are a crime bc they're like 17 or 18 (or god forbid 19, even though leona is 20 and there are other... complicated ages).

sorry, this ended up a lot longer than I meant for it to

I think many do assume that Yuu is 16 since they’re in class 1-A and hang out primarily with first year students. However, there is nothing in the game that states Yuu is 16 or has to be (similar to the vagueness about their gender); it’s probably left open-ended so players can imagine their own “Yuus”. As mentioned by the asker, there is variation in the age of canon students (Leona, Lilia, Malleus, etc.)—and even in the Yuus featured in official TWST materials, such as 17 year old Yuuka Hirasaka from the Episode of Savanaclaw manga. I feel it’s pretty pointless to argue over Yuu being “canonically” 16 or which Yuus are and aren’t “allowed” to exist since the game itself is set up in a way that encourages using your imagination to come up with whatever kind of Yuu you want.

More likely, Yuu is lumped into a first year class for reasons other than age. Firstly, they are “half of a student” with Grim, who is starting out his magical studies as a first year student. The two need to stick together—they “complete” one another. Secondly, first year classes center on theory and are basically the only ones Yuu is able to take. The higher level classes require the practical application of magic. Grim is not to that level yet and Yuu is incapable of meeting those magical demands.

Mmm, I think that’s about all I have to say on this matter? I’m afraid I don’t care to delve too deeply into the shipping discourse mentioned—though I do understand being frustrated with fans policing and attacking others’ creations 💦 My advice is to just enjoy your own slice of the fandom rather than letting bad apples ruin your experience.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

HELLO!

Thought of asking you bc I ADORE your writing, the way you write the NikPrice ship is by far my fav, I would've wrote it myself but I love your way of writing more heh.

BUT price, having a nightmare or ptsd attack at night, but not waking nik up nor does he wake up. Prob just stirred a bit. But he doesn't end up telling him, cause hes a big strong boy he doesn't want to show nik how vulnerable he really is. But nik notices how tense he is during the day, which ofc worries him. Que the emotional conversation maybe a cry and long hug :3

If you haven't written something like this anyway! Also ty for the follow made me giggle and die a bit inside from happiness <3

Thank you for this prompt and your fic is below, but! Please write. Write your heart out, bud. No one can write like you do and the world is richer for having your art in it. So please. Write this too. Even if just for yourself.

Price spent three years in a Gulag. That leaves a mark.

cw: PTSD, nightmares, mention of torture, dissociation, depersonalisation, shameless canon blending.

"Prisoner 627, confirm which names on this list are undercover operatives."

"Price, Jonathan, Captain, 9-0-5-1-2-1-0."

A rib cracked. He spat blood onto the table next to the file. The ropes around his wrists tightened.

"Prisoner 627, confirm which names on this list are undercover operatives."

"Price, Jonathan, Captain, 9-0-5-"

He bit through his bottom lip when the fist landed. Someone stepped forward to intervene. You don't break their faces because then they can't talk. Interrogation 101. He coughed. More blood, and they yanked him upright by the hair.

"Svyazat yego."

The chair clattered to the floor as he was pulled from it. The ropes cut only for his hands to be chained above his head. The same knife sliced his shirt off, the rags falling around his shoulders. Metal tools rattled to his left, the embers from the nearby fire stirred by an iron.

"Last chance, prisoner 627," his interrogator held the list of names in front of his face. He recognised five of them. He had attended the wedding of one, "confirm which names on this list are undercover operatives."

"Price, Jonathan, Cap--"

His voice broke as pain tore through his back.

Price woke tangled in damp sheets, his body paralysed. The scream couldn't even rip out of his throat because his lungs needed air to make noise. Through sheer force of will, he drew his first shuddering breath, pulling himself back from the precipice.

See: digital clock. 04:30.

Taste: dry mouth. Need a drink.

Feel: hot, no; cold... both? Damp sheets.

Hear: breathing, not mine.

Price sat up slowly, forcing movement through his limbs like he was prying them from manacles. The next breath was easier. Burned less. He dropped his face into his palm and shivered in the cold. Feel: cold, he updated on his mental map.

Breathing, not mine. Price looked over his shoulder to the sleeping face of his lover. Half nuzzled into the pillows, his black hair splashed over crisp white cotton, Nikolai was serene. A small mercy.

All the manuals would tell you about wounded soldiers waking screaming and begging in the night, perhaps wetting themselves in terror at the ghosts haunting the inside of their skull. They warned against storing weapons nearby, of sleeping in the same bed as your loved ones in case you lashed out. There was a laundry list of suggested therapies and interventions too.

Sometimes, Price wished he woke screaming, because at least then he would know he was alive. His throat and lungs would burn as he roared, his hands would flail and he would be left panting, raw, but fighting. Alive. Now, in the numb silence, he wasn't sure.

He touched his cold wrist with cold fingers and just felt... cold. Like an absence of something. Prisoner 627. No name, no identity; a nothingness stored in a castle with hundreds of other voids where people should have been. Everything human about them stolen away until just the cold and the pain remained.

Price stumbled from the bed, his legs barely working as he groped his way out of his bedroom. He had to sleep with the doors open these days, even on base. Even if it was just a crack, a sliver, he still needed to be able to lift his head and see an escape. A beyond the little box room of his quarters. Not imprisoned, not restrained.

His feet registered the change from carpet to tile as he navigated his way down the hall to his flat's little kitchenette. Lit by the full moon streaming in through the balcony door, Price managed to fill the kettle and set it to boil.

There was a small blue light inside - one of those modern glass varieties that showed all the bloody limescale on the inside - and it illuminated Price's face against the black laminate of the back splash behind the hob. Price stared at the phantom image, blue and featureless, and saw nothing of himself.

He remembered being rescued, watching the castle fall to the joint task force attacking it, but when you spent three years bleeding in a place, did all of you really ever get to leave? When they spent those three years chipping away at you, breaking parts off, what was left to bring back at all?

As he stared at the ghostly blue outline of his own face, he felt a disconnect. A hollowness where that familiarity with self should be. Lost in the cold and the dark. Prisoner 627.

The kettle clicked loudly in the silence and he startled. His heart beat hard against his rib cage, felt like a distant echo, and he drew another deep sigh. Numb fingers pawed at the cupboards and he found his Liverpool FC mug, the one his sister had got him for his birthday while he'd still been in training at Sandhurst. There was a chip missing out the rim, dark stains and scrapes in the ceramic at the bottom that would never wash out; evidence of hundreds of cups drunk, a small shard of a life lived. An anchor to himself.

As he poured the water over the tea bag and dumped four teaspoons of sugar in, Price fluttered his fingers through the steam, rubbing his thumb through the dampness it left on the tips and letting the sensation crackle through his nerves. He drew another breath and muttered, "Price, Jonathan, Captain..." Prisoner 627.

He cupped both hands around the mug and carried it slowly, stumbling, towards the balcony window. The sky wasn't quite dark anymore, but a fuzzy, ashen grey. His eyes turned east. And he waited.

Waited...

Unmoving. Frozen in place. Like the cold had taken root and turned him to stone. The only things that kept him anchored were the cooling mug of tea clasped between two hands and the yellow light bleeding over the rooftops of the Clydeside.

The sun chased the dark away across the sky, bleeding an ombre of fire into the midnight black. With the sun came the heat. He couldn't feel it though. One hand left the mug, alive with warmth, and played in the dust motes illuminated by the morning light. They whirled around his fingers in white spirals, untouchable light.

He turned the key in the balcony doors and staggered outside, thrusting his arm into the dappled orange light passing through his neighbours fluttering laundry. "Price, Jonathan, Captain, 9-0-" he leaned over, and--

"John!"

Nikolai's hand wrapped his elbow, pure, scorching heat and strength, and it knocked the breath from Price's lungs. He nearly dropped his mug, but Nik caught that too, scooping beneath it as he drew Price to him in a bear hug.

His ear fell against Nik's chest, listening to his heart thundering on the inside. Ba-dm-ba-dm. Price's hand lifted and buried itself in dark chest hair, feeling it run between his fingers, soft, warm. The sensation rolled through him, cracking away the ice, and he turned his face into it with a shivering gasp.

Alive.

I'm alive.

The mug clattered on the glass surface of the little balcony table they had smoked at only the night before, Price lost in his thoughts while Nikolai had watched him pensively from the other chair. Both big hands now free, one stroked up his back to grasp his neck, and he shuddered again.

Nik looked terrified, his usually calm eyes blown wide, glistening. "You nearly fell," Nik said, so softly, and yet so clear. So real. Price touched his lips, relaxing into his hold.

"Was fine, Nik. Just got a bit carried away with the sunrise."

Nik glanced at the rooftops, his brows knitted together. "It is... pretty, but better viewed from inside, hm?"

"Yeah, s'pretty chilly out here, ain't it?"

Nik hesitated before he let go and Price missed the warmth of his arms immediately. He followed inside, let Nik pull him onto the sofa and drag one of the big fleece blankets over them. The heat of his body as it closed around Price's burned with intensity and a stuttering gasp broke out of his throat. Nik only held him tighter.

Every moment he laid there, wrapped in the bed warm scent, a piece of Jonathan Price thawed. From the tips of his toes to the cheek pressed to Nik's chest, warmth and feeling returned, bringing with it a sense of reality and connection to the world. To himself.

"Why were you on the balcony, John?" Nik asked. Price got a sense that he was afraid of the answer, and wasn't entirely convinced he would be given the truth anyway.

"In Petrovpavlosk, my cell faced east," Price said. "Would watch the sun rise every morning. It was like... No matter what they did, no matter what they broke away, if I could feel the sun on my skin, then I was still alive. Still me. Not just a dead man walkin'."

Nik sighed, burying his face in Price's hair for a few deep breaths. "You thought you were there again?"

"Dunno if I ever really left, Nik."

They held each other in silence as the light continued to creep into the flat, illuminating the empty bottles of beer they had left on the coffee table to clear up. "I sensed these past weeks you have been struggling, I know the anniversary of your escape is soon, and I feared you were..."

"That I was gonna throw myself off an' give Beryl a fright."

"John, do not joke about these things..."

"'m sorry, I... I wasn't gonna do it, Nik. Swear to you. I..." he struggled upright a little and Nik let him go reluctantly, "I struggle in the cold. The winter is... I dunno... it's like the cold makes me think I'm still there. That I never got out. That this," he glanced around the flat, his voice cracking as he spoke, "is just some dream my mind made up to escape to. I... I didn't know whether I was real, whether I was me... or... I didn't... Nik, I didn't know whether I was even alive, I..."

Nik's fingernails raked through his beard and he leaned into it. Felt them graze gently over the soft skin beneath his ear, and then into his hairline to draw him down. He yielded to the kiss, mouth opening desperately to let Nik in; he pawed at Nik's chest, stealing stuttering gasps as their tongues worked together.

He didn't notice the tears until he pulled back and one dripped from his chin to Nik's chest. "You are here, solnyshko. Right here, with me," Nik whispered. "Captain Jonathan Price, serial number 9-0-5-1-2-1-0," Nik took the hand on his chest and placed a kiss to the knuckles, "Bravo Six, you are home."

Price crumpled into Nik's arms and his shoulders shuddered as he sobbed. No longer mute, no longer cold, no longer frozen out of his own fucking body, the raw pain of it sunk its claws in, overwhelming and savage.

Nik's hands stroked down Price's back to the burn scars at the base; an uneven, mottled pattern that stretched over his right hip. The sensation was sporadic, some sensitive, some numb, but the muscles underneath still seized with pain. Nik placed his warm palm over them, chasing away the last shadow of Petrovpavlosk hanging over him.

As the morning ticked over and the rest of the block woke up, Nik dragged Price back to the kitchen and pushed a pan into his hands. He stood behind him, huge body looming as a bulwark, chin on Price's head, hands caressing his belly and chest, as the eggs cooked.

Home, Price's mind offered weakly, battered and bruised from its fight with the cold. Home.

[grassoftunnel]

I Love You For Psychological Reasons: George and Shannon as a matching pair of gendered insecurities

let me start right off…this is NOT a shipping post (for MANY reasons..), and is not structured in any particular way its just half awake rambling but I feel like George and Shannon’s relationship is super compelling in terms of what they are looking for in each other, and how they define themselves using each other as props.

the title is from the song I Love You For Psychological Reasons by They Might Be Giants which is kind of a cute romantic song but i think can be applied to them as a sad and cynical song about their relationship. I’ve also just thrown lyrics from this song into the post not for anything deep really but bc it made me think of them. Like I said, this is just rambling but I’ve divided it roughly into 4 ways they’re similar:

1.

Hard to explain, but it's plain that I love you for psychological reasons

The root of their decisions to pursue each other have nothing to do initially with an actual interest in the other on their own merits. For George, he was driven by wanting to make Shannon turn away from Battler and look at him that way instead, and for Shannon, george was her way to settle/move on from the heartbreak of Battler.

2.

Lately, I've taken to vacantly making repetitive movements. Mistakenly seen as improvements

They are both deeply insecure about their abilities to fulfil certain gendered expectations, and both seeing each other as pathways to successfully performing those gendered expectations. For George, he was bullied so much and unable to be “strong” and “assertive” or even defend himself, and feels like he’s not a real man because of it. For Shannon, she has her hangups about her androgynous appearance first, and then her intersex body later. See also, their awkward, and at times uncomfortable/forced miming of their ideas of how a man and a woman in a relationship “ought” to act. For George, this can sometimes veer into really uncomfortable ordering around of Shannon…and as for Shannon herself…she learns to react in specific ways to his artificial negging. Both are trying to follow the “script” for how George thinks these types of couple interactions should go/what he thinks Shannon wants based on his distorted perceptions of her past relationship with Battler.

They are both also well aware of the inexperience of the other in relationship matters, so they are able to kind of do a training-wheels version of an actual relationship (most notable with George, but for Shannon like as much as she eventually slowly grows to like George…kind of…any boy who was nice/showed interest would have done the job).

Nearing perfection but wisely electing To shun my reflection, preferring instead shoe inspection

Even then, they’re both twice shy due to their own neuroses so their relationship kind of stalls until George resolves to marry her.

3.

They are also both desperately wanting to leave their old/current self behind, in favour of remaking themselves in order to reach a certain type of future, even at great personal cost. For George, this is his desire to go all out in marrying Shannon, even to the point of throwing away his family if he needs to.

Under the table, unwilling, unable, the torture's medieval The dream is a fable with feeble wings

For Shannon this is her murder-suicide bomb plot deathwish that will wipe away all traces of the truth of her cage of flesh (of the body which makes her “unable to love” in a physical sense..and also a genetic one..since it taints the romantic relationships that were so important for her with incest) ,and make real the possibility of her relationship with George being a True, Uncomplicated Love. They differ greatly though in what this commitment to this relationship means emotionally….for George it’s triumphant but for Shannon, while also triumphant in a way…it’s a bittersweet death march.

Why does the mouse share the house with the louse? They won't say, but they feel their feelings

It’s also worth noting that both of them see the other as “above” themself, and as attaching themself onto someone better in order to improve themself (regardless of whatever the actual reality of their class and age difference is…)

4.

I'm ashamed to admit I'm afraid of assuming the blame For my lame abnegation of braveness and fame Brain in a jar in a car in reverse, I'm rehearsing the way I'll replay how to say how to be where you are

In pursuing this relationship, they both want to prove to themselves that they are capable of achieving these things that they’ve wanted for so long (performing their gender, remaking themselves). They are both constantly trying to plot out their future and like do a “good job” of hitting milestones in their relationship rather than being carried naturally from one stage to another.

Anyway I have no way to wrap this up lmfaoo this is just my loose thoughts! These two are really interesting! Their weird falsely-mutualistic relationship where theyre simultaneously both getting something but also not really getting something of actual substance since its all performance. The selves they present to each other within the context of the relationship are curated specifically to exist in the relationship. And of course this relationship “succeeding” crystallises Sayo’s resolve to undertake the murder suicide…the win condition for both of them is so drastically different haha…

[alexging]

dating sean diaz hcs pt. 1

- the kind to get mad when he’s embarrassed. like, for example, if he were trying to show off some skate trick he learned and kept messing up to you, he would lwk start tweaking and hit his board on the floor rlly hard 😭 but he wld realize how even more embarrassing that was and apologize awkwardly

- he does the same whenever u guys play games together and daniel ends up joining. daniel is scarily good at bedwars and it makes sean rage lowkey 😭

- daniel and u end up bursting out in laughing fits whenever u guys spawn kill him n sean always goes “what? what’s so funny?!” but then ends up laughing with u guys

- if ure both poc, i imagine u guys exchange the corny dramatic shows from ur home countries w/ each other

- sean shows u the corny telenovelas his dad watches sometimes and u guys always make fun of the unnecessary dramatic scenes

- about twenty minutes in sean always stares at the screen not blinking w/ his jaw hung open though 😭

- both of u end up like that and once the credits roll u say “that sucked ass” in unison

- sean loves small, barely noticeable skin ship in front of other people

- hand holding under the table, arm draped on ur shoulder, quick embraces, and honestly just sitting side by side together is enough for him

- he gets embarrassed if its anything more than that but he has a stupid grin he has to hide on his face after

- if u guys ride the school bus together i can imagine sean sitting behind u and always stands halfway up to look at whatever ure doing 😭 kind of an ick but u cant see his bottom half so its okay <3

- sean hates house parties but somehow always gets dragged one way or another (usually bc of lyla)

- his only requirement is that if he goes, u have to come with him

- back to the shy on physical contact thing, he DOES NOTTT play when hes jealous

- hes not some macho alpha dude but hell def tell guys to back off once they get too close

- grips ur hand extra tight the rest of the night after 😭

- sean always ends up dragging u into some room w no one in it

- both of yall r nosy n lowkey be looking through the party hosts stuff

- pro mma play fighters

- sean obviously has training w daniel and it ends up integrating into when u guys fight

- u guys try to be a cute couple and have little pillow fights but both of u guys end up taking that shit sooo serious

- u guys start dragging each other on the floor and body slamming each other 😭😭

- daniel thinks its sooo funny and tries to referee

- u guys ignore him n go crazy stupid 😭😭

- “STOP!! STOP!! TIMEOUT” is a recurring phrase in ur relationship just bc u guys always escalate off each other

- both of yall ugly laugh sm u have to stop before u puke n then a couple seconds later u burst out laughing again

tbh i have no clue if ive read some of these and subconsciously wrote them down here so sorry if this is similar to a lot of others ones 🙏

[the-quackity-competition]

We all know Quackity, fattest ass in the cabinet, quadruple engagey, and “Are we in character? I’m in love with Wilbur” HQ

So, how about we hold a little friendly competition between the different ships in the dsmp fandom?

Aim of the game is to get your ship the most points, through creating content for that ship. Here’s the spreadsheet to track points.

Rules:

Creations may come in the form of art or writing, each of which is worth 1 point

People are allowed to submit more than one piece, actually it’s encouraged :3

The ship must be tagged

You must @ this blog

If you’re being genuinely mean you are getting blocked and anything you make will not count, Ls to all assholes

There is no sign up, just @ this blog and have fun!

Q&A

How long will this event last?

All of September

What if I want to do multiple ships in the same piece?

Be sure to tag all the ships and they’ll count as a point to each ship! (So the Karlnapity shippers don’t lose only bc of half points)

Does the ship have to be canon? Only dsmp?

Nahhhhh have fun do whatever you want. If you do Foolish x Quackity or Roier x Quackity, for example, they’d get their own rows and get a point

What about comics? Poems?

For the sake of my sanity, a comic only counts as 1 piece, even if it has 100 panels. Same for a collection of poems.

How will we know points?

I’ll have a little spreadsheet you’ll be able to see here in the pinned post

What about nsfw stuff?

it’s allowed as long as it’s tagged with community labels or #nsft, if you don’t tag it you are getting blocked

My friend really likes this Quackity ship. Can I give them this as a gift and also have it counted for a point?

Yes! But do not mix giving events together with this competition, to make it easier on me. I do not know if the event organizer of whatever your event you’re doing is comfortable with that, so best not to do it at all. You can still participate in other events, obviously, but please do not tag me to get it counted when it’s for a different event

Are sketches half points?

nope, every drawing is one full point! No matter how detailed or how simple. This keeps the competition a little more silly goofy, like I’d like it to stay. This is very much intended for fun, not a serious competition

You’re welcome to send asks to ask more questions!

[dykesynthezoid]

I say this with 100% awareness that sometimes fandom likes to run with things based off of minimal subtext but I rlly truly don’t get. The majority of the arguments for why we wouldn’t get devil’s minion in the past? Lmao

Like the one (1) reason I can actually see us not getting it is just there not being enough screentime to go around. That’s not unthinkable to me at all; there’s a lot to potentially cover next season. But like, I literally can’t think of any other good reason for them to not do it.

And I think it’s worth saying that I wouldn’t be doing this kind of theorizing with any other show. It’s specifically bc this show likes to drop easter eggs and clues, likes to sew in little details, and also is not afraid of going all out, that I feel like I can take the things I pick up on seriously. Cause yeah, if this were another show, it might genuinely mean nothing, bc a lot of other shows just aren’t written with that enthusiasm or attention to detail or courage to Go Places.

And I also think it should be noted that like. While the show is certainly plenty different from the book(s), their modus operandi when it comes to adaptation is much more to add than to take away. They added old Daniel, added Loumand still being together, added a shit ton of extra small bits to Claudia’s arc. Their method of adaptation is not one of subtraction. They’re not taking away whole character beats and plot events. They’re adding, adding new situations, new settings, new contexts.

And that “adding” extends to character relationships as well. They built that danlou best friends/sexual tension out of the almost-nothing in the source material. Armand and Santiago (apparently) slept together. They’re not taking away interesting side dynamics that existed in the books, they’re literally adding more.

Like why wouldn’t they add past devils minion?? It only makes Armand and Daniel’s present relationship that much more complicated and insane, which is the exact thing this show loves to do.

Not to mention DM is only one chapter, by which I mean; if the argument against past devils minion is just screentime, like I personally think it is, we should also remember that. It’s only one chapter. It’s not that much additional material. And about a fourth of it is Daniel’s turning and the lead up to that, which we know would instead be in the modern day, not in flashback; and another several pages are Armand keeping Daniel trapped in a cellar, which 2x05 has already done. So like. It’s not that much material they’d have to cover to do past devils minion. Like, half an episode altogether at most, frankly, and they could easily spread that all out as they pleased. And this is after season 2 spent an entire episode just on the events during and immediately post 1973 interview. Which they did not have to do. It was a choice to add that material.

Idk sometimes ppl act like it’s soooo crazy for people to be theorizing DM happened in the past and I’m like I literally don’t think it is? And trust me I get that sometimes people get shipping goggles on, and it’s annoying when people make everything about a ship, etc, (but also that’s literally just how fandom is in general? idk what you expect), but. Idk man it doesn’t seem that wild to me in comparison to some of the places the show has been willing to go? And meanwhile like half of you keep insisting Raglan James is Marius. Some of you even thought Sam might be Santino. Theorizing about past DM does not seem that weird to me. Like I am literally just watching the show and Noticing Details and coming up with a possible outcome. It’s whatever

[instantpansies]

top sfth couples/ships bc it's 2:49am and im thinking about them again

oopsie daisies (marianne and jacques, oopsie daisy bulge). idk if anyone else calls them that but they're my oopsie daisies and i love them so much. if oopsie daisies have 100 fans im one of them if oopsie daisies have 1 fan it's me if oopsie daisies have 0 fans im dead. they make me ill. handsome butch mayor and her pretty scientist husband.....they love their town and their kraken and ethically dubious transhumanism!!!!! and i am patting them both on the head and tucking them in. i am making this post so i can ramble about them but it felt weird to just do that so i made it a list. they're childhood friends to lovers, marianne definitely got all embarrassed giving jacques flowers after school, they prob graduated and were friends for a while and then decided "wait duh of course we're gonna get married" so they dated for a while and then marianne ran for mayor so they waited on the wedding until after she won and then they honeymooned the next town over bc they couldn't bear to stay away from le bulge for more than two weeks and they bicker and marianne brags about being the mayor and pretends to know what jacques is talking about when he's explaining his genetics work. and they're always working together bc jacques' tech is their main line of defense and she sits on his lap during briefings and all 12 of the other residents are a little annoyed when they enter a room both bc marianne is kind of bossy and needs total focus when she's addressing a room and bc jacques is just staring at her and zoning out and thinking about cell division the whole time. and jacques probably only sustained mild injuries from that gunshot wound so he's fine. he's fine and he definitely didn't die. because that would be silly and pointless. but marianne THINKS he's dead or dying so she harnesses her grief and rage to literally snap the neck of the king of england and tbh i think that's very sexy of her. what am i talking about again

pergephone (persephone and geoff, wild wet and worrisome). i love their dynamic so much, the pining is both silly and very earnest, and i have a bunch of headcanons about what happens when geoff leaves but feels like there's something missing....i like them very much. especially if persephone has some monstrous stuff going on, like huge sea beast or fanged and clawed siren. that's the shit.

ditch (derek and titch, the unrelenting aubergine). derek i love you so much, never stop being yourself. it's requited unrequited, it's got drama and pacing, it's sweet and hits home. what more could u want (except maybe a half mime half giant octopus)? they're the most popular ship in this fandom for a reason. and i concur. titch struggling with his feelings, derek setting boundaries and giving titch time to work out his shit on his own, margaery doing her best to sort out their drama. wonderful