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fafnir19 · 8 months ago

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Sailing the other way

Lauritz' sister's fiance Samuel and him were very different. Samuel, the suave and sophisticated heir to a wealthy family, always seemed to have the world at his fingertips.

Lauritz, on the other hand, was a rebellious and free-spirited punker who didn't quite fit in with the conventional lifestyle his family wanted for him.

Despite their differences, Samuel and Lauritz got along surprisingly well. Their interactions were a peculiar blend of class and nonconformity that created a magnetic dynamic between them. It was on the cusp of Samuel's impending wedding that an unconventional idea began to take shape.

"Ey, Sam, let's do something wild before your wedding, mate," Lauritz proposed with a glint of mischief in his eyes. Samuel raised an eyebrow, unsure of what adventure Lauritz had in mind this time. "What did you have in mind, Lauritz? Last time your 'wild' idea led to us spending a night in a police cell in Amsterdam." Lauritz replied: “Vegas would be cool, but at the end of the day it’s your bachelor party. I'll do whatever you want!" Flashing a boyish grin, Samuel draped an arm around Lauritz's shoulders. "I want to take our boat out and sail across the Baltic Sea. It'll be an epic journey filled with freedom and salt-kissed air. You in?" Lauritz, with his unconventional mohawk and punk attire, looked askance at Samuel. "Sailing? That's a bit, you know, bourgeois for my taste," he quipped, adjusting the studded leather jacket slung over his shoulder. Smirking, Samuel continued, "Nonsense! It's summer, and what better way to enjoy some fresh sea air? Besides, it’ll be an adventure, and it'll please the in-laws to see you refining your tastes." Lauritz's parents, along with Samuel's family, were indeed relieved by the prospect. "Better than if you were hanging out with those punkers," his mother had remarked with a grateful smile. With their bags packed and spirits high, Samuel and Lauritz boarded Samuel's family's mahogany sailboat bound for Helsinki.

The sun's golden gaze kissed the cerulean waves, casting a mesmerizing glow upon the Baltic Sea. "Ah, this is the life, isn't it?" Samuel exclaimed, his gaze sweeping over the glittering expanse of the sea. Lauritz nodded, a wry smile playing on his lips. "It's not as terrible as I imagined. But still, wouldn't you rather be planning your wedding festivities than gallivanting with me?" Samuel chuckled, adjusting his nautical cap. "Oh, come now, my dear Lauritz. We have the rest of our lives for all that. Let's revel in the freedom while we can. Besides, you're not so bad to have around, even for a punker." Lauritz feigned offense, his blue eyes twinkling mischievously. "You wound me with your words, Samuel," he teased. As the ship cuts through the gentle waves, Samuel took Lauritz under his wing, teaching him the art of sailing. Despite his initial skepticism, Lauritz found himself unexpectedly enjoying the experience, reveling in the salty breeze and the rhythmic lull of the waves against the hull. Their journey led them to the enchanting city of St. Petersburg, where the juxtaposition of baroque architecture and Soviet-era relics offered a feast for the eyes.

As they wandered through the labyrinthine streets, the allure of the city enticed Lauritz to explore the more unconventional facets. "I've been thinking," Lauritz began, his voice laced with determination. "I want an eyelet in my ear, like the punks back home. It's about time I made my mark, don't you think?" he declared, pointing to a trendy piercing found amongst the punk subculture.

Samuel's face turned a shade of pale as he frantically tried to dissuade him, envisioning the cocktail of disapproving glares from his in-laws. "Lauritz, you can't just waltz back to the family estate with a hole in your ear. What would my in-laws think? Besides, piercings can lead to infections. How about something more inconspicuous? Like a nipple piercing?" Lauritz let out a laugh, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Oh, Samuel, always thinking about appearances. But where's the fun in that? I want something that screams independence! Something bold." Their banter was interrupted by a raspy cackle that seemed to echo through the narrow alley they were passing. They turned to see an old woman, draped in shawls and adorned with clinking trinkets. Her eyes glittered with an unsettling intensity as she fixed her gaze on the two friends. "You just have to hold him tight, then we'll circumcise him and I'll make a silver ring out of his foreskin," the old woman mused, her eyes glinting with whimsical certainty. "All you have to do is put this ring on your penis and Lauritz will visually adapt to your taste as long as you wear the ring." Samuel gasped, his mind reeling from the outlandish suggestion. But to his surprise, Lauritz entertained the idea, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "We'll do that, Samuel," Lauritz proclaimed, casting a challenging grin. "After all, you wanted me to do something inconspicuous. What's more inconspicuous than a circumcision?" Despite Samuel's vehement protests, Lauritz remained resolute, and before long, the old woman performed the peculiar ritual, and to their astonishment, the excised foreskin transformed into a shimmering silver ring, which she bestowed upon Lauritz.

Back on the sailboat, Lauritz couldn't contain his mischievous glee as he gazed at the ring. "Now, it's your turn, Samuel. Put the ring over your... You-know-what," he demanded with a sly smirk. Reluctantly, Samuel acquiesced, only to find that, to his bewilderment, nothing seemed to happen.

As the mahogany sailboat gently cut through the azure waves, Samuel and Lauritz lounged on the deck, basking in the warm embrace of the sun. The sea stretched out around them, a shimmering expanse as far as the eye could see, carrying them toward the next port of their Baltic odyssey, the enchanting city of Tallinn. Lauritz sprawled out on the deck, his eyes half-lidded and gazing at the sprawling cityscape of Tallinn ahead, the gentle sea breeze ruffling his hair. Lauritz raised a hand to his shock of green mohawk, only to find something unexpected. Instead of the vibrant strands he had known for years, his fingertips grazed a neat, blonde faded cut with shaved sides.

He let out a surprised chuckle, turning to Samuel with an air of amusement. "Samuel, can you believe it? The old woman's prediction must have come true!" Lauritz proclaimed, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. "This silver ring has really worked its magic. Look at this hair!" Samuel's eyes widened, examining Lauritz's transformed hairstyle with disbelief. "But I saw your green hair this morning. You must have cut it just to fool me," Samuel elucidated, struggling to reconcile the inexplicable transformation before his eyes.

Their banter was interrupted by the sight of Tallinn's spires unfolding on the horizon, a tapestry of architectural marvels rising from the coastline. The allure of the city's winding streets beckoned them, and they eagerly embraced the promise of new adventures. In the heart of Tallinn, the cobblestone streets echoed with the lilt of their footsteps as they wandered through the centuries-old alleys adorned with vibrant blooms. They eventually settled into a quaint street café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the gentle breeze. Lauritz, donning a sailing jacket, leaned back against his chair, relishing the warmth of the sun's embrace. With a casual air, he began unbuttoning his jacket, revealing the absence of his usual body hair, a curious discovery that piqued Samuel's interest.

"Lauritz, your... your hair! It's gone," Samuel exclaimed, his eyes widening in incredulity. Lauritz chuckled, his voice laced with a roguish charm. "The magic strikes again, my friend. Behold the power of belief and a touch of enchantment." Samuel watched in awe as the revelation unfolded before him, unable to completely dismiss the inexplicable occurrences that seemed to dance around Lauritz like a whimsical symphony. "You must've shaved this morning to jest with me," Samuel suggested, his tone tinged with skepticism. "This can't be real." "Ah, always the skeptic," Lauritz teased. "But I assure you, this is the handiwork of the ring. It's brought a dash of transformation to my life, hasn't it?"

As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting hues of amethyst across the sky, they sailed toward Stockholm. The promise of new adventures and unexpected marvels beckoned them as they set sail toward the Swedish capital. The following morning, Lauritz awoke to the gentle lull of the ship, the rays of the rising sun casting a golden glow upon the skyline.

As he prepared for the day's exploration, his reflection in the mirror above the sink evoked a bout of bewilderment. His eccentric punk ensemble had been replaced by an impeccably tailored ensemble—an unbuttoned shirt and sleek olive-colored pants that exuded an air of refinement and sophistication.

"What in the world?" Lauritz muttered, his eyes widening in sheer disbelief. "Samuel, you won't believe this!" Samuel emerged from the cabin, his eyes immediately falling upon Lauritz's stupefying transformation.

"Samuel, it's happened again! This silver ring is truly astounding," Lauritz exclaimed, his spirit alight with unadulterated glee. "Look at these clothes! I didn't expect the magic to work on my outfit too!" Samuel's incredulity was palpable as he regarded the sight before him. "Lauritz, you must have changed into this outfit while I wasn't looking," Samuel reasoned, his tone laced with skepticism. "It's impossible for a ring to cause all this. Whatsoever, I still think it’s good that you dressed more refined today. After all, we want to have breakfast today at the Grand Hotel, where the Nobel Peace Prizes are usually awarded.”

The mahogany sailboat bobbed gently as it sliced through Stockholm's sun-kissed archipelago en route to Visby on Gotland. Samuel manned the helm, while Lauritz was standing at the bow, his gaze trailing horizon. Suddenly Lauritz went through another unexpected transformation. Lauritz's black jeans and baggy T-shirt shifted seamlessly into a wide-open shirt and tight red shorts, his physique now exuding an athleticism that caught Samuel off guard.

Samuel's breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening in disbelief as he beheld the improbable evolution unfurling before him. "Lauritz, what... what in the world is happening? This—this isn't right," Samuel stammered, his voice trembling with an amalgamation of astonishment and concern. "I... I need to put a stop to this. I need to get rid of that ring." Lauritz, amusement dancing in his gaze, placed a supportive hand on Samuel's shoulder. "Come on, Samuel, don't be so quick to stifle the mystery. Embrace the uncertainty," he encouraged, a playful glint in his eyes. "Let's see what more this whimsical journey has in store for us."

As the sailboat glided toward the shores of Gotland, the island exuded an alluring mystique, its ancient ruins and labyrinthine streets promising an adventure both whimsical and enigmatic. Their footsteps echoed through the quaint streets of Visby, framed by structures that stood as timeless testaments to ancient grandeur. The island cast its spell upon them, ensnaring their senses with the echoes of bygone eras and the whimsy of forgotten legends. As they ambled through the cobbled pathways, Lauritz noticed a peculiar shift in the way the islanders regarded him. Warm smiles and nods of acknowledgment replaced the guarded glances that typically followed his punk façade.

"Lauritz, did you notice that?" Samuel inquired, his tone laced with a tinge of wonder. Lauritz nodded, a spark of amazement gleaming in his gaze. "It seems the residents of Visby have taken a shining to me, haven't they? The magic of the ring... it's a wonder indeed." The day waned into a resplendent evening, the sun casting its golden embrace upon the island as a symphony of stars unfurled across the heavens. Samuel and Lauritz reveled in the evening's enchanting tapestry, their thoughts drifting toward the next leg of their Baltic odyssey

The melding of disbelief and marvel lingered in the air, enveloping them in a veil of intrigue, as they embarked on their final leg of the journey toward Copenhagen. Clad in polished tuxedos, they reveled in opulent indulgence. Since Samuel had studied in Copenhagen, he knew how to gain access to the most exclusive establishments with a practiced ease.

Amidst the effervescent allure of the Danish capital, the two friends embraced the revelry of their adventure indulging in the opulence that enveloped them. Their boisterous laughter and animated conversations resounded through the hallowed halls of the city's elite establishments, the allure of upscale soirées and lavish gatherings capturing their spirits in a whirlwind of decadence. "Ah, Copenhagen has a certain allure, doesn't it?" Samuel remarked, a smirk playing on his lips as they strolled through the city's resplendent evening. Lauritz nodded, the vibrant tapestry of revelry and sophistication intoxicating his senses. "It seems your world has its own brand of enchantment, Samuel. I can't deny its appeal."

Samuel watched with an inexplicable mix of astonishment and fascination as the vivacious Lauritz seamlessly embraced the lavish lifestyle that had once appeared incompatible with his punk ethos.

The morning of their departure from Copenhagen arrived, and the sailboat set sail once more, carrying them toward Helsingborg where Samuel will marry Lauritz’ sister. As the sailboat rocked gently over the calm water, Samuel brought up the topic that had been bothering him. “Lauritz, I think it’s time to take the ring off. After all, your sister expects you to look like a punk – even though I prefer your current, charming look,” Samuel announced with solemn weight in his words. Venturing into the cabin, Samuel endeavored to remove the ring, only to be met with an unforeseen predicament.

His fervent words reverberated with unrestrained urgency, "Lauritz, I can't... It won't... It's... I can't remove it! Lauritz, I can't seem to get it off," he called out in distress, his voice wrought with urgency. "It's stuck, and I don't know what to do." Lauritz sprang into action, his touch eliciting a peculiar sensation in Samuel, who found himself thrown off balance by an unexpected surge of arousal - Samuel sported a boner. Before their bewildered eyes, Lauritz's demeanor underwent a subtle shift, his gaze now infused with an alluring allure that took Samuel by surprise. As the unexpected surge of desire enveloped them, Lauritz dropped his shorts, parting his legs with a provocative air.

"Take this opportunity, Samuel. Let's embrace the unexpected," Lauritz uttered with a newfound confidence, the air thick with unspoken desires that coursed between them. Samuel was drawn by the sight and couldn't resist and took the opportunity to penetrate Lauritz. After they made love Lauritz turned to Samuel, a solemn glimmer in his eyes, and whispered, "Samuel, I... I want to stay like this. I don’t want to become a sleazy punker again." Samuel’s breath caught in his throat, his gaze locked with Lauritz's. "What are you saying, Lauritz?" In an unexpected twist of fate, the ring tightened around Samuel's cock, seamlessly merging with his flesh. As the transformation took hold, a sense of undeniable euphoria washed over him. Gazing at Lauritz, a knowing smile curled Samuel's lips. "Tomorrow, I will marry my dream girl. And as her dowry, I received her brother to have fun with. I couldn't be happier." Lauritz chuckled and teased, "I guess even a trip to Las Vegas couldn't have been wilder. Seems like your gay sailing trip turned us both bi.”

The following day, as Samuel stood at the altar, he exchanged vows with his beloved, the echoes of a union hitherto unforeseen threading through the tender fabric of his heart.

And in Lauritz, he found a cherished confidant—a companion bound by the threads of an unexpected journey that would endure far beyond the veil of tradition. As the evening unfurled in all its opulent splendor, Samuel orchestrated a future endowed with an unforeseen serenity. With unwavering determination, he ensured that Lauritz was granted a place at an elite university and provided the resources necessary to flourish—a life enraptured by boundless opportunity.

In the wake of unforeseen revelations, Lauritz embraced the life of a typical, self-assured scion, reveling in the embrace of newfound passions and embarking on an uncharted journey tinged with the allure of possibility.

#male tf #male transformation #personality change #mystery #straight to bi #sailing tf #magic ring #punk to prep

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spaceorphan18 · 2 months ago

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The Lady Whistledown Papers : 1x07 Oceans Apart (Part 1)

Welcome back, Gentle Readers, to The Lady Whistledown Papers, where I’m taking an in-depth look at Penelope Featherington and Colin Bridgerton’s character arcs and romance within the show Bridgerton!

For previous issues, follow tag : The Lady Whistledown Papers

Ooff, sorry for the delay! Life has been busy. But this project isn't going anywhere ;)

Oh, The Angst

For anyone thinking that Colin sulking at the end of Season 3 was out of nowhere.... it was not. This boy lives in his feelings, and according to the Whistledown narration -- it's been days since the reveal. And he's still in bed, feeling angsty and distraught over the whole thing.

The thing is -- at this point, Colin's wallowing isn't just about his own feelings. He's hurt by the scandal of it all, but it's more that he gets to play out the tragic romantic lover aspect of stories -- torn away from his love, talked bout on the streets, his family embarrassed, Marina's reputation in shambles. But his heart hasn't truly been broken... yet.

He's going to be in denial, for a bit, that his love wasn't reciprocated in the same way.

Well, Colin does manage to get himself up at some point, and dressed again, solidly, in his Bridgerton blues.

It's family meeting time, and Colin is still very upset and angry, but I want to watch his anger in the series, because it manifests differently than, say, Anthony or Simon or even Benedict (have we seen Benedict angry? I can't remember). His anger mixes with sadness and emotion, and it's very internal. He doesn't really lash out, but keeps it very much inside himself until he's ready to burst. And in this scene, it's a lot of words in fast sentences as every time he speaks it's like a release of more emotion.

First of all, notably, he thinks Whistledown is lying. The look on Violet's face when he says this is like, oh bb, no. Anthony is, fascinatingly, pretty calm and collected (for him) and reminds Colin of the social order they must maintain. The baby isn't linked to him -- but it will be if he sees Marina, and right now the Featheringtons are baring the brunt of the scandal. The Bridgertons can weather the storm if they just stay out of it.

Daphne arrives -- which has real Main Character can solve everything energy, and the presence of a Duke and Duchess back in Mayfair will deter people from talking? I don't really claim to know how society during this era worked. I can't even claim I understand it now. :P

But the point is, the Bridgertons are pushing all in on the 'let's give them something else to talk about' method of ignoring scandal. If they brush it off as nothing, it'll be seen as nothing.

I want to point out that -- Daphne is going through her own issues, and is visibly upset about her own life and struggles that it comes out, slightly, as she talks. And the only one who seems to pick up on that is Colin, who is remarkably empathetic when it comes to other people's emotions.

But he is still in his own whirlwind of feelings. Violet, Anthony, Daphne (and even Benedict who's hanging around) have all decided the course without letting Colin have much say in it. And he calls them out on it as he storms out of the room (...and scene).

Now granted, they are the adults here, and Colin is still acting like a pouting child in some regards. But his feelings do matter, and with everyone so caught up in how to do damage control (while Daphne is in her own misery) none of them are catering to how he's feeling about it. Which doesn't help when it comes to him feeling alone about these things.

Colin and Daphne

The very next beat, however, is Daphne going to check on him.

And before I get into the scene - I want to check out the room. I assume this is Colin's room? I think that's a bed on the right? I like the sailboat painting over the fireplace. And the little desk. I wish we could see more of it -- I love set design and the details they place in it. His room is also going to be really different in Season 3, so it's interesting to see what they do with it here.

OOHH but -- there are seashells on his desk and there will be seashells decorating his Season 3 home with Pen! I also really want to know who/what that winged statue on his desk is supposed to be representing. Some Greek mythological character, I'm sure, but I don't know which one! (I really hope it's Eros (Cupid) that would so be perfect.)

Anyway... Daphne comes in having real big sister energy even if she's the younger one. She recognizes that Colin had true intentions when he wanted to marry Marina, but points out that she was really a stranger to him. (And I love the shout out that Whistledown knew Marina better, which is a fascinating little side thought -- how has no one questioned, really, how LW knew about Marina in the first place.)

Daphne throws at him that it is better that he knows the truth now instead of after he was married. (She is referring to herself as well as Colin.) And he has an interesting little moment of getting defensive in his physicality, only to relent and be open with Daphne. Admitting that his feelings of lust love have made him a little crazy, that he's not really wanting to listen to logic or reason, that he just wants to be with her, near her, consumed by her.

For better or worse, Colin is someone who will drown himself in his own emotions, and therefore drown himself in his ideas of his partner(s). He put Marina on a pedestal - idealizing and romanticizing a life with her. But Daphne is right, he doesn't really know her (and therefore loves the idea of her more than actually her).

(As an aside, he's going to do this with Pen, too, but that situation is, actually, way more complicated...)

Meanwhile, as much as Colin is awash in feelings, he doesn't miss that Daphne is upset about her own situation and is clocking her, even if they're talking about him.

Time to talk about Greek Myth!! (And I mean, how much do I love talking about Greek Myth and Fairy Tales in relation to Polin-ish things? A lot...I love that it's a thing that keeps coming up in their story.)

So.. for those of you who don't know, Colin references the story of Leander and Hero. Leander sees Hero (and her light) in a tower across the strait, and during the summer months, begins to swim across in order to be with her. (He also, btw, soft charms her into sleeping with him.) However, when winter came, and the water became dangerous, and despite the fact that he probably shouldn't have (because he had love madness) he still tried to swim the strait, he ended up getting lost and drown. (Hero, btw, threw herself out of her tower and died, too.)

And it doesn't surprise me that Colin continues to see himself as the tortured romantic hero, who will attempt to overcome any obstacle to be with his beloved. And his insinuation is that he'll do anything he can to be at Marina's side because his love is so strong.

But, as Daphne is quick to point out, the myth he recounts is, much like Romeo and Juliet, a tragedy. Leander was kind of dumb, and his foolish lovestick actions got he and his lover killed.

Colin, in his naivete, keeps relating himself to these tragic figures, because he's feels he can relate to them, in that the world is pulling these tragic lovers apart. But that's the thing - these stories - Leander and Hero, Romeo and Juliet, they not really love stories. They're cautionary tales; warnings that when you jump in heart first, leaving your head behind, bad things are going to happen.

It's good that Colin is going through this. It's good that Marina is knocked off the pedestal she's been placed on. (It'll be good that Pen will get knocked down, too, actually.) Because it'll force Colin to grow and mature and ground his feelings of love into something more real, more sustainable, and ultimately, more rewarding.

Colin's empathetic nature takes over, however (or, you know, we have limited time so we must get back to the main plot) and he calls Daphne out on her sour attitude. Did something happen with Simon? What's going on with you? Even despite his own turmoil, he still cares about his sibling(s).

Daphne doesn't want to deal with her shit at the moment, however, and instead offers to further the plot by arranging a meeting between Colin and Marina. And of course, Colin is excited by this -- claiming that she'll see that Marina has been just as wronged, and that their love is one for the ages.

Spoiler alert - it is not, and Colin's going to really get his heartbroken... But I'll get into that next time ;)

#bridgerton #polin #colin bridgerton #polination #the lady whistledown papers

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alex51324 · 2 months ago

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I went to the lake today

Sometimes in Pennsylvania in autumn we get these almost obnoxiously perfect days, where the sky is so blue and the clouds are so fluffy it doesn't look real.

Here, look at this shit:

Does that look like it should be happening in real life, 20 minutes from my house? It does not. And I took this picture with my $15 phone; it was even better than that in person.

Here's another one:

There in the distance, that is an actual motherfucking teeny-tiny sailboat, with the two triangular sails like you drew with your crayons when you were six. What was the Platonic Ideal of Sailboat doing on a dinky little lake in Pennsylvania? I have no idea, but it was there!

Here's a normal looking picture that looks like it could take place in the real world:

But do you see that bird right in front of my boat? That is a Great Blue Heron, and it flew right between my boat and somebody else's, and then landed there and just hung out in plain view, sticking its neck out for fish and shit, like this is a goddamn Disney movie.

Look at those fake-looking fluffy clouds, casting shadows over the forested hillsides! And that house with the honest-to-fuck white picket fence. Somebody lives there!

Look, you can take this little tunnel into a secret cove. Full of turtles. I mean, goddamn it.

Here's the sailboat again! Look at those ripply little waves!

Christ, what a time to be alive.

#lake #sailboat #boats #kayaking #clouds #sky

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twothpaste · 4 months ago

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m3 post-canon worldbuilding thoughts

🌏🐉🌞👷👇

🐲 the dark dragon is a real flesh and blood island-sized beast, but also a symbolic embodiment of the earth's love. she cherishes all living things, including humanity. she wept in her sleep when humans destroyed the world. once awakened, she circles the globe, slowly bleeding love and life and magic back into the soil.

🌱 the dark dragon's powers were overstated. though the message of sheer hope saving the earth works beautifully in the context of a video game ending - if we're breakin into post-canon fanworks, "magic will instantly solve the climate crisis & systemic political rot & grant us a clean slate" doesn't cut it for me. though the dragon grants them a second chance, humanity's still gotta spend the next several generations helping her restore the world. planting seeds, rebuilding from the wreckage of old cities, inventing sustainable tech and systems of self-governance, the whole nine yards.

🌊 when she came outta the ground, the dragon broke nowhere into pieces. it's now a sprawling archipelago of at least 100 islands. a lot of familiar locations remain mostly intact, but some places close to the needles (like osohe castle and the chimera lab) have been submerged and destroyed. much of the first few years postgame are spent mapping out the new landscape, and discovering new ways to navigate it. (kinda like how coming out of a traumatic living situation & grappling with ptsd involves re-contextualizing old memories & spaces, learning to navigate the world all over again, etc 🥲)

🏠 tazmily's got a big cliffside carved down the middle of town square, and a few broken chunks severed off, with steep ocean drops between 'em. the community comes together to restore their town with a web of stairways and bridges. though it looks like a shabby disaster zone at first, it takes on a charming and well-loved vibe over the years. maybe one day i'll find the time to sketch some scenes.

🚣‍♀️ the best way to get around the new nowhere is by boat. kayaks, canoes, and sailboats become quite popular. incidentally, most tazmilians had experience with ship-building & seafaring (that's naturally how they made it to nowhere on a big white ship). they'd locked this knowledge away with their memories, fearing what'd happen if they took to the sea again and discovered their dark history. as they gradually regain their traumatic memories, they also regain their capacity to engage with the present world.

🫠 without porky's influence, the folks he brought to nowhere are also slowly regaining memories & coming to their senses. these people find themselves stranded in a distant future, utterly misled, with no hope of returning home. most of 'em settle initially into tazmily, helping the villagers rebuild the only settlement left on planet fucking earth, whether out of the goodness of their hearts or sheer need to survive. it's an awkward adjustment. most everyone understands the state of mutual dependence they're all stuck in, and some folks (perhaps inspired by lucas) offer tremendous kindness to strangers. but others are reluctant to trust ex-pigmasks, and vice versa. others still lash out or self-isolate in vain frustration at the hopelessness of their situation, separated irrevocably from their homes and families. it takes several years for the last humans alive to really come to terms, and truly come together.

🐽 there's a splinter branch of ex-pigmasks who fuck off to the ruined highway islets where thunder tower used to be, declaring their ongoing loyalty to porky. they build a new settlement called "the pigpen." their poorly-organized isolationist stint lasts less than a decade, caving to a lack of supplies & the utmost generosity from tazmilians offering aid. the pigpen ultimately becomes a wholly benign settlement. some folks even move there for a change of pace. the vibe of the place starts leanin' toward punk culture, with post-apocalyptic garage rock bands and outcasts helpin' each other get by. (i think kuma & her wife live here. it's probably dcmc's home base too.)

🌫️ porky himself resides in the crumbled wreckage of new pork city, slowly sinking into the ocean over the course of 20 years. sometimes tazmilians come to salvage technology & supplies, but they learn to steer clear of the king's capsule. he's got nothing worthwhile left to offer humanity, and vice versa… (i've written 2 fics set here. i'm very normal and not at all sick in the head about the symbolic weight of this concept.)

🌲 lucas & isaac start a "ranger service" organization that preserves natural wildlife and manages chimeras. much of their work involves relocating troublesome chimeras to more suitable environments, dismantling their excessive weaponry, providing veterinary care & mechanical repairs. after some initial debate, it's accepted as a law of the land that all things have a right to live - even the most inconvenient of porky's lab experiments.

☀️ dr andonuts leads the charge in developing new sustainable technology, starting with a foundation of green energy tech that exists today. tazmily's powered by wind & solar farms (built mostly by ex-pigmasks, as an earnest show of repentance and solidarity). i think there's some carbon capture tech going on, tryin to reverse the lingering effects of climate change. i have a crystal clear image in my head of these funny clunky solar powered trucks they use for moving equipment, and i swear one of these days i'm gonna draw claus with one, trucker hat n' all, lookin' peak redneck in the driver's seat.

🚢 a few years postgame, a "world ship" is constructed - a vessel that can carry brave travelers to the old world's abandoned continents. they find no survivors out there. just lifeless ruins, and swaths of parched wilderness. lucas & pals take annual trips to salvage for precious scraps of history, survey the state of natural environemnts across the world, and help restore said environments through ecological work. i've written little snippets of this in a few fics… would love to write somethin wholly set within one of these expeditions one day, if i can come up with a solid story premise.

🏝️ another settlement crops up on the japanese island of kyushu (the nearest major landmass to nowhere). it's plainly dubbed "kyushu-two." much of the island's been submerged due to rising sea levels, but nowhere-folk are by this point used to a waterlogged seafaring lifestyle. a lotta non-tazmilians eagerly move here, itching to be "anywhere but nowhere." it develops a laidback and kinda artsy culture.

🤝 with only a few hundred people left on earth, a necessity to share resources, and a damning lesson learned from traditional systems of government, tazmily & other settlements become more or less anarcho-communist. though there are leadership roles, no one person is in charge of anything, and major decisions are made collectively by community members. i don't think they keep using currency, at least not for long. unlearning systems of hierarchy & authority is a challenge for many - even including some tazmilians, once they've regained their memories. call it a utopian fantasy, but they make the effort willingly, humbled by all that's transpired.

✨ new psychics are born at a higher rate than usual on postgame nowhere. (whatever "usual" is. i assume it's always been pretty exceptionally rare.) kumatora takes up the mantle of teachin' 'em how to use their powers, and passing down history the magifolk taught her. her worldly expeditions often involve seeking evidence of PSI in ancient societies - she's bringin' back stuff like PSI teleport and lore from dalaam & scaraba. she sees it as her duty to keep this knowledge alive, cuz she's the only one who can. (and to ensure future psychics don't have to feel lost & alone like lucas did, or like she did when her family disappeared 🥲)

🥼 claus has their eco-lab in the mothafuckin' arizona desert wasteland, developing new chimeras to repair ecosystems, y'all know the deal. it's kinda sad to think they probably won't live to see the full impact of their efforts - but then again, no one else will in this world, it's all a multi-generational effort. sweet to imagine in the long run there'll be lotsa silly & wonderful new organisms out there making the earth a greener, livelier place. i think they might even do some projects to revive species that went extinct when the world was destroyed. or at least, creating chimeras that can fulfill their likenesses and ecological niches.

🏃 a bunch of the characters travel around constantly i think. like lucas' home is tazmily, but he probably spends like 75% of his time elsewhere - expeditions, visiting loved ones, ranger work & odd jobs, etc. likewise for claus, kuma, duster, nana probably. dcmc tours on a big sailboat. flint might be one of the only major characters who mostly stays put. he gets sad if he leaves hinawa by her lonesome for too long.....

#into the 2thpasteverse #2thtalks #long

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captainamorysailing · 11 months ago

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youtube

A Day At Sea - What Life Is Like On A Boat S02 EP16

What is a Day at sea is like? What is life is like on a sailboat during a crossing. Those are questions am often asked. In Episode 16 we continue our sail East of the Coast of Nicaragua an area laden with fishermen want to be pirates.

We are hundred of miles offshore when Shanti Engine does not crank. I consider arriving and anchoring by sails. The sun saves us & the Engine starts.

IF YOU WANT TO BE SAILING CREW, FOR THE NEXT LEG OF THE JOURNEY, GET IN TOUCH VIA CONTACT INFO. ALWAYS LOOKING FOR NEW FRIENDS & NEW ENERGY TO ADD TO MY VIDEOS.

#broken sailboat #day in the life living on a sailboat #old havana cars #sailing blog #sailing bloggers #sailing la vagabonde #sailing vlogs #top sailing channels #live on boat florida #biggest sailing channels youtube #sailing vlogs 2023 #travel blogger #travel bloggers on youtube india #couple living on sailboat #cost of living on sailboat #man living off grid on a diy solar powered sailboat #living off grid on a sailboat #what life is like on a boat #Youtube

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writing-intheundercroft · 1 year ago

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Your Ivy Grows // Introductions

AO3 Link

Ominis Gaunt could not see, but he could feel.

He could feel the long thickets of grass outside of his Aunt Noctua’s home. He could feel the sand down by the beach, grainy and coarse as he ran from her, giggling. He’d learn to feel the bumps on paper (braille, the muggles called it) from books Aunt Noctua bought from London so he could read. Ominis could feel his little wooden sailboat splash through the water of the tide pools, the sting of salty air touching the tip of his tongue.

He could feel the disdain his mother had for him, and the indifference of his father and siblings. Everyone had told him how much his mother had wanted another baby boy, but it seemed her enthusiasm had died down once she realized the task of childbearing was finally behind her. She’d produced an heir and a spare for the Gaunt lineage, as well as three daughters to serve the bloodline. Mrs. Gaunt was done, a triumph in the eyes of other pure blood families. What they didn’t know was that Ominis was always at his Aunt Noctua’s; for as long as he could remember, he’d been sent in a carriage, alone with just a house elf to escort him to the beach house.

Ominis could feel Aunt Noctua’s love. It was the only love he’d ever come to know. She was more of a mother to him than his own, and despite the fear he felt traveling without sight in a thestral drawn carriage, the second the carriage landed and the doors opened, he knew he would be greeted by Noctua’s warm arms. Aunt Noctua read him bedtime stories, sat with him at the dinner table, and skipped with him along the beach. Much to his father’s dismay, she’d taken him to buy a wand, and after an entire month of researching echolocation spells, she’d taught the little blind boy how to use his wand to see.

“Ominis darling, come here.” Noctua called.

He was ten years old, just about to turn eleven in July. In four months, he’d be off to his first year at Hogwarts—his first time ever spending more than a month away from Noctua.

Ominis held his wand up, the tip glowing red as he guided himself to the garden. Noctua was sitting in her garden beds, tending to her beloved flowers. He knelt down next to her, feeling her linen apron before he fell to his knees in the dirt. He remembered his father complaining Noctua’s garden was too unruly; she’d merely laughed, claiming she liked it that way.

“What are you doing today?” He asked timidly, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“I’m working on the ivy.” Noctua announced. “You must be diligent with it; it can easily overgrow and take over the other plants. You’ll be the steward of this house one day Ominis, I’d like for you to learn so you may take care of it yourself.”

“Won’t I have a gardener?” Ominis quipped.

Noctua snorted. “Not with the way your father spends.” She took his hand, helping him feel the leaves of the lush ivy below him. “Feel this—you shouldn’t let it grow any longer than this, otherwise my violets will be completely overtaken. But take care not to trim it too far back, otherwise the snakes won’t have anywhere to hide.”

Ominis nodded, holding his wand up in his other hand. “Will I learn how to care for ivy in Herbology class?” he quipped.

Noctua let out one of her booming laughs. “Oh no, sweetheart. You’ll learn about far more exciting plants in your lessons. Magical ones, with many purposes. Ivy is just a regular plant.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Then what’s the point of it?”

Noctua put her palm on Ominis’s pink cheek. “It’s pretty, and I like it. It doesn’t need to have a point besides that.” She put down her trimming shears, dusting dirt off on her apron. “And besides, plants are living beings, and life itself is magic. They bring me joy.”

“You bring me joy,” Ominis stated.

“Sweet boy.” Noctua pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “You bring me great joy as well. I fear this house will be quite lonely without you come September.”

“Can I stay?” Ominis pouted. “You can tutor me. I don’t need Hogwarts; you’ve already taught me so much.”

Noctua sighed. “You’ll be happy to go to Hogwarts. I loved it when I was there–I made many great friends, and I’m sure you will too.”

He pouted even more. “I don’t need anyone else besides you, Aunt Noctua.”

“I won’t always be here, my love.” Noctua murmured. “A day may come when I need to leave, and you’ll need to be very brave and take care of this beautiful house for me.”

Ominis swallowed thickly. He didn’t ever want to think about a day like that coming for her.

“Madame Noctua, luncheon is nearly ready. Would you like Golly to set it up in the garden for you?” a little voice rang. It was Golly, Noctua’s house elf, a plump little thing with warm rosy cheeks. She’d been Noctua’s beloved house elf for as long as Ominis could remember, and was always the one to accompany him in his carriage rides.

“Thank you, Golly. Yes, let’s take lunch in the garden.” Noctua announced. She stood up, holding her hand out to Ominis to grasp. “Lunch, and then we’ll play down by the water, hmm?”

It had been a simple day. There were no presents, no visitors, nothing particularly special about it to single it out from every other day Ominis spent with her. But he could remember her being a little sad after their tea, shutting herself in her study afterwards. She had sent a letter to Ominis’s father, supposedly about the research she’d been conducting on their renowned ancestor, Salazar Slytherin.

Ominis heard her muttering a word under her breath that haunted him for ages. Scriptorium , she’d called it. A secret room at Hogwarts that no one had ever found before, supposedly where Slytherin’s greatest research was being hidden. Aunt Noctua had been sure it would prove the Slytherin had interests outside of blood purity, and that there was more for the Gaunt family to aspire to.

Ominis went to Hogwarts that September, and wrote to Aunt Noctua every week. He met his two best friends, Sebastian and Anne Sallow, and he told her all about the twins and their antics. Come June, he wrote to Aunt Noctua one last time, apologizing that he would not be able to spend the summer at the beach house; he’d be in Feldcroft with the twins and their uncle.

Noctua wrote back to him, sorry that they’d miss one another, but sincerely happy that he’d made honest, good friends. She told him that she’d be off on an adventure, and that she’d write to him as soon as she could. Feldcroft wasn’t far from her destination, she’d teased. Perhaps if she was successful, she could visit him before summer’s end and meet his friends.

Ominis never heard from Aunt Noctua ever again.

_____

Ominis had been coerced by his mother into dinner at Gaunt Manor; he should have known there were strings attached and that Marvolo would have an assignment for him. The three of them now sat in silence at the long, splintered wooden dining table; Marvolo, seated at the head of the table, with his cold, austere mother on the right. Ominis was to his left, poking at the remnants of his dinner.

“So, I have a new charge,” Marvolo said easily, setting his cutlery down. “And a job for you this summer.”

Ominis raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me, a charge?”

Marvolo hummed. “Yes. A gentleman I work with has left his daughter in my care for the summer, and I need someone to mind her while I’m in London.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ominis grumbled, playing with the tarnished silver fork in his hand.

“I most certainly am not,” Marvolo sneered, his attitude shifting swiftly, as his moods often did. “And if you ever want to see a knut of your inheritance, you’ll do as I say.”

Ominis inhaled sharply. “You can’t seriously be asking me to play governess for the entire summer.”

“I need someone to mind the girl,” Marvolo explained. “Someone to supervise her, make sure she keeps herself in line. You do this for me,” Ominis could sense his brother’s heavy hand pointing at him, “And you and your little farm boy will get the money you need to take your world tour.”

Ominis frowned at the mention of Sebastian. He loathed whenever his family mentioned him. His chosen family would always take higher precedence than those of his blood. Sebastian was his real brother; the two of them had planned to take a year-long tour around the world together, but Sebastian was still trying to come up with enough money to sustain their travels. Ominis could get the money easily enough from his family’s trust, but Sebastian was toiling day in and out working at Flourish and Blotts to fund his travel expenses, and refused a single galleon from Ominis.

“That,” Marvolo took a sip of his wine. “And you can finally have Noctua’s house.”

“You have her up at Noctua’s house?” Ominis’s ears perked.

His Aunt Noctua’s home was dear to him; he’d spent most of his childhood there, cast away from the family manor. Out of sight, out of mind, Ominis thought. His mother had no patience for his blindness, and his father nearly forgot his existence. As Aunt Noctua had never been declared dead, merely missing, the home sat unoccupied. Marvolo had brought it up in conversation a few times–mostly to complain about it being a money pit, or about it being too close to a muggle village. It was a modest manor off the coast, hours away from any wizarding kind, perched on the ledge of a seaside muggle town. Ominis hadn’t been there since the summer before his first year at Hogwarts.

Ominis knew Noctua was dead, having discovered her body with Sebastian and their peculiar friend during their fifth year. They’d had to leave her bones behind; despite feeling horrible about her final resting place being the door to the Scriptorium, Ominis would never, ever be put in a situation where an unforgivable curse was his only way to safety. He was sure Aunt Noctua would understand.

“It’s been cleaned up; the old house elf is still there, minding her at the moment.” Ominis could sense the frown on Marvolo’s face. “You’ll live there, keep an eye on her, and stay out of trouble.”

“Why does she need minding? Does she not have a nanny of her own to do so?” Ominis inquired.

Marvolo sighed. “She’s rough, I’ll leave it at that. Feral little alley cat of a child, already scared off the three governesses we’ve tried to stick with her.”

“And pray tell, why has her father left her in your care?” Ominis crossed his arms and leaned back against the wooden chair. His brother was the last person who should ever have the responsibility of a child; he had no patience for it, nor a modicum of emotional intelligence.

“Her father owes me a debt–and a daughter is all the currency he has. Can’t risk him ‘accidentally’ misplacing her, like he’s done with all the rest of his collateral.” Marvolo explained.

Ominis soured at the thought. He knew his brother dabbled in unsavory business, and no matter how he tried to frame it, he was clearly extorting this man with his daughter’s life.

“Last question. Why me?”

Marvolo snorted. “You’re the only chap available. Given your deficiencies , I don’t think you’ll be too busy during the social season this summer. Perhaps another year.”

Ominis tried his best not to flinch at his brother’s insult. Ever since their father had gone senile, Marvolo had taken up place as head of the family. He was responsible for the family trust, and had carefully chosen each of their sisters’ husbands. Ominis was nearly twenty one, and he was surprised his brother hadn’t surprised him with some meek, sniveling pure blood bride. Marvolo himself had been married for a few years already, with no children in sight. He hardly spent enough time with his own wife, choosing the company of his many mistresses in London instead. Ominis knew Marvolo blamed his poor wife for their misfortune, but he secretly hoped it was his brother’s own misdeeds that caused their inability to procreate. However, if times truly became desperate for the Gaunts, it would mean the family lineage was left to Ominis’s hands—an idea he truly loathed.

Ominis stood in the foyer, fastening his cloak around his neck as he made his departure. With his wand securely stowed in his pocket, he didn’t notice Marvolo sneak up behind him. The two brothers couldn’t have been more different, physically and emotionally. Marvolo had the typical Gaunt look, with dark hair, hooded eyes, and terrifyingly large figure. Ominis greatly favored his mother’s side of the family with his blond hair and lithe figure. Thanks to Noctua, he also had a trait most of his family lacked—kindness.

“Don’t fuck this up, brother.” Marvolo sneered. “It’s a simple job, get it done and you’ll have what you need.”

Ominis shuddered as his domineering brother backed away, and apparated back to his London flat as quickly as he could.

_____

Ominis stood at the edge of the blustery cliff, gazing out onto the water. He’d do so often with Noctua when he was a boy, punted off to stay with her so he’d be out of his older siblings’ way when they returned from Hogwarts. He never minded it though–Noctua had been the only light he’d ever known before he met Anne and Sebastian.

Speaking of friends, Sebastian had begged him not to take on the job. He’d have the money by the end of the year, he reassured Ominis. There would be no need to stoop down as low as Marvolo to fund their trip. But Ominis couldn’t bear to watch his best friend spend seven days a week peddling books for sickles, and anyways, he wanted to see how the old house was faring. So now, he stood just yards from the house’s gates, clutching his suitcases, ready to take on the role of guardian. Ominis’s stomach churned with nerves; he’d never spent much time around children even when he was a child himself, so he wasn’t even sure how he’d talk to a girl.

When he pushed through the front door of the house, he took in a deep inhale. Despite the musty smell, it reminded him of his childhood. Ominis raised his wand, alerted to the presence of a smaller being in front of him, and let a smile grace his face.

“Golly, it’s good to see you.” He knelt down, getting on the same level as Noctua’s house elf.

“Master Ominis, it has been so long,” the old house elf croaked, patting his hand. “My, you have grown into such a fine gentleman. You look so much like my Mistress Noctua.”

Ominis’s smile faltered. “Yes, I do miss her.”

Golly the house elf beckoned him in. “I’ve prepared the mistress's old chambers for you to sleep in during your stay. Let me take your cases.”

“Absolutely not, Golly. I’m triple your size, I’d never let you carry any case of mine.” Ominis declared. “Leviosa,” he muttered, the suitcases now floating behind him as he ascended the creaky stairs.

As he pushed the door open to Noctua’s bedroom, Ominis bit down on his lip. It all felt so familiar to him as he walked around, feeling everything—the four poster bed, the big bay window with a deep seat attached to it. Even the smell of the linens felt familiar, despite being freshly washed. The sea breeze always left a salty note on the cotton.

“I could’ve stayed in my old apartments, you know.” Ominis murmured.

Golly shifted back and forth. “Your new ward is staying in them. I thought the mistress’s apartments would be best suited for you.”

“And where is she?” Ominis quipped. “I should meet her before supper.”

Golly sighed. “Probably down by the beach. She’s not very good at following rules—reminds me quite a bit of your sisters when they were younger. Master Marvolo hired three ladies to oversee her, and each quit within a week.” Golly uttered the girl’s name, tutting her tongue. “You shall see her at supper, I suppose. Please, get some rest and freshen up. I’ll have the meal set in two hours.”

Ominis dallied for half an hour, laying about the bed before he decided to unpack his trunks. He only brought clothes, books, and some parchment and dictation quills to write home to Sebastian. The desk had been cleared of its former mistress’s possessions, and it felt odd to set it up with his own belongings. Ominis dragged his hands against every square inch of the mahogany desk; he remembered exactly where things belonged. Noctua’s perfume bottles would be in the center, letters and notes littered on the left edge next to her quills and ink pot.

Ominis shook his head. If he were ever to be master of the house, he had to start getting used to the furniture being his. He splashed water on his face to freshen up, and got dressed for a formal dinner. Ominis only ever dressed up for meals with his family, but it felt far too casual to be informal in front of his ward.

Ominis descended the stairs, the scent of a rich roast chicken guiding him to the dining room. Golly had set up a full seven course meal, which was far too decadent for Ominis’s taste. She had always spent time laboring over Ominis’s favorite foods as a child, and he didn’t have the heart to tell her that he no longer liked figgy pudding. But it had been years since he’d seen the little house elf, and he wanted to make her feel useful after being lonely in the house for so long. Golly hummed as she set the dishes on the table, clearly happy to no longer be alone in the house.

Ominis listened to the clock chiming and frowned. “Where is she?”

Golly sighed loudly. “Wouldn’t count on her to be on time, Master Gaunt.”

“But your feast will have gone cold.” He complained. Disrespectful child , he thought.

Ominis sat at the table for another thirty minutes, waiting and tapping his feet against the marble floor. He was about to stand and barge out of the house looking for the girl, when he sensed a figure sauntering into the dining room.

“Golly, I’m back.” A feminine voice called out. “What’s for dinner?”

Ominis raised his wand, a bit taken aback. When Marvolo had said she was a girl, Ominis assumed a child–but the person entering the dining room was a woman , probably his age. She was tall, and he could sense her hair swishing around, as if it were in two long braids. He could smell the scent of the coast lingering on her frock, and the mud on her shoes.

Ominis stood up abruptly. The girl stopped in her tracks, glaring at him.

“Who are you?” she snipped.

Ominis cleared his throat, bowing his head slightly. “I’m Mr. Gaunt. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

She said nothing, slowly approaching the table. “You aren’t the Mr. Gaunt I know,” she stopped right in front of him, appraising him. “You’re…much younger. Certainly more handsome.”

Ominis brushed the back of his neck, fighting the blush he could feel creeping on his face. “You’re referring to my older brother, Marvolo.”

She sniffed. “Yes, much more handsome. Your brother is quite brutish.” He could feel her eyes raking over him.

“I may be blind, but I can sense you staring,” Ominis snipped. “And it’s rather unladylike.” He maneuvered to the chair next to his, pulling it out for her.

“I wasn’t raised to be a lady, Mr. Gaunt,” she taunted him as she sat down. “But if that’s what Marvolo desires of me, he’ll have it.”

Ominis frowned as he sat back in his chair. He wasn’t sure how his older brother was so well acquainted with the young woman, and he certainly didn’t want to know.

The two of them sat at the dinner table, the silence thickened the air. For quite some time, Ominis could only make out the sound of teeth gnashing on meat, and Golly humming from the butler’s pantry.

“How did you find your travels?” The girl quipped, the soft clatter of her silverware breaking the silence of the room.

“Quite nice. I used to spend a lot of time here as a child, and I missed the journey.” Ominis hummed. “Weather is delightful this time of year.” He felt silly, exchanging pleasantries about the weather with his house guest. If he were truly to be the man of the house, he should brush up on better conversation topics.

The girl cleared her throat. “I didn’t know Marvolo had a brother,” she admitted. “How much younger are you?”

Ominis stiffened, blinking his unseeing eyes at the table. “Fifteen years. I was born while he was away at Hogwarts, so we’re not very close.” He paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes. “You didn’t go to Hogwarts. I would’ve known you.”

“Father wanted me to stay close to home; his profession is quite dangerous, so he couldn’t imagine me being far away.” she said simply. “Mother tutored me though.”

“And what does your father do?” Ominis inquired.

She hesitated. “Rare artifacts. One might call him a treasure hunter. We traveled frequently with him.”

“And life on the road is much safer than Hogwarts?” Ominis probed.

“I quite liked it.” she sniffed. “I’m well traveled, I’ve studied all over the world, rather than being cooped up in a dodgy old castle.”

“It’s not dodgy,” Ominis rolled his eyes. “It’s fantastic, one of the best places to be.” Ominis counted Hogwarts as one of his happiest places–Hogwarts, the Sallow cottage in Feldcroft, and Aunt Noctua’s home.

She shrugged. “Then you haven’t traveled enough.” She tilted her head, changing the subject. “I find it strange they sent a man to watch over me, not another governess.”

“Well, I’ve heard you’ve chased all the nannies away.” Ominis chuffed.

She smiled at that, and he bit down on his lower lip to hide his smile. “I’m twenty, I don’t need a governess. I was hoping they’d send a companion, but I suppose you’ll have to do.”

Ominis set his cutlery down, wiping his mouth politely. “Look, I don’t mean to imprison you here. I won’t say that I understand exactly why I’ve been charged with your care, but I promise to treat you with respect and make sure you have everything you need for your own comfort.” he hesitated. “We both clearly have duties to our family to attend to, but I won’t restrict you. Go about your day as you wish, and I’ll do the same.”

Ominis could feel her heated stare. She leaned back in her chair, playing with the end of one of her braids. “You and your brother couldn’t be more different.”

He tipped his wine glass towards her. “I consider that a high compliment.”

_____

His ward had retired to bed, and Ominis decided to take a walk around the property. He swirled a glass of wine in his hands as he stomped through the yard towards Noctua’s garden. Perhaps he could hire a groundskeeper to tend to the land once the house was passed down to him. Poor old Golly deserved a retirement; he could free her once he became the master of the house. He’d pay her a fair wage, just like Noctua used to…

Ominis wasn’t much of a drinker back in London; Sebastian always enjoyed hanging out with their classmates at the Leaky Cauldron, and he was a happy drunk. Ominis, on the other hand, would be drunk just from social exposure. He normally found drinking alone a bit depressing, but something about being in a house that was almost his made him feel like celebrating. Golly had opened up one of the good bottles from the cellar, and he wouldn’t let it go to waste. He felt good; the tangy red liquid had him feeling warm all over, and the salty breeze from the nearby ocean was just as intoxicating.

He didn’t need his wand—Ominis could retrace his exact steps to the garden gate, having made the journey hundreds of times as a little boy without a wand. Once, Noctua had made him count his paces, and he still found himself doing so as he approached the wrought iron gate. He put a hand out to pull it open, frowning when his hand met air instead of the handle.

It was already open.

Ominis pulled his wand out of his pocket, taking a large gulp from the glass in his other hand. He knew it was ungentlemanly, but he wiped his mouth with his billowing sleeve. Wand raised and tip lit red, he pushed forward to see who might be in the garden so late. It was nearly eleven o’clock at night, and he was the only one out of the house. Ominis readied himself for a duel in case it was an intruder–his heart raced, hoping he wouldn’t have to defend the women in the house.

Ominis heard the soft hum of a voice in the distance; they were singing to themself, kneeling on the ground. he could also hear the sharp slice of shears, and the sound of branches and leaves being piled up on the ground. He held his wand in the direction of the sound, sensing the outline of a young woman on the ground.

It was his house guest; she was kneeling on the ground in her nightgown, her two braids dangling as she leaned over the garden beds.

“What are you doing?” Ominis barked.

She startled. “Oh, Mr. Gaunt. I didn’t realize you’d be walking out here so late.”

“What. Are. You. Doing.” Ominis seethed.

He could sense her standing up, wiping her hands on her lap. “I was tending to the garden—Golly mentioned the old owner was a dab hand at herbology, and the whole thing was teeming with weeds, it was a shame. I’ve been trying to fix the garden beds, they’re all so overgrown with ivy. You know, it can be an invasive species if planted too close—“

“Don’t!” Ominis yelled, kicking the shears away. He knelt down on the ground, his wand discarded, feeling the garden bed. “You’ve trimmed it too far back.”

The girl scoffed. “Excuse me, I know what I’m doing. Besides, if you let it overgrow, snakes can start burrowing underneath.”

“You’re disrupting them,” Ominis growled. “Leave it be! This isn’t your garden.” He patted the ground; Noctua’s violets were gone. “What have you done with all the flowers? Where…where did you get those shears?”

He knew the girl was staring at him oddly. “I found them in the garden shed; Golly said I could use them and the apron. Mr. Gaunt, I’m only trying to help—“

She was wearing Aunt Noctua’s apron, he realized. Her apron, her shears, her garden, all in the hands of a stranger.

“Well, stop it.” Ominis growled. “You’ve ruined it. And take that apron off, it isn’t yours.” He bellowed, perhaps louder than he should’ve been, given the late hour. He patted around the ground, trying to get a sense of the landscape. It all felt so different, everything familiar was missing. Noctua’s daffodils, violets, and her beloved bluebells were all gone . “What are you even doing out of bed?” Ominis barked. “It’s terribly improper for you to be out here at this hour.”

“I’m sorry,” The girl mumbled. “I could go to town, get some seedlings. It was just in such bad shape–”

“Get out,” Ominis hissed, waving her off. “Go back to the house, go back to bed, and stay out of the garden!”

She backed away. “I-I-I’m sorry. I’ll leave you.” Without his wand he couldn’t see her retreating form, but he could hear her bare feet thumping the ground as she ran.

Ominis took a deep breath. He knew it was unkind to have yelled at her—he didn’t even know the girl. But the garden was Noctua’s, no one else’s. It was up to her to decide what was a weed, what was overgrown, what to take away or prune. When Ominis was little, he only ever acted on her orders, making sure the garden was exactly to her liking. Noctua loved her little plants, each and every one, even if they didn’t have any magical purposes.

Life itself is magic, she once said.

But Noctua was dead, the garden was too neatly trimmed, and the snakes didn’t have a refuge to hide in. The house no longer had Aunt Noctua’s warmth; it no longer felt like her.

Ominis stayed in the garden and wept.

#hogwarts legacy fan fiction #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x oc #ominis gaunt x reader #noctua gaunt #marvolo gaunt

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broomsick · 2 years ago

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Personal ideas for simple devotional acts to Njörðr

Let us all praise the Lord of Ships, the Vanir King. He is the bestower of wealth and the guardian of seas, and his gifts are many! If you’re looking to start working with Njörðr, or worshipping him, these ideas make for quick and simple gestures that showcase your interest. They’re also perfect for a pagan who already maintains a close relationship with the sea, water spirits, or a sea deity. After all, spiritual practice gets hard to sustain when you’re working on a tight schedule! Which is why I hope these little personal ideas can inspire even those of you who already actively worship/work with Njörðr.

First things first: pondering on what Njörðr stands for, what you think he can bring your life and what you think he would appreciate in return.

Going for walks on windy days. Njörðr is said to raise winds that are favorable to sailboats!

Cooking and eating sea products, especially if you can find them fresh! I usually keep an eye out for fishermen’s markets. It’s a good idea to buy locally if the opportunity presents itself. The most important thing is to make sure you’re buying from sustainable fish farming companies, especially if you’re at a restaurant or buying from a grocery store.

Putting the sound of waves as background music before sleep. You can visualize the sea, or the ocean, and use this image to connect with Njörðr either by simply meditating on him and his gifts, or even by praying to him.

If possible, spending time near bodies of water: water is a network which connects the land to the ocean. In the end, all rivers, no matter how small, are bound to the ocean.

Watching documentaries on the sea, or on marine life! The simple gesture of learning about his domain, developing your understanding of it, can make you feel that much closer to the Father of Light-Bringers.

Whenever you’re at a local beach, collecting seashells or rocks which catch your eye! They’re a way to bring a piece of the sea home with you!

Since I cook a lot, there’s this little habit I’ve come to develop, of adding a pinch of sea salt (or fleur de sel) to every recipe. Of course, I won’t do this if I’m cooking a simple sandwich for myself: I’m talking about large pots of soup, meat pies, stews, etc. It’s a way of reminding myself that the Vanir bring about the fertility which allows us sustain ourselves.

Learning sea shanties!!! Did you smile? That’s because sea shanties are fun, and what better way to honor a God than by having fun in their name! One of my favorite songs ever is a folk ballad about an old woman who begs her husband to leave the city and go back to the island where they used to live, where she could watch the seagulls and where he would fish their dinner. Songs such as these can make for beautiful and deeply personal offerings. Once you’ve learned a fisherman’s song, you’ll find yourself humming it in your day-to-day, and thinking of Njörðr as you’re doing so.

Making offerings of coin to him. I’ve heard that he was particularly fond of the coin-shaped chocolates that are wrapped in gold foil! Generally, anything that is made of gold or silver makes for a beautiful offering to him. You can, of course, keep such objects after offering them! The act of sharing them with Njörðr is symbolic, as are many offerings, and you are as entitled to keeping these valuables as you are to drinking offering alcohol after the ritual is done. Placing your silver/gold object on a windowsill or an altar for a day, a week or a month is enough to act as an offering.

When it comes to the Vanir, you usually can’t go wrong with buying local products! What does your area specialize in, in terms of food? Now that summer’s at our door, we’ve reached the perfect time to look into local farmer’s markets. If, like me, you’re in the habit of offering alcohol to some or most of your deities, local draft beer is a great idea for Njörðr. In my area, grocery shops sometimes sell this one beer that’s made using salt water! It’s my go-to for Njörðr, understandably.

Acting generously, taking opportunities to share with others! It’s a way of honoring and embodying the Vanir King’s own benevolence.

As a follow-up, working on your ability to be compassionate: putting yourself in somebody else’s shoes, forgiving a wrong that has been done to you, finding compromise during a conflict with loved ones... If you are put in a position of leadership, lead others with care and attentiveness. Njörðr’s mythological son Freyr is heavily associated with peace. By protecting peace, you are honoring them both.

Keeping a symbol of his on you as an amulet: representations of fish, anchors, lighthouses, ships, or anything else that symbolizes the sea all make for beautiful reminders of Njörðr’s presence. Especially if they are silver or gold-colored! In fact, a simple silver or gold coin, or even just a coin with special meaning in your heart, is the perfect amulet to keep in your wallet/purse in his honor.

Learning to tie knots, or any other simple skill that is useful on a boat is fun and a great way to feel connected with the sea. This goes without saying but if you’ve got the chance to go for a boat ride, take it in his honor!

Asking him to grant you a safe journey before traveling long distances.

Art, Njörðr statue

#Njordr #Vanir #deity work #deities #norse gods #sea deities #sea witchcraft #paganism #norse paganism #heathenry #polytheism #offerings #devotionals #norse polytheism

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strawberryfiction · 8 months ago

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Stayed A Summer Memory

Even in the dead of night warm wind raced off the water blowing across the docks. Summer was right behind the gusts bringing the annual surge of sight seers and summer workers with it. Taking a deep breath Sanji let the warm air clear the cigarette sting from his lungs. Last summer was the best and worst summer of his life. He took a drag of his cigarette sitting against the large metal fixture used for mooring. The cool touch of the metal seeped through his pants causing goosebumps to ripple across his skin. Sanji spent last summer planted in that spot watching the waves and the stars. He took another drag of his cigarette.

“Sanji! What are you doing out here?” A voice called out angrily.

Sanji smiled waving, “Usopp, you on the night shift?” he called back into the night.

“Dude it’s like four in the morning- again- what are you doing here?” Usopp pressed arms crossed tight across his chest.

Sanji dropped his cigarette onto the concrete, “Summer is right around the corner.” He smashed his sneaker against the cigarette butt, “Do you think he’ll come back?”

Usopp was silent and Sanji almost laughed. The man was never silent he must have stumped him-or scared him. It was a horrifying question.

“Are you hoping he comes back?” Usopp asked in a voice so quiet Sanji was certain it was not the man’s own.

Sanji pushed himself up from the moor. As he stood, he looked back out to the calm rolling sea that would soon be filled with sails from around the world. He could almost make out a small white sailboat peeking out over the horizon. The question felt like holding a lit firework and watching the fuse crawl.

Last summer Sanji felt like he was glowing. As if the sun chose to revolve around him, but eventually the warm glow became too hot. Before the cold came in and the harbor cleared out Sanji was burning.

Laughing Sanji lit another cigarette, “I don’t know. Maybe.” He shrugged, “But also maybe I hope he sank.” After the words entered the universe Sanji wished he could take his darker feelings back.

“I’ll let you know what I see,” Usopp offered, “You should get some sleep.”

Sanji sighed, “Appreciate it Usopp. The old man will kill me if I miss a shift anyway.”

Stuffing his hands into his jean pockets, Sanji let the cigarette hand from his lips as he walked down the street. The small vessel could have sunk for all he knew. After all, the day when Roronoa Zoro pulled into the harbor Sanji watched the man misjudge his space and scrape the hall of his small boat against the concrete siding. They spent all summer patching it up. Mostly Sanji with help from Usopp and Zeff.

Crawling into bed Sanji knew sleep wouldn’t find him. Not now that his mind was wandering to last summer. It always started like the flicker of a lighter low on butane. The smell of cheap beer, shouting in the distance, or the thud of boots. It sent a shock to Sanji’s system as if his mind was just waiting to mule over every detail of the prior summer. As if he could see where it went wrong, as if he could still change it. A pit opened in Sanji’s stomach every time and it swallowed his soft heart. He turned to his side and couldn’t stop the silent tears that rolled along his cheeks leaving a dark stain on the pillow.

He'd become a pro at crying over Roronoa Zoro. It almost felt as easy as breathing.

Waking up to a blaring alarm, Sanji sighed. Feeling around Sanji felt his phone tangled in the sheets. He’d fallen asleep with it in his hands. Squinting he looked at the screen, as expected it was 10am. The perks to the job were no morning shifts, just late nights.

Hauling himself out of bed Sanji opened the shutters letting the morning sun light his room. He yawned even with the bright light assaulting his grey eyes. He ran his hand through his messy blonde hair before stretching. The lack of sleep was going to make the day long, the anticipation was going to make it worse.

Another perk Sanji had was living above the pizzeria he worked for. It allowed him extra time to let his brain fog dissipate before working. Lighting a cigarette Sanji took full advantage of the situation draping himself across a grey quilted lounge chair. He scrolled through Instagram while letting his cigarette sit between his teeth.

Inhaling sharply Sanji coughed choking on the smoke that snaked down the wrong pipe. Pulling the cigarette from his mouth Sanji coughed quickly putting it out in a blue crystal ashtray on a small table next to his chair. His lungs burned and tears formed in the corners of his eyes. His chest felt like he’d swallowed coals, and they settleed in his heart weighing it down. Tossing his phone on the bed Sanji yanked his work shirt from his closet. His fingers slipped every button through their loops. He straightened his stance, eyeing himself in the full-length mirror leaning against the wall adjacent to his wardrobe. Rolling up the sleeves of his striped blue and white shirt Sanji thought he hid his rage well underneath.

Picking his phone up again Sanji hesitating staring at his own reflection in the dark screen. Huffing Sanji punched in his passcode revealing the same Instagram post mocking him. Gritting his teeth Sanji kicked himself for not just blocking the green haired bastard. It would have saved him some headaches.

The photo was on Zoro’s account, but Zoro never posted himself on the account for anyone to know it. Yet, there he stood frozen in a halfhearted smile mid conversation on the deck of his small boat. His hand was cupped above his forehead attempting to block the sun from his eyes. They were as dazzling as Sanji remembered a kaleidoscope of honey golds that glittered every time he smiled. In the sun it made Sanji speechless. Raking his eyes across the photo the photographer was a stranger to Sanji. He didn’t look like anyone Zoro had mentioned before either. Not that Zoro talked much about his life back where he came from. Did Sanji even remember where Zoro lived? The odd man in the photo had black hair and dark brown eyes, there was a small scar under the mans left eye Sanji could hardly make out. The man’s skin was tanned, and he wore a straw hat with a red ribbon around the middle of the hat.

Who was he to Zoro? A new boyfriend?

The captain underneath read All Blue bound. Zoro was returning for the summer. Based on the posted date he was probably halfway there . Marching into the kitchen Sanji yanked open the fridge deep blue eyes scanning for plausible breakfast options. He considered starting his day with just toast with jelly but knew Zeff would give him hell for not starting the day right. Sanji rolled his eyes, the last thing he needed was a lecture on the proper fuel for his body first thing in the morning.

“Sanji!” Zeff’s voice boomed from outside.

It was like the man had a sixth sense.

Throwing open the window Sanji was hit with a gust of warm air, “What is it old man?”

Hanging his torso out the window looking down into the alleyway an older man stood hands on his hips and mouth down turned. It was rarely ever a smile.

Looking up Zeff held his large white chef hat to his head, “Get a move on! We have a big day ahead!” the old man’s dirty blonde mustache twitched as he spoke.

“You think everyday is a big day!” Sanji shouted in return.

“If you’re late it’ll set a bad example for the new hire!” Zeff shouted.

Sanji frowned, “New hire?” his boss neglected to tell him about that.

Zeff shook his head huffing as he stomped in the backdoor. Sanji groaned, his eyes practically rolling back in his head. He may not have been the best listener when it came to Zeff, but Sanji knew his ears would perk up at new hire. He probably would have vetoed it. Sanji ran the small kitchen perfectly fine with the help he had-Zeff and Patty. He never felt overwhelmed by a hectic night of on stop orders, especially in the summer. He reveled in the challenge enjoying the thrill of putting the finishing touches on a large group order. It filled him with triumph to watch it go out into the dining room. If they hired another person, work would become less of a challenge.

Stepping onto the metal fire escape that doubled as his front porch Sanji soaked in the warmth of the afternoon sun as he lit a cigarette. With each step down the stairs, he took a drag and thought of a different reason why the new person should be fired. It would be easy; they were most likely a summer hire Zeff would tire of quickly when he saw no potential in paying temporary assistance. Sanji just had to help the realization process along.

Swinging open the same back door Zeff had disappeared through the moment prior Sanji entered the restaurant.

It already smelled like sweet marinara sauce and rising dough. Sanji always felt slightly guilty for missing morning prep, but he made up for it by mopping after all the customers went home relieving Zeff and Patty as he closed.

“Morning,” Patty spoke up while kneading dough.

“Morning,” Sanji crammed his cigarette into the crystal ash tray he kept by the back door, “Did you get a look at our new employee yet?”

Patty was a tall muscular man with dark skin, a dark well-trimmed beard, and blue curly hair he always kept short. He wore a white headband tied around his forehead. On his left arm he sported two red heart tattoos on his upper arm. One of the cooks’ favorite pass times was showing the tattoos while flexing with a heavy take-out order.

Patty shook his head, “Not yet.”

Sanji clicked his tongue, “Geez than I was called down early for nothing.”

Sanji jolted forward as a stinging erupted over the back of his head. Turning, he saw Zeff standing with a rolled-up newspaper casually tapping it into his adjacent palm.

“Don’t be sour.” Zeff warned sternly.

“I give them a week tops,” Sanji ran his fingers through his short thick blonde hair evening it out after the assault, “Once they realize they’d rather be out enjoying the summer sun and most likely their vacation they’ll be gone.”

“Or you’ll drive them out,” Patty snarked.

Sanji kept his lips sealed he knew Patty felt the same way about summer hires. They weren’t hurting for help. The chime of the classic bell above the door broke the conversation and all heads turned towards their first early customer of the day. A girl with orange hair held back by a thick black clip walked in curious light hazel eyes scanned the empty booths and tables. Sanji smoothed out his shirt and grinned.

“Good morning miss,” Sanji spoke as casually as if he were greeting an old friend, “Please excuse us we’re still preparing for guests and there might be a small wait. Feel free to take a seat and I’ll bring a drink and menu right out.”

“Oh, thank you but,” The girl started in a timid tone.

Before she finished Sanji gently lifted her hand leading her to a booth, “Don’t be shy this one has the best view of our famous pizza being made right behind the counter there!” He beamed.

The girl frowned snatching her hand back, “Right, thank you.”

Bounding back behind the counter Sanji prepped a glass with ice water and picked a clean menu off a stack. Before he could walk back out into the dining area Zeff was walking past Sanji. Watching the old man Sanji assumed he was retrieving the mail form the PO box across the street. Instead, he was shocked to watch the head chef pause at the young patron’s table.

Scrambling out from behind the counter Sanji returned to the booth forgetting about the water. He heard Patty’s footsteps behind him.

“Hey, where’s my drink?” The girl pouted crossing her arms.

“Welcome your new summer co-worker,” Zeff gestured towards the girl in the booth with his hand out as if he was presenting her.

Sliding herself free from the booth the girl stood waving, “I’m Nami, and if you keep treating me as lovely as you did when I walked in, I know we’ll work together just fine.”

“Nami is going to handle deliveries,” Zeff continued.

Sanji was taken a back it was a shock to his system. Zeff hiring a woman for his kitchen was unheard of. However, it sounded like she wasn’t going to be handling food, just deliveries. It meant the kitchen dynamic was saved and left Sanji conflicted. Nami was cute, he could work with a cute co-worker. He frowned and she also came off as a handful.

“Welcome to the crew,” Sanji found himself saying it to her again easily, “I’ll grab that water, why don’t you sit at the countertop?”

“You took that better than I’ve ever seen you for a new hire,” Patty chuckled rolling out dough, “Usually you scowl or growl. Leave it to a cute girl to change your mind.”

Nami took a seat resting her brown shoulder bag on the countertop.

Sanji placed the cool glass in front of his new co-worker, “You’re a new summer face. What brings you into town?”

“Vacation,” Nami batted her brown eyes at Sanji.

Sanji raised a brow, “And you’re going to work during your vacation?”

“Maybe I didn’t do a great job at budgeting,” Nami pouted avoiding Sanji’s gaze. She took the glass sipping from it.

“Shame,” Sanji leaned on the countertop.

“My girlfriend has an expensive hobby,” Nami shrugged, “And I can’t say no to her.”

Sanji’s ears perked up, “Girlfriend?”

Nami’s eyes darkened, “Yea, got a problem with that?”

Sanji shook his head, “I think you picked a good place to work,” his mind wandered to Zoro.

Sanji thought about the first time his heart fluttered upon seeing Zoro shirtless and cursing about his boat while sweating in the hot summer sun. Sanji’s heart had beat a little faster around men before, but it hadn’t beat from his chest until he met Zoro. Sanji had never been nervous about holding hands stronger than his own or kissing chapped lips that bit his skin too hard. A man had never lit his skin on fire the way Zoro had, and it was terrifying at first to admit it.

Nami leaned across the counter, “Oh, so you tried to charm me but there’s a boyfriend in the mix?” she smiled coyly.

“No,” Sanji said flatly.

Nami frowned, falling back into her seat.

Sanji turned busying himself with prepping the stone pizza oven.

“What’s the expensive hobby?” Patty took over the conversation while Sanji listened.

“Wind surfing,” Nami answered.

“So, I’m guessing you’re here for the competition?” Patty asked.

Nami hummed in agreement, “This is actually our first time on All Blue Island.”

“Well, you’ll have plenty of time to explore,” Patty assured her, “I can give you the names of the best local beaches.”

“Vivi would love that for practice,” Nami sounded like she was beaming.

“What competition?” Sanji turned back around butting in.

“You’re kidding,” Nami said flatly, “Don’t you live here, there are posters everywhere.”

Sanji rolled his eyes leaning on the rep counter, “There are always posters and events especially before summer. I can’t pay attention to them all.”

“You should pay attention to some,” Patty chided him, “You never go out anymore. Last summer I could barely find you for shifts.”

Sanji balled his hands into fists, “Would you shut up! Who does anything in a beach town during winter!” He shouted.

“I’ve done tons of stuff,” Patty shouted back, “If you used your brain, you’d find something!”

“You can find me out back!” Sanji stomped his foot.

“Is that a challenge?” Patty raised a fist towards Sanji.

“Cut it out!” Zeff slammed the rolled newspaper back across Sanji’s head before smacking Patty, “It hadn’t even been thirty minutes and you’re going to scare off our new employee,” Zeff put keys on the counter, “Here are the keys to the delivery moped out front.”

Nami took the keys and slid them into her bag.

“Sanji you better have your head on straight this summer,” Zeff spoke gruffly fixing his sandy colored mustache, “We’re catering the wind surfing competition and I need all hands-on deck.”

“Yes sir,” Sanji nodded.

Spooning marinara sauce over pizza dough the afternoon had steadily picked up to a normal pace. The summer rush hadn’t started yet, but Sanji was sure boats would start docking at port any day in large numbers. Slicing fresh pepperoni Sanji couldn’t stop thinking about what Patty had said.

At the time Sanji didn’t think it was that noticeable. Sure, he’d missed a shift or two sitting by the dock, and maybe he didn’t finish cleaning all the dishes when closing. It just felt like there were more than usual. He didn’t think anyone would notice a few lazy days from him. A few days of dropping the ball and rotting in his sheets. He didn’t think anyone had noticed the way he closed the door to his flat with no intention of leaving. How he spent the chilly winter nights looking at photos he wished he could erase. How he feared his tears would freeze to his face by morning. He didn’t want to keep reliving the same moments repeating the same regrets to Usopp like a broken record. The man had so much to do cleaning ports and preparing them for winter. Sanji did what he thought was the next best thing.

He tried pretending he didn’t exist. He shut out the world, he watched the screen of his phone, and he slept.

Frowning Sanji slid the pizza into the hot brick oven. Maybe it was noticeable, he always had something going on. An event or chores anything to keep him out of the house and busy when he wasn’t working or dabbling in his own personal cooking. Suddenly he was a shut in.

Boxing up a pizza Sanji stuck the ticket with the address on top, “Nami, three pizzas ready to go!”

Nami stood from the booth she was waiting in and set a glass on the counter. She took the sticker off the top pizza box before shuffling the hot pizzas into a delivery bag.

“Be back in a bit,” Nami said while looking over the tag.

The first day with Nami as their new delivery driver was nearly at its end as the sun started to dip to the ground. Sanji thought she did a good job; she was able to keep up. Sanji pulled up the online orders noting the last few pizzas. He cast his gaze out to the few remaining patrons seeing if there was anyone that needed assistance.

The familiar bell rang over the door.

Usopp waved as he walked into the pizzeria.

Sanji waved back, “Can I help you, or do you need more time?” he smirked.

Usopp mockingly tapped his chin disrupting the stubble across it, “How about you start me off with a soda. I’ll need a few moments.”

Sanji picked up a cup, “Very bold of you sir considering you came in so close to closing.”

Usopp shrugged, “I’m a busy man and you still look open.”

Setting the cup on the pale tan granite countertop Sanji looked at a table sitting and chatting metal tray cleared on the tabletop between them.

“Take your time sir,” Sanji smirked as he printed out the check for the table.

While trading the tray for the check Sanji heard the pitter of the moped’s motor.

“Ready to meet the newest member of the Baratie Slice?” Sanji said while walking behind the counter.

“Man, Sanji think you can cut the poor guy a break?” Usopp stirred his soda with his straw, “Or at least send them down to the dock if they’re looking for work. Franky was experimenting with new mooring lines and three have already snapped. It’s a good thing he only tests with our boats and not guest boats. Plus, I don’t know where he gets those ideas our mooring lines are perfectly fine!”

“I would take all of that into consideration Usopp,” Sanji put his pointer finger up, “If it was a guy.”

Without a moment of hesitation Usopp swiveled on his red bar stool. He got a glimpse of Nami walking into the restaurant with a hideous red helmet and googles in hand as she approached the counter. At some point she’d let her fiery orange hair down. Usopp turned back just as swiftly eyes wide and mouth agape.

Sanji leaned on the counter, “I’m also guessing Franky wanting to change the mooring lines has to do with Zoro,” the name slipped from his lips more dreamily than he meant it to. “After all he somehow managed to break one while docking.”

Usopp doesn’t respond sipping his soda. The only sound is the bubbles fizzing in the cup. His dark eyes flit from looking down into the soda up to Sanji.

Sanji forces a wobbly smile; he’s not sure if he’s trying to convince himself or Usopp that it was finally okay to talk about. That surely a year was enough time to let the heartbreak heal It had to be, a year was so long. Sanji refused to believe he was damaged that badly by one man he knew for four months.

Nami sat heavily on the stool one away from Usopp. She placed her helmet and goggles on the counter.

“How was your first day?” Sanji perked up.

“Not too bad,” Nami shrugged, “Everyone gave a generous tip.”

With her cheshire cat grin Sanji believed Nami made out like a bandit.

“What can I get you to drink to celebrate your first day?” Sanji asked.

Nami hummed, “I’m thinking beer?”

“Oh, grab one for me too!” Usopp chimed in raising his hand.

Sanji was placing plates and silverware into the dishwasher, “You should be deciding what you want for dinner. When those logs burn out, I’m not adding more to the oven.”

Walking to the back room of the small restaurant Sanji opened a standing cooler pulling three cold beers out. He stared at the green tinted bottles; it had been a long time since he sat at the bar down the street after a long shift. His company was ever changing, Usopp, Patty, even Zeff. Until one day it was always the same flushed face with a broad smile laughing as Sanji yielding from another drinking contest. Zoro was always turning things into a competition and Sanji couldn’t help his competitive nature being drawn into every one of his challenges. The memories were so vivid, but so hazy. Tinted with a filter of rose-colored alcohol. Biting his lip Sanji swore he could taste the bitter beer pressed against his lips in a sloppy kiss he thought would never end. He clung to Zoro like a life raft as they stumbled down the street.

Sanji’s eyes narrowed as he turned to walk back out into the empty restaurant. Even having a beer was tainted with his memory. Zoro had crawled under Sanji’s skin and cracked open his rib cage to hallow out his heart. Now the space was vacant, and Sanji felt the pain he was blind to.

Setting the beers on the counter Sanji used a bottle open with a flourish making a show of the opening.

Usopp clapped, “One Hawaiian and one cheese pizza please good sir!”

Sanji nodded, “Order taken. Nami do those sound good to you?”

“I’m the one who wants the Hawaiian” Nami raised her hand sheepishly.

“A classic summer choice,” Sanji praised.

With pizza cooking in the oven Sanji wiped the flour from his face, ringing out the last customers thanking them as he followed the party of two to the front door. He felt relieved as he flipped the open sign to close and locked the door. Flipping the front house lights the restaurant became dark only the prep station and bar top remained illuminated under warm diffused lights. Nami smiled laughing at a story Usopp was telling. Sanji was certain it was mostly likely one he’d heard before.

Fresh from the oven the aroma of sweet tomato sauce, crisp pineapple, and soft cheese had Sanji’s mouth watering. He made the pizzas large knowing his stomach would beg for a piece. He was shocked after years he’d never tired of a fresh slice of pizza.

The duo in front of Sanji were silent for the first time that night as they ate.

“I think we should go to the bar this weekend,” Sanji said before crunching on a piece of crust.

Usopp’s eyebrows shot up he looked unconvinced, “You’re positive?”

Sanji nodded, “Why not, it’s been too long” He beamed, “And we have the first weekend of summer to celebrate before it gets too crowded with vacationers. Especially with this tournament going on.” “Can Vivi come?” Nami asked.

Sanji nodded, “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’d love to meet her.” He took a swig of beer.

#one piece #snaji #roronoa zoro #zosan #writing #fanfiction #vinsmoke sanji #zosan fanfic

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aelinschild · 8 months ago

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Paradigm; side by side

˙✧˖ March 7th: Fight or Flight

Main Masterlist | Paradigm; side by side Masterlist |

SYNOPSIS: Burning, inside and out. WORDCOUNT: 1.3K WARNINGS: Cursing, horny Aelin and Rowan, Welding inaccuracies (I am not a welder lol)

Huge thank you to @throneofglassmicrofics for organizing! Make sure to check out other works over on their account!

Drool was beginning to spill.

Hypothetically, that is. Not in a lascivious way, more of an disconnect between mind and body. But then again, who could blame her? Her hands were tightening and pulling, seizing up with tension from the penning. Beginning to ache in a way she would regret days after if pushed. With what she had scrawled along pages, decorated margins in curves, it was time for a break. Resting where she was would work just fine.

Just outside the open pane of glass, sat above the antiquely built desk she had practically defiled with her belongings, was a sight worth said drool.

Aelin’s eyes were stuck everywhere. And it felt incriminating, to be so openly ogling her roommate. Sturdy against the stronger winds off the water of the day. Tall; imposing to what crossed his path. White sand hair, slicked in hazard stripes. Moisture gathering on his brow – enough she cold see its collection from her spot. The small curls at the base of his neck, violently contrasting his skin. Skin she would suffer to touch. A hue of bronze that seemed painted, so exact she could imagine the paintings depicting his structure. All shirtless and sweaty-

She was getting warm.

It was undeniable that something had changed between the two of them, some ripple effect. A slingshot off axis, removing their celestial existences off course. Invigorating in a way that scared her. She was toeing a line that demanded something from her. Forfeit of nothing, compromise on everything, sacrificing herself.

But his voice lived in her head. Good girl. Stupid woman. Burning hands, grating stares. She would be in the kitchen some evenings, taking care of a meal – sans Rowan; he never stayed in a room with her for long – when she felt daggers placed between vertebrae. They scratched at more than grey matter, electrifying bones from their marrow. Dripping out tension, removed without her conscious.

The kitchen was an overlap. A moment where her life had no course but to find his. Magnetic, always coming back to the poles of whatever connection had her hands shaking and her heart squeezing. It only intensified with his actions. He was helpful in the kitchen; competent and assured. Albeit limited, knowing enough recipes to cover the days of the week. Pragmatic when planning, efficient when in action. It was flustering.

They spoke – less after yesterday evening, strained at the table this morning – in small bites. Never more than what could be swallowed whole. Exchanging conversation like trading cards. Parameters and conditions. She took care to keep her voice even when speaking, her flush sometimes translating to a breathlessness. He never seemed to notice when her pitch jumped. Simply going back to his spot and carrying on. Immune to the heady weight of unsaid words.

Peeling back skin from her fingertips, crusted and flaying from the saltwater, Aelin continued to watch Rowan. For all the man was; blunt and unfettered, he had a spirituality to him. Some divination that seeped from pores, asphyxiating with proximity. She had no ability to rid him from her mind. The sailboat portraits mocking in all their glory.

She could be concerned with the safety of his afternoon hobby�� but she was gaining a verdant entertainment from the display. Muscles highlighted by the light of the setting sun. In rare cases, framed with sparks of condensed heat. Close enough to pinprick a constellation of scars. And the mask. It was doing things to her that the vibrator she had tossed when leaving the city couldnt even conceive. Fucking bastard.

Welding inane bits of metal without any protection over ones chest seemed like a recipe for absolute disaster. Some sort of dance with pain, a jump and run with each swing. Battling back and forth simply for the trouble of it. But he had been doing it for the past few hours, and all the willpower summoned to her being could not strengthen her against looking. Looking, thats all.

Piece by piece, he worked through a pile of metal. Bending near to get a closer look, flipping the mask up for observation, slamming it down. Gloves tucked on, off. Brushing off sparks from collarbones.

Aelin was up and out of the room before she really had time to consider the outcomes of her next actions.

“What’s that you’ve got there,” she called. Sunshine and gentle waves. Currents that drowned. A shiver of pleasure racked his body.

Looking up, Rowan knew where she would be. Had been waiting, hoping, for her to just look in his direction. Breath his way. It meant everything and nothing at once. But god, it meant a hell of a lot right now.

“Just a project. ‘ve been needing to finish it up.” He had to cough, some choking feeling straining words.

“Huh,” she hummed, wrapping slender arms around her middle. She was light, beaming and radiating in muted metals and shining reflections. Stunning in a way that would not hurt your eyes to stare at. “What does that do?”

It was unfortunate, having to pull his gaze from her to whatever she was pointing at.

He hummed, “the electrode holder. See the cord?” His gaze was back on her, waiting for the acknowledgement she had heard him. “This,” pointing at the piece on the table, “is what… brings the metal together, yeah? That is what supplies the power.”

Her eyes followed where he pointed, and it felt like holding a opportunity in roughened hands. Fragile and breakable. But she just smiled, giving a small nod of her head, hair shifting and falling. His hand stretched out to touch it, curtain it behind jewelry adorned ears and away from vibrant eyes. He wanted nothing in the way of her face.

He pulled it back, snapping out of the daze when she stepped closer.

“Why?” Tension weighed heavy, his tongue dry. He could feel the places where he was bare, shifting slightly to readjust. Her closeness was tempting. But, why– why what?

“Why what?”

“Well, why are you doing this?” She was interested. “I mean, and I am no expert or anything, but I feel like not having the proper protective gear is toying with stupidity…” She cares. “... And, I mean, not too long ago you were digging holes, and now its-”

His hand landed on her shoulder, firm and electrifying. It was unconscious, psychic and meant to be. Drifting the spot on the peak on bone, fingers reaching down far enough that he could dig into the base of her shoulder blade if he wanted too. Push into muscle and fat, under bone. Worm his way into her being like she had his.

She paused, mouth parted in a breath of indecision. He could see the indecisive and curious waves rolling through ocean blue irises. Dancing around that ring of gold that burned so bright. He wanted to find ore like that, find some proof of her reality in his surroundings. Present it to her like a gift of ardency. Tug her close and feel the heat under cotton thin t-shirts and canvas pants. Feel her.

He didnt. Instead, turning her around, he pointed over the shoulder his hand wasnt occupying. Indecently brushing it against cheekbones and the thin membrane of her neck. Itching over the closeness. “See that?” He whispered, eyes shifting from the dancing upsurge of colours as they erupted over waves. “I like it. So, I want another view.” He watched the gooseflesh rise on her neck.

She shuddered. “What about the deck?” Murmured, so low he had to lean closer.

“I like right here fine.”

Taglist: @mariaofdoranelle , @leiawritesstories , @renxzs

Let me know if you would like to join the taglist :)

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sircesimblr · 4 days ago

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Jaromir Fallonfuchs, bosun. * summer 1762, Fradisdorf, Bavaria - † summer 1771, Lost at Sea

Early life

Born on a prospering south Bavarian farm, Jaromir, the middle child of a strong and lively set of eleven (six daughters, five sons), grew up being "in the middle" of everything. With his brothers he helped his father on the farm; with his sisters he helped his mother at home. And just as easy as he joined his brothers in playing pranks on his mother and sisters, he joined his sisters in endlessly teasing and tricking his father and brothers. Struggling to get some attention for himself in the midst of his family's whirlwind, Jaromir became the family's storyteller. Every little thing that happened he turned into fiery imaginative stories to recite at many a festive family occasion. But as much as this was his forte, it also tired him. When herding or milking the cows up on the mountain, the tiny white sailboats he saw shimmering on lake Chiemsee down in the valley, lulled his senses.

At the summer fair in town, supposed to look at the boys with his sisters and to dance with the girls like his brothers, it was a painting in a bookshop's window that stole his heart. The first time he saw a sea ship, with sets of sails much larger than any boat on the lake, conquering waves much higher than any on the lake, colourful and beautiful and fierce to behold, he was smitten. He went inside the bookshop to ask about that boat, those waves, and where he could find it; he left with a weathered seafarer's manual, some language books and a big dream. The entire Fallonfuchs family waved him goodbye at the end of that same summer, on his way to seek his future at sea.

Career

Starting out from Antwerp as a carpenter's mate on the Peacock, and rising to carpenter on the larger Alanthea, Jaromir's fascination and dexterity with sea ships grew alongside a love for everything foreign. Sailing mostly around Europe and the Mediterranean in the year 1765, one journey to South Africa had him set on seeing even more of the earth. He then met bosun Frederik Oudman of the Marianna, a ship sailing far out to the New world. Oudman, recently coping with a health issue which could sometimes force him off duty, offered him the shared position of bosun, following his Captain's orders to keep him from losing his livelihood. A shared position and shared pay, but Jaromir, in accepting this, got his ship and a friend for life, often joking with Oudman about which half of the Marianna actually was his, cut horizontally or vertically, or even decided by weight, in all fairness, it was bound to become something to be settled by Captain Beaudard.

Death

Jaromir Fallonfuchs, born summer 1762, was declared dead summer 1771, lost at sea three years earlier. Because of the long distance to rural Bavaria, this notice arrived at his family farm half a year post-date. The family, frequently entertained by Jaromir's graphic and moving travel letters, had received his last epistle from Greenland only a season earlier, and so none of them, without exception, ever believed the news. Even after years of silence, a new letter was expected to arrive any day, while old ones kept being read out loud at every possible family gathering.

#this profile will be added on once this life on Northeney is fulfilled #Jaromir Fallonfuchs • founder #sim profile

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shibaraki · 2 years ago

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WIPS FOR MERMAY:

↳ please keep in mind that given my health + other things in my life these plans may change. some may be posted later, or after the months end. all of these are for the mermay fic collab hosted by the teahouse server!

if tides could speak | bakugo katsuki [03 may]

an unlikely hero comes in the form of a barbarian. your stolen pelt is returned by his hand— but for a selkie that is more than simple kindness. It is a proposal.

what the water gave me | midoriya izuku [10 may]

when your sailboat is caught in a vicious storm you are saved by a whale sized mer that cannot keep his curiosity— nor his affections— at bay.

harbour rose | cove holden [13 may]

love casts it’s own net, and there’s only one man who can cut you free of this one.

be still my indelible love | choso [13 may]

monstrous? no. to you he is about as threatening as a limpet.

a fish out of water | miya atsumu [18 may]

you are his constant in a life shaped by an ever changing element. he wants you. but you are the most oblivious creature he has ever met.

amphitrite | uraraka ochako [24 may]

ochako is a fiend for your attention and one day apart is a day too many.

don’t touch the glass | shinsou hitoshi [DELAYED]

merfolk are rarities, attracting eyes from all over the world and traded like exotic animals. your team happens upon a derelict aquatic theatre housing a single converted shipping container full of water — inside it is an adult siren, left behind.

ship to wreck | tendou satori [TBA]

with a love for underwater exploration you set out to find an old wreck rumoured to be haunted. but by what? more accurately, by who?

current-smoothed bones | gojo satoru [TBA]

every five years a person is sacrificed to the deity living in the lake under the shrine. this time it’s you.

#m.navi #overly ambitious as usual #🏝️ monty’s beach episode #dividers by @cafekitsune

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jomiddlemarch · 6 months ago

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The shapes a bright container can contain!

The next day, he asked his son what he thought.

“Living together? That’s what you’re calling it?” Scorpius replied around the mouthful of scone and clotted cream and raspberry jam that Draco would have been castigated by his mother for taking. Draco was not above using his French House-elf Clafouti’s light hand with pastry as the incentive for Scorpius to leave Hogwarts, though it cost extra in the elf’s pay packet to get them to produce the more stolid English puddings Scorpius favored. When Scorpius wanted treacle tart, Draco had to throw in a week’s holiday at the Malfoy villa near Biarritz and use of the sailboat.

“What should I call it?” Draco said, resisting the impulse to take offense or, Merlin help him, blush.

“You’re asking me?” Scorpius said. He favored Draco in his coloring and bone structure but he had so much of his mother in his expressions, his tone of voice. Draco missed Astoria terribly for a moment and also didn’t, because he hadn’t lost her entirely, not when Scorpius was looking at him with such wry incredulity in his eyes, a green so dark they looked grey. “This seems massively inappropriate to me, Dad, but fine. I think you’re in love with Professor Granger but you don’t want to scare her off or you think she’ll never feel the same way, so you’re just taking what you can get and trying to come across like a really good friend and not a stalker.”

Draco was silent. He felt as if Scorpius had cast Organa remota maxima, his innermost self examined and dropped in front of him for his troubles. In love with Hermione. Really good friend. Not a stalker. It was insightful and devastating. Draco resisted the urge to lay his head down on the table or wandlessly shatter the gilt-encrusted vase he and Astoria had received as a betrothal gift from her Aunt Tanaquil and had never once used for flowers because it was so ugly.

“Can everyone tell but Hermione?” Draco asked.

“Probably no one can tell but me. Professor Longbottom maybe, because he’s also got a thing for Professor Granger. All the House-elves, of course, but they wouldn’t say anything. Mum’s portrait,” Scorpius said, licking some jam from his fingers. “Great-Auntie Andromeda, I think she’s noticed, but that’s not bad because she’s friends with Professor Granger and she’s family, so she’ll tell you if you’ve got no chance at all.”

“Merde,” Draco muttered.

“You do remember I’m fluent in French, Dad?” Scorpius said, grinning. “I’ve picked up a fair amount of Bulgarian too, in case you’re thinking of trying that out.”

“One observes the decencies,” Draco said. “We both pretend you don’t speak French and I can curse in peace.”

“Why are you upset? She hasn’t kicked you out, has she?” Scorpius said.

“No,” Draco said.

“You haven’t made a muddle of something important? Said something rude about Albus’s father? They’re quite good friends, you know,” Scorpius said. Draco thought back to when they’d been first years, Hermione with that cloud of unruly curls and her lively little face, Harry in clothes that never quite fit, hair mussed, his glances at Hermione. The trust between them that was somehow something separate, greater, than what was between Harry and Ron. Good friends, indeed.

“No, I haven’t said anything rude about Potter,” Draco replied. “Nor any of her other friends—”

“Did you forget something like her birthday or that she hates almonds? She does hate almonds, Professor Longbottom mentioned it in passing one time. It’s why she never has pudding when they serve Bakewell tart,” Scorpius said.

“Duly noted but no. She hasn’t indicated she’s upset. She asked me what you thought of us living together and it got a little involved,” Draco said. “That’s about all I’m going to share with you, so don’t try to pump me for more details.”

“I wouldn’t,” Scorpius said. “You can’t think I want to know anything about your…love life.”

The degree of disgust in his son’s voice was mitigated by his careful choice of love life in reference to his relationship to Hermione, whom Scorpius had been careful to call Professor Granger, the respect evident in his tone.

“You don’t mind, then?” Draco said.

“Do you want me to? I don’t see what the big deal is. You’re not betraying Mum being happy with Professor Granger and it does seem like you’re happy now and you weren’t before, even though I didn’t really notice until you stopped being lonely,” Scorpius said. “Is this because of when you were all kids? Because I think you should be over that stuff by now. Merlin knows it’s been long enough—”

“I know, we’re all as old as the hills,” Draco said.

“You acted old until you started spending all your free time with Professor Granger. You fiddled with potions and read musty old books and talked about growing orchids instead of going out to the pub for pints or having your friends over for dinner,” Scorpius said.

“And now?”

“Now you act like an eighth year with their first girlfriend most of the time, minus going to Honeydukes and cleaning out the inamorata chocs,” Scorpius said, smiling. “But no one minds because you’ve lightened up on your grading and giving detentions for snogging in the hallways.”

“Tell me this—are the students placing bets? Have you recused yourself from the pot if there is one?” Draco asked.

“Slytherin House agreed it would be indecorous, even if you’re only ever the acting Head,” Scorpius said. “Gryffindors are too focused on Quidditch. But I can’t say that Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw don’t have an extremely elaborate system of wagers, all recorded in Punic. I can’t say that. But I have not placed any bets and have not traded any insider information about flowers, tea, all the books you brought over…”

“Does Professor Longbottom know? About the betting?”

“Yeah, he’s keeping an eye on it. Making sure no one’s going to get into real financial trouble if you elope or Professor Granger comes to class with a Malfoy heirloom ring,” Scorpius said.

“I would not use a Malfoy heirloom,” Draco said.

“I know, you’d pick something from the Black side and you’d have it reset,” Scorpius said. “You’d pick a ruby, but I think that’s a mistake.”

“You do, do you?”

“It’s too obvious. Gryffindor colors, when I don’t even think Professor Granger especially believes in the Houses,” Scorpius said.

“What should I pick in this hypothetical future you’re imagining for me?” Draco asked.

“A star sapphire or a pearl,” Scorpius said. He waited, a reversal where Scorpius expected Draco to figure out the reasoning behind the choice, much as Draco would make his students explain why hellebore was diced and not shredded before getting stirred into the potion widdershins.

“A gem with an inclusion. She doesn’t want perfection or rather, what’s most beautiful to her requires a flaw. Vulnerability,” Draco said.

“Yeah, though I would’ve just said the part about the grain or sand or whatever it is being part of the jewel,” Scorpius replied.

“You worked that out on your own?”

“Mum’s portrait helped,” Scorpius said. “She also said you ought to bring Professor Granger by the house because you’re, and I quote, ‘making it weird.’”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Draco said. He’d been ambivalent about the creation of the portrait but Astoria thought it would help Scorpius and he couldn’t say that it wouldn’t. For the most part, the portrait was kind and gentle, encouraging and eager to cheer them up if they seemed glum, but occasionally she had an edge and that was when she most reminded Draco of his wife as she’d been.

“She’s not going to be rude,” Scorpius said.

“Mum’s portrait? I wouldn’t expect that,” Draco replied.

“No, I mean Professor Granger. If she doesn’t want to come or she does and she hates the curtains or something, she won’t be rude about it. She’s always nice, even when Eureka Cobbins submits the most excruciatingly moronic essays,” Scorpius said.

“I don’t know. Those tassels in the drawing room might be unbearable,” Draco said.

“Then you can Vanish them together,” Scorpius suggested.

#dramione #hurt/comfort where it's 99% comfort #draco malfoy #hermione granger #hermione x draco #hogwarts professors AU #scorpius malfoy #father-son relationship #widower!draco #romance #humor #getting schooled on your love life by your teenage son #astoria greengrass #writing the fic you want to read #speculating about hermione's taste in jewelry and pastry #hp fanfic

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