#dock town is a metaphor you fucks

[mosswiind]

veilguard spoilers

the only person who gives a fuck about dock town is neve gallus.

you may be thinking, minrathous has an army and defenses in place that could absolutely take on a dragon. and you would be right. but dock town is not part of minrathous proper.

spend ten minutes in dock town. walk past literally dozens of unhoused civilians. talk to any shadow dragon for thirty seconds.

the templar order is more interested in accepting bribes from magisters (see knight commander lenos re: bataris) than stopping people from doing illegal magic (with the obvious exceptions of rana and tarquin, who can only help from the shadows, both literal and figurative).

there is a demon of desperation that easily gets its hooks into a number of people, because they're drawn to their patron emotion. which is desperation. people are desperate enough to draw attention from the fade.

minrathous doesn't give a fuck about dock town.

minrathous doesn't give a fuck about dock town.

minrathous doesn't give a fuck about dock town.

minrathous has an army. dock town doesn't.

minrathous has defenses. dock town doesn't.

minrathous is the largest, wealthiest city in the north, known far and wide for being extremely defensible. dock town is a shack city built in the ruins of the old imperium. many people don't have four walls, or even doors.

dock town, still recovering from the events of solas's first ritual attempt and demon attacks, is not equipped for a siege that should take an army being taken on by a handful of unhoused, unarmed, malnourished citizens.

treviso is a thriving commerce centre run by an affluent assassin's guild, with input from a (corrupt, but) influential government structure. the crows may rule antiva, but there is still support for most everyone outside of their - shocker - drowned district. where they put their homeless population.

the magisterium has no reason to defend dock town, because that's where the poors are. docks can be rebuilt. labour can be bought. people are replaceable.

rook helps people.

rook is the one who, to quote evka, "can find the twisting path through any problem."

rook is the one with the dagger that can get the dragon to land. the dagger is the deciding factor in whichever city you choose, not an extra couple of heroes shooting at a forty ton flying monstrosity that's out of range and raining blight and fire/ice on everything.

but the dagger goes where rook goes, and that is what makes rook the factor that tips the scale one way or the other.

if rook chooses treviso, it is abundantly clear that neve was right. the only person who gives a fuck about dock town is neve gallus.

[vofart]

this is going zto be long

Ok hear me out they both pull each other out of the water (metaphor for the darkness) and then they sorta stick together, a little pining but also a lot of pirate nonsense. this is before they start working together and how they met

Most of this changes what i said in the first hash out but what ever also I suck ss at spelling I font give a shit

So! Arahabaki is a very cruel deep sea god and the other sea gods don’t really like them so they curse him (gods have to team up to curse eachother rare but happens) 

Curses arahabaki to ‘live on the surface in mortal form’ 

Being a tricky god Arahabaki finds a loop hole or two so they don’t lose all their godly powers. 

Chuuya (10yrs old) is the mortal form that Arahabaki chooses (a little at random) as a young child. 

The ‘entrance’ of Arahabaki just so happens to be in the middle of a navy fleet/port absolutely destroying everything and leads to an influx of pirates (especially younger). 

The Sheep is a sailing vessel with a bunch of kids on it. 

They find Chuuya in a port town and take him in. (11yrs old)

 Chuuyas a natural, navigation and fighting come naturally to him and he sorta becomes their captain but not by choice. (17 yrs old). 

Chuuya has managed to avoid falling into the water up until this point. 

But during a navy altercation the ship get damaged enough that they have to jump in. 

Arahabaki’s godly form is triggered when he is fully submerged 

 in this giant (300ft tall) form Chuuya knows he’s Chuuya and Arahabaki (at the same time) and after all these years Arahabaki has been like idk weakened so Chuuya has some control 

Arahabaki’s voice sorta goads him on and makes him a little feral. (Chuuya has so little impulse control)

Arahabaki’s voice gets stronger when Chuuya is mad and right after shrinking back down

Anyways Dazai is on a navy ship (why? not sure) 

 sees Chuuya ruining ship after ship and although he’s immortal he really doesn’t like pain so he’s like shit gotta stop this raging god. 

he tries to calm Chuuya down and succeeds, not sure how but it involves yelling. 

Chuuya shrinks back down to normal chibi size and Dazai fishes him out of the water and takes care of him (Chuuyas not in great shape) 

he sleeps for a few days and Dazai desapears after Chuuya wakes up leaving him in the hands of the navy. 

The navy is not sure what to do with Chuuya so they (try) turn him into a reputable sailor 

after about three yrs (20yrs old) Chuuya gets so fed up he blows up a navy vessel and returns to the life of a pirate.

 He doesn’t settle on a ship because he doesn’t mix with others very well and after a close call with Arahabaki he decides to make port for a while. (22yrs old) 

after only a few months in port Chuuya meets Dazai again. 

 lounging on the docks as the tide goes out

 everything is fine until he hears gasping cussing and choking from under the peer.

 He checks it out only to find Dazai Hog tied to the pyling. 

Chuuya (very  carefully keeping his body mostly out of the water) jumps in and cuts the ties and brings him up 

He has been down there for a while Dazai says at least a week and Chuuya is like this guys fucking nuts should i toss him bback in.

 He looks horrible and i mean like worse than a corpse. His pale and pruney and just kinda half eaten (literal bites outa the man) and 

he just looks at Chuuya and coughs up so much water, and goes oh look it’s the shrimp. 

Chuuyas all like we are the same age, i think(hes looking a little rough okay) and Dazai is all like no we are not. 

Theeen he conks out muttering something about shipwrecks and how much better crabs are than shrimp. 

Chuuyas just kinda sits there (his instinct to protect doesn’t let him leave) 

the sun starts to set and Dazai wakes up and just whines about how he wishes he could die. 

And Chuuyas like you should have you would have been down there at least since this morning. I told you shrimp it’s been at least a week. 

He talks about how he’s immortal 

Somehow they stick together (Dazai does recognize Chuuya)

I think Chuuya craves life on the waves

Sooner rather then later Chuuya places Dazai in his memory

They spend a couple years jumping from ship to ship until they finally just steal themselves one

They start a crew and pick people all over the place

Some members never leave and others cycle like dishwater 

Possible other crew members (total 9)

Gin (Auku is on land in this) cook dead quiet and great with knives

Hirotsu bc I love him 

Higuchi kitchen help

Tachihara alternate gun man

Kyouka intusted to Chuuya by Kouyou 

OC?(s) I need to fill out some rolls 

Armed Bar and General Services

Fukuzawa

Kunikida

Yasano 

Kenji 

Jenichiro siblings

Other

Kouyou is a sea witch

Ranpo just really likes Fukuzawas bar

Poe a Navy cartographer kisses^

Atsushi was on Double Black for a while but left to chase his own horizon

Akutagawa has his own ship

[wordy-little-witch]

So I watched Oppenheimer ((mostly)) for the first time last night and decided some of the lines were. Really good. By golly they were GREAT.

But the movie itself kinda pissed me off, so I stopped about halfway through. Anyway, have some weird incorrect quote meets snippet looking shit bc I love competent Buggy and he deserves to be a lil mad genius

Crocodile had low expectations went he stepped out of the meeting room. Now largely, this would not come as a surprise. He always lowered expectations when Buggy was involved - it was the best he could do for his nerves. The clown was several ounces of unhinged, in both ways expected and entirely, indubitably, vivaciously NOT.

As it was, the logia user believed he avoided aneurysms by sheer luck in the beginning.

Nowadays things had settled more or less. The Guild was running very well, all things considered, their profit was steadily increasing, and every soul on the island had a job or niche they filled happily. He'd even found a few places where Buggy flourished.

This meeting was regarding one of those niches. Aside from being the front man and face of the operation, the clown was also their most skilled chemist, chief explosives expert, and general all-arounder. While he may not go toe to toe with another Emperor in a 1v1 fight, the clown made his uses elsewhere. He was not the blade, the smoking barrel, the weapon - he was the oil in the mechanics of the crew, the fuel to the fires and the one who, more often than not, made the weapons in their hands.

The most recent weapon was the topic for today.

And Buggy was missing.

Annoyed as he was, the logia user remained outwardly calm as he skirted around town in search of the wayward clown. At first, they thought the other may be helping with the legwork of the lower ranks - wouldn't be the first time, certainly would nit be the last - but none of them had seen hide nor hair of the Chairman in days. Unperturbed, Crocodile sent them back to work and continued the search.

Docks were a bust.

The gardens had no hint of blue beyond the specially bred flowers in the back.

The announcement tent was void of bright hair and red noses.

The circus tent had few humans, none of which had seen their captain.

Luckily, Mohji was quick to recommend the kitchens. It was not nearly yet time for a meal, he admitted, but when Buggy fixates on something interesting, he sometimes seems to forget he had a body, let alone one with needs.

That, too, of course, wound up being a failure.

He'd plowed through three cigars already in the impromptu adventures around the isle, and so he was quite close to losing his temper with the apparent and damning lack of clown. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tried breathing deeply, carefully, working to dampen the embers of rage and fury from a blaze to something smoldering.

It was, ironically, Alvida and Cabaji, who deigned to metaphorically poke the bear otherwise known as their superior, Galdino bustling about back in the kitchens beyond the counter tops.

"What are you looking for?"

"Fucking Hell," he managed to grit out, shooting a look to the duo before him. Cabaji seemed to cringe back minutely, but Alvida just barely winced. "Don't suppose you've seen the damned clown today?"

"Not yet," Al shrugged with a frown, "but once Gal finishes up his... thing over there-" she gestured over to the candle man still aggressively piling snacks and drinks into a bag, "- we're going to find him."

"Well," the older man barked a mirthless laugh, "I can definitely tell you where he's not. Been looking for his ass since seven."

Alvida grimaced, nodding while her fingers toyed with the end of her mace. "Yikes. Meeting?"

"Obviously."

"Captain had a tendency," Cabaji cut in with a rueful expression, "to fixate far too long on something interesting - usually to... rather unpleasant results."

The logia user gave a low growl of a hum, flicking ash from his cigar. "I'll be sure to show him unpleasant once I find him. Bastard missed our meeting and still has yet to show."

The dark haired woman pursed her lips, eyes narrowing. One could nearly see the gears turning in her head. "For the weapons?"

"Somethijg like that," he nodded, "it was initially the firearms he was designing and testing, but it's since expanded to the bombs and other explosives he's been blabbering on about." Glancing down, he paused at the wide eyed look on the other two, shooting a glance over to see Galdino now quietly screaming to himself as he grabbed several first aid kits to throw into the bag. Arching a brow, he turned back. "... am I missing something here?"

"When was the last time you saw him??"

He paused, averted his gaze in consideration. Last glimpse of the clown had been.... what, when they'd gotten the shipment in for Mihawk's eyeliner? Buggy had been picking up something at the docks and had been practically vibrating, in casual clothes as opposed to his onesie suit as he jabbered some poor girl's ear off over a strangely colored box. The emblem had been for a chemical company, he believed, one of the few that Buggy actually trusted to order ores and such from. That had been back on the 23rd. He relayed this to the others.

Alvids winced. Cabaji sighed. Galdino went into the walk in freezer, sealed the door, and muffled screams were heard before he came back out with a tub of ice cream.

"He's probably at his workshop," the wax man stated plainly. "Mohji said he was there on his last shift."

"Shift?"

"Buggy wrangling," the woman answered simply. "When that idiot gets too invested, everything else falls away. Short of a crew emergency, he's essentially a hermit. We take shifts to check on him, make sure he eats or hasn't died somehow."

Crocodile vaguely wanted for a different plant in his smoke source if only to mitigate the pounding in his temples, but he simply nodded, gesturing for them to lead the way.

As it turned out, Buggy's general workshop was near his tent.

His experimental workshop was much, much further out.

And there was cackling coming from inside.

When Galdino took point, the other two fell into place at his back. Believing it to be far from necessary for such formations, Crocodile considered barging past them all.

Then the door swung open and a blue blur damn near slammed into the wax user.

Buggy was a veritable mess, smudges on his cheeks, a line pressed across his cheek bones and bridge of his nose, mildly irritated from the red-pink lines. The shadows around his eyes made the blue of his irises seem lighter than usual, especially with the glassy, manic spark to them. His hair was in a bun, mostly, loose strands bouncing with the many pencils, pens and.... beaker(???) tucked in there.

He was sans makeup, only the barest red stain to hip lips, Crocodile noticed, as the giggly man almost squealed.

"Guys! Oh em gee, hiiii~" His arms clung to the taller man, almost clambering up as her shimmied and bounced. "I did a thing," he blabbered excitedly, "and it's SO COOL and I wanna tell Croco-chan and Hawky and everyone and it's gonna be so cool, I promise, so super duper mega ultra cool and- OH HI CROCCY COME SEE!!!!"

As if the natural whirlwind of a clown was not bad enough, it seemed Buggy was running on pure liquid energy. Hands coveted in gloves clenched hard on his hook and bodily dragged him into the workshop as their owner seemed to word vomit in a language all too unknown for the businessman to follow. He caught a few bits and pieces of things here and there, trying to follow the other and rebalance himself - the blue haired man had nearly yanked him straight off his feet - when he caught sight of some chalk boards, cork boards and entirely too many letters, numbers, symbols and a graph, of all things, emblazoned nearly across the entire far wall.

Alvida sighed softly, earning a glance. She gestured back to Buggy.

When he turned, it was to be met with the clown bouncing on his toes, clapping as he looked between the larger man and a decently sized ball on the table.

Uncertain as to what exactly he was looking at and unsure of how exactly to handle this manic man, Crocodile simply blinked. "What... is this, again?"

"It's my prototype," the other squeaked, moving to rub his cheeks roughly with a grin, hands falling to shake roughly at shoulder height as he beamed. "See, I was working on those guns ya know. And so as I was doing the papers, I was thinking to myself, 'ya know buggy ol boy, you haven't checked the Idea Book in a while' and so I was like 'yeah, brain I haven't!!' So I DID and when I did, I saw some old theories on explosives and how Buster Calls work because the Navy is fucking batshit and decided anyone not good enough for them deserves to blow up so then I thought 'oh I wanna make my own buster call but BUGGY STYLE', so I went to my theory section and theory can take you only so far, so THEN I reached out to Emie-chan!!! And she had some AWESOME scientific journals because she works for Sky-Lines, that big big big lab, and I was reading them and it HIT ME, HYDROGEN!!!!" Small but calloused gloved hands caught Croc's hoop again as Buggy turns back to rambling, the former catching a few words here and there between the waterfall of words. Something about neutrons, chain reactions, and heavy hydrogen? He blanked.

"Buggy," a softer voice cut in. The two highest ranking men in the room turned, catching sight of Alvida and Cabaji both frowning, the former leaning into the latter while Galdino tried to hand her an apple. The wax man had spoken, looking to the captain. "I'm sorry to interrupt but 'Vida's been feeling unwell for a while-"

Immediately, the unstoppable hurricane of a clown seemed to practically teleport with the speed he got over there with. "What happened, what's wrong?"

"Cramps," she grimaced, hand moving to her abdomen. "No big deal, Bugs-"

"You haven't eaten," Cabaji cut in with a definite attempt at a worried scowl.

"I don't want to," she grumbled, taking hidden glances at Buggy.

The jester for his part took her hands gently. "You gotta eat, Vida, it should help your body settle."

She put on a show of deliberating, then, in a voice Crocodile had never heard from her before, she struck. "Will you eat with me?"

"Of course," Buggy assured, reaching out to take the apple in hand. A green one was handed to Alvida and they playfully bonked the two fruits together before biting into them.

Buggy hummed. "These are pretty good! Ya know, I don't think I've had this kind of apple before what kind is it?"

"Night night apples."

"What."

And then suddenly there was a thump, the other three quickly separating while Galdino pulled out the first aid kit, Alvida grabbing a cloth, and Cabaji checking other over for injuries.

Crocodile stared.

"What the fuck just happened?"

"Sometimes you gotta manipulate a clown into eating a drugged apple," Vida said without hesitation. "Any concussion?"

"Seems fine," Cabaji nodded, glancing to Galdino who quickly confirmed.

Once certain there were no wouldst, Alvida passed over the cloth and went to a filing cabinet, humming softly as she flicked through the folders before pulling out one covered in cutesy duck stickers, labeled 'for croco-baby' on the tab. She handed it over with a smile.

Now possibly far more confused than before, he took the folder and watched as the unicyclist picked up the clown easily and all three trotted out casually. He watched them head back to the tents, carefully avoiding prying eyes, and dip into Buggy's personal tent with no ounce of hesitation.

Fucking hell.

He needed a stiff drink. Or several.

He looked at the folder. A little duck sticker was winking at him, holding a heart.

Make that damned case.

[evedaser]

sometimes when i work on my poetry and research for my (final year high school) extension ii english, i feel like such a fraud and a failure. i write naturally and i write for fun, and especially recently getting extremely addicted to fanfiction the stuff im reading and influencing myself with is easy and simple, maybe not in plot but in its use of language. its not dense and fanciful like the classics, its not teeming with extended metaphors and symbolism to shatter your mind and link with postmodernism and contextual concerns

it’s just writing.

i write poorly and worry it’s not good enough for my teacher, for the markers who will put a number on my page. they who have been studying literature and language for years, decades, judging the work of i who have not yet reached one score in age.

i feel like i’m being asked to reinvent the wheel, when all i really want to do is ride in the cart

and maybe it’s all right to say fuck it and just hop on. writing is FUN. if it makes people feel things i’ve already won. my work doesn’t need to be dissected and broken down and analysed as perfection. it’s not fair.

fanfiction has helped me realise that I think. i never used to read it, some sort of dignity thing. even now i have to fight the shame when i tell people im reading fanfic, but at the end of the day this writing has so much heart. it makes me excited to write, it makes me so excited to READ. it traps me in its joyful escapism like any book could. I read the whole lotr in less than three weeks, i read a fanfic 100,000 words longer in three *days*. this kind of reading is FUN. sharing stories should be FUN!!

anyways, here’s my most favourite poem of all those i’ve ever written. it has no deliberate techniques, it does not follow a particular form, its rhythm is wobbly as best, its concepts are not earthshakingly deep. it’s about wanting to run away and be a pirate, just because it’s fun.

and fuck if it’s not better than those i wrote to be scrutinised. it has more of my soul than i fear those ever will. does that make me a bad writer? i hope not, but maybe id be ok with being bad if it meant i never had to give up the fun of it.

Dear Pirates,

Way out on the wide blue sea

Deep and dark beyond belief

You are all the things I long to be

O pirates on the great blue sea

From shore to town to shore once more

You pillage and plunder and break down the doors

You run and you sail away from the moors

O pirates with ships filled with treasure galore

Your tables are stained with blood and with beer

And though you are hunted there’s no time to fear!

You’ve places to be, not too far or near

O pirates, I dream that your ships will dock here

Great waves part around you, except when they don’t

And people surround you! Except when they won’t

All creatures, they run from your tattered black cloaks

O pirates, you run right on back to your boats

You sail straight off from all that is right

You look out for towns that gleam in the night

Where’s mischief, there’s money, and money you like

O pirates, for money you’ll put up a fight

And glory you love! And name-making too,

And name-taking just spells out more fun for you

So tell me you’re looking for somebody new

O pirates, let me be your newest recruit

And in spite of all the wet clothes that you’re wringing

You leap down! Your ropes fly, your cutlasses swinging!

Both quiet and loud, your sea-shanty singing,

And back to your ships your men keep on bringing

Great piles and rucksacks and chests filled with gold

And stories of danger, of recklessness bold

Your name piles with legends, with glory untold!

O pirates, does glory keep you from the cold?

If I were a pirate, I’d be ever so brave

And with crewmates and treasure there’s something to save

So even when pirates seem ever so grave

There’s safety and welcome, a home on the waves

anyway the actual point of fandom is to inspire each other. reading each other's fics and admiring each other's art and saying wow i love this and i feel something and i want to invoke this in other people, i want to write a sentence that feels like a meteor shower, i want to paint a kiss with such tenderness it makes you ache, i want to create something that someone else somewhere will see it and think oh, i need to do that too, right now. i am embracing being a corny cunt on main to say inspiring each other is one of the things humanity is best at and one of the things fandom is built for and i think that's beautiful

[goddessofroyalty]

Pspsps any spare pregnant Silco headcanons?? I lap up all your content

Yes I do (sorry if these have been touched on in other asks, it happens - this should be more detailed and focused).

He does not want to be seen as ‘weak’ for being pregnant. So despite the fact I think he gets fairly bad morning sickness he refuses to let any of the ‘general’ public know (which is basically anyone not in his very immediately circle he trusts). So those who he does trust learn to have a glass of water ready at the end of meetings before he’s likely going to be puking in the trashcan as soon as the door is shut. 

Despite that he is very clearly in a worse mood while pregnant. A lot more cranky and faster to snap at people if they do something wrong. And probably draws attention to the pregnancy a lot, especially in his monologues (”Right now my ankles are swollen and I have a growth the size of a watermelon on my hips but do continue to tell me how that little package you had was too hard for you to get across town with” kind of things).

As an extension of that he does actually complain a lot about the pregnancy but it’s always in a way that it’s someone else’s fault (they wanted the baby; they are making him go down to the docks to sort out the deal they fucked up despite him being uncomfortably pregnant - that kind of thing).

It’s again in quite and private moments (so reserved to the inner circle) that people get to see how much he does enjoy the pregnancy and love the unborn child. Because he does the rest is all preformative (okay some of the complaining and crankiness is genuine).

The way he talks about the Nation of Zaun and how they are going to go about gaining its independence definitively gets riddled with pregnancy/birth metaphors (and they do not ever go away even after the baby is born).

He works until he’s ready to drop. But he doesn’t push himself too hard physically. So he’s less likely to go out to visit whoever it is he wants to threaten and instead gets them dragged into his office where so he can sit on his chair (with his pillows perfectly positioned to support his back) while threatening them.

Assuming he has the money he will have well-tailored maternity clothes in order to maintain his image of wealth/power, but they are very much not tailored to try and mask the pregnancy. It is only when he’s in a private space that he will immediately switch to comfortable loose clothing.

[subarashiihibi]

whats your #1 most strongly held izaya opinion? (your metaphorical hill to die on so to speak) and also whats your #1 favorite thing about izaya

OH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! thank u for the ask. let me see.....

i think it's that he is so fucking interesting. and i think there is a lot of mental illness hiding behind his weird freakish (affectionate) smile. for starters he absolutely has bpd and cptsd. i think having to take care of his sisters and not having his parents around growing up took a toll on him. yes shinra was the trigger for him to go crazy mode but izaya didn't exactly have a normal childhood before that either i feel.

the way i imagine it is he most likely had to grow up faster than what he would have wanted to and for anyone i think that would be really detrimental to their development. we really don't get any insight into how he feels about his childhood or his parents so i'm just going off of what we do know and my own brain it just makes sense to me...!

ughru...........i rly want narita to explore izaya's character throughout the years. not just his childhood either but i am so interested in what he was like during college too. i am just very interested in him really haha. (^□^)

but anyways i think that him seeing himself as a god or some other kind of omnipotent deity is just a way to shut off his human emotions and whatever else he deems unnecessary. because what good do they do him...?

(he's actually quite similar to scaramouche genshin impact hehe... unfortunately scara can actually cook so i have to dock a point there but whatever.)

(my writing is not as eloquent atm as everyone else i see on tumblr who analyze izaya like this i'm sorry but i hope you understand i think really hard about him as a person and how his brain works.)

now. my number one favorite thing about izaya.

the answer is simple: he is sickeningly cute.🤬🤬🤬🤬

he's getting people to join a gang and going around planting the seeds for disasters all throughout Ikebukuro and all this crazy shit and WHAT is he wearing? bunny(???) slippers. he's sulking over eating hotpot alone. he pretends to be a girl on the internet. i'd be a fool to not want to wife him immediately. he makes me feel like this.

also when he uses kaomojis it makes me wanna run around in circles he drives me CRAZY. 24 yr old man still typing cutesy like that... how could i not fall for him.

the thing about izaya is the whole town of ikebukuro thinks he's this really dark and brooding evil dude but that's because he wants them to! the truth is he is just some guy who's just trying to catch the hanamaru kindergarten reruns on tv. ughhhhhhhhhhh i love him so bad.

this is just me making fun of him but 3 million yen wheelchair?💀 i need to know the full list of "gimmicks" it includes cuz i just feel like no matter what it's not enough to warrant that price tag.

but again thank u for your ask. i rambled a bit here and there but i hope you enjoyed my answer. i had a lot of fun typing it ^_^

[renaultmograine]

i do think the war campaign is some of my favorite warcraft stuff because it's just schlock.

shandris has a vampire slaying story arc because they allied the san'layn with the horde

they allied the san'layn with the horde and straight up don't tell the horde players this at any point

the quest where shandris and the alliance champion are attacking the ships to go kill san'layn and the champion gets caught by nathanos (who gets bonked by falstad after he monologues instead of killing you bc he's just so excited to have gotten you) is the same quest where the horde player is scuba diving and finds derek's body.

the fucking. dalaran engineering trainer is the dude manning your scuba gear. why is he here? who da fuck knows. welcome to the war buddy.

keeshan and kelsey bonding over their knife collection.

yeah kelsey steelspark is here. that gnome from tanaris. no i never did those quests either. but she's easily the best gnome in lore.

sylvanas straight up leaving the horde champion, valtrios, and rexxar on the fucking docks instead of letting them get on the boat.

rexxar is here because he decided that even though he did kill jaina's dad, she was kind of rude at some point so she had to die. horrible character writing but absolutely hilarious to me that someone thought that was a good decision to make when they were friends.

keeshan gets lovetapped in a fight and shandris thinks hes dead and starts loudly mourning his loss and keeshan is just awkwardly on the ground still alive.

john j. "terminal survivor's guilt" keeshan is like "i wish your sentinel sister's survived instead of me" and shandris takes this as an opportunity to say how the value of an elven and a human life aren't different

nathanos orders you to go steal camp decorations from a nearby kul tiran town because the cabin they stole isn't spooky enough for his liking.

you and nathanos go grave robbing together later

that one point in the horde campaign where you can work against sylvanas and the first junction of this is one of her rangers going "alright ill be right back dont talk to any traitors" and before she leaves zekhan jumps out of a bush and goes EY MON WANT TO BETRAY SYLVANAS?

that part is like after you and that ranger disguised yourself as a human mom and a girl and i cant even remember why. all i remember is the most hilarious 'racism' writing ive ever seen.

the zandalari vault heist. need i say more.

the fact that a large crux of the war campaign is just the horde and alliance stealing this wand back and forth.

umbric has this whole character arc about needing to prove that the void elves deserve to be in the alliance and at the end of it when he's like "i failed the alliance" wyrmbane, exemplar paladin, is like "what are you talking about you did fine your value doesn't ride on this assignment." average metaphor for anxiety.

wyrmbane, that guy who is in that one 40 man wrath bg everyone hates. yeah he's here.

god. the stay awhile and listens. nathanos and garona bickering. wyrmbane and shaw bickering. that little thing was my favorite inclusion into wow yet.

falstad fucking bonked nathanos with his stormhammer right in front of you it was so goddamn funny i have to bring it up again.

the fact that the horde just. finds some terminally ill tidesage to sit around and talk with before raising to join the horde.

the fact that lilian calls the valkyr to raise him and nathanos just trusts her judgement that it was important despite their differences

the fact that this dude is just used to spite baine later. i dont even remember his name. i feel bad. thomas?

it's thomas zelling i was right im the greatest at lore.

lilian looks after thomas' family because she made a promise to him!!! even after he's dead again!!! what a good fucking character moment.

that part where baine literally just steals derek with you and thomas. that part where if you're a loyalist you take a detour to tell nathanos this and he's like "lol thats hilarious, okay have fun. make it convincing kill a lot of horde people." and you get the buff [license to kill]

the alliance version of the stealing baine quest. jaina and shaw and you just annihilate a picnic.

that part where the dark iron shamans make you a giant lava elemental and you just obliterate 200 goblins.

im looking at the wow wiki page to jog my memory umbric was supposed to assassinate gallywix i completely forgot and am laughing my ass off. umbric bitched about his stupid golf course i completely forgot.

gallywix calls nathanos "the banshee prince"

shandris has an invisibility potion she gives you and when you ask here where she got it she goes "we're in the middle of horde territory during a war and youre asking me where i got an invisibility potion?" and if you say yes she goes "ill tell you after the war"

the war campaigns were so good you guys.

i know i'm in the minority abt this but bfa was actually fun outside of the gameplay aspects everyone derides it for. the regions were new and exciting while being about people that have existed in lore for forever, it actually felt like a horde and alliance conflict rather than running around doing other shit and also bonking a few opposite faction members on the side, the war campaign story was hilarious and brought back so many minor npcs we've already seen before and fleshed them out more. 8.3 is out of place in all of it but the concept of a raid that moves locations depending on where the corruption of the raid boss is strongest is so neat. how bfa saw fit to have us return to old areas with both the war fronts and 8.3 dailies, so it actually felt like time is progressing in the world?

there were a lot of good shit in that expansion but everyone just remembers the azerite grind and the tree burning.

[arrowverse-next-gen]

it’s almost over, it’s just begun (concept) // late night gang fic 4/10

TW: angstyyyy, death mention, blood.

There were a lot of benefits to living in Star City. These benefits included, but weren’t limited to, having a group of superheroes who run around at night to make sure that the streets are safe, a family oriented mayor who cared about the people of the city just as much as his own family and because of that always put on events for everyone to get involved in, making sure to pay out to the workers who participated in the event, and the park that overlooked the dock where a statue of Laurel Lance stood tall. 

But there were a lot of downfalls to living in Star City all the same. Like the fact that there was only a statue of Laurel Lance and not the rest of her teammates, or the yearly disaster that took a lot of lives like it was a routine. There was no way the heroes in the city could predict it from happening or they would have started to stop these events before they began years ago. Everyone who lives in the city is aware of the risks of being in town after Thanksgiving but before Christmas.

But just because the city is cursed with these yearly events, and the locals are aware of it, doesn’t make it okay. It brings in more tourists and puts more people in danger. No one knows that more than the heroes, the police and firefighters, and the hospital staff.

Quincy Lance stood on the roof of the hospital, overlooking the city filled with lights. There was smoke in the distance from a building fire but he only knew that for sure because he heard it come over Summer’s radio in the ER. She was trying to help out as much as she could but was called away for EMS work where the building was starting to collapse. 

Despite the chaos reigning down on the city, and the noises coming from it all, the roof was peaceful enough. The wind blew lightly, making the already cold night almost unbearable, but he couldn’t leave his place. He was frozen near the edge, metaphorically. He could move if he wanted to. But he didn’t see a point in doing that. 

“Don’t jump,” he heard Bex call from behind him. She was trying to be humorous but given the situation, she could probably understand him not reacting to it.

He looked down at his feet, his eyes trailing past the red stains on his white coat and the blue scrubs he wore underneath it. 

Should have brought an actual coat, he thought as he lifted his hands from his pockets to cross his arms. His hands were also stained but he tried not to think about that as much as possible.

“Q…” she took a step closer, slowly approaching him from behind until she got to his side.

“Don’t ask me if I’m okay,” his head shook slightly before he tilted it to the side. He stared out into the city, trying to imagine the buildings that were usually visible in the daylight. His mom’s statue was usually ant sized from up there but he could still see it when the sun was out.

“It’s cold out here, you should–”

“I can’t go back in there,” he bowed his head, looking down at his feet again. He heard Bex let out a defeated sigh, it wasn’t like her to give up so easily but they were both going through the motions that night. “Is Mrs. Darcy being taken care of?”

Bex nodded, he could see that out of the corner of his eye. 

“They’re taking her down to see Annabelle.”

He felt his heart sink at the sentence and closed his eyes to try to fight the feeling away. 

“Quincy, go home,” she stuffed her hands into her own coat pockets. “Go be with Ash and Bella.”

He shook his head more violently this time as he lifted it back up. “No.”

“Quincy–”

“No,” he finally turned to look at her. “There’s too…” he sighed, turning towards the city again.

“Dad would say this is a common feeling. That it’s normal to feel like this after–”

“You fuck up and a three year old’s life was the consequence?” He looked down at her again, then back out at the city. “I’ve fucked up before. I’ve… She was fine.”

“She wasn’t fine–”

“She would have been fine if I hadn’t–” he cut himself off, taking a step back away from the ledge.

 “I thought I could help her,” his voice cracked as the words left his mouth. “Now, what? I go home to Bella, who is the same age, and I act like I didn’t–”

“You didn’t do anything,” she followed his motions and took a step back from the ledge. “I know you’re gonna take that as a dig, don’t. You couldn’t have helped her. No one could have. You’re not a bad person for trying.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“You should at least get changed,” she suggested, knowing it was useless trying to pull him out of whatever hole he dug himself into before she came up to the roof.

Usually the roof was a moment of peace when you’ve reached your limit. Quincy was the hardest one to pull back down from that ledge when something happened at the hospital. He cared too much about his patients and when something happened to one of them, he took it personally. There was a little boy, around 14, when he first started working in the ER and when he passed, Bex wasn’t sure she would get him down from that. 

As the years went by, he became more and less attached to each patient that came through. He tried not to get involved with personal details for a few years, but since his daughter was born he fell right back into old patterns. It was hard not to relate to scared parents when he was constantly afraid something was going to happen to Bella.

He nodded. That was something he could agree with. He didn’t want to go home, but when he did he definitely didn’t want to be wearing blood stained clothing. The worst part of all of this, for him, was that he didn’t care about that part. He was desensitized to the idea of being covered in someone else’s blood. How the hell did he get there?

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 05 (second part)

(Masterpost) (Continued from Episode 05 first part, over here)

Breaking News: Zewu-Jun Continues to be Handsome

Just. Look at that man. 

Water Ghost Field Trip

Lans Xichen and Wangji are going ghost hunting and the Yunmeng boys want in. For a simple "can we come?" conversation, a whole lot happens here. Lan Wangji uses his mouth to say he definitely does not want these boys to come while using the rest of his face to secretly beg his brother to invite them.

Corporate recruiter Wei Wuxian advocates for Wen Qing, talking up her skills, and then does the same for Wen Ning.  He pays careful attention to what everyone is good at, and advocates specifically based on their abilities. While Wen Ning makes heart eyes at him.  

That’s my future dark master

Wei Wuxian also promises to protect Wen Ning, which he ultimately does for the rest of his first life. Wen Qing gives both Jiang boys a genuine sweet smile, and dismantles another anti-WWX ward or two, while still being very protective of her brother's secret.

Lan Xichen says yes to everybody. Lan Xichen is that indulgent elder sibling who's just a bit too old to play with you after school, but will take you to the park when he isn't too busy with varsity and debate club. [OP mentally hugs her third older brother]

Back at the Inn

Fastidious local boy dislikes dust; plans to build house on corpse pile

They get to town and Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian check into a room together. LAN XICHEN WHAT ARE YOU DOING? Each of these boys came to this town with his own brother, but they are rooming together, how did this even happen?

(more after the cut)

Does this mean Lan Xichen and Jiang Cheng are rooming together? and if so are they going to have a hot but ultimately meaningless one-night stand while each pines for the person they truly desire? 

Wen Qing is rooming with her own brother, and the other hot girl cultivators stayed back in Gusu. Wen Qing never catches a break.

The innkeeper tells the Hardy Boys cultivators that there’s a shark ghosts in the lake and they’re going to have to close the beaches in the middle of July, oh dear. 

Lan Wangji takes a lingering look at one of the beds and then goes to sit at the desk. Wei Wuxian tries to chat with him, fails, and goes and lies down on the bed.  They’re not quite getting along yet but they’re moving in that direction, like when you bring a shelter cat home and introduce it to your established cat. Wei Wuxian is obviously the stray tabby in this metaphor, while Lan Wangji is one of those stuck-up Blue Russians. 

Physically they are setting the template for many of their future domestic interactions, in which in which Lan Wangji meditates or plays guqin at his desk while Wei Wuxian lays in bed recovering from his latest physical or spiritual injury. 

Walk from Dock to Dock

Instead of taking a boat from the dock directly outside the inn, the cultivators walk through a bunch of random countryside.  How does anyone around here sell their fish, if the lake isn’t next to the town?

Wei Wuxian chats with Lan Xichen, laying out his case for why all the recent weirdness is connected. Lan Wangji, who has been shut out of his brother’s thinking on all of this, listens super carefully. Lan Xichen straight up lies and says “nuh-uh” and then walks faster to get away, so Wei Wuxian tries grilling Lan Wangji instead.

At this point WWX reveals that he, terrifyingly, shares Lan Xichen’s ability to tell what Lan Wangji is thinking by looking at his face.

Lan Wangji distracts him by pouring out his wine. This isn't LWJ being puritanical; he's escaping from the conversation by using the power of pettiness.

This works perfectly, getting Wei Wuxian to completely drop the subject and allowing Lan Wangji to make a run for it.

Note: Lan Wangji may have just now made up the “No Liquor on Night Hunts” rule, because Wei Wuxian asks him “why don’t I know that?” and if anyone knows Lan Clan rules at this point, it’s Wei Wuxian. 

R-A-G-G M-O-P-P Rag Mop

They take a bunch of boats and all stand in the middles of the boats while they use magic, presumably, to move the boats and also to keep from falling the fuck over because you're not supposed to stand up in a boat, assholes.

Cue JAWS music.

Wei Wuxian cleverly spots a rag mop on Lan Wangji’s boat. I would like to know where the Department of Dubious Effects sources their goddamn nerve, because we are in Classic Doctor Who territory with these mop monsters.

Wei Wuxian is out here being impressive, and Lan Wangji is doing his good goddamnest to not be impressed, and to be a sulky bitch while he's at it. He rejects Wei Wuxian’s explanation for why he splashed water on his boat, and rejects this friendly shoulder bump, telling Wei Wuxian to stay away from him.

Look at how Wei Wuxian reacts to that. He is dangerously close to being done with Lan Wangji’s bullshit.

He is opening the fight playbook here. He takes a big ol’ step over the boundary that Lan Wangji just set, which means the first phase has begun.

Let’s take a moment to appreciate the not-at-all suggestive framing and prop placement in that shot.

Lan Xichen is amused at these two extremely deadly extremely horny youngsters getting ready to kill and/or make out with each other.

Suibian

Before this can turn into a fight, the water mops start attacking and Wei Wuxian gets to show off his sword skills. 

Wei Wuxian’s crazy high level of cultivation always makes Lan Wangji weak in the knees, which is part of why it’s so distressing for LWJ when WWX gives up the sword during the Sunshot campaign.  Cultivation is the heart of their romance, and while Dark Wei Ying is also a high-level cultivator, Lan Wangji isn’t ready to share his narrow path until much later. 

Lan Wangji is impressed enough to ask Wei Wuxian about his sword, and is rewarded with the most Wei Wuxian answer ever, as he explains why he named his sword “Whatever.” 

The important relationship being shown in this moment is not Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, but Wei Wuxian and Suibian. You can see how he loves it and it's like he's talking about his pet. 

And it loves him back, as we later learn. This comfortable symbiosis is part of what he gives up when he sacrifices his core.

Jiang Cheng gets injured by a seaweed mop and Dr. Wen hops over to help him and look at his leg, leaving Wen Ning alone in his boat. This doesn't actually cause a problem for Wen Ning because he's a very strong cultivator. 

Later, as the Ghost General, he's more formidable than any other fierce corpse out there, and he is harder for Xue Yang to control than Song Lan is. Which means he’s right now he’s probably one of the more powerful cultivators of his generation in spite of his youth and his wandering-soul problem. 

Dance of the Water Ghosts

Now things start to get dicey. Wen Ning notices the color of the water is wrong and Lan Wangji correctly deduces what the water ghosts are doing. Then Wei Wuxian correctly identifies the water demon. As a corporate teambuilding exercise this is going very well, but as a night hunt it is maybe a little more dangerous than expected. 

Lan Wangji says everyone needs to ride their swords and all of the actors fling their arms out in a T and pretend they’re not just standing there in front of the camera. It’s so fucking ridiculous I can’t even.

However, it’s even worse when they show them standing on the swords. It’s SO MUCH WORSE when they show them standing on the swords.

Back to Corporate Strengths Finder 2.0: Su She has no strengths, just weaknesses. Instead of riding his sword he wants to take one last swipe at a rag mop. He sends his sword into the water and it loses its bluetooth connection and he can't get it to come back out.

The entire group of Lan clan disciples hop up into the air on their swords and not one of them tries to help Su She, which is hilarious.  

Sweet baby Wen Ning, however, being a good lad, does go help him, and gets possessed, oops. 

Wei Wuxian grabs Wen Ning and flinches when he sees his white eyes, but hangs on to him. 

When Lan Wangji sees that Wei Wuxian is in danger he makes this face and goes and grabs him and Su She.

A hilarious midair conversation ensues, along with some relationship negotiation. Wangji is touch starved and aims to keep it that way. At least in public.

Lan Xichen fires up the battle flute and seals the water demon and oh my god how is he so elegant and beautiful?

What’s Wrong With The Baby

Wei Wuxian back at the Inn is checking on Wen Ning in a genuinely concerned way, having basically signed on as a co-elder sibling at this point, sensing that Wen Ning is broken. Wei Wuxian is friendly with everybody but he's particularly protective of anyone who's hurt.

Wen Qing shows up and tells him quite directly to get the fuck out, but he surprises her by understanding what's up with Wen Ning and making it clear that he's on her side as far as care for Wen Ning goes, while he still knows that she's up to something.

Giving Gifts to Girls, Yunmeng Brothers Style

Wei Wuxian: I deduced that your beloved brother has no personal firewall and can be possessed easily in spite of his high cultivation level, so I used my expertise to make a special talisman that can protect him from invasion by hostile entities. Here, even if you and I are sorta enemies I want him to have this. Also I’m going to throw in a casual acknowledgement of your professional expertise.

Jiang Cheng: I bought you a comb

Squeeze This

Wei Wuxian tosses an approximately testicle-sized loquat fruit to Lan Wangji and Lan Wangji catches it without looking, and an ENORMOUS romantic music cue swells up. 

Then he rejects it and throws it back. He doesn't, of course, just avoid catching it in the first place because that wouldn’t be elegant and pointed enough. In a later episode, when they begin travelling together, Wei Wuxian will announce his presence in this same way, throwing a loquat fruit at to Lan Wangji, who will catch it and keep it.

Wei Wuxian tosses the rejected loquat over to Jiang Cheng, who catches it, not realizing he is going to be Wei Wuxian’s second choice man in every instance from this point onward. 

Outtro

Soundtrack

Jaws music obvs

WuJi aka Wanxian which is playing constantly when they are in the library, presumably this is the sound in LWJ’s head

Lookin’ Out My Back Door by CCR

Nothing, from A Chorus Line

Rag Mop by the Ames Brothers (warning before you google it: this will give you a permanent earworm)

Writing prompt: Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng explore Gusu while WWX is stuck in the library  

Restless Rewatch Episode 06 is here!

[backtothestart02]

If Only She Knew - 9/10 | westallen fanfiction

A/N: It’s been a million yeaarrssss!!!! But finally I got this chap out. I hope you enjoy it as much as it stresses you out. lol. Happy reading!

Commissioned by @shalanda83 

...

Chapter 9 -

Barry was wrong.

He was so, so wrong about Iris.

He’d thought he would have to combat her being super touchy-feely like they were as far back as he could remember. If things were really back to normal between them, that’s exactly what he would have had to endure.

Not that it was bad, of course. It was just inconvenient, awkward and embarrassing with him getting aroused at literally anything Iris did that was remotely close to him or in his line of vision. It happened with other girls too, of course, but to a much lesser degree.

Anyway, as it turned out, he didn’t have to worry about her so much as brushing her knee against his leg, because Iris made it her mission to stay as far away as possible from him in the backseat of the car.

And he knew it was her mission, because he could feel the tension rolling off of her in waves from the minute he refused to stretch out in the backseat of the car due to his injuries, in which case she would’ve simply sat in the front passenger seat across from her dad.

His brows had furrowed instantly with suspicion.

“I’ve got Neosporin and bandages on, Iris. I don’t think I need the whole backseat to stretch out in.” He continued before her parting lips could interrupt him. “Besides, it feels better when my knees are slightly bent. And I wouldn’t be able to put my seatbelt on either.”

I wouldn’t get to sit next to you floated around in his head, but he didn’t say it. He didn’t know if that would be too touchy a thing to say after they’d just gotten past – or so he thought – the kiss that he should have reciprocated.

Because for all his fears of embarrassing arousal, Barry still wanted to sit next to his best friend. And he did love her. He just had to find a way to tell her without her shutting him down.

“What’s that about not putting on a seatbelt?” Joe asked, as he approached the car.

“Nothing,” the two of them muttered.

“Uh-huh. Backseat. Both of you,” he ordered, and Barry did not think he’d ever seen Iris be so grumpy to sit in the backseat with him before.

Now Barry did stretch his legs out a little bit into the floorspace on Iris’ side. His legs were quite long after all, and he did need them at a certain angle for his wounds, even with antibiotic cream and bandaids couldn’t dim the pain of completely.

“Sorry, Iris,” he mumbled, as Joe started the car. “I guess-”

“No worries,” she insisted brightly, though an I told you so was probably stifled with the rolling eyes she didn’t think he saw.

Iris knew best, he guessed, but he was still glad she was in the back seat with him.

When a good five minutes passed, and Iris hadn’t so much as kept both butt cheeks in her seat, practically plastering herself against the door and sticking her head out the window awkwardly, Barry grew impatient and had to say something.

��Iris.”

She started humming. That, in addition to the wind blowing over her ears and through her wild locks, should’ve been enough to convince him that she couldn’t hear him. And so she wouldn’t be at fault in the least for not responding to his saying her name.

Or at least that’s what she was probably hoping he was thinking, but he was not stupid. Iris had excellent hearing. It was why she insisted she’d be a great cop one day. One of the reasons at least.

“Iris,” he said again, fighting the urge to tense up and pull her all the back into the car.

Touching her was a bad idea, but so was her ignoring him.

She only hummed louder, and that was all the confirmation Barry needed to know it was deliberate.

He kept his fuming at bay, and instead took a risk and reached for her knee. He’d just been planning to briefly touch it to get her attention in a way she couldn’t pretend to be unaware of. But just as his hand hovered over the gentle curve, her head swiftly turned back to look at him, unintentionally wacking her head on the top of the window frame.

“What are you – ow! – doing?” She rubbed her head, coming back inside and hesitantly sitting all the way down on the seat.

“Trying to get your attention,” he said. “Are you okay?” He frowned.

“I’d be just fine if you hadn’t tried to touch me,” she growled, and a moment later she seemed to realize she’d said the words out loud instead of keeping them in her head, because horror flashed across her face. He knew she was afraid she’d ruined everything again.

“Oh, Barry, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay, Iris,” he said. “I just uh…your seatbelt, the top part, it isn’t across your-” He started to blush a deep red as he realized his eyes were glued to her chest. He forced his gaze up into her eyes, but that was almost worse. He squeaked when he continued. “It’s behind you. Shouldn’t…Shouldn’t it be in front?” He cleared his throat, so his voice would normalize. “I mean, for safety.”

Iris stared at him as if she hadn’t heard a word he’d just said. Then the words apparently clicked, and she responded.

“Right. Of course.” She forced a smile. “Thanks, Barry.”

“Uh-huh.”

He looked up towards the front and found Joe staring at him through the rearview mirror.

“We almost there, Joe?” he asked, willing the red in his face to disappear at least to a very light pink.

“About halfway,” Joe said. Barry could hear the suspicion in his voice, but he didn’t say anything more, and for that, Barry was grateful.

Iris licked her lips beside him.

“Why don’t you roll down your window, Barry? It’s nice outside.”

“I’m too tall, Iris,” he whined, not bothering to analyze how that made a lick of sense.

Iris frowned but said nothing more and leaned back against her side of the car, not sticking her head out again but not paying attention to Barry either.

Barry decided it was for the best, since he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He didn’t want her to catch on, so he didn’t watch how the wind blew through the hair framing her face or the slight goosebumps that decorated her arms. No, instead his stayed glued to the knee he’d almost touched and the thighs just above that he imagined were smooth as a baby’s bottom.

An interesting metaphor, but he couldn’t think of another one.

He wanted to touch her.

He wanted to touch her so badly.

And she thought he didn’t like her.

Fuck, he thought, not even feeling guilty when the swear word passed through his mind.

Because truly, fuck.

…

On arrival, Hope Town Mountain did look pretty spectacular.

There were shops and boats and carriage rides, bicyclists and kayakers and shops galore. There was a long road of vendors that ended and began with a large log cabin gift shop that included concessions, and the lake was absolutely stunning as it sparkled in the sun.

Barry knew Iris would want to go shopping, and that he couldn’t go with her because of his knees. He frowned on the realization, because even though he wasn’t particularly fond of carrying a multitude of bags on his arms, he loved seeing Iris buzz with energy and be overcome with the happiness of new discoveries. And he was going to miss that.

“I vote we go boating!” Iris announced, and Barry wondered if she’d seen his downcast face. “You have your boating license, right dad?”

Joe grinned, turning around in his seat after parking the car.

“I sure do. We can take one of the bigger motorboats out into the middle of the lake, and you two can relax while I sleep.”

“Iris, are you sure?” Barry asked. “I mean, we’ve been sitting for half an hour. Don’t you want to stretch your legs? Do some shopping?”

She pushed past it immediately.

“Nope. I can shop any time,” she insisted. “I want you to have a good time too.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but this time Iris stopped him.

“Trust me, my dad does not want to follow me around for an hour while I shop to my heart’s content and he carries my bags.”

“No thank you,” Joe concurred.

Barry managed to laugh at that.

“Alright. Let’s go get a boat then.”

Excited now, Iris grabbed his hands and squeezed them, making his stomach flip and his heart flutter. He swallowed inconspicuously so she wouldn’t notice.

She squealed and released his hands, spilling out of the car with one hop after she unbuckled her belt. He did the same, but it was slower, more gradual, and he winced slightly when he was standing again.

“Is it far?” Barry asked.

Iris frowned. “Just down the way… my Dad will help you.”

Joe stepped out of the car, locked up, and wrapped one of Barry’s arms over his shoulders.

“Come on, son, we’ll get there.”

…

It was a little trickier than expected, and in the end Iris wound up wrapping her arm around Barry’s waist to assist somewhat.

“Oh, Iris, you don’t have to-”

“Shut up, Barry. I’m helping.”

He groaned, hoping her arm wouldn’t slip down to his hip or lower on accident – you never know! Because then he’d be a dead man walking. Or falling rather. Because he would fall, flat on his face.

“Don’t tell that girl no, son,” Joe remarked, chuckling, and Barry wanted to die.

He let them assist to the halfway point though where the first dock on the lake was located. Then Joe left to rent out the boat and get the lifejackets and pull the boat over to this side of the lake so Barry wouldn’t have to walk much farther.

“This is going to be great, Barry. You’ll see.”

He looked over at her and managed a smile with how happy she was acting.

“You’re happy,” he noted.

“Of course I am,” she said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well…considering the last 24 hours…”

She shook her head. “I’m past that.”

“Are you?”

“Yes, of course.” She looked nervous though. “Why are you even asking?”

“The car ride,” he blurted.

Better to get this out now than later when it could potentially cause problems.

“I just didn’t want you to think I was trying to come on to you again is all,” she mumbled, but Barry heard every word.

“Iris…” He took her hand, and she let him. “We’ve always been close. Since we were kids. It’s not weird for me when you touch me. It’s weird when you don’t.”

She laughed a little nervously, then tucked some of her hair behind her ear.

“Noted.”

She looked up into his eyes and smiled. He looked back, all the love in his heart pouring into his gaze.

God, I just want to tell you…how I feel…how you make me feel!

Then, do it, the ornery voice in his head combatted. And don’t mess it up this time.

“Iris, I…”

He started to lean in before he could tell her what was in his heart, and much to his surprise Iris’ expression wasn’t troubled but elated. She was hopeful, that they were finally on the same page maybe. Or so she hoped. He hoped too. Oh, wouldn’t it be just so perfect if-

A horn blasted just as Barry was about to close his eyes, and a bicyclist sped by. What felt like a millisecond later, Joe drove up in the boat and called out to them.

Barry was still processing the interruption.

“Oh, there he is! And look, we don’t have to walk too far!”

“I-Iris, wait!” he called out after she took off.

“Oh, right, I forgot.”

She came back and helped him to his feet and together they started to hobble over to the dock.

“I was going to” He sucked in a breath. “Tell you” He sucked in another. “Something.”

“So tell me,” she ground out, fighting for her own breath as he put some of his weight on her.

This was how he was going to tell her? With him clumsily bearing his weight down on her as they hopped over to the boat where Joe was waiting for them?

He couldn’t do that. It had to be special.

But what if he waited too long and lost his chance?

He couldn’t do that either.

“Here you go!” Joe flung two lifejackets at them once they reached the dock.

Somewhat agitated, Barry put his on. Iris was in the boat with hers on before he could blink.

His brows furrowed, then he registered both Wests holding their hands out for him to grab onto.

“Come on, son,” Joe said, and Barry refocused on the task of getting into the boat with wounded knees.

It hurt, but he managed it, and soon enough he was sitting with Iris in the front of the boat while Joe steered it out into the huge lake from the back.

“Okay, what were you going to say?” Iris asked, turning to look at her best friend, her eyes gleaming.

“Huh?” Joe called.

“Not you, Dad!” Iris rolled her eyes. “Barry was about to tell me something.”

“Oh, my bad. Carry on.”

Barry felt his face grow hot again. He couldn’t do it like this either. Not with Joe here possibly eavesdropping. And he couldn’t wait till he fell asleep either, could he? A snoring Joe West as background noise to his love confession?

Impossible.

So when Iris shook her head and laughed before sobering up and asked him to tell her again, he knew with every fiber of his being that he was going to ruin it.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he said, his lips thinning as his eyes avoided hers.

“No, come on, Barry, you can tell me.”

Her eyes pleaded with him to tell her, as if she somehow knew or hoped she knew, and if he didn’t tell her now she was going to doubt his all over again.

He swallowed.

“No, really, Iris. It’s nothing important.”

Her smile fell. “Oh.”

“Nothing that can’t wait,” he said.

She nodded and forced a smile then, taking his hand as she relaxed into the seat and urged him to relax too.

“Friends then.”

He hated, hated, hated himself as he let the word spill out of his mouth.

“Friends.”

...

*will be posted on AO3 and FFnet when beta’d.

[jacksgreysays]

For fake title: still waters (run deep) character: Shisui and or theme: Uzushio

The fisherman doesn't look surprised when Shisui arrives, not by the suddenness of his appearance or his age or the fact that, excepting the crow on his shoulder, he is entirely alone. No, the fisherman is not surprised, but that doesn't mean he's relaxed either: a large man, nearly two heads taller than Shisui with muscle honed through hard work. But it is a civilian level strength. For all that the fisherman is accustomed to shinobi, he is no match for one.

"You're headed to Uzushio, huh?" the fisherman says, less a question than an accusation without any heat.

"Yes, I am" Shisui answers anyway with a polite sort of cheer; there is a reason why he's the one being sent to Uzushio and not one of his cousins. "Tazuna-san said you're the best at navigating the whirlpools."

The fisherman gives him a skeptical glance which is fair. What Tazuna actually said was that if Shisui was fool enough to go to Uzushio, then this particular fisherman would at least make sure Shisui's fool head didn't get dashed on the rocks of the shore.

But the fisherman shrugs, accepting enough, and tilts his head at a small wooden boat tied to the dock with nets bulging with fish. "That one's mine. Are you in a rush? Because I have to get these to the monger first."

"No, I can wait," Shisui says, because that's the polite thing to do and if this fisherman is his best way to Uzushio then its worth waiting for... except, as Kansoku reminds him with a sharp tug on his hair, he is actually kind of in a rush. Shisui is a shinobi, so of course he's smelled worse, and so he doesn't wrinkle his nose at all when he offers, "Would you like some help? Four hands are faster than two."

"Alright, kid, I'll take you up on that." The fisherman's expression lightens into a wide, friendly smile and Shisui who can't help himself, returns it with one of his own. The fisherman introduces himself, "You can call me Kaiza."

---

A few weeks ago, Hidden Rain broke their decades-long silence with increasingly concerning news:

Hanzo the Salamander long dead.

A heretofore unknown organization leading the village.

Active recruitment and retainment of various S-rank shinobi.

A grudge against one Shimura Danzo, former council member of Hidden Leaf.

One year--maybe even as little as a month or two previous--would have made this the most momentous occasion in international shinobi politics since the last world war.

Unfortunately, it only just barely makes top three in the past year.

---

"So, kid," Kaiza says as they're coasting over the waves at a clip much faster than Shisui would have thought possible for the small wooden boat, "You're from Leaf, right?"

"Yes." It's literally on his forehead and more straightforward than some of the other villages' symbols, but Shisui gives him the benefit of the doubt. Kaiza is a civilian, after all. And to be fair, some of the Uchiha elders were considering changing it to match the new regime, but Fugaku-san--sorry, Hokage-sama, Shisui's still getting use to it--felt it would be best to at least try to maintain a semblance of stability.

He doesn't know if news of Konoha's turmoil has reached this far. Or if the people of Wave even care. They certainly didn't bat an eye at Shisui's questions of their new neighbor--old neighbor? returned neighbor?--all incurious shrugs and silence or entertaining but unhelpful tall tales.

"Have you ever met another shinobi?" Shisui asks conversationally, though he already knows the answer to that question. "Am I your first shinobi passenger?"

"I've seen a few Mist ninja from a distance. A very far distance, thankfully," Kaiza responds, casual and earnest; Shisui sees no reason to doubt him. "Never had a ninja join me sailing on my boat before, though. Not one that helped me unload my haul. You're a good kid." 

Shisui has killed more men than there had been fish wriggling in those nets. He appreciates the sentiment anyway. Kaiza is an honest sort of man, Shisui is glad to have met him.

He could use more straightforwardness in his life.

---

The Mist Rebellion overthrew the Yondaime Mizukage after an almost tidy public assassination and thirty six hours of civil war with minimal casualties.

Terumi Mei, newly coronated Godaime Mizukage, only mentions the "grace and goodwill of allies." Neither of those words particularly apply to the surly looking Momochi Zabuza standing two steps back and one step to the right of her, but if there is another ally in the works they're not claiming the limelight.

Hidden Mist has always been a tumultuous village. Tidiness aside, nothing was surprising about it.

---

It's strange.

When Shisui pictured Land of Whirlpools, he had a vague idea mostly cobbled together from the grey, cloudy skies of Mist, or the eternal deluge of Rain, or even the foggy, sepia tones of Wave.

He was not expecting clear skies almost impossibly blue and lush treetops tall enough to rival the forests of Konoha. The beach is pink.

It's vibrant. It's strange. There's a giant chakra turtle monster happily splashing in the shallows, waving tendrils in their direction as a greeting.

The sharp jagged rocks and erratic whirlpools between them and the shore are real, at least, so Shisui hasn't been completely fooled, but from the wry, almost apologetic smile on Kaiza's face, Shisui's not great at hiding his hurt.

Kaiza pulls out a decorative coin--what Shisui had thought was some kind of superstitious fisherman charm that he'd touched before they set sail from Wave--and passes his thumb along the surface. After a moment or two, the swirling slows, the water calms, and the passage is traversable. A small figure appears on the pink beach. The giant chakra turtle monster reaches a gentle tendril out and is metaphorically met half way by an arm absolutely minuscule in comparison.

"Don't worry, kid," Kaiza says reassuringly. It's the kind of statement that would be accompanied with a clap on the shoulder, but whether the fisherman can sense Shisui's betrayal or, more likely, he's been around more shinobi and knows better, he keeps his distance. "Tazuna vouched for you and you didn't even get mad when the monger threw a fish at you and said it was a cultural tradition."

Kansoku had been less than pleased and Shisui's shirt still smells like fish. 

"You'll be fine. She'll like you."

---

There is an oasis in Land of Wind. An earthquake in Land of Hot Springs caused the controlled collapse of a temple and new arrangements of the surrounding town's infrastructure. A dilapidated and forgotten shrine in the outskirts of Land of Fire was completely relocated across the ocean. Only the first has any sort of influence on shinobi politics and even that has more to do with the Yondaime Kazekage's sudden attitude adjustment than anything else.

But the revival of a nation thought long dead with the power to back it up?

Well, even if Konoha is still struggling to cobble together a government, it's the sort of occasion to send one of their best and brightest as an ambassador even if there's no firm idea what might be on the other end of the journey.

---

"Hello, Uchiha Shisui of Hidden Leaf," says the girl on the shores of Land of Whirlpools. Somehow, even with the grown man twice his size and the giant chakra turtle monster, she's the scarest thing on the beach.

Which is still bafflingly, vibrantly pink.

"I heard you were asking questions about Uzushio," she says, with a smile as dangerous and beautiful as the land she's made her home. "Let's talk."

~

A/N: Sometimes, you’re in a writer’s block and a prompt just punches you into the right headspace. Thank you, damnsmartblueboxes. (You know I have so many Uzushio feelings, how dare you! :D)

If anyone wants to ask me questions about this, please do. Please.

Oh, but I should clarify here: this was written intending to be in a post-Split Gardens!verse. But if you’re reading this you probably have already read some of the Gardens!verse stuff so...

Also, yes, Kaiza is the fisherman who would’ve been killed by Gato and now kinda works for Shikako as a more active and less suspicious Sazanami from the Land of Stone Arc. I mean, kinda all of Wave works for Shikako? But in a much more benevolent way than that might imply. They’re fond of their weird neighbor with her giant chakra turtle monster.

(Also, also, yes, Tetsuki Kaiza does get her name from this Kaiza though in the Naruto world she actually never has the name Kaiza. She goes from orphan Tetsuki no-family-name to either Tetsuki Utsugi or Agent Shu. Depending on how fucked her situation is)

Also, also, also: Ask Box Advent Calendar 2020!

[justjessame]

Starting Over Chapter 25

Bucky redressed, with NO help from me because apparently I’m NOT actually helpful when he’s partially dressed.  I’d dare anyone to actually HELP Bucky Barnes put clothes ON.  I sat on the bed that we mangled and watched, biting my lip as he blushed through his changing of the guards, so to speak.

“You’re making me self conscious.”  He offered, as he pulled off the blue shirt that I wanted him to wear forever and ever after.  My eyes were raking his bare chest, the dog tags that hung proudly, my teeth digging into my lip.  “Are you that hungry?”  

“For food?”  I asked, eyebrow arching as he pulled a shirt that was as red as the other one had been blue.  Well, fuck, maybe red was a good color on him too.  I watched him pull it over his head and pouted as his bare skin disappeared from view, earning a laugh from him.  “What?”  

“You,” he shook his head, and contemplated something with narrowed eyes.  “Turn around.”  I stared at him waiting for the punchline.  “Brooke, turn around.”  

“Why?”  Countering his orders was becoming something of a habit, but to be fair, I wanted to know what he was planning while my eyes were on the wall or the window.  

“So I can change my pants,”  I blinked at him, surely he was fucking joking.  I SWALLOWED him barely an hour earlier, what was with the sudden need for modesty?  “If you don’t turn around, we aren’t leaving this room today.”  My stomach clenched, my pulse kicked up a gear, and my mouth went dry.  “See?”  

I nodded and turned around.  “You’re only winning this round because I’m hungry,” I gasped out, shutting my eyes because I could swear the sound of his zipper was amplified.  “For food,” I clarified as they hit the floor.  I was throbbing again, everywhere, listening as his pants reversed course.  “Can I turn around yet?”  

“Not yet,” he murmured.  My eyes were still closed and my arms were broken out in goosebumps.  How could he manage to do that?  He wasn’t even in touching distance for fuck’s sake.  And then I felt his warmth closing in on my back, his fingers skimming my arms - raising more gooseflesh, making my breath catch.  His mouth touched the juncture where my neck met my shoulder and I sighed.  “Mine?”  All I could do was nod, but I could feel his smile against my skin.  “Mine.”  And then he turned me and our lips met again, but it wasn’t the fevered hunger I expected, it was soft and sweet, tender and filled with affection.  And when he pulled away, his forehead met mine, our eyes opening to stare into one another’s, and he whispered back.  “Yours.”  

We managed, after that very hot start, to leave the hotel with our phones not completely at zero percent charge.  Finding a diner while we charged them in the car on the drive there, we talked about him helping Sam with his family’s boat.

“How much more work do you think it needs?” I asked, as he pulled into the diner’s lot.  He shrugged, and I unplugged our phones.  “Aren’t you lucky I don’t have a job to get back to?”  

He laughed as he jumped out to get my door, always a gentleman Bucky.  “I didn’t know you were a photographer,” he reminded me of the camera I’d shown up with, and been clicking away with all day long.  

“I’m not a REAL photographer,” I shook my head, walking through the diner door he held open for me.  We were told to grab a table and we’d be waited on in a minute, so we grabbed a booth and pulled the menus free from the condiment stand.  “I loved taking pictures in school - for yearbook and I don’t know, my dad thought -”  I stopped talking when the waitress came and took our drink orders.  

“You were saying?”  Bucky was watching me as if I were the most interesting person he’d ever met.  

“We should figure out lunch first, then I’ll finish my story.”  My attention went back to the menu, it was normal diner fare, with a southern bent - so I chose simply enough.  A burger, fries.  Bucky needed more fuel than me, so his servings were a bit larger, but pretty similar in choices.  Once our waitress had our drinks in front of us and our orders down, he was in listening mode.  “My dad reached out to some professionals, he used some prints of pictures I took to set up the camera for the yearbook.”  I shrugged, but he was still waiting.  “When I - when it happened, everything was put on hold.  My dad KNEW we were coming back, Bucky, somehow.  And my mom figured it out too.”  I bit my lip and shook my head, it sounded crazy.  “You have to understand, my parents were KNOWN for being the MOST pragmatic people in our neighborhood.  They weren’t fanciful or prone for fairytales or miracles.  So when my dad, and then my mom told everyone that they KNEW I’d be back - which meant that everyone else would be too?  People figured they had to be right.”  

“OK,” he wasn’t saying it to pacify me, I could tell.  “So the camera?”  

I smiled.  “They had presents for me, for my birthdays and holidays - everything I missed.  Up to their deaths.”  I thought about the car.  “Including a REALLY big one that I’ll show you when we get back to New York.”  

His eyebrow went up, but he didn’t ask.  “Have you reached out to the professionals your dad made contact with yet?”  I shook my head, but we were interrupted by our food.  Small town diners were the best for quickness.  Once we assured our waitress that everything looked amazing and we had everything we needed, she left and we could dig in.  First bites out of the way, we talked while we ate.  “What do you have to do to get into it?”  

I considered his question.  “It depends on which one actually wants to take me on as an apprentice,” I explained the list that my mom wrote up with the notes.  “So this trip is great for more than the obvious reason.”  I let my foot drift to his side and tease against his.  

“That picture of Sarah’s sons and the shield?”  I nodded, smiling as his foot moved so my foot could go higher on his ankle.  “I think you should include that in any of your portfolios.”  

“Really?”  I asked, chewing carefully while I considered it.  “Any and all of them?”  He nodded, taking a drink of his water.  “You don’t think it would be -”  I didn’t want him to think I was using him.  “I don’t want you to think I’m using our relationship for -”

“Hey,” I bit my lip and he shook his head.  “You’re not, Brooke.  You took that picture because it struck you as being lit well, right?”  I nodded.  “It’s gorgeous, and you should include it.”  

We finished lunch and while Bucky paid, because yes, he is THAT guy, I finally looked at my phone.  Connie had practically lit my text and voicemail on fire with her need to see that I was safe and sound, but I had actually sent her a message upon landing, I swear.   

I was in the car, waiting for Bucky when my phone rang.  Seeing her name and face I considered letting it go, but that would NOT be a good idea, not after how many missed messages and calls I had wracked up so far.  

“Hello,” I was holding the phone away from my ear without the speaker on when Bucky opened the door and he looked confused, until Connie’s voice exploded out of my phone.

“What the literal fuck?!”  I cringed and Bucky’s eyes went wide as he climbed into the car.  “One fucking text, Brooke, I got one miserable fucking text that reads, ‘here.’” I heard her take a deep breath and knew she was building up for another explosion.  “HERE?  Are you fucking kidding me?!  I guess you made it to bumfucked Lousiana, well la-de-fucking-da.  But for all I know one of those fucking hicks could be wearing you as a skin suit by now.”  

“They aren’t,” I broke in, my eyes meeting Bucky’s as he started the car and pulled onto the street to head for the dock.  “I’m alive and well, I swear.”  I didn’t chance putting the phone up to my ear, but I should have. 

“Uh-huh.”  Connie didn’t sound sure.  “What about Bucky?” I was about to ask if she was worried if a hick was wearing him as a skin suit, but I wasn’t fast enough.  “Did you saddle that boy up and ride him into the swamp?”  I’m not sure how wide human eyes can go, but I knew mine were in danger of falling out of my head.  Bucky was chuckling and in danger of nothing - the man was a fucking miracle of perfect reflexes.  

“Bucky’s right here, Connie,” I somehow managed to get out, glancing at him and catching him eyeing me.  He was licking his lip and shaking his head, but then he winked and I rolled my eyes.  “And he heard your - suggestion.”  

“Oh,” I could almost feel the burn of her blush through the phone.  “Um, hello, Bucky.”  She was quiet enough that I had to put her on speaker now.  I did so he could hear her better, and she could hear his answer to her greeting.  “Nice to sort of meet you.”

“Same,” he was grinning as we pulled up to the docks.  “I’m gonna go see what Sam’s up to,” he unbuckled his seat belt and kissed me.  “Bye, Connie.”  

“Bye, Bucky.”  She offered, waiting until she heard the door shut and it to get quiet.  “You could have told me he was listening.”  She hissed and I giggled.  

“You were so busy bitching at me for failing to check in that I didn’t have much of a chance, Connie.”  I watched Bucky move across the docks, his red shirt easy to spot.  “And as for that interesting metaphor you mangled, let’s just say that I don’t need pineapples for awhile.”  She gasped and I smiled. 

[cardest]

San Francisco playlist

San Francisco  - my favorite city in the world! The bands, the music, the songs are all here, in this playlist I created. I threw in a bit of Sac and went south by San Jose, Monterrey and up past Sausalito. Can we make it to 250 songs? Let me know what bands/songs I left out.

Have I left out a song or a band in this San Francisco playlist? Let me know! Cheers! 

Play the songs here at this link: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iHPcxymC1-HLG9q5rZLsqs8EYh6bhu- San Francisco

001 The Dillinger Escape Plan w/Mike Patton -  When Good Dogs Do Bad Things 002 Night flight Orchestra - California Morning 003 Quincy Jones - Call Me Mister Tibbs OST (Main Title) 004 James Taylor Quartet - Dirty Harry theme song 005 Faith No More - Seperation anxiety 006 Streets of San Francisco TV show theme song 007 Santana -  Evil Ways 008 High on Fire -  Electric Messiah 009 Metallica - Disposable Heroes 010 Hammers Of Misfortune -  Dead Revolution 011 Buddy Guy -  Hello San Francisco 012 Faith No More - Jungle 013 Isaac Hayes - Shaft 014 Orange Peels  - Back In San Francisco 015 Idris Ackamoor and the Pyramids - Message To My People 016 Thee Oh Sees - The Dream 017 Merle Haggard - Here In Frisco 018 Audrey Horne -  California 019 Journey -  Lights 020 Death Angel -  Hatred United / United Hate 021 Mel Tor Me - Got The Date On The Golden Gate 022 Duke Ellington -  Tourist Point Of View 023 Sons of Anarchy  - This Life (Sons of Anarchy Theme Song) 024 Larry Graham's Central Station - Earthquake 025 LARD - I Wanna Be A Drug Sniffing Dog 026 Machine Head -  California Bleeding 027 Neurosis -  The Doorway 028 KING WOMAN - Utopia 029 Lalo Schifrin - Magnum Force OST  Main Title 030 Forbidden -  Adapt Or Die 031 DBUK - In San Francisco Bay 032 Jack Name - Werewolf Factory 033 John Carpenter - Theme from "The Fog" 034 Khiis - Saboor 035 Richie Havens -  San Francisco Bay Blues 036 Metallica - Battery 037 Autopsy - charred remains 038 ExTREMITY_-_Crepuscular_Crescendo 039 The Otherside -  Streetcar 040 Quincy Jones - Ironside (TV Theme) 041 Megadeth -  Back in the Day 042 Sly and the Family Stone - Stand! 043 Faith No More -  From Out of Nowhere 044 Willie Hutch-Vampin (The Mack OST 045 Orchid -  Mouths Of Madness 046 Lalo Schifrin - Bullitt OST - On The Way To San Mateo 047 Vince Guaraldi - Woodstock's Dream 048 Fantomas -  4-11-05 049 Violation Wound - Fearmonger + State of Alarm 050 Primus - Those Damned Blue-Collar Tweekers 051 The Flower Pot Men - Let's Go to San Francisco (Part.1-2) 052 Bosse-de-Nage - Crux 053 Rod McKuen - The Beat Generation 054 Dionne Warwick - Do You Know The Way To San Jose 055 The Watchers - Sabbath Highway 056 Possessed - the eyes of horror 057 Scott McKenzie – San Francisco (Be Sure to wear flowers) 058 Tower Of Power -  Oakland Stroke 059 Big Trouble In Little China OST - Pork chop express 060 Vio-lence -  Calling In The Coroner 061 Black Oak Arkansas - The Big Ones Still Coming 062 Mr. Bungle - Love Is a Fist 063 VUUR -  The Fire - San Francisco 064 Testament - The Haunting 065 Electronicat - Frisco Bay 066 Y&T - Mean Streak 067 Thee Oh Sees -  Toe Cutter/Thumb Buster 068 Sweet - California Nights - Promo Clip (OFFICIAL) 069 Sadus - Swallowed In Black 070 Chuck Berry - San Francisco Dues 071 Sammy Hagar - Keep on rockin' 072 Fuzz -  Sleigh Ride 073 Otis Redding - Sittin' on The Dock of the Bay 074 Pleasure Leftits - The Gate 075 BL'AST - Sometimes 076 Santana - Samba de Sausalito 077 Acephalix - Upon This Altar 078 Sun Ra    - Lady With The Golden Stockings 079 Chris Isaak - San Francisco Days 080 Pointer Sisters - How Long (Betcha' Got A Chick On The Side) 081 High On Fire -  Carcosa 082 Will Haven -  When The Walls Close In 083 The Coup -  Laugh/Love/Fuck 084 King Khan - Teeth Are Shite 085 Deafheaven -  Irresistible 086 Glitter Wizard -  Blood of the Serpent 087 Jefferson Airplane -  It's No Secret 088 Cannonball Adderley - This Here 089 The Warlocks -  Can't Come Down 090 Squirmy Sax Man - I Still Believe 091 Acid King - Coming Down from Outer Space 092 George Duke - Sausalito 093 The Lost Boys - Cry Little Sister (Theme From The Lost Boys OST) 094 Betty Davis - [They Say I'm Different] He Was a Big Freak 095 Fever Tree - San Francisco Girls 096 The Dillinger Escape Plan w/ Mike Patton -  Pig Latin 097 Build Them to Break - Lucky Strike 098 Montrose - Rock Candy 099 PRIMUS - THE TOYS GO WINDING DOWN 100 Joe Satriani - Big Bad Moon 101 Sleater Kinney - Jumpers 102 GRUESOME - Dimensions Of Horror 103 Sly & the Family Stone - Everday People 104 Huey Lewis and the News - Back in Time 105 Hammers Of Misfortune - 2 17th Street 106 Jerry Fielding - Prologue _ Main Title (The Enforcer OST) 107 Metal Church - The Dark 108 Deftones - Ohms 109  John Lee Hooker - Frisco Blues 110 DRI - Go Die 111 16th & Valencia Roxy Music- Devendra Banhart, What We Will Be 112 MC Hammer - Too Legit to Quit 113 Dead Kennedys-Police Truck 114 Rancid - Adina 115 San Francisco's Shiver - Up My Sleeve 116 Bernard Herrmann - Vertigo OST - The Bay 117 Faith No More - Last Cup Of Sorrow 118 Blackburn & Snow -  Stranger In a Strange Land 119 The Doobie Brothers - What A Fool Believes 120 The Grateful Dead - Sugar Magnolia 121 Cab Calloway - San Francisco Fan 122 The Charlatans - codine 123 Buck Owens - Want To Live In San Francisco 124 Sleep - Dragonaut 125 Death Angel - 5 Steps Of Freedom 126 Neil Young - Heart of Gold 127 Vastum -  Reveries in Autophagia 128 Dead Kennedys -  Moon Over Marin 129 EchoBrain -  Colder World 130 Riz Ortolani    - Lombard Street   131 Waylon Jennings - San Francisco Mabel Joy   132 Con Funk Shun - Confunkshunizeya 133 Chic - Hes the Greatest Dancer 134 Peace Creep - Radio Free Alcatraz   135 ABBA - Santa Rosa 136 Brian Wilson and Van Dyke Parks - San Fransisco 137 Together Band - California Curl California Girl 138 The Hellers - It's 74 In San Francisco 139 Pat Todd - No Place Like Home 140 Nancy Wilson - I'm Always Drunk In San Francisco (And I Don't Drink At All) 141 Anathema -  San Francisco 142 Blue Cheer -  Fool 143 Exhumed - Gravewalker 144 Darondo - Let My People Go 145 Exodus -  Blood In Blood Out 146 Lalo Schifrin Dirty Harry OST - Scorpios Theme   147 Johnny Cash - Folsom Prison Blues 148 Wild Light - California on my mid 149 Herbie Hancock - Man-child -  Hang Up Your Hang Ups 150 Fantomas -  Spider Baby 151 The Lord Weird Slough Feg -  Headhunter 152 The Animals - San Franciscan Nights 153 Twilight - Dance with Me 154 THE POINTER SISTERS - Yes We Can Can 155 Residents - Hello Skinny 156 CCR HEADCLEANER - Eat This Riff 157 LEON WARE  - Thats Why I Came To California 158 Creedence Clearwater Revival - I Put A Spell On You 159 Comorant - The First Man 160 Bosse-de-Nage  - The Trench 161 Hell Fire - Free Again   162 Riz Ortolani  - Golden Gate Bridge 163 Fleetwood Mac - You Make Loving Fun 164 Uther Pendragon - San Francisco Earthquake 165 Melvins - Zodiac 166 La Luz - California Finally 167 The Wyatt Act - Push 168 Santana - Soul Sacrifice 169 Cheap Trick - On the Radio 170 Electric Wizard -  Venus In Furs 171 Led Zeppelin -  Misty Mountain Hop 172 Tommy Castro - Callin' San Francisco 173 Viscious Rumors - Digital Dictator 174 Ghoul-Off With Their Heads 175 Diesel - Sausalito Summernight (Single Version) 176 Sheila E - A Love Bizarre 177 Starship - Nothings Gonna Stop Us Now 178 Jeffry Osboune - I Really Don't Need No Light 179 Nazareth -  Alcatraz 180 Freak of Nature - Rescue Me 181 Metallica - Crash Course In Brain Surgery 182 10000 Maniacs - Hey Jack Kerouac 183 Faith No More -  Get Out 184  URSA -  Wizard's Path 185 Jefferson Airplane - Aerie (Gang of Eagles) 186 Tower of Power - Just Enough and Too Much 187 Fred Hughes - san francisco is a lonely town 188 Mamaleek - Eating Unblessed Meat 189 Moby Grape - Naked If I Want To 190 Exodus - Metal Command 191 Pig Destroyer - Alcatraz Metaphors 192 the Donnas - You Make Me Hot 193 Hot Tuna - True Religion 194 Heathen - Opiate of the Masses 195 Fanny - Come and Hold Me 196 Sadus - Hands Of Fate 197 Negative Trend - Meathouse 198 Forbidden - Forbidden Evil 199 Spazz - Crush Kill Destroy 200 Testament - The Preacher 201 HEXX - Morbid Reality 202 Vio-Lence - Phobophobia 203 Dead Kennedys - One Way Ticket To Pluto 204 Tom Waits - Get Behind The Mule 205 CRETIN - It 206 RAMONES - Judy Is A Punk 207 Full House - Intro 208 Willie Alexander and the Boom Boom Band - Kerouac 209 Primus - Dirty Drowning Man 210 Wooden Shjips -  Motorbike 211 The Tony Williams Lifetime Ego - Clap City 212 Middle of the Road - Sacramento (A Wonderful Town) 213 Green Day - At the Library 214 Slayer -  Gemini 215 Tetema - Cutlass Eye 216 Defiance - Death Machine 217 Brisco County Jr theme 218 Doug McKechnie - Crazy Ray 219 Ulthar - Furnace Hibernation 220 Mr. Bungle -  ANARCHY UP YOUR ANUS 221 Dirty Ghosts  - Let It Pretend 222 They Might Be Giants - San Francisco (In Situ) 223 Metallica - The Shortest Straw 224 OM - Unitive Knowledge of the Godhead 225 Laaz Rockit - City's Gonna Burn 226 Autopsy - Skullptures 227 Mordred - Spectacle of Fear 228 Sly & the Family Stone - Luv N' Haight 229 Possessed - Seven Churches 230 Machine Head - The Rage to Overcome 231 Thelonius Monk - San Francisco Holiday 232 The Units - The Mission Is Bitchin 233 Del Tha Funkee Homosapien - Mistadobalina 234 Arnocorps - Dead lift 235 The Grateful Dead - The Golden Road 236 DRI - All for nothing 237 Jim Martin - Disco dust 238 Thee Oh Sees - I come from the mountain 239 Death Angel - Discontinued 240 Starship - We Built This City 241 Captured! by Robots - Endless Circle of Bullshit 242 Pins Of Light - My revenge 243 Sun Ra - We Travel the Spaceways 244 Faith No More - caffeine 245 David Lee Roth - Just like paradise 246 San Francisco Fog Horns by Golden Gate Bridge 247 Abscess - Tormented 248 Mortuous - Bitterness 249 Dead Kennedy's - California uber alles 250 Twitch Angry - San Francisco 666 Neurosis - Water Is Not Enough

So, hop on a cable car, grab ice cream at Swenson’s or bark back at the seals down by Pier 39. Catch a Bear’s game at Berkeley and do some squirmy sax moves in the Haight after you down some beers at the Toronado and play my San Fran playlist! Here are the songs in the link: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iHPcxymC1-HLG9q5rZLsqs8EYh6bhu-

[terrorhqs]

[tw: blood, major character death]

A week after the takeover, the Promethean is well on its way to finish its trek. Cutting through calm and complacent waters, the crew and guests note that the ice that had once held them hostage has dissipated overnight with the dark and the gloom. Perhaps the deaths of the soldier and the girl sated the beast, some whisper — it’s leaving us alone. No, their comrade scoffs. Too easy. You heard the French - the thing killed a boatload of them before it left them alone! Two people are nothing but crumbs to it. It’ll be back.

“You’re all buffoons”, another chimes in. “The Agathe? Mutineers all along. It’s as Estrada said. They killed their crew and are killing ours too.” 

Amid the new tension borne of the mutiny, suspense heavy as wool hangs over the ship as it resumes its course. Lookouts are silent as they watch the ice, dread fraying their nerves, the same thought trawling across their conscience. Surely, it will reappear. After everything, it will come back.

But nothing parts the ocean, not even the breeze. An uneasy quiet descends upon the ship as those with an interest in completing the passage outnumber those who seek to return now that the waters promise an easy journey. An end to all of this is feasible — the only question remains: will all that’s been lost have been worth it? Is there any end that justifies the means?

It’ll be weeks, months yet before the Promethean reaches Hong Kong, but a call rings out in the midst of the morning. Wick and Bastien, high atop and on lookout, wave down wildly at the deckhands below. 

“Land! Land ahead!”

A seaman relays the message, bursts into the captain’s quarters where Marcus waits, in covenant with Hugo. Both men snap their heads at once, when they see the rallied cry that’s being picked up among the ranks. Both men, yes, to the slack curl of their jaw, can hardly credit it. It cannot be, their dark eyes say, pupils flashing. Even down to their mannerism, they have begun to look the same. 

“Land, sir. Lookout’s caught sight of land. Of a city - and its harbor!”

The vice-admiral-made-captain starts in his seat, brow furrowing, skeptical. “You’re joking. Even you must have looked at a map, we’ve got quite a way before even—”

“I swear it!” In his haste, he doesn’t mind his manners. As frantic as anyone’s ever seen, even Estrada cannot deny the truth from his eyes. “The lads are calling for you up-deck, Sir. The whole world is. A port awaits us.”

The rest of those onboard join the watch on the upper deck, curious clamoring seizing even those under the watchful eye of a musket barrel. There is no mistaking it - an oceanside city perched on low, rocky stone worn by lapping waves is clear through the spyglass. Slender, shimmering buildings of white spiral towards the sky in spires; others buildings are lower to the ground, and all are built with the same stone upon which the city sits and all are half-hidden behind a mist. 

“Make plans to dock.”

—

“Don’t stand up, Dowling. It’s only me. I come bearing news.”

Silence. In the space between the bottom of the floor and the door, Malachy’s silhouette shifts. 

“Too much of a coward to face me, Estrada?” Ragged voice tears through the air like a dagger, muffled through the door. “State your peace and leave.”

“Is that an order, captain?” A humorless, hollow laugh. “This is a gesture of goodwill, Dowling. I’d mind yourself until I’ve said what I’ve come to say.” He pauses. Perhaps to hide his own disbelief. Perhaps to spite Malachy. “We’ve fucking crossed it, Dowling. We think we’ve found the passage and we’ve found a way through. Hell, we might have already crossed it. We’ve got a city in sight and we’re making plans to dock in their harbor.”

A long pause. “No. No, that can’t be. It’s far too soon. A week, that’s not enough.”

“Say it as much as you want. By the time we lay anchor, you can come see for yourself. I reckon, see, that it won’t even be a day. As a truce, I’ll let you out—supervised, of course, and never too far from my sight. But freedom, Dowling. You’re to partake in it as well.”

“Thrilled, are you?” A soft thump on the other side of the door as Malachy leans against it. “How neatly this all transpires for you as soon as you seize the helm. Should’ve mutinied sooner, I bet you’re thinking.”

“Not here to question it. For your sake, I hope you don’t either.”

— 

Up close, the mist that cloaks the city shifts with every step taken. Appearing transparent once, then cloudy with a thin, greenish film next, then shimmering with an opalescent, abalone sheen. It is cold, but not cold enough for the thick coats that have proven imperative for standing outside in the Arctic. A strange humidity permeates the air - it is thin and thick, at once, and one feels a shortness and a swelling in every inhale - not painful, nor is it natural. The luster visible from the sea is procured from shells embedded into the foundation of every building, in between the stone and plaster - old and weathered, they glint in the light that parts through the mist. Perhaps the first thing that can be glimpsed, like a maroon carpet of colour, is the red sands on the eastward beach. Ground to a fine point, blanketing uniformly around the village until the paved streets begin to stretch on, it resembles a carpet of leaves or clipped gems as much as a natural phenomenon.

No other ships are docked at the silent harbor. Cobblestone lines the path up the crumbling seawall and into the city where townsfolk mill about in the marketplaces and town square, a vast space eclipsed by grand, towering edifices - a spindly cathedral demarcated by an unfamiliar brass symbol of the very tallest of its spires; an ancient, squat tavern; an inn with patrons streaming in and out like shoals; a surfeit of various shops of every variety, marked not by words or names, but by images painted into the overhanging signs. As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, one realizes there is an absence of gas lamps that dotted London in abundance. Instead, white wax candles spill over every ledge, every crook and cranny, their bases melted into the stone and bedrock and wood. 

Townsfolk cast strange, curious glances at these newcomers, but their gazes never linger long before they carry on with their businesses. The accents are implacable, though they speak English - not even a mishmash of any known dialects, but entirely unfamiliar. Not even the Promethean’s most well-traveled guests can narrow their tongue or the origin of their accents down. 

The shops and inns here refuse currency - one takes what they need, and they carry their debt with them until it's repaid, metaphorically or literally. 

— 

Malachy emerges from the boiler room a fragmented man, gaze trained on the multiple barrel ends that follow his every movement. Every breath he takes lifts his entire body in a heaving pulse-thrum. Hair unkempt and eyes wild with animal fury, his lips lift into a sneer as he finds Marcus in the crowd of muskets.

“Is this where I’m supposed to thank you for your mercy, Estrada?” He appraises the armed crew. “And your lackeys, for their restraint?” 

“Chin up, Dowling.” The vice-admiral’s lips curl into a grimace. “Even you cannot deny this good fortune. Certainly this justifies some of the trouble.”

“It justifies nothing. If you’re wise, you’ll not let me out of your sight.”

No more is exchanged between the two men before Malachy is ushered up the main ladderway, up to the upper deck and onto the dock, one armed escort in front and behind him. The rest of the crew begin to disembark, all who aligned with Malachy closely followed by another who wasn’t. 

The dock creaks beneath their feet, and the procession is slow, tentative, upon reaching this new port. Everything is familiar, and yet nothing is - not even the screech of a gull to announce their arrival.

Then, a scream, feral and hoarse. 

Behind them, Jules takes advantage of the momentary awe and sweeps the legs of her captor, knocks them into the harbor waters. A musket fires. The narrow dock doesn’t allow much in the way of room, and those who have not yet made it out of the ship clamber back on. Captors shout for their captives to STAND STILL, MOVE BACK down into the lower deck, but the chaos and the overlapping shouts overpower them. Smaller squabbles break out as the rest milk the opportunity given to them by Jules’ commotion. Ahead of them all, Malachy slams himself into the guard in front of them, tackling them both to the ground. His second escort scrambles for a clear shot, musket trembling - only to lurch back, struck in the shoulder. Behind him, Ephraim had broken free and wrestled the gun from his warden, his aim true then and now as he holds it steady on Malachy’s escort, who wordlessly surrenders his own weapon to Malachy. 

On the boat, chaos descends. Roi has easily overtaken his guard, pinning them to the side of the boat. Before he can hurl them into the water, Mariah throws himself onto his back, pinning the steward’s neck into the crook of his elbow. A flash of silver in his free palm - but then Laurents is on him, twisting their arm back until the knife drops to the ground with a clatter, and drives his fist into the mercenary’s gut, allowing Roi the chance to break free. Elias dives for the dagger and slashes at the ankles of Fahra’s guard, who had her wrists firmly in their grip. He cuts deep, cuts an unthinkable and irreparable gash over both calves; enough to maim, perhaps, if another one of Estrada’s hounds had not stepped in. The second man, bigger, wrangles the steward into a deathgrip. They both take the fall, tumbling several paces across the teak. In the somersault, the snowfall of movement and limbs, Ayla Dowling steps in with a lifeline. A physical rope, no time for metaphor, no time for anything but the hard gnashing of the present. The doe loops the rope around the guard’s neck, and, with a vicious tug that no one would’ve wagered on, pulls him off Elias and onto the planks. She waits no second before helping Elias up, and together they join Jack, the sergeant’s dagger blocking Violet’s aim on August.

Some paces away, Noemie leads the rest of the Agathe survivors through the skirmish and off the ship - they start down the docks, but Katja blocks their way, and it’s her musket to their none. She grabs Tristan by the arm, presses the musket to his stomach - if you want him alive, you’ll do as I say. A gun close by goes off, causing all of them to flinch. In that instant, Nyima breaks from the hostage group to lunge at Katja. The two scuffle, until Nyima gets a grip at the barrel of the musket, shoves it into the air - it goes off. Tristan tries to pin Katja down, and she hisses, points the gun at him - Nyima yanks the barrel back. It goes off again - whether by accident or as a result of the scuffle or by intention, it finds its mark. 

A wail cuts through the air, and for a moment, the bedlam stills. Nyima clutches a weeping wound on her chest, collapsing into Tristan’s arms. Ever the protectress, she is restless still even with her grievous wound, tries to force herself before the rest of the Agathe survivors as they fall to her side. This is one of the last attempts, the last slingshots of action in her muscles and spirit: to interpose between her friends and Katja. The translator backs away, wide-eyed, but still in possession of her wits - weapon poised to fire again if they tried to seek retribution. 

“Call Jonathan! Casimir! Help her!” Emma begs to no one in particular. She is quick to kneel, had already torn off half the scarves she was wearing, and is pressing dry palms, wet cloth, crimson sash to Nyima’s blooming chest. The petal spreads, swallows the entire front of the amulet’s dress. For all her time spent in gardens, for all that she turned stem and stalk to see the wonders of the world, this is a flower Emma cannot understand. Cannot weed out, or stall, or even conceive of. The blood flows, pours, goes over easy; a swell like the motion of waves, on what was once a ferocious, then a frozen, now an utterly becalmed sea. Nyima’s hand raises to Emma’s cheek, and, like the curl of a gentle claw, wraps around the jawline. Tristan falls to her other side. She whispers something to both of them, a voice that doesn’t carry, a wisp already flattened into velvet by the winds. Then she presses her own face into Tristan’s thigh. Her Judas, her Captain; it’s hardly appropriate, isn't’ it, that he’s the one that has been betrayed again—that he’s the one left behind. Perhaps this is why the cook smiles to him, last. To assure, as much as assuage. To promise there is another turn to this story, even as her own is already fading. 

By now, Malachy and his officers and Marcus and his loyalists have found the source of commotion and gathered, wordlessly. Jonathan weaves through to reach Nyima - there’s shifting, the subtle sounds of men taking aim,  and Ephraim immediately raises his gun to Marcus. It takes his own Captain’s voice to make him lower it, hip level, eyes murderous.

“Let them go. Let her…” Malachy pauses, swallowing through his hoarseness. There is no doubt as to the injury’s severity - the bleeding has not abetted, thick rivulets seeping through Emma’s fingers and pooling on the fallow ground. Malachy Dowling was a man of many wounds; some borne within, some hidden, but most of all witnessed. He knows what a death mark looks like. Nyima’s body is a canvass of carnage.

Not much for Jonathan to do, no, not much for anyone to do at all. Doing has led them here; the rough, loud, prideful fall of it. The impossible tally. The Captain, the former Captain, rises his voice once more. “Let them care for her in peace. You’ve had the upper hand, and now - now neither of us do.”

It’s Tristan’s cry that announces it; the death, the finality. Emma’s face is as white as the sky above them. Hands as rusty as the sands on this beach, on this strange place of salvation. Ayla and Noemie huddle closer to lift her up, lift her away from Nyima, but she won’t go. It seems no one is going anywhere, anymore — the whole possibility of it has been culled. Bones resting as slack as burlap; as unconscious as the flotsam left after a flood. 

Behind him, Edward and Jaya usher those they knew to be aligned with the old command off the docks and into the city. Marcus watches, impenetrable, his own musket held limp at his side, unmoving, unspeaking. 

Then he extends a hand to Katja, like a faraway tyrant, the stone hewn statue of one, calling home its acolytes. He waits until the thief, once-translator, now trembling toll paid in blood, comes into his shadow. Lays a hand on her shoulder, protective and proprietary all at once. Lays a gaze, then, like the snag of a chain; drags it over all of them that remained up deck. Only then he begins to speak.

“So that is how these things end: the pointless brutality of it. Man’s obsession to keep a code of honour that has long stopped serving. Has everyone seen it, looked their fill? Good. I am nothing if not prophetic, hm? Now. Now. Let us make sure no other prediction of mine will see the garrish, gruesome light of day. Have you all had enough of mutiny and cockfights? Are you ready to make something of your life?”

His body turns to the rest of the crew, a full recoil, almost a repose.

“Seems to me this is as good a place to start as any.” 

To his own, Malachy offers his own words. Exhaustion permeates his words, weighs them heavy as lead - the fight is over, all there is left to do is rest. Regroup. Loss, they all know by now, regardless of their alignment, is consumptive. It eats and it steals and it offers nothing in return. “Let us not forget the dangers that have led us here. Betrayals. Mutinies. Guns at our heads as we lived and slept. A beast that knows not of compassion nor mercy. Just because we are alive does not mean we are safe - do not let your guard down. Rest, and we will regather. Salvation, whether it be here, or home, awaits us in unity.”

OOC: We hope you enjoyed today’s plot drop, lovely members and lurkers! The Promethean has landed in strange new lands where nothing is at it seems, with tension aboard boiling over into a chaotic climax. The crew has mostly dispersed into the city, with each side of the mutiny looking to gain their bearings and regain control. 

A poll will be posted in the discord so that you can choose if your muses retreated with Malachy Dowling or stayed anchored with Marcus Estrada. Please remember that everyone who helped Mal/Jules stage the insurgency is no longer a crew member. However, if your character has motives for staying (a loved one, a status as double agent, suddenly undecided etc.) you are welcome to have them remain on the Promethean. Just be sure to keep us up to date if any major loyalties have shifted, and, as always, to have a blast writing & plotting through these little rats’s conflicts. 

There is, of course, much to explore in this nameless port city, including NEW LOCATIONS, listed below, and new NPCs with which to interact as sideblogs. These will be ran by the admin team: K., Venli, and Rhi, and will be strangers to the rest of the crew, each bringing their own motives, mysteries, and intricacies into the interaction. Keep an eye out for the follow post within the next few days! More locations will also be added as the plot and exploration of the area progresses. As of now, THE CAPTAIN is an active muse and may interact with the rest of the characters. Have fun, and happy writing!

AT HANGMAN’S TRINKETS.  

At the other end of the port, pushed far enough from the seaside that it almost looks like any other village, splays the tight, narrow venue of the store. If most buildings on the docks look comely, a peace that alludes to most corners of the world where the ocean laps the shore, this one has a marked touch to it. It draws the eye, the firm painted a gaudy russet, as red as the sands that litter the eastward beach. Despite its hue, the sign has been battered into something closer to dried blood by the gale, and the marks on it are illegible. Could be any human language, or not at all. Perhaps what makes the shop stand out even more is the absence resounding in the harbour. The maroon posts are entirely devoid of any other ship, not even small fishing vessels anchored at half-length on the wharf. It should make the Promethean loom, but instead it diminishes it; could be soothing, could be dangerous, the way the quiet waves knock it about, with very few inhabitants coming to stare at it, to help tie it to the pier, or even to barter. Yet there is plenty of bartering to be done further inland. The rest of the expanse might be barren, but the shop is bright and bundled up, like an old woman sat by the fire. A string of fairy lights are hung over it in a diagonal row, the sash of it lolling slack enough to catch a taller sailor’s head and dapple it with warmth. At the counter, a young, plucky clerk spreads their arms in welcome. Behind them, vials, jars, and tinkling bottles litter the entire front wall. It is such a kaleidoscope of size and color that any customer might be more dazzled than tempted to purchase. From camphor oil to whale teeth necklaces, from silk handkerchiefs  to beads of black glass, everything seems ready to be displayed, bartered, and doubted. The clerk is nothing but exhilarated to have someone to talk to at last. Their bronze face is dappled with the hanging lights, and a nose ring stretches from their septum to their ear. That golden chain makes them look both older and younger at once — as they chuckle and lapse into chatter, already ready to soak up all the information visitors might bestow, it becomes more and more difficult to gauge their age. Or their intentions…. How much will you share?

HIGHWAYMAN’S REST.

Perhaps the most striking front belongs to the port’s hotel, a polished three-tiered complex that occupies the main street. Oddly enough, despite the fact that the port seems all but deserted, the building has the most upkeep in the area. The outer walls are painted olive green, in a stark contrast with the houses’ cream-colored front and the greyed, saltwind-bitten outstretches of wood along the pier. The double doors allow a glimmer of light to cross the threshold, since its glass panels are painted with scenes that resemble the stained glass on churches and temples all over the world. Once inside, the vista opens on a waiting room decked with paintings and sculptures, with works of art that don’t seem to resemble anyone in particular. In order to ring the receptionist’s bell, you have to wrangle your hand through a number of small statutes. One bust on the receptionist’s counter, reads king sylvester stuart. Another, an effigy that seemed carved in filigree, depicts josephine robespierre.  On the usual, there is no one in the waiting room, and no noises pour from above. For all intents and purposes, it feels as if the entire establishment is deserted; or perhaps never used in the first place, simply spruced, polished, and displayed for the hollow beauty of it. On the fourth clanger of the bell, the receptionist finally walks into view. A door in the wall opens, and they step through with a merry gait, not allowing anything to be glimpsed behind them. At once, they are ready to sort the visitor with the best sets of chambers for their disposition. They try to strike up a conversation, one hand already on the ledger, and do not even presume to ask for money until after the end of the stay. Their demeanor might almost foster the sense of a homecoming; only their remarks, and the parental, proprietary style of their speech, makes it feel more like a transaction instead. For all the luxury that defines the hotel, a visitor may wonder if, in fact, they’re being sold something else underneath. However, after such a long journey of darkness and water, who can say no to even a few hours in an ivory bedroom—for a dalliance, a tumble into unconsciousness, or just to experience the decadent beauty of those who’ve had easier lives?

THE SIREN’S SORROW. 

Coming up from the docks, the hard-teak stairs lead into a bulky tavern, a building more squat than inviting, which carries a barrack’s efficiency about it. The place’s foundation looks rooted into the scaffolding itself, the moldy, barnacled pillars somehow supporting the weight of the place. At the ground level, the dingy, round windows open up into the street, but it’s difficult to peer through the grime crusted over the glass pannels. At the upper level, which the two-storied construction seems to be bowled over, the blinds are drawn shut, their velvet dusted a bile-yellow even from afar. Yet through it all, what actually grabs the visitor’s by the throat, is the strange allure of the place. Not a disparaged charm, mind you—most of these sailors have spent their pay and day in shindigs far worse than this. It is not much, in way of grotesque, just as it is not much in way of poetry. But a certain shimmer permeates throughout, like mist gathering over the shingles, and it renders the place noble and faraway. One might almost expect to see a lighthouse cave around it. When the doors open, the interior is low-ceilinged and vast, the chambers burrowing further than the outside lets on. Depending on how the sunlight, which is still paltry further off the Arctic glare, the main room of the tavern looks both too hollow and too overcrowded, all at once. Truth be told, no one can be certain if it’s not the most beautiful place they’ve ever seen; if only because it peals out to a sense of humanity, a sense of being rooted down. It takes a while to realize that the humanity, for all its urgency, is slightly skewed at the corner. Takes a while to gather up the questions, rather than just gawk at a bar stool that isn’t nailed down into the ship’s timber floor; at a glass that isn’t canister, but actual earthenware, tangible and frail. When the questions do gather, the barkeep is there for the tending. Jaded, old, he seems to have borne both the glow and the gloom of the place, allowed it to mantle them from brow to navel. They seem, also, like the kind of man who has heard a story for every life the sailors wished upon, for every lie they cast over dice. What will you ask him?  

[mainly-kpop]

A Pirate’s Life For Me

Chapter Three.  Pirate!BTS Maid!Reader 

Warnings: tiny bit of blood, talk of scamming, little flirting  Summary:  You had always wondered about pirates, about a life outside of these walls. On your 23rd birthday, you would finally find out what both were really like.  Word Count: 2.5k

You had been on the ship for just over a month, and you were settling in fairly well. So far, they had taken you to an island, letting you shop until you dropped.

‘So, I can buy whatever I want?’ You made sure, holding the bag of gold in your hand. Feeling the weight literally and metaphorically. This was a lot of cash you held, more than what the Palace allowed you. Yoongi just nodded, following you into the small, family run stores. You didn’t buy much, realising this gold wasn’t all for you, you all needed this to survive. Picking out a couple items matching the style of what Yoongi already gave you, you were happy enough. Although, the boys made you pick out some dresses, insisting they would work for raids they had planned. You didn’t argue, happily taking the dresses, the soft silk and pretty cottons making you forget the prices momentarily. Although, feeling the difference in the money bag weight after kind of brought you back to reality.

You insisted they shop some for themselves too, forcing them to buy new sheets and shirts. Not knowing the last time, they shopped for themselves, they agreed, grabbing necessary items before deciding that was good enough. Yoongi eyed up a blanket for a while, in two minds about buying it.

‘I like it, it’s pretty.’ You hinted, hopefully helping him to reach a decision. He just smiled at you, grabbing your chin between his long fingers.

‘If you like it, then we shall have it. No questions asked.’ Really, Yoongi hadn’t bought a new blanket since she betrayed him. Rather fester in the pain than move on, but something about you made him ready to move on.

They ate good that night, Jin making a feast fit for royalty, the rum splashed about between them all.

‘Remember that time, Jungkook got kicked in the nuts by that whore?’ Jimin reminisced, causing Jungkook to physically wince. You looked between them for an explanation, getting nothing bar laughter and dirty looks thrown this way and that way.

‘Please explain, I need to hear these stories!’ you whined, pout on your lips as no one told you anything. Jungkook thought you looked adorable, momentarily having a brain fart.

‘Basically, we took some one-night stands onto the ship when we docked, taking them to different areas of the ship for privacy. Anyways, when Jungkook was finished, he basically went up onto deck, leaving the girl alone. He came back to Namjoon balls deep in her, he wasn’t phased not until-‘

‘Not until, my girl came over sour faced because she was neglected. Jungkook tried to put on the moves then he-‘ He stopped in a fit of laughter, unable to contain himself anymore. Jungkook just groaned, realising he had to finish the story.

‘I wasn’t all that used to the sea yet, I went up onto deck to throw up. I thought I was done but turns out I wasn’t. I was hitting on her and spewed, then she kicked me in the balls... Haven’t been with anyone since.’ You felt sorry for him, wondering how long he had been here without getting his dick wet. You also, couldn’t help the snort of a laugh that slipped from you, setting all the other boys off. Slightly tipsy by this point, you put an offer on the table for him knowing it would make him blush further.

‘You know, if you ever need anything, like that. You know where I am.’ He knew you expected him to blush, to fold in on himself, but he was far too tipsy and far too ready to take you up on that. Leaning into your body, face inches from yours, he whispered against your lips, causing a blush to creep up your face and arousal to pool in your stomach.

‘I might take you up on that sometime, I can’t tell you how painfully hard you make me already.’ If Taehyung hadn’t cleared his throat, you would have jumped the younger boy’s bones. Right there and then. Jungkook dragged his eyes slowly off you, slipping casually back into conversation.

‘So, wait two questions, you are happy sharing women? And Jungkook how long has it been since you got laid?’

‘We don’t mind sharing unless she’s strictly off limits. Yoongi had a girl, she was off limits. Otherwise we don’t mind, as long as she doesn’t.’ Hoseok spoke, answering one of your questions. You nodded, averting your gaze to Jungkook, he just blushed avoiding your eye.

‘Poor Kookie here hasn’t had any in three years, isn’t that right? Poor lad is scared for life!’ Jimin chortled, Jungkook whining in protest.

‘As if you haven’t had your fair share of bad fucks. What about that time...’ And so, the conversation continued, naming and shaming the escapades of these experienced men.

About a week later, the captain proposed the first raid since you joined, all of the men agreeing instantly. Apparently, you were short on food, Jungkook running out of supplies too. You nodded along, Yoongi pulling you into his office again. The boys seemed to already know the plan, Taehyung briefing them as you walked away.

‘You’re a main part of our plan, I need to make sure you are okay with this before we continue.’ He began, letting you sit before he continued. You perched yourself on the edge of the shared bed, crossing your legs waiting for him to continue. He smiled, shaking his head, walking to sit beside you.

‘The pretty dress we bought you? I need you to wear it, go in crying. Make a scene, he’s a sucker for a damsel in distress. He will put his guard down while we grab our things, I don’t want things to get messy, but they might. I’ve assigned Jungkook to you though, he’s a fighter. If anything goes wrong near you, he will be by your side instantly. I promise.’ You fell into his every word, listening intently at every instruction he gave you. Nerves bubbled in your stomach, regardless of having a protector for the raid.

He pulled out the dress, handing it towards you. Smiling, he turned around, giving you minimal privacy again, not like you minded really. Slipping the old clothes off, you folded them on the bed. Old habits die hard. Slipping the dress over your head, you struggled doing the lace on the back up. Now you knew why the princess insisted on being dressed, this shit was hard. Although where she had around six maids to dress her and make her beautiful, you had seven male pirates.

‘Yoongi, could you-‘ Before you could finish the sentence, his fingers were already on your back, gently pulling the fabric for you. You could feel his breath on your skin, his fingertips lightly scraping your back. You hoped he couldn’t see the chills forming on your back, and he hoped you couldn’t feel the clamminess of his hands.

‘There, that should be it, is it okay? It’s been a while since I laced up a dress...’ He mumbled, letting you move about, to test he had done it right. You smiled at his handy work seeing the little bow in the foggy mirror.

‘You did good captain, mighty good.’

‘The boys have docked the ship; we are just waiting on you.’ He had such a soft voice, something you were slowly growing fond of. He wasn’t a pirate in your eyes, the crew never striking you as violent in the slightest. You nod, walking out of the office, to gather with the other boys. Their eyes trailed your form, almost forgetting the shape of your body under the baggy male clothes you usually adorned.

‘Okay, you know the drill. Grab what you can, don’t take anyone back with you, don’t hurt anyone unless absolutely necessary. Jungkook, keep an eye on our damsel here. Get going.’ You chanted in unison with the others a clear ‘YES CAPTAIN!’ before heading to the rowing boat. The boys kept quite most of the time, until Jungkook spied your feet.

‘You don’t have shoes on...’ You smiled at his observation, wiggling your toes for him.

‘Sells the whole distress thing more, no?’ He just sighed, rolling his eyes at you. Namjoon being the one to speak up.

‘Please be careful where you step, we need you, okay?’ You just nodded; a warm smile sent his way. They rowed the boat away from the docks, onto a remote little beach so you weren’t all caught together.

‘I’ll stay with the boat so we can make a quick get away, everyone please be careful.’ Namjoon spoke, everyone splitting direction. You wandered into town, gathering up the courage for your big display. Stepping into the store, you trip on your foot, setting the crocodile tears off.

‘Miss, are you okay?!’ The man yelled, rushing to your side. He grabbed you under your arms, lifting you off the ground. He got you half way before you forced your knees to crumble under you. Letting out another choked sob, you crumpled into the floor, sobbing into your hands. The man just holds you for a moment, letting you sob into his chest. You would feel bad, you could feel bad, but you didn’t let yourself. Instead, pulling the sobs back until they were quiet whimpers.

‘There was someone chasing me, I’m so sorry to have caused you such bother sir.’ You whined, peaking behind the man to see Jungkook, his eagle eyes glaring at the man’s hands on you. The man just rubbed your arm comfortingly, pulling you up from the ground. You watched Hoseok tap Jungkook on the shoulder, the latter giving you the signal to wrap the show up and get to the boat.

‘Why don’t you come inside? I can call the officer over?’ He questioned, genuinely wishing to help. You shook your head, dusting the dress off and wiping your face with the back of your hand.

‘I think he might have gone sir, thank you so much for your comfort, here take this!’ you pulled the gold coin Yoongi gave you for this out of your breasts, handing it to the man. He gulped, hooded eyes looking you over. Planting a chaste kiss against his cheek you ran off, quickly towards the boat.

‘That was some performance angel, impressive.’ Jimin praised, helping you into the boat. You giggled as he patted your ass, climbing in behind you.

‘Why thank you kind sir!’ Your knee hurt a little though, from the dramatic fall through the door. Jungkook noticed you rubbing it, lifting your dress up to look. It was scraped slightly, a bead of blood trickling down your leg. He shook his head at you.

‘But hey, my feet are okay, also this could have been so much worse!’ You chide, much to his disappointment. You were like a child he had to protect, despite you being a year older than him.

‘Not the point babe, I’ll deal with it when we get back on the ship.’ He let you pull your dress back down, covering your legs once again. Realistically he knew you were right. This could have gone bad quickly. You thought about that the whole ride back, how anything could have happened. If something were to happen, would Jungkook be fast enough? Would you be okay if something happened? You decided to voice your concerns later, maybe get one of them to teach you some basic self-defence.

Clambering back on the ship, everyone went straight to Yoongi, handing over the gold and telling them the happenings. Jimin instantly pulled the anchor, sailing away as fast as possible.

‘Where is Jungkook and Y/N? She’s not hurt, is she?’ He worried as soon as he didn’t see you, Taehyung just smiled.

‘She’s not super hurt, she skinned her knee.’ He replied, making the captain roll his eyes. Jungkook would really tend to anything when it came to you, he was slowly starting to realise. He could almost bet gold on the fact you would come back up with a bandage, wrapped tenderly around your knee.

‘How does that feel?’ He questioned, tightening the bandage around your kneecap.

‘Kookie, I’m fine really, don’t you think this is slight overkill?’ you mumbled, leaning closer to his face. He just looked up at you, brushing fallen hair out of your face. Why did he like it so much when you used that nickname? The one he hated so much from everyone else. They made it sound like a childish nickname, with you, it sounded warm, like you were fond of him.

‘I don’t want to see you hurt or uncomfortable. Even if it is a little scrape, even if it’s me making you uncomfortable. I want to make sure I do everything I can, to make sure you are okay.’ You blushed at his words, the weight that they held. Honestly you wondered a lot of things about these boys. They were far too nice to be considered pirates. Just what happened? You leaned in closer to his face, him moving closer himself.

‘I’ll remember that, when my leg is falling off and you can’t do anything about it.’ You whisper, taunting him.

‘I may not be able to do anything right now, but I’ll learn. For you, I’ll learn anything.’ Inches away from attaching your lips to his, you leaned down, lips brushing lips.

‘Guys how’s it going down here?’ Your lips had just puckered, the shortest and softest kiss in history due to your interruption. You both pulled back, him tucking his things away as you pulled down the skirt of your dress.

‘If you’re done, meet us for dinner up top, Jimin says its smooth sailing from here, pardon the pun.’ Jin spoke, giving you a cue to get changed.

‘I have a question for you.’ Taehyung spoke, everyone tipsy from the rum going around. You motioned for him to continue, curious as to what he could ask.

‘Why did you choose to stay? You could have been dropped off, gone back to your normal life. You could be normal. Why not run?’ You pondered it for a moment, not really needing to think. More wondering how much to divulge to them.

‘I had no reason to go home. No love interest, no family, no friends. Why go back to nothing but a job and a room in a Palace?’ They let your answer sink for a moment before you spoke up again. You did have a nice room, with a private bathroom and a big bed. It mirrored the princess’s room, but why wouldn’t it when you were in the room beside hers?

‘What about you? How did you all end up here? Let’s start with Captain, shall we?’

[peterparkers7evilexes]

Pirate dads - the prequel

FULL CREDIT to @lily-reads for the BEAUTIFUL POLYAMOROUS PIRATES HC explored here!

Tony has always been a man of the seas. It’s the only life he knows, the only life he wants. So when he beds a woman and leaves in the morning, ship sails flapping above and saltspray licking his skin, he doesn’t think too much about it. He’s a pirate, after all - one whose reputation precedes him far and wide - so he makes a name for himself in myth and legend as the deadliest pirate to sail the seas. He earns respect and steadfast familial loyalty from his crew. The Queen’s men call him the scourge of the sea. What more could a man of the sea want? And so - Tony doesn’t think too much of the bedpartners he leaves behind.

We pan in on a small fishing town, some years in the future (apparent from the somewhat more efficient port guards, a previously humble set of stalls that Tony had crept out in the early dawn hours is transformed before our eyes to a bustling, lively market). Our protagonist, Peter Parker, rushes out of breath, wearing a navy sailors’ uniform askew, down to the docks, and he rushes onboard, ducking his head. We get the sense that he’s a boy who came from a simple life, and we aren’t quite sure what a sweet, gentle soul like him could possibly want from enlisting with the Queen’s men, tasked to hunt down pirates.

[uhhh��� montage of sailing]

One day, Tony’s ship boards a Navy ship. Avast! A cute boy who’s bravely standing up against 5 pirates by himself! Tony doesn’t intend to scuttle this ship - he tries to avoid as much death as possible, he’s not evil - he calls them down and tisks, seeing the boy is malnourished and bruised. (Navy sailors are like, the frat guys of the sea.) He invites Peter aboard his ship to join on as the cook. “If you turn coat,” sputters the Navy's first mate, “you’ll find yer father, boy - at the bottom of the ocean when i slit your throat myself!”

“You talk too much,” Sam says, (maybe kills the guy offscreen). We learn, as does Tony then, that Peter is on a quest to find what became of his father. “If your da died at one of our hands,” Tony says, “you won’t learn anythin’ from hanging round Queens’ men. I’ve met barrels of maggots more trustworthy than any man in a navy coat.” He reasons that by sailing with pirates, Peter could learn what became of his father.

He goes.

The pirates are actually, we learn, a sweet lot. Nothing like the dramatic, rip-roaring hooligans we see in Tony’s “reputation” introduction, nor are they the raping-murdering-looting boogeymen the Queen’s men insist. They are - quite simply - a family. The men are fiercely protective of Peter and praise his cooking. Instead of Peter’s masculinity being mocked because of the presence of his femininity - which happened in spades aboard the Queen’s ship - the pirates treasure and nurture Peter as a whole - the masculine and the feminine. He flourishes.

[more sailing / life at sea montages]

Also Peter and Tony getting attracted to each other, copious flirting, Tony feels v protective of his newest crew member [INSERT A METAPHOR SPOKEN BETWEEN THE TWO OF THEM ABOUT HOME AND HOW HOME IS ACTUALLY A FEELING/A PERSON/EACH OTHER]

Then one day, as they sail into Port Tortuga (it’S A REAL PLACE OKAY POTC DIDN’T MAKE IT UP) Peter gets to chatting with an old bar-lady. In conversation, they learn that she used to keep bar at the same fishing village that Peter is from. “What a dump! Looks like the only ones with a lick of sense left home for the seas, isn’ that right, boy?” Peter laughs, looking across the bar at Tony. “Maybe [town] never was meant to be home,” he says, eyes still lingering on Tony.

Peter, feeling lovey and like the old lady has basically endorsed him and Tony’s romantic relationship, goes off. Late in the night/early morning, Tony goes to the bar. The lady leans in and says with a grin, “your boy, he’s just like his mum, isn’t he?”

DUN-DUN-DUN -- Tony learns that peter’s his SON!

Back on the ship a few days later, Peter crawls into Tony’s lap and begins kissing him. Tony feels guilty af and stops him, reveals that he’s Peter’s father. Peter shrugs, “yeah, i know. Old Tabitha told me back on Tortuga.” “WHY WOULDN’T YOU TELL ME” “I really wanted this. (grinds ass down on cock) and i think you still want it too.” “you aren’t… disgusted?” “are you?” Tony grins. “I’m a pirate, sweetheart. I might have a code of honor, but I’m still just a swindling man.”

They fuck. It’s super hot. Lots of daddy kink.

At dinner one night in the future, Peter accidentally slips and calls Tony “Daddy”. The other pirates poke and tease and prod until they, themselves, reveal that they don’t care - as long as both of them are happy and consenting, they’re happy to stop pursuing Peter. Oh yeah, did we mention? The whole ship is in love with Peter.

^ Sets up the sequel smut above, author puts down the book and says “And that’s how Peter became the ship’s beloved cumslut and how I justified polyamorous pirates in my dumb imagination.”