#i wouldn't mind him stabbing me with his sword

[monstera02]

i made a little knight!miguel bot and i think it's pretty cutesy 🤭 hope you guys like it too!!

[triptuckers]

sparring sessions - percy jackson

Request: yes! "ok so ik it’s kinda (by kind of i mean VERY) cliche, but i was wondering if u could do like an angst -> fluff where like percy and reader get into a fight n stuff and he like admits that he loves them??" Pairing:  percy jackson x reader Summary:  when an argument between you and percy gets heated, some things are revealed Warnings:  mentions of injuries and blood, arguing, angst Word count:  858 A/N: raaaaaahhh I LOVE me some cliche's LETS GO !! thanks for you request, enjoy!

it started out as an innocent sparring session between percy and jake, a hephaestus kid. a couple kids from hermes, hephaestus, and athena decided to get together to train. you and percy also joined.

you'd been at camp longer than percy, so you had trained him in the beginning. the two of you often train together even though percy is now better than you.

but somehow he still looks at you while sparring with someone else. if it's to read your facial expressions or just because you're in his line of sight, you're not sure.

but today it nearly went wrong.

while percy and jake were sparring, percy was looking at you and too late to block jake's sword. he managed to make a deep cut in percy's arm.

the session was immediately ended and percy put his sword away. while the other kids continued their training session, you walked away. you couldn't stay there and be around percy right now. clearly he hadn't listened to you.

but percy, having seen your face, follows you.

as soon as you get to percy's cabin - which provides you with more privacy than your own - you turn around to look at him with an irritated look on your face.

'I told you to ignore me if you're sparring!' you say.

percy frowns. but nothing bad happened? why are you mad at him? besides, he can't look away from you when he's sparring. he thought you knew this.

'and how am I supposed to do that?' says percy, watching as you take off your armor and neatly put it away. 'you're the one that taught me. of course I need to see if you think I'm doing a good job.'

you pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers. you're trying so hard to stay calm right now.

'of course I think you're doing a good job, percy.' you say. 'I know you're good at what you do. but you'd do a great job if you would listen to my advice and avoid getting stabbed.'

percy makes a soft offended noise. 'first of all, I didn't get stabbed. I got nicked!'

you groan out loud 'percy! come on, don't be stubborn!'

'I'm the one being stubborn? you should see yourself when you're sparring. you want it to be perfect but fighting never is! it's messy, no matter how good you train someone.'

'I'm going for a walk.' you say, before you get angrier and say things you don't mean.

you grab your armor and walk towards the door, but he steps in front of you, blocking the doorway.

'oh no, you're not. we're not done yet.' says percy, crossing his arms over his chest, displaying the cut on his arm that he didn't have time to heal yet.

'got more to say?' you say.

'yes. you never did actually tell me what I did wrong.' says percy. 'you're mad, I can tell. but you didn't tell me what it was that I did that's made you mad.'

'yes I did. I told you that you need to ignore me when you're sparring. focus all of you attention on the opponent, not me.'

'I can't do that.'

'can't focus on the opponent? I noticed.'

'that's not what I meant!'

'then what do you mean!'

'I meant I can't ignore you when I'm sparring!' says percy loudly. 'I can never ignore you, don't you understand that? whenever you're near you always have my attention, I can never look away. even when you're not near me I'm thinking about you. gods, you're always on my mind because I love you, okay? so I'm sorry if I can't look away from you when I'm sparring!'

you hadn't realised how close you were to each other. now percy's face is close to yours, both of you breathing heavily.

you knew percy liked you, obviously. you wouldn't be staying in his cabin almost every night if he didn't. but this? even though you knew percy had liked you for a long time, you hadn't been together for that long.

'you love me?' you say in a soft voice, feeling your anger and irritation ebb away.

percy closes his eyes and shakes his head, as if he just now realises what he said. then he sighs and when he opens his eyes and looks at you, there's nothing but sweetness in them.

'yeah. I do.' says percy. 'I've loved you for a long time, actually.'

you smile and want to say something but percy's eyes widen.

'wait, shit, is that too soon? should I have waited to say it? oh gods if I-'

'percy.' you say, shutting him up by stepping even closer to him.

'it's okay. I love you too.' you say.

percy grins and his eyes twinkle. without warning, he puts his hands on the sides of your face and crashes his lips against yours. he can feel the smile on your lips.

when he pulls back, you're both smiling.

'you still want to go on that walk?' says percy.

'definitely not.' you say.

percy laughs and kisses you again, your argument already forgotten.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost, steal or translate my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[elffhuntr456]

The DC x DP Justice League problem

I've noticed a pattern when it comes to DC x DP crossovers where when the Justice League has to deal with anything involving the Danny phantom world They are out matched and outclassed in every way.

I know most people in the DC x DP fandoms haven't ever picked up a comic, or watched DC media that wasn't animated (or sometimes haven't even watched Danny phantom) in their lives but at some point it gets ridiculous how incompetent the regular JL is made when it comes to combating the supernatural. 

And as an all-things DC enjoyer this hurts me.

Like Superman, multiple times in the past has gone up against ghosts, ghosts like beings, and ghostly Abilities using his powers like for example:

Superman was able to freeze Ghost Soldier, who could turn intangible, using his freeze breath.

He could Freeze Zatanna's astral form

He was able to decimate the Phantom Stranger's physical AND metaphysical form.

He used his freeze breath to freeze the essence/spirit of H'el in time.

When the Fortress Of Solitude's security program projections were turned into ghosts, he could still blast them with his heat vision.

He withstood being stabbed through his heart and soul with magic a sword.

He tanked silver banshees scream (which affects the spirit) head on.

His super vision can also look past someone's body and mind to examine their soul.

When it comes to Wonder Woman her shield, blade, braces, lasso, tiara, and entire body are all blessed with the power of the literal gods there is no way she wouldn't be able to go straight up to a ghost and punch it intangibility or not.

Her lasso can even drag a soul out of someone's body if needed.

Same goes for Captain Marvel and his lightning.

All of Hawkman and Hawkwoman's armor (the little of it they actually wear) and weapons are made out of nth metal, which is a metal in DC that affects supernatural beings like ghost, zombies, vampire, Spirits, specters, shade's, werewolves, "the Lazarus demon" and reanimated corpses, just like any other creature no matter how strong.

Batman and Green Arrow have an entire arsenal made out of the stuff too, just in case.

In injustice both Green Arrow and Green Lantern have whole suits made out of it.

And even if you don't count injustice, (which is understandable) Green lanterns can easily have their rings copy the atomic structure of any thing they need (like kryptonite for example) and since their suits are made from their rings, they would still have no problem making a suit (or really any weapon they need out of the stuff).

Batman has a pair of gloves that John Constantine gave him specifically used to fight ghosts.

And it's been stated that the Batcave has supernatural barriers and wards to stop ghosts and stuff from getting in. (so no just casual walking into the bat cave).

And when it comes to the whole "ghost king summoning" thing I get it it's a fun concept to play around with, but the JL and JL Dark have so many other options other than to summon what they usually believe to be an interdimensional eldritch being into their world.

like the phantom zone projector something that was able to work on Mister Mxyzptlk a full-blown reality warper from the 5th dimension.

Or contacting the other supernatural experts that aren't just Constantine and Zatanna (which are usually the only contact for supernatural problems the JL has in most fic's for some reason).

Or batman just contacting the strongest supernatural being he knows, who without a doubt would come stop a major supernatural threat (as its usually depicted)

SPAWN. (The guys so op in supernatural power it's crazy)

There are so many other options than summoning the ghost king.

And in a lot of fic's the supernatural members (or just any member that would could help in a given situation) are off world (for some reason?) so they can't be contacted.

That just doesn't make much sense when the JL has the technology of so many advanced civilizations and individual people (witch some are said to be among the smartest in the universe) at their disposal, they should be able to contact their people halfway across the universe.

All of this is to say that due to widespread ignorance of the world of Detective Comics and the capabilities of its hero's (and sometimes Danny Phantom) that most DC x DP situations, stories, and scenarios end up with the Justice League a collection of the earths greatest hero's, being completely and utterly helpless and incompetent against any problems coming from the world of Danny Phantom (or just the supernatural in general).

This is to no one's fault of course, believe me no one knows all of DC lore and all it's details in its entirety.

But being someone that knows a lot about DC and seeing how useless a lot of DC characters are portrayed in most situations when you know they really wouldn't be having that much of an issue handling it, creates a weird disconnect between the two fandoms where it always seems more like the Danny Phantom fandom with DC characters stapled to it.

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Burning Love

Chapter 6

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There were, in fact, lizalfos’ in the library.

Wind was already fighting the creature, an unconscious Wild sprawled on the floor by a bookshelf, while Warriors and Legend danced around a second one. Four charged into the fray, slashing at the back of the one attacking Wind while he had the element of surprise. The creature hissed in pain when the blade connected with its armored back.

Four hopped gracefully over the lashing tail of the creature, allowing Wind to stab at its vulnerable underbelly. The lizalfos screeched, swinging its claws in a wide arc that would have torn his stomach open had he not ducked in the nick of time, slashing a nearby bookshelf in his stead. Books rained onto the floor below with heavy thuds, but he paid no mind to the destruction.

There was a piercing scream and Four snapped his head just in time to see your body collide soundly with the one of the many bookshelves, an absolutely massive lizalfos looming over your hunched form. There was a large gash on your right bicep, and he didn’t need enhanced vision to see the small amount of blood you spat out upon impact. Reaching behind you, you grabbed what appeared to be a large textbook, letting a fierce yell as you smacked the creature's face with all your might, but he knew it wouldn't be enough.

With a grunt of exertion, Four launched himself at the first lizalfos, slashing at it's throat with a battle cry that rivaled even Wilds, then, still clinging to the dying monster, swung his sword with deadly accuracy at the lizalfos attacking you, which shrieked harshly as the blade embedded itself in the creature's flesh.

There were several more shrieks as the last of the monsters were finished off, and an all-consuming silence settled in the building.

You were the first to move, wobbling over to examine Wild's fallen frame, tightly clutching your injured limb. Wind joined you, expression filled with worry. "Is he okay?!" the sailor caught sight of your arm and gasped: "Are you okay?!"

"I'll be fine," you said through gritted teeth, and it pained Four to see you in such a state. "We need to get out of here before more show up."

The doors to the archive slammed open. "What in Hylia?!" exclaimed Sky, while Hyrule swore under his breath and rushed over to you and Wild. "What happened here?"

"You tell me," you grunted, swatting at Hyrule's hands when he attempted to heal you. "Don't you dare– Wild's worse than I am."

Hyrule hesitated, green sparks illuminating the skin of his palms. "But–"

"Now, Hyrule," you hissed, tone brokering no argument. With a solemn expression, Hyrule relented, placing his hands on Wild's chest. You pulled a roll of bandages from your satchel and began to wrap Wild's head, crimson blood already blotting the fabric from the nasty gash on the champion's forehead.

Four would have been a fool to miss the pained grimace marring your expression every time you pulled the bandages tight, which is why he slid beside you and removed the roll from your trembling hands. "Hey–"

"Please," he said, because it was the only word he knew would freeze you in your tracks. "Let me."

You held his gaze for a long moment. Four returned it with a determined glint in his eye, and you relented with a sigh, leaning against the nearest bookshelf, eyes fluttering closed. "...Fine."

Four deftly continued your work, weaving and twisting the bandages around Wild's head until there was no blood to be seen. One of your eyes cracked open, watching him work. Dried blood flecked the corners of your mouth and expanse of your rough palms.

There was a shuffling sound as Hyrule patted Wild one last time, moving towards you with a determined expression. This time, you didn't shy away when the traveler laid his hand over the brunt of the gash, a familiar green light illuminating the torn, bloodied skin. If anything, you looked relieved, tilting your head against the shelf behind you.

"Do you think they came in through a portal?" Sky asked softly. "Hyrule and I were outside and we didn't see anything enter."

"That is concerning," Warriors piped up, looking at the corpses with vague interest, though he quickly grimaced at the amount of damage the archive had sustained. "We have two people down, we need to get out of here."

Everyone murmured in agreement, until Legend skidded around a splintered bookshelf, a rare look of panic on his face. "There's a portal!"

Four felt himself pale at the thought of one of those accursed things as silence reigned supreme, only broken by a pained groan that sounded vaguely like 'oh no' from Wild. The champion propped himself up on his elbows, his expression a picture of disgruntled confusion.

"Wild?" you called, trying and failing to scramble forward when Hyrule pushed you down with a hushed: "I'm not finished."

"What happened?" Wild asked groggily.

"A lizalfo knocked you out," Wind answered.

"My head hurts... did I fall?"

"A lizalfo knocked you out," repeated Wind, though his tone was slightly less sympathetic.

"Aww," Wild moaned, but it was swiftly cut off by Warrior's exasperated sigh.

"Someone carry him, we're burning daylight."

Twilight shrugged and bent to lift the errant hero, while Four busied himself with assisting Hyrule with dragging you to your feet, slinging his arm securely around your waist. You were too exhausted to protest, following his lead as the group made for the portal.

"Any idea where it goes?" Sky asked, though Four had a feeling it was mostly to himself.

"Nope," Legend responded, drawing his sword and pointing it at the swirling portal. "But we're about to find out."

You awoke on your bedroll. Or, rather, a bedroll that looked close enough to your own that you didn't bother questioning it. The sky was slightly cloudy, and the air carried a familiar rainy scent that reminded you of home.

You shifted to your side, hissing softly as your muscles screamed in protest, and took stock of your surroundings. Most of the Links were huddled around the crackling fire in the middle of the clearing, while Time and Warriors stood a bit off from the group, talking in hushed tones.

Crunch, went the ground as a pair of boots entered your line of sight.  You lifted your gaze, squinting slightly to make out Twilight's face amidst the blazing sunlight.

"How ya feelin', medic?"

"Sore," you grunted, forcing yourself into a sitting position, ignoring the rancher's offered hand in favor of studying the unfamiliar landscape. "...Where are we?"

"'Wild's Hyrule," Twilight wasted no time plopping down beside you. He nodded to your shoulder. "How's the arm?"

"Still attached," was your response, grinning at the slight chuckle from the rancher. "Do you need something?"

"As a matter 'o fact, I do," oh no, your brain supplied, and you couldn't be held responsible for the suspicious expression that graced your features.

"...Should I be worried?"

"Not at the moment," Twilight admitted. "'M not the best at this, but I'd like ta address somethin' with ya."

You raised an eyebrow, cocking your head. "About...?"

"Four."

Oh Hylia.

You pinched your temples. "Please don't tell me he threw up on Time again."

"Miraculously, that ain't it," the rancher joked before his tone turned serious. "He's physically fine an' dandy."

"...You know doesn't reassure me, right?"

"Hush, 'm trying to tell ya somethin'," Twilight cleared his throat and you fell quiet. "I can't tell ya everythin'--it ain't my story ta tell--but he's got somethin' going on right now an' he's worried 'bout what'll happen if he tells ya."

Um.

"He thinks I'll hate him?" You questioned, desperately hoping that wasn't the case. Above everything, Four was your friend, and you would sooner fight a lizalfo than do something so drastic. "Why?"

"'Cause he's a mooncalf," Twilight grumbled, and you wondered if it had anything to do with their conversation at the inn.

"Right," you deadpanned, scanning the camp for any signs of said hero. "I don't suppose you've seen him?"

"Seen who?" Four's voice intoned behind you, and, for a moment, all your brain could muster was speak of the devil and he shall come.

"'Bout time," the rancher grunted, laying a heavy pat to your head as he departed with a wink that seemed to say: 'good luck', you're gonna need it'.

"What was that about?" Four asked, and you shrugged, not trusting yourself to respond. The bedroll dipped slightly as he joined you on it. "How's your arm?"

You snorted at the feeling of deja vu that swept through you. "Still attached!"

Four laughed and your heart managed to skip a beat; it was a nice sound, coming from him. "I'd hope so," he flashed you a sweet grin. "Do you need anything? Water? Food?"

You shook your head. "I'm fine, just needed some rest."

"I'd say so… who you knew you had such a mean swing!"

You raised an eyebrow, the ghost of a grin lingering at the corners of your mouth. "Me? Have you seen what you can do with a sword?"

"Ah," the already present flush on his cheeks darkened and it was, well... you supposed you found it rather cute. "It's nothing, I'm good enough to do my job."

You deadpanned. "You took out two of those things in less than a minute."

"Well--" Four's blush deepened and you almost felt bad. Almost. "It's not--"

"--the same?" You interrupted, crossing your arms across your chest. "I beg to differ."

Instead of admitting defeat, Four mirrored your posture with a vaguely petulant expression. "...You're impossible."

"You're just figuring that out?"

There was something terribly, horribly wrong with him.

Four had always considered himself fairly level-headed, stoic... Hylia, even confident, so why did he feel so... so weak when talking with you?

Perhaps it was your gaze, sharper than steel and softer than silk, boring into his very soul, or the way you reached out to tenderly check his blazing temperature for the nth time, a healthy flash of concern flitting across your features. Maybe it was the way his heart jumped with every second next to you, or how he wished time would come to a stop when you were together.

And, of course, there was the distinct urge to never leave your side, to stay with you until the end of your days; an idea that seemed more tempting with each passing day. It was almost mortifying how appealing the rancher's 'suggestions' now seemed to him, though Four was still determined to grapple with the impending reality of Twilight's theory, which, also, was beginning to make an astonishing amount of sense to him. It explained everything; the temperature, his unusually ornery attitude, and the embarrassing stab of possessiveness he felt in his soul when he witnessed the rancher sitting on your bedroll earlier.

There was only one problem: you, both the problem and the solution. Even if he made peace with his... nature, who's to say you would agree to that with him? While he was sure height wouldn't be a dealbreaker for he, he worried that you only saw him as a friend, despite the glaring evidence that Twilight practically preached existed.

It was all so confusing, he thought, watching with a small smile as you helped a groggy-looking Sky prepare lunch; a delectable-smelling curry that he couldn't wait to dig into. Your arm flexed as you chopped a bird leg into small cubes, laughing as Warrior made a quip that was all but ineligible to his one-track-mind, and Four nearly excused himself to the woods then and there.

"Ugh, are you still staring?" Legend's voice broke through the fog, and Four immediately scowled. "I think I'm going to barf."

"Nice to see you too," he deadpanned. "Aren't you supposed to be bossing everyone around?"

The pantless hero snorted, hands on his hips. "Don't turn this on me, smithy; you're not subtle."

"Oh yeah?" Four challenged. "And you're telling me you are?"

"Shush, I'm trying to instill some wisdom in that thick skull of yours."

"Goodie."

The bedroll shook as Legend practically threw himself down on it. "It's getting real painful, you know."

"...Dare I ask what?"

Four blinked in shock when Legend poked him in the chest. "Watching you moon over the medic like an idiot, that's what."

"Hey now--"

"Don't 'hey now' me, smithy," the veteran interjected, though there was no real heat behind his words. "You're going to fix this or Hylia help me, I'm going to do it for you!"

Four was lost for words, suddenly glad the others were well out of earshot. "I-- excuse me?"

"You're excused," snarked Legend, and the smithy wondered if he had finally descended into madness. "Now, we'll be at Kakariko Village before noon tomorrow."

"Uh," Four said. "That's nice?"

Legend's eye twitched. "If I have to witness another week of you two dancing around each other like rabbits, I'm going to lose it. Get it together, Four."

With that, he was gone. Four watched Legend's retreating form with disinterest, though the other hero's words had given him a fair bit to mull over, as if he did already have a thousand other things to think about.

Until you called his name, bearing two bowls of curry, and the smithy found his mind becoming carefully blank once more. You plopped in the spot Legend had just occupied, handed him his food, all the while chatting innocuously about how excited you were to see Karariko for the first time.

Four dug into the curry with gusto, nodding along to your words. Only when you turned to grin at him, the handle of your spoon sticking from between your lips like a pipe, did a revelation brighter than the sun crash down onto him.

Four didn't recall falling in love, but he sure as hell remembered the feeling.

Twilight, you dog! XD

I swear someone'll knock some sense into Four.

[silverskye13]

The Shakespeare line "you egg? (He stabs him)" Is totally Hels towards Wels lol

Lin you're hilarious lol

"What. Are you doing?" Welsknight asked, trying not to sound as confused as he was.

Helsknight glanced up from the book he was reading to regard him with obvious disdain. "That question doesn't deserve an answer."

"Okay fine." Welsknight rolled his eyes. "Why are you here, on Hermitcraft, reading a book."

"Because Shakespeare was made to be read in the sun, and on the stage," Helsknight sniffed. "I'm not putting on a one-man-performance, and there's no sun in hels."

"So you're here."

"No, I'm on the moon."

"You don't have to be so touchy," Wels scowled. He took a breath, and decided to try his best to be civil. "I like Shakespeare."

Helsknight dropped his gaze back down to his book, "Congratulations."

"He's a classic." Welsknight continued steadfastly. "Which play are you reading?"

"Don't you have something better to do?"

"Obviously not."

"Get thee gone, go mind your own damn business." Helsknight closed his book again, keeping his thumb on the page he had last been reading, and smacked Wels none-too-gently on the leg with it. "Out, damned spot."

"You're reading Macbeth?" Welsknight smirked. "Of course you're reading Macbeth."

"And just what is that supposed to mean?"

"It's just very on brand." Welsknight laughed. "You wouldn't read any comedy. You've got no sense of humor."

Helsknight let out a long breath, trying valiantly to maintain hold of his dwindling patience. He reopened his book and glared down at the pages, doing his best to stubbornly ignore Wels. Welsknight watched him. Admittedly, if he were a Shakespearian character, his fatal flaw would be his inability to let sleeping dogs lie, no matter how wise it was to walk away and let Helsknight read. He wasn't hurting anyone, and Welsknight didn't particularly feel like getting into a fight.

But how many chances did he get to really annoy his evil half?

"So, how far in the play are you?" Welsknight asked, earning himself a long half-groan, half-growl from his other half. "Have they killed Duncan yet?"

"Spoilers."

"You just quoted Lady Macbeth's nervous breakdown at me. You've read Duncan's death before."

"Maybe I've just heard the quote somewhere."

"Out, damned spot," Welsknight mused. "Past that then. From the damnéd spot to the candle, perchance?"

"Excuse me?"

"Fair Lady Macbeth's demise!" Welsknight proclaimed, reveling in the chagrined expression Helsknight shot him. "Out, out, brief candle? Why, life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more!"

"It is a tale told by an idiot," Helsknight glared, "full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."

"I'm going to pretend you were just finishing the stanza, and that wasn't an insult."

"It was an insult."

"You're probably not even reading Macbeth," Welsknight smiled, ignoring the jab. "One of the other great monologues maybe."

"Don't you dare--"

"Fie, fie! Unknit that threat’ning unkind brow," Welsknight exclaimed, eyebrows raised, his barely contained grin undercutting his attempt at a dramatic gasp. "And dart not scornful glances from those eyes to wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor. It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads, confounds thy fame as whirlwinds shake fair buds, and in no sense is meet or amiable."

"Would you shut up?"

"Come, come, you froward and unable worm! My mind hath been as big as yours, my heart as great, my reason haply more, to bandy word for word and frown for frown."

"Wels I swear--"

"Not taming any shrews, then?" Welsknight continued, undaunted. "Probably not. You're probably reading something violent and full of itself. That matches you best."

Helsknight got to his feet, his hand on his sword hilt, his book forgotten in the grass. Welsknight took a few steps back, giving himself a little distance to work with in case Hels decided to lunge at him. He smiled and bowed low. "I do protest, I never injured thee but love thee better than thou canst devise, till thou shalt know the reason of my love! And so, good Capulet, which name I tender as dearly as mine own, be satisfied."

Helsknight's fist tightened on his sword hilt. "I have had just about enough of you."

"No no, you've got the verse all wrong," Welsknight tutted in mock dismay. "The next line belongs to Mercurio, saying: O calm, dishonorable, vile submission! Alla stoccato carries it away."

Welsknight drew his sword with a theatrical flourish and declared, "Helsknight, you ratcatcher! Will you walk?"

Helsknight narrowed his eyes. "What wouldst though have of me?"

"Good king of cats! Nothing but one of your nine lives, that I mean to make bold withal, and, as you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pilcher by the ears? Make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out."

Welsknight expected Helsknight to draw his sword then, and respond in kind as Tybalt had. Instead, Helsknight simply stood there, studying him contemplatively. A few seconds passed, and then a full minute, and Welsknight lowered his sword, pointing the tip towards the grass.

"What's the matter Hels?" Welsknight smirked. "Too much of a brute to memorize Romeo and Juliet?"

Helsknight raised an unamused eyebrow. "What, you egg?"

Welsknight blinked, incredulously. He had enough time to place the line in Macbeth, and enough time again to remember when in the story the stupid line took place. And then he didn't think much of anything, because Helsknight had stabbed him.

"Rude." Welsknight managed.

"Young fry of treachery," Helsknight finished the line. Then he bent to pick up his book, and Welsknight respawned with Helsknight's parting words ringing in his head. "If you must know, it was Sonnet 73."

Welsknight sat up in his castle, shuddering off the last ghost of his respawn. He rolled his eyes at the unpleasantness, and then, because he was curious, padded over to his shelf to grab his book of Shakespeare's sonnets from his collection of books.

[Sonnet 73]

That time of year thou mayst in me behold

When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang

Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,

Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.

In me thou see'st the twilight of such day

As after sunset fadeth in the west,

Which by and by black night doth take away,

Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.

In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire

That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,

As the death-bed whereon it must expire,

Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.

This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,

To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

Welsknight read the poem again, an eyebrow raised. "All that drama, and he's not even reading a play."

Welsknight rolled his eyes. "Whatever Hels."

He shelved the book.

[the-modern-typewriter]

could you write something about a villain that’s not taken seriously, by the public and other villains? but the hero is the first one to recognize what he’s capable of, and is frightened of him? something spooky, for halloween spirit :)

"You're frightened," the villain said. He'd paused on the opposite side of the small exhibition room, his head tilted curiously to one side.

"Stay back." The hero's voice did not shake, but it was a near thing.

"There are not many who would think to be frightened of me."

The hero said nothing to that. They weren't convinced their voice wouldn't tremble if they tried a second time, and either way their mouth felt too dry to come out with words. They hefted their sword up a little higher instead and tried not to feel ridiculous.

The villain smiled, faintly, at the sight, so it clearly didn't work. He moved a little closer, his gaze roaming between the hero and the artefact behind them like he couldn't quite decide which interested him more. Still, they both knew it was the artefact he had come for.

"But then," the villain murmured. "You're not like the many, are you? Such a pretty little canary."

The hero swallowed. "Don't mock me."

"I'm not. Do you know what canaries are used for?"

The hero's mouth turned, impossibly, dryer.

There were heroes and villains in the world with great physical strength and speed, with dark elemental powers or the ability to creep insidious into the minds of weaker creatures. At first glance, the villain was none of those things. Harmless. A flustered academic in a tweed jacket and slightly scuffed shoes.

Everyone kept telling the hero that the villain was ultimately harmless, but here they both were, in the middle of the night, behind security that none of the other villains had even thought to try and get past. Alone.

"Move aside," the villain said. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I said stay back."

The villain's gift was such that they could touch objects and absorb...traces.

What was a lock when one could touch the keypad and get a flash of fingers moving across its combination a hundred times?

What was an enchanted weapon when cutting the villain with it would simply grant him the use of its enchantment?

And what, when the villain touched something truly powerful, something of the old magic, would that do?

The hero didn't want to find out. They could feel the contained pulse of the old magic behind them even through the glass. Raw. Cavernous. A mere fragment trapped in a small unassuming figurine valued at far less than it was worth.

The villain paused.

"You can feel it too, can't you?" the villain asked. "I thought so. Don't you think it's beautiful?"

"I think I don't want you anywhere near it."

"Do you think you can stop me?" The villain didn't ask it as a threat. He was still affable. Politely interested. Just like he always was, even the face of those who had mocked his theories and his talents as a quiet, weak thing.

The hero swallowed again, convulsively, but it did nothing to get rid of the lump in their throat.

They could sense the old magics, get an instinctual grasp of their purposes, and sure they had an uncanny knack for the old language but...but that was it. They were a researcher. Nothing that would be useful in a fight. Still. They had a sword, even if they didn't entirely know how to use it. How hard could it be to stab and slice if it came down to it?

"Mm." The villain began to slide the gloves off his fingers. "If only someone had believed you."

"If only," the hero replied, hollow, "someone had believed in you."

The villain's grin was a wicked, devastating, intoxicating thing. The hero had never seen anything like it. "They will soon enough."

And then, with a rippling roar of magic absorbed and stolen, they pounced.

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

the pjo tv show is making me have thoughts about hephaestus & apollo’s dynamic, as well as apollo & ares dynamic — so i was wondering if you had any hcs for either duo or both !!

GREAT MINDS THINK ALIKE

I do for sure have some Thoughts on Apollo & Ares so I shall start there.

Apollo & Ares

Favorite Son and Least Favorite Son.

After Apollo was born, we all know he went on a mission to avenge his mom. That included killing Python, but I also headcanon this preteen storming up to Ares and demanding a fight for his mom's honor.

This was brought on because in the mythos, Ares actually chased Leto around and drove her from place to place, never letting her rest for long.

Obviously, Apollo isn't too keen on this and demands a duel.

Ares takes one look at this kid and goes you know what? I like his spunk. I'm keeping him. and lo and behold Apollo gets distracted by Ares showing him how to properly grip a sword's blade.

Also fun fact! In Ancient Greece, fathers raised their sons and mothers the daughters. Fathers would teach their sons how to swim and write, so this gets interesting once you put ToA's context with it.

In all honesty, I don't think Zeus was too involved in Apollo's growth. He was still there, of course! Enough to have a hold on him and. well. manipulate/gaslight him/abuse him.

However heartbreaking it would be to think about Zeus teaching Apollo these things (my heart. my poor sobbing heart.), I would also find it heartwarming if Ares did that instead.

Or Poseidon. But I personally think he taught Apollo how to ride horses. Let Ares have his thing :3

Because wouldn't it make sense that if Zeus couldn't find the time teach Apollo, then that responsibility would fall to the eldest son?

Jump to the giant twins now.

Apollo helps Ares recover. That is all.

THEY WERE ON THE SAME SIDE IN THE TROJAN WAR !!!!!!

Okay so. Diomedes tried to stab Apollo a few times when he was rescuing Aeneus, and Apollo CANONICALLY tells Ares about it - and lo and behold, Ares gets into a fight with Diomedes (and gets shish-kabobbed).

SO I CONCLUDE-

Apollo: Diomedes tried to stab me :(

Ares: WHAT.

Apollo: Yeah three times.

Ares: WHY.

Apollo: Aphrodite's kid? Aeneus? I was saving his ass after Diomedes stabbed Aphrodite.

Ares: THAT BITCH.

Apollo: But don't worry I took care of it-

Ares, picking up his spear and sword: HE SHALL TREMBLE BEFORE MY FURY. NOT EVEN HIS ARMOR WILL MARK HIS GRAVE WHEN I FINISH WITH HIM. HE SHALL CHOKE ON THE BLOOD HE HAS SPILT AND I SHALL LAUGH AS HIS CORPSE DECAYS. HE WILL RUE THE DAY HE HARMED EITHER OF YOU-

Apollo: he didn't touch me tho-

Ares: BUT HE TRIED!

Ares, snapping his cape: I shall take my leave. Got a bastard to stab. rides down and fights beside Hector. gets stabbed by Diomedes.

Ares, clutching his stomach: ...this didn't go as planned.

Apollo, patching it up after Zeus yelled at Ares: you don't say?

anyway. Apollo & Ares would also watch battlefields and Ares would basically be like "right. this is how to properly disembowel your enemies!" gruesomely decapitates some poor mortal. "See? Easy!"

also they would sing!!! war hymns and other things. Ares can dance too btw :3

also when Aphrodite and Apollo were polyculing with Adonis, Ares was doublely jealous because Adonis is 1) taking the attention of his girlfriend and 2) banging his favorite brother

Ares also cautioned Apollo about drawing too much attention to himself, especially Zeus's.

Too bad Apollo didn't quite take it to heart...

I think Ares already knows Apollo is being abused by Zeus. He knows the signs. He knows what's happening...because it happened to him first.

He would drop hints. Which...weren't very subtle, and kinda freaked Apollo out a bit because ohmygodsdoesheknow-?

And when Revolution time came around? You bet Ares sensed it coming from a mile away.

And perhaps he did...hmm...like with the master bolt theft...ooo gonna have to marinate that for a bit. see what i can cook up there. or if any of you have theories shoot them at me!

back to the thing. Once Ares catches wind It's A Go...he's gonna be on Apollo's side. Because godsdammit he's sick of Zeus and his horrible parenting a good war would give him a clean slate.

...Even if he has to put up with both Hera and Athena.

Apollo & Hephaestus

okay so. I haven't thought much about them because they are elusive for me BUT-

The show gave me a THOUGHT!

"Some of us don't like being that way either."

HEPHAESTUS DOESN'T LIKE THE SYSTEM. HE DOESN'T! HE HATES GOING ALONG WITH IT!

MY FIRST THOUGHT WHEN I HEARD THOSE WORDS?

APOLLO

he doesn't want to be part of it either. but he buried it inside himself. but post toa...he doesn't want to do that anymore.

and I think Apollo does like Hephaestus! I remember there was a moment where Apollo mentions being in his study or something and missing the entire 40s or whatever staring at Hephaestus's Newton's Cradle.

why was apollo in there. and did hephaestus let him in there?

BECAUSE HEPHAESTUS IS A PRIVATE GUY RIGHT? WHAT'S APOLLO DOING IN A PRIVATE ROOM OF HIS?

...unless he invited him in :D

I need to do a lil' more digging on Hephaestus and Apollo but I hope this was all interesting :3

feel free to add on readers!

[stedefxckingbonnet]

I've been loving all the Izzy/reader fics, thank you so much for them! If you're doing requests, I'd love one where Izzy accidentally hurts the reader. It's 100% by accident (he turns around holding his sword and mildly slices reader, a playful shove accidentally makes reader lose balance and fall down steps type thing etc.). The crew, especially Stede, are furious and won't let Izzy anywhere near reader and he's absolutely wrecked with guilt. Would love a very fluffy ending!

Thank you so much for all of the love and for reading my fics at all!! <3 It truly means everything to me. Thank you so much for this request also—I know some of you have been wanting some more angst from me (with still happy/fluffy endings of course hehe, at least this time...maybe one day I'll try my hand at pure angst but I'm not sure today is that day), so I figured this would be a great prompt to start with on this sort of an endeavor! Plus, I just love it so much anyways, ever since it first came into my inbox I've been thinking about it. Thank you so much again for your request, and I hope you enjoy! Though like I said, please bear in mind I don't have the most experience with emphasis on angst so I apologize if this is not very adherent to that! Anyways, as always, requests are wide open!

Love,

Lavinia

Star-Crossed | Izzy Hands x Reader

Warnings: angst (with a happy ending but it takes a bit to get there), mentions of blood, some strong language, kissing, sort of already established unspoken relationship but also not 100% established right away

Word Count: 3912

Finally, the sun shone once again and not a single cloud was etched into the sky any longer. The crew of The Revenge almost forgot that sunlight even existed and were becoming accustomed to such foggy, grey skies forever—but, finally! Everyone was filled with such jubilee upon the sight and were quick to show it by chasing each other around on the main deck, swinging from ropes, dancing, plotting to convince the captains to grant them all a day on land to bask in the sun's rays—everyone except the first mate. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Izzy Hands leaning against the mast pole—no, slumped against it. You excused yourself from the gathering and rushed right over to Izzy, who stood up a bit straighter upon your arrival.

"I'm not going over there."

"You always have to have the first word, don't you?" you teased. "Do you want to, perhaps...get away from all this for a moment?"

"That wouldn't be so bad," Izzy shrugged, following your lead as you scurried off the main deck and into the hallway below that led to the quarters. "What are we doing here?"

You drew your sword from its sheath, smiling playfully. "I've practiced since we last dueled."

Izzy couldn't help but return a grin, fetching his own blade. "Is that so?"

"Why don't you see for yourself?" you inquired as you slashed the air. Izzy bowed impishly, to which you accepted with a curtsy, giggling. Your duels often were much like dances—precise footwork, synchronized, graceful movements across the floor, eye contact—lots of eye contact. The clash of the swords was like music to your ears, but Izzy's exasperated laughter was a much more magnificent melody, though followed next by your own ear piercing scream.

Izzy's worst nightmare had come true—there you were, bent over in anguish, clutching your stomach. Blood was all over your hands as you tried to stop it from gushing out of you. It was a deep cut and you had not actually been stabbed all the way through, though you still were going to need to be patched up sooner rather than later. Izzy's sword slipped out of his hands as he rushed over to you without any hesitation, scooping you up in his arms and placing his hand upon your left side to try and stop the bleeding. He rushed you back up to the main deck, guilt taking over him with such ease. His eyes were glossy, tears threatening to slip out of them.

"Some help over here!" Izzy demanded, and the crew all simultaneously turned their heads. Everyone sprinted to your side the second they heard his call, and saw your state.

"What happened?" Stede asked, his voice wavering.

"I'm okay, Stede," you managed to laugh, followed by a groan of pain.

"Clearly, you are not," Stede sighed. He turned to Izzy, a hand on his hip. "Izzy, what happened?"

"We—we were just dueling, and—"

"You hurt them?!" Jim spat. "Roach, will you—"

"Already on it," he assured them, carefully slinging your arm around him as he dragged you off into the distance.

"I didn't mean to—"

"Not another word, Izzy," Stede shushed him.

"Stay away from them," Lucius hissed as he walked off with Pete. Jim practically shot daggers out of their eyes, and Olu just sort of frowned. Izzy had never felt so defeated in his entire life. He immediately holed himself up in his quarters, draping across his bed almost lifelessly, hoping he would never have to emerge once again, not with the knowledge that he had hurt you so terribly and that the crew thought of him as some sort of monster. He was almost okay with them just being frustrated or annoyed by his presence, but being perceived like this created a deep wound in his heart he never expected to experience. If this is what he gets for truly trusting someone again, showing them a tenderness he had never felt for anyone, he did not want it.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Roach got you all patched up in no time and he anticipated your healing time would not last longer than a week, two at the most. You were never too worried in the first place, and as much as you appreciated the crew's care toward you, it felt as though they had blown the situation out of proportion. The first thing you yearned to do as soon as you were free to roam the ship once again was to find Izzy, as you knew he would be worried and probably swimming in his guilt. You nearly ran over to his quarters, though Stede popped out from out of nowhere, startling you.

"Stede! Fuck," you laughed. "You're quite...stealthy."

"I suppose so," he laughed with you. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, much better. I never really felt too bad in the first place," you beamed.

"Well, that is a relief!"

"Yes," you nodded. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to see Izzy now—"

"I actually don't think that's very wise."

"What? Why not? He didn't mean to hurt me, Stede—"

"—But he did hurt you—"

"—Hardly, and it was an accident—"

"I will not allow Izzy to see you."

"But—"

Out of nowhere, Jim and Lucius appeared, gently clinging onto your arms but with enough force to drag you away. You kept yelling for them to let you go but it was no use. They would gently assure you it would be for the best—at least, Lucius tried to be more gentle about it.

"You're better off being far away from that fucker," Jim muttered as they brought you back onto the deck. The entire time you squirmed, trying to escape their and Lucius' grasp. "We're going to Spanish Jackie's today."

"Fuck, you're serious? Might I remind you, she almost killed you last time!" Olu sighed out of a deep concern for Jim.

But this was perfect for you—the perfect opportunity to stay on the ship and talk to Izzy. You wouldn't let anyone stop you. Before you knew it, The Revenge had docked, and you had it all planned out. You followed everyone off of the ship, but stopped in your tracks just as you were about to walk off, which caused Buttons to bump into you, though obviously he was unfazed.

"Is everything alri—" Stede started to ask.

"I forgot my book," you feigned a gasp. "I was going to sit on that rock over there and just get lost in it for a bit."

"Well, who am I to stop you from grabbing it?" he smiled pleasantly.

You nodded gratefully and hurried down to the cabins. You knocked on Izzy's doors, knowing he was still in there.

"What is it," he spat.

"Izzy, can we talk?"

The prolonged silence was beginning to cause you to believe that he wanted nothing to do with you, until finally, he swung open the door. "You shouldn't be here."

"Yes, you should not," Stede almost chided, his voice suddenly heard from behind you.

"This is ridiculous!" you cried out as Stede practically forced Izzy back into his quarters and slammed the door shut.

"Let's have a nice day on shore, shall we?" Stede sighed happily. "It's such a beautiful d—"

Before he could finish his sentence, you had already stormed off the ship, and you were having the opposite of a beautiful day. Your heart only ached for the rest of it, yearning for the first mate and to reassure him and to rekindle things, to let him know that all was well on your end. You craved to stop the incessant self loathing and blaming you knew he was putting himself through. Yet all you could fucking do was feign a smile while everyone drank their own sorrows away, some almost even drinking themselves to death.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Weeks had passed you by, each day dragging painfully slowly and wasted wondering if they would just end any sooner, wondering if the day where you even got to think of breathing a word to Izzy again would exist and come. The crew still fixated eyes on the both of you, doing everything in their power to keep you away from one another. Jim didn't hesitate to physically drag you away if you even tried to go near him, and Pete would even try to threaten Izzy (to which, Lucius would step in and take over, saying things such as: "You're cute, babe, but I've got this. Not worth your time.")

If you couldn't talk to Izzy, you didn't want to talk to anyone. You were perfectly content sitting by the window of your room curled up with a good book, away from everyone until you absolutely had to be amongst them.

Why couldn't they just listen to you? Why did everything have to be so black and white? Why did it have to be handled this way? Why did it have to be this difficult? Sure, Stede would discourage Jim's literal dragging you away ("Surely there are better ways of handling this...") but he never stopped it. He still stopped you from seeing Izzy.

Finally, you couldn't ignore the fact that you were parched and so you slipped out of your quarters. As you did, you noticed the first mate also exiting his. The two of you stood there for a moment, flabbergasted, taking in one another's presences. You opened your mouth to speak, but Izzy was already shoving right past you. Without thinking, you latched onto his wrist. "Izzy, wait—"

Izzy escaped your grasp instantly, looking vacantly upon you. You prepared something to say once again, but Izzy wouldn't hear any of it. He didn't need to hear from you of all people that he had caused you harm. Or, almost worse—that you didn't hold it against him. He would understand more if you did share the feelings of the crew, but not if you forgave him. The thought made his head spin—fuck, he wanted you to forgive him, he wanted you to know he never meant to cause you any pain. But he knew it wasn't worth it. He knew that as long as you were around, you would be beloved either way and better off without his love and care, and he would be hidden away in the dark from everyone, left to rot and be forgotten about, and when remembered, ridiculed. He almost wished that someone would just berate him directly instead of having to see you every single day and how everyone's attitudes shift when you are within close proximity of each other. How the environment grows more tense. How no one is stating the obvious of not wanting him there. He wasn't stupid, he knew. He knew for a long time before any of this even happened, and it only had gotten worse now.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

There came a point where you and Izzy were allowed to speak, but only in supervised circumstances. He immediately deemed this not worth it, so, it elt as though you were still forced to succumb to the previous, awful arrangement. It had been almost two months since the initial incident and with every accidental brush of the hands and every almost smile and every stolen glance, your heart only hurt more, you only pined after him even more. You missed the warmth he brought you even on the coldest days. You needed the confirmation of your feeling safe that he was able to provide. The two of you were finally growing almost attached at the hip but now you were torn apart, pieces of yourself still stuck on him and you needed those parts of you back. No, you needed them to exist still, but only if you could properly share them with Izzy.

You couldn't take it anymore.

Every day, you saw the expression that Izzy displayed on his face for all to see—pure misery, regret, and even this sort of grief. This loss for something still there, though, not at all tangible anymore. You became a ghost that didn't even haunt him, but only lingered at the expense of unfinished business with him. He could never comprehend that you longed to speak with him just for the sake of it, for your own enjoyment. That wasn't possible to him, it simply didn't seem in the cards.

You really couldn't take it anymore. You couldn't endure him avoiding you like the plague, even if he was acting on behalf of the crew's wrongful wishes. You couldn't take the way he looked at you with such a hope and desire, yet such a soul-crushing defeat that he gave into ages ago.

"You got a minute, Captain?" you asked Stede as calmly as you could the second you finally forced yourself out of bed for the day.

"Why, of course!" Stede beamed, excited that you were about to confide in him about something.

"We need to talk about Izzy and I."

Stede only sighed, leading you to his own cabin and not saying a word until he was certain the door properly shut. "I am only doing what is best for your safety—"

"Izzy makes me feel safer than anyone on this ship," you confessed. "He is always looking out for me, no matter what. He would never let anything bad happen to me. I was so happy the sun had finally come out and I just wanted to have a bit of fun so I asked Izzy to duel, it's just something we do sometimes for fun. He didn't mean to injure me, but I'm sure he already feels bad enough as it is with you all treating him like he needs to be locked away forever—"

"I appreciate you trying to look out for him. You have always seen the best in people—"

"Stede, is that Romeo and Juliet on your shelf?"

"Why, yes!" Stede nodded, forgetting the true subject of the matter for a moment. "It's such a tragic story."

"Isn't it?" your lips curled into a determined smile. "So sad that the two families kept the young star-crossed lovers away from one another. All because of some sort of unnecessary family feud...Well, they were naïve anyway to think their children wouldn't still find ways to meet and fall even further in love. Maybe if they had been accepting of their love, they wouldn't have died so young and so devastatingly..."

Stede wasn't quite catching on yet. His hand flew to his chest, clearly touched by your sentiments still "It is sad."

"Stede, you are quite literally pulling a Romeo and Juliet on Izzy and I...do you not realize that?"

Suddenly, it all clicked. Stede's mouth practically unhinged from his jaw. "You...you love Izzy?"

"We have...we have a bond and it goes beyond him just trying to do his job. He really does look out for me, and I've really grown to care about him and I worry about him whenever he's off on the side or seems really distressed. Even on my worst days, being around him is enough to almost make me forget about my troubles. I feel so...so at peace when I'm with him. I really don't worry about anything when we're together. And keeping me away from him is really doing a number on me—"

"It was wrong of me to try and keep you two apart," Stede sighed. "I thought I was doing what was best for you, but only you know what is best for yourself. I'm so sorry."

"Thank you, Stede," you smiled slightly. "If I ever really need something, I promise I'll tell you. I don't take "talking it through as a crew" lightly."

Stede returned your smile. "I don't understand this at all...but, this is your own endeavor. We just want you to be happy."

You quickly pat Stede on the back as you bursted out of his room and made haste towards Izzy's. You knocked on his door with utmost urgency. No response. You continued to knock until finally, Izzy had enough and swung open the door, almost causing you to stumble upon entering.

"Izzy, are you alright?"

"Are you?"

"You barely nicked me," you assured him, shutting the door behind the two of you. "Izzy, I am okay. Please, don't feel bad."

"I don't think you should be here right now—"

"But Captain Bonnet said—"

"—Just go...Please."

Your heart was beginning to sink into the depths of the ocean in your chest. You could only manage to look at him—he who had such a glossy look in his eye, accompanied only with an expression of nonchalance. But you could see that he was hurting—you knew by the way he was hunched over and fiddling with his glove. Izzy could hardly look at you without wishing he could disappear. He had hurt you, and everyone went flocking over to you instantly, not even bothering to hear his side of things, nor even yours, where he knew you would have defended him, though you still were acknowledged more than he had been. But worst of all, he had hurt you—and he would never be able to recover from that. Never be able to forgive himself for it. And, he knew no one else would, either. He wouldn't blame you if you didn't, either. You made your way over to him slowly, sitting beside him.

"Look at me," you pleaded.

Finally, Izzy's eyes met with yours. All he could see when he gazed at you was the pure concern, the pure care in your pupils. How could you still care for him after what he had done, and after the crew painted him to be some sort of a villain even more than before?

"I'm okay," you reassured him. "You didn't hurt me. You didn't mean to. I'm the one who started the duel, and—"

"Don't fucking blame yourself. It was me. All me."

"Izzy, please—"

"I think you should leave."

Such a statement felt like a knife through the heart.

But all Izzy truly wanted was for you to engulf him in your arms as he allowed himself to cry against your shoulders. He wanted to apologize and beg for your forgiveness. But it just hurt too much. He felt as though he didn't deserve that. You were the only person who is able to see him for who he is, and even still, he felt as if he didn't deserve you, nor your understanding, nor your fondness.

Part of you somehow knew that Izzy didn't mean what he just commanded you to do—it felt like even further of a plea to stay. You hovered your hand above his arm, and he ever so subtly nodded—yes, please. You began to gently rub his arm, even trying to massage some of the smaller knots out. "I'm not going anywhere, okay? Never. You will never scare me away. It's because of you that I feel so safe—but it's not only that you are an exceptional first mate. You are so much more than that to me."

"But I hurt you."

"You have never hurt me. Ever. Hell, you're the one that picks up the pieces when I do get hurt."

Izzy turned away from you, unable to control the droplets flying out of his eyes now. You could tell he was crying, but you knew not to overdo it with making sure he was alright. You carefully moved in a bit closer to him, resting your head upon his shoulder.

"I never meant to—"

"I know, Iz, I kn—"

"Let me finish," he requested gently. "If not for your conscience, but for mine. I become so afraid of hurting you and of messing up with you that I did. I didn't mean to, but I still did. I'm sorry, is all."

"Izzy, are we talking about the same thing anymore?"

"I don't want you to think I'm a monster, too," Izzy whimpered. "I know...I know I've done some things I'm not proud of. Things I wish you never had to know about."

"But I still love those parts of you. They are parts of you. But, they don't have to define you, either."

"You...what?"

"What?" To say you were confused was an understatement.

"You...love those parts of me?"

"I love you. Dammit, Iz. It's always been you," you sighed, happiness washing over you just as much as woe and a slight worry he wouldn't reciprocate your sentiments had.

"You...what?"

"Is that the only thing you say now?" you laughed nervously.

"I have this instinct I can't fight off and it's to look after you in ways I wouldn't normally look after anyone else. If anything ever happened to you, I'd blame myself, and I have."

"What are you saying?"

"I...think you know."

"I think I do, but maybe I don't—"

"Oh, fuck off!"

"Izzy, I really don't know what you're trying to say—"

"I love you."

You laughed, relief overcoming you. You gently took his hand in yours, stroking his thumb with yours. "This isn't a bad thing, you know. I don't want anyone else. I'm glad it's you, Izzy."

"The crew isn't going to be happy about this—"

"I talked to Stede, and fuck whatever the rest of them think," you shrugged. "What do they know?"

Izzy chuckled, gently pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear with his free hand. "Fuck them."

"Fuck them so much," you laughed as you leaned in, unable to stand the distance between the two of you anymore, and nor could Izzy. The anticipation not only from the abundance of time that passed the both of you by and all you had were glances which you could only hope communicated something, but also since the moment you met and especially since your connection began to blossom, shone through in the kiss shared between the two of you. This moment felt long overdue and you now wanted not to waste anymore precious time—you couldn't afford to. Your heart began to do pirouettes as your lips danced in sync. You had never been so certain about what love could mean for you until Izzy Hands waltzed into your life.

And your touch, your kiss made Izzy feel the most beautiful and understood that he ever had. As he melted into the warmth your affection and his excitement emitted, he no longer felt like a monster but rather a person, someone, worthy of such love and tender care. This wonderful phenomena was only centimeters away from him the entire time he spent withering away and conforming to all other beliefs of his character, believing the slander and the accusations, almost becoming them. With you, he was able to let go of these perils, to escape the shackles restricting him from seeing the person he truly is and could be. To leave the past behind in such a way not reminiscent of denial, but the refusal of allowing it to define him and hold him down. He could care less what the crew thought. For once in his life, he was happy, and no one, nor nothing should even dare to try and take that from him. You surely wouldn't allow anyone to. You were prepared to protect him just as he continued to do for you. And as long as you were around, happiness wouldn't escape him. Not anymore.

[heartofwritiing]

You drew stars around my scars.

paring: revivebur x fem!reader

summary: Wilbur is insecure about his body after coming back from limbo.

authors note: some revivebur reverse-comfort because he deserves some love.🥺 even tho he’s an ass i wanted to write something more vulnerable. I hope you guys like it :)

warnings: reverse-comfort, mentions of death, scars, kissing, body worshiping, praising, a little suggestive, but very soft, super unedited!

Coming back from the dead had its ups and downs.

For one, actually having any emotion besides numb was a perk. Rather it was every emotion coming flooding back into Wilbur's senses, especially the very bad ones. Still he missed feeling.

Before his death, Wilbur was a very complicated man, with a complex ego to prove himself. That still stands true to this day. Always had the drive to strive for greatness and it ultimately led to ruin.

Now he stood in-front of the tall mirror in your shared bedroom looking back at himself. The scar was prominent across his abdomen as his eyes trailed down. It stared back at him like a strike of lighting with how jagged it was. The aftermath of his father stabbing him in the chest with his own sword.

Wilbur hated how he looked like death itself. Bags under his eyes, the thinness of his stomach, and that prominent white streak in his hair that was a constant reminder of how he was a broken shell of a human.

Lately he hadn’t been sleeping well either, barely eating and showering since he’d forgotten about all those things in limbo.

That fucking train station…

Wilbur hadn't even heard you come into the room, too lost in the spiral of his mind when your voice called his name. It's soft but it's loud enough to startle him out of his daze.

Frantically he is pulling down the yellow sweater and fixing his state to greet you.

“Hello darling, I missed you,” he says.

You are confused as to why he's so nervous when you walk in on him inspecting himself in the mirror.

"You okay Wil?" you pull him into a hug. He's tense at the physical contact but welcomes it bringing his arms around you. Still not use to the affection you give him since he's been back, but he still appreciates it.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be," he says dismissively.

You pull back enough to gaze up at him with a concerned expression.

"You looked sad when I came in the room," you point out. "then you got all jumpy when you noticed me."

Wilbur was never good at expressing his insecurities. He never thought he deserved the luxury of being open, thinking that it made him weak. You knew this. It was never easy to get him to open up to you. You saw how his eyes looked scanning over his scar tissue when you walked in on him.

Plunged with a sword to his chest by his own father after destroying his nation.

He believed he deserved his unlawful fate, and all because of how treated the people he cared about. He was still learning to forgive himself for all the damage he caused. Especially towards you.

You had stood by his side since the very start. When he built up from a man with a drug van, to the leader of the small but proud nation dubbed L’manburg. Through it all you never once left him. Not even after Pogtopia, not even after his unplanned resurrection.

“I was just checking something,” he avoided your eyesight.

You didn’t buy his dismissal. You could always tell when he was lying.

“Wilbur,” you chastised. You take his hand in yours, feeling the roughness of his fingertips graze your knuckles as he intertwines your fingers together.“ you can tell me anything, you know that.”

Guilt crawls up his chest. He wants to try so hard to be better at communicating than this, but it’s so difficult sometimes. He takes a deep breath and sighs heavily. You wait patiently for him to collect his thoughts.

"Take your time," you say gently.

Wilbur swears he doesn't deserve you. You were the most understanding person he’s ever met. After everything he’s done. still you showed him the respect of a human being that he thought he didn’t deserve.

"I was looking at my scar," he admits.

There is no flicker of judgment in your eyes, which makes him look down nervously. You put your hand on his cheek to propel him back.

"Don't be embarrassed honey, c'mere," you motion to hug him as he leans over you to bury his face in your shoulder. Your fingers lace through his curls, soothing him to relax in your arms.

You quickly realized why Wilbur had become so shy all of a sudden without him telling you, he was feeling insecure about his body. You could see the judgmental look in his eyes as he scanned his chest with disdain in the mirror. You understood how he felt because you had experienced the same insecurities about your body many times before and he had been there countless times to reassure you that your body was so beautiful, so now it was time for you to return the favor.

“can i see?” you asked, he tensed in your arms and you slowly broke apart.

The look in his eyes were wide with fear. You gave him a smile and a look of reassurance that made him relax and nod his head.

So that's when you took him by the hands and led him to the bed.

Wilbur gazed down at you with a frown on his brow when you stood on your tippy toes to bring his lips into a kiss. Your hands trailed up from his hip bones to his belly.

Disconnecting your lips, you ask him for permission to continue with your movements.

"Can I keep going?" you questioned. playing with the hem of his sweater, motioning you want to remove the fabric.

Hesitantly he nods. "yes."

You kiss the tip of his nose and motion for him to lift his arms. You pull the yellow sweater up his body until his pale chest with freckles, faded stretch marks, and a long tattered scar stare back at you.

Your pupils dilate as you look upon your lover. He was utterly alluring and the most attractive man you’d ever seen, but understanding perfectly why he was so adamant to hide in his sweaters and trench coat. Though his body was beautiful in your eyes.

“You’re so perfect,” you gush, to which he blushes profusely at.

You reach a hand up carefully trace your pointer finger against his abdomen. Sliding downwards, he shudders at the contact. Your eyes flicker to his, doe eyes are fixated on you. Watching your next move carefully.

Your fingers drew patterns around the area, drawing shapes, random, more precise.

Stars around his scars.

Somehow his face reddened a deeper shade. You can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips at his flustered state.

“If it gets too much and you want me to stop, tell me and i will.” you say. Wilbur nods, not trusting his voice.

Your hand trails slowly towards his belly button to circle around it with the tip of your finger. His stomach bobs with an inhale.

Wilbur’s head spins, and his mind clouds at the sensation. Your touch is so intense to his touch-starved and deprived soul. It’s such an overload of emotions coursing through him.

The sudden gentle touch of your lips to his stomach has him choking on air. You pamper him in kisses as loving praises spill like an endless river into his skin.

“perfect.”

“gorgeous..”

“i love every inch of you, baby…”

You say all this and more in between kisses. As you trial up more and more towards the ending of his scar right before his sternum.

“You know what I love about this the most?” you ask curiously, peering up at him.

Wilbur barely registers your words as he makes a small hum. His eyes are shut while a crease forms on his forehead. Complete ecstasy written all of his face. A small part of you was satisfied seeing him in this state knowing you were the reason.

“I love how it shows you’ve overcome that version of you.” a kiss.“you never have to be that person again.”

You move to straddle his waist, nothing about this feels sexual in any way, at least not to him. It didn’t to you either, It was pure adoration and admiration.

Wilbur’s hands hastily fly to your hips, fingertips digging into the flesh to ground himself as his breathing picks up. feeling your lips continue their relentlessness against his burning skin he lets out an exhale trough his nose.

It's so soft and intimate. Pouring all your love into your touches. All the desire, love, and expectance you felt towards him all into one.

You can feel how hot his body suddenly got when you place a kiss over his heart, how it speeds up when you place another kiss and he lets out a shaky breath. It complies a grin to pull at your lips in satisfaction.

You want to show him just how much you didn’t care about what he looked like. Rather than the person he was. You feel his hands trail up your sides, bunching in the fabric of your shirt when you kiss up his neck and jaw.

When your face hovers inches over his, his eyes blink open. Both of you smile at each other, a mix of love and affection between you.

“you’re my whole world, i dosent matter to me who you were or what you’ve done. I love you more than anything. nothing will ever changed that.” you confessed.

Tears brim around his eyes.

“thank you my darling, i love you so much.” he kisses your nose. “m’sorry for everything i’ve done, sorry for being such an arsehole.”

His voice is shaky and on the verge of cracking with every word. “i’m sorry i left you-“

You hush him and bring your foreheads together as you let him cry out all the pent-up emotions. God knows how long he’s been holding this in.

“It’s alright.” you coo. “you don’t have to say anything else.”

He locks his arms around your body, bringing you into a tight hug and rolling you both onto your sides into a spooning position.

You both settle into the bed, running your fingers through his unruly curls, pressing kisses into the skin where you can reach, and whispering sweet nothings in the dark.

Once Wilbur is snoring softly into your neck. You slide your hand down his chest and slowly trace shapes around the scar tissue.

Drawing stars around his scars.

End

-

tagging: @lillyspeakz @horny-p0et @sootwilb @xxvalentinezxx

[luimagines]

Oohhh! The recent anon asks about both music and swimming have given me so many ideas!

For swimming the idea that hylians are denser and weigh more for their body size is super interesting! (If I'm interpreting that correctly) It would be interesting if the others who aren't as familiar with humans are just kinda baffled by how little the reader weighs in comparison to their size. I could totally imagine reader just getting picked up randomly by members of the chain. (Mostly Wild and Twilight mostly I'd imagine but I also see Sky joining in from time to time. That man is a gremlin when he wants to be.) Just full on circle of life Lion King style. Reader is just very done with these antics.

Also wouldn't it be so sad that the boys never got to experience the joy that are musicals. :c Twi would probably be the most chill about music growing up around humans and all. I could imagine someone in the chain coming across reader playing an instrument one day (we're going with violin for now since that's what I personally play) and it's just this beautifully haunting piece. And the Link is just frozen there like, "There must some sort of powerful magic at play with this piece!" But as he stands there not making a sound, holding his breath nothing continues to happen. And with a final flourish reader finishes and finally notices the Link there. I think there would probably need to be quite a bit of explaining on both sides.

Also what if there was a human hero!reader? They we're the one to save Hyrule but were never technically the hero. The proper Link of that era just up and left. Reader doesn't have the hero's spirit and can't even wield the master sword. I think it would be super interesting if they were from a time that was a lot more judgemental of humans so even after saving the country (which most people won't even acknowledge) reader can't have any peace. I also think that would raise an interesting counterpoint to some of the chain's preconceived notions that they have zero say in their quests. They would probably bond with Wind at least a bit though on account of them both not having the hero's spirit!

Hope you don't mind my excessively long ramble. I would have split it into smaller chunks but then I would have forgotten some part of it.

Have a lovely rest of your week and drink some water! <3 \(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)/

I'm perfectly fine with long rambles! I'm glad to see you're interesting in this dumb au idea XD

Thank you for your patience in regards to me answering this. <3

Now I can't get over the mental image of Link holding up Reader like a child. He'd probably find it hilarious while Reader is two seconds from stabbing him.

In fact, I think Twilight would be the one to embrace music in a casual sense since he wouldn't have had the Hylian cultural ties. He grew up with humans. Music isn't necessarily sacred. Have fun with it! Twilight probably knows how to play the spoons and will drag Reader into jamming with him for the hell of it.

And Reader being the hero on top of the that?! Oh that would mess with their heads a bit.

Wind would probably latch onto that as well. Like, "neither of us were chosen, but that didn't stop us. You're more like me than they are!" And the betrayal a line like that would cause!

Some Link's would take a while to stop being petty.

[atsucry]

Beyond the Thorn Vines

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝐈𝐈𝐈

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝐈𝐈

Malleus Draconia x gn!reader

warnings: Incredibly boring. Actually this chap is jst like PURELY info dump so like if ch. 4 is out you can like siim over this and move on. COUGH COUGH this was made on a deadline.

content warning: none

3:12 pm, Royal Sword Academy. Dorm room

"Could you stop it with that?!" You reprimanded your friend, balling your fist and slamming it down on the bed by the side of your lap. As you read, Che'nya has been swishing his tail back and forth nonstop over the book and flipping the pages.

He laid floating above your canopy bed, enjoying the elevation over ground. And when he bent backwards to face you; it was an uncanny sight.

"You've been analysing that for a while now, don't tell me you have trouble with comprehending the material!" The cat snickered.

"Ya know…you could ask for my help," he suggested. "If you want!"

You slouched back into your pillow, holding the book open over your stomach. "Oh please, you'd word it as more complicated than it already is." You hadn’t noticed, but your eyebrow started slightly twitching.

Taking a double look at the page, you found that you still hadn't understood it, not one bit! It had messed with your head all morning, that or it was just Che'nya's interruptions.

The feline flipped over on his stomach and looked at you with owlish eyes, resting his head in folded arms. "Hm, Tomorrow's Magi-shift against NRC. You comin' to watch or are ya just gonna watch from the sidelines?"

"Ugh," you let your head drop to the side. "but the headaches…" You grumbled in displeasure. It was one of those headaches that would feel like knives that stabbed into your cranium. An awful one Indeed. You swear that one of these days you would pass out from the severity, though, hopefully not sooner or later.

"I'll get ya headphones if the whole stadium is too loud—!"

"It's not the noise!" You shouted in a whisper. Somehow you could never watch past anything near the championship round, so you never really saw who the winners were. Though you were certain that it was always RSA. NRC hasn't won against you all for 99 years.

Your friend grinned from ear to ear, a bemused noise left him and nodded his head from side to side akin to a bobble-head figure. "By-the-bye," he interrupted. "If you want to get rid of that 'awful headache' as you say…" Che'nya had always been the type of friend who you could never anticipate what action they might pull off next. But you could always tell If it leaned on more mischief or genuine goodwill.

"You should try seeking someone."

What he said was so stupidly blatant that it might've been a bigger, mind crushing headache than the ones you got occasionally.

"I've already tried that! I mean—of course I'd go to a doctor for migraines that won't go away. Who wouldn't—"

"That's not what I was referring to, silly," He chuckled, pressing his fingertips against his lips to…attempt to conceal the mockery. "But take it as ya will."

You raised your brow, He looked at you knowingly. His intentions weren't quite clear to you, but you could only hope for it to be rational, but what were you kidding?

"...Are you withholding information from me? Or what?"

"Aha! no no! not at all! I'm only suggesting, as any good friend does," He said with a dismissive hand wave, ascending down slowly at the foot of your bed to lay down, stretching his arms before flipping to face you.

"...You sure do love messing with me, don't you?" Your friend only responded in an amused shrug. "Well, I'll be off. Knowing you, this conversation won't go ANYWHERE till you turn over every rock. Buh-bye!" Che'nya's laugh resonated throughout him, trembling. He disappeared starting from his tail, his body followed. His legs were next and then his head—leaving behind a grin before it poofed away too. He frequently crashed at the Heartslabyul dorm to meet up with his childhood friends, his ability to turn invisible helped him stay low.

"Oh..that cat…" You wondered if Che'nya's teasing had a grain of truth to it—was there something more to what you were seeking, something you hadn't yet realised? The idea nagged at you, even as you tried to push it aside.

You managed to push yourself off the bed, tidying the sheets and led yourself to the front of your door, turning the knob to head for somewhere, anywhere. Though, no clear intention really presented itself to you. 'What to do with myself…I suppose a change of scenery could do me some good. For once. Not that I had anything else to do.' You thought to yourself.

After a few minutes well into aimlessly wandering, you stood at the threshold before walking inside, the mouth of the library engulfing you and its doors magically closing on their own—crashing in with a loud thud. The smell of old parchment welcomed you.

It seemed to only be you here. And the librarian.

You made a beeline for the literature section, the bookshelf was curtained in dust. Most thought of old things as borish, so it's to no one's wonder that it hadn't been touched.

You pulled out a book from the fourth shelf using a ladder, a book of turquoise leather binding and a golden spine. The cover had an engravement of a simple rose, peculiarly, its centre spiralled inwards and sometimes shone at you. You read the title: 'The whispers from no end, the collection.' It was a small thing. No bigger than your hands by 2 inches. The cover was still intact and wasn't actively rotting away in your hand…deducting that you were its first reader in ages. Atleast that's how you thought it worked.

Its charming cover attracted you, almost as if handing itself over to you. you slid down the ladder to make your way to one of the desks as you already began flipping through the pages.

You settled for a random page and began reading.

And when shadows swirled

around a solitary candlelight,

aware that it was seen

only by virtue of its glow.

At an opportunity to take leave

it scampered toward the exit,

yet with every step,

a cold breeze pushed it back.

In a moment of realisation,

it retreated into the depths

of the desolate manor,

unfurnished and shrouded in darkness.

You murmured the lines to yourself, jotting down notes for dissecting later. The notes didn't necessarily have to be done neatly, but just legible enough for you to understand.

From the right of you, you heard a sudden crack. Your eyelids burst open as you picked up the sound of glass shattering, but the windows in front of you seemed intact—The mystery of it confounded you.

Your eyes landed on the book you had just picked up, bringing it up close to your face once more to inspect it. It shone yet again in your eye, forcing you to jar your head and avoid the ray. At once, you picked up on a glass bead at the centre of the spiralled rose.

A crack ran along the delicate glass, atypically managing to break itself with no external force, that's what you thought, anyhow.

Your attention was engaged to the peculiar object, it almost lured you in. "...What could've possibly happened to you?" despite being something inanimate, you spoke to it as if you were referring to something that was animate. People would wonder why they'd always catch you doing this.

Your fingers ran along the fissure, untill it cut the tip of it. Pulling your hand back to your body, pinching the fingertip and swiping away the droplet of blood. Your blood seeped into the glass. Dropping the book and leaving it open.

It was that awful jabbing headache again. You've had almost enough of this tantalizing torture. But there was little to nothing you could do. "And if I had sought medical help, I'd have to down another useless pill."

Knowing that practically every item in here was laced with magic, you knew that you must have managed to involuntarily trigger something. And with such an anomalous appearing cover nonetheless.

"Agh…No, wait! Ack! I already have a curse on me—! I don't need another!"

With the senses that you had left, you managed to clasp the book shut with a loud slam—the pressure and force could've compressed the pages back into its former crisp and straight state. And by luck, your troubles were gone—and it only puzzled you even more so than answering anything.

Even the library seemed to hold its breath, anticipating another sudden outburst to happen. But nothing came after. And this became your telltale sign that it was time to leave.

Cautiously picking the book back up, you checked to see if it would come back alive, which it didn't—fortunately. You didn't bother to ask the librarian if you could borrow it—not wanting to show that you have…broken it.

By then, the hallways were painted in orange hues that reflected off of the pristine marble pillars and floors, your heels clicked against the tiles and echoed throughout. You eventually made it to the grand staircase that led up into the dorm rooms, though quite a hassle to walk up—since by every stop you'd have to catch your breath—it was gorgeous nonetheless.

You stumbled a bit on the way, but you ultimately made it back to your room safe and sound, removing your shoes— lugging the book onto your desk and crashing into your bed—Allowing yourself to melt into the sheets. Inward and outwardly exhausted.

"I can't exactly sit here and do nothing…can I…? Haha…" You chuckled to yourself. picking yourself up and sitting down at the edge of the bed, swinging one leg over the other. "'Go seek someone' He says! I've already gone to a doctor before, and if it did work, I wouldn't be complaining now!" You sighed into the palm of your hand.

“Every time I think I’m getting somewhere, it’s like I hit a wall. What am I even missing?”

“Well, at least the day's winding down,” you said, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. “Maybe a break will do me some good. It’s not like I’m making any progress here.” With a resigned sigh, you pushed the thoughts aside, resolved to get some rest. You lay back on your bed, letting the soft mattress calm you.

As you closed your eyes, the room fell silent, save for the faint echoes of your own thoughts drifting into the night.

Note: HEYEYEY srry for the lobg update i was dealinf with problems, my bad gng🙏 APOLOGIES FOR ANY WRITING ERRORS😊

[ladyluscinia]

Ok. Ok. Time to put my thoughts in order about S2 and we're starting at literally the first scene because whoo boy is there a lot going on that I like.

So. Stede's Fantasy Pirate Rescue aka this show having no illusions about Stede's fuck ups and where the story-driving conflict is coming from (*cough* Stede and Edward themselves *cough*)

It opens with what frankly a concerning amount of fandom seemed to view as the solution to all the problems of S1 - namely a Stede vs Izzy swordfight. Stede is really going all in on his dashing pirate hero fantasy. He has the beard. The sword skills. He gets his sword knocked out of his hand (again) but this time it ends on a witty one liner and stabbing Izzy with a concealed knife before artfully claiming his cutlass. He even dramatically kills him! And, villain defeated, there's Ed running through the surf to embrace him! Everything is perfect and wonderful and conflict free - and it all collapses back into reality with Wee John literally farting all over it.

Pete even openly mocks his moaning "Ed, Ed" in his sleep!

Because it's a fantasy! A ridiculous one at that! And the truly fantastical bit isn't even the reunion, or Stede's heroics. No... The part that's absurd, that even Stede can't make himself believe in his own subconscious mind, is that there's a convenient external villain to all of this and he and Ed can just pick back up where they left off.

Fantasy!Izzy and Fantasy!Ed are basically barbie dolls in this dream, but you can watch Stede's awareness that this is truly just a comforting fantasy slipping through.

Fantasy!Izzy gets cast as the villain because why wouldn't he? Stede has disliked him going back to that conversation at Spanish Jackie's where he basically offloaded a bunch of his own issues on this random pirate guy for having bad vibes, Izzy did betray him specifically to the Navy, and the last thing his crew would have been able to tell him about was Izzy ordering his stuff tossed and rowing them to an island (on Blackbeard's orders, but that's easy enough for Stede to ignore). He's even got him putting on a villain voice!

But the line. The only fantasy character line in this entire dream that connects with the situation in reality instead of sounding like stock NPC responses. Stede defeats his villain and The Villain / Fantasy!Izzy / Stede's subconscious looks up from his knees and reminds him:

"I never made you leave him. You did that yourself."

And Stede kills him for saying it! Goes back to the comforting script where he demands to know where Ed is and Izzy calls him a twat! Shut up, subconscious, Stede needs to rescue his damsel!

And his damsel barbie doll is so happy to see him! Fantasy!Edward's lines are the most disconnected, NPC babble. It's hilarious 🤣

Fantasy!Ed: "I knew you'd find me, babe"

Stede: "You're not mad?"

Fantasy!Ed: "I knew you'd find me, love"

Stede: "So we're good? About everything?"

Fantasy!Ed: "Fucking love the beard, mate".

Can I mention how much I love the repetition there? Zero engagement in the conversation, totally amps up the NPC vibe.

Stede is begging his own dream to reassure him that he didn't hurt Ed that bad, to tell him Ed will be so happy to see him it will fix everything, and he doesn't get what he's looking for. Because it's not true. The show in fact laughs in the face of that interpretation. Stede's making up a idealized "fix" (being a dashing hero) for the BlackBonnet relationship, and even Stede knows it's bullshit.

Edward and Stede's relationship issues and personal struggles have a bodycount this season (R.I.P. Ivan 😭) and it's immensely satisfying that so far no one is inclined to pull their punches on this fact or foist the blame elsewhere.

Not even Stede's subconscious!

[st-asya]

The stabbing scene, my beloved. I feel like I'll never run out of something to say, gonna be a habit of mine to never stop talking about it. My first post about it was the first thing that came to my mind, then I read the posts in the reblogs (and discovered a whole new world of the fascinating details I didn't even think of before), and they made me think of taking a closer look at this scene, but from a different angle.

Originally the post was supposed to contain nothing but the third paragraph, but I got a little carried away, so... (I swear to God, someday I'll write a book about this scene). This is gonna be endless cause making several posts doesn't feel right for some reason. I've never used so many parentheses in one post till now.

Ed somehow managed to make 'stab me' sound more sexually charged than 'fuck me', talk about having a way with words. I mean I know the whole scene imitates life (hence this scene is art), well, a certain intimate part of life, obviously, but still...

He is not even trying to make it sound at least a little less intense. He sounds almost demanding, but it's with a pretty soft touch to it still (dare I say seductive?) ('stab me') and very calm, collected, encouraging ('run me through') as if not to scare Stede off cause this whole training session is taxing enough as it is already, Ed's hesitation or uncertainty wouldn't make things better for sure, so he needs to maintain an aura of a confident leader. He calls the shots, after all (and he just wants to be yours, Stede).

The way Ed carries himself in this scene is beautiful, charming even, to the point it's a tad sad, to the point you might wanna find a way to protect him for his own good, so there's this bittersweet kinda feeling. He's being borderline painfully sincere, there's no pretence of any kind because that harsh manner of dealing with the situation is the only one he's familiar with so he gives it his all, cuz there's literally nothing else to channel this energy into, I suppose. I find it marvelous cause he's so authentic in his ability to show it completely unashamedly (not only out of necessity, you gotta have balls to do it too). That's just who he is, take it or leave it (well, so far at least). The sad part is to be sincere is to be vulnerable, soft, to let your guard down (and it's scary as fuck) and, understandably, Ed has a certain kinda problem with that.

It's not a fight with an enemy, he doesn't have to be worried about being killed, but he still chooses to teach a lesson by letting Stede hurt him basically, of his own volition (he had it done to him dozens of times, he's a tough guy, we get that, but stabbing is stabbing, he can get used to it alright, but it doesn't change the fact that he still has his guts rearranged somehow and I'm sure it can't really feel good (well certainly not when a bloody sword is involved and not some other thing that can also penetrate the body which is not the case, even if it looks like (is meant to look like) some bizarre interaction of some pretty intimate nature, the situation is far from the possibility of either of them being docked, cause the damn ship is in the middle of nowhere, and the damn sword goes somewhere it does not belong under ordinary (well relatively) circumstances). So if we're not talking about the metaphorical interpretation (which is hard to ignore), it's a pretty tough way to teach someone how to do something.

What I'm saying is they didn't have to go all the way cuz it's a simulation (but piracy is very much real and it's not exactly a bed of roses, you gotta be prepared or you're gonna get killed, brutal and unfair as it is, it's the way life operates), but Ed still went for it. A pretty selfless thing to do, and what's interesting about it is it's not about feeding his ego (maybe it's because it's well-fed already btw, I mean all the legends, rumors and whatnot, I'm not saying Ed is full of himself, the analogy about being hungry and being fed has just crossed my mind for some reason, and I wanted to put it here), he clearly cares and not for some selfish reasons (even though he could, oh God, that's starting to look like a separate post).

I may be overthinking and overanalyzing it (not only this part, but the post as a whole, but oh well), but there's another fascinating thing about this scene, and it's the placement of the wound. It's in the stomach. In some Slavic languages 'stomach' literally means 'life' if we talk about its archaic usage, they even sound similar there, in English it's the word not only for a body part, but also for the ability to put up with something (well, with a certain kind of discomfort that Ed needs to endure for it to be profitable for Stede in the future in this case). So one would say it's a pretty vital part of a body (Ed himself admits there are important bits there, after all), and Ed doesn't protect it from Stede, doesn't conceal it. Even if it's essentially counterproductive. Not only does he say 'stab me', he literally shows where, gets the jacket out of the way, partially gets rid of the leather that's become his second skin which helps him feel safe, protected, an extra layer distancing him from an unpredictable outer world he's defenceless against and has no control over, shows he's vulnerable, naked if you will. Literally, cause there is a sliver of bare skin.

He literally trusts him with his life. With a fraction of it for now. Voluntarily. But he's still in control cause he knows how to navigate Stede's newfound ability to cause damage in such a way that he doesn't get hurt badly (it's 'I cleverly took the sword on the left', not 'you ran the sword through there', but at the same time it's 'you managed to avoid all the important bits' (he freaking WINKS at Stede (well, kinda.

or I'm just going insane cause I've stared at this bit of the vid and rewound it an unhealthy number of times), can you be any less subtle, my dude, you're down BAD), that sounds like an encouragement of sorts, like a 'well done' from a teacher helping his student gain confidence, I would even say it sounds kinda like a thank you for not betraying his trust, for not abusing his vulnerability, I mean Stede hardly comes off as some batshit insane type with no knowledge of boundaries, but you never know, especially when you've just met him). Ed trusts him, but he's still alert. But he's already ready to risk his comfort (which includes a wide range of things) for Stede to stay safe if his life is ever in danger.

The question which one of them fell first might be up for debate, but the fact that Ed fell harder is pretty evident, I think.

[genderbinaryisforlosers]

A Favour from Ademara; in which Somnus forgets to act hostile to the dream druid who's stalking him and now he's in a devil's bargain that parallels his previous delusion about being the Chosen of the Lord of Storms (whoops)

Ademara's dialogue and design by my benevolent DM @iknikblackstonevarrick!!

IDs below (copied from alt text)

1: A comic page with five panels, showing Somnus in a dark room with the Cloak of Elvenkind rendering him partially invisible. He is a built South/East Asian man with shoulder-length brown hair. In the first panel, he swats at a dragonfly buzzing around his head. The text box reads: "Wish these things would leave me alone..."

In the next panel, his attention is still on the dragonfly, but a pair of hands reaches out of the dark, one of which is gripping a knife and positioning it in front of his throat.

In the next panel, his throat has been slashed, with the other mysterious hand holding his forehead in place. He is wide-eyed and slack-jawed as blood sprays all over the panel. The text box reads, "What?"

In the next panel, he has been stabbed again by a different hand, this time through the back of the throat. The hood has been dropped from his cloak and is losing the enchantment, while he reaches for his sword in its scabbard.

In the last panel, he has fallen to the floor, blood pooling under him and eyes rolling back in his head. The colour has begun draining from his face, and a dragonfly is resting on his cheek. The page around the panels gradients from white to black as he goes unconscious.

2: Continuing from the previous page, the first panel is a close-up of Somnus' eye, slightly bruised, half-closed and rolling back. A golden dragonfly rests on his cheek. The next panel is similar to the first, but the colouring of the scene has changed, his eye has widened in shock, and the blood and dragonfly are gone.

The eye panels are set on a background of a stormy sky, which becomes a full-page illustration of Somnus lying in a grassy field with Ademara sitting perpendicular to him. Ademara has her legs crossed and her chin resting in her hands, and is smiling at him. She is a skinny, pale woman with bright red hair and a perpetually dreamy expression.

3: A page with five panels, in which Somnus sits up and talks with Ademara. Somnus touches his neck, where there is no trace of the wound but his previous lightning scar is pale and prominent. Somnus: What happened? Ademara: You would know better than me. Somnus: I really wouldn't-- I didn't see anyone-? We were in there less than a second. I-- Send me back. Please. Bring me up?

When he makes the request, he leans in to Ademara pleadingly, catching her by surprise. Lightning strikes in the background of the final panel.

4: A page with seven panels. Ademara appears thrilled by Somnus' request, her eyes alert for the first time. She hooks a lock of his hair behind his ear and asks, "Can I count on you to do something for me?" He looks uncomfortable, watching her hand.

He turns away from her and says, "I won't hurt anyone," to which Ademara pouts and thinks, "You're no fun," only for him to continue, "...that I care about." She smiles, satisfied.

Taking the back of his head in her hand, she leans in closely to whisper in his ear, "I'll keep that in mind." An even bigger lightning strike throws them into shadow.

The final two panels cut back to the material plane, where Somnus is lying unconscious. Blood has continued pooling under him, but colour is returning to his cheeks and his black eye is gone. The lightning scar visible on his neck is glowing. In the final panel, he explodes into lightning, hair and eyes crackling bright white. The sound of thunder cracking is shown with the word, "KA-THOOM!"

5: Somnus as the Tempest, with his eyes and hair filled with white lightning and electricity crackling around his drawn sword. He is dripping with blood from his neck although the wound is closed, and the lightning scar glows through the blood. There is also blood on his sword, his cloak, and the rim of his shield. He is mid-motion, one foot lifted from the ground and glaring out towards the viewer. The backdrop is dark, and he is surrounded by swirling wind.

6: The same as the previous image, Somnus as the Tempest, with text making it into a comic book cover. The comic is titled "Somnus" and shows the issue number 27. The logo is "ISG" in a crescent moon, and the artist is "gender binary is for losers". The tagline reads, "Return of the Tempest!" and there is also a fake barcode.

[girlwithhat]

Well, as I've previously mentioned, I've been really into Geoffrey Whitehead Holmes and Donald Pickering Watson lately so...here's a fic. Dedicated to @aregularirregular221b whose enthusiasm for this series motivated me to finish.

TITLE: Shaken

SUMMARY: After the killer is arrested, Holmes reveals the conclusion of the case affected him more than he would care to admit. Watson reassures him.

NOTES: Occurs at the end of "The Case of the Blind Man's Bluff" after the killer is arrested and before the end cap scene the next morning.

Inspired by Watson immediately crossing the room and invading Holmes' personal space.

Holmes was keenly aware of Watson’s sweeping gaze on him as the killer was being taken into custody by Lestrade. The doctor had stepped closer than usual to assess him for any injuries or discomfort. This uncharacteristic invasion of personal space was no doubt a manifestation of his worry after seeing him being threatened with a sword cane. Seeking to calm himself after that emotionally charged confession and a successful conclusion to the case, he reached for his pipe and put it in his mouth. They both glanced at the chicken claw tied with black ribbon on the late Captain Pitt’s desk before leaving the room.

Once they were alone in the hansom back to Baker Street, Watson gave him another once-over.

“Holmes, are you alright?”

“Yes, Watson, quite.”

“He had a sword cane pointed at you when we came in. He could have--”

“I know. But I don’t believe he would have stabbed me.”

“He was desperate to keep his secret so he could continue on his path of revenge. Why wouldn’t he have killed you?”

“If you were in that position, would you have?”

“It’s difficult to say. Irrational actions would seem rational to an already addled mind.”

“He wasn’t addled. This entire ruse was cooly calculated: getting a crew list and tracking them down, entering rooms under false pretenses, pretending to be blind to lure his victims into a false sense of security. Oh no, Watson. He was rational, clear headed, and focused on his goal. Unfortunately, his thirst for revenge would never be satisfied, even if he killed every crewmember of The Gloria North.”

“But that adds to the argument that he would have stabbed you since you were in his way. You knew too much.”

“When we were alone, he was hoping I would understand and sympathize, that I would let him go. I disappointed him when he found out I believed one man cannot be judge and executioner, justified as he may be.”

“You believe he was justified in killing four men?”

“From his point of view. His wife and child, whose ends came too soon and so brutally, for strangers that were either directly or indirectly involved in their deaths. It could be seen that way.”

Arriving back at their rooms, Watson poured them each a brandy before settling in their chairs. With a sigh, Holmes found he couldn’t stop ruminating on the earlier confrontation.

“His eyes, Watson,” he said.

Watson took a sip of his drink. “What about them, Holmes?”

“The pain in them that would never be eased, caused by the unfairness of life through immense loss. An intense, irreplaceable love that can cause someone to lose their rationality. I may not have experienced that, but I do understand something of it.”

“You do?”

“I believe I do,” Holmes replied, studying the man across from him, “If something tragic and unfair had taken y--someone dearest to me, I would see revenge as a rational course of action. If it occurred while they were at my side, I wouldn't have let those responsible get out of the room alive. I can see the point of view of someone so fueled by anger and grief to seek retribution by any means.”

“At the expense of your morals?” Watson was surprised by the other man’s outburst of emotion and the ruthlessness he found there.

“A strong love is not always indicative of the purest morals.”

“That is true.” They were silent for some minutes before Watson spoke again, “In war, I’ve seen how unfair life and how senseless death can be. How it weighs on people. As a doctor, I don’t condone a death for a death but that is what justice demands under our laws.”

“As a doctor, could you kill in revenge?”

“Could I? I suppose anything is possible. But would I? In my rational mind, no. And I would hope that y--my beloved would know that my feelings, my love was still true, even if I could not bring myself to avenge them, should they come to harm.”

“They would certainly continue to admire you for being an upstanding gentleman and doctor. You are a much stronger and better man than I, dear Watson.”

“I don’t believe that for a second, Holmes.”

He looked down at his hands, which cradled his drink. “I was afraid tonight.”

“You were?”

“I was afraid you would arrive to find me dead.”

“But you said--”

“I didn’t want you to endure that. I didn’t believe he would kill me but for all the logic and empathy in the world, the unexpected can still occur and people’s actions can still be difficult to deduce.”

“Even for you?”

“Even for me. I can still make mistakes when compromised by emotions.”

Watson stood, taking their glasses and putting them on the table. “Emotions are not a detriment, Holmes.”

Holmes looked up. “I apologize if my mood has made you uncomfortable.”

“No, none of that,” Watson replied in a soothing tone as he helped Holmes out of his chair and pulled him close for an embrace. “You’re still shaken.”

Holmes closed his eyes for a few moments, syncing his breathing to the solidly steady and sure Watson.

“I don’t know why I’m so affected,” Holmes said, “I’ve been in perilous situations before.”

“It doesn’t matter. No one chooses what situations or people touch their hearts.”

“It took me by surprise,” Holmes replied as he cupped Watson’s face, “Just as you do.”

Watson smiled before their lips met gently. The doctor rested his hands on his friend’s slim hips. “I’m not surprised.”

“No?”

“I believe I knew before you. And may I make a bold deduction?”

“You may.”

“I deduce you want to kiss me again.”

Now it was Holmes' turn to smile. “That is true. What else can you deduce?”

“We should retire to my bedroom as I believe we’re suddenly feeling a bit warm in our clothes.”

The mischievous glint was back in Holmes’ eyes. “Excellent, doctor. I agree. Lead the way.”

END

[haze-of-hyperfixations]

Tell me about your blorbo from epic the musical? I think it might be Eurylochus?? I have heard every song but if there's additional info about him, I don't know it!

ooh, okay!! here's all the stuff about him i can think of that wasn't mentioned in the songs!!

In the animations, he carries a huge sword. (It's really cool, I love swords.) This sword, as revealed during a livestream, is named "the Strongest of Same."

I don't remember if it's ever explicitly mentioned in Epic canon, but in the Odyssey, he's Odysseus's brother-in-law, and I'm 99.9% sure it's the same in Epic. (If anyone else remembers if they ever technically confirmed this, that'd be cool, my mind's blanking a bit.) But, assuming they didn't change that detail, he's married to Odysseus's sister Ctimene!

In Epic, a lot of important characters have signature instruments to represent them. Eurylochus does not have a particular instrument; however, there was a video released that explained why this choice was made! The gist of it was basically this: Eurylochus, over the course of the story, feels lost and somewhat directionless, represented by the lack of an instrument. He does, however, find a sense of purpose in protecting his crew. The vocals of the crew themselves serve as his signature instrument. They're the reason that drives his actions.

Continuing the previous point, that same video also explained this detail: The melody that plays during the moment Eurylochus draws his sword to mutiny against Odysseus? That's the same melody that plays in The Horse And The Infant...at the moment Odysseus asks everyone to remember what they're fighting for. Which is something I am quite incapable of being normal about ever!! The crew was his reason for fighting, he fought to keep them safe, and Odysseus, his friend and brother, just sacrificed six of them. So he does what he feels he's been forced to do. Agh.

Oh, you might already know this based on the songs, but in case you don't: Eurylochus was not the one to stab Odysseus! That was Perimedes! Eurylochus just knocked him out after.

Okay, this one is a smaller detail, but. In the Thunder Saga livestream video, it was noted that when Odysseus woke up after Eurylochus knocked him out, his stab wound had been wrapped up so he wouldn't bleed out. Which means Eurylochus had either done that himself, or he had one of the other men do it; both of which would confirm that he didn't want Odysseus dead. Which I think is pretty important.

and that's all of the information I can think of that isn't directly revealed in the songs themselves! he's such a neat character. absolutely love him.

thanks for the ask!! :)