#if you follow me for black sails stuff

[etoilesombre]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Exorcist (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Marcus Keane/Tomas Ortega Additional Tags: Angst, Masturbation, The Fucked Up Inside of Marcus Keane's Head, Canon Typical Religious Perspectives Summary:

Marcus doesn't think of the other man in the room when he touches himself.

It’s not that he believes God will judge him. In the ranks of his sins, this can hardly factor, and he has seen far too much to credit the notion that abiding by God's rules might serve to win back his favor. God is far too vast to have time for such pettiness.

But the demons aren't.

[petricorah]

i have soooo many feelings about jack. also yeah you’re right he and vane are CRAZY like the devotion is off the charts

anne, talking to jack: "there are many men on this island who would give anything to hear charles vane call them a good pirate."

jack: *staring at vane unloading heavy material in a tight shirt*

me: good god, just confess already!!

send more black sails thoughts here: 1800-i've-got-sea-slugs-in-my-brain

[t3a-tan]

Romantic and Hopeless (6/?)

First / Previous / Next

---

Sammy kept her eyes closed after yelling, breathing heavily, her expression pulled into a grimace as if bracing for something. She was waiting for a reaction— anger, amusement, pain— it didn't matter which, but she was certain it would be one of them. It always was.

And then she felt herself being lowered down, eyes shooting open again at the feeling of wood beneath her. The fingers around her released and pulled away, and Sammy watched as those giant hands rubbed together as if his fingers had been burnt by the contact.

“I…I'm sorry…”

She bristled at the apology, eyes wide with surprise as she cradled her injury close. She scooted back until her back hit the wall, brows furrowing with confusion. Sorry was the last word she expected to come from the human's mouth. She was catching her breath, staring up at him, unable to formulate a response.

“I…” Sammy watched as Oscar bit his lip and trailed off, his expression showing clear guilt mixed in with a bit of distress. Why would he be distressed? He's the one with all the power here. He leaned forward for a moment, his mouth opening as if to speak only to hesitate again when his approach made her flinch back. Her shoulders tensed as he cleared his throat.

“Sammy… Y-you uh… you know I'm not going to hurt you…right?” She didn't respond, expression growing wary. Oscar slowly shifted back, lowering his head more. “I.. thought you knew that. I guess I shouldn't have assumed after everything you've gone through that you'd trust me… But I really won't hurt you.”

Oh how she wanted to believe it… but it simply wasn't possible. Humans were not capable of being good to her kind for long. Thanks to Ryker Sammy had been in the eyes of many humans, and thanks to Wells she had been in the hands of many more. She was an expert on how humans treated borrowers…

Sooner or later, Oscar would snap at her too.

“Yes you will. H-humans…humans always hurt people like me…” She responded, wiping at her watery eyes, her lips pressed into a scowl even as she continued to take in shuddery breaths. “You— you just haven't decided what you want to do to me yet…”

Oscar's expression turned into one of subdued horror at her words, then shifted in confusion and guilt. He leaned down a little more, his hands pressed into the floor now to brace himself, although they remained a distance away. Not far enough for Sammy to feel safe by any means, but that ship had long sailed.

“First of all— I know exactly what I want to do… and that's help you. Whatever ideas you have in your mind about that sort of stuff…I—I would never hurt you. Never.” He insisted, tone edging on pleading. His brows then furrowed as he continued.

“Second of all though… Sammy— I thought you said you got shrunk, right? So why are you saying humans like that? And people like you…?” He questioned slowly.

Sammy froze. In the panic of everything she had completely forgotten that she answered yes to his question earlier about being shrunk— Oh God. This makes it ten times worse.

She could feel her breathing getting faster again, her mind immediately going to the fact that she knew borrowers sold for a lot of money on the black market. Even just the thought of being back in the hands of Wells or others like him made her skin crawl.

“Please, Sammy… please explain everything to me— I… I just want to help you. I can't help when I don't even know what's going on…” Now he really was begging her, and he sounded so sincere… Sammy opened her mouth but hesitated and averted her gaze, staying quiet.

After several seconds passed, a warm sigh washed over her and she cowered back as Oscar began to stand up again, meeting his concerned eyes with surprise. Why isn't he breaking character? I already called him out…

“Please wait there. I'm just gonna…I'll get the first aid kit. And some ice…if we have any.” She watched as he walked away, her eyes following him into the kitchen but her back remaining pressed up against the wall.

He's…leaving me unattended? Again? After I just tried to escape? I know I'm injured, but…

Sammy looked down at her twisted ankle, gathering her breath as she inspected the sprain. It wasn't too severe, but it was noticeable… Maybe a week of healing? It might give her a limp if she rushed things, but she might need to rush things in this situation.

She glanced towards the doorway into the kitchen again, gaze wary and discerning. She could see Oscar's towering figure in the distance as he searched through the cupboard under the sink, presumably for the first aid kit.

She wiped her eyes again, some of the adrenaline that had been rushing through her beginning to fade, and leaving her leg to ache even more. Sammy winced, hunching over and hugging onto her knees, still staring in the direction of the human.

Her soulmate.

Why is my soulmate a human? I don't think I could ever love a monster like that… even if he sounds so nice, he's lying. He has to be… Even when he listened to me, it's a trick. It's not real.

And yet, Sammy stayed where she was, waiting for him to return with the first aid kit and ice. Soon, after rummaging around in the freezer he seemed to give up and started walking in her direction again.

After being lost in her own thoughts watching the giant move about from a distance Sammy couldn't help but be a little startled by his approach. She shifted away once before managing to stay where she was sitting, her body trembling.

The red box was set down a foot away from where she sat, and she flinched as it was. Oscar followed soon after, crouching, then kneeling. He clicked open the box and Sammy watched those giant invasive fingers delicately brush through the contents of the box; searching for specific supplies no doubt.

“We didn't have ice.. um… but I'll go out and get an ice pack from the shop in a sec. First you should disinfect those scrapes and wrap up your ankle…” He placed a few different things close to her and Sammy bristled once she processed his words.

“..me…?”

Oscar paused, looking down at her and offering a sad half-smile.

“Well yeah. You said you don't want me to touch you after all… My hands are probably too big to do it properly anyway, so yeah.” He explained. His smile then fell and he let out a sigh. “And I'm sorry— about grabbing you like that? It was pretty bang out of order… I just saw you were hurt and wanted to help, but I should have asked first.”

Sammy blinked in surprise, her eyes widening just a tad at his words.

He's…apologising… again? I don't understand.

Hesitantly, she shuffled over to the disinfectant wipe and bandages he had set down, first picking up the wipe after giving Oscar a confused side glance. As soon as she had grabbed it she quickly scooted back into the corner again. He made no moves to grab her…

Sammy swallowed nervously and began to dab at the scrapes, face scrunching into a wince at the cold sting it caused. Even so, she continued cleaning them before glancing up at Oscar again. He had moved back a bit since putting the supplies next to her. She bit her lip.

“I… I-I'm a borrower… Not a human…” She admittedly softly. Her eyes quickly shot up to inspect Oscar's expression to watch his reaction. She expected anger, or maybe a smirk, but he just seemed…confused. His head tilted sheepishly.

“What's a borrower..?”

Sammy flinched at the question, looking back down at her ankle again as she began to carefully wrap it up. She thought about her words first, still considering not telling him anything else…but something about the way he was looking at her made her want to tell him.

“We're…little people… that live in the walls of human houses, and take stuff that won't be missed. Like paperclips, scraps of paper, crumbs, that sort of stuff. Some borrowers live in the trees instead. But we try our best not to get seen by humans…” She explained.

As she heard the floorboards creak again under Oscar's weight her gaze quickly snapped to focus on him again, only to see that he was laying down; his cheek now rested on his forearms folded in front of him. The tension in her body faded once she realised he was just getting more comfortable.

“Makes sense… Humans can be pretty shitty about new discoveries and all. And most people would be pretty peeved about someone stealing their shit.” He remarked with a hum.

“..not you though..?” Sammy asked, noticing that he said most people would, not I would.

Oscar shook his head, his strawberry red hair falling in front of his eyes slightly. A gentle smile formed on his lips. Sammy felt her heart hammer in her chest again, but this time it wasn't accompanied by the usual cold terror pumping through her veins.

“Be pretty hypocritical if I were. You know I don't have a great track record with the law…and it's because I've stolen stuff before. Mostly food, sometimes other stuff.” He explained. “A lot of humans don't like me much too for that reason.”

Sammy tore off the edge of the bandage as she finished wrapping her ankle, making sure it was secure. She frowned. I thought humans didn't have to steal food… They always seem to have it…

The rustling of clothes moving met her ears, causing her to look up at Oscar again as he leaned forward a little more. From this close she could see his green eyes through the blue lenses; shining with concern.

“So did you get…caught? By humans? Is that why you were in that…oddly high-tech basement?” He asked softly, his expression turning more sombre with the subject matter.

Sammy averted her gaze again, nodding slowly. She could remember that day like it was yesterday. The panic and chaos as her mum tried to get her and her brother to safety. The sight of her dad trapped under bits of smashed up wall, unmoving, bleeding. The first time she felt the now-familiar sensation of giant fingers wrapping around her.

She shuddered at the memory.

“Just…one day they broke down the walls, and before we knew it we were being handed over to Dr. Ryker. It's been so long, it feels weird to be outside of his lab. I-I just feel on edge. Nothing makes sense anymore like it used to…” Her shoulders tensed again as she hugged underneath her knees, looking at the grains on the wood below instead of up at Oscar.

“Hey… I…It's okay if you feel on edge and stuff. I'm still not gonna hurt you… And I won't let that monster get a hold of you again.” He sounded so serious, Sammy wanted to believe that he would protect her.

Her eyes widened and quickly looked up again as she realised something.

“Shit. Ryker's probably noticed I'm gone by now… Oscar— Did you take care of the cameras when you came in?” She asked urgently. In the heat of the moment she hadn't even thought to ask, and now that she was thinking about it she felt nauseous.

The red-haired human paled at her question.

“I-it was dark— I didn't even…” He stammered as he immediately realized how badly he had fucked up. He genuinely hadn't thought about there being cameras in that secret lab, because it was dark and definitely an illegal lab. He hadn't seen any red dots in the corners to signal that a camera was running, and he let his guard down.

Sammy felt a cold chill run up her spine.

“He— he's gonna find me again… He'll probably kill me…” She breathed, her vision unfocusing for a moment before darting up to meet the human's gaze, eyes wide. “Oscar— he's gonna kill you. You’re literally walking distance away from his lab. H-he might already be on his way..!”

At the very least she had her size to her benefit in terms of hiding… Oscar on the other hand was a sitting duck. If Ryker found out where he lived…

“We need to leave.”

“Wh— I-I can't just leave. I have no clue when my mum will be back— what if she gets hurt?” He protested at her suggestion. Sammy grimaced at the mention. As much as she viewed humans as monsters, she could definitely empathise with that sentiment. She wouldn't be much better than a human if she ignored Oscar's feelings on the matter.

“I.. I don't think he would hurt her. Ryker's a prick, but if there was nothing to gain I don't think he would just hurt another human randomly— if anything she's more likely to get hurt if you stay here, because Ryker can use her as collateral with me.” She pointed out.

As soon as she said that though she regretted it and her eyes went wide, body tensing. What if he decides to hand me over now just to avoid getting hurt? I know it's understandable, but I don't want to go back. I-I can't…

She scooted herself back slightly again, glancing towards the shelves that were a few feet away. Even if she got there it would only be a temporary solution. She looked back up at Oscar, but he didn't seem to notice her anxiety, his expression concerned and in deep thought, not even focused on her.

Soon enough, he reached a decision. Sammy bristled as his gaze fell upon her again, awaiting her doomed verdict.

“Okay. Okay… I'll text my mum and tell her I'll be at Freddie’s in case she gets back. I know a place we can stay. Nothing homey…not that this place is that homey either, but it'll do.”

She blinked in surprise.

What…he'll actually help..? But…

“You’re not going back there again. Over my dead body.” He spoke firmly. Her heart fluttered and a warmth filled her chest at his words, not expecting him to be so resolved about keeping her away from Ryker. Her muscles relaxed slightly, the urge to dash for cover fading quickly as she stared up at him.

“I…I'll have to put you in my pocket again though so we can get there… Is that okay?” He asked softly. This time Sammy didn't feel as petrified over the idea. Sure it would be uncomfortable— one good thing wasn't enough to get rid of the years of bad she had been through, but it was progress.

She nodded, feeling heat rise to her cheeks again as Oscar smiled. Although she couldn't help but flinch as he began to sit up, when he lowered his hand towards her palm up she couldn't help but feel…almost safe. She was sure the feeling would fade soon enough…

“Here. I'll pack some stuff first, then we can head off, yeah?”

Sammy nodded once more, and after a brief moment of hesitation she climbed onto his hand so they could get going as soon as possible.

. . . . .

A light flickered in the distance.

Tanner almost forgot what light looked like. It was that same odd feeling you would get after closing your eyes in a bright room for longer than a few seconds— he knew his memories were bright, but after being surrounded by this all encompassing darkness for so long he just struggled to picture it.

“H-hello…?” His voice echoed in the void, repeating back to him, taunting him with the idea of not being alone. How long had he been stuck here? It could have been a day, it could have been a year, Tanner truly couldn't tell.

He was afraid to go towards the light. Isn't that what people say you see when you die? Am I dying..?

He felt so cold he wouldn't be surprised. Maybe it would even be nice to embrace it. Will it be warm? Maybe I'll see mum and dad again…

Tanner shook his head quickly to dissuade those thoughts. I can't see them. Sammy's still waiting for me… She'll save me soon.

As his gaze fell downwards he let out a small gasp, finding that because of the faint light he could actually see himself again. It was dim, but tears sprung to his eyes just watching his fingers move, staring at them and feeling them with his other hand. They're still here… I'm still here…

The light in the distance flickered again and Tanner's eyes widened as he realised he was going to be plunged into darkness again. He began to try moving towards it, but in a space with no walls, floors, or ceilings, moving felt practically impossible.

“No!”

Please don't make it dark again..! Just a little bit longer!

At this point he had spent so much time isolated that he couldn't tell the difference between thinking and speaking. He reached out in desperation, the light dancing across his skin and making it almost glow red. The sunlight. I remember.

And then it was gone.

Tanner's breath hitched. In the darkness he couldn't see anything. Eyes open or closed, it didn't make a difference, so he wasn't sure which one he picked as tears began to stream down his cheeks, a sob held in his throat and coming out as a whimper as he curled into himself again. He trembled, the abyss swallowing him whole again.

She'll save me soon…

[fairytsuk1]

getting katsuki gifts for the holidays was like trying to teach a monkey to dance, it was impossible.

you'd whined, mumbling about how the two of you had enough money to buy most items you wanted; katsuki also never seemed to never ask for things specifically.

"so, katsuki... the holidays are coming up!"

he's picking at his ordered in take-out, and you can see his displeasure at the lack of peppers as he picks through his kung pao chicken.

"yeah, already got your gift," and he's giving you smirk that makes you sweat, "are you sure you got the right chicken? this shit tastes like the fuckin' kids menu."

your eyes get caught on the wedding band wrung around his fingers, sailing the veins of his forearm till you can see his bulging biceps in the black muscle shirt. was your husband hand-carved by gods? seemed likely.

"mmm, no, it should be the kung pao chicken, want me to chop some chilies up for you?"

you're standing before he can protest, taking out your knives and chopping boards, "and you already have my gift? I don't have your gift, yet."

the box of take-out is set down as your husband circles his arm around your waist to leave soft kisses on the column of your neck.

"yeah, 'cause you don't love me," and a thankful hand squeezes your ass just to show his appreciation for the chopping of chilies, "...whatcha gonna get me?"

his hands are still wandering, and you're thinking more of what his talented fingers could do than his stupid gift, "i'm not supposed to tell, you know. santa's elves might get me into a whole lotta trouble."

he gropes you even more fiercely, and you can feel his pressing need against your back.

"fuck santa,"

he carries you off in a fit of giggles to your shared bedroom.

-

the bookstore was fairly crowded and you felt thankful you could slip by unnoticed and browse the various books of romance or sci-fi; katsuki didn't even seem like a sci-fi guy so each row left you feeling panicky and like a bad wife the further and further you went.

"excuse me, do you have any classical romance?"

the timbre of the voice makes your heart stop. It sounded just like, well, katsuki! your legs are thrumming with the knee-jerk reaction to tackle him to the ground, but you were literally buying his gift! the surprise would be ruined, and you're dashing into the row of cookbooks to calm yourself.

maybe it's not even him. you know what they say, just because it sounds like katsuki doesn't mean it is! you're affirming yourself silently when footsteps grow close, and your husband is flashing by you in seconds.

it is katsuki!

"i'm fucked."

your eyes follow the object of your love, his strong hands randomly pick books out of nowhere, but there's grumbles of displeasure as he skims the summary and grimaces at the cover. he didn't know that much about books, but you deserved something special.

you'd dealt with all the hero stuff (being gone for long periods of time and coming home nearly dead was no news to you), always made him lunch or dinner, and frankly... katsuki found his eyes drifting to a sleeping baby in its stroller.

he'd started thinking more like that. so the gift had to be pretty damn good!

a man strikes up conversation, and you smile at the idea that katsuki wasn't just factually married, but he gave that aura too. yeah, that was your man.

"i'm shoppin' for my wife," straight to the point and he's already grumbling at having to interact with this person for more than a minute.

"wow! a true husband, what's with the books then? looking to open your marriage?"

it's a joke that katsuki doesn't find funny, you do however and you're sure this conversation would be going very differently.

"fuck no. i'm just lookin' for somethin' good," there's a brief pause in his words, and katsuki looks askance at having to provide a reason why, "she does a lot for me. want her to know I appreciate it."

a beating heart is soothed by the words. your hormones run wild at his mild love declaration, and you're grinning like a mad man.

katsuki wakes up on christmas morning to find his absolute favorite thing; you.

and the book he got was pretty damn good, too.

[storiesforallfandoms]

more than a song ~ alex turner

word count: 2937

request?: yes!

“hi lovely! i wanted to request an alex turner x reader. just something based off of the song you’re so dark by arctic monkeys. he’s been friends with you for a while but a side comment from his girlfriend (something just like she doesn’t get how they’re just friends) and it’s just snaps into place. ig just him writing the song and moments of them together. maybeeeee him jacking off imagining her on all fours 👀. something like that! thank youuuuu”

description: in which he starts by writing a song about his best friend who is much different than him, and it turns into something more

pairing: alex turner x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (male masturbation), kind of cheating since alex is imagining the reader and not his girlfriend (who will be a made up character, not his real girlfriend louise), also the reader doesn’t really know what alex was doing so idk take that into consideration? idk these warnings are a mess now

masterlist (one, two, three)

It all started with a comment his girlfriend, Cheryl, made.

“She’s so dark. How are you two friends?”

They had just left a night out with Alex’s bandmates and his best friend, (Y/N). It was the first time the two women had met, which Alex was hoping would go well since both of them meant so much to him. They had just barley left the bar when Cheryl made the comment.

It amused him so much that he couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Why do you say that?”

Cheryl gave Alex a look. “Really?”

He stopped walking so he could turn to face her. “I’m serious. What do you mean she’s dark?”

“Alex...she talked for nearly an hour about HP Lovecraft and Edgar Allan Poe.”

Alex waited, expecting her to explain why that was a bad thing. When she didn’t, he said, “Yeah, those are her favorite authors.”

“They’re very depressing authors.”

Alex shrugged. “I’ve never read any of their stuff.”

Cheryl closed her eyes and sighed. “She’s got a very dark personality, Alex. Like murder of crows follow her around, Addams family’s long lost member dark. It’s just weird to me that you’re her friend when she’s so depressing.”

“Hey, you may think that, but she’s still my best friend. I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t insult her like that.”

Cheryl crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. “Maybe I should be questioning your friendship with her in different ways.”

It was safe to say the night did not go as planned. Alex brought Cheryl home in a tense silence. He gave her a chaste kiss on her cheek before she got out without a word, slamming her door shut behind her.

The night had definitely left a slight strain on their relationship. Cheryl had decided that she hated (Y/N) just because of this idea she had that Alex and (Y/N) had romantic feelings for one another, but Alex refused to end his friendship with her when that wasn’t true at all, and when he had known (Y/N) for so much longer than Cheryl. So, even though they decided to continue their relationship, it wasn’t exactly smooth sailing.

But Cheryl’s comment about (Y/N)’s personality stuck in Alex’s mind. He had never noticed a “darkness” to his best friend. She was just (Y/N), the person Alex had known since they were kids. But now he was thinking about the things she liked, and the way she acted and just her general personality. He found himself humming to himself around his apartment; a melody at first, but eventually lyrics started forming in his mind.

“You got your HP Lovecraft. Your Edgar Allan Poe.”

He quickly rushed to his work desk to scribble down the lyrics as they came to his head.

“You got your unkind ravens, and your murder of crows.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as he thought of Cheryl’s comment about (Y/N) being like a murder of crows. What Cheryl didn’t know was that (Y/N) had a tattoo along the backside of her left shoulder that was a flock of black birds. They weren’t distinguishable birds, but she often said it was a murder of crows since they were black birds. Cheryl would probably have lost her mind if (Y/N) was wearing anything that would’ve showed off that tattoo.

Thinking of Cheryl caused his mind to wander to the turmoil of their relationship. He looked down at the verse and chorus he had written about (Y/N) and thought about the fact that he was in the process of writing a song for his best friend when he had never had thought about writing one for Cheryl at all since they started dating. Maybe Cheryl was right to think Alex felt stronger feelings than friendship for (Y/N).

He shook his head. No, that’s not it. She’s my best friend since we were kids, and I’ve only known Cheryl for a few months. That’s all it is.

“I know you’re nothing like mine, cause she’s walking on sunshine. And your love would tear us apart.”

Alex was at his desk for nearly an hour putting the song together. He had two full verses and a rough outline for the chorus, but it still needed something more. He was toying around with more lyrics when he started writing, “You watch Italian horror and you listen to the scores. Leather-clad and spike collar, I want you down on all fours.”

“Whoa,” he muttered to himself. “Where the fuck did that come from?”

But now that he had written it, he couldn’t help but picture (Y/N) doing exactly what he had written: on his bed, down on all fours, her ass in the air.

He shook his head. “No,” he scolded himself. “No, stop. This is wrong.”

But he couldn’t stop. He closed his eyes and the image was embedded into his eyelids. He felt himself straining against his jeans as he imagined himself knelt behind her, looking down at her ass in the wear, wearing only a pair of lacy black underwear.

He groaned as he palmed himself through his jeans. The desire was far too strong to ignore. He had to take care of this, otherwise he knew he’d have a nasty ache between his legs that he would not be able to get rid of.

Just one time, he thought. Then I’ll never think of her like this again.

Alex unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them and his boxers down to his knees. His dick was hard as a rock and angry red. He hissed as the cool air touched the sensitive area. He spit on his hand and wrapped his hand around the base. His head tipped back as a moan erupted from his throat.

He closed his eyes and the image of (Y/N) appeared again. Her face buried into the pillow beneath her, moans muffled by the fabric of the pillow. Alex’s dick plunging in and out of her tight pussy, her ass bouncing every time his hips collided with it. He imagined that her moans were as pretty as her regular voice was. Picturing that pretty voice moaning his name caused his dick to twitch in his hand.

The wet sounds of his hand stroking his dick mixed with his heavy breathing and moans filled the room. His mind drifted from having her bent over in front of him to having her sat on his lap in the very chair where he was sat. He imagined (Y/N), still just in a matching lingerie set, pulling him away from his songwriting so she could climb up onto his lap and straddle him. He imagined her pulling the fabric of her panties to the side, a string of arousal connecting her needy hole and the underwear. He could almost feel the warm, wetness of her walls as she sunk herself down onto him, and her lips on his neck as she started to ride him.

“Fuck,” he grunted. “God, that feels so good.”

His desire to have her grew, even though he knew he never would. She was his best friend. There was no way she felt this way for him, too. And he definitely was not going to risk their friendship by bringing these feelings up to her. More than anything, (Y/N) was his friend and he wasn’t about to lose her all together. For now, the only way he’d have her would be in his imagination, and he was more than okay with that.

Behind his closed eyes he could see (Y/N)’s perfect tits bouncing in his face. He squeezed the base of his dick a little tighter as his jerking motions became quicker, almost more desperate. He could feel his high creeping up on him, and he was desperately trying to chase it.

In his mind, (Y/N) was leaning into his ear. In a sexy, sultry voice, he pictured her whispering, “Cum for me, Alex.”

And that was all he needed to go tumbling over the edge. He called out her name into his empty apartment as his hot cum spilled over his hand, lap, and some on his shirt. He mentally cursed to himself for not preparing more for the mess, but physically he felt incapable of fixing it. He let his head rest on the back of the chair as he breathed heavily. When he opened his eyes to finally face reality, he was looking up at the ceiling instead of at (Y/N)’s beautiful face.

There was a slight ringing in his ears as the blood flow from his brain to his dick finally went down. It was loud enough that he almost didn’t hear his phone vibrating on the desk and took him a moment to realize someone was trying to call him. He reached out with his clean hand to look at the caller ID, and his heart skipped a beat when (Y/N)’s name and face popped up on his screen.

Against his better judgement, Alex answered. “Hello?”

“Where the fuck are you?” (Y/N) asked, a joking tone in her voice. “I’ve sent you, like, five text messages.”

Alex pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at the lockscreen to see that (Y/N) had in fact tried to text him.

“Hey fucker, what are you doing?”

“Hello? Alex?”

“Quick wanking off and answer me.” (That one both made him laugh and made his heart pound harder against his chest.)

“Listen, can I come over? I wanted to talk about something.”

“I really hope the reason you’re not answering is not what I think.”

“Sorry, I was - uh - I was busy writing,” he said. It wasn’t entirely a lie. “I got really into it and had my phone on silent. Didn’t even know you were texting me. What’s going on? Is everything alright?”

“Well, I’m currently parked outside your place. Can I come in to talk about it?”

He felt his blood run cold. (Y/N) was outside his place right now trying to come in to talk to him, meanwhile he was sat at his work desk with cum over himself after jerking off to the thought of her.

This truly could not be any worse.

“Yeah! Yeah, just give me a second,” he said, quickly trying to figure out a solution to this.

“Alex, I’ve known you for years, you do not have to tidy the place up for me,” (Y/N) said.

“I know, I just need to...I just have to do something before you come in. Give me a second.”

He hung up before (Y/N) could protest any further. He quickly took off his already cum-stained shirt and used it to wipe off his hand and the area around his dick. He threw the shirt with the rest of his dirty clothes, tucked himself back into his jeans, and found a new shirt to put on. Just as he was pulling the shirt over his head, the doorbell started ringing. He quickly raced to his front door and threw it open to reveal (Y/N) stood there.

“Are you done whatever you had to do?” she asked, but pushed past him before he could answer.

“Come on in, make yourself at home,” he teased as he followed her in.

“I always do,” she said with a smirk. “You’re lucky I respect your privacy enough that I didn’t just get that hidden spare key and barge in here before I called.”

Very, very lucky for that, actually.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” he asked her as they reached his living room. “Your texts sounded serious.”

(Y/N) sighed and flopped down onto his couch. Alex sat across from her, leaving a decent amount of space between them. His mind was still reeling from the mental images from earlier that he wasn’t sure if he trusted himself to be so close to (Y/N) right now.

But she seemed very troubled, which was very concerning to him. (Y/N) always talked to him when something was wrong, but very rarely did she physically come over to his place to talk about something. He knew whatever it was had to be very serious for her to show up so suddenly like this.

“I ran into Cheryl at the store just now,” she said, looking down at her lap. “And...well...I know she doesn’t like me. I’m not stupid. I know there’s a reason she doesn’t come out anymore when she knows I’m there, and our brief run ins since we first met always include a glare whenever she sees me. Don’t even try to deny it, Alex.”

He wasn’t going to, but his mouth had been open to speak. He wasn’t even sure what he would’ve said, so he closed his mouth again and allowed her to go on.

“I saw her and decided just to try and avoid her. I expected her to do the same. There was really no reason for her to approach me when it was just her, so I thought. But she came right up to me in the middle of an aisle and she...well, the best way to describe it is she went off on a tirade about not liking me and how she wishes you would just stop being friends with me, and even told me that I should be the one to end our friendship so that she didn’t have to stress about me and you anymore.”

Alex’s hands balled into fists on his lap. He couldn’t believe Cheryl would really go up to (Y/N) like that when he wasn’t around. Like (Y/N), he figured that Cheryl would’ve just walked the other way and left her alone since she disliked her so much. But to go up to his best friend in a public and to go as far as telling her to stop being friends with him for the sake of a relationship that wasn’t even a month in was further than he ever expected her to go.

“I thought you weren’t responding because she got to you first,” (Y/N) continued. “I thought she was going to come to you with some made up bullshit saying that I was the one who attacked her or something.”

“I haven’t heard from her,” Alex said. “I guess she’s waiting till whenever I see her next.”

“Listen, I’m sorry that I’m causing this strain on your relationship - ”

Alex reached out to take (Y/N)’s hand to cut her off. The contact sent a spark through him, but he tried his best to ignore it.

“You’re not the one causing any strain to my relationship. Cheryl is. She’s the one who is feeling so insecure about our relationship that she has to go as far as calling you down to the dirt while I’m not around. I’ve tried everything to assure her there’s nothing to worry about between us, but it’s not enough for her. I think...I don’t think I can continue this relationship with her. Especially not after what you told me.”

(Y/N) looked down at their joined hands. In a soft voice she said, “She’s a fucking bitch.”

Alex smiled and chuckled softly. (Y/N) did as well, and eventually, they were both laughing at her comment.

When the laughter died down silence fell over them. Neither one of them knew how to break it, but they didn’t really feel like they had to. Silence always felt comfortable between the two of them. They never felt like they had to speak if they didn’t want to. They could just sit like this for hours and it would be fine.

But their hands were still joined together. (Y/N) was tracing circles in the back of his hand with her thumb, almost absentmindedly. He liked the feeling of her hand against his. He never wanted to let go of her.

“You said you were writing when I came?” she finally asked, looking up at him. “Anything good?”

“Oh, um, I think so? I haven’t really put it together properly. It’s just a couple verses and a chorus that I have to finish.”

“Can I hear it? Or see what you have written, at least?”

His face burned at the question. He knew he was definitely blushing by the way that a confused look creeped on (Y/N)’s face. How did he show her this song, which was clearly about her and included a line about wanting to fuck her, and not absolutely ruin their friendship in this moment?

“I-I guess, if-if you wanted to,” he stuttered. “But, um...it’s...it’s a little embarrassing because...well, you were my muse for it.”

Her face seemed to brighten. “Really? You were writing about me?”

“Yeah. There’s some lyrics...well, you’d know it was about you the song is released so I guess there’s no getting around it, there’s some lyrics that are a bit...more than friendly.”

And there it was. There was no taking it back.

He watched her face, trying to gauge what her reaction to that revelation would be. She was just looking at him for a moment, as if registering his words, before a smirk crept across her face.

“Then show me,” she told him, her voice low and sultry the exact same way it had been in his imagination.

And Alex swore he had never been more excited than in that moment.

[n0tamused]

Broken Memories

Genre: angst

A/N: More older stuff to post, hope you all enjoy. I did a quick proofread but knowing me I'll just say that there still may be some grammar mistakes :p

Lofty clouds sail over the Xianzhou Lofu, welcoming some distant warmth to befall the people after what felt like years and years worth of rain. Fresh air brings in the freshness which the rain left behind, feeling like a new slate of paper ready to be written on, but Blade just watches on in solemn silence. Tendrils of pain and ache make its way through his body in steady, continuous waves, not letting him relax, but not letting him move either. For him, only the present moment exists, and in a twisted way he is forced to accept it. His life knows no end, so he makes scarce peace with the present.

Remembrance of days already long and gone make their way to his head, when white locks fell down his back instead of raven black, and when he had friends to speak off, company to talk to, and dreams to dream about. In the long faded and broken memories he sees himself, Yingxing, strike a hot piece of metal over and over again until he gets it to the desired dimensions. Deft hands grab onto the pincers and tools and a bucket of cold water to mend the metal, and the process flows on effortlessly under his watchful gaze. Yingxing feels even more anxiety pool in his chest unlike he usually feels, his gaze fixated on carving the blade to have a more intricate design - this was no ordinary blade in the end, made to be given to some soldier or some higher up as compensation, no - it was a gift. It had to be perfect. Beyond perfect.

The dagger was curved and elegant, and in his hands it demonstrated to perfect balance between the point and hilt, and many little details were put into it in colors of gold and rose gold, your favorite gemstones, your favorite color in the leather grip, your favorite shapes, and about anything else he could incorporate into the dagger without overthrowing its aesthetic and its practical use. It shines beautifully under the pale sunlight, the rain clouds drifting away after days worth of rain. Yingxing smiles at his work, lifting it up above his head until he sees the reflection of his own eyes in the blade, full of mirth and under one eye there’s a smudge of charcoal. He can’t help the pride that makes his chest swell, and neither can he afford to wait for the following day to give it to you. So he makes quick work of packaging the blade and following the narrow roads, searching the entire city until he finds you and just gives the gift to you right then and there, in broad daylight with little introduction. Red paper is wrapped around the wooden box, not in the most skilled way, but in a caring way, and he relishes in the compliments you rain down upon him when he explains what it is, or even why he gave it to you. For once he feels really seen. His life-long mission is for once cast aside in favor of admiring this little side quest he ventured upon. And he feels like he could throw everything away if it meant seeing your joy every day. That evening you have invited him back to your home, served him tea and shared your events of the day, along with more passionate comments about the gifted dagger. 

Blade sighs, remembering your smile, your face, and he remembers how different it now looks in his distorted memories. He is forgetting.. He knows the face he sees in his memories is not the one he knew, he feels it in his bones and in his blackened heart. There is just something missing. The visage of his eyes can’t focus on your face nor the details of your clothes or your hands when they gripped his.

The broken dagger in his lap is unfixable - Yingxing is no longer here to mend it as before. Blade can only hold onto the essence of its memories until the whole world goes dark, and that says plenty of his grief and regret. His chin tilts down to look at the dagger, his finger jabbing at the broken blade as if it was a foreign object to him, something extra terrestrial, as if he didn’t pour his heart into it decades before. Perhaps he did pour his all into it, maybe that’s why the dagger followed the same fate as he did, as the smith poured a piece of his soul into his art. He can only hope the dagger does not represent you.. he hopes you’re out there, somewhere, happy, healthy, alive..

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[nonnieapple]

Afk journey, Sinbad, trans male/gender neutral reader, nsfw fanfiction. (I love this man very much)🤍

⛈️☂️Hook, Line, and Sinker☂️⛈️

• (Sinbad x trans!male!Reader)

• r a t i n g: e x p l i c i t • 4 1 4 0 w o r d s

• p o s t e d: 01.11.2024🌧️ navigation

n o t e: sinbad is so hot, i wish men were real :( s u m m a r y: sinbad walks in at the worst possible time, and the following events complicate your relationship further.

It was nearing night, and the hamsters were fast asleep as well as most guests of the inn. 

  When Sinbad walked into your room, you were staring out of the window with a wistful look, like the look his mothers had when they gazed out at the sea, remembering their husbands, lost forever to the fog and unrelenting waves. He wondered who you longed after, if anyone. Maybe you longed for home. Or for something he couldn't possibly imagine. 

  Before he closed the door, you broke the silence. 

  "You dare disturb my rest?"

  Even turned away, you heard him. Your voice sent tingles up his leg. The room veered towards cold, the windows open, making the curtains flutter like sails. 

  "You're really living it up in here," Sinbad remarked, inviting himself to sit down on the fancy armchair flanked by another and a couch in the west of your room. 

  He hadn't ever been in it yet, and he was sure you wouldn't mind if he just sprawled out a little, he stretched, his boots hitting the leg of the short table. Lit candles sitting upon golden thrones flickered on it. Two glasses and a bottle were there as well. 

  "As I should, I was to have a vacation, and I'm still getting it, Cedartown or not." You made your way to the couch, your visage somewhat blurry from all the glamour swallowing up your form, the air around you swaying. 

  If he looked at you too long, he could see something was terribly wrong. It was not something anyone could notice at first, or at second sight, only those looking for it might begin to pull at the thread. He stopped examining you. He wasn't sure what he'd find. 

  You were like the fog that had almost killed him- leading him in mental circles until he went mad trying to get himself out of it. 

  Sinbad's leg jerked when you approached. You stood, close, your robe made of small, black, and knitted net. It should've revealed everything you wore under it- instead, everything around your chest and hips darkened and blurred. 

  The magic that wafted off you made his head spin. Or maybe it was that he drank too much. Sinbad sighed shakily as you ghosted your touch over his face, your eyes sharp and inhuman. The next second, they turned warm. 

  "Did you drink that swill again? Here, drink something good for once." 

  He barely caught the bottle you threw into his arms, and he thought, somewhat incredulously, You're too kind.

  But, really, Magister- I don't know what to think of you. One second you wanna kill me and the next you're my savior. 

  I'll never know who you are, will I?

  His eyes skimmed over the label. Dark liquid sloshed within darker green walls. "Woah! Fancy stuff. It's actually red."

  The wine he was used to at most establishments was pale, watered down to save costs. You shrugged. You must've been used to good wine, good food, good people. He envied you. 

  "It's from an... old friend."

  The way you said that with so much hesitance made his heart drop. 

  "They must be rich."

  Sinbad popped open the bottle and poured himself some. He might as well indulge, and your room was a good place to do that. Upon second thought it might be questionable. 

  He had to hold back on drinking. He couldn't afford to do something stupid.

  "Beyond that, and a massive drunkard I could never deny, but as I don't drink I have no use for his gifts." You took up the whole couch, propping up your head with a hand, the other playing idly with the belt of your delicate robe. 

  If he was to be mean, he'd liken you to a fish caught in a net, but he couldn't lie, you were more of a siren. 

  You hummed.

  "I guess I could have a glass."

  You poured yourself nearly half the bottle, and swallowed a third of the glass, drinking like a fish. He struggled not to gawk at you. 

  "Old friend... bet you have plenty of those. Not like it bothers me," he tacked on at the end, scratching at his scalp lightly. 

  The fireplace crackled and sputtered red. Strange, it gave off no warmth. Was it magic? Sheesh, what about you wasn't magic? 

  The rug beneath his boots was sure real, and a real good rug, too. If he were to get piss drunk he'd choose the rug over the street to pass out on. Oh, there were even pillows on the floor. Perfect. 

  "I mean it. We were friends, he isn't an old flame- as far as I know."

  As far as you knew?

  "You sure about that?" He raised a brow. 

  "Quite. Though one actual old flame, I wonder how she's doing. It's been a while, I last saw her in Holistone, it has been months since then. Damn Hogan for sending me on this "vacation", now I'm stuck in the middle of the sea with no idea when I'll see him or Valen. He should've gone with me."

  Pushing aside his slight offense at the Rustport slander, you had mentioned General Hogan and Valen a few times. One was a Magistrate and, guess what, General of Holistone, the other some swashbuckling knight who, as he understood it, was hitting on you. 

  "Well, I'm glad he didn't."

  "Hm? Why is that?" You smirked, your eyes glimmering like the wine you swished in your hand.

  If Sinbad was pale, you would've seen his face lose color in an instant. 

  "I mean- I meant- he would've drowned in his armor, is all! It would've been worse than what happened to Chippy." 

  He drank quickly so he couldn't see your gloating expression.

  "You're holding your glass like you're throttling a neck." 

  Even if he drank and drank, he still heard your voice, and if he plugged his ears, you'd get into his mind, too. 

  He couldn't tell if that was a way to hint at his discomfort or point out his terrible manners. 

  "I'm not much of a wine drinker."

  You, on the other hand, held your glass between your thumb and forefinger ever so lightly. That fucking hand was calling him poor just at a glance. 

  "This better?" He emulated the way you did it, though it was nowhere near as graceful. 

  "Much better. The wine compliments your shirt." 

  The red, satin shirt, an illusion you cast, felt good nonetheless, and the wine was divine. It was bright, just sweet enough, and with a hint of berries and zest. It tasted more like the few fruits he had tried than the usual- as you put it- "swill" he drank. 

  It settled warmly in his chest, with the occasional sour tingle in his cheeks. 

  Sinbad didn't want to leave your room. It was fancy, and more importantly, it had wine AND you. 

  "How've you been?" You said between sips, your expression softening. 

  "Good. I've been spending a lot of time poking around the ship, avoiding going to Brineville so I don't have to explain myself. Things are better than before I met ya, anyway, I can finally do what I want, and... everything's so calm." 

  It was strange to not have to think about every little expense anymore for the village now that no one threatened its safety, and he was essentially a "hero". Sure, he still had to make money somehow and Rustport was as rusty as ever, but so much had been lifted off his shoulders. 

  By you, no less. 

  He'd said he'd repay you. That nagged at his mind sometimes. What could you possibly want? 

  It was nothing to worry about. It wouldn't be worse than what he had gone through. 

  "Planning on leaving soon?" 

  If he wasn't mistaken, he saw you frown ever so slightly. 

  "Not yet. I've got a lot to do here before I leave. What about you?" 

  You threw back your head and let your hair spill over the edge of the couch. 

  "You know, been here and there, helping people as I do, went fishing with my familiars. I like helping people and spending time with them but I do need alone time." 

  That was why the hamsters were in another room. Sinbad had to admit, they were cute and had grown on him. You truly were the most precious thing he had ever found washed up on the beach. He'd be no one without you. 

  "Are you leaving soon?" 

  You shook your head. "I want to stay a bit longer, until you leave, I suppose. I won't have much to do then. I'm dealing with people's problems rather quickly." 

  Of course, you weren't staying only for him. You were busy. 

  "I'm glad you're staying a bit longer." He couldn't imagine being without you now. You were the closest friend he'd had. Everyone wanted something from him, and you had asked for the least, always generous, if quirky. 

  You smiled, returning his giddy expression, which he hadn't noticed himself pull. 

  He felt his face get warmer. Must've been all the wine. 

  He and you listened to the crackling of the fire, finishing your glasses. You lounged like a cat. You were the image of peace when you closed your eyes. He rolled up his sleeves, feeling somewhat hot all of a sudden. He waited for you to kick him out, it'd happen sooner or later.

  You watched from under your lashes. 

  "I was surprised that you had tattoos, though they are common here," you said. 

  He had helm tattoos on each forearm. "Funny story, I got them when I was drunk, like, extremely. I don't remember where or how exactly I got them." At least they healed fine and he had not felt much pain. He hadn't felt much at all.

  "They suit you well." Your eyes lingered for a while. 

  "I have more that you haven't seen." He smirked, putting on that smooth-talking persona again. 

  "Although tempting, you won't smooth-talk me, Sinbad," you said sternly. 

  He sighed. A guy had to try. You were so damn hard to scam and trick, it was annoying. You were one of the only people immune to his charms. You were looking at him like he was a helpless animal. Again. 

  Instead of words of pity, he was hit with: 

  "You look upset. Mope in another room, I'm exhausted," you said, yawning and turning away from him unceremoniously. 

  He left with a huff. 

  "Good night to you too, Magister Merlin." 

  ...

  "Good night." 

  He should've been asleep.

  Sinbad crept across the hall towards your newly luxurious room, careful not to make a sound, like he was escaping from a dungeon (like he had many times). 

  Sinbad cracked open your door. Strange, he left it unlocked, he thought. The room was dark and silent except for the sounds of the breeze coming in through the windows, like breaths.

  You seemed to be asleep, as far as he could tell. He was sure he had heard something from your room. Maybe it had been the wind.

  "Magister?" he said into the black, closing the door behind himself. It was not entirely dark, he noticed as he moved towards your canopy bed, as there was a lone candle burning close to the window. 

  The fireplace had no remains of smoldering wood. 

  The windows- they were closed shut. The sound was not from there. Had it been the draft instead? If this was how noisy the good rooms were, he'd go complain to Bols later. 

  Sinbad pushed past the closed curtains of the canopy bed, the fabric heavy and lush, a velvet he hadn't even dreamed of touching before, with much trepidation, his heart tense, ready for a beast to lunge at him any moment. 

  He didn't see what happened, it happened swiftly, the shape in the bed shifting loudly. The sound of the breeze halted. 

  "Ah, Sinbad. I was just thinking of you," you said, and it was undeniably you, your voice quiet yet clear, a little exasperated, your breathing so shallow he would've believed you if you said you had run around the whole of Rustport in a minute. 

  He would've believed you if you hadn't been in your bed all this time.

  "Why aren't you asleep?" he stammered with wide eyes, gaze lost as he adjusted, making out your fuzzy shape. It was leaner than usual. He sensed none of your usual glamours on you.

  "I could ask the same of you." 

  He leaned his knee on the bed, and you moved away. 

  "Some noise woke me up, and I thought it came from your room. Was I right?" He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, seeing that you lay rigid and didn't want him to come near you. To him, it seemed that something had happened, and you were uncooperative as to what. 

  One of his jobs was to get information. Clearly, he wasn't much good at it with you around. 

  "Did something happen, Magister? You're worrying me." His brows lowered over his honey-brown eyes. 

  "You didn't knock. You should leave my room." The light brightened against your face. Your skin was dewy and your hair was disheveled, the bedsheets in disarray. You were a mess. 

  The Merlin, a mess? 

  "I did know- and- you can't kick me out again!" He leaned over you as you leaned against cushiony pillows.

  You pushed on his chest to get him away, your hand hot and humid. 

  "... Are you dense or what?" you snapped. "What do you think I'm doing in a dark room, alone, in my bed, gasping for air?" 

  His face transitioned from bewilderment to horror. 

  Oooh.

  Embarrassment hit him like a wave. Holy Tritonus, he had heard you moaning. In this case, he was dense beyond belief. And the reason you were recoiling wasn't because something was wrong, it was, because, well. He chose the worst possible time to intrude. 

  And the reason your frame seemed leaner now was because you had no glamours concealing your body indeed, and no clothes besides that robe. He could see your bare skin between the fabric you held together with a tense hand. 

  He had trouble not looking. And it wasn't the wine, that had long left his system. 

  "Shit, I... I didn't..."

  He had no excuse, and so close to you, caging you in, neither of you could escape, captured in the world's most awkward stalemate. The words drowned in the depths of his mind.

  "You said you were thinking about me earlier. Do you mean...?" he trailed off, his voice mumbling and strained. Everything felt like a dream. He'd pinch himself if he wasn't frozen. 

  "I left the door open for you. I didn't expect you to come." 

  Sinbad's breathing had accelerated. He had already had thoughts about you. He couldn't possibly resist anything you asked him to do. That hint of servitude remained in him, and he was all eager to please. 

  "I'm here." He tried to smile, but it came out rather strained. 

  You pulled him in by tangling your hands in his freshly dried hair. Your lips were one push away. 

  He had already gotten ready for bed- his skin infused with whatever fancy soaps he managed to snatch this time. It mixed with that woody scent of a faraway home that clung to you no matter how many times you got drenched with rain or seawater. 

  "So?" 

  He felt your every breath. Berries. 

  "So..."

  You kissed him first. 

  You were far from a reserved, shy mage. You nipped at his lip and broke the kiss just to piss him off. 

  He cursed like the sailor he was. Next thing he knew, his boots were lost in the dark along with his scarf (it felt like sacrilege to wear it during this), his shirt untucked and partially unbuttoned by your nimble fingers. You traced over the anchor tattoo between his collarbone and shoulder. 

  That wasn't how he expected you to find it. 

  Your hips were fuller than they appeared, filling him with thoughts he couldn't possibly speak, and your waist was small, perfect for holding when he-

  Your chest wasn't quite... flat. That made him stop. His silent question hung in the air. 

  "I'm trans," you said, amused at how he was surprised by you again and again. You had hidden your chest to a point where he couldn't have guessed. 

  He had never been with someone like you (in any sense), but he didn't mind. 

  Your chest was soft, each breast perfectly fitting into his hand. At each caress and pull you reacted accordingly. It was his turn to be amused, and he was enjoying it immensely. 

  Your face and voice did not falter, the only thing betraying your feelings being your shallow breathing. Would your breaking point be easy to reach, or would he reach his first? 

  Goosebumps raised on your thighs when he felt them up with his calloused fingers. Only the richest of the rich could have pristine hands in Rustport. Sinbad spread your legs with little resistance from you, his hand wrapping around most of your thighs' circumference. 

  His hand dipped between your legs. You were wet, the wetness covering parts of your inner thighs. The hotness ignited a fever in him, a fever he hadn't felt in a long time, and never so strongly. Most of his prior fucks were hookups, and sometimes, to get out of uncomfortable situations in his jobs. They didn't happen often and he hardly looked forward to them. With you, he could hardly stop his hands and other body parts of his from thrusting right into you. You were by far the hottest guy he'd been with.

  At the rough touch on your clit you jolted with a soft sigh, your legs closing on instinct, but they were stopped by Sinbad being in the way. 

  The thought crossed his mind that you were surrounded by others from all sides, and at any second, anyone could walk in. He didn't mind- he liked a bit of danger. 

  "How are you feeling?" he whispered close to your ear, hand exploring all the places that could feel best for you. He would make sure you'd remember this as a positive memory, and even if you left and never saw him again, the scene would stick in your mind.

  "I've been better," you said with a shortness of breath, but impressively coherently.

  "Don't you think this is a bad time for jokes?" Would you still talk like that if he filled you up? Would your face still be so serene? 

  "It's a perfect time for-" he interrupted you as he slid his finger over your clit over and over again, making your legs tremble and your brows lower. He might've not been experienced, but he was a quick learner.

  After he got you to a point where you were panting and your pulse hammered relentlessly, he lowered his finger to your entrance, teasing it. You covered your mouth. A thin string, like fishing line, followed his hand as he withdrew. 

  Sinbad began with one finger, your tight walls even hotter than your wetness. Fuck. It felt amazing on his fingers. It might've made him cum instantly if he tried fucking you like that. 

  "Relax your muscles, there's no need to be tense," he said soothingly. 

  You visibly stopped straining and let him push his finger in fully. It circled your smooth cervix. You were pretty shallow inside. 

  He was clueless at that point, unsure of what to do for you. 

  "Curl your finger towards yourself."

  Now you were the one close to his ear, leaning on his shoulders so he could have better access and less lewd sounds would be heard. 

  When he curled it as you said, he felt a spongy tissue that gave way under his prodding. You bit into his shoulder with little regard for how much that shit hurt. It would leave a mark, or even better, a scar. Yay. One more to the arsenal. He would have a hard time explaining that one, as it was in a visible place between his neck and shoulder muscles. 

  He groaned at the pain, pulling you halfway onto him. One hand of his rubbed your clit, and the other, inside you. You must've been leaving a hickey judging by the slight tingle on his neck. It made him harder than he already was. 

  Feeling every little groove inside and outside you couldn't be replicated by just ramming his dick in, and he thanked you that you had made the choice, since he was unwise- in general. 

  "What would your love-struck Knight think, Magister?" He pressed his lips into your shoulder. Slim, but surprisingly muscled from carrying every situation you got into on your shoulders. 

  You'd look good on top of him. With other people, his mind veered into nonsense and mundane thoughts of what he'd have for breakfast. Right now all he could think about was you, you in every way, in every angle, his. Everyone was right- he was greedy. Just not about money. 

  "Getting fingered by someone you met, what, a month ago? If even that?" Sinbad smirked, making sure you saw his expression. You bit your lip and gazed at him like you were oh so woeful. Would you tell the Knight what you'd done tonight? He didn't care if you did or not, but if you did, Sinbad would've loved like to see his face. 

  "He'd be jealous, I bet," you stuttered out with each thrust and curl of his finger, and when he added a second, you were reduced to adorable huffs and sighs, far from the virtuous Magister Merlin out in Rustport streets, a man of class and poise. A man who was now gasping for air with Sinbad's fingers deep in his cunt.

  He kissed from the swell of your chest, up to your collarbones and neck. You were not a man, not a human, you were a dream, a fog a foolish sailor like him would lose himself in.

  Screw him trying to make you never forget him. He'd never forget you, as he fell for you hook, line, and sinker, a fish falling for bait. He would never find someone like you. Someone who so easily saw through his tricks and had him willingly serve. 

  He could do it every night, sneaking in, fucking you whichever way you wanted him to, and acting like nothing was afoot. 

  You got him. 

  He kept gently fingering you as you gasped in an orgasm, one quite notable, your body going soft against his, your skin sticky and heart pounding. 

   What he had done felt automatic, like his body wasn't entirely his, his rhythm mechanical in nature, following your every whim and whine. He had just gotten you off, willingly, giddily, even, and enjoyed it. 

  That had been a first for him. 

  The first thing you said to him once you regained your breath and composure was: "Go wash your hands." 

  What a sweet way to snap him out of it. 

  It was fortunate that you had a bathroom attached to your bedroom. He didn't feel keen on doing a walk of shame through the halls. 

  The mirror revealed to him how hard you'd bitten him, leaving not only a hefty tooth mark, but even a hickey, too high for his scarf to hide. He cursed you inside his mind. All things considered, it was expected to have him do whatever he wanted to you, not the other way around. If you told him to jump into the sea right this second he probably would've done it. A flush was blooming across his face, not too obvious, but there. 

  You were next in the bathroom, and when you returned, Sinbad was on your bed, grinning. He did not budge a muscle.

  "You're not kicking me out again, Magister. This handsome face needs its beauty sleep." 

  "I'll allow it," you said, tucking yourself in on the other side. Sinbad lay curled to take up as little space as possible. It wasn't exactly comfortable. You neared him, tugging his arms around your back, and you entwined under the thick blanket. 

  Hook, line, and sinker. 

  He didn't want the morning to arrive and so cruelly take you away. He'd savor every moment he had with you. For once in his life, he did not feel bound to you by duty, but by the call of his heart, similar to how he felt about the sea. Like the sea, you'd pull him in, and keep him wallowing in feelings so alien. 

  Did you know what you did to him? He didn't need you to. He just needed you close. 

  "Good night," he said. 

  "Seriously this time?" 

  "Seriously, I promise." 

  The lone candle flickered out.

[jaynovz]

Expanded Info for Black Sails Kink Meme 2024

Hi there!

Since there has been a sufficient amount of interest for this idea, let me explain a little further how I think this will work and general guidelines–

I’m encouraging as informal and low stress/pressure of an atmosphere as possible here. Back in The Day when LiveJournal Kink Memes were common, it was very typical to see a prompt put up and filled within an hour. It doesn’t have to be polished, it doesn’t have to make logistical sense, it just has to fill the prompt as best as you can, sexily! It’s supposed to be fun. A bunch of fun, raunchy kink and smut to roll around in as a fandom. 🥳 🥳

So yeah, first thing to expect, it’s basically ALL PWP (porn without plot). Not to say that someone can’t write a full plot epic if they like, do whatever you like, but in my experience, a 4am fugue state smut fill written in a sweaty haze is kind of, the spirit of the thing. We’re creating ficlets, snapshots, tasty treats of smut with as little pressure to make it in any way polished as possible. Please think of this as, hmmm, a little fun writing exercise you do before you go back to your Big Serious Work, if that helps. We are letting loose, we are having fun, we are being deliciously, joyously, unrepentantly filthy with it! The tagline for the event is: “Get High, Jerk Off Three Times, and Write Me a Warmup :DD”

A prompt might say, for example– “MaxAnne, s2, would love to see the girls get slippery wet with some period sex, bonus if one or both eats the other out while she’s menstruating.” 

Pretty standard stuff, nothing that off the wall from my perspective, however, some folks might feel shy about asking for it for whatever reasons and so the anonymous format frees ppl up to ask for anything from: “Midshipman James McGraw getting caned in pre-canon by his superiors” to, idk, “full tentacle-y type oviposition porn where someone is being forced to come over and over again while being implanted with eggs by some giant plant beast on Skeleton Island (probably Silver).”

Literally ask for whatever smut you want~~ This is your chance, toss it into the pot! It will be tagged accordingly when posted if it’s filled, so live your truth, chase your bliss, know no shame, no one can see you~~

It is helpful when submitting a prompt to give details that are important to you, and the prompt filler will do their best with it. <3 So, I suggest giving a ship specification up front, maybe a vague timeline (season 1, season 2, etc), and then the kinks you want to see with a short description. Sort of like the MaxAnne period sex I gave an example of above.

Logistics and Structure of Submissions–

I have created a sideblog called @blacksailskmeme through which, once submissions are live (it will be open to accept prompts hopefully in March 2024), you may submit ANON ASK PROMPTS. I will publish them with a number and a link to the collection. If you like one of the prompts, simply post it through the collection with its corresponding number and then that AO3 link to your fill will be reblogged underneath the original ask prompt.

Simple as that! 

Follow the Event Blog, or the tag #2024BSKMemeFills in order to keep tabs on when prompts are filled. 

This makes it very easy for me and yall both, as there is no claiming process to trouble ourselves with. As many fills as are written are allowed for each prompt, simply write whatever speaks to you and I’ll be able to track the fills by the notifs on the collection. :DD

As of now, I’m planning to open prompts in March 2024 and keep the collection and blog running for prompts and fills both up through the end of Summer 2024. To respect the spirit of the event, all fills and prompts MUST be anonymous. Edit for clarification: The entire collection is marked Anonymous, which means any work submitted to it will be posted Anon. There is no option you need to worry about checking to guarantee this. I apologize for the initial confusing language, I have been learning as I go.

It still stands that if, after the event is closed, you want to then de-anon your work, that is your prerogative. However, it will mean you must remove the work from the collection, as the collection itself will forever and always remain anonymous.

Rules–

–This is an 18 plus event, please, as all of the content will be Explicit. 

–It is also a Black Sails Only Event, please no crossover prompts or fills. However, AU of all types are encouraged with our favorite pirates.

–All ships, all kinks, are welcome for submission, and the fill will then be tagged appropriately. If you have any questions on how to tag something, or just want another pair of eyes to confirm, you can always DM me <3

–Fills must be 500 words minimum of fic. There is no maximum and the fill is allowed to be WIP if you intend to write more chapters later. I would encourage that the content of the prompt be IN the first chapter at least before submission to the collection.

–We’re Gonna Be Nice and Civil!! No ship bashing, no kink shaming, we’re all mature adults here. If you don’t like something, then don’t fill it, don’t reblog it, don’t read it, pretend you do not see it. If you don’t like it, it’s not for you! 

If I haven’t covered everything here, or if you’re unsure about something, feel free to reach out to me either through the event blog or through @jaynovz <3 Also, if you’d like to help me out with the event, hit me up as well.

Thank you!

[danielfuckingricciardo]

I Think This is the Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship - Daniel Ricciardo x Reader (Platonic)

Pairing - Daniel Ricciardo x Reader (Platonic)

Word Count - 2.7k

Content Warning - Swearing, sexism mention

Synopsis - The reader loses a friend, but gains one in the form of a previous foe.

Author’s Note - This one has been sat in my drafts for a while, and I honestly wasn’t sure where it was going at all, so I kinda decided to make this like a platonic fic where Daniel and the reader are just friends? Not sure how I feel about it, but I kinda like the kind of flirty banter relationship dynamic going on by the end! Let me know if you like this sort of thing, or if you prefer the ones where they fuck nasty (I’ll be back to that stuff soon, don’t worry lol)

“Go fuck yourself.” You say, and Daniel scoffs.

“But wouldn’t it be more fun if you fucked me instead?” He retorts, and you roll your eyes.

“I’m not in the mood to play these fucking games, Daniel, not right now. Just… fuck off and leave me alone.” You shout back, fighting the angry tears that had begun to form in your waterlines.

“Oh, stop playing, you know you secretly love me, you’re just too stubborn to admit it.” He says, and you sigh.

“Look, I’ve had a shit night, I just wanna go home and cry, so I really can’t be arsed to deal with your teasing bullshit right now.” You say, taking a step towards him to point your black-polished finger in his face.

It’s at this point that you see Daniel’s cocky expression drop to one of concern. At least, that’s what it looked like to you, but you couldn’t be sure. This wasn’t one of the expressions you had filed away in the section of your mind that related to Daniel. You hadn’t seen it before. You’d seen disgust, loathing, and that cocky smirk you always wanted to punch off of his face, but never concern.

The bass of the music thrummed inside your chest, and the smoke and dull red lights of the club offered you some protection as your eyes began to lose grip on your tears, sending them cascading down your cheeks.

“Just, leave me alone, yeah?” You say, your voice barely audible, before you storm out of the club and into the brisk coldness of the evening air.

You wrap your arms around your body to preserve what little warmth remained inside you. Every little hair on your body stood on end as the wind whipped around you, cooling you from the outside as your now frozen heart did the same from the inside. Your entire body felt numb. The only heat you felt was from the fresh, salty tears that dripped down your cheeks.

You hold up your arm to hail a passing taxi, but the driver sails right past you. Not deterred, you try again, only for the driver to pass you without even sparing a glance in your direction.

“Fuck. Shit. Fuck.” You yell in frustration, stamping your foot on the concrete path as a spoilt child might after being denied a shiny new toy.

You hear a whistle from behind you, and an approaching cab flashes his indicators and stops in the lay-by beside you.

You can’t help but silently curse your inability to whistle, and consider for a moment grovelling to whoever had called the cab to allow you to take it instead.

Turning around, you are met with those same sad, brown eyes you had seen for the first time in the club. Daniel had followed you outside, and had been the one to call the cab.

“It looked like you were having a little trouble with the cabbies, so I thought I’d help you out.” Daniel says, and you shoot him a quick smile in gratitude. You may not really like him, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to be seen as rude, no matter how much the sight of him made your blood boil.

“I thought I told you to leave me alone?” You say, walking beside him to approach the door of the black cab.

“It’s gonna take more than that to get rid of me, you must know that by now.” Daniel says, and you can’t help but chuckle in response.

“Oh, believe me, I know. If that was all it took I’d have been rid of you months ago. You’re like a bad penny, Ricciardo.”

“Bad penny is actually my middle name.” Daniel says, with a flash of a smile.

“Oh yeah? I thought it was ‘Danger’ or ‘I’ve got a massive cock and a hotel room five minutes from here’?”

“I’ve got a few middle names, actually. Those are… some of them.” Daniel responds, and you chuckle once again, wiping away a cold tear from your cheek.

Daniel opens the door of the cab, allowing you to slide into the seat.

“Hey, budge up.” Daniel says, poking you in the shoulder.

“You’re not coming with me.” You say, matter-of-factly.

“Oh yes I am. I can’t let you leave on your own when you’re crying and stuff.”

“Fine.” You say as you slide into the seat behind the driver.

Daniel takes the seat beside you and closes the door, allowing the cabbie to pull away and take off down the darkened street.

‘Where to?” The cabbie says, and you bite your lip.

“Fuck, I don’t know.” You say.

“Your hotel?” Daniel suggests, and you shake your head.

“Mine then.” Daniel says, “The Shard, please mate.”

The cabbie nods and returns his focus to the busy London streets.

“So, what’s with you? I’ve never seen you cry before, it’s weird.” Daniel says, and you sniff.

“I’m not crying. Not really, anyway. I’m just angry and when I’m angry my eyes like to leak.” You respond, wiping away a stray tear from your cheek.

“Fair enough. What has you so angry? I’ve made you angry a million times, and you never cried then, so this must be serious rage, yeah?” He asks, that same concerned look reappearing on his face.

“You really wanna know?” You question, quickly glancing up from your lap to briefly make eye contact with Daniel.

“A problem shared is a problem halved, right?”

“Well, oh, it’s stupid really. You’ll laugh at me.” You say, keeping your eyes locked to your hands which were positioned in your lap, picking the skin at the edge of one of your cuticles.

“I promise I won’t laugh. Swear on my life.”

“Well, if you’re swearing on your life, then you must mean it, because you really love your life.” You chuckle, glancing up to meet Daniel’s eyes once again for a second. You could tell from that one look that he was serious, he really wanted to know what was bothering you so much.

“As I said, it’s stupid, but my friend who came out to celebrate with us, she disappeared, and I found out that she left with some guy. And I’m just so pissed off because she always does this. She always abandons me and leaves me on my own in random clubs in favour of random guys who’ll probably leave her on read the next day. And to top it all off, I check my phone and she’s messaged me to say that they’re in our hotel room so I probably should find somewhere else to stay the night. Like what the fuck, right?” You say, your anger rising within you once again.

“That’s fucked up, she can’t just kick you out of your hotel room like that.” Daniel says, and you nod.

“Exactly, and I paid for the fucking room too! Like, what? And I don’t have any other friends, everyone here hates me, so it’s not like I can just crash with someone else. Usually I end up finding some seedy bar that stays open all night and sitting there till the morning. But I just don’t wanna do that anymore. I’m done. This is the last time. And if it means I officially have no friends left on this planet anymore, then that’s fine, because I realise now that she wasn’t a good friend anyway.”

“You have friends, don’t be fucking insane.” Daniel says, and you scoff.

“Oh really, do I? Like who?” You ask sarcastically.

“Like me?”

“You’re not my friend, Daniel, you hate me. And you don’t have to pretend to be my friend now that you can see how truly pathetic I am.” You say, looking up into his eyes which appear to be filled with confusion.

“You think I hate you?” He asks, a tinge of hurt in his voice.

“Well, obviously, you do. All the competition, constant teasing and backhanded compliments to the press, I see it, and I understand it. Don’t try and deny it, Daniel.” You say, giving him a sad smile.

“I will try to deny it, because it’s not true! I don’t hate you, and I never have. It was all just… banter? I thought you knew that?”

“Huh, really?” You say, and Daniel nods.

“£15.70 please mate.” The cabbie says as the car comes to a stop outside the skyscraper that Daniel called home during your team’s brief stay in London.

Daniel pays the driver and the two of you step out once again into the cold night air.

You wrap your arms around your body to keep warm as you make your approach to the entrance of the building. Daniel notices this and shrugs his jacket from his shoulders, wrapping around your own and offering you a small smile.

“Thanks.” You say, and he nods at you.

“Does this mean that all this time I thought you were just… joking back to me that you actually hated me?” Daniel asks, breaking the silence that had descended between the two of you.

“I never hated you. I don’t think it’s possible for anyone to hate you. You’re just so damn loveable, everyone seems to think the sun shines out of your arse and it’s hard to deny it does. No matter how much I really, really wanted to hate you, I just… couldn’t.” You say, and Daniel laughs.

“Well, there you go then, you don’t hate me, and I don’t hate you. I think that makes us friends, right?” Daniel asks, nudging your shoulder with his own.

“I think there’s a few steps between being enemies and being friends we skipped, but considering I’m currently severely lacking in friends, I’m willing to skip a few of ‘em.” You say with a chuckle.

“Okay, so, now that we’re friends, you wanna tell me more about what happened with that bitch who abandoned you? You don’t have to, I just think it’d be good for you to get it all off your chest.” Daniel says, stopping to take a seat on an empty bench.

You take a deep breath in and out, watching as the water vapour clouds around you in the cold night air. You take a seat beside him and he squishes against you for warmth.

“Well, where do you want to start? We’ve known each other since we were kids. Went to boarding school together. We both never really fitted in, I got bullied a lot by the other kids for being a teacher’s pet. It didn’t help that the school were always using my karting trophies as a flex, showing me off like some prized pig. She was your typical nerdy kid, was always getting picked on for it, so I used to stand up for her. But then school finished, she continued her studies and I kept going with my racing.”

You take a pause and look over at Daniel, who appears to be listening intently. He gives you a nod with raised eyebrows, urging you to continue.

“Well, I tried my hardest to keep contact with her. Whenever I was around for races I always used to invite her out with us to catch up. But it always ended the same way. She’d cop off with some guy on the team, leaving me to fend for myself in the club. I always assumed she thought that I had plenty of driver friends to hang out with, so it wouldn’t be a problem, but maybe she just didn’t care? Like I get that she didn’t get to be that crazy party girl in her teens, neither did I, but you don’t just abandon your friend for a shag like that, right? Like that’s fucked up.”

“Why didn’t you have other friends, like other drivers, I mean?” Daniel asks, and you chuckle awkwardly.

“Well, that’s a loaded question if I’ve ever heard one. I guess I still had hang-ups about not fitting in. Shit had been tough as a girl in karting, a lot of the boys used to laugh at me and make fun. So I guess I just assumed that my teammates in F3 and F2 would do the same? It was just easier to keep my distance and protect myself than risk dealing with all that shit again. And now I’m here, Red Bull’s reserve driver, the only woman in touching distance of an F1 career right now, and I’m just totally isolated. Except for you, I guess.”

“Exactly, you have me now. Fuck her, and fuck all this anxiety you’ve got going on. Shitty kids will be shitty kids, but these guys on the grid, they’re good. Didn’t you see the praise and kind words they all said when journalists asked them about you? They’re all stoked that F1 is finally taking a step in the right direction, and I’m sure they’d be just as excited to get to know you as I am.” Daniel says, and you scoff.

“Trust me, you won’t be excited to get to know me once you actually start.” You say, and Daniel shakes his head.

“Well, I’m getting to know you now, and I like you. Besides, I think I already had a good idea of who you were as a person. You were willing to get in on the whole banter thing, which I liked. At least, I assumed it was just banter. Maybe that’s on me, I should’ve talked to you first before I started this whole teasing thing with the press, made sure we were both on the same page. I’m sorry for that, for making you think I hated you. I think you’re great actually, and I’m actually really proud of you for proving those sexist teenage cuntbags wrong.” Daniel says, and your previously frozen heart begins to defrost within you.

“Well, that’s really sweet of you to say. Thank you,” You say, pausing to take a breath, “I’d like to get to know you better too. The real Daniel, that is, not the carefully cultivated media personality version of you. Speaking of, you’ve gotta teach me how to do that.”

“Do what?” Daniel asks, a bemused look on his face.

“The PR shit. I mean, you’re so good at it! Like you’re not even on the grid this year and yet you still have more support than most of the guys out there!” You say, and Daniel chuckles.

“A winning personality is not something that can be taught, it’s something you’re born with, baby. But maybe, just maybe, I can take you under my wing and coax it out of you?” He suggests, nudging your shoulder gently with his own.

“Really? So I’d be like… your apprentice?” You ask, and he nods.

“Something like that. The Luke Skywalker to my Yoda.”

“Teach me to play the PR game, you will.” You say in a poor imitation of Yoda’s voice, and Daniel cracks up.

“Film nerd.” He says, wiping away a stray tear from his waterline that had escaped during his episode of laughter.

“Hey, you made the Star Wars reference first mate!” You say, slapping him on the arm.

“Fair enough. Now lets get inside, yeah? I’m freezing my nutsack off out here.” He says, standing from the bench and offering you his arm.

You stand and take Daniel’s arm, looping your hand onto his and pressing your freezing cold hand to his own. He jumps at the cold contact on his own warm skin, pushing your hand away and flashing you a middle finger with his spare hand.

You chuckle at his reaction, returning his rude hand gesture, earning another laugh from Daniel.

“(y/n), I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” Daniel says, and you roll your eyes.

“Casablanca? Really? Now who’s the film nerd?”

“Still you, you got my reference.” Daniel replies, a smug smile on his lips.

“Touché.”

[jadetheblueartist]

WHATVE YOU FOUND ON THE WEBSITE!? I WANNA KNOW!!! THAT WEBSITE IS SO COOL IINDVFI)JKCNSDKNCSKJSNDC

AHHHHHHHH I NEED TO READ THE BOOK OF BILL MY BRO STILL HAS IT SO I HAVE TO WAIT IUSDNIUWEFFNJKWENDJKWENDKJEWNKDJWENKJDEWNKJ

Okay okay I’m gonna share my most favorite thing from the website (that doesn’t really interfere with the book bc OOOOOOH SOME OF THE BOOK CODES ARE CRAZY ON THE WEBSITE ASHHDJDJSJS) but when you put Stan in the computer repeatedly it takes you to different eBay pages. First to brass knuckles, then to gold chains for old men, and so on and so forth a few more pages. That is until you get to the “wheel of shame.” It’s a little page with different drop downs relegating shameful parts of Stan’s past and stuff. I’ll put a cut here if you wanna check it out yourself without spoilers.

The last little drop down is “how he beat me.” When you first click it, it says (presumably from Bill) “He didn’t beat me. I’m still here, sucker.” If you go out and click it again, it says the same thing. But if you continue to click it, the messages of Bill get more angry and desperate and the notes descend into madness and screaming and then there is a page saying “WHAT ARE TOU DOING TO ME?” then “DO YOU EVEN FATHOM HOW MUCH PAIN IM” then “SOMETIMES WHEN I CLOSE MY EYE I CAN” then “I CAN STILL SEE (followed by four different codes which roughly translates to “through everyone I’ve ever-“)” then “I CANT TURN IT OFF” then “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

Then finally the glitching disappears and it’s just Stan’s symbol on fire with the following written:

“Stanley Pines, the conman clown,

Always dragged his family down.

One mistake, disowned, denied,

Only thing to do was hide.

One way out: the open road.

Reinvent, retry, reload.

A girdle, eyepatch, fathers fez,

"I'm a new man!" so he says

Couldn't outrun life's regrets,

Just kept placing bigger bets.

Changed his haircut, switched hotels-

Truth is just whatever sells.

When you've lost track of your lies,

When the poison starts to rise,

When the walls are closing in,

When its clear you cannot win,

When your actions make it worse,

When they see you as a curse,

Give the wheel one last spin,

Take your chips and go all in,

And Lucky Stan- the roll's on black,

He got his life and family back.

His big break, it finally came,

Redemption from a life of shame.

You really think you won the day.

You packed your bags and sailed away.

You think you left the past behind.

But trust me, I’m still on your mind.”

So yeah this part makes me go insane, especially after watching some theory videos (here’s the playlist but it has spoilers for everything) about what Bill said could mean exactly (like the pain thing and I can still see)

Video one, two, and three (I can’t remember which one covers what I talked about but I think it’s one or both of the last two)

BUT YEAH IM SO EXCITED FOR YOU TO READ THE BOOK ITS SO GOOD IM IN THE MIDST OF DECODING EVERYTHING AND AHHHHHH

[etoilesombre]

Fic Master List

I got tired of having to decide which fic post to keep pinned, so I made this. Proper summaries, tags and warnings all on AO3.

Black Sails

Another Way - Silverflint, E, 29,399 words, complete. Dubcon! But in a very old-school fanfic trope fuck or die way. It diverges from the scene where they get captured taking the warship. They do work through everything in the aftermath, and the end is very sweet actually.

By Faith of my Body - Silverflintmadi in various combinations, but emphasis on the flintmadi relationship. E, Chapter 1/4 posted. Flint and Madi bond over books, the weight of leadership, and being in love with John Silver. FealtySub!Flint, shameless use of literature for my own nefarious purposes, and so much pining.

Another Troy to Burn - Series. Silverflint longfic series, my special precious baby and literally the first thing I ever wrote. It's canon where they're fucking the whole time but it doesn't change anything. There is a moodboard (thanks @jaynovz) and also a playlist.

A Composite Unity - E, 20,366 words, complete. The first two seasons, Flint pov. He is not having a great time.

The Salt and the Sea - E, 60,495 words, complete. Set during the season 2-3 break, how Silver decided to stay and what happened with the gold. He is also not having a great time.

It Only Made Me Real- E, chapters 4/? posted. Silver adjusting to his role as quartermaster, Flint being Flint during the raids. I swear upon everything holy that I WILL finish this series if its the last thing I do, but, it has been on hiatus for a while.

for to fight the cold - Silverflint, E, 11,283 words, complete. Flint arrives to rescue Silver while he is still being held captive on the beach after the failed attack on Nassau. The cathartic murder of Israel Hands, followed by angst, caretaking, and a sexual tension filled camping trip.

If It Was You - Silverflint, E, 17,430 words, complete. Free use gangbang porn that got out of control and also grew a lot of feelings. The boys spend the night in port on a mission. There is only one bed. Flint freaks out and makes questionable choices, Silver walks in on the whole thing, they have to work through it. Cathartic happy ending. The very Most dirty talk.

I'll Carry You Home Tonight - Silverflint, E, 6,604 words, complete. This one is just porn. Season 3-4 break, the guys are newly in a relationship, they get Pirate Date Night. It's working title was 'impact play and 5 phases of ass stuff'.

Kinkmeme-Verse - Series of prompt fills for 2024 Black Sails kinkmeme. I wrote the first two, saw the prompt for the third, and had a Vision of how they could all be connected, so here we are.

As a Boy - James Flint|McGraw/Admiral Hennessey, E, 5,121 words, complete. Young James McGraw is caught with a boy, and punished. Big content warning for CSA, which I tried to treat seriously.

Pressure - Silverflint, E, 4,504 words, complete. More watersports are we all shocked? This is kind of the ultimate expression of that, but really its an exploration of pain and grief and healing through BDSM.

Make Sail for the Dawn - Silverflint, E, 12,504 words, complete. Flint uses submission as catharsis amidst his grief and pain over Miranda, but Silver accidentally reminds him of past history, which he then has to confront. They work through it, because Silver really has to do everything on this ship, including being his captain's therapist. Also Flint gets fucked with his pistol. Just by the way. This is the one prompter hated! Go see for yourself if it is, in fact, Too Awful For Kinkmeme XD.

long as amber of ember glows - Silverflint, E, 7,933 words, complete. If 3.10 ended the way it should have. There are love confessions, and they fuck on the gold. No literally, on it. It's very sweet honestly.

Our Feast is But Beginning - Series. Silverflint Cookingverse! Flint teaches Silver to cook.

Spit-Roasted - M, 5,821 words, complete. The one where Flint shows Silver how to roast a pig. It's canon! Flint is very weird about sex.

Gentille Alouette - E, 11,618 words, complete. Late night cooking dates on the Walrus, continuing intense sexual tension, Flint is basically edging himself. He sure is a way.

Princes of the New World - E, 38,145 words, complete. This one got a little out of hand, it has many things in it, including lots of hurt comfort and caretaking, the guys finally getting together and also not hiding their relationship, some intense gender vibes (Silver gets to be a pampered pretty princess) and yes, even some cooking.

Our Shadows That Are Bold - Silverflint, E, 4,912 words, complete. Dom Silver. The first little iteration of fealty sub Flint, he sure has some feelings about Silver coming into his own as king.

So We Begin - Silverflint, E, 4,038 words, complete. 3.7 missing scene fic that is exactly what you would expect after stomp stomp and the "how good it feels" conversation.

The Soft Animal of Your Body - Silverflint, E, 3,398 words, complete. The watersports one. Yep sure is, omorashi style, with a good side of hurt comfort stuff and also Flint telling a weird dirty story. Set during warship recovery time. This is basically an outtake of longfic because it doesn't quite work there but wouldn't leave my brain.

the sound that you found for me - T, background silverflintmadi, but its really about Silver and Betsy the cat. Yep. 5,699 words, complete. Kittenfic!! Written for the Beach Blanket Black Sails Ficfest, the prompt was 'Betsy has kittens and Silver wants to keep them on Maroon Island.' It's really about Silver and trauma and there are sad parts but nothing bad happens to any cats and there is a happy ending.

stitched with its color - G, silverflintmadi sort of, 1,344 words, complete. The conversation where Madi tells Flint that Silver is alive.

Such Terrible Hungers - E, Flintvane, 3,357 words, complete. Instead of fuck buddies, they're fuck enemies. Fight sex and Flint angst, that's basically the fic.

to pull me from myself again - E, Silverflint, 7,419 words, complete. Written in response to a Tumblr prompt asking for s1 dynamics softe silverflint, Silver's first time with a man. That is indeed it, that's the fic

What Lies Beneath - E, Silverflint, 3 chapters, complete. 11,031 words. Demon Flint AU! Basically make the demon in Flint literal. Silver is fascinated of course.

The Fetch Phillips Archives (aka Luke Arnold's books, go read them!)

announcing your place in the family of things - E, Fetch/Satyr, 6,865 words, complete. The first creature Fetch meets when he leaves the human city is that unnamed Satyr, and that feels like a conscious choice to me. Coulda said 'faun' and we wouldn't be here Luke. Anyway monsterfucking, but in a lovely way.

The Exorcist (tv)

The Smoke of Their Torment - M, Marcus/Tomas, 572 words, complete. A snippet of Marcus angst and pining and also jerking off in a shared hotel room there may be more someday.

[persieee-yoohoo]

Easy to Love, Easier to Betray (Part 2)

Pair: Tarquin x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: maybe ooc?, smut (I attempted gender neutral stuff), language

Summary: You had never been to the Summer Court before, but Rhysand finally gave in to your incessant bothering and brought you along with Amren and Feyre. Unaware of the real reason behind the Night Court's visit, you played your unknown role well and got along with Tarquin a little too easily. When the truth is revealed and people are betrayed, will anything be enough to bring two people back together? (Sort-of retelling of the Summer Court visit for half of the Book of Breathings and several events that followed.)

Note: this is my first time writing smut, so sorry it if it is complete ass, ;D

Also available: ao3

Read Part 1: Here

You kept your promise the following day, not wanting to disappoint Tarquin or even yourself. The liquid courage from the bottle of wine you'd consumed the night before had long-since faded, but the phantom heat of Tarquin's breath on your neck kept you from backing down from the opportunity to get to know the High Lord more. Your nerves caused you to take a few extra minutes that morning to get ready, which meant you missed the spread of breakfast that was most likely getting picked over by your Night Court company, but you wanted to look perfect.

There was no doubt that Tarquin seemed to want you as much as you wanted him, from the heated stares that seared your body and the desperate words that he'd scribbled on paper the previous night, but still you worried. He was a High Lord, despite how much he was teased for his age, and you were a spy. So many things could go wrong, but a sensual voice in the back of your mind reminded you that so many things could go right too.

“Going on a date?” Rhysand practically pounced on you the minute you stepped out of your room, his teasing mood overly compensating for the flash of disappointment that darkened his purple eyes for just a moment. He was dressed in his statement black with a feline smirk adorning his face as he sent a wink your way. “I knew something like this would happen.”

“I'm not sure I know what you're talking about. I don't have a date. I—” You gulped, knowing that any effort to lie would just be lost on your High Lord. He knew you long enough to see right past the bullshit, and you'd given him access to your mind too many times to think that this instance would be any different. “Tarquin requested my company for the day after our meeting. Is that a crime?”

“No,” Rhysand's grin only seemed to widen at your confession, “of course it isn't a crime. I hope you both enjoy yourselves. Besides, it'll give me a chance to get back in dear Feyre's good graces. She's upset with me, if you didn't know.” Well, that explains the disappointment.

As if she'd been listening in, a loud crash was heard from the room Feyre was still hiding in, and you both quickly found yourselves heading to the meeting room.

“Feyre was right.”

Tarquin quickly took notice of the gold jewelry adorning your body, the many rings, the layered body chains, and guided you to one of his court's treasure troves. The tour had been meant for Feyre, but Rhysand had whisked her away before she could even politely deny the offer once their talk of armadas and sailing had concluded. With your plan to already be Tarquin's for the day, you easily stepped in her place. The fae seemed so proud of himself at discerning an interest of yours that you didn't have to heart to explain that you only stepped out of your room that day dripping in jewelry for his enjoyment rather than your own.

As you stood in the center of the room, full of valuables beyond your belief, facing Tarquin while you held a box containing a necklace of black diamonds, you could almost swear that you felt a light tug deep within your chest. It was subtle, and you almost ignored it if the male opposite you hadn't twitched as if he himself also felt it. Tarquin wasn't facing you, but he looked over his broad shoulder to where you stood and assessed what you were holding. If Tarquin didn't deem the faint feeling as something worth talking about, then you wouldn't mention it either.

“What was Feyre right about? We've spoken about a great deal of things,” the male spoke as if Feyre was the last thing on his mind while in your presence, especially as he made his way to you. The closer Tarquin got, the smaller the room felt around you. You suddenly felt crowded by all the jewels and treasures, with nowhere to escape as Tarquin's broad body loomed over you. His height and stature made you scoff, but your breath hitched as a warm chuckle escaped Tarquin's lips. “Have I rendered you speechless already?”

Exhaling a long breath, you met his gaze before you spoke, “she told you that it would be easy to fall in love with you.”

“And you agree?” His fingers teased the ends of your hair, pulling at the strands only slightly enough to earn a gasp from you.

You didn't know if you wanted to respond. It would be so easy to give in, almost effortless, but that just meant it would be near impossible to pull yourself back.

Tarquin took your silence in and brought your focus back to him as his thumb and forefinger captured your chin. He kept you there, searching your eyes for what you truly wanted. “Y/N, answer me. Do you agree?”

“Yes.”

Relief caused Tarquin's shoulders to sag, but he was still standing strong as he thought out his next move. Slowly slotting his lips against yours, Tarquin gave one final chance to back away, to stop yourself from regretting this— him. His lips were as warm as the heated air of his court, and you didn't mind getting burned by them as you deepened the kiss. You both continued your sensuous dance of lips and teeth, and it was clear who was leading and who was following.

Tarquin could kiss you however he wanted to if it meant he continued to hold you up by the strong hands that had sneaked around your waist after they abandoned their gentle hold at your face. You never wanted to drown in the sea, but there in that moment with him trailing kisses from the corner of your mouth down to the sweet spot between your neck and shoulder, you wanted to drown in the ocean of power that lurked beneath the heated skin of the Summer High Lord. Tarquin had bewitched you with his kisses, surrendered you with his gentle nips, and commanded you with his soothing licks across the marks he made on your exposed skin.

His presence surrounded you, blocking out any thoughts you had about the pricelessness of the objects that were scattered around you and filling your head only with thoughts of him. “Pick anything here, and it's yours.”

Tarquin had only pulled away from your skin for a moment, long enough to say his peace before he continued his exploration across your upper body. It was maddening, and it took tremendous strength to form together a proper response that wasn't just moans and gasps from your enjoyment.

“Are you trying to buy my affections with jewelry?” Your voice was breathy as you scanned whatever part of the room you could from where you stood with your arms clinging to Tarquin's back and your knees threatening to buckle beneath you. “I have no need for more jewelry, but you might win the affections of my female friends with what you have hoarded here.” Always working, always scheming, Rhysand would be proud.

“Just the females? What would Rhysand fall for?” As your High Lord's name fell from Tarquin's lips, you gently pushed him away. Your lips were bruised and your body was buzzing with remnant electricity from your shared heated moment, but Rhysand's name and the change in topics tampered your needy mood.

“If you give in to Feyre's fancies, he'll be sure to follow.” Even a small distance between you had your thoughts becoming your own again. You no longer ached to be one with Tarquin, but a tether deep within you longed for something similar as it continued to grow taught. “The Cursebreaker has sway over him, but I'm sure you were already aware.”

“Fine,” Tarquin huffed, coming down from the desirous high that was building between you and playing the part of a High Lord once again. “I'll let you humor me. What should I gift Rhys' emissary?”

“This,” You drop the necklace of black diamonds that you had picked up again after being dropped onto the floor in the heat of the moment into his grasp, and cross your arms over your chest. You looked at his chin rather than his eyes as you continued, “she'll love it, and it might be enough to have her lobby for an alliance with you.”

“You wouldn't lobby one for me? Even after the intimate moment we've just shared?” Once more, Tarquin's free hand found your chin and pulled your focus to his own eyes. “That doesn't seem like the rumors I've heard about the Night Court. I thought seduction was how you lot found the higher ground to get what you want?”

“I don't mix business with pleasure, Tarquin. If one is what you want, then you'll forfeit the other.” You couldn't help but think that this is what Rhysand wanted from your presence on the trip. A distraction for the untested High Lord of the Sumer Court so his plot could unfurl without a hitch. It was never as simple as your old friend giving into your desire to visit a new court, and you were a fool to believe that for even a second. “Tarquin—”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“I pick pleasure.” Tarquin would have begged if that would've been what you needed to desire him the way he desired you. He would've dropped to his knees, which was quite a feat for the strong High Lord he needed everyone to believe he was. “I want pleasure, if you want it as well.”

It killed you not to let Tarquin in on your thoughts about why this budding relationship played right into Rhysand's hands, but you couldn't be bothered to as Tarquin guided you into another kiss and pulled you to the ground right in the middle of the treasure trove.

“I do.”

Tarquin took his time undressing you, first following your body from head to toe with his eyes, and then using his hands to strip you bare at an agonizingly slow pace. With the careful touches and gentle glances he gave you as more fabric came off, it was hard not to let your sighs come across as impatient rather than blissful. You needed him, and it was getting harder to ignore the heat pooling deep in your belly or the way your lower body visibly reacted to Tarquin.

Where other lovers might have teased you for your eagerness to be pressed against the cool floor under the weight of another's body, Tarquin only smiled. He enjoyed watching you squirm for more, for him to stop wasting precious time and just fuck you already.

“Tar—” His name was lost on the tip of your tongue as a whine ripped from somewhere deep in your throat. The frustration you were feeling, and hoping to warn the High Lord about, was replaced by immediate pleasure when Tarquin pressed a hand between your thighs.

You struggled to buck your hips against his hand for more friction, but Tarquin was already pressing down on your lower stomach to keep you flushed with the ground. He was in control, and you couldn't even arch your back off the ground to slide your chest against his.

This was torture, you thought.

“I'm not going to rush this, my little pearl.” Nudging your legs apart, Tarquin settled himself lower on your body between your thighs. His hands remained where they were, one pressed against your belly and the other cupping your aching sex. The parts of his skin that you could see stretched over his muscle enticingly and you tried again to buck up against him.

“I'm the only one naked. It puts me at a disadvantage.” You spoke around another whine as Tarquin slowly dragged his tongue against the aching spot that you needed him the most. With his head dipped to hover just above your hips, you reached with your fingers just enough to thread them through the high lord's white hair. With the long tresses of his hair caught between your fingers, you pulled against his roots to get him to reach your stare.

Tarquin obeyed your summons, moaning deeply as his half-lidded eyes lazily met yours. His tongue was still resting against your body in a sinful way, but he paused his ministrations to give you the attention you had pointedly called for.

“Strip,” Your demand began as a whisper, the noise almost caught in your throat at the sight of him, but you persevered. “I want to see you like how you see me.”

“Say please, pearl.”

“Please.”

Even though you asked for it, even though it was what you wanted, you hated every moment that Tarquin was disconnected from your body as he leaned back into a kneeling position on the floor. With the room lit by warm faelight, Tarquin had a golden halo of light casted around his body's silhouette. The sight was godly, especially as he shrugged off his clothes and bared his naked body to you. Tarquin was beautiful, and you would've told it to him over and over if he didn't take your breath away by reaching one of his strong hands down his body to stroke himself several times before crawling back over you.

“Are we even now?” His voice was like a caress and you shivered beneath him. You still had no words, so you only nodded as your cheeks flamed beneath his gaze.

Rather than going back to your waiting sex, Tarquin settled for pressing his body flush with yours. His wicked mouth was curved in a smirk and he was no longer the same High Lord you met the other day. Gone was the look of unease that had tried to hide behind a mask of shaken confidence, replaced by utter cockiness.

“I can feel you practically dripping against me. Tell me what you want. Beg for it.”

With no unnecessary fabric separating your warm bodies, you intimately felt every inch of skin that pressed against you. Still though, it wasn't enough for you. You need friction, you needed movement.

And if Tarquin wasn't going to give it to you, then you would take it for yourself.

You weren't Azriel's spy for nothing, you had the necessary skillset that the job demanded from you. With a brief moment to rally your strength, you forced Tarquin to the ground as you followed his movements by rolling on top of him. The look of surprise that had his eyes widening and mouth slightly agape was quickly replaced by a look of failing restraint as your ass began grinding against his stiff erection beneath you.

“I'm not in the mood for games, either you fuck me or I'll go find someone that will.” It was an empty threat. You wouldn't go find someone else. If anything, you'd just retreat to your own temporary room and take care of the dull ache between your legs yourself, but Tarquin didn't need to know that.

“Oh, is that right? I better do something about that then.” Tarquin brought his ebony fingers to your pouting lips and coaxed you into taking two digits into the warmth of your mouth with teasing coos. “That's it…good pet.”

Once his fingers were sufficiently covered in your spit, he pulled them from your mouth and trailed them down your body until he got to your waiting entrance.

Tarquin worked one finger into you, making quick work of opening you up little by little before he added another. He needed you to be ready to take him, to handle that pleasurable stretch that would slingshot you to ecstasy. To silence the moans that were being dragged from your throat as he scissored his digits deep within you, you leaned down and lost yourself in a heated kiss with the High Lord. You'd barely even begun, and you were already beginning to come undone around his experienced fingers. “Tarquin, I'm ready…just hurry up already.”

A dark laugh struck you right in the core as he leaned back on his supporting arm to look you over as you sat above him, riding his hand, desperate for more.

“Just remember, pearl, you asked for this.” Tarquin guided you off of his fingers and lap just so he could reposition you on the floor. You felt the bite of the cool floor beneath your naked body as your lover laid you out on your elbows and knees.

Your knees were kept spread apart by his own positioned between you, and your upper body arched as you felt light kisses trail from your neck down to the lower dip of your back. The brief intimacy was the only gentleness you were allowed before Tarquin thrusted back into you, picking an unforgiving pace that had you reaching for anything to steady you on the ground but coming up empty.

A strong hand found purchase on your fleshy hip, digging into the soft, glistening skin as another pressed your back into a deeper arch that gave him a better angle to drive into you from behind. His deep groans and your gasping breaths were the only noises that filled the treasure trove, and the smell of your sins mixed together amongst the jewels and other riches.

The two of you created a symphony, an orchestra made from two people, an untested High Lord and a gullible spy. Every time Tarquin's body snapped against yours, a moan was drawn from your slack mouth, and every time you clenched around Tarquin's cock, a quiver passed over his tense body. It was a game of call and response, and every response increased in intensity and volume the closer you both got to finding a tandem release. The lewd echoing of skin against skin was drowned by the guttural noises being pulled from one another.

“Tarquin— I'm..ah fuck.. I'm so close.” You tried reaching beneath your body to reach the point between your thighs that ached almost painfully, but Tarquin beat you there. The hand that had stabilized his frantic movements as he was pounding away into you snaked around to your front where he knew he would be able to drive you over the edge almost immediately.

“Come with me. Say my name, let your dirty fucking mouth scream my name for everyone to hear.” Though he whispered his words quietly against your ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin there, you heard every word. Tarquin's pacing seemed erratic now, no clear pattern being followed as he rutted against you.

You screamed out Tarquin's name as you splintered around his dick, his swift fingers relentlessly elongating the high that made you drunk on him. His release quickly followed your own, his hips slamming into you once more before stilling completely.

“Fuck, Y/N,” his voice was hoarse and he collapsed against your back to recover from the intensity of the orgasm you coaxed out of him.

Even as he stayed seated within you, his hilt flush against your rear, evidence of both of your releases trailed down your thighs and onto the floor beneath you. The two of you may have to take a few minutes to recover from that blinding high, but then you'd have to wear about cleaning the mess beneath you to erase any trace of your animalistic actions from the treasure trove.

And after that, you'd have to somehow face the members of both his inner court and your own, and deal with the consequences of your actions, whatever they may be.

[alwaysonthemend]

Part II: To Strange Horizons

Word Count: 3715

Warnings: Cussing / allusions to violence

A/N: Hello all! Just a heads up that this chapter is just a little bit shorter than the last one but that's just because it's setting up a lot of stuff that's going to be happening in chapter 3. Hope ya'll enjoy!

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:

The ship is a beautiful thing – far better taken care of than any of the ships that I had seen grace the ports of Easthallow before. It's not an overly large ship, though it is most definitely large enough to be a threat to most merchant ships that sail these waters. It’s painted black and decorated with white embellishments, with “Starcatcher” emblazoned proudly on its side. I’ve never seen anything like it before, and my steps slow to a stop as we approach. Though night has descended upon us, the full moon casts just enough light for me to stand in awe of the magnificent ship. 

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Jacob asks, looking at me with a proud glint in his eye. 

Slinging my pack higher on my shoulder, I nod. 

“I’ve never seen a ship like it before.” 

“Aye, I reckon not many come through here with such a ship. She’s a galleon.” He says glancing over his shoulder and beckoning for me to follow him. 

Tearing my eyes away from the ship, I hasten my steps to catch up with him. 

“She can reach up to eight knots. That’s almost 140 miles a day.”

He speaks with pride, and despite having never been acutely interested in ships, I want him to tell me more. His voice is so different as he speaks of the Starcatcher, and I wish desperately that this kinder tone would never leave him. Gone is the brooding sadness and barely contained rage, replaced instead with a fondness and pride that makes him seem so much softer than he had before. 

“She's gorgeous.” I tell him, and his lips turn upwards in a barely there smile. It’s the most genuine expression I think I have received from him yet. I want more than anything to see what his real smile looks like.

“Why did you name her Starcatcher?” 

No sooner had the question left my mouth, the expression dropped from his face. Like watching a mask slip into place, his face contorts into a scowl. 

“I was not the one who named her.” Is all he says before turning on his heel and marching into the ship. 

His shifts in mood threaten to give  me whiplash as I silently follow behind him, cursing myself for asking. 

– 

All eyes turn to us as soon as we step onto the deck. I pull my pack tighter to myself, wishing to shrink away from their peering eyes. Some 25 men make up his crew in total, and not a single one of them carries an expression that is in any way welcoming. Some look on in confusion while some cannot seem to contain their scowl as they regard me. Each man looks to be no older than 30, though they all carry a weight to their shoulders that makes them seem older somehow. 

“What the fuck, Jacob?” The curly headed man from before exclaims, rising from where he’d been leaning against the foremast and I gasp at his use of profanity. Never have I heard a man say such crude language before.

The other men mutter amongst themselves, casting looks towards myself and Jacob. 

“Sit down, Joshua.” Jacob orders, and Joshua’s eyes blaze at the command. He takes a step back, but does not sit. “You, Samuel, and Daniel stay. The rest of you,” Jacob’s eyes scan the other men, “find somewhere else to be.” 

“Captain, respectfully-” One man begins, but Jacob is swift to cut him off. 

“Trust that I will make sure that you all are informed of what you need to be. We need a moment alone.” 

The authority in his tone makes a shiver run up my spine. The rest of his crew rises and cast their eyes downwards at Jacob’s feet as they pass – each seemingly too afraid to meet his stone-cold gaze. They travel in single file to the hatch, climbing downwards into the darkness below. 

As soon as the hatch door closes, Jacob grips my wrist and tugs me forward, pushing me towards a wooden crate sitting by the foremast at Joshua’s side. 

“Sit.” He orders, and I do so without resistance. 

“Well?” The long-haired man asks, crossing his arms over his chest and turning to Jacob. 

“I found them. But they’re encoded. She’s the only one left who knows how to read them.” Jacob explains. He’s standing with his legs parted and chin high – a boastful position that oozes authority, despite being shorter than the long-haired man. 

“Could she not decode them now?” The fourth man asks, breaking his silence for the first time. He’s got darker features than the other three men, with black curly hair that frames his strong jawline. 

“She said-” 

“It will take time to decode them.” I interrupt the Captain, sitting up straighter as each of their gazes falls onto me. “I can speak for myself, thank you.” 

The long-haired man chuckles softly under his breath, earning himself a glare from Jacob. He silences himself quickly.  

“It has been a long time since I practised these symbols, and each set is slightly different from the others.” 

“And how exactly do we know that we can trust you, lass?” Joshua asks with a tilt of his head. He’s smiling, and the expression reminds me so suddenly of Jacob that I assume they must be related somehow.  

“We don’t.” The long-haired man mutters, leaning over towards the dark haired man as he speaks. 

“Samuel, enough.” Jacob cuts in. “She’s all we have. There are no Calloways left that could decode these symbols. She’s the last one.” 

Samuel raises his hands in a placating manner, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Just asking, brother. Just asking. If she truly is the only one, then trust her we must, I suppose.” 

The Captain nods at him solemnly. 

“I don’t like it.” Joshua announces, crouching down before me so that we’re eye to eye. “You know what they always say…” He starts, grinning wickedly as he extends his hand to brush my cheek with his fingertips. “Never trust a fucking Calloway.’’

I jerk my head away from his touch, fear gripping me as he stares. His smile seems genuine and yet I see no kindness behind his eyes. It’s unsettling. 

“Calloway I may be,” I start, narrowing my eyes at him in what I hope is a menacing expression,  “but I would appreciate you stepping away from me.” The demand is overshadowed by the shake in my voice but I do not drop his gaze. Somehow, I feel as if looking away first would be a victory for him. 

“Joshua…” Jacob begins, but he only shrugs as he rises from his squatted position. 

“Kitten's got claws, it seems.” He says snidely, winking at me as he straightens himself. 

“Daniel?” Jacob asks, turning to the dark-haired man. “You’ve not said anything.”

Daniel only hums quietly, touching his forefinger to his chin as if in thought. 

“We don’t really have much of a choice, do we?” 

They are all silent for a long moment and a shiver runs through me as I realize that my fate lies solely in the hands of these strange men.

“That’s settled then.” Jacob nods, wringing his hands together as he appraises me. “Take her to my quarters. She can sleep there for now.” 

With that, Jacob turns on his heel and makes his way to the bow. His long coat billows behind him as he walks and I take it that I will most likely not see him again tonight. 

Samuel and Daniel both turn their gazes back towards me, but Joshua’s eyes stay trained on Jacob’s back. His expression is one of pain – the depth of which I can scarcely imagine. 

“Follow me.” Daniel says, and though his tone is not necessarily amicable, there is far more kindness in his tone compared to the other three.

I rise from my place and follow him down the steep stairs and through the hatch, steadying myself on the rails as we go. Though the November air outside on the deck had been chilled, down here is of a different set: more oppressive, more solid. It has substance. Moist and enveloping, sucking me in and stealing my breath. Already, I miss the clean air of land. 

“Where will the Captain sleep if I am in his quarters?” I ask Daniel, eyes trained on his broad shoulders as we walk. 

“He rarely sleeps down here, lass. If he sleeps at all.” 

I nod, his response only arising more questions than answers. I say no more.

– 

His quarters are not what I had expected them to be – almost homey in comparison to the rest of the ship. A lit lantern sits on the desk in the corner, casting the room in a warm light. His bed is perfectly made, looking almost completely untouched save for the rumpled covers at the foot, indicating that he must have sat down there recently. 

“What’s your name, lass?” Daniel asks me as I step through the threshold. 

“Y/n.” 

He just nods, staring at me for a long moment. His gaze is piercing, yet I do not feel uncomfortable from it. 

“Thank you for agreeing to this, Y/n. Though it is not my place to tell you why translating those notes is important to him, just know that you are instrumental in retrieving something very important to him – to all of us, really.”

I do not know how to answer him. I only give him a terse smile as I place my pack on the Captain’s bed. 

“I’ll take my leave now.” 

“Thank you, Daniel.” I hope that he knows that I mean it.

Once the door closes behind him, I take a moment to observe the room closer. His desk is cluttered – scribbled notes and maps littering the surface. Gingerly, I step forward to examine them. I sort through each one slowly, feeling like a child doing something she knows she’s not supposed to. Most of the notes are nonsense to me – sea-faring talk that I do not understand the meaning of. 

But it’s not those that catch my eye. Amongst the scribbles, there lies a few metered verses scrawled into the margins of the pages. 

Poems. 

Few of them finished and most covered in crossed out words, but poems nonetheless. As I glance over them, I cannot help but to admire the lines. The Captain has a way with words. 

The thought of him sitting alone here, bent over a piece of paper and scrawling these verses makes warmth spark to light in my belly – despite the fact that they are not happy verses. Yet their sorrow carries beauty. Wistful lamentations of being lost at sea – torn apart and floating aimlessly through the frothy depths. Reading them feels like the deepest invasion of privacy and I tear my eyes away from them. 

There is one painting sitting framed on his desk. A woman – with beautiful dark skin and long hair. I pick up the frame, admiring her closer. Though it is only a painting, I cannot help but stand in awe at her beauty. My mind spins with possibilities of who she might be. A lover, surely. An odd feeling takes root in my sternum at the thought, though I cannot begin to explain why. Turning the frame over, I see no markings that give any indication as to who the woman is or when the painting was done. 

A knock at the door startles me, and I quickly place the frame back into its spot. I step away from the desk, once again feeling as though I am not supposed to be in here. 

The door opens before I can invite the intruder in and I bristle as Joshua strides into the room, pointedly closing the door behind him. The dim light of the lantern casts shadows across his sharp jawline and his white teeth almost glow in the darkness. There is something about him… an aura that sets me on edge. He’s like the clouds that cover the sky before a heavy storm – looming menacingly on the horizon. I feel as though he might snap any moment, pulling me into the fray alongside him. 

“What do you want?” I ask, cursing how meek my voice sounds. 

“Sit.” He orders, his voice silky smooth as he points towards the end of the Captain’s bed. 

I huff a breath as I follow his command. 

“I am only going to say this one time, lass.” He mutters, stepping in close to me and leaning downwards – so close that I can feel his hot breath on my face. “Breathe a word of what I am about to say to you to anyone, and there will be Hell to pay. Do you understand?” 

I purse my lips and do not give him an answer, but he seems to take my silence as answer enough. 

“My brother… he’s been through much. And the thing he seeks means more to him than the very air he breathes.” His voice is low, almost a whisper as he speaks. “If for some reason he does not succeed, he will not survive it.”

I open my mouth – intent on demanding answers as to what this quest of his must be but he silences me with a piercing look. 

“I will not tell you what it is that he seeks. It is not your place to know. I simply need you to understand something.” 

Already, I grow tired of the riddles. But yet… I understand that I am not yet owed any explanation. They do not trust me – nor I them. Yet, here I am on their ship, abandoning everything that I know for the sake of helping a pirate who threatened my life. It sounds so absurd I almost laugh out loud. 

“And what exactly do you need me to know?”

“If the reason that he does not succeed is you… understand that I will kill you. Slowly. Painfully. In all the ways that I know hurt the most. I have lost more than you could ever even dream of, and I will not lose him too.” 

The aggression of his earlier tone gives way to a deep, heart wrenching desperation as he speaks, and I find myself nodding without conscious thought. There is no doubt in my mind now that he and the Captain’s relationship is close – even for siblings. I am struck with a pang of jealousy at the thought of someone loving me that fiercely and, despite the circumstance, I cannot help but admire the intense protectiveness that the man in front of me possesses. 

“I understand.” I whisper, meeting his gaze with as much honesty as I can. “I want to help him. I cannot tell you why, but I know that helping him is what I am meant to do. And I know that the nature of my family name must give you reason to doubt that – but believe me when I tell you that I am not like the rest of my family. I knew few of them, and the ones I did I wish that I had not…” I trail off for a moment, feeling suddenly startled by the honesty of my own words. I had never spoken this out loud to anyone before and here I am, spilling my most personal secrets with a stranger. There is something about Joshua that seems to draw the truth from between my lips unbidden.

“So please see the truth within my words," I continue, my words coming out only just above a whisper, "when I say that I refuse to be anything like them. And I will do anything and everything in my power to help the Captain in his quest – whatever it may be.”

There is no lie as I meet Joshua’s gaze, and somehow I can see that he realises it. 

Joshua nods and for the very first time, his expression is genuine as he regards me. 

“I think we understand each other, then.” He says, straightening up and heading towards the door. 

“I think we do.” 

“Good night, Y/n.” And with that, he’s gone. 

I exhale through my nose, instantly feeling more at ease at his absence. A tentative truce may have occurred between myself and Joshua but I am not fool enough to believe that he really trusts me. I certainly do not fully trust him. 

As the silence of the room surrounds me, a bone-deep weariness overtakes me – the emotional turbulence of the day finally catching up to me. I eye my pack, debating on whether or not I have the energy to pull out those folded pages within and begin the painstaking task of translating them. Pressing as the matter may be, my vision is already swimming and the thought of trying to decipher the codes sounds near impossible at the moment. It would be of no real use to attempt it now. 

Instead, I place my pack on the floor and pull the covers back, slipping into the beckoning warmth of the bed. Immediately, my senses are flooded with his smell – sweet whiskey, sweat, and the smell of salt all mixed together with his natural musk. I inhale deeply as I settle in, closing my eyes against the dim glow of the lantern, now only just barely still burning. It doesn’t take long for the gentle rock of the boat to lull me into sleep. 

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:

Joshua POV 

Jacob has not moved by the time I ascend to the deck again. He stands at the bow, looking out into the dark waters.

Even from afar, his pain radiates from him like a black smoke, sputtering out of his very pores and coating myself and him with its inky substance, threatening to choke us both. I wish desperately that I could take it from him. 

“She’s settled, I think.” I speak into the silence, coming to stand just behind him. 

“Thank you.”

He makes no move to turn around as he speaks and the distance between us has never felt more cavernous. I ache to reach out and touch him… to feel the warmth of him as some sort of proof that he’s still alive and not made of cold stone. 

“Do you really think those notes are the key to all of this?” 

Still, he does not even look at me.

“They will at least give me some sort of inkling as to whatever it is that I will be walking into.” 

“We.” I remind him, pointedly taking a step closer so that our shoulders are almost touching. His gaze remains fixed upon the water, watching how the moon’s reflection dances with the waves. 

“There is no telling the danger that lies in waiting. I cannot ask you to follow me. Any of you.” 

“Then it is a good thing that you do not have to ask.” I grip his shoulder, willing him silently to at least look at me as I speak. He does not, instead simply shrugging his shoulder to detach himself from my grip. 

He only hums in response and I cannot stop the sigh that escapes me. This is not the first time that we have had this discussion – nor will it be the last. But I will sooner throw myself overboard than allow him to do this alone. 

“Jack said that we will need to stop for provisions.” 

Jacob nods. 

“We will stop at Nassau, then. Make a quick stop there for rest and supplies before setting out.”

I roll my eyes, groaning at the suggestion. 

“Must you always choose the most vile of places, brother mine? I can already smell the shit and piss from here.” 

At last, Jacob turns to look at me and he chuckles lightly – and the sound makes my entire body thrum with warmth. I have not heard him laugh in a very long time.

“That’s our own people that you’re speaking about, Joshua.” He says with a small grin.

“And I’m sure Hornigold will be oh so pleased to see you again.” 

Jacob nods. 

“If he sees me. Though the hope is that he is none the wiser that we are there.”

“And if he does find out?” 

“Then he will just have to get over himself.”

We are both silent for a moment and it feels, briefly, like everything is back to normal… like none of it happened. I wish I could make it so. There are so many things that I wish we all had done differently. 

I shake my head. It does no good now to dwell on the past. 

“Try and get some sleep tonight, Jacob. I know I’m the prettier twin anyway... but you look like shit.” 

Jacob exhales a laugh, narrowing his eyes at me. At first, I think he might send a jab back at me – a playful insult to level the playing field. It’s what the old Jacob would have done. But he doesn’t. It’s only another painful reminder that the Jacob I once knew is long gone.  

“I’ll try.” He says, and that’s the closest he’s come to actually admitting that he hasn’t been sleeping well – a fact which we are all aware of, yet too afraid to mention to his face. The men fear him now – a fact that pains me beyond measure. The man standing in front of me... I hardly recognize him anymore.

“My door is always unlocked.” My words slip out unbidden. It’s silly – the prospect of two grown men sharing a bed. But I won’t retract the offer. We used to do it when we were young… when one of us needed comfort or had a bad dream. Surely, after everything, no one could fault either of us for seeking out some extra comfort. Though undoubtedly, he will not take it.

“I know.” Jacob turns back around, and I can see in his posture the silent dismissal. Though my heart aches as I make my leave, I am comforted slightly in the knowledge that he had laughed – it was small, more of an exhale really, but he had laughed. As minuscule of a victory it may be, it is a victory still. A sign that the real Jacob is still in there somewhere – just hidden away from us. I can only pray that he will return to us. If this mission of his fails… I can only fear the worst.

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:

Part III

Mirror of the Damned taglist:

@jakeyt @sacredjake @carbondancingthroughtime @literal-dead-leaf @sinarainbows @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @aflame4goinghome @writingcold @ignite-my-fire @mysticalstarcatcher @brinlygvf @mackalah @vanfleeter @chewbeka22 @starcatcherchords @char289 @amygvf13 @way-to-go-lad @jaketlove

[queer-ragnelle]

Not Arthurian—but in the process of transferring my entire films/shows collection to MEGA drive and could share it if there’s interest. I say this as there may be some crossover of interest here for you followers as a lot of it is fantasy, horror, history, and cartoons. It’s a lot of stuff that has inspired me as a creator so I want to keep track of it.

I have every Tolkien-universe film or show ever made including the old animated ones and the Soviet one all the way up to Rings of Power. I have every Sonic the Hedgehog tv show or film from Sonic Underground to the newish Sonic Prime show and second film awaiting the third. All The Addam’s Family from the black and white live action and the 90s films up to the new animated films, every Blair Witch project even the bad ones, biopics on Tolkien, Elton John, Freddie Mercury etc. lots of vampire films from classic Nosferatu to The Little Vampire and the Twilight Saga, all of Black Sails, Castlevania, Penny Dreadful, Willow the 80s movie and the 2022 show they deleted off Disney+, same with Dark Crystal both the 80s film and the 2019 show.

And in the spirit of Halloween, I’m currently grabbing both Hocus Pocus films, fun witch movies from the 90s like Practical Magic, and a variety of horror like The Craft and Saw and Nightmare on Elm Street. You get the idea.

I’m a digital hoarder, we know this, but might as well use up the space on MEGA drive I pay for and will never ever fill with Arthuriana there simply isn’t enough. If anyone wants this stuff just let me know, I got you.

[izzyspussy]

About Me!

I'm Jack! I'm 30-ish and I use he/him pronouns. This is my personal and fandom blog. I also have a writing and art sideblog @calicohyde. I'm also attempting a kink meme @izzyrarepairkinkmeme.

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[ratwavegamehouse]

Terminal and the Inspirations from Other Places

Around the start of the month I did a big post on Terminal and how the Matrix inspired it as well as generally espounding on my thoughts around influence, pastiche, and analogues. I found it interesting, and some people enjoyed reading it, so I figured I'd do a post on all the other things that inspired Terminal.

Ok, almost definitely not covering all the other things. But some of them. The big ones maybe. Or the thing that are easiest for me to explain.

(This will also involve previewing some of the full game. Any art in this post is by Gormengeist and any completed layout was done by me, while any text will have been written by me and edited by Alyssa.)

Let's start of by sharing the Inspirations and Influences pages from the book itself.

Some of these will only probably ever make sense to me, and that's fine, that's how creating things goes. I won't go linearly, I guess I'll go in order of what seems important. At least to start, I'll probably end up following some whims.

Black Sails/Treasure Island

I think this is something I got asked on both The Weekly Scroll, by Zach on This is Your Lifepath, and also just by people. "Why'd you add pirates?"

I actually tried looking through some notepads where I first jotted down ideas to see if I recorded my actual thought process as it happened. No dice. "Zion as Pirates" is one of the earliest notes I have.

I think my early logic was about avoiding just doing a complete 1-2-1 of how reality was in the Matrix. First this just started as "I don't wanna do the sun blocked out thing and the energy stuff" and I think that evolved into the shattered moon and flooded Earth which made arriving at pirates logical; sailing the seas rather than jetting around underground tunnels.

It was in righting and exploring these early ideas I found a resonance with pirates that made me excited to make that such a core part of the book; themes about rejecting society and civilization, loyalty among a crew, the idea of being an outlaw, the Robot Authority as the British Navy.

Being honest the line I often used of "The Matrix x Black Sails" was more using Black Sails as a touchstone to convey an idea, rather than crediting for my conception of pirates. It speaks to a pirate epic and the focus on pirates creating a home.

Libertatia was down as the placeholder name "Pirate Island" for much longer than you'd expect (I think I had some crews written at this time but nothing about the setting). Someone suggested the name when I asked for ideas and doing some research the pirate legend ended up informing the development of the setting. Libertatia is implicitly anarcho-communist rather than the more heirachy based structure of Zion seen in the Matrix films.

I also like how this created such a different relationship with your home setting that the one in Inevitable, the books system influence which focuses on protecting a kingdom. In Inevitable you are given quests by your king, or more often the king's advisors, and you're an agent of a crumbling monarchy. In Terminal people suggest things that someone should deal with but none of the NPCs have any authority or ability to command your characters, you have to choose to listen to them.

Twin Peaks/Lost Highway/Blue Velvet

I'll go to this next as it was the third influence that got shouted out in articles. The answer to "why" Lynch was such an influence is basically that I'm a fan and so his work is on my mind frequently enough that it's a common influence.

The sort of eery dream-logic is part of the influence, though that also draws from lots of other things. I notice dream logic or living dreams are a recurrent theme in a lot of my work, which is interesting for someone who never remembers any dreams. The way your dreams are walked through by sinister forces was definitely aping some of Fire Walk with Me.

The inclusion of doppelgangers, of yourself, of people you love, people who loved you, that's coming from the Return for sure. It's also hitting a theme of embracing your own imperfections and messiness as some of these antagonist doppelgangers are explicitly versions built around expectations characters couldn't or wouldn't live up to.

The Puppeteer, a villainous program who strives to manipulate people emotions to inflict psychological torture, has some of the Mystery Man from Lost Highway in him as well as the Man from Another Place's desire for armonbozia" (pain and sorrow). The fact that The Seer, our prophetic program who serves as a tense pirate ally, is always met on a lost highway is more in the realm of a reference.

The Crash, the name for Terminal's major story arcs, Tortures of the Killer combines a lot of Lynch influence. The Killer has influences from Frank from Blue Velvet and BOB from Twin Peaks though without the sexual violence being a major aspect of the character, instead the Killer's focus is in blackmail and threats. The video tape element draws from Lost Highway while the setting of that scenario draws on Blue Velvet as well.

A pair of linked characters, The Arm and someone more mysterious, are another thing more in the realm of reference rather than attempted analogue. I think the big influence for those characters is my own interest in the ideas of partitioning off aspects of yourself, and then having to deal with those aspects brought to life, because of some of my personal experience.

Paprika

Paprika was the fourth big influence I explicitly shouted out in marketing. This relates to the dream hopping element.

In Terminal freeing someone from the simulation involves delving into their dreams and guiding them to a door they must open to wake themselves up. The reason I came up with this was that basically because of how the red pill/blue pill symbolism got used after the release of the Matrix I felt I needed to avoid anything to close to that. Dream delving came to me probably because of my aforementioned fixation on dreams in fiction, and also the way that distinction between dreaming and waking is so blurred in Neo's early life.

It also put me in the mind of Paprika, which in turn influenced the Crash The Dying Dream, specifically the Dream Parade influenced a lot of how that developed. I think following a whim I'll do a section on all the stuff that ended up combo-ing to form this Crash, cause it's maybe an interesting insight into how I wrote.

The Dying Dream

My memory isn't super exact but I recall the early writing process in Terminal, once the big central idea and themes were sketched out, involved some jotted down ideas for Crashes and then I ended up writing a big list of characters. I think I wrote a document of routine programs, a document of obsolete programs, a document of Robot Authority characters, a document of Special Agents (at that time called officers) and a document of pirates. I think with some characters written I began combining them with Crash ideas that i started writing in full.

There was a lot of jumping around. This wasn't an linear process at all. There were some ideas for Crashes that could quashed and then ended up creating other parts of the story (initially finding the Omen was a Crash and they were going to be an NPC, quashing that Crash came with jumping to writing the stuff about characters becoming Omen, together). I interrupted this to properly sketch out Libertatia and with that came a lot of new pirates. I think there's a chance the Hedonist has an associated Crash at some point before I decided I liked her better as an a sort-of-not-really ally.

Anyway when I wrote the Special Agents I had a few ideas; a "standard" agent who exposed the ways other deviated, a agent deliberately created as a woman to poke at gender-based hang-ups some characters could have, 0 our agent-turned-malware and then a pair of agents; one who'd been corrupted and deleted and their partner who's reaction to this was question everything they thought they knew.

(The reason I initially named the Special Agents Officers was to make them seem a little further away from the Matrix agents, but once I decided on this angle with a character questioning their role I enjoyed the wordplay in fact that the agents lack agency so renamed them.)

So I had this pair but no idea what Crash they'd end up in. The Archivist was an early Crash, the idea for Multipled by 0 came early on, "hacked pirates" was the note that lead Corruptions of The Passenger. But I was a little stuck on Crashes full stop and none of them served as a home for these two agents, and I wanted these two in the book.

I ended up thinking about Inevitable and what purpose the story arcs, called Dooms there, played. The Tower Wizards Doom takes your cadre into the dangerous Wizard's Bluff to retrieve a dangerous artefact that's crash landed there. I tried to think of what a Crash could look like where the threat wasn't a specific character but a situation.

This brought me to the Dream Parade from Paprika and so I settled on a dying dreamer's nightmares corrupting a domain. The corrupted agent I had in my notes (Special Agent 7) got changed to have been corrupted by this situation and their partner (Special Agent 5) had a place as a possible obstruction, ally, or strange encounter.

Figuring out what the artefact at the centre of the Dying Dream was was part of what lead to Transmit, the last Omen, emerging as such a major character (the other thing that contributed to this was the need for the Omen code to have been modified) and that lead to a hidden story arc in the book that reflects some of the core themes about the power of positive connection being able to save you from people who want to control you and make you feel crazy.

Some Smaller Inlfuences, Explained as Well as I Can

The Wizard of Oz is on the list partly for doppelgangers, but also partly for the way its influence is felt in The Matrix and David Lynch's work (hence Lynch/Oz, the video essay film, being included). It's also there because the character of The Wizard, an obsolete program with the power of recognition, the ability to see what's already there, is an extended Wizard of Oz joke.

Inception is there because of dream hopping, even though my version of dreams is much more Paprika than Inception.

Stuff like Fallen Angels, Taxi Driver, and Fight Club are there for a mood that I was channelling in writing at certain points. I find making these lists interesting, when I do them, because I could restrict to to the obvious, explainable stuff, but personally I like including things where my only explanation was "I was thinking of it while writing and maybe that bled in".

Pacific Rim is there because the description of drift compatibility and the neural handshake influenced the way I described becoming the Omen and connecting your hearts to share the code. (I do find it interesting which things I knew were influencing me as i was writing - Matrix, Twin Peaks, Paprika, etc - vs things I only really noticed after the fact like this Pacific Rim influence).

I mentioned in the Matrix influences post that The Hedonist was partly influenced by Carrie Ann Moss's character in Mass Effect 2. That's part of why that's on the list. The other thing is that the eventual way I settled on travel (a map for the Wake with various mind docks that you travel to via sea and then plug you into different domains) was partly influenced by the way the overworld space travel worked in the game.

Transistor influenced depictions of certain places; the inner workings of the Terminal, corrupted domains on the verge of system crash. Additionally it was something that I think, this is a part in reflection, influenced two character's relationship.

Metal Gear Solid was an influence of the tagline "Digital Pirate Action", I think there were other reasons I added it to the list though I can't recall them right now.

Finding Yeezus, a pop culturual investigate docu series about the creator of a viral ARG game, is on the list for being part of what got me thinking about the Matrix again so much.

The music list is mainly music I listened to while writing, in some cases certain lyrics felt very resonant to me.

Monsterhearts and Apocalypse World are there, and there together, because there's an optional move around physical intimacy and in developing that I read back over the sex moves in both games.

Dream Askew and Dream Apart is credited because of how the "Pick questions to ask left and right" technique became a big part of character creation.

Orbital Blues is there as it influenced some of the ship creation stuff.

Influence Comes from Lots of Places

So like I said a YouTube series is there because it was part of what got me thinking about the Matrix again. It wasn't the main thing though. That was because my therapist at the time used multiple Matrix metaphors with me in sessions. (I managed to resist replying to her first question of "Have you seen the Matrix?" with "Yeah, I'm trans" and I'll never get enough credit for that).

I like learning about the things that inspire people. I do a whole podcast about, so you'd hope that's the case. But I know that's not always as clear cut as influences from other works of art. That's a big thing, obviously, and it's a thing that can help with marketing in a way that talking therapy doesn't. But this life stuff is also pretty huge.

This is the title page for Terminal (subject to change, credits for the stretch goal writers need to be added in). I think the thanks are as important, honestly more important, in terms of saying what made the book what it is. In many ways Terminal is a break-up album. If it's a love letter to anything it's to my best friend before it's to the Matrix. It's about the way I've felt crazy, and against the people who wanted me to feel that way. One of the domains is a thinly veiled Canary Wharf because that's a place I really hate. Also auteur theory is bullshit and the book is also only what it is because of Gormengeist and Alyssa in combination with me.

When it comes out I hope people like it, and I sincerely believe this book is great and enjoying it doesn't rely on understanding any of the things I've spent two overly-long tumblr posts going on about.

“The connection we share is deeper than the sea, realer than blood and tougher than steel blades. It’s the connection you feel when you look at someone and know that you are the same, that they’re one of yours and you’re one of theirs.” - Ariadne