#mist specifically is deep sea

[sentientgolfball]

Water ghouls with bioluminescence? Water ghoul language where they communicate with flashing the bioluminescence so they can speak underwater?

Dew still wanting to share that secret language with Rain and Mist and using his fire to mimic the flashes but he accidentally sets the couch on fire the first time he tries it

[the-kr8tor]

In Deep Water

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 8.7k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, CW vomit mention, CW Inaccurate medical procedures, CW injury, TW blood, CW violence, TW death, CW guns.

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

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CHAPTER 7 >>> CHAPTER 8

The laughter gets louder as the source of it shows itself aboard the black hellion, the fog makes way like a curtain opening to start a performance.

Hobie's grip is tight, fingers weaved around your arm, bruisingly strong. Your nails dig into his flesh as the uniformed man tilts his head to look at you, his toothy yellowing grin thrown in your direction. His powdered white wig flutters in the breeze, medals glinting off the single lamp on the bow, hands resting on the pommel of his pristine sword. The angelic figure head is a stark contrast to the devil sneering down.

The blackened wood of his ship groans as it continues to break a part of the revenge. The sails unfurled behind him, blue wings fluttering in the wind.

The angel of death has come.

“Look at what we have here.” He clicks his tongue, eyes boring a hole through your skulls, he narrows them into slits, and like a snake, he slithers as close as he can, tethering close to the edge. There's a flash of emotion in his eyes, snarling, the navy man chuckles, the mere sound makes you want to cower. “Hello little birdy, now how far did you fly to get where you are now?”

Hobie clenches his jaw, stepping over to hide you from his view. His hand never leaves yours, the dull ache from his hold says that this isn't just a nightmare.

You want to wake up even if it means losing his hold on you.

“Oh where are my manners? Mummy would whip me if she ever knew I didn't introduce myself to a lady.”

Hobie shifts his weight, ready to pounce if need be. You grab his shirt, making sure he doesn't do anything drastic. Subtly flicking your eyes to the side, you see the crew do the same. They look at you with fear in their eyes, the hunter’s gazes illuminating their contorted faces.

You can't help but let out a shuddering breath, the sound echoing around the open waters, hoping to get your cry for help to somebody who can do something, anything to get you and everyone out to safety.

“My name's Captain Mathias Bradshaw.” He drawls, thin lips curling into a smirk. “This here is my little merry band of sailors who has a bone to pick with—” pointing at Hobie with his thick finger, white cosmetic smeared on his palms. “Him. The red hydra. I forgot to greet you yet, long time no see you rapscallion.”

You hear Hobie's shallow breathing. Grey eyes thundering, a storm brewing, lightning flowing through his veins. The only reason why he doesn't let himself loose on Mathias is your touch.

“You see here, sweetheart,” The man addresses you and you only. “For the past three years your so-called captain and I have had a bit of a tiff.” He chuckles coldly. “A rivalry of sorts.” He pauses, looking over his shoulder. “Is it still a rivalry if you're leagues above your rival?”

“No, sir.” A gruff voice says, hidden behind the mist.

Mathias turns back around. “Well, we got our answer then.”

Hobie sneakily murmurs to you. “Hide—”

“I'm not done talking!” The sudden outburst makes you jump in your skin.

“You should've been done with your senseless dialogue a long time ago.” Hobie straightens his posture, head held high, a picture of a pirate captain. “Come down here and fight like a fuckin' man, show me your flames and I'll show mine.”

The man scoffs, amusement in his green eyes. “Flames? Yours is barely a spark.”

Hobie scoffs. “Let's be done with it then. Get the closure we both want, fight me in single combat.” Mathias knits his brows, Hobie smirks. “No? Thought you were a gentleman, where's your fuckin' honour?”

A booming laugh replaces Mathias’ scowl. “I guess it died with your little red hair—”

Hobie lets go of you, drawing his gun, pointing it directly at the monster's head. The crew takes this as their cue, doing the same, pointing their weapons towards the men surrounding them.

There's hunger in his eyes, beneath the swirling grey there's a hunger waiting to be fed.

The enemy ships don't even aim their cannons at the revenge, instead they float still in the water, unmoving, the men aboard their ships smirk in your direction like you're being served to them on a silver platter. It's then you notice the sons of the sea’s ship is no more. They took the brunt of the hellion’s collision.

No longer their sails fly, their crow's nest and pieces of wood lay floating in dark waters.

Left behind, slowly drowning in the depths.

You feel droplets sliding on your cheeks, for a second you thought it's your tears. And then more and more of it comes pouring down, splashing on the wooden floorboards.

Thunder booms from a distance, lightning flashes in the sky, lighting everyone's scornful faces.

A few of Karl's men stand with Hobie, clutching their injuries. You don't see Robbie, his lack of presence makes you glare at the sneering men.

“Say her fuckin’ name.” Hobie says through gritted teeth. “After what you did— Say her name.”

“Eh.” Mathias shrugs, “I forgot.” the laughter of his men echoes in the mist.

“You fucker—!” Hobie's hand shakes despite this, he draws the golden gun, aiming it at the navy man whose smirk gets wider.

“I recognize that little blunderbuss.” He chuckles, wiggling his pointing finger, “She pointed that at my head too, you'll be unsuccessful just like she was.”

It takes every fiber inside Hobie to not just shoot and face the consequences later. But he's surrounded, his crew is surrounded, they have no chance of escaping death if he shoots. The only option he has is through single combat and to appeal to the man's ego. He's hoping the idea works.

One look over his shoulder, one glance at your trembling face and he's back to that day, the day MJ was lost. He prays that this day doesn't end the same way three years ago.

“Little dove,” Mathias’ devilish eyes roam over your trembling body. “Look at you,” he chuckles lowly, “I'd say dear ol' Hobie here got an upgrade just because this one's got her head still glued on her neck!”

Hobie almost shoots him until someone from his crew screams, their voice full of malice, venom dripping with every utterance.

“Fuck you!” Gwen exclaims, “Don't you have any honour? She's dead and you're still spitting on her watery grave! After everything you've put her through!”

“Ah! Gwen Stacy, the ballerina turned pirate. How you doin', miss Stacy? I heard your father's still down in the stables, trying to repay his debt to the crown.” he rags her on, scoffing.

“You're still defending her? She's a traitor, a navy spy. The greatest one we've ever had in fact. Her only downfall is loving a bunch of…” he sucks in his teeth, trying to find the word. “Thieves like you. Love got her head cut off and love will be your ruin too.” Flicking his eyes to you, he observes everyone's faces after his tirade.

Hobie steps between Gwen and Mathias, his guns still raised, eyes brimming with the anger of a forsaken God. Yet he remains calm, clearing his throat, standing tall.

“Mathias Bradshaw, I challenge you to single combat, a duel. I win, you let us go. You win and you get to take us all back to the capital.” Hobie's voice booms louder than the thunder above. Lightning strikes near, the water sizzles at the contact. “I know a man of your stature can't say no.”

The man in the uniform guffaws loudly, broad shoulders shaking. “Oh that's hilarious, you think you'd win against me, little pirate? Hmm?”

“Yes.” Hobie doesn't miss a beat.

Mathias smiles, “I guess this one's less messy than what I was planning. Name your terms.”

“Guns only, five bullets. You get shot three times you lose.”

“I'll add a tiny thing to your wager.” The navy man looks over to your direction, pointing his crooked finger at you. “Same terms but I get to keep your little bird.”

Hobie turns to you, wide eyes staring back at you. “No—” He's already shaking his head before you speak up.

“Deal!” You roar above the thunder storm, deciding your own fate. The rain is getting heavier, drenching your terrified self. “The captain will take your terms as long as you honour it.” Nodding to Hobie, he holsters his weapon away from you.

Mathias cackles in the background.

Gently holding on to your arm, you already know what he'll say.

“Don't. Do you know what you just agreed to?”

“I do,” you stare at his raging eyes but they're tender when he looks at you. “I know you can take him, I trust you.” Taking his hand away from your arm, you squeeze him once before pulling him towards you. “Don't play fair, because he won't.” you whisper. “Fucking obliterate him, for MJ.”

Hobie takes you in like it's the last thing he'll ever do. He imprints your touch in his mind, wanting to remember the softness of it when the bullets get too much for him to bear.

He nods slowly, still unsure of your decision. If you trust him enough to sell your soul then he'll fight to the death so you don't have to.

With one last look at you, he turns around, facing up to the man he loathes the most, wanting to just strangle him with his bare hands. Maybe he'll do just that.

For the crew.

Mathias takes his blue coat off, grinning the entire time.

For MJ.

He grabs on to a rope, rappelling off the black hellion, landing in a thunderous impact on the deck.

For you.

Now that he's leveled with your gaze, he's a lot smaller down on the deck, stout with a round belly, face painted with white lead that's currently melting in the downpour. Hobie's taller and slimmer but he makes up for it in his agility and speed. You've seen him fight but Mathias' form could be compared to Finn's build, all muscle and strength hidden behind his uniform.

You're glad this was a duel of pistols if it was any other fight Hobie could be in trouble.

A few of his men do the same, jumping off the hellion while the ones on the smaller ships stay on board but keeping their eyes peeled.

Surrounding the bloodsail pirates, the hands of Mathias' men never leave the pommels of their rapiers. Hobie clenches his jaw, now standing before the king's flame, he can't help but gaze behind the man, back to you and his crew.

Gwen goes to your side, lacing her trembling fingers through yours, Pav sidles behind you, clutching the back of your vest. Miles stands next to Gwen, holding her other hand. You see them look at eachother with a knowing glance and glimmering eyes.

Your eyes meet Hobie's, you give him a nod, eyes full of fury, and trembling lips. You mouth a ‘Bleed him dry’.

The simple act of Hobie smiling at you, makes you tear up. It's the same one he gives you after you patch him up, it's the same one when he handed you the hot chocolate. It's the same smile that makes your heart flutter in your chest.

You're afraid as you part with the crowd to the side of the duelists, lest you get caught in the crossfire. As the one in front, you get a good look at the enemy on the other side, all lined up perfectly like the obedient soldier men that they are. You roam your eyes to their faces, wondering how they could obey a man like Mathias.

You assume the uniformed man walking towards the duelists is Mathias' right hand man. Left eye covered in an eye patch, his hazel eyes observe you. He's carrying a large wooden box, pristine and smooth at the edges with golden locks and embellishments. He opens it with a creak, rain water landing on the wood and soaking the velvet inside.

“You're the challenger, you get the first pick.” Mathias gestures towards Hobie, all smiles like he's not about to meet the end of a bullet.

You stand on your tippy toes to take a peek inside. There are two dueling pistols, flintlocks. One white as fresh snow, one is black like the hellion.

Hobie takes his pick, pocketing what you assume is the five bullets. The black gun in his hand shines when a lightning strikes the mast of the hellion. You hear splintering wood in the distance.

He steps back in place, measuring the metal’s weight in his hand.

“Good choice.” Mathias eyes down the gun. “Death has touched that one.”

Hobie glares, baring his teeth. If only that was enough to kill the man before him.

Mathias takes the remaining gun, wiggling it in his hand. “You ready, little pirate?”

Hobie doesn't show an ounce of fear. “You're going to die today.”

“How confident, confidence alone won't help you aim straight.”

Your entire body shakes whilst they stand back to back, guns raised on their sides. They walk slowly, counting their steps.

The pouring rain doesn't help, raindrops obscuring your vision, the cold mixing in with the ice in your veins.

With every step Hobie takes,

Five

with every hit of his boots on the floorboards,

Four

your heart tries to escape,

Three

pulse hammering,

Two

threatening to give out. Afraid of what's to come. No one else dares to make a sound.

One

Standing end to end on the dock, they turn around swiftly.

After a beat, the man with the box yells. “Fire!”

Bang!

The sound echoes out in the dark, above all the rain and thunder.

Hobie hits his mark, Mathias groans, clutching his dominant shoulder. Smoke bellows out of their guns, dissolving into the rain.

Your words are repeating in Hobie's head ‘Don't play fair’ you say, then he won't play fair.

He notices his bleeding arm, looking down he sees the bullet nicked his skin, leaving an angry gash in its wake. The wood behind him gets the brunt of the bullet, the metal embedding inside, splintering a gaping hole.

You jump when Mathias laughs along the thunder. More and more lightning pierces the sky. You can taste iron in your mouth, not realizing the pain from biting the inside of your cheeks.

They reload, Mathias’ man observing with his watchful eye, making sure they both adhere to the rules; but you highly doubt he's doing it for fairness sake.

Metallic clanking, gunpowder clinking against steel, Mathias' voice enters the fray to your dismay.

“You know, you were too easy to fool.” He starts, finishing up his reload. “You never asked why I left my lieutenant in your hands and why was it so damn easy for you to get my travel documents.” Smiling, the lead on his face melts further, dripping on the floorboards, the white paint mixing in with his blood. “Just like I said, love will be your downfall.”

Hobie doesn't have enough time to squabble, instead he would let his aim talk for him.

“Twenty paces!” The eye patch man yells again.

Hobie and Mathias move forwards, getting closer and closer to each other. You want to put a stop to the duel, but you have to trust Hobie that he'll make it, that he'll win. He has to.

You dare not blink.

“Fire!”

Bang!

Hobie almost keels over, his shoulder heavily bleeds, trembling hand holding his flesh together. You see him smile underneath the pain, following his gaze, Mathias clutches his shooting hand, groaning and hissing. It looks like Hobie shot a hole right in the man's hand. The white gun lays on the bloodied floor, discarded.

Gwen's hold on you tightens, you can hear Pavitr sob quietly.

You catch Hobie's eyes. There's hope in the swirling grey, nodding, you encourage him, mouthing an ‘end it’. He seems to understand, straightening his stance, he reloads the gun as best as he can with an injured shoulder.

Mathias wheezes out a strained laugh. “I gotta hand it to you, your aim is pretty good.” He stands, grabbing his gun on the way up with his uninjured hand. “No matter how amazing your aim is, you're still bloody blind!” He screams, spit flying out of his mouth.

“My two bullets that's in you say otherwise.” Hobie tilts his head mockingly.

“No, no, no.” Mathias clicks his tongue, waving the gun wildly. “You still don't get it do you? You're not asking questions, letting everything fall into your lap, thinking God's on your side on your little revenge quest. But he's not,” he chuckles. “Sacrificing my lieutenant was the best decision I've ever made, especially knowing the fucker can absolutely sing. Loose lips sink ships, little pirate. Do remember that. Especially since you didn't seem to learn from it last time.”

Hobie's face falls, dread filling his chest.

“Bribing the governor to plant my travel documents and telling him to go unwind in a brothel for a couple of days was well worth my coin.” Mathias stretches his shoulder, reloading his pistol with bloodied hands.

He continues. “The two idiots at the gates were…well idiots, I barely had to do anything to them. The lock was a false security to make you sweat a little bit.” The king's flame proves himself. “You're blind. You've focused so much on taking me down that you didn't notice the little details. It's either that or you're also deaf, preferring not to hear your crew's concerns.”

“Not a very good attribute for a supposed captain.” he shrugs, he says his words mockingly.

“Fuck you!” Hobie aims directly at his rival's head.

It's all his fault, everything that led up to this point is his fault.

The gun trembles in his hold. Mathias looks pleased, smiling at Hobie.

“You know the rules.” Mathias sucks in his teeth. “Don't fire until lieutenant Dubois says so or I win and I get your little bird.” he looks over at you. “Oh we're gonna have so much fun together, every night, every day.” His laughter makes you want to grab the nearest knife and shove it down his throat.

You don't back down from his disgusting gaze. “If he doesn't kill you, I will.” Pavitr tries to hold you back. “And it won't be quick.” your voice shakes from sheer anger.

“I look forward to it, duchess.” Mathias spares you one last glance.

You don't notice how Hobie looks angrier than he did, he's clearly holding back. His glare alone could burn a hole through Mathias' skull. Yet he stands tall, getting a second wind; he's gonna shoot a hole in his skull instead.

His head goes a hundred knots per hour, thinking of all the what ifs. What if he just listened, what if he didn't let her stay, what if, what if, what if, the words are tattooed in his mind, clawing and biting at his psyche.

“Ten paces!”

They walk in sync, closer to each other more than ever. Pausing in place, they stare each other down, Mathias' smile never leaving his lips. Hobie's scowl gets deeper with every second that passes.

“Fire—!”

“Fuck this.” Mathias lunges in surprise, grappling Hobie.

Hobie doesn't get a chance to dodge, his gun clattering on the floor as the heavier man tackles him to the ground. The wet floors make it hard for Hobie to find leverage against Mathias who's currently choking him with his large arm.

Chaos ensues, everyone breaks the line, unsheathing their weapons, fighting, steel and skin clashing. Pistols going off left and right, but your main focus is on the two men writhing on the floor.

You hear Hobie choke so you run faster, taking a fallen dagger from a corpse, you quickly dodge people, determined to save Hobie.

“This is what happens when you let your feelings decide for you!” Mathias yells above the mayhem.

Finally making it close to them, in one swift movement, you stab Mathias on his back, crimson ebbs on his white shirt like spiderwebs. He screams, letting go of Hobie.

You don't spare him a glance as you take Hobie by his arm, dragging him below deck. Shutting the doors closed, Mathias bids you farewell with one last cackling.

Guiding him through the corridors, you hope the winding hallways help make it harder for the enemies to find you.

“Y/N.” He wheezes out.

“Don't fucking talk.” Your feet brings you to the galley. Sitting him down, he plops like a fish on the chair, head lolling to the side.

Slapping his cheek, he wakes back up with a groan. “Actually, keep talking. Stay awake, please.”

Hobie nods, “I need to go back up, I can't leave them there.” He tries to stand but your hands stop him, making him sit back down.

“You can't help in this state. Let me treat you then you can go and help.” You look in his pained eyes. “Please, at least let me help with your shoulder.” your other hand fumbles to his back, searching for an exit wound. You already know the answer when you feel the hot crimson weeping out from the puncture left behind.

You plead with your eyes.

“Alright, do what you have to do. Make it quick.” he nods, you leave his side to light a fire in the hearth, laying a metal poker on top of the hot coals. “Can I tell you a story?”

“Whatever keeps you awake.” Taking out the first aid kit from your bag, you notice your hands tremble. They never shake when you're treating someone, with your back turned away from him, you swallow down a sob.

“There was this girl, she had red hair like one of those…” he sighs, injuries aching, throat throbbing. “Apples.”

You reach his side once again, trembling fingers dipping into the wound ointment. “You have a way with words.”

He grabs your shaking hands in his, “Are you alright?”

You pause in your frantic movements, blinking rapidly. “Y-you’re the one who's bleeding right now.”

“You're shaking.”

You twist your wrists away from his touch. “I'm alright, worry about yourself and your crew.”

“You're a part of my crew”

“Shut– just…” you exhale. “Continue your story.”

Hobie nods, eyes drooping. “She just one day showed up on the docks, asking for a place.” He inhales sharply. “I needed to fill the second ship so I agreed, I let her in. I shouldn't have done it.” His eyes well up but no tears fall. “I should've turned her away but she was determined, she had the skills to stay— can you give me somethin’ for the pain? A fuckin' rum or wine, anythin’”

“No alcohol, if you want to bleed out be my guest.” You hold a cloth above his wound, pressing down to stop the bleeding as much as you can.

“Fucker!” He stomps his foot, “you can be such a little shit sometimes you know?”

You can hear the struggle upstairs. Weirdly enough, there's no sound of cannons firing.

“I know—” the ship tilts suddenly, flinging you and Hobie brutally to the side. You do your best to shield his injured self, taking the brunt of the impact, back stinging from the wall.

He lands on top of you, arms on your side, face hidden on the crook of your neck. You can feel his staggered breathing on your skin.

Bottles and pans fly towards you two. Pushing him away, you guide each other to the corner of the room, huddled together, protected by the hearth.

“Shit!” Hobie protects your head with his hand when a pot flies towards you. The ship keeps turning and tossing the both of you until it finally straightens out, you can feel how fast its going by how wild the utensils are swinging.

“Someone got hold of the helm.” He whispers, his cool hand on your tender shoulder. “We're running.” Hobie doesn't say it with pride or dejection, he utters it with embarrassment.

“That's good,” you stand up, giving him a helping hand. “We can get out—”

The unmistakable sound of a cannonball whizzes past and the ship lunges harshly on the side again. You can hear frantic yells from above.

Hobie takes your hand, “I need to get up there.”

Helping him up, you nod. “And you will, let me close that wound off and give you something for the pain and we'll go back up there.”

“Y/N, you can't—”

“We will go up there.” the fire in your eyes makes him obey. “Sit down, I'll make this quick but not painless.”

He flops down, masking the pain with a grimace. Inhaling, he continues. “I let MJ in.”

You pause for a second before taking the metal poker. “Even after seeing all the bloody signs.” He sighs. “Maybe I am blind.”

You hold his face tenderly. “You were, but you still have a chance to change that. You can still help your crew. Make it right for their sake.”

He holds the back of your neck, kneading the skin with his bloodied fingers. “I don't regret letting you stay.”

You look at him apologetically. “You will after this.” Shoving the leather pot holder in his mouth, moving aside his clothes. “Inhale” you place the hot poker directly on his bullet wound, cauterizing the gaping hole.

It sizzles, Hobie holds on to your sides tightly, bunching up the fabric in his hands. Muffled screams eaten up by the leather in his mouth.

You move the rod away once it's done. Hobie's eyes roll in the back of his head. Slapping him lightly, he wakes back up.

“Stay awake, hey. Look at me.” He stares at you through half-lidded eyes. “There you are, captain.” You smile to reassure him. He gives you a tired nod. “Now for the exit wound.”

Hobie inhales, more than ready this time around. His skin is clammy, eyes red from the brimming tears. He clenches his entire body, determined to get it over with. Twisting around in his seat, he hopes the ship doesn't rock as you push the searing metal poker on the back of his shoulder.

With a muffled yell from him, you take the tool away, letting it cool down. Moving his head with your hand, you look at him apologetically.

“I'm sorry, if I warned you first you would've flinched.”

Hobie spits the leather out of his mouth, patting your cheek with his sweaty hand, he leaves it there, stroking your skin.

“I wouldn't have flinched.” He chuckles through the searing pain.

“Of course you wouldn't.” You hold his hand that's on top of your cheek. “You did good.”

He laughs, hand leaving your skin to hold your hand instead. “Not the first time I've felt fire.”

You smile, without thinking, you lay your forehead on his as more cannonballs fly around the revenge.

“You did good too.” He whispers. Eyes closed, he leans away. “Now get me something for the pain and let's get the bastard.”

You smile, nodding to him. Taking a bottle from your bag, you rub mint oil on his upper lip, igniting his nerves, keeping him awake.

“That's the only thing I have that could help. I can't give you alcohol.”

Hobie tentatively stands up, “Maybe after this then.” He groans, slightly limping. “‘m gonna need an entire crate of ‘em.” he thinks adrenaline is enough to keep him on his feet.

He faces you, a ghost of a smile on his pained face. Hobie bends at the waist, you scramble to help him but he refuses with his hand raising to stop you. Taking something from inside his boot, he grabs a shiny and slender thing.

“Here.” Hobie hands a silver dagger to you, intricate carvings of a turtle and a sea snake looping around the glimmering handle. “Somethin’ to defend yourself.”

“Are you sure? It looks—”

“I don't mind givin’ it to you.” He closes your hand around the hilt. “Make sure this one hits his neck this time.”

“I will.” Your eyes fill with determination, adrenaline still coursing through you.

He wobbles towards the door, sparing you a smile on the way.

“Hobie,” you call after him. “Continue your story after this?”

“Only if you tell me yours.” He looks over his shoulder, giving you the same smile he always has.

You scoff with a small smile, “Maybe I will.”

“Let's fuckin’ go and be pirates then.”

—

Getting up the deck was tedious work with all the rocking and shifting from the ship and the wild waves, add that with all the cannon balls whizzing past, it was like riding an angry bull. Meeting halfway with Karl on the way there made it easier, filling your chest with hope.

“Where's Robbie?!” He frantically yells, forehead bleeding, hands gripping Hobie's vest.

“I-I don't know.” Karl's face falls. “But we'll find him, I know he got out.”

“Got out from what?” His voice trembles, “what happened, Hobie?”

Hobie holds his friend’s wrist, “I'm sorry.” Karl weeps. “Go find Robbie and your crew.” He shakes his head. “And get the hell out of here, he's after me not you.”

Karl's eyes fill with tears, flicking towards you who look on with sad eyes. “What about you and the others?”

“We'll find a way out. We always do, remember?” Hobie reassures him with a smile. “Take one of my dinghies, and row the hell out of here.” he takes Karl's hands away from his vest. “We'll see you back at the old place, yeah?”

“You fucking better, Hobart or I'll drown you myself.” Karl takes your hand briefly, nodding. “I hope I see you again, doc.”

“Me too, captain. Find Robbie.”

You part ways with Karl, praying that he finds Robbie and what remains of his men.

“Ready, trouble?” Hobie gets your attention by brushing his pinky against the back of your hand.

“I'm right behind you.”

—

It's war.

The moment Hobie opened the door to the deck you smell petrichor and blood in the air.

You get a glimpse of the battle before he could shut the doors. Bodies, both pirates and navy alike lay motionless on the floor. The sound of thunder mixes in with the pained yells, flashes of lightning illuminates the night sky and you see the faces of the dead clearly.

Two-fingers lay face first on the deck, arms bent at an angle, blood pooling from his head. Through the smoke and splintered wood, Foul screams when a sword plunges through his heart, silencing him immediately. Danny takes a bullet for Finn who promptly avenges him with his cutlass, swiftly separating the man's head from his body.

One face you were hoping was among the dead was missing. Mathias isn't on board.

Something flashes in his eyes when he looks at you. Grabbing your arm, he leans in, your heart stops.

Hobie moves past your head to press his forehead on your shoulder. Bathing in your presence, hand squeezing your skin

“Hobie?”

He smiles, moving his hand up to cup your jaw. Chuckling, he cleans his dried blood off your cheek with his thumb. “Do me a favour, Scuttlebutt?”

“What is it? We need to get up there!”

Hobie ignores you, leaning away. “Survive for me would you? Live, find your family. Promise me.” He sniffs, eyes glinting.

“What?”

“Just promise me, trouble.” He shakes you.

“Alright I promise. Can we—”

“I'm sorry.”

“What—?” Hobie pushes you hard, you fall off the steps, landing on your behind, he exits without looking back, shutting the doors closed. “What the fuck?!”

You rattle the doorknob but it's no use, he locked it on the outside. Frustrated, you try to kick in the door, hurting yourself from the hard wood.

“Fuck! Hobie!” You bang the door, peeking through the keyhole you see carnage as Hobie makes quick work of the remaining men. “Let me help!”

The sound of cannon balls going off almost deafens your eardrums. If only you had your lockpick you could open it.

Your lockpick.

It's a stretch but you still run towards your cabin, feet thudding loudly, echoing around the hallways that you've memorized.

You feel relieved after seeing your door. Shouldering it open, you frantically search for the metal on the shelves. The tip of it scratches your hand but you don't care, already bolting off towards the exit. Running off with your bag tied around you, hoping the medical kit inside is enough to treat the wounded, you hold the lockpick in your hand while you run.

Your hope dwindles with every cannon hitting the ship.

Doors whizz past, ankle stinging, the sounds of screams and gunfire makes you sprint faster.

You don't notice the blood soaked hulking man leaving Hobie's cabin.

Running into him, you stagger, tumbling down, heart falling into your stomach as he looks down at you through his nose.

“Hello there.”

Scrambling to get to your feet, you slide under his legs, stabbing his achilles heel with your lockpick. The man screams in agony, you take the opportunity to sprint like you've never ran before. You'd take running away from O’hara any day.

Your lungs scream for you to stop, but you go on as you hear thundering stomping behind you.

There's no exit and you can't run forever.

The metallic click rings behind you, rounding the corner, you barely dodge the bullet aimed at you, nicking your hip.

“Shit!” You almost fall yet you continue on, entering the library, you shut the doors behind you, locking it swiftly.

Lifting your hand away, the sight of your own blood turns your fear into fury. With your trembling hands, you unsheathe the dagger from your belt.

You have a promise to keep, and you never break a promise.

Hiding behind the armchair you always sat on, you crouch down, gripping the dagger, ready to strike like a viper in the sand.

You look back on what she taught you, “Strike fast and hit hard. Don't give them a chance to get back up.” her voice whispers it to you and you intend to follow it.

The door bursts open, splintering the wood to a thousand pieces.

“The captain wants you alive, little birdy. This doesn't have to hurt if you just come with me, eh?” You hear him chuckle lowly, blatantly lying to you.

His heavy footsteps thud closer.

You use the shadows as your guide, the oil lamp left open on the corner table does the work. For once you thank Gwen for forgetting to close the light.

“I can help with your wound. Glue your wings back together again” he whistles. “The red hydra can't help you with that but I can. I'm a surgeon you see.” Getting closer and closer, you time your strike right.

You come out of your hiding place with a battle cry. Still crouches down, “I highly doubt that!” Slicing his tendons in one quick movement. The second he falls to his knees, you stab him in the neck.

Stepping back, he chokes in his own blood. With wide eyes you flinch when he stands, seemingly unaffected but his shaking pupils say otherwise. With a garbled noise from your assailant, he reaches for you.

“What the fuck?!”

With a split second decision, you dodge his hands, moving backwards, throwing books from the shelves which bounce almost harmlessly on his head and body.

There's a loud thrumming sound outside, its warbling is almost mechanical but definitely something an animal could've made.

He heard it too, pausing in his movement for a second before he lunged towards you. With a scream, your back against the corner, he jumps you.

Your head hits the wall in an ugly crunch, seeing stars, sliding down the wall, landing on the floor, he chokes you with his bare hands. Indistinct noises escape from his mouth, your dagger nowhere to be found in his throat. His entire body hides anything in front of you, drowning your vision, filling it with your murderer. His blood drips down on your face, almost drowning you in it.

You know he's running on fumes but based on your vision fading, lungs gasping for air, you think you'd go out first before him.

Hands grazing something metallic on the floor next to you, you inch your fingers towards it. Finally finding your grip, you smack it on his head.

You've got a promise to keep after all.

He yells, the oil from the lamp spreading on his skin and clothes, engulfing him in flames.

You frantically roll away, killing the fire clinging to your clothes until there's nothing left but burned cloth.

The flames light up the entire room in orange and reds, the paper around him helps feed the fire as he tries to desperately put it out.

There's that thrumming again.

You watch on, holding your tender neck. Your face is flat, eyes reflecting the fire that's quickly eating at the man. Fabric burns on his flesh, flesh turns into charred muscle, the fire eats at that too until he falls, silence hanging in the room except for the fire cackling, ashes and flames surrounding his corpse.

You stand up, ratty shoes stepping over fire to grab the fallen dagger with a thick cloth from your bag.

For a second you stand amidst the fire.

The thrumming outside and the warmth wakes you up, flames licking at your clothes, it's heat scorching your skin, nose filling with smoke. Even with all the pain you still escape with your life, determined to keep your promise.

Running outside the former library, the cracking of splintering wood fills your ears, you instinctively dodge, backing away before the mast of the revenge falls on your head.

Shielding your face, you cower. The mast stills, sharp wood lay next to your feet. Tentatively opening your eyes, the sounds from above are clearer in your ears, all the screams and guns going off, you hear it loud and clear that you can decipher whose screams belong to whom.

The fog enters below deck through the gaping hole left by the broken mast. All the while, the smoke from the library rises up, replacing the mist.

Your exit.

You don't hesitate to climb up. Jagged edges of sharp wood rip amd snag your clothes, stabbing your skin. Finding leverage, you manage to prop yourself up on the deck, meeting face to face with a lifeless Ned.

The light in his eyes is gone, unsung music escaping from his open lips. Skin dirtied by flowing ichor.

You don't hear anything else other than skin meeting skin in a brutal dance.

“No.” You quickly jump up, leaving the fire behind you to consume, to devour what's left of the revenge. “Ned?”

Desperately feeling for a pulse, your heart wretches in your throat, saliva filling your mouth, bile rising up from your gut.

There's no pulse.

With a choked sob, you close his eyes for him. The sound of wet punching makes you turn to your side. Hobie's eyes are wild, vicious and desperate, bloodied knuckles pummeling the man under him. Skin broken, nose cracked, skull open for the world to see. Yet, Hobie doesn't stop even with the obvious signs of death. Fueled by rage, he paints the wooden floorboards with the man's brain.

It all feels sickenly real, your heart is still beating in sync with his punches but there's so much death around you that you feel like you're a part of the dead. Blood and smoke filling your senses, adrenaline slowly washed away like the tides.

You're sitting in a graveyard and nobody else has noticed.

“Hobie.”

His fists pound harshly through the man's head, splintered wood now embedded in his skin.

You apprehensively crawl towards him, your various injuries aching, blood seeping out from your hip. The chaos around you still continues on while he still doesn't stop.

“Hobie—” your fingers brush his arm, he flinches back, fist raised to knock you out. But he halts, knuckles kissing the tip of your nose, painting it with crimson.

With wide eyes, he heaves, muscles tensed, grief all over his expression. You shove your fear down, holding his raised knuckles, moving it away gently. You hold his face in your other hand, smearing the fresh ichor on his cheeks, staining your own skin.

“It's done, he's dead.” You nod, caressing his face, turning it away from the carnage below him. “Hobie,” you unclench his fist carefully, shattered bone and hair sticking to him. With a shallow breath, you let the tears flow on your cheeks. “He's dead.”

His face flashes with fury only to be triumphed over by misery. With a heavy heart, he nods.

Behind Hobie, a uniformed man raises his pistol, without a second thought, you take the golden blunderbuss from his waist, hastily aiming it directly at the man's head.

Your ears ring, the smoke from the gun blinds you for a second before you see your target fall dead with a bullet right between his eyes, blood splattering like fireworks from his head.

Hobie looks at you in surprise, taking his gun away from you carefully. Hands soft on your raised skin. He pats your cheek and you could only shake your head.

“We need to—” the ship collides with something, Hobie holds you close, covering you away from debris. With his embrace, he protects you. Scarred hand on the back of your head, face hiding in the crook of your neck. Leather, sea salt and blood invades your senses.

The hellion is once again looming over the revenge, its golden façade cracking under the damage made by Hobie's ship.

Mathias shows himself, looking worse for wear, he wobbles on two feet, clutching his injuries.

You hear footsteps around you, raising your head, eyes widening at what's left of the crew, they stand behind you and Hobie. Wiping blood off their faces, reloading their guns, sharpening their swords. The red sails of the people's revenge still fly above, more than ready to take what they're owed, no matter what it takes.

Gwen's blond hair is dipped in ruby red, hands tight around her blunderbuss. Miles wipes his face clean, stepping next to Gwen with clenched jaw. Pavitr stands directly behind you, face covered in what you hoped to be someone else's blood. He nods, reassuring you.

Yuri and James take one look at Ned, their expression alone could make you weep again. Finn, crouches down next to you, nodding wordlessly, blue eyes glossy.

Hobie exhales, with shaky legs he stands up, helping you back to your feet. Gripping your knife, you scowl at the man above.

“How cute. The power of friendship isn't enough to save you.” Mathias says through gritted teeth.

The rest of his crew arrives, there's less ships than before, proving how the bloodsail pirates is a force to be reckoned with. They have what Mathias doesn't have, giving them something worth fighting for.

Mathias nods, signaling his ship to turn their cannons towards you and your family.

You step in front of Hobie. “I have a proposition!” Yelling above the rain and metallic clanking, you push away Hobie's hand from your shoulder.

“What is it?” The man rolls his eyes, looking incredibly bored. “We can't be here all night.”

“Me,” the crew voices their concerns, Hobie takes your hand, face terrified.

You smile, “it's alright.” Whispering to him and the crew only. With tearful eyes, you turn back to the devil above. “You seem like you really want me, so fucking take me instead. Let them go.”

You feel the heat beneath your feet. The fire devours everything just a few feet below you.

They all yell your name behind you. Protests fill your ears but you choose to ignore them. You feel his calloused fingers squeeze your hand.

The man guffaws, “Holy shit! You like them that much?” He observes Hobie's contorted face.

“You like her that much?” He chuckles. “You know what? I don't even want you that much, sure, get on up here, birdy!”

There's that thrumming and warbling again. It's much clearer now that you're above, it seems like it's coming from beneath the ship.

“Come here and take me then!” The rain mixes in with your salty tears. Raising your arms, shoving everyone away, you taunt him. “But let them go or I'll plunge this dagger through your eye!”

“Christ, you're as insane as him. Perfect for eachother eh?” he sighs, gesturing for his cannons to cease. “I'm already satisfied even though a few of your men escaped from a dinghy but eh, I'm sure I'll get them soon enough. Just like how I'll get you one day, little pirate. I'm a very patient man, I'll wait three more years if I have to.”

Hobie's face is full of anguish when he swivels you around to look at him. “Don't fuckin' do this. He won't keep his word,” he flicks his eyes to Mathias, then back to you, grey eyes darker than before. “the moment you step foot on that ship he'll kill you.” his mind comes back to that fateful day.

He can't let that happen again, not to you.

You look at him softly. “I know, but I'll make it hard for him, that'll give you enough time to escape. Hobie, I have nothing else, just this.” swallowing the lump in your throat, there's heat under your eyes. Taking his hand, you squeeze it once. “Let me do this, for you and for them. You still have to get your revenge so let me do this. Don't let him win.”

“You promised.” His voice cracks.

“I don't think I can keep it now.” You flick your eyes behind him, the crew looks on with grief marring their eyes. “They're too young for this, Gwen, Pav and Miles, they deserve to live too.”

You hear the rope fall from the hellion's deck. “I'm glad I got stuck in that net even though you made me walk the plank.” chuckling through the tears, you give them your best smile to remember you by.

“Don't leave.” he pleads.

Sliding your hand away, you take one last look at them, making a sketch of their faces in your mind to remember when the inevitable happens.

“I have to go now or this won't work.”

The captain has no plan on how to fix it, how to fix everything, and he beats himself bloody for it.

Turning around, with every step you take feels heavier than the last. You make amends to her in your mind, praying that it reaches back home. You also thank her, but you don't regret running away that day.

You'll never know what lies for you up north or if there's someone there waiting for you. If there is someone, you apologize to them too.

You leave traces of yourself to the people behind you with the hope you live on through those pieces. That at least they won't forget your name.

The howling wind and rain whips at your drenched form, committing the feel of it to memory.

Grabbing the rope, you fight the urge to look behind.

“Hurry up, birdy!” Mathias cackles. “Come on then—!”

The thrumming is deafening, everything seems to freeze mid motion.

Giant mounds of flesh rise up from the water. Snake-like features curl above, rising to the heavens, cutting through the grey clouds.

You can't help but be mesmerized by the beauty of it. Iridescent scales glimmer against the lightning, cracked scales teeming in gold. the lightning bolts ricochet off their scaly skin, unharmed.

More serpents appear from the depths, towers of scaled flesh. They rain sea water from above, dripping from their massive bodies.

One curls just above the hellion, opening its eyes, revealing an entire ocean in its orbs.

You can't stop looking at it, petrified.

“Dragons.” You say in awe.

“Y/N!” Hobie races towards you. His hand brushes against your shirt, so close yet so far.

You get yanked up with the hellion, grip still frozen on the ropes. Holding on for life, the beast has curled around the ship, in your peripheral you see men jumping off, splashing down into the depths, taking their chances in the cold.

Facing the creature, they trill and thrum, crushing the hellion and the navy ships in their massive jaws and swirling flesh.

You wake up from the trance they had you in, almost losing your grip off the rope.

“No!” You screech, saving yourself, arm socket straining against your weight. Twirling the rope around your hand, you tie it just like how they taught you.

Palms burning on the hemp, looking down, you're hanging high above the revenge. You watch as the crew frantically unties a dinghy while Hobie and Finn stay behind, they're too far for you to make out what they're doing.

Your only chance is to jump in the water but you know that'll be the end of you.

Water parts for something swimming fast under the water, it moves towards the Revenge. You scream their names in an attempt to warn them.

“Gwen!” Your throat struggles from the screaming. “Brace yourselves!”

The serpent crashes on the starboard side, away from where the small boat hangs. Hobie clings to the remaining mast, knife in his hand. Heart pounding, you watch as Gwen runs towards Hobie, he yells, she shakes her head but in the end she bolts for the dinghy. You nod, hoping she saw that you forgave her.

The beast constricts around the helion, crashing the oak and its gilded carvings in its wrapped body.

You sway in the wind with the serpent’s movements, praying that the rope hangs on to the figure head. The figure head of an angel looks down at you, lifeless eyes observing your slow demise.

This is the end for you, you've never thought you'd be killed by a mythical being turned into reality but here you are, hanging on by a thread, waiting for death to come.

With one last glimpse at the revenge, you see the fire finally reaching above deck. Gwen and the others lower down on the dinghy while Hobie grabs onto a rope, cutting the knot off the steel rings, remembering James' teachings, if he keeps doing that he’ll get yanked up, and with the wild wind, it will surely be a disaster.

You yell his name in a futile attempt to stop his effort at saving you.

Finn raises something in his hands, heaving it over his shoulder.

You sharply turn your head when a snapping sound fills your ears. The hemp untangles, with the rope breaking in the middle, you close your eyes.

The sea serpent lets out a guttural scream, the sound alone sends shivers down your spine. It uncurls around the hellion and you get a glimpse of a sharp harpoon sticking out from its eye.

Falling with the hellion, the serpent's eyes turn from blue to a bloody red, bathing everything in its gaze in crimson. it's the last thing you see before you shut your eyes.

You feel a familiar arm around your middle, looking over your shoulder, you think you've already died.

“I've got you!” Hobie yells, with him carrying you and his hand grasping on the rising rope, he struggles to hold on.

So you help him, wrapping your arm behind him, you hold the rope in the other, face close to his as you two fly above the revenge, swinging and whipping uncontrollably in the storm.

The beast trills, jaw unhinging, its rows of shark like teeth in full display.

“Shit!” Hobie manipulates the rope to swing you two away from its sharp teeth.

It fails to catch you, instead it turns its attention to Finn on the deck.

“Finn! Run!” Your blood curdling scream gets his attention, yet he pays no heed.

But everyone already knows it's too late, with one last fight in him, he raises his harpoon, yelling, meeting the serpent's opened mouth halfway.

It swallows him whole.

You just stare at where Finn once stood, he leaves patches of his ichor on the floor.

The revenge sinks, fire and water engulfing Hobie's home, your home.

“Love!” The name rots in his mouth, it gets you out of your frozen state. “I—”

The last standing mast cracks and breaks apart. You lose your grip on Hobie.

And you fall once again. For a second you fly, eyes peering towards the clearing sky, with white clouds in your vision, you brace for impact.

“MJ!”

That's the last thing you hear as you fall in the depths in a harsh splash.

A/N: so sorry for the late update!! Hope you like it 🫶 (if i forgot to put any warnings on the tags please tell me)

[chillwildwave]

The Wishing Kingdom: Prologue.

@annymation @uva124 @signed-sapphire @wings-of-sapphire @thisnameisnotspokenfor @mythartist21 @mafik-sun @lunellasflo @rascalentertainments @frogcoven88 @kstarsarts @oh-shtars @spectator-zee @emillyverse @gracebethartacc @gracebeth3604 @galacticstarslove17 @tumblingdownthefoxden @rylxdreams

(We hear the Disney intro with 100 at first but then we pan over to the Walt Disney Castle where a storybook titled “The Wishing Kingdom” is seen being laid on a desk, while we hear a choir harmonising, we hear a voice that is remiscent of an Golden Age male narrator.)

Once upon a time, there was a sky, so blank and so bare, even clouds covered its dread, what remained was a dark pit of nothingness.

It stayed like this until those clouds danced around the sky which caused cosmic dust to glide on by, it is said that when two elements are combined, you would get one of the most brightest creatures ever seen in the universe, responsible for looming over humans over the sky, day and night, providing every need that they offered.

So much so that the star god, Xanthos used his powers to create a habitat for all the stars, the kingdom of Starfell, where these creatures would live peacefully and decide in which star would grant wishes to their people…

Down the mist of the ever-so vivid Starfell, came the land of humans where they believed so much in the wishes that the stars held that they would hold a tradition, where their wishes would be written on a single strand of ribbons and wrapped around the branch of the first existing wishing tree…

(Little Asha interrupts the story as soon as her dad says “wishing tree.”)

“You mean the one we are on at the moment?” She enthusiastically questioned as she wiggled her legs, begging for her dad to answer.

“Yes, dear, now let me finish the story cause I’ve got more to tell.” Her dad replies when he turns another page on the book.

Even though some wishes were granted by the stars themselves, there were a few that were too controllable to grant, this happened with two specific people, a prince and a princess, held a wish in their hearts, trying to call the power of the stars to make them come true, however, the stars kept their powers shut after they found out about that wish, they thought that it would be too dangerous as it was said that if any dangerous wish was granted, it would release a dark void that would not only destroy Starfell, but also the entire humanity of Earth.

The couple tried to beg for their wish many times, not even days and weeks, but for years, until the stars decided not to grant it due to how much danger it could possess on causing destruction on the universe.

Even with their wishes in their hearts, they decided to head to a cabin where each book held a spell that would grant them magic, not just magic, but magic so powerful, it is almost impossible to avoid, so they scrummaged all the books from the shelf until the prince found one where he took deep breaths and summoned the old and powerful forces…

Magic, rare and strong,

Give me what I deserve,

Feed that feisty song,

And let the wind dissolve,

The wind dissolve.

(As he says that, he closes his eyes as we see Green effects swirling around the couple, the Princess holds onto him as he says the spell, it takes a long time until they are relieved that they had so much power from the one spell now.)

And with all this power they held, it was then that people believed that they were responsible for granting the wishes, as if they had the same power as the stars.

So it was there where they found an island on the Mediterranean Sea where the Kingdom of Rosas was established, with a hidden hamlet where the enslaved, scrubbed, cleaned and guarded their land until their chains were broken.

(We then go back to little Asha with her head next to her father.)

“You mean, that where we live, what is the cost of freedom if you can’t buy it her in this kingdom?” The little girl raised to question, her inquisitiveness kept flowing.

“I don’t know what the cost is, but it is part of what the king and queen say for their people.” Her dad replied with a solemn look on his face, he looks up to the stars while he touched his wish on a ribbon.

“Asha, there’s something I would like to tell you, look. You see these stars, right above us, legend says that these are used to believe us that with a wish, comes a dream.” (The screen then goes to the stars, the brightest one illuminating in the night as Asha’s dad speaks.)

“And when you have those, all you have to do is to keep believing, and when you have that dream, if you want to achieve something, you need to have the courage to get what you want.”

“What happens if…” She took her time to come up with another question, although she knew that it was negative, no matter what, she asked anyway. “I don’t work hard enough.”

“Well if you don’t, well, it doesn’t mean that your life is going to be entirely perfect, and if you don’t work hard, your goal will be much more complicated that it might seem.” (This causes her dad to look down at her notebook while Asha tries to get him to not look at it as she thinks he’s seen her swearing in her notes.)

“Dad, give me my notebook back!” She playfully teased him while still holding onto it.

(He still holds on to it as he reads her page while Asha slowly looks over it to see which page he is on.)

“It seems that you writing about what you want to achieve right at this very moment.” He giggles as he feels her embrace as she lays on his shoulder to look at the stars one more time before bed.

“Well, yeah and the start barely even begins with me, but tell me Dad, did you ever have a wish once, did the stars answer?” She spoke softly.

He doesn’t speak for a moment, his eyebrows causing a frown with his eyes looking up one more time. “Never, cause I’ve kept that wish for a very long time, for as long as I can remember, and since the king and queen became the new wish granters, I always knew that my wish should be worth keeping in my heart no matter what cost it had to get to me, and I believed in myself harder to the point where entered this area, with you and Sakina, and that wish, I wrote it on the ribbon and hung it on this branch of the tree, it is so special to me because it reminds me of that wish growing and growing as it lays on the branch, if it drives my heart, it’s possible that my dream would come…”

Silence… He just suffered something inside of him that the end is nearly near, there’s only silence, not much talking, Little Asha gets up and helps her Dad get up after he felt something but he fell back down causing her to carry him but it was no use, we also see Sakina running towards the tree after the commotion, as she runs to the tree, she sees her husband slowly dying while she stands next to Asha with tears running down her face, she also strokes her on the hair, gently.

Her dad continually coughs in agony, while Asha grabs his chest and tries to revive him. “No dad, you can’t, you said you would always be with me… You can’t!” Her voice is almost lost due to her pain.

The last words were spoken… “Asha… Sakina… Look at me, sometimes, not matter how old and young you are, the wishes will be dead if you don’t make it happen, there’s not a single thing like living forever to grant your wish, you shouldn’t have to live forever without that chance of wishing upon a star… Just, remember.”

He says after he closes his eyes, while he fades away to dust filled with sparkles setting their way to the sky, tearful Asha couldn’t even move after she tried to hug her mum because her hands were too shaky, despite that, her mum hugged her back as they watched the dust glide away, directing itself towards the cosmic sky of the stars…

And that’s the prologue for y’all, it would be nice if you give me your thoughts and also, I’m planning on doing an animatic to the same scene but who knows I could make some tiny adjustments to it as I go, here is my WIP animatic so far. There’s more to come.

[hmserebusadjacent]

Beautiful

Thought I would post my own humble fluffy Emmrich x Rook story here too.

Emmrich x Trans Male Rook (Pining, longing, all of that lovely stuff)

A story in which an origami ship is made and two men grapple with the enormity of their feelings for each other.

Word count: 771

AO3 link

“It was the silly dream of a child, I suppose. To run away to sea…”

Rook had thoroughly drifted off into the mists of time, Emmrich could tell. Practised hands carried on folding the paper this way and that without the maker even having to look down to check his workings. The logical part of the necromancer’s mind wanted to study the paper folding so he might perfect the art before giving Rook a ship of his own.

But Emmrich’s heart was already lost in the other details of the man across from him, as it always seemed to be nowadays.

The way Rook used his nail to press the lines on the paper more firmly and flatten them, the subtle colour change at the end of his nails a hidden bloom. The hunch of the assassin’s shoulders but the lack of stress lines around his eyes and mouth, showing the war between his need to relax and his instinct to be on guard. The small little gap between the man’s lips that moved ever so slightly as he breathed in and out…

Emmrich idly wondered if Rook’s lips would feel as soft as he had often imagined they would…

“Still, it was a nice dream to have, even if it was foolish”, Rook whispered, shattering both the quiet moment and the deep concentration Emmrich had been pulled into. It felt like something had been drained out of him but had also been refilled anew during his quiet contemplation, and Emmrich had to resist the urge to sigh almost wistfully.

When he looked up to the assassin’s eyes to find the man looking at his folded boat, the necromancer acquiesced and looked downwards.

The boat was much like the others that Rook had made, with the pleasing little sails and the flap at the back that allowed the ship to stand up. But this particular paper was such a pleasing shade of green that it almost seemed to dance in the firelight, casting its own shadows much like Veilfire does.

“Beautiful”, Emmrich found himself commenting, permitting a warmer smile than perhaps was wise to twist his lips.

When the necromancer looked back up to Rook he was almost startled to see a blush dusting the assassin's cheeks, the man only holding his gaze for perhaps a second before he was looking away. The little cheeky smile that graced Rook's lips and the little cough he let out too in the aftermath had Emmrich's heart rattling out a sudden realisation.

Did Rook want to be described as beautiful? More specifically by Emmrich himself?

Oh shit…

By the time Rook looked back at Emmrich the necromancer was still trying to form words, and even Emmrich himself knew there must be a certain desperation to his gaze. Desperation to cross the gap, to bridge to something wonderful and new and joyously…alive.

What was worse was that Rook seemed equally torn, heart almost certainly racing in his chest over a dilemma that the older man dared to hope might be similar to his own.

Thankfully the assassin saved Emmrich from needing to formulate anything else that night, effectively ending the line of discussion when he gave a little wink and stood up.

“I've taken up enough of your time. I'll leave you to it.”

The assassin's face was still holding some of that desperate hope, creeping out behind the mask of joviality that was trying to stay fixed in place.

Even then, Rook wasn't done with inadvertently playing with the other man's heart, for his shy gesture of holding out the ship was enough to make Emmrich want to swoon.

“For you, if you'll have it.”

With hands that he desperately hoped weren't shaking, Emmrich reached out and plucked the ship from the waiting hands before him. He couldn't help but cradle both of his hands around the ship now as he brought it back to his lap, intent on protecting it like the treasure it was.

“Thank you…”, Emmrich almost whispered, somehow making the moment feel all the more intimate.

Rook merely offered a small bow, letting Emmrich see the smile on his face as he stood back up to his full height and then departed and melted into the shadows.

The moment Rook was out of sight and earshot, Emmrich Volkarin gently placed his head in one of his hands and let out the wanton sigh that had been building inside himself all evening.

“What am I going to do…?”, he whispered under his breath, the usually stoic necromancer lost in the midst of feelings he hadn't felt for nearly thirty years.

[evolutionsvoid]

When it comes to the denizens of the deep, the Church's opinion can be a bit murky. These beings are not labeled blasphemous or hunted down like other heretical beings, but yet those on high do not openly accept them. They will point to these odd fish and creatures as examples of faith being all around us in this world, but they do not listen closely to whatever "gospels" these entities might share. Some sects openly embrace these beings, seeing them as holy and divine, but the Church itself exudes an aura of wary tolerance. Look to these creatures as proof that even the natural world itself partakes in worship and religion like that of the Church, but go no farther than that. If these things pray or preach, it is of a primordial faith, one far more "blunt" and "savage" compared to the glorious Church of Divine Wealth (or so the faithful of the Church claim). Thus, it is warned to stay true to the Church's teachings, and keep things respectful between oneself and these strange beings. Obviously, as long as one stays away from the sea, there is little chance of encountering one of these creatures. However, in rare instances, it seems that a "pilgrim" may appear upon the shores and walk the lands on some unknown journey.

From their appearance and peculiar gestures, they have gained the label of "Monk," though one may question if this status can truly be handed out on visage alone. Encounters with these beings have occurred both at sea and on land, as these creatures seem far more amphibious than others of their kind. For the sea folk, they have caught these beings in nets, or watched lone individuals slowly pulsing through the shallow waters upon a dedicated path. When hooked and brought up, they offer no tokens or wise words, they simply gesture with their tendrils and nudge their bodies towards a single direction. It appears they are obsessed with a specific destination, desiring it above anything else. Those on both land and sea will do anything to follow some invisible path, with some believers labeling it a pilgrimage. When meeting dry land, they rise up onto their tentacles and slowly slither forth, never pausing in their journey. They will crawl their way across the earth, completing some journey known only to them. No one has been able to piece together their purpose. Some have spoken in an odd tongue to strangers, while others gather random objects and trinkets. Eventually, they will turn around and make their way back to the ocean, and vanish into the depths. Supposedly they found something up here, but no one can really say what.

Interpreting these Monks has been an endless effort, with no real way to confirm what is the truth. Some think it is simply the migrations of an animal, perhaps laying eggs or seeking particular nourishment needed for the next stage in life. Yet, they do not appear in large groups, which you would think would happen if this was some kind of life cycle. Some think they are sick and lost, like other creatures of the deep found dying in the shallows. Yet, no weakness is found, and their determination is unstoppable. Those who believe them to belong to some divinity of the depths claim it a pilgrimage, and this is some task given to them by their faith to contact those above. Surely they seek a holy goal, be it dispensing wisdom or gathering sacred materials. Even their actions emanate the ways of the faith, for when threatened they do not turn to violence. It would appear that these Monks are tied to Phlegm in a way, as they can breath out a damp mist of calming Phlegm to subdue foes. Those struck by the greenish cloud that billows from their "face" will find their bodies relaxed and their minds at peace, sedating them into a state of bliss, where they cannot bring themselves to raise their weapons. Any danger is met with these mists, and once the enemy is rendered harmless, they continue on. The other evidence lies in their diet, as the believers claim they show temperance in their feeding. Monks eat very little when on shore, and only eat tiny morsels of meat. They are very careful in tearing their food up into small pieces, as if large portions are blasphemous and gluttonous. Many compare this to the fasting and moderation shown in other worshipers, and that this is clear proof that faith runs within these beings. 

Of course, there are others who are more paranoid about such creatures, which stems from living in a world in chaos. They see these "pilgrimages" as something less holy and innocent. To them, the Monks look more like scouts, and their journey one of collection and study, rather than meditation. Who is to say that these creatures are not scanning the lands and gathering valuable intel to send back to the depths? Why should we believe them holy and not insidious in their design? They wear a familiar visage and hide behind a peaceful demeanor, yet they say nothing of their goals and are unflinching in their purpose. Wouldn't a peaceful fellow of faith take time to sit with others and show kindness? Wouldn't they seek to break bread with like minded folk? Yet they do not waste time in their quests, and are always intent on returning home. Surely there is a chance they are carrying precious details that serve to bolster their own forces and knowledge. After all, everyone else in this world looks to be quite eager in carving up these lands in disarray, who is to say these strange fish are not another hungry beast at the dinner table?

-------------------------------------------------

"Monk of the Sea"

[hitlikehammers]

Do you happen to enjoy:

Soulmate!AUs

Specifically: Soulmates-with-Twist

And with AGENCY/CHOICE

Slow Burns that are ALSO Kinda Love-At-First-Sight

Misunderstandings/Obliviousness that’s ALSO Sorta Tied Up in DEEP EXPRESSIONS OF DEVOTION the WHOLE TIME ANYWAY

Urban Fantasy!Adjacent Themes

Near-Death Experiences that are THWARTED by SOUL DEEP LOVE

The Truest, Most-True TRUE LOVE

Art by the IMMENSELY Talented @becomingfoxes

If you answered ‘YES’, you may be interested in the @steddiebang fic I am so excited to share, starting TUESDAY, 3 OCTOBER, with scheduled regular chapter updates (currently, but possibly more frequently) EVERY WEEK on Ao3:

made of Light ✨

80,000k | Explicit

Soulmate AU | Pre-S1 — Post-S4

“I like to fancy souls as being made of light. And some are all shot through with rosy stains and quivers. . .and some have a soft glitter like moonlight on the sea. . .and some are pale and transparent like mist at dawn."

—Anne Of Avonlea, L. M. Montgomery

💫 Snippets posted during the week on tumblr, twitter and possibly tiktok if the parties involved in the initial suggestion of this very questionable idea can successfully convince me to read

💫 COMPLETE; chapter/word count will only shift if 1) I get bored and add to it, 2) one of my brilliant collaborators want to add something and/or inspire me with their brilliance and the timeline/chapter lengths/scene styles need to change to match

[hplovecraftmuseum]

One element of Lovecraft's fiction that remains to some degree controversial is his use of various terms to describe his monstrous alien beings. This issue has been further confused by the habit of his followers to interpret these terms in various ways in their own fiction. The following examples are some of the better known names Lovecraft himself quoted: 1. The Ancient Ones - Lovecraft used this term in several tales, but the exact identity of who these entities are is open to interpretation. 2. The Old Ones - Again a specific defining explanation for who or what qualifies as an 'Old One' is nebulous and MAY depend on who is using the term in a particular story. 3. Outer Ones - This term is used as in THE WHISPERER IN DARKNESS to describe the Fungi From Yuggoth. These creatures are the origional beings that inspired legends of the Mo-Go AKA The Abominable Snowmen of the Himylayas. 4. The Deep Ones - These fish-frog- humanoids are the children of Dagon (and we might extrapolate) Mother Hydra. Information on this group is best defined in Lovecraft's masterpiece, THE SHADOW OVER INNSMOUTH. 5. The Sunken Mighty Ones - As far as I've been able to discover Lovecraft only used this term once and that occurred in the story, THE STRANGE HIGH HOUSE IN THE MIST. The term would seem to imply that this was used by HPL as a collective one from the Roman gods and demi-gods of the sea or oceans. Nodens, a somewhat obscure diety worshipped as, THE LORD OF THE GREAT ABYSS, in ancient Roman Britain appears with Neptune and other sea gods too. As Lord of the Great Abyss, vast and empty regions of lakes and seas were also traditionally his domain too. Lovecraft had not yet written his 'INNSMOUTH' tale but we can't assume that the term SUNKEN MIGHTY ONES only refers to ancient Roman and Romanesque nautical characters with certainty. 6. Elder Gods - Lovecraft uses this term in THE had shared intimate knowledge about lovecrafts fictional universe. That was not true. Derleth would go on to term that fictional universe, The Cthulhu Mythos. Lovecraft never used the term himself and never attempted to set down "rules" or a specific structure for his background mythology. 7. The Great Race - The cone bodied creatures from 'Yith' featured in THE SHADOW OUT OF TIME are given the rather odd title, 'The Great Race'. Why Lovecraft would use such a peculiar term for these creatures is pretty hard to explain, but I will attempt to do so in a future exhibit. 8. The Crawling Chaos - This was the title Lovecraft gave to his Satan-like character, Nyarlathotep. Nyarlathotep went through a quite a serious and complex evolution through the years of Lovecraft's tales. The name itself was born from one of his dreams and was an important element in his last tale, THE HAUNTER OF THE DARK. 9. The Squid-Dragon - This term was used occasionally by Lovecraft as a sort of nick-name for Cthulhu AKA 'Great Cthulhu'. 10. Chaos/ chaos - Capitalized and not. c

Chaos was often used by HPL as an alternative name for Azathoth in his fiction. The strong possibility is that Chaos, concieved as the "vast emptiness" at the beginning of time, by the Ancient Greeks is in fact similar or identical to Lovecraft's own Azathoth. HPL was a devoted fan of Classical Mythology since he was a child of 6. Azathoth may in fact have been the very first of his origional cosmic entities. 11. 'Elder Things' - This term was one of several used by the explorers featured in AT THE MOUNTAINS OF MADNESS who witness the final horrors and are the only members of the original expedition who actually see the titanic ruins left by the 'star- headed' plant/ creatures of Antarctica. The term is a little questionable since the men using it are scientists and non-believers at first. Though they were aware of The Necronomicon they saw it was nothing more than childish fable until they were exposed to the ruined city of the star-head creatures. 12. The All Mother - was a term used for Shub-Niggurath earlier called "The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young." Shub-Niggurath was perhaps concieved as a mother of demons in earlier tales. "She" never makes an actual appearance in an original Lovecraft tale, but her name is used as an oath by several characters. Whether she is actually meant to be the actual 'mother of all life throughout the universe' by the term "All Mother" (in THE MOUND) is a question. 13.'The All in One, One in All' - Became a term for Shub-Niggurath's male counterpart, Yog-Sothoth. 'Yog' who went through considerable evolutionary conception. In the E. Hoffmann Price/ H. P. Lovecraft "collaboration" - THROUGH THE GATES OF THE SILVER KEY, it was really all Lovecraft- Yog-Sothoth becomes a sort of cosmic brain in which ALL creative entities (including humans) are cells or facets. (Exhibit 535)

[fernthewhimsical]

Fern's Nehalennia Deep Dive: pt 2

Aspects

On the votive stones found dedicated to Nehalennia some symbols are repeated again and again. Through those, we are able to get a pretty clear image of the aspects that belong to Nehalennia.

the Sea and Water

It is no coincidence that her temples were at the coast, near the mouth of the river Rhine. She was the Goddess who protected voyage over Sea and possible over the river. On her votive stones Nehalennia often stands with one foot on the bow of a ship, holds a rudder, or there is a shipping wheel leaning against her throne. From this we know she was a Goddess of protection over sea. Traversing the sea has always been dangerous: the sea can be calm or tempestuous. Navigation was difficult, and the closer you came to shore, the more dangerous it became. Having a patroness guide and protect you would have been very important. But the sea is not the only water Nehalennia ruled over. In 2021 new findings were presented by Jasper de Bruin for the Museum of Antiquities, Leiden. Nehalennia's temple was probably a place where cargo was changed from small ships that could traverse the river, to big ships that could traverse the sea. Evidence was also found of four big water wells in the "garden" of the temple. Which is thought to be where the ships would load up on clean drinking-water for their journey.

Abundance and Harvest

On many of her stones Nehalennia is holding a basket or cornucopia filled with fruits, especially apples, and breads or grains on her lap or in her hands. There are also votive stones where there are apples displayed on top, as if it is an offering that is left there for her. On the sides some stones have wheat, trees of life, or vine ranks, all symbols of abundance and harvest. On one stone there is even a hunter holding a bow, showing that she was believed to provide for her people in many ways.

Commerce and Trade

By far most of the votive stones found have been offerings from traders who went overseas to wend their wares. It brings up the question if she even was a Goddess of the sea at all, and not one specifically of trade over sea. On the stones the traders would start their offering with Deae Nehalleniae, followed by their name, where they are from, and what they were trading. It always ends with V.S.L.M. from vōtum solvit libēns meritō (“has fulfilled his vow freely as merited”). Because the traders stated their own trade, as well as where they came from, we know quite a lot of the devotees of Nehalennia. Trades mentioned are those of salt, fish sauce, earthenware, terra-cotta statuettes, and wine. There are also stones offered of those who were seafarers by trade, moving cargo from one place to another.

Protection and Loyalty

On many of her votive stones, there is a dog patiently waiting at the Goddess' feet. In many cultures, dogs are used for protection and as patient guardians. They are loyal to their family, and will fight off threats when needed. The presence of a dog on many stones can mean that the devotees saw Nehalennia as a loyal protector. Something reflected as well in the shorthand V.S.L.M.: "as merited", so something she has proven to them, probably over and over again.

Psychopomp

But, that is not the only reason for the dog to be her loyal companion. In some of the tribes in her territory, the dog was seen as a guide to the underworld/Otherworld. The dog would take the souls of those departed, and bring them to their final resting place. There is also the bow of the ship, on which Nehalennia often rests her foot. This we often see on other votive stones of Gods connected with death and dying. This all points to Nehalennia also serving as a psychopomp: one who guides the souls of the deceased to the afterlife. There are more myths connecting travel over water to the journey of the soul after death. Ynys Afallach, or the Isle of Avalon is a mystical island shrouded in mist (also one of Nehalennia's attributes) where the dead are brought to rest. There are more islands scattered through European folklore like this, including one off of the coast of Zeeland. Legend has it that once a year the local fisherman were contacted by a mysterious figure to sail their boats in the dead of night. As they reached the boats it would lie so deep in the water, as if carrying a great burden. Once their destination, often an island, was reached, they would hear a voice call out the names of the dead. And the boat would rise and rise as if one by one the souls would depart the boat.

Motherhood

As a Goddess of abundance, harvest, and protection, the step to a Mothergoddess is a short one. However from Nehalennia there is also more evidence that she was seen as a mother. In the same area as where she was revered, a group of Goddesses called the Matronae, or "mothers" were also honoured. Most often depicted on votive stones in groups of three. On two stones with Matronae the Goddess Nehalennia has also been identified. One by name, and the other by her iconic pereline and dog.

Guiding light

As stated before travel by sea was dangerous. Navigation was essential and often happened by stars, the guiding lights in the sky. But that was not the only light important to seafarers; without a lighthouse to show where the shore is, and what is a safe place to land, the journey is that much more dangerous. The same for lanterns on the ships themselves, to make them visible in the dead of night. To other ships, and to those on shore waiting for their arrival. To me, those guiding lights are part of Nehalennia's guidance and protection.

[Link to the Masterpost]

[twinflameauwof]

what’s the lore of the world? like what’s going on? the conflicts some may say (i love all the art you’ve posted btw)

aaaaaa I’m genuinely so glad I got this questionnnnn!!! (YAP FEST HERE WE GO)

I’m not the best at explaining things, but basically in Pyrrhia, there are 8 tribes instead of the canon 7, and that extra tribe is the Mistwings. The Mistwings are descendants of a large group of Rainwings, Seawings and Icewings that somehow formed a society together. This resulted in the Mistwings, dragons that are a mystery to the outside world, no one knows they exist.

They live deep in the rainforest, where the land was enchanted by an ancient Animus to have constant mist falling over it, and the Rainwings are too scared to enter it. The enchanted object is called The Ghostflame, and after a princess wins a challenge against the queen, the former queen will stick around until a new heir is secured, and then she will disappear into the forest, this is believed to “feed” the Ghostflame.

Anyways, moving on from those guys, the Sandwings are basically the Nightwings in this situation, pretty much everyone see’s them as self-righteous, full of themselves, hoarder dragons because of previous queens, and the current queen, Mirage, is making many attempts to de-stigmatize her tribe, which isn’t helped by many rebellious Sandwings going out and doing whatever they want to please themselves, this results in late Mudwing Queen Fern’s death.

MudWings are nomadic, being tough enough to traverse through nearly any environment (except the Ice Kingdom), many troops leave the kingdom to cultivate and sell unique goods.

Nightwings are how they were in Darkstalker’s book, basically, and under the royal family, there are three Nobel houses named after the three moons, Oracle, Perception, and Imperial.

Seawings are split between three societies, the Deep Kingdom, the Sea Kingdom, and the Reef Kingdom. The “DeepWings” are a group of Seawings that live out in the open ocean, pulling rafts behind them for proper resting and feasts, they technically have a “queen” but it’s less traditional. The Seawings are closed off and often don’t participate in many inter-tribe events except for the royal family. The “ReefWings” are far more social, living half in the ocean and half on beaches, their scales are more colorful than the others’, and they are responsible for most trade. The “Council of Pearls” is a group of regal dragons from all 3 segments that make decisions.

The IceWings aren’t doing the best, but they’re not doing bad, their last queen, Chorus, died of an illness soon after having her first egg, leaving her husband, Silver, to fill the roll until their (luckily) daughter could grow to fill the roll. In this version, the Icewings are less isolated, and have one of the greatest armies on the continent.

Queen Talon of the Skywings loves being entertained, which is why the Skywing Arena still exists in this AU. However, instead of it being essentially an execution, it is seen as a way for dragons to earn glory. There are very strict rules in place to keep dragons from being harmed severely, any heavy injuries can lead to suspension and even being banned from The Arena.

Rainwings are also very similar to canon, except for the other tribe’s opinions on them, in this AU, their venom is common knowledge, and it is well known the amount of damage they could do if involved in a war. They do not write scrolls (although they can still read/write, just not often) instead, they share stories and teaching orally, they are believed to have one of the best schooling systems of the continent.

I hope this was sufficient information! Much of this AU is still being worked on, and Pantala is being covered by the other owner of this account, so I don’t have much info on that, and I’m also not completely finished with the lore and culture for each tribe (I made some of this up on the fly lol) so if anyone’s curious about something specific, please ask, it will force me to continue thinking about this! (Which is a good thing, trust me)

[gobsnacc]

Soul solstice at the wizard tower!

Allow me to set the scene!

On your way to the Party you encounter…..

Thick trees that turn day to night here, as a heavy mist crawls eerily across the well lit footpaths. A perfectly spooky setup for the coming holiday!

For those traveling these roads in and out of the forest surrounding the Wizards Tower with their sacks and buckets decorated for the season, they might notice shapes of various sizes moving in the darkness, hands popping out of the mist, beckoning you closer.

Do you dare?

Should you, you will find the hands have little home made treats to give to those brave souls! Those hands belong to the scores of creatures who live in the forest! Centaurs, dragons, imps, fae and so on. Seems they had a good harvest and wish to share their spoils with the good people coming to the party! All safe to eat!

As you finally leave the confines of your forest path you find that the thick mist has followed you here to the clearing as well! It comes spilling out of the forest inching across the waters of the lake where you know The wizards tower lie on the small island in the middle. But the mist obscures your view of it!

However as you step into your petal boat and begin your journey across the lake you can see…

Strange lights that float around the misty lake, some stagnant, others dart across under the waters. What could they be?….

Oh!

The ones above water are Gourd lanterns sitting in the center of their own Small flower boats! Their lights glow bright in the mist as they lazily bob along the waters surface. One spell keeps them from rotting, a secondary spell allows them to make spooky faces at guests as a mini sun lights them up from within!

But what are the lights below the lake?! Are those…eyes!?!

Oh my!

Its the mermaids! They have invited some deep sea cousins to glow and roam about to join in the festivities! They pop up out of the water to wave to Passers by in the Petal boats!

As you grow ever closer to the tower your ears pick up eerie sounds….

Ha! Its just a theremin and someone playing the saw! Some of the locals are playing them to add to the ambiance! They wave from the islands shore as you begin to land.

As you depart the boats your senses are bombarded with sights, smells and sounds!

Lantern Gourds dot the landscape, line the paths about the island and invite guests into the Tower. The smell of food wafting from the windows, the sounds of laughter and joyous screams drift in the air.

You have made it to your destination! But now, which way should you go?

Do you take the gourd lit path around the island?

Should you, you will find the still locked up greenhouses on either side of the tower.

But along the sides of one of the greenhouses you find various magic mirrors playing horror films and living floral chairs waiting for you to join the ranks of the moviegoers!

Along the side of the other Greenhouse, the mirrors play dancey spooky music and gently change colours! People laugh and twirl about in their costumes! What a fun little dance party!

The more direct path leads straight into the mouth of the tower. Dare you enter this once accursed place?

You do! And as you do you are greeted by those that care and run the tower. An alien Lizard chitters at you, baring her fangs in a smile. A Dragon halfling blows a small flame above your head. A Vampire draws his cape and hisses. The Mage of the tower who just so happens to be a Goblin waves her hand and little sparks fly from her fingertips! Welcome to the party! Lets go check it out!

First stop!

The main lobby, the heart of the tower is decked out in tavern finery! The bar and tables are chock full of snacks and drinks. Spiced wood burning in the fire and a calm happy chatter floats about the room.

Lets move down to the basement! Specifically the library!

The basement of the tower is hosting all manner of spooky stories with accompanying play actors. They dance and shriek and mock as the teller of tales spins their web of words to the captivated audience.

Passing back up from the basement, passed the lobby to the next floor we find

Levi’s apothecary shop! It is a buzz with children giddily wrapping and decorating little dolls in bandages. Older children brew their own flavored gummy treats in teeny little cauldrons. And we mustn’t forget the adults too! The adults get to brew their own flavored alcoholic drinks in their own teeny Cauldrons!

Lets move up a floor!

Svetzas office/ antiquities room Is holding an interactive demonstration on mildly cursed objects! They give the users animal parts of a wide variety or change their voices, make them float, turn their hair colours and other gentle curses that last till sunrise unless asked to be de-hexed/cursed.

Last floor!

The Healing room is kept quiet for those who need a place of respite from all the hustle and bustle of the party. Gentle sounds of water and nature drift through the dimly lit room. Beds are ready and waiting for people to nap. Mats by the fireplace are ready for meditation. Its a really calm atmosphere.

So dear guest, where will you go first?

The week long party has begun!

Welcome dear guest to Soul Solstice at the Wizard tower!

[vilevampz]

Crafting Emotional Lines Through Diction and Imagery

In a previous post, I discussed the importance of crafting lines that show emotion. A simple way to achieve this is through word choice (diction) and imagery. By carefully selecting words that evoke feelings like love, nostalgia, fear, etc., and using rich imagery that engages the five senses (taste, touch, sight, sound, and smell), you can immerse your readers in the poem and invoke deep emotions within them.

How to Use Effective Imagery

Imagery is essentially the use of descriptive language that appeals to the five senses to enrich the poem fully. When using imagery, it's often best to go into great detail (think of Tolkien) rather than not enough. Pages of description about the woods or the setting in a story can make it feel like you're there. You can achieve the same effect in poetry by ensuring your imagery is strong and detailed.

For example, consider these lines from John Keats' "To Autumn": Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;

Keats' use of vivid imagery—mists, mellow fruitfulness, and maturing sun—evokes the essence of autumn, making the reader feel the season's presence.

It's not a bad thing to write long poems, as a poem can be anything! One such example I often mention is "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Despite being a long poem, it fully immerses you. Coleridge uses rich imagery and language to make it feel alive. Consider this excerpt: The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew, The furrow followed free; We were the first that ever burst Into that silent sea.

Through the use of imagery like the "fair breeze" and "white foam," Coleridge transports the reader into the mariner's world.

How to Use Effective Language (Diction)

Strong emotional poems don't just use detailed imagery; the words you choose also make an impact. I often like to use words that are considered rich, like ambrosia, honeydew, nectar, etc. These words have connotations and sensory associations that can evoke strong emotions.

For instance, in Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven," the choice of words like "midnight dreary," "silken, sad, uncertain rustling," and "grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore" enhances the eerie and melancholic atmosphere of the poem.

Practical Tips for Using Imagery and Diction

Show, Don't Tell: Instead of saying "the night was scary," describe the night in a way that conveys fear: "Shadows crept along the walls, and an icy breeze whispered through the trees."

Use the Five Senses: Make sure to include details that appeal to sight, sound, touch, taste, and smell. For example, instead of saying "the flowers were beautiful," describe their appearance, scent, and the feeling of their petals.

Be Specific: Specific details can make your imagery more vivid. Instead of "a bird," say "a raven with glossy black feathers."

Word Choice: Select words with strong connotations and sensory impact. For example, "whisper" instead of "speak" or "gleam" instead of "shine."

Exercises to Enhance Your Imagery and Diction

Sensory Descriptions: Write a paragraph describing a place or object using all five senses.

Word Substitution: Take a poem or passage and replace general words with more specific and sensory-rich words.

Imagery Expansion: Take a simple image (e.g., a tree) and expand it into a detailed description that uses all five senses.

By focusing on detailed imagery and carefully chosen words, you can create poetry that resonates deeply with your readers and evokes strong emotions. Remember, poetry is not just about what you say but how you say it. Happy writing!

[starlight-incarnate]

The First Elves as Aesthetics:

Finwë  —  grey skies, pine trees, stag's antlers, gritted teeth, piles of firewood, howling winds, lace table cloths, black ponds slick with ice, cautious, likes to plan, whispered confessions onto the autumn wind, the sharpness and cutting edge of a cold breeze, the glint of a metal blade, the bright teal of a midday ocean and the blackness of wild volcanic beaches, strong and independent, black hair, often staring into space, autumn mornings, braiding hair, love ballads, smiling fondly, lying by a small creek, falling in love when you shouldn't, starlit nights, regret, bittersweet kisses, being left wanting more.

M��riel  —  memories of past lovers, withering flowers, polished gravestones, being young and naive, gathering flowers and seeds, uncut gemstones, the gleam of a single tear falling, the silver reflection of the moon mirrored on the surface of a pond, an absence of sound, morning mist, hazy eyes, uncertain smiles, subtle exchanged glances, rich tapestries, tears streaming down their face, shattered promises, a not-quite persistent yearning, shaky breaths, moonlit rows, nimble hands, dancing to music playing softly in the distance, trusting the secrets of the night, waking up anew with determination.

Indis  —  warm tea, comfortable silence, soft eyes, messy hair, golden clouds, the sound of rain, a heart traced onto fogged up windows, yellow clothes on the days where the sun seems to have left forever, waking up to tear-stained sheets and feeling a little bit lighter, hopscotch in puddles, love at first sight, soft forehead kisses, secretly insecure, easily mistaken for the bad guy, wants the best for others, lost in thought, star gazing, always wearing some sort of shimmery nail polish, flowing dresses, wavy hair, the peace maker, the one to be called when something very specific is needed, butterflies, sparkling eyes, second chances.

Ingwë  —  bare feet on warm summer dirt, flower crowns slipping off heads after being flung back with laughter, mugs of too-sweet tea, sweet kisses, heart-wrenching poetry, pressed flowers, long hugs, warm and hazy afternoons, singing old songs, sunflowers, laughing till your chest hurts, bathing in sunlight, has the brightest smile ever seen, dried paint on their clothes, headbands and scrunches, fresh pancakes in the morning, stubborn but quick to learn, wanting to be on time and always a few minutes late, an artist's way of thinking, a journey of discovering one's passion.

Ilwen  —  the feeling of walking barefoot, inhaling the salty smell of the sea, forgetting about everything else but the fact that you are alive in that exact moment in the universe, grapes and oranges, the refreshing feeling of laying on the cold sand, complex architecture, busy markets filled with noises, the light swaying of a ship, sun-kissed skin, the smell of freshly baked bread at sunrise, drinking coffee under the warm morning sun, linen sheets, home-made jam, caring touches and warm smiles, looking for a shape in every cloud going by, simply enjoying the scenery, watches butterflies, drowsy days. 

Ingwion  —  dark brown eyes, apple cider, thunder, creaking doors, owning up to rare losses, not accepting the path already created, confidently moving, staying in the deep end of a pool, reserved laughter, reckless, somehow manages to stumble into opportunities whenever they need them, quite the expert at falling out of love, will not worry unnecessarily, not taking the word of strangers seriously, seems warm but surprisingly coldblooded, deadpan jokes, sees everything but speaks rarely, dark under-eyes, loves stormy nights, punches and bruised knuckles, surprises and laughter, long empty hallways, tight hugs.

Thingol  —  regal, attempting to remain calm while in pain, silver moonlight, a thin pane of glass between you and society, luminescence, corrupted kings, forced smiles, too much ambition, protective of their family, falling through the sky, sharp collar bones, lip biting, purposeful words spoken with a sharp tongue, black coffee, dangerously flashing eyes, dripping false smiles, talking to people they have never met before aggressively, not held back by wanting to be in control, hoping for your demise, viciously smiling at others innocence, craving to turn the knife in the wound, perfectionism.

Olwë  —  begging to fly, pebbles thrown into the sea, rain falling against your face, not knowing if you are alive or dead, fingers tracing the petals of a wilting flower, rejoicing in storms, losing reality, staring at the horizon, deep conversations, knowing looks, rather standing shoulder to shoulder with one of their own than with an outsider, living a solitary life, sleeping on the ground, carving their name into rocks, crashed and wrecked boats, smoke signals, a fear of confrontation, bruised knuckles, patiently waiting for their enemies unhappy ending, pretty smile concealing a savage nature, bad manners sometimes.

Elmo  —  faded sunsets, running wild in the mountains and plains, kissing their lover in uninterrupted nature, dim lights, diving deep into the ocean, heartbeat pounding against your chest, flowers blooming slowly, feeling like you were made for another world, flowers growing in your heart, the accidental brush of fingers with your lover, nervously running one hand through your hair, red cheeks, tenderness, falling in love with someone you don't even know yet, pink clouds, nervous fiddling, notebook pages full of rambling, moonlight, rainy days, dreamy eyes, healing people you love, curiosity, old folklore.

[sentientgolfball]

Ghoulette Appreciation: Week 10

This one was later than I intended it to be

Read here or on Ao3

Pairing: Mistshine

Word Count: 1215

Summary: Mist and Sunny have a lazy day. Some new information is discovered.

It’s been boiling hot for the last few days and every resident of the Ministry seems to be at their limit. Even the infernal residents want to do nothing more than laze around trying to stay cool. Sunshine and Mist haven’t left their room all day. Mist’s room is always kept cold with a small amount of her magick. Being from the deeps means she is more susceptible to the heat than an average water ghoul, plus the cold brings her comfort. It’s been a perfectly lazy two for the two ghoulettes. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

Mist jumps ever so slightly at Sunny’s voice. The two had been sitting in comfortable silence for hours now, each doing their own thing while enjoying the company. Mist looks up from her sudoku. 

“Of course you can.” 

Sunny props herself up on her elbows from where she’s lounging on Mist’s bed “What was it like for you…in the Pits I mean.” 

“Is there a particular reason you wish to know this?” 

“Mmmmm no, just curious. You don’t have to answer though if it’s…too much.” 

“How familiar are you with Lord Leviathan’s domain?” 

“I’ve heard the big man talk about it but I’ve never actually seen it.” 

“I see. Well as you know I am from the deep sea, a completely different environment than other oceanic ghouls such as Rain, Delta, or Chain.” 

Mist starts her story by explaining the structure of deep sea ghoul society. They are mostly solitary, the only packs that get formed are very small and usually made up of family. There’s heavily focused on yourself alive before anyone else, even if that means sacrificing another. They are wary of other ghouls, always cautious of any games they might be playing. They are also typically the most devout of the oceanic water ghouls due to their proximity to Leviathan’s underwater home. 

Mist was in a small pack made up of her parents and two siblings. They were average, nothing outwardly fantastic about them. They lived their life simply yet happily. That was until The Storm. To this day no one knows what angered the great Leviathan, but whatever it was was severe. For three days the oceans of Hell were locked in a storm surge, churning wildly with Leviathan’s fury. The waves were so great even the deeps felt the effects. In the chaos Mist got separated from their family, swept away with the raging current. Once The Storm finally settled Mist had tried to look for them, but after a few days of no success she gave up and focused on keeping herself alive. She never did find out if any of them were still alive before getting summoned. 

“Oh wow Mist…I’m so sorry that must’ve been horrible.” 

“It’s quite alright Sunshine” Mist assures “I have made my peace with it long ago.” 

“Still” Sunny presses a quick kiss to the side of her head. 

“I do have my own question though.” 

“Hm?” Sunny tilts her head. 

“Earlier you said you have heard the big man talk about it in reference to my question about Lord Leviathan’s domain. What did you mean by that?” 

Sunshine laughs a little “Well you told me yours so it’s only fair I tell you mine. Back in the Pits I was a court jester for the Seven Lords plus Lucifer.” 

Sunshine begins her story with how far back she can remember. Her father had been a fire ghoul in one of the legions created specifically to guard Pandemonium, that’s part of the reason Ifrit and Sunny got along so well right off the bat because the two were in the same legion. Her mother had been an air ghoulette who created art in honor of the Lords. For a while Sunny had been following in her mother’s footsteps, but when her other elements manifested and it was discovered she was a multi-ghoul instead of a hybrid, everything changed. She had been brought before the Lords as a prodigy, her parents humbly asking they provide her with a better opportunity than they could ever hope to give her. Lucifer Himself took an immediate interest in her. To this day she doesn’t know why, but she assumes it was because of her likeness to the sun. 

She had always been a performer at heart. It was something she genuinely enjoyed, something she was good at without even trying. That’s how she became the jester. She was their favorite, always present when all Seven met at Pandemonium. It was stressful always having to come up with new and exciting things to please the Lords for thousands of years, but it was thrilling. Sometimes though she does wonder if she hadn’t done enough and that’s why despite being their favorite she was summoned. 

“It’s okay you can laugh,” Sunny assures “being a court jester is a hilarious gig.” 

“That is an amazing honor Sunshine. Being able to be in the presence of all seven lords and The Morning Star is noble.” 

“Aw shucks Mist you flatter me. Really it was nothing special. I was just there so they had something to point and laugh at, or diffuse the tension so they didn’t kill each other.” 

“You must have been well cared for if He sent you Topside.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Sunny shrugs. 

“He must have known you would be perfect for the Ghost Project” Mist states. 

Sunny stares at her for a moment before a grin cracks her face. She grabs both sides of her head and pulls her in, kissing her softly. Sunny pulls back, but keeps their foreheads pressed together. She combs her hands through Mist’s hair. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too” Mist whispers before ghosting her lips over Sunny’s. 

Mist still can’t quite believe Sunshine is hers. She can’t comprehend the feelings she has for her. She does know that she’d do anything for her though. Mist knows she’d be happy to spend all of eternity with her. She’d jump into the circle with her if she ever got banished back to Hell. She'd tear this whole Ministry apart to keep her happy if she had to. 

Sunshine can’t believe it either. She never would have guessed Mist would actually make room for her in heart. The moment Sunny saw her for the first she knew. She knew there was something about Mist she had to discover. She couldn’t tell you why, but those deep blue eyes felt like home. Not the home she had been raised in, but something different. Something that felt like soft goodbyes and see you laters. Something that felt like watching the snow fall from inside a bundle of blankets on a winter day. Sunny would do everything she could to make sure Mist knows nothing but peace and love for the rest of her existence. 

The rest of the day is quiet. The two exchange more stories of their time in the Pits, mundane things and fond memories. Mist even indulges Sunny and tells her all about her time Topside before she was summoned. As Sunny listens to her she can feel the tug in her chest, deep in bones. In that moment she knows that there really is nothing that will ever be able to separate them. 

[offworldlamb-writes]

Day 2: It's been a long time

3kingdoms again, but this time it's an exploration into how halting your heart with magic has its side effects emotionally, and makes it hard to connect with the ones you love even when you desperately want to.

xxx

Letting Luta through the door Keet made sure it was shut behind him to keep in the warmth-- the last thing Lilla needed was a cold flat while she was recovering-- but it was hard to turn back to face Calista still waiting at the bottom of the stairs. There may not be a rush of emotions to his unbeating heart but he could still sense the sadness in him, creeping slow and deep like a a mist across the floors of his consciousness, but knowing that he might not react at all to seeing her... there was no real fear, but that only added to the disappointment. These awful cages they'd put around their hearts-- what a price to pay, alive but unfeeling, all to win a war that finished over four hundred years ago that still caused problems to this day.

Still, for all he'd been through he was definitely thankful for the chance to see Calista again. That really beat back the hollowness and he finally turned to face her, and couldn't help but smile when he met her gaze. She hadn't changed at all from what he eventually remembered, maybe her hair was a little longer but that was it: another curse caused by the Mitahs drops in their chests disguised as a blessing. The same smile graced her features: thankful, but not overcome by happiness or anger or sadness. A habit from when it held a little more importance, but not fake. Just... there.

For years he'd struggled to remember anything after waking up in the crypt, and even longer after that to remember specific faces and voices. Calista never really left but for the longest time it was completely lost to him, a powerful presence with no defining features he could grasp for reassurance in those difficult times. But it only took seeing her once, after four hundred years, to start reattaching those lingering threads of thoughts and feelings back together. To put a face to the memories of feelings. To remember a little more of his old life before his death.

There should've been more. There should've been crying and apologies and begging for forgiveness, but it was calm. Tepid. He could do little else than join her at the bottom of the steps, and they walked around the city all night talking to each other, but none of it mattered much beyond the facts of their long, unnatural lives. Without emotions to guide them it was hard to know what was important to say. Without feeling the grief and the fear of loss again it was too easy to part ways again when morning came. This woman was his guardian, his friend, his only family at such a pivotal point in his life and there was nothing in him to express that, not even anger at the unfairness of it, and from the solemn look on her face as he headed back to the flat he could only imagine it was the same for her.

It wasn't until months later that he could finally say what he wanted. They'd struggled against all odds, fought their way into the heart of magic itself buried in the ocean, and at first he genuinely thought he was going to die. The rush of his heartbeat was deafening and he thought for sure it would beat out of his chest in seconds, hammering against his ribs with a vengeance for four centuries worth of stillness. He struggled to catch his breath even with Lilla's help, holding on for dear life as she tried to understand what was going on, though pressing her fingers to the hollow of his throat got the message across quickly enough.

Everything had light to it now. There was excitement as he grinned idiotically at Lilla and caught her in a hug; nervousness at the crashing waves clawing at the rocks around them; relief at the feeling of wind and sea spray against his face. They'd always existed but they were new to him again, fresh life surrounding him after centuries trapped in deprevation.

And then he saw Calista, staring out across the ocean in awe, the same shock of sensation in her eyes. He ran towards her without a second thought and she caught him tightly in her arms just as she always used to. His chest heaved, the pain so much more intense but eased by the contact, and by the time they let each other go to be face to face they were both wet-faced with tears. They came thick and fast, relentlessly, but Keet was too focused on trying to talk to care about wiping them away.

Cupping his cheeks in her hands Calista did her best to do it for him, smiling and crying and gasping out her thanks to any higher being listening. "My little bird, you're here! All this time, you've been here all along-- my heart! My stars!" All the names she used he remembered, each place and time they'd first been spoken, each time since and each moment he missed them. He tried apologising but she wouldn't hear it, pressing a kiss to his forehead before pulling him into her arms again. "When I lowered you into that grave I thought you were gone for good. Thank the sun and the stars and the sky-- you're here! Four hundred and sixty three years and you're here with me again!"

There was nothing to do but hug her back, thankful, just like her, for the chance to see each other again and to finally feel what he'd wanted to feel before. Relief, and happiness. He couldn't help but laugh. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

[neeoooon]

FFXIV WRITE 2024, "On Cloud Nine"

Posting from mobile! Late! Ends suddenly! Other excuses!

Oh, happy day!

Eugene slipped freshly acquired venture coins into his back pocket. As of late, Lady Holiday hadn’t called upon him. It wasn’t uncommon for months to go by with no requests, but eventually she would reappear, in a flurry, with her demands.

When it rains, it pours.

Dear, loyal Eugene served as a retainer for “Lady Holiday,” one of two on staff. Years ago, Eugene had been one of nine, but now only he, and a reserved fisher-woman, remained. He had watched many retainers come and go: the identical Lalafell twins, a muscular Hyur gentleman, a long-haired Miqo’te man who always brought fresh-baked snacks. The others quit after one of Holiday’s disappearing spells, only to be quickly replaced with fresh faces ad nauseam. There had been a lovely Au Ra woman with striking white-blonde hair and big topaz eyes. Eugene thought of her often; failing to woo her was one of his many regrets.

Regardless, Lady Holiday had returned and she required… something. While a miner by trade, Eugene’s task on this lovely morning would take him deep into the heart of Mist’s lost and found room. While outstanding for the economy, adventurers made a massive mess in their comings and goings: they littered, and they littered constantly. In addition to litter, the contents of an entire abandoned home occasionally had to be dealt with. The Retainer Guild drafted a scheme to recycle the items by letting adventurers trade venture coins for one piece of forfeited property, to be acquired by the retainer. …And that is how, on some occasions, Eugene would return to Lady Holiday with a roof, or maybe a nice ring.

Holiday’s sudden return made Eugene want to skip and sing, or click his heels together after a hearty jump in the air. But he wouldn’t. Eugene, you see, had an image of frosty, gothic beauty. Tall (average height for Elezen) and blessed with a symmetrical six-pack, he spent every penny of his retainer’s salary on dyeing his equipment jet black. He sometimes wished he could temporarily leave his body to see how “cool and sexy” he looked in his black, sleeveless miner’s vest, slamming away at a vein of ore. The sweat dripping off his body, in this specific fantasy, sparkled in the sunlight.

Lost in thought, the trip from Limsa Lominsa to Mist felt like a dream; the lighthouses and farms seemed smeared in a hazy jelly filter. As he walked down the dirt path, a dodo ran by, then a harried Roegadyn rancher. Young adventurers, farther up head and off the pathway, swung their new axes wildly at small animals. Farther still, two botanists argued over a grape vine, their words lost in the salty sea breeze. Eugene nodded a hello to those he passed on the road, not wanting to be rude. Shortly, he arrived at the gates of Mist.

“...Good morning.” He greeted the guard with a practiced extra-low level of enthusiasm. It was a weekend, and the weekend guard had huge boobs. Boobs mattered to Eugene, and they greatly impacted the level of effort put into his persona. He had met her on four previous occasions, marking today as the fifth. The last time had been over six months ago, and he had to suppress a smile. How delightful, she’s still on the weekend shift!

“Guest or resident?” Guardswoman Big Boobs replied, coldly. She clearly didn’t like him, fully aware of his interests in her. Eugene understood his standing, as beyond her tone, it had been five meetings now and she had never once offered her name, or any small measure of warmth. Eugene would never know her name was Snow Bride. Even so, she remembered his face. Tiny victories.

“Retainer.”

Snow Bride raised an eyebrow, just to make him nervous. A moment of silence passed, and she turned her head toward the gate. “Off you go, little man.”

“My thanks.” Eugene adjusted his empty backpack and passed the towering Roegadyn woman. He walked through the narrow passage into Mist, leaving the grassy seaside farmlands behind. The passage opened into a massive housing district carved out of the cliffside, flattened to a gentle slope down to the ocean. Mist sported the best beaches in La Noscea: blinding white sands, crystal-clear turquoise waters, and hardly a shark to be found. The public beach at Costa del Sol was filthy with sharks.

Mist also happened to be where Lady Holiday lived. If I’m lucky, Lady Holiday will be home. He called her “Lady” even in his private thoughts. The other retainers preferred “Miss” or “Madam.” One of the previous long-term retainers, he recalled, switched to “Madam” after Holiday's thirtieth birthday. The bright-eyed Miqo’te woman, probably twenty years Eugene’s junior, quit the guild a few months later.

Retainer wasn't a dream job, or even a career goal for Eugene. He, like most, joined wanting to be an official guild member, where some wanted to be successful adventurers. As a retainer, you had opportunities to travel and a means to fund honing your skills, or gain a network to sell your wares. For skilled individuals without apprenticeship opportunities, employment through the Retainer Guild could lead to greater things. Eugene, however, fell into the loving arms of complacency. Why mine for the mining guild or sweat for the blacksmithing guild when a good year with Lady Holiday could buy him a brand new apartment?

Like any narcissistic employer, Holiday held a fabulous Starlight party for her friends, family, and retainers every year, where she would pass out gifts and cook an extravagant feast. While an adventurer in the census-sense, Holiday prided herself on cooking and adored the praise her meals produced. A generous compliment on the dinner guaranteed an extravagant gift next year. Last year, Eugene received a new set of casual clothing, all black and soft calfskin leather, with matching leather, lace-up boots.

Two years ago, at the yearly Starlight party, after gorging themselves on juicy herb-scented roast dodo, piles of butter-topped, salt-boiled popotoes, globs of sweet-and-tart rolanberry jelly, and heaping slices of cold fruit and cream-covered cake, Eugene and another retainer found themselves falling asleep on the couch. Party guests had filtered out, in order of increasing drunkenness, until only the hostess and two of her drowsy retainers remained. In a haze induced by homemade eggnog and sweetly spiced wine, Eugene noticed his couch companion stagger to her feet and follow (led by the hand, truly) their charming employer downstairs to the bedroom of the cottage.

He had never been down there.

The morning after the party, Eugene woke up on the couch. His long legs dangled off the edge, but someone had covered him with a blanket and stuffed a decorative pillow under his head. A tassel hanging off the pillow stuck to his cheek, crusted with dry saliva. He stood up abruptly, confused, and looked around: soft light trickled in through the windows, softened by sheer white curtains, as the last embers of a fire smoldered in the white stone fireplace. The world felt still, pure, and silent. Cold crept into his body without the comfort of the blanket. Ah, Lady Holiday’s house.

[shed0kryptz]

okayyy it wouldn’t hurt to share some of the ideas for other realm entities…

The Rift - class 5 entity !! super high up there. they’re responsible for keeping planets in balance. maintaining gravity. regulating when stars explode, when things collide (planets or asteroids), keeping the terrain from falling apart on specific planets (it’s partly responsible for earthquakes !!!!). they have no physical form, but can replicate the shape of things. they are a cloud of geometric particles that shift and glimmer. prolly have some weird mist surrounding them. take up a lot of space !!! they’re also one of the chillest uppers to exist, which is surprising since most of them are rude and narcissistic. potentially canon, but they might have a connection to either db or collector (likely collector) !!! this would be relevant cuz eventually db fuses to its vessel and it can’t do that on its own, so collector would be the one to get him the help. rift has the ability to combine things together so it makes sense. but also it would be interesting for rift to have plot involvement somehow, cuz as of now, it’s a side character. idk yet !!!

Profundis - honestly, moon can speak more about them than me but i can give a basic rundown. they are a class 4 entity (not sure lol !!!) that works for warp in the same unit/building as db and collector. they are a water/sea entity, and their design is based off of an old deep-sea diving suit !! they are in a position higher than db and collector, so possibly a board member or another position we have yet to establish. we’ve also kinda made it canon that they speak in caps + codeblock text 24/7 (the backticks ` text on disc lol) and they interact with db n collector quite a bit. prolly friends at this point. i am unsure of their abilities oopsies. but they’re very cool !!!

Shard - placeholder name for sure. class 4 entity. he is a crystal/glass entity. he breaks off pieces of himself to use for offense. he can either forcefully break a piece off or shoot them out in shards. crazy i know !1!1! like, he can flick his hand and fragments fly out. he probably gets tiny particles everywhere whenever he moves. not sure what material he is made of, but it might be some form of quartz or realm crystal compound. no idea !! but he is very sharp. literally. he works at warp as a board member in db and collector’s unit. so far he is just a side character but he is def the stereotypical upper personality. an absolute arrogant asshole !!!!!! his concept actually came from an idea we had about db getting attacked during a business meeting. the uppers had agreed that db was not performing as well as usual and threatened to take away its position if things do not change etc etc, but shard acted on his own accord. ig he figured that simply telling db wouldn’t do anything, so he decided to use physical force. ofc, he ended up dictating the conversation for that to happen. the other uppers were shocked by this, but they didn’t do anything to help db. they just cancel the meeting. it’s worse too because db didn’t take its vessel with it, so shard managed to pierce its core, the most vulnerable area of any upper (i imagine that more powerful entities have evolved souls called cores that are extremely hard to destroy. ofc this is different when fighting other uppers). point is. shard sucks and we don’t like him !!! his name should be shart tbh.

Quill - placeholder name again! this character may or may not be canon, she is the most mysterious concept out of all of these because she just came to my mind one day. quill is a class 5 entity and a very important one ! they are responsible for keeping records of every conscious entity across all dimensions !! i imagine she is sorta a ceo of her own super large company that keeps them all organized. realm technology allows them to not take up too much area cuz that would be. trillions of records to store. so they prolly have a way around it to conserve space! she is constantly writing down new information for each being 24/7 on special paper i imagine. they have multiple arms as well. each being has a large “binder” of everything theyve done. they get stored in large file cabinet things bla bla. they are not allowed to disclose any information unless if they are directly contacted and given payment. her concept could possibly be relevant in the event that a character needs to look through the information of another character, but idk if they will be real or not. it’s a fun idea tho !

there are others but they are way too rough to explain. also, none of these have concept art as of now unfortunately. but yay !!! ideaz :)

@moonshine1991 bestow upon us profundis lore