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matchamabs · 3 years

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BOTW (and AOC) GUYS: RANKED BY HOW HOT THEY ARE

get ready for some heinous opinions! so im ranking the guys in botw by how hot they are and im taking No criticism. idk if i forgot anyone but i tried

check it out under the cut

sorry but this twink is just. average. like Painfully average. hes like white bread. therefore he gets an average score. i can appreciate hes a cute lookin guy? but like. thats it. if u fancy link u probably like mayonnaise. he looks like mayonnaise. grow a fuckin tache or smth dude for the love of god. 5/10 very normal.

ok im a diehard bird simp but like... this boy is fuckin ugly lmao. hes pretty at the same time tho? nice smile, nice eyes, nice voice but yellow eyebrows? green eyes? red makeup? clown. he’s a bird clown. tho i guess some ppl find clowns hot so this one’s for the pennywise crowd. 5/10. he’s a 10/10 in my heart tho.

now this is a MAN. u got the good smile, the strong arms, the r i p p l i n g m u s c l e s. he is a man u can trust. his arm hair is a bit wild but if u dont like his incredible facial hair, then.... idc. 7/10. they made a rock handsome. thats impressive. 3 points off for the forehead vagina tho. dont like that.

hot fucking damn. this is what we in the biz call a raging dilf. he looks like the kind of dad that never grew out of his punk rock phase. idk how i feel abt the broken traffic light look but its fine. just look into his gorgeous eyes and listen 2 his deep gravelly voice as he tells u to fuck off and leave him alone. perfection. the voice already makes him like 20/10 but the mullet is fucking awful and he should be penalised for that. 8/10. grow a fringe like the rest of us.

ah the shape of water... ok yeah the fish is fuckable ill grant u that. hes All fuckin torso tho and his eyes r constantly pointing in different directions which is not the Most Flattering Look and he Will hit u with his head handlebars and it will hurt. the 24-pack aint half bad either but i always get this feeling that he looks like he skips... some kind of day. not arm day, not leg day, but... some kind of day. maybe brain day. 8/10. sharp teeth are always sexy.

10/10. i dont fuckin care if u hate his hair- this man probably invented the most effective hairspray in existence just to make that happen. respect him. u cannot deny hes hot tho like theres just Something about him. the confidence... the attitude... i worry about revealing his eyes tho. theres a 50% chance it will not work in ur favour and he’ll just look heinous. full 10/10 tho. old robbie is also not bad 2 look at if ur not a coward but he Might leave u for an easy bake oven so like. watch out for that.

well the queen saw something in him??? i genuinely fear the idea of ever getting to see his chin from under that magnificent beard tho. he’s probably got the jawline of a russian power lifter. anyway for an old guy hes not lookin that bad so long as u dont mind a receding hairline. ill b nice. 5/10. for a king u could do worse. ill be taking complaints about this take in my dms. bring a bat.

where do i begin. i love beedle. i rlly do but theres.... so much going on. personality is a 10/10, business skills are 10/10/ haircut is -50/10 and the crop top....? well ill give him 10/10 for confidence. 4/10 im sorry he is just a Lot to look at. he looks like rock lee tried to become a slutty pirate king. shonen jump will have a lot to answer for.

the colour scheme is... better than revali, tho i didnt realise how obnoxious it was until i actually got a good look at him. ive never seen a bird look so top heavy before but this mans got 5 kids so i have nothing but respect for my king. kass is for the dilf crowd that like the dad bods. 8/10 he is quite nice to look at ngl. he’s like revali but light mode.

ok yunobo is very cute i wont lie but the hair is just massively disarming. idk its all i can think about. is this a goron emo phase?? is that what that is?? ive been staring at it for like 5 minutes and i still cant work out if i like it or not. 5/10 he is a humble lad.

under all that gear kohga could look like willem dafoe x50 and id still find him attractive. he cant be hot tho. he just cant be. like looks wise he has to be 1/10 under that there is no way this man could feasibly be conventionally attractive and tbh i like it that way. banana boy gets 6/10. hotter than revali. revali looks like a clown but kohga looks like the entire fucking circus

there is nothing unattractive about bolson. 10/10. sha-ding

i hate the hair i hate the hair i hate the hair i hate the hair SO fucking much but the voice. he has to be hot under that gear with a voice like that. if hes not well. just close ur eyes. the voice will take care of the rest. 8/10 the crack in his mask actually makes him look sexier and i dont understand how that can happen

????????????????????????? he looks. like an old man? i swear those big wingy bits are his eyebrows but i cant Quite be sure. why would a tree need eyebrows. ??/10 keep ur questionable gifts to urself

-100000/10 who the fuck let this budget pokemon npc in here. he looks like he should b leading team ganon across the kanto region. he probably draws those lines on his face to make himself look older and listens to mother mother. im gonna punch his third eye. no this is not a biased opinion

#botw #breath of the wild #aoc #age of calamity #link #revali #teba #sidon #daruk #astor #prince sidon #hestu #kohga #sooga #yunobo #kass #bolson #beedle #legend of zelda #robbie

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chaseatinydream · 3 years

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pirate king (61) || atz

"I just want to talk." Mingi grumbles under his breath as the three of you approach the starboard side of the ship, clearly not the least bit convinced by what Captain Kang has just said. "That's what they all say. 'Oh, I just want to talk! I totally don't want to put a bullet through your head… or poison you… or feed you worms…' Only an idiot would let him come up on board after all that he's done to us-"

"Would you call me an idiot, then?" Hongjoong smiles mildly from behind him and Mingi nearly jumps off the ship in shock, whirling around surprised only to see the three of you standing there, eyes flickering nervously between Wooyoung and his captain before his gaze settles on the head gunner. "Uhhh-"

Wooyoung cracks a tiny grin, not fully there but it's something, scuffs the toe of his boot on the deck. "I know, I know. I'm sorry for being an idiot." At Wooyoung's easy demeanor, Mingi's shoulders sag before he reaches over to punch his friend in the arm, hard.

"Ow!" Wooyoung yelps, cradling his arm to his chest dramatically, nursing the sore spot where Mingi hit him. You can see a bruise forming there already. "What was that for?" His voice rises into a whine high pitched from pain.

Mingi's eyes narrow sharply. "That's for beating up Captain." At his words, Hongjoong moves to hide his laughter behind his hand, but the only sound that escapes his mouth is a yelp as Mingi punches his captain hard in the shoulder too.

"Ow!" He complains, mimicking Wooyoung as he rubs his shoulder ruefully. "What did I do? I try to be a good captain and end up getting beat up three times in one day? I don't deserve this. Chin Hae, it hurts-" You stifle a polite snort.

"And that's for being beat up by Wooyoung, you dummy." Mingi talks over his captain, rolling his eyes before they find yours, and then he's raising his hand and you find yourself flinching back, because oh my god is he going to punch you as well-

"Thank you for looking after these two idiots for me." Mingi says softly, one large hand resting gently on your head and you stare up at him with wide eyes, there's a small curve at the side of his mouth and wow, because he's smiling at you.

"You're welcome." You reply brightly, ignoring Hongjoong's dismayed 'I am the captain, you can't just call me an idiot!' and Wooyoung's indignant cry of 'captain is the only idiot on this ship!'. Then suddenly, Mingi frowns and backpedals to an earlier part of the conversation as his hand falls back to his side. "Wait, wait, wait, Captain, did I hear you right earlier? Did you really just say you want to allow Captain Kang onto the ship again? After all he's done to us?"

There’s a pregnant pause for a moment.

"Oh, right." Hongjoong pauses, scratches at his chin. Mingi shoots him an incredulous stare at him. "Maybe I am an idiot after all."

"You idiot!" Mingi exclaims, grabbing his captain by the ear and you wince sympathetically as Mingi raps his knuckles across Hongjoong's forehead like he's trying to crack a very large egg. "Did Wooyoung beat the very last dregs of your sanity out of you along with your common sense?"

"Just a second here, it's not my fault if Captain's nuts, he's always been and it's not my doing-" Wooyoung hurriedly holds up both hands and Hongjoong hollers at the unintended bashing to both his pride and forehead before wriggling out of his quartermaster's grasp. Sucking in a deep breath, he stares indignantly at the three of you, one hand adjusting his eyepatch and the other desperately flattening his ruffled hair.

"I am the captain!" Is all he manages.

The three of you burst into a fit of laughter, he looks absolutely frazzled. But your laughter is soon stifled when Seonghwa moves over to the starboard to speak to Hongjoong.

"Captain Kang says he insists on speaking to you, Captain… and that he'll hand over the antidote to Yunho's poison if you allow him to bring Gunho's body back with him, and to speak to Yeosang for a few minutes." He jerks his thumb at the gangplank waiting to be lowered at the port side of the ship, where you know Captain Kang and the remainder of his men are gathered. "We're waiting on your orders."

You swallow the saliva that seems to have built up in your throat, nerves weighting heavily on you. After all these years, why would Kang Yongsun want to see the child that he left behind and abandoned for dead so long ago? Some sort of sadistic satisfaction of seeing how much his son has suffered over the years at the hands of the bloodthirsty pirates? Or something else?

At that, Hongjoong chews his lower lip thoughtfully, brow knitted as he weighs the pros and cons with care. On one hand, he doesn't ever want to see that filthy man's face ever again, let alone have to let Yeosang lay eyes on the father that gave him up so many years ago, and yet… and yet… the cure to Yunho's illness is right there, nearly in their grasp. After so much fighting and battling, they can finally save Yunho… but why does this seem too easy? Throat dry, he licks his lips, opens his mouth to speak without really knowing his answer.

"I-"

But before he can say anything, someone else interrupts him.

"Let him come aboard." You spin around, eyes widening with surprise to see Yeosang standing at the foot of the stairs of the quarterdeck, gazing quietly, even serenely at the gangplank, where the father who abandoned him awaits. "Let him come aboard." He repeats, a little louder this time, turning to face the five of you with a brave smile, fingers twisting around the hem of his shirt. "So that we can save Yunho and finally end all of this once and for all."

Your heart breaks. “Oh, Yeosang...”

Wooyoung's mouth pulls downwards into a frown, reaching out to tug on Yeosang's sleeve gently. "Hey. I don't want you to feel obliged to have to meet that bastard just so we can save Yunho, alright? I could always just shoot his head from here, and we could-" You smack his arm for talking about Yeosang's father like that in front of his own child. Yeosang might have been abandoned by his father, but the soft hearted navigator is far too gentle for his own good.

Yeosang shakes his head, letting out a soft breath. "It's alright. It's time for me to face my own demons too, after all, like what Seonghwa has done. I have questions of my own that I'd like to ask him too, things that I wasn't brave enough to ask back then. Why did you hate me so, father? What did I do to deserve your ire?" He trails off, lost in thought.

Hongjoong looks conflicted for a moment, before he sighs and nods. "In the end, it's your choice, Yeosang." Hongjoong says quietly, resting a hand on Yeosang's shoulder. The navigator looks up at him with troubled eyes. "But remember, no matter what you choose," his captain squeezes him lightly, before moving off to give the orders to lower the gangplank, "that you will always have a family in us."

Yeosang stands there silent for a second, stock still, you stare at him with eyes wide with concern, but then just as you’re about to approach him, ask him if he’s alright, he simply smiles lightly and shakes his head, following behind his captain's retreating back to meet his father. "I know that already, idiot captain."

"I heard that!"

"Chin Hae, do you want to hear what happens or go to the sickbay with San-" Seonghwa begins, but the second you hear your master's name, you wave your hand and its accompanying stump with a smile. You're really not ready to face your master again, especially after the awful things you'd said to him. "I'll go see what's going on. Got to find some way to satisfy this curiosity, after all."

The cook gives you a kind nod and guides you to the port side, where they're already lowering the gangplank, Wooyoung loading and priming his musket behind the two of you. Mingi and Jongho are already standing there, flanking the gangplank, the former brandishing his fearsome battle axe and the latter his club.

"Gangplank lowered!" One of the crewmen call and Jongho's fingers tighten on the handle tersely. You feel something cold run down your spine as the creaking of wood reaches your ears, and the footsteps draw ever closer… And finally, Captain Kang steps on board the Treasure.

"The antidote." Mingi demands instantly, and Captain Kang eyes him coldly.

"And lose the only bargaining chip keeping me and my men alive? Perish the thought. I shall not hand it over till I have seen and spoken to my son." He says stonily and Wooyoung bristles with anger, "why, you-"

"Shh." You say, laying your hand gently on Wooyoung's arm, he calms a little, but his lips are still tightly pressed together and his fingers play with the trigger of his gun. Hongjoong steps forward, expression neutral.

"I understand your point, but my battlemaster is dying, I would have you hand over the antidote immediately. I promise upon my honor that no harm will come to you or your crew."

"And what worth is the honor of a pirate?" One of Royal Navy officers spits, his hand brandishing his saber. Mingi growls, a noise deep in his throat as he squares up the shorter man, but the officer is broad shoulders and the deadly glint in his eyes show that he would be no pushover in battle either.

The two men are trapped in a battle of wills for a long second before another officer puts a hand on his comrades' shoulder, pulling him back with a forced grin on his face. "Now, now, Joohoney, this isn't really how you speak to someone you're trying to negotiate with! What would Lieutenant Shownu say?"

"Shut up, Minhyuk." 'Joohoney' snarls, fist clenching so tightly around the handle of his sabre that his knuckles go white. He's trembling with emotion, rage, not fear, you realise. "These damn pirates are the scourge of the seas, they're the reason why so many of our comrades are dead, and-"

"Enough!" Commander Kang snaps and 'Joohoney' reluctantly falls silent. "If you cannot keep your tongue still, I will carve it out for you. Understood?" His voice allows no room for argument in the least.

"Yes, commander." He submits grudgingly, but that doesn't stop him from glaring at every single one of you as if he wishes he could slit your throats this very second. But his words leave you reeling on the inside… how can these terrible, corrupted, bloodthirsty Royal Navy officers possibly think that your crewmates are the scum after all they've done?

But before you can retort, your captain is already speaking.

"I swear upon the sea goddess," Hongjoong says, and you hear a sharp intake of breath from both Royal Navy officers and your crewmates alike, "that under no circumstance will any member of my crew harm any member of your crew unless first blood is drawn."

"Captain! Swearing on the sea goddess, are you crazy?" Mingi hisses out of the corner of his mouth, but his captain does not reply, merely holding gazes with the Royal Navy commander. Eventually, Commander Kang lets his shoulders relax slightly, and pulls out a small vial filled with clear liquid, placing it in your captain's outstretched palm. Without breaking eye contact, Hongjoong passes it to Seonghwa, who dashes off the sickbay with it. Mingi scowls, hefting his battle axe threateningly. "Any tricks, Commander…"

"Bring me Gunho's body." Commander Kang demands and Hongjoong nods to another two crew members, who carry out a body wrapped with a clean linen sheet, setting it before the commander. Quietly, Commander Kang kneels before the corpse, tugging the sheet down with such gentle hands one would scarcely believe him to have ever held a sword, until Gunho's face is revealed to them once more, eyes still wide open staring at the sun he had died gazing upon.

For a second, such intense emotion flickers across Commander Kang's face you briefly wonder if you had imagined it, but then he composes himself and slides Gunho's eyes closed gently, pressing a soft kiss to his bloodied forehead.

"Rest in peace, my son."

Chaos erupts on deck.

"What?" Wooyoung gapes, too stunned to be angry and you find yourself mirroring his expression, mouth falling open in shock. My son? Does Yeosang have two illegitimate brothers who were gladiators in Vena Cruz that he didn't know of? But wait, Yunho once mentioned that his parents had sold him and his brother off, so how could Commander Kang possibly be Gunho's father?

Amidst the chaos, Commander Kang rises and gestures for his crew to take the body away, but Jongho stops him by standing stubbornly between the body and the commander. "You dare call a man of another's blood your son in front of the flesh and blood you abandoned?" He asks, deadly quiet.

Commander Kang meets his eyes coolly, though there is a small hint of guilt that flickers in his eyes when he glances over at Yeosang, wiping tears quietly at the side. Then he sighs, exhales a long breath, and looks directly at his son. "I suppose this is time to explain everything, Yeosang."

Yeosang's red rimmed eyes snap up in shock as his father addresses him by name, hands falling limp to the sides while his lips part slightly to say, "Father…?" Kang Yongsun manages a small, resigned curve of the lips that is barely there at all, but nods, gesturing at the dead body of Jeong Gunho.

"Gunho isn't your brother… I just… adopted him, in a way." Commander Kang says very softly. Then he pauses, shakes his head. "Ah, but I'm getting ahead of myself. All of my life, I've never listened to you, Yeosang. What do you want to know?"

"Eh?" Yeosang fumbles, clearly unused to being treated this way by his father in all his memories.

"I… I…" "He wants to know why you hate him." Wooyoung says loudly, glaring at the Commander before you smack his arm with a roll of the eyes. "What?"

"Well… where do I start?" Kang Yongsun murmurs to himself, although all of you hear him. You feel your breath catching in your throat as your anticipation only grows, waiting for his next words to come...

"The easiest explanation would be that… you killed your mother."

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #ateez pirate king #w; ot8 #w; pirate king #w; fanfiction

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descendantofthesparrow · 4 years

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2 part Commission Work - Harry Hook x Reader - part 2 - the masked princess

commissioned by @musicarose

You sat sluggishly at your desk, the weekend had been harsh, your sister barging into your room constantly to rant about…well about you, but she didn’t know that.

And now apparently, Harry Hook was on the look for the masked girl who had run off before the reveal. And it hurt to hear your sister spit insults about you.

You thought Audrey had gotten better, but she still had work to do.

You stiffened as harry sat next to you, doing your best to not look at him, in fear of blushing heavily or blurting out the truth.

you wished you could tell him, but you were scared he wouldn’t like the girl under the mask and avoid you like everyone else did.

“good morning class! Today, we are going to start on a team project!” the class, including you groaned. “now, now it’s a simple research paper, im sure you can handle that, now I will be assigning you groups because SOME of you- “ the teacher eyed the students, who shrunk in their seats “like to exclude others so!”

The teacher took out the attendance sheet and went down the list, marking off as she grouped teams of two and three.

You looked to harry in the corner of your eye, he was just doodling on the edge of his paper. and as you looked closer, you saw your mask from the ball, on top of your hidden face.

‘hes drawing…me?’ you thought, feeling heat creep up your cheeks.

“mister hook and miss (whatever last name), you two will be partners” you jumped, yelping out as you hit your knee on the desk.

The class turned to you, laughter in their eyes, you blushed and looked away. You didn’t see harry glare back and knock his fist harshly against his desk, the class flinched and turned back to the front.

You zoned out the rest of the class, your foot tapping on the ground constantly.

Someone poked your shoulder, making you squeak and turn to them. “uh-uh hi?” Harry chuckled and gave you a soft smile and an eyebrow raise.

“hi luve, im harry, Harry Hook, and yeh are?” he held out his hand, you gently grasped it, mind flashing back to when he kissed the back of your hand.

You shook hands, a blush clear on your face “im-im (y/n)” harry nodded, releasing your hand and leaning back in his chair.

“I've seen yeh before, but I don’t know where?” you sighed, shoulders slagging down.

“im-im audreys little sister” harry nodded slowly, then shook his head.

“no I think I've seen yeh somewhere else…” you froze, hands clenched in your lap. He snapped his fingers and pointed at you “oh, at the engagement party!” you breathed a sigh of relief, then paused.

“wait, I was only there for like- five minutes, and then I left?” Harry shrugged.

“im good at remembering faces” he laughed, it was odd, just like the night of the ball, you had become easily comfortable with him.

“well, I kinda zoned out on the topic?” you gave a vague gesture to him, he snorted and shook his head.

“no specific topic, we just gotta research somethin’” you hummed and tapped your desk.

“how bout…pirates? Since that would be something we're both interested in?” Harry sat up straight and looked at you surprised.

“yer interested in pirates?” you nodded eagerly and tapped your hands on your thighs.

“yeah! When I was a kid I would sneak off to the library and look for stories and books with pirates in them, my dad and grandparents didn’t really like it but my mom always encouraged me to keep learning, no matter what topic it was- sorry im rambling”

You shyly ended, rubbing the back of your neck, harry frowned, reaching out and cupping your cheek "someones told yeh that yeh talk too much, who?”

Oyu paused, looking at his wrist “u-uh-aud-aud-“ Harry let out a low sigh.

“yer sister, she's a nasty one, any tips ta get ‘er ta leave me alone?” you blinked surprised, leaning away from his hand.

“you-you want her to leave you alone?” harry swallowed harshly and rubbed his arm.

“she- shes not really…personally aware? And she makes me uncomfortable and its obvious that she only likes my face n crap”

You locked your jaw and furrowed your brows “and here I thought she learned from ben, ill see what I can do”

Harry softly smiled and nodded “thanks lass” the bell finally rang, the teacher calling the end of the team quite time and dismissing the class.

“the paper is due next month on the second! Have a good rest of your day!”

You stood from your desk, stuffing all your books and notes in your bag.

“So lass, well meet up at lunch alright?” you whipped around to look at Harry, who was smiling at you. “is tha’ okay” he frowned slightly, realizing he might have made you uncomfortable.

“no, no! it's okay, just didn’t expect that….no one usually willingly hangs out with me after…audreys stunt” harry looked offended and wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

“well, im changing that today, yer gonna met meh friends uma n gil alright? You’ll love em, after all” he grinned down at you “we’re pirates” he teased.

You blushed and looked away, though you didn’t remove his arm.

“Hey by the way” you looked back at him “do yeh know that masked girl from the masquerade ball? The one that was in that blue ombre dress?” you slowly shook your head.

“no, i-I didn’t go” Harry sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“Alright…”

You did your best to ignore his face and the tone of his voice.

Well…uma knew who you were, she had immediately reconsigned your voice and had pulled you into a corner and told you.

She didn’t tell Harry thankfully or force you to tell him, she took one look at you and knew you were scared of what would happen.

So she left that alone and became a friend.

So as the date of the research paper drew closer, you and harry were around each other more often than not. And honestly? Even if you didn’t like him all to hell and back you would have been very happy to have a friend like him.

He had legit swore at a group of kids who were whispering about you and trying to tell him to avoid you.

You were invited to crew nights at Umas dorm, eating breakfast lunch and dinner with Harry, Uma, and Gil.

You were finally breaking out of your little shell, and beginning to not care about what all the other students thought.

You still couldn’t bear the thought of telling harry you were the masked girl, you knew he would be disappointed.

Though one day, when you had to study for the paper in your private dorm room because of the rain outside and the library being closed.

Harry was bored and starting doing….Harry things and poking around your room as he waited for you to return with the books you left in your locker.

As he looked under your bed, his eyes locked with a large blue box. He tilted his head, and pulled it out, sitting back on his heels and slowly opening the box.

His breath stopped as his eyes connected with the elegant mask of the girl from the masquerade ball.

“all this time” he muttered, gently picking it up and brushing his thumb against the nose “it was yeh”

“How did you find that” harry turned, eyes widening as he locked eyes with you.

You looked terrified, clutching the books to your chest “you weren't-I wasn’t- I didn’t!” harry stood, quickly waking over to you and grabbing the books and tossing them on your bed. then grabbing your shoulders, instructing you to breathe with him.

“Hey hey hey! Im not mad, yer fine, yer fine! Its okay, breath with me love breathe~” you grabbed his arms and tried to breathe, feeling tears burn at your eyes.

“you-you're not disappointed?” you whimpered, a look of sadness and….love? came over his face.

“disappointed? Love im happy! Who knew the girl I've been fallin’ for was the same as the girl who stole meh heart at the ball”

Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped “you-you- falling for?”

“aye” he lifted his hand from your shoulder, cupping your cheek and gently stroking your cheek with his thumb “im falling for yeh…my princess”

You could feel the intense blush rise to your face, so you lunged forward and buried your face in his chest. You felt his laughter rumble in his chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

“can I kiss yeh?” he whispered, your head shot up, looking into his bright ocean blue eyes. You nodded slowly, fluttering your eyes closed as Harry leaned in.

And pressed the softest, purest kiss to your lips.

As he pulled away, you couldn’t open your eyes, “yer smiling” you heard him chuckle. You opened your eyes biting your lip.

“That was my first kiss” you whispered, harry hummed in surprise, then gave you his classic flirty grin.

“How bout I give yeh a second one?”

“yes please,” Harry leaned back in, pressing a slightly more passionate kiss to your lips, though he kept it soft as not to scare you.

It was funny when your sister walked in, about to rant once more about harry being obsessed with the masked girl, when she saw harry on top of you on your bed.

Harry just looked at her, gave her his middle finger, and resumed in his quest of giving you the best kiss of your life.

“(Y/N)!!!”

---end~---

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#descendants #Descendents #disney descendants #harry hook #harry hook descendants #harry hook x reader #harry hook imagine #commission work #now onto encore!

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navigatrixnarrations · 3 years

Text

Sometimes Always Part 3: Thieves Like Us

Part 1

Part 2

The third chapter of a canon divergent kind-of fix-it set after Season 3. In which the past does not stay silent. You may recognize part of it from a Six-Sentence Sunday.

Warnings: brawling, mentions of hanging and gunshots

Word Count: 2231

The two fighters circle each other in their makeshift ring on the docks, stripped to the waist despite the chill night air. In the smoky torchlight, the scene could almost be a pirate camp. Margaret has woven her way to the front of the gathered crowd of bettors. She’s put coin on Vane, partly out of loyalty, partly because she remembers what a magnificent brawler he was. The other fighter is the clear local favorite; unlike Vane, he’s well-known in the area. He’s half a head taller than Vane and outweighs him as well, and he’s fast and strong, but Vane fights with a savage intensity, feral glee in his eyes at the challenge and the rush of it. And his technique and tactics are far better. Vane dodges the lighting-fast combination of punches thrown at him, getting in close to land blows of his own. It isn’t long before Vane’s ferocious onslaught has the other fighter down for the count. Yes, Vane is still magnificent, standing victorious in the center of the ring, sweat gleaming on his broad chest, long hair barely mussed, breath steaming in the cold. His piercing blue stare meets hers, and Margaret feels her pulse quicken. How does the bloody man manage to swagger while standing still?

Beside her, the merchant who’d been trying to chat her up during the fight notices the heavy look she and Vane are exchanging. He mumbles an excuse about how he “didn’t realize you were here to watch your man”, and hurries away as Vane approaches.

My man, Margaret thinks sourly. No, her man had brown eyes and a broad, easy grin. Her man never let anyone or anything come between them. Her man is at the bottom of the sea.

After Sully died, would-be suitors circled her like sharks. Most simply wanted an in with her father. Some were other pirates. Some were so-called respectable men, with their soft hands and their willingness to let others do their dirty work. She chased them all off with sharp words, and on at least one occasion, at the point of a pistol.

“Your friend didn’t want to meet me?” Vane’s raspy growl brings her back to the present.

“Alas, he wasn’t the sociable type.”

“Pity.” Vane’s right arm tremors ever so slightly as he puts on his shirt, and Margaret finds herself grateful that he’s left-handed. She assists him into his coat, briskly, before he can object. Back in Nassau, it took her too long to get a clear shot as Vane’s face turned purple and his body convulsed at the end of the rope. She prays to a god she is not entirely sure she believes in, for reasons she is entirely unwilling to name, that the delay didn’t cause him permanent injury.

They collect their respective winnings and make their way to a nearby tavern, less rowdy than some and known for its food and its anonymity. Margaret forces herself not to react when her leg brushes against his under the table.

“Do you think it’s wise, drawing attention to yourself like you did prize-fighting?”

“Hiding in plain sight.” The corner of Vane’s mouth quirks upward. “And you wagered on me.”

Margaret gives him an extravagant shrug. “Of course I did. I’m a chancer.”

“Ever the proper pirate.” There is nothing mocking in his tone or his face.

“These past couple of years, smuggling is where most of the work has been.”

“You mean after Sully…”

She cuts him off. “Yes.” She wants to snarl at him to keep Sully’s name out of his mouth, but there was a time when Vane and Sully called each other brother and meant it. She can’t begrudge him any grief he might be feeling, nor curiosity.

He raises his mug of ale to hers. “To Sully. And to thieves like us.” They both drink deep.

Their food arrives. Vane examines the bread that came with their oyster stew. “They’ve picked off all the weevils.”

Margaret smiles slightly, in spite of herself. “I’ll fetch you some, if you like.” An old joke. It’s all too easy to fall into old jokes. Margaret had extra duty once again for mouthing off at her father, and she was missing her meal because of it. She sat on the fighting top watching for sails, too proud to admit hunger or apologize, and Charles climbed up to bring her water ration, some dried meat, and some hard tack, though he’d have gotten in trouble himself if the captain caught him. She picked up a piece of the hard tack and examined it. “You picked off all the weevils.”

He gave her a cheeky grin. “I’ll fetch you some, if you like.” She started to laugh, but forced herself to be silent lest the sound draw attention to them, to the fact that he’d bent the rules for her. That bastard of a quartermaster, Israel Hands, already had it out for the both of them. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him to have another go at Charles.

She tells herself there’s no harm in reminiscing about the boy he was, with his rough voice and his rough demeanor and his tender heart that he tried so hard to hide.

That rough voice is quiet, even confessional. “All my life, there were consequences for wanting things. The taskmasters would take anything they thought we wanted, just to show us that they could. The bigger slaves would take from the smaller, and I was the youngest and smallest of all. So I learned it was safer not to tell, not to show, if I was to have any chance of keeping anything I wanted.” Vane almost sounds as though he’s thinking aloud, but he’s watching her face intently as though willing her to understand something he can’t quite bring himself to say. “Then she did more of the same, taking away anything she even thought I might want, just to prove she could.” There is no doubt as to who she is. Is Vane expressing regret? Trying to explain?

“There are also consequences for not asking for what you want.” She meant to sound arch, but it comes out harsh.

He looks down for a moment then fixes Margaret with a grave stare from beneath his brow. “So I’ve learned.”

The silence hangs thick as a fog bank. Margaret focuses on finishing her meal; it’s easier than focusing on the man across from her.

“I’m sailing for Nassau. Come with me.”

Margaret looked askance at her father. “Why would you ever want to return to that shithole? It’s nothing but backstabbers and cowards.”

“To get Charles out of there. They put a price on his head” he replied.

“He made his choices. He can live with them. Or die with them.” Margaret wanted to sound cold, wanted to be cold, but the ice in her voice sounded unconvincing, even to her ears. Why should the very thought of Charles still have the power to wound her like this, a decade later? What had ever been between them other than a few kisses, some confidences shared?

“I could use your skills, Margaret.”

“Yes, you could. But you’ll have to do without.”

He looks up from the brace of pistols he’s loading. “You think admitting you still care for him would be disloyal to Sully.” When she didn’t answer he continued. “Margaret, when your mother died I was ill-equipped to raise a daughter. You were so young and so angry, and her loss annihilated us both. All those wives, I was trying to replace what couldn’t be replaced. What I had with her.”

“All those wives were because you wanted a son.” This time he didn’t respond. “I’m glad you don’t further insult me by denying it,” she said grimly.

His nostrils flared but his voice stayed calm. Overly calm. “I loved your mother. I still love your mother. I’ve loved some of my other wives, each in different ways.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because it’s possible for you to still love Sully and for that to be irreplaceable, and for you to love Charles as well.” He paused. “I must say I was surprised you didn’t choose him back then.”

“It wasn’t up to me,” she snapped. Damnation, he got her to admit it. If Charles had asked her to be with him, she would have said yes, without hesitation and without regret. But he didn’t, and Sully did. It was a good marriage, a happy one, right until the moment his brain ran out on the deck beside her.

“Will you be here when I return?”

“I’ll be here. But I don’t want to see him.” She turned to leave.

From behind her, her father's voice is uncharacteristically soft. “I wish you’d reconsider, for your own sake.” She left. The notorious Blackbeard, suddenly worried about her loneliness? This must be what going mad feels like.

“And people say I’m terse.” Vane’s teasing purr interrupts her thoughts. He’s trying to lift the pall that’s fallen between them.

Margaret risks a glance at his face. “I’ve been alone for a few years now. I’ve grown accustomed to it.” She drains the rest of her ale and slaps the mug down on the table.

“Surely you’ve no shortage of contenders.” His voice is still as light as the gravel in it allows, but his eyes remain serious.

“Perhaps.” A few days ago, she’d have said not a chance. Damn him. She sees him grit his teeth, the muscle flexing in his jaw. She stands. “There’s something I want to show you.”

He puts coins on the table and follows her. Outside, the clouds hang low and there is a sharp bite in the air. Snow is on the way.

She leads him to the back of the town, where the docks are even rougher and the respectable trades do well to avoid. To call the place a shipyard would be to flatter it, but it’s a yard and series of wharves where vessels of various types and in various states of repair are moored. She takes him to a sleek eight-gun sloop, built for speed and maneuverability, sitting in what might generously be termed dry dock. Recognition dawns on his face. “I haven’t seen a sloop like her since the last time I was on Ocracoke. Is that --”

Margaret completes his sentence. “The Adventure, yes. The old girl took a beating, but she’ll be seaworthy again soon enough.” At his look of consternation, she adds “Yes, I was on Ocracoke.”

He furrows his brows. “I didn’t know you were there.”

“I didn’t want you to know.”

“Take him, and get the fuck off my beach,” her father snarled. Turning to Margaret, who had witnessed the entire duel while hidden in the crowd, had started pushing her way to the front and was readying herself to throw her body between them before Charles threw down his sword, “Go after him, girl. Keep him alive.” At her dubious expression, he leaned in to add “Promise me you’ll try!” She nodded. By day’s end, she was sailing for Nassau. The Adventure was fast, but she arrived too late to prevent Charles’s capture…

“When she’s repaired,” he starts, then stops, his face a question.

“When she’s repaired, I intend to leave on her. No idea where the fuck I’ll go.” She looks away from him, studying the currents, weighing something in her mind, then turns to face him head-on. “Come with me?”

Vane’s thin lips part in surprise, and Margaret braces for the impact of his answer. He regains a grip on his composure, and smirks. “How am I expected to deny such a request.”

Margaret cocks one hip out, puts a hand on it, raises an eyebrow. “You’re not.”

They grin at each other as the first flakes begin to fall. Side by side, they make their way back to the garret.

Vane stands with one arm braced against the window frame, still in his coat, watching the snow dance and swirl beyond the panes. Maragaret finds herself touched by his expression of wonder. He’s always been gruff, his default expression becoming even stonier in the years since she’d last seen him. Seeing him wide-eyed and earnest soothes something in her. He’s still there, the Charles she was once so close with.

He stretches out an arm to enfold her in the coat as well, pulling her close. She leans into him, if only to savor his warmth. She still fits as though she belongs there, tucked beneath his arm.

“I’ve never seen snow before,” he admits. So many firsts with her. First taste of freedom. First time over the side. First kiss, clumsy and nervous and sweet as could be. And now, snow.

His hand comes to rest at the spot where the musket ball ripped through her side all those years ago. “Margaret, I…” he breaks off.

Her voice is soft. Matter-of fact, but soft. “I’d do it again if I had to. Even now, after everything, I’d do it again.” She extricates herself from under his arm, then pauses to press her lips to his temple. “Good night, Charles.”

Her door shuts. He takes a deep, unsteady breath and wills his heart to slow its breakneck pace. On the other side of the door, she does the same.

#sometimes always fic #charles vane fic #black sails fanfiction #black sails fic #charles vane x oc

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viktcrr · 4 years

Text

「maxence danet-fauvel & nonbinary」⇾ samuels, viktor, the senior radcliffe student’s records show that he/they are a capricorn and 24 years old. he/they are studying visual arts, living in noland and can be observant, ingenious, reticent & dependent. when i see him/them i am reminded of a sculptor’s hands clay-ridden, the insistent hum of tv static, and a crying preacher inside a dusty funeral home. ⇽「james & 21 & est & they/them.」

hllo !!! i’m james n here’s one of my big idiot muses <3 he’s not actually dumb he’s :/ a bit evil. bt thts okay hes still <3 beloved <3 LKDSFHLSADLKGFSHLKD anyways!

TW DEATH, HEAVY GRIEF, OVERDOSE / DRUG ADDICTION, HOSPITALIZATION, HYPERSEXUALITY, RELIGION MENTIONS, MENTAL ILLNESS

aesthetic.

old tvs and their static, worn tapes, horror movie screams, spilled ink, a sculptor’s hands, clay-stained, chicken scratch handwriting, messy notes, messy hair, scoffs and eye-rolls, bruised knuckles, sore throats, funeral homes and a crying preacher, shattered ceramics, knife fights, high ledges, vertically-striped pants, red lights, the moon shrouded in clouds, cigarette butts, graveyards and half-empty wine bottles, sitting there for hours and talking to nothing, about nothing, a god complex, gold rings adorning both hands, barbwire baseball bats, having never played baseball in your life, deep eyebags and broken mirrors, a permanent chip on one’s shoulder, yearning, longing, wishing.

basic info.

full name: viktor phillip samuels

nickname(s): icky vicky :/

b.o.d. - jan 2nd

label(s): the black hole, the crepehanger, the impious, the opaque, the tempest, etc.

height: 6′1″

hometown: rochester, new york

sexuality: pansexual uwu

stats

inspired by: beetlejuice (beetlejuice), sid (toy story), jack sparrow (pirates of the caribbean), francis wilkerson (malcolm in the middle), azula (avatar: the last airbender), vicky (the fairly oddparents), stu macher / billy loomis (scream), marshall lee (adventure time), bojack horseman (bojack horseman), any it’s always sunny character :/

biography.

born to mama and papa (preacher) samuels in rochester, new york - fifteen minutes after his twin sister, tatiana samuels. years later, rosa samuels joined the gang.

was an awkward, quiet kid growing up, he didn’t interact well with others and preferred being left alone to dig up worms and draw on the walls of their childhood home. the only exception was his twin, really.

as he got older he grew out of this, but instead became like … sort of an asshole? maybe to compensate for years of childhood awkwardness. he’s the sort of person who will bite the hand that feeds him & developed into a full time nuisance by middle school, unlike tatiana who was much more subtle about her conniving manners.

always has been a fan of ‘darker’ materials. grim & creepy morbid shit. probably the biggest tim burton fan, ever since he was a kid … not a good look for a preacher’s son, but he never really felt ‘in’ with the rest of his family to begin with. classic black sheep syndrome.

drew disturbing pictures as a kid that probably prompted one or two or five phone calls home to assure everything was fine.

just really had a knack for art at a young age, from drawing to painting to playing with clay. it’s always been his Thing and probably is the only thing he’s good at.

being twins with tatiana was hard. they were near opposite besides both being quite mean-spirited. tatiana handled being in public better, left a better image behind - but viktor had talent, more than she did. they loved each other deeply - y’know, those unbreakable twin bonds as cliche as it sounds - but found each other as competition for their parents’ attention. a rivalry for affection.

in high school is when viktor really started to act out. it started extreme, like losing his virginity in their church and vandalism around the neighborhoods. faked being possessed in the middle of sunday service & almost had an exorcism performed on him.

his only redeemable trait was like … just his sheer talent in the arts. was in a 3D art AP course and specialized in sculptures. he could pretty much create anything he wanted with enough dedication.

because he was the problem child, the one who deserved to be disciplined for all his antics, tatiana could sneak away and get away with whatever she wanted much easier. on the bright-side, for her, i guess.

not a very motivated person - wasn’t planning on going to college, much less going to radcliffe but his parents literally wrote & sent his college application for him because they weren’t going to house a deadbeat but had too much heart to kick him out onto the streets. cool!

he’s actually pretty smart but he just doesn’t apply himself. has a minor in english because he didn’t care for an extra course-load, but he’s good at writing & analyzing literature. is going to use it to write and illustrate his own series of children books with a style similar to tim burton’s. not for the kids, but because he likes to leave a trail of terror in whatever he does.

has been experimenting with himself since high school but college is where he really had started to crack down on himself. was out as pansexual & nonbinary by his sophomore year of college just … not to his parents, who don’t really need to know.

if you asked him if he believed in twins having a psychic connection with each other - he’d tell you he wouldn’t know. it felt believable at times, but sometimes he had no idea what was going on inside of tatiana’as head. on the other hand - viktor had always felt oddly transparent to her, like she knew all of his moves before he did. the only person who could predict him accurately.

( TW DEATH, GRIEF, OVERDOSE / HOSPITALIZATION BEYOND THIS POINT )

when tatiana disappeared, viktor knew something was up. it was a twist in his gut, pure instinct that something wasn’t right. and it wasn’t right - and when she was proclaimed missing, they couldn’t find her.

and when tatiana died - viktor knew. it felt wrong, something cut so severely in him he could pinpoint her death to the second. he didn’t know how, or why, but he knew it. knew it before anybody else had.

afterwards he went on a sort of bender. he’d begun to struggle with a mild drug addiction late senior year of high school / early college, but he was managing it up until this point.

his mental health had also sunk to an all-time low, when it’d never been great to begin with. (manic & depressive episodes. once fixated on a sculpting project for six months and then knocked it off the table and destroyed it as soon as he finished it for no apparent reason.)

tatiana’s body wasn’t found immediately, and when it was … viktor went off the rails. ended up overdosing & being hospitalized. spent six months in & out of psychiatric care after that.

came back to radcliffe to finish his senior year because … for the reasons above, he hadn’t been able to complete it. just wants to get his credits and get out of here.

is still dealing with a lot of trauma & grief, especially since the one year anniversary of tatiana’s death was this month (january) - causes him to spiral and be unpredictable in regards of his mental health. he stopped taking his medication, so. :/ some days are alright, other days are pretty bad.

UPDATE: now that summer’s come n go ... viktor hs been thru <3 a lot <3 recently. switched therapists (his :/ last one got her license revoked) & started new medications, went to a treatment center briefly ‘cos .. he wasn’t doing too well :/ bt now he’s back baybey! trying to be better n trying to be sober but ... :/

personality.

the human embodiment of a gremlin that was fed after midnight. a goblin, if you will. one of those cats with a narrow head and really big ears … that’s them!

a big horror & halloween enthusiast. loves the old campy horror movies & probably has an abundance of masks from different movies. dresses like a grimy millennial beetlejuice more than they should because they just … love those black & white vertical-striped pants.

can appreciate the lore & cryptids at radcliffe and likes to feed into the fear that surrounds them. is probably the cause of a few ‘anomalies’ and ‘paranormal sightings’ because they’re just … a jerk.

fashion alternates between e-boy (they would be tiktok famous if they were 17 & didn’t think that a majorly minor based app was weird.), millennial beetlejuice, and goth in a crop top & sweatpants. big fan of crop tops and a big fan of sweatpants.

they can be really fucking mean? petty, aggressive, a major instigator. will literally spit in your face for little to no reason, you could just look at them the wrong way. the kind of person who will stick their gum into someone else’s hair. other than that? they’re like … sort of okay. they’re not always mean, just a dick about 90% of the time lmao

like okay yeah they’ll call someone a stinky bitch for no reason except they feel like it and believes it. it’s fine, they’re fine, we’re fine.

despite the fact that they’re probably getting into a fight whenever, considers themself to be a lover and not a fighter but that’a primarily because they fuck a lot. uses it as a coping mechanism, like they’re this big fancy carnival show that’s like ‘come one, come all! fuck the dead girl’s twin brother!’ and it’s … a Lot. might have a problem with hypsersexuality but they’re not fully aware of it.

the preacher’s whore son, basically :)

pansexual & nonbinary, switches between he & they pronouns often and without a pattern, but they have such a fragile grip on their identity that you could call them ‘dog-faced bitch’ and they’d turn around like. sup.

vastly impulsive … like i said, they destroy their own creations for the fun of it. spends all teir money on useless shit, will cheat on someone because they feel like it & likes the thrill, screams into the night sky frequently like a cat in heat.

will also spend months creating useless shit for no reason too. spent six of them sculpting a hollowed out tree the size of them & then took a sledgehammer to it.

they’re very super dramatic. would play the organ at church when nobody was looking after them and service was about to start. would just churn out these super haunting, creepy melodies like they were phantom of the opera. would do the same exact thing at home on their keyboard with the pipe organ setting whenever they got grounded until their parents took it away HBDSJFNGKH

will absolutely not talk about their ‘time away’ because it’s not anyone’s business, not even their own younger sister. still refuses to talk about tatiana’s death, or their mental health, or their addiction (fallen back into it but it hasn’t gotten severe … yet :/), or anything involving their own emotions.

will just change the topic abruptly, no warning. asks about the jonas brothers instead and they fucking hate the jonas brothers.

that being said they’re absolutely not over tatiana’s death & it’s to the point of obsession over it. like there’s some kind of secret that needs to be uncovered, even though there just. isn’t. tatiana was their rock and they were pretty much dependent on her. kept them grounded. could control them when nobody else could, got into their head easier than others. it’s sort of like rosa lost two siblings that day because viktor hasn’t been the same since.

emotionally unavailable while also crying twice a day. cries during their brawls but still wins. is stony-faced when they tell you they cheated on you with your much hotter best friend.

will tell you straight up what they want from you, no bullshit & no beating around the bush. just blunt. if they want to fuck, nothing else, then that’s it. if they feel deviation or developing feelings then they’ll ghost in less than a second. is awful like that but feels no shame.

but also emotional as shit and it’s confusing. will cry on a whim and then flip you off if you try to console them or ask them what’s up. will bite you.

they go to therapy but they just fuck around and wastes their therapists’ time … also is fucking their therapist, but that’s neither here nor there. so they’re not really getting the help they need.

likes to be intimidating but not … with their body or anything because they’re a TWIG but uses their love & knowledge of horror and creepy shit to their advantage. has an abundance of fake blood. has channeled the energy of jack nicholson and used it on tatiana’s boyfriends before (also is a big fan of sfx makeup & has dabbled in it)

probably chases kids around with a chainsaw without the chain on halloween every year.

generally never doing good, both mental health wise & morally. would probably steal candy from a baby for funsies.

i don’t know if there’s a good to them somewhere deep down, but they don’t see any issues with themself either. nothing really breaks through to them anymore because the only person who ever made them stop and think about their actions was tatiana, and well, y’know. :/

an introverted reclusive type who doesn’t like most people or going out, but does so anyway if it means a quick high & a cheap thrill.

pretty observant and likes to analyze people even though they’re often like … partially wrong. judgmental because they like to make people feel bad, not because they’re a righteous mighty person. because they’re not. so like, a hypocrite!

wanted connections.

a roommate… but it’s an absolute nightmare to live with him.

enemies… because viktor would have a lot of them…

familiar faces… people who knew tatiana or of her / were her friends. maybe even those who dated her, and who viktor would’ve tried to intimidate / scare at any given chance :/

pitiful glances… people who take pity on viktor and he hates it sooo much.

hooligan gremlin kids… just a friend group of grown ass adults who do drugs and fuck shit up around town like they’re edgy teenagers.

high school girlfriend… probably the one he lost his virginity to inside his family church :/

childhood acquaintances… people who knew him from his youth.

exes… good & bad terms, but mostly bad terms because viktor is an actual demon. probably cheated on them.

soft… i don’t know if he’s soft towards anyone and/or is capable of it but we can try. we can try.

unrequited… either viktor just doesn’t like them or he’s holding back because he’s :/ got issues with relationships & is self-sabotaging as one does

enemies with Tension… of the … spicy kind if you know what i mean. wink.

friends… old friends, new friends, bad friends, good friends, close friends, frenemies, etc. i don’t know how many he had but if your muse likes to cause a ruckus and fuck shit up then viktor’s your man.

hook-ups… current or old. friends with benefits, one night stands, anything and everything because he fucks around a lot.

ride or die… friendship but make it extreme.

bad influence… he’s just toxic to be around and brings out the worst in people :/

bad egg… he’s gotten into a few fights :/ maybe you witnessed it. maybe you were in it.

literally anything i wld love all sorts of plots.

#ruhqintro #death tw #grief tw #drug abuse tw #addiction tw #overdose tw #hospitalization tw #hypersexuality tw #religion mention

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kimjoongs-main · 5 years

Text

—forget me not ; hrj

➵ peter pan renjun au

➵ 2.6k words

➵ “i'm sorry that you grew up so soon.”

➵ warning(s): n/a

➵ dia’s note: *incoherent noises*

Something was off about you. Everyone started to notice. The way your eyebrows furrowed when you were asked to retell stories from your past, the way you bit your lip when a certain detail just didn’t come to you, the way you stuttered trying to piece words and phrases together.

No one knew what was going on, except for him.

Renjun watched worriedly as you tried to tell the others a story from your past, but were failing catastrophically. His eyes stayed glued to the way your fingers would occasionally clasp and unclasp, a sign which would not be obvious to anyone else, but he knew exactly what it meant.

You were faltering.

He figured something like this was going to happen.

Renjun tilted his head to the side as he continued to listen to your story. His friends, who he referred to endearingly as “The Lost Boys,” were all gathered around you, some sitting cross legged on the ground and some on the low branch of a nearby tree. You were perched on top of a smooth stump, hands properly folded on your lap. Chenle, the second youngest of the boys, was sitting closest to you, completely enraptured by your tale despite your occasional pauses. Whenever that happened, he would nod his head, gently encouraging you to take your time and pace yourself.

Renjun smiled at the interaction, but it was laced with a tint of sadness.You would not have had to go through that if it wasn’t for him. He should have never let you stay here, no matter how much you claimed you did not want to go back.

Despite Chenle’s attempts to get you to keep going, you could tell the others were getting restless. Jisung was fidgeting on the branch above you, incessantly tugging on the leaves and scrunching his nose whenever you stopped to think. Jeno was drawing patterns in the dirt, only half listening. Donghyuck had his legs pulled up to his chest, arms resting on his knees and his chin on his arms. Jaemin was leaning against him, his usually bright and loving eyes now plagued with fatigue. You paused again for the nth time, brows furrowed and lips downturned. An exasperated sigh left your lips and you clap your hands together, garnering the attention from the five boys in front of you.

“I think I’ll stop there for today. We can continue the story tomorrow,” you said.

Chenle whined and reached up, tugging gently on your pinky. “Aw, but you were just getting to the good part.”

You laughed softly, moving your hand to hold onto his. “Then that just means we’ll start from there tomorrow. Consider this a cliffhanger.”

You looked to the others, noticing Renjun standing close by. There was a gentle smile on his face as he looked at you, and you immediately diverted your attention elsewhere, hoping that no one else saw the scarlet gradient appear on your cheeks.

Your efforts to hide it were tarnished by Donghyuck’s teasing and Jaemin’s mischievous smirk. You shooed the devilish duo away with a flick of your wrist, and off they went with a laugh back to the hideout, dragging a confused Jeno along with them. Chenle, who was still pouting from your abrupt ending of the story, was clinging onto Jisung as the youngest of the boys tried—and failed—to carry his best friend.

“You guys go on ahead. I’ll follow in a bit,” you called out to them, receiving a wave from Jeno and a thumbs up from Donghyuck.

“See you at home, Y/N!”

Chenle peered over his shoulder. “Promise you’ll finish the story tomorrow?”

“I promise.” You waved him off with a gentle gaze and he, along with Jisung, trudged back into the shadows of the trees.

As soon as the others were out of sight, the smile on your face disappeared. You slumped against the boulder behind you, head tilted back and eyes closed. You heard the soft crunch of dead leaves as Renjun made his way over to you and sat down. Without even having to look you could tell he was waiting for you to say something, anything.

A few beats of silence followed before you mustered up the courage to speak.

“I’m not going to remember it tomorrow, am I?”

He didn’t say anything back. You sighed. Your head fell forward, eyes landing on the tiny droplets of water dripping from the edge of a leaf. It had rained earlier that evening, causing the seven of you to abruptly stop the game you were playing and seek cover. The other boys were considerably upset by that, and you couldn’t blame them. It was the first time in a few days that they had the chance to go outside and play to their heart’s content without having to worry about the pirates. However, thanks to your quick thinking you eased the tension by inviting them to crowd around you as you presented them with a story from your childhood. A story that was once ingrained deeply in your memories, but now you can hardly remember it. Blinking back tears, you sharply turned away from Renjun, refusing to meet his gaze. You knew that one look into his eyes would render you completely and utterly vulnerable.

“Why are you putting yourself through this? You know you can always go back?”

You didn’t respond. Your body language told him what you wanted to say.

Renjun’s gaze softened and he placed his hand on your shoulder, smiling softly when you didn’t shove his hand away like you usually did. He knew he was basically beating a dead horse at this point, but he needed to be sure that this exactly what you wanted. He’s witnessed the others go through the same predicament, and he’ll be damned if he let you go through with this decision only to regret it later on.

“Are you willing to sacrifice all those good memories you had?” he asked. Renjun felt you tense up under his hand. You whipped your head around to look at him, cheeks soaked with salty tears. A thin line of scarlet rimmed the edges of your eyes, outlining days of emotional baggage.

You’ve been in Neverland for two months. You didn’t think you could handle it anymore.

Maybe...he’s right, you thought. It might be better for me to go ba–

A loud splash and flurry of giggles interrupted your train of thought.. Peering over your shoulder, your eyes immediately spotted the flash of vibrant colors jumping in and out of the ocean. The mermaids had emerged from their cove and decided to take advantage of the peace and quiet now that the ships were nowhere to be seen. You silently marveled at their beauty, entranced with the way their tails seemed to sparkle under the setting star, shining more brightly than ever before. Their hair was let down in loose waves; strands of crimson, teal, periwinkle, and emerald bounced along gently in the sea. Some of them were perched on the rocks, basking in the warmth of the sun, and the others were submerged in the calm waves.

When you first arrived in Neverland, Renjun decided to bring you on a tour of the island. The first stop was Mermaid’s Lagoon. The lovely ladies of the sea were undoubtedly excited to see him, judging from the way they all swam eagerly to the rock the two of you had landed on. You didn’t blame them. At that point you had only known Renjun for a few days, but you were already charmed by his charismatic, yet humble personality. It was honestly impossible for anyone to have ill feelings towards the young boy.

However, upon seeing you taking refuge behind their beloved Renjun, the smiles on their faces instantly dropped and were replaced with scowls instead. You cowered even more. Sensing the obvious, growing tension, Renjun briefly wrapped up what he was saying then grabbed your wrist, tugging you so you were right next to him. He proceeded to wrap an arm around your waist and pushed himself off of the rock, flying up, over, and through the arches until he finally found his way back to the Hangman’s Tree.

For the next few days, you avoided going anywhere near the lagoon. Renjun had just laughed when you refused his invitation one day and took off with a shrug.

“Suit yourself, little lady!” he had called out.

However, that very same night, Renjun had returned with a pouch and dangled it in front of your face. You looked up at him in surprise and he responded with a goofy grin.

“What’s this?” you asked.

“An apology gift,” he replied, dropping the pouch on your lap.

You raised your eyebrows and picked up the brown lump, tipping it over and letting the object inside fall into your palm. You gasped. What came tumbling out was probably the most beautiful seashell you have ever seen in your entire life. It was a conch shell. The outside was a striking shade of orange, fading into a darker shade of scarlet and magenta further into the shell. Specks of gold and silver were scattered all over the conch, reflecting the rays of the sun. The shell was relatively large, almost as big as your palm.

You glanced over at Renjun who was already staring back at you with a fond smile on his face. The Lost Boys had surrounded you, each of them climbing over one another to get a look at the sparkly object in your hand. You paid them no mind.

“Who is this from?” you asked. Renjun’s smile widened and he pointed behind you. You followed his finger and your eyes widened when you saw where he was pointing.

“One of the mermaids felt bad about what happened the other day, and she wanted me to give you that as an apology,” Renjun said, hopping off of the trunk he was sitting on. He skipped over to you and clapped a hand on your shoulder.

“She hopes you can forgive her and her sisters’ behavior and wants you to come visit again sometime.”

Needless to say, you were quite speechless.

Of course you had forgiven them, and even accompanied Renjun the next time he visited. Since then you’ve grown quite fond of the ladies of the sea, going as far to call them your closest friends (Chenle had complained about that when you first expressed it to the others).

A pathetic laugh fell from your lips, and you reached up, wrapping your fingers around the shell hanging from your neck. You treasured that memory. It was the first time you felt like you truly belonged here.

At that moment, you knew what had to be done.

Wiping your tears from your face, you shot up, taking Renjun by surprise.

“Y/N?” he peered up at you curiously, eyebrows furrowed and lips set out in a pout. You offered him your hand.

“Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” he asked, taking your hand and pulling himself up. You wasted no time and began dragging him across the damp sand. Renjun eyed you suspiciously but made no move to tug his hand out of your grasp. Instead he chose to carefully observe his surroundings, trying to see if he could find out where you were taking him. It only confused him more when his eyes caught sight of the familiar tree in the distance. There was no mistaking it.

Renjun saw the multiple engravings on the trunk of the tree, courtesy of himself and the Lost Boys. Jisung’s floppy has was dangling from one of the branches, and Jeno’s jacket was tied at the base. The closer the two of you got to the tree, the clearer Renjun could hear the whoops and whistles of the boys inside. He fought to stifle his laugh as he took notice of your exasperated expression upon hearing that the others haven’t gotten ready for bed yet. But instead of stomping into the hideout like you usually do, you stopped in your tracks, tugging Renjun forward. He stumbled.

“Here’s the answer to your question,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. Renjun stood up, dusting the dirt off of his pants. His confused look was fixated solely on you.

“Huh?”

You sighed and pointed to the tree. Renjun was even more confused.

“Okay, just because you point to something doesn’t mean I’m going to understand what you mean, little lady.”

“You asked me earlier if I was willing to sacrifice the good memories I had. At first I didn’t know what to say. The question was overwhelming, and my response could have gone in many different directions.” Your looked down. “If I’m being honest, I actually considered leaving.”

Renjun’s breath hitched. Needless to say, he was quite surprised at your revelation.

Ever since he brought you to Neverland, away from your home, away from your old life, you vehemently refused his invitation to go back. He had warned you of the consequences, but nothing worked. Renjun knew little about your past life. The only knowledge that he obtained from you came in the form of tears and a plea for him to take you somewhere far away. Not one to refuse a genuine request, especially from a lady, Renjun complied. He brought you here. He thought that removing you from your situation would make you happy, but as the days passed and he saw your memories slip out of your mind, one by one, he began to regret his decision.

So he tried. He tried and tried to convince you to go back home. Every single time you refused.

“I thought that maybe you were right. I could easily go back and regain all of those memories I’ve lost,” you continued. “But then I realized something.”

You walked towards the tree and plucked Jisung’s hat from the branch. Your fingers gently grazed the brim, nails tapping against the soft fabric. Then, without missing a beat, you reached behind you, untying Jeno’s jacket with one fluid motion. You folded it neatly and draped it over your forearm whilst Jisung’s hat dangled from your index finger.

“Back where I used to live, my fos–...the man and woman I lived with would always say ‘Let’s go back to the house.’ I never really thought much about it, but then today, Hyuck said ‘See you at home, Y/N!’”

Renjun was staring at you intently. You turned back around to face him.

“Home. He called it home. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

You bit your bottom lip, silently praying for the tears not to fall.

“I was with them for two years. They never bothered to remember my name. I’ve only been in Neverland for two months, and yet you lot—you, the Lost Boys, the mermaids—were more like a family to me than they ever were.”

You turned away again and made your way over to one of the many secret entrances that led to the hideout—your home—and lifted the hatch. Before jumping in, you looked over your shoulder. Renjun was still sitting on the ground, overwhelmed by what you just said. It may not have seemed like very much to anyone else, but to him, you practically laid out your entire life story. He didn’t need to know all of the little details. What you said was enough, almost too much even.

A soft chuckle from you drew him out of his stupor. The two of you made eye contact and his heart clenched at the sad smile on your face.

“So to answer your question, yes. If sacrificing my good memories means that I get a family in return, then...so be it.”

You jumped in, shutting yourself away from the outside and quite possibly, shutting yourself away from your past entirely.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t keep your promise to Chenle because the very next day, the story you were telling slipped from your mind completely.

#nct #nct dream #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct au #renjun scenarios #renjun au

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whenimaunicorn · 5 years

Note

Can I have #25 - "I'm sorry I'm not what you prayed for" with Finan?

This prompt is just perfect for a Caribbean Era of Piracy AU!!

It could have been beautiful. The waves rolled gently intothe shore, the water a striking, crystal-clear green in the shallows thatsoftly transitioned to a deeper and deeper blue as I looked out into the seemingly-endlesssea. It looked so peaceful now, but I had learned that I could not trust thatcalm. The horizon stretched flat and clear in every direction I looked, today. Wispsof white clouds formed islands up in the sky, but nothing interrupted thedeeper blue of the ocean that surrounded me on all sides.

I had spent the first day walking the perimeter of the beach.I had hoped to reach a settlement of some kind, if I just walked the coast farenough. Someone who could tell me where that terrible storm had left mestranded. But when I reached the wreckage of my own ship again by mid-afternoon,I realized the island I had washed up upon was extremely small, and entirelydeserted.

It would be two weeks before Father might receive word thatmy ship had not reached Kingston. Perhaps the merchants with whom he had bookedmy passage would be missed a little sooner, or perhaps no one expected themurgently enough to care when they did not arrive on time.

I expected no attempt at rescue from my intended husband.

I had discovered only one measure of hope on this desertedisland. Halfway around the other side, a trickling stream of blessed freshwater led me up to a crude shed so dilapidated that I almost missed it. Itsweathered wood was wrapped almost completely in vines, the planks faded by thesalt air to the point of decomposition. There was no telling how recently anyliving soul had touched it. Inside, I found what appeared to be a sailor’ssupply dump – hard tack, casks of rum, coiled ropes and boxes of ammunition.

I waited near it the whole second day, pilfering a little ofthe dry and unsatisfying food, and watching to see if whoever had stored ithere would return.

I did fear who the owners might turn out to be. I had littlechoice, however, but to rely on any living soul that might come across me, andcould only hope for Christian clemency. And yet, I would have to keep my witsabout me. I had been told that unsavory privateers, or outright lawlesspirates, often used tiny islands like these when they needed to make secret landfalls.

I oiled up and loaded one of the pistols I found in thatshack, and took to carrying it at my waist.

It was hard to decide where my best chance of rescue lay –near the wreckage of my ship on the north coast, or at the mysterious supplydrop on the east end. I spend several days hiking back and forth between themboth, watching the sea and splitting my chances.

Near my shipwreck, I had arranged a few planks and branchesinto the word “help” on the beach, and hung the tattered remnants of ourBritish flag from an overhanging tree. I prayed for a naval vessel, or anotherhonest merchant, to pass by close enough to see it, and to launch a search forme if they did not find me sitting by the shore.

Near the supply shack, I was more cautious. I would need toassess the character of any potential rescuers that returned to the island atthat location. I constructed for myself a comfortable little platform on anoutcrop near the stream, from which to watch for any human approach. My chosenlocation caught the breeze just enough to keep the worst of the insects off ofme, and I screened it in with branches after I climbed up each day. I intendedto be able to watch any visitors to this shed for a good long while beforedeciding how to make my presence known to them.

I was drowsing in the afternoon heat almost a week laterwhen I finally heard the stirring of another living soul. The sound of bootscrunching on fallen leaves along the bank of the little stream caused me topull my recumbent body softly forward and peer between the leaves that screenedmy position.

I saw a lone man, of average height, whose complexion toldme he likely hailed from one of the northern countries of Europe. His hair wasdark and thick, the inch-long shock of it standing almost straight up from hisforehead. His full beard was trimmed just below his chin, but it was looking alittle ill-kempt. He did not wear a uniform, but rather a dark thread-bare coatand worn brown boots. In contrast to the carelessness of the rest of hisappearance, the sword at his hip was polished and gleaming. The handle of apistol poked through the gap of his open jacket as he moved.

My rescuer was not to be a soldier, then, as I had prayedfor. The man now hiking up the riverbed beneath my hiding-place might at bestbe a privateer, part of a semi-disgraced crew willing to fight for the Crown inexchange for gold. Or his allegiance could be to the Spanish, which would makethings less easy for me, but not as difficult as my life was about to be ifthis man was a full-on pirate. Then my only chance at getting home might be atransom, in which case I could only pray that I not end up too mistreated beforemy release.

I still had the pistol at my hip. Circumstances mightrequire me to put myself at this man’s mercy, but I did have some measure ofleverage with which to protect myself.

I watched him enter the little shed, striding directly up toit as if he knew exactly what he expected to find there. My heart jumped intomy throat as he disappeared inside. This was my best chance to get the drop onhim, and approach from a position of strength.

I slipped down from my perch as silently as I could manage. Myhand was on the butt of the pistol tucked into my belt, but I decided not to appearto the man with it already pointed at his face. Best to begin with an appeal tohis mercy, in case he was in actuality of a decent sort.

The stranger emerged from the dark doorway of the shed justas I was in sight of the threshold. His eyes widened, and he froze with a sackslung over one shoulder.

“Good day, sir,” I called to him, loud and clear, with astronger voice than I expected to hear out of my fast-pumping lungs. This wassurely the most foolhardy thing I had ever done in my life. But I could seelittle other choice, if I wished to avoid dying of exposure and starvation.

The man seemed to recover his confidence quickly, a shrewdgaze assessing my person as he stepped out into the light, lowering his sack tothe ground as he did. What did he see? My brown braid was loose and unwashed, wispsof sticky hairs clung to my forehead and my once-porcelain skin was surelyruddy from the sun and exertion. My dress was of good quality, but stained, shreddedat the hem and with a nasty tear through one sleeve where it had caught on abranch my first day. Hopefully, he did not immediately notice my pilferedpistol.

We were now less than ten feet away from each other, and ifI wasn’t careful he’d end up able to draw a weapon on me faster than I couldget mine ready. I would have to think fast. “Good day to you, young lady,” werehis first words, returning my pleasantry. The lilt to his low voice identifiedhim quite clearly as an Irishman. Which did not help me much in determining hisloyalties. “The sight of a fair woman like yourself is certainly an unexpecteddelight. But can I ask what circumstances cause you to find yourself on anisland I had always assumed to be deserted?”

There was nothing to be gained in dissembling. “My shipcaught a storm at sea.” I wrung my hands, and looked demurely down at them tocheck how close the gesture had brought them to the handle of my gun. I squeezedone of my nails between finger and thumb, trying to look nervous anddespairing. “I am afraid I was the only survivor.” I looked up at him frombeneath my lashes. “I prayed for rescue every day. Some decent, Christian manto return me safely to my home.”

His countenance did not quite soften in the way that I hadhoped. If anything, he looked just a little sick. “Such a terrible trial you’vehad. Please, come with me. I’ll get ye back to my ship. My mates and I can takecare of you.”

He took a step toward me, but there was something thatunsettled me in his demeanor. His movements were jerky, like he felt conflictedsomehow in his chosen course of action. I stepped back, fast, and my fingersfound a grip on my pistol. The pistol that, as far as I knew, was actually his.

The stranger’s eyes followed the movement of my hand. Hewent still, and slowly spread his empty hands wide. “You gonna use that, lass?”

This was my only chance to claim the advantage. “I-I am not certain,”I bleated, feigning a feminine weakness, and drew it anyway.

The man before me barely flinched. “I understand,” he saidgently, lifting his hands farther away from his own weapons. “You don’t knowme.”

“I can’t trust you,” I said, dropping the lost maiden act,letting him see the real strength of my soul. “I need you, though.”

“Aye?” the man asked, voice going sharper too. “And what isit ye need me for?”

I tilted my head. “I have no other way off this island.” Wasthat not obvious?

“Sure you don’t,” the man scoffed, an edge of bitterness nowharshening his tone.

I pressed my brows together. “Of course I do not? As I justexplained—”

“Yes, yes,” the man interrupted, shaking his empty hands irritablyat me. “Shipwreck, only survivor, all that rubbish. Perfect way to get Finanthe Agile to let his guard down, throwing a beautiful and helpless maiden inhis path.” He shook his head as I struggled to process what he was saying tome. “You really do look a Lady. Hold yourself like one, too. He must have goneto the most expensive brothel in Port Royal for ye. How much did you cost him,by the way?”

“I beg your pardon?” I sputtered. Was he implying I was animposter, and a whore, at that? “Who on earth are you talking about?”

The man apparently called Finan let an irreverent smilecrack his face. “That foul, barnacle-encrusted arseling Haeston, of course. Thinkinghe could catch us in an ambush. But Uhtred’s much too clever to fall for a ploylike this.”

I was holding the pistol with both hands, arms locked in astraight line aimed at Finan’s chest. But I could see they were starting towobble. “It’s not like that,” I said, an edge of pleading creeping into myvoice. “I don’t know who any of those people are. I had passage on a merchantvessel. I’m the Governor’s daughter.” His face said he believed nothing I wassaying, but I kept talking anyway. “I’m not lying. The ship and I washed up onthe north shore of the island; I can take you there, and show you.”

“Darlin’,” Finan drawled, “if you’re just an innocent victimhere, then why are ye holding a gun to my head?”

I almost screamed in frustration. “Because for all I know,you are one of these terrible pirates yourself.”

He cocked his head, indulgent. “And if that were to be thecase, just what, then, was yer plan?”

I flicked the pistol toward the beach in an imperiousgesture, trying to look calm and in charge. “I need you to take me to yourship. Entirely unmolested.”

He actually laughed at me, though I thought I detected alittle sympathy in his condescension. “And what do you think would happen next?If I am one of these pirates that you fear, and you end up surrounded by ‘em,alone in the middle of the ocean? You think you can sleep with that pistolstill steady in yer hand?”

I wanted to break right there, but held strong. “Then all Ican hope,” I said, masking the hitch in my voice with a quick swallow, “is thateven pirates are God-fearing men, with enough Christian decency to help out agood woman in need.”

“You keep assuming we are Christian,” a new voice saidunexpectedly, from behind my left ear. I whirled, pistol and all, toward thesound, and caught a brief sight of a young man having crept up behind me. Thestrange look of him was disorienting enough: half his head was shaved, showingan outlandish tattoo adorning his scalp, and his eyes were blackened around thelids. I think I screamed at the sight of him. Before I could gather my wits,one of his bare arms came at me, and he knocked me to the ground.

The impact to my head made my vision go dark. I felt theyoung man climb on top of me, holding me down; heard the crunch of Finan’sboots as he came closer and crouched down beside me. “I’m sorry I’m not whatyou prayed for,” he said softly, and then rough hands bound my wrists.

* * *

“I found nothing in the jungle, between the shipwreck andhere,” the strange-looking young man said as he rowed the little boat I now foundmyself in, out to the large vessel anchored in the bay. His back was to me, andhis tone suggested he was trying to be quiet, but the sound was not too low formy ears to pick up even over the rush of the sea breeze.

My thoughts raced, picking over the implications of hiswords. So he had been scouting, while Finan spoke with me. Which meant Finan hadalready known about my shipwreck while I was pleading with him for help. Why,then, would he be so skeptical?

The boy with the evil look about him seemed to share my opinion.“No evidence of anyone else on this island. Do you still think she is a trick?”

Finan looked over the rower’s head at me, seated in anundignified bundle on the floor at the prow of the rowboat. I could have fit onthe board next to Finan, but he didn’t seem to trust me enough for that. Mypistol was now tucked into his belt, beside his own. “We can’t be certain,Sihtric.” He heaved a heavy sigh, and looked away, toward the ship ahead of us.“But she might—” the breeze gusted, taking away a few of his words “—who shesays she is.”

Sihtric shook his head. “A strange coincidence, then. Butwho can claim to know the minds of the gods?”

Finan’s answering smile held no mirth. He nodded toward theship, which we were closing in on now. “The only thing that matters is what hemakes of it, anyway.” But Finan did not look as confident as his words. Hepeered down on me for a long while after that, thinking hard but asking no morequestions.

A/N: What do you all think? I have a few plot ideas but I need a little help gluing them together. So hit me up if this opening scene gives you any ideas for what you want to happen next!

TLK taglist: @ceridwenofwales @oddsnendsfanfics@laketaj24 @thewildbeauty @geekandbooknerd @therealcalicali @tiyetiye @pokeasleepingsmaug@goldentailedmermaids @sifshoney @titty-teetee @savismith @ariellostatci @perfectus-in-morte @axiseeu12@kingofshadowalkers

#the last kingdom #the last kingdom fanfic #finan x oc #pirate au #let's be danes ⚔️

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altviktcrr · 4 years

Text

『MAXENCE DANET-FAUVEL ❙ NONBINARY』 ⟿ looks like VIKTOR SAMUELS is here for HIS/THEIR SENIOR year as a VISUAL ARTS student. HE/THEY are 24 years old & known to be OBSERVANT, INGENIOUS, RETICENT & DEPENDENT. They’re living in NOLAND, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ JAMES. 20. EST. SHE/THEY.

hllo ,,, again ,,, this is my last child i SWEAR ,,, at least fr now ,,, hes also the most problematic one ,,, the most dramatic ,,, one of my absolute faves ,,, pleathe love him. as always if u wish to plot please like this so i can msg u !!!

TW DEATH, HEAVY GRIEF, OVERDOSE / DRUG ADDICTION, HOSPITALIZATION, HYPERSEXUALITY, RELIGION MENTIONS, MENTAL ILLNESS

aesthetic.

basic info.

full name: viktor phillip samuels

nickname(s): icky vicky :/

b.o.d. - jan 2nd

label(s): the black hole, the crepehanger, the impious, the opaque, the tempest, etc.

height: 6′1″

hometown: rochester, new york

sexuality: pansexual uwu

stats

biography.

born to mama and papa (preacher) samuels in rochester, new york - fifteen minutes after his twin sister, tatiana samuels. years later, rosa samuels joined the gang.

as he got older he grew out of this, but instead became like ... sort of an asshole? maybe to compensate for years of childhood awkwardness. he’s the sort of person who will bite the hand that feeds him & developed into a full time nuisance by middle school, unlike tatiana who was much more subtle about her conniving manners.

always has been a fan of ‘darker’ materials. grim & creepy morbid shit. probably the biggest tim burton fan, ever since he was a kid ... not a good look for a preacher’s son, but he never really felt ‘in’ with the rest of his family to begin with. classic black sheep syndrome.

drew disturbing pictures as a kid that probably prompted one or two or five phone calls home to assure everything was fine.

just really had a knack for art at a young age, from drawing to painting to playing with clay. it’s always been his Thing and probably is the only thing he’s good at.

his only redeemable trait was like ... just his sheer talent in the arts. was in a 3D art AP course and specialized in sculptures. he could pretty much create anything he wanted with enough dedication.

has been experimenting with himself since high school but college is where he really had started to crack down on himself. was out as pansexual & nonbinary by his sophomore year of college just ... not to his parents, who don’t really need to know.

( TW DEATH, GRIEF, OVERDOSE / HOSPITALIZATION BEYOND THIS POINT )

afterwards he went on a sort of bender. he’d begun to struggle with a mild drug addiction late senior year of high school / early college, but he was managing it up until this point.

tatiana’s body wasn’t found immediately, and when it was ... viktor went off the rails. ended up overdosing & being hospitalized. spent six months in & out of psychiatric care after that.

came back to radcliffe to finish his senior year because ... for the reasons above, he hadn’t been able to complete it. just wants to get his credits and get out of here.

personality.

the human embodiment of a gremlin that was fed after midnight. a goblin, if you will. one of those cats with a narrow head and really big ears ... that’s them!

they can be really fucking mean? petty, aggressive, a major instigator. will literally spit in your face for little to no reason, you could just look at them the wrong way. the kind of person who will stick their gum into someone else’s hair. other than that? they’re like ... sort of okay. they’re not always mean, just a dick about 90% of the time lmao

like okay yeah they’ll call someone a stinky bitch for no reason except they feel like it and believes it. it’s fine, they’re fine, we’re fine.

despite the fact that they’re probably getting into a fight whenever, considers themself to be a lover and not a fighter but that’a primarily because they fuck a lot. uses it as a coping mechanism, like they’re this big fancy carnival show that’s like ‘come one, come all! fuck the dead girl’s twin brother!’ and it’s ... a Lot. might have a problem with hypsersexuality but they’re not fully aware of it.

the preacher’s whore son, basically :)

vastly impulsive ... like i said, they destroy their own creations for the fun of it. spends all teir money on useless shit, will cheat on someone because they feel like it & likes the thrill, screams into the night sky frequently like a cat in heat.

will also spend months creating useless shit for no reason too. spent six of them sculpting a hollowed out tree the size of them & then took a sledgehammer to it.

will absolutely not talk about their ‘time away’ because it’s not anyone’s business, not even their own younger sister. still refuses to talk about tatiana’s death, or their mental health, or their addiction (fallen back into it but it hasn’t gotten severe ... yet :/), or anything involving their own emotions.

will just change the topic abruptly, no warning. asks about the jonas brothers instead and they fucking hate the jonas brothers.

emotionally unavailable while also crying twice a day. cries during their brawls but still wins. is stony-faced when they tell you they cheated on you with your much hotter best friend.

but also emotional as shit and it’s confusing. will cry on a whim and then flip you off if you try to console them or ask them what’s up. will bite you.

they go to therapy but they just fuck around and wastes their therapists’ time ... also is fucking their therapist, but that’s neither here nor there. so they’re not really getting the help they need.

likes to be intimidating but not ... with their body or anything because they’re a TWIG but uses their love & knowledge of horror and creepy shit to their advantage. has an abundance of fake blood. has channeled the energy of jack nicholson and used it on tatiana’s boyfriends before (also is a big fan of sfx makeup & has dabbled in it)

probably chases kids around with a chainsaw without the chain on halloween every year.

generally never doing good, both mental health wise & morally. would probably steal candy from a baby for funsies.

an introverted reclusive type who doesn’t like most people or going out, but does so anyway if it means a quick high & a cheap thrill.

pretty observant and likes to analyze people even though they’re often like ... partially wrong. judgmental because they like to make people feel bad, not because they’re a righteous mighty person. because they’re not. so like, a hypocrite!

wanted connections.

a roommate... but it’s an absolute nightmare to live with him.

enemies... because viktor would have a lot of them...

familiar faces... people who knew tatiana or of her / were her friends. maybe even those who dated her, and who viktor would’ve tried to intimidate / scare at any given chance :/

pitiful glances... people who take pity on viktor and he hates it sooo much.

hooligan gremlin kids... just a friend group of grown ass adults who do drugs and fuck shit up around town like they’re edgy teenagers.

high school girlfriend... probably the one he lost his virginity to inside his family church :/

childhood acquaintances... people who knew him from his youth.

exes... good & bad terms, but mostly bad terms because viktor is an actual demon. probably cheated on them.

soft... i don’t know if he’s soft towards anyone and/or is capable of it but we can try. we can try.

unrequited... either viktor just doesn’t like them or he’s holding back because he’s :/ got issues with relationships & is self-sabotaging as one does

enemies with Tension... of the ... spicy kind if you know what i mean. wink.

friends... old friends, new friends, bad friends, good friends, close friends, frenemies, etc. i don’t know how many he had but if your muse likes to cause a ruckus and fuck shit up then viktor’s your man.

hook-ups... current or old. friends with benefits, one night stands, anything and everything because he fucks around a lot.

ride or die... friendship but make it extreme.

bad influence... he’s just toxic to be around and brings out the worst in people :/

bad egg... he’s gotten into a few fights :/ maybe you witnessed it. maybe you were in it.

literally anything i wld love all sorts of plots.

#radintro #death tw #grief tw #overdose tw #addiction tw #hospitalization tw #mental illness tw #hypersexuality tw #religion mention tw

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bibliothesoph · 4 years

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Neverland, The Cunning Spirit of a Pirate (part 11)

It's quiet on the rocky shore of Cannibal Cove and it's the kind of quiet that Penny needs to wrap her mind around everything that happened. The guilt is eating her alive, especially knowing that she dumped that all on Simon without sticking around to help him cope with it. Her plan was to tell at him at some point when things had hit a lull and Simon was bored and had the time to process and deal with all of it, but she can't change things now. He needed to know, anyway. It'll be for the best, or so she tells herself.

What's bothering her the most, though, is that Simon seems to believe that Baz will stay in Neverland forever. She adores Simon and she might be a bit jealous of Baz since Simon hasn't paid her any attention since Baz arrived, but she thought it would be fine because Baz would just be a temporary visitor. He will be a temporary visitor. She knows that. It breaks her heart that Simon doesn't, though. That he's so naive as to think that Baz will leave his life and family behind to fight pirates with Simon for the rest of his life. What worries her most about that part of it is that she's afraid that Simon won't let Baz leave. Or maybe that Baz will tell Simon he wants to go and that Simon will get upset and refuse to return him to London. It scares her, frankly, what Simon is capable of when he's emotional. He's always let his emotions guide him which is fine for a sword fight or for deciding what to do with the day, but it's why he never belonged in London. Because people, normal people, steer clear of Simon when they can. Maybe they sense that his emotions are too great and that his heart is different from their own. Or maybe they feel that hunger in him––the same hunger that drove his father to kill his mother.

No. Penny feels guilty for even thinking that Simon could end up like his father. She brought him to Neverland to shield him from the bad. To protect him from just that. Fairies have some magic. Enough magic for them to be able to channel it into a crystal ball or some suitable, reflective surface and see some of the possibilities of the future. And Penny used that knowledge to find Simon that night and save him from what he could become. She lied to him then. She's lied to him constantly. Because she didn't feel his pain––she saw what his pain could turn him into. And she didn't know him but she wanted to save him from himself.

So she sits on the rocky shore of Cannibal Cove thinking about how she would do anything to get Simon to see that Baz won't stay. And she's so deep in thought that she doesn't realize that Mr. Mage is approaching him, his ridiculous cloth hat in hand. And she barely registers what's happening in time to let out a scream. And Mr. Mage has her trapped in his hat and he's carrying her away from Cannibal Cove and the rocky shoreline and from her thoughts of how she can protect Simon Snow.

When she's released from Mr. Mage's disgusting, foul-smelling hat, she notes that she's in Captain Humdrum's cabins aboard his ship. She's placed onto a table in front of the captain who stares at her with an uncomfortable, forced smile. She wonders what she's doing here. What he wants from her.

"Well, Miss Bunce," he says, still smiling at her. "I've decided to leave the island."

She raises an eyebrow at him. At first, she doesn't want to believe him. She's not foolish enough to believe him without any evidence.

He seems to recognize her suspicion. His tortured, pale blue eyes glisten in the dim candle light and he lets his smile fall. Thankfully. It was unsettling. "Haven't you heard? Simon Snow defeated me yesterday. I think he was just trying to impress his...guest, but nonetheless, he defeated me. He only let me live if I promised to leave forever. And I am nothing if not a man of me word. Right, Mr. Mage?"

Mr. Mage sets down his bottle of rum with a smile. "Uh, yes, cap'n. Always!"

Captain Humdrum nods to him as if this will prove some point for Penny. "And that's why I asked you over here, Miss Bunce. To tell Simon I bear him no ill will. Oh, Snow has his faults to be sure, like bringing that boy to the island, for instance. Dangerous business, that."

Penny huffs in agreement. She realizes, for the first time, that the captain is, technically speaking, an adult. And since he's an adult, surely he knows best. She can't seem to recall who started this silly feud––Simon or the Humdrum––but she's sure it was Simon. An adult would never willingly and senselessly attack a child, right?

"Why, rumor has it that already he has come between you and Simon."

Penny's head falls as she realizes the truth in his words. Baz has come between her and Simon. And of course she wants Simon to be happy, but Baz can't make him happy. Not when he'll just leave live everyone else has left Simon. Everyone except her. She doesn't eve realize she's crying until the Humdrum frowns at her and offers her a handkerchief. She takes it gratefully and uses it to soak up her tears.

"What's this?" he asks, getting to his feet in shock. "Tears? Then it is true!"

She blows her nose and nods solemnly.

The captain turns to Mr. Mage, his long, blonde curls jumping out behind him with the sudden movement. "Oh, Mage. Taking the best years of her life and then...casting her aside like an old glove!"

Penny sobs in agreement. Maybe she shouldn't have listened to Simon when he said the Humdrum was evil. He certainly seems to know the way of things better than Simon does. Maybe, if Simon hadn't been so hot-headed and eager for a fight, the pirates could have lived peacefully on their ship whilst she and Simon lived peacefully under Hangman's Tree. Truth be told, she never really liked the whole thing with the pirates. So much fuss and danger. Simon had nearly died from their battles a few times now, and of course Penny was the one that had to help take care of him.

"Ain't it a fucking shame!" Mr. Mage cries in agreement, taking another sip of the rum to calm him down. Penny wants to ask him for some but she knows it won't go well. One droplet gets her drunk. She tried it, once, with Simon. He'd stolen a bunch of it and they both got themselves proper pissed on it. Penny remembers wondering how the pirates got anything done with that stuff lying around.

"But we mustn't judge Simon too harshly, me dear. It's that Basilton who's to blame."

Penny's eyes widen in shock as she realizes the truth to his words. Without Baz to distract Simon and make him feel like he's finally found what he's looking for, Simon and Penny would be off doing their usual things like playing with Ebb's goats or talking to the mermaids. And Simon wouldn't be heartbroken when Baz decides to leave him to go home.

"Mr, Mage," the captain says, turning to his right hand man again, his hands going to stroke his beard. He looks thoughtful.

More thoughtful than Simon has ever been, for certain.

"We must save the lad from himself. But how?"

Mr. Mage bursts into tears which, surprisingly, makes Penny feel better about the whole ordeal.

"We've so little time," the captain argues to himself, pacing the room. "We sail in the morning."

Penny watches him with intent. Suddenly, the captain stops pacing and points a finger in the air, the smile returning to his face. "Sail! That's it, Mage! We'll shanghai Basilton!"

Mr. Mage looks up at him with confusion on his little, red face. "Shanghai Basilton, Cap'n?" He clearly doesn't understand what that means, but Penny does. And oh, does the thought excite her. Not only will it get Basilton out of the way, but it won't put Simon in the position of having to take him home. They can avoid the awkward conversation all together. Simon will see Baz leaving on Captain Humdrum's ships and he'll realize that all Baz wanted was an adventure, not a friendship, and he'll come running back into Penny's arms and she'll be able to protect him again.

It sounds bloody perfect.

"Take him to sea with us! With him gone, Simon will soon forget this...mad infatuation."

Penny cheers.

The captain takes Mr. Mage's hand and starts dragging him out of the cabin. "Come, Mage. We must leave immediately! Surround Simon's home––"

"But, Cap'n! We don't know where Simon Snow lives!"

The captain stops in his tracks, dropping Mr. Mage's hand. He pulls on his beard again. It reminds Penny of the way Simon tugs on his curls. "Great Scott, you're right!"

Penny flies up to him instantly. "I know! I know where he lives!" she shouts, excited that she can be of use to someone.

"What's that, my dear? You could show us the way?"

Penny nods eagerly and heads over to the map that sits unfurled on his mahogany desk.

"Why, I never thought of that!" he exclaims, rushing over to meet her at the table.

She carefully grabs the quill, dips it into the ink pot, and marks the ship on the map as the starting point. She starts drawing the way to Simon's hideout. She pauses before she makes her way over to the forest that holds Hangman's Tree.

"Well, get on with it!" the captain shouts, his fist banging on the table. He seems to remember himself because he clears his throat. "I mean, continue, me dear."

Penny flies up to him again, shaking her small fist in his face. "You have to swear," she growls, "not to lay a hand on Simon."

"Madam," he says, clearly offended that she would even suggest that he would do such a thing. "Captain Humdrum gives his word not to lay a finger on Simon Snow."

Satisfied with his promise, she goes back to the map and marks a large "X" over Hangman's tree.

"Ah, Hangman's Tree? So that's the entrance to his hideout!"

Penny looks down to admire her handiwork and to think of how Simon will tell her that she was right when this is all over. He'll forgive her, certainly, when he realizes what Baz's true intentions were. Suddenly, the captain's hand comes straight for her. She doesn't react because she honestly wasn't expecting for him to betray her, so he manages to grab her. He squeezes his calloused fingers around her and grins.

"Thank you, me dear. You've been––" he shoves her into an empty lantern, "most helpful!"

#simon snow #snowbaz #baz pitch #penny bunce #peter pan #neverland #au #fan fic #rainbow rowell #carry on

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charbax · 5 years

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Wintersend’s Exchange

A gift for @dovabunny in the Fenders Wintersend Exchange! They requested:

Homeless Fen and doctor/nurse Anders who always tries to feed and dress warmly his elf. Fenris doesnt want or trust charity, he wants to be seen as a man - not a project.

also available on my AO3

It started in the winter. A winter’s night, precisely, when Anders is locking the clinic’s door after a day of treating injuries, maladies, and general complaining from late stragglers. Luckily, his Maker-sent secretary was more than happy to handle the last part (read: forcibly showing them the door by social convention or force) and when the patient line dwindled to none, he sent her home. That had been hours ago. Now, it was late, and Anders was more than ready to flip the sign from open to closed and head upstairs for some well-deserved rest.

No sooner than his fingers brushed against the card than someone rapped against the door. Anders sighed, debated turning the sign over fully like the asshole he was, then decided against it since the person technically did come before the clinic was truly closed. He opened the door with a heavy heart. “Can I help you with-” He started, then stopped.

“Yes.” Fenris replied, arms wrapped around himself and his threadbare clothing, the very picture of a shivering wreck. “You can help me out of this cold.”

Anders was too stunned to do more than step back and let Fenris inside. Fenris made a beeline for one of the waiting chairs and collapsed onto it. It was only then that Anders noticed the goosebumps rippling on his skin, the shaking in Fenris’ body, the way his fingers trembled even as he tried to hide them underneath his armpits. Anders sighed again, pinching the space between his brows. “What made you think in here would be better than out there? Or anywhere else for that matter?”

“Hawke is...indisposed.” Fenris answered carefully. “And it’s too late for anyone else.”

“But apparently, not late enough for the hard-working doctor, who’s spent all day holed up in a clinic treating people as their last line of healthcare. What, the walk back home not good enough for you?”

At least Fenris had the decency to look ashamed. Well, as ashamed as a prickly elf could look. “I don’t trust home at the moment.”

Anders’ long face grew longer. For all of his bad blood with Fenris, even he saw the cruelty in shutting the door in a runaway’s face. “Fine.” He relented. “Stay for the night, but I expect you to be out first thing in the morning.”

Fenris nodded mutely and curled up on himself – almost like a cat. As soon as the comparison made its way into his head, it took root and refused to move from Anders’ mind, following him all the way to the supplies closet, where he grabbed the least threadbare blanket and pillow, and back to where Fenris was huddling. “Here.” Anders said, tossing the items at him. “At least crash here properly, for Maker’s sake.”

A person with less than perfect reflexes might have been slapped face-first with bedding, but Fenris only caught the items with a raised eyebrow. Anders had already turned away to finally prepare for sleep, he heard a quiet-

“Thank you.”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder. Fenris had already wrapped himself up in the blanket and curled into the pillow, stuffing his head under the cover until only the tips of his ears were peeking out. In that moment, he looked like any other elf refugee trying to stay warm in a none-too comfortable chair (and Anders can attest to that uncomfortable thing after an ill-advised nap during a quiet hour in the clinic). That image was a real, tangible proof of his care - even if it took form of a ball of blanket and silvery hair - and it reminded Anders why he treated people, or ran a clinic, or let in mage-hating runways.

He didn’t smile, but his steps going up the back staircase were much lighter than before.

His next time off was spent at the Hanged Man with Hawke and (proclaimed) merry band of misfits. It was certainly fitting considering the company currently present at their usual table – a set of twins, a police officer, the co-manager of the Hanged Man, a doctor (Anders), a runaway actor, an internet pirate, and a Dalish student.

And of course, Hawke himself, who was guffawing about something Varric said. Anders wouldn’t know since he was too busy losing at Wicked Grace badly.

“Well...at least all the cards are different this time. I really like how unique all of them are.” Merrill said as she peered over his hand.

“That’s not a good thing sweetness.” Isabela pointed out, laying out her completed set of suits, then appraised Anders with a smile playing at the corner of her lips. “You really do have the worst luck. Can’t be helped really.” On his right, Bethany patted his arm sympathetically as she laid down her own modest hand.

Anders frowned at Isabela. “As opposed to cheating?”

Isabela shrugged, not-so-coincidentally jostling a naughty card nesting in her cleavage (much to the poorly hidden delight of Carver). “It’s not cheating if you don’t get caught.”

Hawke chose that moment to tune into the conversation and gasped. “Isabela would never cheat!” He exclaimed indignantly. Knowing him, he was 100% serious. Varric and Isabela exchanged smiles, then Varric patted Hawke’s bicep.

“We believe you Hawke.”

“It’s not the matter of believing me, but believing in Isabela.” He turned to her. “I believe in you.”

Isabela’s face contorted in a strange mix between amused and touched, which ended up making her look extremely seasick. Fenris stifled a laugh behind his hand, turning his expression to the closest person next to him, and found himself looking at an equally humorous Anders. There was a moment when their eyes met, a moment when Fenris wasn’t feeling the usual hostility and it was just him and Anders sharing a common laugh.

Then Anders turned his head, breaking the connection. Fenris returned his gaze to the table as the conversation moved on. It seemed only minutes before Aveline said regretfully, “Well, I have the morning shift tomorrow, so I should get going.”

Isabela took one look at Merrill covering her yawn with a hand and stood. “I better get kitten home too. Don’t get into too much trouble boys. At least, not without me.”

With Hawke’s innocent, “We won’t Isabela!” sent her way, Isabela put an arm around Merrill’s shoulders, dropped money onto the table, and left with her. Following their example, Varric and Hawke put their heads together to figure out how to pay for their night in the bar (“Put it on my tab.” Was Varric’s usual reply, to Hawke trio’s indignation, which then started a one-versus-three of who would get to pay it back).

As Fenris reached into his own pocket to draw out the lone bills he had, Anders’ hand slapped in front of him, startling him. Anders withdrew his hand without another word and stalked out, leaving behind a few bills where his hand had been. It was more than enough to cover his own split bill.

“Anders-” Fenris started, but the mage was already gone. He frowned. Despite his feelings on Anders’ ideals, he recognises altruism when he sees it, in the man who chooses to sleep in his own clinic. It’s not cheap to run the service that Anders does, and for as long as Fenris has known him, he not the type to spend frivolously when he’s saving for the endless costs of the clinic.

And yet. Fenris would not deny that Anders was not the only one who had been counting pennies, so to speak. His had pride dictated that he would not accept any of the charity money offered by his friends, but there was clearly enough money for both his and Anders’ meals. How did the mage know that would he would be short for the evening?

No matter. Varric was already grudgingly accepting the Hawkes’ payment, as well as sweeping the bills off the table and into his hand. There was nothing else he could do about it, in terms of paying.

It still left an unsettling pit in his stomach.

It was only more ‘kindness’ since then, disguised as inconveniences for Anders and often riding along the coattails of excuses. ‘I needed to get rid of some of the older blankets, take this one. There’s no holes in it, at least.’ ‘A patient made a pie as a thankyou, but what do you know, I’m allergic to blueberries!’ ‘Someone kindly donated a hand-made beanie and scarf. Unfortunately, grey’s just not my colour.’

Not that Fenris hasn’t been trying to refuse them, with the keyword being ‘trying’. Being in the middle of an unusually harsh winter and dry season for jobs, it would make sense to accept the help. But just because it was logical didn’t mean that Fenris liked it very much. It felt too close to the small acts of mercy Danarius would give to him, akin to throwing a bone to a very beaten dog after a whole day of posing and remembering lines and pushing himself to exhaustion, which Fenris was ashamed to admit to have lapped up as a sign of favouritism. Delicious meals, fine clothes. He might as well have been a glorified pet with a lyrium collar back then.

When Anders dumped a pair of earmuffs on him – elongated for long tipped elven ears – Fenris finally confronted him. “Why all of this?”

Anders fixed him a confused look. “I’m very sure elven biology is enough similar to humans that they both feel the cold somewhat similarly. Unless your prickly sensibilities chose not to feel cold in the air?”

“I mean why all these...gifts.”

“...I needed someone to dump them off? Lirene only accepts cash donations and there’s only so many mismatched scarves and beanies I can own before I would have to give them away as well. Not to mention I’m trying to watch my weight, so food’s the least of my problems-”

Fenris knew stalling when he heard it. “Then cease it. I’m not a charity case, nor a project. If you feel nothing more than pity for me, then I would prefer how we were at the start.”

Hurt flashed across Anders’ face, for a moment, then it was wiped away with a frown. “This wasn’t- this isn’t a- I wasn’t doing it to try to, Maker forbid, change you Fenris. Are you a prickly bastard? Yes. Do I think that you should be a little more sympathetic to the plight of mages because they’re so similar to your own problems? Also yes. Do I still think of you as a friend? Well, I do, unless it’s not been mutual this entire time, which I guess makes me an idiot.”

Fenris knew stalling when he heard it. “Get on with it, Anders.”

“I was, I was. Look. If I was trying to change you – which I’m not! - I would put a lot more effort into shaping you into a specific person, don’t you think?”

Logic warred with suspicion. “And what if you are only bribing me?”

“That’s assuming there’s anything you can give me.”

That stung more than it should. Fenris shook his head. “Then there is no sense to keep giving me things when I have nothing to give back. I do not want to be indebted to you, and I am not yours to shape as you see fit.”

“For the last time, I’m not trying to lord this over you. But I’ll stop it if that’s what you, honest-to-Andraste, believe is the logical thing to do.”

Yes. Fenris was convinced it was.

So the gifts stopped, and with it, so did whatever little camadrie there had been. The next time they met as a group, Anders barely acknowledged him. But Fenris had meant what he said, so he forced himself to swallow the bitter taste of seeing Anders’ eyes pass over him with a neutral glance. At the one after that, Anders chose not to turn up at all, citing a busy clinic as his excuse. Fenris didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed.

A few days of this apathy passed without fanfare, only for Hawke to pull Fenris and quietly asked if he had a fight with Anders.

“We had a discussion and cleared the air. Nothing else happened.” Fenris answered, if a bit testily.

Hawke levelled a stare at him. “Anders has been throwing himself into his work. He hasn’t been coming to the last three Wicked Grace nights, and he loves Wicked Grace. Either flu season was terrible, or you two are trying to avoid each other.”

“I am not avoiding him.”

“Yes you are. You two seemed to getting along so well with all the presents Anders was giving you.”

Fenris scowled, reminded of the reason why he was in a bad mood in the first place. Hawke continued, oblivious. “When I asked Anders, all he said was that he was giving you space. Did he do something Fenris? Should I be more worried? Were the presents themselves really that bad?”

...the meals may have been warm, but not the creations of a gourmet kitchen, and the clothes, clearly hand-me-downs despite their well-cared for appearance. “No.” Fenris said. “They were passable.”

“They must’ve sure been something if you didn’t want them anymore.”

They were hardly the rewards Danarius would shower him during the sponsorship, especially the ones Danarius gave when he was feeling more whimsical than demanding. But Danarius always had the ulterior motive of keeping Fenris docile and controlled. Anders just did it because he felt like it.

“Thank you, I suppose, for giving me something to think about it.”

Hawke clapped his shoulder, taking that as a sign that the problem was solved. “Not a problem. I’m always here if you need me.”

People to depend on. Those were rare. Maybe Fenris could do with one more.

This time, it was Fenris who was pacing in front of Anders clinic just before closing time. His earlier resolve had crumbled, and he tried in vain to gather its remains. He jumped when the front door opened, but it was only a lone dwarven couple ferrying a sleepy child out. He held the door open respectfully and stepped inside before the door swung shut.

As Fenris’ eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out the surprise in Ander’s face from behind the receptionist desk. “Fenris?” Anders rose out of his chair, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“Really? I was under the impression that you didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“I opposed your pity gifts. The company was…less than terrible, truth be told.”

Anders narrowed his eyes at him. “Why do I feel like you’re lying.”

Anders, as much as Fenris would hate to admit, had a point – here he was, after weeks of avoiding Anders like he had the Blight, and now, trying to make contact like he wasn’t the one who cut off Anders in the first place. The mage deserved honesty.

“I am not. I needed time to make sense of what I was feeling. I am not the best at words.”

Anders tipped his head at Fenris’ statement. At least he wasn’t making a smart remark. The fact that Fenris could predict a good Anders sentence and an irritated Anders sentence was an indicator that he probably knew Anders more than he had originally thought.

“What I said back then is still true. I do not like being in the debt of others. When I was. underneath Danarius’ contract, everything I received was something that could be used against me later. I cannot just shake this suspicion for it has saved me often. But one day, I would like to know what it would be like to walk freely, without distrust in every interaction. All I ask for is time and a chance to try existing outside that sponsorship.”

Anders stared at him for a long moment. Fenris willed himself to stare back, not defiantly, but in hope that his look would convey his sincerity. Finally, Anders spoke. “I will admit, it stung when you didn’t my goodwill. But that makes sense. I may be an advocate for mage rights, but even I can admit that bastard belongs in the Deep Roads, so it’s no wonder you don’t want anything to do with him.”

That’s all Fenris wanted and hoped for. He had nothing else to mention, so he nodded and turned to the door.”

“Wait.” Anders called out. “Do you somewhere to sleep tonight?”

Fenris faltered. He hadn’t been planning very far apart from hoping Hawke would answer his door. “I was thinking of asking Hawke, if he is awake at this time.”

“It’s very, very late so he’s probably not. Do you want to stay for the night? I promise, no doing this for bragging rights.”

Just as he reasoned on the first night, there could be worst places than an undocumented doctor’s clinic to sleep in. When Fenris nodded, Anders disappeared in the back, just as he did before, however, he returned with seemingly more items in his hand than the last time – another pillow, a fuzzier blanket, and something dangling off a lanyard on his wrist. Anders dumped them on the chair nearby chair, but held onto the lanyard.

“So I went through a few days of thinking in the span of a few minutes while I was getting these – I can think fast if I have to, don’t look at me like that – and I can’t blame you for thinking like you have to be suspicious of everything. Considering what you just told me, it would be like getting mad at pounce-a-lot for taking down the Wintersend tree.

“So this time, I’m going to give you something else: a choice. Happy Wintersend.”

He held out the lanyard, finally showing the small key hanging on the end. Fenris stared at it. “I don’t understand what this is Anders.”

“It’s one of the spare keys for the clinic – one of the only three in the world, I might add. The only people who have this is me and Lirene. So know that I’m not offering this lightly. This is a...job offer, I guess? I can’t pay you anything other than food, maybe a bit of the stipend if I beg Lirene enough to spare some of the weekly change. I’m sure I can convert one of the rooms upstairs to another bedroom if you want somewhere to board as well. There’s also a contract to read over, but we can do that together. Probably with someone else if you like. Hawke?”

It was good that Fenris was already sitting on the chair. It gave him a measure of support as the full implication hit him. This was Ander’s life, the home of his hopes and dreams, a sanctuary for those who had no-where else – or those without insurance. The previous gifts did not carry the weight of that disarmingly small key, but Fenris could feel its weight off the lanyard.

“I...would need some time. Maybe. I can’t promise anything now.” Fenris said, relishing the way maybe rolled off his tongue. The choice to say so. The feeling only flared when Anders nodded his head.

“I understand. Well, the waiting room is yours until morning.” Anders disappeared to staircase, his steps echoing in the stairwell, until they too faded away. The chairs were just as uncomfortable as they had been the first time Fenris had slept in them, but as Fenris buried himself deeper in them, his mind became cotton-heavy with the incoming sleep.

The last though Fenris had before he drifted off was the speculation of working in a place like the clinic. He had no skills has a medical professional, but there had to be just as honest work there. Fenris smiled to himself. He would let Anders know his answer in the morning.

#fendersassoc #fenders #fenders dragon age #charwriting #fender modern au #fenris ( dragon age )#anders ( dragon age )#secondary:#the kirwall crew ( dragon age )#im too lazy to tag everyone #dragon age #dovabunny #modern au #i already published this ages ago on ao3 i just wanted to do it here as well

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farklelucas · 5 years

Note

all about the lesbian sea pirate

ahsjdkflg okay im gonna do the first section above the cut and the rest under

send me an oc and some numbers pls!! | here are my ocs!

Section 1 - About:

1. Briefly Describe your OC: Appearance, personality, role in a story, etc..

okay so!! hana is half-japanese, half-german, she’s got short/spiky black hair and fucking Huge brown eyes. she’s the protagonist of a thus-unwritten pirate love story and i fucking love her. she’s superbly socially awkward (doesn’t get customs like politeness or like asking before doing things asdjkfl), she’s a Romantic romantic, she loves sword-fighting, she was raised by her father (alongside three older half-brothers, though she was chosen as the heir to his ship which hmm pissed two of them off), she’s very much butch/tomboy, she loves adventure and sailing so fucking much, uhhh yeah her.

2. Briefly describe their backstory/childhood

like i said, she was raised by her dad, who she idolizes, along with her three brothers on the sea; she never knew her mother, because her father told her that she died giving birth to hana (or did she….? hm. maybe hana’s dad is just shitty?). she was always super excited to play and go on adventures and fight, especially with her three older brothers (only one of whom actually like. liked her.), and by the time she was old enough to hold a sword, her dad taught her how to. eventually, her dad became ill, and named hana, who was only 16, his successor. her two eldest brothers planned a mutiny to overthrow her, killing the other brother who protested. hana fought them but they escaped with half her treasure, promising to come back and kill her, and she’s spent the past six years seeking them out to defeat them.

3. Describe their family life and friends.

i mean i pretty much nailed her family, but she’s very close to all the crew. i’ll give you a quick rundown: there’s caspian, her first mate/quartermaster (grew up on the ship with her, an orphan who was stolen in one of the raids, searching out his lost family but is also a big time goof), dover, her “advisor”/sailing master (wise, lazy, arrogant, bitchy, basically her pseudo-father because her father was usually off being captain), darya, her gunner (slutty bisexual aromantic queen, runs the artillery AND the under deck gambling ring, always drunk, loyal to a fault especially to hana), and zarya (we’ll get to her later ;)) and the other lower-ranking crew members.

4. What is the world they come from like?

hmmm very mystical and mysterious, very “pirates are bad and suck and we dont like them even though they’re not usually bad” but. you know. hana is still an outlaw of the land. there are mermaids and sirens and cracken and curses so it’s better to assume that if its magical it exists.

5. Are they original or exist in a certain fandom?

original!!

6. Are they an introvert or extrovert?

extroverted babey

7. Greatest fear?

being unable to sail but also, later on, (SPOILERS) being arrogant and greedy and malicious like her father

8. What’s their sense of humor like?

honestly just fucking. stupid. she probably likes puns and like dirty jokes.

9. Favorite pieces of fiction or genres they enjoy?

i dont think she can read???? but her third eldest brother bourne would usually tell her princess stories and she liked those

10. Favorite music genres?

folk ig

11. Describe their vision of a perfect spouse, if applicable.

a tall, beautiful, kindhearted woman, who sees past the pirate savagery and sees her heart beneath; a woman who can rule the sea alongside her and knows how to handle her and keep her in check. (looks at zarya meaningfully)

12. Largest regret?

not being able to save bourne

13. Something your OC would say?

my quote for her in her bio is “what am i without adventure?” but i also imagine her saying to zarya, “you are more celestial than the stars, my love, and twice as beautiful to behold.”

14. Whats their morality like?

technically lawful good but could be a roulette wheel depending on the day

15. Would they live in a city, rural area, or suburb?

oof none but if she had to probably rural

16. Which actor would you like to portray your OC? (Or a voice actor)

sjskdldldl my face claim is jen ruggirello

17. Sexuality? Gender Identity?

lesbian baby!!!!!

18. What inspired you to make this character?

honestly?? probably a lack of rep in romance and adventure novels. i just love her!!!

Section 2 - If…

1. If they existed in another decade, what would they wear? (Asker can choose what decade) (Bonus points if you draw them!)

hmmm ill pick… current day tbh, and i imagine lots of overalls and baggy sweaters!

2. If they were in a RPG, what would be their class?

i have to imagine somewhere between paladin and a fighter, im not sure which.

3. If they received a large amount of money no strings attached, what would they use it for?

i honestly think she would just. go into the nearest village and buy all the local hungry children bread. like she wouldn’t horde it or spend it on herself. she has everything she needs.

4. If they competed on a competitive TV show, how would they approach to winning? (the “mean” one, the one who makes friends, the one who’s there for fun)

hm… i honestly dont even think she would think about it like that dkdkflfl. probably the charming one, the leader, the adorkable one.

5. If they could change one thing about their past, what would it be?

i think she would choose to keep in contact with her mother. not necessarily live with her, because then she wouldnt have her first love which is the sea, but just like. talk to her. know her better. go see her every few months. write her from different ports about their adventures.

6. If you met them, what would they do?

i would honestly probably be so fucking charmed by her. shes got that way about her, a leadership quality you can’t shake, even if shes really incredibly awkward too.

7. If your character exists in another series’ world, what would they be doing/look like?

i kind of imagine her in harry potter as like. this half blood gryffindor who’s So Gryffindor it hurts. on the quidditch team, always screaming about house pride, everyone loves her. and then she goes and falls in love with this muggle born slytherin and shakes the whole school dkdkkrklr

Section 3 - Other:

1. What other OCs would they get along with?

oh… i think it’s kind of cheap to say jack, because they’re both pirates, but honestly i think they’d get on like a house on fire. other than that… definitely michael minkus, who would make an epic first mate, and lucy stilinksi-hale, who she would probably wanna smash.

2. What’s their singing voice like?

bad. comically bad. she tries to sing to zarya sometimes and zarya locks her out of their room.

3. Take a personality test as the character. Post results.

okay so ive already taken a couple for her in the past (ex: gryffindor, entj, the motivator, etc.) so im gonna take a completely benign one off buzzfeed and post the results. so if she were a song off of thank you next she would be “bad idea” skskkdkd

4. What would be their fighting style in a fighting game like Mortal Kombat, Super Smash Brothers, or Street Fighter?

to outsmart her opponent, think two moves ahead of theirs just like in real life. jokes on her no one else is ever thinking skdkkfkfl

5. What are some mannerisms/quirks?

putting her feet up on tables, walking into rooms without invitation, holing up in her cabin for days working, smirking instead of smiling, smoking, docking in random cities for the thrill of adventure, wearing her blouses nearly completely unbuttoned, just taking things and enforcing sharing bc. she’s always shared everything with everyone naturally and she doesnt know to ask djdkfkfk

6. Describe their favorite meal.

honestly she’ll eat anything but just like. a Nice leg of mutton and a glass of beer. that’s it. that’s the dream.

7. What do they do when they’re bored?

her favorite activity is to randomly attack caspian and have impromptu sword fights with him, but she also loves stargazing and telling stories to the town children.

8. How do they express love/affection for someone?

honestly she’s very. nuzzley. soft. like a little kitten. also waxes poetic. at least romantically. platonically, shes usually like a dad friend sjdkkrlr. like im talking “attaboy” and punches on the arm. pep talks. dad voice. the whole nine yards.

9. Most embarrassing thing that could/has happened to them?

honestly, she’s not easily embarrassed ever. i think she’s kind of just like meh over most things. the most embarrassing thing that could happen would be losing the respect of her crew. she would hate that so much.

10. Make a portrait sketch of them!

#nicole #hana #oc stuff #love her!!!! so much!!!!!!!#loveallthatjazz #what kind of woman doesnt have an ask #long post #go all the way to the bottom of this post to see a qt uwu #katie writes #wow i went off

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dxrk-incxrnxte · 5 years

Text

Unexpected Changes Ch. 1

The recent loss of a loved one, the burning hatred to the perpetrator behind it. That is what had drawn Kikoku to the young boy in the first place, and probably what drew the boy to them as well.

Whispers of promises to help him exact his revenge were more than enough to convince to emotionally unstable human, yet despite that, he still asked questions as to what would happen to him in the end. The sword was more than happy to answer, to give him the truth of what would befall his soul. However, despite the obvious implications of his death, the human boy agreed to the terms in exchange for the sword’s power and protection.

That was how Trafalgar Law with his deadly nodachi on his shoulder became a common sight over the years…

Even after years of sailing on the seas with a crew that absolutely adored the man, Law, their wielder, never let anything distract him from his ultimate goal. It was admirable, in all honesty. Previous wielders had a tendency to go astray from their original goal, not that it mattered in the long time though.

Despite no sunlight pouring through the porthole of the captain’s quarters, it seemed that Law’s internal clock told him it was morning, which meant it was time to get up for the day. It was something Kikoku did not have; they relied on the sunlight and on their wielders to give them the time of day. Being underwater, in this metal deathtrap, it took quite some time to get used to.

The movement of the man brought the sword back from their musings, throwing their senses outwards in order to get a better awareness of the submarine and its inhabitants.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Good.

A tattooed hand wrapped around their sheathe, lifting them off of the ground and resting them on a shoulder instead, drawing their attention back to their immediate surroundings. Exhaustion and apathy poured off the surgeon in waves, which Kikoku ignored in favor for giving off a comforting aura. They could feel the amusement from the man, earning a small smile for their efforts. It was enough, for now.

Everything was safe, everything was normal. The normalcy lulled the cursed blade into something similar to, but not quite, sleep. Even the dull chatter of those lost souls they kept within them couldn’t pull them from this much-deserved rest.

Most of the morning was spent dozing as the crew and captain went through their usual morning routines. However, the news of an island spotted on the horizon immediately brought Kikoku’s attention back to the present. It wasn’t long after that the raven-haired captain was standing in front of his crew to address them.

“As most of you may have guessed,” Law began, shifting his grip on the sword, “there is a rather large island ahead. Yes, we are going to stop there, but only to restock supplies. After we’ve done that, we have to move on because the Log Pose isn’t pointing at this island. Staying too long here may ruin the course set by it. Be on your guard as well; other pirate ships, as well as Marine ships have been spotted in the area. Understood?”

There were a variety of noises of acknowledgement, which seemed to be enough for the captain. The blade hummed in anticipation, conveying the feeling of excitement as best they could to the man. An island meant sunlight, fresh air, and the potential for battle. It was a shame their wielder didn’t share their love of bloodshed and death. Some things couldn’t be helped.

The hour it took to reach the island felt like nothing to the sword, having lived well over a century already. Time was meaningless when one’s blade was never left unpolished or bloodied by a recent victim. The docking process was annoying to deal with, however, leaving the nodachi agitated over the long procedure.

Patience was a virtue, but Kikoku had never been one for virtues in the first place.

That first step taken out of the metal deathtrap and into the sun was always the best; it left them feeling invigorated and ready for action. A shame Law never felt the same about where that energy should be spent…

“Before we find the supplies we need, we first need an inn. I’m sure many of you want to spend a night on dry land, so stick close to me for now.” The crew cheered, making all sorts of racket and drawing too much attention already. It was good the Heart Pirates was such a small crew; most inns probably couldn’t handle more.

The amused feeling quickly faded when ill intent struck through them like lightning. Something was wrong, very wrong. Someone here meant harm to their wielder, possibly the crew as well. The intent quickly faded, disappearing as if it had sensed the cursed blade as well and decided to retreat. Even with the intent gone, they still reached into their wielder’s mind and conveyed the message of ill intent to him. A gentle push was the man’s response; something simple to inform them that he had received their message. It would do, for now…

The next morning brought with it the sunlight, and the awakening of the Surgeon of Death. For once, it was bright and warm, and that was thanks to the inn the crew had found the day previous.

However, the morning did not come peacefully for Kikoku.

Ill intent had circled the place all night long, and even into this very morning. It was if someone had scouted out the place and the occupants, possibly looking for weaknesses or formulating a plan. It was unnerving, and frankly, quite alarming. It seemed Law had picked up on their agitation, if the look he was giving the sword was anything to go by.

“What’s wrong, Kikoku-ya? You seem… Upset…” The tattooed man spoke softly, almost like he was talking to a frightened animal. For that, the sword flung anger and agitation at him, sensing him flinch from the ferocity of it.

“No need to get nasty. I understand you’re upset, but no need to take it out on me.” Even so, he picked up the blade and kept them close throughout his morning routine, and eventual descent down the inn stairs.

The day was spent gathering supplies, and bringing them back to the submarine. It would be considered relaxing, in a way, if not for that awful sensation that plagued Kiko the entire day. After enough time focusing on it, they could determine if was from a larger group, one that rivaled the Heart Pirate crew in size. Each new piece of information was relayed to the captain, keeping him updated and on-guard for possible attacks.

Unfortunately, the attack still took them all by surprise. One moment, the group had been walking down the road, and the next, attackers pounced from every angle in a sneak attack.

The sing of their blade being freed from the confines of the sheathe brought Kikoku such joy. Yes, it was unfortunate that the crew was attacked, but they lived to maim and kill, so that was what they would do. And so ensued the lethal dance they and Law performed, one of screams, of limbs being removed and replaced, and of fear. It was absolutely beautiful, although others might not see it in that same light. It was something to get lost in, those familiar motions of battle.

Those familiar, comforting motions were lost with just a single touch.

Something unknown and malevolent brushed against their hilt, sending pain through Kikoku like a bullet through a weak human. It was… wrong. This shouldn’t happen unless it was something unnatural; a Devil Fruit. Rage ran through them, distracting them from what was happening to their body. Kiko located the perpetrator, raising a blade of their own and bringing it down against him. They relished in the feeling of skin and muscle separating under their deadly blade, blood and manic laughter filling the air. The man, the one behind their pain, fell with a shout of pain before the rest of his group grabbed him and retreated. Kikoku hadn’t even realized their own change until it was silent, realizing then that no one was holding them, that they were moving on their own.

One look downwards told them everything they needed to know. Their body, it was different, it was human.

Mix-matched eyes, one gold and the other lavender, took in their surroundings as the now-human slowly turned in place until their gaze found their wielder, the crew. Their expressions caused them to take a step back, nearly falling because of their lack of proper balance. The Heart Pirates, they looked… They looked terrified and unsure of what they were seeing. Even Law, even the one the sword was bonded to, looked unsure of them.

“I…” The demon’s voice sounded off, not quite right to their own ears. A voice, they had a voice now. “What happened..?”

If only there was someone who could give the answer…

#Unexpected Changes #one piece #kikoku #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #fanfiction #{OCs}#oc #one piece oc #one piece fanfiction #op fanfiction #here it is #first chapter~

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wearebraveyourhighness · 6 years

Text

Because, I am meanie and said Lauren should do all of them I guess I should do them all to just to be fair. :)

1: Top 3 ice cream flavors

MInt, Purple Cow, and Blueberry Cheesecake

2: Top 3 disney movies

Beauty & The Beast, Pirates Of The Caribbean, and Robin Hood

3: Top 3 vacation destinations

Ireland, Alaska, and England

4: Top 3 places to shop

Love Culture, Hot Topic, and Worlds Market

5: Top 3 school subjects

English, Creative Writing, and History

6: Top 3 makeup products

Eyeshadow (that’s mostly it because I’m not exactly a girly girl, lol)

7: Top 3 music artists

Shakira, Lady Gaga, and Christian Kane

8: Top 3 spices/herbs

Mint, Parsley, & Sage

9: Top 3 drinks

Sprite, Lemonade, and Chocolate Milk

10: Top 3 apps to use

Etsy, BeFunky, and Tribez

11: Top 3 months of the year

January, February, and October

12: Top 3 clothing items

Boots, Leggings, and Sweater

13: Top 3 tv shows

Prison Break, The Originals, and Beauty & The Beast

14: Top 3 romantic dates

Walking in the park, Sitting on the back of a tailgate watching the stars, and Bonfires

15: Top 3 kinds of flower

Lilies, Roses, and Lilacs

16: Top 3 christmas movies

Frosty The Snowman, White Christmas, and Prep & Landing

17: Top 3 OTPs

Rey & Kylo Ren, Sherlock Holmes & Joan Watson, Hayley & Elijah from The Originals

18: Top 3 quotes to describe your life

I don’t really have 3 quotes to describe my life. I just like quotes in general. Can’t narrow it down to 3.

19: Top 3 characteristics you love about yourself

I’m very motherly even though I have yet to actually have children, I like my eyes, and I’m a very good listener to some people I’m more a psychiatrist than a friend sometimes, lol.

20: Top 3 kinds of candy

Sweet Tarts, Sprees, and Jolly Rancher

21: Top 3 ways to exercise/ be active

Dancing, Squats, and Hiking

22: Top 3 spirit animals

Wolf, Eagle, and Deer

23: Top 3 pet names

Peekaboo (I use to peek under doors as a kid. I was very curious.), Sweetie Pie, and one other one I don’t care to mention, lol.

24: Top 3 books

I don’t have a top 3 for books because I like all books. :)

25: Top 3 most used websites

Tumblr, My work website so I can figure out my schedule for the week, and

26: Top 3 people you last texted

My fiance’ Adam, my friend Scott, and my best friend Virginia

27: Top 3 hashtags you use

I don’t really use hashtags

28: Top 3 instagram accounts you follow

I don’t use Instagram

29: Top 3 guilty pleasures

Sweet Tarts, Fuzzy blankets, and SeaGrams

30: Top 3 summer activities

Swimming, Camping, and Hiking

31: Top 3 things to draw

Landscapes is the only thing I can draw. I suck at rest.

32: Top 3 aesthetics

No idea what that means....

33: Top 3 things you’d buy if you gained three million dollars

A house w/farm, land for a wildlife preserve for wolf conservation, and a new car

34: Top 3 ways to treat yourself

Pedicure, Hair coloring, and a Nap

35: Top 3 celebrity crushes

Hayden Christensen, Tatanka Means, and Christian Kane

36: Top 3 books from your childhood

Good Night Moon, Arthur Series, and Robin Hood

37: Top 3 accents to hear

Irish, Australian, and Scottish

38: Top 3 scents

Vanilla, Lavender, and Cinnamon

39: Top 3 “friends” quotes

Don’t have any quotes really

40: Top 3 cupcake flavors

Chocolate, Vanilla, and Marble

41: Top 3 fruits

Blueberries, Raspberries, and Mango

42: Top 3 places you’ve had amazing pizza from

Dominos, Pizza Hut, and Tony’s

43: Top 3 sports teams to watch

I don’t have any

44: Top 3 crayola colors

Purple, Blue, and Red

45: Top 3 things you hope to accomplish in college

Went to college and graduated

46: Top 3 fanfictions you’ve read

I don’t remember what there titles are

47: Top 3 people you miss right now

My fiance’, my grandma who passed away, and my

48: Top 3 fears

Blood, Germs, and Death

49: Top 3 favorite literary devices

No idea what that means.

50: Top 3 pet peeves

When guys can’t put the seat down, when people assume things about others, and when people put stigma against mental illness

51: Top 3 physical things you find attractive

Smile, Eyes, and Hands

52: Top 3 bad habits

I bite my nails, I pick at myself when I’m anxious/nervous, and I don’t go to church as often as I should.

53: Top 3 pets you’ve had/wish to have

I've had a lot of pets I don’t think I would wish to have anything else.

54: Top 3 types of foreign food

I love anything Italian

55: Top 3 things you want to say to someone in your lifetime

That is a tough question because I honestly don’t have an answer to that

56: Top 3 dog breeds

Husky, Great Pyrenees, and Labrador

57: Top 3 cheesy romance movies

I really don’t watch a lot of romance movies

58: Top 3 languages you speak/wish to speak

Irish Gaelic, German, and French

59: Top 3 series (book, movie, television)

Prison Break, Star Wars, and Call The Midwife

60: Top 3 pizza toppings

Cheese, Pineapple, and Ham

61: Top 3 youtubers you’re subscribed to

Adalia Rose, Lucas The Spider, and Batdad

62: Top 3 tattoo/piercing ideas

I want to get a Celtic cross/knot on the back of my neck, a semicolon behind my ear or on my wrist, and a quote I can’t remember on my forearm.

63: Top 3 awards you want to win

I’m not one who likes being awarded for things

64: Top 3 emojis

I use a lot of the Star Wars ones, the hugging bear, and smiley faces

65: Top 3 cars you dream of owning

I’m not really into cars. I’m good with anything that gets me from Point A to Point B.

66: Top 3 authors

I don’t have a top 3

67: Top 3 historical figures

Hatshepsut, Pocahontas, and Joan of Arc

68: Top 3 baby names

Lyanna, Anakin, and Natalie

69: Top 3 DIYs

Jewelry, Tie blankets, and Crocheting

70: Top 3 smoothie combos/flavors

Wild Berry, Mango, and Pomegranate

71: Top 3 songs of this month

Feral Hearts by Kerli, Alejandro by Lady Gaga, and Teeth by Lady Gaga

72: Top 3 questions of this post you want to be asked

I’m not shy ask me anything :)

73: Top 3 villains

Harley Quinn, Darth Revan, and Kylo Ren

74: Top 3 Cities you want to see

I want to go back to Washington D.C., Salem/Ipswich, and Seattle.

75: Top 3 recipes you want to try

I don’t have three I have a whole drawer full :)

76: Top 3 dream jobs

Egyptologist/Historian, Veterinarian, and Writer

77: Top 3 lucky items

I don’t believe in that sort of thing

78: Top 3 traditions you have

I don’t really have any traditions I have

79: Top 3 things you miss about being a kid

I barely remember my childhood if I did I could tell you something

80: Top 3 harry potter characters

Luna Lovegood, Hermione, and Harry Potter

81: Top 3 lies you were told

Rather not talk about it

82: Top 3 pictures in your camera roll right now

They’re all nature shots

83: Top 3 turn ons

Smile, Eyes, and Honestly

84: Top 3 turn offs

Liars, High maintenance, and Rude

85: Top 3 magazines/newspapers/journals to read

I actually don’t read mags or newspapers

86: Top 3 things you wish you had known earlier

There are to many to count....

87: Top 3 spongebob episodes

Never really watched it

88: Top 3 places to be in the world

Home, Nature Preserve, and Museums

89: Top 3 things you’d do differently

To many to count, tbh.

90: Top 3 TV shows from your childhood

Power Rangers, Batman, and Pokemon

91: Top 3 meals you love

PB&J sandwiches, Mac Cheese, and Meatloaf

92: Top 3 kinds of tea

I hate drinking tea, yuck

93: Top 3 embarrassing moments

I am very clumsy so you can guess the stupid things I’ve done, lol

94: Top 3 holidays to celebrate

Christmas, 4th of July, and Star Wars Day

95: Top 3 things to do in the rain

Listen to it, Read in a nook, and Nap

96: Top 3 things to do in the snow

Snowboard, Snow Angel, and Snowballs

97: Top 3 items you can’t leave the house w/o

Purse, Cell Phone, and Keys

98: Top 3 movies you’d like to see

I don’t keep up to date with movies

99: Top 3 art mediums

Smithsonian

100: Top 3 museums you’ve been to

Various Smithsonian’s in Washington D.C.

101: Top 3 school memories

I played soccer, School choir, and FFA

102: Top 3 things you don’t/won’t miss

My younger years when I was bullied a lot, My past, and People who I thought were friends

103: Top 3 pick up lines

No idea....

104: Top 3 sports to watch

Soccer, Snowboarding, and Surfing

105: Top 3 taylor swift songs

Your kidding right.......

#about me

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shadow-light19 · 6 years

Text

I’ll Give You The Moon: Part 1

Note: This chapter was re-written on 8/6/2020.

Summary: Donald gets sick from his latest adventure with Scrooge and the kids. Launchpad notices at work and decides to take care of him himself.

Notes: This story was inspired by @natssketches on Tumblr and is for them. They have been posting Donald/Launchpad comics and I got hooked on the pairing. If you like this then check them out. They have a really good short story with some drawings about Launchpad and Donald in a plane crash. Also based on @maraskywalkers Ducktales Family Fic challenge prompt “I’ll give you the moon.” This quote will appear in the second part of the story. Natssketches also drew a really sweet drawing from this chapter so if you like this story please check it out!

Natssketches tumblr: https://natssketches.tumblr.com/

Part 2: https://shadow-light19.tumblr.com/post/172453905122/ill-give-you-the-moon-part-2

Artwork: https://natssketches.tumblr.com/post/172436691640/aw-hey-theres-this-cute-fanfiction-called-ill

Donald grumbled under his breath as he tossed and turned in his bed. He couldn’t sleep at all last night, due to the cold he had contracted from their latest adventure. He was still peeved at being pushed into the way of pirates on a ship to create a distraction. In the middle of a storm! He was pissed that he was given a half-hearted apology from his Uncle. And mainly, he was pissed that he was so used to it. All in all, just another day in the life of Donald Duck. The former sailor huffed as he gave up trying to find a comfortable position, choosing to stare at the ceiling of his boathouse instead. He was too angry at Scrooge to sleep in his room in the mansion, even if it was warmer. He yanked his blankets off of him, only to trip on them while trying to get up.

“Waaak!” Donald threw the blankets on the floor and stomped on them. 'Today is going to be a GREAT day, isn’t it?' Donald thought sarcastically. Since he was giving up on sleep, he went into his bathroom to get ready for the day. Donald sighed as he saw himself in the mirror. There were dark bags around his eyes, his feathers were a bit dull, and he looked a little green.

“Knowing Scrooge, even if he sees me he won’t give me a sick day. Today is going to be awful.” He sighed. At this point, it'd be best just to take some cold medicine and hope for the best. Donald uncapped a bottle of pills from his medicine cabinet and popped one into his mouth, swallowing it dry. 'With my luck, the cold medicine won't work in the slightest.' He put the bottle in his pocket for later. With that done, he headed to the Money Bin to go about his day as Scrooge’s Personal Secretary.

“Nephew! Aye need ye to run some errands for me today!” Scrooge yelled as he slammed Donald’s office door open. The loud bang made Donald wince in pain. The day had barely started, and he was already feeling worse.

“What is it, Scrooge?” Donald sighed while rubbing his temple with his fingers. It did little to alleviate his headache.

“Aye have some supplies aye want ya to get for our next adventure. Here’s the list and have it ready for me by tomorrow. Don’t forget to fill out that conference invitation for Gyro. He has a new invention he wants to showcase.” Donald sighed. Luckily, Gyro was easy to work with. Although he was very particular about how his credentials appeared on convention paperwork, Donald had written down Gyro's preferences. He had yet to get a complaint from the chicken. However, Scrooge's task would likely take a couple of hours. The old bird's reluctance to spend money meant express delivery was not an option. Looked like he wasn’t going to get much paperwork done today after all.

“I already answered the invite and sent the information to Gyro. As for the supplies, I’ll head out right now.” Scrooge gave a satisfied harrumph and tossed the long list to Donald before walking out of the office. Donald muttered angrily as the door shut behind his uncle before taking a deep breath. No point in getting upset when he knew he'd have to do it anyway. The former sailor picked up the phone at his desk and dialed Launchpad’s number. It just barely began ringing when Launchpad answered.

“Hey, Donny! How are you?” The nickname made Donald chuckle. It used to be a painful nickname, but the pilot had taken to calling him 'Donny' so often that he no longer thought of it as the nickname his sister gave him. Now, it had happier memories.

Donald grabbed a pen and his yellow notepad, writing down the stores he would have to go to for the supplies listed. “Good. Scrooge wants me to pick up some supplies for some adventure of his, so I’ll need a ride. Could you get a car ready for me, please?”

The duck heard something fall over and crash on the other end. He covered the microphone end of the phone and chuckled. “Sure thing! I’ll be out in front of the Money Bin by the time you get down. See ya soon!” Launchpad cheerfully stated before hanging up. He didn't even give Donald the chance to thank him. The former sailor shook his head fondly at Launchpad's enthusiasm. He instantly regretted the action, though, when it made his head spin.

"Right, not doing that again." Donald slung his briefcase strap over his shoulder and headed down to the first floor. When he stepped out of the building, Launchpad was already pulled up and waiting for him. Donald's eyes lit up, thankful for not having to stand for long, and got into the front passenger seat. Launchpad’s smile dropped when he saw how tired the duck looked.

“Hey man, are you alright?” Donald jumped slightly in surprise. Did he really look that bad?

“Doing well enough, Launchpad. Just a small cold.” he tried to play it off, but he knew he failed when Launchpad's frown morphed into concern. The bigger duck put one hand on his forehead and the other on Donald’s.

“I don’t know, Donny; you feel pretty warm. I can take you home if you want, and then you can just call in sick.” Donald shook his head at that. He had a job to do, and the last thing he wanted to do was give his uncle a reason to yell at him.

“We both know that Scrooge only gives sick days when you’re in the hospital. I’ll be fine, so let's go ahead and take care of the errands.” Launchpad opened his mouth to say something but shut it with a sigh. Donald felt a twinge of pride flash through him at knowing he'd won the argument.

“Okay, Dee, but if you get worse, I’m taking you home.” The worry in Launchpad's voice made Donald look away with a slight blush. He wasn't used to people besides his kids worrying about him. It felt nice.

He cleared his throat in embarrassment. “Alright, fine. Now let’s go.”

Launchpad patted Donald’s shoulder with a smile and started the car. “Where to first, Donny?”

The two ducks drove around the city for a couple of hours, buying all of the supplies that Scrooge had mandated for his next adventure. Although Launchpad did most of the driving, and the heavy-lifting at the bigger duck's insistence, it seemed as though Donald was getting worse as the day went on. Launchpad kept a close eye on Donald until he felt enough was enough. He couldn’t stand by and watch his friend suffer any longer. Once they had loaded their latest purchases in the car, Launchpad decided to head back to the mansion. Donald had nodded off, so the pilot made every precaution on the road, making sure he didn't crash or bump into anything so the other duck would stay asleep. The former sailor didn't wake up until he stopped in front of the mansion's intercom.

“Launchpad? Why are you driving us here?” Donald tiredly asked. Launchpad flashed Donald a worried look as he shifted the car into park.

“I’ll tell you in a second, Donny.” Launchpad pressed the call button on the intercom.

“Mrs. Beakley? It’s Launchpad, can you open the gate please?” He heard her confirmation, and the gate opened up instantly. He thanked her, shifting back into drive and pulling right up to the steps.

“Hey Launchpad, why are we at the mansion?” Donald blinked the sleep from his eyes as he recognized their location. Launchpad turned the car off and got out. He stepped over to the passenger door and held it open for his friend.

“I just need to drop something off with Mrs. Beakley real quick. Can you come down with me? I’ll need your help.” Donald sighed and stepped out of the car.

“Let’s hurry, okay? We still have a couple more things to buy, and I still have a lot of paperwork to take care of in the office.” Launchpad closed the door and guided Donald up the steps.

Honestly, Donald had no desire to return to work. He knew his cold had gotten worse. The former sailor was aching all over, and he really just wanted to lay down. He was so out of it, he didn’t even realize that Launchpad wasn’t carrying anything. To Launchpad's relief, Mrs. Beakley opened the door to let them in. She took one look at Donald and raised an eyebrow at Launchpad. He knew she was asking if he was sick. The pilot responded with a nod and a sheepish grin. He hoped she would be able to get him some stuff to help since he didn't know the layout of the mansion. Mrs. Beakley rolled her eyes and walked off towards the kitchen to make a bowl of soup for Donald. Meanwhile, Launchpad guided Donald to the couch in the living room.

“Hey?! Where are were going now?!” Donald half-heartedly growled. Launchpad chuckled at that. He gently pushed Donald onto the couch and covered him with the throw that was folded on it.

“I told you I was dropping something off with Mrs. Beakley. I could tell you were getting worse while we were out, so I brought you home. You need to stay here and rest, okay?” Donald tried to get up, but Launchpad easily held him down on the couch.

“I’ll take care of Mr. McDuck and the rest of the supplies, alright? You just stay here and rest. Mrs. Beakley is making you some soup right now, and she’s gonna make sure you don’t try to come into work.” Donald let out a sigh and stopped trying to get up. His aching body felt comfortable on the soft couch and under the warm blanket. There was no point in trying to get up. He could barely keep his eyes open as it was.

“Fine.” Launchpad smiled at Donald. He brushed his fingers through the feathers on Donald’s head.

“I’m gonna head back to the Money Bin now. I’ll drop off the supplies we got and let Mr. McDuck know that if you’re feeling better tomorrow, you’ll come in. I'll make sure to get the last couple of things as well, so consider it handled. Otherwise, I’ll see you when I’m off.” Donald closed his eyes. Launchpad was too nice. He didn't need to do all that, especially after helping him with Scrooge's task.

“You don’t have to come back to check on me. I’ll be fine. I’ve gotten over many illnesses by myself.” Launchpad smiled sadly. He admired Donald a lot. Single father, dedicated family man, and hard-worker. What wasn't there to like about the passionate duck? Sometimes, Donald pushed himself too hard, though, and Launchpad wanted to let him know that he didn't have to.

“Thing is Donny, you don’t have to anymore. See ya later.” Launchpad knew Donald would be fine under Mrs. Beakley’s care. He watched as Donald mumbled something before his breathing evened out. The pilot chuckled as he headed back out. He needed to inform Mr. McDuck about his nephew and make one more trip to the store.

#Ducktales Family Fic Challenge #donald duck #Donald/Launchpad #launchpad mcquack #scrooge mcduck #bentina beakley #ducktales #ducktales fanfiction

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8147 · 6 years

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reading hamlet for the first time (act 5: the finale)

masterlist

none of you told me it was going to be this painful . none of you.

a5s1

“Ophelia’s dead.” “Enter CLOWNS!”

Like im sure this has a different meaning in EMA but im gonna make fun of it because it’s fucking hilarious. (future (present? (now past once more (?))) antares coming back to say i did look at nfs and yeah theyre gravediggers)

“First Clown: What is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter? Second Clown: The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand tenants.” damn not even just this one quote but these are some depressing clowns

hamlet and horatio!

okay there’s something about all of hamlet’s skull talk that makes me uneasy. like, not even the topic, just something in the words and how earnestly and (pardon my pun) gravely hamlet’s speaking about this. and it’s almost a mournful tune, too. it’s a huge difference from his “we’ll all be eaten by the same worms” speech to the point that it’s almost haunting.

“HAMLET: I will speak to this fellow.” C O N F R O N T

“HAMLET: I think it be thine, indeed; for thou liest in't.” (incomprehensible scribbling)

HAMLET, NOT IN ENGLAND: oh yeah lol he was sent to england huh u know why lmao

wait. did the. did the pirate situation get resolved. before act V.

I mean i think hamlet mentioned something about three years but the pirates are so fucking glossed over like what the fuck

“First Clown: 'Twill, a not be seen in him there; there the men are as mad as he.” HOLY SHIT ROAST THEM JFC

“HAMLET: Let me see. (Takes the skull)” THIS IS THE SKULL SCENE! I fucking KNEW it was bullshit that holding the skull was in the to be/not to be speech. I saw it being presented as such like once or twice while reading and I KNEW IT

hm okay so hamlet picks up this guys skull, of someone he used to know, and sure maybe i could ignore the “those lips i have kissed” but then he goes on to mention alexander the great and i mean come on

but jesus like i feel like im not doing justice to the stuff hamlet’s saying. just, the gravity of it all. Its kinda hitting home a bit hard bc like ive had a crippling fear of what happens after death and being forgotten etc since i was like in fourth grade and this is @ing that phobia

like, with that julius ceasar thing. “O that that earth which kept the world in awe / should patch a wall to expel the winter flaw,” it’s so strange. like, every fucking human who has lived, whether they be emperors, murderers, inventors, peasants, or philanthropists- as long as they weren’t blind, they’ve all looked at the same sky. like. It doesnt matter what the fuck you did or didn’t. It’s wild.

“First Priest: No more be done: We should profane the service of the dead To sing a requiem and such rest to her As to peace-parted souls.” hey i get that there are cultural taboos around suicide but like this guy’s a dick it isnt even clear if it was suicide, like, she was so fucking crazy she might not have even known she was, y’know, in a lake or w/e

laertes, dude, my guy. maybe jumping into a grave is cosmic foreshadowing for something you don’t want to happen to you. js.

“HAMLET: [Advancing] What is he whose grief Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I, Hamlet the Dane. (Leaps into the grave)” hamlet is NOT one to be out-extra’d (posting-antares here to say, wait, ‘whose phrase of sorrow conjures the stars? is this my aesthetic-speeches-summon-ghosts theory? probably not, but i havent mentioned it for a while)

“LAERTES: The devil take thy soul! (Grappling with him)” IN A FUCKING GRAVE. THEY ARE FIGHTING. IN A GRAVE.

all because hamlet doesn’t want to be out-extra’d. my god.

“QUEEN GERTRUDE: This is mere madness: And thus awhile the fit will work on him; Anon, as patient as the female dove, When that her golden couplets are disclosed, His silence will sit drooping.” Ah yes gertie just talk about the distraught and angry madman as if he isn’t there. that’ll diffuse the situation.

You know what? We still haven’t discussed the pirates.

a5s2

“HAMLET: So much for this, sir: now shall you see the other; You do remember all the circumstance?” If this isn’t gonna be about the pirates im gonna. scream.

“HAMLET: My fears forgetting manners, to unseal Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio,-- O royal knavery!--an exact command, Larded with many several sorts of reasons Importing Denmark's health and England's too, With, ho! such bugs and goblins in my life, That, on the supervise, no leisure bated, No, not to stay the grinding of the axe, My head should be struck off.” god, though. imagine that. being exiled to another country by the person who killed your father, only to find out that they were going to have you killed, anyways. that’s fucking terrifying. jesus christ.

Damn this idea that pretty handwriting is ~beneath~ nobles confuses me so fucking much. I got called haughty once just because my main handwriting is cursive. I mean, they were right, but their evidence was circumstantial at best.

“HAMLET: That, on the view and knowing of these contents, Without debatement further, more or less, He should the bearers put to sudden death, Not shriving-time allow'd.” Hamlet’s Revenge.

but also, what the fuck, dude. two wrongs dont make a right.

damn i kinda lost myself while reading but it really doesn’t sound like hamlet’s insane anymore. Like he’s… tempered himself. he doesn’t feel insane, just solemn.

“OSRIC: Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark. HAMLET: I humbly thank you, sir. Dost know this water-fly?” goddamn ROAST HIM HAMLET (also what a fucking mood)

Osric put on your fucking ha--

The wind is

The wind is northerly

“HAMLET: No, believe me, 'tis very cold; the wind is northerly.” I remember someone saying that this is important

Okay here: “HAMLET: I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.”

oh no

Osric just wear ur fucking hat u doof

“OSRIC: Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry,--as 'twere,--I cannot tell how. But, my lord, his majesty bade me signify to you that he has laid a great wager on your head: sir, this is the matter,-- HAMLET: I beseech you, remember-- (HAMLET moves him to put on his hat)” excuse me a WAGER

but alas all hamlet cares about is osric’s fucking hat

“HAMLET: What's his weapon? OSRIC: Rapier and dagger. HAMLET: That's two of his weapons: but, well.” hamlet u sarcastic little shit i love you

I mean so is horatio. I love him too.

This stuff with the competition is. not gonna end well. not at well.

“HAMLET: I do not think so: since he went into France, I have been in continual practise: I shall win at the odds. But thou wouldst not think how ill all's here about my heart: but it is no matter.”

hamlet no. listen to your heart or whatever. jesus christ don’t do it.

“HORATIO: Nay, good my lord,--” HAMLET LISTEN TO HORATIO

Ohhh hamlet

okay reading what laertes said, you know what? i’m giving laertes one last chance. please do not prove me a fool, laertes.

everything is giving me mad anxiety. e v e r y t h i n g.

claud’s speech is insanely sketchy

“KING CLAUDIUS: [Aside] It is the poison'd cup: it is too late.” One, so that’s why it was sketchy. Two, the POISONED CUP?

IT’S TOO LATE?

Gertie’s. Dead.

Shit, shit, shit

“LAERTES: [Aside] And yet 'tis almost 'gainst my conscience.” YES! SO PLEASE! STOP FIGHTING!

“LAERTES wounds HAMLET; then in scuffling, they change rapiers, and HAMLET wounds LAERTES.” Oh no oh no oh jeez eheu they’re hurting each other, shit, fuck,

“LAERTES: ...woodcock…”

“KING CLAUDIUS: She swounds to see them bleed. QUEEN GERTRUDE: No, no, the drink, the drink,--O my dear Hamlet,-- The drink, the drink! I am poison'd. (Dies)” one, i love how claud is desperatley trying to stick to the plan, its almost adorable in a childish sort of way. two, oh god. ohhh god. gertie.

Oh no.

this is the bloodbath. THIS IS THE BLOODBATH.

BODY COUNT: 1

“HAMLET: The point!--envenom'd too! Then, venom, to thy work. (Stabs KING CLAUDIUS)” ...

BODY COUNT: 2

wait and hamlet’s on death row, as with laertes. Oh no.

“LAERTES: He is justly served; It is a poison temper'd by himself. Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet: Mine and my father's death come not upon thee, Nor thine on me. (Dies)’ oh my god already??? I haven’t even really accepted king claud’s death?? jesus christ??

My friend just sorta nudged me and asked if i was alright and i. I’m not. i’m in shock. goddamn. what?

BODY COUNT: 3

goodness thats three in like less than thirty seconds JESUS CHRIST

“HAMLET: Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee.I am dead, Horatio.” that’s chilling. just, the poignancy. that’s so fucking spectral. i’m not okay.

“HORATIO: Never believe it: I am more an antique Roman than a Dane: Here's yet some liquor left.” No no no on no nononon NO NO oh my god are you going to-

“HAMLET: As thou'rt a man, Give me the cup: let go; by heaven, I'll have't. … If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart Absent thee from felicity awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story.” hey i’m crying in study hall. i’m actually crying. what the fuck. I don’t cry unless i’m thinking about that one pair of 18th century shoes with the really good photo quality (transcribing-antares here. I fucking love those shoes. I’m looking at them right now and they’re so fucking beautiful. they look how velvet feels, which is odd, bc they're apparently silk. I don’t care they’re just so fucking lovely)

F O R T I N B R A S?

“HAMLET: O, I die, Horatio; The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit.” I’ve identified my emotion. Dread. pure, unadulterated Dread.

for all of you that’ve listened to the penumbra podcast: do you remember the concierge, right before final resting place, saying “you do realize you can just like, leave, and everything will be hunky dory and you won’t have to deal with the emotional consequences this episode will bring you” because i’m seriously considering doing that right now.

“HAMLET: The rest is silence. (Dies)” shit. (posting-antares here to say that i forgot to do the body count but honestly im crying while formating because of this goddamn fucking 400 year old play)

“HORATIO: Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince…” oh god. horatio.

“Good night sweet prince…”

(yet again tis transcribing-antares here to say that im fucking sobbing right now, the shoes are no match for this, and ‘goodnight sweet prince’ is actually never going to leave my head.) (editing-antares here to say im fucking crying again god fucking damn it) (posting-antares back again saying that this fucking line. this line. my god.)

“HORATIO: What is it ye would see? If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search.” oh, horatio. god. that isn’t something said without tears staining your skin and a bitter tone hard-won, not that its possession is a victory.

oh my god. this can’t. no. this can’t end like this. What. no. people must have rioted. No. no!!

i typically hate it but i would GLADLY accept a deus ex machina right about now!!

okay my friend just took my phone away from me and shut it off because i kept on trying to scroll past the end

jesus christ

okay so i’m not going to be okay for like, several eternities, so im going to play the sims until i. until i die, probably. my god.

masterlist

#shush antares #antares reads hamlet #thE PIRATES WERE NEVER ADDRESSED #also im crying but im STILL ANGRY #mostly in shock tho

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