we all come from the sea but were not all of the sea

Joseph Christiansen Secret/Cult Ending Manuscript

I went digging through the Level 18 gibberish and sorted out all the dialogue into a manageable manuscript if anyone is interested in reading this secret wild ride. None of the dialogue is labeled so I did my best to interpret who was saying what so any mistakes are my bad. It took a few hours to put together but I felt like some people would like more than just a summary so here is the full text:

MC will be short for Main Character or your player.

** edit 07/26/17: minor text fixes, better formatting, the insertion of more images (courtesy of purpledragon42) , and insert of a working readmore **

Level 18- Joseph Bad Ending or True Ending ( Who knows? )

This appears to take place after MC and Joseph Christiansen engage in sex in the yacht, except you don’t wake up to what you expect. This takes place in Cult_Dungeon1.

(Photo Credits: Game Grumps)

START: You’re A Monster

MC:

Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaawn. What time is it? Must have been asleep for ages. I wonder what will happen now that Mary is gone? What about Joseph’s kids? And how will Amanda feel about all this? That’s what matters… . Well, we all have each other. I guess time will tell, right? Better get up and greet the day.

Am I tied up?! What the hell?! How did I get here? What’s going on?! Joseph? Anybody?

You’re probably just dreaming. Why would there be a… Don’t panic… . a dungeon. An evil dungeon. Why would there be an evil dungeon here? This can’t be real. Maybe I had too much Twilight Rouge. I’m dreaming, or something.

???:

Oh, I guarantee this is real.

Keep reading

Sea Witchery: a Brief Overview

Originally posted by mermaids-luv

At the request of so many followers, I have decided to mock up a little bit of information on Sea Magick and Sea Witchery.  This is just a brief overview to give you some information when wanting to research or begin working with the ocean, storms, the tides, and the many creatures associated with the sea. 

However, I will caution you that the many sea creatures (especially the Merfolk) are not very forgiving creatures, thus they can be pretty tough to handle for beginner, baby witches.  It takes an experience sea hag to get them to cooperate properly, so keep this in mind when studying them.

Once again, this is a brief overview and introduction to my craft and path.  if you have any questions, you can direct them to me via PM or ASK.

Let’s get started!

WHAT IS A SEA WITCH?

Traditionally, sea witches are witches who appear among sailors or others involved in the seafaring trade. Sea witches use witchcraft related to the moon, tides, and the weather, and are believed to have complete control over the seas. Many sailors fell prey to the sea witches curse on ships and were finally delivered to the one who rules all.  In some folklore, sea witches are described as phantoms, ghosts,or in the form of a mermaid. These creatures would then have the power to control the fates of ships and seamen.

As the name implies, sea witches are believed to be able to control many aspects of nature relating to water, most commonly the ocean or sea. However, in more modern times, sea witches can also practice witchcraft on or near any source of water: lakes, rivers, bath tubs, or even simply a bowl of salt water.

In addition to their powers over water, sea witches could often control the wind. A common feature of many tales was a rope tied into three knots, which witches often sold to sailors to aid them on a voyage. Pulling the first knot could yield a gentle, southeasterly wind, while pulling two could generate a strong northerly wind.

Sea witches often improvise on what they have, rather than making purchases from a store or from another person. Common tools include clam, scallop, or oyster shells in place of bowls or cauldrons. Other items include seaweed, fishing net, shells, sea grass, driftwood, pieces of sea glass, and even sand.

Other types of titles they use are: sirens, water witches, storm witches, and sea hags.

DO SEA WITCHES HAVE CERTAIN PERSONALITY TRAITS?

Eh, there isn’t really a specific type of person the sea calls to, however I have met many sea witches that would be described as walking contradictions.  Much like the sea, we can be quite flexible, but also forceful.  Moods tend to fluctuate with the tides and lunar cycle.  Hags both enjoy and love music and poetry; are quite expressive with their emotions, but also don’t easily award entry into their hearts; and can easily win the attention of a crowd, but then seek solitude in the comfort of their own homes.  You would be hard-pressed to find a stagnant sea witch–they’ll always be on the move, searching and discovering.  However, be warned: if you fall in love with one you must understand that a sea hag’s heart belongs to the Sea first and foremost, forever and always, and it calls to them over the span of lifetimes.

WHERE DOES THEIR POWER COME FROM?

For the most part, sea witches draw their power directly from the source: the Ocean.  You’ll find that many of them, even landlocked sea hags, have trinkets from the shore and enjoy baths, storms, and the moonlight.  Of course, there are many different kinds of sea witches all over the world and it really just depends on what seafaring folk culture they subscribe to that determines their power source.

DO SEA WITCHES HAVE SPECIFIC DEITIES THEY WORSHIP?

I am not even lying–there are HUNDREDS upon HUNDREDS of water and sea deities that sea witches call upon for aid and worship.  Probably the most popular would be Poseidon, Neptune, Lir, Gong-Gong, Hapi, Sobek,  Agwé, Aegaeon, Delphin, the Gorgons, Samundra, Pariacaca, Watatsumi, Rongomai, Njord, Nix, and even Davey Jones.

One of the beauties of being a sea witch is that you can call on many ancient and powerful deities to aid you in your craft.  However, I do advise that you make sure that these deities do not come from a culture/religion/belief system that is closed.  You can check out a full list of water/sea/storm deities here.

WHAT ARE SOME TOOLS SEA WITCHES USE?

*TAKES A DEEP BREATH*

Water (salt, fresh, or storm), sand, sea shells and cockles, sea glass, driftwood, ship wood, compasses, maps, mirrors, bowls and chalices, sea weed, sea grass, fish and fish bones, coral, telescopes, sand dollars, pearls, bath salts/bombs/goodies, sea salt, linen, umbrellas and mops, windchimes, ropes, weather vanes, and blood are just some of the few tools we use in our practice.

TELL US ABOUT MERMAIDS!

The Mer or Merfolk are probably one of the more popular topics when it comes to sea witchery.  I get questions all the time like “DO YOU TALK TO MERMAIDS?” or “HOW CAN I GET A MERMAID TO BEFRIEND ME?” or “AREN’T MERMAIDS JUST THE COOLEST?”

The Merfolk are an integral part of sea witch culture, but they aren’t the end all be all when it comes to water spirits/fae/demons/entities.  There are so many to work with and all have interesting backstories.  But let’s talk about the Merfolk for a moment…

Depending to what you school you subscribe to, the Merfolk (also known as mermaids) could be fae, demon, or simply water spirits.  Some believe that  the Merfolk are a species of kithain (also known as changeling or fae.) Ancient and unknowable, the Merfolk pose something of a problem to both fae and human alike. The arrogance of the mer is tempered only by their truly alien natures.  The Merfolk claim that they are the sole legacy of the Tuatha De Danann, the oldest fae on Earth, dreamed long before any human ever set foot on land. When curious people ask how this could be, the merfolk are disconcertingly vague and ambiguous.

As I have stated before on the blog, the Merfolk are certainly an odd lot. The product of a totally alien mindset, the mer are simultaneously deadly, serious and playful, highly ritualized and completely free spirited, repressed and yet libidinous as a drunken prom date. The first thing one will notice about a mer is his incredible arrogance. Of course, as far as they are concerned, they have every right to be arrogant. After all, in their minds, they do rule the world.

Other mythologies tell us that mermaids are the bane of seamen.  These half-fish, half-women lured countless sailors to their deaths. Breathtakingly beautiful humans from their torso-upwards, their lower bodies where those of fish, complete with scales. Men find their songs irresistible and follow them willingly into the sea. Mermaids can be caught and held in exchange for the wishes they grant. The males of the species, Mermen, are regarded as vicious creatures who raised storms for the purpose of sinking men’s ships.  Occasionally they are successfully courted by human men. The offspring of such pairings are often granted great powers in healing by their mothers.

In short, mermaids are extremely beautiful, temperamental, powerful, and dangerous.  They are not to be confused with Sirens, either, and find contempt at the very accusation.  I will probably go into more detail about Merfolk magic in a different post.

WHAT ARE OTHER WATER SPIRITS THAT WE CAN WORK WITH?

Again, like the deities, there are so many different kinds of water spirits and this topic in of itself could be an entire article.  So, here is a brief list and some traits about my favorites…

SIRENS

In Greek mythology, the Sirens (Greek singular: Σειρήν Seirēn; Greek plural: Σειρῆνες Seirēnes) were dangerous creatures, who lured nearby sailors with their enchanting music and voices to shipwreck on the rocky coast of their island. Roman poets placed them on some small islands called Sirenum scopuli. In some later, rationalized traditions, the literal geography of the “flowery” island of Anthemoessa was somewhere tucked in a cape, with rocky shores and cliffsides.

Sirens were believed to combine women and birds in various ways. In early Greek art, Sirens were represented as birds with large women’s heads, bird feathers and scaly feet. Later, they were represented as female figures with the legs of birds, with or without wings, playing a variety of musical instruments, especially harps.

UNDINES

These are the elemental spirits of water. Their magic centers upon this element, whose course and function they can control. Undines exist within the water itself and cannot be seen with normal human vision. Their homes are typically within the coral caves in lakes or upon the banks of rivers, though smaller undines may choose to live under lily pads. Their appearance is similar to human beings in most cases, with the exception of those living in smaller streams or ponds. Undine clothing is shimmery, reflecting all the colors of water though green is typically the predominant color.Every body of water is home to undines, from ocean waves, to rocky pools, to marshlands, to rivers, to lakes and ponds. Even waterfalls and fountains have an undine living in their midst.

SELKIES

The shapeshifting selkies, who are also known as silkies or roane (Gaelic for seal), occupy the seas surrounding the Orkney and Shetland isles. The exact nature of their undersea world is uncertain, though some believe it to be encased in giant air bubbles. Their true forms are those of faeries or humans, though they take the form of large seals when traveling the through the oceans. In particular: great seals and grey seals are said to take human forms. Older tales tell that selkies are only able to take on human forms on certain nights of the year, such as Midsummer’s Eve or All Hallows.

Occasionally they encounter humankind, sometimes becoming their mates. A human male may take a selkie female as his wife if he finds her seal skin on the beach and hides it from her. In the end she always recovers the skin and returns to the sea, though she may return occasionally to watch over her human family from the safety of the waves.

A human woman may bear the child of a selkie male if she weeps seven tears or seven drops of blood in the nighttime sea. Such relationships are rarely lasting. Seven years hence, the selkie would return for his child, offering the mother a fee for nursing her own babe.

BEANSIDHE/BANSHEE

One of the most dreaded and best known of the Irish faeries is the Banshee, properly named the Beansidhe literally, “woman fairy.” The Irish have many names for her (perhaps they feared invocation of her true name may invoke her presence?) They included: Washer of the Shrouds, Washer at the Banks, Washer at the Ford and the Little Washer of Sorrow. The Scottish called her Cointeach, literally “one who keens.” To the cornish she was Cyhiraeth and to the Welsh either Cyoerraeth or Gwrach y Rhibyn, which translates as “Hag of the Dribble” (to the Welsh she sometimes appear as a male). In Brittany her name is Eur-Cunnere Noe.

The Beansidhe is an extremely beautiful faery, possessing long, flowing hair, red eyes (due to continuous weeping) and light complexions. They typically donn green dresses with gray cloaks. Their wailing foretells of a death nearby, though it never causes such a death (which is why they are wrongly feared.) 

As her other names might suggest, she frequently appears as a washerwoman at the banks of streams. In these cases, she is called the Bean Nighe (pronounced “ben-neeyah”). The clothing she washed takes different forms depending upon the legend. Sometimes it is burial shrouds, others it is the bloodstained clothing of those who will soon die. This particular version of the Bean Sidhe is Scottish in origin and unlike the Irish version, she is extremely ugly, sometimes described as having a single nostril, one large buck tooth, webbed feet and extremely long breasts, which she must throw over her shoulders to prevent them getting in the way of her washing . Her long stringy hair is partially covered with a hood and a white gown or shroud is her main wardrobe. The skin of the Beansidhe is often wet and slimy as if she had just been pulled from a moss covered lake. They are rumored to be the ghosts of women who died in childbirth and will continue to wash until the day they should have died. The keening music of Irish wakes, called caoine, is said to have been derived from the wails of the Beansidhe.

WHAT IS THE MOST IMPORTANT LESSON TO TAKE AWAY FROM THIS?

The Sea giveth and the Sea taketh away.  The sea is both mother and reaper, passionate and cold, serene and turbulent, loving and cruel, generous and vicious.  And if you meet a sea witch, you’ll know this to be true:

Neither chains of steel, nor chains of love, can keep her from the Sea.

100 Scurvy Pirate Prompts

Me amigos, ‘tis be ye cap'n @promptguy. Thank ye fer all th’ submissions. I translated some to be more scurvy pirate. 'tis might be th’ best list so far.

  1. “Which lovely booty ye be eyein’? th’ curvy wench’s or th’ shit-barnacles ye can’t spy wit’ ye eye in yon chest?”
  2. “oh me god! th’ boat be leakin’!” “No, that’s just bilge rum”
  3. Scribe 'bout a scurvy pirate that be scared 'o th’ ocean
  4. Ye discover that Prompt Guy be actually th’ Flyin’ Dutchman
  5. A pirate ship encounters sirens who use their song to lure them. th’ band 'o pirates give a go’ to escape but 'tis later revealed that th’ sirens don’t want sink them but join them
  6. 'tis ye first day on ship, 'n ye’re in learnin’. All th’ other members on board be experienced 'n professionals at their ship except 1. That one be ye “trainin’ laddie”… a child Jack Sparrow.
  7. “walk thee fuckin plank ye scallywag”
  8. Ye be th’ cap'n 'o a crew 'o Githyanki band 'o pirates, 'n ye be huntin’ ye quarry in th’ astral plane. th’ problem be, ye quarry consists 'o a ship full 'o illithids, or mind-flayers, who had previously enslaved ye kind wit’ their mental powers
  9. Ye got captured by band 'o pirates. be tellin’ a story on how ye end up becomin’ cap'n fer that scurvy pirate ship. Bonus points if ye scribe a way ye do it that dont murder anyone nor end up wit’ physical harm.
  10. Bin got a pair words fer ye scurvy dogs: “Shark Bait.”
  11. Poseidon, th’ God 'o th’ Sea, has chosen ye as his vessel. He whispers in ye mind, “by sea be th’ only way to travel.” ye embark on a journey, killin’ anybody who dares take an airplane or car.
  12. Ye’ve always thought that havin’ a peg leg’d be cool, but arh, the maintenaince yeh have to do to keep up yer cool appearance!
  13. “ye’re seriously makin’ me swim th’ plank again?!”
  14. A pirate cap'n goes on a mission to reclaim th’ pirate ship that was stolen from him 'n free his crew members from imprisonment
  15. Ye have traveled long 'n far in search 'o an infamous treasure that ye 'n ye crew have be searchin’ fer fer 16 years. Upon discoverin’ it, ye open th’ chest only to find a map leadin’ to another treasure. th’ value 'o friendship.
  16. They shout that treasures best be hidden on land. Yer cap'n be sayin’ they’re all lyin’. Yer cap'n be sayin’ th’ best place to be hidin’ treasure be in th’ heart 'o a storm.
  17. Ye ship be sunk, ye maties abandoned ye, but ye still have th’ gold… 'n spiced rum.
  18. Ye be kidnapped from ye home in th’ dead 'o nightfall 'n brought onto a ship wit’ a crew 'o 100 band 'o pirates. As ye look on in fear, they all bow below before ye. One 'o them introduces themselves as ye First Matey. ye be now their cap'n.
  19. Ye muster onboard a scurvy pirate ship, hopin’ to get some doubloons 'n th’ comradery ye sorely missed in th’ navy. But turns out th’ ship ye ended up on has a secret ye would never have guessed…
  20. A forbidden lust story between a sea cap'n 'n a siren he meets at sea.
  21. Ye’ve always wanted to be a scurvy pirate. ye even got ye chance when a fleet 'o them attacked ye town. th’ problem? ye’re a 'land-lubber’ 'n 'tis isn’t a nice world. ye’ll have to prove ye can handle bein’ a scurvy pirate just to make it out 'o th’ brig
  22. Ye’ve just taken control 'o a merchant ship only to find that th’ entire crew be more scared 'o th’ 4 year barnacle-covered girly offsprin’ 'o th’ wealthy tradesman ye’ve locked away. When she smiles, ye spy wit’ ye eye storms in her eyes - 'n then she laughs…
  23. Ye find a cursed treasure. When a piece 'o gold be spent it disappears. How do ye spend ye loot.
  24. “No women allowed on board!” says th’ cap'n. He finds out, one by one, that every member 'o his crew be a woman wit’ a fake beard.
  25. That scurvy scalawag Blackhearted Benton just stole yer ship wit’ all yer lovely booty! GET IT BACK!
  26. “Stop playin’ yer dratted cello, matey, 'n help me sword fight off Blackbeard!”
  27. Ye be th’ first astronaut to be sent to explore th’ galaxy. Suddenly, ye re stopped by space band 'o pirates, 'n be forced to choose between roamin’ aimlessly forever or joinin’ their crew.
  28. Ye got into th’ piratin’ business fer one reason - so ye can afford a ship in Malibu.
  29. “Remind me; if women be bad luck, why do we have a female cap'n?”
  30. Mermaid band 'o pirates. They find new islands 'n take down their enemies wit’ th’ help 'o sea creatures. Their ship be called “Poseidon”
  31. Band 'o pirates that set out to be villains accidentally return as jolly guys by screwin’ plans up
  32. Ye be a feared scurvy pirate who can control all th’ monsters roamin’ th’ seven seas, however ye worst enemy can control th’ oceans themselves.
  33. tell an entire tale in pirate talk, me hearty…
  34. Ye character just got accepted into MIT 'n be sailin’ towards th’ “scurvy pirate Certificate” (pistols, riflery, rowin’, fencin’.) wee do they be knowin’ that these courses be taught by actual band 'o pirates.
  35. An underground illegal racin’ rig has be started that involves scurvy pirate ships battlin’ though a rum track in a Need fer Speed style wit’ steampower-ups included
  36. Ye awaken on a scurvy pirate ship, last thin’ ye remember before 'tis was shoutin’ to a guy in th’ tavern at port. th’ cap'n had bought ye 'n ye be now sailin’ on th’ ship, what happens while ye be at sea?
  37. “HAND ME THAT MAP OR SO HELP ME I’LL CUT IT OFF YA HANDS!”
  38. You turn on the Pirate Speak in Minecraft under language options as a joke, but then ye start findin’ that yer land lubber mates in reality arrrre beginnin’ ta talk like ol’ sea dogs, and even tha signs ‘round yer town turn inta Pirate Speak. Soon a squaky bird takes to perchin’ on yer shoulder. Tha townsfolk begin ta ask fer yer okay on things o’ trivial matter. Yer first mate, who lost 'is leg years ago ta scurvy, suddenly had a peg 'stead of a prosthetic. Congrats, matey– yer tha cap'n of tha town
  39. “Arrrr! the hour to loot EA 'o their precious Sims lovely booty!!”
  40. 'tis not uncommon fer a scurvy pirate to loose a hand or a foot on his travels. ye 'n ye crew dig up a chest full 'o hands 'n feet.
  41. Ye swore on a loved one’s grave that ye would someday sail to th’ legendary Grand Arcada, an ocean which none have ever found. this day, ye awoke to find ye ship stolen from ye - 'n th’ strange people seem to be changin’ ye course…
  42. A pirate loses his scurvy pirate accent 'n has to go find a different ship because they don’t fit in anymore.
  43. Ye find an ancient treasure map, 'n indeed, under th’ “X” thar’s buried treasure. But what’s under th’ “Y” 'n “Z”?
  44. Ye cap'n has caught a deadly disease, 'n be on th’ verge 'o Davy Jones’ treasure chest. ye 'n ye crew decide to pull one last raid wit’ them. th’ big one.
  45. Th’ band 'o pirates 'n th’ vampires have come to together to stop th’ ultimate evil. How do ye defend yourself?
  46. Cap'n Gus has a secret, his magic beard grows more wild 'n tangled wit’ every wind it ensnares. Cuttin’ a hair causes a mild breeze, a lock 'o his beard unleashes a strong wind. Now, captured 'n condemned to execution, he asks if he could shave
  47. Ye be th’ cap'n 'o th’ most infamous scurvy pirate ship on th’ seven seven seas, ye 'n ye crew have be through pretty much everythin’ together. Currently ye be on th’ hunt fer mer-people, they fetch high prices on th’ black market fer their beauty. What ye crew dont be knowin’ however be that ye be a mer-person 'n ye 'n ye kind only have tails when ye peglegs get wet.ye’re in th’ middle 'o a bath in ye quarters when ye first matey bustles in to speak to ye 'bout th’ ship’s course.
  48. Ye be a notorious scurvy pirate. ye’ve always be able to outrun th’ navy, but 'tis the hour they’re gainin’ on ye. ye agree to make a deal wit’ one 'o th’ lesser captains. What do they shout to ye?
  49. Arr, ye main character be kidnapped by a scurvy pirate at sea! It turns out th’ sea isn’t what it seems to be when he throws ye overboard to die….
  50. Ye cap'n has be noticeably feelin’ down, how does one scurvy pirate cheer up their cap'n back to their jolly self?
  51. What do ye do wit’ a drunken sailer?
  52. Ye’re a pirate who’s totally new to th’ business 'o stealin’ treasure from authoritative figures 'n don’t really be knowin’ what ye’re doin’. Suddenly, a dragon shows up 'n offers to tutor ye in piracy. What next?
  53. “What be land? I have forgotten.”
  54. Ye’re an undercover employee 'o th’ british government onboard a pirate ship on 'tis way to an uncharted island. ye mission be to find out what th’ band 'o pirates be goin’ thar fer.
  55. A pirate wit’ a rubber duck hand instead 'o a rusted hook
  56. Lesbian pirate flirtin’ wit’ sirens
  57. Ye were sent by th’ British government to spy on a notorious cap'n. ye join his crew 'n climb up th’ ranks 'til ye become his first matey. A few days before ye be to betray him, he tells ye a secret that changes everythin’. What be it?
  58. Th’ cap'n has gone missin’ overnight. ye, a mere chef, be th’ only one who can manage to control th’ crew. ye need to find whar ye cap'n has gone to.
  59. She was they best cap'n to sail th’ sea’s. She was Black Beard.
  60. Band 'o pirates be pillagin’ ye village, lookin’ fer somethin’. What they’re lookin’ fer be a wee unorthodox
  61. Th’ year be th’ far future, 'n space travel has be achieved. th’ human race has be denied entry into th’ galactic federations set up hundreds 'o years before their time. So, instead, we become space band 'o pirates. All 'o us.
  62. All ye pirates be sufferin from th’ evil scurvy, no matter how much citrus or undercooked meat they brin’ on th’ poop deck. they shout yer crews favoured wi th’ devil, but wee do they be knowin’ ye’ve just found th’ third cure to th’ scurvy
  63. “fer th’ last the time, don’t be puttin’ me tattered eyepatch in th’ dryer!”
  64. Ye look almost exactly like th’ female version 'o ye twin brother. Unfortunately, ye twin brother just so happens to be th’ notorious cap'n 'o a pirate crew. One day, he be killed, 'n th’ crew asks ye to pretend to be him so as to continue
  65. Th’ mermaid they pulled from th’ ocean turns out to be a jolly fighter. Maybe too jolly. Sh just killed th’ cap'n.
  66. Ye got scurvy. How ya gonna hide it from th’ cap'n?
  67. Ye pirate ship be stuck in 5 O'clock traffic. Somehow.
  68. Ye’re a stowaway on th’ dreaded cap'n LongBeard’s ship, tryin’ to find out whar he hides his treasure. Only problem be, ye’ve gotten caught sneakin’ around below deck.
  69. Ye’re th’ only jolly scurvy pirate in ye crew. ye’ve be tryin’ to keep it a secret, but then ye ship happens to sail past a group 'o sirens…
  70. Ye command one 'o th’ fiercest scurvy pirate ships in th’ seven seas. Just th’ mention 'o ye crew sends fear into th’ hearts 'o men 'n women. th’ only thin’ be, ye’ve never stepped foot on a boat.
  71. Ye’ve be travelin’ th’ seven seas fer a while now. Nothin’ can stand in ye way; ye 'n ye crew be unstoppable. 'til one thin’ crossed ye paths. What be that one thin’ 'n how do ye overcome it?
  72. Ye be th’ toughest scurvy pirate around. ye won many fights, pillaged many towns, 'n plundered dozens 'o ships. nothin’ could stand in ye way to riches, not even- oh god be that a baby on ye ship? who brought a baby?
  73. Ye be sailin’ th’ seven seven seas when yer lovely booty grows peglegs 'n starts swimmin’ off. How do ya catch a swimmin’ treasure hoard?
  74. Ye be a sea cap'n. Suddenly, ye ship lifts into th’ air. ye’re bein’ raided by sky band 'o pirates!
  75. Due to men believin’ eatin’ fruit was too feminine, th’ seven seas be now ruled by female band 'o pirates who beat their weakened males counterparts. Now, ye’re at a parrrty drinkin’ ornge spiced juice wit’ th’ victors.
  76. All ye pirates knows only women be sailors. Can ye think 'o anythin’ more unlucky than to have a scurvy dog onboard a ship? Still, rumour has it that th’ fiercest scurvy pirate ship 'o them all has a only-male crew.
  77. Ye meet Sodomy McScurvyLegs 'n buy a fitness regime. It opens up a whole new seven seas fer ye, an endless sea 'o knowledge… 'bout lovely booty.
  78. Turns out 'tis eyepatch be cursed to ne'er come off! Too bad ye put it on t’ wrong eye!
  79. Yrr secret island has been made into a parking lot and is overrun by scurvy lawyers while you were pirating. How do you fight lawyers? Your treasure is under that asphalt.
  80. Th’ cap'n 'o a magical sailin’ pirate ship takes several orphans under her proverbial win’s as new crew members
  81. “I lost m'hand to a shark, but I lost me eye to…”
  82. A rollickin’ scurvy pirate adventure from th’ point 'o view 'o th’ ship’s sea monster: th’ cat
  83. A classic pirate adventure wit’ a cursed object. Part 'o th’ curse be that th’ scurvy pirate cap'n 'n crew can never leave th’ ship 'n must come up wit’ creative ways to plunder, pillage, 'n eventually break th’ curse.
  84. Cuddle band 'o pirates- th’ fluffiest, snuggliest scurvy pirate crew ye can imagine, inexplicably survivin’ through skill 'n pluck in a grimdark hyper-edgy universe, rebellin’ against th’ grim 'n gritty status quo wit’ unflinchin’ optimism 'n hugs.
  85. “How th’ muck did ye get onto me ship 'n why be ye naked”
  86. “So ye meanin’ to be tellin’ me th’ map, which ye bought off a street vendor at Ivery Island, be an authentic map that leads to a literal buried treasure. scurvy dog, speak 'bout cliche.”
  87. Ye be highly disappointed when ye discover that th’ famous deadly 'Kraken’ be actually just a nutcracker.
  88. Two pirates travel th’ seven seas lookin’ fer lovely booty, but it turns out all they really want be each others lovely booty
  89. Ye finally come home from a year at sea 'n have to explain to ye main wench how ye got syphillis
  90. A scurvy pirate find th’ greatest treasure to be had: an island covered in lovely booty.
  91. Ye’re a pirate explorin’ uncharted waters when suddenly a giant hand made out 'o rum rises out 'o th’ ocean holdin’ a small baby wrapped in seaweed. th’ hand places th’ younglin’ on th’ deck 'o ye ship 'n disappears back into th’ depths. ye now have a child 'n a lot 'o questions.
  92. captains, greedy 'n tough 'n mean. But th’ strange thin’ 'bout him be that he wears a metal mask, 'n no one in th’ crew has ever seen him without it. One nightfall, ye resolve to spy wit’ ye eye th’ cap'n’s real face, so ye sneak into his cabin 'n sneak a peek 'o him sans mask. 'n what ye spy wit’ ye eye makes it clear to ye why ye cap'n would hide his face.
  93. Perhaps givin’ band 'o pirates Google Maps wasn’t th’..best idea
  94. Ye somehow became a pirate cap'n. One problem - ye be knowin’ nothin’ 'bout navigation…or ships…or fightin’ in general. But ye look well in a pirate coat 'n a hat, so thar be that.
  95. Ye’ve be captured by pirates, 'n thrown in th’ brig. th’ cap'n’s trusty parrot flies in, 'n says he can help ye escape.
  96. “Matey, yer lovely booty be th’ only one I be diggin’ fer t'night.”
  97. Ye’ve found pirate treasure by sheer dumb luck, but now th’ ghost 'o th’ lady pirate it belonged to be hauntin’ ye. 'n if that wasn’t that be all you can take, she’s got a crush on ye.
  98. Yer on a boat when suddenely yer First Mate throws 'imself over with no apparent reason. You dive in after him and find a grotto. What’s beyond it?
  99. Ye be that one guy on th’ ship that can swim. Somethin’ has jammed th’ rudder, stoppin’ th’ ship from makin’ it to port.
  100. Pretend ye’re a pirate 'n ye’ve just buried ye treasure. Draw a map 'n scribe below detailed instructions on how to find it again.

What prompt do ye like th’ most? Reblog if ye be a true scurvy pirate.

Castaway

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jongin (Kai)

Rating: 18+ (description of plane crash, explicit sex)

Word Count: 7,950

Summary: A plane crash leaves you stranded, somewhere deep in the Pacific Ocean. Your only company is Kim Jongin - though whether this is better than being alone, you still haven’t decided.

Keep reading

Jin and Time Travelling?

(Here is my theory based on the posters from Love Yourself linked in with WINGS, HYYH, INU, RUN and the Prologue)

So in both of Jin’s Love Yourself Posters, he talks about turning back time.

The first one:

“If I could turn back time, I want to be the greatest guy in the world.”

The second one:

“If I could turn back time, I want to go back to that summer sea.”

He he wants to go back to the ‘summer sea’ and become the greatest man in the world. So where is this summer sea and how will it make him the greatest man?

Think of it this way, The I NEED U MV (Original) came out in May 2015 and the prologue came out in October 2015. In between that is summer. In both of the videos, the boys can be seen beside the sea, at the end of I NEED U and in the prologue video.

They have a lot of fun by the sea. If you take the time between the release of the MVs, I think you could arguably say that this sea that they visit is the ‘summer sea.’

Anyway, back to the rest of the Love_Yourself posters. Before talking about the individual posters, I want to talk about the pairing ones first. These are the same pairings from Run/Prologue but mostly their WINGS Short Films (all theories on that are in my theory masterlist btw)

All of the members that came in pairs (Suga and Jungkook, Jimin and J-Hope, Rap Monster and V) had the same comment on their poster. “When we came back from that sea, we were all alone.”

As I’ve mentioned in my previous theories, I believe that the scene at the sea/beach in the prologue occurred before INU (and RUN). At the sea, they were all happy and good friends, no one seemed injured or hurt.

So they were at the sea, perfectly fine, but when they came back they sort of separated and became lonely and I think it’s to do with their individual posters.

(I’ll talk about Jungkook later) Suga’s poster the translation was “Don’t come near me, I’ll only bring you misfortune.” What if after they came back, the scene in Run happened. When Suga was ‘drunk’ and he and Jungkook got into a fight. Which then lead to the INU hotel scene, when he was alone, and Jungkook was out and got beaten up by those ‘thugs’ ultimately getting hit by a car.

If Suga and Kookie got into a fight, then in the end, it’s likely that he blames himself for Jungkook’s accident. He thinks he’s bought Jungkook misfortune by putting him into a wheelchair (from Jungkook’s poster). That’s why, in their pairing poster, the say that they were alone after coming back from the sea.

At the sea they were together, but after, they became lonely because of the fight

Next is Jimin and J-Hope. 

Theirs isn’t as obvious, but I think a lot of it links in with Hobi’s Short Film (theory here). He has Munchhausen’s syndrome where he basically fakes illness to keep himself in care. Like I said, Jimin took care of him the most as we can see in this scene in Run.

Now this is where I think it might have links to my Maknaes Drove the Hyungs Out Theory (please give it a read)

but that’s another story…

I guess this does come in to Jimin’s Love Yourself poster where is says, “I lied because there is no reason to love someone like me.” Jimin may have lied to keep J-Hope away from him, because he thinks he’s undeserving of love.

We know that Hoseok’s love is selfless as from his poster he says that “As long you can shine, I’m okay,” meaning that he’ll do anything to make someone else happy, even at his own expense. Jimin probably thought he didn’t deserve it and lied to J-Hope to push him away.

Now J Hope is ‘okay’ because he isn’t being so self-destructive in his love, and Jimin is just falling deeper into his lie and feelings of low self-worth.

In their pair photo, we can see that J-Hope is the one that’s in the bright room with the big window seemingly smiling, and Jimin is in a parallel room but it’s not well lit and the windows have bars on them

Jimin’s solo song Lie even said that he felt caught and trapped in his lie, so the room could be a personification of that. There could also be the fact that, because J-Hope is so sacrificing, he always wants to make others happy, even though he says he’s fine, maybe he isn’t? That’s why he fakes illnesses, to make it seem like maybe one person at least (hospital staff) care about him? Hmm…

Next is Rap Monster and V.

Extract from my theory as mentioned above ^

Another thing I want to bring in is both of their short films. V’s posters says “If I had made a different choice, would you not have left?“ Maybe he’s asking Namjoon this question. To which his reply, in his poster, is “I only watch you from behind, because now is not the time.” Notice how Rap Monster is on the bus and how Tae is crouched on the road? It could indicate RM leaving V.

Back to the short film, in V’s, he’s taken to be arrested after being caught vandalising graffiti. I’ve talked before about how I think that Rap /monster ran away from all the members, maybe he got sick of all of the graffitiing, the running in tunnels, the general bad behaviour, and tried to find ‘himself’ (reflection).

From my Reflection Short Film breakdown

V is saying that is he had made a different choice, maybe they wouldn’t be alone. Maybe they’d still be together.

And of course there’s this:

Again, V is asking for help, maybe he’s asking Namjoon for help, but Namjoon is just lying there saying “I’m fine” - maybe he found his peace, and broke the circle where he was always running to V and helping him.

They have the same caption as everyone else, we were alone when we came back from sea. They were really close friends at sea but after V’s attempted(?) suicide in the prologue, maybe Rap Monster realised that he needed to leave? Did he think he was a bad influence on Taehyung? He known know isn’t the time to get involved again, and just watched Tae from afar.

Coming to Jungkook, we all noticed that he was the only one that was happy in his poster with a ‘positive’ message on it. He got hit by that car in INU but seems to be at peace with the accident. What he is sad about, probably, is losing Suga (I already explained most of my thoughts on that poster here btw).

But where does Jin’s time travelling come into this? Well it’s clear that pretty much all of the members have their regrets. At least, they all know that they’ve become distant ever since they came back from their trip to the sea.

Suga bringing others misfortune, Jungkook’s in a wheelchair (but doesn’t seem to mind), Jimin had to tell a lie, J-Hope sacrificing himself to make others happy, V wishing he made a different choice, Rap Mons can only watch from behind. Jin wants to take it all back. All the bad things happened when they came back from the sea.

Remember at the end of the prologue, there was that scene where Jin’s looking at the picture that Rap Monster took of him and Suga at the petrol station?

But when he pulls is out later, it turns out that it’s just empty???

ANDDDDD then, Big Hit re-uploaded the video, but this time, the scene was missing!! What if that’s when Jin time travelled?! He wet back in time, so that scene where he was alone never happened.

I believe this happened in the Japanese Ver. of Blood, Sweat and Tears.

He travelled back to make it so that nothing in Run and INU happened? Made it so that no one would have their regrets, and everyone would be happy, taking them back to that summer sea. Would that make him the greatest guy in the world? To take away all of his members’ problems? Those six petals he holds so dear, he could really protect them?

What about right at the end of Jap BS&T?

When Jin rolls up to Namjoon’s petrol station where he works? Don’t you think that could be the point at which he travelled back in time. He’s alone in the car.

Jin even says, “it’s been a while” here. It’s been a while since they say each other. A while after the prologue, but just before INU. Rap Mon seems fairly happy here, not like how he was when he got mistreated in INU

Also, when Jin sees him, he doesn’t have his cigarette lollipop either, so he travels back to just before it all starts to go wrong, to go and save them.

Apparently Doctor Who is really popular is South Korea as well. Outside of Britain (where my UK ARMYs at?!) apparently South Korea holds the most views for the time travelling Doctor, so who knows?

What do you think? Did I miss something out? Let me know :D

- Widzz

The Tumblr Poetry Aesthetic, or: the stars, the sea, Icarus, dark suburbia, and the (un)intentional pandering and ungrowth of the well-established

this conversation was initiated for me (madina) personally by giana @syrupbrat and stefan @travelingsalesman. epoch discussed this extensively in our discord chat, and the content of this post is mostly pulled out of that discussion.

When browsing through the usual tags used to promote one’s own writing on Tumblr, such as #inkstay, #spilled ink, #poets on tumblr, etc, we seem to drown in the sameness of everyone’s writing styles that it all is indistinct. It boils down to a haze of blah blah blah stars, blah blah blah yet another comparison to a Greek mythology figure, more love poetry, girl as dangerous, boy as god, alcohol is the only way we’ll survive.

These themes originated in what one might call the heydays of Peak™ tumblr poetry (this is starting to sound like a school essay & smh I can’t let this post go that direction), circa 2013(?)-2015. Most of it was documented in @nosebleedclub‘s “Memories of a Certain Spring: A Workbook” – Nosebleed Club was, in fact, what you would point at if you were asked in 2014 what “Tumblr writing” is (cue the emphasis on was, the evolution of NBC continues until now & I feel like a proud daughter about it). Multiple networks and groups have then spanned from that model, some which are still going until now, some abandoned and left to the dust – just so that you could be part of that “elite cool kids club”, whether the original one or not. the writers in the original collective also had their writing styles copied and/or plagiarized to capitalize off how prevalent and popular this aesthetic is but nvm that’s not my place to extensively rant about

I do love the stars. The sea, mythology, dangerous teenage gods, I love them all and I honestly would die for them (yes, the planets, ocean, and those tragic myths included) – but when people write about them just because they think it’ll be popular, just because it fits into the predefined box of what is proven to be well liked – an aesthetic that has since consumed us – exploration and experimentation dies, and that’s when it becomes dangerous. Everything posted will only be the product of rehashing and emulating what has been written and consumed before – shallow imageries without anything to say, without anything to make it yours. It got over-commercialized fast and crumbled. Let’s not even mention those who made a fake persona to make their poetry feel more “real” and authentic, those who write about drugs and alcohol w/o experiences backing them up and only stereotypes & what other people have written about it.

This phenomenon is further supported by Tumblr itself being a bad site in general bad platform for writing on its own – those notes, those likes and reblogs, really do shape up to define you, whether you’re conscious of it happening or not. We all crave for that feeling of being noticed because that’s just how it is. I myself can’t even say I never wrote something just for those notes, and I’m sure others that started out writing in Tumblr can say the same. If you don’t realize it yourself; if you don’t become self-conscious of the fact that really, Tumblr is a bubble, and do not actively seek out for anything new because you don’t see the need for it – you get stuck in it. Even if you wrote with the aesthetic that we all fell in love with, there’s a chance that you won’t get the recognition you think it deserved – it crushes you, and the cycle repeats again.

(this aesthetic, in turn, bled and drenched almost every tumblr roleplay until they all became the same and unrecognizable individually, whether with the usual tropes of characters: Sad Rich Girl With A Heart Of Gold. Bad Rich Boy With A Heart Of Gold. Gay Guy With A Bad Past So He’s Hypersexual Now – or situational: your edgy Welcome To This Small Suburban Town Where Everyone is a Supernatural Creature, or perhaps your This Is A Simulation of a Real Life Town for People Who Have No Lives)

Personally, I do believe in the existence of Bad Poetry – though “underdeveloped” is the word I prefer to use (maybe it’s just because I’m a softie and I can’t say outright that it’s bad, but let’s be real, bad poetry is bad poetry). No soul and nothing else to offer than just a few pretty words and fleeting concepts. Pseudo-profound bullshittery. u wanna get off it?

  • internalize the fact that we unconsciously seek for approval
  • get off tumblr for a while and write in your solitude 
  • consume more than u write.
  • explore & experiment upon different themes and structure. get out of your comfort zone in writing
  • write about your own memories and experiences, whether good or bad or interesting or not interesting, not what is deemed is consumable
  • turn to your culture and read up those local myths

– Honestly, I don’t know how because it cannot be forced. But recognizing that this exists will in turn make you think even more critically about your writing.

oh, that’s it – be critical. To the words that surround you & the words that come out of you.

To close this off: “its Everywhere like i get it . u wanna be a vampire cheerleader with a smile too big. i Get it . lets do something else” - @arckhaic

Mermaids: A Guide

Contents

  • O R I G I N S 
    Atargatis 
    Greek Gods

  • S P E C I E S
    General Capabilities
    - Nereides
    - Sirens 
    - Zagreus
    - Melusina
    - Briareos 
    - Galatos

  • L A N G U A G E
    Origins
    Basic Phrases
    Endearments

  • C U L T U R E 
    Magic
    Honor & Law
    Mating vs Bonding
    Courting
    Mating & Children
    Family Life

  • L I N K   T O  T H E  S T O R Y : C O R A L  &  B O N E
    This guide is based on the mermaids of Coral and Bone, who originate from the Assyrian goddess Atargatis and also, the Greek gods. This explores the theory of if the gods and their descendants fled to the sea in modern times.

Keep reading

Skies of Water; Ocean of Air

Here’s a little (long) fanfic/wingfic I wrote. Today… I have way too much time on my hands honestly. I swear to god. Either way! Enjoy the minor Shklance! Enjoy the Langst! And mostly! Please enjoy my shitty writing abilities!

Lance knew from a young age that he was different. Even with no one to guide him or explain it to him he knew. Maybe it was extinct. Maybe it was in the way people skirted around him. Or in the way he saw things as a child. He had always been a little different in a way. And not just the physical signs, but in himself as a person as well. The way he saw the world was a lot bigger than how his siblings saw it. He saw more than just the skies and a land to look down upon. He saw the oceans they couldn’t swim in, full of gorgeous fish and beautiful vibrant colors no paint could ever match, the mountains they didn’t bother to climb, seeing the view from a bright side, with the rust colored dust of the earth staining his clawed hands, saw the skitter of wildlife in a forest too thick with trees to move around in, the sight they ignored because they couldn’t grasp a place where the sky was not seen and the wind was silent for the sounds of nature singing. Lance saw the world with a different view.

Not everyone liked that view.

The way their words would sting him, lash out at him like a poisoned whip reminded him of that without them having to out rightly state it. Leaving marks much farther than skin deep on his young mind. Their backs, always turned away from him, shunning him away from where he wanted to be in their family. The way their wings would always taunt him. Show him the life he couldn’t have. The beauty he’d never have. The love he’d never feel. Not even the woman who breathed life into him could love the way he saw the world. The only love he could feel was in the hidden alcoves of the ocean. Small shelters carved through the years by the sea itself.

In a way, Lance connected with the ocean. The ocean was so old, wise, and strong, different from the free, young sky. So liberal and wild in youth. Innocent in its fast winds. Lance was young, weak, but no long naive nor innocent like the sky. He was jaded like the ocean in his eyes and on the horizon. Balancing between two worlds. One which was his own by blood, and another which was his own by outcast and adopted love. The sky rejected him. But the ocean called to him. Blue waves with cutting forces were terrifying, like their voices, like their fists raised in disgusted fury. But the teal lapping waters were also a calm reassurance, isolated. And when Lance’s head would submerge. He would not be afraid. He didn’t have to be afraid of the water over his head. There were no feathers to get wet and weigh him down like dead weights He could open his eyes, and see the fish flying through the new world. The land was just an ocean of air after all. If Lance didn’t have wings to fly, then he could have a sky of water to swim.

The ocean was calling his name. A name they never gave him. A name that was his own.

Lance…

Not a single person could take that away from him.

That made him strong. Many thought wingless would always be weak, they couldn’t fight, couldn’t gain strength with wings they were not gifted with. Couldn’t compete. Couldn’t survive in the world without feathers and blood on their back. But the ocean made him strong. The currents would spar against him, like head strong winds for his arms and legs. Flying underwater. The rocks in the ocean would test him. Sharping the claws of his hands. Teaching him to climb higher and reach for the sky in ways that those he knew would not think of. Would look at with disgust.

Just because he didn’t have wings didn’t mean he didn’t know the world. Lance probably knew more of it than anyone with wings. He felt the sting of wind in his face, the heights of a large mountain he’d conquered through reaching claws and hard effort. But he’d also felt the sting of ocean water on his face. Warm lapping salt water, reaching for him. Like it was calling him to come home to it. Once and for all.

The sky was their home. The shores and the ocean was his home.

Now, however, he was far away from his home.

He wanted to go home.

Lance sighed, looking at the soft pliant skin on his hands from the rafters of the castle. The way their shifted from soft skin, to hard claws without Lance even blinking. It had hurt the first time. But, now it was instinct. All good things had to hurt, right? Bad things hurt too he guessed however.

Long cold nights away from a happy nest. Watching them fly together with bright smiles, as if they were urging him to join them in the happy games. But he could not join them. He never told them. And they never asked anything different. It was assumed.

Lance was assumed to have wings like them.

Assumed to just be shy with his wings.

Assumed to be a loner.

Rather than asked.

It was alright thought, they weren’t far off from assuming that he preferred to be alone. Honestly, he did prefer the quiet nights. But these weren’t quiet nights. Nights in a place with no pool, no water, no sand. These were just lonely nights. Nights away from the one place he could forever call home.

He missed the rock walls, rough against his skin. The way it would vibrate on stormy nights when his family would and lock him out of the house. Protect him from the rampaging clouds and crashing thunder. The way the water would splash up against his ankles. Cold in the storms, but cold in the best ways. The sea foam tickling his tan skin. He missed the slight burn and tingle of salt water on his skin. The way the water would look when the storm would break, the silver moon light and peace the cold waves would bring to him. The ocean was old, yet full of vigor. It could’ve kill Lance without thought when he was smaller, yet it didn’t. The moons pull on the waves of the ocean, sparing his wide eyes full of wonder, and showing him a new world, a home. Letting Lance see the way the sun would rise over the ocean. Glimmering red, yellow, and orange on the waves of a warming blue sea. Glittering and beautiful in a way that no one ever stopped to appreciate. The sea let Lance appreciate its beauty, let him watch night after day and after another night. Let him live to breathe the salt in the sky of dark blue tides. The smell of salt on the breeze. No one liked the ocean. Like no one liked the real Lance.

He missed the ocean.

He still heard it’s call.

Beckoning him home.

A presence to his side jolted Lance out of his thoughts, turning his long and sharp salt stained claws back into smooth flawless skin and fingers as Lance twisted his body. Greeting the new person with a wide smile. The leader of their impromptu flock, Shiro.

Honestly speaking Shiro really was a sight to behold, and even with the hopelessness that accompanied seeing such majestic wings, Lance’s smile was real. Because with Lance’s view of the world. Even in pain and in hiding. He still saw the big world and everything in it as beautiful. Including Shiro with his broad body and even sturdier wings. Darker than the night sky with flecks of white. No midnight blues however. The ocean wasn’t in anyone’s wings. Just his own eyes. Shiro’s eyes were battle hardened, but still kind. And his smile was gentle. Like the nudging of the schools of fish that would nibble at his skin, brush their scales against his fingertips as they dared to get closer to the familiar being. Shiro smiled just like that this time.

“Hey Lance, we missed you preening yesterday, and flying today. Are you feeling alright?” Lance smiled. Assumptions. As-sump-tions. Such a simple word. With so much meaning. So much ability to alter and change a person’s view. Lance never assumed anything. Then again, he also assumed everything. He had a different view of the word.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just relaxing.” Shiro’s wings fluttered, an obvious show of unsettlement or awkwardness. As if Shiro was trying to build up courage to ask the withdrawn flock member something. Lance watched. Even without wings Lance could read the emotions displayed on others. He had to learn how to read people to avoid their worse moods normally. Wings were how people told emotions from other people, being the most obvious sign of body language. Lance could read moods well. Seeing his sister shift from calm, to annoy at just the mere sound of his breath. His father turn from pride to rage at a single speck of his existence. Being the outlet of anger was normal for him. Taught him many things in life, but sometimes even Lance knew that he had to escape and wait. Sometimes Lance would disappear to the ocean for weeks at a time. Only coming home so that he wouldn’t be deemed a ‘flight risk’. Heh. A flightless flight risk. Wasn’t there a joke in that somewhere?

           Maybe that’s why people were so wary and awkward with him before they knew. Most people kept their wings out to show emotion. Most people couldn’t tell emotion without seeing someone’s wings. Lance was probably a husk to them. Emotionless. Like the porcelain mask of a doll. Not showing off your wings meant discomfort, distrust in your surroundings. Lance was probably just one giant enigma to them. A hard shell that didn’t look one second closer to opening up then when they had begun to form a flock in space so long ago.

           At least Lance could make them assume he had wings. Using his claws and climbing skills to reach high places. Climbing wasn’t a well-known or practiced skill after all. Lance hadn’t even known it had a name until he found an old history book from before humans had formed wings. When Lance could’ve been considered normal. So even if they didn’t see his wings, they’d see him lazily resting in the rafters and assume he’d gone up there to stare at the stars and enjoy the silence as he often did. The clearing of Shiro’s thought gathered Lance’s wondering thoughts again. Making Lance look at him with those wide eyes that had Shiro lost.

           To Shiro they were like the deepest galaxy imaginable. Dark blues and light blues, white and black. Swirling. With ferocity and gentleness. Like the ocean Lance always described. Lance’s eyes were like both their homes. Shiro’s home in Lance was the night sky. Lance’s, the reflection of the only home he ever loved.

           “Lance, why don’t you come fly with me? We could go to my nest if you’d like? You probably could use a good preening, I could help if you’d like? Straighten out your feathers while we watch some old movies?” Lance gave Shiro another ambiguous smile. Confusing Shiro greatly as Lance declined gently.

           It was difficult. Leading a flock. But what was harder was knowing that one of the people in his flock that he cared about so much was still distrusting of him. Still hiding the wings Shiro knew would be gorgeous. Still hiding the thing that would tell Shiro exactly what those distant eyes and smiles that tugged at his chest meant.

           Shiro would often find himself wondering what Lance’s wings could be like. Would they be brown like Hunk’s? Dark and powerful? Or would they be so black they were almost blue? Like the starry sky that Shiro saw in his eyes with every passing glance. Were they built for power or speed? Or were they built for neither? Were they an ivory color to give a beautiful contrast to his caramel colored skin? How would they react? Would they express the emotions that Lance never spoke? Childishly expressive. Or were they like Lance’s body, slim, lean, and closed off. Revealing nothing more than what he was willingly to show.

           Shiro didn’t know. And it was killing him slowly.

           Shiro didn’t know how Lance felt and it hurt him. Him and Keith. Him and the flock.

           Lance would always smile, ruffle Pidge’s hair. Give Hunk big hugs and large grins to reassure him. But he’d never show them his wings. His most telling part of himself. Nor would he touch theirs. He would glance at them. Shiro and everyone else could see the glances, the lingering gazes on their wings. They knew that Lance was gifted with people, and very wary of them. He could read their every mood like a book. But no one could tell what was in his eyes. Not even the Alteans could. Not even Coran, who was very obvious in his favoritism towards the blue paladin, could tell what was hidden in those royal blues eyes.

           Hunk had never even noticed until they had pointed it out to him. Shiro asking what Lance’s wings were like. Hunk had been his roommate after all. Sharing a living space for so long and being such close friends. But Hunk hadn’t known a thing. Hunk said that the Garrison hadn’t been very active with their flight training besides piloting, as many were obsessed with flying in their free time. Hunk had just assumed Lance was just one of those people who liked to relax without his wings out. There were few people who didn’t like to stretch out their wings at every chance. Feeling shy of how their wings reacted or moved. And just kept them to themselves. And Shiro accepted that excuse for a while.

           But then the months had dragged on. Bonding sessions. And mind melding. The link between paladins were everything was supposed to be visible, the moment Shiro tried to pry into the Blue paladin’s mind, it changed from pure clarity, to a haze. Only now and again he’d see flashes of the water and sand. Wet skin. And it always scared and fascinated him when he saw the rare sight of the water below its surface. Bright almost teal colors water, beige sand like silk on ‘his’ feet. The schools of fish swimming in front of him. Around him. Sometimes tickling his skin. It scared him because as beautiful as the ocean and water was. It was so quick to kill those of the sky. Leaving that place in Lance’s mind always made him wander if want he was seeing was a memory or a fantasy. Whether the fantasy was the beauty of an ocean he couldn’t touch living apparently on a beach in Cuba with his family. Or if it was a fantasy of wanting to drown in those beautiful waves. The linger taste of salt and the feeling of being washed away onto the shore of reality after these mind drifts left the bad taste of doubt in his mouth. It scared the others too when Shiro convinced them to visit the strange world. The scariest of all their reactions being Allura’s, who was tuned to the emotions of mind melding and said with certainty, that what Lance felt in those moments was a longing. A call for home in the water.

           It terrified Shiro.

           But also confused him when he considered the other’s minds. The clarity of the skies in their minds. From city skylines and buildings, to the red of the desert sunsets, and the night sky of his own mind. Smiling faces of family. And Lance’s was a foggy foundation of cold grasping tides at his ankles. Seemingly lying in wait to grab and snuff out the gorgeous light that Shiro called Lance.

           Shiro just wanted to know Lance. Get to know his moods, the way his eyes would glide over everyone. As if gauging damage, how to help them, how to smile at them and make them feel better. How to fix the castle. How to make Hunk’s anxiety lessen or how to drag Pidge away from her computer gremlin ways. The way Lance almost glided through the air, on his feet not his wings. Shiro could only imagine how graceful Lance would be in his own sky. The sky that they could never find inside his mind.

           There was only one time, when Shiro had felt like they had maybe taken a step closer to Lance as a team. Pulled the Hispanic teenager a little closer to their hearts and to their home. It was when Allura had insisted they learned a thing called climbing. A way to scale into the air, without wings. Allura had said it was for an emergency if their wings were injured, but Shiro had always wondered if it was a way of training that they could finally include Lance in.

           Though, for Lance it was barely training as it was total slaughter. It turned out that Lance was extremely good at climbing. Almost vibrating in visible excitement at the task as soon as Allura described it to everyone’s surprise. Finding nicks and crannies to dig his fingers into to lift him higher. While Keith had climbed the valiant height of ten feet, the highest of all the first four paladins so far. Lance had taken one glance at the wall. And scaled it in mere seconds. A flash of brown hair and then he was there. Sitting at the top. Head tilted up and his body straight, looking completely at peace, unobtainable. A boy in the rafters. A boy too high to reach. Too far away to even touch.

           It was then that Shiro had learned about Lance, and both him and his mate Keith’s budding interest in the mysterious goofy brunette. As Lance sat there at the top. Beating Shiro and Keith in every race they challenged him to on the rock wall. The other flock members giving up after a while of reaching for the inaccessible boy’s hand. Failing to grab the lifeline that tried to grab onto them and teach them by even the full length of their wingspan. Not a feather could touch.

           Lance had been sitting there at the edge. His legs dangling down, the ships lights were soft in the evening glow. Reflecting off Lance’s skin and giving him an almost shuddering and unearthly radiance. Shiro saw the boy in a new light, not the distrustful boy that was closed off. But the strong boy beneath it all. With broad shoulders and strong arms that pulled him closer toward whatever height he reached for. The curve and curl of his muscles and spine. Flexible. Durable. Stunning. It was then that Lance had spoken to them for the first time about himself. Not a joke. Not playful flirting.

           The faraway look in his eyes seemed softer, closer, almost vulnerable, it was the closest Shiro had felt to connecting with Lance’s emotions and knowing them without the crutch of wings. Lance’s full and pink lips recounting times of when he’d apparently climbed the rock structures around the beach of his home. Climbing them for fun and for a peaceful moment. Even Keith, the worst at reading people could hear the longing in Lance’s voice as he talked about the view. Seeing the sky and the ocean almost blending together on the horizon. With the wind in his hair and dust on his hands. He said the view was almost better when you had to work to get it. Keith, who’d be reluctant about the idea of climbing and weirded out by it, suddenly got exactly why Lance seemed to love it.

           Insecurities. Lance was the one with a home back on earth. Lance was the one that was in between, not new enough to shooting and training to make large progress, and not good enough to be seen at the highest levels like Shiro and Keith. He was the blurry and unrecognizable middle.

           Hazy.

           Like fog rolling over the ocean in the early morning when the sky was warming and the water was still cold.

           Climbing was something Lance was secure in. Familiar with. It was something that Lance could connect to his home with. Watching Lance close his eyes, almost looking like he was relishing the texture of rough and cool rock beneath his hands. Lance had admitted the other thing missing was the dust and taste of salt in the air.

           Salt.

           Like the taste of his deadly fantasy.

           Lance watched as Shiro pulled away slowly and reluctantly from his own thoughts. Spreading those raven black wings and flying away from the tan boy. The boy with the stars in his eyes and Shiro’s heart in his mercy. They had to get going to the planet’s surface soon, and Shiro knew that Lance wasn’t going to fly down to go to the team in view of his eyes. So he glided away, only glancing back once he was on the ground at the end of the hall. Seeing Lance still sitting there. A far away look and one leg dangling teasingly from the edge. So close. Yet so far.

           Unattainable.

           After a half an hour of rounding up rowdy flock members Shiro was able to explain the details of the planet and the mission they had to carry out. Shiro was both excited for the mission and anxious. It was actually a secret vacation day for the flock, to fly and relax on a planet was oxygen. But, there was one thing.

           It was an ocean planet.

           Beaches as far as they eye could see.

           With rowdy kids that couldn’t swim, and one that seemed to dream of going under the waves.

           Yeah, Shiro was a nervous wreck to say the least. But after seeing Lance’s excitement at hearing the words beach and sand. Shiro relaxed. Watching closely as Lance used wild hand gestures to describe how many things they could do on the beach. He even promised to show Pidge how to skip a rock past two skips. Demonstrating flicking wrist motions with vigor and a large grin on his face. And after about three hours on the beach, Shiro was fully confident and relaxed that everything would be fine.

           Except, that was exactly when shit hit the fan.

           Lance was sitting high up on one of the rocky cliffs, admiring the view and keeping an eye on Pidge and Hunk, who were both splashing and carefully flying over the ebb and flows of the planet’s deep blue marine. Of course, that mean he was the first one to see and react to Pidge losing control and falling into the water. Unable to fly away in time to stop herself from being grabbed and dragged under.

           It was like he was on autopilot and Hunk screamed Pidge’s name and Lance dove into the water. Ignoring Hunk’s scream of protest. The fear of losing two teammates, two best friends at once. But Lance wasn’t going to listen this time. Not when he could help Pidge. The girl he’d come to see as a little sister. A younger sibling.

           Someone he had to protect.

           The water was different here, but in many ways. It was exactly the same. The push and pull of the tide. Tugging his body in every which way. Yet still guiding him. Towards the sinking girl just barely in his reach. Her eyes were closed and she was limb, but Lance wasn’t afraid yet. The waves were helping him, giving him that final pull down to grab her, before the push came, dragging Lance and his friend towards the shore and the surface. Lance mourned the sight. He wanted to relish in the sight, the sounds, the feeling of being weightless. But this ocean was not his home. This ocean was trying to push him away, telling him this wasn’t home. But an outreach of it.

           Voices. The voice calling him home was never so urgent and loud in his mind than in that moment. But it wasn’t calling him into the depths. It was calling him out of these depths. Urging him to go towards the ocean of air. To give his friend the oxygen she needed. Life Lance craved for her to keep. Lance’s muscles didn’t strain in the water. Even with the added weight of his sodden friend. He broke the surface easily. Relieved as he shoved Pidge’s head above the water and heard her gasp and cough. It was wet sounding and sent shivers down his spine when he heard how close he’d been to failing her. But it was also a freeing sound. A sound that she was alive, as he held her close with one arm and used the other claw his way up the shore where the flock was gathered. Wing fluttering worriedly with various degrees of fear and relief on their faces. Lance’s claws elongated to dig into the solid earth beneath the loose sand to hoist Pidge up and shove her onto the dry said into their waiting arms as Lance’s head dropped. His arms spread in front of him in almost a push up position as he greedily gulped in air to replenish the energy he lost in carrying Pidge to shore. He didn’t notice them staring at the long black marble looking claws until it was too late. He was already in a sunk ship as they stared. Watching in horrific awe as Lance detached from the earth. Claws slipping easily through the sand with the lost tension and fluidly retracting and forming back into long fingers with soft tan skin as Lance sat up. His long limbs folding into his lap with one movement. Hands tucked into his sides protectively.

           He’d gotten them broken for his adaptation before. Hard rubber work boots, stomping and cruelly twisting into the flesh of his hands. Breaking bones and skin. He couldn’t even hold a skipping stone right for months after that. The pain being renewed and rebroken every time anyone in his family saw an inkling of tiny black kitten claws piercing his skin.

           What would they think over him now? Long, sharp, dangerous and war tore claws?

           Did he look like a monster now?

           Lance looked up nervously to them, still sitting on his knees as they stared. Until Coran kneeled in front of him. Holding out his hand for Lance to presumably place his own hand within as Coran smiled reassuringly.

           “Thank you for helping Pidge, can I see that your hands aren’t torn up from the currents?” Lance frowned for a fraction of a second. Body curling instinctively to protect his hands. But Coran didn’t back down. He cared for Lance. Very much. Lance reminded him of his own son, but also not. Lance was witty and funny, but even Coran could see that something was not clicking with the paladin. There was always something just a little, off. The way Lance would move, the way he’d act. Keeping everything he didn’t initiate at arm’s length. Avoiding bonding sessions or showing everyone his mind and his body. Coran felt the need to shield Lance from the harsh reality of the world that Lance had already suffered. And with this new development surfacing, Coran was not going to back down on his small bit of progress. It wasn’t the lad’s wings, but it obviously was a sensitive piece of him. A private and more personal side of him. The instincts and tools of a predator. But also not dangerous at all, as Pidge had been held by these same weapons, and had not been scratched in the slightest. Eventually Lance caved in, hand shaking as he gave Coran one of his hands. His arm trembling fiercely as he did so, the stares of the others and Coran’s touch seeming to make his anxiety worse as his arm tried to tug itself away as Coran was able to get a small grip. But Coran didn’t let him. Studying the smooth skin, and watching as it formed into the claws they’d just seen. They were blackish grey, like the rocks on the sand. With white scratches on their hard surface. Probably from the rocks. Coran gently traced the scratches. Lance didn’t flinch, rather, he stared at Coran curiously, relaxing as no threatening move was made against his hands. Even handing Coran his other hand with no resistance. Letting it shift immediately as soon as Coran’s skin touched his hand.

           Lance had never looked so calm then in that moment. Even Pidge who’d begun to breathe properly ventured closer, not even the least bit afraid as she practically sat on Lance and grabbed his hands. Studying them for herself. Pressing her fingers against the sharp edges with the pads of her fingers. Marveling that even when they looked like they could slice her skin easily they didn’t even leave a mark. Lance answered the silent question.

           “They’re for digging into rock. They won’t hurt you unless you apply force to it.” Pidge slid her finger against the claw, her skin curved around the smooth yet hard nails. But didn’t get cut.

           “When did you get these?” Lance shrugged.

           “I’ve had them for as long as I can remember. They make climbing and swimming easier.” Shiro injected himself into the conversation.

           “You can swim? How do you not drown?” Images of the ocean bubble back to the front of Shiro’s mind. Not a fantasy. A memory. Lance can swim. That’s amazing. It’s practically unheard of. Lance looked down sheepishly.

           “I just do I guess. I lived on the beach my whole life. I knew how to swim before I knew how to climb or say my alphabet honestly.” Shiro’s eyes were locked on Lance’s wet form, his brown hair was curling with the water in it and sticking to his face. Lance looked up at him and their eyes met. Shiro hadn’t seen a look like that on Lance ever. He looked so at home, kneeling in the sand and the water. Pidge hanging onto him like a lifeline as he held her up on his lap, hesitantly letting Pidge wrap her wings around him. He looked a little uncomfortable, but not about to deny the girl who still probably shaken up for her near-death experience. They all filed back into the castle shortly after that. Allura smiling as she immediately demanded they learn to swim from Lance. Everyone smiling at the joy apparent on Lance’s face when he saw the salt water pool. It was no beach, but it was something at least. And Shiro was happy to say that he seemed to be getting better at reading Lance. Not quite good. But no longer completely clueless. Just. In the middle.

           Though Shiro had to admit, it was nice to see Lance so happy and in his element, the swim shirts and shorts they had to wear were suffocation. The males in the group even stripped off the swimming shirt, just deciding to preen out the water after every lesson. Though, Lance seemed happy enough to wear the suffocating material. Shiro guessed it was how he grew up. Parent’s doting over his wings, placing a shirt on him to make sure the currents and salt didn’t rip away or ruin his feathers.

           Shiro wondered why he’d never heard of people swimming if that’s what Lance had grown up with on the coast. He’d visited the east coast after all. The closet he’d seen to swimming was boating. And that was a completely waterless sport if you were talking about getting yourself soaked in water and not machinery meant to withstand it.

           Lance was proving himself to be a man of many very odd talents and surprises. And it wasn’t a surprise to Shiro that it only intrigued him and made both him and Keith want the Cuban boy more than before. Longing to hold onto that tan skin, feel it underneath their hands, their lips. Feel soft hair and soft feathers. Even Lance’s odd shifting claws were perfect. Scratched up with ‘scars’, but so beautiful in their own way. Having a destructive power, yet grace to not breach skin and blood unless intentioned that way.

           Either way, Lance was happy with the outcome of the days. Shiro and Keith were ecstatic too as Lance began to grow closer. Hiding away less. Letting himself occasionally be held by them, letting them wrap their wings around him like a tight cocoon. Lance finally joining the cuddle sessions. Even without showing his own wings. It was progress. Progress like reading Lance’s moods. It made the two so happy. Lance was happy too.

           His truth was safe. Hidden.

           Until later on, it wasn’t.

           Shiro also wondered why he didn’t see it coming when the truth did come out.

           Lance flopped to the ground, back smacking on the metal loudly. Making Keith wince and panic. Back shots were forbidden in training as they often caused wing injuries. Hell, no one could ever sleep or rest on their backs without being uncomfortable. Keith was immediately kneeling on the ground, pulling Lance up and reaching for his back to check before Lance jerked away from him. Keith immediately backing down even when Shiro’s and probably Keith’s instincts too, were screaming at him to put his hand on Lance’s back and check the health of his wings. But Shiro hesitated. Lance hadn’t even shown them a feather. Touching them was probably a very off limits thing to do. Lance proved that right as he ducked into his room, promising Coran to check his wings, before coming out ten minutes later, smiling and saying it was just a little sore. Though they wanted to look and check for themselves, Coran simply told Lance to take it easy for the rest of the day. Lance had smiled at them and nodded. Going with what they said easily.

           If only Shiro had insisted on seeing Lance’s wings that day. Maybe he wouldn’t have been this way. Maybe Shiro wouldn’t have sent him on this mission. Either way, even possible different solution or way didn’t end with Shiro pacing in front of a healing pod that contained Lance after a mission gone wrong. Lance needing it after trapped in a crevice deep in the planet’s earth. The crevice was large enough for Pidge to fly in, but not Hunk or Shiro. But Lance wasn’t flying out. Keith and Pidge had to go down to get him. Finding Lance bloody and unconscious on the ground, but thankfully still breathing.

           Though nothing was more shocking then when Keith finally said fuck it to Lance’s privacy after dragging the injured boy out of the earth and lifted his shirt to make sure there was no damage. And there were some bruises, some gashes, not surprising to see after such a fall. The real surprise, is what they didn’t see.

           Wings.

           Lance’s back was muscular, but smooth, there was no protruding muscles or slit where his wings could tuck themselves in for protection. There was nothing to indicate Lance was even supposed to have wings on his back. It was bare. But oh god were there scars.

           Lash marks lined Lance’s back like tally marks on an elementary school chalk bored. Long slashes of thick scar tissue on Lance’s back that went in every direction. Shiro knew exactly what caused marks like that. Belts. Whips. He’d felt their sting before. It was a normal sight on him. He’d grown used to the sight of scars on himself.

           But god if the sight of scars on Lance didn’t make him sick with anger. How dare anyone put someone like Lance. Someone so self-sacrificing and pure through pain like that? How dare anyone touch the one he and his mate were hoping to claim. How. Dare. They. Even Keith had bristled at the sight. Wings stiffening and puffing up in a threatening pose to make everyone aware of his anger. Shiro’s own wings had a similar response. While Pidge cowered. Pressing her wings against her back to make herself smaller as she pressed herself into Allura’s side. As if she were hoping to disappear into the princess. Hunk looked like he wanted to throw up.

           Lance was a wingless.

           An abused, and mistreated boy.

           He swam and climbed, and did all of these amazing things, because he had no escape besides hiding into the waves of the ocean or the rocks of the shore. Having claws and ways to survive in a world that rejected him. Treated him as if he were a plague.

           Lance had been afraid of them.

           Afraid to tell them.

           Because he was hurt so badly before that he didn’t see any mercy. Probably didn’t think he was worthy of mercy. Only knowing hands raised to hurt him. Voice raised to yell. Shunned from affection. Preening sessions. Home. The beach was his home. The fantasy of being called home.

           The ocean called for him like the sky called for them.

           Shiro could understand it now, why Lance didn’t trust them. Why he was in pain.

           But that was over now.

           Royal blue eyes, dark and light as the ocean. With kindess and gentle waves, as well as storm and raging waters opened to them as the tan boy felt out of the pod and into their arms. Hands pressing flat against his back in a silent telling that they knew. Yet still held him close. And Lance closed his eyes. Letting himself be held by the two males. Held in their wings. Lance opened in his eyes, and in his mind he say the ocean. The pull of the tides pulling at his mind. Calling him home. And he closed his eyes with a smile. Holding on tighter.

           One day, he’d be a part of the ocean. One day, he’d get to go home. But today wasn’t the day for Lance to go marching home. Not yet. His sky of water had to wait for him, there was still the ocean of air for him to learn.

           He didn’t think his home minded waiting just a little bit longer.

           He’d be welcomed when the tide came all the same.

           Just, not now.

Rest Stop Part 4

When Lance woke up, his arm wasn’t a bloody mess anymore and he could hear something other than his heartbeat trying to dash out of his body. Exhaling, he scanned the room and realized the quite chatter he heard was from upstairs. It was probably the refugees. He blinked.

The refugees. Wait.

Sleep chamber knees or not, Lance scrambled out of the pod, his armor ruining the impact of the floor when he tripped. Lance kind of needed something to smack some sense in him as he frantically ran for the door.

Keith? Is Keith okay? Is Pidge? Where’s the team? I don’t see anyone in a pod, so that either means everything’s okay or someone’s dead-

Where’s my helmet?

Really, Lance? Now? Of all times?

The itch for to find it doesn’t make much sense until Lance remembers there are communication systems in his helmet. I’m a genius!

After three seconds of looking around the room like an idiot, Lance spots it on top of his folded jacket and jeans. His shoes sat next to them. Someone must have thought to leave them there for him, which was nice, but he wasn’t going to take off his armor until he knew no one was dead or in danger. Picking it up, he pushes it on his head and sighs as it turns on at his DNA signature. “Hello, anyone there?”

“Lance!” Allura’s pleased voice overwhelms him for a second, but he focuses on what she says. “I’m glad you’re awake. All the prisoners are located in the ballroom, and there were only a handful of injuries. Your fellow paladins are safe and doing recon at the moment. You can change into your regular clothes and join them in you wish, but Coran and I wouldn’t mind you hanging back.”

He smiles. Good, everyone was accounted for. “Nah, I’ll go.” He says, shucking off the armor on his calves. He pulls it off while Allura chatters on. “Okay, I’ll send them a message to let them know you woke up and will be joining them shortly. They’re on the coast of this island, which is relatively small, so you’ll be fine walking out the castle door and straight. Rest up when you’re done. We can’t have a paladin tired from battle injuries. Don’t think you can get away with it either. Hunk has a drone with him that monitors the rescue and I will see if you try anything reckless.”

“Okay, Allura.” He laughs, removing his chest plate. She huffs, and says goodbye, the switches off the coms. Lance pulls off his helmet and peels away his flight suit. His back is wide, exposed, and easy to see.

He knows. He knows. He should hurry.


Keith toes a thick chip of metal, flipping it over in a pile of rubble. They’ve just cleared out another jetty, reeling in prisoners with Pidge’s bayard on the floating escape pods, and pointing out the direction they should walk for help. A furry pile of three distinct round mounds hops past quickly, fluffy pastel fur tickling the other colors. It chirps in thanks before speeding up. Cold, dry hands pat Keith on the arm in gratitude as a leathery mix of tree and human walks past, thin legs extending to move the whole body like it’s floating above it.

He huffs. He wants Lance.

Yeah, he could admit it. Lance, was a solid person to have beside him. He always had Keith’s back, he was loyal and funny, and he had just taken a bullet for him. He wanted to make sure he was okay. He wouldn’t stop looking back, searching for a rustle in the bushes and a bright smile, his heart lighter but impatient without Lance.

Keith sighed and crossed his arms, smiling tiredly.

Yeah, he really couldn’t wait to have his sharpshooter by his side again.

After all, a good team takes two.


Lance tugs on the waistband of his jeans and slips on his shoes.

His armor is a heap on the floor in front of the pod - he’ll have to come pick it up later. Anxiety twirls around by his feet and dances up towards his back. His exposed back. There’s a problem. He needs to cover his tan skin immediately. But he hadn’t been left a shirt. He’d have to wear just his jacket and not take it off.

They did “salvage” in casual clothes for a reason. The armor, as protective as it was, added weight. It might have been light and flexible, but it still got in the way of some maneuvers, and if someone fell in water, it would weigh them down. Even if the helmet had life support, it only lasted so long. There were too many “what if’s” when it came to the armor and water. Their best chance at surviving was getting to the surface as fast as possible. Unnecessary weight would slow them down.

Funny how Lance was only physically light. He sunk like a rock everywhere else.

It was ironic how many people would want him to drown when he was the only one who could swim.

Stuffing his arms inside, Lance shrugged on his jacket, and zipped it up. He passed through the halls like a ghost, the survivors busy chattering around him. Demon held inside his jacket, he walked out into the semi tropical rainforest.


It was the worst possible situation.

Lance had just brushed past a leafy bush to have the sea roar in his ears and salt hit his lips. The team was hovering over the rocky coast that disappeared into the blue ocean, craving to save the pod tittering on a small cliff of rock, but unable to risk crossing the water. The pod was absolutely trashed , the spike of obsidian piercing the buoyancy - if it fell, it’d sink to the bottom. Flying out would get them both killed - the pod could fall and take one of the team down, trapping them in the waves, and both the prisoners and them would drown. But what made it horribly, horribly worse was who was in the pod.

“Dad! Matt!”

Two recongzinable faces peered out the door way, the door probably having been ripped off in the crash. Matt was gripping the edge, bracing himself and using his leg to hold back a weary Samuel Holt. He was definitely injured, unconcious, the small trail of dark blood dripping off into the ocean. The sea rocked and churned underneath them, an uncomplete death sentence, and the pod creaked ominously, ready to give in and crash at any second. Dread sat heavy on Lance’s tongue.

“Katie…”

Shiro was grasping Pidge by a hand, his face terrified but trying to gain control. Pidge wasn’t struggling against Shiro- she was struggling against herself, desperation written in her features, but the menacing roll of the ocean warded her away. All she wanted was to save them, Lance could tell, but her body was screaming to flee the water, to fly, to escape being dragged from the sky, dragged to a heavy, wet death. Hunk and Keith looked like a watered down version - scared, cautious motions back and forth, unsure and scared.

Lance’s hand was already playing with his zipper.

Everything about Matt screamed tense and near frantic. Tensed like a cat, his body locked against the open air, sagging like an acrobat on ropes, Matt clearly was trying to find a way out of this without killing himself, his dad, or his sister. But he hadn’t found a possibility. If he moved, the pod would tilt with his weight, or his dad would fall into the water. No one could fly out to them - he’d have to get off himself. But he couldn’t move, the floor of the pod wrecked with a spike behind him and Samuel supported by his leg.

Lance could be that possibility.

Like a sick bird that had finally had enough, the pod plummeted in the water with the screech of torn metal.

Pidge’s heartbroken scream matched it.

Lance was tearing out of his shoes and jacket, tossing it in the sand, head leaps and bounds ahead of him. Sand kicked up from his sprint sprayed the droid and the team as he raced past. Lance could feel their incredulous stares go from the flooded hunk of metal to his bare back, but it didn’t freeze the determination in his veins. He dove in the water with a splash.

Calm was the first word in his mind when the swirling blue washed over his head. It was calm here, the gentle roll of the current miles below him. He was light, weightless. The second word was control. In water, Lance was in command, a quiet authority. He pushed and pulled himself along, arms scooping out his way. Quick, strong kicks brought him to the submerged metal ship, and he pressed two hands to the metal, looking for the window. This ocean wasn’t his, wasn’t theirs’s. They needed to get out soon.

Gliding in through the empty window frame, Lance slinked up to search over the jagged metal and broken, dead wires. Matt’s transfixed face meet his. His eyebrows furrowed, and for someone who should be drowning, he was doing remarkably well at staying calm.

Matt stared at him as if he was a mirage almost, but Lance could tell Matt was the kind who didn’t care as long as they didn’t die. Tapping the roof of cramped pod, Lance waited for Matt to nod before reaching over and working Samuel over the barrier with him, pulling the older man into his arms. A cut craved out a thin line across his calf, a blood came from a smaller one of his head. He was clearly passed out and needed to be brought to the surface ASAP. Lance smiled and held up one finger, then two. Realizing Lance would come back for him, Matt nodded sagely and floated back.

Propelling off the wall, Lance left water dragging behind him. The weight in his arms was incredible - the man wasn’t much shorter than him but had to weigh almost twice as much with his wings.

Thick and waterlogged, they curved and looked fluffy like Pidge’s. Lowered with age, his wings dragged behind him like a pair of broken airplane wings. Streaked with brown and gray darker than Pidge’s, they’d ironically cause the man they made light to drown like an anchor if Lance let go.

He doesn’t dare tempt this new ocean.

Breaking past the surface with a gasp, Lance clutches Samuel to his chest and awkwardly swims to shore with one arm. Scrambling up the loose, wet clumps of sand, he ignores the stricken staring of them team and flips Samuel on his back.

He starts pumping Samuel’s chest.

Come on, come on.

He’s on a time limit, damnit!

He pushes harder, and Samuel suddenly jerks against him, coughing water out of his lungs. Lance takes the second to arrange him on his side so he doesn’t choke on his own vomit, then dashes back into the ocean. His kicks are a last-ditch effort that pay off, literally almost ramming himself into the pod. He yanks himself through the window and nearly slices his hand open on the broken metal wall. He might not be able to fly, but he can swim and save someone drowning. He can. He can, no matter how worthless he is. It is called a trash can - not a trash cannot. (He thinks that’s a line from some anime, but he doesn’t have time to really ask himself if he made a refrence while saving someone drowning. He probably did).

Matt’s lips are turning blue when Lance arrives. His jaw is set and cheeks ballooned out, precious oxygen held inside. Quickly, he reaches out to Lance, who helps him over the wreckage. Wrapping his arms around Lance’s neck, he tucks himself against his body. Lance latches an arm around him, careful to hook it under his wings. They are near replicas of Pidge’s, though clearly entering the final stages. Less childish, more rectangular in design, with darker hints of brown. The tops poke Lance gently in the face, but the bottoms are pressed to Matt’s knees.

Using the smooth sheet of metal as a boost, Lance rushed up to the surface, leaving the pod to sink even faster than before. The distance was greater, the weight heavy, and the time less, but he’d have wings before he let go of Matt.

Bobbing to the surface, he gulps in air. Matt is sucking in giant breathes against his neck, giggling and trembling with relief. He even happy kick-spams to shore with Lance.

But relief is far, far, away from Lance.

The weight of a wingless world crashes on his back, so, so much heavier than Matt or Samuel.

His shoes are too far away.

Shit.

He doesn’t wait for the team to ask questions, doesn’t give the anxiety and self hate a chance to strike, snatching up his jacket. There’s a quick “Hey-” before water is filling his ears again, and he’s swimming out, swimming away. Desperation and adrenaline sing in his veins, overruling this sea’s temper. This isn’t his ocean. The pushes and pulls are closer to shoves and yanks, semi-aggressively telling him to leave, but Lance makes his way through anyhow. Currents a similar shade of blue to the ones from Earth twirl around him, tiny air bubbles decorating them like stars. It’s frigid, a cold, agitated embrace that makes Lance burn in a satisfying way. He wasn’t like the others, he couldn’t be. No one wanted a wingless. Nothing was ever permanent, not even love.

Lance comes up for air, swallowing a lungful before smoothing back down into the deep. The few seconds he’s up, he hears the team,incomprehensible , but they’ve figured out he’s leaving. Fear pounding at the brittle door calm forces up in his head, Lance dives deeper, the water turning darker without the sunlight. He can still see, but the water is a murky, dusty blue, not the clear, aqua where the light reflects easily. His speed is probably breaking any records he’s had before. Nothing like the people you came to love hating you to make you have a lighting fast exit.

Rocketing through the water, Lance left giant disturbances in his wake. Air bubbles burst out of existence behind him. He had already shifted when he came up for air - his hands curved out his path with the webbing, and the water pressure boxed gently on his ears. His knees weren’t knees anymore, just two long, flat masses of flesh and bone that shot him through the water. The second pair of eyelids he had blinked out any grime in the water, the rhythm different and more pronounced than his first pair. His tongue pressed against the sharp eyeteeth in his mouth, the threat of nicking his tongue grounding him.

He doesn’t know how long he swims, limbs throbbing with fluid energy. He goes until rocks start to spike up, some gentle curves and other sudden daggers slicing through the water. Miles below, he can spot the muddled, bright light purple and galaxy red glow of underwater volcanoes in the darkness. Lance hasn’t seen anything alive yet, but he knew better than to test it by exploring near lava.

Gliding up against the smooth rock, Lance spots the openings to caves, pretty corals fanning out from them and shells dotted here and there. Clutching his jacket tighter, he twists through one. It’s small, and hallow, the water pooling much lower than the majority of the rock. The roaring of the waves crashing washes over the cave, but the cave shelters him. Coal black rock juts out here and there, blocky, but gorgeous in the way only sea caves were. Soft colored crystals lit up small patches of shadow, a handful clustered around an alcove.

Carefully, he clambers up the dry rock to the opening and settles back into it, his knees pulled to his chest, cheek resting against the even rock. The anxiety coils up inside his neck.

Now they despise you.

I mean, why wouldn’t they?

Even you despise you.

Useless, ugly, waste of space. Wingless.

Just drown in that goddamn ugly water you call home.

It suits you.

Nothing but extra weight.

God, why do you exist?

Chilly air pricks at Lance’s bare feet. He tucks himself tighter, wriggling his toes. His jacket is drenched, but he drapes it around the exposed parts of his back. He clings to the rock, hoping the warmth will come back. He’s not freezing, but numb, like rain soaked pavement.

Leave already!

He could stop here, lulled by the tune of a sea that wasn’t his, void emotions filling up his silhouette, abandoned by himself, half asleep in a crevice with a mundane storm brewing over head.

Yes, this would make a good rest stop.

lurkeymclurker  asked:

What do you think it'd be like if one of the Rogue One members had survived? How would that effect the original trilogy and how would they cope with everything?

Cassian didn’t talk, at first. There didn’t seem anything else to say.

.

Mothma came at some point. Cassian woke up and she was at his bedside, sitting ramrod-straight, so very tall and white, even moreso washed out by the lights of the medbay. (She made him think of the columns on Imenthe—natural salt deposits like spires, like teeth ringing the great and violent sea. He killed a man there, got blood on all that white, white salt. And afterward he had sat in the sand, watched the tide come in and wash it all away.

Mon Mothma always made him think of Imenthe.)

She was studying his face now, and Cassian raised his eyebrows at her. She smiled a little. “Ah, Captain. I—have spent the last half-hour trying to decide what I would say.” 

She was quiet a moment, then the smile turned rueful. “I’m still not certain whether there is anything I could say.”

Cassian snorted, shut his eyes again. After a moment, he felt a very cool hand pressed to his forehead. “Cassian,” Mothma said, and there was something almost human in her voice, a thing like kindness. “Cassian, you saved us. How will we ever repay you?”

The meddroid had been very clear, he wasn’t supposed to move unassisted. Cassian risked it to turn his head away, screwing his eyes so tightly shut that he could see those little floating stars flare to life behind his eyelids.

Mothma drew her hand away. 

He heard her stand, the chair scraping a little as she did. “Bodhi Rook was released from bacta suspension last night,” she said, and her voice was cool again, impersonal. “He is expected to make a full recovery. The technicians are still working to fully recover K-2SO’s backup, but…I believe this means you were more than just successful in your mission, Captain. You brought everyone home.

“I thought you might be interested to know,” Mothma added after a moment. Her boots made a sharp, clipped noise on the stone floor, and then she was gone. 

Cassian went back to sleep.

.

(He only vaguely remembers what happened after Scarif. The adrenaline wore away quickly after Krennic was dead, and in its place came a rising pain, pain like the firestorm that engulfed Jedha. By the time they stumbled from the lifttube, Jyn was the only thing holding him upright; Jyn was telling him, cassian cassian c’mon, just a little farther, okay? just a little—it’ll be over soon, you can rest, I’ll let you rest, just—just—

But the rest is a scattered succession of images, half-memories: the sound of a ship’s engine overhead, and Jyn shouting here, we’re here!, a heavy weight on Cassian’s chest and screams he couldn’t make out (was that him screaming?) too much pain—he thinks he passed out once or twice; someone asking for his medical history and Cassian slurring, ask kaytoo, he keeps my records, before remembering—

I can’t feel my legs, he said at one point, he remembers that. Jyn’s face swimming into his vision, the red of blood streaked across her cheek. I can’t…that’s not good, is it, if I can’t…

Flickering lights, medical jargon he couldn’t understand. Someone saying spine, and spine again. (Every time he shut his eyes he could feel himself falling again, the whip-bang of the metal landing—) His spine again. Jyn’s voice, high and tight, saying yes, okay, yes. do whatever you have to.

When he woke up in the medbay on Yavin, he was alone.)

.

Cassian’s dreams were confused, a muddled haze of dead sentients clawing at his skin and his mother’s face—out of focus, distant and cold as a moon; he barely remembered enough of her to dream it anymore—and then suddenly, a cool pressure on his mind, rippling outwards. He was standing at the edge of a vast ocean, breathing in the cold tang of salt and the water. 

It was quiet.

He exhaled, and then he was lying in the medbay, and the sound of waves beating against the shore was just the thrum of blood in his ears.

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On My Own (Harry Hook) Part Three

Originally posted by adisneylover92things

“You swore you’d never hurt me”

“You swore you’d never leave me On My Own

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four


“Harry Hook is coming to Auradon.”

You woke up in a cold sweat while the stars were still out and the moon was still shining. You checked the clock sitting beside your bed and sighed. Three o’clock in the morning. You had roughly six hours until Uma, Harry, Gil, and their wharf rats arrived. Great.

Glancing over to make sure Lonnie was still asleep, you silently moved over to the window seat, staring up at the night sky. Sighing, you slid on a pair of shoes and snuck out of the dorm room, following a path engraved in your head. About a week after you first got to Auradon, when you were feeling more than a little homesick, you used a spell taught to you by your father, Dr. Facilier, to find your way up to the roof where you could just barely see some of the ocean.

Sitting down on the blanket you had brought, you stared at the small sliver of ocean visible to you from the high rooftop. It was times like this you couldn’t help but let your mind wander back to Harry. You were still surprised he accepted the offer to come to Auradon, but something told you he only did it because Uma told him to. Some small, dying part of you wished for the reason he accepted to be because of you, but you knew it was a lie. Harry Hook was a lot of things. A liar, a psychopath, murderer, deranged. But, a romantic was not one of them.

You slowly laid back, staring up at the stars. “Second star to the right, and straight on till morning,” You mumbled to yourself before laughing slightly. A certain friend of yours, a hat wearing, hook wielding friend, once told you those directions. Apparently, that was where the Jolly Roger, his father’s ship, once sailed the seas. He talked about visiting the place called Neverland a lot, to see the boy that never grew up. The one that defeated his father.

He never told you, but you could sense the true meaning behind his words. The reason he actually wanted to go to Neverland; to finally defeat Peter Pan, to prove that he was stronger than Captain James Hook.

You couldn’t help but think that whatever insidious plan Uma and her first mate had brewing would prove even more than that.


“Well, isn’t this just a warm welcome?”

You stood in front of Auradon bright and early that morning, glaring out of the corner of your eye at the King as Uma and her lackeys stepped out of the limousine. Fair Godmother and Ben exchanged gleeful glances as the band slowly died down.

“Hey, Guys. I’m King Ben of Auradon and I welcome you to Auradon Prep!” Ben introduced, reaching his hand out to shake the hand of one of the wharf rats’ (Sylvester Smee if memory serves you right). Immediately his hand was knocked aside by the rugged pirate with a glare. “Don’t touch me,” He sneered at the King.

“We do not take that kind of tone here, Young Man!” Fairy Godmother shot back, giving him a stern look.

“Yeah, Keep your mouth shut, Sylvester,” Uma added, giving him a lethal smile. The boy just cowered before slinking back of the very back of the huddle of pirates. You could feel Doug’s relief from where he stood with the band. He didn’t have to deal with showing them around and explaining the classes to the Villains this time. Oh no, that job was stuck with you…

“Come on, Y/N, if anyone knows how to control those pirates it’s you!” Ben had said as you stood in his office, still soaking in the fact he was bringing some of the lowest form of evil into Auradon in the form of a sea witch and her two minions.

You shook your head at the boy stubbornly. “No way, Ben. I’m not getting stuck with that group of rats. Not if you promised me a golden horse.”

“What about a golden minifridge?”

Turns out he didn’t mean golden as in the minifridge was made of gold, rather the minifridge was painted a gold color. You ended up giving it to Evie to keep her special chemicals at the perfect temperature.

You were so lost in your thoughts you didn’t even notice all of the people staring at you expectantly. Your face flushed red as you stared back at Ben. “What did I miss?”


“And here is where you will be attending your remedial goodness classes, taught by Fairy Godmother herself,” You announced, stopping at a set of doors that led to a room you had become very acquainted with.

“What’s remedial goodness?” Gil asked with a curious look.

“You’ll be taught the rights and wrongs. Like no poisoning, killing, or stabbing someone with a hook,” You replied swiftly, not sparing a glance to the pirate clad in red leather that was standing at the back of the group, though you could feel his eyes boring into you.

“No hooking?” Harry whined, slinking over to where you stood. “But that’s my speciality.”

“I thought scaring was your speciality?” You remarked, raising an eyebrow at the pirate. He smirked slightly, curling his arm around your shoulders, “Yer talking to a man of many talents, lass.”

You scoffed, pushing the brunet away, “ The girls’ dormitories are that way, the boys’ are that way, just follow the signs. You’ll find your name engraved on a plaque outside of your designated room, all rooms and roommates are final. No switching,” You instructed, motioning to opposite sides of the school. “That’s the end of our tour, if you have any questions feel free to find me or Ben and ask.”

The group of pirates slowly dispersed, leaving just Harry, Uma, and Gil standing in front of you. You sighed, running a hand through your hair, “Yes?”

“We aren’t staying in separate dorms. Put us in a dorm together,” Uma demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. Your eyebrows shot up. This witch.

“As I clearly stated, all rooms and roommates are final. No switching. The rules state no more than two to a dorm, and girls and guys can’t share dorms,” You stated blandly, not in the mood to deal with the pirates before you.

“Yeah, well, we’re villains. We don’t do rules. You should know that, seeing as you were once one yourself, before you turned your back on evil like the rest of those pansies,” Uma shot back. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh, if you want to go against the rules you can gladly return to the Isle, it won’t hurt my feelings at all. Otherwise, shut your lobster trap and get to your dorms.”

From the corner of your eye you could see Harry move to go toward you, only to be stopped by Uma. “Harry, chill.” She muttered, eyes boring into yours coldly before whipping around and walking in the direction of the girls’ dorms.

“You’re messing with the wrong pirates, Lass,” Harry seethed, whipping around and yanking Gil to the boys’ dorms.

“Bye, Y/N!” Gil called out, giving you a happy wave before he disappeared.

Do you think Fairy Godmother would let me graduate a few years early?


“Look at her over there, acting like she’s so much better than us,” Uma growled, watching you angrily from across the courtyard. She slammed her fist on the picnic table, startling the son of Gaston. He shook his head, turning back to building a mashed potato sculpture. But, moments later, a tray was slammed down on the table, demolishing the masterpiece.

“This place is so borin’ I want to hook meself,” The son of Captain Hook grumbled, plopping down beside Gil. 

“My sculpture…” Gil whined slightly, desperately attempting to fix the pile of potatoes.

“It’s like she forgot she was one of us mere months ago,” The sea witch continued, ignoring her two companions. Harry followed her gaze before a low growl left his lips at the sight of the Darling boy obviously flirting with you.

“I’m gonna hook him,” He stated matter-of-factly, standing from his seat. Uma scowled, yanking the brunet pirate back down. “Don’t get distracted,” She gritted out, giving him a stern glare.

“You know what you have to do.”

Harry Hook paused, before giving nod,“Yes, Captain.”

A/N: Soo, whaddya think?

SnK - AoT New Ending Analyze!

Cause that is my favorite thing to do.

But first, a little warning if you are an anime only fan!

Originally posted by ithelpstodream

Major manga spoilers.

You know what to do better than me.

Scroll down, this post does not exist for you.

For others, guess who screenshotted every single scene of new ending and meta all the way?

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Your Caeneus and Poseidon fics made me weep. Will you ever write about when Poseidon gives up the power of the sea and returns to Caeneus?

Part One / Part Two


They’ve all abandoned their duties, the world has changed and they’re not needed like they were needed before.

All but the three of them, the most powerful of gods.

Zeus stubbornly remains on the abandoned Mount Olympus. Even Hera has left him, shaking herself free of her shackles and her crown all at once.

Hades continues as he always has. It’s possible he wouldn’t have noticed anything had changed if it weren’t for Persephone’s new freedom that allows her to spend all months of the year with her husband.

Then there is him.

Poseidon sits on his thrown at the bottom of the sea, restless in a way he can’t remember ever feeling before. Amphitrite sighs from her place besides him, then stands to face him. “Perhaps it is time.”

“What are you talking about?” he snaps, although he knows the answer.

She smiles at him, soft and exasperated and even a little fond after all these years. “You knew it wasn’t forever. We both did.”

He presses a hand to his chest, and – he is of the sea, and he is not supposed to be feel fear. But he does. “I do not remember the man I was before I was King of the Sea.  If – if I return to that person, I do not know what I will be, who I will be.”

Amphitrite holds out her hands. Feeling like a child, Poseidon takes them. “I know exactly who you will be, and what you will do. It’s time, Poseidon.”

He’s never loved her, couldn’t love her. But she’s been his constant companion for almost his entire life, and he cares for her, as much as he is capable of caring for anyone. “What will happen to you?”

“That is none of you concern,” she says, “but I will be what I’ve always been – the sea.”

She uses a single claw and opens her chest, the inside of her a dark green except for a pulsating red heart. He sighs and breaks off a piece of his throne to do the same to his own chest. It’s not like he’ll need it after this.

He takes out the cold, dark lump from inside him and places it safely below her ribcage. Her skin heals over and pales, and the warmth of her eyes snuffs out. She slips the beating heart below his sternum, and his skin heals over just as quickly as hers had.

Poseidon didn’t know how cold he had been until he could feel warmth again, like a bonfire in his chest unfurling to fill him, warming the bottoms of his feet and tips of his fingers. The tidal wave of grief and love and happiness and sorrow nearly threatens to barrel him over, all the emotion he’d only felt echoes of now overwhelming him.

But even with all of that, he instantly knows something is wrong.

“This isn’t my heart,” he says, and it functions like his heart, these are his emotions and feelings, but – it’s not his heart, it’s not the heart he traded away to Amphitrite for power so long ago.

“No,” she agrees, “it’s not.”

She almost looks like she’s smiling.

He means to question her, to demand answers in spite of personally knowing how worthless it is to ask anything of the sea. But before he gets the chance, he’s being pushed away and onto the shore, and he knows better than to try and go back and attempt to get answers she doesn’t feel like giving. He doesn’t think she’d kill him, but he’s not interested in finding out.

He looks out at the impossibly tall structures before him, the glass city sprawling at the end of the beach when before there had only been a – been a – a cottage.

“Caeneus,” he breathes, and is gone in the next moment.

~

He knows the entrances to the underworld well, even as the world moves and changes they never have. It takes him no time at all to be standing by the River Styx with Charon in front of him. “You are not dead,” the boatman says reproachfully.

“No,” he says, “Summon Hades, I must speak to him. There’s someone in there who – someone I – someone,” he finishes, and it’s been thousands and thousands of years since he last has Caeneus in his arms, but it doesn’t matter. The heart in his chest is a heart that is capable of love, and he loves Caeneus just as he did as a fledgling god with dominion over nothing.

Charon has no face that he can see, but he still gets the impression he’s being laughed at. “The underworld contains many someones.”

“Call Hades,” he says, low and dangerous, and the waters of the Styx churn angrily at his temper. He may no longer be the king of the sea, but he is still a god of it, and a powerful one at that. Charon takes a step away from him, no longer laughing but also not moving to help him.

There’s a shift in the air, and a young woman stands before them. Her skin is as dark at the water of the river, and her eyes are the grey of its foam. “Who dares disturb my river?” the goddess Styx demands. He meets her gaze, and her mouth drops open. “Poseidon? What are you doing here?”

“That is not Poseidon,” Charon says, “He doesn’t feel like a king.”

He wants to slap himself. Charon is blind.

Styx raises an eyebrow, “Looks like he finally got with times. The king of the ocean is no more.” She circles him like a predator circles prey. “There’s something different about you.”

“Lady Styx,” he grits out, “Please. Summon my brother, I must speak with him. I’m looking for someone.”

She shakes her head, “I can’t. He and Hecate are expanding the realm today. They can’t be disturbed.”

He doesn’t care about his brother’s obsession with home improvement, but he doesn’t say that. “Persephone then.”

“The Lady is currently among the mortals,” Charon says.

He clenches his hands into fists. He knows it’s been thousands of years, and a little more time won’t make much of a difference. But he’s already lost so much time. He doesn’t want to lose any more.

Styx sighs as if she finds him troublesome. “Thanatos,” she calls out conversationally, “I need you.”

There’s another shift in the air, and a familiar figure appears in front of him. “What do you need?” the death god asks, ink on his hands and smudged across his forehead. “I’m busy.”

“Icarus,” he says. It’s hard to regret the actions he took with Amphitrite’s heart in his chest. He wanted, and so he took. Such is the nature of the sea. However, there many things he did then that he wouldn’t have done if he’d had his heart. Those years with Icarus are among them.

He’s never said no, never pushed him away or lashed out. But if Poseidon had had his heart, he would have known that it wasn’t what the young man wanted.

Icarus’s mouth drops open, but he shuts it again. “Poseidon,” he greets carefully. “Can we help you with something?”

“I’m looking for a mortal. His name is Caeneus, my magic should be clinging to him. He died – a long time ago, I’m assuming. I don’t know exactly when.”

Icarus’s eyes go distant as he reviews a mental list of the dead. He blinks, then slowly shakes his head. “There are many by the name of Caeneus in our realm, but none that are god-touched.”

He says, “That’s impossible. I transformed him myself. The magic would have clung to him, even in death.”

“Yes,” Icarus agrees. “But he is not among our realm, which means he’s not among the dead. This Caeneus of yours is still alive.”

“That’s impossible,” he repeats, but fainter this time. He presses a hand to his sternum, where a heart that isn’t his own beats.

Styx laughs and drapes herself over Charon, who tolerates it. “Poseidon, nothing is impossible.”

~

He goes to Aphrodite next. She’s dressed as a mortal, wearing glasses she doesn’t need and a dress too short for current mortal fashions. She’s curled up on a chair reading, and she slowly lowers her book to look at him. “So the rumors are true,” she says finally. There’s something like sympathy on her face. “They all said you were different once you became the god of the sea. None ever knew the reason was that you lost your heart.”

“Traded it, actually,” he says, “and we didn’t want you to know. That’s not why I’m here.”

She raises an eyebrow, “Oh?”

“I need your help,” he taps his chest, “This heart isn’t mine either. I need your help to find the man it belongs to.”

She closes her book and puts it aside, eyes sparking with interest. “Very well, Uncle. I will do my best.”

~

Aphrodite finds him. They arrive at a small house jutting out of the edge of a cliff, the sea wide and churning below. A man stands at the edge, subtly manipulating the waves with the push-pull motions of his hands. “I didn’t know you knew Glaucus,” she says. “What are you doing with his heart?”

Glaucus. A minor sea god who looked after lost fisherman. “His name is Caeneus,” he says, already walking away from her.

“Good luck!” she calls out before returning to her home and her book.

He walks over slowly, not sure what he’s expecting. Anger, certainly. Perhaps a fight. Maybe if he lets Caeneus beat him up, he’ll be more willing to listen to him. “Hey,” he says, when he’s only a few feet away, bracing himself for – something.

Caeneus stills, turning to face him. His eyes widen, and he takes a hesitant step closer. “Poseidon. Is it – is – do you have,” he pauses and reaches out a hand, pressing a hand against Poseidon’s chest. “What’s in here?”

“Your heart,” he croaks, and reaches out a trembling hand and pressing it to Caeneus’s sternum. “Just as my heart is here.”

“You can have it back,” he says, taking another step closer, and the sun reflects off of Caeneus’s eyes so they shine gold. “I was only keeping it safe for you.”

He reaches for his chest, but Poseidon grabs his hand. “Don’t. Without my heart, you’ll die.”

Caeneus smiles, “That’s all right. I’ve been waiting for you to come back for it, and now you’re here.” His smile dims, “Will you kiss me first? Is that all right?”

Poseidon pulls him closer and presses their foreheads together. Caeneus’s arms wrap around his waist, and something inside him settles. “I will not,” he whispers, and Caeneus tenses. “You must keep my heart, because it belongs to you. It always has.” He shifts to kiss his cheek, and he can smell the salt from Caeneus’s tears that are threatening to spill.  “I shouldn’t have traded it to Amphitrite. It wasn’t mine to give away.”

“Then you must keep mine,” he says, and he’s shaking, “because it has belonged to you for just as long.”

Poseidon kisses him then. Caeneus melts against him, and the first true sunburst of happiness blossoms in his chest.

This is the beginning of the rest of their lives.


gods and monsters series part xvi

read more of the gods and monsters series

The Ultimate Percy Jackson Characterization Masterpost

Because I have been talking about this for months and a lot of other people have too, but it’s disjointed. I want to compile it, since his mischaracterization breaks my heart and makes me want to scream with rage. Please add if you think of something I didn’t! I’m also starting the tag “#percy jackson defense squad”, so feel free to start dumping your salt and rage and theories and ideas in there because I wanna hear them!

Trigger warnings for mentions of suicidal thoughts, sexual abuse, child abuse, and domestic violence.

Keep reading

UNTRANSLATABLE WORDS FOR THE AESTHETIC™ {PART I}

1) Po ushi vlubitsya (Russian) - An idiom that literally translates to “fall in love up to your ears”.

2) Nanakorobi Yaoki 七転び八起き(Japanese) - An idiom that translates to “ if you fall seven times, get back up eight times”.

3) Merak (Serbian)- Refers to a feeling of bliss and the sense of oneness with the universe that comes from the simplest of pleasures. It is the pursuit of small, daily pleasures that all add up to a great sense of happiness and fulfillment.

4) Mono no aware (物の哀れ) (Japansese)- Translates literally to “the pathos of things”, and also translated as “an empathy toward things”, or “a sensitivity to ephemera“, and is the Japanese concept for the awareness of the impermanence or transience of all things and the gentle sadness and wistfulness at their passing. It is enjoying the sadness of the inevitable cycle of life.

5) Komorebi (Japanese) - The sunlight that filters through the leaves of the trees.

6) Nefelibata (Portuguese) - Literal translation of “cloud walker”, and describes someone who does not conform to the rules of society, art and literature & lives by within the clouds of their own imagination and dreams.)

7) Fýrgebræc (Old English) - The word for sharp breaking / crackling sound made by fire.

8) Sillage (French) - Term for the scent that lingers after something/one has passed & the wake or trails that airplanes leave in the sky or boats in water as well as the trace of someone’s perfume.

9) Kyōka suigetsu (Japanese) - An idiom with the literal translation of “flower in the mirror & a moon in the water”, and references something which is visible and cannot be touched as well as the profound beauty of poems that cannot be described in words.

10)Temul (Mongolian)- References a creative frenzy, to intensely be inspired and take a flight of fancy. “the word (temul) was best exemplified by ‘the look in the eye of the horse that is racing where it wants to go, no matter what the rider wants’”. – Jack Weatherford, Genghis Khan and the Making of the Modern World (2004))

11) Mamihlapinatapei (Yagan) - The wordless, meaningful look shared by two people who both desire to initiate something, but are both reluctant to do so.)

12) Cafuné (Brazilian Portueguese) - The act of tenderly running one’s fingers through someone’s hair.

13) Luftmensch (Yiddish) - Refers to someone who is a bit of a dreamer; literally, an “air person.”

14) Duende (Spanish) - The mysterious power that a work of art has to deeply move a person.

15) L’appel du vide (French) - Literally translated to “the call of the void”; contextually used to describe the instinctive urge to jump from high places.

16)Commuovere (Italian) - Often taken to mean “heartwarming,” but directly refers to a story that moved you to tears

17) Hanyauku (Rukwangali) - The act of walking on tiptoes across warm sand.

18) Kilig (Tagalog) - The feeling of butterflies in your stomach, usually when something romantic takes place.

19) Vergissmeincht ( German) - The term for forget-me-not flowers, and in 15th Cwntury Germany, it was believed that wearers of the flower would not be forgotten by their lovers. Legend has it that in medieval times, a knight and his lady were walking along the side of a river. He picked a posy of flowers, but because of the weight of his armour he fell into the river. As he was drowning he threw the posy to his loved one and shouted “forget me not”. It was often worn by ladies as a sign of faithfulness and enduring love.

20) Hǎi shì shān méng (海誓山盟) (Chinese)- A proverb of eternal love that literally translates to “the promises of mountains and vows of seas”.

21) Setsunai 切ない (せつない) (Japenese) a Word for a feeling between bitttersweet,painful and wistful.

22) Aranyhíd (Hungarian)- A term for the reflection of the sun as it shines on water and can literally be translated to “the golden bridge”.

23) Xibipíío (Pirahã) - A word for the description of experiential liminality- of a being in the boundaries of experience and the act of entering or leaving perception.

24) Yūgen (幽玄) (Japenese) - This is a principle at the core of the appreciation of beauty and art in Japan. It shows that real beauty exists when, through its suggestiveness, only a few words, or few brush strokes, can suggest what has not been said or shown – hence awaken many inner thoughts and feelings.

25) Rasāsvāda रसास्वाद (Sanskrit) - rasa, “juice, essence”; āsvāda, “tasting, enjoying”) A word for the taste of bliss in the absence of all thoughts.

26) Sehnsucht (German) - A term for the inconsolable longing in the human heart for what we know not.

27) Cheiro no cangote (Brazilian Portuguese )- A term depicting the act of nuzzling your love’s neck with the tip of your nose.

28) Gökotta (Swedish) - A word that is often referred to as “dawn picnic to hear the first birdsong”.

29) Natsukashii (Japanese) - A term for the warm sentimentality of fond memories & nostalgia.

30) Yakamoz (Turkish)- Yakamoz is commonly referred to as the reflection of the moon as it shines upon the water.Though its original meaning is now nearly forgotten, a yakamoz is actually the light coming from the ocean or salt-water rivers that is caused by microorganisms Noctuluca scintillans, commonly known as the Sea Sparkle, and considered as the fireflies of the sea. When these creatures are moved or disturbed, they create a wonderful luminescent effect that, when gazed from afar, look like a scene in which moonlight shines in the sea. The closest English equivalent to yakamoz, they say, is phosphorescence.

31) Preetogjes (Dutch) - A term that literally translates to “fun-eyes” and describes the eyes of a chucking person who is up to benign mischief.

32) Ukiyo (Japanese)- A term which translates to “the floating world”, and depicts a place of fleeting beauty and living in the moment, without worries.

33) Wabi-Sabi (Japanese) - A phase that finds beauty in the “imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete”. Wabi is the quality of a rustic, yet refined, solitary beauty. Sabi means things whose beauty stems from age - the patina of age, and the concept that changes due to use may make an object more beautiful and valuable. Sakura {cherry blossoms} in spring are perfect examples of this as they are aesthetically pleasing precisely because they don’t last.

34) Aamukaste (Finnish) - Word for morning dew .

35) Mångata (Swedish)- The glimmering,roadlile reflection of moonlight on a river.

36) Hanaemi 花笑み (Japanese) - Means the “flowering smile” or “the smile of flowers” in old Japanese. It is a smile that is as beautiful as blooming flowers, calling people to feel happy.)

37) Les bruixes es pentinen (Catalan) - This is a Catalan phrase for sunshower which has a colloquiall mythology reference to “witches brushing their hair”.

38) Walwalün (Malpundungan) -A word for the sound of flowing water.

39) Dhvani (Sanskrit) - A term depicting the feature of a poem/line having a hidden meaning that strikes you on the second or further readings but not the first.

40) Orenda (Huron ) - A term used to describe the mystical force present in all people that empowers them to affect the world or change their own fate/destiny.

41) Abendrot (German) - A word for the colour of the sky when the sun is setting.

42) Phosphene (English)- A word that depicts the colour or stars you see when you rub your eyes.

43) Dérive (French)- A term encompassing spontaneous journey on which the subtle aesthetic contours of the landscape and architecture subconsciously attract and move the traveler, encountering an entirely new and authentic experience. In performing a dérive, the individual in question must first set aside all work and leisure activities, clearing their minds of all their usual motives for movement and action, then let themselves be drawn by the attractions of the terrain and the encounters they find there.

44) Yùyīn (Chinese) - A term that depicts the remanants of a sound that remain in the ear even after the sound has stopped.

45) Kōwhekowheko (Maori) - A word that describes the motion of fire as it dies out and blazes up again and/or to burst into flames when seemingly not burning.

46) Eigengrau (German ) - A term that translates literally to “intrinsic grey”, and the color seen by the eye in perfect darkness.

47) Kawa Akari (Japenese) - A term which translated literally to “river light”, and describes the sunset reflecting on the river, the glow of a river int the darkness and the gleam of a last night on a rivers surface at dusk.

48) şafak ( Turkish) - This word depicts the first skylight seen during dawn or just before the sun rises.

49) Bilita mpash (Bantu) - The term for the opposite of nightmare- not merely a good dream but a “legendary blissful state where all is forgiven and forgotten.”

50)Kaza Hikaru (風光る) (Japanese) - _ A warm breeze of spring that follows after a dark cold winter, comes and breathes gently upon the skin, as if like a shining radiance.

{Credit : @word-stuck, Thought Catalog, and Google} (PART 2)

Summary: Sansa is sent as an emissary instead of Jon to meet with the Dragon Queen [Season 7 Spoilers - some of the dialogue is word for word from the script]

Dedicated to the lovely @qinaliel for the prompt!! 


“Then send an emissary!”

Jon paused, turned towards her and sighed. In the few short months since they’d been reunited, Sansa had come to learn his sigh’s and this one said that she had won. He was finally beginning to listen to her.

“Sansa,” he said slowly, coming to stand before her. They had been arguing in his solar for most of the afternoon. “Who will I send? You?”

Without hesitation, she nodded. “Yes.” She didn’t want to leave Winterfell, not after everything they’d done to get it back, but for Jon? For their home? She would face down Cersei if she had to. What was a Dragon Queen to that woman?

Immediately, Jon shook his head, stepping closer, until she could feel the heat radiating from his body. “No. No. I will not send you. She is a queen, only a king can get through to her.”

“You are more needed here than I am,” Sansa said. She reached for his wrist, circling her fingers delicately around it. “Jon, let me do this for you. I know women like her. And I am not merely anybody you’re sending. I am the Lady of Winterfell. She will listen to me.”

He twisted his hand from her grasp only to retrieve it back in his own. “I can’t protect you in the south.”

“No one can protect me anywhere,” she reminded him. “I will have Brienne with me. And Podrick. I will not be alone.”

Jon furrowed his brows. They both knew there was sense in her words, but she could see the struggle, the conflict warring in his mind. He was so noble, always so honourable, and it made her heart ache for him, fear and love mingling like the warmth of her breath fogging in the cold winter air.

He turned away from her, dropping down in his chair. Jon rubbed his face. “How can I plan a war when all I’ll be doing is worrying about you?”

Sansa let out a soft breath, a half-hearted laugh, as she came to kneel before him. “If it is any comfort to you, at least I will be far away from Littlefinger.”

His head snapped up at that and a small rueful smile broke over his face. “You heard then?”

“There is not much that happens in Winterfell that I don’t hear, Jon Snow,” Sansa grinned. “Although if you must wring Littlefinger’s neck, try not to do it in full view of the guards. You know they like to talk.”

He laughed. “I appreciate your counsel, my lady.”

Sansa made to stand up, but this time, Jon wrapped his hand around her wrist, the hard callouses grazing over her soft skin. It made her heartbeat spike unbiddenly. “You will be careful, won’t you? You will go, say our peace and come home?”

“I don’t want to be away from Winterfell more than I need to,” Sansa answered him, keeping his gaze, so he knew the words she didn’t wish to say out loud, that it was him she didn’t want to part with most.

Jon nodded once and let go. “Get some sleep, Sansa.”

That night, she tossed and turned, dreams of Winterfell lit on fire, blazing orange and red against the blinding white of winter. She dreamed of dragons screeching overhead as her people screamed for mercy, for reprieve from this slaughter, and then, just as she could feel the flames licking her own skin, she heard the keening howl of a wolf, as big as a mountain.

Jon, she whispered, reaching for him. Jon

Sansa woke with a start, sweat matting her hair to her forehead. She was warm, so much warmer than she had been in the night, but when she turned, she found the reason for the heat. Ghost lifted his head, blinked at her, something like concern shining in his eyes. She carded her fingers through his fur and pressed a soft kiss to his head. “You came to save me, didn’t you, boy?” His tongue lolled out from his mouth and Sansa laughed. “My hero.”

It was the day she would leave Winterfell. Sansa never thought that she would have to again after winning it back from Ramsay, but soon when the winds burned like fire and the sun refused to shine, her people, her Jon, would have to pick up their swords and fight, and Sansa needed to ensure they survived the Long Night. If this Dragon Queen could be reasoned with, then she would go and speak to her. Never mind that a Targaryen could never be trusted; never mind that this woman had stolen into their lands with a foreign army and three dragons. Sansa could understand the necessity of her alliance – although the feeling of trepidation did not ease, not when she broke fast sitting beside Jon as he watched her carefully and not when she sat with her maids to pack her belongings.

“I thought I would find you here.”

She didn’t turn, only wrapped her arms tighter around her body. He came up behind her. She could hear the crunching of his boots on the soft powdered ground.

“You don’t have to go.”

Sansa made a noise and he sighed in response.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” he amended instead, his voice low, barely audible above the whistling wind. “Some days I think…” Jon paused and gave a soft chuckle. “I think, what if we had just run? Gone south and never looked back.”

“This is our home,” she murmured to him.

“Aye, and I will fight with my last breath for it,” he said firmly. “But maybe it keeps me sane to imagine what our lives would be like if we had run.”

Sansa turned then, eyes sweeping over his face. “And?”

“We would have a house,” Jon answered immediately. “Maybe by the sea.” He averted his gaze, staring up at the heart tree. “We’d be safe.”

She reached for his hand. “I’ll come home.”

“Promise me,” he said softly, squeezing her back.

“I promise, Jon.”

But promises were meant to be broken and Sansa would soon realise that the Dragon Queen would not be so easy to persuade.

“You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, The Unburnt, The Breaker of Chains,” the woman spoke.

Sansa refrained from grimacing. She had met another once who liked to shout his titles at anyone who would listen and he had been a monster. She desperately hoped this Daenerys was different.

“This is Sansa Stark of House Stark, eldest daughter of Eddard and Catelyn Stark, blood of the First Men, Lady of Winterfell and Sister to the King in the North, Jon Snow,” Brienne immediately replied, standing tall and proud, Podrick a step behind her.

“Forgive me. I never did receive a formal education, but I could have sworn the last King in the North was Torren Stark who bent the knee to my ancestor Aegon Targaryen in exchange for his life and the lives of the northmen. Torren Stark swore fealty to House Targaryen in perpetuity. But do I have my facts wrong?” Daenerys asked, poison hidden in her polite words, but Sansa had lived with lions. A dragon did not scare her.

“No, your grace,” Sansa answered, keeping her tone equally as polite. “You are well-versed in your history, but mayhaps you have forgotten that House Targaryen was overthrown during Robert’s Rebellion when your brother kidnapped my aunt and your father had my uncle and grandfather burned alive.” She paused to let this sink in. “House Stark has not been loyal to a Targaryen in many years.”

Daenerys’ lips twitched as her brows furrowed infinitesimally. “My father was an evil man. On behalf of House Targaryen I ask your forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your family. And I ask you not to judge a daughter by the sins of her father. Our two houses were allies for centuries. Those were the best centuries the kingdom’s ever known. Centuries of peace and prosperity with the Targaryens sitting on the Iron Throne and a Stark serving as Warden of the North. I am the last Targaryen, Sansa Stark. Honour the pledge your ancestor made to mine. Bend the knee and I will name your king Warden of the North. Together we will save this country from those who would destroy it.”

She couldn’t help think that peace was the farthest thing this woman wanted. A Targaryen’s house words were not ‘fire and blood’ for nothing, but she could hear Jon’s voice in her mind, reminding her of how important it was to ally with the Dragon Queen.

“I cannot judge you for your father’s crimes any more than you can hold me to my ancestor’s vows,” Sansa told her. “The North will not bend the knee, your grace.”

“Then why are you here?” Daenerys demanded, the politeness fading from her tone.

“Because we need each other,” she said easily. “To survive, House Stark and House Targaryen must form an alliance.”

The Dragon Queen turned, smirking at Tyrion. When Daenerys finally returned her gaze back onto Sansa, she caught her former husband’s apologetic glance. So it would seem even the Hand of the Queen was aware of her arrogance, but it was hardly surprising to Sansa. Those with power tended to believe they deserved it. The only king or queen Sansa had ever met who wished for less power was the one she had left behind, the one of whom she missed so achingly she would turn around right this moment and swim back to him if the survival of her people didn’t rest in her hands. With an inward sigh, Sansa steeled herself as the Dragon Queen spoke once more.

“Did you see three dragons flying overhead when you arrived?”

“I did.”

“And did you see the Dothraki, all of whom have sworn to kill for me?”

“Yes, your grace.” She fought the urge to roll her eyes.

“But still, I need your help?” Daenerys asked, looking amused and patronising, but Sansa had learned to weather all manners of insult, those personal and evasive, and those from arrogant rulers.

“Yes,” Sansa answered simply. “My…” she paused for a fraction of a second, “king has seen unspeakable horrors beyond the Wall and there is an army marching towards us at this very moment. If we do not band together, there will not be a kingdom for anyone to rule.”

“And what is this army you speak of?”

She sighed. It was impossible to imagine the kind of army that Jon spoke so fearfully of and yet she knew his words to be true. It didn’t, however, make convincing Daenerys Stormborn any easier. “The Army of the Dead.” Sansa straightened her shoulders. “I know how it may sound, but my king is no liar. If he says they are coming then it is true.”

“I have no reason to believe in a man who wishes to oppose me –”

“Jon does not wish to oppose you,” Sansa interjected. “He does not wish to sit on the Iron Throne, not now, not ever. Your grace, you are not grasping the severity of the situation. Cersei is a formidable foe, but the Dead will kill us all if we don’t work together.”

Daenerys let out a scoff. “You will have me place my trust in a man I have never met?”

“Do you trust your Hand?” Sansa asked, looking to Tyrion. “Because he will tell you that neither Jon nor I have any reason to lie to you. Nothing good comes from a Stark leaving the North, but I am here because it is necessary.”

Tyrion sighed. “Your grace, I trust Lady Sansa and I trust Jon Snow. They are honourable people.”

There’s a long pause that fills the room, so tangible Sansa could feel it crowding her, pushing up against the cloak she still wore. Daenerys stood up and began to descend down the stairs, eyes unwaveringly locked onto Sansa’s, but she refused to be intimidated by a woman not much older than her.

“I was born at Dragonstone. Not that I can remember it. We fled before Robert’s assassins could find us. Robert was your father’s best friend, no? I wonder if your father knew his best friend sent assassins to murder a baby girl in her crib. Not that it matters now of course. I spent my life in foreign lands. So many men have tried to kill me. I don’t remember all of their names. I have been sold like a brood mare. I have been chained and betrayed, raped and defiled,” she said, the emotions making her voice rise. It was the first time since they had arrived that Sansa saw something more than just pure arrogance. She saw defiance and strength, but if Daenerys thought she was the only woman to have ever been violated, she was mistaken. Cersei was defiant and she was strong, but she was as bad as the men who underestimated her, if not worse. Sansa won’t be swayed so easily by sad stories; she’s had her fair share.

“Do you know what kept me standing through all those years in exile?” The Dragon Queen paused, only a few feet away from Sansa now. “Faith. Not in any gods. Not in myths and legends. In myself. In Daenerys Targaryen. The world hadn’t seen a dragon in centuries until my children were born. The Dothraki hadn’t crossed the sea. Any sea. They did for me. I was born to rule the Seven Kingdoms. And I will.”

Brienne shifted behind her, but Sansa was not here to trade trauma for trauma. Her pain was her own and no one else’s, not even Jon knew the full extent of what she had gone through. She didn’t need to sink so low for this alliance, but she did need to get through to Daenerys somehow.

“The world is not a kind place for any woman,” Sansa said slowly, evenly, while observing the queen for a reaction. “For many men, we are no more than a womb for their seed to grow and that is if we’re lucky. But this war cares not if you are a man or a woman, Daenerys Stormborn. It will devour us all if we don’t act.”

“My lady,” Tyrion spoke up, his eyes were soft, kind and pleading. “I understand your brother may believe that he saw something beyond the Wall –”

“He did,” she reaffirmed.

“Yes, but you cannot expect us to halt hostilities and join him in fighting in the North,” he continued. “If Jon bends the knee, swears fealty to Daenerys, then we can defeat Cersei and take up arms together in your war.” Tyrion moved forward. “Sansa, you know what my sister is capable of. You know you will never be safe while she’s on the throne.”

“With respect, my lord,” Sansa said through gritted teeth. “I do not need reminding of what Cersei is capable of. As you said, I know far too well, but I also know when there is a far greater threat and that is the one in the North. You may believe me or you may not, but the Long Night is coming. Winter is here.”

“Then bend the knee,” Daenerys demanded once more. “Do it now and we can cease with this squabbling.”

“The North has suffered too long under southron rulers. We will not bend the knee,” she said confidently. “Jon will not bend the knee. The people have put their trust in his hands and he will lead them for as long as he can.”

“That’s fair. It’s also fair to point out that I’m the rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms. By declaring himself King of the northern most kingdom, House Stark is in open rebellion,” she concluded, eyes narrowed.

That night, she dreamed of fire, bright and orange, flickering up the walls of Winterfell as screams pierced through the air. She could feel the heat on her skin and she wanted it to stop. She tried to remove her cloak but the heat persisted. Sansa opened her mouth to scream, to beg for mercy, for anything that could stop the pain running through her, but her voice would not work.

The thundering flap of wings had Sansa peering up into the ashen sky. There amidst the clouds, she saw two of the most fearsome creatures circling her home. Fire rained from their mouths, turning stone walls to pebbles and people to nothing more than dust. When Sansa could feel the skin peeling away from her bones, she felt it, looming great and big over her, its shadow turning day into night. Sansa moved, whirling around to face it, and immediately, she was struck, jaw gaping open, as she stared into the grey eyes of a pure white dragon. It looked back, sentient like it knew her, and flapped its large wings. The gust of air cooled the fire away and soothed the pain running through her body.

Sansa dropped to the ground and wrapped her arms around her legs. “Just kill me,” she whispered. “Kill me.” It bent its neck towards her like it was bowing, eyes cast down. Confused, Sansa shouted at it, angry and hysterical, “what do you want from me!”

Before it could respond, Sansa woke with a start, her chest pounding loudly in her ears, and the overwhelming feeling that washed through her was that she missed Jon. It was not the first time since arriving at Dragonstone that she thought this, but now knowing that Daenerys was holding them prisoner on this godsforsaken island, she missed him all the more. The thought of never seeing him again made her ache down to her very bones. She had to find a way back to him; she refused to let that moment at the gate be their last moment together.

“I should be going,” Jon said, touching a hand to her cheek. “It is not too late to change your mind.”

Sansa leaned into his touch, uncaring that Brienne, Podrick and Ser Davos were only a few feet away. “We cannot have this argument again, Jon. You’re king. The people need you here.”

“You would do just as well leading them,” he countered, thumb stroking the curve of her cheekbone. “I may be king, but you’re their lady. They love you. They trust you just as well as they trust me.”

“It’s better this way,” Sansa said with a small smile. “Smarter.”

Jon sighed. “I will not convince you otherwise, will I?”

“Have you ever?”

“No,” he said, chuckling softly. He kept his gaze on her, lingering, and drawing out the silence before he finally spoke again. “Be safe.” Without another word, Jon leaned forward to kiss her gently on the forehead, so familiar yet so different, as when he parted, he dropped his forehead to hers, allowing their breaths to swirl in between them. “I’ll miss you, Sansa.”

Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. She ran her hands up his chest to grip onto his furs. “I’ll miss you too.”

Sansa wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand as she stared out unseeingly towards the horizon. The wind blew gently, tossing her hair away from her face and neck, leaving a cool breeze to ease the heat of the south. The sound of footsteps announced his arrival.

“I came out here to brood over my failure to predict the Greyjoy attack, but I can hardly do that in the presence of my lady wife,” Tyrion said, that teasing lilt to his voice.

“I have been a prisoner many times, Lord Tyrion,” Sansa said coolly. “I have been kept against my will at the hands of your family, forced to swear my loyalty to the people who murdered my father, brother and mother. I have been kept and sold by Littlefinger to the Boltons where I was imprisoned in my own home.” Her chest rose up and down rapidly. “But I will not be a prisoner to your queen. Jon is my king and I will make it home to him.”

“Lady Sansa, you are not a prisoner. You are free to roam the beaches and –”

“Do not trifle with me, my lord,” Sansa turned to look at him. “Or have you forgotten how long I spent under your sister’s tutelage?” She pursed her lips tightly. “Your queen does not believe me. It is fair. I hardly believed Jon when he first told me and every rational thought in my mind is saying to look to Cersei. She is our biggest threat, but you don’t know Jon the way I do. Not as he is now.” She returned her gaze to the sea, imagining the man in question and what he must be doing in this moment. “He is a great king, a greater man than you and I ever thought possible in these hellish times, and if he says the Dead are coming, I suggest you heed his warning and act accordingly.”

“My lady, it is not a question of belief,” Tyrion said. “Daenerys could have sailed for Westeros long ago but she didn’t. Instead she stayed where she was and saved many people from horrible fates, some of whom are on this island with us right now. While you’re our guest here you might consider asking them what they think of the Mad King’s daughter. She protects people from monsters, just as you do. That’s why she came here. And she’s not about to head north to fight an enemy she’s never seen on a word of a man she doesn’t know after a single meeting. That’s not a reasonable thing to ask.”

Sansa smiled, though it was derived of humour. “You will forgive me if my faith in rulers who believe themselves entitled to a throne is lacking, Lord Tyrion. But I appreciate your advice and will consider your counsel with great thought. May I suggest you listen to mine as well?”

Feeling all at once exhausted and weary of this conversation, Sansa moved past her former husband and went in search of a quill and parchment. If she could not see Jon, she could write him. He’d need to know that Sansa wouldn’t be coming home for awhile yet, and that as long as she was alive, she’d find a way, not just to return to him but to convince the Dragon Queen to help one way or another. He had tasked her with an important mission and Sansa would not fail him.

midnight drive [m]

summary: the waiter at a new restaurant is more than dashing and he catches every fragment of your attention. good thing you decide to stay after hours, to which he gladly offers a late night drive to you that only escalates into something more.

pairing: waiter!johnny & reader insert

includes: fluff, smut (car sex, fingering, oral, penetration)

wc: 12.2k

note: I know the cover picture is a sunset, but I couldn’t find a good photo of a midnight drive ;~; Anyway i hope you guys like my new fic! I used johnnys korean name by the way—i was really torn on which of his name to use… haha


It had been a monotonous day.

Ever since you woke early dawn for your morning run with your close friend and roommate, Yuju, you had been nothing but drained; your energy was gone like the wind. You did not get enough sleep to begin with and dealing with the drone-like strangers on the streets, a grumbling stomach—everything—was an arduous chore. She proposed the idea of going out for dinner again at her favorite local restaurant—one of the few places you actually despised because you found the food quite distasteful. But due to the many times you resisted ensconcing yourself within the confinements of the dim, fancy restaurant you finally complied with Yuju to eat there once.

You spent your day pacing the apartment as Yuju ran errands; you sometimes wasted hours by staring at the flickering television. Then, once she arrived back to the apartment on the dot of seven o’clock, she pestered you to get ready and kept the angry question of why you were lounging on the couch locked in her chest. You responded with a groan and pulled yourself from the sofa to drag yourself into the restroom.

You freshened up with a quick shower and minimal makeup, tossing on a dress nicer than usual and giving you the pop of spendthrift. You waited patiently in the kitchen for Yuju, who was taking her sweet time in perfecting the minor particulars of her makeup and hair. You were leaning on the counter, lips pursed into a pout as you dreaded the upcoming dinner. The food at Yuju’s favorite restaurant was nothing but bland to you, and you groaned at the thought of the given sustenance.

Yuju finally waltzed out of the bedroom appearing resplendent than most normal patrons, a bright smile sheening her face more than the diamond necklace that looms from her neck. Her shoulder length hair curved perfectly inwards, providing the appearance of a black sea of silk. “We’re just going out to dinner,” you commented with an eye roll.

“And I gotta look my best!” she responded while grabbing onto her keys. “Come on, I want to beat the line.”

You stepped out of the apartment and began walking to her vehicle. “If you spent half the time you did on your makeup, we would have skipped the line.”

Yuju only smiled. Inside her lean black vehicle she prepared to drive; the engine purred and she turned up the pop tunes of her fresh radio. She stirred up mindless conversations amidst the transport, rapidly jumping from topic to topic—probably from excitement of eating at her favorite restaurant. After all, it was not everyday for you to agree to an annoying event.

She parked close to the curb messily, moving slow and careful as her head turned to peer back, then to the front. Your fingers were drumming on your thighs as she steadied the car, and when she finally parked it close to flawlessness you felt as if you found a solace.

You and Yuju exited the lean black vehicle with a scenic smile, feet meeting the sidewalk as heads turn your way. You were gawking at the familiar sights, taking in the known scenery and recognizable architecture, and amidst the moment something different caught your eye—no, someone.

There was a waiter in Yuju’s favorite restaurant across the street serving drinks to a table outdoors, a shining beam gracing his expression. His hair swept over his forehead in a handsome manner, and the uniform he adorned seemed as if it was immaculately tailored for him specifically—because he looked that perfect. You felt your face get hot, a hopeless grin painting on your face and it matched his own.

“Are you ready to go?” Yuju asked you, shattering your reverie.

“Huh?” Your body jolted from her words and you flashed your attention back to her. “Ah, y-yeah.”

Yuju looked to where your attention was directed: right at her premier restaurant—the one that you found distasteful. She raised an eyebrow, piecing together two and two because you were never interested in what her loveable restaurant had to offer to eat. Then, it hit her. It was not the food—nothing like the outstanding drinks that came in an array of colors—it was a man, the waiter, that caught your eye.

And in that very moment, eating at the once despised restaurant did not appear all-too-bad.

Keep reading

New Assassins Creed “leaked” info:
  • The leaks aren’t “accidents”. Controlled. Both pictures are real. The first one (where the MC stood in front of something) is very old. The second one is a picture from the Demo we’ll see at E3.
  • New scouting mechanic, the eagle. The eagle’s placeholder name for now is “Akhom”.
  • There are NO towers in the game. You will be using your eagle for side-activities and points of interest. There’s a limit to how far you can go away from the protagonist.
  • The characters all speak English like in Unity. That is because of the Animus 5.0, which has perfected any translation issues of the older versions. You will be sitting in it, not moving around like in the movie.
  • We have a new Modern Day protagonist, he’s male and mixed race. Already a trained Assassin and has a new team that helps him achieve his task, given by William himself. William, Rebecca, Shaun all make appearances.
  • MD is more like AC3’s MD with bigger areas and more character interaction. The MD does more to highlight the fact that Assassins and Templars still exist and are having a big impact on the world.
  • “Without giving too much away, a piece of Eden is used during the Exodus and the crossing of the Red Sea, playing into the whole overarching mission of the modern-day protagonist.” Not main focus of the story though.
  • He doesn’t exactly know when it’s set, but last he heard it was set between 1400 and 1200 BCE. It’s set during the Dynasties.
  • NO naval combat. It really is only just a sailing boat used for travel purposes. It’s like in The Witcher 3, just a tad more customizable. That’s it.
  • He states numerous times that the world is breathtakingly beautiful and that there is ambient stuff going on in the open seas. Better to sail than miss this stuff by fast-travelling.
  • You will be travelling the Eastern Mediterranean with your boat.
  • Ambient music is in the game. Hooray!
  • Devs have focused on story 100%. There is no multiplayer whatsoever, however, there are micro-transactions like in BF and Rogue. Multiplayer is still on the cards, might return at some point to the franchise.
  • A lot of work went into the immersion aspect.
  • Plenty of tropical areas. Mirages, oasis areas and various islands dotted around the sea are beautiful.
  • The main protag (in the past) is a quieter version of Altair, basically. Looks like him, slightly darker. Not black like Adé. Trilogy with him planned. Greece comes next and he’s in there. No idea about the third entry at all.
  • Main protag (past) is apparently Israelite.
  • Combat has been reworked. Enemies have different attack patterns and will actively try to flank you. Kinda like Witcher 3, but easier to get into.
  • Stealth is much more integrated into the world. You can hide on corners, in crowds, in buildings and in bushes/haystacks. Imagine Syndicate and Unity’s stealth, but much more well thought out and implemented. Social stealth is emphasized a lot in the game. You’ll be blending into crowds and with groups of slaves an awful lot.
  • Free running is the same as Syndicate/Unity, though it adds in some of the flair from Watch Dogs 2. It’s a lot smoother and more fluid.
  • Reason why AC doesn’t make its way to Japan is because the higher ups don’t see it being successful. They made China for Chronicles to “please the fans”. Whoop-de-doo.
  • Same thing for WW1 and WW2.
  • Engine is a reworked version of Syndicate’s. But looks drastically different to Syndicate/Unity.
  • They took Unity’s backlash very, very badly. They’ve been working on Origins so much to avoid another buggy situation. “Syndicate was about 60% complete when the backlash came to light, so Ubi shoved that one out of the door before we had the break.”
  • No Switch version, releases on PS4, Xbawks One and PC.
  • Coming out later this year.
  • Hidden Blade used in the game is a very early version. Requires losing a finger. There’s also a bow, a shield, various swords, spears and throwing knives.
  • Our protagonist (paaast) doesn’t have a name at the beginning. Later, other characters start calling him “Shed”, after the deity that represents salvation. A big part of the story revolves around saving your people from slavery.
  • https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shed_(deity)
  • The idea of an Ancient Rome game was floating around the office. Ceasar wasn’t a Templar, but shared a lot of their ideologies. Senators that killed him were part of the Brotherhood. Status of this idea is unknown.
  • Skills are done in a talent tree. However, the differences between the skill trees are drastically different and you can only ever have a certain amount of skills active at one point. One tree is Combat, another Stealth and the final one is Movement.
  • Outfit-wise, there’s a few pre-determined outfits (as there has been in every AC game). However, there are different piece of equipment that you can buy that will go over the top of your ‘base’ appearance. Imagine Unity’s equipment variation/customization, but with less pointless fluff.
  • Character customization is more like Unity than Syndicate.
  • I forgot to add this, sorry people: You can put your hood on and off whenever you want!

     
    I don’t want the character to be quite…I love it when characters talk while your walking and doing stuff. Just like in Uncharted games…
    What do you guys think? 

ENG TRANS: 

Seokjin
13 June YEAR 22

After coming back from that sea, we were all alone.

As if we had all decided upon, we did not keep in touch.
We could only assume our existence by the graffiti left on the street, the bright petrol station and the sound of the piano from the old building. That was when images of that night came alive. Taehyung’s eyes were ablaze, the way they looked at me as if they had heard something unbelievable, Namjoon’s hand that tried to stop Taehyung and me who couldn’t take it and threw a punch at him (Taehyung). 

Unable to find Taehyung after he dashed out, not a single person was left at our seaside hostel when I returned. the broken glass cup, blood stains that were beginning to mattify and smashed biscuit crumbs only served to remind me of the incidents that unfolded only a few hours before.
Meanwhile, a photo had fallen -a photo where we were posing with the sea as a backdrop, a photo where we were together smiling. 

As usual, I passed by the gasoline station today. As if there would come a day when we would meet again. As if a day would come where we would smile as brightly as we did in that photo. However, the moment hasn’t arrived yet. The humid winds are blowing today just as they did on that day. in the next moment, just like a timely warning, my phone rang. The photo that was hanging on my room mirror fluttered. Hoseok’s name appeared on my phone screen.

“Hyung*, they said Jungkook got into a car accident that night”

Cr  @Bulletproof_SG

Poseidon

Greek Gods Series
Prologue Poseidon Ares Aphrodite Apollo Hades Hermes Zeus
Ship: Pirate!Mina | Pirate!Reader | Merman!Jimin
Description: Pirate!AU | Beginning your new life as a pirate had its hardships- and it all started with something called Fate.
Warnings: Fingering, Oral, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism? Violence, Assault, Angst, Death
Word Count: 15,257
A/N: Cover finally up! Enjoy the first part of this series! It took me forever to write.

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