#this wasn't quite what i set out to write but i'm fond of it just the same

[jaysgirlx]

Hey sweetie, I’m feeling like I need a Jason fic where reader doesn’t like to be touched but he makes her feel safe enough that she gets used to him. Would that be something you’d write? I hope you’re having a wonderful day/night 😘😘

jason wasn't exactly a touchy man himself, he'd set a lot of boundaries as he grew older but he felt different when that came to you. he had the urge to want to hold you constantly but he quickly learned you weren't fond of that. there were too many mental scars that had yet to heal.

the two of you had been sitting side by side on his couch and he slyly tried to put his arm around you. you flinched and moved away quickly, and then came the word vomit.

"i'm sorry! it's really not cause of you- It's hard for me to- i just cant- it's okay if you don't want to hang out again after this, i just- i'm sorry!"

you were panting and trying to explain yourself because this wasn't his fault, this was a boundary you probably should've said earlier but you didn't. you were scared of losing jason too quickly because of your own issues but you were an idiot for thinking he'd leave like that. he was much better than that and he showed you exactly how.

when jason first realized that you weren't yet comfortable with him touching you he tried his best to make your dates and hangouts still romantic. instead of cuddling, he'd put pillows in between the two of you and you'd lay on them almost as if you were on him.

or when you two went out for walks he learned to wear long-sleeved shirts so you could hold onto his sleeve rather than his hand. it did take time to get used to but jason didn't see it as a burden he saw it as another way for him to show his love for you.

he found you the cutest when he'd be kissing you and you didn't know where to put your hands so you'd panic and grab onto his clothes. he knew you wanted to touch him but he wanted you to feel safe enough to make that first move and you eventually did.

"i swear it's not you or anything i just not comfortable being touched yet…i've had things happen to me and i just need time to feel a bit safer"

jason understood how you felt and respected it. he'd wait years if he had to, as long as you were with him, he didn't need much more. though your comfortability came much sooner than he thought.

it started off small like when you began to slyly slip your fingers into his and hold his hand. he won't deny that he actually blushed a little especially when you kissed him on the cheek goodnight. he knew he was probably touch-starved but he didn't realize how much he was missing without your touch.

you even started cuddling him during your movie nights and laying your body on his. and it was then that jason knew you felt comfortable with him. you finally felt safe.

things moved on a bit fast after that, your very gentle make-out sessions with jason became rough and needy. you'd dig your nails into his back while deepening each kiss more. your hands are roaming his back, trying to figure out what feels good, or what feels right but jason doesn't care. that fact that you're touching him is all that matters. that fact that you're comfortable is all that matters.

did jason dream of touching you constantly? absolutely! but would he have waited centuries to do so? only for you.

jason was in love with who you were and being able to touch you had nothing to do with that. this man fell in love with your personality and the love you were willing to give him and that was all he wanted.

"m'sorry for making you wait so long jaybird" you whispered while jason lips were busy kissing and biting your neck. he left a train of hickeys, hoping you wouldn't be too mad once you'd seen them, since you were quite focused on your current conversation "i know i'm a lot of work"

"good thing i'm a hard worker sweetheart," he said, while placing a hand on his hip and gently caressing your waist with his thumb. jason had started doing this,whenever he could tell you were overthinking or maybe overwhelmed. he was good with words but he knew how to soothe you "as long as you comfortable baby, then that's all i need"

you were all jason todd needed, he’d never admit it but he could love you from afar and still be happy because you'd be his and to jason that was all that was he really wanted.

for you to happy and safe with him.

#✩ kleo's kollection ✩ #✩ just for you hun ✩ #divider by cafekitsune #jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd x gender neutral reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood #red hood imagine #red hood fluff #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #dc comics #dc x y/n #dc x you #dc x reader #dc characters

[kairismess]

❝WRITTEN IN BETWEEN THE LINES...❞

🏐 genre: fluff ~~ ✒️ word count: 1076 💭 summary: kuroo had nothing to do one slow afternoon, until you caught his eye and... he just knew he had to get to know you. but, it seems that he's gotten to know himself better after meeting you: he officially has a thing for bookworms. chatty yet shy ones, in fact. 🍥 author's note: i need more friends like y/n / reader fr... ALSO IF Y'ALL CAUGHT THE REFERENCE ON WHICH GHIBLI MOVIE THIS IS BASED OFF, MARRY ME RN

kuroo could remember the first time he laid eyes on you, he was at the public library looking for advanced chemistry textbooks—or at least, pretending to look for a book that had word vomits of stuff he already knew very well, like the back of his hand. it was a slow afternoon, he had nothing to do since kenma and his family were out of town for the weekend, and he didn't want to stay holed up in his room doing nothing.

he had tried to fit in with everyone else there, running the tips of his slender fingers over the used and fresh spines of the books on the shelves he couldn't bother to read the section names of; to him, they were all the same, he knew most of what these books and journals had to offer. ultimately, he decided to check out the section that was most foreign to him: the fiction books section.

he saw a multitude of names, a flurry of colors that flew by his eyes as he mumbled out the titles off the books he pulled out of the shelves and from their spines. kuroo wasn't even sure what exactly he was looking for here, or what he was even supposed to be doing at the library, he just... needed somewhere to bide his time, somewhere to feel less lonely; and yet, he had felt lonelier and lonelier the more time he spent there.

on the verge of giving up, he accidentally bumped into someone about a foot shorter than him. he hurriedly apologized, seeing that the one he bumped into was... a very cute girl. "oh, i'm... really sorry, here, let me help you," he offered, helping you pick up the books that flew out of your hands when he bumped into you. you silently nodded your thanks, mumbling it out in case it came out unclear to him.

kuroo noticed that the books you were carrying were all... interesting, to say the least. "hmm, never heard of these authors before..." he thought aloud, making your head perk up slowly. you bit your lower lip, trying your hardest not to comment on that. you were an avid reader of those authors, quite passionate about their books and the genres they write, to say the least. "they're great writers..." you mumble out shyly, feeling a cold shiver down your fingers and a warm tingle down your spine; this boy was too cute, in your opinion, you couldn't keep a level head around him, at all.

when your shy little voice entered kuroo's ear, a playful smile appeared on the boy's angular face. "really? well, i don't really know much about fiction, and, uh... you seem like you knew a good amount of it to get a newbie like me started. so, care to recommend me some good writers and genres?" he asked you in a husky voice, making you even more bashful at the fact such a hot boy was asking you for book recommendations, the second thing you were most passionate about in the whole world.

your first favorite thing in the whole world, however... was getting totally engrossed in the stories you were reading. it was a one of a kind experience only you could go through, because of course, everyone had different interpretations of the texts they were reading; but you always had a fondness for discovering the rich backgrounds, symbolisms, and stories the authors wished to reach their audiences. and kuroo was more than willing to listen to you go on and on about the stories you loved, even if a shy cutie like you would take forever to open up.

for the first time in his life, the boy finally didn't feel so alone, so isolated, so out of place setting foot here in the library; he felt at peace, something he yearned for ever since he came here.

"wow, they all sound so intriguing; guess i'll have to borrow those books after you finish them." "i... already did." you mumbled, avoiding eye contact with him. he blinked his hazelnut eyes twice in disbelief. "you finished... all of them?" he asked in a soft voice, with you nodding in response. kuroo chuckled to himself, leaning closer to you. "you're impressive..." he whispered in your ear, sending shivers up your spine, good shivers, good tingles–you could tell that, somehow, he genuinely was impressed by your dedication for reading.

kuroo stayed with you until the end of the day, and when it was time for you to return all the books you borrowed, he followed up with the librarian, stating, "excuse me, may i borrow all those books afterwards? they're... very interesting, i'd like to read them. all of them," he uttered with a smile, looking at you with a glowing grin on his face.

the librarian eventually agreed, asking kuroo for his name and signing his name after yours on every book you returned, that he was soon going to borrow. "y'know what, i'll bet that i'm going to read every book here that has your name on the back of it. i probably won't be interested in any other book if i don't see your name on it, it wouldn't make me interested."

his words made your heart beat a little faster, your knees shake a bit. you fidgeted with your fingers, looking down at your shoes and the floor, as if the right thing to respond to his words were there, hidden in between the lines of where the tiles met. "but... why would you...? why me?" "because, why not? you're amazing, and i want to be a part of your world; your literary world, if you will," kuroo beamed, grinning after confessing that.

it had only been a day, but, you felt like today was a gem in the days that felt like dull, bland charcoal. today, you met a wonderful boy–a boy whose life you didn't realize you'd changed, by simply letting him in, and showing him the beauty of your mind and heart when it came to your interest in the art of words and imagination.

you'd better get used to seeing that rooster headed, teasing boy every weekend now; he has something to brag to kenma about when he'd get back from his family outing.

but the one thing to ruin kuroo's evening is this realization he had over dinner: he forgot to ask you for your number.

#kuroo tetsuroo #tetsurou kuroo #tetsuro kuroo #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x you #kuroo x y/n #tetsurou kuroo x reader #tetsuro kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo testuro #kuroo tetsurō #kuroo tetsuro x you #hq kuroo #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu scenarios #hq #hq x reader #hq x you #hq x y/n #hq x female reader #haikyuu x female reader

[podcastenthusiast]

"Here should be safe to set up camp," Geralt says, scanning the treeline with his eyes in that odd witcher way. Like he's seeing much more than a mere mortal could.

"Thank the gods," sighs Jaskier, who's been really starting to regret skiving off those physical fitness courses at Oxenfurt.

"Get a fire started while I tend to Roach."

"Oh Geralt, I'd love to, I would. Truly it's colder than a sorceress' shapely—"

"Jaskier."

"Well, as they say: you can lead a bard to timber, but you can't make him—"

"Just do it, Jaskier."

"I don't know how! All right? I've never built a fire in the middle of nowhere before! It's not one of the seven liberal arts, and I much prefer my fires stoked by comely barmaids in taverns."

Geralt looks at him for a long moment. It's a complicated look—frustration and amusement and a hint of regret. Mostly it's a look that says Jaskier is an idiot for joining him on the Path.

"Right," Geralt says slowly. He begins building the campfire himself.

"I imagine they teach wilderness survival to baby witchers at witcher school."

Geralt looks at him again and there's something different in his expression. The ghost of a smile? Jaskier doesn't quite know how to read it.

"Kaer Morhen," he says. "And yeah. Something like that."

"Oh?" Jaskier has to rein in his enthusiasm, his curious questions. Geralt so rarely reveals anything personal about himself or his past. Not that Jaskier has been forthcoming in that regard either. They live in the moment, day by day, but some context would help his creative process.

Besides all that, he genuinely wants to get to know Geralt a little better.

"Vesemir took me out into the forest one day. Gave me a knife and left me there for a month."

There is no bitterness in his words. If anything, the witcher sounds...almost fond. Nostalgic. Proud of his younger self for overcoming the challenges his mentors set before him.

It takes a moment for the true meaning of that to sink in and, once it does, Jaskier is horrified. His own parents weren't great, but even they would never simply abandon him.

"He just— like as a test— what—?"

"Real eloquent, bard. I doubt he had any choice. Probably wasn't even supposed to give me anything."

"How old were you?" he demands, unsure if any answer will make this revelation less abhorrent.

"Six? Seven? Maybe eight. I don't know." Geralt makes a gesture with his fingers and the pile of wood beneath his hand sparks with flame. "Not old enough to have learned Igni yet."

He can picture it, too, so vividly. Curse his dammed artist's imagination. Geralt, just a kid, alone and scared and definitely cold—because no one bothered to teach him how to start a fire.

"Stop it," the witcher snaps.

"What?"

"Looking at me like that. I'm fine. I was fine back then. Wasn't so bad at all compared to the Grasses. Vesemir came back for me like he said he would. I survived the trial—no, I didn't just survive; I exceeded all expectations, which is why they..." The witcher trails off. Takes a breath.

All of that... It's quite a lot of words for Geralt. Honest words, even.

It's his job to talk, to sing, to commit the most painful and difficult experiences to beautiful poetic verse. But Jaskier doesn't know what to say to his friend right now. Surely he has to say something.

"Geralt..."

"Don't waste your pity. Save it for the ones who didn't make it through. I did."

"Okay," the bard replies, careful and tentative. He isn't a brave man, nor a particularly kind one. But Jaskier considers himself an honest fellow so he adds, "Just because you made it through, you know, that doesn't mean what happened to you was all right, Geralt. Children aren't supposed to be left alone to fend for themselves."

The witcher laughs—a humorless, wretched sound. He doesn't say anything at all to that. Which is okay, really; Jaskier just needed him to hear it.

There is a long silence. The fire crackles. Jaskier absently strums his lute.

"You're gonna write a ballad about this, aren't you," Geralt says after a while.

"No!" Maybe. Yes. He won't perform it.

"Hm."

The fire crackles.

Quite out of the blue, Geralt tells him, "I befriended a wolf back then."

"What? You're joking!"

"Witchers don't have a sense of humor. Common knowledge."

"Common misconception. Most people are just stupid. No, hang on, stop distracting me—You had a pet wolf?!"

"Not a pet," the witcher corrects, smiling faintly. "Fangtooth was her own wolf."

"Fangtooth?" Jaskier repeats, struggling to contain his amusement. "Not Roach?"

"No."

"Forgive me, but that's adorable."

"I was just a child. I wanted to stay with her in the wilderness. Be a wolf, too. Or a knight." He shakes his head dismissively. Silly childish dreams.

"But you didn't," Jaskier says. And feels stupid for saying something so obvious.

"Too late for that," Geralt replies without reproach. "I was already a witcher."

"As a child, I wanted to run away and join the circus," the bard offers.

"Of course you did."

They're quiet for a moment then. Comfortable, shared silence. Just the sounds of birds and forest creatures, and Roach contentedly eating grass. The fire crackles.

"Geralt, will you teach me to light a fire? Without witcher magic, obviously, since I don't have any."

"Why?"

"Because...well, because I could be a more useful traveling companion. Like Fangtooth must've been."

"...Fine," Geralt agrees after some thought.

It is a skill he will be very grateful to have on freezing nights in the coming years, especially whenever the witcher is too injured or ill from those dreadful potions to help set up camp. He will try not to think of the child Geralt once was, subjected to horrific tests of his ability to survive all on his own.

Except he hadn't been on his own back then, not completely. And he isn't alone anymore, either.

#whisking canons and headcanons together until i get the hurt/comfort i need #this time it's twn jaskier and stuff but some hexer geralt backstory #the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier fic #witcher fanfiction #possibly part of a series where jaskier realizes how fucked up geralt's childhood was

[harrysfolklore]

Someone throwing something onstage and it hits bandmate yn and he gets all upset??

here it is! this was previously posted on patreon, if you want access to my work earlier and exclusive writings, SUBSCRIBE HERE

BANDMATE!YN MASTERLIST

ask me anything | masterlist | likes and reblogs are appreciated !

Harry loved performing, and now that he gets to do that alongside with his girlfriend, he loves it even more.

His shows are known for being a safe space for everyone, a place where they can be whoever they want to be, dance the night away, meet new people and if they’re lucky enough, get some advice from their favorite singer or get him to catch something they throw on stage for him.

All kinds of stuff were thrown on stage for him and his band: flags, stuffed animals, crocheted flowers, signs and sometimes even phones, but lately his fans were fond on throwing water on stage, with the purpose of starting a water fight with Harry.

Harry didn’t have a problem with his fans throwing stuff his way, in fact, he quite enjoyed seeing what they come up with, but he surely wasn’t fond of them throwing water on stage because it made the space all slippery and easy for him or anyone on his band to fall. Some fans caught up that he didn’t like when they did that, being able to tell it by the serious face he makes when he notices it, but some decide to turn a blind eye and do it anyway, and that was tonight’s case.

The band was on stage halfway through their 8th of 15 shows in Los Angeles, adrenaline running through their veins as they performed Medicine, Harry and YN had a tradition of singing the second verse together so she always moved towards where his mic stand was set to share the microphone with him, and every single time the action made the fans go nuts. Tonight wasn’t the exception, as the second verse approached, YN moved to where Harry was already waiting for her, but she failed to notice the wet surface that made her slip and fall, landing on her elbow and cutting it open since she was wearing a tank top for the night.

“Shit,” Harry let out on the microphone as he hurried towards his girlfriend, not caring about the fact that he stopped mid song and everyone in the arena was looking, “Baby, are you okay?” he grabbed her face looking for an answer before he noticed her bleeding elbow “Of course you’re not, fucking wet floors, they should know by now throwing water is not the goddamn thing to do.” he spoke again, fans on the barricade could faintly hear him and the anger on his voice was evident, along with his sour expression and furrowed brows.

"I'm okay H, I just need a quick bandage and I'll be good to go," YN said as she got up from the floor with Harry's help, looking at her elbow for the first time and noticing that her injure was worse than she thought.

"Nonsense, I need to take you to the hospital, this show is over," his face was as serious as the tone of his voice, proper upset that his girlfriend got injured because of some careless fans.

“You're being irrational now, we're not ditching the show when there's just two songs left, let me get bandaged up so I can keep playing, and go back to singing or everyone will be upset," YN scolded him as she walked to the stairs to get off the stage, a medical crew was already waiting for her for a quick check up

"Fuck everyone."

And regardless of a crowd of more than 20,000 people waiting for him, he followed his girlfriend off the stage, stood next to her as the medical crew cleaned and bind up her elbow, luckily the injury was pretty superficial and no stitches were needed, however, Harry was still pretty much upset and worried.

"Once we get up that stage again you're going to wipe that angry face off and we're going to play the last two songs as if nothing happened, okay?" YN scolded him again, she was bummed about getting hurt too but she wasn't going to let him take it out on his fans just because a couple of them were the reason she got injured.

"Okay, but everyone can expect a lecture about throwing water tomorrow, that's for sure" he kissed her lips quickly before they went back to the stage, and even with an injured elbow YN still delivered a great performance like the rock star she is.

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#harry styles imagine #harry styles fake instagram #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harrysfolklore #harry styles story #bandmate!yn #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fic rec #harry styles masterlist #1k #2k #hsfolklore archive

[acey-wacey]

Yo! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ I read your twst future childrens series and I love it! I searched on your posts and it seems like you only have 2(?) posts about it. I hope it doesn’t trouble you to write the same prompt/HCs but with Rook, Idia, and Lilia?

Thank you! Oh, and have a great thanksgiving!

I think I have a new favorite series! besides enemies to lovers ofc ;)

...

🪞 Vil Schoenheit 🪞

It was a usual busy day in the Pomefiore dorm when two little children stumbled through what appeared to be a portal of some kind.

They were a young girl, about 9, with blonde hair in two neat plaits, and a boy, just a few years younger who hid behind her leg as they examined the new setting.

"Where are we, Eloise?"

"I don't know. Stay behind me, Ansel. It could be dangerous."

Eloise guarded Ansel with her arms fiercely as they were approached by a tall figure in a Pomefiore uniform.

"What have we here?"

Vil bent down to examine the children closely and was soon assaulted with hugs from both of them.

"Vater! We got lost but don't worry, I protected Ansel very good."

Eloise released Vil from the hug and nodded seriously, seemingly standing at attention. Ansel followed suit, copying his sister's every move.

"Who are you kids? You almost messed up my makeup."

"Sorry, Vater," they sheepishly said in unison.

"I don't know how you got in here, but I'm not you father. Sevens, I do not like children."

Vil pinched the bridge of his nose as he wracked his brain for someone he knew that was good with kids.

Of course you were his first choice since you already have a bratty baby cat and operate as the school mom.

He sent one of the dorm members to bring you to Pomefiore, since he couldn't afford to leave for even a moment.

You walked to the Pomefiore dorm, very confused as to why the dorm leader himself had summoned you.

Your curiosity was not satiated when you found two little kids playing on Vil's throne while he worked.

"Who are the kids?"

Vil looked up from the color palette he had been reviewing and glanced at the kids.

"There our children apparently."

"We don't have children, Vil."

"Mama!"

Ansel jumped off the throne to grab at your arms, asking you to pick him up.

"According to Eloise and Ansel, we get married in the future, have two lovely darlings..."

Vil smiled, gesturing to the children. He had become quite fond of them.

"...And then they get transported back the where we are now."

You blinked at him, your brows furrowing as you picked Ansel up.

"We get married?"

"Yes, liebe. Keep up."

You blanked out for a few minutes there before Vil snapped in front of your face, grounding you back to reality.

"It's not that hard to believe, is it? Despite our differences, I've grown fond of you. I wouldn't have been surprised if we became sweethearts."

It was, in fact, a little hard to believe but you ignored that in favor of playing with Eloise and Ansel while they were around.

Vil wasn't shy about reminding you that you'd see them again, though it was, in partial, to see your cute flustered expression.

...

🏹 Rook Hunt 🏹

It was the middle of the night when you were awoken by a clink noise.

You looked around until the clink sounded again, seemingly coming from your window.

You opened the window to find Rook and four children gathered around the first floor.

"What are you doing?"

"We have little ones, mon amour!"

"Who are the kids with you?"

"Did you not hear what I just said? Our babies, Y/N!"

You eventually just ran outside to assess the situation.

The children with Rook were a tall girl of a bout 10, a shorter girl with straight blonde hair, a blonde boy who looked to be a twin of the shorter girl, and a little boy that Rook bounced on his hip.

"This is Odette, Camille, Cedric, and Emmanuel," Rook introduced them and beamed.

Odette, the oldest, ran to you and hugged you around the middle.

"We got lost, maman, and then we were here and you and papa are so young now. What happened?"

You looked at Rook for clarification.

"They're our children for the future, amour! I always knew I wanted to name my oldest Odette but to have a family with you is quite a pleasant notion."

You tried to conceal your blush as Rook smirked at you and whacked his arm.

"Don't say things like that around the children."

Camille and Cedric fought quite a bit while you were all together but Odette seemed quite used to breaking them up.

They always apologized and forgot about in within an hour.

Emmanuel was rather quiet and liked being held more than anything.

It was sad when you had to send them back but Rook wasted no time bringing up their conception which you didn't appreciate at all.

...

🎮 Idia Shroud 🎮

Ortho actually found them first.

While testing out his new flying mechanism, he spotted two children, a boy and a girl, who seemed very lost in the middle of the NRC campus.

"Hello! Are you lost?"

The boy, who looked about 8, perked up and ran at Ortho, swallowing him in a hug.

"Ortho! Where's mom and dad? We can find them anymore."

Ortho scanned the children to see who they were, but they didn't appear on any downloaded database.

"Who are you kids? I can't scan you."

"Silly unca. You don't need to scan us! It's just me and Erin!"

Ortho was so confused at the kids pack of records that he just picked them up and flew them back to the Ignihyde dorm with them laughing and cheering the whole way.

Upon being showed the children, Idia immediately recognized the blue flamey hair that didn't exist outside his family.

"Are you two like distant cousins or something?"

"Of course not, dad! It's just us! Why does nobody recognize us?" the boy put his hands on his hips and pouted.

"Sorry, I'm not your dad."

"No, you're our dad," the quiet younger girl finally spoke up with a soft embarrassed pink glow on her hair. "Dad is Idia and mama is Y/N."

Idia blue screened upon hearing your name.

He was completely frozen for so long that Ortho had to go get you from your dorm.

When you got there, you puzzles together that the children, named Matthias and Erin, were the future children of Idia and yourself that had somehow been transported to your time.

It took a good slap to the face to get Idia to come back to real life.

"Welcome back. These are our children."

"We don't have children, Y/N! I think I would remember if we ever... If we had... We don't have children!"

Matthias was much more outspoken and curious while Erin seemed to take after her father in bashfulness and dislike of socializing.

You quickly figured out that both were very clever and could use whatever tactics to get out of things they didn't like, eating vegetables, for example.

You'd seen the same stubbornness in Idia and it made you smile though you were sure it must give future you a headache.

It was sad to see them go but out of respect for Idia's heart, you chose not to mention them for a good while.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #disneytw #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader

[smokeys-house]

⭐️Also available on ao3!⭐️

💫 sequel to TCKD 💫

⭐️ Art by @miranagi, writing by @smokeys-house ⭐️

The Cane King's Daughter: A Story for Another Time

"Ah, Miss Puukko, I thought I'd find you here!" Moominpapa arrived through the kitchen door of Moominhouse, finding his wife and an old friend cooking in tandem for the evening's dinner to come. "The children said they saw you coming down the mountain not too long ago. It's been a while since your last visit!" He smiled, dusting off his hat before placing it right back atop his head. He looked as though he'd been in a hurry to get here.

"Aye, that it has." Puukko was squinting as she struggled to dice vegetables, the counter was quite low for her, and the kitchen quite small. She ducked underneath the stove's hood in order to add them to the pot. She wasn't terribly large, but she'd gotten quite used to living in a house her own size. She was happy to help, albeit much happier when the help was getting something down from up high.

Moominmama chuckled softly at the sight of the large moomin stooping in her kitchen. "Why don't you help papa set the table? I can finish up in here." The pair left Moominmama to her cooking as they brought dishes and silverware into the dining area. Moominhouse was calm, quiet, and now filled with the aroma of a nearly ready home cooked meal.

"Miss Puukko, forgive my er, uh, impatience, but uh, I do believe last time you were here you had said you had a story for another time." Papa began organizing each table setting.

"Aye. I believe I did."

"And it would appear, er, uh… that it is another time. Isn't that right?"

"Hmm… I'm thinkin' ye might be right. Can't be sure. Now what was it?" She playfully rested her snout in her hand with her arm crossed beneath it, striking as contemplative a pose as she could muster.

"I believe you were telling us about how you got caught. After Marion had joined your crew." Mama said, entering with a steaming tureen of stew, and setting it upon a potholder on the table.

Puukko eyed the other table settings. "I'm afraid that one's a bit impolite. Mightn't be good fer the young ones."

"The children are out camping this evening, I've just seen them off before arriving." Papa said, taking his seat. "They won't be back for at least another two days, if the weather holds."

"Then why'd we set the whole table and cook all that extra stew?" Puukko asked.

"It'll be nice in case they come back early. If they get rained out I'm sure they'll want some stew to warm them up." Mama smiled as she sat at the head of the table adjacent to her husband.

"I see… It's still not the nicest o' stories I fear. I think it can wait fer after dinner at least." Her reticence was apparent, as she idly fiddled with her utensils. She was seated across from Moominpapa, next to Moominmama.

"Nonsense, go right on ahead! No need to spare us the details, we're all adults here." Papa said. He was eager to hear the rest of the story, his repeated encouragements were evidence of that enough.

"Well… I s'pose ye earned it after sittin' through the first part. Ye know where it all started, but some time after that…"

–

Years had passed since Captain Whetstone had become legend in Marseille. Stories and songs alike featured a fearsome and dashing rogue doubly wounding a wealthy rum purveyor. The Cane King, as he'd taken to calling himself, had grown rather fond of his reputation after thoroughly scrubbing it of any misgivings. Each version of the tale was told a bit differently, but Jules Cartier, the man himself, was eager to remind the public of his own sanitized version.

There was always a pirate by the name of Whetstone. She was often depicted as devilishly handsome, and highly capable. Just as often, though counter to the first, she was depicted as monstrous, or drunk and oafish. Regardless, one thing was certain: she'd steal off with the Cane King's daughter. The fight that occurred at Cartier Manor was witnessed by many, though few spread the truth of Jules' cowardly actions following his defeat in the duel that day.

In the time since, Captain Whetstone and her now first mate; Marion Cartier, had plundered many ships associated with the Cartier family business. If there was a crate with the Cane King's face on it, the crew of The Honeyed Word was not far behind. Despite this brazen and rampant piracy, the age of swashbuckling sailors seemed near an end. Those that still engaged in the splendors of piratical adventure hung their hats in Nassau, living a free life off stolen coin. Legends had risen and fallen just like the waves they'd sailed upon, and yet few remained afloat.

"Cocoa?" A fillyjonk woman with a soft voice knocked at the door of the Captain's cabin. She entered just after.

"Ah, no thanks. I'm afraid it doesn't mix well with pipesmoke." Captain Whetstone replied from her seat at her desk.

"No, I mean as in the last bit of your name. Ko-Ko. It's cute. It makes for a good nickname." Marion was, as always, earnest to a fault. "I've just seen the quartermaster, he and I feel we've taken on all we can for the time being. That last haul was a big one!"

"Aye…" Whetstone said, taking in a deep breath before continuing. "Don't ye be callin' me that where the crew can hear, lass. Not but one knows me by Puukko these days. And that'd be you."

"But Whetstone's no fun for nicknames, cap!" Marion teased. She never seemed freer than when dressed for a day's work aboard a ship. Despite having her life upended all those years ago, it seemed she'd finally found where she belonged. She'd long since abandoned her garish trappings, finding herself far more comfortable in clothes fit for salted air.

"Nassau." The captain stood from her chair, smoke gently drifting from atop her pipe. "That's why we're sailin' fer Nassau. Dump the lot on the usual friendly faces." Her voice had grown raspy and deep over the years, but not without charm. She approached Marion, casually resting her paw upon her lover's cheek as she cleared the hair from her face. She took a moment to look into her eyes. Sapphire blue, and bright like stars. For all the time she'd been hardened as a pirate, she'd thought nothing could make her feel quite so soft again.

"Captain?" Marion stood awkwardly, blushing brighter with each passing moment. She beheld the captain's face, rugged, yet kind. Jules had given her quite the scar, a large streak bereft of fur stretched across her left eye.

"Marion.. I been doin' some thinkin'. Ye been talkin' of want fer t' see the world, and I been thinkin'... maybe I could be the one t' show it to you." She hesitated a moment, searching for the right words. "Whaddaya say after we clear the haul, you n' I find somewhere’s quiet fer a while. We could be t-"

"Crosstrees, captain!" Shouts erupted from the top deck. "Nigh on in range!"

Captain Whetstone tensed, balling her fists. Both her and Marion made for the top deck. Whetstone retrieved her spyglass, extending it to view a ship fast approaching.

"Pirate hunters." She said, laden with disdain. "I know this lot. Spanish privateers." She collapsed the telescope, turning to face the crew. "Full sail! Catch as much wind as she's able! We make fer Nassau!"

The crew got to work with haste. Every member of the crew knew exactly what they were to do, and did it fast.

"More and more of them these days, it seems." Marion said with a sigh, taking up a position near her moomin companion. "Do you think there'll be anyone taking patrol up near Nassau?"

"I'm countin' on it. Maybe a ship 'er two out 'n about. If not, well… it'll be fireworks fer the lot of 'em if they end up close enough to that ship old Hornigold beached."

"They ought to know better than to sail into these waters. They're getting bolder."

"I fear ye might be right." The captain took up the helm, stern and stalwart. The wind was fast and favorable, and The Honeyed Word took to it, sailing fast as she could. Several loud thumps forced their way through the humid air as smoke billowed like rain clouds from the gunports of the hunter ship, sending cannonballs hurtling toward their target.

"Git down!" Whetstone shouted a warning to all that could hear. Everybody laid still on the deck, covering their heads. Within seconds the sea was shattered into fine mist against the shot, narrowly missing the hull.

"No hits captain! Just out of range!" One of the crewmembers came up from the gundeck.

"Prepare to return fire, but hold! We're makin' a run fer it! Man the rear swivels!"

The hunter ship closed in on the port side, narrowing the time left for an escape. They fired another volley. Cannon after cannon fired near in unison, the majority just barely missing their target. Wood splintered violently as the iron round shot disrupted its shape, tearing through railings and walls above the waterline of Whetstone's ship.

"Booble's beard! I think she means t' board us!" The captain shouted as she got back to her feet once more. "Give 'er all we got, lads!" The crew fired on the hunter ship as it came within range, blasting the hull in several places.

"Good hits, Cap'n! But she's still on us!" A young man from the gundeck shouted.

The Spanish ship was gaining on them, and the Honeyed Word's cannons would not be ready for another volley until after the privateers had time to close in for a broadside. Whetstone's crew rushed to load their cannons as fast as they could, while others scrambled to get to their weapons and prepared to be boarded. The two ships were rapidly approaching the waters near Nassau, both focused on one another rather than their course. The hunter ship began firing grappling lines in high arcs in an attempt to catch the railings of their quarry.

Pff! Pff! Pff! BOOM!

The comparatively lesser blasts of the boarding guns were interrupted by the sound of over fifty cannons firing almost simultaneously. Captain Whetstone watched in awe as the ship that was just chasing her was sundered in a matter of seconds. The ship was there one moment, and then in its place lie only flotsam. The grappling lines that hung from the railing went limp, falling into the sea. Everything was for a moment, silent, save for the rolling of waves beneath. They hadn't gotten within range of Hornigold's safety measures, and yet their attackers were dealt with all the same. She looked ahead, utterly confused to see a Man O' War of the king's navy anchored just outside what she had known to be the haven of all pirates.

"Strike the colors, boys!" The captain shouted in disbelief. She looked around and took in the scene. "Hoist the white flag. This ain't a surrender, but I'll be damned if we get blasted t' smithereens like those fellers did."

The crew sailed slow to their destination, and were not fired upon. The Man O' War was too big to slip between the sandbars and would run aground if it sailed any closer. The Honeyed Word anchored a careful distance from shore further in than the hulking giant of a ship that had nearly shot them down. Several of the King's smaller ships were anchored nearby and otherwise sailing the area, but none of his men were seen immediately ashore save for a party of three now discussing something with a pirate down on the beach.

"Marion, I think it likely fer the best if you and the crew stay aboard fer the moment. We might be in an awful hurry t' get outta here afore ye be knowin' it." Whetstone eyed the conversation through her spyglass. The tension was high and visible in all those involved, but had yet to boil over.

"What are you planning on doing?" Marion asked.

The captain checked one of the pistols in her brace before tucking it right back in. "Just gon' ask a few questions is all. I'll be back before supper, worry ye no'."

"Just be careful. Ruth won't be here to save you like in Marseille."

"There ye'd be right, but there ought t' be at least a few dozen what sail a black flag still ashore. Can't 'ave all been shot down on the way in." She shrugged.

A short while later, the captain had arrived on shore as the tender her crew had brought her in on made its way back to the ship. The conversation she witnessed had come to its conclusion seemingly without a fight. She wandered into Nassau proper, aiming to avoid the eyes of the King's men. The veritable shanty town that encapsulated and surrounded the proper buildings of Nassau were usually alive with scores of merchants and merry-makers, instead they were filled with a tentative silence. Great change was coming, and its harbinger was anchored just on the horizon.

Canvas covered tents and makeshift shacks led onward into the heart of town, and it remained just as quiet. Captain Whetstone trod what once felt a familiar path in caution, an uneasy feeling in her gut as she took in the emptiness.

"If yer here fer nonsense, you'll assuredly find it this day." A voice like tumbling stone called out from a hammock tethered between a post on a house's porch and a palm tree.

"Calico Jack." Whetstone sighed in response. "I'd have thought you busy with yer own brand o' nonsense as usual. What in blazes is goin' on here? Where's everyone gone? Why's there a behemoth of a ship skulking outside Nassau?"

"Like I said. Nonsense. The King's come a'callin' fer a pardon. Any pirate that's wanting fer an out can get back into the good graces of his majesty, loot untouched. Everyone's holed up or arguing amongst themselves about where to go from here. Seems too good t' be true, but old Benji boy seems quite taken with the idea." Said Rackham. He gave himself a push off the ground with his foot, swinging his hammock a bit. "And them that don't sign their name?" He dragged his thumb across his throat.

"Hornigold? Ain't he practically the founder o' this place? Why give it up? We've got real freedom here."

"Founder and mayor, or so he thought himself. Among others I s'pose. The King's seen t' that, too. You be knowin' a man by the name Woodes Rogers? Failed privateer or some such. He seems to know you."

"Aye, I know of him." She thought of the moomin in the powdered wig at Cartier Manor. She chose not to bring it up.

"That'll be yer new mayor. Appointed by the crown and everything." Jack seemed as carefree as ever despite the news, his arms thrown behind his head. "Hornigold seems to think the place he built up on stolen gold could grow into something proper. I think he's gone dotty in his age an' just wants fer a statue of himself." He coughed out a coarse laugh, wheezing a moment as he wound back down.

The Captain's mind began to wander. If it was true, she could get the quiet life she wanted with Marion, away from the rigors of life at sea. She'd be free, but would Marion consider it freedom? She'd been too nervous to ask her, after all, it was Marion's dream to sail and do as she pleased. A pirate's life suited Marion better than it ever had herself, and her stint as a pirate had only just begun. Retirement had been Whetstone's goal until she met the fillyjonk she loved, but could she do so without the guilt of clipping her wings? Could she give her the freedom she'd always wanted without the risks of swashbuckling and seafaring? Each of her thoughts peppered her mind, the circular nature of it causing her to lose focus.

"You should go see Hornigold. Make of all this what y' will with yer own peepers. I'm going to take a very long nap… to clear my head." He placed his hat over his face.

"Where's he supposed t' be?" She asked. In response, Jack loudly pretended to snore. The captain tapped the underside of the hammock with her foot. "Rackham. Where's Hornigold at right now?"

"I'm sleeping!" He shouted as he turned over. The scent of booze surrounded him as he shifted. Whetstone kicked him again, harder this time. "I'm sleeeeeeping!" He sat up and sang loudly. A pewter mug flew out the top floor window of the building he was anchored to and struck him squarely on the head. He yelped, covering his head as he lay back down in his hammock.

"Damn it, Rackham, you lout! I know you ain't do much of it, but some of us is tryin' to think!" A woman with dark hair in a green waistcoat leaned out the window. "If yer looking fer Hornigold, he's up at the old fort overlooking the shore. Seems to spend an awful lot of time there these days. Nice seein' ye by the way, Whetstone. Wish it were under brighter circumstances."

"Thanks, Mary. Glad t' see some folks still got their wits about them." Whetstone said, happy to see a familiar face with some thoughts behind it.

"Careful up there. He's like to have Rogers with him. Don't let him force ye to sign something you ain't thought about."

Captain Whetstone had never really been to the old fort save for wandering by, but she had always seen it on her way in. Last she'd seen it, the fort was mostly dilapidated and deserted. It hadn't seen use since before Nassau was Nassau, and the defenses that had been put up focused primarily on the inlets rather than the surrounding sea. It seemed as though it had been worked on recently, with new bricks having been laid in some areas and a few spare cannons brought over. Supplies, crates, and tools were strewn about the fort, and new doors had been placed on a few of the scant interiors. Men of the King's navy armed with rifles lined the walls, closely and silently watching the captain as she searched around. She tucked her paws into her pockets as she walked, uneasy in the open space surrounded by unfriendly eyes.

"Hornigold?" She knocked on the new door, pressing her ear against it to listen.

"Enter." A voice said from within.

Whetstone pushed open the door, revealing that the interior had been decorated, although sparsely, with furniture and the trappings of an office. A stone spiral staircase led down on one side of the room, and a closet mirrored it on the other. Daylight poured in through the gaps in the window's impromptu cabinet doors, highlighting the peeling paint on and splintered wood within.

An older snork man sat in a chair behind a desk. He had short brown hair combed neatly to the side, fitting just between his ears, atop pristine white fur. His frock coat was gray and well maintained, beneath it was a clean and spotless white shirt. He removed his reading glasses and set them aside, before clearing his throat and folding his paws on the desk.

"Captain Whetstone I presume. A pleasure to meet you, I'm Governor Woodes Rogers."

"I knew that bastard hired a phony Rogers…" Whetstone thought aloud, just below speaking volume.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothin'! Nothin' important anyway. Ain't I supposed t' be the one beggin' fer a pardon?"

"No, I mean, I don't know what you just said."

"So there isn't a royal pardon?" It was almost never clear if she was joking or not.

"There…There is, yes. Sit down, please, and we can discuss matters further." He was clearly already very tired of dealing with pirates. The captain sat down, not wishing for any misunderstanding with several armed men just outside.

"His majesty has decided to extend his grace to any who have committed acts of piracy, they need only sign their name, give up their ways, and they are free to go. Any who do not accept this offer are to be brought in as criminals and or hanged given the severity of their crimes. No tricks, no games. We've enough trouble with the war as is, and needn't have the constant fear of pirates alongside enemies of the crown."

"So it's be pardoned or get blasted to bits by that Man O' War on the way out, is it?"

"No. Everyone's free to leave. They've all got till the fifth of September to turn themselves in, and after that they'll all be hunted down." Rogers spoke sternly and plainly, but not unkindly. "You, on the other hand…"

Just as Rogers finished speaking, Benjamin Hornigold rose from the stairwell, a flintlock pistol in his paw. His round hemulic silhouette was cut short by the sharp angles of his coat, and the broad shoulder pads within it. He pointed his gun right at Captain Whetstone, who immediately stood and reached for hers.

"Still as a sandbar, Whetstone! Don't get grabby with anything shooty 'er sharp." Hornigold pulled back the hammer on his pistol. He entered the room fully, but just beyond the range of being tackled to the ground. He'd seen much and done much in his day, and moved with purpose.

"What in blazes are ye doin' Hornigold?!" Whetstone raised her paws in the air. She eyed her surroundings as best she could, not taking her focus off her supposed ally. Rogers remained completely unfazed, sitting calmly at his desk.

Hornigold whistled loudly. "Right, boys! Kindly relieve Miss Whetstone of her belongings. She won't be needin' em much longer."

Two of the navy men from outside answered the call, entering and slowly approaching the captive captain. They flanked her on either side, while Hornigold kept his aim on her.

"Why are ye doin' this? There's a pardon, Hornigold! We can be free again!" Whetstone said. While not committed to the idea yet, her renewed hopes were being dashed before they had a chance to grow.

"Because we cannot have you roaming free anywhere in a civilized world. Most of these men became pirates out of a loyalty to country or kin, and can be reformed. You fight for nothing. You work for nothing. You do nothing but take for the thrill of taking!" Woodes Rogers slammed his fists on the desk as he stood. "I was a privateer… I traveled for five long years around the globe. My own brother was killed at the hands of scum like you. Do you know what happened to me upon my return? I was sued by my own crew for lost wages." He paced the room, the tension was palpable as he did so. The men that had arrived to disarm the captain had not yet made an attempt, instead listening to Rogers' story.

"I was badly wounded the day they took my brother. I had barely recovered by the time I arrived home. I had praise for my accomplishments, to be certain… but I was destitute and alone. Some time later I hear of some… would-be folk hero pirate– who showed up in France and stole away with some pompous fool's daughter." His composure was beginning to break as the volume of his voice began to rise. "My exploits are many, and yet no songs are sung of me. No plays written after me. My legacy exists only in a book I penned myself! I've fought to be remembered. And you… some lazy, layabout nobody… you've captivated the hearts and minds of countless men, women, and children. Tales are told about you and your purported skills and the things you've allegedly done. Doubtless riddled with lies. And to top it all off, you've roped me into your shenanigans by placing me at your duel in Marseille. You billed me as a coward and a buffoon." He turned his back to her as he paced, paws folded behind him. "You are a pox! Upon this world! A blight on the name of sailors everywhere!"

The man to the captain's right reached for one of the pistols in her brace, slowly removing it. Just then, she struck the man to her left with her elbow square in the nose, knocking him unconscious. He grunted hard as he fell to the ground. She took the other man's neck in her raised right arm, spinning him to her front as she drew her other pistol.

tst-BOOM!

Hornigold fired at the captain, instead wounding the man she captured in his shoulder. She tossed him aside and went to rush Benjamin as the navy man stumbled to regain his footing. Hornigold threw his spent gun at her, deftly backstepping as he readied a second pistol from the small of his back. Whetstone fired back, missing by a hair as she batted the thrown gun aside and sprinted toward him. He managed to bring his second gun to bear before she reached him, stopping her in her tracks.

"Enough!" He shouted. "Don't make me shoot you, Whetstone." His voice betrayed a hint of regret.

Several more navy men poured in from the door after hearing the shots. They pointed their rifles at her in practiced formation from the rear.

"Nassau's future depends on this! We can't win a war with the crown. I won't be givin' up what I've built here after so long!" Hornigold tightened his grip. "Just give it up. Please. I want a part in Nassau's continued growth. Rogers won't let that happen if yer still knockin' about."

The captain balled her fists as she growled. She was surrounded thoroughly, with no chance of escape.

"You are to be taken to England and hanged as an example. An omen to those who'd fly a black flag rather than accept the pardon and live as honest sailors. If the legend of Captain Whetstone is to be told with me in it, it will be told with a definitive end." Woodes said, sitting back down in his chair. "Your crew has already been captured, overpowered by mine and Benjamin's men. They'll be tried, and likely hanged as well. Take her away."

–

Puukko took a moment from her story, and along with it a sip from her glass. She'd hardly touched her stew, despite its enticing aroma. She found it hard to speak about those days beyond the stories worth telling. The rest of it ate at her all these years, her piled regrets folded neatly like so much laundry. She scanned her hosts’ faces. She hadn't reached the grim parts of her tale, and yet already she'd felt she'd cursed the valley with recountings of such hot blood. Neither Moominpapa nor Moominmama seemed to be put off by the story so far, each listening attentively as they ate.

“Spent weeks aboard Benji's ship. I were tied down below deck with nothin’ but me fur and a scarce bit o’ food n’ water here and there. Spent the whole time dreamin’ up revenge plans while I rotted away, but by the time I'd been brought into a private cell somewheres, I'd given up hope. M’ crew’d all been held someplace else, somewhere they usually hold pirates afore their trial I s'pose. I was put in some guarded camp with a myriad of small outbuildings, probably cells in each of ‘em. Pirate after pirate took pardons, and it were as close to the end of the golden age as you could put a point on. Word got out of my capture and soon-t’-be execution ‘round England. Sounded like the bells were tollin’. Spent maybe a day ‘er two in that cell starin’ at the moon through the bars too high fer me t’ reach. Just sat there hating myself for what I'd done to Marion. The sentence I'd sold me crew and t’ her most of all. Head was full o’ hate. Hate and fear and sorrow and all sorts of other things…”

Puukko set her spoon delicately atop the thick stew in her bowl, the surface tension holding it a moment. She watched it sink. Her eyes were distant, heavy with the fog of memory. She continued once again.

“Rackham and Read had taken the pardon. First thing they did with their new found freedom was t’ pinch a crate o’ hand grenades. Weren't sure if that part were part o’ the next bit, or if they were just feelin’ like celebrating with a bang.” She chuckled a little, though in a somber, almost mournful manner. “Anyhow, they tracked me down an’ blew the cell wall out. Quite the jailbreak. Mary took a bullet to the calf fer me then, on the run out. Not sure how we pulled it off, but after we'd made it out she'd spilled her beans about how she were fixin’ t’ save me crew, too. Whole lot, Marion included. Trouble was, she were part o’ that plan, but now she'd been shot she weren't able to do nothin’ and the execution was just a few days out. She gave me all she knew about Rogers and comp'ny an’ who what where an’ why, but it would be up t’ me to pull it off. Plan was half-baked at best, but then again I never was good at followin’ a plan.”

–

“I have had enough of fancy manors an’ fancy folk.” Whetstone said, crouched behind a hedge alongside Calico Jack. The evening air was taught and cold, but thick with the sound of a dinner party from within a mansion across the way. Similar large houses dotted the area, sprawling out from the city.

“Least you won't have to do any running tonight, missy. If ye can stay quiet, that is. You look like a bear, and smell like one, so I'm hopin’ ye can climb like one. Anyway, dear captain, I fear I've work to do! See you on the other side of all this mess.”

“Thank you, Rackham. Give Mary m’ best. In case I don't be seein’ ye.” Despite the tense atmosphere, she couldn't help but wonder just how Jack of all people would know what a bear smells like. She shook the thought out of her head.

The original plan Mary had laid out involved fine clothes and playing at being high status to get into the manor, but without Mary's wit and relatively unrecognizable face, they'd have to make due. Jack wandered off into the street, feigning a drunken stupor. He approached a duo of guards stationed at the gate, bottle in hand. Each were stout looking hemulens with constable attire and billy clubs to match.

“Oh, don't ya just hear the old man say? Goodbye fare ye well! Goodbye fare ye well!” Jack sung slurredly, now stumbling directly in front of the guard on the left side of the gate. The captain watched in quiet anticipation from her hiding place.

“Make tracks, piss-pot! This ‘ere ain't another pub for you to crawl into!” The guard shouted as he shoved Jack back into the street, nearly toppling him.

“What’s is he sayin’? That he don't… that he dun’t like my song?” Jack pouted looking over at the other guard, who was clearly bored with his duties. Rackham began singing again, practically shouting. He wandered straight into the open gate, scanning the area as he sang. “Oh don't you hear the old man say! Hurrah! Me boys! We're homeward bound!”

“Invite only! Back to the bars with you!” The constable dragged Jack out from his shirt collar, tossing him into the street.

“Meet ya there, mate!” Jack rose up from the ground, and wound up his arm comically far before slapping the guard that shoved him right across the snout, then cackled as he began to run.

“Oy!” The guard clasped his paws over his nose, recoiling from the sting of the slap. “Get ‘im in irons!”

Both guards began chasing him, clubs raised high and shouting. About halfway down the street, Rackham threw his bottle toward the guards, intentionally missing them. It landed hard, shattering and scattering glass throughout the street and an echo through the air, signaling the waiting Captain Whetstone that both guards were after him, and the courtyard empty.

Whetstone ran as quietly as she could past the gate, heading off to the side before anyone could come out to investigate the ruckus. The manor house was tall and elegant, a symbol of status gifted to Nassau’s new mayor, the man poised to put an end to the golden age of piracy. The occasional shrill shriek or boisterous laugh could be heard from inside on the main floor, the dinner party was as raucous as could be for the wealthy and the powerful. Whetstone looked around for a way up and in. Mary had scouted the place well enough, but her plan had them entering as guests.

Sparks glittered against the night sky following shortly behind a cigar tossed from the rear balcony. It tumbled into the cool grass, smoldering into darkness. The Captain couldn't help her eyes being drawn to it, she traced its path up and to the balcony railing. It stretched out and round hovering above the rear garden, pillared over the patio. The pillars themselves cornered about the perimeter, and stopped nearest to the ornate blackened metal archways supporting numerous decorative flowers which bordered the courtyard itself. She made sure the dagger Mary and Rackham could spare for her was tucked firmly within her belt, over her coarse linen shirt and borrowed slops. She tested her footing on the ironwork, climbing up and over toward the balcony's edge. She pulled herself up as far as she could muster, peeking in to ensure none saw her climbing over the railing. Despite her size, she was quite agile.

The doors were unlocked, allowing guests to enter and exit as they pleased. She snuck in and began checking rooms, hunting for Rogers’ office. She listened carefully, pressing her ear to each door as she passed them. Her heart beat loud in her ears, contested by the creak of each floorboard and the rattling of each doorknob. Her normally steady paws shook just so. The upper floor consisted of several rooms arranged along a boxed hall, each ending in stairs leading down to the main foyer. She'd checked every door alongside the balcony, and had only the riskier side halls to go. She peaked around the corner down the hall, waiting a moment to listen. When she felt it was clear, she slinked around the bend, heading straight for the first door she could see. Just then, a slender young fillyjonk abruptly exited the room nearest the stairs. He wore a hat obscuring the top half of his face, and a white dress shirt with suspenders. He held a cut cigar in his paw, and was heading straight at Captain Whetstone. She tucked herself against the wall around the corner, her heart pounding in her chest as she listened to hear if he'd noticed her.

She heard his footsteps continue at pace. Whether he saw her or not, he was still approaching, and fast. Whetstone's mind raced, she thought of heading back to the last room she checked, but her feet wouldn't move. She froze in place. She felt a pang of guilt run through her, and struggled to figure out why. The thought finally hit her, in seconds that felt like hours. The man approaching looked just like Marion did the night she met her. It was too late to turn back now, he was almost on her. She fumbled a moment for the dagger beneath her sash. The sound of its sharp edges running against the soft leather of the sheathe made her stomach churn. She was all too familiar with the violence it would wreak, but never on someone so unsuspecting, unarmed. Never in such cold blood. Never on a man who simply turned the wrong corner at a party. She'd taken lives before, but never callously. It was not something she did easy, but tonight, it would have to be.

The fillyjonk's arms appeared first, clutching a borrowed table lighter in one paw and his cigar in the other. Then his nose, whiskers drooping just slightly off his face. The captain raised her arm, dagger pointed down from on high. She felt wrong in every inch of her body. Every follicle of each individual hair in her fur felt like a thousand needles. His foot stepped into the hall just past the corner, and in an instant she began swinging down in a forceful arc.

“Henri!” A voice came from just atop the stairs. “Henri, where are you going? We're going to smoke in the parlor, not on the balcony! It is far too cold for a young damsel like me!” A drunken woman with a heavy French accent shouted in an almost flirty tone.

Whetstone's arm stopped hard just after building momentum, her muscles nearly collapsing from the sudden stop. Her arm felt like a ship breaking up on the rocks. Her eyes went wide, and she pressed her empty paw to her mouth to hide the sound of her pain and the sudden wave of guilt and relief that washed over her. Her eyes began to well up with tears.

“Coming, dear! I told you to bring a coat. You don't listen to me as often as you should, you know.” The man said smugly as he turned about face, back down the hall, completely unaware that his life was nearly cut short.

The captain's gut wrenched, she began breathing heavily as she slumped against the wall, tucking the dagger back into its sheathe. A few moments passed before she regained her composure, pushing the thought out of her mind as the reality of her task set back in.

The second door she tried after her encounter opened into a wide, unlit office space. It was Rogers’ study, she was sure of it. Decorated neatly with his accomplishments, and with a massive painting of himself hung center behind the desk. The room was fit for a lounge, with chairs, a table, a globe that was open revealing within a small bar, and taxidermy animal heads lining the walls. She opened a small door beside a display case and found a closet with several coats and hats hung within. She tucked herself inside, and began to wait.

She sat alone with her thoughts. She grieved the man she'd almost killed as though she'd done so, and grieved her crew as though they'd already hung. She grieved the pirate named Whetstone, the legend she'd created and become. Mostly, she grieved the life of freedom she'd stolen from the woman she loved. She pressed her claws into her palm one by one, the urge to pace pulling at her legs. It reminded her of the times when she would hide from her parents when she'd felt she'd done something wrong. It reminded her of the agonizing silence when she tried to speak to them as a child, her voice too quiet to escape her body. She remained trapped in her mind, the past few weeks a near uninterrupted onslaught of memories and regrets.

The door to the study creaked open, and heavy footsteps rolled in. A snork gentleman sighed contentedly as he lit the sconces about the room and the lantern at his desk. Woodes Rogers pulled his chair back from his desk and sat down. Puukko had not even noticed that the party had ended, but the silence from below confirmed it. She steadied herself, ready once again to play the part of fearsome pirate captain.

“Woodes Rogers.” Whetstone stepped out from her hiding place, dagger in her paw. She flipped it idly as she walked to the center of the room, turning to face him at the end of her stride. Woodes scrambled to open the top drawer of his desk.

“Ah! I wouldn't do that.” She said, laughing low and gravelly just after. Woodes pulled a flintlock pistol from the drawer, pulling back the hammer and leveling it at Whetstone. “How much you had to drink tonight at yer little soiree, Woodes? Think ye can kill me in one shot? Even if ye do, a whole lot more folk than jus’ you or I are gonna die if I don't make it outta here ship-shape.” She smiled a wide, toothy grin and held her arms out.

“If it isn't the famous Captain Whetstone.” Woodes sneered bitterly and sarcastically. “Shouldn't you be rotting in a cell before your execution?”

“Yup. Nothin’ left to lose, saw to that one yerself. Been real lonely since ya captured me, y'know. I'm just itchin’ fer a conversation. And I don't know about you, but I find it much easier t’ talk without a gun pointin’ at me.”

“What is it you want?” Woodes set the pistol down on his desk, within reach. “Not one step closer.”

“Just what I'm owed, Woodes. Not more'an that. I come a'callin’ fer an act of grace.”

“Ah! Hahaha!” Woodes doubled over in laughter. “It's a bit late for that now, your execution is already scheduled! Not to mention the crimes of escaping custody and breaking into my home. You've gone completely mad!”

“I'm assuming you can write those last two in there, too. Get yer pen out. Ye got one of them pardons stashed away in yer desk?”

“It's not one per pirate, it's one large document all involved parties sign. Even if I had it here, you'd need to sign it in court, buffoon.”

“Figures. Well let's talk about what we can do here ‘n now, th–”

“I could shoot you. Or you could rot in a different cell from your last one. Or both. I hardly care for the details.”

“Yer fergettin’ abou–” Before the captain could continue, Rogers reached for his gun once again. She flipped the dagger in her paw, gripping the blade before sending it sailing through the air. Just as Rogers readied the gun, the dagger embedded itself into its wooden frame, knocking it out of his paw. She closed the distance, lunging over the desk to tackle him. She gripped his throat, and with her other paw, rested her claws just against his neck. He stopped struggling as soon as she'd had the upper hand.

“Those things are awful noisy, Woodes. I'd prefer if ye could hear what I'm about t’ tell ye.” She pulled up, forcing him to upright himself, then she held him against the wall. “Say, do ye remember the Man O’ War Hornigold beached in front of Nassau?”

“Mhm.” He nodded, mouth closed.

“You were a privateer. How much powder d'ye reckon it takes fer a full broadside from her? All the guns shifted t’ the one side as it were. And how many times do ye figure she were fit to fire before taking on more powder? Bein’ a warship an’ all.” She tightened her grip. “and how much more powder ye think were… donated… to Nassau and her many pirates?”

“You're bluffing!” Rogers' eyes went wide as he put the pieces together. He slackened, and Whetstone let him free to sit atop his desk.

“I wish I were, Woodes!” She bluffed. “You could either be the man who captured and executed the legendary captain Whetstone, or you could be the man who's failures brought the newly civilized Nassau to ruin. And I'll do it again, too. Panama. Curaçao. Anywhere. And it'll be in your name. There‘re folks with torches lit jus’ waitin’ t’ hear that I didn't make it out of here. Or that I did, and that you couldn't work it out. The choice is yers.” She retrieved her dagger and the pistol.

Rogers sat and thought for a while before speaking up. “Wait, captured and executed?”

“Still a few days afore the execution. Plenty o’ time to come up with somethin’. Ye get t’ be a hero, so long as I get to walk. Ye can announce at me crew's trial that the King has shown ‘unprecedented grace’ towards his people and decided to spare them the grisly gibbet, and send them mean ol’ pirates off somewheres else. Sentenced to transportation.”

“And you? I fake your death? And then what, you skulk about England free as a bird to hop back on a ship?”

“Poof! Gone. Forever. A puff of smoke from yer pipe soakin’ into the curtains.” She gestured dramatically.

Rogers began putting pieces together in his head once more, the details fitting together neatly in his mind. “I'll charter you a ship. You're to be taken somewhere else, NOT along with your crew, mind you. No… You'll be sent a world apart from them. And if the ship's captain reports you did not show, there'll be no trial for your men. If I ever see your name or hear of someone that looks like you on a ship ever again, I'll know where to find your people. And I'll have their pardons revoked. They'll be summarily executed.”

–

"Soon after that, Marion an' me crew got sent off to Australia or thereabouts. Sent me o'er t' North America. Figured I'd just cause trouble if I went wherever else they send criminals, so I got shipped out t' the wild west. Did some gunslingin' and highwayman shenanigans. Were a gun fer hire fer a bit. Not at first, though. After I'd lost everything I figured I'd hit the straight n' narrow, work as an honest blacksmith again like I did afore I were a pirate. Didn't get very far, figured I was only good at bein' an outlaw. I were a legend brought low and vanished, a ghost of a person… Hardly anyone recognized me out that way, despite it all. Thing about it is, weren't too much use fer swordsmanship nor sailing in the mainland, and the guns o' the time were a bit harder t' manage fer an old salt like me. Bein' a highwayman an' bandit meant stealin' from folks what ain't deserve it most days, an' bein' a gun fer hire meant gettin' in fights I ain't got a stake in fer a coin. I weren't much good at it neither. At sea, there's miles an' miles o' water 'tween you and thems that know yer face and can do somethin' about it. When ye make too friendly with some feller's wife, er rob the wrong folks, well… small towns. Lots of wide open, sure, but the folk all know yer name and who done what. Us moomins cut a pretty recognizable silhouette I reckon, so I got chased out of near every town I found myself. 'Stead of pushin' further west like most folk o' the day, I kept heading east. Kept runnin' an' runnin' and eventually I realized I weren't bein' chased no more. I spent a lot o' time thinkin'... got real down on m' self. Felt I weren't good fer nothin' and felt I ought t' cut out alone somewheres. I'd been bad, and I'd done lots of wrong. Did a whole lot I ought t' regret. Heard tell of a place called Moominvalley. Set out and hunkered down alone in the mountains. Took a long time 'fore I ever came down into the valley itself… And the rest is history." She sighed and took a moment to collect her thoughts.

"When I met Marion, my only fear was losing her. As soon as I lost her, my only fear was seein' her again... Fer all I've done and fer who I've been, I'm scared. Scared I won't be able t' face her again. I thought of apologizin' an' all kinds of other things. It's the one thing I'm not sure I'm strong enough fer. I spend most of my days living a new life, and it's a life I love. But there are days I think about it all, and think about her. And what she's like now. And what became of her." She idly tore bits of bread apart, setting them in her bowl of stew and watching them swell and sink around her spoon. She hadn't raised her head to look at her hosts since around halfway through her tale.

For a moment, the room was silent. No one ate, no one said anything. The cool breeze halted and the wood of the house dared not settle nor creak. They simply sat, enduring the reality of her story. By now, most of the valley knew she'd been a pirate, but few thought more of it than the romantic stories they've heard over and over. The truth of who Puukko once was and who she became were laid bare. It was hard for the Moominparents to believe that the friend they'd come to know, the eccentric and often grandmotherly blacksmith living in the mountains had once led such a life. She was an outlaw, and a killer, and there wasn't any taking that back.

"I'm too old now to believe that only the good die young. But I sure seem t' have lived an awful long time…" The silence became too much for her to bear. She stood up, pushing in her chair. "I think it's time I got on."

Moominmama stood and grabbed Puukko by the paw with both of her own.

"I'm not sure what brought you to Moominvalley. But I'm glad you ended up here." She smiled, in a reassuring way that only Moominmama could manage. “Whatever you did back then, all we can do is make up for it by living here and now, the best we can.”

"You know…" Moominpapa scratched at his chin. "We visited the wild west once. The whole family, in fact. It's quite the story, if you've got the time! Sit back down, I'll tell you all about it! They used to call me Two-gun Moomin!”

“Dear, I believe only you called yourself that.” Moominmama chuckled softly.

Puukko smiled, returning to her seat. The Moomins had a warmth about them that she couldn't shake, and always seemed to know exactly what their guests needed. They were strange, but they were kind. It'd been an age since she felt that someone truly knew her. She felt a lump in her throat, and a sense of acceptance she'd not felt in a long, long time.

#Puukko #moomins #moomin oc #moominvalley #ao3 #first mate Marion #moominpappa #moominmamma #whetstone's whispers

[munchkinmarauder]

My review of Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver

Overall I'll give it a generous 4/5 stars and I'm excited to see where this series takes up but I do have some gripes with it

Also lots of stuff from Orlando's AITP X-Men Monday interview pops up so check it out as we may have some hidden clues on what's next

Spoilers below

Overall a good set up issue with some fun moments. Some of my fears were exaggerated but some of those expected fears did mean I didn't enjoy the issue as much as I hoped. However I'm fault happy overall and keen for the rest of the series

The good-

- a series with the twins as coleads has been long overdue. I'm so happy to see it finally happen. Fun fact this is the first marvel series to be headlines by a sibling duo.- for the most part the twins dynamic and fight felt like a proper sibling fight. You could feel the weight of their long history and the multitude of things left unsaid and resentments.

- it's nice to see Wanda being the one clearly at fault for a fight between them for a change

- while the twins are little orange I appriciate the commitment to showcasing the twins as visible people of colour. It was long needed. I do think they (and Luna and Tommy should be more visibly brown). I also am enjoying the art and the use of the vibrant colours in general.

- I like the mystery being set up with why the twins are being targeted and the twist that while Magneto did write the letter he wasn't the one who sent it. I'm not as curious at the letter contents as I thought I would be. It seems he's being cruel because he's a dick to Pietro but let's see. I also really am excited to know why it's both twins and the combination of them together that has the giver upset. Lore and power upgrade for born twins? I hope so. Wanda being a universal threat is a given so I am way more curious about what they'll do with Pietro

- I think it was a good move to make a joke about is or isn't Magneto the bio dad at the start and shoot it down. I would love for the retcon to be undone I just don't think it has a place in this story about the bond between the twins. Magneto doesn't need to overshadow the series more than he has already for what it's worth I do think the comics are leading up to a Magnet fam reunion with most of its members appearing in major comics this year.

- it being acknowledged that Magneto was cruel to Pietro, killed him and treated the twins unequally. I have gripes with this I'll set out below but given how biased Orlando is towards Magneto this was good to see.

- the Luna, Tommy and Monet cameos made me so happy! I'm glad Orlando seems fond of Luna and I hope she and Monet join Tommy in helping Pietro. Even if the ladies are just cameos it's still a nice touch.- I liked the contrast where the fuming twins lash out with their powers. Wanda destroys her shop and Pietro is ranting but checking up on loved ones while he does so. They are each others ying and Yang.

- we're lucky the Wizard is a drama queen cause his snipers seem pretty competent and if they'd used regular bullets this series would be automatically over lol. I do also think the Wizards team called Pietro to upset him. Futher and not Wanda to ensure the twins wouldn't be able to contact each other.

The bad

- the writing for Wanda was better than Pietro. This feels more like a Wanda series so far but it's early days so let's see. Even though Wanda is the one initially in the wrong she seems to be treated more sympathetic by the narrative and of course she has more page time than her brother.

- Pietro's past appearances in SW made me a bit unsure about how Orlando will write Pietro, his takes in the comic themselves are quite superficially though he talks about Pietro very passionately in Interviews. Nothing really changed that opinion here.

- we didn't get enough of the twins interacting and this is supposed to be a series about their relationship. It would have been nice to have a little more of them getting along so the fight felt more impactful. An infinity comic with the two might have been a good idea.- I hate the Pietro fears Wanda thing Orlando introduced as well as the Pietro manipulated Wanda for HoM. I don't think Steve actually read that comic because Wanda herself in that comic said all her brother was doing was protecting her cause the X-Men and Avengers wanted to kill her and Magneto was willing to let them. Having Wanda say this was off-putting. Had it been purely in angry it would be somewhat forgivable but Orlando has expressed this sentiment in his other SW books

- Orlando's insistence on the adopted family angle and portraying Magneto as a complicated but good man who took the twins in with Wanda as the worshipful daddies girl and the victim blaming as Pietro was cold to him. That man was abusive to both his children. He would let them die for his cause and had abandoned them multiple times. Wanda pre retcon had many an issue and gripe with him. The twins are justified in their issues with him and no one should have to forgive their abusers. Magneto is a fascinating character and I loved the pre retcon dynamic with the twins as it was so tragic and full of irony and it only really works if theyre blood related. This painting of them as a happy chosen family is detrimental to all characters involved.

#pietro maximoff #wanda maximoff #quicksilver #maximoff twins #magnet family #monet st croix #tommy shepherd #Luna Maximoff #Darcy Lewis #scarlet witch & quicksilver (2024) #scarlet witch and quicksilver #quicksilver and the scarlet witch #Quicksilver #scarlet witch #magneto #erik lensherr

[variousqueerthings]

I think it's also interesting to see how things change depending on the time in which they're being engaged with. so I see things about rose today that point out that she's written to be 19 when she meets the doctor and that's a big age difference (which... I understand the point is it's a big age difference because billie piper was 23 and eccleston was 40, and then dtennant was like 34/35 when he started which isn't so big of a shift but anyway the optics I get what people are getting at, but also I think it does oversimplify a lot of what's actually going on in the written dynamic, anyway-)

and also that the rtd run's Themes start coming together properly around s3 (although they are present from day one), and in some ways at this point, because nu!who has been running for... fuckn. actually quite a few years, which is wild to me as someone who started watching as a kid, and I wonder if classic!who fans felt the same way about their show and anyway -- she shifts from being Literally The First Companion You'd Seen For 17 Years (not counting the movie and fan things and the sketch) Who Was Defining A New Era For A New Generation to... a companion

comparable to other companions, comparable to the rest of the show

we sift through the writing to see what worked and what didn't (in our opinion), and we know how the ten-and-rose storyline Really ends, and how the ten storyline ends (sort, of because now that doctor and donna are Back), and we know what happens afterwards, and we talk about tenrose with a 2020s eye, and rose is "just" one of the people that travels with the doctor, one of several, and notably the one who gets most of the sunshiney doctor that buries a lot of the (wonderfully portrayed) angst of the latter half of the rtd show, and doesn't have as much lore as everything after that, so the story is "just" more simple overall

and to me she's kind of incapable of being just that. doctor who was still a risk that first season, it wasn't a done deal that it would have legs at all, never mind that it would continue for as long as it has. rose was created to be the Face of what nu!who was, moreso than nine/eccleston, because even with the extra angst and the eccleston gravitas, we know the doctor, the doctor is established, it's not actually the doctor that needs to sell what the new show is going to become and what the Feel of that new show is going to be (I mean, partly ofc, but-)

rose was doing so much heavy lifting and she succeeded! she was the face of who before dtennant or any other doctor or companion of his era and subsequent eras. she was created to appeal to a demographic of girls who wanted someone relatable in science fiction, because rtd wanted this to be for the girls, and billie piper came into it off the back of being a popstar and it changed her entire trajectory (for the better I think/hope -- there's a lot of bad shit in billie piper's past and I'm always sending her a fond thought)

nine/ten-and-rose were It! not calling it romantic or platonic or any secret third thing (haunting the narrative), but simply It! that's why it has so much staying power as a ship (which, my opinion on shipping has been somewhat *eh shrug* in later years, but in early-days when that was how you engaged with dynamics that got to you, of course it was going to be massive). it's so hard to properly describe how "for the time in which it was made" that this dynamic was written for, and how successful it was. it was rose that breathed doctor who -- and the doctor's character -- to life, as much as herself

she sets the stage for everything that comes next, both within and without the show proper

and I'm always so pleased that rtd at the time was thinking about what was needed to create this character and he opened with a shot from a girl on the estate with messy hair, clumpy eyeliner, and a minimum wage job, and went "that's the girl who's going to go on the adventure of a lifetime, that's the girl we're seeing the story through and relating to, because that's what girls (and uh... those who were girls at the time - and their parents and the boys) should be seeing."

I know rose isn't the first working class companion including classic!who, but she set the tone for nu!who and her family and background are important to why she is who she is, and is explored

"I've got no A-levels, no job, no future-" said the girl about to see the universe

she was very much for teenagers, and so she reads differently when you're an adult watching it back (much like those "teenager saves the world," novels you loved as a kid), but that's why she's 19 at the beginning. that's why she's billie piper (who does a perfect job). she was there to bring a new generation into this story, and it was perfect. and then she grows up. and we grew up. and she had adventures and it was brilliant and she survived and she made a life for herself. that's her story

#doctor who #dw #rose tyler #of course 2005 who is a simpler story #and of course rose is basically still a kid #because it was (is?) for the kids who were going to be taken along for a much much bigger story over a longer space of time #when i started watching i didnt know what a dalek or a timelord or a tardis was #and i didnt know what sort of adventures dw was known for and ofc nobody watching knew where it would go #it was brand new -- rose in my head is always that brand newness #before you get to the more complex narratives of martha and donna #and the more in-depth lore of s5-onwards #there was a girl on an estate seeing the future stretch on and on -- and then she embraced the future and grew up #and it wasn't all happy all the time of course and the ending may have been quite bittersweet but that's also growing up #it's a growing up story that isn't depressing! crucially! #and yeah it includes falling in love with an incarnation of a near-immortal alien and getting with that alien's other human self #and also inhabiting some element of a godlike being/self that maintains an eternal connection with said alien in some way #it's a bit fanfic-y for good reason #i cannot overstate how much she means to me Because i saw her as a kid and she made the future seem possible #long post

[misc-obeyme]

#27 with Satan! Please & thank you 😊

Hi there, anon!

Ahh thank you for requesting Satan! I'm quite fond of this guy, so I enjoyed writing this!

Thank you for participating!

GN!MC x Satan with prompt Dream

Warnings: none!

You were sitting on the bed in Satan's room, listening to him tell you about one of the books he recently obtained. He was standing in front of you and the book in question was sitting on the bedside table. It was thick with a dark blue cover that was full of silver designs, the title written in a language you couldn't read. The pages were silver edged and a dark blue ribbon peeked out from its place in the middle of the book.

"It's meant to help with sleep," Satan was saying. "Especially for those who may suffer from nightmares. If you hold it, it will give you good dreams. It has the ability to determine what kind of dreams would be best for whoever uses it."

"Do you want to try it?" you asked.

Satan considered the book for a moment. "I think the chances of this magic being hazardous are fairly low, so yes. I think I would like to try it. What about you?"

"Let's do it together," you said, picking up the book. The cover was soft to your touch, though the book itself was heavy. You held it out toward Satan. He took hold of the other end, lifting some of the book's weight from your own arms.

You both stayed still for a long moment, but nothing seemed to happen.

"Did it work?" you asked.

"I'm not sure," Satan admitted. "We'll have to see what happens when we go to sleep tonight."

That night, you settled into your bed, thinking about the book's promise of good dreams. You really hoped it worked because wouldn't it be nice to always have good dreams?

You were tired as usual, so it wasn't long before you drifted into slumber.

You found yourself outside the House of Lamentation, in the garden. Satan was standing only a few feet away, his back to you.

You took a few steps toward him. "Satan?"

Satan turned around, his eyes widening when he saw you. "MC? Am I dreaming about you?"

"Wait, huh?" you said. "I thought I was the one dreaming about you."

Satan came closer to you, stopping just before you, a look of confused concentration on his face. "We're sharing the dream? Maybe it's because we both held the book at the same time?"

You were a little curious, too, but it wasn't like you could really do anything about it here in the dream world. You could worry about it tomorrow.

"Does it matter?" you asked, closing the space between you and him. "You're here and I'm here. That feels like a pretty good dream to me."

Satan met your eyes then. He lifted a hand to caress your cheek. "Indeed. I would classify this as the best dream I've ever had."

You leaned in to kiss him. Even in the dream, you felt the swell in your heart, the soft press of his lips, the flutter in your stomach as he reached out to hold you close.

When you woke the next day, you felt happy and refreshed. You found Satan later on in his room, looking through the pages of the dream book as he sat on his bed. He looked up when he saw you.

"I've been reading more to find out why we shared that dream," Satan said, a soft blush on his cheeks at the memory of it. "I still haven't found anything about shared dreams, but it does state that the book fills your good dreams with things that you love."

You crossed the room to sit next to him, letting your shoulder lean into his as you looked at the pages of the book open on his lap. "Well, in that case, I think you can safely say that this book works as intended."

Satan looked at you, a soft smile emerging on his face. He closed the book and set it aside, turning in closer to you and putting an arm around your shoulders. "I'm inclined to agree," he said before kissing you. And although this time you were awake, it still felt like a dream.

the original prompt list

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me fanfiction #obey me satan #obey me satan x reader #obey me satan x mc #satan x reader #satan x mc #misc 500 followers event #misc writes

[tigirl-and-co]

The Heart Lies Behind the Ribs

Hiiiiii everybody it is Yamgeta week, as decided by @dballzposting! I had considered this ship maybe once back in like 2014 and then never thought about it again. But god knows I'm such a sucker for this type of stuff, so I wrote a fic! Yippie!

This is assuming a pre-established relationship! I don't know how to write build-up, so you get a fic set in the stages of a relationship after they've already moved in together and have been together for quite some time.

Proofread, but still technically a first draft. Apologies for the clunkiness, but I wrote it in a fever pitch after being beset by the idea literally before I got out of bed.

Please enjoy!

The Heart Lies Behind the Ribs

"Get up."

Yamcha had been relaxing on his couch, watching Dirty Jobs and scratching Puar around the base of his neck while he napped on the man's lap. He craned his neck to look behind him at Vegeta, the man who issued the command.

Gently moving Puar off his lap, Yamcha stood up and stretched. At least four vertebrae popped. As he looked over at Vegeta, he realized the shorter man had his armor on. Historically? Not a great sign...

"What's up, man?" Yamcha had learned that it was better not to try to lead Vegeta in a conversation; he'd say what he wanted to say with or without his prompting. And to be honest, he didn't want to bring up the armor, just in case. Being able to play at naïvety hadn't worked yet, but it was bound to someday!

Vegeta fixed him in an icy glare, which stopped affecting Yamcha after he realized that's just how the man's face looked normally. "Go put your gi on and meet me outside."

"Wh-Huh?" Yamcha wasn't stupid. Yamcha knew that all this meant Vegeta wanted to spar. Yamcha didn't want to have his entire ass caved in by his superpowered boyfriend.

Or, at least, not on the battlefield.

He rubbed the back of his head in the way he knew Vegeta found cute. Maybe if he was cute enough he could avoid his fate. "Vegeta, I really don't think you'll get much out of training with me! You're like wayyyyy above me, y'know?"

Vegeta narrowed his eyes and wrinkled his nose in a face that once terrified Yamcha, but that he now found pretty cute. It meant Vegeta was trying really hard not to show what he was feeling.

"Tch. Idiot. Flattery will get you nowhere." He crossed his arms. "Besides, this is for your benefit. I'm sick and tired of you being unable to defend yourself!"

Instinctively, Yamcha put his arms out in a defensive/placating gesture. "I mean, I'm still stronger than most of what hangs around on earth... Unless more aliens show up I'm safe, and if more do show up, it's not like I'll be useful."

Vegeta immediately scowled, hard, looking almost as fearsome as the first day they met and startling Yamcha. "That's exactly the kind of attitude that got you killed by a damn saibaman! I refuse to suffer a mate so weak any longer! Go get your gi on, and meet me outside."

Vegeta stormed out the front door, and Yamcha could sense him standing a ways away from the house.

Suddenly, a small voice piped up from behind Yamcha. "I'm glad he's not evil anymore, but Vegeta can still be really scary when he's mad!" Puar had apparently woken up from all the racket and stuck his head just above the back of the couch. Cute.

Yamcha let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. "Yeah... But it's kind of nice, I guess. To have somebody actually worried about me like that." He let out a little signature 'Heh.'

Puar gave him a look that managed to mix both fondness and exasperation. "Hey, what about me? I care about you, Yamcha!" He smiled wider. "Anyway, you should probably go do what he says, he seemed really serious this time!"

Yamcha smiled back. "Yeah, you're right. Besides, I could use the exercise! A little training never hurt anyone."

"With Vegeta?"

"Hm. Yeah, true."

And with that, Yamcha shrugged and headed to his room to change. His gi was folded neatly into a drawer, at Vegeta's insistence. He hated mess, Yamcha had found out. He felt it was important to know where everything is, in case of emergency.

~~~

Yamcha stepped outside, tightening his belt. Vegeta was waiting back near the tree line, arms folded and as neutral an expression as the man ever gave.

"Hmph. Good of you to finally try training for once, Animal." It was a nickname Yamcha didn't care for at first, but over time he realized Vegeta meant it in a half demeaning, half complimentary sort of way. The same way he gave every compliment.

Sure it originally started as just another way to call him a lower lifeform and mock him for the wolf theming, but over time it morphed into a somewhat endearing term. Yamcha had heard Goten call people who were doing really well 'beasts' on occasion, and he figured it was probably the same sort of concept. Wild and cool. Untameable.

"I thought you might just crawl back into your den and wait out the storm," he egged on further.

Yamcha smiled back at his partner. "And lose out on one-on-one time with His Royal Highness? Wouldn't miss it for the world."

This drew a snort and a smug grin from the alien. The promise of training always brightened his mood, and his outburst from earlier was already fading away. "Always with the flattery..." Vegeta moved his feet into proper fighting position, striking a pose that showed him for the ambush predator he was. "It's not going to make me go any easier on you, you know!"

Yamcha braced himself, both physically for Vegeta's first attack and mentally for the hours of this ass beating he was going to have to endure. "Ha! Bring it on, you pampered prince!"

Oh, the things he does for love.

Surprisingly, the first two hours went pretty well! Vegeta allowed Yamcha to get a few good hits in, never dishing out more than Yamcha could handle. There was plenty of stopping so that Vegeta could demonstrate something, and then Yamcha could try it out.

Then it happened.

A kick delivered at just the wrong angle and at just the wrong place and with just the wrong amount of force snapped Yamcha's lower left rib.

He went down.

Vegeta knew what happened, he could pick up on the horrible sound of cracking bone as easily and perfectly as a pianist could pick out middle G.

It was what he was raised into.

The panic set in almost immediately. Vegeta had no idea what humans could survive. Saiyans could recover from almost anything that didn't directly stop their heart or lungs, but he knew humans weren't so resilient.

After he recovered from the shock he was at Yamcha's side almost instantaneously. Vegeta knelt down next to Yamcha, who was curled up in a twitching ball in the dirt.

He gently placed one hand on Yamcha's shoulder, and tried to get his other into the spasming ball of flesh, just below the ribcage.

"Yamcha, listen to me." Vegeta kept his voice calm, but there was no disguising his worry. "You need to uncurl. If your muscles spasm around the broken bone, it's harder to repair."

He heard that bit while he was in a healing tank when he was eight.

Slowly, ever so goddamn slowly, Yamcha allowed himself to be straightened out and laid flat on his back. Vegeta wasn't sure where to go from here.

Vegeta, still kneeling, desperately wracked his brain for anything he could remember about treatments on earth. Every now and again someone would come out to treat a player during one of Yamcha's matches, but it was the off-season. No one would be at the stadium.

Bit by bit, Yamcha calmed down as the pain subsided. He saw Vegeta at his side, face frozen in panic. It was a face he didn't wear often, and Yamcha was glad for that. He reached out his hand and gently grabbed Vegeta's wrist.

"Hey."

Vegeta snapped back to reality and looked down to see Yamcha smiling softly. "It's okay. I'm not gonna die." He released his grip and then patted Vegeta's hand. "It wasn't even one of the important ribs anyway."

Vegeta stared humourlessly and allowed himself to sit.

"How do I fix this?" he asked, both of them knowing he meant not only 'How do I help you?' but also 'I'm sorry.'

Yamcha wanted to let out a small chuckle of reassurance, but figured a broken rib would make that a bad call.

"You wouldn't happen to have a senzu bean on you, would ya?" He knew, of course that neither of them did. He also knew that Vegeta probably didn't know where the hospital was.

Immediately Vegeta stood up straight. "I can't believe I almost forgot about the damned beans!" He looked down at the man still lying in the dirt, eyebrows now knitted together. "I'll be right back."

"WAIT!"

Yamcha sucked in a sharp breath; yelling like that was not a good idea. "H-Hold on, man! You can't just go zipping up to Korin's Tower and demand some beans!"

Vegeta looked down at him, unimpressed. "And why not?"

Smiling up at his boyfriend and accidental assailant, Yamcha answered "Because you have to climb it first, or Korin won't give you any." He patronizingly flumped his hand onto the other man's shoe before continuing.

"Plus, you have to be polite about it, and I know you're not up for that!"

Vegeta scowled, but it seemed almost good-natured as far as Vegeta scowls went. Maybe it was relief that Yamcha was feeling well enough to tease him, maybe it was just the thought of a challenge making its way to his brain, but either way he seemed much more relaxed.

"I am perfectly capable of being polite."

The snicker that left Yamcha's lips hurt just a bit, and after he winced he cocked an eyebrow. "Even if Yajirobe is there?"

Vegeta sat back down, arms crossed, and refused to answer.

He looked at his mate, and let out a fond sigh. "We're going to have to do something about your rib."

"Yeah, yeah, in a bit. It's a really nice day out, though. Look at how blue the sky is!"

It was a simple ploy, one that wasn't even meant to fool Vegeta, more a sort of way to ask him to lay down. It worked, of course. Always did.

And so, the prince of all two Saiyans lowered himself to the dirt and laid beside his damaged goods. He rested his hand on top of Yamcha's and looked up at the sky.

"Hmph. I suppose it is an intriguing shade..."

#my writing #dbz #dragon ball #dragon babble #yamcha #vegeta #yamgeta #im. SO TIRED. #but yaaaaaay it's done woohoo! #romance can be. tough love #im imagining vegeta either had been thinking about this for weeks or had a nightmare the night before #anyway yamcha is watching Dirty Jobs bc both my grandpa and father (unrelated) are still watching it #so to me it is the ultimate innofensive dad show #like regardless of political leanings u understand #and vegeta keeps things organized both as a royal and as a military kid #okay. goodnight

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Thank you for the advice! On the topic of the Miracle Box and character bloat, I do struggle with the latter as I'm quite fond of the Miracuclass and have already attach myself to them. I do want to give them character developments since the show never did, but I am aware that having a massive cast will be difficult to write. For now my source of inspiration is Young Justice since they have a huge cast of heroes as well.

As for the Miracle Box and the shows rep on Chinese representation, I'm curious to hear your thoughts and what you would have done about it. I am Chinese-Indonesian and we celebrate Chinese New Year so I'm pretty familiar with the Chinese Zodiac. There is a story that about the origin of the Chinese Zodiac, the emperor held a contest to decide the animals that will be included in the calendar. The first is the rat and the last being the pig. Interestingly enough a cat originally wanted to join the contest only for its spot to be stolen by the rat.

The massive cast could have worked if they got ride of Marinette being the source of everything wrong in the universe and just had each episode deal with a conflict caused by one classmate or another, so I don't think you have to abandon them if you're going to match canon's monster-of-the-week format. Just be aware that it's downright impossible to write 18 characters (all the teens) or 36 characters (teens + kwamis - Nooroo) in a single scene and have the audience be able to follow what's going on. I'd strongly encourage you to scrap making most of them heroes and just keep them normal teens, but it is ultimately your call as you're the one who knows what story you want to tell.

I absolutely get the temptation to use the whole class because I personally love Rose and Juleka, but I ultimately chose to keep them as minor background characters because that's what was best for the story and I live by the code of kill your darlings since my goal as a writer is telling good stories.

I'm familiar with the Zodiac myth because of the anime Fruits Basket, but I am not Chinese* nor am I an expert in Chinese symbology and beliefs*. Please keep that in mind as I discuss this next section. If I get something wrong, then anyone is welcome to chime in and correct me or to give further context as this stuff is really hard to research if you don't read Mandarin or Cantonese and/or if you don't have a background in this stuff to help set off your BS detector. A random blog could have good info or it could be written by a person making stuff up and I don't have the background to tell, so I'm skeptical of all of them which is why we're just going to talk about what's on Wikipedia here since that's usually at least mostly accurate and it gives us enough info for me to explain why I took one look at the zodiac stuff and went, "Hell no!"

My rewrite came about long before we knew all of the powers of the zodiac miraculous, so one of the first things that I had to do was figure out what to do about that because I wasn't going to just make up powers. I was going to base my stuff on the actual zodiac since I do try to be respectful to other cultures. This lead to me researching the Chinese zodiac*.

I very quickly realized how complicated this thing was. Every animal in the zodiac is associated with personality traits, two of the other animals, one of the five elements, and either yin or yang as well as several other things. I'll also note that Western representation of the zodiac has simplified it as there's more than just the 12 animals of the years. There are also animal signs assigned to the month (called "inner animals"), day (called "true animals"), and hour (called "secret animals") of your birth.

In other words, there's a lot of depth to the Chinese zodiac* and it has real cultural significance in China.

I was immediately wildly uncomfortable trying to come up with random powers that somehow respected that depth and significance. I also realized that the show didn't seem to be using the real zodiac to guide the powers it had assigned or the way the kwamis were being written, which also made me uncomfortable! I had previously assumed that they must have a cultural consultant to guide the cultural elements, but that does not seem to be the case for any element of the lore or Marinette's writing. Like to point out a big one, as best I can tell, a miracle box based on Chinese lore would not use a ladybug for good luck and it definitely wouldn't use a black cat for bad luck.

In other words, the miracle box seems to be about as Chinese as fortune cookies.

Between all of that, the character bloat, and the fact that the team is fighting one villain (meaning that you really don't need 17 powers), I decided to completely scrap the idea of the miracle box being tied to a specific culture and came up with my own lore that I won't go into here.

If I had the money to hire a cultural consultant or personal knowledge of Chinese* beliefs, then I would have considered redesigning all of the zodiac miraculous to be based on Chinese* beliefs and changed them into powerups to replace the colored macarons and cheese that have basically been forgotten about. (We are never seeing what the last three colors are for. Never!) I think that would have made more sense than the potions and it would have been more fun/limiting. It's basically how the show is using the zodiac anyway. The temp heroes are defined by their powers and little else since Ladybug is the only team member who is allowed to have a meaningful role on the team.

Basically, the Zodiac animals have a ton of potential to be something really cool that teaches us about Chinese* beliefs and I would love, love, love to see someone take that on. I mean, why have a main character who is half-Chinese and a box based on Chinese lore* if you're not going to capitalize on that?

*I bet you were wondering about all the red asterixis up there, weren't you? Well, buckle in because it gets worse.

I am not going to touch on this further because I am wildly unequipped to do so, but I would be remiss to not acknowledge the fact that the miracle box is said to be Chinese, but the miraculous monks are explicitly stated to be Tibetan, which is yet another "hell no!" There is a massive conflict over the fact that China claims that Tibet is not a country, but a part of China while Tibet claims to be its own nation. Some brief research on my part indicates that Tibet may even have its own beliefs around the zodiac and no. Just no. No, no, no! I'm not touching that minefield for a million dollars! Idk what the writers were thinking combining the two cultures like that, but that does seem to be what they're doing otherwise it would be the Tibetan miracle box or the monks would be in China. Writers, what are you doing?

Once again, I am not a part of any of the above cultures and I am not claiming to be an expert on them. I am just giving you my logic for why I took one look at the miracle box and went running for the hills. Aka why redesigned it to not be a mine field for my personal ethical code what which can be summed up as "research and represent all cultures to the best of my ability as cultures are not aesthetic. If I don't want to do the research (or can't for some reason), don't tie the setting/lore/whatever to a real culture." I'm not claiming to be perfect about that, but I do try and I like to think I know when I'm wildly out of my depth which was 100% the case here. No. Just no. No, no, no.

#ml writing salt #ml writing critical #Can you tell how wildly uncomfortable I was writing this? #Because I was wildly uncomfortable

[dailycass-cain]

Detective Comics #1079 brings a lot of plot points Ram V has been spinning this arc to a head, including the one involving Cass. So here are my thoughts on the penultimate issue.

There's just a fondness I have for this series as THE Batman comic right now. It has an aura of late 90s to early 00s Batman comics spun in a modern angle.

I feel quite at home with this run.

All the protagonists are given their due here. No one is cut short, and we get teased with more entries (because Ram V did say EVERYONE would get their moment and three characters have been quiet until this issue) as the arc reaches its final crossing.

There are a lot of emotional bits here from Lian/Jade's stuff (which feels like we're getting to the final bits for them sadly, which I hope we don't) to the badassery of Azrael (gawd I want more of him in this run).

Then there's Cass's section with Freeze.

It makes complete sense that with Selina's plan in full effect if you haven't figured it out now, that Cass's part was a distraction and an attempt. To get the Orgham distracted so Selina could steal her prize.

It just feels so opposite to what's being presented in Batman and Catwoman comics along with the whole Gotham War debacle, and how rewarding this run is to seeds to prior Ram V runs (Catwoman) and this one.

This is an event done right, with stakes presented as high, villains who are quite imposing, and an emotional rollercoaster ride.

It's said in panels what the Reality Engine does, and we've seen it in action when Bruce tried to stop it. But dammit I SO want to see a story on Cass's struggle against it.

We see it teased in this issue, but a hardened warrior like Cass against this thing? GIMME!

The art here just looks so warped until the predictable occurs. Freeze betrays Cass and Selina's plan. He gets what he wants, and chills out.

Though Selina DID anticipate this, it wasn't her real goal which she does achieve in the issue.

However, I'm curious about what will come with Freeze having access to the Reality Engine and if Cass will have a role in stopping it?

I'm guessing YES.

Though it sort of feels like Cass's role in this arc has come to an end. I mean it feels like it but who knows. That said if it was and this is the final appearance of Cass in 2023.

Dang, I want more Ram V-written Cass goodness, please.

I am curious just how much damage both she and Freeze did as the latter did set off a "freeze bomb" that she escaped from, but there's no telling (until future issues) how the Orgham will recover from this setback.

I'm glad this arc was "bi-weekly". Though, as much kudos I give to the writer, both Jason Shawn Alexander and Liam Sharp deserve so much credit for this arc too. Everything they've drawn in this arc just CLICKS with the writing.

Again, this was another stellar issue, and I can't wait to see where this arc ends. As basically, Selina has won. The question is can she run away with that win or will someone ELSE sneak in? I think the latter might occur.

Look, I know it's highly unlikely but I kind of want a Flamingo vs Cass or Azrael fight. Just two hardened folk going against a foe like Flamingo? Gimme. Let Bruce take on Hurt and finish the Barbatos plot.

Though part of me wonders are Jean Paul and Barbatos linked?

Or even Cass and the Bat Demon?

These just avenues never explored given Jean-Paul did become Batman and is sporting said batty costume in this arc.

This was another fantastic issue on this run and I just wish we'd talk about how AMAZING this series. That and how when this is collected in complete form how KILLER this story will be even more.

#cassandra cain #dc comics #my thoughts

[vodika-vibes]

Because I can’t help myself. Requesting from Best Friends to Lovers prompts. With hesitant Darman. 🫠

“I can’t imagine being with anyone but you” with “I’ve wanted this forever”. Or two separate fics. I won’t mind if it’s two separate fics. 😉

You know you’re quickly becoming the unofficial official writer for our favorite Republic Commandos. ❤️

One More is Never Enough

Summary: Darman asks you on a date.

Pairing: Darman Skirata x Reader

Word Count: 763

Warnings: None

A/N: Sorry this took so long, my perfectionism kept telling me that what I was writing wasn't good enough. I think I'm happy with this one though. I think. I also haven't finished my coffee, so who knows. You said you were having a Time™️, so I hope this helps, at least a little.

Divider by Saradika

Of all of the things you hate most in the world, paperwork is the top of the pile. Followed closely by inventory and getting shots. Which is why you’re glowering at the towered stack of flimsy on your desk.

Just because you’re good at paperwork, doesn’t necessarily mean that you want to do the paperwork.

“Why?” You ask the room at large, not expecting an answer.

You flip through some of the flimsy, and your scowl deepens. Some of this paperwork doesn’t even belong to you.

“Ah, you’re back.” You jump when you hear Darman behind you, and you whirl around to glare at him, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What the hell is this?” You demand, gesturing at the desk and the stacked flimsy.

Darman glances at the paperwork, and he makes a face. “It was your supervisor's idea, not mine.” He replies immediately, “Everyone else is getting started on inventory, so they left their paperwork to you.”

Your jaw drops and you’re torn between screaming and cursing up a storm. 

Darman slowly, and hesitantly, places some more paperwork on your desk, “Sorry.” He says sheepishly as you turn a furious glare onto him, “In my defense, this is yours. It was left on the printer.”

You snatch the top piece of paper off the stack and glare at it, and then your shoulders slump. He’s right. Not only is he right, you’ve been looking for these documents for the better part of an hour.

“I don’t want to be here all night doing paperwork.” You whine, turning a petulant pout onto Darman as though he’ll help you. And you’re surprised when he averts his gaze and rubs the back of his neck.

“I mean…I can stay and help, if you want?” He offers, “Maybe…maybe after we get dinner though.”

You beam at him, “Darman Skirata! Are you asking me on a date?” You ask gleefully.

“Um…I mean, if you want…?” He offers in return, still not really looking at you.

“Of course I’d like to go on a date with you!” You reply, “I’ve wanted that forever!”

He blinks at you, “You have?”

And you sigh. “Apparently my flirting was a bit too subtle.”

“You were flirting with me? When?”

“Like, every day since they say we met?”

“...where was I when this was happening?” Darman asks.

“Apparently not there.” You counter, slightly sarcastically.

He laughs nervously, “Sorry, mesh’la. I guess it was just a little too subtle?”

“It’s alright. Apparently most people are really bad at recognizing flirting.” You admit as you finally drop the documents back on the table and hurry to his side. “So,” You say as you beam at him, “Where are we going for food?”

“There’s a little sandwich shop not far from here,” Darman offers, The food is good and cheap.”

“Good and cheap is my favorite!” You lightly wrap your hands around his arm and tug him out of the office. And he follows you willingly.

You don’t quite make it to the sandwich shop before Darman tugs you into a small alley, and lightly sets his hand on your shoulder. He looks nervous, but also determined.

“Darman?” You ask, as you look up at him. 

“I…um…” He pauses, as he tries to gather his thoughts, “I just wanted some time with you without having to deal with other people…or work.” Darman says slowly.

You smile up at him, soft and sweet and painfully fond. “You could have asked, darling.”

“I know. I just…I…” He shakes his head, and his hand moves from your shoulder to brush lightly against your cheek, “I can’t imagine being with anyone but you.” He whispers.

Your face heats with slightly flustered embarrassment, but you’re unable to look away from him. There’s something in his gaze that speaks of adoration and worship and your stomach flips with a nervous excitement. 

“Mesh’la,” His voice is a low rumble that causes shivers to run down your spine, “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.” You say, quickly enough that it would have been embarrassing if this was anyone other than Darman.

His smile is warm as he leans in and gently brushes his lips against yours. It’s not the deep, passionate kiss that you were expecting. But it was so tender that you couldn’t help but lean into him to try and get more. 

Darman’s hands settle on your hips, and you release a soft sigh, ��Again?” You ask, your voice plaintive. 

His hands are warm against your cheeks, “As you wish,” He whispers as he leans in for a second kiss.

#star wars #tcw #darman skirata x reader #darman x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #answered asks

[mariana-oconnor]

The Empty House pt 1

Now, in the hour of our greatest need, a hero rises to answer the call. Our dear friend John Watson provides food for our reading appetites and bravely returns to write the tales of his dearly departed* partner, Sherlock Holmes.

*all facts correct at time of writing

You may be forgiven for assuming that my silence indicated that ‘The Final Problem’ truly was the end of my association with Sherlock Holmes, and indeed of the man himself. The passage of time and many subsequent tellings of the tale has not diminished me joy in saying that it was not so.

WHAT??!

No, seriously though, the fact that Letters from Watson is going with the conceit that Watson knew when he sent the email that Holmes wasn't dead and then just went radio silent for three weeks is fucking hilarious. It's what Holmes would have wanted. I mean, he's not dead, but even so. I love the dramatic bitch energy here.

It was in the spring of the year 1894

I feel like this is as definite and accurate a date as we're ever going to get in these stories.

Also, I have definitely read this one before, multiple times. Partially for my own enjoyment when I was younger, but also during my Sherlock fandom phase where I needed to verify some original canon so I could mutate it terribly for my own personal amusement.

I definitely remember whodunnit and how this time, but I'm not sure if that's actually going to be the mystery.

Only now, at the end of nearly ten years,

So this is a story set in 1894, written in 1903, read by us in 2023.

I should have considered it my first duty to have done so had I not been barred by a positive prohibition from his own lips, which was only withdrawn upon the third of last month.

So Holmes stayed 'dead' officially for 13 years? I mean, I guess this is also sort of ACD saying 'please stop sending me death threats. Here it is. He was never really dead. I surrender I surrender.'

As I read the evidence at the inquest, which led up to a verdict of wilful murder against some person or persons unknown

Totally read this wrong at first as though the murder was against the person or persons unknown. 'We know a murder has taken place, but we don't know who, or even if it was only one person or multiple. But it was definitely murder.' But no, it's the verdict that's against them, not the murder.

There were points about this strange business which would, I was sure, have specially appealed to him, and the efforts of the police would have been supplemented, or more probably anticipated, by the trained observation and the alert mind of the first criminal agent in Europe.

It is pretty tragic to think of Watson reading the paper and sighing to himself as he thinks of how Holmes could have helped. But then also casually throwing shade at the police officers, also in tribute to Holmes' memory.

Adair's mother had returned from Australia to undergo the operation for cataract

Health tourism has a long and varied history. In a time before aeroplanes that's a long way to go and a long time to take for surgery. Did Australia really not have any opthalmologists worth their salt at this time? I mean, I don't know how good even the surgeons in London would have been with that sort of surgery, it's a little more finesse than amputations and they had enough difficulty with them. Got to assume that if you're going to take that long travelling for the surgery, there's got to be a reasonable improvement in your chances for survival.

OK, wow, the history of cataract surgery is long and I do not advise you to look it up if you are in any way squeamish about or squicked out by eye stuff. But apparently the earliest cataract surgeries known are in the 5th century BC, although modern surgery methods didn't seem to really get good until around the 1950s. Basically yes, infection was very possible and her vision would never be the same again.

That was very educational and quite unpleasant.

Ronald Adair was fond of cards, playing continually, but never for such stakes as would hurt him. He was a member of the Baldwin, the Cavendish, and the Bagatelle card clubs. It was shown that after dinner on the day of his death he had played a rubber of whist at the latter club.

I know it says that he never played for stakes that would hurt him, but I feel like being a member of three different clubs is a sign of something. Also, the fact that he recently broke up with his fiancee really needs to be relevant later because I cannot imagine why it would be included if not. At least as a red herring.

Mr. Murray, Sir John Hardy, and Colonel Moran

I wonder which of them is important? Clearly it must be Mr Murray. Absolutely could not be Colonel Moran, who is a colonel and therefore a respectable member of society who would never be associated with any crimes.

I stg ACD had some sort of beef with a colonel at some point in time. That's the only possible explanation. OTHER RANKS ARE AVAILABLE.

She had lit a fire there, and as it smoked she had opened the window.

They need their chimneys checked. Where are the chimney sweeps? I was under the impression that Victorian London was full of chimney sweeps. Was I lied to? Shove a small child up that chimney at once!

The door was locked on the inside, and no answer could be got to their cries and knocking. Help was obtained and the door forced. The unfortunate young man was found lying near the table. His head had been horribly mutilated by an expanding revolver bullet, but no weapon of any sort was to be found in the room.

Locked room mystery! Locked room mystery! Locked room mystery!

The window is open, but this is the second floor, and it's worth noting for any American readers, that in the UK the second floor is one higher than you think. We have ground floor, first floor, then second floor. So that's a pretty high window to reach.

(Unless there was already a small child lying in wait up the chimney...)

A minute examination of the circumstances served only to make the case more complex. In the first place, no reason could be given why the young man should have fastened the door upon the inside.

Sometimes people just lock doors. I automatically lock doors behind me sometimes. My brain is just like 'ooh, lock!' I made my flatmate at university think I hated her because I used to lock myself into my room, but I just... be like that.

There was the possibility that the murderer had done this and had afterwards escaped by the window. The drop was at least twenty feet, however, and a bed of crocuses in full bloom lay beneath. Neither the flowers nor the earth showed any sign of having been disturbed, nor were there any marks upon the narrow strip of grass which separated the house from the road.

So I know how this goes, but I feel there is a very real alternative solution to this puzzle that involves a circus troupe, an archer and a tightrope walker. Not sure how they'd get the tightrope back, but that can be sorted out in editing.

Again, Park Lane is a frequented thoroughfare, and there is a cab-stand within a hundred yards of the house.

Fine, people would probably notice the tightrope walking clown...

^ This guy could do it, is all I'm saying. (Although he would definitely use more than one bullet...)

since, as I have said, young Adair was not known to have any enemy, and no attempt had been made to remove the money or valuables in the room.

No one who gambles that much and consistently wins can be entirely enemy-free, that seems unlikely.

As I did so I struck against an elderly deformed man, who had been behind me, and I knocked down several books which he was carrying. [...] With a snarl of contempt he turned upon his heel, and I saw his curved back and white side-whiskers disappear among the throng.

Oh hai, Holmes. I'm not 100% that this is Holmes but lbr, this is Holmes. The snarl of contempt and abrupt about turn is totally to conceal his identity. Also I want to read The Origins of Tree Worship is it a real book? I feel like it has the potential to be the basis for a decent fantasy book.

but the window was entirely inaccessible, since there was no water-pipe or anything which could help the most active man to climb it.

I had not been in my study five minutes when the maid entered to say that a person desired to see me.

Drum roll please

I moved my head to look at the cabinet behind me. When I turned again Sherlock Holmes was standing smiling at me across my study table.

Certainly a grey mist swirled before my eyes, and when it cleared I found my collar-ends undone and the tingling after-taste of brandy upon my lips. Holmes was bending over my chair, his flask in his hand.

This surprise reveal brought to you by:

Brandy!

If Brandy doesn't save you, at least you'll die drunk!

“My dear Watson,” said the well-remembered voice, “I owe you a thousand apologies. I had no idea that you would be so affected.”

No.

Shit.

Sherlock.

Yeah, totally unbelievable that your bff who has thought you were dead for two years and probably blames himself at least somewhat for falling for the obvious ruse and leaving you alone on the cliffside to face your demise, might POSSIBLY be A LITTLE BIT affected by YOU RISING FROM THE DEAD BEFORE HIS EYES.

You are such a dramatic little chaos gremlin and it's great, but a truly spectacular lack of forethought here.

"Now, my dear fellow, in the matter of these explanations we have, if I may ask for your co-operation, a hard and dangerous night's work in front of us. Perhaps it would be better if I gave you an account of the whole situation when that work is finished.”

Casually rolls back into town, greets bff. 'Like, I could tell you how come I'm not dead, but instead we could both risk our lives first... what do you think?'

"I had no serious difficulty in getting out of it, for the very simple reason that I never was in it.”

A cliffhanger - literally??

Disappointed we only got two synonyms for the falls though: "awful abyss" and "dreadful chasm" I was hoping for some other ones. "merciless maw", "terrible void", "cruel crevasse", "fell fall", "godawful gap". Hopefully some more can be shoehorned into the next bit.

#Letters from Watson #Sherlock Holmes #The Empty House #long post

[frasier-crane-style]

Hey, so I saw your post about Quiet on set from a few days ago and it just rubbed me the wrong way. I tried to write a comment a bunch of times but articulating this point is weirdly stressful and kind of nit-picky. This is in no way an attack, I just want to engage in a discussion about it, and maybe understand your point better.

I disagree with a fair amount of what was said about censorship, censorship and age recommendations are at the baseline guidelines that are there to help inform parents. And what it seemed like you may have wanted to acknowledge is that children and parents have a choice in what they watch. (Is that what you meant about the Bluey comment?)

The best way for me to state my disagreement is with the line about dog food, "both a man and a dog can eat dog food". It implies that anything goes and the issue is with puritanical censorship; but if we take the analogy further the implications are different. Starting with the fact that dog food is not safe for human consumption, it is processed at a different standard and the quality and regulations for it are different from that of our food. Sure you can eat dog food in a pinch but you are running the risk of becoming quite ill, even if the risk is slim. So if we apply that to what you were talking about: it is dangerous to kids who are in the industry and can negatively impact the children who are consuming those pieces of media. I will agree its definitely much worse for the children in the show, who are forced to act out sexual innuendos because their job depended on it. But the logic about dog food is flawed and implies that its all okay. I don't know if that was the intention and I am inclined to believe it was not.

Thank you if you took the time to read this, and no pressure to respond

Look, someone Blazed the original post, which is both flattering and a little frustrating, because it means it went outside my little curated bubble and people are engaging with it who don't have Trusted Media Literacy Confirmed status. But I did say, straight up, that I wasn't for "anything goes in children's media," that there is a line that shouldn't be crossed, and that there was a big difference between slightly off-color wordplay (fingerprints/Finger Prince, how do you go from an A to a D?) and children performing veiled sex acts.

("I'm not talking about some of the outright fetishistic stuff, but simple wordplay in teen shows." "(Sex jokes acted out by adults /= sex jokes acted out by children)")

My concern was basically that, in their justified and understandable outrage over Schneider and his associates' actions, people would go overboard, throw the baby out with the bathwater, and declare war on anything that HINTED at adult content within children's media, such as a rather harmless puberty joke about bosoms in a show aimed at teens. Moral panic is a helluva drug.

Moreover, I believe that part of children's development is consuming media with more mature (but still appropriate) themes as they age. Sometimes even a little inappropriate. Ask most guys and they'll recall being taken to see R-rated action movies with their dads when they were twelve or so. Most women have fond memories of teen sleepovers where they watch movies like Coyote Ugly, Charlie's Angels, or Burlesque.

This is a natural part of growing up. The boys don't see something insane like Terrifier, they see something like Die Hard that's just a bit more intense than PG-13 (or Saving Private Ryan, which is kinda insane, but it's also historically edifying and also Spielberg is the man). And girls don't see something like Bible Black, they see something that's a bit raunchy, but overall harmless and fun.

I just think about this some because I have a lot of nieces and nephews, the oldest is six, and I'm going like "ooh, is she ready for Jackie Chan movies? Would Rumble In The Bronx be okay for her? There is that bit where they beat up Jackie pretty bad... BTAS might be too much for her, but The Brave And The Bold is really silly and lighthearted, she'll probably like that." And there's a lot of stuff that, on God, I am not showing her for a long, long time. I've hidden my Tales From The Crypt DVDs because just seeing the Cryptkeeper on the cover scares her. So I am not advocating for showing Texas Chainsaw Massacre to five-year-olds. I am saying that, by the time they're eighteen, they should be ready for Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and the way they get ready is to see the occasional Ghostbusters or Jurassic Park.

[kimbap-r0ll]

Hello. May I request a first kiss scenario with Vil, Rook, Jade, (+Neige if you can)?? Like a kiss that's passionate but not to the point its basically making out. Please only write this if you are comfortable with writing this though !! Otherwise you can delete this request!! Plus congrats for reaching 550+ followers!!😊🥰🎂🎂🎊🎁🎉

Hello, thank you for the request! This is super late, and I'm so sorry about that! There's been a lot of requests in my inbox and I'm taking time to catch up rn. Either way, I think what I'm understanding from this is that the kiss is supposed to be a deep one? Like Disney "true love's kiss" kinda feeling? At least that is what I'm going with, hopefully it's an enjoyable read!

Vil, Rook, Jade, Neige x gn!reader giving them a nice first kiss

Vil

He was returning from a fashion show and you were anticipating him that night. He promised to meet you at your dorm when he came back, and though he warned he would come late (as in like, 2am) you still stayed awake to greet him!

He knocked on your door, and, being careful not to wake up Grim who was sleeping upstairs, you shuffled quickly to the front door and opened it to see Vil. He was still wearing some makeup from the show and he had a bunch of designer gifts he had received in his arms.

"I wanted to share some of these with you. I think there's a perfume you might like in one of these," he said before stepping in. He set the items aside and opened his arms to give you a hug. You basically jumped on him and gave him a kiss there.

He froze up. You also realized you had kissed him for the first time. "Oh, I-I'm sorry! I was just so excited to see you-" "Darling, you should kiss me like that again, it was really good." He ends up being the one to make you red in the face. He would be lying if he said the kiss wasn't good, it was like he was melting actually!

He gives you a soft kiss on your lips before taking your hand in his. "Y/n, that was quite brave of you as well. Never thought my first kiss would be so passionate." You blush harder as he continues to tease you about it.

Rook

He was planning on kissing you during one of your walks outside. He was done with the science club meeting he was in and you greeted him at the botanical garden.

"Mon amour, you look stunning as always!" he picks you up and twirls you around. You give him a hug as well before asking where he wanted to go to next. The two of you had been almost everywhere together, so now it was the most obscure places left. He suggested to just stay on campus this time, perhaps closer to the woods.

You guys end up walking around for twenty minutes, and right before you can ask him what else he wants to do now, he asks if you had heard a tale about a princess who woke up by a kiss. He ends up narrating the story dramatically and right at the part where he explains the kiss, he kisses you.

You turn red of course, you hadn't expected him to kiss you and it was his first kiss at that! Yet, you let yourself kiss him back, perhaps deeper than you had expected. The two of you pulled away at the same time as well, and he gave you a small smile.

"Y/n, I didn't know you were such a good kisser," he compliments. You blush and say that it was your first time as well. "I felt like I was floating in the heavens..." "Ah okay, you don't have to compliment me more haha" you end up stopping him before he gets carried away with words lol

Jade

He was, too, planning on giving you your first kiss himself. But it turns out you had been one step ahead of this eel!

You two were out collecting mushrooms together, a date routine the two of you had grown fond of. He was planning on kissing you somewhere here but he hadn't really thought out when. Then, before he knew it, the two of you were going back to Mostro Lounge, he had missed his opportunity! But no fret, there was still the lounge that the two of you were planning to chill in.

While the two of you are sharing a drink, he does the classic "I think there's something on your face" move before going in to kiss you. You were a bit confused at first, but then you saw him come closer and were immediately like "yep, I know what you're doing." Then, you just quickly place your lips on his and he ends up being the one with wide eyes.

He didn't expect to like kissing this much, but here you were basically making him melt into you! He ends up letting himself hug you, closing his eyes and helping you take the kiss deeper. But then Floyd showed up with Azul from seemingly out of nowhere and saw what you two were doing.

"Shrimpy, Jade! Whatcha guys doin' there?!" Floyd yells, and the two of you pull away immediately. Jade has a slight blush on his face but quickly gives you a smirk. "You're a very good kisser, y/n," he whispers before helping you up and telling Floyd that the two of you were just talking. You're going to get a lot of teasing from Jade here on out haha.

Neige

You were waiting for him to finish up filming for a commercial. You were right outside the studio, some of his fans were outside as well but you knew that he would find you in the crowd of people.

Neige stepped out eventually, being the nice celebrity he is he ended up taking an hour to fully escape his fans because he was busy with autographs and pictures haha. He ends up taking you to a nice park where you guys can chill.

He tells you about his day, but he wants to hear about you. "Well, I didn't do much, mainly just finishing homework," you explain. "We should do something exciting now then!" he stands up from the park bench you guys were on, then he asks what you want to do the most right now.

You take this basically as a chance to kiss him. You stand up, tell him "this" before planting a kiss on his lips. His eyes go wide, but he ends up smiling and kissing you deeper. Neige's arms wrap around you and you can feel the kiss go more passionately than you had expected. You two both pull away together.

"Well, that was definitely something more interesting than homework I hope?" he laughs, giving you a peck on your cheek and taking your hand. You nod, giving him a smile as well. "Now I'm going to feel like I'm floating for the rest of the day," you reply. "Great! I think I'll be the same," Neige says. You two end up spending the entire day together, returning to your dorms almost at midnight haha.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twst headcanons #twst x reader #anon ask #twst vil #twst vil schoenheit #twst vil x reader #twst rook #twst rook hunt #twst rook x reader #twst jade #twst jade leech #twst jade x reader #twst neige #twst neige leblanche #twst neige x reader #twst pomefiore #twst octavinelle #twst rsa #gn!reader