#port of lawlessness | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fanaticsnail · 8 months

Text

Remember Me

Hello Shanks fans!

This work was requested by @aishabbbb, which I linked back to here for the full description of the prompt. This is my third (technically fourth because my thoughts ran away with me!) requested work that I've completed.

I'm not currently taking requests, but if you do want to see my writing style depict a specific idea, I will honestly most likely hyper-fixate on it until the idea consumes me if you do ask me nice enough. I do appreciate a good prompt! And seriously, who doesn't love an amnesia trope!

Word Count: 6,636

My Masterlist is here!

Echoes of gruff laughter lingered in the air as tankards of ale clanged against one another. It had been a while since the Red-Hair Pirates had made port and as they viewed a rowdy port full of lively music, contagious laughter and bursting at the seams with a variety of pleasurable company; they could not resist.

This port had been known for some time to be a lawless town, accepting of any journeymen as they resupplied their vessels, sailors selling their wares and even the odd Marine here or there had graced the town with their presence. The World Government paid no mind to the comings or goings, knowing should the port be shut down; their supply of rum would slowly dwindle away.

The Captain of the Red-Hair Pirates sat upon a stool at the rear of the room as he stared into the bottom of his tankard, watching the amber liquid slosh from side to side. He withdrew into himself; his former joy and carefree attitude no longer present on his features this night.

A woman with a painted face sauntered over towards the captain, swaying her hips as she overemphasized her intentions.

“Care for some company, sweetheart?” she asked him in a sultry tone as she took his hand in hers that still clasped the tankard. He made eye contact and smiled from the corner of his mouth before withdrawing the hand from her grip and drew his drinking vessel to his mouth.

“Not today, love,” he said, taking a drink from his tankard, “but I can point you in the direction of someone who would be more than happy to share your time.”

She smiled as Shanks gestured to his senior officer, who had a black bandana featuring a white jolly roger insignia atop his lengthy blonde hair. His expression was one of a displeasing grimace, black glasses concealing more of his irritation behind them.

“See if you can bring a smile to his face, would you?” he laughed slightly as she nodded as she made her way to her next target.

Plonking two fresh pints down on the table before him, Benn Beckman sighed as he sat on a stool facing his Captain; taking one of the pints and gesturing for Shanks to do the same.

“You turned her away?” Beckman questioned his Captain, “I thought you’d enjoy a pretty blonde giving you attention this time.”

“I’m not as open today as I have been any other day to the company of a painted lady,” Shanks laughed in response raising his pint and clanging it against his First-Mate’s, “or any other man or woman you’ve since such sent my way. You know this.”

“Oh,” Beckman uttered, eyes widening before looking down at the table, “I didn’t realise it was today. Sorry Cap’n.”

“Don’t apologise, Beckman,” he smiled at him before drinking from the tankard. He moaned slightly as the cool, bubbling liquid hit his lips and he tasted the bitter flavour of the hoppy amber ale.

“How long has it been since-?” Beckman began, halting his words in search for the more appropriate way of phrasing it.

“How long has it been since my bride was claimed at sea?” Shanks offered to complete his First-Mate’s sentence. Beckman nodded in response, gesturing with his pint for Shanks to offer his answer.

Shanks sighed and leant back in his stool, his back thumping against the small railing at the back.

“This day marks ten years,” he added with a sad smile. A silence fell between them as they reminisced the day the Captain of the Red-Hair Pirate’s wife was lost to him.

After a brief pause, they commenced their drinking as they surveyed the movements of the patrons and crew interacting with one another.

Beckman raised his tankard to his lips and begin to gulp with gusto at the frothing liquid. He trailed his eyes throughout the bar as he did so; looking to Limejuice as he grit his teeth tightly at the blonde woman’s incessant and unrelenting flirtation was thrust upon him.

He continued his assessment of the room before his attention was caught by a group of sailors laughing amongst each other, a woman throwing her had back at the joke uttered by one among them. Benn Beckman spluttered into his tankard, coughing as the amber ale entered into his wind pipe and corrupted his lungs with it. He continued to draw in his breaths while maintaining visual contact on the situation unfolding before him.

“Benn,” Shanks addressed his choking crewman, “you alright?”

The First-Mate continued coughing and spluttering, managing to relieve his lungs of the bitter substance and gasping in a long breath. His pigment all but fled from his face as he continued staring blankly at the bar in horror.

“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” Shanks laughed, placing his tankard down on the table before clapping a hand against the upper arm of Beckman’s shoulder.

“I-I think I have,” Beckman stuttered slightly before bringing his attention to his captain, “look to the bar and tell me if you can see her too, Captain.”

Shanks furrowed his brows in confusion, laughing lightly at the confession of his crewman before turning and immediately having the playful expression pulled from his lips.

“You see her?” Beckman asked him in a voice just above a whisper.

The Captain wordlessly rose to his feet, almost toppling the stool over in the process as he made his way to approach the woman. His bride, his queen. His whole world was carelessly and unaware of his presence as the melodical laugh fell from her lips; a sound Shanks never thought he would once again experience.

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

You tapped the chest of the older sailor in front of you as you continued to laugh at his joke.

“Harold,” you gasped, wiping a tear from your eye, “and that’s the reason you only have three toes on your left foot?”

“Honest to goodness, lass,” he continued to rumble laughter, his eyes twinkling with utter mischievousness, “the bloody crab nearly carved the whole lot off, if not for my quick thinking!”

He imitated the pinching movements of a crab’s claw and crooked his head to make himself look as crab-like as he could, prompting another roar of laughter to erupt between the sailors and yourself.

“Alright, I’ll get you that drink then,” you teetered your laughter and turned to address the bartender you had come to know, “Mary, give us a couple schooners of ale- the pale stuff if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Right you are, my love,” she acknowledged your order and began pouring the foamed liquid into two smaller cups.

It had been ten years since you found yourself lying upon the shore with no recollection of who or what you were before your arrival. Thankfully enough, your body was strong. You knew how to hold your own when it came to unwarranted and unreciprocated attention, often brawling with men to assert yourself among them.

As you needed a job to afford food, you managed to bully Captain Harold of the Angelfish Shepherds Fishing Crew and would accompany them out to sea, bringing in several catches a day and selling their many items throughout town. It was only when the sun would disappear behind the horizon, you would come home to the tavern: "Mary’s Resting Track" and make yourself comfortable with your crew at the bar; drinking well into the night.

Just as Mary had finished pouring from the keg, you felt an arm placed upon your left shoulder, prompting you to turn to face it's source.

“My bride,” a tall, red-headed man gasped in a voice above a whisper as he drew you in to place his lips against yours. You squealed at the tender impact, a smile pulling at the corner of your mouth at the sudden softness and passion you felt from the unknown man. You pushed on his chest slightly before creasing your brows in confusion.

“Steady on, Sailor. Save it for your wife,” you laughed at him, collecting the two schooners from the bar and placing one into the hands of Captain Harold, “or at least buy me a drink first!”

You laughed, prompting your crew to do the same as they raised their glasses and took a drink. You rose yours to your lips and drank from it, keeping playful eye contact with the sailor before you.

He was handsome, his red hair immediately drawing you in. He had a black cloak shrouding his left arm from view and a three-point claw mark over his left eye. His face held a shocked, sobering expression on it as if he was staring at something extra-terrestrial in make.

“Y-You,” he stuttered out, “Y-You’re.”

The words caught in his throat as he again reached his right hand up to attempt to secure a fallen strand of your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. You swatted his hand away from completing the action.

“No,” you said firmly, playfulness leaving your face as your eyebrows collected themselves with a frown, “no one touches my hair. It’s out of bounds to even those who know me, and know me; you do not.”

You swiped his arm away fully away from your face while keeping a warning, reprimanding look on your features. He continued to stare at you, his eyes swelling slightly as they fluttered between your own; pleading with you and searching within them for a small shroud of recognition.

“She’s saving it for her beloved,” your crewman mocked you in a high-pitched tone, bringing humour once again to the room. You laughed at his jest, prompting you to turn away from the red head to scold his imitation.

“I don’t sound like that,” you laughed at him, prompting your crewman to again mock you by wobbling his head from side to side and scrunching up his face.

You turned back around to see the man again gazing with a fierce intensity born deeply into your eyes and managed this time to tuck a strand of your hair behind your left ear with his right hand. At this, you brought your own hand firmly up and struck the side of his face, all humour once again leaving you.

At the crisp strike, chaos erupted at the bar. A crew of pirates drew their pistols, pointing it towards you; while your crew of sailors pulled their own from their belt and aimed it at them in response. You kept your eyes completely fixed on the red-haired pirate as his face continued to hold a yearning expression.

“She gave you a warning, Sailor,” your Captain spat at him, “I don’t care how much ale you consumed, you respect the wishes of a lady.”

This seemed to shatter whatever illusion was held on the redhead in front of you as he looked to the assortment of pirates behind him. He held up his hands in defence of himself, taking a step back from his proximity near you and nodding his head in a deep bow.

“Easy, lads,” he smiled, “put them away. We don’t bring out our guns at one little slap.”

The crew focussed their attention on you as you shook your head and creased your brows at his address. He again turned to you, and bowed his head slightly deeper as an apology.

“You’ll have to excuse me, miss,” he uttered, “I didn’t mean to cross your boundary. It was reactionary, and for that I offer my most sincere apologies.”

Your gaze softened at his words as you gently used your pointer finger to raise his chin to look at you once more.

“Apology accepted on the condition of buying me and my friends a round of drinks,” you scrunched your nose with a small wink. He laughed at your remark, shaking his head and smiling once more.

“I would have to agree, miss. Definitely the next one on me,” he continued to gaze into your eyes as you withdrew your finger from his chin and tapped his nose with it playfully.

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

You didn’t remember him. That must be the only reason you didn’t hoist yourself into his single arm and cling yourself against him. Why you didn’t lean into the kiss and allow him to lace his hand into your hair and relieve your face from it shrouding your vision. The act so intimately solidifying your relationship in the early days, holding onto it as you spoke your wedding vows.

No-one was to ever touch your hair apart from yourself and your beloved were the words you spoke while dressed in your white, lace dress aboard the Red Force; Beckman performing the ceremony all those years ago.

You were married in your youth, relationship blossoming from friendship to something more on the Oro Jackson under the watchful gaze of Gol D. Roger. The subtle glances turned into subtle touches, turning into kisses stolen from within the hidden halls of the Oro Jackson as you would press each other against the walls and roam your hands along your bodies.

He was obsessed with your hair, and with each caress, each embrace, he would find himself absent-mindedly playing with it. You vowed alongside your commitment in matrimony that only he and he alone would be allowed to tuck your hair behind your ear in adoration; and you be the only one permitted to place a kiss atop the crown of his head.

Shanks had to contain himself as his soul screamed within the chasms of his chest to embrace you, to hold you against him and cry out in joy at your return. He didn’t touch another woman in the ten long years it had been since your last departure; the notion turning to ash in his mouth at the mere suggestion. It had only been until recently that Beckman prompted him to seek out someone to relieve his tension, but he felt it would’ve been an insult to the beautiful memories you shared with one another.

You were even in the process of early conversations on what starting a family would look like aboard the Red Force with his assortment of rowdy crew.

You would bicker at having the ship make birth permanently at a port, returning every two weeks to the solid shore as Shanks refused to halt his travels. He wanted you and the children aboard, rearing them alongside his crew; an idea you immediately shot down as you understood infants waking and crying at every interval and the disruption would not be fair to bring to the crew.

Shanks remembered Beckman adding to that conversation with: “We’re already getting sleepless nights from the sounds echoing the halls originating at your quarters!”

He chuckled at the memory before he remembered the fear on your face as the storm threw you overboard in your attempt to raise the sheet from the topmast and secure it in place. The black sky and torrential winds making it impossible to see your form as you struggled against the waves. He didn’t see what happened, only noticing your departure once they successfully made it through the storm and into the central eye of it.

The roar-like scream rumbling throughout the chest of the Red-Haired Captain still reverberating within the ears and memories of the entire crew as they recollect it every year. The pain shared amongst them as their captain bore his grief openly; drowning in rum every night before Beckman pulled him out of his rut with the reprimand: “this is not what she would have wanted.”

It mattered not what happened to him from that point. The pain of loosing you was far greater than any earthly injury could bring forth. He didn’t even bat an eye as his arm was claimed by a great Sea-Beast; consuming his flesh within it’s belly. He was more upset by the fact his golden wedding band perished at its disappearance.

And here you were, not a scratch upon you; laughing as if you had not a care in the world.

You had no memory. That was the only explanation Shanks had as he gazed lovingly at you, drinking your free ale at his expense.

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

You shook your head at a comment made by one of your crewmen as they suggested to hold a drinking competition between the red-haired pirate’s crew and your own.

“I don’t think I have enough booze in the house for that,” Mary laughed from behind the bar.

You smiled at her comment, turning back around to see the far off look in the red-head’s eyes.

“You know,” you nudged him with your shoulder, bringing his attention back towards you, “for someone that leads in lips first, you’re awfully quiet.”

He chuckled at your comment, expression softening but with a hidden depth you couldn’t quite understand.

“I’m not usually like this,” he scrunched his nose up with a smile.

“Rough time at sea, then?” you asked him, gesturing to Mary with two fingers to indicate your intentions of purchasing the next round for you and the red-head.

“Not particularly, its just-,” his words trailed off, prompting you to gaze your eyes; flittering them between his own two deep brown orbs before he took a deep breath and looked forward at his crew interacting with your own.

“You gestured for the good stuff, right?” she asked, placing two short, round glasses down on the counter; spiced rum swishing in the base as she did so.

“That I did, love,” you replied, placing down your berry on the counter and taking the glasses from it. You went to place the glass into the red-head Captain’s hands, noticing it was already occupied with a half-drunk tankard of ale.

“You keen on a rum?” you asked him, bringing his gaze up. He gasped out a quick hum, raising the tankard and downing the remainder of his ale with haste and placing the empty vessel atop the bar. He rose his hand to accept your offer and his fingers brushed against your own as he claimed the drink from your hand.

He looked down to your collar bone and noticed a single gold ring hung from a piece of fine leather around it. He furrowed his brows at it as to inspect it from his great distance.

“The gold band around your neck,” he gestured down to your left hand, “are you married?”

“Not to my knowledge, Sailor,” you laughed at him, “I was found with it.”

You sipped at the rum and creased your brows as the heavy alcohol entered your system.

“I apologise for slapping you,” you uttered, “I, uh. I made a promise, you see. I don’t really know what about or to whom, truthfully.”

He hummed at your comment, fixing his eyes on your face as you spoke. He trailed his eyes over your body, looking at you with an expression completely unreadable. Somewhere between: bewildered, surprised, great sorrow, relief, curiosity and apprehension.

“I don’t actually have a lot of that – knowledge, I mean,” you reiterated with a smile, “For the better part of ten years, I’ve been building back what I think I used to be like. I have no idea, though. I could’ve been some prissy young lass with a string of twelve children; or some standoffish, uptight cow-.”

“-You were never like that,” the red-head interrupted you, prompting you to snap your gaze up to meet with his.

“Do you know me, Sailor?” you asked him, your brows creasing together.

“Shanks,” he corrected you, “my name is Shanks.”

“Alright, Shanks,” you corrected yourself, “Do you know me?”

He sighed, drinking a small amount of liquid from his glass and looking to the rowdy crowd as their boisterous laughter echoed throughout the walls.

“If you want to talk about it, I’m going to need two things,” he said, downing the remainder of alcohol from his glass in one quick swell, “another drink, preferably a bottle this time.”

You laughed at him, before asking; “and the other thing?”

“Privacy,” he uttered with a small hint of sadness. You expressed concern within your eyes before patting him on the back and rubbing small circles in comfort to him.

You weren’t sure why you brought your hand up to comfort him, it seemed almost reactionary. A natural instinct of familiarity; organic.

“Alright, Shanks,” you began, making eye contact with Mary once more, “I’ll buy you a bottle under one condition.”

“And what might that be?” he chuckled warmly.

“That you give me a small glint of information before we proceed to the beach,” Mary placed the bottle on the counter and you placed down more berry in response, “I need to know if you are threatening me with a good time, or if you plan on executing me to reclaim some debt.”

“Were we enemies?” you asked him, bearing your gaze at the wall behind the bar.

“Sometimes,” Shanks shrugged his shoulders, prompting you to snap your gaze back to his. He erupted a full belly laugh from his diaphragm at your reaction. He let out a deep sigh before he suggested; “let’s make to the beach and I’ll fill you in.”

Mary smiled, looking between the two of you before the beckoning of Captain Harold and several bottles of the cheapest rum called her from her place before you.

You nodded, neglecting to collect glassware while you grasped the neck of the bottle; not once removing your eyes from the red-head next to you.

You made your way down towards the beach, walking in step with Captain Shanks, as the crew bid him goodnight. You noticed several members of his crew gawked at you as if they had seen a phantom or something of the make.

Once gazing into the open sea, the Captain plonked himself unceremoniously on the sand, legs spread wide as he sat with his knees bent upwards. You smiled at him before crouching down to sit beside him, uncorking the fresh rum bottle in your hands and offering it to him. He smiled as he took it from your grasp and brought it to his lips.

You trailed your eyes over his form, trying to conjure a whisp of memory from the recesses of your mind. After having no image return to you, you rose up your voice.

“So-,” you began, only to be cut off my Shanks.

“You were – are,” he started to relay, laughing at the fact he spoke over you. You nodded to him to continue.

He paused, sighing before again voicing what he was attempting to confess to you.

“It’s been ten years to the day since I lost you,” he sighed, looking down to the sand near his knees, “and not a day went by that my thoughts were not drawn to you.”

You looked at him, puzzled at what he was telling you.

“Your gold band,” he gestured with his hand towards your neck grasping the bottle, keeping his eyes fixed on the sand below him, “was gifted to us by our former Captain we served under: Gol D. Roger. He had a lot of love for you and I.”

“The King of the Pirates?” you asked him, eyes wide before adding, “and us. What do you mean, us?”

He sighed again, this time bringing his head to slouch back as he gazed at the dark and cloudless sky above you.

“I can’t tell you what happened right now. It’s-,” he paused between the words, prompting you to inch forward and look at his face. He turned his face away from you as you attempted to gaze into his eyes; “-it’s too painful today.”

You frowned and instead reached down to the hand placed upon his hand, and swiftly reclaimed the rum bottle from within his grip. He turned his head towards you at this and trailed his eyes up to yours as you placed the lip of the bottle and downed two large gulps of the liquid. You squeezed your eyes as the strong alcohol burned its way down your throat and into the pit of your belly.

He laughed at your actions, finally the forlorn expression eclipsed by glee.

“You haven’t changed,” he uttered, reaching his hand up to your hair before recoiling it back again. You watched him do this, as processing the boundary you expressed earlier still lingered within his thoughts. Instead of reaching your hair with his hand, he fell his grasp to your hands as they held the rum bottle.

“Is there truly nothing you remember of me?” He asked you, looking down to where his single hand rested upon your own. You furrow your brows and search your mind through closed eyes, willing yourself to remember any aspect about him. You hissed out a growl in frustration as you found no recollection.

“I want to,” you whispered to him, “you seem a decent kind of man, if not a little forward with the kiss and all.”

He chuckled at your comment, his laughter building to a rumble. His shoulders began to quake lightly as his laughter died and morphed into soft sobs. He attempted to conceal them from you by raising his hand up from where it rested atop his knee and turned to face away from you. You were overwhelmed slightly by this man becoming wrecked with emotion.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to him, bringing yourself to rest on your knees as you pulled yourself closer to him.

You opened your arms and shimmied your legs forward, hoisting them over his bent knees and found a comfortable spot on the sand to rest between them. Your arms circled his shoulders as you felt his right arm wrap beneath your waist and hook up your spine. He held his face flush with your stomach and squeezed his hand to grasp at your body as if you were to slip away at any moment. You felt his shoulders begin to relax into your embrace while inhaling your scent. You looked down the top of his head before absentmindedly bringing your lips down to place a chaste kiss against his hair. He flinched slightly at this impact, tension building in his shoulders before he slumped them forward.

You heard him sigh into your diaphragm as you did so, bringing his face away from its hidden position against you and resting his chin atop your chest to bring his sights to look up at you. For some reason, this man as he held you in an intimate proximity did not have you thrusting him away from your with excessive force as you did with so many others.

You unwrapped your left hand from around his shoulders and set it against his cheek. His youthful smile returning as you caressed him. You warmly smiled in response, feeling the gruff of his stubble against the palm of your hand before he turned his head and placed a brief kiss atop your inner hand.

“I am willing to dedicate the rest of my life to getting you to fall in love with me once again,” he whispered against your hand before turning his head to meet your gaze, “this I swear.”

Your eyes widened at the comment with a small smile toying at your mouth.

“I gather my undying devotion is overwhelming for you,” he chuckled, prompting you to move your hand away from his face and place both hands atop his shoulders.

“It is, to be perfectly candid with you,” you giggled at him, smoothing your arms over his shoulders and tracing circles against them with your thumbs, “I have tried everything to bring a small fragment of the person I once was to the forefront of my being.”

He trailed his hand from its place at the small of your back and rested it atop your left hip, grasping it firmly within his palm and kneading the flesh beneath it.

You brought your attention to the gold ring on your leather necklace as you held onto his shoulder, narrowing your eyes at the metal slightly; pleading within your own mind to bring forth any memory of the man cradling himself against you.

“To put myself in your hideous sandals,” you uttered, prompting him to quirk his head slightly to the side, “you found me, and it’s almost as if you did so only to lose me again.”

“Aye, it is,” he nodded, looking down again and meeting his eyes with the flesh of your forearm. He ghosted his lips over your left arm, dragging it higher within the crook of your elbow. Your hair follicles stood on edge under his ministrations, as he continued to not kiss your skin; but rather feel the way your body tasted below his lips.

“And you looked lovely in my highly practical sandals, last time you wore them,” he smirked his lips against your flesh before placing a kiss against it. He trailed kisses varying in intensity back down your forearm and against your wrist, prompting your breath to hitch in your throat.

That comment was it. After a variety of interpersonal and intimate words shared regarding your prior relationship with the man beneath you; it was the ugly sandals that brought a flitter of memory to grace behind your eyes. Any other comment; the hand in your hair from earlier, the wedding ring gifted by Gol D. Roger before he was executed, anything else; it was the ugly sandals he found in the run of the mill town that he purchased and, much to your horror, wore in public.

You remember taking them from his room and fleeing above deck with them in an attempt to throw them overboard to rid yourself of their ugliness forever, only to have your waist caught by your husband as he twirled you around to face the deck again with playful reprimand in the process of doing so.

At the request of your husband, you placed them on your feet and experienced the absolute comfort they bore you; almost shrieking in disgust at yourself for relishing in the feeling; as he belly-laughed at you.

“We’ll get you some at the next port” you heard his voice within your mind, “then we can be matching.”

You remembered him wiggling his eyebrows, prompting you to place your closed fist against his chest and tap him slightly.

“We can even get tiny little ones for when you relent and let me put a child in you,” you remembered his tone, causing a blush to rise presently to your cheeks.

“Something the matter, love?” Shanks' voice brought you from your singular memory and back into the present moment you were sharing so intimately with your husband.

No other memory sprang forward, only a few whispers of certain smells: sea water, spiced rum and stagnant drinking water with the natural smell men aboard a boat. You circled your arms around his shoulders and again pressed him against yourself, smothering his face against your sternum between your breasts. Your mouth fell slack as you pressed your face into his hair and inhaled the aroma of the fragrance he favoured to utilise in his red locks: sandalwood and ginger prominent with his natural scent lingering beneath it.

You began to feel a rough flurry of taps from the man beneath you as he indicated for you to release him. His laughter was unrestrained as his eyes twinkled with mischievousness.

“As happy as I am to once again have my face pressed between your breasts,” he heaved his laughter, “I do require air to sustain me.”

He brought his eyes to meet yours as you stared your eyes on the crashing waves of the beach as the tide began to come in further. Your eyes remained wide as you continued to will a semblance of recollection to come to you.

Once you offered no rebuttal at his comment, he again reached his hand up towards your hair only to halt it once more.

“What is it?” he asked you, now placing his right hand atop your left arm, holding it lovingly.

“I-,” you began, the words now halting between your lips. You brought your eyes down to look down and you continued to flitter them between each of his own.

“I-,” you again said, leaning in closer to him; prompting him to have a sense of seriousness overcome his features, “-will never own a pair of those ugly sandals.”

Immediately his seriousness fell away and his face split into a wide grin as his laughter rumbled within his chest one more.

“Yes, you always hated them. I think they’re wonderful,” he gasped while stifling his laughter. You continued to hold his shoulders as his laughter teetered off into a dull rumble.

“I tried to throw them overboard,” you uttered almost inaudibly, “and you threatened me with buying more of them.”

“You remember,” he gasped out a breathy sigh, “you remember me.”

He brought his torso up further to bring your foreheads to rest against each other. He nuzzled your nose slightly at the impact and squeezed his eyes shut with delight. He began to lean in to graze your lips with his, only to be halted by your gentle touch to bring him back.

“I don’t remember anything else aside from your disgusting sandals,” you whispered, closing your eyes before reopening them again and looking at him half-lidded, “and the way you looked at me when you suggested we begin trying for a child.”

A small gasp left his lips as a single tear fell from his right eye. Immediately he pulled your head against his further, seeking out your lips with his own. He moved his hand from its place at your hip to snake around your waist and hold you firmly against his lap. You felt him moan against your lips as you reciprocated his enthusiasm by lacing your fingers into his hair and tugging lightly at the new growth at the back of his neck.

As your proximity was so flush against one another, you had no choice but to press your full weight against him as he laid with his back against the sand; his hair sprawling out atop the course surface. He expertly maneuvered his right leg beneath yours without breaking the kiss, gasping into it as he darted his tongue out to meet with your own.

A soft whimper flung itself from your lips as he relentlessly attacked your mouth with his own; flittering deep and hungry kisses while trying to taste as much of you as he could with his tongue. You unlaced your fingers from his hair and raked them down his shoulders to his chest, massaging the hard muscle beneath them as you continued in your exploration. He gently rose his hand from its place around your waist and drew itself beneath your shirt and groaned when he felt your tender flesh beneath the material.

Placing your right hand below his cloak, you raked your fingers further along his ribcage and drew them up towards his left arm – halting your movement as you found none residing there.

You squealed into his mouth, feeling him smirk against your lips. You attempted to break from the kiss, only to feel his hand climb higher beneath your blouse and lie flat against your spine between your shoulder blades and continue passionately exploring your lips.

“Shanks,” you murmured a warning reprimand against his lips. He smiled while maintaining his lips against your own, feeling the soft pearls of his teeth as they made contact with your mouth. He continued to chase your lips each time you attempted to flee from his embrace.

You brought your hands up to ball the material of his white shirt within your fists and held him further against yourself, prompting him to let down his guard as he whimpered into your lips at your sudden domination. As soon as you felt him relinquish a small spectrum of control, you pushed hard on his collar bones and pried him from your lips. He first groaned in frustration before his body was wracked with uncontrollable laughter. He collapsed against the ground, prompting you to roll your body from above him to onto your own back in the sand as his laughter became contagious.

And as earlier, the heaving of your shoulders in fits of laughter evolved into heavy sobs from the both of you as you mourned the time lost between you.

“My bride,” Shanks called from beside you as he placed his right hand upon his eyes in an attempt to control his emotions.

“Yes, my groom,” you said as more of a whimper than an address.

He rolled over onto his side and hovered his face above yours, as the tears freely fell down the faces of the two of you; the moonlight cascading over your lover’s hair. Hesitantly, he reached his right hand up to your hair and slowly brought some loose strands from your face and wove it behind your ear. He sighed in relief as he watched you close your eyes and lean into his touch, taking your quivering lip between your teeth as you did so.

“You are as beautiful as the day I lost you,” he whispered with a slight hitch of his voice. You reopened your eyes to watch him smiling through his sorrow. You returned his expression and caressed his chest and ghosting your fingertips over his left shoulder.

“And you are one arm less than I remember,” you beamed a wide smile and giggled a little at your prod. He joined you in your laughter and pressed a chaste kiss against your hair before rising to his feet and offering you his right hand to hoist you up to meet him. You took his hand and allowed him to hoist you to your feet, before he dipped his shoulder down to make contact with your waist and lifted you over his right shoulder. He secured you in place with a crisp slap upon your left ass-cheek as he effortlessly crouched down to retrieve the forgotten, half-drunk rum bottle. He rose again to his feet and began to walk with you over his shoulder, using his teeth to uncork the rum bottle and spitting it against the sand.

“Is this quite necessary?” you asked him, mock annoyance in your tone.

He laughed and took a long swig from the rum bottle and gasped in joy as the liquid burnt its way down his throat.

“Not only is it necessary,” he called to you over his left shoulder, “it is also compulsory.” You laughed at him as he almost jigged back towards the tavern, him joining you in your laughter upon arriving at its steps and flinging open the door with his feet.

The arrival of the two of you had cheers erupting and reverberating from every corner and crevasse of the wooden building. Tankards were thrust into the air, foam sloshing carelessly from the top and onto the floor; much to the many protestations of Mary.

Shanks placed you on the floor after setting aside the bottle of rum atop a cylindrical raised bar table.

“Alright lads,” he addressed the room, “let me reintroduce you to my wife!”

He extended his right hand out for you to place your left hand within. As soon as you did so, he effortlessly spun you into him, your left arm laced over your front as he cradled you against himself.

You looked up to his face, your neck laying against his shoulder as he brought his lips down to meet your own for the first time publicly in a decade. Applause, shouts of glee and delight, more sloshing of ale and verbal reprimands from the tavern keeper echoed the hall as you smiled against the lips of your beloved. Your husband, and his bride.

#one piece #opla #x reader #shanks opla #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #shanks #one piece live action #opla fic #amnesia trope #my playlist broke me #angst #angst with a happy ending

905 notes · View notes

simply-ivanka · 22 days

Text

Suddenly Democrats Care About the Border

Biden and Schumer begin to see their political vulnerability.

By John Thune -- Wall Street Journal Opinion/ May 20, 2024

Trailing in the polls and desperate less than six months before Election Day, President Biden and Senate Democrats are trying something new: their best impersonations of Republicans.

The architects of the Biden border crisis—the worst in American history—suddenly want the American people to know they’re on the case. After three-plus years of mismanaging border security, resulting in more than nine million entries through the southern border, Majority Leader Chuck Schumer is telegraphing that he may force Senate floor votes related to the border.

That’s his prerogative as leader, but I don’t expect anyone to buy this political theater. For starters, Mr. Biden has authority to take action at the border and to do so today. It’s the same authority he used to issue a multitude of executive actions relaxing border security, including rescinding the national emergency at the southern border, halting border-wall construction, ending the Remain in Mexico policy, and discouraging Immigration and Customs Enforcement from apprehending illegal immigrants.

The president this month ordered the removal of criminals and potential terrorists. This is a switch from the policy he started shortly after his inauguration, and the new order was made only after hundreds of people on the terrorist watchlist were encountered in between ports of entry on his watch. Vote for me, and I’ll clean up the historic mess I made is hardly an effective campaign pitch, and a few meaningless Senate votes won’t erase my Democratic colleagues’ long records of enabling illegal immigration.

In this Congress alone, Senate Democrats have banded together to protect taxpayer-funded flights for illegal immigrants to different states in the U.S. and keep federal dollars flowing to sanctuary cities. Democrats blocked votes on a litany of common-sense border-security and enforcement measures, including a proposal from Sen. Marsha Blackburn (R., Tenn.) that would have let state and local law enforcement detain criminal illegal aliens until ICE can deport them. They even stopped legislation from Sen. Ted Budd (R., N.C.) that would deem assaulting a law-enforcement officer a deportable offense.

Not one Senate Democrat supported H.R. 2, House Republicans’ signature border bill, after Senate Republicans twice forced it to be considered.

But now Democrats need voters in Montana, Ohio, Nevada and Pennsylvania to believe they’re serious about the border. They aren’t motivated by national security. They’re concerned about their own political vulnerability. They’ve recognized, albeit too late, that the chaos of an open border is a political liability.

If Mr. Schumer devotes floor time to debating border legislation, he should expect some difficult conversations ahead—the same kinds of conversations we would have had in the Senate if every Democrat hadn’t voted to dismiss the impeachment of Homeland Security Secretary Alejandro Mayorkas without a trial.

It’s abundantly clear that the American people want an end to lawlessness at the southern border. They want the president to do his job and defend America’s borders. The bad political bet that Mr. Biden and Mr. Schumer are making is that voters will hire the arsonists to put out the fire.

Mr. Thune, a South Dakota Republican, is Senate minority whip.

#Biden #Democrats #Schumer #Border #trump #trump 2024 #president trump #ivanka #repost #america first #americans first #america #donald trump

78 notes · View notes

wordycheeseblob · 1 year

Text

Ok but why do we get to have a mermaid AU and no sailor AU like I want to see Silvio doing actual sailing and shit

PIRATE AU

FOREIGN FACTION

privateers. In short, pirates working for the government to carry out quasi-military activities... a pirate with papers if you will

With their solemn and equally terrifying captain, Chevalier who oversees his bunch of lawless brigands abide by the contract or else don't get caught. Don't ever engage in direct combat with his fleet.

Clavis is the quartermaster, during the Golden Age of Piracy this was the highest ranking pirate on a ship under the captain, usually elected by the crew. The quartermaster was the only officer on a ship who could veto a captain’s decision, but only when the ship was not engaged in battle or on a mission. This rapscallion is a wild card, difficult to control, has to be strictly supervised to deter from causing all manner of nautical misbehavior but he's always onto something. All the captives are under his supervision... Some destinies are worse than death.

Nokto appraises the goods values and is the one in charge of dealings, negotiations, pricing and reselling. Also paperwork.

Luke is the errand boy whenever they are at port. He is also the cleaning lad but don't be surprised to find he has enormous strength from doing all that sea man work.

DOMESTIC FACTION

Sailors. Honest to goodness sailors. The Royal Navy.

Leon, this charismatic swashbuckler is the captain of the Crown Fleet. He is easy-going but takes his job very seriously. If they ever happen to pass Chevaliers ship they'll definitely exchange annoyed glances.

Jin is the second in command, this shameless carouser enjoys festivity and especially the riotous drinking once on land. He knows his bitches in every port.

Licht is the lookout. He knows how to read the weather and sea and has very good eyesight. Being up there also gives him some much needed alone time from all the noise Jin is steering with the crew.

Yves is the cook. The first time he was introduced someone in the crew was reluctant to accept him on board saying women on ships bring bad luck. Yves was definitely outraged at that remark but rest assured he became an absolute essential to the crew, anytime he's absent Licht is left to cook and we know how that turns out, pray to the gods someone is there to save the ship from burning.

Sariel is the king's emissary, he communicates his majesty's wishes to the captain and anything paperwork related is to him. His inspections aren't without scrutiny, usually Jin is the one getting a scolding word.

PIRATES

Lawless brigands whose name is feared far and wide. Ruthless and unforgiving like the tempest seas, they bow to no man.

Silvio or as some call him Silver, he's... Well actually, I lied. Silvio is not a pirate but a merchant growing his empire of trade and influence. Let's just say that to do that he has the morals of a large corporation, that is, he has the human rights violations as a checklist.

"The capitalist machine must be oiled with the blood of pirates"

-this guy at some point

Keith is a savage pirate you wouldn't want to cross paths with. He committed all manner of atrocities without batting an eye. His ship mostly sails tropical seas and is very difficult to track as it hides in the mist and uses the weather to sail unnoticed. He's very good in dealing with poisons and has a pet bird on his shoulder, Dill.

Gilbert's face is the universal symbol of death and destruction :D scourge of the seven seas, World's Calamity, and prominent glutton, this pirate sails an Obsidian black ship, incredibly military advanced and commands a ruthless crew. Despite the considerable size of his ship it's difficult to predict what route he's going to intercept (making him a constant nuisance to Silvio). Maaaaybe tried to kidnap Emma... more than once. You're not safe. Not even on land.

That said, you never know from where or when he's coming but when you see the dark flag, it's already too late.

Possibly uses pirate slang unironically

#ikepri #ikemen prince pirate au #ikepri pirate au #ikemen prince #ikemen ouji #Rio is a law-abiding citizen now #bet he goes boating or smt #but Silvio knows the truth #that's why he can't stand him #the fleets either dislike eachother or dislike but with respect or just guttorally hate #my god i have so many hc already #I strongly encourage you to share yours #sailor au #ikemen prince sailor au #cybird otome

100 notes · View notes

hollyethecurious · 10 months

Text

CS AU: The Law of Surprise (2/3)

Summary: The Law of Surprise: a custom as old as humanity itself. The Law dictates that a man saved by another is expected to offer to his savior a boon whose nature is unknown to one or both parties. In most cases, the boon takes the form of the saved man's firstborn child, conceived or born without the father's knowledge.

A/N: This is NOT a Witcher AU. The idea for this fic WAS inspired by the show, however. I’m not sure if the Law of Surprise was a show/game creation or if it existed before. Regardless, this fic is my spin on the concept and will be posted in three parts.

Much love and thanks to the @cssns mods for keeping this event going year after year! A HUGE shout out to my artist @eastwesthomeisbest for the AMAZING pieces she made to accompany my fic. Go give her ALL the flails! Finally, all the hot chocolate, rum, and grilled cheese sandwiches for my amazing betas @ultraluckycatnd and @kmomof4. LOVE YOU LADIES TO BITS!

Rated T (for now) / Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!

Part One

Part Two

Ten years later…

Hook trudged his way through the Neverland jungle, the humidity dampening the ends of his hair - long overdue for a barber’s hand - and collecting along the bones of his collar and the hollow of his throat. He grumbled beneath his breath as he sidestepped booby traps left by the Lost Boys. Most of them had probably been forgotten and left abandoned when the miscreants’ whims had shifted from whatever depraved game they’d been playing to some new nefarious venture.

During his decade of service, Hook had been tasked a dozen times or more to ferry boys from the accursed realm where Pleasure Island existed. An island that lured boys to their doom with promises of wild frivolity, their fate sealed when they found themselves aboard the Jolly Roger, never to be seen or heard from again once they set foot on the new island of hellish delights. Most didn’t seem to mind, giving themselves over to the feral, lawless ways of the island, following in Pan’s deviant footsteps. Others, however… Well, Hook did not make it a habit of spending time thinking of the others, or their nightly woes that were carried to him by the vindictive Neverland winds as he attempted to find some measure of peace on his ship. Besides, after tonight, he would never have to endure those sobs, or the whoops and war cries, or the perils of the island, or the dangers of its master ever again.

After tonight, he’d be leaving the island of nightmares behind him for good. Too bad the same could not be said of the nightmarish reputation his years of service had crafted.

Pirate. Villain. Void of pity or compassion. Callous. Heartless. Merciless. Barbarous. Cruel.

These were the words he’d seen splashed across countless wanted posters, all demanding his capture - dead or alive - with bounties that had increased exponentially over the years. Posters and decrees that hung in every port, every tavern, displayed on every ship he’d waylaid, and carried in the pockets of every officer or crewmen he’d crossed blades with. Even those from a kingdom in which he’d never committed his crimes. A kingdom he had avoided at all costs, hoping that when his time was up he might still find himself a safe harbour upon her shores of refuge; a place he still might belong, despite his dastardly deeds and fearsome reputation.

Misthaven. His adopted homeland. A place to which he had sworn vows of fealty and devotion, not simply to its sovereigns, but the kingdom as a whole. He had done all he could to maintain his oath, even to the point of waging his own war in allyship as he fulfilled Pan’s ruthless commands by targeting King George’s ships and cargos, even if easier pickings had been available to him, protected by the Misthavian coat-of-arms.

The deck of the Jolly Roger had been bathed in the blood of King George’s men numerous times over the course of the war, which had waged on for the better part of these ten years. It was only in these last few months that peace had finally been achieved. Some sort of deal struck with a sorcerer who ruled a far off kingdom, his dark magic laying waste to George’s forces and ending the king’s reign in, what Hook had been told was, a resounding display of brutality that rivaled his own.

Though he shuddered to think of the deal his sovereigns had willingly made with a madman of such dark proclivities, Hook understood the necessity of desperate measures during such desperate times when those you loved and served were on the brink of death and destruction. Who was he to judge them? They had done what they felt they must in order to safeguard their people. A task made more complex by the fact that the entire conflict had begun with the atrocity of robbing Queen Snow of the ability to conceive an heir. Without a progeny to pass the throne to, Misthaven could have found itself under George’s rule had anything happened to Their Majesties. Hook knew they could not risk their subjects’ futures to such a fate, though he did wonder what the future held for a kingdom with no heir.

He supposed he’d find out for himself once he returned. Assuming he was not killed on sight when he made berth, feeling relatively certain, given the bounty King David himself had set upon his head, that neither his sovereigns nor his brother knew of his true identity. He did not relish the idea of revealing that truth, and could only pray he would find pardon once their shock and disgust subsided. That is… if he even found the courage to return at all.

There was no use denying that he’d considered, on many occasions, leaving the island and sailing as far from the realm as he could. Starting anew in some foreign destination where the names Killian Jones and Captain Hook held no meaning. He could not do that to Liam, though. Could not leave his brother to wonder after his fate, or worse, come looking for him on the island of nightmares where last they saw one another. Plus, he’d made a vow to honor his accords so long as they were honored in kind. He owed it to his sovereigns to return. If the king and queen chose to sever the ties that bound them, by both his oath and the unfilled Law of Surprise, then so be it, but he would not break his oath, not when he’d gone to such lengths to preserve it.

Skull Rock held the same oppressive and imposing heaviness it always did as he marched up the damp stone steps, each bootfall echoing the dread that pounded in his chest. Every time he’d presented himself here, Hook wondered how much more of himself he’d lose while implementing Pan’s bidding. This time was different, though. This time there would be no bidding. No demands. No nefarious schemes or dark dealings. This time, he was being summoned because their deal had finally come to an end. Ten long years of torment would be fulfilled this night and by dawn he would once again taste that which had eluded him for most of his life.

Freedom.

The same, however, could not be said for the poor unfortunate sat cowered in the dark corner of the cavern. A new toy for Pan’s amusement, no doubt. With no sign of Pan just yet, Hook casually glanced back at the small figure who appeared to be trapped in one of Pan’s giant hourglass prisons and was startled to realize it was no boy sitting with their knees curled into their chest, tears streaming down their cheeks, but was in fact… a girl.

Curious. Pan only ever wanted boys to join his little tribe of miscreants. What possible reason could he have for bringing a girl to--

“Ah, Captain! I do hope you have not been waiting long.”

“Only ten insufferable years,” Hook muttered under his breath, though he knew Pan heard him. Pan heard everything. “So we can dispense with the pleasantries if it’s all the same to you.”

They were squared off with one another, each taking on the posture that had become habit. Hook’s stance was always casual yet formidable, his thumb tucked behind his belt buckle with his weight shifted to one side, while Pan leaned against the craggy interior of the cave, his arms and ankles crossed as though he had not a care in the world. However, there was something off about Pan’s comportment this time. Hook could only surmise the change in demeanor was due to the ending of their arrangement and the little bastard’s loss of an errand boy.

A summation that proved wrong when Pan narrowed his gaze and hissed, “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

Hook’s brow pulled together and his head cocked to one side. “Find out… what?”

Pushing off from the wall, Pan slithered his way towards Hook, circling him in a way that made the pirate’s skin crawl, inquiring again, “Did you really think you could keep it from me?”

“Pan,” Hook sighed. He was so tired of the brat’s games. “I’ve no clue what you’re on about.”

Coming to a halt right in front of Hook, Pan crossed his arms over his chest, and though his feet were in a wide stance, exaggerating their difference in height, he somehow leveled his eyes with Hook’s.

“Did you think I would not discover the boon you were entitled to by King David himself?” Pan asked in a casual but dangerous tone. “The Law of Surprise you were promised for saving the man’s life?”

It took all of Hook’s composure not to react, though his jaw did betray him when the muscle beneath twitched. How could he possibly know about--

“Did you really think I would not keep tabs on your brother? On those whom you had served before me? It was part of our original arrangement that they would not interfere, and I had to make sure they made good on that promise. Imagine my surprise when my Shadow returned from his most recent reconnaissance with the news. The Law of Surprise bestowed upon you long ago.”

Trepidation filled him as Pan set off circling again, his mind spinning even as it tried to comprehend the words that followed.

“You never did find out what that surprise entailed, did you?” Pan made his way to stand next to the golden haired girl who was still trapped, her cries for help unable to penetrate the glass as he practically crowed, “Surprise! It’s a girl!”

“What?” Hook exhaled on an incredulous breath. “No, that’s… that’s impossible. She’s--”

“Princess Emma of Misthaven,” Pan stated. “Her existence was kept secret all these years for her own safety. Of course, now that Misthaven’s war with George is at an end the truth was finally revealed to its subjects. Although, I’m pretty sure only their Majesties and your brother are aware of her special connection to you. Well… and now me, of course.”

Hook’s gaze had been fixed on the young girl throughout Pan’s crowing. Her hair was a bit lighter than the king’s, her complexion not quite as porcelain as the queen’s, yet there was no denying her parentage. Her nose, her chin, her eyes… all features he could attribute back to King David or Queen Snow. She was theirs. Their child. But how? The Queen was barren. George had seen to it that she be unable to conceive and produce an heir, which made her existence a surprise indeed.

His surprise. His Child of Surprise according to magical law. She was his.

Drawing his sword, Hook advanced on Pan, thundering, “Let her go!”

With a flick of his wrist Pan immobilized Hook, leaving him virtually paralyzed in place and unable to move.

“I think not,” Pan sneered. “She’s my keepsake. A little token to remember you by… unless…”

“Unless what?” Hook spat through clenched teeth.

“Unless,” Pan drawled, “You agree to stay… indefinitely.”

Hook’s eyes cut to the princess - his princess - and the fear he saw shadowing her face tore his heart. Had Pan ripped her from her bed? Had his monstrous spectre dragged her here through the night sky with the potential horror of falling to her death whipping over her as they sliced their way through the air? How long had she been trapped in that corner, encased in a glass prison? What must she think of the scene playing out before her? How desperate must she be to return to her parents? Her parents. The King and Queen must be frantic. Almost as frantic as he was over the prospect of her being trapped here. Forever.

Over his dead body.

“Deal,” Hook agreed, casting his gaze once more on the demon boy. “On one condition.”

“What condition?”

“You let me take her back,” Hook demanded. “You let me ensure she gets home safe, tucked away once more in her bed. You let me reassure Their Majesties and inform my brother of our new deal. Give me that at least.”

Pan gave him a bored look, an almost disgusted sneer pulling at his lips as though he were disappointed by the sentimentality of the request. “Very well,” he said, dismissively. “I’ll have my Shadow ready the sail, but you best be headed back here before dawn,” he warned, pointing a bony finger towards the pirate. “And remind that brother of yours, he’s not to interfere. Him and your… sovereigns.”

Pan vanished before Hook’s eyes and the weight of what he’d just agreed to fell heavy within his stomach. The glitter of magic pulled his attention towards the hourglass, its walls dissipating, allowing freedom to its captive, but the princess shrank back further into the corner. Clearly fearful, but doing her best to put on a brave face, she stiffened her posture and lifted her chin, her eyes fixed on him as he tentatively approached.

“Have you come to ransom me to my parents?” she demanded, a quiver of fear trembling in her voice and manifesting in her bottom lip.

“No, Princess,” he assured her in a calm and soothing tone, dropping the timbre of his voice as he extended his hand towards her. “I’ve already paid your ransom. I’m taking you home.”

“You? You paid the ransom?” she asked incredulously. “Why?”

He tightened his jaw, making the muscles twitch, and contemplated how much to divulge to her. “Because I… I once served your parents, and between us there is a debt owed. It is my duty to see to your safe keeping.”

“You owe my parents a debt?” she said, taking a step forward.

He said nothing, letting her keep her wrong assumptions, and beckoned her forward with a quick gesture of his hand. “Come,” he said, taking her hand once she was clear of the opening within the glass. “We have a rather long journey ahead of us, and your parents must be worried sick.”

The princess followed along beside him, her little hand tucked tightly in his as they made their way to the cove where the Jolly Roger awaited them. The main sail was already darkened by the Shadow, and Hook wasted no time casting off once he and the princess were safe aboard. As soon as they were far enough away from the island Hook felt the ship begin to lift out of the waters and take flight. He curved his hook around a spoke of the wheel, bracing himself for the transition from sea to air as he held firm to Emma’s hand. The turbulent ascent and the way it made his belly fall was expected, but the arms frantically wrapping around his middle, attempting to squeeze the life out of him was not.

Looking down, he chuckled at the way the little princess buried her face in his leather coat, barely able to discern her muffled, “Tell me when it's over,” as she held on for dear life.

“You’ve nothing to fear, Princess,” he assured her, stroking his hand over her hair. “We can go below if it’ll make you feel better.”

Tilting her face upward, she stared at him with concern and apprehension swirling in her bright green gaze, and if there had been any doubt before, Hook knew in that moment there was not a thing in any and all the realms he would not do to ensure her safety and happiness.

“Don’t you have to man the helm?” she asked.

“No,” he told her, already leading the way towards his quarters. “The ship can manage without me.”

He hovered in the corner by the hatch steps as she perused the room, giving her space to grow comfortable with her surroundings..

“I’ve never been on a pirate ship before.”

“I should think not,” he responded to her off-handed comment, unable to keep the appalled tone from underpinning his words.

“Actually,” she said, studying the maps and charts that littered his desk. “I’ve never been on any ship. I’ve never even left the castle until yesterday.”

“Aye. Pan mentioned you’d been kept a secret all these years.”

“Mama and Papa said it was for my protection. They said King George could never know or else…”

She let the statement trail off and busied herself with inspecting his books, obviously uncomfortable with where the conversation was headed.

“Forgive my curiosity,” Hook began tentatively, the need for answers gnawing at him and waging war against the instinct to keep her from having to recount anything unpleasant. “I was under the impression that Queen Snow was barren. How is it… that is. How did you…”

“The waters of Lake Nostos,” she informed him, making her way to his bunk and plopping herself down to sit on its edge with a small bounce.

“The what?” He crossed his arms and ankles, reclining further into the corner, heartened by the way she seemed to be relaxing in his presence and unwilling to make any sudden movement that might put her on edge once more.

“Lake Nostos,” she repeated, fidgeting with something in her hands. A seashell, Hook realized. She must have plundered it from his desk without his notice. She’d make a hell of a pirate someday, he thought wryly.

“My father acquired a barrel of it, hoping its powers might restore what King George’s poison took from my mother,” she went on to explain. “That’s what the legend says it does, anyway.”

Hook’s brows furrowed as a long forgotten piece of knowledge made its way from the recesses of his mind. “Its waters were said to have magical properties that could return something that was once lost.” The princess nodded, but Hook’s skepticism deepend. “I thought those waters had dried up.”

“They had,” she continued, turning the seashell over in her hands, “But Papa found a merchant that had one remaining barrel of its waters, and was able to acquire it. Although, his search for a cure was almost for naught.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because Papa’s ship was ambushed by King George, with the barrel still aboard, and it sank to the bottom of the sea during the battle. Papa himself almost perished.”

Flashes of that battle erupted within Hook's mind. The smell of the gunpowder, the coppery taste of blood in the air, the excruciating pain in his wrist, the frigid bite of the dark waters, and those last moments just beyond death’s cold grip before he…

“Fortunately, a sailor hooked himself to the barrel and used it to keep afloat. Otherwise… I wouldn’t be here.”

All the air whooshed from Hook’s lungs, but he barely had time to process that astonishing twist of fate before the ship lurched and a tell-tale shade of green began to colour the princess’ features.

“There, there, lass,” he cooed softly, managing to get the basin to her in time and rubbing soothing circles over her back as she retched. Leaving the basin in her lap, he crossed the cabin and mixed up a tonic that would help settle her stomach, as well as put her to sleep for the duration of their journey.

“Here,” he offered, giving her a soft, encouraging smile as she brought the cup to her lips. “This will help with the queasiness, but it’ll also make you drowsy.”

Hook was humbled by the trust she showed him, swallowing every last drop of the tonic before handing the empty cup back to him.

“How long will it take before we get back to Misthaven?”

“A few hours,” he replied, grabbing a soft blanket from the chest at the foot of his bunk and encouraging her to lay back.

She yawned as he covered her, seemingly unaware as he removed the seashell from her grasp and placed it in his pocket, then she turned onto her side and tucked her hand beneath her head, her eyes following him as he settled into the chair behind his desk.

“You know… Papa doesn’t care for pirates much.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm,” she uttered wearily, the tonic already taking effect. “Make sure to wake me when we get there, so I can ensure your safety when you bring me back to the castle.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Hook’s mouth, and he couldn’t deny the warm feeling seeping through his chest at her insistence that she would protect him. Him. The fearsome Captain Hook.

“Do you believe your father would have me in irons the moment I set foot within the castle walls?”

“Yes,” she yawned. “Unless Uncle Liam gets to you first.”

The warm feeling turned to ice at the mention of his brother’s name. Uncle Liam. She’d been raised to regard his brother as her kin. It should not have surprised him. Of course his brother would have filled the void and stepped into the gap his absence had left behind. The Law of Surprise was dictated by the fates - and if he’d ever held any doubts over just how destiny driven that ancient magic was, the princess had all but wiped them away with her confirmation that her very existence would not have been possible had he not tethered himself to that barrel with the very hook her mother had later gifted him. The one still affixed to the brace on his left arm - it stood to reason that providence would provide a surrogate until such a time that destiny could be fulfilled.

Hook wondered what the fates might have in store for her now that he’d bound himself once more to Pan, this time… indefinitely. Perhaps that was fate's design as well. Who else but his brother could best help prepare her for the path that lay ahead as heir and future queen of Misthaven. Liam was a much better candidate than he, even before they’d sailed to Neverland. Before he’d failed to protect his captain from harm. Before he’d made the deal. Before Pan made him a pirate. Before he’d succumbed to the persona of Hook and, at times, many more times than he’d care to admit, had reveled in it.

Aye. This must have been the fates plan all along. A way to correct the error of the Law of Surprise ever being bestowed upon him in the first place. A way to ensure Emma’s safety and protection, her happiness and contentment. A way to set her on the right course so she could reign and rule her people with love and patience, mercy and justice. Virtues he’d long buried until they’d suffocated under the weight of his vices.

The fates were right. What use was a filthy, murderous, villainous pirate to one such as her? She was better off being looked after by his brother. Better off without him tarnishing her life and legacy, corrupting whatever goodness the fates had in store for her.

Hook left the little princess sleeping contentedly in his bunk, making his way back to the helm with his flask unstoppered in his hand. With each long pull of rum he took his eyes scanned the stars until he saw the two familiar flickering lights that signaled their passage from one realm to the next. The ship steered towards the star on the left and new heavens opened above him, revealing constellations he’d spent many a night in recovery mapping from one of the castle’s towers.

The Jolly Roger set down in the Misthavian waters several leagues from port and Hook moored her in a small cove not far from the castle. Gathering the still slumbering princess in his arms, he secured her to his person then swung down from the deck with the aid of the rigging. The sleeping draught he’d added to the tonic was proving quite effective, and Hook pushed away the guilt he felt over drugging her, knowing it had not been only for her own comfort that he’d added the sedative.

It was an arduous trek to the castle with very little of the waning moon’s beams to help guide him. Its illumination proved enough to alert the tower guards of his approach, however, for no sooner had he stepped onto the path that led to the back gate than a voice cried out a commanding order.

“Halt! Unhand the princess!”

“I have come in peace,” Hook told them, adjusting the princess’ weight in his arms.

“Not likely,” the guard scoffed. “You were spotted the moment your ship, with its unnatural black sail, descended. Since when does Captain Hook ever do anything in the name of peace?”

Hook sighed and leveled his gaze at the young knight, all the while clocking the other guards that were beginning to surround him. “Since he is here, not as Hook, but as the man he once was before becoming a pirate.” Swallowing heavily, he announced himself by the name he’d abandoned long ago. A name that felt more like a moniker than the one he’d earned wielding the weapon that had become his namesake. “Killian Jones.”

A few of the guards balked. “Jones? As in Admiral Liam--”

“I demand an audience with Their Majesties and my brother,” Hook barked. “I will only turn the princess over to their care. No one else.”

“Now see here, pirate! Who do you think you are to make dem-”

“Let him pass!” a familiar voice called out from behind the line of knights and guards. Pushing her way through the assembly, Tink emerged, a stunned and elated expression beaming from her features.

“Lady Bell,” Hook murmured in greeting, a wash of something like shame cascading over him as her eyes took him in and her expression soured into something more like shocked horror than pleasant surprise.

Whatever her final estimations of him, she shook off her stupefaction and rounded on the guards once more. “Did you not hear me? I said let him pass. Captain Jones is a faithful servant to the crown, evident by the fact that he has returned the princess to us. Escort him to the throne room and awaken Their Majesties at once!”

Hook had no idea what power Tink had carved out for herself within the Misthaven court this past decade, but that did not keep him from enjoying the spectacle of knights and guards tripping over themselves to carry out her orders as he was ushered to the throne room.

“Wait here,” his escort instructed, securing the doors behind him as he exited to stand guard until Their Majesties’ arrival. Hook was astonished that the man had left him alone with the princess, though he was grateful for the solitude, knowing he’d need these few moments to collect his thoughts and figure out how he would tell them about the new deal he’d struck… and because he knew these were the final moments he’d have with the princess - his princess - before he’d have to say goodbye to her.

Potentially forever.

He did not wish to linger on that thought.

Hook lowered himself onto the edge of the dais and cradled the princess in his lap while he waited for the king and queen to arrive. It felt strange to be back in this room. Not much had changed, based on the cursory perusal he gave the space upon entering. He wondered how much he would find King David and Queen Snow changed, to say nothing of his brother. They would be older, no doubt. Bits of gray peppering their temples, a few wrinkles beginning to etch themselves around the eyes and across their foreheads, but despite their outward appearance, Hook doubted very much that the years would have altered them as they had him.

No. If anyone was different, if anyone had undergone a drastic change to the point they might find themselves unrecognizable to those who had once known them best, it was him. Glancing down at himself, bedecked in his typical black leather and adorned with all manner of accessories unbecoming an officer, Hook wondered very much if any of them would recognize him at all.

The throne room doors banged open, causing Hook’s head to shoot up. The king and queen rushed in, hand-in-hand, followed closely by his brother. The three of them, darned in their nightclothes with their chests heaving from the exertion of sprinting from their respective bedchambers, stopped short at the sight of him sitting there with the princess wrapped in his arms. Gently, Hook laid Emma down beside him, then moved away, averting his eyes so as to not see their shocked expressions.

“She is well,” he assured them. “I gave her a sleeping draught to help calm her nerves on the journey home. It will wear off in due course.”

Stepping further back when he heard the stampede of footfalls coming towards him, Hook watched with a pained sort of contentment as the king and queen dashed to their daughter’s side. His meticulously honed skills, developed from years of having to navigate past dangers lurking within the Neverland jungle, alerted him to the soft pads making their way, not to the princess, but to him, and Hook braced himself to face his brother.

“Killian?” Liam's tone of pure exhilaration tore right through Hook. “Little brother, is it really you?”

“Aye,” Hook replied, his gaze, growing misty from the emotion welling beneath his lashes, still cast downward as he felt the weight of his brother’s hand upon his shoulder.

“After all this time,” Liam began, a sob choking his words. His hands cupped Hook’s face and he tilted his head upwards so he could look fully at his brother’s features. “You look just the same and yet, I hardly recognize you. Whatever are you wearing?”

Hook could not help the amused huff that left his lungs, matching his brother’s cheeky smile before allowing Liam to pull him into a tight embrace. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes as he desperately clung to his brother, wishing with all his might this didn’t have to be another good-bye.

“Oh, Killian!” Snow wailed, launching herself into his arms after Liam had released him, and he soon found himself in the bear-like grip of the king as his arms wound around both he and the queen.

“You found her? You brought her home? But how?” King David inquired, prompting their assembly back towards the dais so he and Snow could sit with Emma as they waited for answers. “She went missing only yesterday, when her maids found her bed empty. We hadn’t even sent word to other kingdoms yet, so how did you--”

“Charming,” Snow interjected, her eyes scrutinizing Hook with the practiced eye of a caring mother. “The tale can wait until Killian has had a chance to rest.” A warm smile graced her lips as she lovingly admonished, “You look dead on your feet. Allow us to have a room made up for you.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty, but I am afraid I must decline,” Hook responded heavily. “I only have until dawn before I must return.”

“Return?” Liam exclaimed. “No! Your years of service to Pan expired yesterday! I thought… I thought that’s why you were here. Because you are now free.”

“It’s true, my original agreement with Pan ended yesterday,” Hook said, his eyes cast back down towards the floor once more. “But… I made a new deal with the demon boy, and I must get back before dawn or else it becomes void.”

“Let it!” Liam shouted. “Whatever reason you made this deal, surely it is not worth another decade of suffering under that vile imp’s rule.”

Hook flicked his gaze up to Liam’s, then over to the still slumbering princess and imparted, “It is, actually.”

Snow gasped and David balked when they both realized the meaning and gravity of Hook’s words, and three sets of horrified and anguish filled eyes turned upon him.

“You mean--”

“It was Pan,” Hook confirmed with a somber nod. “Somehow, he discovered the boon I earned in saving your life all those years ago. The Law of Surprise I was not even aware I had received until it sat caged in Pan’s lair. The price of Princess Emma’s freedom was for me to agree to stay, and it is a deal I would make a thousand times over.”

“For how long?” David demanded. “How long is this new deal for?”

Hook’s jaw tightened and once again he found himself unable to look any of them in the eye as he confessed, “Indefinitely. Likely, until one of our deaths sets me free.”

Shouts of outrage erupted around him, both the king and his brother insisting he stay, assuring him they would be willing to go to war with Pan if need be.

“No!” Hook hollered back, a flash of fury burning in his eyes as he drew himself up to full captain’s height and stepped into the persona he’d fashioned for himself over these many years. “You don’t know Pan as I do. He is a formidable foe, one you can not hope to defeat with conventional means. You’ve only just found peace for your kingdom now the war with George is at an end. I will not see you enter into another. I will not risk any of your lives just to try and save mine.” Each of them flinched under his hardened gaze as it snapped from one to the other until it landed with a softened hint of affection upon the princess. “I will not risk hers,” he murmured gruffly. “She is too important, and I… I am nothing more than a filthy pirate.”

“That’s not true, little broth--”

“It is true!” Hook growled menacingly, raising his namesake. “I am none other than Captain Hook, who you yourself have issued countless bounties for, dead or alive,” he told them as the full realization of his identity hit them. “And that is only for the crimes you know I have committed. You cannot even fathom the atrocities of which I am truly guilty.”

“Killian, none of that mat--”

“That is no longer my name!” Hook roared. His eyes flashed again and David instinctually pulled his wife behind him. The protective action cut Hook to the quick, and he quickly deflated as he swept his hand through his hair while filling his lungs with a calming breath. Running his tongue over his lips, he swallowed past the shame gurgling up from his belly, and set contrite eyes upon his sovereigns. “My apologies,” he said in earnest. “Killian Jones may have been a man worthy of such sacrifice, but I assure you, Captain Hook is not. Regardless,” he paused and set his eyes upon Emma once more. “For better or worse, the fates entrusted her to my keeping, and I would see that duty met. But that won’t be possible once I leave here, which means…” he cast his eyes upon his brother and began to decree, “Into your keeping, brother, I bestow the rights and duty of the Law of-”

“Stop!” Liam commanded, placing his hands on his brother’s shoulders. “Don’t. Don’t you do that. Don't you give up.” Gesturing towards the princess, Liam vowed, “I will look after her in your stead, but she will remain your Child of Surprise. If only to give you some reason to keep on fighting. You said you would do your duty towards her, and we will hold you to that, brother. None of us can know why the fates chose you, all we can do is trust in some greater plan that has yet to come to fruition.”

“Liam is right,” the king added in agreement. “The honor, privilege, and responsibility of my child’s life rests with you, Killian. It always has. Will you continue to safeguard it?”

Eyes once more fixed on the sleeping child resting in her mother’s lap, Hook took in a deep and shuddering breath. “Aye,” he exhaled. “Even to my last breath.”

The force of the king’s slap to his back nearly knocked him over. “Good. Then come and sit with us. You said we only had until dawn, and we have much to catch up on.”

The next few hours were spent in camaraderie and merriment, with only the occasional melancholy or remorse. Hook had forgotten what it felt like: fellowship, the use of his given name, the occasion to laugh, to tease, to bond. All too soon the roosters began to crow from the yard outside the castle walls, announcing the coming of the dawn that would begin creeping over the horizon within the hour.

Hook would never know where he found the fortitude to not break down when the time came to bid a final farewell to Their Majesties - his friends - and brother. David gave him his word that he would have pardon within Misthaven, that the kingdom would be a refuge and sanctuary to him whenever he might have need of it. Liam made his little brother promise to keep fighting, to keep searching for a way to defeat Pan so he could come home once and for all. When the time came to say good-bye to Snow, Hook’s words got caught in his throat. Not because this was a more difficult farewell, but because it meant the one he was truly dreading would be next.

“Would you…” Snow began, hesitantly. Perhaps sensing his turmoil in that intuitive way she had about her. “Would you mind helping me get Emma back to her room?” she asked, glancing over at the cushioned bench where the princess had continued to sleep throughout their reunion. “I had hoped she might wake up so you could tell her good-bye, but perhaps tucking her in and knowing she is safe and sound would be the next best thing?”

“Aye, thank you, Your Majes… I mean. Thank you, Snow,” Hook corrected when she raised her brows at him, reminding him they had agreed to dispense with the honorifics, as good friends were wont to do.

Gathering the princess in his arms, Hook gave David and Liam one last look and resolved nod before following Snow out of the throne room and through the corridors until they reached Emma’s chambers. Snow opened the doors and gestured Hook inside, hovering just beyond the threshold as Hook deposited the princess in bed.

The child groaned and stretched, momentarily opening her eyes and fighting the effects of the draught as she wearily gazed up at the pirate kneeling beside the bed.

“Shhh, princess,” he soothed. “Everything is well now. You’re home.”

“I told you to wake me,” she mumbled. “Papa didn’t arrest you, did he?”

Hook chuckled. “No, lass. Your Papa has been most hospitable, but I have worn out my welcome and must go now.”

“Must you?”

“Aye, princess. I’m afraid so.”

“Will I ever see you again?”

Hook threaded his fingers through her hair, stroking the long, silken strands with a gentle touch before tucking them behind her ear. “I hope so, princess. Most assuredly.”

“Me, too.”

Her eyes fluttered shut and her breathing began to even back out. Hoping she had not fully succumbed to the abyss of sleep once more, Hook pulled the seashell she’d taken from his desk and placed it back in her palm. “Here,” he murmured softly, “A little something to remember me by, and… a promise.” Stroking her hair once more, Hook leaned in and pressed his lips against her forehead, sending up a silent prayer to all the gods and fates that she be kept safe and only know happiness in her life before vowing, “Not a day will go by I won’t think of you.”

He knelt there for a moment more before making his way back towards the door, pausing at the threshold when he heard a quiet, “good” murmured from her bed. Tears stung his eyes, a halting breath escaping from his chest as he tried to maintain his composure in Snow’s presence.

Wrapping her arms around him, Snow gave him sanctuary to pour out his anguish. The despair and injustice. Everything he’d been suppressing since he’d discovered the truth and learned of Emma’s existence. Everything that was boiling over within him now, having to leave behind all he held dear, all that was precious to him.

It wasn’t fair.

Not because he felt he deserved better, he knew he didn’t. No. It wasn’t fair to Emma. Surely she must have felt it? The bond that had been created between them through the Law of Surprise. The feeling of being incomplete, as though he were leaving parts of himself behind, would she feel that loss as well? Would she ache for something she sensed missing as the deep recesses within him were now beginning to ache for her? Would she endeavor to fill the void his absence would create? Would she come looking for him?

“She can’t ever know,” Hook declared desperately.

“What?”

“Emma,” Hook clarified. “She can’t ever know about me. About the Law of Surprise. Please, Snow. Promise me you won’t burden her with that knowledge. Have the fairies help her forget me, if necessary.”

“Killian, what are you saying?” Snow inquired, her brow frightfully furrowed at his frantic demeanor.

“I’m saying, if she doesn’t know about me, then she won’t… she won’t be tempted to come find me. She’ll stay here. She’ll stay safe. Promise me.”

“I… I promise,” Snow agreed, though Hook could tell it was begrudgingly. “I promise that if she is ever to know the truth, it will only come from your lips.”

“Thank you,” he exhaled on a relieved breath, before pulling her into a final embrace. “For everything. I…”

“I know,” she assured him. “You must go,” she insisted, releasing him and taking a step back while wiping away her tears. “Dawn approaches.”

“Aye,” Killian replied, reaching out and giving her hand a squeeze. “Take care of yourself, Your Majesty.”

“Take care of yourself… Captain.”

With only minutes to spare, Hook made it back to the Jolly Roger and set sail back to Neverland. He was halfway back to the island of horrors when a sound from the hold sparked his curiosity. A quick search revealed… a stowaway.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing here, Tink?!”

“Shhh,” she admonished. “Keep your voice down or that spectre will hear you.”

“How do you know that spectre doesn’t already know you’re on board?”

“Because it was asleep when I snuck on.”

Hook balked. “It sleeps?”

“Yup,” she replied with a dramatic pop of the p. “Ten years and you never realized Pan’s shadow sleeps? I was right. You do need my help.”

“Your help?” Hook questioned, his head cocked to one side as he looked upon the fairy with confusion. “Help with what?”

“Why… killing Pan, of course. You and I both know that’s the only way out of your new deal with him.”

“How did you-”

“I was eavesdropping from the second floor gallery.”

“You what?!”

Tink held up her hand to stay his indignation. “Do you want to admonish me, or do you want to hear my plan?”

“You have a plan?” he repeated, with a heavy dose of skepticism. “To kill Pan?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Tink rocked back on her heels. “Mhmm. Wanna hear it or not?”

She was serious. She actually had a plan, and from the resolve he could see set within her shoulders and the way her eyes gleamed, Hook could tell it was a good one.

“I’m listening.”

Hook had to give it to the fairy, she was brilliant. Her plan had merit. Real merit. But it would take time, and cunning, and a fair amount of luck, and they’d be putting themselves at great risk if they failed.

“Why?” he demanded. “Why are you doing this? Risking everything. Your very life. Just to help me go free?”

“For one,” she said, taking his hand. “You deserve it.”

He wasn’t too sure about that. “And the other?”

Tink wet her lips and swallowed. “I’m doing it for her. For Emma. She needs you. Her life will never be… complete, never be fulfilled, never be what it's meant to be. Not without you in it.”

“You’re wrong,” he said, pulling his hand away. “She’s far better off without me in her life.”

A smirk lifted the corner of her lips, and they were both jolted by the jarring impact of the ship’s return to the waters of Neverland.

“We’ll see about that.”

Part Three - Coming Soon!

Tagging the Curious Crew: (add to tag list)

(Please be advised that I only keep one tag list for all fic updates and new works. If at any time you wish to be removed, just shoot me an ask or a DM. No worries.)

@paradiselady19 @aprilqueen84 @kmomof4 @mie779 @donteattheappleshook @stahlop @anmylica @undercaffinatednightmare @zaharadessert @karl0ta @booksteaandtoomuchtv @courtorderedcake @superchocovian @pirateherokillian @ultraluckycatnd @jennjenn615 @the-darkdragonfly @jonesfandomfanatic @wyntereyez @xarandomdreamx @teamhook @winterbaby89 @justanother-unluckysoul @whimsicallyenchantedrose @badwolfreturns @deckerstarblanche @tiganasummertree @jrob64 @resident-of-storybrooke @motherkatereloyshipper @lfh1226-linda @youherotype @kday426 @snowbellewells @alexa-fangirl-forever @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @unworried-corsair @sals86 @natascha-ronin @livykatelin00-blog @jackieorioncat @annep1 @ilovemesomekillianjones @soniccat @youplaylikeagirl @th3capta1n @cocohook38 @zippoluv @bizquake

#csff

58 notes · View notes

octopuscityblues · 11 days

Text

Kafkaryan, The Wrath Of Cod

June 2024 Progress Report

TLDR: Unfortunately we had to push back our planned release date again. We don't have a new date yet, but we're trying our best to bring you Octopus City Blues as soon as humanly possible. We're very sorry about that. The rest of the update will go over some of the things we've been working on and provide additional context for the delay.

Progress

Starting in April, Marina (benevolent tentacle artist) and I (Firas, malevolent snail) significantly changed the way we work. Previously, art and development were mostly done independently and we communicated on a weekly or biweekly basis. We switched to a virtual office kind of setup where we dedicate fixed hours to working together every day. It's been going great so far and we feel much more motivated and productive.

Our current target is the Robot Graveyard, the lawless wasteland at the base of Gold Tower. We're mainly working on the remaining interior locations such as the Conman's shop or the cyborg club.

By the way, we recently released yet another demo update, based on all the quality-of-life and interaction improvements made since the previous one. These include:

🦔 Kaf the Hedgehog is now 33% faster and has 100% more walking frames!

🖼️ Intuitive top-of-the-line settings menu to crank up your sim's colors to 11.

🎨 New text background colors to make your eyes bleed. From the grimy "Jungle" to the ominous "Caput Mortuum".

💬 Switch between the gossip and item menu modes like a pro using Q/E keys or the gamepad's shoulder buttons.

🎮 Say goodbye to gamepad confusion! The simulation will reliably remember the most recently used controller.

🍄 Beetles crave mushrooms. Drop the right item in the plaza and watch the little critters go!

😷 You no longer have to "touch" dirty objects or people to interact with them. Standing close by is sufficient.

🤖 Sacrificing Mom to science will pay off sooner.

🪲 And numerous other fixes, copy editing changes, and a host of new potential bugs for you to discover!

I'm also happy to present one of several music tracks that the newest addition to our team, Shannon (omnibenevolent troubadour), has been working on:

youtube

There's a lot more happening behind the scenes. For example, Julia (unambivalent wordsmith) went over and helped improve large portions of the script, while Karl (ambivalent doodler) is practicing card tricks.

The Delay

Octopus City Blues has had a long and rocky journey over the years, so I apologize if the following is too long and boring. Nevertheless, you all deserve an honest explanation for the delays. Back in late 2021 when I was pitching the project to the Midgame Fund, the plan looked something like this:

Early 2022: Demo play testing

Late 2022: Release of Act 1 in Early Access.

Mid 2023: Steam Next Fest demo

Late 2023 / Early 2024: Release of Act 2

Later in 2024: KS reward fulfillment, possible localization and console ports

After getting funded, the helpful investors at Midgame Fund advised against Early Access and recommended releasing both acts together. Much of 2022 was spent on discussions, planning, and extensive play testing that took place in two main rounds. The testing feedback showed us that we still had much to do, particularly when it came to guiding the players.

By early 2023 we were struggling to follow the original plan as we addressed all the testing feedback. That's why I decided to cut a lot of planned content and rewrite the story so that it no longer had two acts. The original acts were separated by a 10-year gap, which would've required a lot of art editing and writing completely new responses for every character.

The next play testing round coincided with the Indigo event. Even after all the changes made, some players were still struggling with certain parts or running into bugs. That's why we decided to participate in the October Steam Next Fest edition instead of the June one. The release date was pushed back to Q1 2024.

The Next Fest event itself was a great success. After years of neglecting marketing, we used 2023 to promote the project and make it more viable financially. On the other hand, the event left us with even more feedback, some of which we were still addressing in January (2024). The release date was pushed back to Q2.

In early 2024 the Q2 release plan was still feasible. However, things temporarily took a turn for the worse after our last update. The first roadblock was due to real life developments and personal circumstances that impacted the availability of key team members. Thankfully, everything is back to normal now.

A more general problem is that the more we get done, the more work we end up creating for ourselves. The complex branching quest design means that the amount of testing needed can grow exponentially. Automated testing and play testing rounds can only take us so far.

The next obstacle had to do with the 2023 rewrite. Taking a story with many characters and intertwined elements and completely rewriting major parts of it turned out to be much trickier than expected. Some major plot elements simply didn't work in the new framework, and I had to make additional changes to improve the story's overall pacing and consistency.

At first I thought we could still release the main parts, and then slowly restore some content after release. That would've meant early adopters and our biggest supporters wouldn't get the complete intended experience. There are also many more things we'd like to tackle after release (Kickstarter rewards, localization, porting) instead of adding more content.

To be clear, there are some things that we still plan to add after release (as free DLC). In particular, there are the arcade games and the quests related to them. While not part of the main story, they were in our original pitch (and much of the art is already done).

All of this brings us to our current plan. The story is still in one act, but some previously cut areas and quests will be restored. As mentioned in the previous section, we've adopted a new way of working since April and have been slowly adding the remaining areas and characters to the simulation. While things look promising, it's hard to tell what will happen tomorrow or if additional play testing will require even more changes.

OCB is something that particularly benefits from these play testing rounds, because the more we can anticipate the player's actions (e.g. trying to combine the knife and baby items), the more fun and immersive the experience feels. Obviously, we can never get rid of every bug or address all feedback before release. That's why we'll just have to find the right balance.

We still have to finish the following parts: Graveyard (in-progress), Big Beef, Turkeys, and the ending. Of those, Big Beef is the most involved one. I changed the planned release date on Steam to simply 2024 because that's our goal, but please keep in mind that it's not a release date either. We'll only announce a concrete release date once all of these areas are done and work primarily shifts to testing and polishing.

If you've made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read all of that! We remain as committed to this project as we were on day one, and we're genuinely trying our best as flawed and naively optimistic humanoids. We owe it all to your continued support and understanding.

#octopus city blues #pixel art #pixelart #gamedev #screenshotsaturday #indie game #news #update #Youtube

7 notes · View notes

skyeknight-hyperfixations · 8 months

Text

Stalking Reyes

youtube

because I like pretending he's an actual squad mate after meeting him.

Also, the fact that Reyes rides in with the resistance, specifically Evfra, makes me think Evfra has a soft spot for him. I mean. Reyes is an alien, an Outcast to these "initiative species" in Kadara port that's more or less a lawless place and yet, Evfra trusts him enough to a degree to count on him being an official contact for the resistance.

#Mass effect: Andromeda #Reyder #Scott Ryder #Reyes Vidal #Evfra de Tershaav #Youtube

21 notes · View notes

everythingodysseydd · 2 years

Text

SO late getting into this game, but I’ve just gotta say…

What makes Odyssey so compelling as a fanfic writer is that it’s just SUCH a masterpiece and SUCH a disaster all at once. It’s hilariously aggravating. If you’re interested in a SAGA… I’ve got a hell of an example for you that I just can’t get over…

A while back I was working on a sequence around the Monger scenes in Korinth and got caught in a plot hole... I side with Brasidas there (obviously), but when it comes down to it, it’s a hell of a gamble, even for a great pair of thighs…

Unwilling to change course, I figured Brasidas is one of the greatest strategists of his era, right? Surely I can find a way to make his reasoning more compelling than “it’s secluded” 😑

But y’all….

Turns out it’s WAY deeper already.

No fabrication needed.

I started digging into what makes this cave sacred...

At first I was looking for records of the cave itself - it’s an odd city landmark, so I figure it’d be mentioned somewhere. Nope. Entirely fictitious from what I can tell. So then I needed to know why Ubi included this random-ass cave in the middle of town.

So my next dive was into Apollo and Aphrodite (the city’s main deities, but that was a dead end too.

I was ready to craft a complete smoke screen when I stumbled across another tidbit…

Through (WAYYY too much) research (especially for a fanfic I sincerely hope NO ONE reads 🤣)… I learned that Korinthia also served a local nymph called Peirene, who had a fountain in Korinthia. Ubisoft even included this fountain - it’s across from the Temple of Apollo.

This fountain was allegedly fed by an underground spring that came from Akrokorinth. This spring was the main site of Peirene’s worship. Curious enough, this spring is also on the game map… and it just so happens to be significant to the plot…the place we meet our favorite hetaera… Anthousa 👀

Coincidence? I think not.

Even more… our Sacred Cave sits loosely on the path between the spring on Akrokorinth and the fountain in Korinthia proper. AND its central chamber is full of water. This seems pretty decisive to me.

I’ve stumbled across a gem.

If Anthousa (and possibly the hetaera as a whole) revere Peirene and this cave is a place of a rawer connection to her, then maybe Brasidas’ plan is already deeper than I realized…

At this point, I think I have enough to craft something with actual roots.

BUT THEN….

Before writing the scene I went down to get a better look around and discovered it’s ALREADY being used for worship of a male deity. A HUGE snag in my theory.

That is… until I discovered the statue is Ares.

The whole thing was baffling, especially considering Ares’ common characterization and the reputation of Korinthia… The two seem very much at odds.

But ya know who in Korinthia WOULD worship Ares…? You know who would turn a sacred site of Peirene (the weeping mother) into an altar to the brutal, ruthless god of war, Ares?

The Monger 😳

And what makes Brasidas think we could easily lure the Monger way down inside a dark, secluded cave?! Because it’s a place he ALREADY goes.

My mind is blown.

Holy Hell… And there’s too many weird in-game references and coincidences… it HAS to be intentional… SOMEBODY PLANNED THIS.

Brasidas’ plan is fucking BRILLIANT.

It’s sheer, undeniable poetry.

What’s the ONE way you could kill The Monger while defying Anthousa outright and still earn her respect… still walk away with the information you need?

You could spill The Monger’s blood on the sacred ground he defiled in the name of brutality and bloodlust.

You could restore Korinthia’s most famous mother to her rightful place and wash away The Monger’s power with her sacred tears, reclaiming the place of her rawest beauty and restoring her worship.

You could let the literal gore of the Monger wash up into the fountain, a sign for the whole city that his reign is unmistakably ended.

Its so logical. It’s so ‘cut the bullshit and get straight to the heart of the matter.’ It’s so fucking Brasidas…

The longer you sit on it, the more thematically layered and gorgeous and brilliant it becomes. And it’s just plausible enough for the player to gamble on… exchanging Anthousa’s plan for something less theatrical, but more personal, more meaningful. And saving lives in the process. Its crazy enough to work.

I’m CONVINCED this whole web is somebody’s silent masterpiece. And yet somehow it never became more than subtext (excuse me while I shake my fist at the sky).

AND this SAME CHARACTER… At Amphipolis… takes my CASUAL COMMENT and is like, “Hey, FUCK strategy, let’s just run over there RIGHT NOW on a whim ‘cause you said so!!!”

Can you say plot hole?!

WTF Ubisoft?! 🤣

Odyssey… the perfect balance of STUNNING depth of detail and WILD, GLARING gaps… a writer’s playground! I’m completely hooked by the intricacy and completely frustrated by … basically everything else!

So… if you’re wondering what I’m up to for nanowrimo, I’m over here frantically patching holes and dumping water over the sides to keep this glorious ship just a tad above the waterline 🤣

#ac odyssey #brasidas #the monger #anthousa #port of lawlessness #ainulindaelynn

47 notes · View notes

herehavesomeheadcanons · 2 years

Text

On the 9th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me… 9 Family Photos!

Some of these are a little shorter than others... Sorry, I got stressed by the deadline and didn't have a whole lot of inspiration.

Ryuunosuke Akutagawa

🖤‼️Port Mafia family photos? Chaos. This (probably awful) idea was proposed by none other than the head of the PM himself, Mori.

🖤‼️Challenge number one: getting Aku into festive clothing for the picture. He is ridiculously stubborn when it comes to his outfit, and no amount of pleading can get him into anything other than his black coat. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that this is not a challenge you will win.

🖤‼️Challenge number two: getting everyone in the damn picture. The poor photographer is almost in tears by the end with how uncooperative everyone is, also he can’t say anything cause this is the MAFIA and he could be murdered.

🖤‼️Challenge number three: Aku refuses to smile. You also will not win this one, he’s just gonna look like the grumpy emo teenager that every family has.

🖤‼️It's… an interesting photo. And it's definitely going up on your refrigerator!

Mikuni

💛🤠He’s definitely the one that suggested family photos. Misono fought him on it for so long before Lily convinced the angry runt it was a great idea to have Christmas pictures with all the servamps and eves.

💛🤠It's chaos. It's just a whole mess. Kruo doesn't want to be there, Licht is kicking Lawless around Mahiru is TRYING and failing to keep the peace. Mikuni himself is trying to set up the camera, which isn't going well.

💛🤠It takes like, 15 tries to finally get a decent picture because Lily keeps trying to strip for the camera.

💛🤠In hindsight, he really should have just settled for a picture with you and Jeje.

Macbeth

🤍🖤We’re gonna do this with Crime Sorciere because I sincerely doubt that Brain wanted to organize Christmas pictures for the Oracion Seis. Anyway, Jellal wanted Christmas cards to send to Fairy Tail (mostly Erza, let’s be honest). As such, he is slightly obsessive about making this Christmas pictures perfect.

🤍🖤Macbeth is sick and tired of Christmas pictures within five minutes. It’s so boring! He’s gonna fall asleep! Richard and Meredy are honestly the only ones that are ok with this. The others are sick of Jellal’s obsessiveness.

🤍🖤By the time Jellal has gotten everyone where he wants them, Macbeth has indeed fallen asleep on your shoulder. You can gently shake him awake or wait for Jellal to notice and watch the world burn (he won't notice until after the picture is taken).

🤍🖤Jellal ends up with a nice card regardless, and Macbeth gets a nap out of it so it's all good.

Freed Justine

❤��🎄Thunder Legion Christmas photos are a riot, honestly. We’re gonna say this is during Laxus’s banishment because I don’t want to include him.

❤️🎄Freed organizes the entire procedure, and Bickslow makes it his personal mission to mess it up as much as he can. You probably side with Freed on this issue because it’s Christmas and you don’t want to stress him out too much, the Christmas tree incident was already enough stress.

❤️🎄Bickslow insists that Freed wear Christmas lights and ornaments in his hair. He pesters the poor green bean until he relents. Bickslow himself rocks a full Santa costume! Ever is decked out in a fancy Christmas dress, and she probably got one for you as well!

❤️🎄The photo ends up looking great!

Touta Matsuda

🖤👮Normal family photos with him! Nothing crazy, just a nice picture of the two of you for his parents.

🖤👮He looks so adorable all dressed up in his nice suit! He says you look great, as well.

🖤👮Nothing really crazy happens, honestly. It's just a cute outing for the two of you.

🖤👮He'll probably let you wander around the mall and get some Christmas shopping done afterwards. Maybe you could also go get some dinner while you're out!

Gaara

❤️🏜️Obviously family photos with Kankuro and Temari. Standard family pictures.

❤️🏜️There's a little bit of trouble getting Gaara to smile. He did spend several years of his life with only a sour grimace on his face (which was very justified, actually).

❤️🏜️Kankuro keeps trying to get away with making funny faces. Eventually you guys just decide to take one serious picture and one silly picture.

❤️🏜️Both pictures turn out great!

Rogue Cheney

🖤🐉It's you, Rogue, and Frosch. It was probably your idea, but Rogue agreed pretty easily.

🖤🐉You have some serious trouble trying to get Frosch to look at the camera. He just keeps getting distracted!

🖤🐉Once you finally get Frosch to look at the camera, it's an adorable picture!

Alphonse Elric

💛🐱It was Winry and Al's idea to do Christmas photos. Ed was dragged along by his braid.

💛🐱Nothing too exciting happens, other than the usual Winry hitting Ed with a wrench.

💛🐱It's a super cute picture!

Mahiru Shirota

🤎🙂You two were invited to take Christmas pictures with all the other servamps and eves. Mahiru thought it was a great idea at first…

🤎🙂…Until you actually got there. It was utter chaos. Mahiru tried his best to calm things, but to no avail.

🤎🙂You both are exhausted by the time you finally get a good picture. Next year, you definitely won't try to attempt wrangling all 7 servamps and their eves into a family photo.

93 notes · View notes

aroacehanzawa · 2 years

Text

I'm loving the perpetual sunset that they seem to be going for in S4, because this arc is definitely darker than before and it's all going downhill and plunging them into darkness (in multiple ways - the darkness of how hopeless their situation seems, and also of being branded as terrorists even worse than the 'blacker than black' port mafia).

It reminds me of the perpetual night of noir films, but at the same time it emphasises that it's not yet complete night, like there is still hope for them. And it's similar to the way the've used bright, blazing sunsets as a backdrop for pivotal scenes before (and they're doing the same thing for young Ranpo and Yosano's first meeting!) because this arc is definitely the turning point of the series, where it gets more serious and the stakes are higher.

Except instead of being bright and colourful it's more of a gloomy sunset that's closer to dusk, which i think is an interesting choice too, given how the ADA's whole role is to act like the twilight between the lawful day and lawless night. Because this arc is all about them and their place in society and whether ADA belongs (or will be judged to belong) in the day or night, and until they get out of this situation they're kind of stuck in this perpetual sunset/dusk in between the two sides.

So as much as an anime adaptation can't fully live up to the manga, at least they are able to set this kind of atmosphere you simply don't get in black-and-white!!

#bsd loves to activate the part of my brain i last used for high school english literature classes #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd spoilers #bsd season 4

143 notes · View notes

unconvenchinal-charm-reactivated · 8 months

Text

One thing I love about Pirates of the Caribbean is that as much as they’re chasing after a life of freedom and without a governing body or laws or social constraints, their lawlessness doesn’t free them from the consequences AND THEY KNOW THAT. When Jack is first explaining a life of piracy to Will, he says the only rules that matter are what a man can do and what he can’t. To all those that have no familiarity with it, they think this means pirates just go around killing whoever they want. And in a sense they’re right. But Jack goes on to explain that they’re not free from the consequences of their actions and have to reconcile with that, preferably before committing said action. So he can kill Will right then and there and have a nice quiet voyage to Tortuga, but he would be too shorthanded to actually make port.

True enough, they have the code, which is regarded and enforced as law. But that’s only because deviation from the code often has negative consequences compared to the inconvenience of adhering to it. Once everyone starts acting on their own, everything continues to degrade. Elizabeth kills Jack and as a consequence they need to get him back for the meeting of the pirate lords. Will conspires with the Singapore pirates to take control of the Pearl, while they are also conspiring with the East India Company to take the Pearl for themselves. As a consequence, the EIC has everyone at their mercy. It’s not until they return to the code and start negotiating with each other that they’re able to get on the same page and escape.

Then things get out of hand again at Shipwreck Cove until one man says to “hang the code,” for which he is immediately killed. Captain Teague, in his many years of experience, knows that it’s better to kill one of their own than have him start acting on his own and ultimately getting them all killed or inspiring others to do the same. Only by keeping to the code and electing a king to lead them in war were they able to claim victory.

So yes, their piracy is a claim to freedom. Yes, they still have a law. But the law is designed to keep them free.

#modern society has a lot to learn from this #obviously not advocating for piracy #in fact quite the opposite #identify the rules that were designed to help you #thinkable

17 notes · View notes

calciumsoda · 11 months

Text

OK OK OK OK OK I KNOW I WAS SUPPOSED TO WRITE THIS UP DAYS AGO BUT SHUT UP IM DOING IT NOW

As is hopefully obvious from my blog and just the way that i am

I am insane and also a massive D&D, Cosmere, and Wheel of Time nerd.

So of COURSE when you put me in a D&D west marches server I'm going to get way way way too into dming massive absurd plotlines that require 10-15 people to sort out.

This one is currently in the works and I'm so so so excited to run it SO you all get to hear about it because splattering my brain patterns on this hellsite is going to help me organize the plotline as it exists thus far.

Anyone from a discord west marches server with a red and black icon and a setting full of oceans and islands, stop reading now. Spoilers below cut. Also, extremely sorry for long post nobody cares about.

IT ALL BEGINS in a port city full of pirates. The world is mainly oceans, with countless small to medium to small continent sized islands in it, largely disconnected from each other. This is only relevant because the main city the game takes place in is a port city whose trade routes are 100% by ocean and nothing else.

In this lawless pirate city, there are a few noble families, one of which is named the Bearingtons. Several of them happen to be Werebears, and there are differing opinions on whether this happened before or after the name came about.

The Bearingtons have always been... power-hungry. Of course, noble families are rarely particularly well-off in pirate cities of all places, but they've managed inexplicably to maintain some sort of hold on their riches and power (mostly because the majority of the family lives in an isolated manor far away from the actual city). This is, aside from Count Bearington, an estranged cousin to the rest of the family who was cast out over some scandal or another years ago and lived alone (with servants, of course) for years in a slowly-deteriorating manor in the city. The Count was bitter about his disownment from the family, and wished to make things "right" by whatever means possible, beginning to research the means to summon and control devils to bring literal hell upon his family.

Elsewhere, a Triton wizard, having by various less-than-ethical means lived far past the 200 year limit on most tritons' lives by now, is busy making horrific amalgamations of elementals and fiends, creating fiends with the powers of lightning and frost out of those which had before been mere imps. They are also, out of desperation to extend their life a little longer to see their work complete, investigating means to become a Lich using elemental souls rather than human ones. However, for the time being, they have made the phylactery... and are unsure how to activate it, as they are too busy trying to stop their monstrosities from killing more travellers on the roads past their tower. Eventually, the city proper catches wind of these murders and foul experiments, and a party is dispatched to kill the wizard and their experiments.

The Wizard is killed, their body rapidly aging upon their death as the magic that had kept body and soul youthful drains... into the phylactery, inescapably dragging their soul into the trap they made themself. After several weeks, they manage to gain some small measure of control over the base elements surrounding their corpse, and successfully create a rudimentary, part-elemental part-undead body to make their way to the city and find a cleric to end their existence. The hells themselves would be better than this...

In the city, they hear tell of another who works to summon devils. The Lich goes to the place rumours speak of, and finds Count Bearington's manor, entering and desperately trying to convince him not to do this. The Lich does not realize that, by now, the Count has already met with several fiends and promised them his family's estate, hells, even the whole *city* if they will help him to get his revenge on his kin.

The Count convinces the Lich that, should they help with a ritual to summon a stronger devil, and bind it to his bidding, then he will aid the Lich in finding some way to destroy the phylactery. The Lich agrees, desperate to be free of this prison before their mind rots entirely, and pours immense magic into a circle in the basement of the Count's manor, succeeding in summoning stronger fiends than before. The Lich, however, does not realize just how much they've put into it, nor the effects that will have... and, shortly after the Lich is given directions to a cleric who owes the Count a favour and leaves, the circle begins to expand, transforming from a mere summoning circle to a planar gateway to the Hells, beginning to corrupt the earth around it and blur the line between the Material and the Hells...

Days later, the Count is found dead, disemboweled and impaled on the steel gates bordering his manor. Investigation inside the manor finds powerful fiends within, tearing the place apart and eating his few remaining servants, but does not locate the hidden trapdoor that hides the true measure of the disaster about to unfold. Devils are not mindless brutes, however... they have waited millenia for the opportunity to wage war through such a portal, but one small entryway in the middle of a city would be impossible to maintain a full scale assault through.

The devils, however, have other tricks in mind. The seas all around the city are home to thousands - tens, hundreds of thousands - of evil sea-dwelling lifeforms, largely Sahuagin and Merrow, who are eager for a chance to slaugher the pirates of the city who so often deny them the treasures carried on their ships. The devils approach these sahuagin, making deals with them - promising great power, the power to wipe this city from the surface and drag its treasures and residents below the waves for themselves. The sahuagin are more than happy to oblige to the devils' demands, and begin amassing an army...

The devils do not rely on sea creatures alone, of course. Others are sent to meet with humanoids both within the city and without; deals are struck between powerful fiends and the leaders of several of the most powerful bandit groups in the city and its surrounding isles, promising each that they would be granted their wildest desires, if they only carried out a few important missions... destroy a temple here, burn a small sacred clearing there, weaken the influence of the gods such that the fiends might meet no resistance when they arrive in force to raze the island in flames and turn it into a tenth Hell, as they were promised by the Count.

Other fiends - a shape-shifting Succubus, mainly - return to terrorize the Bearington estate, attempting to kill the Emperor of the nearby sea elves to weaken any support that might come from other ocean races against the Sahuagin. Word slips out that the other Bearingtons may be in trouble, however, and a group of adventurers manages to save the Emperor, if not the Lady Bearington who was killed and replaced by the succubus to get close enough to him.

Another party is summoned by the frantic messages of a minor deity of nature, pleading for their aid in preventing the destruction of her ancient, forgotten temple, and they find an "archaeological" group (read: bandits in disguise) preparing to destroy the religious symbols within and claim the building as their own, an operation which only their leaders know is ordered by a devil in exchange for magical weapons and control over any who come too close to this temple. The first group of bandits is cleared out by these adventurers, but more are quite possibly on the way, as the deity of the temple personally thanks them for their aid and asks that they call on her whenever they require hers in return. One party member begins worshipping this deity, becoming her one and only priest (in a setting where having temples + priests dedicated to you is how you become and remain a god, this is wildly important to the deity, who would have outright died if the temple were destroyed).

Elsewhere, dragons are stirred from the homes they have held for centuries, and begin claiming new territory, forcing younger, weaker dragons to migrate towards this island due to its lack of major draconic presence. A pair of injured Sapphire dragons are driven from home after home, eventually finding refuge with the deity in the woods, but they are nearly overrun by further bandits, not even able to spare the energy to send a message to those who had helped previously with clearing them out...

And this is where the quest begins. Sahuagin and worse are assaulting the ports and any ships that try to enter or leave the city; multiple instances of intelligent and dangerous fiends have been spotted in various parts of the city, and a portal to the hells themselves discovered in the manor's lower floors; and bandits swarm the roads and holy places outside of the city, defacing and destroying important locations, all while a lone, desperate Lich-thing tries to right the wrongs they caused by recruiting any aid they can, disguising however they can to avoid this body being killed and their soul abandoned to the Phylactery once more.

There will be 1 party of adventurers sent to handle each of these major issues, the final total of players being between 10 and 15, with all 3 storylines converging into one at the end, as the players must either convince each side being manipulated by the devils to turn against them, or face an army of unimaginable proportions with the aid of whatever pirates the city can provide.

Anyway im fucking vibrating in excitement for when i get to run this quest i wanna run it so so so so so bad but i have more encounters to do before it starts. And i need to nail down more details. But. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

#soda ramblings #very long post #d&d #d&d story

20 notes · View notes

cosmicfelines · 1 year

Text

I have a MIGHTY NEED to make some power points about the world of Runeterra for all you Arcane fans who know absolutely nothing about the world in which Arcane takes place.

Like I read some fanfictions and realize most of you know next to nothing. Don't get me wrong, I'm not criticizing you not knowing ALL the lore, I just wish for more people to learn about the world building of Runeterra because it's an amazing universe.

I know it is kind of intimidating and the first thing I hear people say is I don't play League of Legends. But me and every other lore reader can tell you that League of Legends the game doesn't have anything to do with the lore. Heck the other Riot Games like Legends of Runeterra, Ruined King and Hextech Mayhem have more to do with the lore and world than the main game.

The first lore fact I like to hit Arcane fans with is that there are bunch of islands full of ghosts and undead people not that far from Piltover and Zaun on the SouthEast, this are the Shadow Isles. Even closer to the Piltover and Zaun just to the East are a bunch of lawless islands full of actual pirates and giant sea monsters roaming the waters, the Serpent Isles and Bilgewater the port city. Since Bilgewater is closer to the Shadow Isles than P&Z they get invaded by the ghosts that come to harvest their souls at least once a year.

And that's just a small section of the world all of this and more is happening while Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Silco and Ekko are doing their own thing in the Twin Cities (modern name for Piltover and Zaun). Which I can assure you are the most normal places in this magical and crazy world.

This is not me saying it's a boring region I just want for people to learn more about the rest of the world because look at Piltover & Zaun

Look at them! They're so tiny you can't even see their territory. Oh you don't see it? Let me put it into perspective

This is all of Runeterra as we know it today, there are two places you can't easily see on this map like Baddle City, which is the place all Yordles come from, and the territories corrupted by The void which is that gray lifeless part under Shurima and Ixtal.

And that's what we know of right know, further to the East is another continent that has what was formerly known as Camavor and the modern nation of Kathkan

(Also don't worry the map is not wrong, there's a lore reason for why the Shadow isles don't appear in this map)

This is an 1000 year old map, the northern continent is called Valoran (that's where the name for Valorant came from), the southern continent is called Shurima (yes there's a nation also called Shurima) and as you can see Piltover was once a Shuriman town called Oshra Va'Zaun.

That's where the name Zaun comes from, there's a whole lot of lore history of why it changed. How Silco came to know about that name is most likely and taken as canon that he just heard the original name of the city by the oral tradition of Zaun.

This is what I was talking about @museofzero

When I said there's so much to discover and still being explored of Runeterra to this day I was not kidding just look at those maps! Do you have any idea the amount of stuff happening all over Runeterra all the time??!!!

Part of me really wants to do those power points and put them here on Tumblr

#arcane #league of legends #league of legends lore #worldbuilding #lore

42 notes · View notes

agustd-essert · 2 years

Text

ETERNITY {K.H.J}

group : ateez

member : Hongjoong (but the other members are main characters)

au : Pirate!Ateez, Pirate Captain!Hongjoong, Siren!Reader

wc : 2.8k

content warnings : criminal activity, mentions of murder and death but not in explicit detail, alcohol, a bar fight, mentions of a gun/general weaponry, its a story about pirates and a siren what do you expect?

summary : A siren with a yearning for adventure and a knack for getting information crosses paths with a pirate captain and his eccentric crew in a race against time and other pirates to reclaim a long lost sunken treasure. Will they succeed? or will the captain and the siren get more than they bargained for?

spirit box (a/n) : i debated on putting this out for a while because I don't know how often I'll be able to update this but I love this idea so much and its been burning a hole in my drafts.

I also wanna make it clear this is eventually gonna involve romance, this is just the beginning...

Prologue : A Longing...

Your pirate story starts just about as commonly as ones you’ve heard over and over again. It starts with a longing. For most, it’s a longing for the sea. For the freedom it provides away from their overbearing families or obnoxious wives on shore. The reasoning is different for everyone but the longing remains the same. For you, however, it was a longing for adventure. You had all the freedom you could dream of. Never plagued by parents or peers and a freedom to go where you wanted whenever you pleased. However exciting that may seem it quickly lost its luster when everywhere to be found, was. New places quickly became old ones and you began to frequent the same areas, staying to the places that were so called “less desirable” Being a young woman in the age of lawlessness and pirates where every woman was expected to either be a slave or worse, a house wife, was hard enough. Made only harder by the fact that you were alone. No protection besides your own skills, no home, no family as you had given that all up in your feverous pursuit for your adventure. It was out there, you always told yourself, just waiting for you to find it. Which is why you were hellbent on being a pirate and currently found yourself on the legendary pirate oasis of Tortuga.

The port had become a home of yours and always a place to find decent work that never pried too hard at exactly who you were. The jobs were almost always some form of robbery or sabotage with the few exceptions of some cartography and wayfinding. You were educated on the sea, always had been thanks to your plethora of time spent in or on it as a child and knew your ways around a ship as well and your trade made you decent around a blade as well. Getting robbed almost nightly and being a thief by trade meant there would always be one unsatisfied party in the form of those you stole from. However, the money always made it worth it. Yes, a fine pirate you’d make. This led to you being able to make a decent living and name for yourself over your years on the island. You had people you worked with frequently and the local tavern owner even rented out the loft above the tavern to you as a place to stay. The only problem arising when trying to find a crew. It was always either no one wanted to employ a woman, especially one as well kept as you always tried to keep yourself, thanks to the assumption of you being incompitent. That or a band of deplorable old men with half a working ship and a real affinity for assault. Not like that ever scared you. You knew you would be able to take them on if you were anywhere near the sea. I mean you are a siren after all. You don’t mess with a siren, especially near the water. Any pirate that doesn’t have a death wish knows that. The thought of being in the ocean again slightly saddened you. You missed it, yes and went swimming as often as you could but what use is there to have the whole ocean for the taking and not have any idea what to take from it or where to begin. That’s what you longed for. The goal. The journey. A journey you will get, much sooner than you think.

A few days ago, a ship docked in port. The ship was by far the largest you’d ever seen, the crew was unfamiliar but you assumed they were one of the best in their line of work based on the ship size alone. The night was cold and clear, moon high and bright in the sky. You kept your hood up and the collar of your cloak buttoned up high as well as your scarf you tied around your face to conceal it being doubled up to contain the heated breath coming from your nose and mouth. Which served double duty in keeping your face warm as well as minimizing the puffs of breath that would create clouds of fog in the frigid air. You were currently sneaking down alleyways and backroads enroute to a butcher on the edge of the port town that had stolen a number of pet pigs from a local farmer. Your job was simple: steal them back, return them unharmed, get enough to cover your bar tab for the night, pass out in your bed at the end of the night. Easy. That was until you chose to sneak under the window of what you knew to be a fortune teller, Madame Luciele. You frequently saw the middle-aged woman talking to troves of children and telling them fantastical stories of monsters, pirates and treasure. If she legitimately told fortunes or not was none of your business but you always enjoyed her storytelling and she was certainly the person to go to when the topic was concerned with anything supernatural and/or mythical. Which it seemed the person to whom the good madame was currently conversing with was concerned about.

“Yes captain, I’m certain that is the correct ritual for the pools.” Captain? Of that huge ship in port? And what pools? Against your better judgment of just minding your own business, the words and phrases they were using were raising flags in your brain and you were frozen in place by your own curiosity. You slowly and carefully peaked into the open window to see the madame and the captain facing each other at a table on the far wall with a few candles as well as a few books and loose pages scattered on the table before them. The captain was dressed in all blak with red insignias you didn't recognize except for it being the same one he flew on his ship. His hat was off and placed on the table and his long black hair was clearly unkempt and he seemed much like every other dirty pirate you’d seen with the exception of a larger ship. The madame broke you out of your thoughts as she spoke again. You must be anointed with waters from the pools of eternity and offer the scale of a mermaid. After you have been blessed and only then will you be shown the Cromer and be able to use it to control the tides.” The pirate looked delighted at this information and his face slowly blossomed into a sinister smile, only made more unsettling. “So it’s easier than I originally intended..” God his voice sounds like he drinks glass.. “You still need to find the pools as well as the key to the Cromer chamber which last anyone heard, was sunk with the ship it was being transported on over 300 years ago.” Madame Luciele clarified. “I have the map…the key is what is going to be my problem. I've pinpointed where the ship sank through various means but the waters are far too dangerous to go anywhere near Lucaria island.” The pirate spoke sharply and shook his head, pushing his hair out of his face and placing the hat back on his head. Madame Luciele perked up at his words ``You have a map to the Pools of Eternity?...” The Pools of Eternity? You remember reading that legend as a child. About the most fearsome pirate that ever lived who was rumored to have been given the ability to control the sea. The pirate opened his coat and pulled a scroll from his inside pocket before unraveling it and laying it across the table. You were too far to make out any details but the look on the madames face told you that whatever it was, it was rare. The pirate responded “Yes, the only one in creation. pulled it off the body of some bible thumping spaniard at a camp we raided not a week ago-” “HEY!” You were broken out of your thoughts by someone yelling from across the street at you. Clearly drunk but still blowing your cover before you could hear any more of the conversation as it too had been cut by the belligerent man. You bolted from out of the window and further down the alley into darkness before anyone else saw you.

A few hours later, with the job done and pigs safely returned to their owner, you walked down the street towards the tavern that was bustling with people and music thanks to the couple of new ships in the harbor. More ships always meant more people and a livelier crowd. You tossed the bag of coins in the air and whistled happily at the thought of spending the majority of it on a good time. Before you reached the tavern, though, you caught what looked to be a blonde male in a large coat with tan fur on it disappear into an alley on the opposite side of the street. What was more curious however is that he was filled by someone you knew. Jacob Aster. Son of the best cartographer in the port that you did work for occasionally. His son was rarely around because he always took up jobs at sea but you had seen him a fair handful of times and he always shared stories of adventure with you. He never worked with pirates though which is what struck you as odd. He always took legal, contracted work. What was he doing with a pirate? Fate seemed to be on your side tonight as she kept placing you in the right place at the right time to gain information. You obviously jogged across the street and followed them, pulling your hood up and picketing your bag of coins to have both hands free just in case. If anyone asked, you were just looking out for a friend. You spotted them around a corner, talking on the back porch of the house of Jacob’s father. You peaked at them from the alley to their left, a good six to eight feet away from them and still shrouded by the unlit alley. “This will tell you everything you need to know.” Jacob spoke softly and handed the pirate what appeared to be a small leather-bound notebook. The soft light from the candle in the window allowed you to see the pirate a bit better and his looks shocked you. He was young, maybe his mid 20’s, blonde hair slicked back and well kept and shorter on the sides. He wore all black under the dark brown coat adorned with tan fur. You could see the hilt of his sword and the butt of his pistol on opposite hips on his belt and he wore knee high black leather boots. Jewelry adorned many piercings on his ears and sparkled in the candlelight from the window. He was well kept and it shocked you. “This will tell you when the key will be revealed so you can retrieve it as well as how to get the key itself as well as a bunch of other information you need to know about the ritual.” It can’t be the same key the other pirate was looking for, can it? The pirate sighed happily and hugged Jacob “Thank you. I know it wasn’t easy to retrieve but the Spaniards would have killed me on sight.” The pirate's voice was soft and sympathetic. He clearly wasn’t at all like the others you’ve encountered and/or eaten. A thought invades your brain wondering if he tastes as sweet as he sounds before you quickly shove it away. “Of course, Captain Hongjoong. Your cartographer has given us so many amazing references that it was the least I could do. Unfortunate I heard the camp was raided by Captain BlackJack shortly after we left.” The pirate gave a sympathetic look and patted Jacob on the shoulder before handing him a bag of coins. “Thank you again. We’ll get there before him.” Jacob nodded and they parted ways causing you to run back out of the alleyway before the pirate came back down the same alley. Captain? Does he have a ship? And he’s in competition with the other pirate? You decided to ask Jacob in the morning before shaking your head and returning on your path to the tavern once you were sure the pirate was gone.

Another hour later and you find yourself at your favorite table at the tavern named The Sirens Song. Ironic, you know but you enjoyed it nonetheless. Your table was closer to the front corner of the place. Easy for you to put your back to the corner and observe the whole room. It was filled with people laughing, dancing and drinking. People on the stairs cheerfully singing with the musicians, pirates flirting with the barmaid and then drinking until they pass out. A very normal night. You had spotted that dirty pirate with the map, who you now knew as Captain BlackJack, sitting with his crew in the far corner. Talking in hushed secrecy from what you could see by how they were leaning in close whenever someone spoke. Something about that guy rubbed you the wrong way. So much so that if the legend is true and the pools and the Cromer are real, then you hope he's not the one that gets it. The tavern door opens and a large man with shaggy black hair walks through the door. He's wearing a simple white shirt with brown vest and pants with black boots, all remarkably in good condition. He looked around and smiled at the state of the place, clearly a pirate by the sword and pistol he bore but his soft face and warm eyes reminded you more of a puppy than a pirate. You watched as a large band of what you can assume to be his friends and/or crew walk through the door behind him. All young and very good looking, dressed in a variety of colors and fabrics. The last to come through the door almost made you choke on the wine you were sipping from your stein. Captain Hongjoong. In hindsight it made sense that the rest of his crew was as clean as he was but what excited you more was that he had a crew! And a ship! This was it. Hongjoong was your key to adventure. You watched as the group found a table and ordered from the barmaid. They were a lively group with laughter and cheers always coming from their table as they played card games and drank ale.

You had finally mustered the courage to ask him about sailing with him but as you stood up the bar erupted as two pirate crews started shouting something about cheating in a card game which caused both large crews to erupt into a full blown bar fight. Before you could act, a shot rang through the bar that sent everyone fleeing out the door, including Hongjoong and his crew. You ran out the tavern and round the back to the staircase that led up to your apartment, the ruckus could still be heard downstairs but the owner and some patrons were swiftly removing the unruly crews from the tavern. You flopped down into your bed and sighed deeply. How cruel of fate to give you all this information for what would be the adventure of a lifetime and then prevent you from getting in on it. You rubbed your hands over your face and groaned in frustration before something finally clicked in your brain. Hongjoong had the details of the ritual and how to get the key but no map to the island the key was on due to the other pirate having the only map however you recalled a memory from your childhood. Long repressed from when you were still with your siren sisters. You had come across an island far to the south that had a strange aura to it. Like the tides were controlled by the island itself. Your sisters told you something had laid a curse upon that island and everyone lived in fear of being the next victim of said curse. That was that about the island and your sisters refused to ever elaborate. That was the island they were talking about. Hongjoong knew how to get the key and you knew how to get to the island. Oh yes, you were going on this adventure.

At first light you packed your things and went downstairs to bid goodbye to the tavern owner. “Oh and where are you off to, young one?” “I’ve got some leads and someone to talk to. Im finally going on my adventure.” You said happily and the owner beamed at you. “You’re smart. You’ll do well on the sea. Should you ever return, you know where to find me.” You smiled and thanked him before hugging him tightly and walking out the door, setting off for the docks at a determined pace.

~~~~~~

taglist : @rachalixie @chvnnie @woahfruity @isilentprincess @star1117-archives

#ateez #hongjoong #kim hongjoong #ateez imagine #pirate ateez #pirate hongjoong imagine #pirate ateez imagine #kim hongjoong imagine #hongjoong imagine #ghosts haunts

116 notes · View notes