#crimson armada

[gravitycavity]

Sunshine (Pomni x Ragatha) Chapter 5 - And Fresh-Fallen Rain

[Click here to read from the beginning on AO3!]

It was only a matter of time before Pomni blinked herself awake. 

Wave after wave of pulsing pain, synchronized with the beat of her heart, relentlessly pounded the back of her skull. A landscape of crimson curls, wild weeds, and shimmering stars expanded, contracted, and twisted before her half-lidded eyes. The disorienting sight was more than enough to make her stomach do flips — and fail to stick the landing every single time.

But even so, it was hard to feel anything but content. 

The wind was fierce and frigid, but Pomni didn’t know it. She didn’t feel the bitter cold, even as gale after freezing gale slashed her skin like the crack of a whip. All the pain in the world wouldn’t have phased her, not as long as the wind’s touch highlighted the slightly-wet spots where Ragatha’s lips had so lovingly grazed her face. 

Stalks of overgrown grass wavered as a brisk squall flew across the yard; a palette of fallen leaves, which just so happened to be sleeping in its path, was cast into the sky. Red, yellow, orange, and brown — the cozy colors swished and swirled through the air, then drifted back to their resting spot below the jungle-like lawn. 

It only took a moment for the breeze to return. Coming from the other direction now, it passed through Ragatha’s red yarn hair before pummeling Pomni’s face. All at once, the saccharine aroma of the ragdoll’s locks — strawberries and soil and fresh-fallen rain — introduced itself.  

And it was heavenly. 

Pomni’s eyelids drooped further, and a dumb, wobbly smile blossomed on her face. As her tiny arms wrapped around Ragatha’s plush, guffawing belly, she didn’t worry about how embarrassed she was to have fainted, or what Ragatha’s little kisses had meant, or why someone like her even deserved to be treated with such affection. Those pesky doubts were for future Pomni to agonize over; for now, they crumbled to pieces with each precious peak of Ragatha’s laughter.

“Oh! There she is!” Ragatha flinched as Pomni’s arms enfolded her. “I was starting to worry I up and killed you…”

“Nope! Still kicking.” Pomni chirped, “But just barely…” 

Slowly, Ragatha’s giggles began to peter out, but their spirit still tickled every word she spoke. “Goodness me — aren’t you in a good mood! Your head didn’t hit the ground too hard, did it?”

Pomni waffled. She decided not to tell Ragatha about the big lump on the back of her head — the redhead would just worry herself sick, after all. “...I’m fine. Just a little bit dizzy.”

“I really am sorry.” Ragatha placed her soft hands atop Pomni’s, idly dragging her digits across the jester’s worn leather gloves. “I should have warned you before I…” she paused. “Well, y’know…”

Pomni could feel the heat rising in Ragatha’s hands. She waited patiently for her to finish, but as the silence dragged on, it became increasingly clear that she’d have to be the one to break it. 

“No, it’s okay! Really! I just, um, wasn’t expecting…that. And if you think about it, it was actually my fault. I wouldn’t have fainted if I had just listened—”

“No, no! It was sweet! I don’t know. I just figured…” Ragatha said, a nervous tilt to her tone, “...since you were having so much fun getting into your character, I ought to return the favor.” Ragatha's hands were twitching now, “And…”

Somewhere nearby, a ladybug crested a wobbling blade of grass, flitted its wings, then buzzed away to who-knows-where. Another brisk gust wandered through the dilapidated yard, sending an armada of dandelion seeds sailing swiftly through the air.

“And…?” Again, Pomni was the one to shatter the silence. 

“Oh, nevermind.” Ragatha forced out a laugh. Pomni swore she could hear the woman’s blush. “I think I’ve just got an overactive imagination.”

Another pause. That made three. 

Pomni’s heart was beating a mile a minute. Unsure if this was even real, she slipped her hand out from beneath Ragatha’s, eager to simply trace the woman’s strong, soft frame…

… but her finger didn’t get very far before arriving at the gaping hole slashed across the ragdoll’s abdomen. 

Guilt flattened Pomni’s heart like a speeding train. Holding Ragatha close, the jester sat up in a snap, examining her friend’s injuries with a level of determination that could only be described as ‘obsessive’. 

Talk about a mood-killer — it was as if Pomni had never even bothered to stitch Ragatha up at all. Stuffing leaked out of the ragdoll here, there, everywhere. Nearly all of Pomni’s makeshift threads, nowhere close to well-crafted, were already failing — if they weren’t coming loose, the strings themselves were coming apart. 

Pomni clenched her teeth. Her brow descended, and her lips trembled fiercely. 

“Hey, hey! Don’t cry! You don’t have to worry about me.” Tenderly, Ragatha pushed herself against Pomni's little frame, “As long as you’re with me, I’ll be okay, Sweetheart.”

“I’m not sad.” A stormy look came to Pomni’s face. “I’m angry.”

“...Angry?”

“Stupid #$&%ing tree monster. Stupid #$&%ing Caine!” Pomni bared her teeth, “Stupid #$&%ing circus!”

“H-Hey, now! Take a breath, okay? Let’s not get ourselves worked up—”

“No! I’m pissed!” In a snap, Pomni leapt to her feet, firmly holding Ragatha in her arms. “I’m not gonna let you get hurt anymore,” she said, making a beeline toward the haunted mansion, “Not a single scratch, from now until we escape this horrible circus together — I promise!”

Ragatha’s eyes were sparkling, though Pomni was too focused on climbing the front porch’s creaky staircase to notice. “Pomni, Y-You don’t have to do all that…!”

“Too bad. I want to.”

“O-Oh…” Ragatha’s breath felt warm against Pomni’s chest. “I see…”

Without another word. Pomni summited the porch stairs, where a pair of double-doors patiently awaited her arrival. She eyed the doorbell, but her hands were full — so she opted for three mighty kicks at the doors’ expense instead. “Hello? Anyone home?” 

Pomni and Ragatha waited for an answer. And then waited some more. Pomni’s shrill voice echoed at least a dozen times in the stiff silence. 

“Hellooo!?” Pomni’s ill-fitting boot pounded the door thrice more. “We don’t have all day, you know! Open up!”

“Pomni! It’s been five seconds!” Ragatha chided, “Don’t be rude!”

“Rude? What am I doing — interrupting supper time? They’re NPCs.”

“I know that! But still. It just feels so wrong…”

A relaxed smile found its way to Pomni’s face — at this point, the jester wouldn’t have been surprised if Ragatha were hiding a pair of angel wings underneath that pretty dress of hers. “Let me guess. You’re the type of person who feels guilty about not giving equal attention to all of your stuffed animals, aren’t you?”

“I—” Ragatha sputtered, glancing off. “N-No! I’m thirty years old! What makes you think I own stuffed animals?”

Pomni raised an eyebrow.  

Ragatha had been caught red-handed, and she knew it. It was incredible how quickly her face flushed completely pink. “Okay, first of all, how dare you attack me like this—”

Before Ragatha could even finish her tongue-in-cheek response, both girls simply lost it. Their uncontrolled, side-splitting laughter — one giggling, one cackling like a witch — spun together into a harmonious duet, and for a fleeting moment, both captives felt like they were home. 

“Alright, alright.” Ragatha wiped at her eyes. “Enough joking around. How about I just ring the doorbell for you, Sweetheart?”

“Huh?! No way! You have to stay still or you’re going to rip yourself! Look, I’ll just set you down—”

“On the dirty porch? Are you out of your mind?” Ragatha reached for the ornate button beside the door. 

“Hey! What are you doing?! I just told you—”

“Oops!” Ragatha poked the button, then quickly fell back into Pomni’s arms like a helpless princess. “Sorry, dear. Didn’t hear you!”

Pomni grumbled, and the doorbell replied with its signature chime. Windswept shutters battered cracked windows as Pomni and Ragatha stood there, waiting for something, anything, to happen.

Pomni’s patience was in short supply. She stamped her foot, and the old porch whined. “Seriously?”

“Maybe the entrance is around the back? My old apartment building was like that.” Ragatha said. “Ordering anything by mail was just the worst. It’s like — I get that the mail carriers had to stick to a tight schedule, but they would never read the signs. Oh, and trick-or-treat was a nightmare every Halloween—”

Ragatha’s riveting tale was cut short as, at last, the double-doors swung open at the sound of the magic words — trick-or-treat.

Ragatha’s mouth fell open. Pomni wrinkled her brow. Both women studied the other’s outfit in stunned silence — and suddenly, Caine’s choice of costumes didn’t seem quite so arbitrary. 

“Ohhh…” They nodded in sync. “Right…”

Cautiously, Pomni poked her head through the door frame. If the scent of stale tobacco pouncing upon her senses was any indication, the surprises weren’t over yet. 

“It’s…” Pomni breathed, “...an elevator…?”

“Ooh, and an old-fashioned one, too!” Ragatha tapped her fingers together, excitedly peering inside. 

The interior was nothing if not visually striking. Each of its four walls, carved from cherrywood, hosted polished panels gilded with gold. Winding bands of white and black and gold and blue danced a tango across the smoke-stained carpet. An expensive-looking chair sat in the corner; an equally-elegant end table, complete with a flickering lamp, complimentary cigars, and a half-filled ashtray, sat to the left. 

“Gosh, and just look at all these little aesthetic flourishes!” Ragatha gushed. “Folks back then really put effort into making every little thing look beautiful. You know what I mean?”

“Uh-huh. S-Sure…”

“Sometimes I wish that attitude would make a comeback. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just an old soul…” 

Pomni blinked, regarding the elevator’s interior through empty pupils. She would have instinctively eyed the exit had she not already been standing in the middle of it. 

The jester couldn’t recall something as simple as her own name — but, by some cruel twist of fate, everything else about the life she’d had stolen from her remained crystal clear in her head: including her swarming, overcrowded menagerie of obsessive anxieties.

Back home, Pomni’s teeny-tiny cubicle — something she couldn’t believe she actually missed now — was located on one the higher floors of her employer’s drab highrise. Entering the lobby, a lengthy carpet led the eye to a conveniently-placed pair of lifts. Their metal doors, constantly opening and closing as employees funneled in and out, was a sure sign that another busy day of work lay ahead.

Pomni was quite familiar with the contraptions — which was reason enough for the tie-wearing twenty-something, armed with her trusty backpack, to begin each morning with a hard left towards the musty concrete stairwell instead. By the time she’d reach her floor, the young accountant would be out-of-breath, weak in the knees, and far sweatier than any sane person would ever like to be. In her book, though, it was worth the trouble. She would do anything in her power to avoid the sensory torture that was riding in one of those cramped sardine cans. 

Elevators were awful. Just awful. Women wearing far too aggressive perfume; men who had forgotten to wear any deodorant at all. Extroverted co-workers trying to make small talk; creepy strangers trying to hit on her. Idiots with no concept of personal space; morons with no respect for the fire marshall’s occupancy limit clearly posted on the wall in big, bold letters. 

But being stuck inside of a tiny box with eight other people was a dream compared to the experience of riding alone — where her mind could wander, and the simmering fear of some catastrophic malfunction could consume her thoughts. What if the power went out? What if she got stuck? What if she were trapped inside and ran out of oxygen? What if the cables snapped, and the final moments of her life would be her screaming in horror as the car was sent plummeting down the shaft?

Nope. Pomni didn’t like elevators. Not one bit. Sensitive to Ragatha’s feelings, however, the young woman tried her hardest to force a smile onto her face. “Wow. C-Classy…” 

For a moment, Ragatha didn’t even react. “...You’re nervous.” she tilted her head in concern, “What’s the matter, Sweetheart?”

“Nothing! Nothing’s the matter!” Pomni lied, and rather poorly, at that. “I was just…” she floundered, “...admiring the craftsmanship! Gee, don’t you wish they made stuff like this nowadays?”

“...Yeah. I just said that.”

“Right…! S-So…! Anyway…!”

Pomni closed her eyes, ducking her face behind Ragatha’s shoulders. Oh, come on! What are you waiting for? Just go! It’s just an elevator! You’ve had your whole life to be a coward — now’s the time to be brave. For her! You can do that, can’t you!?

The shaking jester steeled herself. The sole of her oversized boot departed from the sturdy wooden porch, swung forward, flirted with the elevator’s artsy carpet, pressed down… 

…and the entire car shifted with an ear-splitting creak. 

Pomni’s whole body seized up — she couldn’t stumble back onto the porch fast enough. Nope. Nope. Abso-#@%$ing-lutely not.

“Pomni! You are nervous!” Ragatha rubbed at her chest, “Oh, no — Ugh! I’m sorry! Are you afraid of elevators?”

Pomni squirmed in place. Her gut commanded her to keep up her defenses — to deny, deny, deny, because showing the slightest inkling of vulnerability had been punished so severely in the past. Despite all of her strongest instincts, however, the soft look of concern on Ragatha’s face hit her like a magic spell.

“Um,” Pomni’s shoulders slumped, “Maybe a teensy-tiny bit...”

“Oh, Sweetheart…” Ragatha drew closer, “Forget it, then. Why don’t we try looking for another way in?”

“N-No! It’s fine! This way is the fastest!”

“But I want you to be comfortable, too…”

“You’re worried about me?!”

Ragatha twisted her lips. “Is that bad…?”

“Yes!”

“O-Oh…”

“God, Ragatha — can’t you just be selfish for once in your freaking life!?” Pomni’s voice was sharpened to a fine tip. “I mean…look at yourself! You’re falling apart at the seams — literally!”

“Pomni! Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Watch me!” Pomni squished Ragatha against her chest before the ragdoll could even think to protest. Surging with adrenaline, she clenched her jaw, made peace with her god, and barreled forward. 

The ancient elevator quaked beneath her feet; each time it stirred, her body seized, preparing itself for the whole contraption to plummet into the endless abyss below. Pomni quailed at the sound of squeaking metal, cowered at the buzz of hydraulics, and pined after the whistling wind outside the car — a beacon of safety and stable footing. 

She shivered, choking on every haggard breath that just wasn’t enough — but somehow, the slight weight in her arms gave her the courage to open her eyes and face the music. 

“I…” Pomni stood in the center of the elevator. She looked down at a begrudgingly-happy Ragatha, each stammered word framed by bouts of breathless laughter, “...I did it!” 

Ragatha beamed, practically singing. “You did!” 

“Yes, indeed!” A series of polite claps sounded from behind. “Jolly good show, darling!”

Pomni just couldn’t stop smiling. “It was, wasn’t it?” she agreed. Sticking out her chest, the young woman pulled in a deep breath, and then…

…Wait a minute! Pomni spun around on a dime. Who said that!?

A ghostly figure, surrounded by an otherworldly aura, sat with her legs crossed in the elevator’s cushioned chair. Her outfit, equally as old-fashioned as her surroundings, evoked all the stylings of a suffragette. Her wide-brimmed hat cast a spooky shadow over her face. Her ruffled shirt was tucked neatly into a long, floral-print skirt. A silk sash spanned the length of her chest, bearing a progressive slogan spelled out in a simple typeface.  

An eerie smile crawled across the phantom’s ashen face. Slowly, she looked up from the book in her lap, and the lamp’s struggling flame gasped its final breath, “Going up?”

Pomni SHRIEKED. 

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.” the ghost marked her place with a bookmark, closed her tome, and sharply raised her other hand, “Dining room. Fifth floor.”

With a light ‘ding’, the elevator’s sole exit slammed shut, casting the car in total darkness. The elevator rumbled as if caught in an earthquake, rusted gears whirring and whining all the way. 

“Uh…” Ragatha’s face fell. She looked up at Pomni, who was taking things exactly as well as you would expect. 

“WHAT?! HEY! NONONO! WHAT’S GOING ON?!”

“There’s the handrail, darling.” the ghost pointed with a wink, “You might want to make use of it sooner rather than later.”

“NONONO! LET ME OUT!” Pomni pounded her foot against the door, “WAITWAITWAITWAITWAIT—”

The ghost shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Suddenly, the elevator shot into the air at gravity-defying speeds, thrusting Pomni and Ragatha roughly into the floor — and pinning them there for the remainder of their abrupt ascent. 

🎪  🎪  🎪 

The haunted lift halted the same way it had started.

Painfully. 

The doors slid open with an innocent chime, and the girls shivered in sync as the ghost’s ethereal high-heels passed straight through them. 

“Right this way, ladies.” the phantom twirled her fingers. A magical aura surrounded Pomni and Ragatha, dragging their aching forms behind the ghost as she stepped gingerly out of the car. 

A cozy dining room awaited beyond the threshold. Autumn-toned streamers stretched across the ceiling. A perimeter of potatoes, turnips, and radishes, strung up on strings and carved with grotesque faces, was proudly displayed on each wall. A large banner pinned to the wall read ‘ALLHALLOWTIDE GREETINGS’, just in case the apple-bobbing stations weren’t sufficiently on-the-nose.

A long, wooden table was situated in the exact center of the room, dominating the space. The ghostly woman sat herself at its head, and, with a flick of her finger, sat her dazed guests across from each other. 

“Well, well, well!” The ghostly specter fanned her face with her weighty novel. “Do my eyes deceive me, or has another troupe of wayward rabble-rousers dared to trespass upon the esteemed estate of—”

“Oh, God!” Pomni, green in the face, scrambled to slap her hands over her mouth. “Oh, holy #$@%—” She swiped the closest open receptacle she could find — a gorgeous Edwardian vase — and held her mouth against the opening. Her whole frame crumpled forward as her body quite ungracefully emptied itself out.

“P-Pomni!” Ragatha’s fingers grazed the side of her face. “Oh my goodness — are you alright?!”

The jester groaned. Plopping the vase back onto the table, she weakly nodded, trembling hands hugging her ailing stomach. “I’ll be fine. J-Just…give me a second…” she faceplanted into the large heap of candy corn piled on her plate. “This happens more often than you’d think…”

Ragatha pouted, watching Pomni’s face sink deeper into candy corn mountain. Individual pieces slid off of the young woman’s plate and scattered across the table. “Remember your breathing, okay, Sweetheart?”

Pomni flashed a flaccid thumbs-up.

“My word! What is the meaning of this?!” The ghostly apparition clenched her fists, lips curled back in disgust. “Perhaps if your detestable generation spent less time listening to that boorish ‘jazz’ music — and I’m being generous calling it music at all — you’d have room in those cramped skulls  to remember proper etiquette!”

In a flash, she tore open her book —  the cover read, ‘THE LADY’S BOOK OF COMMON ETIQUETTE & ASSORTED DEMONIC SPELLS — 1860 EDITION’ in embossed, glossy lettering.

The ghost loudly cleared her throat. She pointed to the text with a manicured fingernail,  “Immediately upon entering the parlor, find your hostess, and speak to her first. It is very rude to stop to chat with other guests before greeting the lady of the house.”

Ragatha blushed, shrinking in her seat like a scolded child. “Ma’am...”

“Hmph. As appalling as your conduct is, I suppose you aren’t completely hopeless. It’s worlds better, at least, than that infantile rabbitoid or that foul-mouthed modern-art abomination.” The haughty ghost shook her head. “But I digress — what business do you mortal wretches have in the decrepit domain of I, the great Margarethe MacGuffin?”

A long, drawn-out pause ensued — longer than usual. “Um…” Ragatha rapped on her chin, “…Who?”

“Who? What do you mean ‘who’?”

“Come to think of it, I’ve completely forgotten what we’re even supposed to be doing here. Pomni…?”

Groggily, Pomni lifted her head; more than a few candy corns came along, sticking stubbornly to her cheeks, chin, and forehead. “Brooch,” she sighed. A single morsel tumbled off her face, “We’re looking for the—”  

“Brooch, you say?!” Margarethe flinched at the word like a trained dog hearing its name. Her sour mood shifted in an instant. “You couldn’t possibly mean…” she drew closer, “...that brooch, could you? The legendary MacGuffin family heirloom? The priceless treasure forged in the highlands beyond Hadrian’s Wall, passed down from generation to generation—”

“Uh-huh! Sounds about right!” Pomni abruptly pushed her chair out, sending an avalanche of candy treats pittering and pattering across the hardwood floor. She wasted no time racing to Ragatha’s side — and gently, so gently, hooking her arm around the dolly’s. “So where do we go? What do we do? How do we leave!?” 

“I…” Margarethe balked. “Sit back down this instant, young lady!”

“Uh, hello?! Do you not see that my friend is practically in pieces, here? We don’t need your stupid theatrics — none of this is even real, anyway — just spit it out so we can go back to the tent and get her fixed!”

Margarethe’s posture was as sharp as a tack. “For shame! Never in my sixty-seven years have I witnessed such uncharismatic, uncouth, unbecoming behavior from a young bachelorette. Simply appalling —  you’ll never find a husband with that attitude.”

“Aw, really? You mean it?”

“I beg your pardon?!”

“HAHAHA!” Ragatha slapped the table, “G-Golly, Ms. MacGuffin! This glassware is just to die for! Wherever did you procure such a stunning collection?”

Margarethe hesitated — but then curtsied in appreciation. “Well! I’m glad you noticed. They’re just wonderful, aren’t they?” she proudly mused, “The help says they’re made of this newfangled, petroleum-based material that’s cheaper than glass and impervious to breakage. Bakelite, I believe it’s called — the material of a thousand uses!”

Pomni flicked the nearest goblet. She whispered in Ragatha’s ear: “I think they’re plastic.”

“Indeed — we are truly blessed to be reaping the plentiful fruits of the industrial age. Now, where was I…?” Margarethe tapped her bottom lip, “Ah, yes!”

Margarethe launched herself in the air with a flamboyant pirouette. “To make a long story short, the MacGuffin clan is, sadly, no more — our treasured brooch is the only artifact that remains of our storied legacy. My life is long behind me, but alas, as the matriarch of my kin, I cannot pass on into the next life until I find a soul brave enough to carry on the great MacGuffin legacy. Someone like…you two!”

Pomni and Ragatha looked at each other. “Us? You’re sure?”

“Certainly! But a MacGuffin knows no weakness.” Margarethe continued, “In order to secure my brooch, and carry on my proud family name, you must venture through my audacious abode…and confront your greatest fear!”

“Greatest fear…?” Pomni stammered. 

Margarethe flexed. “Then, and only then, can you consider yourself a true MacGuffin!”

“G-G-Greatest…” Pomni repeated, almost choking on her words, “...f-fear…?” 

“Why, of course, darling! You didn’t expect this to be a walk in the park, did you? It wouldn’t be much of an adventure without a little bit of challenge!”

Pomni stared straight ahead — but her pin-sized pupils didn’t perceive a single thing. 

Greatest fear.

The room shrank. 

Greatest fear. Greatest fear? What in the world was that supposed to mean!? Pomni didn’t have a greatest fear — as far as she knew, the obsessive thoughts that constantly terrorized her mind did so with total parity. How was she supposed to know which one had cost her the most sleep over the years?

Car crashes, plane wrecks, train derailments, high-speed transportation in general, being bitten by a wild animal and dying of rabies, stepping on a rusty nail and dying of tetanus, contracting some other horrible disease after forgetting to wash her hands and dying from that, being stalked by weird men, being assaulted by weird men, being kidnapped and murdered by weird men, weird men in general, disappointing her friends, disappointing her parents, disappointing her boss, people in general, her boss in general, being late to work, performing poorly at work, being fired from work…

Pomni’s eyes bulged. 

Work — oh, no. Work. WORK. 

Pomni’s mind had already overloaded itself merely accepting the notion that she was trapped forever in this weird, obscure computer game — so overloaded, in fact, that the horrific question of how the world was proceeding without her hadn’t even occurred to her.

Until now. 

How long had she been gone? One week? Two? Even more? Her blood ran cold at the realization — even if she were to escape the circus this very instant, there was no way she hadn’t already been fired, no way her cubicle wasn’t already cleaned out to make way for the next poor sap to apply to that god-forsaken office. 

Oh, no. No, no, no, no. That couldn’t happen. What was she going to do? Beg for her old job back? Apply for a new one? How the hell was she supposed to do that when her degree sucked, her resume could fit on a sticky note, and all her single reference could forward a potential employer was years and years of middling performance reviews?

Even if her boss was merciful, her rat bastard of a landlord wouldn’t lend her a single shred of sympathy. Not in a million years. The clock was ticking for Pomni to locate an exit before next month’s rent was due. Should she fail, and she certainly would, she’d return home to find someone else living in her apartment. Her space. The only place in the whole entire world where she felt safe. 

Her belongings would be auctioned off at best, and thrown away at worst. 

And…oh, God. She was a missing person. There were probably posters all over town. Posters plastered with her face and name, front-and center. Stapled to telephone poles, printed in the paper, pinned to those little bulletin boards at the supermarket. Everywhere. Millions of eyes, looking at her face. Reading her name.  

Pomni could already feel them burrowing into her back. Judging her. Pitying her. Laughing at her. The best thing they could do was look away in apathy. 

Her friends and family were probably searching high and low  — but their resolve would dull as the months paged over into years. Embers of hope, pining for her return, would still burn in their hearts until the very end, but it wouldn’t matter in the long run. In the back of their minds, they would know she wasn’t coming home.

The few friends she had, unwilling to carry the burden of their grief, would almost certainly make an effort to forget her. Just to ease the pain. Her voice would be forgotten as old videos and voicemails were deleted. Her face would be next. And then, one by one, each of her friends would speak her name for the final time. 

Pomni whimpered, burying her face in the soft fabric of Ragatha’s arm. Her chest was tight, pressing harder, harder, harder against a hollow core. Each heaving breath sent shockwaves of pain throughout her shrinking, shivering, pitiful body. 

Time. She was running out. Running out of time. She had to find a way out. A way out. A way to get home. Home. Home. Home. Time. Running out. Get out. She had to get out. Get out get out get out GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT RIGHT NOW BEFORE EVERYTHING SHE’S WORKED FOR CRUMBLES TO DUST AND SHE’S DEAD AND FORGOTTEN AND AND AND AND AND AND—

Pomni choked back a scream as a dreadfully-familiar, searing pain stabbed the tips of her fingers. Blackened flesh creeped like cancer toward her palm, each heinous step piercing her skin like a thousand poison needles. 

“R-Ragatha!” Pomni gasped. Abstraction shackled her wrists as the tips of her fingers sank into the ragdoll’s downy flesh. One, three, five, ten twitching eyes sprouted beneath her gloves. “No…no, no, no! I’m going to—!” She couldn’t bear to say it. “I…I need to—”

Ragatha turned. “P-Pomni? What are you—”

“I’m sorry!” Pomni strangled the ragdoll’s wounded arm, squeezing the bulky limb hard enough to force clumps of cotton out of her own failed stitchwork. 

Her eyes squeezed shut. 

Her breathing slowed. 

Shaky breath in, shakier breath out. 

In and out. 

In, and…

The grandfather clock announced the hour with a half-dozen chimes. Pomni cracked open a single eye. Like magic, her mind was calm and clear.

Her weary gaze swept over Ragatha’s shredded arms, over her shoulder, her neck, her furrowed brow, her gnashing teeth, her wincing eyes.

“P-P-Pomni! I said let go!” Ragatha’s complaints finally fell on Pomni’s ears, “That hurts!”

Flinching, Pomni released the doll’s arm, “Ah! I’m sorry! I-I—”

“What’s gotten into you?! Is everything okay!?”

“Y-Yes! Everything’s just fine! I just, uh…” Pomni slumped over, still gasping for air. “Um…” she shrank beneath the shadow of Ragatha’s stern gaze, “...just needed a hug?”

Ragatha’s stony face didn’t crack. “You’re hiding something.”

“What?! No, I’m not!” 

“Don’t lie to me! What’s going on?! It looked like you were just about to—”

Margarethe hissed. “Alright, alright! That’s quite enough chatter!” She clonked Pomni’s head with her hefty book. “In case you forgot, I was in the middle of explaining—”

“HEY!” Pomni barked like a dog, rubbing the back of her head. “Who the #@$% do you think you are, you ancient &!$#% !?”

“Heel.” Margarethe’s razor teeth flashed a ravenous smile, “...If you know what’s good for you.”

Pomni growled — but wisely kept her big mouth shut. It helped that a small part of her was thankful for the excuse to drop the subject with Ragatha. 

Margarethe chuckled. Referring to her book once more, she flipped to a specific page and began chanting a hex under her breath. Before either Pomni or Ragatha could ask what was happening, a pair of blindingly-bright orbs had already emerged from both of their chests. The magical objects drifted toward MacGuffin’s outstretched hand. 

“Now. Let’s begin with the darling coquette. What are her nightmares made of?” Mararethe peered down at the two white spheres orbiting each other in her open palm. Studying one for a moment, she cocked her head with a sneer. “Hmph. Typical.”

Ragatha slouched, looking sullen. 

“Centipedes. It’s centipedes, right?” Pomni leaned on Ragatha’s chair. She had only just walked herself back from the verge of tears, but she had made a promise to protect Ragatha, and she intended to keep it. “Don’t worry — you’ve got me by your side, remember?” She spoke through a confident facade, “I-I’ll squash ‘em for you!” 

Ragatha covered her mouth like she was about to vomit. “Ugh, Please—” she shook her head, “D-Don’t make me think about their guts...” 

Margarethe flicked Ragatha’s orb back into the ragdoll’s chest, leaving only Pomni’s circling her palm. She cleared her throat. “As for the untrained whelp…” she was already laughing as she lifted her long-fingered hand to her face — but the moment she gazed into the orb, her smug affect faltered. 

The phantom’s cold, soulless eyes ping-ponged between Pomni and Ragatha. “Well.” Grinning, she flicked Pomni’s orb away, “Isn’t that sweet? I wouldn’t have taken you for the type, darling.”

Pomni jerked her head. “Huh? What type? What do you mean sweet?!”

Mararethe’s face simply radiated superiority. “I suppose you’ll just have to wait and see, now won’t you?” She mocked, fanning herself. “Oh, shame on me! I haven’t been this worked up since the summer of nineteen-aught-five. This is going to be fun…”

Pomni’s knees locked together as the ghost faded away. “Wait! Where are you going?! What’s my fear?! What—”

“Best of luck!” The candles flickered to the rhythm of Margarethe’s cackling laugh. “You’ll need it…!”

With minimal fanfare, the door to the next room swung open all by itself, creaking horribly on its rusted hinges. 

🎪  🎪  🎪 

Margarethe MacGuffin’s maniacal mansion was truly massive, and, within the last few hours, Pomni and Ragatha had been treated to a terrible tour of every last nightmarish nook and creepy cranny. Just as Caine had advertised, an assortment of ‘tricky traps’, ‘perplexing puzzles’ and ‘supernatural sentries’ had been set up for them to navigate, ranging in difficulty from ‘mind-numbingly easy’, to ‘psychologically traumatizing.’ 

Surprisingly, Pomni’s accounting skills had come in handy in the manor’s ‘money-counting room’. The horrifying puzzle, involving the petty minutiae of tax codes and estate settlements, was easy pickings for the seasoned number cruncher. Still, no one was perfect, and Pomni’s sole mistake — in which she’d forgotten the purpose of box 12D on form 5E-344-B  —  left her at the mercy of a swarm of greenbacks-turned-paper-cranes. 

In the music room, Ragatha would have taken the opportunity to show off her cello skills, but Pomni, concerned that Ragatha would worsen her injuries in the process, had flatly refused. A small back-and-forth had ensued — but in the end, both parties agreed to disagree once the instruments, magically stirred to life, started to viciously attack. Poor Pomni had never sprinted so quickly in her life. 

The place where Ragatha’s expertise did come in handy, however, was the stables. A pack of raging horse skeletons ran rampant, threatening to trample anyone foolish enough to stand in their way. Ragatha’s prior experience with equines, however, gave her all the tricks she needed to quickly soothe the wild herd. In retrospect, the room’s main obstacle wasn’t even calming the horses — it was reassuring a shivering Pomni after the jester had learned first-hand what a horse’s skull looked like. It wasn’t pretty.

In all of that time, not once had either of their so-called ‘greatest fears’ reared their ugly heads — or even so much as teased them. Every single task, no matter how asinine, was turned terrifying by the prospect of transforming into an unimaginable nightmare at any point in time.

The sheer anticipation was a torture all of its own — but the girls’ latest assignment, apparently designed to drive them straight to the precipice of insanity, was a close second place.

“Ohoho, don’t fret! It’s quite simple!” Margarethe had announced shortly after Pomni and Ragatha had arrived at the spacious ballroom. The phantom hadn’t even tried to hold back her laughter — she truly was having the time of her life. “The door to the next room is just a hop, skip and a jump away. All you have to do, honored guests, is locate the key.”

In a snap, Margarethe was gone, and Pomni and Ragatha had looked at each other with dread in their eyes. Nothing in MacGuffin Mansion was ever that simple. 

Every part of the ballroom was sculpted with painstaking precision. The moon peered in through a series of extravagant French windows; long, velvet drapes, slightly darker in color than Ragatha’s licorice locks, spanned the length of each one. The checkered marble that spanned the floor hosted a spattering of perfectly-set tables; a crystal glass and a set of unsoiled silverware framed each empty plate. 

A mountain of keys — brass, silver, and gold — sat upon each plate, sparkling in the moonlight. The drinking glasses beside them were similarly filled to the brim…with keys. Keys, keys, keys. Keys were floating in the flower vases, floating in the wine bottles, floating in the air.

Finding a key would be a cinch — finding the key, however, was a task tedious enough to make Sisyphus himself blush. 

And so, there Pomni was, kneeling in front of the locked door, sunken eyes looking like they hadn’t had a wink of sleep in years. The young woman glanced down with a harsh sigh — the marble floor wasn’t exactly the softest surface, and her knees were starting to hurt. A lot. 

Head drooping low, she half-heartedly held out her hand. “Next…”

Ragatha, slumped against the peeling floral wallpaper, perfectly matched Pomni’s energy. Without even bothering to look, she stuck her hand into one of the myriad piles of untested keys that surrounded the pair. A moment later, she plopped a plain-looking one into Pomni’s palm.

The jester ran her finger across the dented brass surface of what must have been the thousandth key to pass through her hands in under an hour. Her eye twitched. 

This was the one. Their ticket out of this god damned ballroom. It had to be. She had no rhyme or reason to explain why — she just knew.  

With a curt nod, Pomni crammed the key’s metal teeth into the lock and turned her hand clockwise. She leaned forward just a touch, listening desperately for a ‘click’ — but of course, just like the nine-hundred and ninety-nine attempts that came before, the stubborn door simply refused to accept her offering. 

So Pomni stared. And smiled. 

Slowly and silently, she stood, squirming grin blooming into a wide, razor-toothed smile. She turned to face the nearest pile of keys, filled her chest with a patient, hearty breath…

…and drove her foot into the metallic mound with all the force her skinny little legs could muster. 

“Pomni!” Ragatha shouted. Hundreds of keys clinked and clanked as they skated across the marble floor. “Really?!”

“This is it, isn’t it?! My greatest fear?!” Pomni shouted, “Isn’t it!?”

“Pomni!”

“Trapped with no way out, taunted by an exit just out of reach, forced to perform pointess, tedious tasks until I go insane?!” 

With every word that Pomni spoke, Ragatha’s furrowed brow disappeared to make room for a look of grave concern. “Hey! Are you listening to me?!”

“The same thing, over and over, never changing…” Clutching her head, Pomni let out a laugh, strained and dry, “As if I’m not already living that nightmare every single day!?”

“Pomni, stop it! You’re scaring me!” Ragatha finally raised her voice. Acting on instinct, she reached out to touch Pomni’s arm — but the doll’s fragile skin punished her with another gut-wrenching tear. Pain warped the doll’s face as she crumpled forward.

That brought Pomni’s breakdown to a screeching halt. “Ragatha!” snapping herself out of it, the jester immediately scrambled to Ragatha’s side, eyes pleading forgiveness. “I-I’m sorry! I was just… I didn’t mean to—” she clenched her fists, grunting in frustration, “Are you okay!?”

“Are you?!” Ragatha snatched Pomni’s shoulders. Her face was brutally stern. “You are freaking. Me. Out! Tell me what’s going on! Right now!”

Pomni swallowed. She tried to answer — she really, truly tried, yet no words came to her blanking mind.

Ragatha frowned. “Y-You’re doing it. You’re acting just like the others. Just like him.” 

“H-Him…?” 

“Tell me the truth. Back in the dining room, when you were squeezing my arm, did you...” Ragatha’s voice wavered, “Were you…?”

Pomni’s pupils were the size of pins. Buried memories — of her bedroom, of the forest, of the mansion’s dining room — swarmed like locusts through her mind. She could practically feel the blood freezing over in her veins again, feel the despair grabbing hold, feel her whole body rebelling against her, transforming against her will into a mindless, violent beast. 

“...abstracting?” Pomni tore away, arms coiled tightly around herself. Her strong voice was stuffy and rigid, “I-Is that what you’re too scared to say?”

Ragatha’s eyes softened in an instant. “Oh, no. No, no, no! I didn’t mean to—” she winced, holding her arms out as far as they would go. She was this close to tearing open another wound. “Just…come here.”

“Wh…What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” Ragatha said, “Come on. Let me hold you...”

Pomni looked the other way, still hugging herself. She tried her best to look disgusted, to pretend to be angry, to act indifferent. “P-Put your arms down. You’ll hurt yourself…!”

“I don’t care.” Ragatha’s wavering smile held true, bending just slightly under the weight of her pain. “It hurts so much more to watch you cry, Pomni.”

“I’m not crying!” Pomni’s voice cracked, widening gaze sweeping across Ragatha’s arms. Her trembling arms weren’t helping her case. “I’m just…”

“...Just what, Sunshine?”

Sunshine. Pomni’s eyes were wet. She blinked away the unwanted sensation, shaking her head all the while — but it was no use. Ragatha really was the nicest person she’d ever met. “...R-Ragatha?” 

“Yes…?”

“Why do you keep calling me that…?”

“Calling you what?”

“Sunshine…” Pomni’s lip quivered. She tried with all of her might to quell the storm, but there was little she could do now. A pair of shimmering streams traced the length of her face, and at long last, she cracked, collapsing into Ragatha’s open embrace. 

“Oh, dear…” Ragatha wrapped Pomni up as tight as she could, squeezing the little jester like she would never, ever let go. Even she was trembling now. “Do you like that name?” 

Pomni nodded. 

She felt a lot of feelings. But most of all, she felt loved. So very, very loved. 

🎪  🎪  🎪 

The ballroom had nary a clock to announce the hour, and the eternal night gleaming through the windows wasn’t much help in telling the time, either. Pomni had no idea how long she’d been venting — just talking, talking, talking through the tears, explaining everything that had happened over the past few days. 

“...and it’s happened three times now.” Pomni spoke softly, at last lifting her head from Ragatha’s chest. However much time had passed, it was enough for her eyes, shocked by the sudden influx of light, to immediately recoil.

She rubbed her eyes, easing them back into the light. “...it just happens. Like a nightmare. My mind starts racing — thinking the same obsessive thoughts, over and over, until the thoughts take control. And I…” Pomni winced, shaking her head. “...w-won’t say anything else.”

Ragatha hummed. She listened quietly, finger tracing winding lines around Pomni’s back. 

“...But every time, I’ve managed to stop it.” Pomni said. She cringed a little at her own words. “Well, I guess that’s obvious...”

“Obvious or not…” Ragatha’s voice was calm and clear, “I’m glad.”

“Glad…?”

“Glad you’re still here.”

“O-Oh!” Pomni perked right up. Almost hypnotized, she stared into those beautiful, mismatched eyes. “Um, th-thanks. Me too...” 

Ragatha giggled. “Sorry to interrupt.” she said adoringly, lightly stroking Pomni’s backside. “You were saying?”

Pomni felt light, absentmindedly curling a lock of red yarn hair around her finger. Never before had she felt so heard, felt what it was like to have someone hanging onto her every word. It felt good.  

“I don't know, Ragatha. When I start to abstract, it’s not easy to bring myself back from the brink, but…” she breathed, “...it’s kind of like what you were saying before.”

“Oh?”

“I try to think of a silver lining. Something that makes me feel safe. Something…”

Ragatha’s thumb shooed away the final, thin teardrop drying on Pomni’s cheek. The ragdoll’s hand felt just like a cloud — softer than anything the jester had ever felt before. “Something…” Ragatha mused, finishing the jester’s thought, “...that makes life worth living?” 

“Yeah…” Pomni welcomed a cautious smile, “Something like that.”  

“Ah-ha!”

Pomni flinched. “H-Huh?!” 

“There she is!” Ragatha snatched the jester’s cheesing cheek and gave it a little wiggle. “There’s my funny girl!” 

Pomni tried her hardest to squirm out of Ragatha’s embrace — but the redhead had her decisively pinned. “Ow! S-Stop it!” she protested — but her sunny laughter only encouraged further torment, “That hurts, you jerk!” 

At last, Ragatha relented. “Sorry, Sunshine. Couldn’t resist.”

Pomni’s first instinct was to do the same thing back — to even the score, so Ragatha could see how it felt — but the woman’s words left her melting, all the way down to her soul.

Sunshine. 

She was putty in the ragdoll’s hands. What in the world was happening? What was this fluttery feeling? Why did her face feel hot enough to burn her fingerprints clean off?

“R-Right! In any case!” Pomni pushed herself off, lest she faint a second time. She could hardly believe how quickly her heart was thumping .“Th-thanks for listening and everything, but…” she glanced around in a panic, “...We should probably get back to it, huh?” 

Ragatha didn’t react right away. “...You’re sure?” She surveyed the endless piles of keys that surrounded them — many of which were now scattered about the floor thanks to Pomni’s most recent tantrum. 

“Of course I’m sure! Wh-Why wouldn’t I be?

“Well, it’s awfully sudden. I don’t mind talking a bit more if you need to! Really — I’d watch paint dry as long as you were next to me. Um! Not to say that listening to you is boring…!”

“It’s fine!” Pomni giggled. “Honest.”

“You’re feeling better?”

Pomni nodded.

“You’re sure?” Ragatha squinted. 

“Yes! I’m sure! We can’t keep stopping like this, Ragatha. We’ve got to get you back to Caine, remember?” 

“I…suppose we can get moving again, if that’s what you want.” Ragatha sighed. She glanced sadly at her freshly-vacant arms. “Just do me a favor, won’t you?”

“Yeah?”

“If we get stuck, try to keep your lid on — for me?”

“Y-Yeah. Sorry about that…” Pomni turned, scratching her head. The very moment she caught a glimpse of the piled-up keys, however, her face scrunched up. “This just — this sucks! How did the other members figure this out?!”

“Pomni.” Ragatha groaned. “Breathe.”

“Right. My bad…”

Despite herself, Ragatha still managed to look amused. “Think of it this way, Sweetheart. If the rest of those goofballs can figure this out, then so can we. We just need to put our heads together — think outside of the box.” 

“Outside of the box…” Pomni stepped across the checkered floor, scratching her chin. “Like…maybe what we’re looking for isn’t a literal key?” 

She scanned the ballroom through her pouting gaze. A series of large chandeliers, far grander than the tacky setpiece in her own bedroom, supervised the spacious room from above. On the northern wall was a small stage, complete with chairs, instruments, and music stands for performing musicians. A piano, paired with a small chest, sat at the far end. 

The jester’s mood soured, and not just because of her recent run-in with haunted musical instruments. Keys, keys, keys — what did any of this stuff have to do with keys!? Ragatha desperately needed help, but here she was, stuck in the world’s most contrived escape room. Ugh! Did people in the real world really do this kind of thing for fun? This stupid puzzle—

Suddenly, Pomni perked up. She eyed the piano. 

Piano. Keys. 

Piano! Keys! Of course!

“Ragatha!” Pomni raced to where the other woman was sitting, frantically waving her arms in the air. “Hey, hey!”

“Hm? Did you figure something out?” 

Pomni nodded, smiling broadly. She scooped the ragdoll into her arms, hopped atop the stage, and set her down in one of the chairs arranged neatly across it. All told, she only knocked over three music stands, two metronomes, and one priceless clarinet in the process. 

Pomni turned Ragatha’s chair so that it faced the piano. “Watch this!” she chirped, dashing across the stage. Her fingers pressed down on the piano’s lowest white note, and then the lowest black; the hammered strings within the instrument sang a long, colorful scale as Pomni dragged her digits across all eighty-eight keys. 

Hands clasped in hope, she spun around to check the door — but her face fell when, despite her genius plan, the door remained firmly in place. 

“What? But—” Pomni’s fingers pecked a low Do, a high Re, and the middlemost Mi. “They’re keys! Pianos have keys!” She laid her hands flat on the ivory, and the piano unleashed a dissonant, un-musical scream. “Are you kidding me? How is that not the solution?!”

“No, you’re right!” Ragatha clapped her hands together, “Good thinking, Pomni! You’re definitely onto something!” 

“I…am?” Pomni blushed, “But I already pressed every single key — every one! And that stupid plank of wood still won’t open!”

“Maybe it’s not about pressing one specific key.” Ragatha scratched her chin, “Maybe it’s a special combination. Notes can have letter names —  A, B, C, et cetera — so perhaps they want us to spell a certain word?”

“Ooh! A keyword! That’s good!” Pomni snapped her fingers. She didn’t hesitate to start sniffing out clues for such a solution — and it didn’t take long for the old chest beside the piano to catch her eye. 

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the lock — but, thankfully, it was only for show. Breathing a sigh of relief, Pomni opened the lid. The antique chest was filled to the brim with a series of long, frayed, dust-coated cardboard boxes. 

Curiosity piqued, Pomni opened one and cautiously unfurled the bulky scroll stored inside. A series of small, perfectly-cut holes stretched across the yellowed paper. Some existed in isolation, while others were grouped together into long lines — as if a leaf-munching insect had eaten its way through the fragile material.

Pomni’s tonge prodded the inside of her cheek. “Ragatha? You said you played the…” her gaze flicked aside, “...violin, right?”

“Violoncello.” Ragatha deadpanned. “Why?”

“Well, I was just wondering — since you’re a musician, do you have any clue what these weird rolls of paper are for? They seem related to the piano somehow, but…”

“I’m so glad you asked!” Ragatha gasped, clasping her hands together. “Those funky bundles of paper are called piano rolls!”

The redhead had responded to Pomni’s question in plain English, but the baffled look on the jester’s face suggested otherwise.  

Ragatha clarified. “Back in the day, these were used to play piano tunes without the need for a human performer. Each one plays a different song when loaded into a player piano.”

“Player piano…?”

“Oh, right. Sorry! That’s a special type of piano that plays itself. I’m not quite sure how it works either. But back to the topic at hand — see those little holes cut into the paper? Each one represents one music note. As the roll slowly unfurls, a sensor reads them and tells the machine which keys to strike.”

“Ohh…” Pomni ran her fingers across the parade of perforations that spanned the scroll. Slowly, she nodded. “...So it’s like a music box?”

“Now you’re getting it!” Ragatha beamed. The look on her face as she watched the concept click in Pomni’s head was a painting of pure joy; was it any wonder that she had worked as a teacher prior to her captivity? 

Pomni sighed. She planted an elbow on the old chest and cradled her cheek against her palm. “Your students must have loved you...” 

“Well, I did receive my fair share of apples.” Ragatha shrugged. “Never had to pack a lunch.”

“Wait, seriously…? That’s a real thing?”

“No. Not really.”

A silly smile teased its way onto Pomni’s lips. Heart stumbling, she turned away, fingers unconsciously fiddling with the old chest’s loosened lock. “S-So, um, is there anything else you can tell me…?” 

“Nah — telling is overrated. In my classroom, I always liked to take a hands-on approach.” Ragatha said. She admired the antique instrument seated on the far end of the stage. “There’s a player piano right there. Why don’t you give it a whirl? It’s been a while since I’ve listened to music.”

“S-Sure thing! I’ll find a good one!” Pomni said, eager to please. Just about tearing the lid off of the antique chest, she rifled through its tightly-packed contents with purpose, scrutinizing the faded titles printed on each box. She didn’t recognize a single song, much less any of their long-dead composers, so it was anyone's guess as to what the music would actually sound like. She may as well have just swiped a roll at random — and, as a matter of fact, that’s exactly what she did. 

Pomni set the bulky scroll inside the automatic piano after a bit of clumsy fumbling — and more than a little help from Ragatha. With the flip of a switch, the paper started spinning, and the premier notes of a lofty, leisurely tune stirred to life beneath the ballroom’s vaulted ceiling. 

Pomni’s fingers drew circles on the mechanical piano’s smooth, wood grain exterior. For a moment, she forgot where she was, utterly fascinated by the simple elegance of the century-old contraption. 

It was funny. The long-forgotten piece it played, humbly subtitled ‘a ragtime two-step’, had set her up to expect something more peppy and up-tempo. As the piano roll steadily unfurled, however, the melodic constellations impressed upon the paper sang a far different tune. 

It was the type of jaunty music one would expect to accompany a silent film, just…polished. Refined. All of the musical tropes of the era were present — the driving bassline, the active, syncopated melody — but the piece’s dignified pace and finely-crafted harmonies would have sounded out of place in a rowdy, turn-of-the-century saloon. 

Here in the ballroom, though, it was right at home — at least, that’s what the haunted furniture seemed to think. 

Looking impressed, Pomni tapped her foot, wholly oblivious to the perplexing scene unfolding behind her. “Not bad...” She grinned, turning to face Ragatha, “To tell you the truth, I actually kind of ohmygodwhat’sgoingon—”

Pomni stumbled backwards, then forwards, then backwards again into Ragatha’s chair. The ballroom’s inanimate denizens — the one-hundred-odd tables and chairs scattered across its marble floor —  moved all on their own, dancing in time with the mellow melody. A backing band of squeaking wood and clinking keys added a percussive flair to the player piano’s charming, just-slightly-detuned sound. 

Ragatha, for her part, was busy cracking up at Pomni’s complete and utter bewilderment. With a quick breath, she managed to compose herself. “Well, when in Rome…” The ghost of a giggle still lingered in her tone as she offered up her hand, “Shall we?”

Pomni let out a mousy squeak. “Huh?” She flinched, head feeling light, dots flitting across her vision, “But—”

“Come on. Don’t make me beg.” Ragatha batted her eyes, “It’s unladylike.”

Pomni blushed. Without a word, she swallowed, shuddering like a frightened animal as she reached for Ragatha’s hand.

Her fingers curled snugly around the ragdoll’s, plush and doughy. Both women’s palms — one big, one small — fit together perfectly.

Pomni slid her other arm behind Ragatha’s back, powerless to stop the nervous little whimpers sneaking out of her as she lifted up the lightweight woman. For a moment, their faces were close enough to feel each other’s warmth — and it took every ounce of restraint Pomni had to resist asking: ‘Can I please kiss you?’.

With a brief, peppy fanfare, the music transitioned to a new section; the enchanted furniture, as if controlled by a single mind, adapted its routine in perfect sync. 

“I, um…” Pomni’s knees trembled. This stupid furniture was making her look bad. “I don’t really know how to dance…” She winced at the thought, and then at the sight of Ragatha’s grave injuries, “And even if I did, how are we supposed to—”

“Shh.” Ragatha’s thumb glided across the back of Pomni’s hand. “Just…hold me.”

Pomni exhaled. 

Holding her dolly close, the jester closed her eyes, synchronizing her trembling breaths with every other downbeat. Her foot matched the two-step’s gentle pulse, and before she knew it, her whole body was swaying to the rhythm.

Ragatha nestled her head against Pomni’s chest; a blissful sigh escaped her shuddering smile. The tension in her body dissipated note-by-note, phrase-by-phrase, as her darling rocked her back and forth, here and there, to and fro. 

Back and forth they went. Pomni held her plain little ragdolly as tight as she could, finger tracing zig-zags across the curves of her fleece-soft figure. She adored the sound of her peaceful breathing, the way her hands cradled each other as she lay in her arms, all of her happy little fidgets as her body responded to the music. 

Here and there they swayed. Pomni’s desperate eyes wandered to Ragatha’s lips, plush and glossy. Her heart was glowing, but just beyond, a profound emptiness, like nothing she had ever felt before, opened up within her. It begged to be filled, and pained her to resist.

Swing, swing. To and fro. Ragatha was weightless in her arms. The whole wide world, and everything in it, was wonderful. Just wonderful. 

“Ragatha…?”

“Hm.” It took Ragatha a moment to respond. She jostled herself as if she’d just been woken from a deep, restful slumber. “What is it, Sunshine?” She said, keeping her eyes closed. 

Pomni swallowed a shuddering breath. “Do you remember the day before yesterday? When we were trying to film the new intro?”

“That was quite a day.” Ragatha cracked a smile. She nestled herself closer, basking in the rhythm of each gentle sway.  “I didn’t know you could scream so loud. Zooble, either.”

“Yeah…” Pomni tittered. “When you were showing me the way to my room, I remember feeling so exhausted, so frustrated. I didn’t understand why all of this was happening to me. What I did wrong to end up trapped here. I was taking it out on everyone, including you. But…”

“But…?”

“But you were still kind to me.”

Ragatha giggled. “Oh, come on. Don’t give me too much credit. You might hate to hear this, but you’re awfully cute when you get all worked up. If I’m being honest, the hardest part was not eating you up.”

“Cute...” Pomni felt butterflies. Her rocking slowed down, falling out of sync with the beat of the music. “That’s what you said about my hat hair. Remember?”

“I do! And I stand by it.”

The social contract of conversation required Pomni to respond with a laugh, or a ‘that’s funny’, or even a small, near-imperceptible exhale of breath — but instead, she simply stood there, thinking, utterly silent. And when she did get around to opening her mouth at last, her voice took on a noticeably different tone. 

“R-Ragatha…?” 

“Yes?” Ragatha’s mouth curled slightly — and not in the good direction. “Is everything alright? You sound like you have a frog in your throat.”

“Do you—” Pomni swallowed, “D-Do you remember what we talked about before? About…” she took in a shaky breath, “...something to live for…?”

Ragatha’s eyes flashed open with a jolt. The doll palmed the wet spot on her cheek, and flinched again when another droplet pelted her face. “P-Pomni! Are you—” she stammered, “Why are you crying?!”

“Because…!” Pomni’s face crinkled up, “B-Because, if you hadn’t said that…” she gulped down a long, shaky breath, “...if you had listened to me that day, if you had just left alone like I said…”

“Pomni…?”

The young woman’s tear-studded chin curled inward, coming to rest against her heaving chest. “... If it wasn’t for you, Ragatha, I don’t know if I would still be here…”

The old piano roll reached its end with no pomp or circumstance; the haunted furniture took a final bow, shuffling back to their places as the two-steps’s final chord faded away. 

A century of stillness stretched between the jester and the ragdoll. 

Ragatha pressed her hand to her lips. Pomni couldn’t blame her for her silence. What could Ragatha possibly say? Pomni didn’t know, and, given Ragatha’s flat, stunned gaze, it seemed the ragdoll was equally lost. 

“R-Ragatha…? I don’t know how else to say this…” Pomni’s whole body felt twice as heavy. Her body was a paradox, sweltering beneath overwhelming heat and flinching away from wisps of unbearable cold. “I think I, u-um—” 

Enough was enough. At long last, the two hearts spoke as one, crackling voices intertwined in an impromptu duet. 

“I’m sorry, but…!” the jester squeaked.

“That’s it!” the ragdoll gasped, “I can’t take this anymore — I’m just going to say it!” 

Together, they forced out the exact same words: “Can I please just kiss you?!”

…And time slowed to a crawl. 

Each woman was the other’s reflection, looking back from the other side of the proverbial water. Ragatha stared, at a loss for words, gawking mouth twisting into a little half-smile. Pomni stared back, eyes aglow, wearing the world’s dumbest grin without a care in the world. 

Smiles became snorts, snorts turned into giggles, and giggles bloomed into fits of gut-busting laughter. Pomni’s tears flowed still, but their wet, winding trails framed a face brightened by hope. “Did that just happen?!”

Ragatha giggled, pawing at her face. If she felt any pain — and she certainly did — it didn’t show. “Well?” she remarked at last, “I’m waiting.”

“Um…!” Pomni frantically nodded. “Right! O-Of course!” A bead of sweat traveled down her brow as relief gave way to worry.

She hadn’t the slightest idea of what she was doing. 

Pomni’s stance bent backward at a curious angle. Ignoring the added strain on her back, she swallowed, tilted her face closer to Ragatha’s, and then…locked up. For what felt like an eternity, she just stood there, knees chattering, staring into Ragatha’s eyes with a vacant, absolutely petrified expression.

“...Uh, Pomni?” Ragatha blinked. The moment was ruined. It was horribly, terribly, soul-crushingly awkward. “What are you doing?”

“K-Kissing you! Obviously!” Pomni shifted around, forcing a shuddering smile. “I’m just, um, y-you see—” 

“Is this how you usually do it?”

“Um, no. Not really…!” a beet-red Pomni shook her head, “To tell you the truth, I’ve never really, um…” her voice shriveled further with every word, “...I’ve haven’t exactly done this before…”

“Pomni!”

“Wh-What?! Is that bad?!”

“Goodness gracious. What am I going to do with you?” Ragatha playfully rolled her eyes. “Well, you already lifted me up. That’s a…start? I suppose? Look, just tilt your head for me.”

“Oh! Sure!” Pomni did — with gusto. “Is this good?”

“No! Not that much!”

Pomni let out a soft little whine. “O-Okay! Sorry!” 

“There. That’s better.” Ragatha’s yearning gaze closed the distance, “Next, close your eyes...”

“Like this?”

“Well, yes — there’s only one way to do it.” 

“Oh! Right…”

“God, you’re cute...” Ragatha filled her chest with a long, savoring breath, “...Now hurry up and kiss me.”

Pomni’s pounding heart was due to give out any second now. This couldn’t be real. Was this really happening? What had she gotten herself into!?

Slowly but surely, she moved her lips closer, closer, closer, until she could feel the warmth of Ragatha’s hushed breaths on her face. Her stomach twisted into a tighter knot with every burst of humid heat — but she’d come too far to quit now.

Carefully, very carefully, she—

“Ugh! Fine, then — I’ll do it!” Huffing just like a princess, Ragatha seized Pomni’s tunic, pulled her in, and pressed her lips against hers. She shuddered, squealing with joy as their souls linked at last. 

Pomni’s eyes were wide, her belly flat, her face a bluish hue as every last gasp of air was suddenly forced out of her chest. Sharply, she breathed in again, and a familiar scent stirred her heart like a siren song:

Strawberries and soil and fresh-fallen rain.

[First Chapter] [ Next Chapter (Coming soon!) ]

#pomni x ragatha #ragatha x pomni #ragapom #buttonblossom #jesterdoll #pomnitha #the amazing digital circus #tadc fanfiction #tadc sunshine #pomni #lesbian #tdac pomni #tadc fic

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝

The Soldat’s captain was ruthless and never showed any quarter to his enemies. When an armada appeared on the horizon like a beast from the ocean, you knew the battle would be bloody and victory would be sweet, and the treasure would be worth more than silver and gold.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✗ Pirate!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ✗ 1.5k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ✗ Fluff, descriptions of battle (blood and gore), praise kink

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ✗ As a woman obsessed with POTC, I got to use my hoarde of knowledge on pirates for this.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 ✗ The Kraken by Hans Zimmer ✗ Angelica by Hans Zimmer, Rodrigo y Gabriela

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ✗ @the-slumberparty Week 1 Fic Challenge ჻჻჻ 𝑷𝑰𝑹𝑨𝑻𝑬 ჻჻჻ 𝑫𝑰𝑨𝑴𝑶𝑵𝑫 𝑵𝑬𝑪𝑲𝑳𝑨𝑪𝑬 — Masterlist

𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Canon fire peppered the air while smoke billowed from the muzzles of the guns lining the deck of The Soldat’s ship, its captain bellowing orders and commands in quick succession, the volume of his voice rivalling the constant explosions of gunpowder. 

Crewmen were yelling, screaming threats and making good on their promises to maim and murder the King’s men. It was a gruesome sight with bodies strewn over the deck and hanging off the hull rail with swords and bayonets rooted deep in their backs and stomachs; enough to turn the churning sea red below the belly of your ship. 

“No quarter!” A voice boomed by your ear and you spun ‘round to see your captain, sprayed with blood with a maniacal grin on his normally stoic face. “Send ‘em down to Davy Jones’ locker, lads!”

Roars of ascension echoed and the battle grew in intensity around you - men were turning savage with bloodlust, gutting their opponents with the order of no mercy. The once pristine Man’O’War you called home had carved a path through the blockade with its wide berth that was now painted a deep crimson from the loss of life.

“If you can put as many men down as me, lass, I’ll see to you it that you get a bit of the bounty,” your captain said, his grinning face now focus on you. “C’mon, I know you want it as bad as the rest of these idiots.”

You smirked. “You know me, sir-” A loud yell came from your right and you turned on your heel, blade at the ready and before the decorated King’s soldier knew what had happened, he was impaled on your sword. You turned back to your captain, your smirk now a wild grin. “I can never turn down a challenge.”

Sailors and King’s soldiers clashed and fought around you whilst you faced two brutes, their weight an advantage, though your nimbleness won the battle; your cutlass in one’s back, your dagger in the other’s neck. 

Battle cries from your crew mates carried you on - a force to be reckoned with, slashing and hacking and impaling your sword against any foe that crossed your path. An armada of King’s men had been slaughtered by the time The Soldat’s crew had slowed, the bloodlust now a low simmer in their ale full bellies.  

Bodies littered The Soldat’s deck, and with the battle now over, you glanced down at yourself to search for injuries you did not feel with the roar of adrenaline in your blood, but found none. 

“Captain,” a sailor to your left started, his voice louder than the shouts of victory. Your captain looked towards the call before briefly glancing at you, a slight smirk on his pretty lips. “What’re we gonna do with the last of the armada–they might send more men.”

“Burn it all, douse them with oil and burn it all down.”

A shiver crawled up your spine at your captain’s words and the men murmured excitedly before rushing off to the lower deck for the barrels kept exactly for this reason.

“First mate,” the captain called, and you looked up sharply, a brow raised. “My quarters, if you please.” He jumped down from the railing and sauntered over, the belts and leather coat swaying with his gait and it was all you could do to keep your attention focused on his icy gaze. “We have many things to discuss for the next course,” he trailed off once he was right in front of you, though the men around were far too busy and excited at their orders to wreak pure destruction on the fallen. “And I have my word to make good on, lass.”

“Yessir,” you said, saluting proudly and he laughed heartily - a sound that warmed you to your core. 

The captain’s cabin was luxurious in furnishings - for what a pirate could get his thieving hands on, this you knew, but the majesty of the room never ceased to amaze with the dark stained wood of the walls and floor while pops of red and silver accented the room. Your boot falls were muted on the many rugs strewn over the floor, and you sat down on the edge of his bed with a weary sigh. 

Battle was exhausting. Though, you never grew weary or tired of unsheathing your blade and fighting alongside the crew.

The sun had fallen below the horizon by the time your captain finally strode into his cabin, the door shutting with a loud click and rattle of the ornate glass. “You look exhausted, my love,” he started, shucking his coat off and hanging it on a hook by the door. “Are you injured?”

“‘M fine, handsome,” you sighed, smiling up at him as he slowly walked over to stand between your knees. While waiting for him, you had stripped from the bloodiest of your clothes and thrown one of his blouses, a poet shirt he had taken after a bloody wager. “Though I am tired and ready to sleep for eternity.”

“I will join you then,” Bucky smiled, his calloused hand cupping your jaw before he moved away to strip away the black leather adorning his muscled chest and thighs. 

You hummed and shuffled on his bed until your back rested against the headboard. “Don’t you have something for me, captain?”

“You know we are safe here, my love. It’s Bucky, unless you want to call me sir, I don’t mind,” Bucky purred. The slight clink of his swords being hung on the wall echoed loudly in the charged silence, but you smiled. You knew this game. 

“I know you have something for me, sir,” you breathed, and Bucky looked over his shoulder at you with a brow raised. “You promised, and I did win that wager… didn’t I?”

Bucky turned to face you, though he kept a hand behind his back and you narrowed your eyes in suspicion. “You did, my love, the deadliest lass I’ve ever seen.” He stepped closer to his bed and lifted his hand, beckoning you closer. “C’mere.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so,” Bucky replied, the authority unmistakeable in his tone. “Come here.”

You rolled your eyes in defiance and Bucky stared through you, straight into your soul it felt. The darkening of his normally ocean grey eyes made you pause, what was he going to do? “Fine,” you muttered and you scooted forward so your legs dangled off the side of his bed, resting them either side of his. 

“Good girl.” Bucky’s hand ran through your hair and moved it so it fell down your shoulder. “Now, I promised you something from this bounty and the coffers–of course, I had to get my girl the best,” he said, drawing his hand out from behind his back. “And the best just happened to be this.”

You looked towards his hand and your mouth fell open in a silent gasp of shock. Diamonds and jewels glinted in the warm candle light; the red of the rubies casted a red reflection onto Bucky’s palm while the silver of the diamonds shimmered like the rays of the sun on high tide. 

“Oh, my-” Was all you managed before Bucky bent at the hip and kissed you hard, distracting you from the heavy weight of the necklace while he clasped it around your neck. “Bucky!” 

“What?” Bucky smirked. “You don’t want me to be sweet on you? Don’t want me to love on you, is that it?”

“No! No, no it’s not,” you began, trying to process the weight of the jewels and diamonds around your neck and resting against your chest. “I-I do want that,” you murmured. Bucky’s hand cupped your chin and forced your gaze up so he could stare into your eyes. “I just- thank you, it’s beautiful.”

Bucky smiled softly and bent to kiss your forehead. “Not as beautiful as you, my love.” He stepped away and toed off his bloodied boots, kicking them to the corner before tossing off his undershirt. “Nothing on God's green earth will ever come close to your beauty, nothing.”

The statement made butterflies bloom in your stomach and you smiled shyly. 

“Now, let's sleep for eternity, hmm?” Bucky gestured for you to move. “Get comfortable, my love. I want to join you.”

Soft cotton sheets rustled while you moved and settled on to Bucky’s bed, your head coming to rest on his pillow. You sighed happily when the bed shifted under Bucky’s weight as he settled behind you, your back flush against his bare, toned chest. “You did so well today, my love,” Bucky murmured and you smiled. “Did your captain proud.”

“Thank you, sir,” you whispered and Bucky tensed behind you.

“None of that, you little minx,” Bucky said and you giggled, shuffling back against the warmth of his muscled body. His arm rested over your waist and moved to cradle you, a possessive move that he knew you adored - it made you feel loved, protected. “Sleep now, my love.”

The last thing you remembered before sleep pulled you under its swell was the weight of the diamonds and jewels on your neck, and how it remarkably felt like your captain would now always be with you. 

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #pirate au #pirate bucky #navy and roo's sleepover #rookthorne's works #Treasure

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

i adore reading your analytical posts abt soc so much jts not even funny; stumbling upon your account was like a coming across a goldmine 🙏 ALSO I RLLY WANT TO ONOW ABT THE SHE TREATS US LJKE MARKS ESSAY IVE NEVER THOIGHT ABT THAT RLLY also i loved the mr crimson post anw im sorry i’ll shut up now

Thank you so much, I’m so glad you like them!!

This is the first time someone’s submitted a question so bare with me because if there’s any way to do this wrong I’ll probably manage it, but here are my thoughts on the red herrings :)

She’s treating us like marks - an analysis of Leigh Bardugo’s use of red herrings in Six of Crows and Crooked Kingdom

*warning: CONSTANT SPOILERS AHEAD!*

I happen to be an absolute sucker for a good bit of foreshadowing, I think if it’s done well it’s one of the best literary techniques out there, so it’s something I always like to try and be on the look out for when I read. With books that I go back and reread, in this case many many times (seriously I’ve never specifically counted but I’m pretty sure I’m at over ten times each for the duology, it’s ridiculous), I like to find the things I didn’t realise were foreshadowing the first time round. When rereading six of crows and crooked kingdom, I realised that a lot of the things I expected to be foreshadowing didn’t actually come to fruition whilst other, seemingly less important, details were the actual foreshadowing. I LOVE IT! It’s genius, because it leaves the reader worrying about one thing so they’re too distracted to realise the groundwork is being laid for something else. But you know what that makes me think of? Kaz’s ideology of “What’s the easiest way to steal a man’s wallet? […] Tell him you’re going to steal his watch,” and “you have to let the mark feel like he’s won”. Leigh Bardugo literally cons us, and she tells us that she’s doing it in Crooked Kingdom when the group are certain that they know where Inej is being kept, but Kaz says “Too obvious. He’s treating us like marks”. GENIUS

So I compiled a few of my favourite examples (in no particular order), if you know of any I’ve missed please add more I would love to see them!!

The cannon at the Ice Court. When the Crows first arrive in Djerholm they see a cannon built into the the cliff face, a defence mechanism for the Court, and Kaz says what might be one of my favourite underrated lines of his: “I’ve broken into banks, warehouses, mansions, museums, vaults, a rare book library, and once the bedchamber of a visiting Kaelish diplomat whose wife had a passion for emeralds. But I’ve never had a cannon shot at me”. Jesper jokes that “there’s something to be said for novelty” but then continues to say that a cannon would be useless against a ship as small as theirs and that it’s designed for “invading armadas”. They don’t mention the cannon again, but it stuck in my mind when I first read it as a looming threat, a reminder that the danger wouldn’t end when they left the court. So when they arrived in the harbour was I expecting soldiers, or a heartrender, or for Nina to take parem? Nope, I was too busy worrying about the schooner being blown to pieces - especially when the Crows all have such specific painful and/or traumatic experiences linking to water, with 4 out of 6 of them being drowning related. But that isn’t to say that the waiting soldiers at the dock weren’t foreshadowed. All the way through Leigh Bardugo constantly reminds us that Matthias had never seen black protocol in action, and that his time in the prison sector had been brief, but she lulls us into a false sense of security by letting us believe that the secret bridge onto the White Island was all Matthias was hiding. We trust him by this point, so we don’t expect anything to be different to what he’s told us, even though this is an aspect he couldn’t possibly have predicted. Bonus points for the fact that Nina’s poor well-being in the aftermath of the drug is foreshadowed by a joke at the awful Inn they go to before the job; the food is disgusting and she says “when I don’t want to eat, you know there’s a problem”, and in Crooked Kingdom it’s many times emphasised that she’s unhealthily losing weight and her appetite has vastly decreased, with Matthias buying her chocolate biscuits “in the hopes she’d eat something”.

The poison pill. Leigh Bardugo worked very hard in Crooked Kingdom to make us think that Nina might die. We went into that book knowing there was a strong possibility that she wouldn’t come out the other side; we knew very little about how she was coping with parem withdrawal at the end of soc, but we had seen around a minimum of five grisha being destroyed by the drug so far. (That’s a guess I haven’t actually counted). So we went in with the idea that she was already in a precarious situation, and even though we begin to see her regain herself she struggles throughout the novel both physically and mentally in the aftermath of the drug. Matthias begins to dream of being lost on the ice in the worst storms known to Fjerda, knowing that she was out there somewhere and that he could not reach her. This sounds like it’s foreshadowing her death. Then when the pair go to the Ravkan embassy, Tamar gives Nina a small yellow pill that Genya made; she explains that it kills instantly and painlessly, saying “we all have them” to make sure they cannot be drugged and enslaved by the Shu government, who are hunting for grisha with the Khergud at the time. Matthias is terrified by this, but Nina just slips it into her pocket without a second thought. At that moment I thought that Nina would almost take the pill only to be stopped by someone else, because it felt too obvious that it would kill her, but I did wonder if the Khergud would be the ones to stop her and so she would still be lost. But the pill never gets mentioned again, except when the Dime Lions come for Nina at Sweet Reef and she briefly remembers that it’s still in her pocket. Then never again. And Matthias’ dreams were, of course, actually foreshadowing the FESTIVAL OF PAIN AND TORTURE that is chapter 40.

Mr Crimson. I’m so glad you like my Mr Crimson idea! Basically I posted saying I think that he represents death in the novels and I’ve also talked before about how I think the Komedie Brute costumes that the characters usually adopt are representative of their character; Kaz the Madman, Nina the Lost Bride, Inej and Wylan the Grey Imp, and Jesper and Matthias Mr Crimson. I won’t go into detail about all of them but if you’re interested the post is on my page, but with the idea that Mr Crimson represents death it’s very important to me that, although all of them wear his cloak at least once, he is the only Komedie Brute character taken on by Jesper and Matthias (at least to my recollection, feel free to correct me if I’m wrong). So of course I would argue that Matthias taking on the image in Crooked Kingdom foreshadows his death, but in that case what does Jesper’s represent? I came up with two options but I actually think you could combine them into one: it’s a red herring to make us align him with the literal death of Matthias, whilst actually foreshadowing the metaphorical death that his addiction and mental well-being are driving him towards as he tries desperately to stop them - in his own words to Colm “I’m dying anyway, Da, I’m just doing it slow”

Oh god sorry that this is yet another long post I hope y’all enjoyed this enough for it to be worth the time it takes for you to read all my ramblings 😭

Tagging people who asked for this one in the replies to my essay titles post - @the-magnificunt @flerkenkiddingme @luridorangeandviolentviolet @snowblack-charcoalwhite

#grishaverse #leigh bardugo #six of crows #crooked kingdom #inej ghafa #kaz brekker #nina zenik #jesper fahey #matthias helvar #wylan van eck #kanej #wesper #helnik #overanalysis #books #book #essay

[alixennial]

Limsa Lominsa & La Noscea (1/3)

Barracuda Piers, Limsa Lominsa

These docks provide safe mooring for the Thalassocratic Navy's principal squadrons, also known as the Crimson Fleet. To prevent sabotage, admittance to the area is forbidden to the general citizenry; however, on clear days, one may catch a glimpse of the armada flagship, the Triumph, from atop one of Limsa Lominsa's myriad spans.

The Astalicia, Limsa Lominsa

Registered as a trade vessel hailing from foreign waters, this battle-scarred warship captained by the lord of the region's underworld, One-eyed Hyllfyr, serves as a gathering place for brigands, cutthroats, and the purveyors of sundry other breeds of villainy. It is here that the city-state's pirate crews find new recruits to join their ranks.

Seasong Grotto, Middle La Noscea

Nestled within a shallow cavern situated to the south of Summerford Farms sits an ancient monolith upon is carved this, the Sailor's Requiem: "I am the waves that bear, I am the winds that guide. I am the evening stars, I am the morning sky. I am born of the sea, and there I shall die."

The Skylift, Middle La Noscea

Once an endless expanse of flat, rocky meadows, Middle La Noscea is now severed by a sheer cliff known as the Descent. To maintain overland trade routes from the easterly outposts of Aleport and Bronze Lake, Lominsan engineers created the Skylift - a tower of wooden scaffolding outfitted with pulleys, winches, and lighter-than-air balloons.

La Thagran Eastroad, Middle La Noscea

When the Galadion fell victim to the Navigator's fury and ran aground on the southern shores of Vylbrand seven hundred years ago, it was her two helmsmen, Jean De Nevelle and Guy La Thagran, who were tasked with exploring the newfound island - the former heading east, the latter, west. To this day, their routes still serve as La Noscea's two main thoroughfares.

The Salt Strand, Lower La Noscea

When struck by a fallen shard from Dalamud's outer shell, a massive amount of concentrated aether was released from just below the surface of the Rhotano Sea, immediately fusing with and crystallizing the towering fount of saltwater which was expelled during the impact. City-state-funded exploratory forays into the inner crater have all yet to return…

Red Rooster Stead, Lower La Noscea

The farmers on the Red Rooster Stead will rarely shy from testing the agricultural acumen on exotic crops or untested growing methods, and take pride in their willingness to sacrifice a harvest if it means a better yield an autumn hence. The plantation's name is said to be taken from the bloody cockfights held after nightfall by the gamekeeps.

Brewer's Beacon, Western La Noscea

This relatively new lighthouse was built soon after the Calamity claimed Swiftperch Tower to ensure safe passage for trade vessels carrying shipments of dark stouts and blonde barleywines out of Aleport. In addition, the candlekeeps also keep watch for increasingly frequent rogue tidal waves caused by the stirrings of the Lord of the Whorl.

Indie's Sightseeing Log

Limsa Lominsa & La Noscea (1/3) Limsa Lominsa & La Noscea (2/3) Limsa Lominsa & La Noscea (3/3)

Gridania & The Black Shroud (1/3) Gridania & The Black Shroud (2/3) Gridania & The Black Shroud (3/3)

Ul'dah & Thanalan (1/3) Ul'dah & Thanalan (2/3) Ul'dah & Thanalan (3/3)

Mor Dhona (1/1)

Ishgard & The Coerthas Highlands (1/3) Ishgard & The Coerthas Highlands (2/3) Ishgard & The Coerthas Highlands (3/3)

Dravania (1/4) Dravania (2/4) Dravania (3/4) Dravania (4/4)

Abalathia's Spine (1/3) Abalathia's Spine (2/3) Abalathia's Spine (3/3)

#limsa lominsa #la noscea #ffxiv landscape #ffxiv sightseeing log #indie's adventures #indie has been working through her sightseeing log #everything is so pretty T_T #time of day and weather is accurate for the log entries but a lot of these pics are not taken from the actual vista position #because sometimes the view is prettier from other angles #text from in-game sightseeing log descriptions #ffxiv

[harmonie-writes]

The Buccaneer Queen pt. 15

Pirate! ATEEZ x pirate!fem Reader

Genre: fantasy pirate AU, future romance

Warnings: angst, language, violence, death, gore, mentions of guns, and cannons. The characters in this story are purely fictitious and do not portray actual people. I only own you.

AN: italics are thoughts

Word count: ~3.2k

Summary: Women are considered bad luck upon the vessels that sail the Seven Seas. Before you became the captain of The Astraea, a witch of sorts cursed you and the crew leaving a physical mark upon your chest just above where your heart would lie. Anyone that sees the Black Standard flying on the black and gold ship knows that they have stumbled upon the Armada of the Damned which is piloted by the Buccaneer Queen.

Masterlist

Previous | Next

»»————-　➴　————-««

Previously on The Buccaneer Queen:

Panting, Jamie pointed at the dark ship, "Is that it?"

"Aye, there she is," Mingi confirms, untying the ship from its mooring.

"Time to set sail," Yeosang calls over his shoulder as he boards the Treasure. He can't help the nostalgia that washes over him as he takes in the ship, but he pushes it down as he runs to the captain's quarters to drop off the bag.

When he makes it back to the deck, he sees that Mingi and Jamie have raised the anchor and are working on unfurling the sails. Determined, he makes his way to the helm.

"Don't worry, we're on our way," the blonde murmurs to himself as he navigates the ship out of the pier.

»»————-　➴　————-««

Sweat coats Yeosang's brow as he begins the tedious process of getting the large ship out to open water.

Although it's not long before they hear shouts coming from the docks and rapid approaching footsteps that his nerves are set alight. Three men. That's a load of rubbish, they'd need to send an army to stop them from getting away with the ship.

"Mingi! We have guests!" He shouts, catching the attention of the gunner.

"On it!" The tall pirate calls back, unholstering his flintlock as he leans over the edge of the ship railing.

"Sorry to cut this short, gentlemen, but we have places to be!" He shouts, taking aim and firing his pistol. A choked gasp leaves one of the guards, and Mingi is quick to load and fire another round at the second guard.

While loading his third round, the guard took aim with his rifle and fired a shot at the blue haired pirate. A resounding dut of the rifle echoed over the water as it left the barrel.

Hissing, Mingi dropped his flintlock that was held in his right hand in favor of clasping his left over the wound.

Hearing the shot, Jamie was quick to join Mingi's side. Brandishing his own pistol, he fired without a second thought watching as the last body crumpled into the inky water below the dock.

"Mingi, are you okay?" Jamie asked, quickly putting his weapon away and hovering near the taller pirate.

Biting his lip, peeled his bloody fingers away to access the damage. He took note of the way his white, billowy shirt was now torn and turning a crimson red. Tearing a larger hole in the sleeve he breathed a sigh of relief. The bullet had only grazed his arm, but it still burns like something unholy.

"Shit, this fucking hurts," Mingi mutters, before looking at the blonde kid, "I'll be fine. Just need to clean my arm and tie it up."

Nodding, Jamie starts to turn around to head to the sick bay as if he was on the Astraea before stopping in his tracks. Sheepishly he turns around scratching the back of his head, "Where's the sick bay on this ship?"

"I'll show you," Mingi tells him, before shouting up to Yeosang, "We'll be back! Heading to the sick bay!" They can hear Yeosang's 'aye' before they both head below deck.

»»————-　➴　————-««

Hongjoong’s eyes bore into the back of your head as you watch the Diamond get closer to boarding range.

What could you possibly be thinking right now? Hongjoong thinks, making his way to the railing you're at.

"How long have you considered abandoning ship?"

You don't answer right away, eyes seemingly locked on one figure on the other ship.

Gently, Hongjoong reaches for your hand, pulling you away from your thoughts.

"Hmm, truthfully? Probably since the beginning. It hurts to think about abandoning the place I've called home, but there's larger matters at hand than this ship," you tell him, finally turning to look him in the eyes.

"And you believe that you can find whatever it is through us? Through the Treasure?" Hongjoong asks, confusion and irritation bubbling a little below the surface of his skin.

You avert your gaze back to the other ship before slowly making your way down the stairs, calling over your shoulder, "Something along those lines, Mr. Kim."

His brows furrow. How do you know that name?

Grabbing the rigging in one hand, you lean over the railing shouting above the sound of the cannons, "I believe you have something that belongs to me, Choi!"

Seungcheol frowns, stepping closer to the railing of his own ship. "I owe you nothing!"

»»————-　➴　————-««

Both ships' crew members hold their fire as they listen to the conversation between the two captains.

If they didn't know any better it would be a lovers quarrel, but there's definitely more than what's being told from either party. Leaving crew members in the dark at the vagueness of the situation.

»»————-　➴　————-««

Sprinting to the top deck, Yunho’s eyes look around widely for either you or Hongjoong. Seeing you first he runs in your direction, dodging crates that are sliding on the top deck.

"Ma'am!" He pants, hands grasping the railing in front of him as he gains your attention.

Yunho is caught off guard by how quickly you whirl to face him, the fiery look in your eyes alarming him. Swallowing his nerves he tells you, "the ship, it's filling with water. We have nothing to plug the new holes in!"

He can see the way something shifts in your gaze, the anger that was in them flickered before steeling again.

"Ready the last lifeboat. Grab anything of importance, and sail out to meet the Treasure."

Yunho's eyes widened in alarm. You had sent a group to retrieve the Treasure? Whirling around to face Port Royal, he sees a familiar ship approaching quickly. They did it!

You give him a quick shove to get him moving. "Hurry!"

Stumbling slightly he manages to right himself before running back below deck.

»»————-　➴　————-««

Yunho catches himself at the bottom of the stairs as he makes his way to the sick bay of the ship. He needs to gather the supplies, the medicine, the medicine Jamie freaked out over when you fell ill. Bursting through the door he stops short, surprised to see Seonghwa already in there with a burlap sack.

The majority of the shelves are already empty of their usual contents. And he sees the herb that Jamie bought grasped in Seonghwa's hand. It's almost as if he hesitates for a fraction of a second before he decides to put it in the bag.

Finally looking up, Seonghwa sees the brunette standing in the doorway. "Don't just stand there! Go grab the bandages!"

Snapping out of it, he nods. Quick to grab the rolls out of the chest beneath the table.

»»————-　➴　————-««

After loading what they could, both men scramble up the stairs to the top deck. They see the crew hurrying to load up the lifeboat, each person trying to squeeze in. The only person who hadn't joined them at the port side is you, and Hongjoong who stands in the middle of the deck seemingly waiting for you to join them.

Hurrying over to Hongjoong, Seonghwa asks, "What is she doing? Doesn't she know the ship is filling?"

"She knows," Yunho tells him, shrugging the bag further up his shoulder.

"Then she should be over here, helping to get off this damned piece of wood," Seonghwa grits out.

"Just go put the stuff in the boat," Hongjoong pushes them in the direction of the boat, and turns to you. Maybe he can pull you out of whatever stupor you seem to be in.

Turning on his heel he begins to make his way over to you. Stepping up to your side he can see your hands tightly wrapped on the railing. Gently he covers your hand and slowly uncurls your fingers from the death grip on wood. It seems to pull your gaze away from the other captain, your sole focus on the ashy haired man in front of you.

"C'mon, it's time to go."

Maybe it's a trick of the light, maybe even a lantern flare, but you see a glint out of the corner of light from the opposing ship and without a second thought push Hongjoong down to the deck. The echo of a flintlock being fired echoes loudly and there's a searing pain in your shoulder.

Hongjoong stares in shock as you fall to your knees in front of him, holding your shoulder. In the same instance, another cannonball hits the side of the ship tilting it precariously. Both you and Hongjoong slide across the deck. Hongjoong manages to brace himself against the side rails, but you slide through the hole in the rails where the gangplank would be.

Leaning over the side, Hongjoong can only watch as your body crashes below the surface of the waves. The only thing resurfacing is your feathered hat.

"Son of a bitch!" Hongjoong cries, fist banging against the railing. The one person who potentially had answers for him is gone. Shakily standing to his feet, he doesn't have much time to dwell on the fact that you disappeared. The calls of Seonghwa and the rest are beckoning him to hurry to them so they can get off this death trap. Time is running thin and before they know it, they'll all be in a watery grave.

Pulling Hongjoong into the boat by his sleeve Wooyoung asks, "Where's YN?"

Hongjoong averts his eyes before looking to meet his boatswain. "She fell overboard after getting shot."

The silence is deafening as San and another pirate lower the boat into the ocean.

"So, she's just gone? Just like that?" Jongho asks, eyes scanning the water for any sign of you.

Hongjoong can only nod, not really sure how to answer. The only thing he saw was you getting shot instead of him, and then you falling overboard. He didn't have a definite answer, or at least not one anyone would like to hear.

"Let's, let's just get to the Treasure," Seonghwa murmurs, dipping his oar into the water.

The boat ride is silent other than the sound of water lapping against the edge of the lifeboat, and the oars pushing them along.

Hongjoong watches out the back for anything, maybe a sign that you're out there, but all he sees is the burning of the Astraea as it sinks lower into the ocean.

»»————-　➴　————-««

As the two pirates return from below deck, they pause. Out on the open water is a ship set aflame and sinking below the surface.

Jamie runs to the bow, hands gripping the railing. He can hear Mingi call after him, but it falls on deaf ears as he watches his home descend further into the ocean. Tears prick at his eyes and he bites his lip from letting out the sob that causes his chest to ache.

Running up to the young boy, Mingi points, "Look, the boat is almost here. Let's get ready to haul them up."

Rubbing his cheeks, Jamie nods and follows behind the older man to the backside of the captain's quarters.

»»————-　➴　————-««

"Are you ready up there?" A voice calls from below.

"Aye, we're ready!" Mingi hollers.

Two ropes are thrown up and both men deftly catch them, and begin hauling up the men in the boat. As soon as they are close enough, some of them begin to crawl over the railing to ease the burden.

Seeing as Hongjoong is the last to step out, Jamie feels panic seep into his bones, "Where's Mother?"

There's a long pause between the men that were aboard the Astraea. No one wants to be the one to break the bad news to him.

Swallowing thickly, Hongjoong grabs Jamie's elbow and tries to bring him to his quarters.

Panic swells and turns into aggression as Jamie rips his elbow from Hongjoong's grip, almost like a defiant child. "No, whatever it is can be said here!"

He can see the way the captain's shoulders sag in defeat before meeting his gaze.

"She fell overboard after a cannonball hit the edge of the ship," Hongjoong tells him, trying to contain his own emotion. You saved him.

At his words Jamie can feel himself collapsing. Arms curling around his knees as he lets out the most pained scream any of them had heard. The dam had finally broken on the boy, as he cries. The eerie silence is replaced by the cries of a young boy, who had to grow up too fast and lost the last person who was like family to him.

Yunho gently pulls the boy apart from himself, and carries him like a mother would a child, down the steps to the sick bay.

The group watches as the gentle giant comforts the boy as the cries turn to whimpers.

»»————-　➴　————-««

Seungcheol couldn't help the jealousy that swirled in his gut. Seeing you with him. No one was supposed to be there for you. It should've only been him to comfort you. But he was the bastard that blew it.

After watching your body go beneath the waves he turned away, ordering his men to cease fire and begin heading back to port. Nothing more can be done now.

He could feel the guilt eating at him, but he pushed it down. Running away from the issues he created once again.

»»————-　➴　————-««

The wind was knocked from your lungs a second time as your back collided with the hard surface of the water. Stinging pain runs along your skin as you sink further. Bubbles slip past your lips as you try to focus your watery gaze on the surface. Broken fragments of light reflect through the water, and pieces of wood and fabric sink with you.

This isn't such a bad way to go, you think. Eyes feeling heavy and your chest feeling tight, like someone was sitting on you.

You feel like you should be panicking. For God's sake, you're drowning, you should be feeling something! Except you don't.

Opening your eyes you can make out the mast of a ship toppling over, crashing through the space you were looking at.

Closing your eyes the final time you feel the last of the air slip past your lips. Maybe now you'll finally be set free.

Suspended in the water with bits and pieces of your ship, you feel it. The ache that pulses through your body. The one that starts from the back of your neck and spreads out to your extremities. You feel out of body as your body panics, but you mentally don't feel it.

Righting yourself, you kick your back legs as you begin swimming for the surface. Careful to dodge any pieces of the ship that are still sinking.

Breaking the surface of the water, you grab a plank of wood. The small bits of energy you had ebbing fast. I knew it couldn't be that easy.

»»————-　➴　————-««

Every crew member is sitting near the railings with a lantern, hoping that by some miracle that they'd be able to find you among the wreck.

Jongho's eyes pick apart every piece of wood that still remains on the surface, and finally he thinks he sees something. Hope flaring in his chest as the ship sails closer.

And luck has it, it's you, passed out on some splintered wood.

Pointing he shouts, "Man overboard!"

The pounding of feet can be heard as everyone gathers at his shoulders to see where he's pointing, and sure enough, there you are.

It's San and Wooyoung who are running to the lifeboat at the back of the ship. Using the light coming from the lanterns they are easily able to make it to you, pushing the debris out of the way with their oars.

"Easy does it," Wooyoung mutters, as both he and San lift you out of the water and into the boat.

San begins looking for a pulse and when he finds one he sits back with a sigh, "It's faint, but it's there."

»»————-　➴　————-««

"They have her!" Mingi shouts up to Hongjoong, who hasn't moved from his spot at the helm.

He might not acknowledge it, but his chest lightens knowing that you're safe.

He watches the commotion as his men hurry to bring you on board.

Even Seonghwa can't stop the medic in him from rushing you down to the sick bay. He holds you tightly to his chest with his arms under your legs and head. It doesn't matter that your clothes are soaking his. Whatever he thought about you before doesn't matter.

Laying you on the table next to the bed in the sick bay, he tears open your shirt, save for the band that binds your chest. He scans you for the bullet wound but grimaces at all the scars that adorn your body. Shoving down any of those thoughts he notices a raised bump on your right shoulder near your collarbone. Poking it with his finger he can feel where the bullet lays, the unfortunate thing is that your skin has already formed and closed over it.

Sucking in a breath he pulls out his knife, Seonghwa hated doing this to anyone, but it had to be done. Bringing the blade of his knife to your skin he presses down, cutting away the new skin. Blood bubbles up around the knife as the skin pulls away from it. Finally having an opening large enough, he digs his fingers into the wound trying to retrieve the round bullet. He can hear you groan in pain as he continues to push apart the muscles in your shoulder. After a few more long seconds, Seonghwa's finger touched metal. Gingerly, he pulls it out. As soon as he has it out, he eyes the way his hand and the round piece of lead are stained red with your blood.

Opening the drawer on the table he begins to look for thread and a needle, but stops. Turning to look at you he watches the way your skin begins to sew itself back together.

"Neat trick," Seonghwa murmurs, opting for a rag and clean water. At least he can clean the healed wound at your shoulder.

Arms dangling off his knees he lets his head hang, just sitting on a barrel beside the table you lay on, lost in thought.

It's whe. It's when he feels a hand brush his hair back from his forehead that he sits up in shock.

You wear a tired smile, but it's genuine. A raspy thank you leaves your lips. A small smile settles on his face as he grabs a hold of your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

»»————-　➴　————-««

Masterlist

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Taglist: @ms-starlight @ateenie @feelingw00zi @soft4svt @madnpan @ph0ebevix @myjiminmychimchim @sugarrmint @peachjoong @coffee-in-seoul @mythicalamphitrite @lilactangerine @starillusion13

DM or ask to be added to taglist c:

#harmonie-writes #atz x reader #ateez x reader #polyteez x reader #ateez pirate au #atz pirate au #the buccaneer queen series #the buccaneer queen

[that-glitter-chick]

Day three of Skystar Week! Prompt: Miracle, song: Baby Mine from Disney’s Dumbo.

Ficlit: Wings of Hope

Starscream was trembling.

Not with anticipation of conquest and victory, nor with fear for his very life. No, for once in all his vorns Starscream, dispossed prince of Vos, top of his class at the Iacon Science Academy, ex-commander of the Decepticon Armada and surprisingly devoted family mech, was trembling with joy.

Pure, unadulterated, undeniable joy.

“Beloved?” Skyfire whispered, tilting his helm from where it had been resting on his Conjunx shoulder kibble. “You’re weeping.” The forging had been very easy for the large ex-Autobot soldier, given how their Sparkling was more akin to its Sire in size.

“She’s just so beautiful…” the Seeker managed to sob, gazing down at the tiny new life cradled in his servos.

“Uh, guys… I’d hate to break up your alone time with your brand new Bitlit, but if we don’t let Updraft meet his cousin soon, I’m afraid he’s going to break down the door.” Thundercracker chuckled through the comm-link on the far wall of the medical bay.

Starscream snorted a laugh of his own and hit a button on the recharge birth they were currently cuddling on. “Alright you lot, get in here and meet the latest member of our unit.”

Updraft came charging in like a possessed Predacon and practically leapt onto the bed, only just barely resisting activating his thrusters in his eagerness.

“Carefully now, little Mech.” Skyfire’s engine purred as he caught their nephew and gently held him to his side. Close enough to see but not touch, at least not until he calmed down some. “Zephyr is brand new, we must be careful how we handle her.”

“She’s so tiny!” The Sparkling exvented in perfect awe. He looked up into his uncle’s crimson optics “Was I ever that small?”

“We all were at one point, Sweetspark.” Novastorm enlightened her son.

“So when are you two going to have one of these?” Starscream smirked at Skywarp and Windblade. He had to bite his lip to keep from barking a laugh as his youngest brother gulped visibly and his sister-in-bond looked horrorstricken.

“No way!” The purple Mech and his crimson Femme blurted in unison.

Little Zephyr wailed, letting her family unit know in no uncertain terms that the latest “Princess” of the Royal family of Vos, did not appreciate her nap time being interrupted.

#skystarweek #skystarweek 2023 #g1 transformers #g1 starscream #g1 skyfire #oc #maccadam #skystar week 2023 #skystar week

[character-profiles]

Event: The Gnome Incursion

After the Sun Incident, the Gnomes, mad about the brief release of the Ice People, sent out a warning to a few of the Exclams, threatening a war to come within a week's time. According to Gnomish Folklore, they believe the sun to be a creation of a deity, made to seal the Ice People away in their caves so that the rest of the world could thrive unimpeded by the vicious magics of the Ice People. Attempts to prepare for the upcoming @gnome-armada were soon underway, such as two separate search parties scouting out potential Gnomish Territories. While they did find a few, one of the search parties went awry, having gotten lost in a forest. This lasted about a day until they finally managed to light a big enough signal fire to be found.

Throughout the week leading up to the Gnome Armada's Incursion, five major events happened; The Statalus incident, The Goblin Horde, The Dark Web Spider Breach, SYSTEM CORRUPTION, The Crimson Woodlands and The PLUS-MINUS CONTINGENCY. Three of which had lasting effects well into the incursion itself, namely SYSTEM CORRUPTION, CARR10N INFECTION and PLUS-MINUS CONTINGENCY.

Before the war was to begin, an ambush party went out to confront the leader of the armada, Hᴇᴀᴅ Lᴏʀᴅ Hɪɢʜ Tʜᴇ Rɪɢʜᴛ Hᴏɴᴏʀᴀʙʟᴇ Gᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ Uᴛʜᴀʀ, consisting of @war-causing-interrobang, @percontation-mark, @druid-exclam. General Uthar, using the "Booty Buster 5000" and Red Mushroom Oil, defeated the party and forced them to retreat.

Early on in the conflict, @nefarious-exclam was taken out of the fight, having an iron gnome-shaped cannon ball blasted straight through him via cannons. Some time afterward, @mini-games surrendered herself to a group of gnomes and was escorted to a gnomish prison to be held while the rest of the armada took on Exclamania.

This conflict was resolved when @epcuartbook, brand new to the world of Exclamania at the time, had personally arranged the peace treaty after being brought to the gnomes' base camp. She served as the neutral party since she was so new to Exclamania. The people of Exclamania got together and chose their representatives for the peace meeting. The people chosen for this were @magic-foraging-tooltips(only Forage was present), @nefarious-exclam(under a guise of "Exclamarious"), @system-notifs, @magical-experiments, @trudle-the-faerie, @character-profiles, @combat-menu, @cmd-semicolon, @unskilledpoint, and @shady-item-shop. Along with the gnomish representatives of the Gnomish Armada, were @story-choices, and @rpg-weather-cycle, having fought on their side during the war.

A treaty was proposed, and the terms were decided: - Nefarious would have to be under constant surveillance with the reports going directly to a gnomish representative and research of - Mini was to be surveilled as well, and the research into her ice infection is to be funded by the gnomes. - Those who had fought against the gnomes were to aid in the rebuilding and healthcare of the gnomes, whether it be financially or physically. - Small territories were to be given to the gnomes.

Everyone had agreed to the terms, and signed the treaty, thus ending the war.

However, Mini had broken out of the prison during the peace meeting with the help of @level-1-slime and @yourlocalbreadenthusiast. She would hide out with @semi-headless-semicolon, @character-selecton, Nefarious, and Art in Pheriya's Library during the Contingency and Carrion events.

#epprbcu event #epprbcu lore #punctuationverse #punctuation lore #epprbcu #!cu #exclamation point pfp rpg blog cinematic universe

[wizard-news]

News for the Week

Anti-Bard Riots Begin, Hostages Taken

Cam Camcam

With the revelation that the Missing Day Thief (aka Dame D'Lune) may be a bard, the upper-class of the allegedly classless City of Towers have been whipped into a frenzy. Multiple bardish taverns and studios have been raided and burned. The occupants of the Stellar Lounge have been taken hostage by a wizard identified as Johnilud "Blaster" Sheard. We hear reports of resistance among the hostages, but contact is thus far slim.

Universal Incursion and You

First Wandsperson of the City of Towers, extraversal correspondent.

When you encounter something from another universe, or even another multiverse, you may be confused or even frightened. It's not uncommon for something from another universe to force itself into yours, or fall through on accident. In fact, just over a week ago an entire country that did not previously exist fell into this one through unknown means, by the name of "Exclamania".

In any case, here are some basic steps for when you encounter something from another world.

Stay calm. You can't do anything if you panic.

Ascertain stability. Check if the object or entity is degrading or showing unexpected visual or auditory effects. Do not come into contact with an unstable object or entity, instead keep a safe distance and call a representative of your local Council immediately.

If stable, ascertain reason for coming. Did they fall through accidentally or were sent? Common signs of accidental incursion are time dilation and chromatic abberation.

Be gentle. Just because they're currently stable doesn't mean they'll remain so. A soft touch helps ensure a firm anchor.

Gnomes on the March

Goodman Boris

An armada of gnomes hav been seen making their way along the countryside, recruiting along the way. They were headed towards the Exclamation Kingdom, and should be arriving about two hours ago.

Last Bank Closes

Clarkii Kelp

The last bank in the City of Towers, The Last Crimson Bank of The City, has closed. The proprieter, a shrivelled corpse known as "Banker", could not be reached for comment, as it had withered into dust.

#shorter one today #wizard news

[boxwinebaddie]

how many piercings does rm stan have?

...so many, anon.

So...So...Many.

he also quite literally wants more but management implemented a urgent ravenstanban on him putting more holes & reckless, ~juvenile~ piercings on the 'Face of PunkRock Super Band Crimson Dawn'.

he complained soooo much!!!! he was like Okay But Kenny Got To—and they were like raven, kenny is kenny!!!! kenny plays bass and wears the skull face mask, you are The Lead Singer Of The Band, smh.

laaaaame!!!! whack!!!!

why does everyone hate fun and Hot Boy Shit?

speaking of!

welcome to the ravenstan piercing whore couTOUR. <3

( i got weirdly specifically & passionate abt this — soz )

so he has his eyebrow pierced — it's his left one. one of my favorite things i've written lately is that the two dots go from being a colon to a semi-colon when he furrows his brow, haha. he also does wiggle his eyebrow at little kids at the childrens hospital to make them laugh. also the eyebrow piercing has no significance...i just think its cool, lol. but pep!stan wanted to pierce his eyebrow so raven is living his dream...which is actually a nightmare tbh...being a rockstar sucks. :/

i think his nose is pierced in two places? i want to say he's got a lil nose ring on the left side also and his septum is pierced...love u rae. i feel like the nose ring is usually just a lil silver ring moment or its a stud if he...can't find a nose ring...he loses everything, jersey does organize all his lil emo boy hot topic jewelry later btw. i think that happens even before they are dating bc kyle worries abt him, aaa!

anyways! i think the septum is also p standard, like usually its just the little spheres on the ends, sometimes cool spikes happen? i think they were stars once bc i love starboy stan -- but i also saw this really sick one on pinterest that is bat shaped and i got OBSESSED w/ it! i think that happens sometimes on special occasions bc its COOL!!!!

okay...uhhhhh, so his ears are pierced like Everywhere. in every possible place. i think a lot of them are also just little ring moments, studs and stuff, but his industrial is in and i do think R-A-V-E-N is engraved on it, also sometimes there are little lightning bolts or spikes or xs or lil emo boy crosses hanging off the armada of ear piercings on ravens ears that match the big cross earring which i feel like...looks like this? when the big cross isn't in i feel like its usually something sick like OMG ONE TIME IT WAS A BIG SWORD??? or like a skeleton guy hanging off!!! an anatomically correct human heart?

speaking of skulls and skeletons and things!!!!! THE ICONIQUE RAVEN LIP RING!!!!!! it is just a normal ring sometimes like everything else, but i think the ravenstan signature is the one that looks like a sick ass skeleton hand like??? HELLO??? HES SO COOL?

speaking of being rlly cool, if hes feel really spicy, i feel like he breaks out the crazy hot boy lip ring chain that connects to his ear? idk how to explain that...like This? like the edgy lip ring chain cuff? either way, i am obsessed, he is giving half mexican rockstar miyamura from horimiya. and that's so real bc izumi is gods secret emo angel tbh.

the lipring chain thing...does make kyle extremely feral, btw. like the lip ring in general already makes him feral but...Whew! also i do think he has a little chain that matches the sun and moon one on kyle's glasses BC THEY ARE GAY AND REALLY EXTRA AND MATCH!!!!

ravesey is truly a opposites attract-ive uber fine as hell mega sexy power couple i love them so badddd!!!! pleeease kiss me aaaaa

okay so listen hES NOT ALLOWED TO GET HIS NIPPLES PIERCED AND RAVEN WAS LIKE BOO YOURE ALL SO LAME!!!!! but hes quite literally not supposed to draw attention to the chest area ( which...is that why they put him in the tiny little pants? but also they do still put him in the tiny shirts...however as scandy as he is 25/8 no one has EVER seen raven of crimson w/o a shirt on and everyone is down absolutely horrendous about it...kyle...included...*sprays w/ water* )

also the ex cd guitarist ( who was also a college student, particularly in the area of pre-med/being a surgeon ) was like so i did a lot of research and after top surgery, trying to get pierce things around there is not a good idea, its not super safe also, ur nips could fall off.

and ravenstan was like omg ur being Paranoid!!! itll be fine and then one day, oh my GOD, it was just the guys being dudes and it was 147309473 degrees in the CD manwhoresion bc its old af and ravenstan whipped his shirt off and everyone was staring at him and he was like Jesus Christ You Guys Quit Objectifying Me skdlhs and they were like rAVEN YOU ONLY HAVE ONE NIP SLKHDSLKDLSKHDLKHDS AND HE WAS LIKE EXCUSE ME AND WAS LIKE OHHHHHHH MY GOD WHERE THE FUCK IS IT????

when i tell you they were screaming, crying and throwing up, on their hands and knees searching high and low, HEEEELP!!!! also dw, they found it BUT OHHHHHH MY GOD IT WAS SO FUNNY, he had to get it surgically reattached, all was well...but that dream died with like all of the sensation in his chest area p much...amazing.

but like…

are you really bros if u don't drop everything to look for ur other bros nipple graft & give him positive affirmations during his panic attack?

when i tell you the crimson dawn boys were soul bonded....i mean it. they were literally brothers, i love them but shit happens...smh.

OKAY LASTLY THO!!!!! so i think c.d. was raising money for charity bc they are my charity kings and kenny, being very unhinged, was like okay if we get This Many streams on blood moon i will pierce whatever part of ravens body u guys want wHILE RAVEN WAS IN THE BATHROOM?! IM FUCKING??? he came back and was like ok why is everyone laughing wtf was going on and kenny was like, dw worry just uh...how is ur pain tolerance...and do u have an innie or outie belly button for science and he was like eXCUSE ME KHJSLHS

anyways...they were sloshed, as per usje, it was NOT management approved they did it ON STREAM HELP, raven like PASSED OUT, incredible...oh my god. but now ravens belly button is pierced lmaooooooo, i am crying he was not stoked but he put the cool ass pentagram belly button piercing in and it matches the sick waist chain and hes kinda feeling himself tbh...hes so Fine...pray 4 kyle.

i think...that's it? he do b thinking about that nose chain piercing or the labret kENNY WAS TRYING TO HAVE HIM GET THE HIP ONES AND HE WAS LIKE KENNY NO MORE PIERCING THINGS ON THE LOWER HALF OF MY BODY GO TO HORNY JAIL!!!! like i personally think he would have slayed that w the edgy hip tattoos BUT ANYWAYS HES STANBANNED FROM PIERCINGS! but thats ok the only piercing hes looking forward to rn...is jerseys piercing gaze.

amen, gaymen, live laugh love ravesey world domination and hot boy ravenstan with all the fruity emo boy saucy lead singer boy piercings!

-uncle nina, who is surprised my son's belly button piercing did not get infected because that was seriously unethical and unsterile, also i'm still laughing abt raven losing a nipple, that was so unserious

#sorry this was so weirdly detailed #i am very passionate about all the ravenstan piercings #they are very cute to me #like the lip ring w the lip ring chain is my favorite thing ever like he is soo fione there is no reason for that level of harlotry #when i tell u kyles type is literally just cute pathetic goth boy #with all the lil emo boy piercings and the combat boots and the cool dyed hair but is also gods sweet angel #thats so real of him tbh #when u think raven is when u have scary dog privledge but its actually just jersey who...ok ill go into it later #but he pierced One Ear...he was too baby to get the other one pierced like he got swindled into it bc someone was like You Wont! #which is u say that to kyle he is like OKAY BET #but yeah no he had a panic attack in the claires he could not do the other one THEY SAID THEY WERE PIERCING ON THREE THEY PIERCED IT ON ONE #he was not having it omg so its like the only thing abt him thats asymmetrical but the same way that kyle having stan ask for stuff #helps him get confident kyle having things abt him that arent completely level or perfect help him fight his ocd and control issues #love them omg #my sons #also all the raven jewelry is silver w like red accents sometimes bc crimson dawn nation we are UP #when his hair was a little red...truly immaculate content #literally if stan is in gold jewelry its not his and its probably like a kyle necklace or sometimes he steals the other gold kyle sun dangl #earring when he misses him and its the only thing he doesnt lose besides the red heart glass vial necklace #ANYWAYS IM DONE NOW IM OBSESSED

[booksteaandtoomuchtv]

In The Lonely Hour (1/10)

A03 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Summary: A collection of canon-compliant(ish) one-shots that provide glimpses of Killian's life based on the album "In the Lonely Hour" by Sam Smith.

Mind on My Money After turning his back on a corrupt king, Killian finds purpose in piracy. 

“We'll sail under the crimson flag and give our enemies no quarter.”

Cheers rose from the men - there was far more money to be had in piracy and, apparently, more honour. Killian marched toward the helm, exuding confidence and daring any man to entertain a moment’s fantasy of mutinying against his command. It seemed the cheers were earnest in their support of his command and his newest career path for the former soldiers.

He expected some of the men to hesitate when he proclaimed that they fly the crimson flag rather than a black flag. But, it seemed the senseless loss of their beloved former captain had hardened their hearts as effectively as it had his. He felt the heavy, lifeless body of his brother in his arms, still warm even as his eyes dimmed without the presence of Liam behind them any longer. Anger filled him as he pushed away the intrusive memory, that had stolen his breath and made his hands sweat so that he had to tighten his hold on the ship’s wheel. He welcomed the anger, it made him feel stronger than the desolate despair that had previously encompassed him.

For months, the anger gave him purpose. It fuelled him, empowered him, and drove him in his tireless campaign against the King's navy. His reckless actions and calm leadership in battles painted a brutal reputation that his men boasted about at every port after they had a few too many, but well-earned, pints.

As he watched a heavily-burdened frigate on the horizon try to change course at the sight of his ship, Captain Jones smiled in anticipation of the chase and battle to come. Killian felt a glimmer of warmth - was that pride? - in his chest that his deeds had the best captains of the King’s armada fleeing whenever they caught a flicker of a crimson red flag or navy hull in their spy glasses.

“Raise the crimson, boys!” Killian’s smile was near feral, adrenaline blazing through his body as he steered the Jolly Roger to intercept the naval ship. The sharp clip of orders, the rumble of cannons being rolled into position, and the excited shouts of his crew as they caught up with the Anthem of the Realm rose from the deck and fed the fire in his veins. He never felt more alive than he did in these quiet moments right before…

BOOM!

The crack of wood splintering was met with cheers as the Jolly’s cannon hit her mark. Water splashed onto the deck as the Anthem’s answering cannon fire fell short. Killian gave the wheel to Mr Starkey and jumped down to join his men on the deck. As the sea began beating at the hull, the waters angry by the disturbance caused by the battling ships, he took his place to lead the boarding party as his first mate brought them closer to the pride of the royal navy.

The steady thud of heavy grappling hooks hitting and scraping along the deck made Killian smile. The navy was coming to them. It would be an easier fight if they didn’t have to traverse to the other ship. The Jolly groaned in protest as the boarding lines pulled her toward the larger ship, but her crew held off the sailors as they attempted to cross by cutlass and arrow.

The waters were as crimson as the flag he flew by the time he stood on the deck of the Anthem, her captain trembling at the end of his blade. The captain had been found locked in his quarters, tucked safely away, while his men died around him. His words were desperate words that Killian had heard countless times, “There are chests of gold below deck. I can lead you to them. Please, will you spare me?”

“We’ve relieved the ship of her burdens before finding you cowering beneath your bed, Captain.”

He returned to the Jolly Roger, her hull lower in the water with the pilfered jewels, gold, food, and barrels of fine rum. He cut the lines holding her to the Anthem. Starkey was already pulling the Jolly away from her latest victim. He watched with a satisfied smile as the finest ship in the King’s navy and the last stronghold the king held over these seas sank to the seafloor, taking her craven captain down with her.

The sunset filled the sky with brilliant oranges and reds, and the seas calmed once they claimed the Anthem. His crew celebrated their new fortunes and the lives they fought to keep that day. As they toasted their captain for claiming ownership and power of the seas of the realm, for bringing them wealth, for leading them to victories, for fighting the Kraken, for charming mermaids, and for even more ridiculous myths as the night grew older, he watched the stars.

The anger that had kept him such constant company had started to fade. As a star darted across the night sky, Killian found himself hoping that he could find something, anything to fill the void it was leaving in its stead.

#Killian Jones #Captain Swan #CS fanfic #Liam Jones #angst #lots of angst #i mean the source material is all angst #In the Lonely Hour #Sam Smith #it was going to be Lewis Capaldi but it was too devastating #the happy ending is in canon #because you won't find it here #fanfic by Jas #manip by Jas #it's me - I'm Jas

[the-iris-files]

FILES IN DATABASE:

[DELTA CLASSIFICATIONS]

D-0000 [SCRIPTURE]

D-0001 [CORRUPTED]

D-0002 [MANGO]

D-0003 [THE COUNCIL]

D-0004 [THE JUDGE]

D-0005 [CALL OF THE CROW]

D-0006 [CORRUPTED]

D-0007 [CORRUPTED]

D-0008 [QUESTSEARCHER]

D-0009 [THE DEIMOS VIRUS]

D-0010 [WHIMZI]

D-0011 [THRYLL]

D-0012 [BLACK ONI]

D-0013 [CRIMSON CRUSADER]

D-0014 [CORRUPTED]

D-0015 [CORRUPTED]

D-0016 [CORRUPTED]

D-0017 [CORRUPTED]

D-0018 [CORRUPTED]

D-0019 [CORRUPTED]

D-1231 [DIVIDE AND CONQUER]

D-8008135 [MARRIAGE TROUBLES]

[ARMADA CLASSIFICATIONS]

A-0000: [CORRUPTED]

A-0001: [CORRUPTED]

A-0002: [CORRUPTED]

A-0003: [CORRUPTED]

A-0004: [GRAND DESIGN]

A-0005: [CORRUPTED]

A-0006: [CORRUPTED]

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#wizblr: wrath of the gods

[meetinginsamarra]

My Fave Sherlock BBC AUs: Time and Space fics

Around mid-month I´ll do a fic rec list with my fave AU genres or tropes. Summaries are taken from OP´s on AO3.

Buckle up: this long list features time travel, space, sci-fi, aliens, dystopia and robots

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

SPACE/ALIEN/ROBOT

“The Kepler Problem” by kinklock

https://archiveofourown.org/works/4502136

Working in uncharted space exploration was not as exciting as John had hoped, especially when it turned out to be mostly bot maintenance on uninhabited planets. However, the mystery of the repeated, unexplained malfunctions on planet BAK 2212 might turn out to be exactly the kind of adventure he'd been craving.

“The Ichor of Talos” by Nikoshinigami

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19703737

After being convicted of the murder of Sherlock Holmes, Dr. John Watson is sentenced to confinement, therapy, and to the constant companionship of a hologram of his victim to aid in his rehabilitation. While John remains uncertain of his guilt, Sherlock is only too happy to engage in the mystery of his own murder to try and discover why he died and how events set his path to cross with the war-ravaged stranger he's now posthumously bound to.

“The Orpheus Crucible” by Nikoshinigami

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19706218

(sequel to Ichor of Talos)

No one knows where Simulants come from and those who have asked have had better things to do than pursue the answer when faced with extermination. With war still a present concern and Jim Moriarty's involvement left uncertain outside of its threat, the crew of the Black Manta may have taken on much more than they presumed to.

And among the many mysteries left to face them in their voyage lies the answer to the question that has been posed since the very beginning: who killed Sherlock Holmes?

“The Third Kind” by Goldenusagi @fancybedelia

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1871880

The one where Sherlock does know the solar system. Because he’s an alien.

“One of those galactic law things” by Goldenusagi @fancybedelia​

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2082651

Ficlet following The Third Kind. In which Mycroft discovers Sherlock has abducted John.

“Space Travel” by candle_beck

https://archiveofourown.org/works/178029

I would literally cross light-years for you, if someone would only give me a spaceship.

“Identification-series” by tartanfics (8 fics)

https://archiveofourown.org/series/26877

In the London of 2081, aerotaxis are commonplace, personal identification is tied to computers, and robots are tightly regulated. John Watson, former army roboticist, has an expired license and an illegal tri-wing screwdriver in his desk. Sherlock Holmes has fingerprints and a name, and in an office somewhere in Whitehall there are blueprints for the metal underneath his perfect, artificial skin.

“A Hundred Crimson Sols” by elldotsee @elldotsee​

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14151099

Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because...new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab.

"Perdition´s Flames” by i_ship_an_armada @i-ship-an-armada​

https://archiveofourown.org/works/891901

(Star Trek crossover)

Sherlock would do anything to save him. Risk anything. Give anything. His money, his life. His soul. What he does, though, is change both of their destinies forever. Genetic re-engineering is the only option left. It turns out researchers underestimated the life expectancy and potential abilities of genetically re-engineered subjects.The British government and what would eventually become the United Federation of Planets, however, had not.

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

DYSTOPIA

“The Grating Roar” by Engazed @engazed

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12946074

In a London we almost recognise, Sherlock Holmes is a stroppy, solitary genius shirking his civic and moral duty to care for the unfortunate and dispossessed of New Britain. So what is it that possesses him to bring such a wretched, nameless creature with a dark, unspeakable past to Baker Street? Sherlock's life is about to be turned on its head, and all the world with it.

“Beyond Recall” by elwinglyre/MrBotanyB @elwinglyre​

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15338718

Dropped into Cardiff on a mission he doesn’t remember, everyday he wakes to a past he doesn’t recall in a world torn apart by pandemic. William (Sherlock Holmes) finds purpose when John Watson finds him. For Watson, this man is a mysterious thief with the uncanny ability to see into people. But there’s something more to this man, and Doctor Watson helps William find the answers to his “magical” deductions. Is he a mad man? A serial killer? Or just damn clever? And what’s his connection to the epidemic that wiped out most of the world?

“The Prize” by Trillsabells

https://archiveofourown.org/works/280762

On 29 January 2010 an unknown Event wiped out 98% of the population. This is the story of the survivors, four months on.

“Drift Compatible” by J_Baillier @jbaillier​

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15036611

(Pacific Rim crossover)

A washed out war hero struggling with his past. A prodigy who wants nothing to do with his family legacy. Both are looking for something—and someone—worth fighting for in a world where human civilisation is constantly under threat.

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

TIME AND/OR DIMENSION TRAVEL

“A Fold in the Universe” by Engazed @engazed

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3343352

Alpha Sherlock and Omega John are in a relationship. Prime Sherlock and Prime John are not. So what happens when a freak fold in the universe switches one John for the other?

“Nothing Happened in Belarus" by DiscordantWords @discordantwords

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11512797

Six years, give or take. And one night where nothing happened.

“A River Without Banks” by Chryse

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3204689

"You love this, being Sherlock Holmes." He had once. When had it all gone so wrong?

(The time travel fic of all time travel fics, read the additional tags! Angsty af, one of the few fics that truly upset me in parts.)

“Concurrence” by Calais-reno @calaisreno​

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15509295

“How did you come to be in this place?”

I have no idea what possessed me. Perhaps the sheer exhaustion of transport had weakened my filter. Or maybe it was simply that as I looked at the young doctor sitting opposite me, his face calm and professional, but bored (Shares a flat with a mate, who is seducing his girlfriend. Down on his luck. Evidence: clothing and shoes are good quality, but worn. Had to pawn his bag, but could have gotten more for the watch. Sentimental…) I had a sudden whim to give him an interesting story.

I decided that Dr John Watson would at least have something to tell his flatmate tonight when he arrived back at his shabby little flat. Or maybe his girlfriend, if she hadn’t left him yet. And the truth was even more interesting than anything I could make up.

“While you were dead” by Calais-reno @calaisreno​

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26045125

On a stormy night at the hospital, John gets a second chance to say something he regrets not saying.

“Unattainable Touch” by EiswolfZero

https://archiveofourown.org/works/4999894

When John got drunk one night a guy appears in his kitchen. John thinks he's a dream but this guy reappears again, high as a kite.

#my fanfic recs #Time and Space AUs #and robots aliens dystopias

[spacetimesally]

Flying Crimson Squadron is considered a privilege and honor for only the elite and most capable of pilots, and when Sally is given a Commander's Commendation for her role in fending off an armada, a fellow squad member's resentment rises in, "The Bloodthirsty Vicious Lips of Jealousy"

#scifi #science fiction #space girl #retro scifi #new wave scifi #retro futuristic #retro #scifi style #scifi fashion #scifi girl #art #artwork #ai artwork #ai art #ai photo #ai girl #new wave science fiction #red #scifi art #scifi aesthetic #scifiart #pretty #blond #bewbs #helmet #space helmet #stylish

[spotlightstudios]

I had planned on posting these last night, but I was just so eepy.

Anyways, here's Captain Ironside (red) and Grandmaster Blueflower (blue) side by side!

And.... here's a lore-dump thus far:

BlueFlower is my W101 avatar. The only wizard I ever put *any* effort towards. She originates from the school of Ice Magic, and (as all young wizards were) was forced into saving the Spiral.

Her magic takes a toll on her wellbeing, the air around his is always freezing, she's too pale, her hair at some point turned white as snow, and her eyes even changed their colors in sone sort of adverse reaction to her battle against Malistare. She had dark circles under her eyes because she rarely sleeps. She's *always* on the move, only stopping at her house to change her mount or say hello to Laudrec.

She's worn her shroud for years, ever since she found it at the Bazaar as a truly young wizard, and her outfits have only grown more and more layer-filled, recently making the change from armor to robes.

She's a student very focused on her studies, and she's constantly trying to help as much of the Spiral as she can. Always riding on sone sort of crytalline unicorn, pegasi, or elk, she's a force to be reckoned with. The longer she's been at her job, the more patience she's gained. Now, just like a death in a snowy expanse, she gives her enemies no mercy is freezing them to death in the battle circles, simply outlasting them in the cold.

Meanwhile, Ironside is my P101 avatar! Her title being "Silent" isn't just a reference to her Swashbuckling expertise, but she's also a Mute, the development happening shortly after her parents were killed in the mutiny. (Some part of her thinks something she's said as a child had set them off.)

She's young and inexperienced at first. Even with her crew growing by the day, for a long time she simply drove the ship and stood as captain. Subodai was the true "captain" material, and flanked by Ratbeard and Dead Mike who knew to manage a crew, she hardly had to put in any real captaining for quite some time.

But, she got there. Upon being nearly killed in Monquista, she took matters into her own hands. She was still anxious about her crew choosing to stage a mutiny, but instead they were proud when she took the lead and began completely slaughtering the enemy and ordering them around. (Through silent signals, of course.)

She's deathly afraid of the Armada after she was put on their official list of enemies, that never goes away, but she knows better than to run. She has to cut them off at the source.

Her appearances are currently pretty grim. She's short, her armor changes often depending on where she's raiding, but her hat stays the same, the feather reminding her of her first-mate's Warrior Plume. She's always using small knives or a sword/knife combo, never long-range or staffs. And her glasses? Her eyes beneath are a vibrant red as well, but she prefers to see the world through crimson lenses. Everyone is an enemy, everyone's a danger. Until, of course, she's relaxes on her ship at night or celebrating among her crew in a tavern cellar. Then the glasses cone off and she can relax.

She's very chill and easy-going, sass more often than not overtaking her that gets her in some trouble. But, her crew is always there to get her out of it.

Unbeknownst to her, someday she'll be regarded as Captain Ryan Red-Eye, Destroyer of the Armada.

#light's spot #my art #oc #sketch #Silent Ryan Ironside #Natalie Blueflower #p101 #w101 #Blueflower is my childhood wizard #while Ironside is my current day pirate #can ya tell?

[pirateshelby]

The first friend Shelby makes when she drifts ashore is a parrot.

It’s not a particularly good parrot. It squawks and pulls at her hair and steals food from right between her fingers. It laughs at her when she’s struggling to haul logs or tie knots, and she’s pretty sure it curses her out when she’s not paying attention. It’s probably, actually, the worst parrot she’s ever met, and she’s met a lot of parrots! She’s a pirate! 

…Still, though, some companionship is better than none, and the parrot keeps her company through the lonely days that she spends building up the cove. She names it Admiral Platypus and throws food at it to keep it out of her hair and builds him a perch next to her bed. When she greets the sodden castaways who become the Cove’s first citizens, it sits on her shoulder, proud and intimidating, all shining scarlet feathers and confident caws.

She does not consider Admiral Platypus’ previous owner, beyond that they must have been a real jerk, to raise such a terrible terrible parrot. But she loves her terrible parrot, and hopes that maybe, beneath all the insults and attacks, it loves her too.

≈⎈≈

It’s during the day that the former Captain lies moping in her bed that Phoenix—Admiral Platypus, honestly, what a stupid name—takes off into the sky. It’s sure that when the buffoon notices its absence she will lament that even her parrot has left her, but it cares little for the tantrums of a girl who never should have made it as far as she did. It swoops over the ocean and across the sea, and finds its way home, to the shoulder of a far greater captain: a man made of bone who rules the tide with an iron fist and a heart of stone.

Captain Skeletron turns as Phoenix swoops down through his window, a smirk crossing his face as it settles into its familiar perch on his shoulder. “Phoenix,” he greets, “you’ve returned. What news have you?”

“The deposed Captain lives,” Phoenix replies. “She’s found refuge in a cove two days’ south.”

“Interesting,” says Skeletron, tapping his finger against a globe that sits on his desk. He spins it, finding their current location, and tracing down to the shore of the land where the buffoon has made her home. “Thank you for this information, Phoenix.”

Phoenix squawks and flutters up, onto a perch above the desk. Skeletron sits at the desk and pulls out a quill and ink. 

Phoenix tilts its head. “Will you go south to finish the job?” it asks.

“Not yet,” Captain Skeletron says, beginning to sketch out a shape Phoenix can’t see on a sheet of parchment.

Phoenix croaks disapprovingly, ruffling its feathers. “So you’re letting her live? Captain, that can’t—”

Skeleton cuts it off with a laugh. “Now, my feathered friend, who said anything about letting her live?” He finishes his drawing and pulls his hand out of the way, allowing Phoenix to peer down at it. It finds a laugh of its own bubbling up in its chest. “There are simply more efficient ways of going about it.”

Skeletron stands once more and lights the enchanted candle sitting on his desk. The flame flickers to life, purple and gold, and as Skeletron burns the parchment the flame turns a deep, deadly red, casting a crimson light across the room. 

“Fly south, Phoenix,” Skeletron tells it. “And bring me proof of the fool’s death.”

Phoenix lets out a confirmatory shriek and leaps into the air. It slips out through the window and takes to the skies, leaving Skeletron and his armada behind it.

≈⎈≈

Shelby wakes, and at first, it feels like a normal day. Her heart aches a little, the same as it has every day since the duel, but she’s getting better at ignoring it. Groggy and sleep-mussed, she stumbles to her basin and washes her face, the cold water waking her up. She shakes out her hair, tries and fails to run a comb through the knotty mess of waves, and gives up, pulling her bandana and hat over the top instead. She dresses quickly, and finally grabs her gloves.

And it’s at this point that she notices the dark smudge on the back of her left hand.

Heart pounding, she rubs at her eyes with her right fist, clearing the last of the tired blur from her vision. Her eyes focus on the smudge, and her stomach drops as she realises that yeah, that’s exactly what she’d first thought it was.

Shelby stares at the black spade emblazoned upon her skin, the darkness beginning to leach out from the symbol and through her veins. This is bad. This is very bad. And whilst Shelby is the Greatest Pirate Captain Ever, she will be the first to acknowledge that she knows very little of the magic of the high seas.

All she knows is that if she does nothing, this will kill her.

…And she knows, with a sinking sick feeling in her chest, that there’s only one person she knows who can help her survive this.

Joey.

#lore #ic: gave my enemies a knife

[maple-unicorn]

A sapling is planted in the noble and most ancient soil of 12 Grimmauld Place by weary hands. They are trembling, scarred, worn hands that should not belong to a boy.

“What does it mean? ” asks the fiery one.

“It’s a Japanese Maple, ” responds the weary one, “ Neville says they symbolise survival, rest, peace. ”

“I think we deserve a rest,” the fiery one says as water trickles to the sapling’s roots from her wand.

🍁

A sapling survived its first winter in Grimmauld Place. It relishes in warm air and unfurls its crimson buds as many hands place stones at its trunk.

“For Sirius.”

“For Remus.”

“For Tonks.”

“For Fred.”

“For Severus.”

“For Moody.”

“For Dobby.”

🍁

A sapling in Grimmauld Place flourishes while a relationship wilts.

“Why won’t you talk to me? ” asks the fiery one.

“Let me help you ,” she pleads.

“You’re not alone in this, Harry, ” she shouts.

“I can’t live like this anymore, ” she cries.

"I'm sorry." She leaves.

🍁

A peek into Harry & Ginny’s life post-war.

In response to a prompt for the Welcome to the Royal Gardens flash fiction competition in the Dumbledore’s Armada discord.

Full fic @ link below ✨

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #hinny #hinny headcanon #hinny fluff #ginny weasley #harry x ginny #ao3 fanfic #ao3