#rowin fell

[teamrocketmemes]

[ TOTAL DRAMA WORLD TOUR SONGS ] — PART 1

A lyric starter call from the songs heard in the third season of Total Drama. Feel free to change pronouns when necessary to fit your needs.

Come Fly With Us

“We're flying and we're singing!”

“We've got a lot 'o crazy tunes to bust!”

“What did you expect? [Name] is freaking insane.”

“Come fly with us! Come die with us!”

“All contestants must sing in each show!”

Lovin’ Time

“No need to get crazy. It's lovin' time at last!”

“We're mostly full of gas. No, no!”

“And make out till the break of dawn!”

“Scarab mating season.”

“Lovin' time, lovin' time…”

Rowin Time

“Crocodile amigos, what'cha swarmin' for?”

“These crocs are getting killy!”

“Just bop 'em on the nose! I learned that in Muskrat Boys, it vanquishes all foes!”

“All of us are sinkin'!”

“It's rowin' time!”

Before We Die

“We're singing as we're falling!”

“Our lives begin to flash before our eyes!”

“'Cept there's tons we wanna do before we die!”

“But first we must cease dropping, our goal here would be stopping!”

“Pizza! No! Chips and some dip will do!”

Stuck to a Pole

“The strings of my heart are a tangled mess!”

“I ended up stuck to a pole!”

“I fell for every little thing that he said!”

“He's moved on, I'm still stuck in this place!”

“Stuck, stuck, stuck to a pole!”

What’s Not To Love

“The crime is high! The pigeons fly!”

“The dirt and grime make every alley shine!”

“What's not to love about New York?”

“It's crazy, 'cause the city never sleeps!”

“And pretzel stands for all us pretzel fans!”

Baby

“I'm just that brainiac guy left alone to sit and cry.”

“Quench my thirst... for knowledge.”

“I just gotta know… How'd you get so hot?”

“Cause when you walk in the room, nobody lookin' the same!”

“I swear you're changing my molecular structure.”

I’m Sorry

“And I'm sorry, like a mitten that's been dropped and feels so lost.”

“Sorry like a surfer who's busted her board!”

“International TV, huh? In front of all my friends!”

“And if you give me one more chance… I'll do my happy, happy dance!”

“I'm so incredibly, wildly, madly, crazily… Oh, so completely, infinitely, beyond… Sorry.”

Eine Kleine

“Keep it down, so I can win the loot!”

“Toot on, but you're still out of luck.”

“When you don't hold back and lead the pack, truly there is nothing stopping you.”

“Swimming in your eyes, it's butterflies.”

“Wait, something's itching in my brain!”

The Amazon Rap

“We should have just gone left.”

“Now if he gets bitten…”

“Tied up, rope is no joke!”

“Ain't having the luck that I anticipated.”

“Probably means I'm eliminated.”

Paris in the Springtime

“It's the city of love in the summer!”

“[Name] broke my heart and chewed it up and spit it out and then, stepped on it and threw it down a sewer and called it names and then laughed!”

“Oui, my friends! You must never trust a boy!”

“Um, non, my friend. That thing just burned off my shoe.”

“And the boy won't even take you outside-eee!”

Sea Shanty Mix

“I'll have the shrimp, mussels, cod, and the lobster thermidor!”

“I can't get a thing to bite, so we better get there first!”

“It's a sea shanty, and it's darn catchy!”

“[Name], you're a nut-bar, but you sure can catch a fish!”

“No, you can't catch me, with a sea shanty!”

Oh My Izzy

“I miss the way Izzy said hello.”

“Actually, she kinda dumped you.”

“I miss her smile and the way she liked to bite.”

“Oh, I miss the way, she'd always say goodnight.”

“Why'd I ever let you go?”

Save This Show

“Jamaica, they can't even Ja-party.”

“You've gotta help now, we're on the brink.”

“Give us cash or this show dies!”

“So call the numbah!”

“Give it some love and some dough.”

Sisters

“You think you rule the game, I guess.”

“But you don't rule a thing, 'cause baby, you're a squid!”

“You lied right to my face, and messed up my head!”

“And ain't that just the way with men?”

“Sisters, come together now and take him down!”

#★ mod james. #★ our memes. #sentence starters #rp meme #ask meme #inbox meme #musical memes #cartoon memes

[richardxoliverxmayhew]

❝  you know, it’s funny; i keep thinking i’ve seen you before.  ❞ ( uni!verse / perhaps mid-conversation and presumably a lie from ollie just so he can strike a chat !! )

song of achilles rp starters: ACCEPTING

II @ourpretender

The young Scotsman's chest rose and fell with the swelling of his lungs. His collapsed form continued to lay upon the grass, stark arms languid as they draped over his sweat soaked and newly freckled facade. The repercussions of an early morning row often resulted in symptoms of breathlessness, strained muscles, and the savor of mildew clinging to the fabric of his now rumpled button-up... But Richard Mayhew didn't care. He relished in it; catching his breath upon freshly tilled soil, the silence of the world around him, the blissful solitude of it all... Or, so he thought.

His cerulean gaze flashed open as his torso sat up at the sudden timbre of an unfamiliar voice. "Erm...Hullo, there. Sorry, I did'nae' hear ye' comin'." Richard could've sworn he was the only body wandering these parts of the campus. "Oh, is tha' righ'?" he inquired, the corners of his cherried lips twitching into something of a polite yet passive smile. "I mean, it should'nae' be surprisin'. I go here." I go here was all he was going to get. The Scotsman continued to practice aiming his practiced half-smile at the stranger, while a part of him felt along the walls of the croaking stillness between them. The inevitable pounce in the form of a sordid remark or question about his background. "I'm sorry to say, you've go' the upper-hand in this case. I don't think I've seen ye' 'round before. Unless yer' one of the lads in the rowin' team I just happened to somehow overlook."

#//ahhh thank u sm for this!!// #//i hope the reply is oki! pls feel free to let me know if you'd like me to change anything 😌// #//also ahaha richard just being like 'bithc i liiiiiveeee hereeee' afhjkdhkg// #period;uni days;v #ourpretender

[lailoken]

‘Dark and Demon Dogs’

“Haunting the coastline from the Wash to the Deben and beyond, and inland along the Peddars Way into the Brecklands, on marshland roads and mudflats, through the Fens and into the Broads, pads the ancient terror known as Black Shuck. For many hundreds of years the legend of the ghostly black hound has been kept alive and is probably the best known of all East Anglian spectres, still appearing to people today. He is typically seen as a huge, great, black shaggy hound, with blazing red eyes and dragging rattling chains behind him, instilling terror into all he comes upon and considered a portent of impending death or doom by most. Although generally called Black Shuck, he is known by many other names too; the Galleytrot, Old Scarfe, Owd Rugman, Shug Monkey and the Hateful Thing being some, although some form of Shuck or Shuggy is most common. Nor is he always a large black hound, appearing as anything from the size of a Labrador (shrinking into a cat!), a white rabbit in Thetford, to a calf or a donkey and even a monkey on a few occasions. Sometimes he was invisible, only his fierce breath, padding feet, fearful howls or the clanking of his chains giving evidence of his presence. Sometimes he could be seen without his head, but always with his glowing eyes appearing in the middle of where his head should be. One tale from Garveston in Norfolk goes;

‘They du speak of a dog that walks regular. They call him Skeff and his eyes are as big as saucers and blaze wi' fire. He is fair as big as a small wee pony and his coat is all skeffy-like, shaggy coat across, like an old sheep. He has a lane, and a place out of which he come, and he vanish when be bev gone far enough.’

Another informant from the village of Clopton, Suffolk, reported, 'a thing with two saucer eyes', on the road to Woolpit. It would not move out of his way but grew larger and larger as it breathed: 'I shall want you within a week'. The man died the next day.

One Christmas day in the middle of the 19th. Century, Black Shuck pushed against a small, blind boy who was standing on Thetford Bridge with his older sister. The little boy plaintively asked his sister to send the big dog away, but his sister assured him that there was no dog anywhere near them. However, the terrified boy insisted that there was, and that it was trying to push him into the water to drown him. The sister then felt the poor boy being carried away from her; she realised then that what he could feel, and she could not see, must be the terrible Black Shuck that she had heard so much about. Just as her little brother was about to be pushed into the water, she dragged him back from the edge and, hand- in-hand, they rushed off back to their waiting parents at home.

Villagers in the Waveney Valley round about Geldeston call it the ‘Hateful Thing', or the 'Churchyard or Hell-beast'. One old village woman claimed that she saw it one night on the road between Gillingham and Geldeston. She tells the story in the following words;

'It was after I bad been promised to Josh that I saw the Hateful Thing. We met Mrs S. and she started to walk with us. I beard something like a dog running pit-pat-pit- pat-pit-pat. "I wonder what that dog wants", I said to Mrs S. I was walking between Josh and Mrs S. and I lay hold on Mrs S's. arm and she say "It's in front of us; look, there it be." Just in front was what looked like a big, black dog; but it wasn't a dog at all; it was the Hateful Thing and it betokened some great misfortune. It kept on until we came to the churchyard, when it went right through the wall and we saw it no more'.

In Norfolk, Neatishead Lane, near Barton Broad, is a favourite walk of Shuck, as is the cliff path from Beeston, near Sheringham to Overstrand. This recalls the old adjuration in the legend of St. Margaret;

‘Still be though still,

Poorest of all, stern one,

Nor shalt thou, Old Shuck,

Moot with me no more.

But fly, sorrowful thing,

Out of mine eyesight,

And dive thither where thou man

May damage no more.’

A more humorous tale involves the grounding of Noah's Ark on Mulbarton Common, south of Norwich. Scoffers had better not go to Mulbarton. When one village elder was heckled on the point, he replied with some heat;

‘Thass trew! Trew as I stand bere. Where else could it ba' grounded? Aren't this the highest bit o' ground for miles around? When Ole Nick see the Ark be got inter a poont (punt), an' curled his tail up under the thwart and come rowin' around jest as Noah had opened the winder to let the dove in. And Nick sings out: "Mornin' Cap'n Noah. Nice mornin'arter the rain". But ole Noah he sees Nick's tail a-curled up under the thwart an' be sings out: “I know you. You're Owd Shuck! You goo to Hell". And bangs the winder down'.

However, perhaps the most famous accounts of the legend are to be found in Holinshed's Chronicle', an ambitious history of England which was updated to include contemporary events, and a pamphlet entitled A Straunge and Terrible Wunder' written by the Rev. Abraham Fleming, Rector of St. Pancras Church. Both accounts were published in 1577, shortly after the events recorded therein. According to Holinshed's Chronicle;

‘On Sundaie the fourth of August (1577), belween the houres of none and ten of the clocke in the forenone whilest the minister was reading the second lesson in the Parish church of Bliborough (Blythburgh), a towne in Suffolke, a strange and terrible tempest of lightening and thunder strake through the wall of the same church into the ground almost a yard deepe, drave downe all the people on that side above twentie persons, then venting the wall up to the venstre, cleft the doore, and returning to the steeple, rent the timber, brake the chimes, and fled towards Bongie (Bungay), a towne six miles off. The people that were stricken downe were found groueling more than balfe an boure after.......". At Bungay the storm "wroong in sunder the wiers and wheels of the clocks, slue two men which sat in the belfrie, when the other were at the procession or suffrages and scorched an other which hardlie escaped.'

However, Fleming gives the account as starting in Bungay church and includes the infamous Black Shuck;

‘Sunday, being the fourth of this August, in ye yeer of our Lord 1577, to the amazing and singular astonishment of the present bebolders, and abhsent bearers, at a certain towne called Bungay, not past tenne miles distant from the citie of Norwiche, there fell from heaven an exceeding great and terrible tempest sodein and violent..... There were assembled at the same season, to hear divine service and common prayer, according to order, in the parish church (St. Mary's) of the said towne of Bungay, the people thereabouts inhabiting, who were witnesses of the straungeness, the rarenesse and sodenesse of the storm, consisting of rain violently falling, fearful flashes of lightning and terrible cracks of thunder, which came with such unwonted force and power, that to the perceiving of the people...the church did as it were quake and stagger, which struck into the hearts of those that were present, such a sore and sodain feare, that they were in a manner robbed of their right wits.

Immediately hereupon, there appeared in a most horrible similitude and likenesse to the congregation then and there present, a dog as they might discern it, of a black colour; at the sight whereof, together with the feareful flashes of fire which then were seene, moved such admiration in the minds of the assemblie that they thought doomes day was already come.

This black dog, or the divel in such a likenesse (God he knoweth al who worketh all), running all along down the body of the church with great swiftnesse, and incredible haste, among the people, in a visible fourm and shape, passed between two persons, as they were kneeling upon their knees, and occupied in prayer as it seemed, wrung the necks of them bothe in one instant clene backward, in somuch that even at a moment where they kneeled, they strangely died.'

After reflecting somewhat on the wrath of God, he continues;

‘There was at ye same time another wonder wrought; for the same black dog, still continuing and remaining in one and the selfsame shape, passing by another man of the congregation in the church, gave bim such a gripe on the back, that therewith all he was presently withdrawen together and strunk up, as it were a piece of lither scorched in a hot fire; or as the mouth of a purse or bag, drawen together with a string. The man albeit he was in so straunge a taking, dyed not, but as it is thonght is yet alive; whiche thing is mervalous in the eyes of men, und offereth much matter of amasing the minde.

Meanwhile, the Clerk of the church, who had gone outside to clean the guttering, was thrown to the ground during a violent clap of thunder; and at the same time, the wires and wheels of the church clock were 'wrung in sunder and broken in pieces.' Inside the church, the Curate exhorted to prayer and 'comforted the people' until the frightening manifestation of the black hound had passed away, leaving behind it marks on the stones and church door 'which are marvellously renten and torne, ye marks as it were of his clawes or talans.'

According to Fleming, next, on the same morning, in the church of Blythburgh, about twelve miles from Bungay;

'the like thing entred, in the same shape and similitude, where, placing himself upon a maine balke or beum, whereon same ye Rood did stand, sodainly he gave a swinge downe throngh ye church, and there also, as before, slew two men and a lad & burned the hand of another person that was there amang the rest of the company, of whom divers wus blustled. This mischief thus wrought, he flew with wonderful force to no litule feare of the assembly, out of the church in a hideons and bellish likeness.'

The marks of his talons, burned into the inside of the north door of the church, can still be seen today.

Interestingly, archaeologists have recently discovered the skeleton of a massive dog that would have stood 7 feet tall on its hind legs, in the ruins of Leiston Abbey in Suffolk, close to both Bungay and Blythburgh. The remains of the massive dog, which is estimated to have weighed 200 pounds, were found just a few miles from the two churches where Black Shuck killed the worshippers. It appears to have been buried in a shallow grave at precisely the same time as Shuck is said to have been on the loose in this instance.

Coming forward in time, there is a legend of a black dog too, at Blickling Hall, Norfolk. In the 19th century, alterations on the Hall were being made by Lord and Lady Lothian, by the demolition of some partitions in order to form a dining-room;

‘I wish these young people would not pull down the partitions', said an old woman in the village to the local clergyman. Why so?' 'Oh, because of the dog. Don't you know that when A. was fishing in the lake, he caught an enormous fish and that, when it was landed, a great black dog came out of its mouth? They never could get rid of that dog, who kept going round and round in circles inside the house, till they sent for a wise man from London, who opposed the straight lines of the partitions to the lines of the circles and so quieted the dog. But if these young people pull down the partitions, they will let the dog loose again, and there's not a wise man in all London could lay that dog now'.’

This tale is interesting in that it links the occurrence or appearance of the hound with a practical knowledge of geomantic function and is the only tale told of its kind, as far as I am aware. It also links the Black Dog with the liminal area of the lake, which, as we have seen earlier in the chapter, is a gateway to the Other/Underworlds, guarded by supernatural beings; it is possible that the Black Dog may be another one of these guardian entities.

The common name for the black hound, Shuck, is generally considered to derive from the Old English scucca or sceocca, which means a devil/the Devil, a demon or a goblin (the 'sc' in OE being pronounced as 'sh'). There is also the likelihood that it comes from the East Anglian dialect word 'Shucky', meaning shaggy or hairy, a marked characteristic of most descriptions of the Hound. The first known use of the term comes from the Norfolk Chronicle or Gazette, in 1805, in an account by the Rev. E.S. Taylor of Martham as follows;

‘Shuck the Dog-fiend: This phantom I have heard many persons in East Norfolk, and even Cambridgeshire, describe as having seen as a black shaggy dog, with fiery eyes, and of immense size, and who visits churchyards at midnight.’

However, the term was obviously already in use beforehand, but for how long beforehand, no one knows. In regards to the appearance of the phantom in, at or near to churchyards and graveyards, there is another old tradition that is worth noting here. It was customry in years gone by, to bury a black dog in any new graveyard, before any other burials took place. The dog was intended to act as a guardian for the dead who were laid to rest there, and to protect the entrance to the Otherworld, ensuring that none came out – or went in – that were not supposed to. This practice goes back many millennia and is still rumoured to continue today in some areas; the dog is said to be buried in the North, or North-East of the graveyard, the traditional direction of the Dead and the Underworld.

Attempts to explain the origins and nature of the Black Hound have been many, some prosaic and some fantastical. He is said to be the memory of one of Odin's battle hounds, brought over by the Viking raiders in the 9th century. Whilst this may sound appealing, Odin did not have any war or battle hounds, but was accompanied by two wolves, a description never applied to Shuck. It is possible that he is the remains of a 'fetch beast', conjured by the Norse shamans to clear the pathways for their invasions, but there is no remaining evidence for this, however attractive; but the pathways theme is pertinent and I will come back to that in a moment. In the Anglo- Saxon classic, 'Beowulf', previously referred to in the case of Grendel's Dam and the Merewives, the monster Grendel himself is termed a 'scucca' and referred to as master of the fens and moors, some of the very places said to be haunted by Black Shuck in more modern times. He is also linked in popular imagination with the Devil and witchcraft, considered to be the Devil in animal form. Whilst there are recorded cases of the Devil appearing in dog or hound form in Suffolk, the descriptions of Shuck's appearances does not seem to fit any of these. He is often linked with Churches and graveyards, as we have seen, as well as crossroads, being described as coming from, passing over or into, or finishing his perambulations at one or the other; this also links in with the fact that the most recorded instances of sightings/encounters of the hound are on paths, roads, trackways, etc. as mentioned above.

It is these latter aspects of the Black Hound that I think give us the biggest clue to his nature and function; this is either as a guardian of the 'ghost roads' - the energetic and spectral pathways across the Land that guide the spirits of the dead on their way, or lead the spirits of living witches and magical practitioners to locations of power or gatherings of their kind or as a 'psychopomp', guiding the deceased on their last journeys to the Otherworld. It has often been remarked that Black Shuck is nearly always seen walking/padding along or beside a path or trackway and that his presence either heralds or initiates a death or near death experience (sometimes also averting disaster if it is not the person's time to die). It seems highly likely that this Hound is a product of the Living Landscape, given form and function, and imbued with the energy to guard/ guide those souls in need over the liminal point between life and death that we all must pass at some point. That he is given such a form by tradition and local culture only goes to show a living tradition stretching back hundreds, if not thousands, of years, as dogs and hounds have been seen as guardians of the gates of the Underworld for millennia, particularly and especially by the succeeding cultures that have inhabited East Anglia and the rest of these Isles. That he is feared, seen as a/the Devil, shunned and reviled, is only indicative of the lack of understanding of most people of the natural Laws and Ways of the Land and their separation from them.”

—

The Devil’s Plantation:

East Anglian Lore, Witchcraft & Folk-Magic

Chapter 2: ‘Mermaids, Giants and Spectral Hounds’

by Nigel G. Pearson

#the Devil’s Plantation #nigel g. pearson #East Anglian folklore #British folklore #Celtic folklore #spectral hounds #black dogs #black shuck

[ardenssolis]

@tenkoseiensei​ said (inbox):

' yeye, na! you like these, right? ' a single pink lotus flower blossoms in a small pot that he offers to the other. ' it's just one, but it's easier to keep track of a pot than a whole pond. see, up north from the city i used ta live in, there was a lake that was more lily-pad and lotus than visible water. i couldn't visit anymore once i became a bandit ... but if it's with you, i don't mind takin' a trip an' rowin' us out with a boat ! ' he wouldn't even push the other into the water! maybe!

     HMM…YAN QING SOUNDED enthusiastic today. What ridiculous antics would he bring to the Sun King’s attention today? That was the first thought that came to mind as he turned, a curious frown upon his lips. The moment his gaze so fell upon that beautiful lotus, though, entire countenance changed in but an instant. Ah, the sight of that blossom filled him with nostalgia and warmth, memories of his Beloved always so soothing. Hmm…but that aside, why did the Assassin think to bring this to him? Material gifts were a rarity when the other was more willing to offer things less tangible: the melodious sound of plucked strings, a story –

     Although, when he thought about it, there was a time where Yan Qing had brought him alcohol that wasn’t too unpleasant. It was nothing compared to his stores of wine nor that of the Golden King, but it had been decent enough to drink more than once. Reaching out to accept this offered gift, he stared at it pensively for a few more moments before his gaze shifted upwards to meet with bright jade. ❝I had seen so many in life and have always found them beautiful, but I admit the ones in your homeland are truly a sight to behold. Such vibrant petals pushing through the muck beneath the surface…❞ Maybe that was what made them appear so otherworldly sometimes. The fact that they could be surrounded by filth, yet still be so gorgeous to behold. Truly, it was no wonder it was such a fitting gift for gods.

     ❝I would not mind seeing this place you were born in the future. Sometimes even one such as myself enjoys traveling and stretching my legs.❞ Not that he had ever really had a chance to travel for leisure back when he had been a king upon a golden throne. So, it would be nice to have a little ‘adventure’ that did not involve the chaos of Chaldea’s denizens or a potential battlefield in another time or ‘reality’. ❝Very well, then. In the future, I am holding you to this offer.❞

#tenkoseiensei #;v: chaldea days #;;f.go #answered #;;inbox #[OH NO THIS WAS SWEET]

[amycre]

Beachy Crazy

I took a big juicy bite, peach juice rolling down my chin I looked to you as it fell, but then you walked away I wiped my chin with my hand, sticky sweet stuck to the sand I wondered where you would go, oh when you walked away

Your hair was glowin', sun beams, boat's a rowin', Hot day, and I'm floatin' Where you think you're going, baby?

Hey, summer love now, feeling lazy We're on the beach yeah, we're going crazy It's hard to not like, the beach baby We're on the beach year, we're going crazy

Day 26 Prompt: Write a parody. Besides being fun, writing parodies can be a great way to hone your poetic skills – particularly your sense of rhyme and sound, as you try to mimic the form of an existing poem while changing the content. Just find a poem – or a song – that has always annoyed you, and write an altered, silly version of it. Or, alternatively, find a poem with a very particular rhyme scheme or form, and use that scheme/form as the basis for a poem that mocks something else.

#napowrimo #napowrimo day 26 #call me maybe #national poetry month

[verai-marcel]

A Smile Worth More Than Gold (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur x F!OC)

Summary: Arthur comes across a woman in a field, and out of curiosity, decides to speak to her. He makes a friend he’ll never forget. Eleanor Ivie is a collector and an adventurer. When an intimidating man comes to talk to her, she is wary, but is soon charmed by his surprisingly kind demeanor and asks him something neither of them expected.  "Will you hunt treasure with me?"

Author’s Notes: For my dear @writingandsins, who put up with me asking for moodboards for Verai and Everett, not just once, not twice, but THREE TIMES. Thanks for being so patient with me!

Tags: Arthur x OC, fluff, romance, gun violence

AO3 Link is here, my darlings.

Word Count: 5212

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

The sky was blue, the air was fresh and clean, and the scent of wildflowers and fresh earth carried on the light breeze as a young woman stood on top of a rolling hill, leaning on her shovel. Before her eyes, a wood chest, the paint long gone, the metal hinges rusty with age, lay half buried in the soft soil. A smile crept onto her face as she knelt down and started to pick the lock. Now the fun began.

***

Arthur traveled a lot and he’d see a lot of strange things in his time, but today, as he rode his horse off the path through a grassy plain looking for some creeping thyme, he spotted a particularly unusual sight. His curiosity getting the better of him, as it always did, he rode closer until he could spot the shape of a woman, kneeling in the dirt, stabbing away at something. He got off his horse and silently walked closer, wanting to see what she was doing.

Huffing under her breath, the woman lifted up a hunting knife and brought it down, a loud clink echoing around her as she mumbled under her breath.

“Need some help there, miss?”

She turned to him quickly, her other hand immediately going to the pistol on her hip. Her green eyes flashed and stray strands of her auburn hair whipped around her face as she looked at him with suspicion. “I’m doing quite fine, thank you,” she said, her tone polite but laced with warning.

Arthur immediately held his hands up. “I don’t mean you no harm, miss. Just curious as to why a lady was playin’ in the dirt.”

Looking down at herself, she laughed self-consciously. “Oh, I look a right mess, don’t I?” Her shirtwaist, despite rolling up her sleeves, was flecked with dirt, as were her boots. Getting up and dusting off her pants, she extended her hand out to him. “Forgive my rudeness, I don’t particularly like being snuck up on. My name is Eleanor Ivie.”

Her speech was slightly accented, British, he guessed. The cadence of her words was like music, her voice soft and silky, caressing his ears. He smiled despite himself. “Name’s Arthur. Sorry ‘bout sneakin’ up on ya. Didn’t mean to disturb you.” He took her hand and shook it, noting that her arms were freckled, as was her face, reminding him of a young deer. Was the rest of her just as cute? He quickly shoved down the thought before he let go of her hand and nodded at the box behind her. “Need some help openin’ that? I… have some experience.”

***

Eleanor weighed her options; if she allowed this strange man to open up the box, he could potentially overpower her and take the contents for himself. On the other hand, she couldn’t open it without help, and there was no way she’d be able to dig out the chest and carry it all the way back to her tent on her own.

She watched as Arthur took out his gun and handed it to her. “I can tell you don’t trust me. Here. As a sign of good faith.”

Taking the revolver, she watched as he kneeled down in front of the chest, examined the hinges and lock, pulled out his own hunting knife, and with a quick, strong thrust, broke the lock.

“There ya go, Miss Ivie.” He stood back up and took a step towards her, sheathing his knife. It hadn’t occurred to her how big he was until he got closer, but that wasn’t what made her heart skip.

It was his eyes. His smile made them shine, and their color reminded her of the striking blue-green of Cotorra Springs. Momentarily stunned by their beauty, it took a few seconds for her to realize that Arthur was holding out his hand to her.

“May I have my gun back?”

“Oh! Yes, of course,” she said apologetically as she tried to hand back his gun, but she fumbled and nearly dropped it. Trying to catch it in her hands, she felt his hands enclose hers as they caught it together. His touch was warm, his skin calloused, his grip gentle on hers as he plucked the gun from her fingers and holstered it.

Her heart hammering, she swallowed and attempted to look unflustered by the contact. “M-my apologies.”

Arthur just chuckled. “No harm done, my lady.” He gestured back at the chest. “You wanna see what you’ve found?”

“Oh, right,” she said as she found her confidence once more. She had a feeling that there were good heirlooms in there, but she also thought it might be underwear. That would be embarrassing. Not knowing how to dismiss her visitor, she opted for the truth. “It might not be very exciting; could be union suits, for all I know.”

Arthur laughed. “That’d be amusin’ on its own. Who’d bury that way out here?”

Eleanor laughed with him. Of course. How silly. Turning back to the chest, she opened the lid.

***

Looking over her shoulder, Arthur saw some very mundane things in the chest: a pile of clothes, a fancy comb, some hair pins, some gun oil, and a small bag. It was the bag that intrigued him, but he left it alone, thinking that it wouldn’t be right to steal from this lady right after he had helped her. When she reached for it first and emptied its contents onto the pile of clothes, two gold bars fell out. She picked one up and turned back to him.

“Here, for your trouble.”

Arthur was astonished. Half of the take? All he did was open the chest. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, you did help me, after all.”

Taking the proffered gold bar and tucking it away in his satchel, Arthur tipped his hat towards her. “Well, thank you kindly. Guess I better get goin’.”

As he turned to go back to his horse, he felt her hand grip his elbow.

“Wait!”

He looked at her, struck once again by her green eyes. They were a lighter shade than he had ever seen, reminding him of spring leaves. “Yes?” he asked, his voice softening.

“Could… could you… perhaps, help me with another treasure hunt?”

Turning to face her fully, he looked at her, somewhat surprised. “You do this fer a livin’?”

She stood up straight, jutting out her chin, a proud smile on her face. “Yes, this is my job. I’m a collector of artifacts and rare objects.” She leaned towards him. “There’s supposed to be a treasure chest on a small island in Flat Iron Lake. I’ll give you half the gold we find. What do you say?”

Arthur pondered. The thought of gold was awfully tempting, but even more so was the opportunity to spend more time with this intriguing person.

“Alright, I’m in.”

***

They spent half a day gathering supplies for a three day trip, leaving their horses at a nearby stable and walking to the shoreline. Finding an abandoned rowboat, Eleanor praised their luck. 

"This one looks safe," she said as she started to push it out into the water. "I'll check it first."

Suddenly Arthur was at her side, helping her push, his shoulder brushing against hers. Glancing sideways at his profile, she noticed his look of ferocious concentration and quickly turned back to the task at hand. She didn't want to think about how her body warmed at his closeness

Before the boat went farther into the water, Arthur put a hand on her shoulder. "Why don't you get in first, Miss Ivie." He stepped back and held out his hand to help her in. 

"I told you, you can call me Ella," she said as she took his hand, reveling in his touch as he helped her into the boat, his hand hovering over her hip in case she fell.

"Alright, Ella."

Eleanor felt a little thrill at hearing her nickname from him; his voice had such a lovely texture to it. Gracefully stepping into the boat, she started to move towards the oars. 

"I can row," Arthur said as he pushed the boat into the water and hopped in. He shooed her away from the oars and sat down facing her. 

They rowed out into the lake and checked for leaks. After they confirmed that the boat was safe, they went back to shore and grabbed their bags, then set off for the first island. 

"We'll use this large island as our base and make camp for the night after we canvass these few islands here," Eleanor said as she showed Arthur the map she had of the lake. 

He nodded. "Sounds good."

***

The first afternoon was a bust. They had searched and dug and searched some more, but found only a couple of arrowheads and what looked like an old brush. As night began to fall, Arthur pulled out a cigarette and smoked while he leaned against his shovel, impatient to get back to the large island. 

"Almost done," Eleanor said over her shoulder as she jabbed her shovel in the dirt one last time, hitting nothing but sand. "But you're quite right, we should go."

"I didn't say anything," Arthur mumbled as he followed her back to the boat. 

"Didn't need to," she replied. "I could tell." Smiling as she threw her shovel back into the boat, she hopped in and went for the oars. 

"What did I say about rowin'?" he barked as he climbed in after her. 

"You've been rowing all day. I'm not some tenderfoot. I can handle a bit of manual labour." 

Unable to argue with her without disparaging her abilities, Arthur sat back and let the young lady row. It gave him a chance to observe her; Eleanor's brow wrinkled with focus as she pulled at the oars, a drop of sweat making its way from her temple, down her cheek, and into the collar of her shirt. His eyes immediately darted back up to her face. He was fascinated by her; a woman with the drive to search for hours for artifacts that seemed pretty worthless to him, but when she weaved him a tale of how the boar bristle brush was made, he felt swept up in her excitement. She could make something so mundane seem interesting, and he found himself leaning closer to her, perching on the edge of his seat, listening to her every word. 

***

They camped for the night, sharing a quiet meal of canned vegetables and fish that Eleanor had caught. After cleaning up and washing their hands in the lake, she sat on a patch of grass near the shore, enjoying the light of the moon over the water. She heard Arthur pad over to her and sit down. 

"Penny for your thoughts, Mr. Morgan?" 

"Eh, my thoughts ain't worth that much," he said as he chuckled in a self-deprecating tone. 

"Oh, come now. Surely you have something of interest in that head of yours."

Arthur was silent for a moment as he stared up at the stars. "You ever wonder," he said softly, "why the moon glows like that?"

"It reflects the light of the sun."

Arthur looked at her. "Really?" 

Eleanor nodded. She had learned a little bit of astronomy when she was younger. Picking up a stick, she drew in the sand the diagram she remembered long ago. "The sun is huge, but far away. The light travels past the earth to the moon and reflects off its surface."

"Huh. Imagine that." After looking at her diagram for a few moments more, he looked up at her, a smile on his face making him look younger. "Yer real smart, you know that? Why ain't you a teacher?" 

Eleanor was glad it was night so her blush wasn't so apparent. "That's all I remember, really. I don't know why the moon waxes and wanes, I don't know why the moon glows red some nights and white the others."

"I always imagined… well, never mind what I imagined."

She reached out and touched his knee. "Please, tell me! I'm interested!" 

"It's silly."

"I promise I won't laugh."

Arthur watched her for a moment, then let out a breath. "Alright. I thought that maybe the moon got red and big because she was nearer to the earth, like she was blushin', bein' so close to the one she likes." He laughed self-consciously. "That's what I thought when I was a kid, anyway."

"Oh, that's so sweet," she said, leaning in closer unconsciously. "That sounds like a folktale, the beautiful moon blushing as she comes closer to her beloved earth."

Arthur swallowed, his heart skipping a beat, feeling her hand on his knee, seeing her move closer to him. In the light of the moon, her skin glowed and her eyes sparkled with excitement. He had a strong urge to lean down and taste that smile. 

"Beautiful," he mumbled. 

Eleanor couldn't quite hear him, his lips barely moving, hampering his speech. "Hmm?" 

Leaning away from her, Arthur quickly looked up at the moon again to distract himself. "Just sayin' the moon was beautiful," he said, his voice cracking a little bit. After a moment, he got up. "I'm gonna turn in. Have a good night, Miss, uh, Ella."

"You too, Arthur."

***

She heard him walking away, and once he had tucked himself into his tent, Eleanor breathed a sigh. For a moment she thought that he had called her beautiful, but she chalked that up to wishful thinking.

Eleanor hadn't expected Arthur to help as much as he had; she felt pampered with everything he had done. It was a nice change of pace from having to do everything herself. But she had to remind herself that she had hired him to help, that he wasn't just doing this out of the kindness of his heart.

Yet every time he did something for her, no matter how small, she felt her heart glow, like the moon as she came close to her earth.

***

Two days had passed and they had found nothing big, just a few small trinkets here and there. Nothing worth a three day excursion, and certainly nothing worth bringing along someone who was expecting a big payout. 

She glanced at Arthur across the campfire as he roasted the duck they had caught. He was a charming man, once he let his guard down. But even she could tell that he was a bit annoyed by their lack of treasure. 

“I’m sorry Arthur,” she said all of a sudden after they had eaten in relative silence. “Not all treasure hunts end with a pot of gold.”

Arthur looked at her and let out a short laugh. “I know. It’s a bit… frustratin’, I guess. But I ain’t mad.”

When the dour expression on her face didn’t disappear, he scooted closer to her, leaning forward to meet her eyes. “Listen. Every job, every hunt, there ain’t ever a guarantee things will turn out good. We just gotta do our best. Okay?”

She blinked and looked at him, feeling inspired. “You’re right. I just… I guess I’ve been spoiled by my own good luck recently. Can’t have it so good all the time. Just have to keep going.” She took his hands into hers and held them, smiling up at him. “Thank you Arthur, I’m glad you’re here with me.”

“Uh, weren’t nothin’,” he mumbled, feeling shy all of a sudden.

Patting his knee, Eleanor leaned in. “Words can move the world, Arthur. Just by saying something kind, we can change hearts.”

Arthur looked at her, so close to his face, and wondered what her kiss would be like. Would it be soft and inviting like she was?

Then she pulled away and stood up. “I’m going to turn in for the night.” She touched his shoulder, running her fingers along his jacket as she walked past. “Good night, Arthur.”

He watched her duck into her tent, waited for the tent flap to close, then touched his shoulder in wonder. He wondered if his cheeks were as warm as he felt in his heart.

***

If they didn't find the big treasure today, they'd have to go back to shore empty handed. 

"Just two more islands to check," Eleanor said as she climbed into the little rowboat.

"Ain't holdin' out hope," Arthur muttered. 

When she looked back at him apologetically, he shook his head. "I didn't mean anythin' by that. It's just that we've searched so many places, and there's only two left? Seems unlikely."

Eleanor shrugged, undeterred by the odds. "I suppose, but I'm not giving up until the end."

They reached the first island, and after digging around for a few hours, they only found two liquor bottles, which she gladly gave to Arthur. 

"Well, even if we don't find anything, we can drink our sorrows away," he joked.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Come now, we aren't done yet," she said, still optimistic. She started to walk towards the rowboat. 

They rowed to the last island in silence. This was one of the larger islands, and would probably take the rest of the afternoon to search. 

"Ella?" 

She blinked rapidly and turned to Arthur, who had already pulled the boat to shore and was holding his hand out to her. "Oh, I'm sorry, I was, daydreaming, I suppose."

Arthur chuckled. "That's fine, as long as you're alright."

Warmed by his concern, she took his hand and stepped off the boat. As she stepped off, her boot slipped on the wet surface and she started to tumble forward. 

"AHH-" 

Bracing herself for an impact with the sand, she found herself landing on Arthur, his arms wrapping around her protectively. Time stood as still as she did, her heart hammering wildly. She felt like she fit perfectly in his embrace, his heart beating against her ear, her cheek against his warm chest. He smelled of leather and musk, a man of the wilderness, and she found herself wanting to bury her face into his chest to take a deep breath. 

But that would be weird. So instead she pulled back and looked down, unable to meet his face. “I’m sorry, I’m not usually that clumsy,” she apologized.

“Not a problem,” he said, his voice lower, a slight breathlessness to his tone. 

Then she stepped out of his arms, and time moved once more.

***

It felt like they had dug in a million different spots, but they had only covered two-thirds of the island. In the middle of a dense patch of trees and brush, Eleanor would have forgotten they were on an island if not for the sound of the waves. Covered in sand and sweat, she longed for a bath and to feel clean again. She pulled out her metal detector. It was still clicking steadily, the light flashing at the same rate it had been the entire time they had entered the small forest.

“This is absurd,” she mumbled as she finished digging at their current spot. At every location they had dug, bits of rusted metal came out of the earth; it was as if something had exploded and the metal shrapnel had scattered across the ground. 

“Let’s try that,” Arthur said, pointing into the distance.

She looked up and saw that he had wandered further ahead. Jogging up to him, she looked through the trees to where he was pointing and saw a log sticking out of the ground.

No, not a log. A ship mast.

“Brilliant!” she exclaimed as she picked up her shovel and ran towards the shoreline.

They found a part of a broken ship, with a few crates strewn along the beach. Pulling her tools out of her bag, Eleanor immediately set to work opening all the crates they could see.

With Arthur’s help, they opened them all, finding the usual: rotten food, old clothes, some alcohol bottles which Arthur helped himself to, and a few small coins, which Eleanor took happily.

“I guess the gold sunk to the ocean,” Arthur mumbled as he looked around for anything else. Then his heart stopped as he watched Eleanor climb the broken shipwreck like a squirrel, ducking into the cavities and between the broken boards in search for more. He quickly went after her, worried that she would fall and hurt herself.

When he heard her scream, he felt like his soul left his body as he scrambled up the side of the wreck to look.

In the dimness of the half-sunken galley, he saw Eleanor with a huge grin on her face, up to her thighs in the water, tugging on a chest. Quickly leaping down to help her, they pulled the chest out far enough so they could open it without flooding the contents.

Arthur made quick work of the rusted lock, stepping back to gesture at the chest. “You open it. It’s your find.”

Eleanor grabbed his hand and put it on the chest. “Together.”

He nodded.

They opened the chest, and a gasp escaped both of them as they saw a pile of six gold bars and a soaked velvet bag. 

Their eyes met; for a moment all he could see was a beautiful shade of green.

Then she hugged him.

As if all the air was taken out of his lungs, he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Her body pressed against his, and immediately he felt a joy in his old bones, and just as quickly he felt guilty for feeling that way. Still in shock that she would hug an ugly old man, he didn’t register that she had pulled her head back to look at him.

“Arthur?”

“Uh.”

She pulled away from him completely, and he felt the loss so keenly that he nearly whimpered. 

Wringing her hands nervously, Eleanor bowed her head. “I’m sorry, I know not everyone is comfortable with touch, but I couldn’t help myself, I was so excited.”

“No need to apologize,” he said with a smile, letting her know that it was alright. “Just wasn’t expectin’ it.”

She nodded, then gestured at the treasure. “Let’s split this and go back, shall we?” Taking out the gold bars, Eleanor handed three of them to Arthur before taking out the bag. Opening it, she poured the contents out into her hand: three silver hairpins, all with different patterns.

“Stunning,” she said, holding them each up to the light. Looking back at him, the twinkling in her eyes made him think of emeralds. He felt grateful that he could be here, now, in this moment, to witness the happiness that radiated from her.

Arthur helped her out of the shipwreck as she rambled on about how the pins were made, and he realized that he could listen to her for hours and not be bored. 

***

As he rowed back to shore, three gold bars richer, the sun set over the water, spreading its red light across the sky. Watching Eleanor, her eyes looking over the strange collection of hairpins with an excitement he reserved for large bags of money, he was filled with a yearning in his heart. If only this moment could last.

"Thank you Arthur," she said, looking up at him as if she knew he was thinking about her. "I'm glad you came."

"So am I," he said softly. "Got to relax a bit, and made some money too."

"But honestly, I can't wait to get a bath."

The thought of Eleanor in a bath ran through his mind, and he quickly moved on to other topics. "Sun's pretty," he said. 

"Every sunset I see still fills me with awe," she said a little wistfully, watching the horizon as the light dimmed slowly around them. 

Arthur watched her, his heart tightening at how idyllic the scene looked before him; a beautiful woman looking at the sunset in a boat on a lake seemed like such a romantic image. He wanted to sketch it as soon as he had some time with his journal, to memorialize this moment in pencil. 

"It's like I'm courtin' ya, with the way we look," he commented absently. 

"Wha-what?" she sputtered. 

"Uh, I mean, if someone were to see us from the shore, seein' us in a boat together with the sun settin'. That's all," he mumbled quickly. He glanced up at her from under the brim of his hat and their eyes met, spring leaves and clear skies. 

"O-oh, I suppose we do look like a pair," she said quietly, trying to keep her nerves intact. 

Arthur chuckled. "A lady with her homunculus."

Swatting at his arm, Eleanor gave him a sharp glare. "Now you stop that. I won't have you insulting my friend."

Arthur blinked. "Your friend?" 

She smiled brilliantly, making him feel warm as if the sun's rays had reached him straight in the heart. "Yes, my friend." Leaning in, she touched his knee. "Am I yours?" 

His heart stuttered at her words, and he quickly swallowed his first response with a more appropriate one. "Of course, Ella. We're friends."

She patted his knee and smiled again at him. He felt young again, his face warming, his hands a little sweaty as he felt himself smiling back at her like a fool, wishing for more than he deserved. 

***

They reached the shoreline, and as Arthur helped her out of the boat, he heard a rustling in the trees and a few crows took off, cawing loudly. Instinctively putting Eleanor behind him, he started to guide her to the other side of the path where there were boulders and more trees to use as cover. 

She followed him quietly, sensing his change, feeling the urgency in his movements as they almost made it to the forest.

"Hey there, mister." 

From behind a rock, two men appeared, guns in their hands. 

Arthur stood in front of Eleanor, slowly backing up towards the tree cover. "Hey now. Me and the lady were just passin' through."

“And you can keep on passin’ through. After you give us yer money.”

Eleanor quickly assessed the situation; the two men had their guns out, but pointed in the air, threatening, but not wanting to kill anyone just yet. She saw Arthur’s hand twitch slightly out of the corner of her eye, and slowly moved her hand towards her own volcanic pistol, just in case. 

A loud shot rang out, and the man who spoke first was clutching his hand, his gun dropping to the ground a few feet away. The other man quickly aimed at Arthur, who didn’t move. He couldn’t move, not with a lady behind him. Bracing himself, he prepared to take a hit.

Without thinking, Eleanor pulled Arthur backwards and to the side, swapping places with him as she whipped out her pistol with blazing speed and shot the other man’s gun out of his hand, just as he fired.

The bullet whizzed through the air, and as Arthur stumbled backwards, surprised by the strength of her, he watched as blood exploded from her left arm, where he had been standing moments before.

Without even wincing, Eleanor glared at the two men, both clutching their hands. “I suggest you leave. Now.”

Both men glared, but when Arthur pointed his gun at them as well, they both turned and fled, yelling obscenities as they ran.

Neither of them put their guns down until the would-be robbers were well out of sight. Together they let out a breath.

“You coulda been killed!” Arthur growled finally.

“So could you!” Eleanor shot back.

Arthur blinked, sighed, and shook his head. Then he went to his satchel, pulling out the whiskey bottle. “C’mon, let’s get yer arm tended to,” he said gently, the initial adrenaline surge leaving his body, leaving him a worried mess. Seeing the blood drip down her arm, he grimaced. “I didn’t want you to get hurt,” he said quietly, reaching out for her.

“I didn’t think,” she said, just as quietly. “I just acted. Because I wanted to protect you.”

He couldn’t respond, he only moved as he knew how, helping roll up her sleeve, pouring the whiskey to clean the wound. She flinched at the first contact of alcohol to her skin, but once the wound was clean, they discovered that the graze wasn’t as bad as it looked. Pulling a spare bandana out of his satchel, he wrapped up her arm, the act almost too intimate for Arthur as he avoided looking at her face until he had stepped back a respectable distance. 

“I, uh, thank you. Not sure if I’m worth the trouble, so don’t do that again,” he said. When he was met with silence, Arthur finally looked at her.

She was frowning at him. Stepping forward, she cupped his cheek. “You’re worth the trouble.”

“I-”

“Don’t argue with me on this point, I won’t budge.”

Arthur gaped like a fish for a second, seeing her glaring so cutely at him. Then he laughed, a true laugh from his heart, as he felt lighter and happier than he had in a long time.

***

They walked back to the nearby stable where they had left their horses, chatting amicably the whole way. He found that she had a wealth of knowledge about even the most mundane things, making the world a more fascinating place. When they had gotten their horses and walked them out of the building, Arthur realized that he wanted to go with her, wherever she went. Would he be welcomed? He didn’t want to burden her with his presence.

Her voice brought him out of his musings. "I will say, I've had a grand time with you, Arthur. I do hope we can go on another hunt together some day."

"That sounds mighty fine," he said, her smile infecting him as he couldn’t help but smile back at her. “You just let me know, and I’ll go with you.”

Eleanor surprised him by wrapping her arms around him for a hug, but this time he quickly hugged her back, reveling in the feel of her soft body in his arms as a protectiveness surged inside of him. He held her close and breathed in her scent, committing the aroma of wildflowers and vanilla to memory. Then he let her go reluctantly, his heart clawing for more of her touch.

“I’ll bring this back to you,” she said, patting the bandana around her arm.

“You keep it,” he said, trying not to let the feelings blossoming in his heart take over and make him say something foolish. “Just. Uh. Somethin’ to remember me by.” 

He wanted to kick himself for being a fool.

But Eleanor smiled warmly at him, just like the sun. If only he could memorize her smile forever. 

“Thank you, Arthur. I’ll remember you.” She mounted her horse. “I’ll send word soon!”

“Soon?”

“Yes! There’s always treasure to be found, after all,” she said cheekily. Waving goodbye, she galloped away as Arthur watched, letting that soft feeling wrap itself around him as he felt hope bloom in his heart. He was determined that next time they met, he would be the one to protect her smile. 

Her happiness was a treasure more valuable than gold.

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

End Notes: This is a little outside of my usual stories, but I fell in love with darling Eleanor while I wrote this, and I hope you did too. @writingandsins, thank you so much for your contributions to the fandom!

#rdr2 fanfic #writing #fanfic #rdr2 #arthur x oc #arthur morgan #eleanor ivie #tumblr gift

[harper-hook]

Dark! Harper

Bite my tongue, bid my time Wearing a warning sign Wait til the world is mine

Harper grits her teeth as she was bumped and shoved around Dragon Hall. She doesn’t say anything, knowing a losing fight before it starts. Anger fills her, so much it fucking hurts. She bites her lip until it bleeds. One day, she promised herself.

Visions I vandalize Cold in my kingdom size Fell for these ocean eyes

She's compared to her siblings. She can’t stand it. No crew unlike Harriet, no hook unlike Harry, and no favoritism unlike CJ. She was the outcast of her family. No one took her seriously but that only made things easier in the end. 

You should see me in a crown I’m gonna run this nothing town Watch me make ‘em bow One by one by one One by one by

She finally snapped, holding her father’s hook, covered in his blood. She dragged his body to the top deck, making quick work of the ropes. As she looked out over the docks, she finally felt... hopeful. 

You should see me in a crown Your silence is my favorite sound Watch me make ‘em bow One by one by one One by one by one

Word is out by now. There’s a new queen of the docks. The same people who wouldn’t give her a chance, now look at her with fear and awe. All they try to do now is coat ride.

Count my cards, watch them fall Blood on a marble wall I like the way they all  Scream

Everything she’s doing follows several sleepless nights she spent planning. It was out of place, damn near unreal. But, people still didn’t get it. Screams echo over the water and then silence. She sent a clear message.

Tell me which one is worse Living or dying first Sleeping inside a hearse I don’t dream

Carlos asks her this one night. Why? She knew living under the father’s boot was no way to live. Either she succeeded or she died. Something had to change. 

You say Come over baby I think youre pretty

This flirt and flatter game always irritated her. It’s the Gaston twins that try it first. She knows the next step of the game. Run home to daddy and talk shit. They're not the last.

I’m okay I’m not your baby If you think im pretty

She finds a note, telling her of Gaston’s plan to storm the ship. She pretends not to notice Harry’s handwriting. She ordered her crew to burn the Gaston residence to the ground. No survivors.

You should see me in a crown I’m gonna run this nothing town Watch me make ‘em bow One by one by one One by one by

She stands at the helm of her ship, watching her crew dance and celebrate. She feels like the entire Isle is staring at her. They know by now. Those who join are treated well. Those who oppose wind up in nooses.

I’m gonna run this nothing town Watch me make ‘em bow One by one by one One by one by

She accompanies Carlos to a shop in town, Harper still very protective of the boy. "A pirate’s life is a wonderful life, a-rowin’ over sea.” She sings to herself, voice echoing though the shop. The clerk freezes before practically shoving her merchandise at Carlos. He’s confused until he sees Harper’s smirk.

I’m gonna run this nothing town Watch me make ‘em bow One by one by one One by one by

Streets she used to slink around, streets she would never venture down alone. People part out of her way now.

You should see me in a crown Your silence is my favorite sound Watch me make ‘em bow One by one by one One by one by one

She’s confused when the letter arrives but as soon as she sees the stamp, she lets a malicious grin slip. Grimhilde’s daughter will stay out of her way and Mal will only make the mistake once. But she’s got her boys with her.

First the Isle, next Auradon.

#descendants #disney descendants #harper hook #my original character #dark harper hook

[mx-princey]

CANON CALL FOR AN ERIDAN AMPORA

Looking for everybody. Mostly Vriska, Terezi, Sollux, Karkat, Feferi and possibly Nepeta (apologies in advance, nep) because they’re the only ones I really have any memories of, but if anything about me sounds familiar feel free to contact me.

The timeline was non-SGRUB and I didn’t survive long enough to make it off-planet, though I believe that many of the others did.

I’ll write the rest under a cut because I have a feeling this could get long.

TW: Guns, Death, Murder

I’ll sort this post into sections based on what I remember of each of the other trolls I knew, so anybody looking can go straight to their character’s section and see if anything sounds familiar. I'll also colour-code each section to make yours easier to locate.

VRISKA - I used to FLARP with you a lot, specifically the Pirate-themed FLARPing campaigns that we also did in canon-canon. I know that my ship was closer to a real functioning ship than a replica, I can’t say for sure but I think yours was too. I liked to be dramatic during our sessions and would jump around on different parts of my ship while we were rp’in together. One time when I got a bit over-enthused I fell overboard and you had to net me and pull me back up (I wasn’t the best swimmer). You spent a while teasin me about it afterwards. I added an eyepatch to my outfit at one point because I thought it was fun, but you found it tacky and disapproved. Some drama aspired eventually and I isolated myself from everybody, but I think there’s a chance I may have kept in contact with you. I believe you ended up reportin me to someone or something that was searchin for me, and I ended up gettin executed.

TEREZI - I have one memory of hangin out with you (i was really enjoyin myself durin it, if i may so so). You’d flip coins in the air for me to shoot with my gun for target practice. In the memory I was accurate with pretty much every shot, and managed to hit every one, the both of us even able to move around and still land every shot. I felt like we were friends. I suspect this was something we’d done more than once.

SOLLUX - I’m sorry for how I treated you. I’m not sure exactly how I mistreated you yet, but I do feel apologetic for whatever it is, so I assume I’d done something. You ended up constantly ghosting me and I’d constantly send you tons of messages to try to get in contact with you. I still considered you a friend when you weren’t talking to me. I think I’d go over to your hive uninvited sometimes when I was worried about how long you were offline. I wanted you to take better care of yourself, even if I wasn’t the best friend to you and even if you probably deserved better.

KARKAT - I think I used to bring you along on my FLARPing campaigns from time to time. I considered you a close friend and enjoyed spending that time with you. Eventually, after I’d lost yet another campaign and had my crew sacrificed to Vris, and we were rowin back to shore in the safety boat yet again, you told me that you couldn’t do it anymore. When I told you that it was okay if you didn’t want to participate in the FLARPs, you informed me that you meant you couldn’t be friends with me anymore. You couldn’t stand how nonchalant I was towards the lives of my crewmembers during the sessions. (I believe now that you were in the right to make that decision). I don’t think we ever talked again after that. 

FEFERI - I don’t remember much about times that I spent with you, except for one memory. That memory was the one in which I’d killed someone close to you, while you were there. I think that someone may have been Nepeta, but I’m still unsure. You took my gun from me and threatened me with it before running over to your friend in their last moments to try to help them, or at the very least, comfort them. I escaped to elsewhere on the ship and hid from you, and fled from everybody soon after this. I’d considered you a friend before this event, but after this, I knew that there was no way you’d forgive me for what I’d done.

NEPETA - I haven’t been able to confirm it, but I think you were the troll I murdered that night. I don’t remember spending time with you during any other point. I’m sorry for what I did. You don’t have to forgive me, I just want you to know that I regret it now, and that everybody missed you dearly, and I did, in fact, face repercussions for what I did.

APPEARANCE - I don’t know much, but I do know that my horns slanted backwards and protruded from my hair (as opposed to bein connected to the forehead), and that I had small fin/scale-like sideburns on the side of my head.

If any of you see this, and remember me, but don’t want to talk to me after everything I did, I understand. But if you do want to talk to me for any reason at all, whether you want to reconnect, be my friend, or just receive some clarity on the things that happened, please contact me. I haven’t found any of my canon mates from any of my timelines yet, and I’m eager to talk to some of you again.

(Okay to reblog if you want to help me find my canon mates)

#canon call #hs canon call #homestuck canon call #hskin #hs kin #homestuck kin #eridan kin #eridan ampora kin #vriska serket kin #terezi pyrope kin #sollux captor kin #karkat vantas kin #feferi peixes kin #vriska kin #terezi kin #sollux kin #karkat kin #feferi kin #hs kin canon call #hskin canon call #homestuck kin canon call #kin canon call #many apologies if i tagged this wrong this is my first time making a canon call post like this #heres to hoping it actually appears in the tags!!! shoutout to t*mbly for bein a dysfunctional site #kin

[forrestwxtch]

notes on “conversations”

https://open.spotify.com/track/6zFpN1QmYQGlrpt3KBWaS3?si=VnKb37OMR2SVIquqhL7Esw

[photo by ryan kanaly]

this was one of the very first songs i wrote when i moved to nashville a little over a year ago.

as a 21 year old, i came to nashville. i had never lived in a city, had never lived alone, and i remember feeling as though i just went through the motions and never fully grasped that i now lived here (sometimes i still don’t think i have). for the first few months, i spent countless hours in bars, shows, and parties, getting way too drunk to drive home. completely foregoing my health.

i remember feeling overwhelmed by how many people i was meeting. i had no endurance for that kind of social life, coming from such a small, tight-knit community in north carolina. i found myself becoming very detached from almost every social interaction, feigning interest, dissolving my empathy. after a while i started to notice this pattern, which many of you are familiar with if you live in the city: “hi! i’m [so and so]. are you a musician? oh, sweet! what kind of music do you play?” (i don’t even ask the question anymore. and i try my hardest not to grumble when i myself am asked. i just don’t feel the need to discuss it in every conversation.)

after coming from a writing background strictly rooted in deep emotion, reflection, pain, and love, i was tired. i couldn’t write about any of those things, i was too discouraged in my every day life. 

one evening, i sat down with my rowin twin looper (fairly new to my gear collection at the time), and i thought, “well, all of this seems pretty disappointing. might as well try to write something”. i said “fuck it” and started beatboxing into the mic, added some tambourine, and then just started playing random notes on my guitar (at this point i wasn’t super comfortable playing electric, so i was still experimenting). the words fell out of my mouth with zero hesitation-- “what a privilege to be here, i love this energy”--half joking. “right in this moment, there’s no place i’d rather be”--again, lightly drizzled with sarcasm. 

i couldn’t stop the words from flowing out. it’s almost like they didn’t come from me. “stand here next to me, tell me your story, i’m all ears.” i really did have this need to connect with everyone i met. i wanted to hear all the stories, i wanted to learn from people and develop a sense of belonging. but again, i was tired. “i promise you there’s no commitment, i’m just happy to be a participant”--the detachment. if i didn’t bank on a connection, it would be okay if it got lost in the shuffle. 

then there’s the element of hope, echoing throughout the layers of vocal harmonies to close the song. gradually, all of the other production elements are stripped away until all that’s left is my voice, repeating the words: “people dancing, sweat drip-dripping, hot heat rising, fallin’ over my feet. there’s no place i’d rather be.” it was true then, and it’s true now. 

over the course of a little more than a year, the song (& myself) went through several stages of major transformation. when i go back and listen to the original demo i tracked in my one-bedroom apartment, direct-in from my loop pedal, i am floored. that couldn’t have been me, singing. that couldn’t have been me, stumbling over every other note on the fretboard. i am thankful to have been given so many opportunities to improve vocally, instrumentally, and mentally. whether through performance, criticism, or rejection. i’m not scared anymore, and i’ve regained my empathy. i’m me again, reinvented in this sound that i’ve so carefully created. after everything, i am able to discern my place in the music world, and i am comfortable still feeling small. i’ve made something that matters to me. i’ve found a way to tell my story, for the sake of art and human connection.

i’m glad i never gave up on this song, even when i thought it would break me. if you’ve listened to this song, just know that you are the reason the song tangibly exists in the first place. thank you.

[badgerslick]

Badger Slick's Midnight Eruptions - The Lake 2

Badger:  Now we have a reason to be here. Donk:  Those folks haven't bothered us in a while. Badger:  They can't splash us if it doesn't rain. Donk:  True. Plus the way their mini-compound is set up.  Says 'stay away, we wanna be left          alone'. Badger: But do they?  Will they be disappointed if their goodies ordered from Stag magazine            don't get field tested?   Donk:  Uh...how did you know they take Stag magazine?   Badger:  Just a lucky guess.   Donk:  Wanna see my surprise?   Badger:  No. I wanna eat cold chicken noodle soup from a can. Donk:  Okay. Sounds pretty good. Badger:  Later. Of course I'd like to see your surprise.   Donk:  Help me remove the tarp. Badger:  Very cool. Some kinda sleek rowboat. Bet it hauls. Donk:  Me & dad haul ass around the lake. No one can keep up. Badger:  Let's rip! Donk:  Okay. Two sets of oars. Won't take much time to synchro 'em. That's it. Badger:  Feels fast. In a regular rowboat you work more & move less. Donk:  When we get near a stationary canoe we gotta slow down.  They're probably fishing & our           wake supposedly disturbs the fish. Badger:  Boo Hoo. Donk:  Let's row over by where the Roplo's are. Get the field glasses out.  What do you see? Badger:  Mrs. Roplo looking back at me with her field glasses. Donk:  Wonder if she remembers our wet faces?   Ropeno:  Couple a kids in some kinda rowboat. Lookin' at us thru glasses. Fritz:  Ain't no deal. You're lookin' at them thru glasses. Ropeno:  Why don't we go in our canoe?   Fritz:  And leave the camp unattended?   Ropeno:  Our house is unattended. Fritz:  Don't remind me.  Fortunately I gots th' insides boobie-trapped. Ropeno:  It's a trip t' th' hospital if you trap placement diagram ain't correct. Fritz:  Hell wit it. Let's git in th' canoe. Fish some. Ropeno:  Better?   Fritz:  Them kids. Keep circlin' us. Ropeno:  It's called rowin' 'round th' lake.  Besides, they not th' only boat on th' water. Fritz:  Tey comin' hard!  Rit fer us! Gonna ram, cut th' canoe in half!  We sittin' ducks!  Hyper-         ventin', kin't breathe!  Goin' down!   Ropeno:  Slap! Slap!  Wake up dummy!  Y' fell asleep. We not even ona boat no mo'. Fritz:  What a nightmare!  No excuse fer fallin' asleep on watch. Ropeno:  My poor, pathetic, wannabe trooper. Y' took a nap. On land. I'm on watch duty.  All               is secure.                                              Temporarily............Badger  

#badger #comedy #lake #fun #funny

[sleighrisland]

sea glass

I guess this time I'm rowin' alone. You fell into the water, my heart's sinkin' like a stone. I should have known the whiskey was to heavy to hold, but the days were gettin' longer, and the winds were strong and cold. 'Once I find the island babe, where we're supposed to be, I'm gonna build you a fort and climb a tree.' That's what he said to me. My sailor, come back to me please. Worse things happen at sea. For you and I, it was all a game. You climbed up that tree and carved a heart around my name. And then you swore to me that you'd never make me cry. I guess you never saw the day we'd have to say goodbye. I left my heart in the hands of a sailor, in a sunken ship off the radar. All of the songs that you sang, I yelled, then I played as hard as I could on the guitar that you held. My sailor, come back to me please. Worse things happen at sea. I've collected all the sea glass from your polished memories, and keep them close to my heart just so that I can feel at ease. When it got dark we would try to get lost, I would have said no, knowing this was the cost. And when you went down, you took with you your pride. I'll find all your worries washed up with the tide. Sailor, my darling come back to me please. Worst things happen at sea.

-sleighrisland

#poetry #ocean #love #loss #sailor #writers corner