Thats my Specialty.

Written by TAYLOR (THEY/THEM), 30 years old. Due to my own age and the nature of this blog, I will not write with anyone under the age of 18. I prefer 21+ , but that is not set in stone. I fluctuate in activity but try to be here as much as possible. I follow only those who I am interested in writing with and try to keep a fairly clean dash. So if I don’t return the follow, it’s not you, it’s me. You’re still wonderful and I’m so glad you’re gracing the community with your presence :)  

He’s down on one knee, hat sweeping off his head in a glorious flourish as blue eyes gaze up at the girl sitting before him. “Ye know, Uma - I think I’ve been in love with ye since the day I cracked open."    (  @piraticalheir​  )

                                 “    you’re    a    fucking   idiot    …    ”    

                it’s    impossible    to    conceal   the    smile    that    threatens    to    curve    on    her   lips,    even    as   she    rolls    her    eyes,    (   it’s    impossible    because    he    knows    her,    and   she    doesn’t    feel    the    need    to    pretend    around   him    as    much    anymore    ).    it   should    be    the    other    way    around,    she    thinks   –    the    captain    is    the    one    in    charge    of   the    sailors,    and    Uma    has    made    it        a    habit  and    a    duty    to    carry    her    crew    upon    her   shoulders.    However,    when    it    comes    to    Harry,   it    never    is    –    when    it    comes    to    Harry,   it’s    as    if    he    was    the    one    keeping    her   steady    (    his    eyes    are    storm    and    hurricane,   and    yet,    in    them,    she    finds    the    calmest    of   tides    ).

                 he    kneels    before    her    in   dramatic    display,    she    sits    on    the    lowest  staircase    of    the    ship    (    he    knows    where   to    find    her;    she’ll    always    be    where    she   feels    at    ease,    and    when    the    tide    is    high,   Uma    likes    to    watch    the    waves    crash    against   the    hull    and    imagine    the    ship    in    motion,   sailing    far    away    from    the    Isle    ).    and    he  jokes    around    –    what    are    you    giving    that    boy    that    he    keeps    trailing    after    you    like    a    lost  pup?    Her    mother’s    viper    tongue    always    calls   the    worst    in    everything    (    she    once   congratulated    Uma    for    keeping    Harry    at    her    beck  and    call,    until    she    realized    they    were   actually    friends,    and    that    she    actually    cared   about    him    and    that    it    wasn’t    just   pretend    on   her    part    ).  

                “    i’m    gonna    crack    open  your  is  skull    with    a    rock    if    you    don’t   knock    it    off    –    ”    she’s    laughing,    however,   glassy    surface   of    her    eyes    concealed    behind    beaded    hair  (    Harry’s    smile    holds    a    glint    of    mischief   and    it’s    contagious    ).        and    after    she   reaches    to    deliver    a    punch    to    his    shoulder,   their    gazes    linger    for    a    moment,    yet    she’s   the    first    to    withdraw    (    it    always    happens   like    that    –    Uma    is    terrified    of    anyone   seeing    her    show    any    sign    of    affection    ).

                     “    yeah,    you’re    in    love  with    me,    all    right    –    guess    we    gonna    have  to    get    married    now,    ‘cause    i’m    sure    you   won’t    give    it    away    without    me    puttin’    a   ring    on    it    first,    ”    a    loud    snort,    a   moment    of    realization    that    one    of    her    tears   has    actually    escaped,    and    she    cannot    tell    if   it’s    because    she’s    still    upset,    or    simply    a  reminder    that    they    won’t    really    get    a    happy  ending    of    any   kind    at    all,    “    you   always    find    me    here    …    guess    i    need    a   better    hideout.    ”

Sunlight glitters over the waves that lap against their ship’s hull as if teasing, mocking her and crew alike with the lure of a freedom they will never know and for a moment the boy feels an ache in his chest, a longing for a thing that will forever be out of his reach - a longing for the thing that will make the captain sitting in front of him smile like she deserves. But such a thing is lost to his questing fingertips so instead Harry does what he can, smile twitching at corners of his lips as he takes her in, blue eyes studying each and every detail. He knows her by heart, can commit her very essence to a piece of paper without second thought - the curve of her smile, eyes that shine with ambition and determination despite the hell they have grown up in, and that fighting spirit that has lured him in since day one.

Fingers allow the hat to fall from his grasp, head cocking to the side as gaze never wavers. He has been raised in darkness and regret by an all but dead pirate - a father who let his bitterness trickle into the lives of his children until it lodges itself in the back of Harry’s throat. There is no escape from what he is, from the darkness that is his destiny, but Uma is a flash of hope, a star shining even in the blackest of nights - and he will do anything to defend her. Black boots had strode upon the pier in his search for her, thoughts never sure to what he’d find - and the lingering sadness hiding just below the surface of an otherwise unchanged demeanor all but breaks his heart in two. The silence stretches between them for a moment as teeth chew on his bottom lip, the metallic tang of blood something he’s so used to that the pirate barely takes notice of it.

Curved steel swings at his waist as weight shifts, a reminder of what he’s overcome, of every challenge he’s faced. Once it had been a symbol of his father, something the old man had cast away with nary a thought - but Harry has twisted it, changed it, made it his own .. and he will use every ounce of the reputation he has so carefully constructed to protect the one before him. Eyes linger when they reach her own, blinking only when she looks away first - he could stare into those ocean depths for the rest of his life. There’s a hope there, a hint of promise hidden behind the tough shell that every child of the isle learns in order to survive .. but such a wall is not needed with Uma, so he lets his guard relax. “I’m yer idiot.” The words allude to her very first statement, tone light with a lilt to his voice that he hopes mars the truth disguised in them.

She’s the captain. He’s the first mate. A title and position at her side that he will fight for until his grave - last breath will be the whisper of her name across the lips. Whenever that may be - even stuck in this hell, forever by her side seems not near long enough. Hat lays forgotten against the wood at his feet (immaculate, even if old, unlike anything else that has ever been part of his life) and Harry moves to sit next to her, tongue sweeping out and head rolling on his shoulders until a crack brings him some sort of relief from tension. One ringed finger reaches out to catch her chin, bracelet dangling on a scarred wrist as he pulls slightly until she faces him once more.

Harry whipped and whepped as his blody eyeliner streammed down his cheeks and made cool tears down his faces. And then, he jumped on Uma! (no not in that way you perv). “Really?” He asked sensitively

Fingerless gloves trail across decaying walls, unmindful of the grime and splinters that embed their way into the sensitive flesh along the tips of his fingers. Pain is something that every villain knows well - and it is something that the Isle does not refuse, not even to its children - and it seems especially content to push such punishment onto Harry Hook. Curved steel rocks where it is placed, each swing of step meant to remind those around who he is. what he is - and where such a penchant for violence comes from.

One palm has just wrapped around a rotten apple, blue eyes glinting as if daring the shop’s keeper to voice a concern - when he suddenly finds himself interrupted midbite by a thwack against his head. Weight shifts as black boots slowly turn, fruit tossed carelessly over his shoulder so that it bounces against the proprietor’s arm and neck craning sideways. One ring thumb rises to his lips as tongue gives a decided lick, lips curling into a smile at the remaining flavor.  

Lips turn down in a pout at the expression thrown his way, head cocking to the side as he does his best to sound contrite - a mocking edge lacing every syllable. “Aw, Jay - havin’ a hard time standin’ are we?”

“What’ve ye got in there?” Head gestures to his father’s locked cabin door, mouth twitching in a grin as he does his best to feign nonchalance. Interest is something he’d never admit and yet his curiosity is peaked.  Chest puffs out as he draws his blade the slightest bit, tongue swiping out over a salt flavored bottom lip. “I’ll fight ye for the answer.”

Over-confidence will forever be his downfall, but Harry is desperate to prove himself - to show off.