Author note: I apologize for disappering and this taking forever to come out, but I hope you guys enjoy.
Kirk was lying on his side at the head of your bed as he wrote in his notebook, as you were sitting at the foot of your bed, watching him. He never let you see his writing until it was finished, but you kept trying to take quick peeks. He noticed your head slightly inching towards his notebook before moving it to face his chest.
"You know the rules, darling. No reading-"
"Until it's done. I know, I know." You cut him off and he laughed.
"Why don't you turn on some music? It's too quiet in here." Kirk asked. You nodded before walking over to your collection of records. You grabbed your copy of "Fear of Music" by Talking Heads and started to play it.
"I don't think I played this one for you yet." You stated as you sat back up on the bed.
"It's no Black Sabbath, but it isn't horrible." Kirk joked at you as he started to write again. You laid down, your head on his legs and your own legs hanging off the edge of your bed.
"Can I at least know what you're writing about? Like what's the inspiration?" You turned your head to look at him and he smiled at you.
"How about I tell you the title? Hmm?" You quickly nodded your head in response.
"Just know, this is not gonna be a Metallica song. This is just gonna be for us." Kirk looked down at you with a smile.
"I don't mind, I just want to know." You whined and he chuckled at you.
"Warm Heart, Cold Skin." He looked down at his notebook again. "Inspired by the most beautiful girl I know. She's always cold to touch but she's the warmest person I know." He slowly turned his face back to yours.
Kirk had asked you out about two months prior and the most common thing he said about you was how old your hands and feet were.
Your face heated up and a smile appeared on your lips. "And who would that be?" You asked, trying to get more information out of him.
He sat up slightly and put a hand over yours. "You're cold again." Was all he said before his eyes went slightly wide and he whispered to himself. "Oh shit."
You look down at your hand and notice the blue fingerprints on the top of your hand before turning to look up at him and bursting out laughing. "Your pen exploded!"
He immediately stood up and went to wash his hands. Thankfully, the only thing that got ink on it was just Kirk. The notebook and bedspreads were in the clear.
"I am so sorry, I didn't notice-" Kirk started to say as he walked in but you quickly cut him off
"It's okay, nothing got stained." You stood up and walked towards him. "My sheets and your notebook are fine, your hands are another story." You giggled as you grabbed his hands. "Blue Boy."
He wrapped his arms around your waist. "Blue Boy and his Little Snowflake." He held you close to his chest and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.
You both just stood there for a few moments, wrapped in each other.
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@alexmason wanted me to post this. ridiculously self indulgent thing. that i'm going to post here and RUN. sort of hurt/comfort ??? it's not even an entire fic it's truly just something that i wrote bc i was crying and wanted mister woods to hold me so ! enjoi
frank woods / reader , 487 words, reader's having a rough night, there's a SINGLE <y/n> bc i didn't want to gender reader (gender is for the birds)
Frank's got your face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs gently across your cheeks. You can hardly look at him for all the gentleness he's offering you; your brain is just too much of a mess to be able to accept it. He lets out a little sigh, squeezing to get your attention.
"Look at me, baby. C'mon." His gruff voice is hushed and warm, and you frown more before managing to glance his way. He smiles at you as you do, eyes full of love. He chuckles a little. "That's my <y/n>. Now. You don't need to tell me what's wrong, I'm not gonna make you spill the beans as much as I wanna fuckin' hear 'em. But⌠I'm here, baby. I'm right here for ya. Let ol' Frank here take care of you, even just a bit. You're not in this alone, so stop fuckin' actin' like you are. Yeah?" Wordless, you nod, and then he pulls you in to leave a kiss against your forehead. His beard scratches gently at your face, and you shut your eyes and just⌠feel. "Now stop cryin' or your eyes are gonna get even puffier." You bark out a little laugh, shaking your head; you can feel his smile against your skin as his hands slide from your cheeks down your neck and over your shoulders, securing you in a hug. You give in to being held, your face settling against the crook of his neck and your arms circling his torso as one of his hands begins rubbing your back slowly. "That's it. Like I said, I've gotcha, sweetheart. I'm not goin' anywhere. And neither are you." That last statement makes the tears come again, pricking at first but then coming full force. You bury your face further against his warm skin, breath shuddering as he holds you tighter. "Let it out, hun. C'mon." Your hands curl into the fabric of his shirt as you let out quiet sobs.
Eventually the two of you move to the couch, and after the peak of emotion has passed, you're just content to be lying across Frank's chest. He's turned the TV on in the background, but you can tell he's still intently focused on you. His hand is resting between your shoulder blades, and your body is nestled between his long legs. Every so often he'll reach forward and brush his other hand through your hair. Frank is all about touch when it comes to comfort. Words aren't often his strongest suit despite the fact that he's fairly intelligent, but he knows his physicality is always welcome when it comes to all of this. It certainly is as far as you're concerned, and you find yourself drifting off a little because of how warm he is. Accompanied with all of the sweet lingering touches, you're easy prey to sleep. You hear Frank chuckle again, quietly, not his usual full-chested laugh, as you start to drift off. "Go ahead, get some rest. I'll be here when ya wake up."
"Why'd you make it all flat?"
That wasn't... the reaction that Ranboo had been expecting when he'd handed the flower over to his husband, the other accepting it into scarred, calloused hands as gingerly as possible, taking care to peel back the tissue with artificial fingertips.
"It's... if you press a flower like that, like, cover it in a tissue and press it between the pages of a book, it gets all of the moisture out so that it can't wilt. So it just... stays nice." Ranboo knits his long fingers together nervously as he watches Tubbo intently inspecting his gift, taking in the details of the stiff, too-thin petals.
It's more like an illustration, he thinks, than a flower, the life all pressed away and the lovely shape squashed flat; but it's a lovely color, and as he glances up at Ranboo and catches the fretful look in his eyes, he can't help but smile, just a little.
"Thank you," he says, finally, and the pleased swish of Ranboo's tail, the way his odd face lights up as he smiles tells him ah, yes, that was the right response.
He still thinks the idea of preserving a flower by killing it is kind of macabre, but he keeps the flower either way, carefully placing it into one of his own books to make sure it doesn't get damaged.
hi! can i ask advice on ghostwriting/freelancing? where should i start? what do i need on my portfolio? which platforms do you best recommend for promotion?
if you don't wanna answer, it is totally fine!!! have a good day! âşď¸
I'm not sure I'm a good person to ask. I'm not very good at it. lol.
The writing part, sure I can do, but the business part is not really my thing. Any business, frankly. I am a terrible capitalist. Also I found a company to provide jobs, got a steady client and stuck with it.
I did however quit recently and went off on my own with a client or two. I am not looking for more clients because it takes a lot of time and energy and I am trying to write and work on selling my own stuff. Ideally, I'll be earning money under my own name.
But how did I start? Well, I looked on the freelance boards for jobs, and found a few. Then I researched those companies-- ALWAYS double check to make sure those companies are reliable, actually pay, have consistent work, treat freelancers well, aren't scams to begin with.
I worked for Hotghostwriters, and there were plusses and minuses.
Plus, they were reliable with payment, they were established, once I got a regular client I didn't have to worry about it. It might be a good place to start ghostwriting because they don't ask for a lot of experience. They didn't even ask for my education or work history, even though I have a BA in writing and was a teacher, so if you don't have any experience, that's good. I was hired based on my writing samples, and that's it.
.Minus, I felt like I was a machine not a writer, the pay is not good, the deadlines are far too tight, there weren't enough novel writing gigs until I got the regular. In fact they came back for ME, not the company. It's on the super low end of the pay scale which makes it a bit of an assembly line factory feel. Quality is only important to keep a client. More important is output.
I have heard that TheUrbanWriters is a similar company, and they seem to have more fiction work (I think) and are easier to work with but the pay is actually a little bit less. People say it's a good way to break in. It might be. To get your feet wet. But neither HGW or TUW seem to make you enough for a living wage. I could do it because I have an extremely low cost of living. But I couldn't pay rent with it.
The portfolio that was required when I was first hired was different varieties of romance genres. I believe I used parts of my science fiction novels as well as various fanfic. Occasionally after I was hired they would ask for new samples in new genres or just the genre that a client was looking for. Or perhaps a type of heat, clean, sensual, spicy, etc.
In order to get started freelancing or Ghostwriting, you could also go to one of the established freelancing sites, like Fiverr or Upwork, ProBlogger or MediaBistro. There are others. Google for more information. Go to the sites, look at reviews of the sites, look at the kinds of jobs available and the costs, search companies, search clients. Make sure they're paying their freelancers a fair wage, because many will try to lowball.
Mostly there's a lot of research to make sure it all works out well-- because not all of it will be legit. And as a freelancer you have to protect yourself. I once got hired to write a post apocalyptic book-- or to FINISH a book that someone else started. They wanted something that the old ghostwriter wasn't providing. I think they wanted a tough masculine kill em all kind of story but didn't know well enough to ask for what they wanted. I didn't figure it out until later when I also was fired. But they DID pay me in stages. So I was paid to review the last book. I was paid for the ten sample pages and then for the next three chapters.... they just didn't want me to finish the book. TBH the outline was terrible and made no sense, and I didn't mind getting cut, especially since shortly after, HGW found me a client who I wrote for for years. At the height I was getting a novel every six weeks. Like I said. A bit of a machine thing going on. I don't actually WANT to be writing ten books a year, especially when they're not mine.
I hope I've helped you know where to start and how to consider breaking into ghostwriting.
When you get experience, you can actually make a LOT more. Like 30k-60k a book, but when I was starting out, I was making 600-1000 a book. Short books (30-60k words) but still.
And none of this is actually talking about non fiction or blog ghostwriting or technical writing or any of that. I think there's a lot more work for that and the projects are smaller.
Good luck. Remember, research, research, research.
Chapter 3: Crashing Waves
Fandom: League of Legends
Ship: Jhin x Sona
[AO3]
Word count: 4623
Jhin descends the wooden ramp to the stone docks of Piltover. The stones are cleanly cut and precise, just how these machine-tinkering folks love it. The skyscrapers of Piltover are always a sight, drowning in gold, hextech, and a faint air of superiority. He takes one last look at the city before glancing at the nearest clock tower, its bells tolling eleven.Â
There wasnât much time. The cabal stated they would be sending a messenger with his gun by noon. If he wasnât there in time, there would be troublesome consequences he wasnât willing to risk.Â
Two hours left. He had to make his way down to Zaun and find the rendezvous point. He swallows a longing sigh when a haggard old man approaches him with a knowing smile. He recognizes the cabalâs mark on the elderâs eye prosthetic. He straightens his back and bows his head.
âBack again, I see,â the old man splutters as he taps his cane by Jhinâs feet. âYâreally have no limitation with the way yâtreat our technology, do ye?â He urges Jhin to follow him through the dark alleyways of Piltover.
âOn the contrary, elder,â Jhin replies calmly. âIt is of the utmost importance that I make sure my gun is well taken care of.â He raises his head to the skies, a mysterious look in his eyes. âItâs just that I had picked up a⌠stray, and she didnât seem to take too well to it.â
âOh gob it,â the elder harrumphs. âWhat else did yâexpect, picking up a stray like that in the sea?â He shakes his head disapprovingly. âI never once took ye fer the type, but whatever yâpicked up did quite the damage to yer gun.â After a moment of silence, he asks, âWhat did yâeven pick up, anywho?â
Jhinâs eyes squint, but the elder cannot tell if itâs out of joy or anger. âA feisty and frightening little thing, I assure you.â
âIs that soâŚâ the elder mutters as he takes Jhin deeper into the city, where The Gray of Zaun awaits below. âBy the way, yâdidnât run into any trouble coming here, did ye?â
On instinct, his hand hovers over his abdomen but brushes it off like he had touched something filthy. âNot that Iâm aware of,â he answers. âWhy do you ask?â
The elder cackles quietly. âThe sea has quite the terrifying creatures around here, boy. Yâwould do well to mind your path when you depart from Piltover.â Before Jhin can ask any further, the elder ushers Jhin into a hexdraulic conveyor. He slaps Jhinâs back as he makes his way inside. âCome now, yâdonât want to be late!â
âPlease, elder. I have a sensitive back.â A shame Jhin canât kill this old man. Heâs the only connection between the cabal and the technology of Piltover and Zaun, the middleman, repairman, and analyst of broken weapons. Killing him would send the cabal after Jhinâs head.Â
âSomeone as young as ye? Yâmight as well be one of them Chem-punks âround here.â The descender dings, and the door opens up to an alleyway much darker than those of Piltoverâs. The streetlamps dimly light the path of cobblestones and bridges ahead. The conveyor creaks as the elder sits on the edge of the doorframe. âIâll be waiting right here. Mâsure you wonât take long.â
Jhin hums a non-committal response as he moves on. The stench of Zaun is sickly as always. The chem-fumes wafting out of the dingy chimneys makes him scoff. How vile. The sooner he gets his gun, the sooner he can get out of this place.Â
âWhere the spirit of this land goes, her followers are near,â a voice says from the dark.Â
âThe followers the stem, the spirit the blossom,â Jhin answers back. He turns to the source of the voice. âDo you have what I requested?â he asks.Â
âCertainly.â A pair of mechanical hands holding a parcel manifests from the shadows. âTo deliver a parcel to the infamous Golden Demon himself, it is quite an honor.âÂ
There is a moment of silence as Jhin unwraps the parcel and holds his newly-repaired Whisper in his hand. The feeling of metal against the palm of his hand sends shivers down his spine. He gives the grip a little squeeze and sighs longingly. Oh, how he missed WhisperâŚ
âNow, shall we talk business?â the figure speaks up. With a metallic clang, a man covered in mechanical prosthetics steps out of the shadows. âI have a job I would like you to accomplish.â
Jhin simply stares at the man in silence. Thereâs another beat, and the man begins to feel uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his eye. âI understand youâre a client, and I am not one to question them.â He pauses. âUsually. What could a Chem-Baron such as yourself need an actor such as me?â
âIsnât it obvious? I need power.â He scoffs scornfully. âThe only things keep Zaun from falling into chaos are the pillars holding it up: we, the Chem-Barons. Unfortunately, one of these pillars has exhausted their use and refuses to step down. What other choice do I have?â
âInteresting,â Jhin can only say. âNormally, I would take up such a request. It would have been a fantastic piece of work, something as organic as a blossom blooming from within its mechanical cage.â
The baronâs face sours at his words and becomes exasperated. âSo, will you do it or not?â
âUnfortunately,â he starts as he points his gun towards the baron, earning a small yelp at the cold touch of his gunâs muzzle to his chest, âI cannot comply.â
âW-wait, what are you doing? I can pay you to do this! A-any amount of money you want!â the baron tries to bargain. He dares not move, or else that bullet will go straight through the core of his body and kill him.
Jhin clicks his tongue in disapproval. âYou see, the cabal has its own discreet way of disposing of their messengers.â His eyes squint in pure bliss when he sees the look of terror and desperation in whatever untouched flesh the baron has. Such skin tarnished by dull metallic parts⌠What a shame, really. âYou are my clientâs aim, baron. And I will make sure that your death is not meaningless but beautifully ornate.â
 âAs if I would let you, demon,â the baron exclaims as his mechanical body begins to hiss with steam and overlap each other with increasing size and parts, the baron disappearing into the suit. Jhin hops backwards and shoots at the chest, but the metal deflects the bullet off-course without a dent. âYou really think I would come out here to meet The Golden Demon without preparations of my own?â
âI canât say I didnât expect it. After all, even the side character must put some effort into their performance before the final curtain call.â Jhin hops away when the baron slams a giant mechanical fist onto the cobblestone. He slips away into the shadows before the baron can catch him.Â
âBastard, you think you can hide from me?â
âI prefer the term âobservingâ,â he replies. He studies the structure of the baronâs body, making the calculations and notes necessary to bring the stage to the grand finale.Â
âYou can find the weak point all you want, but itâs useless! This metal is of the highest grade and can deflect any bullet you shoot at me!â
âWeak point? Oh, no, no.â Jhinâs eyes lock onto the tank pumping chemicals into tubes that weave around the mechanical suit. âWhat I look for is completely different, baron.â He assembles his gun into a rifle and takes a deep breath. Four shots. He shall free this baron from his rusting cage with his art. He shoots.
A tube shatters at the leg. A sickening green chemical sprays everywhere like a spring shower.Â
Another shot, and another tube shatters at the fist. As he thought, the tubes acted like hydraulics as well as a power source.Â
The baronâs body creaks into a slow stop, but the baron remains unfazed. âYou can stop me, but youâll have to drag me out of this suit in order to kill me!â
âYou seem to lack understanding in your own creation then, baron.â Jhin carefully aims, not at the body but at the gauge tank at the neck of the suit. When the bullet strikes the ring connecting the tank to the neck, a high-pitched hissing noise escapes from the broken tube. Within a few seconds, a pained cry comes from inside. âNo matter what and how many walls you construct, there will always be a breaking point.â
The baron screams grow louder as the green chemical empties out from the tank. Thereâs a loud clang when the baron bursts out of the suit, his flesh and prosthetics practically melting from the acid. He tumbles down the suit and attempts to escape. He hears a dull sound of thunder, and he feels vines of flowers sap away his strength as they constrict around him and the alleyway. The baronâs outstretched arm falls like a tree branch pruned to ensure its healthy and beautiful growth.
Jhin sighs in joy at his work. Or, so he thought it would be the result.Â
Odd. He doesnât feel the bliss heâs always felt with every finale. His brows furrow in confusion, unnerved by this feeling. He only feels⌠dissatisfaction⌠and a numb pain coming from the wound in his abdomen, like itâs pulsing against his skin to remind him of its existence. Of the sirenâs existence.Â
âEven at these brinks of euphoria, that blasted siren continues to pull me back like a tide,â he mutters. He sighs helplessly. He can only wonder why the siren holds this kind of power over him.
 âWhat took yâso long?â the elder asks.
âJust appreciating my work, elder,â Jhin lies. âIt was one of my best work yet.â
The elder grunts in amusement. âSure, whatever get yâgoing. Howâs the gun? Did it do the job?â
âAbsolute perfection, if I say so myself.â He tries to ignore the elderâs dissatisfied face at Jhinâs lack of enthusiasm. âForgive me, I am still caught up in that moment of bliss.â
âYâalways were an oddball, eh? Come. Yâgot the job done, so we need to head up top.â The elder pushes Jhin back into the conveyor and ascends beyond The Gray back to Piltover. They watch the murky atmosphere of Zaun turn golden like the setting sun as they approach the top. âDid yâknow? This olâ thing belonged to that Chem-Baron back there.â
For once, Jhinâs brows raise up in surprise as he slightly turns his head to the elder. âI donât suppose you were my client this time around, elder?âÂ
The elder taps his cane on the floor of the conveyor at the beat of his cackle. âThe baronâs been going âround without a goddamn care about the other factions and his own tech!â His cackle slows into a hum. âDid he mention anything âbout another Chem-Baron, by any chance?â
âHe did.â
âMm, ainât it interesting how putting a single idea about themselves into their heads can become so distorted that they become out of touch with their own reality?â the elder says. âThe human mind is a fascinating thing.â He shoots Jhin a mysterious look. âWouldnât yâagree?â
He doesnât answer. He feels like he canât. Jhin feigns an amused chuckle as he turns back to the overview of Piltover. âYou are quite the frightening one, elder. I donât suppose all Piltovans are as mad as you.â
âNot mad,â the elder corrects with a crazed look in his eye. âJust passionate.â
--
Sona lies in the bottom of her tank, stretched out atop one of the several rocks they placed on the sand. She listlessly gazes up at the tarp covering the top of the glass. Faint streaks of sunlight filter through from above. Her lips purse into a straight line.
How can these creatures produce such⌠sounds?
Itâs faint, but itâs constantly there like in the back of her head. She presses her palms to her ears and tries to shut out the cries and voices of the merfolk of this region. Even their songs sound so cacophonous.Â
A new siren. A girl.
Sheâs not from here. Sheâs come to our home.
This is her home.
She belongs here.
She belongs here. She belongs here. She belongs here.
What a dangerous place this is, and yet the landfolk of this region are oblivious to the creatures that theyâve created. And worse, these creatures have caught wind of her presence. They know sheâs here. They will come to take her away. To make her one of them.
She hears two of Jhinâs crew, tasked to guard her tank from any intruders, talking to themselves outside of the tank. In an attempt to relieve her mind of the voices, she swims over to the guards and taps the glass gently. Theyâre cautious, but for good reason.Â
One of them glances at the other with a questioning look. The other returns the look with a helpless one as she approaches the tank. âCan we help you?â They watch her point up and slide her hand up to the lower half of her face, as if sheâs putting on a mask. âThe captain? Heâs not back yet, or at least, we havenât heard anything from the deck yet.â
Sona makes an impatient face and nods. She sits on the sand and leans back against the nearest rock with her arms crossed.Â
âExcuse me?â the other guard speaks up. âIf you donât mind, would you like to join our conversation?â Seeing Sona tilt her head in uncertainty and glance up at the deck cautiously, the guard shakes his head. âThe captainâs not back yet. I donât think itâd hurt to try.â
âWeâre the more curious of the bunch here,â the first guard joins in. âWeâve never really seen a siren before, or any sea creatures like the merfolk, so weâre really interested in what you see down below.â She shoots an accusatory glance at the other guard. âUnfortunately, some people donât really believe that there are certain creatures in the sea.â
âListen, I gotta see it to believe it. There arenât such things as krakens the size of a battleship. Iâll believe that there are krakens the size of smaller ships like ours, sure. Bilgewater ainât full of crazy folks, so I have no reason not to believe them.â
âWhat!â she exclaims. âYouâll believe them but not me, when Iâve heard those stories from the people whoâve seen it themselves?!â
âTheyâre just stories!âÂ
âSo youâre saying the Bilgewater folks are fibbing?â
âI didnât say tha ââ A knocking on the glass catches their attention, seeing Sona smile sympathetically. They watch her point to the female guard before nodding. The male guard pales with wide eyes. âY-you mean theyâre real?â
Sona nods. She brushes her hand over the sand and makes an even bigger gesture with her hands, saying there are even bigger and more terrifying creatures in the abyss of the sea. She canât help but laugh when the other guard pales as well.Â
But their conversation is cut short when thereâs a commotion from above. The door leading to the cargo hold opens, another crewmember poking his head out the door. âCaptainâs here! To your posts!â he whispers urgently.
The two guards scramble away to their posts and wait for Jhinâs arrival. Sona, on the other hand, rolls her eyes and swims to the farthest side of the tank and sits atop the bigger rocks. She waits for that iron door to open. But it never opens.Â
Strange. She had expected him to come by with that foolish squint in his eyes as he gazes at his prisoner in amusement. Her shoulders, which she notices had become stiff and tense, relax. No matter. The less he shows his face in front of her, the better.
Suddenly, the iron door to the cargo hold opens, and Sona tenses up again. But instead of Jhin, itâs the same crewmember who had told the guards to be at their posts. âWeâll be heading back out to sea. Captain wonât be coming down here until weâre out of Piltovan borders.
One of the guards furrows her brows in confusion. âIs there a reason why?â
The crewmember grimaces. âWeâre being tracked. Someone found out about the siren.â
Immediately, a heavy atmosphere crashes upon those in the cargo hold. Dread pools in Sonaâs stomach. She feels like something much worse will occur out at sea.Â
The voices of the merfolk that were only whispers in the back of her head just a few minutes suddenly grow in numbers and intensity. She winces at the overwhelming amount of voices and hunches over with her palms against her ears.
Theyâre going. Theyâre taking our sister!
How dare they take our new sister!
This is her home!
Come back!
She belongs here!
The voices die into silence as sudden as the next words are uttered altogether in one distorted voice:Â
Weâre coming for you, sister.
Sona gasps in horror when the voices then spill over like a tsunami in her mind. Itâs too loud. Itâs too intense. She shoots up to the top of the tank, banging the glass lid and catching the attention of the crewmembers guarding the cargo hold.Â
This is about to become a battle. The crewmembers are preparing themselves to fight whoever is tracking them. But sheâs not up there to warn them of the creatures in the sea that are coming for the ship. For her.
 Jhin had been careful. He had never mentioned the siren directly in his conversation with the elder. But he supposed Zaunites have eyes and ears everywhere, even in Piltover. Zaunites were known for their experimental demeanors. Some are even passionate enough to steal test subjects for their work.
Mercenaries⌠are likely. The experimenter themselves wouldnât go out of their way to face an entire ship of pirates.Â
He brings out a golden stopwatch from his pockets and opens it up to his eye level. In the reflection of the glass, he spots a ship in the distance thatâs slowly sailing in the same direction as them. The ship flies a Piltovan flag, but he can see Zaunâs technology built into the ship. He hums in thought. He had guided the ship towards Freljord, a region that has no need for Piltovan or Zaunite technology.
Even if Piltover wanted to expand their tech to the north, their ship isnât built to withstand the harsh conditions of Freljord.
A crewmember steps up to the helm and whispers in Jhinâs ear, âCaptain, the siren is acting up. Weâre not sure what happened. She suddenly swam up to one of the guards trying to say something to her.â
Jhin furrows his brows as he glances at the gate of the cargo hold. What is the siren up to this time? âDo you know what sheâs trying to say?â he asks.
âSheâs trying to warn us about something. Something in the water? She keeps pointing to herself and then out to the water.â The crewmember looks concerned. âWhat should we do, sir?â
Something in the water? Pointing to herself⌠but out there within the seaâŚÂ
âHey, do you hear that?â a crewmember standing by the rails murmurs to another. âIt sounds like⌠singing?â
âI donât hear anything.â
âNo, no, I hear it! It sounds like a lullaby my mother used to sing for my brother back home.â The crewmemberâs eyes suddenly light up, and he leans over the rails. The crewmemberâs eyes glaze over, as if heâs in a trance. âThat⌠sounded like mother.â
âWhat?â
âThat⌠sounded⌠likeâŚâ the crewmemberâs words trail off as he leans closer and closer to hear better. âMotherâŚ!â
âWhoa, hey, what are you doing?!â the other shouts as he pulls him back onto deck.
âItâs her! Itâs mother! Sheâs in there, donât stop me!â the former shouts back in rage, swatting away the latterâs grip. When the other doesnât lose his grip, he pulls out a dagger from his belt and slices the otherâs arm.
âAgh!â The latter releases the formerâs shirt in pain, but two other crewmembers pull them both back onto deck. One of them kicks away the dagger and pins down their frantically pleading mate.Â
Jhin directs his attention to the commotion happening on deck. Then he hears it. He hears singing coming from the waters. It sounds like an opera. The voices sound muffled, but he thinks he hears them sing of art, of Whisper, of his feats and trophies at sea. That thereâs more he can do out there. With them. Â
His legs suddenly feel heavy, and he feels his foot swing out towards the side of the ship. His mind feels blank like an empty canvas, and the music of the sea is the paint giving it life.Â
âCaptain!â another crewmember runs out from inside the ship and up to the helm in a panic. âItâs an ambush! Weâve been surrounded!â
He snaps back to reality with a hiss, having sunken his nails into the injury in his abdomen. âBy who? The Zaunites havenât even reached us yet.â
âTheyâre no Zaunites, sir! Theyâre merfolk!â
Jhinâs eyes grow wide. Sirens. He hadnât considered this. Could the siren he captured have called these sirens here? No, she is mute. She hasnât displayed a single ability to be able to communicate to anyone so far. He shakes his head. The merfolk have been around for centuries. Each region has their own kind of merfolk.
Piltover, the City of Progress. Zaun, the City of Iron and Glass. With the advancement of technology, there would be an equal amount of waste filtering into the waters. His eyes perk up in realization. The toxins. For the merfolk who lived in these waters for so long, they wouldnât notice how far the toxins can be carried by the water. Therefore, they would eventually die to the toxins.
Or adapt to them.Â
âPrepare yourselves!â Jhin announces. âThese creatures can affect any of you to kill you! If you see someone whoâs affected, hold them back!â He normally wouldnât bat an eye if two men or three die, but with enemies coming from both within and out of the waters, he cannot afford to lose that many men at once. âLookout, keep an eye on that Piltovan ship!â He loads Whisper with four bullets and cocks the hammer. âThis show isnât over yet.â
---
The sounds of gunshots and shouting from the deck alerts Sona of the sirensâ arrival, her banging against the glass becoming stronger and louder. The lid refuses to budge. She swings her arms down in frustration and swims over to one of the guards who had spoken to her.
âMiss siren, isnât there anything you can do?â she asks in a panic.Â
Sona nods as points at the lid of her tank. She makes the same gesture to refer to Jhin and then the instrument he had taken.
âYour, your instrument? Can you help if you have it?â When Sona nods firmly, the guard purses her lips in hesitation. She chews the tip of her thumbnail in thought until they hear a metallic clang of the cargo holdâs gate above Sonaâs tank.Â
As they look up, they watch in horror as one of the crewmemberâs body is torn apart by a siren that had managed to jump on board. His blood pours onto the top of the tarp covering Sonaâs tank.Â
The guard swallows a gag, looking away. âOkay,â she says. She turns back to Sona. âIâll get you your instrument from his quarters. I, I donât know if I might make it, but Iâll try.â The guard runs out of the hold, ignoring the other guardsâ protests, and makes her way up to the deck. She glances at the helm, the captain now replaced by another hand.Â
âWhat are you doing?â the navigator hisses when she runs past her to Jhinâs quarters. âYouâre a dead sailor if he catches you going in there.â
âItâs for the sake of this ship. The siren can help us.â The guard sneaks into Jhinâs quarters and searches the room for the golden instrument. She spots it sitting atop a dresser in the corner of his room, where the sirenâs old tank once remained. âThere!â Grabbing the instrument and stashing it in her satchel, she runs out of the quarters and back to the deck.
The heavy stench of blood and sea water penetrates her senses as soon as she steps outside. She gags at the sight of dead human and siren bodies littered all over deck. She takes a deep breath, forces herself to look away from the scene, and rushes back down to the hold.
âWhat have you done?â a guard asks when she produces the instrument from her satchel. âAre you insane?â
âIf the siren says she can do something about this situation, Iâm willing to take that risk,â she protests. âGet the other guards. We need them to take her up to the deck.â
âCaptain will kill all of us!â
âThen what else is there left to do?! I went up there, and weâve already lost so many hands! The sirens are climbing up the deck! We need her!â
A guard extends out an arm to stop her from climbing up the stairs. âSome of us donât want to die because of what you did, donât you understand that?â
âWould you rather all of us die then?â she asks solemnly. The others fall silent. âAnd if the captainâs more than willing to kill us after all this, then so be it. Heâs only losing more of his crew. Iâm still going,â she insists urgently. She lunges up the steps to the top of the tank and unlatches the lid. Sona immediately bursts of the water towards the guard, who shields herself thinking she made a mistake of freeing the siren.
But nothing happens.Â
Instead, Sona is hunched over the edge with her instrument finally in her hands. She takes a deep breath and looks up at the cowering guard with a grateful smile. âThank you ,â a voice says with a pluck of the strings.Â
The guardâs eyes widen for a moment, but she regains her composure. âY-youâre welcome.â She leans forward and hovers her hands over Sonaâs shoulders. âWe can carry you up to the deck.â Her heart nearly leaps to her throat when Sona suddenly grabs her wrist while shaking her head and pointing her finger at the guardâs forehead.
Jhin will kill her. All of them.Â
âItâs a risk Iâm willing to take.â The guard tucks her arms under Sonaâs and lifts her out of the tank. âCome on, we need to get you up there.â One by one, the guards in the hold come up to help her carry Sona down the stairs onto a stretcher. âI thought you didnât want to get killed by captain?â
âBetter than all of us dying to these things⌠or worse, getting taken for torture and experimentation in Zaun,â a guard mutters, to which the others chime in agreement.Â
As they reach closer to deck, the female guard speaks up. âWe have enough of us to hold her while joining in the fight. Thereâs a chance the Zaunites will try to take her too. Two of us need to hold the stretcher while the rest of you surround it and fight whoever tries to come after us, got it?â
âGot it. Ready?â The crewmembers crouch to prepare to run out to the deck. Sona sits up on the stretcher with her instrument at the ready.Â
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A collaboration project with @bekkodraws and me! We made a champion based on this confession post! This has been in the works since July 2017, and weâre more than proud to see how far sheâs come! Daffy drew the concept, while I fixed up the lore/story! My friend, Kawaii Desu (LoL name), helped with the stats and numbers! :D I am currently sculpting her in a 3D program called Zbrush, so please expect to see her full and colored model later this December!
We also wanted to release this before Rito decided to change Sorakaâs lore today! :Â Â Â ^)
Liliyaâs lore is below the read more! Word count: 959
Down in the base of the southeastern mountains of Ionia lived a Vastayan tribe of bat-like creatures. Living by the mountains, they flew around the forests to forage for food, lay traps, and scout the area. Liliyaâs tribe was well-known for their ability to fly high into the sky and use echolocation to search for food or intruders. Being isolated from most human societies, she lived a mostly peaceful life.
But the amount of food was beginning to diminish over time, and her tribe had to venture farther out into the forests to forage. One night, a group returned from their trip, a few injured and one in critical condition from wounds inflicted by human villagers. They had gone too close to the outskirts of a village, where they were attacked. Liliya offered to scout the nearby village to gather information. Despite the protests of the elders, she took off into the forest and towards the village.
Once near the outskirts of the village, she landed in a tree and released a high-pitched screech towards the village. The soundwave bounced back to her, giving her a clearer view of the village. The appearances of her tribe members had brought the guards to the village. At this rate, her tribe wouldnât be able to find food near here.
Suddenly, she picked up the sound of someone hissing âpsstâ by a pile of wooden crates. It was another Vastayan like her, with a bird-like wing and tall feathery ears. The Vastayan, named Xayah, requested to speak with her tribe, for their kind was in danger. Liliya immediately took her deep into the forest to grant Xayahâs request.
Xayah informed her tribe of a corruption in their land, draining magic from surrounding lands and disrupting the connection to the spirit realm. She explained that this was being caused by the humans using magic for their own selfish desires, according to her experiences and observations. She insisted that if Liliyaâs tribe didnât take action, their race was going to die off. Xayah left as soon as she relayed her message, to start her next mission for her cause.
Liliyaâs tribe was at a loss. They were foragers, not warriors. They eventually fell back to their usual routine of searching for food and trying to live a peaceful life. But Liliya realized that Xayah may have been right. Trees and plants were withering, prey was scarce, and even her people were feeling weak. She set out to find Xayah and ask her for advice.
She eventually found Xayah in a forest near an Ionian human camp in the south, biding her time. Liliya, desperately wanting to help, decided to help her scout the camp to see if the humans were disrupting the magical flow. Xayah set a rendezvous to meet up at, as there was another camp in the north that she also wanted to check.
Flying over the camp in the dead of night, Liliya used her echolocation to get a better view of the humans. She flew past groups of tents, circling around the camp for a while. Not seeing anything suspicious, she decided to head towards the rendezvous point. Shouting. The humans were shouting something. The moment Liliya turned around, an arrow struck her eye. Overwhelmed by pain, she blindly sought for shelter, but the humans continued to attack her. Her wings took damage, rendering her unable to fly and falling into the forest below the cliff.
When she woke up, she was in a shelter made of leaves and vine. She was saved by a traveling healer, Soraka, who found her unconscious and badly injured. Soraka told Liliya of her deeds as one who travels Ionia to heal the wounded and protect the helpless. Bewildered by Sorakaâs ideals, Liliya tried to go back to the rendezvous point to meet up with Xayah as soon as possible, against Sorakaâs wishes. She escaped one night, hoping Xayah was still waiting for her. But because of the damage to her wings and leg, she couldnât get very far.
Soraka found Liliya again and took her back to their shelter, treating Liliyaâs wounds once more. This time, Liliya stayed until she fully recovered. During her recovery, she listened to Sorakaâs stories, and her view of the world began to change. It wasnât just the Vastaya suffering. The humans had their own burdens to bear.
Once fully recovered, Liliya followed Soraka to the camp she flew over a few days ago. Over the course of several days, Liliya familiarized herself with the humans in the camp and helped Soraka tend to the injured. She even helped scout the area for intruders and gather food for the humans. Soon, the camp welcomed Liliya like Soraka.
As Liliya was coming back from her hunt, she recognized Xayah, who was attacking unarmed civilians. She immediately swooped in to deflect a quill shooting straight for a young woman. Xayah, feeling betrayed, argued with Liliya that helping humans was endangering her own kind. But Liliya felt differently. The humans had their own lives to worry about, and these humans werenât actively hurting the Vastaya. Xayah was repulsed by Liliyaâs mindset and left to move on to her next mission.
Over time, Liliya learned how to heal from Soraka and incorporated what she learned into her own skills. Using magic to heal was a skill she never thought about, but she believed that this was the perfect use of her power. She eventually split ways with Soraka to wander on her own and help the wounded. She even occasionally offered a song or dance of her tribe to soothe many troubled hearts. She continued to wander from village to village to provide healing and protection, for both humans and the Vastaya.
Warnings: Discussion of Cliff's passing and swearing
Author note: omg I can't believe I finally got the balls to start posting my writing RAAAHHH! This is for Isa, aka @metallicaislife, one of my favorite blogs! Jewel anon is finally revealed lol. I did use the wiki page on the tour for the order of where they played so it makes a bit of sense. Now, on with the story~
Dear, Y/N
I knew you'd end up looking into my shirt drawer once I left for tour, so I figured I would leave you a little surprise. I knew you'd miss me too much that you would just HAVE to wear one of my shirts to bed ;)
Alright, I'll stop being a jackass now. You told me how much you love letters so I figured I'd write some for you while I'm on the road. As I'm writing this, I haven't even left yet and I already miss you so much. This is gonna suck mega balls, I know it.
Try and get some sleep and take care of yourself while I'm gone, My Star. I'll try and see you whenever I can and I'll call as often as possible.
Love always, your rock, Cliff.
Dear, Y/N
I hope you enjoyed my first letter, we just made it to St. Louis. I don't know how many of these I'll be able to write and receive just because we'll be moving so fast, but I'll write as many as I can, I pinky promise. (See? I do remember things)
Every show so far has been FUCKING WILD! God, I wish you could be here to see it all, I think you'd love it.
I miss you, Y/N. I don't wanna be sad and sappy but it's true. You're My Star, how am I supposed to be a rockstar without My Star? Right now, I'm just a rock and that's not nearly as cool. I'm gonna stop writing this so I can call you.
I love you always, your rock, Cliff.
Dear, Y/N
Fuck, I'm so sorry. I haven't written in forever. I'll try and do better after these next California shows. At least we'll get to see each other for those, right? It's gonna feel amazing to hug you and finally have you in my arms again. The guys miss you too. Kirk says he needs you to paint his nails again before we leave again like it won't be gone in like three days.
I hope you're taking good care of yourself and I'll see you soon.
Love always, your rock, Cliff
Dear, Y/N
WE'RE IN EUROPE BABE!!!!!
It's honestly so cool, we explored some old castles and shit yesterday. The time zones keep waking me out so I don't know when to try and call you, I'm sorry I haven't.
I have been taking pictures for you though. We could make a little scrapbook with them when I get home! We are currently in Ireland so you best believe we are drinking THE BEST beer ever.
I honestly don't know what to write about. All I know is that I love you and I miss you and I can't wait to come home or at least fly you out for a show in some random country.
Soon, My Star,
I love you always, your rock, Cliff.
Dear, Y/N
Hey, it's Lars. I know you already got the news by the time it gets to you, but I know he'd want me to send it anyway, even if it isn't finished. We'll be there soon. Hang tight, please. We love you.
Dear, Y/N
Europe is officially my favorite. The best breakfasts and the best beers? What more could I need other than you here? I am definitely bringing you here one day. I promise.
author note: this is inspired by @dave-me0wstaine and her "Bad Boy! Dave" works. I hope y'all enjoy! <3
You were laid out on the floor with your new coloring book and a pack of markers while Dave smoked a cigarette on the couch. He swore that you were the sweetest thing he had ever seen, he thought he must've been the luckiest man alive to have such a perfect girl as you.
"Whatcha colorin' over there, princess?" Dave asked before he put out his cigarette and he squatted next to you.
"A butterfly! I'm coloring it pink and purple but I don't know what color to make the flower it's sitting on." You turn to face him. "What do you think, Davey?"
He smiles at the nickname before brushing a hand through your hair. "Hm, how red and orange?"
Your eyes brighten and a smile grows on your face. "You are so smart, Davey! I love you." You sit up on your elbows and give him a small kiss on his cheek.
"Thank you, sweet angel. I love you most." He smiles as you turn back to your page and he places a kiss on the top of your head. "My sweet sweet angel." He whispers as he runs his hand through your hair once more before going to sit back on the couch.
"Wait, where you goin'?" You move to sit on your heels and look up at him. "Come back and color with me?" You ask with big eyes as you grab the red and orange markers and hand them to him.
He lets out a chuckle before sitting down next to you. "Of course, baby, whatever you want. Where should I start?"
You smile at him before showing him where you want him to color. "I'm gonna go get my glitter pens, you start on the petals." You quickly stand up and run to your desk. He sat there with a smile as he took the cap off the orange marker and started to color the petals.
You two sat on the floor for the rest of the night until you both finished the page.