#...i hope they ship out them plushes soon.. it almost the end of the month and im making grabby hands

[todayisafridaynight]

THEN ACCEPT DEFEAT IN DAMPENING MY EXCITEMENT BECAUSE IT'S NOT HAPPENING I get it though and I hope you're able to get it to a place where you're happier with it :)

Also allegedly we're getting a roadmap for the near-future in the stream on the 18th so maybe I'll be less antsy about news then...

itll be a cold day in hell before i stop managing expectations thats just the reality we live in (╯▽╰ )

ROADMAP THO thats exciting........ i hope they tell us infinite wealth will drop jan 1st... <- this is such a ridiculous expectation

[opluffys]

Reverse Captain- Killer x Reader x Eustass Kid

okay okay this is like the last old story from my archive account that i’m posting here *maybe? lmao idk* :,). i’m head over heels in love with killer so i got like ten wips for him lololo. lowkey don’t like how this one turned out, but it’s a couple of months old so idc anymore hehe. anyway i hope you guys enjoy! oh, also sorry if the spacing looks weird, i was too lazy to go through the whole thing and edit it...

-smut/nsfw-

You felt deliciously full and sore, the quick sliding of your captain's cock against your tight walls nearly made you lose consciousness.

"Fuck... Kid..!" You yelled, feeling his girth stretch you.

He grunted behind you and continued to thrust into you wildly, almost as wild as that red hair of his, which was now stuck to his forehead.

Your breasts were flush against the table of his office, rocking back and forth, creating a wanted friction that fueled your desire.

It was no surprise that Kid was rough in bed, just one look at the man and pretty sure anyone could tell. But you just weren't ready for it all, the way his cock just hit every spot inside of you so perfectly... When he leaned down to nip your ear and leave harsh markings on your neck, you felt like you couldn't keep up with him.

You broke the eye contact you had with countless papers and unfinished works in progress on Kid's desk, and looked fervently for your sword. You took that damn thing with you everywhere you went, you would risk your own life for that sword.

When you finally made eye contact with that beautiful blue casing, your face illuminated, you quickly grabbed it, using the hilt of the sword to press against Kid's chest.

"What the fuck..." He started angry, then stumbling backwards onto a stray chair in the middle of the room that fell victim to you and Kid.

"I think you need to slow down a bit, Captain." You said, your voice like sweet honey as you sauntered over to where he was sat, straddling his thighs.

"So you used Sea Stone to tell me that?!" He snapped, about to get up before you pressed the hilt against him once again.

"Ah ah. Feisty are we? I think it's my turn to take charge for the night, don't you, my Captain?" You asked, raising your hips to line yourself up right against his shaft, teasing the redding head with your slick entrance.

"Damn woman..." He growled, trying to get up again, but you were barely faster than him, trailing the hilt of the sword all over his body, making him groan tiredly.

"I would fucking end you if you weren't such a good doctor." He grumbled, still attempting to take charge every few minutes, evidently failing.

"That's all I am? Your doctor?" You responded, faking a disappointment tone. You still continued to rub your folds teasingly over the painfully hard head of your captain.

He raised his hand and you raised your sword, he almost chuckled, instead sending a smirk your way.

"Relax, princess. If I still wanted to actually take charge, you would've been screaming my name over my desk years ago. I guess I'll let you dominate this one time, but next time," He leaned into your ear, nipping it and taking the sensitive cartilage into his mouth. "You're gonna be wishing that you had done it my way." He finished.

You gulped nervously, the tone of his voice nearly made you want to bend yourself back over that desk, forgetting the thoughts of ever wanting to dominate your captain ever again.

Kid let out booming laughter at your reaction, about to come up with a snarky retort, but he was soon silenced by a grunt of pleasure as you finally decided to lower yourself onto his hardened arousal.

"Oh, fuck... So tight..." He whispered, biting his lip as he tried to silence his sounds.

You shuddered noticeably as he filled you to the brim, no, even further than that. He never let you ride him before, because 'You're too slow.' as he said. But as of now, being slow worked in your favour, making the red haired captain begin to lose his cool, grunts and groans of frustration leaving his full painted lips.

"Oh! Oh Captain!! Yes!!" You yelled, feeling his strong arms just tightly wrapped against you and feeling his warm pants fanning across your equally warm face just did something for you.

"Keep talking like that... I won't fulfil my end of the deal." He panted, hands attached to your plush hips, grinding against him thoughtfully.

"That'd be a shame, Captain... Because next time, I'm up for whatever you wanna do. And I mean anything, Kid." You said, sultrily pulling him in and out of you, your wet insides protesting him pulling out every time.

That seemed to shut him up for a while.

"So I've been thinking." You started, bottoming out on his lap, hissing in pleasure after feeling so full. "Your first mate, Killer... He doesn't like me much?" You asked, warming his cock, leaning your forehead against his pectorals.

"I know how Killer ticks. He doesn't hate you or anything, just no reason to make conversation with you. Why do you ask?" Kid replied, unconsciously bucking his hips upwards once in a while, earning you to pull your sword out and poke him with it a couple of times.

"No reason. I just think he's kinda sexy. What's under that mask leaves my imagination running wild, ya know." You said playfully, using your agile hands to tweak and pinch every inch of his built torso.

"What are you really getting at, (First Name)." He said, tone now completely serious, and even though he was stilled inside of you, length twitching and just dying to ravage your insides, the captain's voice never faltered, remaining serious.

"Okay, maybe I daydream of being pinned under your first mate, childhood friend, whatever. But hey, I admit it that he's really, really hot. Okay, happy now, Eustass?" You groaned, hitting your head against his chest in embarrassment, ready for him to scream at you for wanting to have sex with his best friend.

"Okay."

"Yes, I deserve whatever punishment you think is fit- wait, what?" You paused, thinking that you didn't hear him properly.

"I was your first, but by no means were you mine. So if you wanna fuck another dude, at least do it when I'm gone, or some shit." He grunted, rolling his eyes when he saw your surprised expression.

"Fuck, Kid. Please bend me over and fuck me as hard as you want." You whimpered, feeling so pleased at his response.

"With pleasure, princess." He replied, sending a wicked grin your way, harsh hands attached to your sides.

You stood at the edge of the ship, waving goodbye to your captain, who stood alongside Heat and Wire, going into the next island that you all had drifted to.

The two of you decided to hatch up a not too great plan of leaving you and Killer alone on the ship, which was 'I leave with Heat and Wire to the next island, because I'm captain, I do whatever the fuck I want.' which, had actually worked out well.

He sent a shit eating smile your way, then turned around to take his leave, the two other men following their captain.

Killer stood by your side silently, he was never one for being chatty, you knew that much. You took a few looks at the man, his plain black shirt hugging his muscles so tight, that scar on his arm made you tighten your legs, feeling an undeniable warmth flood your senses. You continued your not so subtle stares, the way his blonde mane fell down his broad shoulders and framed his body looked phenomenal, and the only thing you couldn't see was that damn face of his. You stared at the dozen holes on the striped mask, almost like trying to see through it.

"Is something the matter?" He asked, sounding more like a statement than a question. You stiffened, looking upwards towards the blonde, feeling so small in his presence.

You didn't get to be in bed with Eustass Kid for feeling small, though.

"No, Killer." You said, dragging his name out from your tongue, walking closer to his stature. You leaned against his strong chest, a gentle hand laying on his rippling muscles.

"But I think that you have something the matter with me." You said, taking your hand off of him, giving him a sly smile.

"You must've imagined it." He replied coolly, walking away to his quarters, not even giving you a chance to further your attempt at a conversation.

You clicked your tongue and walked past Kid's lackeys, who were all staring at your ass while you passed by, going to wandering into the kitchen.

You turned your head to look at them, smiling at how painfully obvious they were being while gawking at you. If only Killer sent a single gaze your way like these men here, it'd make your job of seduction a lot easier.

You took a seat in the kitchen, a stray chair in front of the stove. You picked at your nails, desperately waiting for someone to scream for your help, claiming they've been injured and needed your help. Though it was a bit bad to wait for someone to become injured, it was your role to assist them.

You didn't know when, but you leaned your head over onto your hand and started to doze off for a while, only jolting awake when you heard the sound of running water from behind you.

"Finally awake?"

You turned to where the voice came from, swallowing hard when you saw that mess of blonde hair.

"There's a plate in front of you, if you're hungry." He said, continuing to wash dishes. Yes, of course you were hungry, but not for food.

You hummed softly, getting up to smooth your skirt and walk over to Killer, offering your hand to help. "Maybe later. How about some assistance?" You asked, settling next to him to dry the wet plates. He shrugged lightly, his blonde tendrils swaying along his strong shoulders. Oh, how you wanted to just grab onto those shoulders while he thrusted into you wildly, grunting and groaning in your ear how you took him so well-

"Here."

You snapped out of your daydreams and took the plate from him, drying it off and placing it onto the shelf.

The two of you sustained a steady rhythm of washing and drying for a while, until you accidentally had dropped a glass cup, seeming to smash into a million pieces upon impact.

"Shit." You mumbled, crouching down to pick up the glass with your bare hands, of course, a bad idea, but you weren't weak, you could take a few cuts as long as you cleaned the mess.

Killer stood silently behind you, admiring the view of you bent down, even though he really shouldn't be. He pulled you up by the arms, surprising you, nearly dropping the glass shards.

You looked at his mask with a perplexed look on your face, dropping the bits of glass into the trash bin, dusting your hands off.

Killer started walking over to you, and you, being confused of what he needed, continued to back up, until your back hit the wall.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to drop it or anything. Besides, I cleaned it up. We all good?" You asked, looking up at him.

"Why do you do this, (First Name)." He asked, grabbing your chin in his calloused hand, forcing your wandering eyes to peer into the mask.

"Do what?" You replied, resting your hand atop his sculpted arm, his muscle twitching at your touch.

"Make me want to pin you against the wall and fuck your brains out." He said, not moving his hand from your skin.

You froze in place, it seemed your job was easier than you had thought. "So do it, Killer." You smiled, tracing your hands over his strong torso.

"I can't." He answered, moving away from you, back to the sink to dry the rest of the dishes. You frowned, your painted lips then creating a flat line as you stood in thought.

"You can. I'm the captain's girl, right?" You said, walking behind him, trailing your nails through the material of the black shirt, feeling his muscles tense under you. "And you're captain when he's gone." You said, standing on your tippy toes to nip at his strong neck, leaving a barely visible mark behind.

You were sure you didn't even blink before you were over the counter, Killer's arm against your back, preventing you to move. A smile spread across your features, sighing contently as you felt his other hand squeeze and pinch along your clothed body.

"Mm, Killer..." You whimpered softly, grinding against his crotch. His breath hitched, but he easily retaliated, a loud hiss of pleasure leaving your lips as you felt a stinging sensation on your ass.

"I guess you're just like captain. Always wanting to take charge." You sighed, feeling the cool air hit your dripping cunt, accommodating the size of Killer's digits. "I guess so." He said, his gaze on how you took his three fingers.

You moaned loudly, biting your lip while shifting your weight from foot to foot, unable to take the torture any longer. "I didn't come here for your fingers." You grumbled, closing your eyes as he curled his fingers deep inside of you.

"Yeah, but this is probably the only time I'm going to be able to enjoy you. Gotta take it nice," He stopped, pulling his fingers out to circle your clit. "And slow." He finished. You were sure he was smirking underneath that mask.

"It doesn't have to be." You whimpered, backing your hips against him again, feeling his bulge rub against you. You heard him take a sharp inhale, contemplating whether to continue the teasing, or to just give in.

"Please." You begged, placing your forehead against the hard table.

And he had his answer.

The sound of a fumbling belt buckle behind you put a smile on your face. "Finally." You mumbled, feeling his tip press against your entrance. You bit your lip from letting out a scream as he suddenly filled you, a shaky sigh leaving Killer's lips.

"Ah... Fuck, Killer!" You panted, your hands grabbing the counter harshly. His tan arm lifted from you, now squeezing your hips tightly, pulling you back against him, relishing in your warmth.

"Killer... Fuck... You stretch me so good!" You yelled, moaning when you felt him fill you over and over again. "You're awfully quiet back there, am I not what you expected?" You said, a fake tone of sadness lacing your voice.

"Unlike you or Kid, I'm not so vocal." He responded, trying not to show the strain on his voice, even when you were wrapped so tightly against him, your pussy dragging him in deeper and deeper with every thrust. "You're even better than I thought, (First Name)." Killer said, pushing himself into you deeper than what you thought possible.

"Isn't this position boring? Why don't you pin me against the wall and fuck my brains out like you proposed? You can even have me do the work and ride you, or even-" You were cut off when your mouth was filled with Killer's long fingers, taking your tongue between them. "You know, you make a good point. I can't see the faces you're making." He said, pulling out of you slowly.

"Why don't we go somewhere more, private." He said, his deep voice making your legs shake. You nodded fervently, pulling your panties up and adjusting your skirt. You tried to take a step forward, but your wobbly knees betrayed you, nearly making you fall down until Killer took your hand, pulling you up gently. "We weren't even going for that long." He said, making sure that you could stand before letting you go. "You're big, what do you expect?" You mumbled, rolling your eyes.

When you were stable, you tried taking another step under Killer's gaze. Again, you failed and your hands flew to his extended arm. He sighed audibly and lifted you up, carrying you like a bride. "What a gentleman." You giggled, your hand wrapping around his neck softly. He didn't reply as he started walking back to his room, obviously attracting stares along the way.

"Killer..." You whimpered, feeling his cock push against your womb, making you see stars. Your back was against the cool wall, seeming to steal the warmth that radiated off of you. "You're tight even when you and the captain go at it everyday..." He grunted, his hips snapping against yours. You would've laughed if you weren't pinned against the wall getting fucked. "Yeah, sorry about that... I know I can get a little, ya know..." You said timidly, a warmth settling on your cheeks after getting called out for being so loud.

"I've always wondered what your lips feel like." You sighed, feeling him stretch you so good. "Not today, (First Name)." He said, biting his lip softly, trying not to let out too much noise, even though you couldn't even hear him. "Come on, Killer. All I've wanted to see was your face the second I joined the crew, and that was years ago, that says something." You said, trying to sound angry, but that was seemingly impossible with a huge cock inside of you.

Killer seemed to stand still in thought, wondering if he could actually show you his face. He didn't hold any negative feelings toward you, but he wasn't sure if he trusted you enough. "And if I do..?" He asked, not moving any longer, his cock deep inside of you. "If you do, then I most definitely think that we would enjoy ourselves much more." You replied, hands squeezing his strong shoulders tightly. He made a sound of disapproval as he pulled out of you again, walking away from you. You barely stood, only with help of a chair next to you were you able to stand.

A confused face took over your gentle features, pondering if you had said or did something wrong. "Damn it, how the fuck did I mess this up so badly..?" You sighed, starting to gather your clothes slowly, silently wishing Killer was here to help you out. It was the least he could do if he didn't want you anymore.

"(First Name), do me a favour." You heard him, he was out of view, for some reason. You hummed, signalling that you heard him. "Close your eyes, just for a little while." He said, his voice coming closer to where you stood. You complied, used to taking orders, especially on a ship where Eustass Kid was captain.

You felt a rougher hand tangle with your soft one, leading you somewhere. You trusted Killer, but you had no clue what he was going to do.

You were stopped for a moment, then brought down onto muscled thighs, your hand still tightly wrapped with Killer's. It took you a moment to realise that you were straddling his thighs, your cheeks adapting a sudden warmth at the intimate pose you two held.

You felt warm lips against yours, your abdomen knotted tightly at the feeling. His tongue softly pushed against your own, his lips tangling within your own in a fierce dance, the two of you seemingly unable to get enough of each other.

Your hand still laced with Killer's, you squeezed it harder unconsciously, feeling your lungs start to burn after not inhaling enough oxygen. Your open hand wandered lower, tracing Killer's strong abs and his beautiful V-line, finally finding his rock hard length, your hand softly pumping it when he released your lips with a groan. 

"Fuck, (First Name)... Just like that..." He whispered, his pants warming your face. His breath smelled of a cool mint, opposing your captains fierce cinnamon scent.

Your eyes were still shut, though you were dying to take a small peek, you were sure he was just as beautiful as the rest of his body.

You continued your ministrations while Killer ravaged your soft lips, his lipstick mixing with yours. Any time while the two of you locked lips, you felt his cock twitch in your hands, obviously wanting to be back inside of your warmth. You subtly raised your hips, lining his cock up with your entrance. Just as you started to lower yourself, Killer thrusted his hips forward, sheathing himself inside of you quickly. You yelled against his lips, separating the two of you.

He would've laughed if he didn't dislike doing so. "You know I can see what you're doing, right?" He asked, his harsh tone of voice seeming to disappear.

"S-Shut your damn mouth..." You whispered, closing your eyes tighter than they already were. You opened your mouth to speak once again, but you were silenced by a pair of lips against yours once again. It was as if he couldn't get enough of you, each kiss was like air to him, his lungs burning like a fire until your cool lips met with his scorching ones. It was weird how you were the one who wanted to kiss him so bad, but he was the one who kept initiating it.

He pulled back from you, leaving your lips slightly agape and stinging, a sensation that was welcomed by you. "You can open your eyes now." He sighed, worried about how you'd react.

Your (eye colour) eyes strained open, the light making it hard to fully open them on command. You squinted, then little by little opened them fully, eyes resting on Killer's tanned chest, your mouth wanting to leave markings on the skin. You just realised that your hand still laid on top of Killer's gently, you muttered a quick apology and looked up at him, your eyes meeting his.

Your mouth hung open slightly, seeing his blonde hair fall into his face perfectly, his long eyelashes tickling his strong cheekbones, his full lips swollen after meeting your own countless times.

"So handsome..." You mumbled, seemingly forgetting that he was still inside of you. You noticed his cheeks get warmer, as you sent him a small smile. 

"Thank you."

He looked at you, confusion written all over his pretty features. "For?" He asked, his now free hand caressing your hips, tracing small shapes with his tall fingers.

"For trusting me... I know we never talk, but I trust you as much as Captain." You sighed, your forehead against his chest. "And well, obviously the other two." You laughed, referring to Heat and Wire.

He didn't know what to say, but he began to feel slightly bad. "Why did you never talk to me, anyway? When I first joined you used to at least make small talk with me, but then it stopped." You said, looking up at him with an undeniable sadness in your eyes. He sighed, averting his stare. "I knew something like this were to happen if I continued to talk to you. When you and Kid became a thing, I had to back off, respect that you were his, or the temptations would overcome me someday." He said, returning his gaze to you.

You hummed, satisfied with the answer. "At least you don't hate me." You said, raising your hips to be able to kiss him again, lips against his own with fierce intent.

"Please fuck me, Killer." You whimpered, unable to take just his stationary cock inside of you any longer. He didn't respond back to you, but began to assist you in moving on top of him, your arms resting against his shoulders as you started to bounce on him, his cock going inside and out with such a lewd sound.

Killer's hands gripped your hips tightly, lifting you onto him easier than if you were doing it alone. "Fuck..." He groaned, feeling your fleshy walls tighten around him, warmth over flooding his entire being.

You felt him push against the spot that nearly induced you into a deep unwanted sleep, letting out a loud moan, unable to form words to tell him to keep hitting that spot.

He knew what angle to go out now, abusing your wet walls with every snap of his hips. He moved his hand lower to circle your clit slowly, hearing you give a wanton whisper of his name fuelled his need to make you finish around him.

You felt your leg twitch as you felt your inevitable release creep up on you. Your moans and whimpers grew to a higher pitch, with a raise of your hips, Killer met your lips against his once again, you never growing tired of the feeling. One more deep thrust inside of you, and you couldn't take it, accidentally screaming into Killer's open lips, you separated from his mouth and whimpered again as you came around him, your arousal dripping down onto his erection and onto the both of your thighs.

He continued to lazily drill into you, filling you to the brim until he was satisfied. He bit his lip as you tightened onto him harshly, almost like not wanting to let go. You moaned his name, feeling sensitive with every move.

"So fucking good." He whispered to himself, getting lost in your soft insides. He too felt release coming sooner than he thought. You were just so good around him, smaller than him and still able to take him better than initially thought.

A few more thrusts and he pulled out, grunting softly as he came on your stomach, thick white ropes of his sticky seed on your naked body.

He got up to bring you a towel, finally feeling the after effects on him, collapsing onto the bed beside you gently. You smiled, your lipstick was slightly smeared and your hair was tousled messily. You cleaned yourself up and laid next to him, locking lips again softly, feeling him being so gentle with you made you feel like you could take him again right then and there.

His eyes were on yours after you backed up from the kiss, a smile on your face as you closed your eyes.

"I could get used to this."

[just2bubbly]

Imagine Angsty Kaider about breakup their relationship bc E.C not accept Cinder as empress, i need that.,,,

Masterlist

Well anon firstly 'Thank You!' for sending the ask, I definitely enjoyed writing it- I might have also grown attached to seeing it in my ask box but it's about time I replied to this, I know I took forever but you had popped up the request when I had already written 'Sometimes Love Stays' and I wanted to write in a new light so I too a long time, but here it is without further ado!

Love Hurts, Love Heals!

Ship: Kaider

Words: 3k

Genre: Angst

A/N: Italics present in the further part of story is a flashback.

Cinder's Perspective:

"Kai! What were you thinking?" she barked.

"Your Majesty, are you hurt?" Torin enquired.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me Your- "

"Gosh, Kai stop making shitty excuses!"

"It's nothing really, you both don't have to fuss over me."

"You don't get to tell us that after pulling that stunt!" she exclaimed.

"I did not know those people would backlash like that. Besides, I can't stay hidden in the palace forever!" he reasoned to his furious fiancee.

"Don't you go logistics on me right now. Get cleaned up I will bring the first aid box- Torin keep an eye on him for me!" she ordered.

"Sure You- Cinder." He replied breaking out of his habit to call her 'Your Majesty'.

As she left the room, they both exhaled, Kai, laid on the sofa and seemed to flinch as his arm hit the soft cotton inside.

"Kaito, you really should not have done it," he said preparing himself to give the young reckless and selfless Emperor quite an earful.

"Not you too, Torin!" he groaned.

"Why would you go out knowing that there is a public backlash over the prospect of you marrying Cinder- any person in their right mind would avoid a public event like the one you held- that too without prior notice to your own advisor! Why would you put yourself in a position of danger like that??"

"I can't hide forever just because I'm marrying Cinder, can I now Torin?"

"You can't- but you can choose to wait for things to calm down first. Honestly, I wasn't expecting such an extent of backlash over the prospect of your marriage."

"Same, I thought it would die down in a week or two, it's been going for months now with no signs of peace out and now I'm really doubting of what will really happen at the wedding. I'm afraid things are not going to turn out as I wanted them," he said, rubbing his forehead that was injured and looked red with the young man's dried blood.

"You should wash up Kai- at least before Cinder comes back, she is really worried."

He nodded grimly and asked, "Do- do you think- er, wonder if-"

"If the wedding would have to be called off?" Torin provided.

"Yes... I'm doubtful of what the future holds for us."

"Kai, whatever happens, happens for good and only good will happen with you both. Don't stress yourself over that," he urged.

Kai smiled bitterly and said, "The past doesn't seem to agree with that. "

They both shared a choking silence- one which reflected upon the uncertain and bleak future of the Emperor and his fiancee.

"She is going to be a handful today."

"I know."

"She was scared for you Kai, from what I know of her she will shut herself out rather than hurt you. I'm afraid she might be walking on eggshells right now."

"She is not sleeping well- we both are on the edge for a while now. The worst of her expectations are coming true," he confessed.

The shut of the door was enough indication of Cinder's arrival.

"Why haven't you cleaned yourself yet, Kai? Shoo, now- Torin thank you for looking after him. I hope you have yelled at him for his mistakes."

Torin grinned at her and said, "I will leave you to that, I just merely helped it start."

Looking at the sofa where Kai had been recently sitting she said, "We have avoided it too much- I'm just going to get over it for once and all."

"Don't give him a hard tonight," he requested.

"What are you two conjuring up behind my back?"

"How to kill you before you do it yourself," she criticised, saying that she was cross with him would be an understated lie.

"I will take your leave - don't want to be stuck in between the crossfire. Take care, Kai and Cinder, take it slow!"

"Good night Torin- thank you for today."

"Night Torin and sorry about it."

And as Torin left the room only for the remaining two to confront their problems- that they had been avoiding to talk about as long as possible.

"I'm sorry, Cinder."

"I don't care," she said and walked towards the plush green sofa.

"Come here," she required and Kai followed in her footsteps.

As she drew his hair back with her metal hand to analyse the damage, the cool metal helped ease the dreaded feeling he felt about the issue at hand.

"Where all are you hurt?"

"Besides the injury on the head, I have a small scratch on the elbow and I might have also sprained my leg in the hurry," he told.

She exhaled sharply and asked, "Why did you go?"

"Uh- I had postponed my meet with factory owners for a long time now and well, the common people learned about my arrivals and a mob was present when I reached- I could not control the situation so-"

"Stop underselling yourself- you could not have done anything before an angry crowd. Nothing! However, you should have at least told me or Torin about it. Torin- he has to know- he is your advisor!" she yelled, calmly if that was possible, her voice quiet and slow but a note higher than usual. It was a tone that would scare the listener and make him feel guilty.

"You would have denied me from going- it was necessary! After the announcement of the engagement, things are stagnant among the aristocrats- quite tense for a while."

"Are you blaming it on us now?"

"I never said that!" he retorted.

"You implied it."

"Can we not have this conversation tonight?"

"How long before you agree that we have to talk about the problems our engagement has caused?"

"It has not caused any problems, Cinder-"

"Keep telling yourself that."

"I have reached a point where I neglect my problems until it loses the essence."

"It's not going to work this time- not with us in question."

"Not today, Cinder," he requested.

"C'mon Kai- we need to-"

"Please," he said pleading with his eyes for her to let go of this topic.

"Fine but we are not talking about it first thing tomorrow," she declared.

"Okay."

They turned silent as Cinder looked at his wounds- applying antiseptic that stung slightly but he didn't complain.

"Remove your coat so I can check your arm."

"Uh- Cinder you might have to help me out-I'm unable to fold my elbow due to the stinging sensation."

She helped him out the coat and rolled up the sleeves of his dress to get a clear view of the cut. He hissed when her hand met near his elbow.

"Sorry."

And as she discarded his suit, dropping it on the floor and looked at her fiancee's arm, she gasped, "Kai."

"Ahh..," he cried through gritted teeth. It was a patch of a red and blue bruise along with a pinkish tissue scar and blood dried around it. The injury was by no way minimal.

"We are going to the medical wing now!" she exclaimed and tugged at his non-injured hand.

"Cinder it is 2 in the morning- I don't want to bother anyone."

"There is always someone in the medical wing who is awake to look after the Emperor if the need comes so ever!" He was truly testing her patience- was he always like this?

"I'm not going."

"Why can't you and I agree on something for once?"

"You are being adamant."

"I am but aren't you being reckless?"

"I have to run a nation."

"Exactly what I'm talking about. Running a country requires sacrifices, Kai- I know it."

"I'm not doing it."

"Why can't you just discuss the problem?"

"You promised we would not talk about it today."

"Let's not destroy our future over something as frivolous as love, Kai!"

"Fuck, Cinder but we are not 18 anymore to call it trivial- we are engaged."

"People call off their wedding all the time, Kai. Why make it a big deal?!"

"It's because I want to marry you. I'm the Emperor, I make the laws here and I want to marry the person I love. Ain't that acceptable terms to you or the citizens?" he yelled, loudly in her face.

"Kai aren't you understanding?! Y-you almost fainted because you are marrying me!!"

"It was a stone Cinder, NOT a bullet-"

"Are you waiting for a bullet to call off your wedding then?!"

"Are you so desperate to not marry me?"

"Yes," she said not thinking her words through and soon realizing the mistake she had committed. Hurriedly, she responded, "Kai I didn't mean it I'm-"

"Why say yes if you were so against the notion of marrying me then!" "I- it came out wrong. I just don't know what to do. My heart wants to marry you- my conscience tells me to disappear for the remaining of my life so I won't hurt you anymore."

"You are hurting me anyways, Cinder."

"I'm sorry, Kai," she murmured and sat in silence, her head hung low from embarrassment. The sudden silence followed by a lot of loud pitched yelling felt too harsh.

"I'm so sorry, Kai but-"

"Don't apologize and leave like you don't love me- just wait, hold on for me, for us. Stay with me. Don't leave me, please!" he said his voice wavering in the end. He was trying not to cry- he looked so vulnerable at that moment. Halting her inner turmoil and internal debate of convincing Kai to let her go, she enveloped him in a hug- a tight embrace to comfort him before a final blow. She drew circles on his back, it helped to calm him down while she prepared an argument.

"You have to understand, Kai," she said at last when he had calmed down. He sniffed for a minute before looking straight into her eyes- his chocolate brown eyes daring her to defy him.

"Promise me."

"I won't."

"Marry me."

"Kai, why don't you understand- what's the point of love that hurts more than it heals?"

"Our love is not hurting me."

"Then I am," she said sighing and looking away to the electronic portrait kept of them. Unlike their present, they looked so happy.

"I think we should let go."

"I'm going to pretend that I didn't hear that."

"Kai," she breathed with a heavy heart and a painful head. At least one of them could cry their heart out. This was being more difficult than she had expected. She held his hand and calmly looked at their intertwined fingers, she looked at the matching bands they were wearing- a gold ring with two diamonds and their respective birthstones in the centre. A carving of wire cutters on the underside. She was going to miss wearing the ring, she was going to miss him.

"Sometimes love doesn't mean two people living under the same roof, it doesn't mean them getting married- I think we are that kind of people. We don't need a ring to prove our love. So let's not bind ourselves to the norms of society. We almost had it, Kai, that's what matters. We have come so far. Thank you for loving me, Kai!"

"I'm not calling off the wedding. No matter what you say, what I have to go through - I'm not going to do it. I know what I signed up for when I asked you to marry me. You know what you agreed to when you said 'yes, we expected this all along- I don't want to run from the first sign of danger."

There was no use convincing him so she left- she might as well catch up sleep before her meeting at 7 in the morning.

The silence stretched between them- there was no distance between but the gap that their love was feeling right now was immense- it divided them like the river divided two adjoining lands, a full stop dividing a sentence, like an axe chopping off the branches of the same trees. They were Kai and Cinder. They were two intertwined lives, separated by the same fate, separated by the same prejudice, the same stigma.

Lunars, Cyborgs and Earthens, just the boundaries created by the human mind. Weren't they all humans, living because of the same oxygen, dying because their hearts stopped, surviving as a society, hating each other as a society. That's what humans are best at- hating each other, never trying to stand united but pretending as they do. Cinder was angry- a burning passion of fury in her heart to the wretched people who had hurt Kai, who were protesting against their marriage, who had been the cause of all her problems for a while.

"Send the witch back-"

"Lunars don't deserve to-"

"She is controlling the Emperor-".

Those were the very words that had been spoken by the crowd of people while Kai was away- that was the tiny part she had heard before Torin had closed his device.

"I'm really sorry Cinder for what you are suffering. I can't believe they are protesting against you after all that you have done-"

"It's okay Torin, it's not like I can wipe out prejudices overnight. Is Kai okay?"

"The guards say that he is slightly injured but other than that he is safe."

"You sure he did not tell you before going?"

"He did not. I'm sure he had a reason but I have no idea for why he left before informing."

Kai did not join her for a long time. There were sounds- tearing the bandages, hissing at various times, clearing the mess left behind, dropping stuff, the noise of flowing water. She felt sorry to give him a hard time while he was suffering but he wasn't understanding the prejudice people had in their minds and hearts for cyborgs, irrespective of if they were marrying the Emperor or not. They did not care whether the Emperor loved them or not. He was destroying his future, his public image for her.

Swiftly she felt the mattress dip when Kai sat on the very corner, hunched on the foot of the bed trying to get a hold of his emotions. No one said anything.

"Cinder," he called.

"Hmm.." she replied.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm tired, Kai."

"Please Cinder- don't go."

"What's the use in waiting Kai?"

"We deserve happiness Cinder, believe me- please!"

"I want it too but-"

"No buts Cinder."

"I don't know, I'm so tired of all the shit we are going through. I want a break, just a minute to breathe."

"You don't have to leave for that."

"I can't do it by staying here as well."

She looked at him, his hair was dishevelled and wet from the recent shower. He had changed into his pyjamas. His body looked fresh but his face showed concern. She cast a glance at his elbow- the bandages were sloppy but they would hold for a night - at least until she took him to see Dr Chang herself.

"I'm afraid Kai- I just don't want to become an example of right people wrong time. We are both being two ahead of our times is what I'm feeling. I'm not sure I can handle this for the rest of my life," she confessed what had been eating her mind for a whole lot of days.

"You love me?"

"Obviously, I do."

"I love you."

"I know."

"That's the only thing that matters."

"It's not Kai- you don't want protests because of our wedding. I don't want headaches because of it. I don't even know what I want right now- a good night sleep, some calm, being a human, you- the list is so long and I have not achieved any of it," she rambled.

"Look at me, Cinder," he said, lifting her chin up to look into her eyes, "- we are going to make it. Even with all the troubles, we are going to be together."

"You don't say things that are not in your hands, Kai."

"I know- but I know you will be my wife, the love of life and my partner for the remaining of my days and no one's going to change it. Trust me on this one."

"I want to."

"Then do it- no one's stopping you, just hold my hand and I will be there for you through thick and thin, through pain and misery and joy and love- I will be there to rub your shoulders after a busy day, I will stay beside you when the world leaders keep complaining on a boring day, I will be there to make you breakfast on Sundays and to bring you to bed when you stay out late in the palace garage. I want to just be there for you. Allow me to do that."

She breathed his smell- fresh sheets, cedar and sharp mint, she remembered how she joked he smelled like 'freshness in a person'.

It would be easier to leave him than to be with him- the hardships, the guilt and the regret that would come with leaving him alone would be impossible to deal with. Even if she goes through all the trouble to keep it away from him, to keep herself away from him, she might wake up one day thinking that if she had only been a little more strong enough to hold on for them- she would have been married to him, she would be the one who knew the cause behind all his laugh lines and she would be the one to make him laugh on a bad day. She could be the one- that she could have been that person if she had just tried instead of letting go, and that thought was what made a difference. However, there would be no point fantasizing 10 years from now when the time to do the right thing had already slipped from her hands.

"I won't leave, Kai. I promise."

A sigh of relief, followed by a bone-breaking hug and some sniffling and weeping along the way and murmured 'thank yous' and 'I love yous' was all that they required.

Love hurts, love heals but the most important thing is staying in love. Forever and Always, that's what it needs. In the end, some people are worth the pain, they are worth the fighting you have to do for them.

__

A/N: We are done! I couldn't help myself- I just love to bring Torin in each and every fic I write, tbh he deserves more representation so sorry not sorry! ;)

It was angst with an happy ending so I guess I fulfill @cinderswrench latest wish as well!

I think it would be good to say that I don't have any angst lined up for a while unless you all are kind enough to make some angsty requests!!

Thanks for reading! and for the readers who read on WP I have not published there yet!

Tagging: @cinderswrench @gingerale2017 @shellyseashell @shelbylmkaider @kaider-is-my-otp @linhcinder686 @kaiderforever (Tell me if you wanted to be added/ removed!)

[raffinit]

Sylvanas/Jaina: jealousy (but like, not in the super toxic way??)

I’m sure you wanted cute couple things with this prompt but my brain worms got the better of me

—————

It took Jaina a fair bit of time before she understood the state of turmoil her emotions were in. The conception and pregnancy held their own unique agonies and traumas — the birth most of all. Perhaps, if it had been a child that she had wanted to begin with; a child made with someone other than the Banshee Queen...

Weeks, it took her. Weeks before Jaina could stand to hold her own child — her own daughter, who had her blue eyes and soft spread of freckles. It was one thing to see her own features replicated on the impossibly tiny and squashy face of her child, but it was another thing to reconcile the fact that her daughter had a face too elegant and elf-like to ignore.

Not to mention the ears. Not as long as a full-blooded elf, but there was no denying the child's heritage.

Their child, whose name came from Sylvanas, because Jaina couldn't bear to even look at her after the birth.

Their daughter was called Aeryn Windrunner. Daughter of the Lord Admiral and Warchief. A beacon of hope for the new era of peace. Sylvanas had asked her once for a middle name, or perhaps to hyphenate their family names for the sake of heritage, but Jaina had simply shrugged her shoulders.

"Call her what you like," she had said. "I don't care."

Sylvanas had pursed her lips, red eyes burning with something like concern, but said nothing.

Because they shared a chamber; because it would be cause for concern if it ever came to light that Jaina couldn't stand to hold or feed her own child — Aeryn slept in their rooms. Tucked away within a lavish crib, made with elven filigree carved into solid oak wood, and a mobile hanging over it in shapes of anchors and ships.

Though Aeryn slept in their rooms, Jaina did not tend to her. Sylvanas woke with her each night; cared and caressed her and hummed little wordless tunes when the babe would fuss the most.

There were some nights when all she could was weep. In anger, in grief, in shame — in envy at the way Sylvanas took to the baby better than she had.

At the gentle urges from the midwives and healers, Jaina kept her milk. It would've been a waste, after all, but that didn't mean she needed to nurse Aeryn at her breast.

She expressed her milk whenever the need arose; Sylvanas took care of bottle-feeding.

Jaina threw herself back into her duties as soon as she could walk without the pains of birth between her hips. She was tender still, likely could have stayed resting for longer, but she couldn't bear to stay trapped within their rooms for much longer.

No one questioned it, but the smiles full of knowing and sympathy made her skin crawl.

One night, Jaina returned to their rooms to find Sylvanas cradling Aeryn in her arms; the babe's plush cheek tucked against her neck as she stood against the moonlight of the balcony.

Without turning to address her, Sylvanas said, "She likes the sound of the waves. It puts her to sleep the fastest."

Jaina stiffened and turned away. "I didn't ask."

"It's something you should know regardless," Sylvanas said, glancing back to meet her eyes impassively. "For when Greymane or your mother ask of her. They will want to know everything about her. You should at least have enough information to lie."

She expected it to sting, but Jaina felt little more than ire.

"By all means, answer them on my behalf," she replied snidely. "It makes no difference to me."

It continued for a time; Sylvanas mothering their child and she tucking her head beneath the pillows when Aeryn would cry at night. Sometimes, she would watch through her lashes as the Warchief — blooded and branded tyrant of an enemy faction — hovered and fussed over the cradle with gentle words and tender touches.

Other times, she would huff and toss in bed, until Sylvanas would slip away quietly to the adjoining study and the baby’s cries grew faint and muffled behind a closed door.

She wept most bitterly those nights. Why, for what, she couldn’t understand. It was nothing more than hormones at that point. Surely.

A month passed. It was customary, it seemed, to celebrate the first full moon of an infant — to celebrate its first full month of life.

On the morning of the celebration, Sylvanas bathed and dressed Aeryn herself. Though they were never short of nannies and maids at hand, tending to their daughter was something she had always done. Jaina never cared to ask why.

"You'll need to hold her for the ceremony," Sylvanas said. "Try not to drop her."

Jaina scowled at her, but could admit that their daughter painted a very pretty picture; wrapped in a lavish swaddle of reds and golds. Auspicious colours to elves.

"What exactly am I meant to do?"

"Hold her," Sylvanas replied simply, though she seemed entirely unwilling to relinquish Aeryn from her arms. "It's tradition for mother and child to bathe together the morning of the ceremony — but that is assuming we abided by the confinement period. We didn't. This ceremony is meant to officially introduce her to our people. Family and friends and the realm, as it were. You will hold her while I cut her hair."

"Why cut her hair? She barely has any."

Sylvanas let out a sigh, as if there was no greater burden than to answer her. "It is tradition. We used to shave their heads. Now we just trim enough for the symbolism of it. Traditionally, the hair was made into a calligraphy brush."

"How unnecessary," she said.

Sylvanas glared, but made no further comment.

They stood within the Great Hall, side-by-side as the priest recited all the necessary blessings and incantations. Jaina's face ached as it droned on; sore from the forced and unfeeling smile she gave to anyone who caught her eye.

When it was time for the ceremony — when it was time for Sylvanas to trim their daughter's hair —, Jaina felt her spine stiffening, her heart plummeting into her stomach.

Sylvanas met her gaze and spoke in a hiss of breath. "Pull yourself together, Proudmoore."

The weight of the baby in her arms was strange and unwieldy; she had to shift Aeryn several times before she could get her hands in the proper position.

Aeryn squirmed as soon as she left Sylvanas’ arms, her little Cupid’s bow mouth pulling into a moue as she whimpered.

Jaina froze. She gave the baby a feeble bounce, but Aeryn was already beginning to fuss in earnest.

Sylvanas stroked a hand over the bowl of Aeryn’s head, murmuring something in Thalassian. The baby’s long brows lifted in recognition, calming somewhat.

Then she pulled away, and Aeryn fussed again.

“Hold her closer to you,” Sylvanas muttered, casting a pointed look at the crowd watching from the pews. “At least pretend to care, damn you.”

“I’m doing my best,” she hissed, tucking Aeryn closer to her. The baby squirmed and nuzzled close, nosing around against her chest. The pressure made her breast ache in response; she could feel one start to leak. “Just get it over with.”

Sylvanas made a low noise of irritation in her throat but said nothing else. She clipped the end of Aeryn’s hair, coming away with a soft tuft of blonde curl that she carefully secured with a length of red silk before passing it on to the priest.

When it was over, Jaina all but shoved the baby back into Sylvanas’ arms. She tried not to notice the way Aeryn settled comfortably there.

She tried not to notice her mother’s worried face watching from the crowd.

After the ceremony, Jaina began to notice the preferences. Though she tried her best to be present in her daughter’s life; though she tried to hold Aeryn more — it was clear that their daughter preferred Sylvanas. When she held the baby, Aeryn squirmed and fussed and cried, and would only calm when placed in the arms of the banshee.

“She doesn’t know you,” Sylvanas told her, though not unkindly. “Give it time.”

Though she knew it was of her own doing, Jaina couldn’t help the slow festering ugliness that grew each passing day that Aeryn chose Sylvanas over her.

As Aeryn blossomed from a newborn to a full-fledged baby, so too did her personality. The baby smiled her first smile as Sylvanas spoke to her quietly one morning. Jaina watched, hovering by the bed and pretending not to notice the way the Banshee Queen’s eyes lit up and voice lightened into an almost giddy lilt.

“What a pretty smile,” Sylvanas cooed, pressing a tender kiss to the baby’s chubby cheek. “You have your mother’s smile, my little sparrow.”

The way Sylvanas crooned should have made something warm and soft bloom in her chest. Instead, all she felt was a hollow ache.

It had to be an ugly thing, but surely understandable. That she would be jealous of her own child choosing another over her.

When Sylvanas was away, she took to laying the baby on the bed by her. Aeryn kicked and squirmed and fussed at times, but eventually they seemed to come to a stalemate.

“I know,” she said to the baby sometimes, leaning on an arm and watching Aeryn. “I wouldn’t want to be near me, either.”

Aeryn snuffled at her voice, blue eyes searching for her face. When they found her, the baby quieted, staring intently into her face.

“You’ll probably hate me,” she muttered, reaching out and tentatively stroking a finger over Aeryn’s cheek. “You already seem to. I don’t blame you. I’m sorry you weren’t born to a better mother. Or a better world. But at least one of us is doing a good job.”

Aeryn blinked at her mincingly and cooed.

Despite herself, Jaina found herself smiling softly. “I’m just as surprised as you are. Who would’ve thought that the Warchief of the Horde would be such an attentive mother.” She ran her fingers gently over Aeryn’s belly, watching as the baby cooed and kicked at the sensation.

“That’s because she isn’t my first.”

Jaina startled at the voice, pushing upright off the bed and twisting around. There, in the doorway; Sylvanas watched them, expression unreadable but not unkind.

It was hard to hide her surprise. “She’s not?”

Sylvanas pushed off the doorway and approached the bed, settling on the edge. “No,” she replied, bending to nuzzle Aeryn’s hair. The baby kicked and snuffled excitedly, no doubt recognising her, and Sylvanas’ lips twitched into a sad smile. “Despite what you and the Alliance may think — I was once married. I had a wife. We had a child. A daughter the same. Count yourself lucky that Aeryn is nowhere near as fussy as Nilarith ever was.”

That Sylvanas would willingly reveal such personal memories left Jaina reeling. She floundered for a moment for what to say; if she was meant to say anything at all. Instead she watched quietly as Sylvanas danced elegant fingers over Aeryn’s belly, tickling under their daughter’s chin and stroking over an ear.

The tenderness and care in the touch made Jaina’s chest stir with something she recognised as sympathy and guilt at once.

Eventually, she found the sense to croak out, “I’m sorry. For your loss.”

Sylvanas lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “It was another lifetime. I have mourned them enough. I will carry them with me as long as I walk this earth.” She lifted her eyes and glanced at Jaina. “I at least take some comfort in knowing that our daughter died in her mother’s arms...and that she was loved deeply.”

Jaina stared down at Aeryn; at the way the baby clung to Sylvanas’ finger in one tight fist.

“I do love her,” she murmured. “I think. I’m meant to, aren’t I?”

“I can’t tell you what to feel,” Sylvanas said. “The circumstances of her birth weren’t something to recall fondly. It’s understandable that you resent her for what she represents.”

It was unfair. To Aeryn and herself. Victims of circumstance.

“I don’t resent her,” she insisted. “I just — I just don’t know how to feel about her.”

Sylvanas went quiet. She looked down into Aeryn’s face for a long moment, until the tension seemed to bleed hard enough for the baby to notice.

Aeryn let out a whimper, kicking her legs.

Sylvanas’ ear flicked. “She’s hungry.”

“How do you know?”

“You learn their cries over time. Hungry, wet, bored. Hurt.” Sylvanas pushed upright. “I will get her bottle ready.”

Jaina peered down at the baby, took in Aeryn’s little moue and soft cries. The sound made her breasts prickle and she winced, reaching up to soothe the pressure.

Hesitantly, she said, “I can — I can try to feed her.”

Sylvanas paused and glanced at her warily. “You don’t have to —”

“I want to,” Jaina said, reaching up to untie the laces of her tunic slowly. “I’d at least like to try.”

Though it was clear she was doubtful still, Sylvanas inclined her head. “Would you rather I —?” She gestured towards the door.

Jaina flushed and shrugged her tunic off a shoulder low enough to expose one breast. “You’ve seen it all,” she muttered, gingerly manoeuvring Aeryn into her arms. “I’d — appreciate it if you stayed. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get her to latch.”

Sylvanas nodded slowly and moved back towards the bed. Aeryn fussing in her arms brought all of Jaina’s attention to the baby; but she could see in the corner of her eye, the Warchief bustling about with pillows.

“Here.” Sylvanas piled the pillows high against the headboard, gesturing to her. “Lean back. I’ll put a pillow under your arm. Something to brace the weight of her while she nurses.”

Jaina obeyed, shuffling back against the pillows comfortably, keenly aware of the way Aeryn squirmed and wriggled closer to the warmth of her skin. She tucked the baby into the crook of her arm and slouched slightly to urge Aeryn to her breast.

The first suck stung and she pulled away in instinct, gritting her teeth against the pain.

Aeryn let out a cry at the loss, but Sylvanas was there to soothe her.

“Gently,” she coaxed. “Hold her closer and let her set her mouth fully on your breast. She’ll know what to do.”

It was a strange, alien sensation; pinching slightly when Aeryn finally latched. There was a soft, wet suckling sound, and Jaina felt something shift and open in her chest as the baby began to suckle greedily.

“There now,” Sylvanas murmured, settling down on the bed beside her. “You’re a natural.”

Jaina said nothing — couldn’t trust herself to say anything with her throat welled thick with emotions she wouldn’t dare name.

Instead, she cradled their daughter close; one finger clasped tightly in Aeryn’s little hand.

[partnersatfazbear]

Updates | Vday Sketches

I thought I’d post an update, so you guys know why I haven’t been posting. It’s nothing really serious, but I’ve been taking some time to spend with my wife before she starts a very long solid week of work with no time off, taking care of the apartment for her, ect.

I’ve had back pain, sciatica pain again as well as nightmares, so my sleep hasn’t been good..

I haven’t had any inspiration for poor William and Henry lately, but it is something I want to get back to. My interests change often, but I don’t want to abandon this ship anytime soon. I would be updating the fic, but I can’t get the middle sorted out. I haven’t sat down to finish Resurrection Seeker, although I’d say the last few chapters are about 50% done. As for the comic, I’ll upload that tomorrow. Out of pure laziness / back pain I haven’t finished coloring the most recent pages, but I’ve been looking forward to specific scenes and I really want to put my all as each page goes, hopefully improving the quality.

You have all been amazing, leaving lots of kudos. I appreciate that. I feel guilty for the lack of updates...

I admit what energy I have had has gone to my game, which still doesn’t have a name. I think I’ve almost worked out a plot I am happy with. I’m going to watch some horror movies today and get some inspiration. I’ve also been watching a lot of RPG Maker horror games (if you haven’t watched FlareBlitz, I highly recommend him... wife made fun of me because she says he sounds like PJ. If FB could read a little smoother, maybe. Nonetheless, FB is great for some relaxing RM content. Sadly, he’s doing a lot of VNs lately and it’s really not my thing.)

Anyway, to actual speak of my game, I’m really trying to figure out my story while mapping, which is probably a mistake, but I’d rather have a realistic house for a map that realistically conforms to the story. Having said that I realize that games like Pocket Mirror and Crooked Man stand out as my favorites and I’d like to include some fantasy elements at some point, but how to make it work with my grounded supernatural settings my work is set in is difficult.

Other random stuff I added to my to-do list is to make a Thousand Arms FNF Mod, but uh, it’s about 20 sprites not counting the death ones [just for the BF] (which I probably will only mildly modify). Then those 15 or so sprites must be copied / lowered a few times each to match the sprite sheet. This project is something very far off my radar, but I wanted to mention it.

So, right now my plans are to finish a chapter of something even if it’s typing up the first chapter of my MichaelxCharlie story, and post it. Second, work out my game’s plot a bit more. I have to establish this story with my 12 book long novels, which isn’t as hard as it sounds since this is near what I call “the end of the timeline” and I am planning with a sequel in mind. So, I want this game to have a lot of vague lore that gets answered in Part 2.

I just hope you can all support me in my game endeavors. I want to finish it by Easter. It’s isn’t my first RM title, but it’s something I would easily love to make a living out of someday.

Oh, and for some FNAF related stuff, we finally tracked down Glamrock Chica’s plush the other day when spending time with a friend. We still haven’t found Frostbear, unfortunetly. I’m going to have to pay scalpers for Chocolate Bonnie and Frostbear, sadly. The next book will come out in a month or so, IIRC? Gumdrop Angel? I don’t know if I’ll have anything to add for that. I also finished the Twisted Ones GN, so I’m out of material to read. Except to find that Google Drive post about the Shadow animatronics and read about them... because I intended to start a YT channel, but I’m too shy. I can’t do it without anyone to bounce my ideas off of and my wife is busy.

I will be taking a haitus between 2/20 and 2-28. My wife has vacation and we also moved our V-Day celebration to then. So, don’t expect too many updates that week, especially early on as we’ll be out of town visiting families.

I think I’ve rambled too much. If you made it this far, thank you..

Edit: Someone on twitter wanted Willry V-Day art. I might try my hand at it so I did some sketches... Springtrap literally giving his heart, Charlotte as flower girl (Henry has a plaid tux and William has bunny accessories), and then a scene from Resurrection Seeker.

[unstoppableforcce]

a fragile alliance

no request- just something i had, poe with a first order ! reader.

Poe Dameron x reader !

this is something I wrote a very long time ago, so no TROS spoilers but def more to come if y’all want. it’s angst. it’s pure angst. bc I excell at that.

“Black leader, you see that?” A voice came over on the crackling radio in his ear. And he did. How could he miss it?

The small black single rider plane that every resistance member was told to watch out for, the one containing one of the most feared members of the First Order, you, plummeting to the surface of the small jungle planet. If they could take you out, it would be the biggest leg up on the first order they’d have in while. A sense of pride even surged within the Commander, you had a lengthy history with the First Order, leaving a trail of bodies in your wake. But the voice in his ear said differently.

“Commander Dameron, you are to take a unit to the surface of Bluscant, search for the remains of that ship, take any survivors into custody for interrogation.” The orders were orders, but he despised them. 

They deserved to be left to suffer. He shot you down, he thought you deserved to stay there. 

“Yes, sir,” Dameron responded before ordering his men to the surface with him.

They parked outside the jungle, watching as the smoke from the crash raised higher into the sky. Poe order two men to stay at the ship and another two to follow him, all the way until they reached the crash site.

It was a short hike to get there from the clearing where they parked, but soon they saw the crashed plane. The whole thing was on fire and he hoped you were inside. He didn’t normally see such red but he couldn’t escape it now. 

He wasn’t that lucky, however. While the ship burned plumes of smoke, he spotted a stormtrooper body laying just outside the wreck. 

You were laying up against the side of the crater, hand gripping your side to keep your insides where they belonged given the significant wound that sliced you. Another gash about your forehead, spilling blood down your face. Yet you managed to keep a strong grip on your blaster with your free hand, unconscious but holding tight. 

All of the movement around was all it took to wake you, barely shaking you from your blurry consciousness, but enough for you to feebly attempt to lift your blaster in defense. You barely got it a centimeter off the ground before groaning, a violent stream of pain shooting through you. He kicked it from your hand before you had the opportunity to try again. 

“Base wants us to bring back survivors.” His Lieutenant quickly reminded him. And he very clearly needed him to remember. Because all Poe wanted to do was leave you stranded to die.

“Yeah. Patch her up, and cuff her.” He ordered while rubbing over his face.

“Are cuffs really necessary?” The other man questioned as he kneeled next to you, pressing two fingers to your throat for a pulse, faint but there. 

“She’s got a kill count in the thousands. I wouldn’t take my chances.” Poe argued, crossing his arms over his chest. It may have been an overstatement, but it certainly didn’t feel like it.

The number of reports he had read with her name on the cover. 

“283-3” You muttered out groggily, catching his attention briefly. 

“What?” He questioned, stepping closer but not getting in the way of his two counterparts who were patching you up for the trip home.

“Is he dead?” You finally murmured with enough strength to be heard. Poe could only assume you were referring to your stormtrooper, the one nearest the crash. The dead one. 

“Yeah.” 

Your eyes clenched with pain through the entire procedure, but something in your disposition changed as you hear the news. Slightly more distressed, and he couldn't figure out why.

“I tried- I” The lieutenant administered the sedative, trying to avoid the shock of pain killing you before they could get you back. But he knew what you were trying for. You were trying to say that you tried to save him. He couldn't decide whether it was notable or not given the record she had. The pain in his heart ultimately told him it wasn’t.

“Will she make it back to base?” Poe questioned, kneeling next to them as they pressed the bacta patch to your stomach and wiped the blood from your face.

“If she’s lucky.” One responded and Poe had to hold back a staunch laugh in response.

“We should just kill her,” He shook his head and pulled away, leaving them to carry her back. There wasn’t much in the way of bloody vengeance in his soul, just enough for you.

When they landed back on base, you were taken to the med bay much to Poe’s dismay. He knew who you were. A commander, like himself. Specialized in hand to hand combat, a spy, but not lost around a tie fighter. You surely ordered the deaths of thousands of men and probably killed hundreds with your own hands, or at least that was what it felt like from where he was standing. And Poe was ordered to rescue you so they could gain any intelligence from you. It was probably useless, no way you would give anything up but they’d try, keep you alive for months longer than you deserved.

He left his debrief and headed straight to the medical center, knowing you would be in there, and if you were awake, he needed to talk to you, he needed closure. 

Even if Leia ordered him to get some rest, that she’d send someone to interrogate her in a little bit.

The nurse pointed him to your room without him even having to ask, they all knew.

And when he walked into the room, he was prepared to get what he needed and then kill you, no matter the consequences. Leia could demote him, hell, she could kick him out of the resistance, but if he got this closure, it would all be worth it.

It had to be.

Yet you laid there so innocently. The nurses had cleaned the dirt and grime from your face and hair, the cut above your eye had been healed, and you even looked comfortable under the plush blanket. Even if your hands were cuffed to the bed.

His fingers twitched at his side, aching to grab his blaster and just end it all now but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He needed you to admit to it. He wasn’t a killer, but he would do what’s just, it’s what you deserve. So he called a nurse back in and ordered her to wake you up, and without any objections, she did. They all knew, and not a single one disagreed. 

Minutes later, your eyes fluttered open so peacefully and he couldn’t stand to watch it, he had to turn away briefly to compose himself. Until you began groaning. Your breath was caught in your throat, preventing a scream in pain. Hands clenched into tight fists, nails digging into your palms, the pain overtaking you all at once. It seemed like the doctors were just as bitter as he was.

But then something in your disposition shifted, you began to laugh instead of scream, and your hands released. Heavy breathing took over now as your eyes quickly scanned the room, frantic almost, and as they landed on him, you finally began to understand.

“Long time, Captain.” You squeezed out. The chuckle was rough as it escaped your lips, eyes squeezing shut as your head leaned back against the pillow.  

“Its Commander now.” He choked out, hands clenching, heart pounding.

His blaster was right there.

“Congrats.” It was almost a genuine smile, but it distorted to a smirk as you locked your eyes back with his. 

“Don’t congratulate me, I should kill you.” He added, taking a few steps towards closer until his thighs hit the foot of the bed.

“Do it. You won’t.” You scoffed, “you wouldn’t dare disobey an order, and I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to be here.”

“After everything you’ve done-“

“I deserve to suffer. I deserve to be tortured. I deserve your worst. I don’t deserve to die and you know that, the resistance wouldn’t let me off that easy.” You argued back easily, even if your chest was still heaving with every breath. He couldn't deny that he was watching it, a part of him hoping it would stop.

Tears brimmed at his eyes no matter how hard he fought to keep them down. “I don’t care about the resistance.” 

“Then what are you here for?”

“You killed Finn.” He choked out, not in control of his emotions any longer. He rounded the bed, took two more steps forward, and began pointing in your face as he seethed, “You killed him.”

But your face didn’t twist to that of a proud First Order Commander who would relish in a successful kill. It twisted into confusion, pure confusion. Brows furrowing and head quirking slightly to the side, only serving to raise the heat in his chest. 

“FN- 2187?” You asked, trying to sit up despite the pain flooding your body and warning you against it. 

“You killed him, I watched it.”

“I didn’t kill him.” It was a plead, genuine concern in your eyes that he couldn't understand. You were fighting against the restraints, leaning into his now shaking finger of accusation. 

“I saw you do it, the whole galaxy saw it.”

“I didn’t kill him. Dameron, I have killed a lot of people, I didn’t kill him.” You shouted back with the same volume he used, defensive, truly defensive. 

“The first order broadcasted his execution across the whole galaxy, do you think I’m an idiot, I watched you kill him.” He shouted but pulled back when he watched you flinch. 

You couldn’t form a sentence fast enough, not by the time the curtains behind him ripped open and two soldiers grabbed him by the arm and pulled him fighting from the room. He needed closure, he needed an answer. He would fight but they only pulled him farther back. 

“He’s alive.” The words left your lips just as the curtains fell shut between the two of you. He wanted to hear more, to see more-

And soon he was tossed to the ground on his knees in front of Leia herself. 

“I told you to go get rest, that I’d send an interrogator in.” She said but he wasn’t there. His body was physically on the floor but his mind was elsewhere, he was replaying Finn’s death over and over again in his head.

He saw the alert go out that the first order had a special broadcast, and when the image flashed up in the command center, he just about collapsed on the floor. Finn, on his knees, surrounded by stormtroopers and officers. In front of him stood Kylo Ren, General Hux and You. Dressed in all black, not completely covered like Ren and Hux were, but somehow just as intimidating. Your hair pulled back so he could see your face painfully clear. An image that haunted him at night.

And then Hux said, “No traitor shall go unpunished...” and continued on into a vehement hate-speech about the First Order’s dominance in the galaxy. But Poe only stared at Finn. He was forced on his knees, hands behind his back, still wearing the jacket he gave him. He tried to stay strong, to not let them win, but he was scared, Poe could see it. And as soon as his speech ended, she was ordered to execute the “bloody traitor.”

Stepping forward, you pulled a large electrically surging sword from your holster, and within seconds, you spun and his head hit the ground.

Poe screamed, a raw, guttural scream as he saw it happen, and none of the officers around him cared because they saw the pain, they felt the pain. And Finn, who they all regarded as a hero, was brutally murdered by you, a nightmare-like extension of the first order.

And now you were saying you didn’t kill him when he saw you do it. And now you were saying he was alive when he saw his head off his body.

“... Poe. She’s messing with you. She knows that she can target your emotions and you’re just giving her power over you.” Leia soothed but Poe hardly heard it. What did you mean he was still alive.

“What if he’s alive?”

“He’s not Poe, we watched it happen.”

“She said he’s alive.”

“She’s a First Order member, she is trained to deceive you, to mess with you, she is the enemy Poe, she just wants to get you off your game,” Leia explained but Poe couldn’t pay attention to her, too lost in his own thoughts.

“If he’s alive, I need to find him.”

“He’s not alive Poe, we both know that,” Leia finalized as he finally rose to his feet. “She’s lying to get a rise out of you.”

“She seemed genuine.”

“She’s a spy.”

“If he’s alive-“

“He can’t be Poe,” Leia said exhaustedly before ordering Poe to be sent to his room, he was too out of it to protest at this point and just complied.

But if it was true, how could he ignore it.

Leia couldn’t keep him away.

Over the next two weeks, you began to heal up and Leia began to send in interrogators but you merely mocked them. They didn’t need to torture you, Leia knew it wouldn’t work, you weren’t going to break like that, so she just tried getting information from you in regular conversation. Still, no avail. 

You wouldn’t give up anything useful, besides who did Hux’s laundry.

A stormtrooper, called AT- 8745. He read it in a report.

Poe knew you weren’t going to give anything useful.

But you had been willing to talk about Finn last time he tried. And no matter what the general said, he needed to try again.

He got a few looks as he snuck into the holding cells but people thought he was meant to be there, so they never said anything about it.

He typed in the code with shaking hands, not nervous but surging with the adrenaline that knowing he was going against orders that the General gave him. The door was heavy but he pushed it open quickly, too eager to hesitate.

You laid out on the bed, well not a bed but a metallic slab with no blanket or pillow, across the room from the door. One knee bent up and both hands beneath your head, staring at the ceiling, you almost looked dead given how you barely moved. A single chair sat in the middle of the room, too close, he thought, to your bed for the council to have allowed Leia to interrogate you from.

But he spotted the glimmer of the forcefield in between the two halves of the room, keeping them separate.

You didn’t look up upon hearing him enter, not moving besides adjusting briefly to lay a hand over your stomach defensively.

“I expected you eventually, figured that Leia had finally run out of options.” You noted from the bed, knowing it was him without seeing him. He didn’t waste any time being impressed. 

“She doesn’t know I’m here.”

That got your attention. You turned towards where he stood by the wall, no different than the last time you saw him, if anything, he only looked more exhausted. 

You groaned, pain rushing through you as you sat up on the bed but he made no move to sit down, he just hovered by the door.

“Why are you here?”

“You know why.”

“He is alive, I have no reason to lie to you about that.” You argued, walking towards the barrier, but stopping right in front of it. He wondered how many times you walked into it before realizing it was there, he could tell it was at least once given the hesitancy you took towards it. 

“Explain why.”

“He could be reprogrammed and valuable, but in order to get you to stop investigating, Hux needed you to think him dead.” It wasn’t curiosity or even a fascination, but you lifted one hand to the barrier and played along the light blue glow that radiated as you got close. It almost felt like boredom, and it pissed him off. “Drop the barrier and I’ll tell you more.”

He considered it for a second longer than he should have. It should have been a quick no but it wasn’t. But it also wasn’t a yes, he just backed away from the panel and to the barrier so that he could stand face to face with you. 

“Where is he now?”

“Drop the barrier.”

“If I do, you’ll escape, and won’t tell me what I need to know.”

“I also won’t tell you what you need to know with it up.”

He walked back over to the control panel on the wall and opened the door, pulling his blaster from the holster and dropping it outside. Then he locked the door shut, using his handprint to secure it. Only after all of that, did he make a move to lower the barrier.

Everything within him told him not to, but he needed to know. You were injured and manipulative and he needed to know. 

You didn’t charge at him like he expected. He didn’t have any weapons on him anymore so he wasn’t too worried about being overtaken and immediately killed, but he couldn’t trust you, not for a second.

“He’s in the reprogramming plant on Plutarch.”

“Plutarch?”

“A moon in the Ghevner circuit. Kylo Ren took control of it for the first order several years ago. Since then, it’s become a brainwashing stormtrooper factory.” You explained, now walking towards him, hesitantly as you passed where the barrier had been, but faster once you cleared it. 

“How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

“Armitage. He made me into a liar when he broadcasted that clip. I’m not a liar.” There was almost a playfulness to your voice, it set him on edge in a way he wasn’t sure he had ever felt before. 

“Just a murderer?” He tipped his chin, but you didn’t seem all that offended. 

“No one’s perfect.” The joke came out deadpan as you stopped just in front of him, your serious face never changing now that it was on. “Look, from what I’ve heard, he’s been resisting reprogramming, if you could get to him, you’d have a good chance of getting him back.”

He didn’t understand, he felt a tug on his heartstring and he didn’t understand. 

“Why are you telling me all this?”

You scoffed, the sensation crackling through your body as you shrugged. “You think so little of me.”

“You’ve given me reasons.”

“They pay me better than you guys would. That’s all it is. I do dirty work, sure, but if you paid more, I’d do that dirty work for you. It’s not about morality for me, sorry.” You sighed, hands folding in front of you. 

“So you’re a murderer in it for the money but a good person?”

“I think the question you should be asking is why would I want the barrier down if I planned to tell you everything anyway?” You added. It was just ominous to push him over the edge, but you were faster. 

One elbow, straight to the face and he was on the ground in a second. Not unconscious, head stinging with pain, but still barely conscious against the cold concrete. 

“Now you’re going to get me out of here.”

[centuryofdean]

Of Food and Comfort - Part 12

Author Note:: You guys, this is the last part! I honestly do not feel 100% great about it, as if I could have ended it better but unsure how. I still hope everyone enjoys it! There is something else in the works now that I am excited to start sharing soon!

Here shortly I am going to take a small hiatus. I need to finish my Hobbit story (it has been neglected too long), and once it is finished I want to get back more into Marvel. I will be working in the background, but not posting until I have gotten everything else squared away. In the meantime, please tag me in Marvel stories you think I would enjoy! I want to read more fanfics and support writers on Tumblr, so I will be sharing more works as well.

Author Disclaimer:: Marvel and its characters are not mine. I take no credit. Instead I claim the maybe not so great plot, writing and characteristics of the reader insert character. I am not a die hard Marvel fan, I haven’t read all the comics, but have watched the movies. I may get some things wrong, so please don’t hate me. I also have been incorporating Old Norse as terms of endearment.

Summary:: You worked for Tony Stark as a…mechanic of sorts. Anything around the Avengers compound that needed a technicians touch, you handled. With working and living there, you had grown to be friendly with the super heroes. Of course you had grown to have feelings for one of them. The muscled Thunder God to be exact.

Rated:: M for Mature. Please do not read this story unless you are 18+. Smut. NSFW

Pairing:: Thor x Reader

He looked different. The usually shiny bright warm blonde locks you loved running through your fingers was longer, darker and tangled together in messy strands and braids. It was the longest you had ever seen it, coming down just past his shoulders. Some of it was still bundled in braids behind his head. His beard was completely dark, and also very long. It came down past his neck and onto his chest in more intricate braiding. The new look, although a little ragged and dirty, was something you found you liked.  

Everything else about him screamed different. It appeared he was dressed in oddly dirty large Earth clothing.

The only concerning thing you did notice was the once bright mirthful ice blue eyes were now dull dark blue like a stormy sky. One was even noticeably darker than the other, oddly…perfect? Now, these new hopeless eyes were starring right back at you.

Even with noticing all these things, you couldn’t help to feel significantly happier. The past months seemed to slowly fade into a blurry bad dream you had woke from. The ache didn’t matter anymore, what mattered is that he was back—home.

Steve had jumped to action, reaching down to pick up the broken mug at your feet and trying to hush Mjölnir who was still growling from the floor a little ways off.

The tremble started in your jaw before the tears. In one swift movement you were posed on your feet, mouth opening to say anything and everything all at once.

“Thor,” another feminine voice called out from the hallway, “I can’t find the bathroom. You said it was at the end of the hall?”

The happy warmth that had just filled you moments ago disappeared with such quickness you were convinced someone doused you in ice water. Your skin prickled with the change, eyes turning to take in the woman, the same woman you passed in the hallway on your way to the kitchen.

Without conscious thought, or ever seeing her before today—you knew who she was—she looked just as you envisioned. Taller, thinner, big eyes and plush lips with flawless skin and sleek brunette hair.

Jane Foster looked as you imagined. Though standing in your kitchen talking to Thor with ease is not what you visualized.

Your hands were shaking as they grasped the island, holding on for dear life when Steve’s head popped up with his stance.

“Steve Rogers,” he offered quickly, making his way around the island to meet Jane. “Let me show you where the bathroom is ma’am.”

The look of awe covered Jane’s face as she smiled awkwardly. Steve started to lead her from the room, but then popped back in a moment later, “If you need anything sweetheart, I’ll be in the living room.”

Just like that you were alone with this new Thor, just a handful of feet away from each other and awkwardly starring at one another.

He didn’t look excited to see you; he didn’t look even remotely happy. Instead he looked upset and forlorn. Why would he be happy to see you, not when he had Jane back? Why else would she be here, with him?

For five months you sat on this base, mourning him every single day—trying to remember the love you shared so that it would get you by until he returned. He finally returned and now you are trying to remember if the love was ever real.

Unconsciously you grasped at the collar of your shirt, checking to make sure the necklace he had given you was hidden underneath the fabric. You had worn the keepsake every day, wearing it even when you showered. It wasn’t uncommon for you to play with it throughout the day either. At this moment you didn’t want him to see it. For some reason it felt as if it were a weakness for him to see you cling to it so tightly.

The only conclusion you could reach was that you were a stand in for Jane. Everything had been a lie, especially when Thor had told you that he no longer cared for Jane in that way, he only cared for you, only loved you. It was confusing, because Thor never lied, but how could you believe it when it looked like he had been back on Earth for more than a few days and came back with Jane in tow?

You tried to picture how your reunion with Thor would be when he returned. You would throw yourself into his arms and tell him you missed and loved him very much. You would tell him that you didn’t care about how upset you would be separated from your friends and family—you would gladly move to Asgard because you couldn’t go without him like that again.

This isn’t what you pictured; heartbroken sitting across from him and rethinking everything that had happened within the past year.

“What happened?” The words came so softly from your lips, you coughed to clear your throat and croaked them louder when he didn’t reply.

Thor’s eyes fluttered close, hands coming up to cover his face while he took a deep breath.

As he spoke, more tears fell from your cheeks. The deep timber that you thought you forgotten brought back a rush of emotions, goosebumps crashing to the surface of your skin. His voice was just as deep as before, but full of defeat. It was like listening to an old sad country song you hadn’t heard since you were younger.

Once he returned to Asgard, he was immediately needed across the realms to fight another battle. Once one battle was over, he needed to go to another. It was as if wars were breaking out all around him. He was trying to prevent the downfall of the realms and Ragnarök.

Eventually he found himself imprisoned by a fire demon. He defeated the demon and returned to Asgard to find Heimdall missing and Loki posing as their father and leading the kingdom.

Forcing Loki to help, they left Asgard and found their father in Norway. Odin revealed that the brothers actually had a sister; one Odin locked away for becoming too powerful and using her powers wrongly. He was dying, and once he passed their sister Hela would be released from her prisons. Even though Thor fought hard to prevent Ragnarök, it was going to happen, and Odin wanted New Asgard to be in Norway on Earth because he thought it was beautiful.

It happened so fast. Odin passed on, and Hela appearing in his place almost. The Bifrost opened, leading Thor and Loki back to Asgard—but Hela followed.

The story began to become garbled as he spoke, almost as if he were grasping to remember the finer details himself in his grief and the order that they happened.

Hela destroyed Asgard’s armies. Thor’s friends were killed at her hand—and she had plans to destroy and conquer the rest of the realms.

Somehow in all this Thor and Loki found themselves separated, Thor on a ship and crashing on another planet. After emerging from his ship, he was captured and taken to the leader to be used as fighting entertainment. Not surprisingly Loki was there becoming good friends with the leader while pretending not to know Thor.

“Mjölnir was left behind on the ship,” he sighed. At his words, the dog perked up a bit, tilting his head in confusion on why a stranger was saying its name. “After I had freed myself and a few others from the fighting games, I was unable to get back to the ship I arrived on and retrieve it. I had tried summoning it, but it never returned.”

Since you needed to know the rest of the story, you kept silent. After he finished telling you what happened, then you would tell him you had the hammer.

The ship Thor found himself on with the other imprisoned fighters was intercepted by another ship. One that housed a talking furry animal named Rocket and a talking tree named Groot?

Thor admitted early on in his retelling of the past five months, that he lost track of days after his father passed away. So, when he and his other escaped friends were taken in by Rocket and Groot, he said he wasn’t sure if it had been months or years when that he had been gone. Time always traveled differently in space. If you didn’t pay attention to how many times you fell asleep and woke up, it was hard to keep track. The time with their new friends blended together so much and went on so long he had felt as if he would never return to Earth.

Thor described his time on Rocket’s ship as endless. They hardly ever stopped anywhere because their food supplies never seemed to deplete. He had vocalized that he was needed back to Asgard to defend it from Hela, even though it was so long ago. Before he could go back, he had needed a weapon since Mjölnir had been left behind.

The new group found themselves at a forge in space, getting assistance from a welding dwarf to create Thor a new weapon, one strong enough to defeat his sister since he sensed she was stronger than even him.

As he was talking about it, he lifted the large axe from the floor for you to see. It reminded you a lot of the hammer but had a wooden handle instead of a metal one. The handle looked like it was just chopped from a tree and slapped together. The carvings etched in it screamed familiarity, though were completely different than the ones on Mjölnir.

It was named Stormbreaker.

Your fingers traced the sleek metal of the weapon, eyes drinking in everything about it while Thor continued to speak.

He explained that their travels back to Asgard were just if the travels to the forge seemed. He still was unsure of how much time had passed.

After they arrived on Asgard, everything happened quickly. They found that Heimdall was trying to help the rest of the Asgardians escape to Norway with the Bifrost. Hela was fighting back, wanting the sword that controlled the Bifrost so she could start her plans to rage war against the rest of the realms.

Thor jumped in the thick of it, battling his sister while his friends and Loki were fighting her army of undead. In one particular moment, Hela stabbed Thor in the eye. This action led him to a vision of how to defeat her. Even with Stormbreaker, he was unable to wield the new weapon efficiently to land a deadly blow on her.

Thor told Loki to put a crown on a flame, knowing that this action was going to rebirth the fire demon who imprisoned him and bring on Ragnarök—bringing the downfall of Asgard.

As the demon and Hela battled, Thor helped Heimdall usher the surviving Asgardians through the Bifrost and to Norway, where Odin said New Asgard should be.

At those last words Thor said, you sat starring at the countertop, trying to take it all in. It sounded like a lot. He must be heartbroken over losing his father and his home. You found it unsurprising he was gone for five months and unable to get back—but was he gone for five months? He probably has been on Earth longer than a few days, especially if Jane Foster was with him.

“When did you get back to Earth,” your voice tried to break as you asked.

Thor coughed to clear his own throat, eyes latching onto Mjölnir the dog at your feet. You looked as well, to try and see what he was seeing. One very large black dog with thick fur, barring his teeth slightly towards Thor and a soft rumble.

That a boy, you thought, smiling softly. Protect your Momma.

“Ten days ago,” Thor said softly. “We arrived to Norway ten days ago.”

Thor had been on Earth for ten days. Clearly, he sought out Jane, why else would she be with him? The realization ate away at your chest, leaving you in pain and short of breath. So why were they here? All he really had here were clothes, clothes he could easily get anywhere else. He did have some belongings, but they were things you had given him.

A pair of sunglasses that were big enough to fit his head and cover half of his face for example. He found them amusing. You had bought him a handful of books about Asgard, and together you both read them (even the children’s books) and discussed what was fact and what was fiction. There were a few Nordic bracelets and clothing, maybe even some beads and hair ties you had gotten for his hair when he braided it.

Everything he had that wasn’t clothing, you had given to him. Thor didn’t keep materialistic things on Earth, because Earth was never really his home. All the thoughtful and meaningful items were in his room in Asgard. He had shown you’re his room once when you were there. It was decorated and personalized. Paintings of his family hung on the walls, old weapons or toys from his childhood. He even had a few Poptart wrappers hidden under his bed.

All of that was gone now. It burned with the rest of Asgard when the fire demon destroyed itself and Hela.

“I have something of yours,” you whispered, finally rising from the stool you sat on. You could give him one last thing that he hadn’t completely lost at least. Without having to ask, Thor trailed behind you as you lead the way back through the hallways towards his room. When you both passed the door to your old room, you took made a mental note to start moving your things back in there as soon as he and Jane left.

Thor made a weird grunting noise but didn’t say anything as he followed. Mjölnir put much needed space between Thor and you. As you both reached his room, you took one more deep breath before pushing forward.

Ever since you moved into it, it had been a state of mess. Dirty clothes littered the floor—well the clean ones did too. You were only able to tell what was clean by sniffing them. Mjölnir’s dog bed sat on the farthest edge of the room, covered in dog hair. Again, everything was covered in dog hair from the clothes on the floor to the sheets and blanket on the bed. Hell, even some dog hair was on the clothes you were wearing and surely in your hair.

You couldn’t help but think that this is what depression looks like.

The hammer was leaning against the vanity dresser you had brought into the room the first week you moved in. It hurt to look at all the photos of you and Thor when you walked towards it.

As your fingers touched the leather on the handle, goosebumps trickled across your arms and chest. This was the first time you touched it since bringing it home. Although you never said anything to the others, it scared you slightly with how you called the power of electricity and thunder like Thor would have. You weren’t Asgardian, you weren’t a God—you were lucky it didn’t kill you.

The hammer swung up with your arm as you presented it to him.

His eyes grew wide, a soft smile hinting at the corners of his mouth.

“Mjölnir,” he exclaimed excitedly.

The sight caused your heart to snag and pull. The last time you had seen that beautiful smile was just before he left. Just before the both of you had gone to bed that night, you found yourself settled on his chest, starring down at him while you both talked about anything and everything. You told him you loved him—and that’s when his face lit up brightly with excitement and joy.

At that moment the dog was on the bed, watching quietly until he heard his name. A sharp bark met the air, causing you to snap out of the trance you slipped into watching Thor smile.

Once he took the hammer off your hands, you stepped over to the bed and sat next to your dog, hugging him tight.

“How,” Thor asked confused.

“A month after you left Tony let me get a dog,” you started, taking a deep breath. You didn’t want to talk forever, you wanted to say as little as possible and leave. Running your fingers through Mjölnir’s thick fur helped you stay grounded. “I went to the park with him one day and he got loose. I called for him over and over again. The hammer showed up just before he did.”

Thor closed his eyes and gripped the handle on the hammer tightly. Then, he quickly turned and started to take in the room. Before he arrived, this room became part of your comfort. Now you were embarrassed that he was here witnessing your distress over him, especially since he moved on.

“You named the dog after the hammer,” he said quietly. “You moved into my room. You wear my clothes… You did not—you did not move on with Steve?”

“What,” you asked sharply, a little confused. “Move on with Steve?”

Thor sat the hammer on the floor, soon settling onto the ground with it. Now that he was in front of you without an island separating you, you could see he had gotten bigger—he wasn’t just wearing baggy clothes.

“When I arrived,” he said. “the Captain was not happy to see me. Your room was empty. He had your tea prepared for you and—and he called you—”

Thor stopped talking suddenly, hands clenching into fists on the tops of his knees. At a loss, you starred back at him. Was he getting jealous that Steve called you sweetheart?

Finally a little fed up with it all, you wanted to explode. You wanted to yell and scream and tell him to take his girlfriend and get the Hell out—but it was Thor. Even if you were heartbroken, you couldn’t ever treat Thor like that; you still loved him.

“I cried—I cried every damn day since you left,” you started off softly. With each of your words, your voice and anger showed itself. “Every. Single. Day. When that fucking hammer came back and you didn’t follow; I thought you were dead. I mourned you Thor! I still tried to hold out hope you were alive and would return. For five months, I never stopped missing you. Steve has been a great friend to me, keeping me company and making sure I’m okay—but only as a friend.”

The waterworks started when you told him you thought he was dead, and they didn’t stop. The dog had gotten up and off the bed when you started yelling about mourning Thor. Mjölnir hid in the closet and whined softly.

“Here I was, for five months, waiting for you to come back! And when you got back, you came back with Jane Foster,” you bit out scathingly.

Those are the words that broke Thor from his silence. He jumped up off the floor and stood before you with heat in his eyes.

“Jane brought me here because I asked her to, I didn’t know how to come back to you,” he hurried out. “I would have returned the moment I came back to Earth, but my people needed me. They needed a leader to talk to the Midgardians in Norway to gain assistance to build and regrow. Jane showed up four days ago. She sought me out when her science things told her the Bifrost opened for a long period of time. I did not seek her out schat.”

Even as the said the word, a broken sob left you. It had been so long since you heard it, you never realized you craved to hear him say it again. He had once told you it meant you were a very rare and good person. Even if it was a compliment that could be given to just anyone, he never used the word for anyone else but you.

He stood. You sat. Both still starring, both with tears in each other’s eyes.

“You weren’t happy to see me,” you cried out, hugging yourself from the bed while you tried to wrap your head around it all. Was it true? Thor had never been one to lie, but you couldn’t help but hesitate to believe him.

Suddenly Thor’s shoulders hunched in on themselves while he ducked his head.

“When I first arrived, I went straight to your rooms to find them empty. Then when you woke and came to the kitchens…I assumed you moved on with Captain Rogers. Seeing your beauty again reminded me that I am unworthy of your affection even if you had not moved on—even after I was gone for so long,” he said quietly.  

It was like everything he said was confusing you. Thor sensed your confusion and looked away while gesturing to his middle and grabbing at his hair. “I have grown lethargic and heavy in my time on ships,” he muttered.

A sudden laugh ripped from your chest, a little hysterical in the mist of it all. Thor was implying that he had gotten fat and unappealing? You gestured to everything in the room and then enthusiastically to yourself. The last time you got on the scale a few months ago, you discovered that all the depressed eating had caused you to gain twenty-five pounds. You could notice it when you looked in the mirror. Your clothes were a little tight, so you wore Thor’s clothes more than your own. Self consciously it bothered you some, but not enough to actually care. The only thing you truly cared about was his absence.

Finally, you grasped at your hair that hadn’t been brushed in days. “I’m a mess Thor,” you cried softly. “I have been since you left! Do you see the room? It’s a pig sty. I can’t remember the last time I put on real clothes, I have left the base six times! Not to mention I haven’t stopped eating to fill the void, and I got fat—”

“You are a Goddess,” Thor’s deep voice commanded through the room loudly cutting you off. “You look more radiant now than the last time I saw you.”

The tears that had started to slowly wane suddenly burst forth again, eyes and face hurting from all the energy that went into crying. Being overwhelmed by everything wasn’t helping, by the fact that Thor was here, and he didn’t love Jane. He still loved you then?

He at last approached you, touching your shoulder softly and hushing you. “Please do not cry drottning,” he murmured. “We are together again. I have missed you.”

Without hesitation you crushed yourself into his front, hugging yourself to him as tightly as you could. This only caused you to cry harder. Getting tears and eventually mucus all over his already dirty sweater. It was worth it when his arms came around your shoulders to hold you closer to him.

It was odd, being pressed up against soft giving flesh instead of hard muscles you were used to as you leaned into his hug more. Other than the first note of the difference since the last time he hugged you, you felt completely at ease. This is where you were meant to be, where you craved to be for months. The warmth from him seeping into you. Soon your tears stopped to small hiccups, and you held him closely as you breathed slowly.

“You probably want to shower,” you said pulling away, fingers playing with the ends of his tangled hair, taking in the state of his clothes and feeling the grime in his hair.

“Will you be alright,” he asked, fingers coming up to tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. The first blush you felt in a long time dusted your cheeks at the action.

“Yes,” you breathed out. “I’ll be fine. We can talk more later. I really need for us to talk more later actually.”

He looked a little uneasy as you said this, arm wrapping around your middle again to urge you closer to him.

“Don’t worry,” you smiled softly. “I just what to know more about what happened…and more about Jane showing up. Trust me, I believe what you’re saying but I just feel like we should visit that conversation again. Is that okay?”

“Anything you want to ease your troubles,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your forehead quickly.

After you pulled away, you didn’t attempt to kiss him. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, but that you felt that there was too much going on in your head to try and deal with the next emotional hurdle. Thor didn’t attempt to kiss you either, which you were thankful for.

“I’ll bring you some clean clothes in a second and set them by bathroom door,” you told him. “Are you hungry?”

Thor paused by the door to the bathroom, looking at his hands on the knob before answering, “That would be nice, I have not eaten today yet.”

You left to go look for clothes for Thor. Thankfully Tony Stark thinks of everything. In the training rooms on the ground floor you found all sorts of workout clothing from shorts, sweats, shirts and sweaters in various sizes. Tony usually kept it stocked in case new recruits were coming into train or simply if someone needed something to change into real quick and didn’t bring anything.

Not sure what size to grab, you selected a couple of different sizes in different styles for Thor to choose from before trekking back upstairs to drop them off to him.

Mjölnir was jumping excitedly and whining the whole trip. The poor dog probably really needed to relieve his bladder and you had stopped his whole morning routine when Thor appeared in front of you.

When you finally made it to the living room, you found Steve sitting across from Jane on separate couches and talking softly. “I’m going to make some breakfast,” you said after making an entrance. “Are either of you hungry?”

Steve smiled up at you and then glanced at Mjölnir, who was almost whimpering. “That would be great Y/N, thank you. Do you want me to take Mew-Mew out,” he asked.

At the word out Mjölnir completely flipped sideways in excitement.

“Please,” you replied in gratitude. “I would appreciate that.”

“Come on boy,” Steve clapped, “let’s go water the flowers.”

Just before you left for the kitchen, you turned to Jane. “You can come with to the kitchen if you want,” you offered, “or you could watch some TV. Not sure where the remote is.”

You were surprised when she smiled and got up to follow you.

It was a little awkward at first. You went about grabbing all the dishes and ingredients you would need to make breakfast while Jane sat silently at the island. Every once in a while, you would get and eyeful of her. She was dressed in jeans and a soft looking knit sweater, her hair clean and brushed with minimal makeup. All the while you were barefoot, in just an oversized Thor shirt and underwear. Messy hair and lack of shower aside, you felt a little gross in comparison to her.

“Sorry that I’m still in my jim-jams. We don’t get a lot of company in the living quarters,” you called out over your shoulder.

Jane laughed lightly, “You’re fine. This is your house, I’m sorry for showing up unannounced.”

A soft smile quirked your lips at her words, at least she was polite.

“Do you have a preference for breakfast? I was planning on making waffles with fruit, sausages and biscuits and gravy—but if you want something else, I can see what we have,” you asked her after putting some more mixing bowls on the counter-top.

“Oh! Thank you,” she said surprised. “I could go for waffles and fruit, that sounds wonderful.”

The conversation died out a little after that, which wasn’t the worst thing. Even if you held no ill feelings for Jane—because why on Earth would you—she still made you feel a little uncomfortable. Did Thor tell her about you, or did Steve?

Soon Steve let Mjölnir into the kitchen before disappearing. The dog was—as always—excited to see you. While he danced around you and tried to get pets, you would nudge him away with your hips because your hands were full of food or ingredients. “Go lay down,” you said with a laugh, “you will get your breakfast after we eat.”

Dejectedly, he walked off to the corner of the kitchen where he slid to the floor and rested his head on his paws.

“It’s really hard to hate you,” Jane said suddenly.

After throwing the biscuits in the oven, you turned to her somewhat shocked. You liked to think of yourself as a blunt person, but Jane seemed to take the cake and then some on the subject.

“Erm, I’ll take it as a compliment,” you asked confused.

“I just mean,” she sighed, playing with her cuticles on her fingers. “That—I—I ended things with Thor a while ago, because I couldn’t handle him being gone all the time. I knew eventually he would want me to move to Asgard with him, and my life was here on Earth. When I noticed the Bifrost open for more than a few minutes I knew something was wrong and flew to Norway without thinking about it.”

Trying not to be rude, you continued to prepare breakfast, but showed her you were listening to what she was saying but nodding and saying ‘okay’ softly.

“That told me I wasn’t over him,” Jane said with a broken laugh. “Who drops what they’re doing and flies across the world for their ex-boyfriend? He was really surprised to see me, and I tried to tell him I missed him—and all he said was that he needed to get back to you.

“I wanted to be jealous, to dislike you just for the fact that he was coming home to you. I was sure that the moment I walked in with him you were going to dislike me too—but, here you are, cooking me breakfast without a care in the world and being a genuinely nice person.”

Knowing that Thor just wanted to get back to you made you feel a little at ease again. The words tried to mold in your mouth before you said them. “Thor told me why you broke up with him,” you said. “I don’t dislike you Jane; you did nothing wrong to Thor. You were honest with him about your feelings and ended things, a very hard but mature decision. Unless you do something to hurt him or hurt our relationship, I have no problem with you at all. You seem like a good person, so I don’t see you doing either of those things.”

Soon she changed the subject and was telling you about some of the research she did. A lot of it was a little lost on you with her technical terms and some of the Astrology. You were more in tune with mechanics so some of what she was saying was familiar, at least with the machinery she uses. In turn you told her of some of the work that you did for Tony. It wasn’t as prestigious as the kind of science she was doing, but you enjoyed doing it.

Most of the food was done when Thor and Steve returned.

Thor looked much better than before. His hair was clean and brushed smooth, pulled into a bun at the base of his skull like normal. The beard that adorned his face was completely different than what you were used to. Simple braids pulled the beard together and down his neck.

Without thinking, you started to put a few waffles on a plate and placed it in front of where he sat at the island and then slid the bowl of mixed fruit to him. In return you received a small smile and nod of thanks from him. Soon he started to repeat his story about Asgard and traveling with his new companions to Steve and Jane.

Eventually his story melted into the here and now, discussing what they had accomplished so far in New Asgard and what, yet they still needed to do. Thor then started to lose enthusiasm for what he was saying, his words getting quieter and forlorn.

“When I return,” he sighed, “I must go trade with the people of Norway to acquire more food and supplies for Asgard. I only was able to break away after there was enough for a few days.”

That means he needs to go back soon. Maybe in a day or so it seemed. Dread started to fill you again at the thought, he only just came back to you—

“When do we need to leave,” you asked, pushing your half-eaten plate away.

“You will come with me,” he asked quietly. Thor’s hands had risen to rest on top of one another on the counter, fingers clenched together tightly.

“Of course,” you said easily, anxiety rushing through your veins at the thought of being without him again. “I’m sure if we ask Tony, we could borrow a quin-jet to get there faster. I don’t own a lot of stuff to pack so if I start now, I could get everything together by the end of the day. Just my clothes and some odds and ends, the furniture is Tony’s anyway. Whatever I can’t take right away I can come back for in a few weeks. We could leave tomorrow morning—”

“You want to move your things there,” Thor asked with surprise lacing his tone.

You had already gotten up and was bending over to lay a plate of food on the floor for the dog. Mjölnir bound over happily to start licking at the sausage gravy.

“Yeah,” you sighed standing back up. You had already committed yourself to moving to Asgard with him, what was the difference to moving to Norway to be with him. At least you would be on the same planet and could still call your parents. “I’ll need to notify Tony that I’m going to have to stop working for him, but I think—”

“You will leave here and come live with me in New Asgard,” Thor interrupted you again.

A little laugh escaped you at his antics. Although you were still an emotional wreck, you wanted to do everything you could to give your relationship with him a fighting chance. “Yes Thor,” you said. “If that is where you need to be, then I’m going to be there too.”

Thor’s arm slipped behind your back and pulled you down to settle across his lap. Warmth seeped into you from all around, his arms coming to squeeze you tightly to him. “You do not realize how happy this makes me schat,” he murmured. “I did not want to leave you again.”

 It happened pretty fast after that. Tony and you had a long conversation about your work. When Thor had disappeared your work around the base decreased by half, so you felt bad when Tony was trying to offer you a severance pay for leaving. That is what took up most of the conversation at least—you fighting on taking the money. Other than that, you packed up all of your clothes and the little odds and ends you had collected over the years.

Even though you had said that you and Thor could leave that next morning, Thor insisted that you have another day to see the rest of your friends and bid them goodbyes. Not all of them were around much anymore, having moved out or going on more and more missions. With every teary hug and promises to call often, you reminded yourself that you would come visit and they could come visit you.

It wasn’t out in space, just over the ocean in Norway.

Tony graciously gave you a quin-jet and spent a handful of hours going over the controls and logistics of flying it. Since you refused to take a severance pay, he strong armed you into accepting the ship instead. All he had to do was tell you that it could be used to fly back over to New York in just a handful of hours; and you caved.

It took a little enticing with lunch meat to get Mjölnir to get on the jet. Once on it and you started up the engines, the dog howled in fear and cowered on the floor shaking. Thor held the dog close for the long four-hour flight it took to get to Norway.

He guided you from the co-pilot chair the entire trip, murmuring suggestions on how to handle the ship and directions. After landing, he slowly stood with the large dog in his arms as if Mjölnir weighed nothing and helping the dog to the floor gently.

The cool air touched your skin as soon as he opened the doors and lowered the ramp. It wasn’t as hot as it was in New York, but a nice spring-like warmth. The view took your breath away.

Bright green hills and cliffs lined the shoreline, making the ideal image of a small quaint fishing town. There were a handful of houses that had been built while some were still half built. Some older buildings were already established, but people were milling in and out of them with tools and cleaning supplies. Down the shoreline you found a handful of men and women tossing nets into the water and pulling them back in rhythmically.

Thor walked to the end of the ramp, looking back at you and offering his hand. “Come schat, let me show you our new home,” he said smiling.

Mjölnir barked, taking off down the ramp in excitement to get off the ship.

Suddenly you felt a little weightless. Maybe it was a giant combination of the weight of everything falling off your shoulders at once, the beauty of New Asgard, Thor finally here with you—offering you a new life with him.

The previous night you both stayed cuddling in bed whispering back and forth—the talk you wanted to have about what happened when he was gone. There were some more tears as you explained how heartbroken you were to see Jane there, that he was gone and how you were extremely happy to be home and so overwhelmed. Thor answered all your questions about his time gone and his thoughts on Jane. After the talk you felt more assured in his feelings for you, and lack of romantic feelings for Jane.

You were still a little overwhelmed, but as you slid your hand into his and took the first few steps off the jet—every breath you took was fresh and exhilarating. All while leading you, he pointed to some buildings and explained what he had planned for them. Numerous Asgardians waved in hello when you both passed.

After a time of walking he stopped in front of a white house with a lot of windows. It rose up slightly higher than the rest of the houses on a smaller hill, one large window facing the water. It looked partially finished. There was no roof, but different patched colored tarps covering the top.

“Some of the people of Norway offered to help build with us. The wood and materials that they gave us—we were unaware how to construct with it,” he said. “This…this in our home. It is not finished, but—”

“It’s perfect,” you interrupted him, smiling brightly. “It’s so beautiful here.”

“No drottning, it is perfect now that you and Mjölnir are here with me,” he murmured pulling you close. The words caused you to smile and run your fingers through Mjölnir‘s fur. Thor had grown to care for the dog as much as you had, it warmed you to know he was accepting of your fur baby.

“You never told me what drottning means,” you said teasingly he gazed down at you.

Thor laughed and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “It is a term of endearment; it translates roughly to ‘my queen’.”

“And schat,” you asked more breathless than anything.

“My treasure,” he murmured before pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “Come, I want to show you the view of the water from our home. We can make it our bedroom if you want.”

Previous Chapter << Part 11: French Toast

Next Chapter >> Epilogue: Peanut Butter

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[gerbiloftriumph]

The Three Adventurers: To Comfort a King

(also on ao3)

Based on The Three Adventurers crossover webcomic by @captmickey​: More specifically, based on this picture.

When Link and Guybrush come to Daventry to throw Graham a surprise birthday party, they themselves are surprised by events that occurred when they were separated. But they won't be kept apart no matter what. Fluffy, friendly, sickfic, comfort fic with mild hijinks ensue. 

1/1, 6k

~*~*~

Something felt wrong.

The weather wasn’t helping: Daventry’s castle town was saturated. Rain skimmed off rooftops and splashed in puddles beneath drains. Dark clouds weighed down the sky, making it gloomy even in the middle of the afternoon. It would make sense for everyone to be inside, staying dry and safe and happy. But something felt wrong. Tense.

Some deep knight’s instinct made Link reach for his sword hilt. This didn’t feel like people were waiting out a monsoon. This felt lonely, completely still and silent but for the rain dashing against window panes. No candlelight in the windows, no murmured conversation behind doors. The baker’s shop especially drew his attention. Some sort of accident had befallen it since Link’s last visit several months ago: there was a big wooden board nailed across the front windows, like they had been broken. The glass must have already been swept up, and very well at that since he couldn’t see any glittering fragments nestled in the cracks between the cobblestones.

Unless it had been broken into and the glass was all inside.

Don’t jump to conclusions, he scolded himself. Still. He warily stepped around the tree growing in the courtyard, searching the shadows, trying to pin down what was sparking the unease in his chest.

“Aaaah,” Guybrush yelled. Link instantly sprang forward, sword half drawn, before realizing it was a cry of disappointment and not a warning of attack. “Aaah, those alchemists aren’t here!” Guybrush walked out of the empty shop, leaning his elbows on the railing in front of the door. “I wanted to talk to that old guy. He’s got the only rubber chicken supply for miles.”

“No one’s here,” Link said, knocking gingerly on Amaya’s door, not expecting an answer: the forge was clearly cold. No smoke rose from the blacksmith’s chimney. “Where do you suppose they are?”

“Probably the castle. I bet they’re afraid of flooding. This rain is no joke; that river we passed was looking pretty sketchy. Summer in Daventry, eh?”

"Monsoon season is only in July, Graham said. And only for a week or two at that, normally.”

“July in Daventry, eh?” Guybrush swung himself down the shop stairs, boots sloshing up a wave. “Shall we go on to the castle, give him the shock of his week?” He grinned.

No one in Daventry was expecting the pair of adventurers. They’d been coming to throw Graham a surprise birthday party. He was turning twenty-two, and that seemed like an important marker. Double identical digits and all. But they’d missed his birthday by several days at this point. They had been inescapably delayed.

By a side quest involving a cat stuck up a tree.

Link had insisted they dig up bait, use it to catch fish, trade the fish to a traveler for an empty bottle, find a farmer with a cow to fill the bottle with milk (the farmer first requested they clear his field of wolves, a dangerous task that took some more scheming), and then use the milk to tempt the cat down. The cat hadn’t been appreciative. It had nearly taken Link’s finger off with a swipe of its claws. Once they’d left, both with a healthy amount of scratches and bites and a half empty bottle of milk, Guybrush had asked why they hadn’t just tempted the cat down with the fish in the first place.

Anyway, the delay had taken a few days. Travelers with empty bottles were scarce on the road, apparently. So, now they were late.

It would definitely be a surprise, then.

Link patted his pouch to make sure their chosen birthday present was safe. He hoped Graham would like it. It was possibly sentimental gooey nonsense, but it was their sentimental gooey nonsense. “You’re right. I’m sure they’re at the castle. Let’s go.” He squeezed the end of his hat to clear some rainwater, but it didn’t help.

~*~*~

The castle gates were shut tight, the drawbridge high. The rain fell endlessly, rivulets pouring down the battlements and rushing into the moat. The water was swollen, pressing against the banks. It looked like it was going to spill onto the road if this kept up for too much longer. The moat monster eyed them with curiosity, nosing just above the waterline. Link wondered if it would sweep out on the road with the overflow, too, and what merry hell it could raise if it got into the main river.

“Don’t suppose there’s a doorbell on this side of the moat,” Guybrush said, holding his hand over his eyes to shield them.

“Generally, castles don’t have those.”

“Neither do ships, to be fair. We’ve got a voice activated alert system on my ship, though.”

“Do you really?” Link was impressed—it sounded high tech.

“Yeah. Bet Graham does, too. It works like this.” He cupped his hands around his mouth and roared so loudly that Link jumped half an inch off the ground, “OI, ANYONE HOME?”

“Oh. Is that all?”

“All you need.” He drew in a huge gulp of air and yelled again, “WE’RE HERE...” he paused and glanced at Link, whispering hastily, “what’s the polite lingo for a king, again?”

“Seeking an audience,” Link whispered back. That usually was what people said when they wanted to talk to Zelda.

“HERE TO SEEK AN AUDIENCE. WITH THE KING. WHO IS GRAHAM. CAN GRAHAM COME OUT TO PLAY?”

They waited. For a long time, there didn’t seem to be any movement from across the moat, though the monster playfully flicked its tail beneath the water and sent a little wave skimming over the edge to douse their boots. Finally, a shaken sounding voice called back, “Who goes there?”

“I go where I like,” Guybrush yelled.

“No, I mean. Uh. Who are you, exactly?” The voice was flustered.

“Guybrush Threepwood, Mighty Pirate.™”

“And Link of Hyrule.”

“Not a pirate,” Guybrush added helpfully.

“Oh, it’s you two. Right. You were here for the coronation. Back again already? Um. Now...now isn’t a good time.”

“’Course not. It’s raining. But if you let us in, it would be a better time.”

“How did you even find out?” the guard asked distractedly. “They’ve only been back two days. We haven’t even told anyone yet.”

Link glanced at Guybrush, that little nervous thrill at the back of his neck rousing, a twitch in his fingers begging him to go for his sword. Some sense that something was wrong. “Told anyone what?” he asked.

“And Bramble’s pregnant, and this has all been very hard on her, and she doesn’t want to go back to the bakery right now, and who could possibly blame her after what happened to everyone?”

“Look, it’s raining very hard—”

“And the Hobblepots are absolutely destroying the kitchens. Number One is going to have a fit when he realizes, even if Muriel is helping King Graham.”

“Can we just—”

“And Muriel probably wouldn’t even allow you to see him, you know. He’s probably too drugged to even talk.”

“I’m sorry, repeat that?”

The guard hesitated. “Um.” They could see his helmet bobbing over the crenellations as he paced. “I’m not sure I’m supposed to tell anyone.”

“We’re not just anyone,” Link pointed out.

“Um. I mean.”

“Look, anyone could hear us from out here, right?” Guybrush said.

“Sure.”

“And you don’t want anyone to know whatever happened, right?” Guybrush continued, pacing a little to match the guard’s movements.

“That’s what Number One says, at least for now.”

“But if you let us in, then we’ll be inside, right? And then when you tell us, anyone won’t also hear. Because we’ll be inside, and anyone won’t be able to hear us in there.”

“I suppose?”

“And we’re not anyone. We’re Graham’s friends. We’re supposed to know. Whatever it is.”

“Um. I think that makes sense.” The guard seemed all the more uncertain. Whatever had happened must have been very serious to make him this befuddled. Or maybe he was always like this and Graham should hire better security. “I think that’s right.”

“Yes, it is. Now, let us in.”

“Of course, Mr. Threepwood, right away.”

While they waited for the guard to scurry around to the drawbridge crank, Guybrush muttered, “Also, I’m really sick of being wet.”

“You’re always on the ocean.”

“Not in it, though. Come on, he’s dropped the bridge. Hurry up.”

They scurried across, bubbles from the moat monster pursuing them. Unease nagged at Link, but he dared not speak until they had more of an idea about what was happening. The guard met them in the courtyard. He looked even more rattled up close. His armor wasn’t just damp with rain, but properly disheveled. It even looked like pieces were on backward. He smelled like wet pancakes, syrupy and pathetic.

“I mean, you’re his friends,” the guard babbled, wringing his hands. “It might help if he can see you.”

“Might help?” The apprehension was growing and growing. “Inside, now. And tell us what’s happening.”

“Hang on, I need to close the gate. The goblins might come again. He says it’s safe, at least I think he did, it’s all so jumbled, but…no one wants to leave it to chance, you know?”

“I don’t know.” Link was starting to get angry. “Can you just please tell us already?”

“Graham was kidnapped. With the villagers. A week and a half ago. By goblins. He just got back with everyone not two nights past. He’s really sick—he fainted almost as soon as he got to the castle, and he keeps screaming—nightmares, I guess—so Muriel drugged him to make him sleep. I really need to close the gate. Wait here.” And he vanished into the rain, leaving the two adventurers standing stunned and still and silent.

~*~*~

People had been tracking water into the castle, probably from running around in a panic. The plush carpet just beyond the doors was soggy under their feet. They wandered forward in a daze, damp carpet squishing behind them for a few paces until it dried out.  

“I can’t believe it,” Link said, voice hoarse. “We’ve got to see him. Can you imagine? Goblins. I can’t imagine getting taken by bokoblins.”

“That’s because they’re about as smart as rocks,” Guybrush said. “I don’t know the goblins around here. They must be clever. Or Graham was daydreaming again. Easy to drop a sack over his head if he’s thinking about candy.”

Link elbowed him. “Be nice. This is serious.”

“I know,” he said. There was a glint in his eye, and his shoulders and jaw were tense. He had a sharpness to him, like a cutlass half drawn and ready to slice if someone looked at him wrong. “Come on.”

The hall was quiet. Candles flickered against the monsoon gray light, barely holding the darkness away despite it technically being the afternoon. A royal guard hurried past, clutching a tray. A teapot and cup were precariously balanced on top, and he was fiercely muttering under his breath about the state of the kitchen. He glanced at the visitors dripping rainwater on this once-dry section of carpet and frowned. “Dare I ask what you’re doing here?”

“We seek an audience with the king.”

He laughed bitterly and started reciting: “The king has been a little tied up lately. I’m afraid he’s indisposed to see anyone—the recent unexpected demands on his attention have been slightly overwhelming, so we’re feverishly requesting a safe delay in all visitations. Perhaps you can leave your contact information at the gate and we shall attend to you whenever we’re available again.”

“Yeah? The audience with the goblins was a bit rough?” Guybrush said.

The guard froze, teapot rattling on the tray. “Who told you.”

“Well. For starters, your speech wasn’t that subtle. Also the guard on the gate told us.”

“I’m going to kick Number Two out of the castle.”

Link stepped forward. “Sir, if I may. You might remember me. I’m Link, of Hyrule. The royal family there has had all sorts of trouble in its history, so I have some experience in matters like this. Also, I know Graham—uh, sorry—King Graham well. We used to travel together. He’ll want to see us as soon as he knows we’re here.”

“Did Number Two tell you how sick he is?” the guard asked suspiciously. “He might not even be awake to see you right now. You should probably just go away.”

Guybrush leaned forward, plucked the lid off the teapot, and inhaled deeply. “Steeping chamomile? And based on the temperature, it’ll be just perfect to drink by the time you get upstairs with it. He’s awake, or you’re hoping he will be. May as well let us come find out.” He glanced airily around the hall. “I seem to recall enough of the layout of this place from when we were here for the coronation. It wouldn’t be hard to find the way on our own.”

“I could probably have you escorted to the dungeon,” No1 said uneasily, “for…uh….”

“For obstructing tea, yes. But that would put a delay in your delivery. It’s getting colder as we stand here, you know. I’m sure if he’s sick he’ll want it hot and good. And the sooner he gets it, the happier he’ll be. If I know royalty, you want to keep them happy. It would be easier to go up together, wouldn’t you say?” That sharpness in his grin was starting to look like a shark’s—someone he loved was being threatened, and he wasn't going to stand back and let it happen, not if he had any say. He practically vibrated with urgency. “Also, there’s too much lavender in there.”

“Now, see here, you…” the guard hesitated again, sensing that sharp desperation, looked at his tray, looked at them, thought a moment, then said, “If you happen to follow me, I’m not going to stop you.” He started walking, muttering, “And lavender’s our main export anyway, I can’t help the amount they put in.”

~*~*~

There was another guard standing watch over the bedroom door. It looked like no one was taking chances. Bit late for all the caution, Link thought, but they’re doing their best.

As it turned out, though, the guard on the door wasn’t even going to be their last opposition.

No1 pushed past, bumping the royal bedchamber door open. Through it, the adventurers could just make out a shape huddled in the bed, and then they heard the most horrible, aching, sharp cough from Graham—it was the sort of ripping cough that made them flinch, that you could feel in your own throat. They started forward, anxious, but an arm shot across their path, blocking them. The door swung shut behind the guard, Graham’s agonized cough muffled.

“Oh! Lady Alchemist!” Guybrush swept an exaggerated bow. “Been a while. Love to chat. Bit busy right now. Got things to do, people to see. Could you just—”

She glared. “You can’t go in there.”

“You can’t stop us.” The joking edge vanished from Guybrush’s voice again.

“Do you wanna get sick? This is inappropriate anyway, seeing a king like this.”

“We demand to see him,” Link said.

“Yeah? And why should I let you do that?” It was amazing how a little old woman could threaten when she wanted. She bustled her way forward, puffing herself up. She was almost of a height with Link when she stood up on her toes.

From behind her another voice said: “Muriel. It’s okay. They’re his friends, remember?”

“Chester, you have the worst memory of all time, but you remember these two?”

“I remember anyone who tries to buy my whole rubber chicken supply out in one go with a lousy brass coin that doesn’t even have any value in Daventry.” Chester stuck out his hand for Guybrush to shake. “Nice to see you again, even in these circumstances. No, I still don’t have any inflatable cutlasses for sale.”

A friendly response at last. A memory stirred: kidnapped with the villagers. “We heard a little bit of what happened. Are you okay? Were you part of it?” Link asked.

“That we were, that we were. Nasty little things, those goblins. If it hadn’t been for him,” Chester thumbed at the closed door, and they could just make out another hacking cough, “we would have been in a lot more trouble. I’m not sure anyone would have come back.” He glanced down the hall, and whispered, “I think there was something intentional going on. Someone had it in for him.”

“Do you think they’ll try again?” Link wasn’t a stranger to assassination attempts. Keeping Zelda safe was a full-time prospect sometimes. He wasn’t sure he was ready for the stress of having another royal friend at risk.

“Not in the same way,” Chester said. “These guards,” he gestured at the one standing nearby, “are all puffed up since they got caught flatfoot, but they’ll smooth out. It won’t happen twice like it did, I can promise that. If I know who did it, and I think I do, repetition isn’t really his style, not if he can go bigger and better. Creativity’s the word. Besides, I think Graham’s got some ideas about opening up diplomacy talks with the goblins to prevent anything like this happening again. But I think there’s someone you’d rather hear all this from instead of me.”

“No,” Muriel said sharply. “I don’t care that they’re friends. That’s not a good idea for him, or them, and you know it.” She looked to the guard, like she was going to ask for help with chasing these two off. “Clear off. Maybe later you can see him. Right now is not appropriate, and I will have you chased out of this castle if I must.”

Guybrush opened his mouth to start arguing again, but Link gently touched his shoulder. She had precedence over them in this situation. That guard would listen to her, and chase them out, and then they would be much further from their goal.

“You’re right,” Link told Muriel. “We shouldn’t go through that door.”

“Just so,” she said, eyeing him a bit suspiciously, more than surprised that he was giving in. “So, shoo.”

“Oh, Muriel,” Chester sighed. “It wouldn’t hurt.”

“It would hurt them after I was through with them,” she snapped. “Go on, shoo.”

Link dragged Guybrush down the hall by the hand, steering him into one of the bedrooms down the corridor once Muriel had turned her back.

“Come on, I could have turned on the charm and gotten us in there,” Guybrush complained. “Now we probably won’t get to see him for days and I’m not willing to wait that long.”

“Look, I promised we wouldn’t go through the door,” Link said. He reached into his bag and withdrew his grappling hook. “Didn’t say anything about a window.”

“Aaahhh.”

~*~*~

On reflection, Link realized, this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe they should have tried to persuade Muriel after all. Or maybe if they’d started screaming, Graham would have heard them and ordered them in (unless the tea had been drugged to make him sleep, or he didn’t actually want them to see him like this after all). Now, Link and Guybrush were dangling off the side of the castle, clinging to the grappling hook rope, rain making everything slippery and hard to navigate.

“Are you sure this is the right window?”

“Got to be,” Link said. He used his elbow to swipe some of the rainwater out of his eyes. “I did the calculations. It’s gotta be it. This time.” (They’d already tried two other windows, both of which had led to empty bedrooms. One of them might have been where the Hobblepots were staying, based on the array of random junk everywhere that seemed to belong to Chester, but luckily the two alchemists were out doing something else. Probably still standing guard in front of Graham’s door. Presumably the Feys and Miss Blackstone were staying elsewhere in the castle, because no one screamed when the adventurers poked their noses over the windowsills and swatted them down.)

They could make out the warm flickering glow of a lit fireplace in the window above them, which at least matched what they had glimpsed through the door of Graham’s room. They just had to get there without sliding down the rope and falling fifty feet to the treetops. Guybrush was dangling near the bottom of the rope, finding it difficult to get purchase on the slick castle walls with his boots. “They’re going to think we’re invaders and shoot us down,” he muttered. “They’re going to think we’re goblins back to finish the job we started.”

“Be quiet and climb,” Link said, glancing nervously side to side in case there were a few royal guards taking aim at them from the balconies or parapets. No one was.

Except…Royal Guard Number One was looking down at them.

He had opened the window and was leaning against the sill, staring down. His chin was propped on his hands, but with his helmet on, there was no way to tell if he was enjoying this or furious.

Link slid down the rope a few feet in his frozen panic, knocking into Guybrush, who yelped and locked the rope tighter around his leg so they wouldn’t fall, and the two of them grinned guiltily up at the royal guard.

He sighed heavily (they could hear it over the rain, he was so loud and flustered), gripped the rope, and started to heave them up.

~*~*~

The room beyond was cozy, the large array of candles keeping the gloom (and perhaps those nightmares the guard had spoken of) at bay. Graham, eyes closed, was propped up against a pile of pillows in bed, slipping slowly at the delivered cup of tea and wincing at every swallow. No1 hoisted the two embarrassed adventurers over the windowsill and they fell to the ground, sloppy and squishy with rainwater. Graham looked up when he heard them, and his face—drawn, pale—lit up with a huge smile. He put the teacup down on the bedside table amongst a dizzying array of cups and pots and vials and bandages and tissues and ingredients brought by the Hobblepots.

“Number One said you were here,” he said, nodding toward the royal guard. His voice was raspy. “I kind of expected you to come in the door instead of the window, though.”

No1 took off his helmet and shook the rainwater off it, fluffing the uniform’s feather back up and putting it in front of the fireplace to dry. He bristled his moustache, but it looked more like he was hiding a smile instead of annoyance. He helped the two adventurers to their feet, insisted they wait for a second so they wouldn’t drip water everywhere, pulled some towels from a pile neatly folded by a large copper tub shoved in the corner, wrapped them up, and then let them go. Immediately, they rushed to their friend’s side. Link grabbed Graham’s hand out of some desperate instinct, squeezing hard. Graham squeezed back as hard as he could—which wasn’t particularly hard.

“I’m so sorry we weren’t here,” Link said. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay? What happened? We don’t have the details. Oh, Graham....”

He looked absolutely awful. His bedhair, usually pretty hilarious anyway, was a tangled mess from tossing and turning in his sleep. His eyes were ringed with dark exhaustion, making it look like he’d been punched, but they were bright with a lingering fever, too. Link could feel the weakness in his friend’s trembling fingers. Graham was swimming in some ridiculously oversized nightshirt that more or less swallowed him up. It gaped here and there on his thin frame, and they could see the edges of bruises beneath it on his arms: bruises that, even partially glimpsed, looked uncomfortably like fingerprints.

“A kidnapping,” Guybrush said, shaking his head. He grinned mischievously, “Or was it a kingnapping?”

Link’s ears flattened, and the sheer look he shot Guybrush could have knocked a moblin over. “You’re going to end up right next to him nursing a black eye instead of nursing the flu,” he hissed. But Graham was laughing, and Link subsided, though he was still too annoyed to perk his ears up again. He was wary of pushing it if Graham wasn’t ready to talk yet, but he was desperate to know, to help in any way he could. “Are you...is it...are you up to telling us what happened?”

“No, I don’t have the energy to get up. But I can be down for telling it.”

Link dropped his head into his hands and moaned, “I can’t stand being around you two.”

“I can’t stand either, so it’s okay,” Graham said, patting Link gently on the shoulder.

“Aaaargh!”

“You can’t be mad at him,” Guybrush said. “He outranks you now—his hat’s shinier than yours.”

“Yes, my crowning achievement,” Graham agreed. “But that doesn’t make you beanie-th me.”

“Ahh, you’re fedorable when you’re being humble,” Guybrush said, “but you don’t need to downplay your escapades.”

“I’m not that far ahead, really,” Graham said.

“You’re going to make me sick,” Link sighed.

“If you hang around me much longer, you will be,” Graham said, and the laughter faded from his scratchy voice. “I heard Muriel. I’m glad you’re here, absolutely, but...she’s right, you know. You shouldn’t be in here. I’m not safe to be around, I think. I might give you this.” He gestured vaguely at his throat. “You don’t want it, believe me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re not going anywhere.” Guybrush sat down so hard on the bed that Graham bounced. “Now. It’s time for you to tell us one of those stories you like to tell. But only If you’re ready.”

And so, after a pause and a sip of lukewarm tea, Graham began. The day had begun in frustration in the throne room and had ended in fear in a goblin cell. He kept rubbing his wrists, remembering the bite of ropes, until Link held his hands again.

He told of huge caverns, of stalactites dripping water into secret pools, of glowing salamanders scampering through the shadows, of mushrooms in every color casting off glittering spores. He told of sharp spears and heavy padlocks, of giant rats and whispered escape plans. There were costumes and stories: Cinderella and Rumplestiltskin. Porridge, sweetycakes, and frogs. Friends and enemies, and some people that might have been both in equal measure. Shrouds of stone armor, unbending bars and sharp bolt cutters, stolen beds, stolen people. The goblin king, his courtiers, and the book written by a former friend that had incited the goblins and started it all.

He talked for a long time, his voice wavering in and out. Sometimes he had to stop and take a breath, drink tea, rub his aching throat. He sank lower into the pillows, looking more worn out, but he stubbornly refused to sleep no matter how often they suggested it. Whenever these breaks happened, Link and Guybrush sat a little closer together and waited with him in comforting silence. They offered to at least give him a proper long break and finish the rest later, but he wanted to tell the story. Wanted to explain it from start to finish. “It helps,” he said. “Even if it hurts a bit.” He choked down another cough and sipped at a fresh cup of tea No1 had brought. No1 had also silently brought Guybrush and Link their own mugs, unasked and unexpected. They had crowns painted on them. The lavender tickled their noses, and the trio drank in quiet but good company.

At some point, Muriel and Chester came in to prep medicine doses. She saw the adventurers huddled together and took a step back, startled and angry, and she opened her mouth start yelling, but Graham cut her off, hastily saying, “Ahh, Muriel, you remember my best friends, right? I’m so glad they’ve come to visit. Link, Guybrush, meet Muriel and Chester Hobblepot, the greatest alchemists in the country.” He gave her a pleading, sopping kitten sort of look, breath held in nervous anticipation.

She deflated with a weary sigh—the look she gave them told Link and Guybrush they were destined for a sickbed next. “He should be sleeping right now,” she warned them.

“That’s what we told him,” Link replied, relief tinging his words now that he knew his position on this bed was secure. “He says no.”

“We’ve been over this,” Muriel said. She reached for a cup that Graham had been especially careful to avoid and tried to offer it to him. “You were supposed to drink this an hour ago. You can’t avoid your dreams forever.”

“I can definitely put them off,” Graham said, crossing his arms so she couldn’t force it on him. “Muriel, please. Just a little longer. I don’t want to sleep. It’s not...it’s not the nightmares this time, honestly. I’m just trying to explain things. I think straightening everything out, talking through it...it’s going to help the nightmares stop. Please.”

She pursed her lips, then sighed and stepped back. “Fine. This once, fine. But I’m going to swap those bandages out now anyway.”

Guybrush half stood. “Oh. Should we leave?”

Graham grabbed his sleeve. “N-no, please don’t. I’d like...please don’t go. I didn’t tell you this part, but...um. To make sure I wasn’t smuggling anything, the goblins would...literally shake me down. Upside down. And they’ve got hard hands.” Graham slipped up his nightshirt sleeve, and showed off some of the half-glimpsed fingerprint-shaped bruises. “These are mostly faded. It’s my legs that are...badly bruised. My own weight against their hands. That’s all.”

“This makes them heal faster,” Muriel said, plucking a jar from the tray. Link reached for it automatically, as curious about healing potions as ever. The jar felt icy cold in his hands, almost frosted over despite the warmth of the room. “Green ice scale,” she told him. “Good for deep soothing.”

Guybrush let Graham lean against him while they reapplied the icy goop and rewrapped the bandages so the bedsheets wouldn’t stain green. Graham shuddered, his shoulder pressed hard against Guybrush’s as he flinched away from Muriel’s touch. “It’s so much colder than it was last time,” he muttered.

“I think you just weren’t paying attention the first time,” Muriel replied.

Link stuck a finger in the jar and studied the gel. “Good for burns?” he asked.

“Plan on fighting a dragon soon?” Chester said.

“Fire arrows can have interesting consequences.”

“I’ll get some together for you. It’s a good snack on a hot day, too.”

“I’ll, ah, keep that in mind next time I’m in in the Gerudo Desert, thanks.”

Guybrush was staring at Graham’s bruises. It was almost possible to make out individual handprints in the colorful marks on his shins. “Those are nasty.”

“Just don’t poke them,” Graham said. “They were worse, if you can believe it. How much longer, Muriel?”

“Oh, a week, maybe. This knocks the heal time down, but doesn’t erase ‘em. I could go global if I had something that just erased ‘em.” She picked up yet another little pot from the hoard she had gathered, whisked off the lid, and offered the contents to Link and Guybrush. There were tiny little white leaves in it, crisscrossed with green veins. They smelled like extreme mint, like you could flavor an entire moat’s worth of lemonade with one leaf. It made Link feel a little nauseous. “You’re going to want this. Put it under your tongue and it’ll melt. One an hour. I’ll give you both your own bags of it, but start with this for now.”

After she left, the story picked up where it had left off, details untangling like knotted ropes, until Graham started to reach a rough conclusion.

“As for me getting sick. It’s probably not hard to guess. Muriel thinks...I mean, the stress alone was hard, but my cell was always wet. The rainwater kept finding channels down. It was one big puddle most of the time. And there wasn’t a lot of food to go around after the porridge ran out, and I couldn’t let Bramble go hungry, or the Hobblepots, or Amaya. It…it wasn’t….” He coughed, a hacking wheeze that rattled his chest. “I’m lucky. It could have been worse. I could have gotten like this before escaping. But...but I couldn’t let that happen. I think I didn’t let myself get sick until we were free. Everyone was depending on me, you know.

“But...but it was hard. To be alone for so long. In the end, Bramble and I found the goblin king together. I told him a story about what it means to be afraid. What it means to get too much responsibility too fast, to not know what you’re doing, and how friends are the only way to push forward and keep going. And that, a story about friends, was a story he liked, and in that place where stories hold more sway than kings, it was enough, and he let me, let all my friends, go.”

Link and Guybrush glanced at each other. Link breathed deeply: “Graham. The reason we’re here. It’s not because of what happened...we didn’t even know until today. We were here for a different reason at first. This...this isn’t the way we would have wanted to do this, but...” He and Guybrush leaned cheek to cheek together and shrieked “Happy birthday!” so loudly that No1, who had actually not been listening at all, almost fell out of the rocking chair. Link shoved his hand into his bag and withdrew a small wrapped box with a crumpled bow pasted on top.

“It isn’t much,” Link said apologetically. “It’s late. You had your birthday...” his voice faded.

“In that cell, yeah,” Graham agreed. His eyes were sparkling with excitement, though, and he spoke lightly. “It wasn’t that bad. I sang to the salamanders, and Wente made me a special sweetycake, somehow. But, guys, you didn’t need to do this.” He took the proffered gift all the same and slipped off the rumbled ribbon.

“It’s an engraving we had done,” Guybrush leaned forward, watching as Graham extricated a charm and chain. “I think it’s kinda cheesy, but Elaine and Zelda thought it was clever. They helped with the design.”

The charm itself was styled like a piece of eight, with two crossed swords and a bow and arrow printed on top—clearly tiny little renditions of their weapons of choice. Graham ran his fingers along the edge, finding a little latch and flipping it open like a locket. It contained an image of the three of them, arms flung over shoulders, apparently mid-joke and laughing together.

Link said, “We thought...well, it’s your first birthday as a king, and we were worried you might, y’know, get too busy and distracted and...maybe forgetful. Zelda said that’s normal, for a newly responsible royal. But we thought that together we did so much, and even if we can’t be here in person all the time for you as a king, we...well, I guess it’s sort of silly after all that happened, when you really did need us and we weren’t there for you then to help protect you and Daventry and all, but—”

“But you’re here. Now. And that’s all that matters to me. It’s perfect. I love it.” He pulled the chain over his head, and the charm rested against his chest. Graham bit his lip. “It’s probably too late, but...I mean, I’m definitely contagious, but...”

He didn’t have to finish saying it. His friends launched themselves at him and grabbed him in a tight hug. They stayed together like that for a long time, regret and gratitude and everything held in silence. They could handle anything when they were apart, but they were stronger together, and they reveled in it.

(Later, Link’s throat started to ache and Guybrush started coughing, but they both agreed it was worth it. Muriel just sighed and ordered more soup.)

[shadedrose01]

Teddy Bear Blues

Ship: Parkner (Harley Keener/Peter Parker)

Summary: Harley is grieving on the one year anniversary of his mother's death. Peter makes him a gift to help him feel better.

Tags: Febufluff, Day 16, teddy bear, Grief/Mourning, Mourning, Loss, Mentions of violence/character death but it's pretty vague, Harleys mom died, And hes grieving, Harley Keener Needs a Hug, Sad Harley Keener, peter Parker is a good boyfriend, and tries his best to help, Tony is here too, but barely, Established Relationship, Love

Day 16 of Febufluff: "Teddy Bear"! (From the romantic/ original list)

Note: read the tags. This fic deals with grief, and the aftermath of the loss of a loved one. It isnt extremely detailed, but it's in the majority of this fic. If that's not your speed, or if that hits a little too close to home, then please don't read. Be safe, take care, I love you all ❤

--

It happens gradually, as grief usually does. It starts with Harley going out less, making more excuses as to why he has to stay home, whether it be homework or studying, or that he's "just tired" and needs to rest. Then, it's losing energy, losing interest in things he used to love, not getting as excited at the idea of a new game being announced, not enjoying the annual movie/board game nights with the Avengers as he used to, not making snarky responses and witty one liners, not seeming as upbeat, as happy as he used to.

And now, Peter notes as he watches Harley swirl around his cereal with his spoon, head bowed, bags under his eyes and an expressionless, tired look on his face, its lack of appetite, and lack of sleep. Of feeling hungry, but not being able to stomach more than a few bites. Of not having nightmares, of being tired, exhausted even, and still not being able to fall asleep.

He had been doing much better with the sadness, with the overwhelming grief these past few months, had almost gotten back to being himself again, before this new milestone had hit, sucking all of the life right back out of him and leaving him as a quiet, lifeless corpse. The first year. The first anniversary of his mother's death, of her being gone from his life. Peter remembers it well, remembers how he felt with his parents, with Uncle Ben, and feels a pang almost like a knife carve into his chest, into his heart, wonders what he can do to ease the terrible ache he knows Harley is feeling.

He knows there isnt much he can do, besides be there by his side and comfort him however he can, but that doesn't feel like enough. He can't just sit there and watch his boyfriend recluse into himself and be in all this pain without doing anything, without doing more.

So, once Harley finally gives up, pushing away his bowl and mumbling about getting ready for school, walking back to his room with his shoulders slumped, head down, looking so unbelievably sad that it makes Peter's heart break, he starts to think. Thinks back to the first year after Ben, what he felt, what he wanted. Remembers laying in bed all day, sobbing his eyes out, feeling so unbelievably guilting, just wanting him back. Wanting to smell his smell, feel his hugs, his kisses, wanting to hear his voice one last time...

Wait. Peter sits up straight, eyes widening as an idea sparks in his mind. Maybe, maybe he could work with that. He shoots out of the chair, heading straight to the lab. He remembers a while ago, when working in the lab, Harley randomly mentioned that he kept a few home videos in there, in the closet, and watched them occasionally on the good days, on reminiscence on the good times his family had before everything happened. And he remembers one day, a few months after him and Harley started dating, when he got the honor to watch one with Harley, remembers the stereotypical baby in the bathtub video, remembers Harleys adorably chubby cheeks, remembers what his mom said at the end of the video, right before it clicks off into black.

He searches in the closet, quickly finding the box of tapes before pulling out what he thinks is the right one, before putting into the player he digged out a few minutes earlier. He fast forward through the adorableness, a man on a mission, before playing it at normal speed right at the end, right as Harleys mothers voice, soft and warm and sweet, says the exact words he remembered. Perfect, its perfect. He takes the tape back out of the player, and brings it over to his workstation, already scribbling out a blue print for his idea.

--

Peter wakes up a few days later, feeling uneasy, a heaviness in the air as soon as he opens his eyes. He taps his phone to check the time, and sees the date, sighing long and low. November 16th. A whole year after the death of Macy Keener.

Peter and Harley werent really close when it happened, he had never even meet her, but he definitely remembers the day it happened. When Harley's phone rang out during their class, and he answered it with a grin, thinking nothing of it. When the grin fell off his face, slipping into shock, horrific shock and fear and agony, when tears filled and pooled over his eyes, ran down his cheeks. When he had placed a hand over his mouth and sobbed loudly, the horrible, awful, heartbreaking sound echoing in the classroom, the other students going silent as he ran out, Peter calling his name and running after him, worried sick. When Harley had babbled and cried and screeched into his shoulder, telling him that his mama had gotten into a bad car accident, that she had died, that "She's gone, Peter, she's gone, oh God-". When Tony had picked them both up, looking older than he had in a long, long time.

Peter shakes his thoughts away, trying to focus on the here and the now. He needs to be strong today, for Harley. He takes a deep breath, and forces himself out to bed, throwing on a random pair of pjs and a shirt, knowing that they arent going to be going anywhere today. He then makes his way to the kitchen, unsurprisingly seeing Mr. Stark making breakfast, flipping chocolate chip pancakes (Harley's favorite) before his gaze lands on the boy in question, his heart dropping when he does.

Harley is upright, sitting at one of the stoods at the island of the kitchen, but hes hunched over as if staying upright is just too much work, as if he has the world's weight on his shoulders, his hair a mess and his stormy sea eyes lined with red, blank, staring off into oblivion, cheeks already tear stained.

Peter let's out another soft sigh at the pitiful sight, sharing a sympathetic glance with Mr. Stark before walking quietly to his boyfriend, running a tender hand his tense back and shoulders, hugging him from behind and kissing the top of his bowed head, lingering, hopefully comforting. "Good morning, baby." He whispers into Harley's hair, rubbing his shoulders in firm, soothing circles, easing out the knots forming in his back.

"Morning." Is the soft, shaky response, Harley's voice drained of emotion, filled with exhaustion, with ache and loss. Tony looks surprised, like that's the first time Harley's spoken today. It probably was.

Peter places his chin on the top of his boyfriend's head, continuing his comforting motions as he murmurs gently "How are you feeling, love?"

He feels Harley swallow, before he's shaking his head and ducking out of Peter's grasp, putting his forehead against the granite and practically curling into a ball, looking smaller than he ever has as his entire body shutters with a silent sob. Peter blinks the tears out of his own eyes, before gently pulling the crumbling boy into his arms, placing his face into the crook of his neck and his arms around his waist, around his back. "Its okay, let it out, baby, its okay." He whispers over and over as he runs a hand up and down his back, as he feels a wet patch growing on his shirt collars, as Harley's sobs grow from silent to agonizingly loud, from sniffles and hicks, whimpers and wails, his body shuttering from the intensity of it all.

After a while, too long for Peter to keep count, the boy settles back down a bit, but doesnt let go, doesn't pull away, burying his face further into Peter's chest as he mumbles, voice thick with mucus, heavy with pain, "I miss her so much."

"I know, sweetheart, I know." Peter presses another light kiss to Harleys temple, squeezing his body as another shutter runs through him.

Harley's breath hicks, his eyes squeezing closed, another stray tear running down his face. "Does it ever get better? Does it ever- ever go away?"

Peter glances back up at Tony, who's dark brown eyes are sad, cloudy, full of empathy. "It does." The man says quietly, seriously. "The grief, the pain, it fades over time. You'll always feel it a bit, in your heart, but it does get better."

Peter nods to reaffirm his point, leaning the side of his head against Harleys. "The pain, the loss goes away, but the memories, the love, those don't. They always stay, right here," he presses a hand gently to Harleys chest, "and here." And then to his head, running his hand into the ryestalk strands, curling them around his fingers. "She'll always be with you, Harley. Always. And..." Peter swallows, suddenly feeling nervous, wondering if this was a good idea after all. "I got you something to help."

Harley pulls his head away and looks up at him, eyebrows furrowed slightly and blotchy face scrunched up in confusion. "You got me something?"

"Mhm," he nods again, easing Harley off of him and back into his chair as he stands, "wait here." He rushes back to his room, grabbing the gift he had finished last night. He runs a thumb over the soft brown plush of the teddy bear's belly, where the speaker was hidden, feeling nerves swirling up inside him. He just hopes that Harley likes it, and that it doesnt backfire, and make everything so much worse.

He carries it gently as he walks back to the kitchen, holding out to a now even more bewildered Harley. But theres a twitch of a smile on his lips, so he isn't against it yet, gazing at Peter curiously. "Squeeze it." Peter says simply, fidgeting with the stray strings on the ends of his shirt, praying this ends well.

Harley does as he's told, squeezing the bear in his hands, and immediately bursts into tears again when the soft voice of his mother comes through the speaker, full of an unspeakable, unbreakable love that only a mother could give, "I love you, sugarbear. I always will."

Peter panics, thinking the worst, starting to speak up with an "I'm- I'm sorry-" before he gets cut off by the boy rushing into his arms, hugging him tightly with a loud sob and a "thank you, thank you so much, I love you so- so much". Peter feels relief roll over him in waves, he didnt mess it up thank god, and hugs him back tightly, pressing another kiss to his boyfriend wet cheek and mumbling into his ear, soft and full of adoration, "I love you too. More than you'll ever know."

Things may not be truly okay, truly alright with Harley right now. They might not be for a long, long time, but that's fine. Because Peter will be here, by Harley's side, holding him close, kissing away his sorrow, for as long as he can. As long as Harley allows it, Peter will be by his side, no matter what.

[shanie-the-toyaddict]

Who Here Asked For Pictures of  “CASA DEL SHANIE”??

Nobody? Nobody at all? TOUGH!

Have some pictures of my freshly cleaned apartment because dammit it took a month to get it this way, I’m gonna show it off!

We start off with my primary figure shelf and entertainment stand. Notice the ass-old CRT TV. No it isn’t getting replaced anytime soon. I’ve showed off the figure setup already (I believe) but since they are really tiny here, I’ll just let you know that those bitty figures on top of the JVC Monstrosity are Japanese Final Fantasy X Coca-Cola figures. I can’t begin to afford full sized Final Fantasy ANYTHING!

Moving to the other side of that end of the living room, we have the giant Young Simba plush (If you get it, you get it, I’m not explaining), my line of Doctors (along the banister) and my precious sword, hung over a Doctor Who poster. That sword was the first sharp ‘n’ shiny I ever bought for myself. I was 15 and had to buy it though my boyfriend at the time since I was under age. It is, in fact, a women’s sword, but it’s for display only. It can’t cut for shit. There’s also a random Boxed GoT Dany figure there too. It’s the only GoT figure I have and it was a gift.

The pit on the left of the photo are the steps leading down. I live on the second floor.

My kitchen table. Nothing fancy here other than the plastic candelabra, some nifty bottles and some posters. That DW Six/Peri poster is not my only one of them (you’ll see) and yes, I do ship them. They are my guilty pleasure Classic Who ship. The grumpy one is soft for the whiny one. It’s a thing.

Also, two different Pokemon posters here. Oh, and that recycling bin? I yoinked that from my college dorm nearly 20 years ago, Had it ever since.

Wall of Shane and looking into the bedroom. I’ve shown off that wall before, but notice that the centerpiece is a poem. It’s “Footsteps” in case you were wondering. I am a Christian. Also, that sketched looking photo up top is Sarah Jane Smith. That wall used to be a Doctor Who tribute wall. I took down all the DW photos except her. And yes there’s a photo missing where the gap in the center of the photo is. It keeps coming out because I can’t pin the sides. The wood art was a gift from my high school sweetheart.That plush sunflower on the back wall was a gift from a lady at church. She was so nice. I miss her.

This is my kitchen. It is tiny and cramped and I hate everything about it except for my kettle and coffee maker.

Looking out of the bathroom door. Being an adult means nobody can bitch over the SpongeBob wood painting you have hanging on your wall. He brings me great joy. Best thing I ever bought from Hot Topic in my life. And he was on clearance!

Oh, and that’s my old besom hanging above it. There’s remnants of my pagan days all around my place. I just never got rid of the stuff.

You don’t get to see my bathroom because who the fuck wants to see the bathroom. Instead, have a look at my bathmat. Four dollars on Wish.

The one corner of my bedroom by the door. See, I told you there was another Six/Peri poster! Also, an Eleven/Amy/Rory poster. I’m proud of that one. i don’t think you can even buy that one anymore. Also, there’s another wood art, a Sherlock poster (don’t judge me) and a dollar store decorative fan.

The bookshelf is a random assortment. Except for the top two shelves which contain the entirety of my Classic Who DVD collection. I have a bunch of those, including some rare ones!

Oh, and the painting under Six and Peri was a Christmas gift from a friend. It reads “You Are Fearfully And Wonderfully Made”

MORE POSTERS! YES! I DO HAVE A SHANE O MAC POSTER!

For the record, that’s the second copy I have owned of that poster. The first one I got directly from a bar in college after the PPV. It hung in my dorm room until I went home on med leave and it got destroyed in the interim. So I had to rebuy it and, guess what, it just got hung today! 

Oh, and also, random Tenth Doctor poster there as well. The curtains are also new. 

Plus Lizzie. Lizzie says hi.

Finally, my Xena Wall. I want to put up more photos there but I just haven’t gotten to it yet. That bookshelf is my TV Series/Musicals/MCU bookshelf. I have almost all of the MCU films, all of Fringe, and almost all of NuWho on there. I’m missing the Season 12 set. 

Oh, and yes, that’s an entire setup of McMahon figures on top of the shelf. I just set those up yesterday. As you can see, there is plenty of room for more McMahon figures!

Oh, and the dreamcatcher was a gift. I have no idea if it’s native sourced or not. Try not to judge me for having it.

It just occurred to me I missed a wall. This is standing by my staircase looking toward the kitchen. Important notes here include another shot of SpongeBob, the Dark Willow photo top right, several Doctor Who postcards, a Star Trek Generations mini-poster, another witchy leftover, my glorious Kit Rae dagger (my FAVORITE sharp ‘n’ shiny), a M&M’s Gumball Machine, and finally, my last shelving unit that has Buffy, Xena, Star Wars, and my full McMahon Family Master Set. Also, yes that is a sconce on the wall. It was supposed to be for my keys, but I’m too disorganized to ever put them there.

Really though. I love that SpongeBob hanging. It’s awesome and he smiles at me every time I walk by.

Well, that about covers it. If you stuck through to the end, grats. I probably wouldn’t have. But I just feel like there’s so much fun stuff in my place that absolutely NOBODY ever gets to see. It’s mi casa and now es tu casa.

Hope you enjoyed!

[gryffindormischief]

carus - part 3

A/N: AU update for the day!  Hope you like :) :) :)  there will be one more part for this one...

FF and Ao3

_____

Steam rises in full clouds from the train’s engine, as Sirius wheels their trunk-laden cart toward the passenger cars.  Passengers, well wishers, and more than a few stern looking employees of the station ensuring the latter don’t ‘accidentally’ join the former.

Even living in this generation for almost half a decade, James still looks eager as a school child when faced with automobiles, trains, and steam ships.  It’s adorable and honestly half the time Lily has to stop herself from gawking him as he gawks.  Today, the jostling travelers and shouted calls from the conductor keep her relatively on track.  Though the beauty of the day and the excitement of adventure mixed with James’ warm presence at her side gives her a heady romantic feeling that is a bit overwhelming.

It’s nice to be overwhelmed in a positive way, particularly since the last week has been spent locked away trying not to cough up her innards from bloody seasickness while Remus and Sirius took the majority of their shipmates for a ride, ending their poker tournament with heavier pockets and a few new enemies in their lists.

Luckily, Sirius is not affected by such things - seasickness, James’ adorable nature, or potentially angry former shipmates - and guides the group toward their boarding place and hands over their tickets to be checked.

A porter helps them find their compartments - James and Lily to one, Sirius and Remus to the other - and deposit their belongings onto the shelves.  By the time they’ve finished and the train is leaving the station, Lily’s leaning heavily against James’ arm - queasy and head aching.

His lips find her forehead.  “All right, my love?”

Lily can’t quite suppress the pitiful moan that leaves her lips as James murmurs about her clammy forehead.  Her eyes are closed but she hasn’t drifted off yet, head pillowed against James’ shoulder.  

Sirius and Remus have slotted themselves in on the bench opposite, mostly moaning about how much smaller their compartment is.  James shifts, presumably to kick out at Sirius, and drags Lily closer.  “Sorry, did I marry either of you nine months ago?”

“Only because you didn’t ask,” Remus sniffs.

Lily cracks her eyes open enough to see his smirk and Sirius’ responding chuckle.  A small smile rises to her lips even as her stomach roils again.

She must let out a groan because soon James is shooing the boys away.  “We are going to lie down.”

“Royal we, eh?” Remus says as he shoves Remus’ legs from his lap and makes for the door.

Lily opens one eye.  “But we are a we.”

“What do you say Remus, perhaps we can find more enjoyable company elsewhere.”

The door slides shut and James slips the lock into place and begins pulling the bedclothes back while Lily slowly peels her travel clothes off her achy body.

When she leans forward to unbuckle her boots, the room spins and it feels as if she’ll resume her new exercise routine.  “James, I hate to ask.”

He pauses with the bed halfway unmade and takes the two necessary strides to kneel at her feet.  “Not to worry.”

Soon enough, she’s changed into soft pajamas - stolen from James’ trunk - and he’s lifting her into the suspended bed.

As the plush pillows cushion her head gently while James brushes hairs escaped from her plait back from her face.  Slowly, Lily blinks her eyes open and James smiles down at her, eyeing the chains that hold the bed platform.

Lily laughs quietly.  “I am afraid we will not be able to keep to our usual routine.”

He winks, “Don’t be so unimaginative.”

She chuckles again, but goes quiet when James’ grin softens and his fingers continue their soft strokes.  “What is it, Lily?”

Her hesitation means a lost chance to broach any sort of conversation with James when the door slams open, the lock chain hanging awkwardly while Remus nearly shouts, “I told him to leave you be.”

Sirius pays him no mind, reaching James side and grasping his shoulder.  “They’re playing cribbage in the club car.  James, my boy, we can hustle them.”

Even in her discomfited state, Lily can see James’ excitement - add that to the list of things she finds disgustingly adorable about him - and honestly she should probably just sleep.  No need for James to linger while she does.

“Off you go, James,” Lily says with a smile, “Have fun, I’ll sleep whatever this is off.”

She sleeps soundly, a luxury that hasn’t been hers since they left England, until the door slides open and closed with a gentle clack of the useless chain.  Once Lily blinks her eyes open, Lily sees James clumsily pocketing the compartment key and balancing a tray of something or other balanced in his other hand.

James grins and sets the tray down before turning up the lamp, warming the blue moonlight to golden.  “Sleep well?”

Lily hums.  “I sleep best on trains it seems.”

Slowly, because Lily still doesn’t trust her stomach and overall rebellious body, she sits up and twists so her legs hang suspended from the bed.  She can practically feel the effort it takes James not to rush to her side like an overprotective mother hen, but he does allow himself the reassurance of settling a broad palm on the small of her back.  

As she takes her seat at the small shelf table tucked against the window, James lifts the lid on the tray and sits close to her on the bench.  “I know it should pass, but I figured you weren’t looking for something heavy.”

Cautiously, Lily lifts a spoonful to her lips and takes a tentative drag.  James watches her closely and Lily chafes with things unsaid, things she’s barely considered herself and now - the spoon falls from her hand with a clatter.

With a frown, James pulls her into his lap and pushes her hair back from her face.  “My Lily never hesitates to speak her mind.”

Lily takes a deep breath.  “I am - we are - we are going to have a child.”

He freezes for half a second and Lily feels as though she’s just lept from a hot air balloon until he lets out a whoop that’s entirely too loud for this late in the evening.  His eyes are brilliant with excitement and before she knows it, he’s got his arms banded around her middle as he leads them in a celebratory waltz around the compartment. Which incudes the expected bangs, bumps, and bruises.

When Lily’s laughter becomes to much, he lifts her as if she’s light as a feather and sets her atop the bed again, tugging at buttons and pulling at her borrowed nightclothes.

“James - James.”

Heedless of her interruptions, James continues pressing kisses to every bit of skin he uncovers, only pausing to grin at her with a thousand times the power of the look he gives a train or a steamship.  It’s the happiest she’s seen him and that’s when it finally hits her, the reality of everything and she tries to drag his face to hers.

And still, James doesn’t comply with her prodding, only unbuttoning her shirt far enough to reveal her belly - still smooth and unchanged despite all that’s going on beneath.

“You can’t see anything, love.”

This finally catches James’ attention and he peers up at her, eyes wide behind smudged glasses. “When?”

Lily brushes back his curls and he complies when she pulls his face to hers.  “I would guess, assuming my backward calculations are correct that it will arrive next summer.”

James kisses her, once, twice, and follows when she drags him over her and lets him slot between her legs while his arms surround her ribcage.  He’s been this close to her countless times by now, shared her bed and her heart for long enough that Lily sometimes feels like they need each other to breathe.  But here, now, with his eyes lit and his cheeks flush with happiness, it feels like she’s truly learning him for the first time.  She’s lived over a quarter of a century and James for endless ages longer and this is a true first for them both, a beautiful real life moment that Lily’d never dreamed.  

As James murmurs into her neck and twists so she’s sprawled across his chest, Lily’s pounding heart calms and even countless miles away she feels at home.

[foreverandalwayshttyd]

This honestly just.....came to me? Today was an emotional day and what better way to cry even harder then do a fluffy emotional haddock reunion. Beware, fluffy family feels below.

Haddock Reunion

A whole two months. Two long agonizing, lonely, despair filled months for New Berk. Their beloved chief had been captured, and taken to a different part of the archipelago to only Thor knows where. Eight years into the reign without dragons, peace had finally settled in for the Berkians. Of course Hiccup Haddock was the foundation of this close populated community, so for him to suddenly disappear for over a month caused the chirpy bustle of the village to turn into a distressed less active bustle. The type of bustle that Astrid Haddock did not want to deal with. But what choice did she have? All she could do was keep her village under control (with the help of the others of course) and hope that her husband would return soon.

Not to mention her crestfallen children, who could do nothing but cling to their mother (and Valka occasionally) in sorrow. Without their father home, the house was just so....quiet. Nuffink had trouble sleeping, as Hiccup wasn't there to comfort him during his nightmares. Astrid did the best she could to comfort him but it just resulted in neither of them getting any sleep. Zephyr was the quietest anyone had ever seen her. She always looked forward to roaming the village with her father on some days, or even to just see him walk through the door with a warm smile and open arms. But now that he was missing, she had nothing to look forward too. She would just spend nights crying against Astrid in despair, wailing for her daddy as Astrid just soothingly rocked her.

Astrid had never been more stressed and oppressed in her whole life till now. She had to act like she was completely fine so she could keep the village and her family going. Hiccup was her other half, and she just couldn't go on much longer without him. She didn't think anyone could. The village just kept pressing her more and more every day to go looking for him. Not they hadn't tried that. Multiple times. Obviously that was their first course of action; to set sail and find him. But that was very difficult as they didn't have tracker dragons to track anymore, and it just ended up as weeks out at sea finding nothing. After each trip failed, Astrid decided to call them off (mostly because she couldn't bare to see them return without her beloved) and hoped that Hiccup knew what he was doing, and would return. But hope was beginning to fade as days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months.

Astrid was currently trying to break up a fight down by the trading post far west of the island. Sure, she had broken up many many fights before. But try breaking up two Vikings hollering at each other, with a little blonde toddler boy in your arms, and a little light headed auburn girl clinging to your cloak behind you. Now that was difficult.

"Hoark! Berthel! Please, calm down and let's just talk this through!" She shouted, positioning herself between the two bickering men. They just gave each other low scowls, completely glancing over Astrid's distressed form.

"There's nothing to talk about! He stole some of mah family's last rations! Winter is almost upon us, and I ain't stoppin till he owns up and gives me back mah food!" Hoark barked in his thick heavy accent. Zephyr cowered in fear at the man's tone, pulling Astrid's cloak over her head and clinging to her mother's legs. Nuffink buried his head into his mothers neck, with a little whimper. Astrid hoisted Nuffink up a bit, as he was beginning to slide down her waist. She used her other hand to warn Hoark not to take another step closer to Berthel.

"Wha?! I did not you loon! It was you that stole from me!"

"Oh was it now?!"

"Indeed it was, thief!"

Astrid tried her best to keep the two from not attacking each other. And trying to keep her children out of harms way. Thor where was Hiccup when she needed him most? The whole village was falling apart without him. Astrid broke out into a nervous sweat, as the men's angry shouts ringed through her ears. Nuffink began to cry a bit, and Zephyr just continued to yell Momma in a whiney tone. Her mind snapped instantly. She had had enough of this.

"ALRIGHT LISTEN YOU TWO! I don't know who stole what from who, but figure it out like grown men! And for Thor's sake, my children are here, and all you're doing is trying to kill each other. We have enough rations, just calm down before I finish this fight myself!" Astrid shouted, and by now she thought the whole archipelago could hear.

Berthel and Hoark were frozen in place. They didn't dare move a muscle; she was in mama bear mode now. And any Berkian was smart enough to know not to cross with Astrid Haddock when she was in mother mode. She breathed heavily, as Nuffink clung to her as if his life depended on it. Zephyr began to whimper softly against her mother.

"A'hm....sorry, miss Astrid. And you too Berthel. Whatever you took, enjoy." He stuck out his hand to Berthel, gesturing for him to shake it. Berthel's face was etched with guilt as he looked towards the panting chieftess, and the two whimpering children who stuck to her like glue.

"I'm sorry too old friend. I'll be sure to give you some of our extra rations to make up for it...." He said, as he took Hoark's outstretched hand. Astrid sighed shakily as she watched the two men make amends. I don't know if I can do this much longer.....

"Sincerest apologies Chieftess. I bet we kind of made your stress level worse huh?" Hoark chuckled half heartedly. If only you knew. She retorted in her mind. "We do hope Chief Hiccup is alright. If there's anything we can do to help ya lass, let us know." Berthel finished off.

Astrid nodded solemnly towards the two Vikings, before they walked back to the village, probably going to brew up some more trouble somewhere else. As long as Astrid wasn't around to hear them complain, she was fine. Instinct snapped back into place as she peered down at Nuffink, and caressed his cheek gently. "You okay bud?" She asked softly, as he nodded quickly. Astrid kneeled down on the ground, and placed her son down next to Zephyr.

"I'm sorry you two had to witness that. Momma has just been.... very stressed with daddy being gone." At the word daddy, Zephyr's big blue eyes almost instantly started to swell with tears. She cried out, and instantly threw herself against her mother and began to drench Astrid's cloak with tears. "I miss - daddy...." She muttered in stifled sobs. Nuffink just crawled under Astrid's other arm and hid himself from the world under the comfort of his mother.

"Shh shhh....it's okay sweetie. I miss him too," She rocked Zephyr back and forth soothingly, while she stroked Nuffink's hair. They stayed like that for a good long while until Valka eventually found the gloomy family. She gave Astrid a pitied look, and took a dozed off Nuffink from her daughter-in-law and into her arms, and carried him back home as he silently cried against her shoulder. Astrid (difficultly) hoisted Zephyr into her embrace, and trudged back home with two tear stained, heavy-hearted children. This, no doubt, was one of the hardest things Astrid had ever been through.

The next day, Astrid took her kids down to where the pulley systems were (what they used to get ships into the ocean) and the little family sat on the big stone steps that lead down to the sea. It was a calm day, with not a ruckus in town (at least not that Astrid knew about). Zephyr began going up and down the stairs, counting each one as she took a step. Nuffink played with his little Night Fury plush, as Astrid braided his hair lost in deep thought. What if she never saw Hiccup again? What if the kids grew up without him? What if Snotlout had to become the new - yeah no, her thoughts were getting a little too crazy. A little breeze rushed by, and she took a deep breath inhaling the fresh air. Oh Hiccup. Where are you?

Zephyr had bounded up the stairs a little more, putting a little hop into her steps. "Twenty one.....five hundred!" She squealed proudly, thinking she was counting the right way. She looked down at her feet, and then out to sea. Her gaze wandered over to the docks below, not a person in sight. Or so she thought.

She squinted her eyes, and tilted her head in confusion as a limping figure could be made out from below. Her whole heart started to race. Her eyes widened, and she gave a tiny little gasp through her agape mouth. Zephyr knew that limp from anywhere.

Before she even put any thought to it, she sprinted like no one's business. She darted past her dazed mother and brother, hobbling over each step with caution, and haste. Astrid looked up surprised as her daughter whizzed by her, also catching her little brother's attention. Zephyr descended down the steps quickly, her little heart pumping with adrenaline.

Hiccup's weak form become more visible, and she yelled at the top of her lungs. "DADDY!" She screeched, causing Hiccup to look up in shock. He clutched his bruised arm, and tried to keep his swollen eyes open. He let out a teary joyful sigh, as the sight of his daughter made him want to leap for joy.

He gained a little speed and knelt down a little getting ready to take Zephyr into his arms. Zephyr nearly jumped from where she was, and wrapped her arms around Hiccup's neck so tightly he almost couldn't breath. "Daddy daddy daddy....." Zephyr sobbed into his shoulder relieved her father was still alive. Hiccup chuckled and let a few tears slide down his cheeks. He buried his head into her soft hair, sighing deeply in relief. "It's okay....I'm okay..." He said softly, as he gently stroked her hair.

"Daddy!" A tiny little voice called from above, catching Hiccup off guard. A little blonde boy bounced with each step he took, drawing closer to the scene. Hiccup stood, with Zephyr still in his arms, and immediately wrapped Nuffink up into his embrace when he was close enough to reach. Nuffink just began to laugh joyfully upon seeing his father again, squeezing his neck tightly. "Dadda I missed you!"

Hiccup's whole heart was exploding with love for his children. He missed them terribly, and to have them in his arms again since two months ago, made him want to never let them go. "I missed you too bud!" He chuckled, as he ruffled his sons hair, and helped Zephyr wipe away some of her tears with a sympathetic smile. There was only one person missing out on this family reunion.

Astrid stood shakily from where she was, covering her mouth with her trembling hand in disbelief. “Hiccup....” her breath hitched as she caught herself from almost tumbling down the stone steps. She laughed in relief, and quickly sprinted down towards the docks to meet her embraced family. She could feel her eyes swell with tears, as she drew closer to her husband she had missed desperately.

Hiccup let out a shaky breath as he watched his beloved rushing down the big stone steps, her blonde hair flailing in the air. He never turned his gaze from her as he set his children down gently and began to shorten the distance Astrid would have to run.

Astrid collapsed into his embrace, burying her head in his shoulder with hot tears, as she entangled her arms around his neck. Hiccup held her close, and buried his head into her hair sighing in relief at the feeling of his wife being in his arms again. "I thought I lost you, Hiccup....." Astrid muttered between her shuttered cries, as Hiccup chuckled softly, eyes still shut in relief. "You can't lose me that easily." He caressed her cheek wiping away a tear, as they stared into each other's glistening eyes. She leaned into his touch, not wanting to ever take it for granted again.

The other two little Haddock's wedged themselves in between their parents, causing Hiccup and Astrid to both look down into their little wide eyes. They both held up their little arms, opening their palms gesturing they wanted 'up'. Astrid sniffled with a warm smile, and picked up her little boy as she pressed a sweet kiss against his chubby little cheek. Hiccup and Astrid both picked up Zephyr, each grabbing one of her arms, and placed her right in between them. One arm wrapped around her daddy's neck, and one around her momma's, she giggled as Hiccup pressed a kiss against her hair.

Astrid looked at Hiccup's face concerned, noticing his swollen eye, and bruised cheek. Nuffink reached his hand out towards Hiccup's face, and placed his soft hand against Hiccup's scruff. "Dadda, what's wrong with your face?" He asked confused and Hiccup chuckled softly, gently grabbing his son's hand. "I'm okay Nuff, it's just a little scratch."

Astrid didn't look too convinced, but Hiccup gave her a 'not in front of the kids look'. "Please don't leave us again daddy." Zephyr pleaded as she buried her head into Hiccup's chest. "I agree with her on this one. You're not allowed to go anywhere alone again, chief." Astrid said in her mom tone, and Hiccup cocked his brow in a playful gesture. "Oh don't worry. I don't plan on ever being away from you guys for that long again. I promise."

He ruffled Nuffink's hair, and gave Zephyr a warm smile. He looked into Astrid's glistening eyes, and could tell she wasn't planning on letting him go anywhere anytime soon. He wrapped his arm around his wife, who was still holding Nuffink, and held his family as close as he possibly could. They all had bittersweet smiles on their faces, as Astrid let a few more tears slide down her cheeks. She didn't know if it was from all the stress she had, the feeling of being in her husband's arms again, or seeing her children have smiles on their faces for the first time in two months. All she knew, was that the Haddock family just wasn't the same without their lovable dorky father.

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Heya crumbz, I actually had more of a fluffy kidge request if that's okay! Keith is obvs a huge softie (hiding inside a toughie), and you write softie Keith so well 😭 Could I request Keith maybe reflecting on memories of his father/thinking about the father he wants to be as he's watching his first baby being born? I feel like this would be a huge moment for him, because it's the start of his own family.

YOU’VE DONE SUNK MY BATTLE SHIP!!! SOFT, SAPPY DADDY!KEEF IS ONE OF MY BIGGEST WEAKNESSES, ANON!!!! AND ALSO THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR LIKING HOW I WRITE HIM!!! I’m so happy that I’m able to write the character believably and enjoyably!!!! xD

For months, Keith had been turning thoughts over in hishead, waiting for this moment to arrive. And now, as his shaky hands grippedthe little steel scissors to snip the cord, the room filled with the sounds ofnewborn wailing, a part of him felt like he hadn’t prepared nearly enough forit.

When Pidge announced she was pregnant, he’d been thrilled. Hemade time to go to every doctor’s appointment, eager to see how their baby grewand developed. He got misty-eyed at the first ultra sound where they could seethe shape of a new life taking form. As the pregnancy continued, he pushedPidge to take more time to rest and relax, taking to maintaining the household onhis own. He didn’t want her to overexert herself, after all. And as the dayswent by, his mind turned over what it was going to be like; or, rather, what hewas going to be like as a father.

The idea of a family was one that he’d always dreamed about,for as long as he could remember. Joining Team Voltron gave him a family thathe could rely on, but there was a part of him that still wanted one to call allhis; a life with a partner who loved him as much as he loved them, a few kidsand a happy life all together. He still remembered the moments with his ownfather, for the few years that they’d had, and how those memories were ones heclutched to in his darkest and hardest moments.

He remembered how, even with how rambunctious Keith couldbe, his dad was always patient with him. He could only recall one time his dadhad yelled at him, but it had been for good reason. Keith, almost five years oldand feeling rebellious as ever, had squirmed his hand free of his dad’s andtaken off running across a crowded supermarket parking lot. “Keith, stop!” Hisdad had bellowed, his voice as loud and jarring as thunder during a storm, thatit caused him to freeze up immediately.

A car had rushed by, so close the wind current from itnearly toppled his dazed little form over, but then he’d been scooped up andspoken to in a much softer voice.

That was how his dad approached everything; with patienceand kindness, since it worked better with Keith. Keith, looking back, knew hewas a temperamental and difficult child. He saw how his antisocial behavior hadnegatively affected his dad just as much it had to Keith himself. His dad,however, had never once shoved these facts into Keith’s face. He’d nevershouted or yelled or hit Keith in frustration. No, he always stayed calm andused a delicate voice. And if Keith himself was feeling volatile and flusteredabout a situation, his dad would take the time to calm him down before theytalked about the problem.

He had loved how there were points where he could just joinhis dad as he worked on something and start pestering him questions about thisor that.

That was the kind of father Keith knew he wanted to be themoment Pidge told him she was pregnant. But now that she was here? I wasn’tsure he’d prepared himself for parenthood enough.

A small giggle came from beside him and he jumped just abit, the warm hand of the middle-aged nurse settling over his hand. “Slow andsteady now, okay?” She said, voice soothing and soft. He swallowed and nodded,moving the scissors through carefully. With the cord cut, the doctor and othernurses moved to finish getting the squalling newborn cleaned up and swaddled.

He stepped back to join Pidge again, sliding one hand underher back while offering the other to her, offering to help her sit up a bitbetter. She was still flushed and breathing heavy, but her eyes were brightwith tired excitement, taking his help and looking over to where they could seethe medical team working. The nurse from before approached them after a moment,carrying their daughter bundled up in a little blanket, the infant stillletting out little cries of protest and distress. Keith let Pidge’s hand slipaway as she moved to hold her arms out to take her. “You’ll want to make sureto support her head. She won’t have the best head control for a few weeks,” Thenurse advised as she helped Pidge cradle the newborn in the crook of her arm.

“Hello there, troublemaker,” Pidge cooed, her voice takingon the soft and delicate note he’d only heard a handful of times himself. Shecarefully pressed their daughter into her chest, leaning back into the pillowsand smoothing her hand along her back. She pressed a small kiss to the wisps ofdark hair along the top of the infant’s head before looking over at Keith witha huge, satisfied grin.

He smiled back as the nurse politely excused herself,promising the two of them that a specialist would pop in to go over the endsand outs of what they needed to know with them once they’d a bit of down time.As they waited, she calmed down, her little wails slowly tapering off, staringaround at everything with big and curious eyes. Keith reached out and gentlystroked one of her plush cheeks with a thumb. “Amber,” He said softly.

“Huh?” Pidge hummed, perking up and looking at him.

“She’s got your eyes,” He mused without lifting his gaze,hoping that would be a good enough explanation.

“Amber… I like it,” Pidge said, cutting her sentence off abit at the end with a yawn.

He looked up at her. “Do you want to take a little nap whilewe wait? I can hold her,” He offered.

She perked up and nodded, carefully shifting. “You haven’thad the chance to hold her yet, have you?” She asked.

He shook his head as he rose and leaned over, carefullylifting her. Amber only let out one small cry as she was moved, when she was inthe open air, but seemed to be content once Keith had her cradled against hischest. He paused to press a quick peck to Pidge’s forehead before slipping backinto the chair beside her bed.

It didn’t take very long for Pidge, exhausted from a mix ofthe labor and lack of sleep she’d had in the last few hours, to pass out. Hewatched her doze off before looking back down at Amber, her bright eyes stilllooking around curiously. “Everything’s so new and interesting to you, isn’tit?” He chuckled. Her shifted to focus on him, blinking slowly before lettingout a small noise that almost sounded like a squeak. “Don’t worry, soon enoughyou’ll be big enough to interact with all the cool stuff in the world. Just needto get a little bigger, first.” He mused, reaching down with one hand tolightly poke her on the nose.

She stared at the offending finger for a moment and, as hemoved to pull his hand away, she reached out and set one chubby little hand onhis finger.

He could feel his heart skip a beat in his chest beforemelting. He shifted, gently curling his finger so he could stroke the top ofher hand with his thumb. A part of him realized then, in that hospital room,that he’d give anything to keep the small bundle in his arms safe. It wasdifferent than the passion that drove him in his younger years; a passion thatcame from his own moral beliefs and dedication to his responsibilities as aPaladin. This was something that burned twice as bright inside of him, but in away so different that he wasn’t sure he could put his finger on it.

It was reminiscent of how he’d felt when he realized he wasin love with Pidge, but it was still something entirely new. It almost feltlike something was finally settled inside of him, as if her being here finallygave him some kind of purpose he’d never known he’d wanted. “I wonder if thiswas how my dad felt, when he held me?” He mumbled softly, a dull ache hittinghim at the thought.

There were so many things he’d always wanted to ask his dad,but never had the chance. But, somehow, he almost felt like he could feel hisdad there with him, reassuring him.

Amber didn’t answer him. Instead, her gaze just flitteredbetween his face and his thumb.

He smiled and leaned down, gently pressing a kiss to herlittle nose. “I love you already, and I always will. I’m always going toprotect you, Amber,” He whispered.

[nomdy-plume]

Have you seen ‘Inside Llewyn Davis’?

It’s a good job I don’t post a new blog every week – I’d have nothing to talk about.  

Whereas, leaving it a few months between updates, I have LOTS to cover. You ready? Let’s begin:

Since returning from Texas, I have completed a month’s contract onboard another ferry, after my management were kind enough to offer me a way out of short-term pecuniary disenfranchisement. It was the sister-ship of the one that I normally find myself on and I’m pleased to say that it was the better of the two: the indoor smoking room (I no longer smoke) was a [much larger and better equipped] gym and the gym room was a very plush TV room with a full satellite package.

Given the cricket world cup was taking place during my contract, it was wonderful to be the only person on the ship who wasn’t busy working during the day. I had the whole TV room to myself (about 25 yards from the mess, food, drink, etc.) to indulge in what was an amazing tournament.

On my last two contracts I was playing in the main theatre (in the belly of the ship) with a party band but for a month I was providing troubadour, solo, action upstairs in the Sky lounge – my first contract as a soloist.  After an initial knee-jerk reaction to accepting the contract of downloading a ton of backing tracks, so I could provide a range of musical options, I realised pretty quickly that this was completely  unnecessary.

Performing 4x 30min sets a night: I started out by planning 3 days’ worth of unique sets, which I figured I could adjust and tinker with until I was happy with how they all worked out. Slow, mellow ones to start with before whipping the crowd into a frenzy with sing-a-long classics later on in the night. I think I had about 150 songs in my solo repertoire to choose from and it’s basically about 7 or 8 songs a set (depending on how long I drag them out for).

It was the usual mix of songs that I know I can play and sing – which work in a solo setting – and a desperate grab for as many other suitable songs which I could learn or which I really wanted to try out acoustically.

However, pretty early in the contract, one of the ladies on security in the port was kind enough to pass on her head cold to me. My throat was soon swollen enough for me to ask my Entertainments Manager (EM) if it would be OK if I just played some instrumental stuff until my voice was better.  His reaction – reading between the lines, and the indifferent shrug – told me that he couldn’t care less what I did as long as I was up there making some form of noise for my allotted times.

Now, this meant that the bar staff / bar manager in my venue must have been happy with what they had heard of me so far: they are always the ones to complain if something isn’t working or going to plan.  This pleased me: the bar staff have to listen to the solo act over and over and over again, every night for weeks on end, so whereas the passengers might only hear one or two performances, the staff will hear every single one.  

They become very sensitive to how good/bad people are in both their playing and their selection of material – normally the lack of it.  150 songs might seem a lot, but that’s only 5 days worth before you repeat yourself IF you stick to playing every song.

Anyway, to cut to the chase, I quickly got the 30 min sets down to 3 or 4 songs – only two of which I might sing on. I needed to come up with a few more jazz instrumentals to bluff my way through as the staff were hearing Autumn Leaves and Blue Bossa every night, and I don’t want to drive them too mad…

It was a good exercise in needing to be creative with a looper pedal as well as figuring out which of my repertoire I could drag out for around ten mins with solos before and after each verse/chorus…

It meant that I could reduce the songs on which I did sing down to a select, polished group.  It was a great relief to know that I could just throw down a loop and meander whimsically around some melodic lines for the duration of the sets. Audience were happy, bar staff were happy – I was over the moon!

The audiences were a mixed bag.  Most were very receptive: in the warm summer evenings, the top lounge where I played was the place to be. Plus it is right next to the open smoking decks – so there have been some good numbers of bodies in, most of the time.  They don’t seem to mind me in the corner with a looper pedal just noodling away and I’ve been able to play all the requests thrown my way so far. The German passengers seem extra friendly and receptive – apparently they LOVE a bit of Dire Straits, which suits me right down to the ground because so do I.

As per most contracts, there were times when a small, appreciative crowd were loving everything I was playing – just as there were times when a large, unappreciative crowd couldn’t have cared less what I was doing.  In my final week, I was determined to give it everything I had in those final shows – I poured my heart and soul into everything I did.  And no-one noticed, cared or gave a hoot.

Such is life!

Some nights I sucked, didn’t want to be there… some nights I was on fire, didn’t want it to end… I had a ton of fun, even if it didn’t feel like it all the time. I also got to head into Amsterdam a couple of times which was wonderful, it’s possibly my favourite European city and I’ve spent so many hours wandering around the canals and streets.

There’s a breakfast café very near the station which always – ALWAYS! – has a queue of about 10-15 people waiting to get in.  It’s called Omelegg and I’ve always wanted to know what the food is like in there… all the online reviews say it’s incredible… my lifetime quest to find out for myself continueth…

The party band who were onboard were a nice bunch. They were in the lamentable – but not uncommon – position of joining the ship with a guitarist who was young, naïve and completely unprepared for the contract. However, he was a nice, well-meaning guy and the others didn’t seem to be willing to cuss him out: they were kind of hand-holding him through the contract. Bless.

Bands are responsible for making sure they know what they are doing, are rehearsed, etc. and apparently this kid had known for a year that he was doing it.  Sounds like his reasoning was as follows (taken from ad verbatim quotes from the band):

·         I’m the best guitarist at my university

·         I can play anything and I can sing a bit

·         I should be able to figure out / jam along to whatever the band play

I was torn: between admiring the sheer, bare-faced audacity of naïve youth and gobbling popcorn at the eye-widening, car-crash drama of it all. I managed to catch a few of their songs – when our set-times overlapped a little – and it was, indeed, painful to witness.

I wish I could say that I hadn’t been there before, in his shoes (albeit under slightly different circumstances), but I had.  All I can say is that if you survive a baptism of fire like that and STILL want to pursue it as a career, you’ve already displayed enough courage and determination/perseverance to almost guarantee some level of success. It is being right at the bottom of a very steep, painful learning curve.

I also loved my Ibanez jazzy hollow-body guitar on this contract, too.  I bought it in Hong Kong a few years back (the Tom Lee store there is incredible: an Aladdin’s cave of guitar goodness) and hadn’t really touched it since.  I wasn’t sure if the contract would stipulate ‘acoustic-only’ – but that was me being overly cautious.  Not only does it sound great – that oaky, woody, jazzy sound you’d expect from that style of guitar – but it plays so much more easily than anything else I own.

And, because you guys are always most interested in the tragic, nerve-wracking, up-and-down drama of my life as a musician, I’ll fill you in on current events.

I’d been lining up a contract for later in the year, back onboard the last cruise ship where we did the acoustic duo gig.  This time as the party band, which – although fraught with its own logistical challenges – was at least a contract on the table.  Indeed, I had digitally signed and returned it and was relieved to have another 5 months of work booked in to keep my head afloat.

However, the delightful and immensely-talented LT had previously – and both I and the drummer were loosely aware of this – auditioned for a cruise line which paid nearly twice the money for not quite half the work, but certainly a much more agreeable working environment.

So, it was with a sense of dread and doom that we read her message saying that she had been offered a contract with this other cruise line and we weren’t going to be able to tag along. We weren’t going to do the contract without her and we all knew that she was destined for greater things than earning minimum wage with no days off for five months.

So, here I am under fairly intense financial pressures and no work on the horizon.  It’s all very Inside Llewyn Davis, which pleases and disgusts me in equal measures.  On the plus side, in my attempts to get some sort of a side-gig going, I’ve done some work as an extra on a major Netflix production which was being filmed in Wales. It’ll be out later this year, I’m hoping to get some screen time – it’ll be something to laugh about with my family.

So yeah, there’s the update. I may leave it as long again to allow enough to occur to make it a riveting read… but then I don’t have much on at the moment and may end up publishing frequently as a means to pass the time…

*salutes*

[courtorderedcake]

RIPTIDE 2/13

An Enchanted Forest AU where the dark one was never released into the world in a vessel, thus causing a massive shift in timelines. The ogre wars have ravaged kingdoms, untold destruction spanning continents, rulers displaced. Even as the wars sputter to ash, the safest place to be is at sea, and that’s not very safe at all - as Emma and Killian find out, fates intertwined against all odds.

Rated: E/X - heavy content : warnings of assault, rape, noncon, just everything, I feel like the rating says enough. It’s something.

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS TRIGGERING CONTENT. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

Read on Ao3 HERE .

Chapter II : Mist

There are things of which I may not speak; There are dreams that cannot die; There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak, And bring a pallor into the cheek, And a mist before the eye. -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

When Zelena summoned her to her chambers, Emma was sure she’d been discovered. It had been months since Walsh had forced her into illicit nights of his mouth on hers, and his hands groping ever farther into territory she wished lay unexplored. She knew the consequences if Zelena found out, but Granny’s life lay in her hands. She was the closest thing to a mother she’d ever known.

“Emma. I’ve been watching you, you know.” Zelena sat in the small space of her quarters in a plush emerald chair, upholstered in shimmering velvet and lined in golden embroidery. The cabin was narrow with a small window, filled with the chair, candles that were lit haphazardly, a canopied bed that was built into what might have previously been a small closet, a bookshelf, a cedar chest, and a small table covered in bottles. The door closed behind her, and Emma gulped.

“Yes.”

“I’ve noticed what you think you’ve been hiding from everyone.” Zelena smiled deviously, steepling her fingers. The hair on the nape of Emma’s hair stood on end. “Did you really think you could keep it a secret?”

Emma stared into the crimson haired woman’s eyes. “I don’t know-”

”You should embrace it, like I have. It’s a gift, no matter what weak minded fools say.” Zelena made a dismissive motion towards the door, her mouth curling into a sneer. “Magic is nothing to hide.”

”Magic?” Emma let out a breath of relief, her face contorting in confusion. “What are you talking about, magic?”

It was Zelena’s turn to be confused. She blinked several times, her face falling into a confused and astonished expression. “Emma, my pet, your magic. It radiates off you. Honestly- how could you not notice?”

Emma’s heart began to race. “I haven’t ever… I mean, I don’t have-”

”You healed Snow when she fell from the rigging months back. A fall like that should have broken her back.”

“That was luck, she slowed herself by catching some rope.” Zelena shook her head.

“You’ve conjured sunlight during gray days, and when you sing, dolphins and mermaids come near.”

“Mermaids are always seeking pirates to lure to the grave. And dolphins, well…” She swallowed hard. “They think we’ll throw out fish.” The candles in the room seemed to dim.

“Even right now, you’re messing with the candle light. You could be a more powerful sorceress than me even, with the right training.” Zelena’s eyes seemed to grow greener, glittering like a cat who caught the canary.

“No, I believe you are mistaken. Those are all just coincidences. I don’t even know the first thing abou-”

Zelena shot a bolt of green fire at her, and she flinched, smelling the sulfuric flame that she was sure she’d feel licking her with its acid tongue of pain soon. Her hands warmed, but nothing bit her with a burning sting. She peeked one eye open. The flame rested before her, held by a white light flooding from her palms, flickering in the cabin. All the candles were out, the green light coming from Zelena casting an unearthly shadow over everything, tinging the space emerald. Zelena’s face was a sly smile.

“When would you like to begin your lessons, my darling pet?”

  Between magic lessons, her kitchen duties, and Walsh’s continued violations, Emma was growing exhausted. It didn’t go unnoticed by anyone, with the crew more sympathetic than her teacher, who in turn was much more sympathetic than the rank man in back of her.

Walsh pawed her naked breast, grunting with the other hand in his pants, rutting against her ass. She was used to his usual crassness, but he’d been pushing for more of late, seeking to take her as a woman and man joined. Emma had known for years she most likely would never be a woman who was able to save herself for marriage, but she had hoped she’d at least find someone who made her feel something other than revulsion.

A few women on the ship sought female company after unpleasant experiences like her own. Fewer still sought out the occasional male companion or consort, which generally were more common in the uncharted shores or more exotic and inhibited locales. Zelena did not like such places because they didn’t have the finer luxuries she was accustomed to.

And oh was Zelena ever accustomed to fineries, Emma was finding. Zelena has started her off with mapping and studying where various herbs could be found, along with other sundries, talismans, magickal items, and rare stones or gems. Then she’d had her chart merchant courses to create a route that would keep her coffers and apothecary cabinet stocked, and set Emma up with a book making her various unguents and potions for beauty.

Emma had proved to be moderately skilled, Zelena overjoyed and tasking her with studying more arcane magic. The magic was mostly enchanting swords, creating poisons to wipe on blades, bewitching objects, or summoning the elements to do your bidding. Emma found it easy, and spellcraft or elemental magic easier yet. After weeks of practice, she could create a flaming sword, heal small wounds, or conjure a bright burning light in one hand while a rapier was held in the other.

When Emma had found an aging Bradshaw through word of mouth, dragging his sorry hide on board per Zelena’s request for a man to test poisons on, Emma felt a delight that was almost sisterly. Killing Bradshaw with a painful combination of poisons while spittle ran into his graying beard was not quite just desserts. Emma would have given anything to have poisoned the slaver at his prime, when he had whittled away her skin for a laugh. Zelena was beyond impressed at Emma’s aptitude for cruelty and creating poison blends that caused torment. The next morning, Zelena demoted Walsh with a smirk, promoting Emma to First Mate instead. Emma would swear the woman gave her a motherly look, the unease of her company fading.

Eventually Zelena demoted Walsh, no one particularly shocked other than him, his last line of superiority disappearing. To complicate matters, Zelena had praised Emma, stating she was the most skilled in battle and hinted at making her his replacement. Meri had at first been icy, but even she couldn't stay mad for long when watching Walsh sulk was such a delight. Zelena made it very clear what his purpose was on her ship, her personal dandy to keep her satisfied until someone else could fulfill her needs. A toy, a wind up monkey, clattering around for her entertainment only. His anger was palpable on deck every time she called for him. Emma would feel bad if it wasn’t so ironic. Walsh, caught in the same net he cast for her.

Zelena began to trust Emma with more self study but never anything that could truly threaten her own skill. She was a narcissist, but a realist first and foremost. A threat was a threat, and as someone who coveted her possessions, Zelena kept them close to her chest. Or so she thought.

The first thing to escape her, whether in obliviousness or arrogance, was Walsh seeking Emma’s companionship every morning, and Zelena’s bed chambers every night that she summoned him. She was an insanely envious woman, and Walsh had caused a few women to meet her fury by trying to sneak a poke in at brothels under her nose. Emma suspected Zelena didn’t think anyone on the Oz would dare. Truly, Emma wished she could stop the entire disgusting ritual, but Walsh had been prepared.

“This is going to continue as long as it suits my needs,” he’d said as he forced himself into her mouth. “And if you say anything, to anyone, I will make sure that everyone on this ship thinks you initiated it, as well as killing your grandma myself.”

She hated the taste of him, but she hated knowing how easy it would be for him to convince Zelena that she was the instigator. He’d fallen out of favor with Zelena, and she was quick now to call him on his incompetence while using him for her other needs. Instead, after a bloody battle that left Emma breathless from the use of both her magic and blade, Zelena had praised her in front of the crew while chastising Walsh’s failure to do much more than cower.

As it stood, Zelena had just let Emma gain her trust. That trust factored into the second thing Zelena failed to notice - something even Emma barely noticed herself, at first.

Emma realized it slowly, practicing her craft at night and feeling her magic pulse all through the ship like tendrils or veins. She could feel the ocean and its currents, deep into dark waters, the night air and starlight - elements being broken down further and further until everything was light or dark or electric or an unexplainable force. She could feel that force in everything, moving in and out like the breath of some great invisible beast.

And Emma could reach a finger to touch it, if she just pushed, pushed -

A great pair of yellow eyes stared at her, unblinking, the pupil widening and shrinking as it came to focus on her being. At first they stared at each other, and each felt the other. A light and a darkness, one small and one large, one so very young, one ancient but not yet wise. She felt its curiosity as well as her own before she lost hold of the thread, falling back into her body.

She’d woken up sweating to a ruckus on deck. Throwing on her clothes, she joined a small handful of the crew, including Zelena, who were watching the sun come up and join the moon in the sky at an unnatural pace, blinding them and bleaching the night sky in its radiance before dipping back below the horizon again.

“An omen,” Zelena had said, quietly.

“Of what? When has the sun ever chased a still moon, and then raced forward before stopping? What kind of omen is that?” Emma asked, shivering slightly in the now chill air of the returned night.

“A great power has manifested itself. That’s an ancient spell that even I can’t do. It’s in a relic of mine somewhere. Starsphere manipulation, or something.” She yawned, and stretched. “I’m going back to bed. Since all of you are up, you can begin your day early.”

Emma sighed, and returned to the bunks to get dressed for the day. She blinked when she saw the book she’d been reading the night before by candlelight, realizing the cover was well worn and not the book that she thought she’d been studying. Looking at the text of the cover, she couldn’t help the chill that ran up her spine, excitement thumping in her heart like cannon fire.

“SpellKrafte of the Starspheres”.

  Their latest haul had been a success, a ship taken down and heavy pockets for every one of the crew. Emma had run several men through, including the captain who had tried to shoot her with a shoddy pistol, unable to get off the shot before her sword cut through him like a ribbon. She’d smiled into his face, letting him know that her angel looks held back a demon’s blood lust. In the hold, they’d found wine, cheese, fresh fruits, vegetables, spices, and tea; and Zelena was happy to announce the coffers were full again with the gold and jewelry they looted. There were no survivors this time, simply blood, bodies and fire offered to the sea when they had finished stripping the ship. David, Snow, and Emma watched it sink into the black water, a gift happily given for another day of plunder.

When the ship had sank into the sea, Zelena gave orders quickly before going to her ledgers, and Emma took up for her in her absence. She knew everyone but Walsh was pleased that she was now First Mate, her ease and fair hands left little need for the punishments once doled out by Zelena. David maintained the weapons easily, teaching new crew members when Emma or Snow could not, and Meri, along with Fa, had made navigation a breeze. The new worlds were not so new with their residents among them.

Walsh had taken to punishing Emma for his demotion with his body, pulling her aside in the mornings when she woke to help Granny. His needs had gotten lewder and much rougher, and she found herself escaping into thoughts of her duties as he spent himself. It never lasted long, for which she was grateful; he had given up seeking anything but his own pleasure. She’d open her mouth, let him pull down her trousers or hike up her skirts, and pretended she wasn’t thinking of unfurling sails or making sure the gunpowder casks were dry.

If he thought she was bored, he’d give her a heavy handed smack which caused an annoying bruise she’d have to hide, so she tried to show slight interest in his grunts. He’d spill himself down her throat, on the floor of the store room, or more frustratingly in her skirts, hair, or on her breasts. She hated the sticky feeling of him on her skin as it were, but it was better this than letting him fill her - that was the worst. The apothecaries in a few port towns carried several potent herbs that when mixed just right, created a tincture that prevented becoming with child. Although she used it religiously, the risk of carrying some bastard scared her.

Emma never wanted children, and the idea of bringing a child into this world that had hurt her so badly made her skin crawl. Her hands were covered in the blood of men, death an old friend she helped to feed. A child did not belong in this world. She had, at many times, hidden herself for just a few moments, assuring herself that nothing would happen, nothing could happen, the fear too much to bear in an open space. Walsh would occasionally use that fear, talking about forcing her to marry and stay on shore, and on those days, her anger was palpable while frustration at her situation boiled over.

One of the ways she let off her frustration at the arrangement with Walsh was seeking out companions in port towns, finding dandies, the rare male escort, or a woman of the night. Nothing was truly satisfying, and she hated watching someone try and pretend they were enjoying something they weren’t. Even when slightly enjoyable, there was never any reason to go back or any connection.

They made port that night with coin to spend, and Emma made her way into one of the disreputable taverns where she knew trouble would not find her. Sinking into a chair, she drank heartily and let the conversations flow over her, the different crews shouting and jostling each other, many different songs from different lands weaving together into a comforting lull. Walsh had been rougher this morning; drinking helped her forget a hard day’s work on top of the bruises on her hips.

As some men were lured away by women to drop trousers and coin, one of the older patrons began playing away on an accordion to a familiar sea shanty, the liveliness thrumming in the crowd as more voices joined in. One of the bartenders pulled out a fiddle, and the place came alive with drunken singing and dancing. For a moment, Emma let herself smile into her tankard as she drank the spiced ale, enjoying the way her head spun.

When two uniformed officers crossed her line of vision, the smile disappeared. She could feel the tension settle for a moment, before the taller of the two spoke up.

“A round on me, and my little brother. Tomorrow we leave, and tonight you have the finest ale.” His shout was met with a hearty cry of appreciation from the sailors inside, and the music started up again, louder than before. The shorter brother, still wearing his hat, approached the bar near where she sat. She could hear the coins clink behind her.

A tankard appeared to her left, placed down by the younger brother. Following the arm, she looked up into blue eyes, lit with amusement. “Here you go lass.” She blinked at him, watching trays of ale go around to the other tables.

“A toast!” said the taller brother of the two, shouting again. “To fair seas, and fair weather, as far as the horizon goes!” Glasses clinked, and Emma raised hers halfheartedly. Throwing back the remnants of her first ale, she started on the second. The younger brother still hadn’t moved and was too close for her liking.

“Another toast.” Emma bristled. “To better lives, and futures.” he said, and she tried to make it clear she wasn’t interested in company.

Emma snorted. “Sure, mate.”

“Have a little hope darling.” A chair scraped and he was sitting beside her. “You never know what the future holds.”

She stared at him, seeing the glint of hope in his eyes, and felt pity rise in her stomach. He couldn’t be much older than her, but she knew so much better of waiting for brighter futures. She wanted to scream at him, tell him she had seen what his king sent men to their deaths for; that in ports all over the world, there were men that were once like him. Men that were now broken husks, full of loss.

Instead, she whispered curses softly under her breath.

“What was that lass?”

She smiled sadly. “I said, I wish you good luck, Lieutenant.” she lifted her tankard.

He smiled brightly, tapping her tankard with his. Quickly, Emma drank the rest of her ale before pulling out her chair and leaving through the open door. The night air felt good, crisp and cleansing on her face, and the moon was high in the sky, leaving plenty of light to guide her down the street. She hadn’t realized how much she had drank, her cheeks felt warmed. At this point, holding her liquor and keeping her footing were never problems unless something very strong was involved, even if she felt a little dizzy.

“Hey, hey wait-” he called out to her, and Emma turned around to appraise him. He swayed slightly, and she sighed. Not used to holding his drink yet either. Burying any emotion, she composed herself before he approached. The last thing she wanted tonight was this poor boy trying to keelhaul her; he’d lose a hand and she’d get a lashing from Captain Zelena.

“Yes?” she asked, letting the bite of irritability shine through.

“I know this isn’t good form, but I-” He stepped towards her and she could see under starlight that he’d lost his hat, his jet black hair falling out of his pulled back style. “I wanted to ask you if you’d give me a kiss for good luck.”

Emma sighed. Sailor superstition was rife, but this was ridiculous.

“You don’t want a kiss from me, mate. I’m cursed. You’ve better luck finding a toad to press your lips against.” She turned away again, and he gripped her wrist.

“I may have better luck with the toad, but I’ve asked you.” He looked down at her through dark lashes and she felt flush color her cheeks and ears. “You're beautiful, the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.” He flushed, nervously scratching behind his ear. “I may have had too much to drink, and I’m usually not this forward, but I mean it. You’re stunning.” His words were sincere, ringing completely genuine. Something inside her stomach flipped, causing the bite in the night air to lose its teeth completely.

“Fine, Lieutenant.” She pressed her lips against his, and he pressed back. She’d kissed other sailors, men with chapped lips and stubble, but this was velvet soft, while his tongue asked for entry without demand. He turned his head to deepen it and she obliged, her skin licked with heat. She should have ended this instantly, but he tasted like honey, mint, ale, salt of the sea, and a rich headiness that made her dizzy. He groaned into her, and she bit his lip to illicit another. He pushed her back against a building or a wall, she couldn’t tell; she was breathless and a knee was between her legs.

Hadn’t he mentioned good form? Emma didn't care.

He seemed unsure as she rocked her aching core against his leg. Nothing ever felt like this with Walsh or any other man for that matter- there was never this hunger, the fire burning and wrapping her in a tingling blanket of sensation. She wanted more, eyes widening as she let out a moan into his ear, his fingers wrapping around her waist, his other hand stroking the neckline of her corset.

She reached a hand to his buckle, undoing the ridiculously shiny thing, and pushed down the front of his pants. In the lower streets here, it was common to see lovers, paid or otherwise, enjoying each other’s bodies.

“Here? In the street? I can’t; I don’t do this. We can’t,” he hissed, his voice hoarse. She nodded, tugging on his length, unsure of what had come over her. “We - we shouldn’t.” She licked her palm and continued, and he rutted into her hand. “We should go back and get a room,” he moaned the last word, as she twisted up and down his cock. “Oh, Gods, damn it it all!” His hands pulled down her corset, and he sucked hard on a nipple, plucking at the other. Emma felt like she was being lit, like a gun filled with powder ready to fire.

Was this what the whores in the brothel felt when they wailed into the night? What other sprawled bodies in other shadowed alleys moaned about while people looked away? Hot breath in the crook of their neck, a warm tongue laving their collar bone, a coil that tightened when his fingers found her wet and aching? Oh, his fingers!

He curled them in her, whispering how wonderful she’d feel around him, how she probably tasted like heaven. He found a sensitive spot, and she ground down on his hand. His fingers left her and she whimpered, wishing he would keep that sweet pressure on her. He instead stroked his shaft with his wet fingers and slowly, reverently, sheathed himself.

Her body trembled, and they held each other forehead to forehead for a small time. This wasn’t just sex. This was making love, or rather with the love absent, fucking for pleasure. Walsh was sex, and nothing more; this dark haired lieutenant was a push to lunacy; his body pressed into hers so tightly with the brick biting her back, his first movements making them both moan lowly.

His eyes were blown out, as she pushed his hair out of his eyes, feeling the beginning of something low in her belly rising like the breath you search for as you drown. They found a rhythm, rocking with each other sloppily. She let out a laugh that he mirrored with a grin when they fumbled for a moment and she almost slipped. He dug into her deeper, making her toes curl, her noises becoming needy pants on his shoulder as she dug her nails in his back.

“There! Fuck, yes, there!” she moaned. The new angle had him gripping her hips, sinking her body on his with groans of pleasure. The drag of him inside, hitting spots in her that had been so neglected, had that coil in her belly tight once again. Everything was taut, tense and waiting, waiting to feel something she’d been chasing for so long. She’d never gotten this close before. She felt like one of the moths that circled lanterns at night so close to heat.

”That’s it lass, come for me,” he groaned, moving faster, and the pleasure she felt had her writhing. It was euphoric, and then it was more; starlight ran in her veins, pumping through her heart to shoot back to her fingers and toes. She felt her body tighten and spasm as she cried out into his neck. He whispered into her ear how beautiful she was, sweet things that had her eyes feeling glassy, kissing her and keeping her on a sword’s edge that caused her thighs to quiver. It continued as he took, burying himself as deep as he could into her body, letting out a shuddering moan as he pulsed.

They panted into each other’s shoulders, tightly gripping each other. She snuggled into his embrace, her skirts shifting, and his cock softening. He kissed her temple as she adjusted herself with a shy smile. In this moment, drunk and soft, body sated and held tight, she let herself be vulnerable. Hazy thoughts of blue eyes, dark hair, reddened lips, and the golden buttons of his uniform that pressed into her skin broke down long standing walls. If she believed in fate, this moment would be destiny.

“See. You never know what the future holds,” he whispered into her ear, tucking back a blonde strand of hair. He let her down carefully, pulling himself from her and tucking himself back into his trousers. He helped her pull up her corset to her surprise, and pressed soft kisses to her neck. 

“You shouldn’t go.” It crept out of her lips before she could stop it. He blinked slowly like waking from a dream.

“Shouldn’t go? Where?”

Her voice was a harsh whisper. If she could save one person from the hell of dying for the King’s greed, she’d try. Especially this man, so young and full of life, who believed in good form and telling her she was beautiful.

“You shouldn’t go to whatever hellscape the king is sending you to. He only sends men to their death. It’s not my place, but please -” His hand covered her mouth, and the moment was broken. A cloud covered the moon, darkness falling over them.

“What you say is treason,” he hissed, slowly releasing her and moving back a step. She shook herself, walls coming back up with no effort, meeting his eyes. “You shouldn’t say such things.”

“Do not trust your king. You’ll die if you listen to his lies. ” She watched his face harden with resolve.

“You know nothing about me, our king, or our mission.” His eyes darkened like the sky above. “We seek to end the last encampments of ogres. We’ll be saving people and children that these foul creatures kill. We will be heroes and free men!”

Emma was about to speak, to tell him about real freedom, but a voice broke the silence.

“Brother!” Someone was shouting, and he pulled away to look. “There is ale still to be drank and the night is young!” Her heart hammered in her chest, and she steadied herself. The spell was shattered, and not every man could be saved. Even this one that quickened the beat of her heart insistently. Pulling her cloak up over her head, she moved from him, pushing him aside. To her surprise, he moved to catch her arm, his footfalls behind her. They broke into a run through the town’s smoky corridors.

“Wait!” he called after her, but she knew her way through the alleys and back streets, twisting until she was back in front of The Emerald Envy of Oz. She made her way to the gangplank.

David stared at her coldly. He earned his nickname, Charming, by his expressionless face in battle and his quiet demeanor that hid a sharp tongue. She nodded at him in greeting, straightening her skirted breeches and corset under her cloak. David cocked an eyebrow, and she blushed red in only the way a sibling can embarrass you and make you angry at the same time.

“It’s not what it looks like.” She stomped up the gangplank.

David grunted. “It never is.”

“Some Navy fool shipping off tomorrow for his first bloodbath wanted a kiss.” She threw herself down on a crate, folding her arms.

Another grunt, and a snorted laugh. “So he won’t be making it to see the waters, dear sister?”

She grinned salaciously. “He’ll live, for tonight, at least. And he’s in much better spirits. I gave him a bit more than a kiss to comfort him when he dies for his King.” She winked, and watched her brother’s body stiffen, ears beginning to flush.

His eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. “Things I didn’t and never want to know. Disgusting. Hopefully he dies, so I don’t have to slit his throat instead.”

Looking out over the waves, she sighed suddenly defeated. “He will. If he survives, he’ll wish he was dead.”

Her brother came to sit next to her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. They sat together listening to the waves until the stars began to fade, letting words that were unnecessary between them go unspoken.

  The smell of gunpowder was acrid in her nostrils as Emma boarded the small merchant ship, landing with a thud. She pulled out her rapier and lit a fireball in her other hand that glowed with an unearthly shimmer of white light. The man before her looked horrified, and his knees shook as he fumbled to pull his own sword. He never got the chance, her rapier making quick work and spattering blood as she moved through the crew with little difficulty.

A sword nicked her shoulder, held by a portly man who sneered at her. “Witch! You pirate witch, I’ll see you hanged like the filth you are!”

Emma felt her shoulder throb, her magic pulsing in time with the pain. It flickered, and she tried to focus on parrying the saber this man kept slamming down towards her. She gritted her teeth, trying to hit this man with a blast that would knock him from her and give her some distance. Her magic wouldn’t comply, though. She tried healing her shoulder and ended up searing the wound.

“Emma! Get it together!” Zelena shouted, her own sword clanging as she took on a fight of her own.

The portly man slammed down over and over on her rapier, his saber blade much heavier, and Emma saw the strike coming in slow motion. She put both hands up, reaching deep and let go, her magic uncontrolled and wild. The man was blasted back, hitting a broken piece of wood with a wet smack. To her horror, her uncontrolled blast had also thrown a few of her crewmates.

She ran to help them as part of the merchant crew launched a boat with as much as they could carry. Zelena screamed orders, but with no dinghy to give chase immediately and both ships locked together, it was fruitless. When the rest of the merchant crew was dead, Zelena grabbed Emma by the hair and dragged her below deck.

“What was that? Control your magic! You could have killed us, and our haul would be cut because of your pure incompetence!” Zelena was livid, eyes shining. “You will be training with me at night as well as every afternoon, until you can wield your magic with pinpoint accuracy through any type of pain or distraction.”

Emma could only gulp and nod, Zelena’s rage practically turning her green.

The members of the merchant crew that escaped turned out to be a blessing in disguise, however.

Word spread of a female run ship sailing the sea with no quarter. One that had a witch with magic white as swan wings, an archer that could shoot a single snowflake, a quiet swordsman who didn’t mince his charming words, and a crazed captain that would spill anyone’s blood to get her pretty things.

  News spread quickly, like wildfire through dry wood or a storm over rough seas.

It wasn’t a fortnight gone when they noticed the dot on the horizon, a fast moving ship in full regalia seeking nothing other than to end the threat posed. A navy frigate. Meri had spotted it while whittling a wooden bear in the crow’s nest whistling down to Fa. She and Fa seemed to share a code made of looks and small signals, practically reading each other’s minds. Emma wondered often if they had taken each other as sapphics, or common wives, but never cared to ask.

Emma still helped Granny in the morning, met with Walsh to her growing disdain and frustration, trained with Zelena, tended to her duties, kept the books and logged their goods, trained again with Zelena, did final nightly inspection, and then collapsed in bed for a few hours of sleep. The practice had Emma lit like a candle at both ends, unable to stop the flow of magic through her body. Her body felt worn, and magic crackled in her fingertips every morning as she chopped vegetables and fruits or kneaded dough.

Granny had taken to needing more help, to the point that David had started helping her clean up at night, occasionally with Snow keeping him company. Watching her brother bonding with someone else was a highlight for Emma. She loved to hear his low laughter as Snow talked to him, her legs swinging from her seat on the counter while she ate an apple.

Granny knew that she was struggling as well, and begged Emma to push Zelena to pick up her granddaughter who could help and fight as well - but Zelena wasn’t receptive to anything but fighting off the coming assault.

Several mornings to Emma’s delight, either her magic or the smell of onions on her skin had warded Walsh from some of his fouler acts. He’d also been less rough, and she held out hope that he was finally growing bored of her and her disinterest. As long as he had Zelena to stick his cock in and stay in her favor, he still got his special privileges. Emma did dread him ever saying anything about these forced trysts, and knew that if they did end, she could be in danger of blackmail or worse.

Zelena was unaware of anything but the coming battle. The fear consumed her, and she studied the Navy ship’s pattern as well as books on its form. It would have at least sixty guns, a large crew full of experienced forces, and have a sturdy build for defensive maneuvers. She’d laid out what spells she’d need, and Emma and her worked non-stop to make a working defense.

The first step was an invisibility powder and a protective charm. Then, they’d enchant the cannons for accuracy and to fire on their own. Finally, they needed to enchant weapons so they could hold an enchanted flame or freezing shock. Zelena didn’t want this fight; normally offensive, there was nothing to gain from battle, which left her on the defense. She wanted to scare these Navy men. Let them see the witches and the women with the flaming weapons. Let them see the men who served, and the grace they wielded a sword that chilled an enemy to the bone. Emma mixed satchels of herbs, gunpowder, and magical poultices which created smoke that would bring on sleep or paralyzation.

When the sun rose in reds and purples, Meri whistled to Fa, a loud and high pitched sound that twisted at the end. Fa ran to Zelena, waking her.

“Captain, there’s a second ship. It was following closely behind the first.” Fa gasped, hands on her knees.

Zelena’s reply was graceful and eloquent.

“Shit.”

  They held their breath as the Navy ships approached, obviously confused. A ship disappearing was unheard of unless sailing in shipwrecked waters, and a ship as large as The Emerald Envy of Oz didn’t just lift off the face of the sea. That was, of course, part of Zelena’s plan. The ships stopped at a small, anchored dinghy, a dummy sitting prone in its curved hull. Zelena nodded to her crew, and they watched with weapons ready as the navy sent a small boat to survey the anchored decoy.

Emma waited for Zelena’s signal, biting her lip.

A man stepped into the dinghy, hauling the dummy up, and he waved a handkerchief. Zelena saluted Emma, and Emma took a deep breath. She felt every muscle in her body tense, and the crackle of her magic rose up through her hair, wind swirling around her.

The dummy exploded, blowing the man to smithereens, and spurting strange purple goo that covered both navy ships. It stretched like tentacles, the consistency of thick molasses. Terror swept through the crews, some men stuck in the concoction, others trying desperately to get them free while getting stuck themselves. Emma laughed with wry amusement when a high ranking official jumped off the side of the ship to escape a blob. Other men tried to hit the substance with anything they had around, finding it able to hold even the heaviest barrels in its viscous grip.

Emma’s hands filled with light again, and Zelena watched with ecstatic glee as she raised them while performing the enchantment, gold spreading to their cannons. It was done. Leaning back against the mast, Emma took deep breaths as sweat beaded her brow. Zelena in turn cast a quick charm on their weaponry, lighting them with her signature green flame. Emma pulled out her own rapier, letting it light green, and joined the line of her crew.

As their ship moved closer to the goo-covered frigate and its companion, Emma smiled at the names scrawled on their hulls, now obscured. The Jewel of the Realm, now the Ew th Ream in its jellied form, on one side and the larger ‘Feared Avenger’, its own letters also covered by goo, making it the Red Ven. Without a nullifying charm, they’d be stuck for days like this.

When they were close enough to the larger ship, Zelena gave Emma one last signal. With a wave of her hand, their cannons began their enchanted firing and the invisibility charm fell. Shouts and screams of pure horror filled the air, the Navy unprepared for this level of an ambush. Her fellow crew mates answered with a roar of war cries, enchanted blades shining in the sun, as they flew to board each of the ships. Emma landed on the Jewel of the Realm with a roll, expertly avoiding the goo, and slashing the first man that ran at her with ease. Parrying attack after attack and letting her sword start fires on the deck as well as on men’s uniforms, she showed her teeth in a wide leer. Men ran terrified, the captain shouting desperately.

Shoving her rapier through another man, she set her eyes on who she assumed was the captain of The Jewel and smiled a predatory grin. The captain was tall, had sandy, coppery blonde curls, and was broad with a muscular build. She had the vague sense she’d seen him somewhere before, but that didn’t matter in this moment. She headed towards him when an attack caught her off guard. She parried back, and her attacker spun, going high. Blocking with her rapier, she aimed a hard kick in his gut, and he fell to his knees. She went to cut his throat, tipping his chin up at her with the point of her blade, when he glared up at her. Neither of them could hide their shock.

“You!?” he said, blue eyes wide and angry. His mouth pulled back into a sneer. The lieutenant she had shared her body with, had warned of death, a self fulfilling prophecy.

“Me,” she said sadly, and let the point of her rapier press into his neck. A small dribble of blood ran down to pool in his collarbone, blooming red in his shirt. Every muscle in her body felt frozen, her mind screamed at her to end his life.

He closed his eyes, and she took a step back, arm raised and unsteady. Emma lowered her wrist, unable to fight a feeling of wrongness.

The captain barrelled in to her with a roar, and she was quickly under him. He had her shoulder pinned and blue eyes that were so like the dark haired man met hers. The brother. He groaned and paled as he looked at her face, his weight crushing her. She looked down and saw her rapier buried deep in his thigh, blood gushing in spurts from a wound that meant certain death.

“Liam!” The dark haired man pulled the giant off of her, rolling him on his back as the sandy haired man turned white. She watched as they held hands, the dark haired man cradling his brother’s head. “Stay with me, stay with me brother. Please, stay with me.”

“Killian, I…” His head lolled, and Emma could see the large man go into shock. His blood coated her hands. For the first time in many years, it made her feel sick.

Emma moved to his side, and ignored the man called Killian’s rage filled protests at her approach. She was vaguely aware that not only was this wrong, it was sheer lunacy on her part. Her body moved out of her volition without regard of why. She pulled her rapier from the bigger brother, Liam’s, thigh. Throwing it aside, it clattered against the deck as she held pressure to the soaked thigh below her hands. Emma felt a blade press against her neck, Killian against her back. Ignoring it, she focused on her magic, knowing she would need to pull from that golden thread to heal something this bad.

“You killed him, you killed him you bitch. I’ll cut your neck and send you straight to hell you demon -”

The spark ignited in her hands as Killian rasped in her ear. White light poured out of her hands, and she pressed on the wound harder, ignoring the bite of the steel. Liam groaned, color returning to his face, his chest heaving with slow effort. The hand at her neck fell away as the man’s wound closed into a faint scar.

She felt the sobs against her back as Liam’s eyes fluttered open. Killian scrambled back to his brother, hugging him tight, as the battle slowed around them and her crew began retreating now that the point had been made. Snow gave a bird call, and they began to return to the Oz.

Emma picked up her rapier, wiping it on her pants, and went to walk away. A hand grabbed her wrist, and she looked down to see Killian’s tear filled eyes.

“I don’t know why you did it, I don’t know how you did it -” He gulped down another sob. “Thank you. Thank you, for -”

“Fuck off, and quit the Navy. You got lucky this time.” Emma pulled away from him, and both brothers stared at her as she carefully swung back onto the Oz’s boarding planks.

David, Walsh, Fa, and Merida poured the prepared potion on the Avenger, releasing its sticky hold on the Jewel. There were minimal casualties, besides David losing part of his finger, and a nasty gash that Fa had on her cheek. Zelena had killed most of the naval crew, and those that had bailed bobbed in the water as she took up her mantle at the wheel. Emma steered the Oz away, and the Avenger followed. Commandeered for their use the sailors watched helplessly, swimming towards the Jewel to be fished out of the water. The Oz and crew now controlled a fleet.

The former captain of The Feared Avenger flopped on the Jewel’s deck, wet and raging mad. He had caught a glimpse of one attacker, a woman glowing gold as she flew through attackers without quarter. A demon from his past sent to punish him and test his worth.

  Captain James Nolan’s dear little sister was a pirate, and she had magic.

[once-upon-a-storyy]

Tears In Heaven-P.P. (1)

A/N: Took a page out of @upsidedownparker  ‘s book and wrote a story centered around angst. I honestly love Kath so much, and I’m so thankful to have her as not only inspiration but a role model. This one is for you Kath! <3 Shout out to one of my best friends and faithful editor @all-american-fangirl Also, italics are memories/flashbacks.

Would it be the same if I saw you in heaven? I must be strong and carry on ‘cause I know I don’t belong here in heaven...Beyond the door there’s peace I’m sure and I know there’ll be no more tears in heaven - Eric Clapton “Tears In Heaven”

Summary: The aftermath of Infinity War. Y/N Stark just fought in one of the toughest battles the Avengers have ever faced. Not only did she lose a good majority of her team, her family, but she lost the love of her life as well.

Paring: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Playlist: Here

Warnings:  all the freaking angst. Like all of it

Word Count: 2,194

Y/N sat on the plush couch, eyes focused on a single spot on the window. To any outside viewer, she looked like she was just admiring the New York skyline from the Avengers compound, but her mind was racing, playing back any and all interactions she’s had with the team since she was asked to join. Her face was blank, eyes sunken in, purple bags prominent against the pale skin. Her once bright, E/C eyes, were now dull, rimmed with red. Her hair stood on end, sticking up like it hadn’t been brushed in months, she couldn’t remember. The compound was silent, as it had been for the past week, not a noise could be heard. Sometimes she thought she heard Steve’s laugh in the kitchen, and a smart comment fall from Bucky’s lip, but it faded as quickly as it appeared. She couldn’t remember the last time she actually slept. Or maybe, maybe this was all just a dream she’d get to wake up from soon. But it wasn’t. It never was. It was always real. The memories played like a movie reel in front of her. Coming alive in such ways she often thought it was reality, only for the images to fade, slowly, like ash. “Y/n,” the voice broke her trance, slowly, she moved her head towards the voice, bringing her line of sight to meet Tony’s concerned gaze. He took in her appearance, messy hair, swollen eyes, red nose, pale skin, faint bruises visible on her knuckles, ratty long sleeve shirt, two times too big for her, holes around the sleeves, baggy grey sweatpants. “Kid,” he sighed, moving closer to the couch, sitting on the armrest closest to her. He put his arm around her shoulders gently, pulling her into his side. She tried to be strong, to keep the tears at bay.

She broke, squeezing her eyes shut, a hand resting on the corner of her mouth as she sobbed into Tony’s side. His eyes fluttered closed, jaw clenched. He rubbed her arm up and down softly, trying his hardest to comfort the young girl when he was trying to keep it together himself. For the first few days after they had arrived back on Earth, Tony had locked himself away. Refusing to see anyone, refusing meals. He had mourned, locked away in his labs, lights off, occasionally reaching out to ghost his fingers across an abandoned project that he had started with Peter, each time his hand made contact, a tear began its journey down his cheek. He blamed himself for everything. For letting Peter onto the ship, for not forcing Strange to send him back to Earth. For not keeping him safe.

“Y/N,” Tony tried again, trying desperately to keep his voice from wavering, “I,” he ran his free hand through his hair, “I, I didn’t mean, I never intended-I’m sorry kid,” he forced out, his throat felt tight, like he couldn’t breathe. Y/N was still sobbing into his shirt, albeit quieter now, but her sobs continued to echo in the empty tower.

“It’s not, it’s not, it’s not your fault Dad,” she managed between sobs, running the back of her hand across her nose. “You, you tired, you tried your best,” her eyes were still screwed shut, moving her free fist to her mouth, teeth lightly grazing her bruised knuckles. She stayed there, tucked into her dad’s side, trying to remember Peter for what he was. The pair sat there, each wrapped up in their own torturous memories, trying to take comfort in the good ones, but unable to stop the tears from falling. Tony’s hand still moved slowly down his daughter’s arm, his fingers barely touching the thin fabric of the shirt. He knew it all too well. It was one of Peter’s old shirts. After what felt like eternity, but really rounded out to a few minutes, Y/N pushed back her hair, pulling away slightly from her dad. “I’m gonna, I’m gonna,” she struggled to form words, a lump in her throat, slowly closing it, she motioned to the elevator, removing herself from the couch slowly. Tony only nodded, watching her every move. He feared she wouldn’t be able to stand. Her legs wobbled slightly, but she managed to pad her way to the elevator, the sweats hanging off her hip on one side, leaving a bare strip of skin exposed. Her father watched from the couch, all the light that had previously inhabited his eyes stripped away, leaving a dull, murky brown instead.

“Peter! Peter Parker get back here!” Y/N squealed, chasing after the boy. A smile lit her features up, her H/C falling out of the messy bun she had thrown it in earlier that day for school. The pair had just gotten back to the avenger's compound, and Peter had stolen the young Stark’s phone.

“You’ll have to catch me,” he called, briefly glancing over his shoulder, huge grin in place.

Y/N rolled her eyes, giving up on the actual chase, using her powers instead to fly toward him. “No problem Parker,” she smirked, levitating a few feet behind him.

His eyes widened slightly, “No fair N/N!” He whined, starting to run again. “That’s cheating!” He raced down the hall, dodging Natasha and Clint as he did.

“Whoa,” Nat pressed herself against the wall, pushing Clint back with her arm, incredulous look on her face. Realization dawned once she saw Stark flying after him, shaking her head. “Those two,” she started, removing her arm from Clint’s chest once the coast was clear.

“I wonder what he did this time,” Clint mused, amused smile on his face as he glanced back down the hall, the retreating figures of the teenagers still visible.

“Who knows,” Nat shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips, “It’s always something with those two.” She folded her arms across her chest, shaking her head one last time before continuing down the hall, Clint following a short distance behind.

“Ha!” Y/N screamed, triumphantly, “I got ya now, spidey-boy,” she smirked at the nickname, tackling Parker to the ground.

“Y/N,” he whined, his eyes shutting on impact, “Not fair, you cheated,” he pouted, sticking his bottom lip out.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Whatever, you’re just a sore loser,” she smiled, resting lightly on top of his frame, neither one exactly realizing it yet.

Peter scoffed, rolling his eyes, “As if,” he couldn’t help the smile tugging his lips.

“Well, as much as I love watching this,” a voice called from ahead of them, “Peter we have work to do,” Tony stood in the doorway of the elevator, one hand pressed against the doors, holding them open.

Y/N pouted, sighing as she rolled off of the boy underneath her, hand out waiting for her phone, “Phone?” Her round E/C orbs looked down at Peter, who still laid on his back on the ground.

He sighed, faking a look of annoyance, “Fine, you win this time N/N,” he struggled to keep an annoyed face, but both parties knew he was only teasing. He placed her phone in her hand, his fingers brushing past hers as he slowly removed his hand, a blush creeping onto both their cheeks. “I’ll catch you later?” He raised a brow, standing and itching backward to the elevator.

She nodded, small smile in place, shoving her phone into her back pocket, “Yeah, I’ll see you around,” she gave them a small wave and turned around, feeling the heat move up her cheeks. She buried her face in her hands, letting a silent squeal out. She picked up her pace, fast walking back down the hall to the kitchen.

Y/N curled into a ball, bringing her knees into her chest, silent tears falling down her cheeks. She gripped Peter’s comforter in her hands, her knuckles turning white with the effort. Her eyes were sore from a week of almost nonstop crying. She made FRIDAY lock the door to the room behind her, afraid that someone would come in and ruin her chance to mourn Peter. She had spent a good few days in his room, laying on his bed, eyes shut, inhaling his sent that was slowly starting to fade. Her body racked with sobs, causing her to rock the bed slightly. She figured someone was waiting outside the door, whether it be her dad or Thor. They had all lost so much when Thanos came, and they had all almost given up hope. Correction: Y/N had given up hope of seeing Peter again. She rolled over, curling into his favorite side of the bed, her eyes wandering to the picture on his nightstand, her eyes pricked with tears, her vision becoming blurry as she remembered the day it was taken.

The sun was shining, birds chirping, light streaming in from all the windows of the compound, begging the Avengers to come out. Peter watched, perched on chair. A few leaves danced in the light breeze. Y/N walked into the living room, tilting her head at the teenage boy by the window, “Parker? You okay?” She hesitated in the doorway, not sure if she should continue walking towards him.

He turned to her voice, smile in place, “Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, motioning her to come over, “I’m okay.” He smiled softly at her, watching her take small steps toward him. The two had only been dating a few weeks by this point, and Y/N was still trying to feel out the situation. They had been friends for a year before he’d asked her out, and the switch had been a little wobbly for the young Stark. Not that she didn’t love Peter, but she was still trying to feel out what she could and couldn’t do around him. What he was comfortable with. He opened his arms, and she smiled softly before stepping into them, looking out the window he had been gazing out of.

“What were you doing?” She asked softly, afraid that if she talked too loudly she’d ruin the tranquility.

He shook his head, his small curls brushing against her sweater, “I was just watching the leaves,” he glanced up at her, slowly getting off the chair, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him. They stood there a moment longer, small, peaceful smiles on their lips.

“What are you two doing inside on such a beautiful day?” Steve called from the doorway, a light jacket in one hand.

The teenagers turned to Steve, eyebrows furrowed slightly, “I uh,” Y/N glanced at Peter, “I don’t actually know,” a light laugh fell from her lips, causing Peter’s smile to grow.

Steve shook his head, grin appearing, “Well c’mon then,” he motioned them to the door, “Let’s get outdoors, everyone else is on their way down,” Steve grinned at the two, who quickly made their way over to him.

Once they were outside, Peter discovered a leaf pile. Smirking, he grabbed some leaves in his cupped hands, sneaking up behind the young Stark. Nat, seeing all of this, smirked to herself, pulling her phone out to get a picture. Peter’s tongue poked out of his lips slightly, concentrated on making sure his girlfriend didn’t catch him. Grinning, he threw the leaves on her, causing a scream to fall from her lips, shortly accompanied by a laugh. “Peter!” She squealed, smacking his arm playfully. Natasha snapped a few photos, laughing at the two kids. Y/N had jumped on Peter’s back, and he ran across the lawn with her. Their laughter danced in the wind, causing all the adults to smile, shaking their head at the two of them, so in love with one another.

Peter eventually set Y/N down, letting out a breathy laugh, hands placed lightly on her hips, her cranberry colored sweater had a few leaves stuck to it, and her dark wash skinny jeans had fallen off her waist slightly. “Y/N,” his voice was soft, and he moved his gaze to hers.

“Hm,” she hummed, smiling up at her boyfriend, a light flush on her cheeks from the wind, “I think I love you,” his voice was so soft she almost didn’t catch it.

Her face softened even more, “I love you too, Peter,” she gazed lovingly up at him, finding a reflection of all the love she had for him in his big, brown, puppy dog eyes. They had a new sheen to them, lighting them up even more than they normally were. He grinned, leaning in to peck her lips gently, resting his forehead against hers.

“I’ve been wanting to say that for a while now,” he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to her nose, causing her to scrunch her face up. “I’ve loved you since we became best friends,” he continued, pulling her a little closer to her. Unbeknownst to them, Natasha was still snapping pictures, saving them to her phone, knowing the two would want them later. Besides, Peter had a birthday coming up, and now she had a gift for them.