#I took so long writing this story

[raiiny-bay]

Love, Dhes

Parker,

It's unfair how time with you feels so short. How the last 10 years have felt like no time at all. I like to think there are other versions of us out there, somewhere. Maybe in another timeline, another universe. I like to think we find each other no matter where we are or what we're doing. That we're together and happy and I get to love you in a dozen different lifetimes. That's what I hope, anyway. And I hope when this lifetime ends, we get to start over and do it all again. Because once just isn't enough. Not for me. Not with you.

I hope the next 10 years pass slower.

Love, Dhes

[anna-scribbles]

what a shame, i can see it all now that we’re through

- firearm by lizzy mcalpine

(chapter 5 of call it even is making me feel bonkers insane. thank u @sha-nwa)

[al-luviec]

something simple to try to get out of art block (it didn't work)

[sevensinswithin]

Okay so to everyone who was here for the original post, here’s basically how Alicent and Laenor get married in my lavender marriage au:

The entire thing starts because Alicent catches Laenor and Joffrey fucking in a secluded part of the castle a few weeks before Aemma dies. The boys only realize they’ve been caught because Alicent runs away from them like her ass is on fire. That girl had no idea gay male sex was an option in life and now needs to reevaluate everything in her life after catching them.

Laenor then spends the next few weeks trying to find a way to get her alone because guess what. Fucking in a secluded but also public area is not a good strategy if you want to keep your gay love affair a secret. So now Laenor is hoping to convince Alicent to stay quiet about what she saw because his dad seems to think he'll grow out of it (do not attack me, this literally happens in canon) and he doesn’t want anyone to know yet since it might impact who he’ll get married to eventually. Meanwhile Alicent is desperately trying to forget that she ever saw anything and doesn’t tell Otto about seeing Laenor and Joffrey because let's be real. This man said “childhood companions” like it was a slur in that one scene, so she knows that her father would do something with this information. Alicent does not want to be the reason Joffrey and Laenor are in trouble for their relationship. Nevermind that she’s suddenly having the realization that women liking women isn’t that far of a stretch after all.

Unfortunately, to everyone else in the world, it looks like Laenor is trying to court her and that Alicent is just trying to be very polite about his interest in her since she never wants to be alone in a room with him unless they’re around other people. Which is something that is totally normal and not weird at all. Why would you say otherwise?

Then Aemma dies and Otto sends her to see Viserys in his room and Alicent is now very stressed about something else in her life because she wants to do what her father says, but she also doesn’t want to betray Rhaenyra.

So during those six months after Aemma dies - which is apparently how much times passes between Aemma’s death and when Viserys decides to marry Alicent according to a HOTD article I read - Alicent, like in canon, is sent by her father to Viserys’ chambers and desperately hopes that her father’s ambitions won’t happen and that Viserys will simply see her as person that is supporting him in his grief.

(Life Hack: If you ever want to read an article and it says you have to make an account to read the rest of it, just go back to the google page you found it on, right click the link, and save the link as an HTML document. That lets you read the article without having to make an account. I found this out from someone on the internet and damn did it help when I wanted to access any account restricted article. Anyways, back to the plot.)

So to counteract that and make it so she’s less appealing to Viserys, Alicent always mentions Laenor and how fond of him she is during their talks. She also mentions how worried she is about Rhaenyra and her position as heir because there seems to be so many people that seem to be under the impression that they can replace her by having Viserys marry one of their daughters and convince him change his heir to one of the possible children he might have with those daughters.

Meanwhile, Laenor is absolutely losing his mind because all of a sudden Alicent is always around him and receptive to interacting with him, even though literally weeks before she avoided being around him like the plague. During this she also manages to wring out of him the fact that his parents (mainly Corlys, let's be real) are talking about potentially marrying Laena to Viserys and that he hates that idea as she’s way too young in his eyes for that. Eventually Alicent manages to find a way to be alone with Laenor and make him swear to secrecy about what she'll tell him because telling anyone might mean that his sister will actually have to marry Viserys. He does and she fills him in on what her father wants and what she’s attempting to do, and that she needs his cooperation to get him to at least appear like they’re courting.

So Alicent and Laenor put up the appearance that they’re at least attracted to each other to get people talking, which totally doesn’t ignite jealousy in Rhaenyra at the idea of Alicent being in love with her cousin. Cue Rhaenyra absolutely doing everything in her power to make Laenor appear like a loser to Alicent and the rest of the court. Alicent makes sure to get her to stop that shit real quick and tells Rhaenyra that she and Laenor are only pretending to be in love in order to avoid having to marry someone that would disrespect Laenor’s preference for men and disregard Alicent’s autonomy. Alicent also mentions that possibly marrying Laenor means that Alicent and Rhaenyra will be allowed to see each other very frequently as she will be Laenor’s wife and the Velaryons are often at court since they are related to the royal family. So now they have Rhaenyra on board.

Eventually the night before that one small council meeting where in canon Viserys announces that he’ll marry Alicent, Alicent “confesses” to Viserys that she’s in love with Laenor and that she wants to marry him, but that her father would never allow Alicent to marry Laenor because he and Lord Corlys dislike each other. She also lets it “slip” that Otto is very adamant that Viserys must have a male heir despite the fact that Rhaenyra has already been made heir, and that he sees Alicent as a potential bride for Viserys despite her unwillingness to marry her best friend’s father. She also sprinkles in the fact that Rhaenyra would be devastated at the idea of her father remarrying, especially if the bride in question were her best friend or even her little cousin (Yeah fuck you Corlys, you’re on thin ice for that and the grow out of it comment), and the fact that surely his wife would want him to defend his daughter’s claim to the Iron Throne from potential usurpers, which is something that would definitely happen if he had a son.

This causes Viserys to absolutely lose his shit, but Alicent calms him down and he sends her away from his chambers. However, not before Viserys hints that he would not dissolve a marriage between a highborn lady and lord if they eloped and consummated the marriage. So instead of heading straight to her rooms, Alicent instead books it to Laenor’s chambers. The two of them run off to a sept and convince a septon to marry them with a few commoners as their witnesses because they can’t take any nobles in fear of being stopped (and to also have the commoners spread the fact that Alicent and Laenor eloped). Then she and Laenor head off to Laenor’s chambers to consummate the marriage with the help of Joffrey, who they had stay in Laenor’s chambers so that no one would get him in trouble or notice that he was in the room with them during the consummation, and to have Alicent stay over so that people could catch them together in the morning and spread the news of her “ruined reputation”.

The next morning Laena bursts into Laenor’s chambers like she always does and “catches” them before running off to tell Rhaenys the way all little siblings do. So then Rhaenys and Corlys show up, as does Otto; he caught wind of the situation through a servant he paid off to spy on the Velaryons. Once there Otto starts shaming Alicent about her ruined reputation and Laenor retorts that she didn’t ruin anything as he married her before he bedded her. Otto then explodes at the pair when Laenor says that and Corlys rushes to defend his son against all the stuff Otto is saying and threatening him with.

Eventually their argument gets so loud that a servant rushes to get Viserys and a few guards since they’re afraid that the two lords will resort to violence. Trailing after them is Rhaenyra and the Small Council, as the meeting was supposed to start half an hour ago but certain people were missing and needed to be found. So now the entire Small Council, Rhaneyra, and Viserys are at the doorway of Laenor’s room while a furious Otto and Corlys trade insults. Meanwhile Rhaenys sees how afraid Alicent and Laenor are and rushes to the pair’s defense (because they need someone in their corner that isn’t shaming the other party), saying that perhaps the two wouldn’t have resorted to eloping if Otto and Corlys weren't always at odds. Seeing the King, Otto rushes to demand that he have the septon reverse the marriage, but Viserys reveals that he knows about Otto’s plan to make Alicent marry him and how he knows that she wished to marry Laenor instead. He then fires Otto from being Hand and sends him packing to Oldtown, approving of Laenor and Alicent’s marriage as a final insult to Otto. He also firmly informs the small council that he will not be getting remarried, that Rhaenyra will remain his heir, and that anyone who objects otherwise is speaking of treason.

So there you go, the outline for a story that I’m most likely going to write in non-linear bits. In this world Alicent is Lady of Driftmark, Laenor and Joffrey get to be happy, and Viserys prioritizes making sure that Rhaenyra’s claim to the throne is secure. Also somewhere down the line in this universe Rhaenyra and Alicent get their shit together and realize they’re in love with each other, and Rhaenyra gets to marry Harwin because Daemon never takes her to the brothel and so she gets to pick her husband and be the polyamorous bi queen we all love.

[chaosduckies]

Silence In The City (1)

I hate school a lot for not letting my finish anything that I wanted to write and luckily I found the time to write today! So I give you an idea I’ve had on my mind for a good while, I’ve just never written it down! I will say these characters are some of my favorite because of the dynamic I have planned for them! Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 4.3k

CW: Violence, depictions of anxiousness and anxiety

1-

Everything was all wrong. The way the system works. How life works. How humans work. It was all just some twisted lie. Of course humankind had been ruthlessly attacked by these monsters at first. Huge and massive beings that rose from the sea, easily crumbling buildings and killing millions. It was terrible, taking ages to finally figure out a way to kill them. There was nothing to bring back the lives lost, everyone was broken apart, cities crumbled to dust as vegetation took over what was originally theirs. And soon, it repeated and repeated, until these monsters would finally restore their original home. Destroying countless cities along the coast, sometimes even working their way closer to the middle of the land. Though they were usually killed by then. 

I’ve never really been the type for fighting. Yet, I still find myself here. They had told us to go into our underground bunkers for safety but I couldn’t make it in time. The city was quiet except for the thundering footsteps coming from the monster. I just ran into a building, scared and alone. I had no idea where my parents were, but I had hoped that they were safe. Next thing I knew, the monster was after me. Crumbling down buildings in an attempt to take a life since there was no one else around. Or so I had thought. I was cornered and tired, the dust from all the rubble filling my lungs. I was about to be killed by the rubble falling on top of me. I had already given up, knowing that I wasn’t going to get out of this alive. When nothing had happened and there was a loud thud, I looked up, seeing an even bigger, more powerful being, standing over the monster. The monster struggled to get up while the one standing over leaned down, its eyes focusing on me. 

They only looked half like the monster that had just threatened my life, but yet, didn’t have the same malicious look in his eyes. Scales all along their body that stopped halfway up their fingers, neck, and chest. The most beautiful shade of purple eyes that I have ever seen, toned skin, tail with spikes all along their spine, even another pair of arms. And yet somehow, he acted even more human than he looked. He showed concern for a little while before scooping me up somehow, protecting me against any further danger. After all the loud growling and harsh noises were gone, only leaving the strange humanoid kaiju huffing for breath. They opened up their hands high up in the air,  eyes studying me with worry. As if they had been making sure I wasn’t injured. Of course I was still scared. I didn’t know what was going to happen to me. Or what this guy would do to me. He had looked more human anyways. 

Soon enough, I heard my parents' strained voices crying for me. Out of desperation to be reunited, I crawled over to the edge of their palm, reaching out to them with tears in my eyes. They had noticed the person who had saved me, obviously scared but they stayed, wanting me back. I looked back at the half-human half-kaiju, their eyes glaring down at my parents. He turned towards me, eyes going wide before slowly lowering his hand to the ground. I stumbled off, nearly falling face first but ran into the warm hug that was waiting for me. I glanced back at the monster who had looked away, having a troubled and dark expression before locking eyes with me. I started trembling, but otherwise put on the best nervous smile as my parents urged me to run away. Their eyes shot up before he crawled away, making sure not to crumble buildings. 

I hadn’t forgotten about that day. When people were allowed to come out, we all tried to go back to our homes, but most of them had been demolished. Including mine. We were placed in a camp until they could find a home for us to relocate to, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about that guy. Whether they had been a monster or human, they had saved me. Even protected me. And I still ran away without giving a thank you. I was terrified, sure, but that didn’t condone not thanking him. They practically saved the whole city and they wouldn’t ever get any recognition for it. Usually those huge monsters were killed by people who could handle the suits, I’ve never seen anything like what just happened ever. Not on tv at least. Why did they look so… surprised by me though? Like when I smiled at them, or when I was just scared out of my mind in the corner. I never found out the answer until today. 

The camp was full of people. We were just lucky that food was okay and that we were getting supplied everything we needed. Until a military team had arrived. They were searching for someone. Telling people to gather in an area so they could check our faces. When they came up to me, they had all started talking. This didn’t happen with any other person, which just worked up my nerves. Why were they here? To take me away? To punish me for not being able to make it to the bunker on time? I wasn’t made for war! Was it because of that human-monster hybrid? Was I not supposed to see them? What was going on? A million questions stirred in my mind, making me anxious and worried. I had feared that they would be taking me away from home, and kept hoping that it wasn’t the case. 

I stayed still, playing with my hands and looking down at the ground, waiting to be told what would happen next. I was scared. I always have been. There was no reason for me to, but the anxiety always made me feel this way. This wasn’t helping at all either. The military people came back, my parents gripping my shoulders and kept whispering that everything would be okay. I didn’t believe them this time. They walked up to me once again, “You’re being transferred under government care. Your objective is classified until arrival. Please follow us.” They had instructed, waiting for me to follow them. I jumped, looking back up at my parents with mortified faces. They were just as terrified as I was. I looked back at the guy who was just talking to me, “B-But my parents?” I scooted closer to them as they gripped my shoulder tighter. He had sighed, walking but up to me, “Only you. Sorry kid, you’re being called to duty, and if you ignore we have been ordered to take you forcefully.” 

My eyes shot open, my entire body pausing. I didn’t hear when my parents started arguing to let them come with me, but it just wasn’t allowed. My mom, with tears in her eyes, looked at me. I always hated when she cried, “It’ll be okay, alright Devon? Just please be careful.” I knew why she was saying it. They were going to take me away, and I don’t even get a say. My parents had argued for me but… I never fought for myself. Never was a fan of fighting. They had, however, allowed me to pack a few things. Or what I had left of my stuff. My parents watched me pack a few clothes, making sure I had everything. I looked back, seeing my dusty stuffed animal dog and grabbed it. I knew it was childish but I couldn’t go anywhere without him. I could just clean them off when I get to wherever I was going to. My mom made sure to grab my pills and placed them in my bag, “Don’t forget to take these.” She smiled sadly, trying not to cry. To be honest I was trying my hardest as well. I didn’t understand why I had to leave. They never gave me a reason, and I was anxious. Was it bad? The place they were taking me to? Was I in trouble? 

The thoughts never escaped my mind as I hugged my parents close, then started to follow the guy into a car. People had surrounded me, as if making sure I wouldn’t try anything. Of course I wouldn't. I already knew I wouldn’t win that battle. Not now or not ever. It was quiet on the way there. Sitting in a car for two hours, only listening to the people on the radio transmissions and getting stares from the people sitting next to me. I stayed quiet, afraid that if I said anything it would only make my situation worse. I was already away from my parents and I’ve lost my home, what more could they do to me besides kill me? I panicked at the idea as the car drove past a massive gate. There were several check-ins, and soon we were finally in. My heart wouldn’t stop beating as I stared at the huge base. I walked through several hallways, earning stares from a lot of people. Some older, some looking the same age as me. I knew what this place was. To train people to kill those monsters that terrorize cities. Was that what I was here for? I wouldn’t even last a single hour here. 

They took me up an elevator, leading me to another place where there was a lab. Holographic screens everywhere, people testing new weapons out. I flinched when someone had started barking orders. I gripped my backpack tighter, thoughts swirling in my mind. Could I just go back home with my parents? Can’t I just cry right now? It’s taken so much out of me just to stop myself. I didn’t want to show it to everyone else around me though. They would think I’m even more of a useless kid than they already do. I could already tell that. So what was I even doing here if they all thought that about me? 

The people started talking with one another before one of the scientists came up to me, the people who used to stand beside me to make sure I didn’t try to escape took a step to the side. The woman was tall and looked to be in her thirties. I jumped as her eyes pierced through me, seeming to stare deep into my soul as she studied my every move. My eyes nervously trailed down to the ground, nervously moving around my feet. I felt like a big underneath her stare. And it didn’t feel very good. 

“This is who the monster decided to save?” She sounded unimpressed as she wrote things down, circling around me. She lifted up one of my arms, shaking her head and sighing, “Too skinny, too weak, do you suffer from any illnesses?” She asked. I looked at her sadly, forcing my voice to work without cracking, “Anxiety disorder.” She raised her eyebrows, muttering something under her breath that I couldn’t hear. It made my anxiousness even worse.

But what did she mean by monster? Was it that guy that saved me? My eyes went wide at the thought. I was going to see him again? I felt terrified and scared, but at the same time happy? It was a strange mix of emotions as she had dragged me to a large metal door that seemed heavily protected. Automatic windows had opened, revealing a large room with only one inhabitant inside. My eyes widened as I played with my hands and shuffled my feet. There, only a few meters behind the glass, was the person that saved him. Trapped in a tiny metal box. Well, tiny to him, not so much for me. They looked to have been bothered in their sleep and slowly started opening their eyes, letting out a soft groan and never moving. Some part of me screamed to run, to hide and never look back, but the other part felt sympathy for him. Why was he locked up in here? Did he do something bad? It didn’t really seem like it. They looked so peaceful, as if nothing was wrong.

“You’re going to go in there. No escaping and we can’t guarantee that it won’t kill you.” She instructed, getting ready to throw me in there. He gripped my bag and continued to look out the window, my nerves only worsening. Kill me?... would he really do that? After being so gentle and protective? Was that why I was here? Just to meet him again? See how he’d react to seeing the one person he helped get out alive. “Get a peculiar reaction out of him like you did at the attack and we’ll see what we’ll do with you after…. If you’re still alive,” She grinned like she had expected it to happen, “Here’s a tablet containing the means of shocking it into submission if you feel threatened, here is also an ear microphone so we can speak to you through it.” She handed me a small tablet with a few buttons, but I eyed the button with the lightning bolt on it warily. Shock him? I could barely think about it without gagging.

I gulped, not knowing how he would react to me. Holding the tablet that I had an odd feeling he would recognize and hate me for it. I also hated the fact that she called him an “it” and a monster. If he was a monster then why’d he kill one? Why would he save me in the first place? Why make sure he wouldn’t topple over any buildings? I took a deep breath before I was shoved on the other side of the door. I yelped, landing face first onto the cold metal floor. I groaned quietly to myself, sitting up with my backpack still attached to me. I let out a sigh of relief, then made the mistake of looking up. My eyes were glued to the massive being in front of me, their entire face taking up my vision. I felt myself barely breathing, my body trembling, but I never ran away. 

I jumped when their eyes had opened, groggily searching around the room until they landed on me. I held in a breath, my eyes wide but not full of fear. This was the person that saved me. They wouldn’t kill me, right? It didn’t really sound logical at all. Though… that didn’t really explain why he was locked up in here. He didn’t really look like the type to do any true harm to someone

As soon as their eyes found me we held a silent staring contest until his own eyes grew wide as he picked up his head. Did he recognize me? He shook his head, laying back down on his arms. I looked around. Seeing that the room was cramped. Not for him at all but for the guy just laying on the ground seemed to be cramped. The ceiling looked too low for them to get on their legs, heck, it even looked too low for them to sit on their knees and sit up straight. I flinched when they slightly moved their head up a little more. I felt like a tiny bug under their gaze. I stared at one of their hands, the one I had been in just a few days prior and shuddered. Their claws were at least three times my own height. I briefly wondered just how small I am to him. How he saw me through his eyes. Just a bug? Another small insignificant creature? 

I gripped the tablet in my hands, listening to the microphone in my ear. They had kept saying to talk, to do something, but what was there to do? He was just sleeping, and I ruined it. I didn’t like the thought that they forced me to bother him. And the fact that he looked annoyed with me being in here too. I sucked in a shaky breath looking away and at the door, but I couldn’t help but turn back to the vibrant purple eyes glaring at me, no, the tablet. The collar around his neck seemed to be the shock collar basing it off of the marks around where it is on his neck, there were also some on his wrists. All four of them. I looked down at the tablet in hand, and back at him, still glaring at the object in my hand. It sent a chill down my spine as I did the exact opposite of what they kept telling me to on the microphone. I placed it down and kicked it away from me, along with the microphone. There was no reason for me to have either of them. I wasn’t going to pay attention to what they were going to say. None of this seemed right to me. 

Their eyes went wide at my action, looking between me and the tablet that must not have looked far to him, but it was for me. They seemed to be shocked as they raised their head up, and up, until entirely looming over me, holding themselves up with their crossed arms. I gulped, not realizing just how big they truly were. I backed away a little thinking, for only a brief moment, that it was a mistake to toss away the one thing that could have kept me alive. Though, if he really wanted me dead wouldn’t he have done so the other day? Instead of saving me he could’ve just let it happen. Instead he didn’t. And I still had yet to thank him! They lowered their head, as if trying to examine me more before looking away, disappointed. Though I did catch a bit of sadness hidden. I hadn’t noticed how much I was trembling. Or how much I had backed away, my back almost against the wall. I felt terrible for looking that way in front of him. What if that was why he was disappointed? Because everyone was scared of him and so am I? Of course I’m scared but at least I’m attempting to try something. I scrambled further up to see him looking completely away, almost turned to face the wall opposite of me. I kept taking steps closer despite the warnings given, and stood a few feet away from one of his hands. Big, scary, but I just grabbed the backpack on my shoulders and stood up on shaky legs. My breath was shaky, but I forced words to come out eventually, “Th-thank you. For saving m-me.” He slowly turned his head, his eyes searching to see if I was lying. I heard him scoff above me, the noise deep and irritated, “You’re a really good liar. How about you go back with your friends out there and treat me like some monster like they all do?” I covered my ears with my hands, their voice loud. Liar? Friends? Monster? Did he mean the scientists? Why did he think I was lying? Was he really a monster if he saved my life and practically everyone else’s by dealing with the real monster that day? Now there were even more questions than answers. 

I didn’t move. Even though I was terrified, trembling, and honestly thinking about just making a run for it, I still stayed. It was silent for what seemed like forever before they moved again, glaring at me, eyes piercing through my soul. “Go away.” He nearly growled, slamming a fist on the ground. I was airborne for a half a second, placing my hands out in front of me so I didn’t land on my face. Heart racing, breath shaky, tears forming in my eyes. Dead- Dead. I could’ve died. The thoughts wouldn’t leave as I stared at the fist only mere feet away. I looked back down, watching as my own tears hit the metal ground below. I could’ve been dead now. Why wasn’t I dead? Why was I alive right now? Wasn’t he going to kill me? My breathing quickened, my arms and legs becoming weak. I used a shaky hand to grab a fistful of my shirt against my chest, feeling how hard my heart was beating. How it seemed to ring through my ears with every thump. I closed my eyes, trying to get as much air into my lungs to calm myself down. My stomach throbbing. The anxiety eating at me. The constant thoughts of how I could’ve died. What I would look like. I just kept taking shaky breaths, slowly regaining my mind. I reached into my bag worriedly, grabbing a water bottle and my pills, dumping two out into my hand and downing them with water. I held my head, taking my last few deep breaths. My body was still trembling and my heart was still beating abnormally fast, but at least my mind wasn’t lost. 

Using the back of my hand, I wiped away the tears, sniffling and forcing myself to look up. Their other hands clawing at the metal, their eyes still piercing through me, holding me in place out of fear. Why was he so angry? Was it because he was trapped in here? Because they treat him like this? It didn’t take a whole lot to figure out how they take care of him. The collars, the tablet, the chains on his lower pair of arms. Who knows what else. But was he really that bad? I mean, of course I just had a near death experience, but after a second look I realized he was just trying to scare me. It would’ve worked. The people here were terrible. It didn’t matter if he was half kaiju half human, did it? It didn’t matter if he was probably taller than a skyscraper. Okay well that might invoke fear in literally everyone he meets but still. It didn’t really seem to me that he truly wanted to hurt anyone. A few days ago he struggled to avoid breaking anything that might wreck the city even more than it already was. He even held me to keep me safe. How was he being held in a prison like this when he’s saving billions of people? It just didn’t sit right with me. 

I gathered up whatever courage I had left in me, trying to forget about what had just happened, “I-I’m sorry that you’re i-in here.” My voice came out weak, quiet, almost like I was about to cry. Honestly, I was. Everything about this was telling me to run and get the heck out of here. That would be wrong. That would be proving their point that I think of them as a monster, wouldn’t it? 

Their eyes widened in shock, lowering their head even more, almost touching the floor. I flinched when they moved their fist, flattening their hand on the ground as if they were confused and interested. It was unnerving to have their full attention, but I stared right back, rubbing my arms to hide the fact that I was shaking. He lifted his head back up, contemplating. I had no idea what was happening, but for some reason their entire mood had seemed to shift. Why did they react that way when I said that I was sorry? They didn't seem mad anymore. Relief washed over me as he raised his hand up and covered up a mirror high above me. Was it actually a window? Were they watching us? I didn’t know. 

He sighed, studying me like he was earlier, trying to see if I was lying, “You’re hard to stay mad at,” His voice was a lot quieter, “Kieran. That’s my name.” He opened his mouth like he was about to say something else but shook his head, looking down at me. I sucked in a shaky breath. Kieran? “Devon.” I quietly said. He seemed to hear me before somehow. He removed his hand from the mirror, glaring at it for a few seconds like they had done some unspeakable crime. They actually did actually, keeping Kieran here in the first place. 

“You’re welcome for saving you by the way. Don’t expect me to do it again.” He told me, turning away. I couldn’t help but notice how he seemed to sound happier now. Like he was happy I was talking to him. I smiled, jumping when the door opened. I watched as several people walked it, three of them carrying a tablet and keeping a close eye on Kieran. The other people walked right towards me. I flinched, unable to fight back against the grip they had on my arms. I was forced to my feet and shoved through the door. I stole one more glance back at Kieran, meeting their sad eyes. Once the doors were closed, I let them push me around the long hallways. What did they mean they wouldn’t dave me again. Would they have to? I wouldn’t think so if I was going home after this. I did what they asked me to do, didn't I? Why did he look so sad when I left? 

Eventually they opened a door that led to a small room with only the necessities. A bed, bathroom, closet. They threw me in there, “People will come and get you in the morning. They asked that you rest for now.” They had ordered from me. What? Was I staying here for the night and going home? I sat on the bed, digging out my stuffed animal and laying down, sinking into the hard mattress. I sucked in a shaky breath and cried silently. Nothing could ever just be normal. 

——————

I’ve absolutely loved kaiju ever since I could remember and I’ve been wanting to write a story for it! To be honest I mostly wrote this for myself just to feed my delusions but also just to get out of my writer’s block and to save me from spiraling cause of school. But thank you for reading! This actually did get me out of a major writing slump (thank you school) so I will finally be able to finish answering asks and writing commissions. Thank you for being so patient!

Taglist: @da3dm, @dav8530

If you would like to be added to any of my writing please let me know!

[pistachi0art]

More Ben fam stuff I believe I have neglected to put here

[loonybun]

Meeting Aisling (CYOA) 3

hiiiii ough this took forever :( don’t feel like it’s super good but new character! yay!!! he’s normal guys i promise (fingers crossed behind my back)

contains: captivity, faerie carewhumper, dryad guy of unknown whumperee status, references to past abduction(s), fantasy whump, fantasy setting, manhandling.

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You decide to look for anything that could help you escape— or at the very least tell you where you are. The window is the obvious thing to look at, considering it’s the only other possible way out of the room. The gaps in the vines are big enough for you to stick your hands through, but you probably couldn’t get much further.

From the holes, you can see a village beneath the structure you’re in. People. There are people here. If you made enough noise, maybe someone would come and save you.

The trees around the village are thicker than most of the houses. Massive structures that you can’t even see the tops of. Branches as big as trains.

Even if the window wasn’t obscured, it’d be too high to jump from. You’re not going to have much luck with it.

You walk over to the vanity in one of the other parts of the room. The mirror greets you with your disgruntled state, twigs and flowers sticking out of tangled hair.

The table is covered with all kinds of trinkets. Bells, flower circlets, crystals, little animals made of glass. It may have been a charming collection under different circumstances, but unfortunately you don’t have time to focus on something so small.

Besides the vanity, there’s also a desk filled to the brim with papers and books. Bottles of ink line the shelf above it. Great, the weirdo that kidnapped you is a writer. You can definitely use that to escape. Maybe threaten to set some of his manuscripts on fire or give him a bad review. That’ll show him.

You groan and go back over to the bed, flopping onto the soft mattress. Despite your amazing investigative skills, you’d somehow neglected the plate of fresh berries on the bedside table. Just looking at them makes your mouth water.

If you’re going to escape, you have to have some fuel in you, right?

As you reach out to grab one of the fruits, something snaps around your wrist and yanks it away.

“Don’t eat that.”

The roots around your arm squeeze it tightly. After you recover from the shock, you turn to face the source of the voice.

The tree.

The fucking tree.

Or what was a tree five seconds ago, at least. Of course. Why not? Magical bug men, talking trees, sure. Just throw in a dancing bear at this point.

The tree— or man, you’re not sure what to describe it as— is giving you a hard glare. It’s entirely made of wood, save for its flowering hair and a few rogue blossoms. If looks could kill, you have a feeling that they wouldn’t be able to put your corpse back together.

It slowly retracts its branches from your wrist, forming them back into a more hand-like structure.

He inspects you for a moment.

“…His standards get lower by the hour. Goodness, where did he even find you? A dog park?” The— whatever he is, scoffs.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment. He wasn’t wrong, you did look like a mess, but that doesn’t mean his words don’t hurt.

He plucks a leaf from your hair and grins. “I mean, this is just sad. And I thought the last one was bad… No, you take the cake. Anyways, how long were you planning on staying here? Come up with any daring escape plans yet? Please, do tell.”

Even if you had, telling this thing seemed like a bad idea. He definitely doesn’t have your best interests in mind.

“What?” The man(?) frowns. “Too harsh? Alright, fine. I should have just started with names. Have you given yours to him yet?”

You shake your head.

“Good. Don’t. Anyways, since you won’t have much of a use for it anyways, mine is Oleander. You don’t have to give me yours if you don’t want to. I’d like to keep this interaction as quick as possible. Feel free to ask questions though. Better to hear it than learn from experience in this case.”

Well, you sure had a lot of questions. Why are you here? Where is here? What is he? What snatched you away to begin with?

“Ohh, you’re one of the panicky ones. Alright, well, for starters, you’re in a tree. Or a palace. Whatever you’d like to imagine it as, honestly. I don’t know the exact reason you were brought here, but I have a few guesses. Let’s just say none of them are situations anyone would want to be in.” He keeps up with your rapid-fire, only taking a moment in between questions.

“I’m what’s called a dryad. Essentially, a plant with a consciousness and a body created by magic— You do know what magic is, right? Yes? Alright, that saves some explaining. I don’t really want to get into detail about what a faerie is, but that’s what the other man was. Anyways, I’ll be brief, I don’t want you here, and I’m assuming you don’t want to be here either, right?”

You nod.

“Good. That saves me some trouble. I’m going to help you escape. Now, he’s probably going to be back within the next ten or so minutes. You’re not going to mention me to him, understand? He doesn’t know I exist, and I want to keep it that way.”

After you give another nod, he sighs in relief. You watch as Oleander moves back towards the center of the room, his wood skin slowly morphing, bending, and reshaping until you’re left “alone” again.

Your chest feels lighter. There’s still a chance to escape. While you’re still not entirely sure you can trust your new companion, he’s still a failsafe if you can’t find another way out of here.

Just a few minutes later, the door swings open and a familiar person enters the room.

Person? Was that right?

Ai smiles at you, slit pupils you hadn’t noticed previously practically glistening when he spots you at the far end of the room.

“Oh— Hi! You’re awake now? Is everything alright? You look a little shaken up…” He flutters over to you.

Flutters. Right. Wings.

You can’t help but stare. Whatever you’d met in the woods hardly resembled him now. The fae in front of you dawned a long, fairly intricate cloak. His skin— or fur, it’s honestly hard to tell, is a soft pink. He’s not unpleasant looking in any sense, just… Unusual. If it weren’t for the sharp teeth, he’d almost look approachable.

He’s acting like he’s actually concerned about you. Like he didn’t just take you to an entire new dimension. Like there’s any other reason that you’d be upset. You just continue to stare, unable to create a response with the knot in your throat.

Ai sets a hand on your shoulder reassuringly. “Upset? That’s okay. I know it’s a lot for you to take in. I hope you don’t feel like I was trying to deceive you before in the woods… I just thought you seemed interesting! I wanted to get to know you a bit before… Well, before all of this. I didn’t mean to rush you.” You’re hardly paying attention to what he’s saying. He kidnapped you. Of course you’re upset!

“You probably feel scared, don’t you? I… I want to say that I won’t hurt you. Those aren’t my intentions with you. Why don’t we get to know each other a bit better? I want to understand you, and I want you to be able to understand me, too. I know this isn’t the best first impression… But I really didn’t want to have to mess with your memories again. I want to do it right this time.”

This is insane. You can’t read him. What does he want from you? He said he doesn’t want to hurt you, but none of his actions so far have even slightly supported that. He abducted you. He chased you through the fucking woods. What other reason could he possibly have for keeping you here?

“Go ahead, ask me anything.”

taglist: @whumpy-wyrms @inkwell-and-dagger @lordcatwich @kawaii-cakes @enigmawriteswhump (let me know if you want to be added!!!)

[matchingbatbites]

all for the love of you | 4.7k

My super late contribution for @thefreakandthehair Lex's spring challenge, using the prompt daisies! I caught writer's block pretty bad and wasn't able to finish this on time - honestly, I got to a point where I just couldn't stand looking at it, so I set it aside for its own good. So glad I finally caught the bug to finish it, because I'm really happy with it! <3

Read on Ao3

Eddie isn't one to get jealous. He didn't really grow up with a lot, he learned to care for the things he had, and his mom taught him that being jealous only made you feel like shit in the long run. Sure he's wanted things before, has coveted things that other people had, but jealousy. 

Jealousy is a whole other monster, something he wasn't familiar with until he caught feelings for one Steve Harrington. 

It wasn’t something that happened immediately. Eddie spent a solid four months getting to know Steve after the younger had carried him out of actual, literal hell. The boy had opened up his home to Eddie once they’d been released from the hospital, and they’ve spent countless hours together since.

Watching movies and talking and just helping take care of each other - something they’d almost been forced into when they realized that neither could reach their arms above their heads without pulling at their sides, their matching bat bites tugging and aching, and Steve completely unable to reach the road rash marring his back.

They fell into a routine that settled warm in Eddie’s soul, and every day became something to look forward to. No matter how bad his day was - and there were plenty of bad days - he knew that he had Steve, that at the end of it he could count on crawling into bed with someone who helped chase the nightmares off, who helped ease the pain just a little.

When he eventually moved back in with Wayne - once his name was cleared and his scars finally manageable on his own - it felt like he’d left part of himself behind. Moving out wasn’t something he had to do, but he felt like he’d needed to. He didn’t want to be a bother to Steve any more, didn’t want to take up space any more than he already had.

He didn’t realize something had changed until they had a bit of distance between them, until he was crawling into a cold bed all by himself, until he was forced awake by vivid nightmares. It didn’t take long for Eddie to be struck by the knowledge that the reason he misses Steve so much, the reason why being away from the younger boy is physically painful, is that he-

Eddie grew up hearing people talk about crushes and butterflies, has heard his friends go on about the people they like, but he's never actually felt that himself. He's never had that nervous, fluttering sensation, or the swooping feeling that Jeff described when he met his current girlfriend. 

Over the years he's managed to brush off inquiries about his own love life, spinning it around to the people that he’s fooled around with, because apparently sexual attraction is something he has no problem feeling or understanding. No, that was something he figured out pretty quickly. 

He's had no problem finding people to sleep with, whether it be in Hawkins or in the bigger city an hour or so away. He learned that he doesn't have a preference when it comes to sex, that he just leans towards pretty people who seem like they might be a little bratty in bed, regardless of whether they're a guy or a girl. He likes feeling good and making others feel good and for years that's been enough. 

Until Steve.

He's been attracted to Steve for a while - a couple of years now, if he’s being honest with himself - though it's hard not to be when the guy won the fucking good gene lottery. His eyes, his mouth, those irresistible little moles and freckles scattered across his skin like stars. Eddie’s always thought he was pretty, even back when he had a shit personality, but now- 

Now that he knows what Steve is like when he’s protecting the people he cares about, when he wakes up shaking from a nightmare, when he just gets to be his genuine, goofball self without worry, well.

It took Eddie by surprise the first time he felt that swooping sensation in his gut, exactly the way Jeff had explained it to him. The fact that it was preceded by one of Steve’s blinding, sunshine smiles being directed straight at him helped the final pieces snap into place, and the completed puzzle laid before him could only spell out the realization of holy shit, I like Steve.

The feeling hasn’t dulled a bit in the two months since his epiphany, and he almost regrets that he hadn’t felt it sooner, back when he was living with Steve, back when he might have had a chance. 

Because now Eddie is jealous. He knows he doesn’t stand a chance with Steve now, because unfortunately, the younger boy seems to have his sights set on someone else. 

He doesn’t know exactly when Steve met her, but it’s been about a month since Eddie first heard this new crush mentioned in quiet conversation between Steve and Robin. It became pretty commonplace for Eddie to catch her name coming from one mouth or the other, and now. 

Just hearing the name Daisy makes Eddie's skin crawl with envy, especially because the two always stop talking about her when Eddie gets close. It’s like they don't want him to hear anything about this mystery girl, like they know he holds some sort of grudge against someone he’s never even met before.

It’s a stupid thought, but one he can’t shake, especially because it keeps happening, hushed conversations quickly cutting off the moment he’s within earshot. Eddie is beyond frustrated, but he keeps his mouth shut, knows it isn’t really his place to be upset about something that isn’t any of his business.

The night that shit finally hits the fan, they’re having a movie night with just the three of them, just Robin, Steve, and Eddie himself. 

Everyone else is busy - something not out of the ordinary with their ragtag bunch - and Eddie shows up a little earlier than they had agreed on. He doesn't think they know he's arrived, he can hear voices still flowing from the kitchen as he closes the front door behind him and heads deeper into the house.

" -don’t know why you keep putting it off! Just ask Daisy out already!" 

Eddie freezes just outside the doorway to the kitchen. He shouldn’t be listening, he knows that it will only make the ache in his chest worse, but he can’t bring himself to take those final steps to join them as Steve responds back.

“Come on, Robin, how many times are we gonna talk about this? I'm not- There's no way Daisy likes me like that."

“Well, I think you’re a self-sabotaging idiot, because you’re clearly wrong. Daisy is totally into you!”

A soft sigh. “Just… What if I’m not wrong? It could ruin everything between us, and I don’t want to lose Daisy because of my dumb feelings.”

“Steve…”

Eddie feels his heart sinking at the hopelessness in Steve’s voice, and decides he’s officially done listening to them talk about this. He steps into the room as casually as possible and they both go quiet - fucking again - as he says “Hey guys! What’s up?”  

Robin looks at Steve and makes a face that Eddie can’t decipher, and Steve shakes his head. The look on her face shifts into something determined and Steve goes a little pale as she turns to Eddie and says "Hey, Eddie! Perfect timing! Maybe you can help us figure something out?”

“Rob-”

Eddie shrugs as he goes into the fridge and grabs one of the sodas Steve keeps around for the kids. “Uh, sure, I can try.”

“Okay! So there's this girl Steve likes and he refuses to ask her out because he thinks she isn't interested in him!"

Eddie does his best to be nonchalant as he pops the tab on the can. "Is she?"

Robin and Steve reply at the same time, their "Yes!" and "No!" overlapping and leaving Eddie blinking as he processes their reactions. He makes a decision and turns to Robin, says "How do you know she likes him?"

Robin instantly looks smug and she leans in closer, almost conspiratorially. "She's not super obvious about it, but I've been watching! Any time she comes into the shop, she always leans against the counter and plays with her hair, and she gets this dopey look on her face whenever he isn’t looking at her.”

The swig of soda Eddie takes turns to ash in his mouth, and he swallows roughly as he turns to Steve, forcing himself to say “I dunno, man. Sounds to me like she’s pretty interested in you.”

Robin looks at Steve, a clear I told you so on her features that even Eddie can read. Steve pushes a hand through his hair, a nervous habit that makes Eddie want to take the hand in his own and hold it, to help sooth whatever worry Steve has. 

“I just don’t know. We don’t really like a lot of the same things, and I- I worry that she would get bored with me after a while.”

“Do you and Robin share everything in common? Do you like exactly the same things?”

The younger two blink at each other before Steve gives a hesitant “No, we don't,” and Eddie shrugs. 

“But you're still important to each other. Sometimes what makes you different only makes your relationship stronger. If this girl is worth anything, then you’ll both find a way to make your differences work.”

He points between himself and Steve. "Like us. You don't mind listening to me talk about D&D stuff, and you're the only person besides Wayne who can get me to sit and watch a sports game, because we care about each other's interests."

That little bit of advice feels like a big thing, especially when Steve looks at Eddie like he's shown him how to hang stars in the fucking sky. The wonder shining directly at him is a lot, it makes his heart thud behind his ribs, and he's thankful when it quickly fades into a soft smile.

Steve's response is a gentle “Okay. Okay, yeah, you're right. I’ll ask her out. Thanks, Eddie,” and even though he'd seen it coming, Eddie’s heart breaks. He shrugs it off, says "Yeah, of course, man. Let's uh, let's watch this movie, yeah?"

*

The rest of the night is - not tense, but there’s definitely something in the air that wasn’t there before. Eddie leaves almost as soon as the movie is over, brushing off Steve’s offer to stay the night in favor of heading back home to wrap himself in his blanket and think about exactly what he’s gotten himself into.

He knows that he can’t be around to see how this unfolds, to see Steve being sweet with some girl. He knows that the jealousy, this unfamiliar creature, will eat him alive from the inside out. Especially because he hasn’t seen Steve like this before. 

Usually Steve’s interest in a girl sparks and fades pretty quickly, a bright flash in the pan of his affections. The fact that he’s been hung up on this girl for a whole month - at least a month, he doesn’t actually know if it’s been longer - is actually a big deal.

No, Eddie can’t be around to see Steve’s courtship or whatever the fuck he’s going to try with Daisy. Instead he does something he’s not proud of and makes himself scarce, just running away from his problems again. 

Whenever Steve calls him to make plans, Eddie makes himself unavailable. He’s helping Wayne with something, or he’s hanging out with Gareth or Jeff, and he stops going by Family Video entirely. The only time he sees Steve is when they cross paths at the D&D sessions the kids roped him into running, and even then, Eddie manages to keep the interaction as brief as possible.

It works for a solid two weeks, until one Thursday afternoon, he finds Robin on the other side of his front door.

“I’m having a crisis. Can I come in?”

Eddie blinks and barely gets out a “Yeah, sure,” before she’s pushing past him and moving to sit on the nearby couch. He follows and takes the opposite end, one leg folded underneath him as he sits sideways, and she turns to face him.

“So, what’s your crisis, Birdie?”

“My crisis is that you’re avoiding Steve, and it’s making him upset.”

Oh. He hadn’t- no, okay, he had kind of been expecting this to be about Steve, but he hadn’t expected her to come right out and say it.

“I’m not avoiding him.”

“Oh, so he’s just going around being mopey and saying that you won’t hang out with him for absolutely no reason at all?”

Eddie gives a half-hearted shrug and leans into the back of the couch. “I don't always have to hang out with you guys, you know. I have other friends, other things to worry about. Besides, I thought he would be too busy with Daisy to even realize I was- not around as much.”

Robin’s eyes narrow, and for a brief moment Eddie knows just what it feels like to be a bug pinned to a display, laid out for someone to see to the very core of him. “Well, that’s also why I’m here. He’s tried asking her out but she keeps dodging the question, and things keep popping up that keep her from saying yes. I wanted to ask if you had any advice?”

Eddie punches down the glee that begins to bubble up and tries to be cool as he responds “You’re going to ask the guy who’s never been on a date for dating advice? For Steve Harrington?”

“You’ve been on dates! You’ve mentioned people you’ve been out with!”

“Yeah, to fuck, Robin. There was no actual dating involved.”

Robin flaps her hands a little in dismissal. “Okay, well just- Humor me for a second here. How do you think he should ask her out? Because obviously whatever he’s trying isn’t working.”

Eddie doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t want to give Steve’s best friend advice on how he should ask out some girl, when all he wants is to have the younger boy all to himself. He wants to be selfish, to deny her request and send her on her way. 

Unfortunately, Steve's happiness seems to be his priority, even if it means he finds that happiness with someone else.

“Well, has he asked her out or has he asked her to hang out?”

“What’s the difference?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, motherfucking hell. “Okay, so like, I personally wouldn’t know if someone was asking me out unless they said it outright. ‘Hey, I like you and want to take you on a date, will you go out with me?’ If he’s just asking her to hang out then she may not realize he means it as a date, so he needs to be blunt.”

Robin blinks before she hums in understanding. “That makes a lot of sense, actually. If you- If she's never been on a date, then she wouldn't be familiar with the signs of romantic interest as opposed to purely sexual interest. So he should say it outright."

"Exactly."

"That actually does help, surprisingly. Thanks, Eddie."

"Glad my lack of experience could be of service to you, Birdie. Anything else I can help you with on this fine Thursday evening?"

She bites her lip, suddenly nervous, and Eddie almost regrets asking. “Just- do me a favor; when Steve asks you to hang out again, say yes, okay?”

Eddie can’t hold in his grimace as he says “And be forced to listen to him go on about his new girl? Yeah, no thanks.”

Robin goes completely silent and when he looks up at her, she's giving him that pointed stare again. 

"Eddie-" Oh no. "-are you jealous?"

He scoffs and cuts his eyes away from Robin, unable to look at her as he says "There's nothing to be jealous of, Robin."

“Oh, yeah, so you’re totally cool about Steve going out with Daaaisyyyy?”

His face must do something involuntarily, because Robin lets out a squeal and reaches across the short distance to slap him on the leg, a reaction that isn't uncommon for her but something that still takes Eddie by surprise every time.

“Fucking ow!”

“Holy shit, you like Steve! I knew it! I mean, I had my suspicions, but you totally fucking do, don’t you?”

Eddie shakes his head, pushes his hands into his hair and tugs slightly to release some of his quickly building anxiety.

“Nope, no, we’re not going to talk about this.”

“But Eddie-”

“Robin! Steve is literally in the process of trying to ask out some girl! My feelings don’t even factor into this situation, so fucking drop it!” He knows he being mean, but he can’t stop himself from snapping as he stares Robin down, as he watches the expression on her face shift- 

It’s like she’s just realized something terrible, something absolutely horrific, and she immediately backs off with a soft “Sorry…”

Eddie sighs and slumps into the couch, drags his hands down and presses his palms into his eyes until he sees spots. The silence between them is heavy for a moment before he feels Robin moving closer, and he finds himself suddenly wrapped in a hug. He leans into her, lets her hold him for a moment as she asks “What are you doing Saturday?”

“Nothing, as far as I’m aware.”

“Steve is on a closing shift, and I’m off. Maybe I could come over and we could watch something? Something weird that only we would like. As an apology for being pushy.”

The metalhead hums in consideration. “You have to bring the movie and the snacks.”

Robin just laughs and nods. “Yeah, deal.”

*

Eddie feels a little better over the next two days. Having someone else know, even if he didn’t really confirm it, leaves him feeling a bit lighter. He’s not worried about Robin telling Steve, he trusts her not to expose his feelings like that, and he finds himself really looking forward to spending some one-on-one time with the girl.

The knock sounds on the door half an hour earlier than Eddie expected, and he yells out a “Just a second!” as he quickly pulls his hair up into a loose ponytail. He’s freshly showered after doing a little work on his old van, and he’s dressed in a pair of pajama pants and a sweatshirt that he had swiped from Steve’s place - Robin’s sweatshirt, actually, if the ‘HHS Marching Band’ scrawled across the front is any indication.

“You’re early, Birdie! I thought we said-”

His sentence dies off as he opens the door to find Steve fucking Harrington on the other side. 

This is- It’s very much unexpected, and not the social encounter Eddie had been preparing himself for tonight, especially when Steve looks like actual perfection in a polo that hugs his arms and chest just right and brings out the greens in his hazel eyes.

“Steve? What are you doing here?”

Steve takes a breath, and Eddie gets the sense that he’s nervous, but why-

“I know that you’re expecting Robin, and I’m sorry for just springing this on you, but- Will you go out with me? On a date- a romantic date. Robin said you had planned for a movie night so I brought-” 

He lifts a hand and Eddie’s eyes cut down to see a bag clenched in one, and in the other a bouquet of red daisies that make Eddie’s heart stop. 

“I brought The Evil Dead and The Thing, and I uh, I made that pasta you like, literally pulled it off the stove before I came over.”

He’s looking at Eddie expectantly, but there’s so much to process and nothing makes sense, and Eddie can’t- He doesn’t -

“I don’t- I don’t understand what’s happening right now. You- You’re-”

Steve’s expression goes soft and he nods towards the trailer. “Can I come in?”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, just steps back so Steve can come inside, and watches as he sets the bag on the counter but keeps his hold on the flowers. Eddie closes the door behind them and asks “I thought you were working tonight?”

“Yeah, uhm. Robin took my shift so I could come over. She told me- And I had to-”

Steve pushes his free hand through his hair and Eddie waits, watches as he builds up the courage to-

“I like you, Eddie, I have for months. I think about you all the time, and I hate that you don’t live with me anymore, and I can’t- I thought I was being obvious about it, but I was wrong, so now I’m being blunt because apparently that’s what it’s going to take.”

Steve offers the bouquet to him, pushes it into the space between them, and Eddie’s eyes snap to the flowers as he gives a weak “But what- what about Daisy? You been talking to Robin about her for weeks, so-”

“Eddie, you’re Daisy."

He- What?

"What do you mean?"

"I couldn’t just talk about my feelings for you in the open. I never knew who would be around, if it would be safe, so I uh, I came up with a code name for you. It was actually Robin’s idea, but that’s probably not surprising. But, yeah. You're Daisy, I like you and I want- I want to be your boyfriend, Eddie. If that's what you want too?"

Eddie’s heart is racing. He almost can’t believe what Steve is saying, he actually-?

“I’ve never liked someone before.”

Steve blinks at Eddie’s admission, and the older continues before he loses the last of his nerve.

“You’re literally the first person I’ve ever liked, and I thought- For a long time I thought I was broken, that there might be something wrong with me, because having sex was never an issue but crushes and romance felt like an alien fucking concept. And then I spent four months getting to know you, the four best months of my entire life, and I realized that holy shit, I think I love Steve, and it’s-”

Eddie takes a breath, trying to steady himself as he takes in Steve’s wide-eyed expression. 

“No one told me how fucking terrifying it is, how big it feels, how mean it can make you. Every time I even heard the name Daisy I wanted to dig my nails into something and tear, because I didn’t want you to think about her, I wanted-”

He doesn’t realize he’s shaking until Steve steps into his space and reaches out, one big hand moving to grab his wrist, something that instantly helps ground him, and the other gently cupping his jaw.

“There is no girl, Eddie. Baby, sunshine. There’s just you, only you.”

And Eddie feels like he’s going to collapse. He jerks forward, arms wrapping around Steve and face pushing into the crook of his neck, and he’s grateful when Steve lets it happen, when he pulls Eddie close and just holds him, letting everything sink in.

His eventual “Yes,” is muffled by the fabric of Steve’s shirt, and the younger hums in question. Eddie pulls back so he can look at Steve properly as he clarifies. “You asked me out on a date, and you said you want to be my boyfriend, if that’s what I want. And yes, fuck yes, that’s what I want, Stevie.”

Steve beams at him, another one of those sunshine smiles that warms Eddie from the inside out. He watches as Steve pulls away and stoops to grab the flowers - he must have dropped them in his haste to comfort Eddie - and offers them a second time. Eddie takes them with a soft smile, can’t help but jibe “You know I don’t have a vase for these, right?” and Steve shrugs.

“We can trim them down, put them in one of the mugs. Vases are overrated anyway.”

Eddie laughs in agreement and sets out to do just that. He feels light as air as he and Steve move around the little kitchen, Eddie tending to the bouquet as Steve dishes out the pasta he brought into a couple of bowls.

It’s so nice. It’s just like when they were living together, the easy harmony that they had coming back to them so naturally, but now with a different undertone. Now, Steve touches his waist as he passes by, he lets Eddie lean into him, lets their fingers brush meaningfully as he hands over Eddie’s food. 

They eat right there at the counter, shoulders brushing as Steve talks about what happened yesterday at work, as Eddie recounts last night's D&D session with the kids. Eddie can’t stop smiling, he feels like fucking giggling, and Steve isn’t much better off, his eyes full of stars as he listens to Eddie talk.

Their first kiss tastes like red sauce and pasta, and Eddie is so unprepared for how it is to kiss someone when there are actual feelings involved. It only reinforces the buzz in the back of his mind, that distinct impression of home that he gets whenever he's around Steve.

They eventually end up on the couch, Eddie mostly in Steve's lap and arms wrapped around each other, and Eddie’s never felt so utterly content. 

They’re most of the way through The Thing when he tips his head up so he can look at Steve with a soft “So, I gotta ask… Of all the ‘secret code names’ you could have chosen for me, why Daisy?”

And Steve flushes. He looks away, and Eddie can feel him lacing their fingers together as he speaks.

“Don’t laugh, but uh, when I was little, my babysitter used to take me to the nearby park all the time. I was a pretty rambunctious kid, so it was a normal thing for us. One day we were walking to the park, and I saw that there was a daisy growing out of a crack in the sidewalk. I’d never seen something like that before, and I thought it was so cool, so I showed it to my babysitter. 

"She said ‘You know, sometimes people are like this daisy. Life puts them in a hard spot, and they think they won't ever be able to grow. But some daisies are stubborn, and make the choice to grow anyway.' And that’s what you are, Eddie. A stubborn little daisy, still growing despite the hard circumstances around you. That's why I picked it.”

He finally looks up to meet Eddie’s gaze and frowns, says a soft “Oh, baby,” as he reaches out and wipes at the tears building in Eddie’s eyes. Eddie grabs the hand and holds it to his cheek as he blinks back the waterworks, and he just feels so much-

“I fucking love you, Steve Harrington. I know it’s probably way too early to say that, but god, I need you to know that someone loves you.”

And Steve melts. That’s the only way Eddie can put it, his boyfriend - and god, what a crazy thing to even think - goes completely gooey as he leans in and presses his forehead to Eddie’s.

“After all the shit we’ve been through, I think we’re allowed to do things a little early, yeah? And, just so there’s no more confusion, I love you too.” 

*

A year later finds Eddie slowly pulled to consciousness, gently guided by the morning sunshine streaming in from a nearby window. It takes a moment for his sleepy brain to wake up, to register the feeling of Steve pressing feather-light kisses to the cluster of daisies that decorate the back of Eddie’s shoulder. He hums softly in approval and can almost feel Steve smile as he mutters “Morning, Daisy Bell,” against sleep-warmed skin.

Eddie huffs a laugh and turns just enough to capture Steve’s mouth with his own, morning breath be damned. 

“Mornin’, buttercup.”

[ganondoodle]

some destiny (zelda comic) lore

i really have absolutely no problem with AUs, but in the case of my zelda comic i kinda dont like it being called that bc i made it specifically around the idea of offering an origin story to .. everything really that could be true and put the entire series in an entirely different light

like most things in the series around the creation of the world and the godesses etc are told to us, and i always ask questions when sth is just told to you especially in this black and white kind of way

idk if i ever talked about it, probably not bc its somewhat of a big reveal in the comic (though its at the very end) and given how slow i am thats years away so:

the three gods (gods as a neutral term here) exists outside the physical realm in a sort of void like darkness with an endless completely calm ocean they created the world we know as hyrules world, in fact they created two more, each of them filled with life, at some point choosing a mortal to kill and make into a deity as their right hand since the gods cant go into these worlds themselves

they want to enact the plan we see in skyward sword, they want a monster to invade the land, their chosen deity to seal it, die and be reincarnated and start the whole zelda cycle as we know it; why?maybe purely as entertainment, which is why each cycle is so widely different, they are gods and treating life and worlds like their little toys feels kinda right- and they really dont like when their toys act against them, thats not what toys are supposed to do after all

so, courage as i like to call them, was a deity they created using a mortal, but they failed to even make their mortals believe in them, instead they were seen as the monster, the gods lost their patience and drowned their world leaving only courage to survive, while they failed their orders and were hated, they still cared about their world, seeing it slowly drown and abandoned by the gods made them filled with despair, in an outburst they destroy the spring of the gods (an ancient spring that is the first to exist in a world when its created) and it opens up a gate into the realm of the gods, that dark calm ocean of nothing- they go into it and wander into the closest source of light and it brings them into demise's world

demise is the deity of his world, and when courage arrives there they start to attack it, filled with desperation and rage that their world was drowned while this one thrived- demise hasnt failed the gods yet, and he fights and seals away courage with easy, but it lets him doubt the gods words, courage was supposed to be some evil monster, yet they were similar to him and he defeated them so easily, why would he chose to die and be reincarnated as a mortal? he wanted to stay a deity and protect his world forever- he started to stall for time, halting the building of the temples for the hero in the future, and at some point courage broke out of its seal, nothing of it was like before it was a strange and now truly, a monster, and demise killed it to protect his lands, thus making the gods prophecy unable to be furfilled and so the gods abandon his world too, they let mortals turn against him as his world slowly dries out, until there is nothing left alive but him and ghirahim, trying to drive him to madness so he becomes the monster for the the next world in the row, but fail just barely- he too destroys the ancient spring and discovers the gate it creates

so demise travels to hylias world, and hylia, hesitates to seal him right away bc she notices he is not a mindless monster like she was told, despite the gods effort to raise her in isolation and make her into the perfect vassal, hylias curiousity is too much, so she lets demise live, over and over as they battle- which is the story of the comic, at the end they fall in love and uncover the gods plans, that demise was in the same position as hylia is, and he killed a deity jsut like them, that the reincarnation thing might be a lie to get rid of the biggest threat to the gods (the deities needed to be gotten rid of before they realized anything) and replace it with a more controllable mortal once the set up for the play was done, this too has been a cycle in the end the gods make sure this time it ends up how they want, more or less (im leaving out the details for now) and demise gets sealed and hylia dies, both of them taken by the gods but as both resisted them it is not perfect, demise still did not turn into the monster they needed so what you fight in skyward sword is an apparition of him, not him truly, and ghirahim knew he would never be himself again but his desperation and devotion made him try anyway only to end up playing right into the gods hands

and that is how the series started, a scheme of the gods to create their little play, inventing new little adversaries and eviil beings but short lived so easily to reinvent over and over, but its all based on lies, zelda isnt special, she was jsut a mortal that happened to be chosen by the gods to take the role she has now, shes no reincarnation of hylia, none of the things they tell you about hylia are true, its the gods lying to you, and the trio is stuck in this cycle not realizing they are merely being played with

(being sealed or dying as a deity send you to the realms of the gods, where they pin them down on a pillar like bugs (unconcious) and occasional borrow their magic for some tricks and schemes to play with in the world of hyrule, the deities are still there, and will be until the gods decide to kill them fully- and at the end of destiny as demise is take by them, in the last few moments before he is hung up like a trophy he not only sees that courage, who he thought he had fully killed, was already there, but in the darkness were countless remains of abandoned deities hanging dead on pillars, how many times have the gods done this before?)

(possibly not as interesting as i hope it is, but this is what im going for, and it only really works if the rest of the series exists just the same, otherwise the whole point of putting everything in this context would become kinda meaningless? at least thats how i feel about it so i dont like calling it an AU, but im not mad about it bc i guess if you take all the lore at face value it is completely different and doesnt work with canon at all? idk )

[nivea-ah]

wanted some post canon tddk so I wrote it 😍

.................................

Izuku slumped onto the couch, hand holding a glass filled with some pink drink that Ochako had pushed into his hand. He sniffed it. It smelt fine.

Shouto came down to sit beside him and Izuku immediately smiled. "Are you not going to be drinking this?" he asked, pointing to the sparkling pink drink.

Shouto made a face and Izuku's smile widened even more. He knew that Shouto was a lightweight. It was still fun to tease him.

"I saw Kaminari walk in with three different bottles earlier and I do not want to try any," Shouto said. "And," Shouto started a little shyly, "I should be asking this while sober."

Izuku turned to look at Shouto who looked a little nervous. "What is it?" he asked.

Shouto rested his head on the headrest, his head still turned towards Izuku so, Izuku mimicked his movement until both their heads were resting against the plush fabric of the couch and facing against each other.

"I was going to ask you much earlier but Bakugou had decided we make you a suit, so I'd waited until it was ready," Shouto said, all while holding eye contact. Izuku nodded, prodding him to continue.

Shouto smiled. "Would you start a hero agency with me?"

Izuku jerked forward in surprise and sloshed some of the pink drink onto his hand. He placed the glass on a nearby table, embarrassed, before going back to staring in shock at Shouto.

"You want to start an agency with 𝘮𝘦?"

Shouto flushed. "Well, of course, if you don't want to, I don't mind at all. But, yes, I'd love to start an agency with you."

Izuku shook his head vigorously. "No, I'd love that, too! But, aren't you worried that I became a hero just a week ago and am still a teacher?"

Shouto looked at him quizzically. "You've always been a hero," Shouto said and Izuku couldn't help but feel his cheeks flush with warmth. "And," Shouto continued, "you being a teacher isn't trouble at all. I think it's for the better. I don't know many rules. Even if I did, I might end up breaking them."

Izuku is suddenly reminded of Hosu from years ago, of them breaking a law and if Shouto immediately going to fight with the head of the police department. It wasn't a pleasant memory but, it still brought a smile to his face.

"Also," Shouto said, "your suit looks very nice. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 look very nice."

Izuku let out a startled laugh. "Are we trying flattery now?" he asked Shouto, who was grinning freely at him.

"Yes," Shouto replied. "Is it working?"

"Maybe," Izuku lied, because it was 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 working. He looked over at Shouto, who was looking at him with such a soft look that Izuku knew that he could never deny him.

"Okay," Izuku agreed.

Shouto looked at him, surprised. "Okay?"

Izuku smiled. "Okay."

[smokeys-house]

The Cane King's Daughter

⭐️Art by @sator-the-wanderer, story by @smokeys-house ⭐️

⭐️Also available on ao3!⭐️

✨️Part two TCKD: A Story for Another Time available here✨️

Storms at sea are no rare occurrence. Squalls that sweep ships to their sides may be daunting, but no more so than the tumult of the lives of all folk, land or sea. Captain Whetstone, a self made pirate born on the coast of France, has made rather a name for herself. A large and fluffy brown moomin, she grew up hearing the stories of a free life at sea. 

She sat wide upon a chair in the cabin of her ship. The strain of a pirate's life wore heavily upon her brow. The early days were rife with plunder and excitement, raucous laughter and cheers. She'd made it, or so she would've thought. She'd got the merry life she'd wanted, as for whether it'd be a short one would be up to the rule of law. 

'Perhaps I've been at it too long.' the captain thought to herself. She sighed aloud, staring into the vanity mirror as if looking past herself. "Rouse yerself. Yer a captain, not some layabout on a fishing trip." She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and made for the deck. She'd grown weary of taking scores and the thrill of living on the run.

The crew still aboard The Honeyed Word were working diligently; hauling crates to and from the port, maintaining the ship, or otherwise making themselves useful. Marseille was bustling, lively, and lousy with merchant ships. The local law, while concerned about piracy, were not so eager to challenge those engaged in its splendors. Collecting a bribe was practically by the books in Marseille. It wasn't the pirate haven of Nassau, but at least here she could try to lie low for a while. 

The salted sea air mingled nicely with the smell of cookery and the commotion of working sailors as the captain made rounds amongst what crew remained on deck. 

"Cap'n." A grizzled old hemulen woman wiped the sweat from her brow. "Most of the crew 'ave headed into town. I assume you can simply follow the ruckus if ye be needing to find them." Her voice was coarse and thick, but with a sense of duty. 

"As it happens, I fear I may be in search of drink myself." The captain shielded her eyes from the sun with her paws. "Keep an eye on things for me while I'm gone." 

"Promise me ye don't be up to nothin' foolish. I seen that bored look you been wearin'."

"No foolishness here, Ruthie. Just a quick nip, and maybe a rest in a bed what ain't rollin' on the waves." She patted the hemulen woman on the back with a hearty thud, to which she chuckled mirthfully.

The way into town was fraught with people of all classes and lifestyles; merchants, traders, sailors, simple common folk, rich and poor. Marseille was a well populated city, and drew in people from all over. The captain trod a familiar path to her preferred local pub, one of the few she hadn't been run out of in recent memory. Despite the relative ease with which she carried herself, being spotted by knowing eyes would likely spell trouble, or at the very least more excitement than she was looking for. 

"Didn't think I'd see you in here again, after last time." The barkeep didn't look up from polishing his glass. 

"I'm not sure I remember the last time. Much to see around these parts I'm afraid, sometimes too much." She eyed a table of navy men in the corner as she approached the counter. It was a clean establishment, not necessarily upscale, but it did at least serve the more well-to-do in days long since passed. The place was littered with well crafted furniture and gave an air of high status, but the clientele quickly dimmed the illusion. The velvets adorning curtains and chairs had all faded, and some were torn in spots. 

"What'll you have, Whetstone?"

"That'll be captain Whetstone from you. Pour me anything what ain't rum n' cask-water, and you can call me whatever you like!" The two shared a laugh as the bartender filled two tankards with ale. 

"Word on the street is your boys are already wreaking havoc. Half my usual patrons have made themselves scarce. You've only been in town a couple of days I thought, but from the way folks are talking I would've thought the devil himself had popped up on our doorstep, and made himself at home." 

"Oh, how lovely." Whetstone sighed and eagerly watched the man pour. "I'd have thought by now the folks 'round here would've been dreadfully bored by that sort of thing." She paid for the two drinks and clinked glasses with the bartender. "Not like the navy men do it any different while docked. We're all fixin' t' crack Jenny's teacup!"

"Aye, but your 'Jenny' is more often than not someone else's 'Sally', ye damn dog."

Whetstone raised a finger as she drank deep from her mug. "So long as she's not your Sally I'd say I'd done no wrong. Not my fault no navy men know how to keep a woman in good spirits!" She had a charismatic and an almost musical way of speaking, it was as though everything she said was a line in a play.

"And how might that be, oh great and wise slayer of maidens?" 

"Spirits!" She motioned to the bottles on the shelf behind the bar, sharing a hearty cheer with a few eavesdropping barflies. 

"And what might it be that brings you to Marseille once more?"

"Naught but the wetting of m' whistle and the tireless search fer comp'ny I reckon. I'm not quite so sure, I think I just wanted t' see yer ugly mug once more!"

She spent a few coins and hours there, seemingly wasting the day away. She knew that she wasn't searching for much of anything, and that she was simply tired of the hardships she'd chosen for herself. 'What use is a free life if I can't live it quietly?' She thought. 'All the excitement out t' sea, and all I'm wanting fer is a quiet day indoors.' Perhaps she'd grown weary of her trade, but taking a day for herself surely wasn't what you'd expect if you'd heard the stories about her. 

"That's her right over there. The glum looking gal in the coat." Whetstone's musings were interrupted by murmurs rolling like thunder into jeers. The calm if somewhat gruff environment quickly became rife with tension.

"Seems our mutual friends have spotted a familiar fiend." The barkeep kept his paws busy, still cleaning glasses from patrons past. The captain appeared more tired by the idea than worried, propping herself up on the bar with her arms. 

"You've got some nerve. Swingin' your snout 'round here like it weren't still smellin' of my girl's perfume." The hemulen navy man tucked one thumb into his belt as he approached, glancing over his shoulder back to his fellows. 

" 'fraid I haven't seen your girl since she were someone else's. Last I checked, and likely still, she belonged to herself. Let's keep our paws in our pockets, shall we?" 

"She seems t' think quite highly of you." His words were dripping with venom as he looked the captain up and down. He either had a chip on his shoulder or something to prove. "Turn 'n face me you bilgerat. I'm fixing to see what she thinks is so special!" 

"Quiet over there!" A younger fillyjonk man spoke up from the corner, his face mostly obscured by a hat tilted over it. "Some of us are trying to drink in peace."

"What's it to you, boy? Shut yer gob afore I shut it for you!" The navy man leading the group continued to shout, tensions rising among the men behind him. He grabbed the captain by the collar of her coat. "Don't think even for a second I've not seen your face on them posters. Teachin' you a lesson and gettin' paid for it? Price on you's enough to split with these boys and then some." 

The captain's eyes darted to and fro, seeking any opportunity to turn this around. The navy men must've numbered at least a dozen in total, all surrounding her. Them aside, patrons flanked them on all sides, acting as likely obstacles. Just as the situation was looking its grimmest, a near full glass flew across the room, finding its target to be the head of the man nearest Whetstone. 

That one thrown drink began a large-scale brawl encompassing the entirety of the bar. The glass distracted the leader of the pack long enough for Whetstone to throw the first punch, square in the snout. The rest of the navy men, unable to tell the shouting of patrons from aggressors, and unable to tell who threw the cup, tore through the establishment. Skirmishes filled every corner of the room.  The bartender calmly ducked into a room just behind the bar as it all began to unfold. The captain danced among the crowd, dodging blows and delivering them herself. 

"This way!" Beckoned the be-hatted fillyjonk man, motioning to the alley entrance he was holding open. Whetstone fought her way through the flinging of paws at maws and more thrown drinks, toward the only friendly face in sight. 

Just then, the bartender returned from the storage room behind the counter with a flintlock rifle and pistol in tow. He fired the musket straight into the ceiling, the boom overcoming the sound of the raucous crowd. For a moment, everyone stopped. 

"Out of my bar." He spoke quite plainly, as though it were simply closing time. The navy men stopped their brawling and regained focus, looking about the room for their previously cornered quarry.

"Over there! After her, boys!" The sailors that still stood gave chase, stumbling over chairs and glasses underfoot. 

In all the excitement, the captain had only just made it to the door when the gun went off. Her and her new acquaintance darted alley to alley, their pursuers forcing them through markets and over fences. Though the chase felt to them as intense as any they'd ever seen, it must have been quite the sight to see that many drunkards speedily shambling across town.

The shouting got further and further away, and luckily the throngs of the afternoon crowd began filling the streets once more. If it weren't for the simple fact that the captain hadn't been at the bar for as long as the rest of them, they likely would have caught up to her. She'd wisely abstained from anything too strong while in public, but a belly full of beer hardly makes for good running. With her wits mostly about her, and her ego intact, she'd made good on her escape thanks to a kind stranger. 

Soon after, the busy dockside streets and afternoon sun quickly shifted into wealthy homes and a dimming evening sunset as the two evaded their would-be captors. Once they felt they had lost their assailants, the two caught their breath and the young man calmly led Captain Whetstone to a lovely gated garden bordering the wealthier part of town. It was well kept and filled with vibrant pinks, deep purples and reds, and a sweet floral aroma mixed with the salt of the nearby sea. Ornate metal bars formed a fence, wrapping the exterior of the garden. 

"There's a greenhouse here where we can lie low. I like to come here to get lost for a while." The young man's voice shed pretense for a moment.

"Fine work, lad! And yer sure no nosy gardener's eager to do some midnight pruning?" The captain idly rubbed the petals of a nearby rose as she took in the view. "Posh bit o' living, this. Real pretty, though."

"Didn't think pirates cared for flowers. No, no one'll turn up. This square belongs to a wealthy family, used to be the daughter's. Haven't seen her around here in some time, though."

"We've all got our secrets, lad." She winked as she meandered through the garden to the greenhouse. The moon's rise baked a soft light throughout the interior. She idly rummaged through a cupboard above a potting bench. "Bless me tail! Oy, lad! They've got booze in 'ere! Some fine drink by the look of it. Supposin' the young maiden kept a few secrets, too." She snickered as she uncorked the bottle. She'd sobered a bit since her midday jog, and apparently wasn't eager to continue that trend. 

"What's your name, anyhow? Ya know mine as it seems half of Marseille does these days. Why risk yer life fer a no good pirate?"

"Well… like you said, we all have our secrets, captain."  The young fillyjonk sat upon a stool in the corner, seemingly familiar with the space. Whetstone poured a glass for herself and another for her new friend. The two shared drinks for a while, swapping idle stories late into the evening. The liquor spilled forth as did the relaxation and courage that comes with it. 

"So… you're a pirate, ay?" The man swirled his glass in his paw, not looking up from his drink. "You'd know a thing or two about fighting with a sword, then?" He stood, walking over to the potting bench near where Whetstone sat against the wall. 

"Aye, lad. I'd say I know a thing or two about swingin' a sword. What're ye gettin' at?" She steadied her eyes as they'd just begun to spin, realizing only now the risk of getting too drunk to stand with strangers about. 

"Show me." He tossed her a wooden cutlass from beneath the bench. 

"Secrets, secrets, secrets. My my my..." She caught it deftly, laying it across her lap. "I'm supposin' that's not the only thing y' be hiding from me."

"It's not, but if you beat me, I'll tell all."

"Ha, it'll take more'an that to get me into playfighting a stranger what won't say his name with a wooden toy." 

"Scourge of the seas frightened by a youngblood after just a few drinks?" He used the point of his wooden sword to lift her chin and meet his gaze. Either he'd handled his liquor better than she did, or he was far more cautious than she was.

"Now yer just testing me patience, boy." She pushed aside the sword and finished her drink, rising to her feet. "Ye won't be needing t' set terms fer if'n you win. On account of ye won't. Take the first swing." She stood straight, sword idle in her paw, in an entirely unready stance. She took in a sharp breath, and exhaled slowly. She wasn't unfamiliar with the art of the un-sober sword, but she never did like to lose. 

The man swung, overhead and diagonal to her shoulder. She tucked herself to one side as it flew past and struck the ground. 

"Slow." Captain Whetstone teased. 

He swung again, from left to right, to which she back-stepped. 

"Clumsy." She continued her barbs with a wink.

He thrust at her belly in quick succession, the first one a narrow miss, and the second intercepted by the flat of the captain's wooden blade. 

"Not bad! Once more!" She taunted, now fully engaged. Her feet planted firm and knees bent, she parried blow after blow. He sent out yet another thrust, this time aimed at her chest. 

"Out you go!" She turned his thrust to her outside line and closed in. She turned her point down, pressing the pommel to his ribs, and pushed him out of the greenhouse door into the garden with a shoulder check.

"You're toying with me! Throw a cut at least!" The fillyjonk protested, panting, but on guard after managing to avoid falling flat on his face. 

"Aye lad, I am! But here goes!" She threw a cut at a downward angle to cross his chest, or so it seemed at first. She feinted high, forcing him to guard his head and swung low, giving him a gentle tap on his thigh. "How's that?" She smirked. It was clear he was embarrassed, and perhaps a little upset. His face was red from drink, exertion, and now frustration. He threw several wild strikes out in a vain attempt to land a blow, to which she ducked several. 

"Easy, lad!" She began deflecting his blows, hoping that he'd ease up. He brought his sword up as a club with both hands, over his head, letting out a tense shout as he swung. She blocked it static and right between the two of them, holding the bind. She turned her point under and went for a disarm, tossing his sword aside. Just as soon as his sword hit the ground, as did he, with a swift push on the chest from the captain. She stood over the fillyjonk, pointing her sword at his chest. 

The fillyjonk's hat tumbled back, spilling forth long dark curls, previously tied back with ribbons that had since gone astray. The moonlight soaked into the fillyjonk's fur and hair, cascading shadows from the flowers that she had tumbled into upon onto her muzzle. The contrast between the bright blue flowers, her dark, rolling hair and the soft brown of her fur mirrored that of the shore and a stormy sea. To the captain, she was the very visage of romance. Perhaps it was the light of the moon, or the thrill of the fight, or even the blur of the booze, but she became immediately enamored.

"Well strike me pink! Hell hath no fury, eh? Now the question is, who scorned a bonny lass like you?"  The captain lowered her sword, wearing a surprised grin on her face. "I'm supposin' now would be a good time to cash in on my winnings."

The evening stretched on into night, bringing with it the still presence of the full moon and the quiet breeze carried in from offshore. The night air was cool, and just comfortably so. 

"My name's Marion." The fillyjonk acquiesced, true to her word. "Marion Cartier. It's my rum we've been spilling all night." She crossed her legs as she sat upon the cobblestone amongst the flowers. 

"And this here'd be your garden then? The daughter o' the house as you'd said it. It's beautiful." She cupped the bulb of a flower in her paw. "If yer the daughter of a wealthy family, what business had ye in a bar like that one?" 

"Same business I had in having a private garden. An escape." 

"An' what was that bit afore I pushed y' down? Figure you'd take me in fer the bounty alive after gettin' me liquor'd up?"

"No… it's not that it's just…" Marion hesitated before answering, burning with embarrassment and the rum in her belly. Eventually she settled on telling the truth. "My father was right."

Captain Whetstone sat just across from her, light-heartedly rolling her eyes. "I'm supposin' that's got a story behind it. Night's young and I've nowhere better t' be, might as well let it out."

"He'd have me fall in line or sell me off just the same. If it's not helpful to his business, it hardly matters what I want." 

"Yer a grown woman, can't ye just use all that money o' yers to get yerself a place by yer lonesome? 'S what I'd do."

"The man practically owns me. I won't see any money that doesn't sit in his paws until I take up the mantle." 

"...And the swords?" Whetstone was quick to dismiss the woes of the wealthy and continued sating her curiosity with questions. Despite the blooming feeling in her chest, she still found it difficult to feel sympathy for rich folk.

"Father fancies himself a duelist. I'm… I thought I could get to know him better if I could get him to see me." She eyed her paws, rubbing the areas hardened into calluses by many hours of practice. "Told me it wasn't worth my time to wield a sword. Told me I'd be good for nothing if it wasn't for the family business."

The captain looked over at the wooden swords lying on the ground and cocked her head to the side. "Those ain't dueling swords, lassie. That's a cutlass."

Marion's eyes stayed focused on her hands despite the captain's piercing gaze and raised eyebrow. Silence filled the space for a moment.

"I've uh… I'm not quite sure how to uhm… it's rather embarrassing, I fear. Given present company, especially."

"Spill yer beans. I've drank too much t' sleep now fer fear of hangover. An' it's far too long a night yet fer keepin' secrets. B'sides, I won, remember?" Whetstone laid up against a tree and began picking her teeth with one of her claws.

"You must promise not to laugh."

"Miss Marion, I hadn't realized we were school girls! I ain't laughin' now, but I sure could use a good'un, out with it."

"I thought I could be a pirate. Or a privateer. Something on the sea that isn't in the navy. I'd take off as a stowaway on one of my father's ships with a few good men and strike out on my own."

"If that's yer cover fer trying t' claim my bounty it sure is the most… creative ruse anyone's drummed up against me." 

"I'm not trying to claim the bounty! Even if I was, you'd have killed that dream along with the one you're stepping on now." Marion paused for a short while, composing herself. The frustration in her voice was joined ever so slightly by the sound of tears beginning to well up.  

"Ah, I'm sorry lass, but it's a mite hard to think of someone like yerself at sea… y' need more'an just a few good men and some sword swingin' skills. It's a rough life out there."

"But it's a free one. The sea keeps men honest… in a way. There's bluster, sure, like anywhere else. But the sea asks that you prove it, and I aim to." 

"Aye… ye can't lie to her none, this I know." The captain looked to the sky, feeling a flutter in her chest. She was reminded of her youth, and the first time she felt the call to the sea. Though it hadn't been too many years, most pirates don't last more than a few. "You'll find yer way. The bold ones always do." 

The conversation bled into thoughtful silence, the pair quietly ruminating on past and future. The captain balanced a near empty bottle on her knee, watching the liquor shift and roll within. She examined the label, taking in the details. A mustachioed fillyjonk gentleman wielding a bundle of sugarcane like a royal scepter sat cross-legged upon a throne also made of sugarcane. In his other paw, a coconut prepared to be a chalice. 

"Cartier's Cane King rum blend…" Whetstone continued eyeing the bottle, comparing the fillyjonk on the label with her new friend. "Tell me, what did you say yer name was again?"

–

Captain Whetstone awoke with the early afternoon sun baking into her fur upon a makeshift bed within the greenhouse she had stayed the night before. Her coat had been draped over her like a blanket, and her head was pounding. She stood and stretched, remembering the night prior. 

"I swear I fell asleep in the garden, though…" She thought aloud as she surveyed her surroundings. A note penned in fine handwriting sat upon the potting bench, and was tented neatly.

Ms. Whetstone

I should think you capable of reading seeing as you're a captain. You've given me much to think about. I've many choices to make. I apologize for leaving you unattended, but it's as I said that no one visits my garden. 

I intend to convince my father to teach me about sailing. I'll tell him it's for to learn the family business, and that ought to be enough. Of course, you and I know the reasons why well enough. The next time you see me, it might be out at sea.

I took the liberty of coaxing you into the greenhouse for a more private rest. I've a busy morning to come. 

It was a pleasure meeting you. 

-M

"Coaxed me into the..?" The captain was much too heavy to lift. She imagined Marion rolling her on her side like a big fluffy barrel as she slept. She would've been beet red if it weren't for her thick fur. She donned her coat, shook off the embarrassment, and tucked the note into her pocket. With the morning ending and the afternoon just beginning, she thought it prudent to check in with the crew and nurse her hangover with a late breakfast. 

Rumors of yesterday's excitement had reached every ear, and just as quickly sank into the sand like waves upon the shore. The king's navy almost always had reason to cause a stir and rarely did it ever go quietly, but with such frequency it joined the day's monotony. A chilled breeze and shapely dark clouds portended a storm to come, though the warmth of the sun persisted for the moment. The docks were alive as always, folks walking shoulder to shoulder, hardly taking note of one another. The cacophony of cooking, trading, buying, and selling rang through the air. The cumulative hangover was just beginning to peak as Captain Whetstone sat down to eat beneath an awning at a dockside restaurant. Through the din of the crowd, she could almost make out the song of seabirds and waves lapping on the shore. She didn't take to being in public well, but the liveliness of the docks drawing eyes off of her bought her a modicum of peace. This peace was short-lived, as a garishly overdressed fillyjonk man cut a path around him through the crowd, speaking loudly and with no lack of self-importance. He moved dramatically, as though he was performing a dance, spinning and gesturing flamboyantly.

"What fortuitous timing, you wishing to take up the family business. As it so happens, I've dealings with a gentleman from Curaçao this very afternoon!" 

"Yes, well… I was hoping to start with more on the transportation side of things. Learning to sail ships and the like. I've been doing much reading on the subject." A timid, familiar voice followed shortly after him. 

"Hmm? Oh, of course. I'm sure he'll be just as happy with that if all goes well. Regardless, Marion, how does 'Cartier's Cane King Curaçao blend' sound to you? Bold? Alliterative? Lively? Perhaps, too lively, do you think?" His exaggerated manner of speaking sounded as though all must hear. It was difficult to tell whether he was advertising to the world or simply lost within himself. 

"Who will be happy with that?" Marion rounded the corner, catching up with her father. She was dressed in deep blues, in an outfit that portrayed her wealthy standing and matched her father. The duo stopped perpendicular to the restaurant Whetstone was eating at, looking out at a few ships along the dock. 

"That one there's a wild'un." The captain nudged a nearby patron with her elbow. "Drinks like a sailor 'n aims to be one." The patron patently ignored her idle musings upon seeing they were pointed at the wealthy young woman, assuming it to be a joke with no punch line. She snorted out a quick laugh to herself when comparing Marion's current clothes to her getup the other night. She decided it best to keep her nose out of it and went about finishing her meal. 

"The gentleman from Curaçao, my dear."

"And why should it matter to him whether I learn to sail?" Marion's confusion began to mix with her growing concern. 

"Well you are to be married, after all. I should think him quite pleased to marry a sailor if he needn't a homemaker." He removed his watch from his pocket and stared impatiently at it for a moment. The watch and the fob were both silver that shone bright against the deep blues of his shimmering waistcoat. He slicked his hair back with his paw as Marion stood dumbfounded. 

"Have you no shame?! Selling your daughter off for sugar and spirits! I would think a man of your status would at least have the guts to tell his own daughter about such an arrangement prior. We're done here!" Marion balled her paws into fists, turning to walk away. Just as she turned she felt a tug at the back of her shirt. Her father pulled her back forcefully, turning her to face him. 

"We're done when I say we're done." He scolded under his breath, eyeing passersby in the hopes they hadn't seen his family matters turned public. He placed his paws upon her shoulders, holding her in place. 

"Get off me!" Marion shouted, batting his arms away and making an attempt to flee. Just as she escaped his grasp, he raised his arm high. 

Slap

Captain Whetstone looked up from her breakfast in time to see Mr. Cartier backhand Marion, who stumbled into a stack of tin plates and other dinnerware atop some crates, sending them clattering to the ground. The ruckus drew everyone's attention. Marion's father stood over her and shook his head. He took a clearly practiced stance, placing his hand disdainfully upon his brow, with the other resting on his hip. 

Whetstone shook her head as she slammed her utensils onto the table. She stood abruptly, and threw her chair to the ground as she stomped over to the scene. Without so much as a word, she raised her paw and delivered a powerful open palmed slap to Mr. Cartier's cheek. He crumpled to the ground, both from the surprise of being slapped and from the sheer force of such a large moomin. 

"I'll not have ye befoul my breakfast. Treatin' a young woman, let alone yer own daughter like that. Despicable." She spoke at him gruffly as she helped the young fillyjonk up onto her feet. Marion, awestruck and utterly confused by all of the events that had just transpired, simply stood behind Whetstone. 

"I won't.. take that… from a brute like you!" He panted as he struggled both to speak and to stand back up. 

"Aye, I imagine ye won't. And I don't be takin' nothin' from some fop exceptin' what's in his coffers. Scurry off out, ye bilgerat. I've got a devil of a hangover and I won't be wasting my time on the likes of ye."

"I'll have you arrested! Assault! Assault!" He shouted to the crowd forming around the trio. Much to his chagrin, the group seemed far more interested in seeing a pirate shake down a wealthy man than they were in coming to his aid. 

"Guards! Gendarmerie! Somebody help!" The captain mockingly shouted in a pitiful voice. She spat to the ground near the man. "You think the law around here cares? Look around you. The people who carry your crates fer a coin. The folks who you exploit. Whingeing like that only works on folk what got food in their bellies." She stepped uncomfortably close to him, looking just down on him from a head above his height. "Anything left worth sayin', or are we done here?" The man could only look back at her with glassy eyes, stunned into brief silence. 

"That's what I thought." Whetstone began to walk back to her table when she heard above the shocked whispers of the crowd, the distinct sound of a leather glove being thrown to the ground. 

"A duel. You've thoroughly disrespected me and I'll not have the Cartier name besmirched by a ruffian like yourself." 

The crowd ooh-ed and aah-ed at the prospect. More folks gathered around, wishing to see what the gathering was for.

"What? Here and now? But I 'aven't even finished breakfast." She stopped only long enough to respond as she continued her stride to her table, not even turning to face him. Her gait was immediately interrupted by another leather glove, this one being tossed directly at the back of her head. 

"A coward and a glutton! Afraid to challenge the famed fencing of Jules Cartier! I simply must laugh! Aha! Aha!" He forced out an almost theatrical laugh as he puffed out his chest. It seemed to him the world was a stage, and the thing he feared most was losing the audience. There was hardly a moment he wasn't scanning the surrounding group for approval.

"You'll be wantin' to be careful with what you say next.'' Captain Whetstone growled as she balled her paws into fists, turning to face him once more. "I didn't come to Marseille to kill a rich boy. I came to make merry and sell the scores I took from ponces like you!" She stepped in closer once more, slow and with intention. "Y' have no idea who yer talkin' to, do ya?" Her gravelly voice rumbled. 

"From the smell of it, a drunkard. And from the look of it, a buffoon!" His confidence, though shaken, had returned as he began to shake off the slap. He dabbed at his cheek with a pocket square, and straightened his jacket. 

"She's a pirate captain, father, don't do this!" Marion pleaded. 

"Quiet, Marion!" Jules snapped. "This isn't one of your storybooks!" 

"From the papers! Must you embarrass yourself at every opportunity? She's wanted and very, very dangerous!" 

Whetstone shot her a flattered, knowing look. "Ha! Did y' hear that one, Jules?" She thumped her chest before tucking her arms behind her head with a cocky smirk. "Very… very dangerous." Her gaze was piercing, albeit smug. She was practically inviting him to hit her knowing full well that he wouldn't allow himself to be seen in such a light.

"A duel! I demand it! Face me or be branded forever a coward!" Jules' obstinations were increasingly childlike. 

"As you like it, sugarboy. If I win, yer daughter goes her own way. And you pay off whatever price they got on m' head in Marseille. We fight to first blood, I'm not killing a man in front of his daughter. You let me know the time and place, Cartier. Send someone a'callin' down near this here restaurant. I'll be waitin'." The Captain parted the crowd as she passed. She righted her chair and sat back down, continuing her meal.

"Three days time. When I win, I'll be taking your bounty, and whichever rotten tub you floated in on. Live it up while you still can, Whetstone. You're about to make me even richer." 

Captain Whetstone simply waved as he made his exit, her mouth full. Jules departed, entirely forgetting his daughter and the man from Curaçao. Marion, now the sole focus of a murmuring crowd, rushed to the table her would-be savior sat at.  

"You complete and utter fool!" She slammed her paws down onto the table just across the captain. "You can't just go around inserting yourself into any old trouble you like!" 

"That's a laugh right there." She swallowed her bite. "I seem to recall someone inserting themselves into trouble on my account just the other day. She looked a lot like you, matter o' fact... Took me fer a stroll in the garden in the pale moonlight." She took her last bite and set her utensils on her plate. 

Marion slumped into a nearby chair, placing her head in her hands as the previously interested onlookers began to disperse. There were a few disappointed sighs, and life seemed to return to business as usual. 

"You've no idea what you've done. Not that you'd care if you did, seems you've no thought beyond fun and fortune." She repeatedly cleared her hair from her face, looking into the table rather than across it to the woman now responsible for her fate.

"It's only to first blood, mate. I'll give yer dear ol' dad a good scratch and a scar to remember me by, and you get to goin' on whatever it is you'd like from then on. You've seen what I can do first-hand. It won't be but a quick bout." 

"And I've seen what he can do, as well. He's a liar and a no-good cheat, but a proper duelist through and through. If you win I'll be on the street, and if he wins I'll be married off and you'll be in prison or worse in no small part on my behalf." Her brow furrowed. Her life had capsized and was now in the paws of a scruffy outlaw.

The captain took a small pouch from her belt and laid a few coins on the table near her plate, then slid the pouch over to Marion. 

"I'm sorry, lass. I just can't sit idle 'round men like him. When yer out t' sea, aboard and abroad, y' get to thinkin' all manner o' things 'bout the way folks get on… Whole lot that don't make much sense. I don't know to make a social call by now. I don't know nothin' but me own code." She took a heavy sigh, pulling a long smoking pipe from her coat and chewing on the stem. "Take that there coin and put yerself up some place nice a while. It'll be a payday fer us both 'fore it's over, I promise ye that." 

Marion sat quietly, gripping tight the pouch of doubloons. She wasn't sure what else to say, let alone what else to do. Captain Whetstone trodded off toward her ship, head full of thoughts and ache. Marion followed her not long after. 

"Something more y'need from a… how'd you put it? A 'complete fool' like me?" The moomin turned her head over her shoulder at the woman sulking just behind her.

"You are many things. A rapscallion, a scallywag, a ne'er-do-well, but I fear I spoke unfairly of you in calling you a fool. One of the many things you are now, however, is responsible for me." She sighed deeply. "Whether or not you like it."

"Yer yer own woman ain'tchya? Can go as ye please, afore at least three days are up. I don't be needin' t' look after you." She chuckled. 

"Consider it the price you pay for today's events, and my penance for yesterday's. I hardly think it wise to be anywhere my father could reach me at the moment."

"Won't be fur off my tail. Yer welcome aboard as long as you can stomach it!" She slapped her on the back, knocking her forward a bit as the duo made way to The Honeyed Word. "Hardly the worst punishment I've seen in all me days, 'avin a lass like you aboard." 

The next three days brewed a strange energy for all around. Word got out about the incident at the docks, likely in part due to Jules' boasting. It wasn't enough for him to duel and beat a lowly pirate, nor befitting of his reputation. Whetstone's wanted posters had enjoyed a fearsome makeover, at Mr. Cartier's request. She now appeared monstrous, though devilishly handsome. Her bounty was attributed to both deeds she had done, and now tales some have told. Even in opposition, the fillyjonk could not be associated with the ills and ails of a true and "ugly" world. He did not just want to restore his reputation, he wanted to cement himself as a hero by defeating a villain. Criers, newsmen, even housewives and barflies were alight and giddy over the upcoming duel. A legendary scoundrel pirate versus a noble and upstanding upper crust citizen.

Word had reached the captain's crew by now, who were mostly uneasy toward their new found glory. Being a famous criminal still makes one a criminal, and being famous makes one a target. They'd watched as their normally steadfast captain had begun fawning over a rich young lady, while showing her the ropes as it were. Their new guest had been enjoying the captain's fineries and with none of the work to earn it. The pair spent much of the three days aboard romping about clad in silk, delighting in drink and distraction alike. If it weren't for the prize of having their charges cleared and paid off by someone with deep pockets, and the captain's usually fair treatment, a mutiny might've been in order. There'd been no talk of plans, and any crew that interrupted the captain were brushed off or turned away. It seemed as though their luck would soon run out if their captain remained lovestruck.

Tensions rose onshore surrounding the Cartier business as well, but as tensions rose, so too did the profits. The money minded men of Marseille had begun buying up as much Cane King rum as suited them. Some stocked up to resell and others to enjoy, but all were buying thanks to the sudden and fervent advertising of Mr. Cartier. He'd sent out servants swinging sample trays to swill all over town. The collective drunkenness among citizens alongside the excitement of recent events made for a city wide spectacle. It seemed duels and drinks drove sales and sail alike. 

The buzz surrounding the affair became the calm before the storm on the day of. A party sent by the challenger arrived at the docks in the early afternoon along with a parade of onlookers. The usual liveliness of the harbor was instead abated by prolonged eager silence, joined only by the lapping of the waves and the stomping of boots. 

"Captain Whetstone!" A pair of whompers shouted at each ship they passed, waiting a moment before moving on to the next. They looked for her at the restaurant as she had requested, but she never arrived. The challenger's party consisted of two whompers dressed in deep blues featuring ornate silver trim, a large and muscular hemulen clad almost entirely in leather, and a nibling carrying a long red velvet box. Down the docks they shouted, and down the docks more and more onlookers followed shortly behind. 

"Captain Whetstone!" The whompers cried, over and over above the murmurs that had begun to swell. The captain, still fast asleep in her quarters, awoke with a start. 

"Who wa- is… wha..whasit you want!" She stumbled to her feet, eyes squinted, an empty bottle tumbling from atop her to the floor. She quickly realized the voice was coming from outside the ship, and fastened a robe around her waist. Marion awoke from the commotion as well, following Whetstone's lead. The pair exited the captain's quarters to the sour faces of an armed and ready crew. 

The first mate of The Honeyed Word, an older hemulen woman by the name of Ruth, spoke up from between puffs on her pipe. "I imagine that's fer you Cap'n. They've like to come a'callin' on her account." She motioned to Marion. 

"I imagine so, too, aye. Worry not, I ain't steered you lot wrong yet, 'ave I?" Whetstone winked, and made for the deck, Ruth and Marion following just behind. The mood was tense, and not all of the crew were sure of their captain's judgements as of late. She arrived at the railing, rubbing the sleep from her eyes to see dozens upon dozens of folk, all waiting on her. The leather clad hemulen, who had presumably been hired muscle, shook his head at the sight of the supposed legendary pirate dressed in a frilly nightgown and robe. 

"What do ye want?" The captain shouted. 

"Captain Whetstone!" The whompers cried once more in unison. The nibling in the party opened his velvet case to reveal a long brass horn, about three times his size. He set up a tripod and rested the other end of the horn on it. The small creature drew a deep breath before filling the air with a short, but very very loud melody. The muscular hemulen covered his ears, and shook his head once more. "You've been summoned to duel the great Jules Cartier at his manor! We shall escort you!" The whompers bowed.

Marion appeared just behind the captain, wrapping her arm around the small of her back. She was similarly dressed in a silk robe and nightgown. In her other paw, she held a steaming teacup, and passed it along to Whetstone, who took a long, slow sip. 

"But we 'aven't even had breakfast!" The moomin protested loudly.

"It's past noon!" The hemulen mercenary shouted, palming his face, and shaking his head once more before storming off. He parted the crowd, grumbling to himself on the way out. The nibling took up his horn once more, apparently announcing the departure of one of their party, much to the dismay of the gathered crowd's ears. 

Ruth approached the duo, dropping on the deck just behind them their clothes, and the captain's sword with an unceremonious thud. "Don't be comin' back if ye don't win." She spit to the side.

"When I do come back, we'll be 'avin' words, Ruthie. Strong ones, too, I reckon. Mind yer tongue 'round yer captain." Whetstone began to put on her boots.

"If only ye could mind yers 'round whatever gal ye be fancyin' of late. Wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't fer you. Now the whole of Marseille wants a look at us, and the whole of the world wants the price on our heads. Keep yer promises, cap. Er I'll be keepin' 'em fer you." She headed below deck.

"Whaddaya reckon that means, Marion?" She looked around, puzzled.

"I imagine it was pretty straightforward, but you pirates are a bit hard to understand sometimes. Verbally, I mean." 

The captain wheezed and laughed loudly, wiping a tear from her eye. "That we are!" She continued to get ready. "Anyway don't ye be worryin' about her, either. Everyone's a mite worked up I imagine. She's stubborn, but she's a good'un." She tossed her robe and nightgown onto the deck of the ship as she hopped over to the side of the ship to the dock. 

The whompers were still in their bowed position, and a large chunk of the crowd had begun to disperse before hearing the captain's boots slam onto the wood. She had only dressed halfway up, boots, slops, a sash, a belt and sword. Her thick fur was disheveled and unkempt, an appearance apparently befitting the crowd's idea of a pirate. Ooh's and ahh's once more took shape, whispers and whistling as well. She began pulling her shirt on as she approached her would-be escort crew, coat draped across her arm. Marion shortly after hopped over, dressed quite unlike she had when she'd arrived. She rushed to the captain's side, attempting to avoid the gaze of the murmuring crowd for too long. The challenger's party parted a path as they beckoned the duo along quietly. 

Marseille was silent and empty, shopkeeps shuddered their windows and covered their stalls, passersby rushed indoors, and the captain swaggered through the streets en route to her duel. Deep blue ribbons and brightly colored bits of decor began cluttering their path to Cartier Manor. Though sparse at first, upon nearing the manor proper, the whole of the area was densely decorated. Rugs and flower petals lined the walkway, and whatever surface could have something hanging from it, did. Red roses and white lilies were bouqueted and affixed opposite each other. Even the balconies of houses unaffiliated to the Cartier name had wreaths hung from them. The early afternoon sun baked the clouds in front of it as they gathered, and it seemed as though the sky would open up any minute. The air was humid and filled with the scent of loose flower petals being crushed underfoot, alongside the distant rains. 

The nibling rushed ahead as fast as his little feet would carry him, horn in tow. He set up  his tripod just outside a bespoke iron gate. Just beyond the gate was a vast open courtyard, filled to capacity with all manner of folk, many of which were dressed in finery.

"I'm a mite hazy, but, is yer dad always this.. dramatic?" Whetstone covered her face as she whispered to Marion. 

"Seemingly more so than usual these days. This, I'd say, is less dramatic and more… absurd? Honestly I've given up attempting to understand the man."

 "This way, Captain Whetstone." The whompers once again spoke in unison. They led her just to the side as they ushered the rest of the guests, Marion included, in through the gates. The nibling blasted the same tune as before as each made their way into the courtyard. 

"So I'm not goin' that way?" The captain said, pointing across the fence. 

"No!" The whompers said, cheerfully. Their smiles almost perfectly matched one another, along with just about everything else about them. They seemed as though they were simply pleased to be involved. 

"Can y' tell me which way I am goin'?"

"No!" They cheered once more.

The trio stood for a few more minutes as the nibling welcomed more guests with his horn. 

"Can I go in now?" The captain scratched behind her ears. Her tone was playful, but she was starting to get impatient.

"No!" They sounded almost the same every time. Captain Whetstone gave up and leaned against the fence, arms crossed. She wasn't worried about being late to the duel, nor really very much about the duel itself. The whole affair was turning out far more posh than she had imagined, and with each decoration and each passing upper crust guest, she became less and less worried. She gave into idle thought for a moment. Her mind chose distractions of all kinds, but more and more her mind wandered back to Marion. Had she made the right choice to interfere when she did that day at the docks? Had she done right by her so far? What would become of her next?  

"Ahem" 

"Wah!" Whetstone shouted, recoiling from the sudden interruption. "Who'sat!" She caught herself on the fence. 

A muddler with very long droopy ears dressed in a most garish fashion held her paw out in front of her. Her hat was massive and had a large feather sticking out from it, along with several other adornments. She wore several pin cushions in various places, and a chatelaine of sewing materials hung from her hip. 

"Ahem." She continued to hold out a paw to shake in greeting.

"What? Am I in yer way, or..?"

"Ahem. It's my name."

"What's yer name?" 

"Ahem!" 

"What?!"

The muddler sighed. "My name. My name is Ahem. As in hemming garments. It's what I do. I'm a tailor." She motioned to her collection of sewing tools and accessories.

"Taylor? But I thought y' said yer name was Ahem?"

Ahem patently ignored her. "Mr. Cartier has requested that you come along with me for the time being. Preparations for the… un-seam-ly events to come."

"...right." The captain squinted. "And will there be more sewing puns?"

"We'll put a pin in that one for now." 

"Yer too quick fer me, lass!" She laughed out loud. She was beginning to enjoy herself. Things had taken quite the turn from the serious to the silly, and she was along for the ride.

"Quick indeed." She grabbed the captain by the arm, taking her to a room just inside the manor around the outside of the courtyard. The room was littered with fabric, tools, and mannequins of all shapes and sizes. One of the mannequins featured a fillyjonk-esque head with a familiar mustache made to resemble Jules. 

"Rich bastard's got his own uhh… what do ye even call a room like this? Sewing dungeon?" Whetstone fiddled with just about everything in her path as Ahem snapped back and forth with her measuring tape across the captain's moominous form. 

"Mr. Cartier has appointed me to make a coat for you. Something a little less stolen and salt soaked. He wants you to look flashy for his big day." She rolled her eyes. 

"Big day. Pffft." She blew a raspberry. "Also I'll have you know I bought this one." She said, putting extra emphasis on the last two words. 

"Pffft indeed." Ahem pulled aside a curtain revealing a tall and nicely rounded mannequin. Upon it was a coat fit for a pirate, though very well made and quite fancy. It was entirely black save for the trim, cuffs, and pocket covers that were a deep dark red, with shining gold buttons and an interior lining of red and gold paisley. A cutlass crossed with a rose was embroidered on the left breast. She snatched it off the mannequin and draped it over the captain's shoulders. "Go on, see how it fits. Your measurements seem almost exactly what I thought they'd be." 

"It's quite lovely!" She put the coat on, pulling the sleeves over her arms. She jumped and jogged in place, bent down to touch her toes and stretched her arms. Then she mimicked punching, drawing and swinging a sword, and climbing the riggings of a ship. She pretended to draw her pistol with a flourish and blew the smoke from its imaginary barrel, and then curtsied meekly.  "Fits great! Oh, one more thing." She walked up to the Jules mannequin and planted her feet. She drew her arm back and delivered a hearty slap just as she had the first time. "It's perfect, actually." The head of the mannequin tumbled to the floor.

"Three days is hardly long enough to craft something perfect. Let alone an entire ensemble that turns a ruffian into a posh pirate renegade as Mr Cartier suggested. So you'll have to make due with only the coat I'm afraid."

"Wait, three days? He asked y' to make a coat on the day that I slapped 'im?" She let out a single loud laugh. "I musta knocked something loose! How'd ye get m' measurements, anyhow?"

"Followed you around."

"But I hardly left m' ship after that business, how'd y-"

"You left four times, actually. Two of which you brought back food and wine."

"Ha! Typical. I like you, Ahem, yer fun! An' this coat is perfectly made t' measure, most folks miss just how big I am 'round the middle. You've got me thanks." 

"You know, I think that might be the first time I've gotten a genuine compliment the entire time I've spent under the employ of Mr. Cartier. Go give him hell, captain." She smiled, pushing the moomin gently on her back towards the door. "Oh, but do mingle a bit first. I don't think Jules is quite done making a fool of himself yet. I'm sure he'll call for you." She began packing things into a large trunk.

Not long after, the strange events at Cartier Manor continued to unfold. Captain Whetstone found herself in the courtyard, and Marion in turn found her as well. Refreshments were being served on trays carried by servants in bright blue vests. The pair sat at a table under a parasol, similar settings littered the yard alongside tents, rugs, and a veritable ship's load of furniture. All of this surrounded a large stage, adorned with deep blue ribbons and flowers. 

"That's a fine coat you've found yourself." Marion eyed the embroidery, sitting across from Captain Whetstone.

"Aye? A gift from yer old man I s'pose. Funny seamstress gal made it." She lifted it to show off the liner. "Yer house is massive! Just you lot live there?"

The captain made musings about this, that, and the other, chatting idly with Marion. Time stretched on, and the outing began to seem much less like a duel, and much more like a garden party. With each offered hors d'oeuvre, the captain took at least one of each thing, most of which she tried and set aside without finishing. She did, however, finish each flute of champagne that was brought by. 

The captain held a glass at eye level, staring at the champagne within, boredom getting the better of her. "Marion, how do ye reckon they get the bubbles in th–"

"Welcome, all!"  A voice boomed from the stage, commanding everyone's attention. "Today marks a momentous and fateful occasion." Jules' theatrical manner of speaking finally suited the situation. 

He had chosen an outfit of deep blues and bright whites, with silver buttons. Each article bore a motif of white lilies, trimmed with shimmering silver. The calves and sleeves of his outfit were tight and fitted, while the rest was loose and flowing. All of it was made of a shiny satin exterior, and he wore a large and gallant cape upon his shoulders. It was no doubt the work of the same tailor of Whetstone's coat. His hair was slicked back, and his mustache was waxed into perfect, symmetrical points. Behind him stood a short and portly older moomin, with a curly powdered wig. He was dressed similarly to Mr Cartier, though much simpler and with a brooch bearing the symbol of the King's navy. 

"Today, we bring a close to the scourge upon the seas. I, Jules Cartier, am to end the career of a pirate that has so long plagued the open waters." Not a word left his lips without some manner of posing added to it. Bravado seemed a natural calling for him. "But I, ladies and gentlemen, am no brute! We duel today only to first blood. I have called upon the aid of Governor Woodes Rogers, an experienced pirate hunter, to take down alongside me the infamous Captain Whetstone!" 

Gasps were shared by the crowd, most of whom had likely never heard of Rogers nor Whetstone before the last few days. Jules was building drama for a performance, and the audience was absolutely enraptured. 

"Should your hero prevail today, Miss Whetstone will voluntarily turn herself in at my behest. The streets of Marseille will no longer be subject to her whims, and its surrounding seas shall stand as an affront to all pirates who would dare approach!" 

Rogers, the moomin standing behind Jules, stepped forward. He unfurled an almost comically long document and cleared his throat. "Captain Whetstone, of her own free will, submits heretofore under the crown and will be granted clemency for all acts perpetrated during her stints as a pirate, and shall be pressed into service of the king's navy, or be jailed at once and in perpetuity remain. Here listed are her many crimes, and associated parties-"

"You needn't continue reading Mr Rogers. They can see how long that page is." Jules interrupted. 

"Am I going crazy?" Marion whispered across the table to Whetstone. "I mean I know it's been three days. But it's only been three days. A garden party is one thing, but to organize all of this?" She rested her head in her paws for a moment.

"I don't even think that there's the real Woodes Rogers." She squinted at the man from her seat. "Last I heard it, he were bankrupt or some such. Sued by his own crew. Ought t' be down n' out, not out n' about putzing around France." She searched her pockets for her pipe, remembering that she wasn't wearing her old coat. "That page he's got is like as any t' be blank I'd bet."

"Captain Whetstone, to the stage if you would!" Jules shouted, finishing his speech. 

Marion looked across the table, only now showing her fear. "Be careful up there. He's quicker than he looks." 

"It'll be over 'fore ye know it, lass. If yer dad wants to put on a show fer these folk, then I say let's give 'em a show." She picked up her champagne flute, and swaggered up to the stage. She took her place across from Jules.

"The fearsome pirate captain, Whetstone. Ruffian. Ne'er-do-well. Scoundrel and scallywag. You've plundered your way through the seas and sewn chaos among the citizenry, but that all ends today." Jules once again performed for the audience rather than speaking.

"Aye. All that n' more. And none of it could sate the devil inside me." She growled, mostly unconvincingly. She was, at best, unseasoned as an actor. 

"You're drunk!" Jules said, tugging on a pair of leather gloves. 

"An' yer annoying!"

"Name your second." 

"My what?" The captain shot him a puzzled look. 

"Your second. Someone you trust to bear witness to the duel. Have you never had a proper duel in your life? And yet how many have fallen to your sword alone? How barbaric." Jules rolled his eyes. 

"Ah. Marion'll do it. She's good like that, seems despite yer efforts t' the contrary, you've raised a very capable young woman."

Jules flinched, balling his hands into fists as the captain shouted for Marion to join them on stage. He swallowed his anger, and continued the show. The moomin who may or may not have been Woodes Rogers presented a velvet box, and a servant presented another. They opened the lids revealing one to have within it a set of ornate dueling pistols with pearlescent grips. The other box contained two sideswords decorated with gold engravings upon their blades. 

"The challenged may choose the weapons. The seconds shall inspect the weapons to ensure fairness and quality. Once we are all in agreeance, we shall separate ten or twenty paces, face one another, and the duel can begin in earnest upon the signal of each second." Jules delivered his clearly practiced lines to the crowd. 

"Well I meant what I said. I won't be killin' a man in front o' his own daughter. No pistols. First blood." 

"Swords it is, then. Ten paces instead." 

"I ain't usin' one o' yer swords neither. I made this cutlass and ye won't part me from it." She removed her sword from her belt, handing it to Marion, who had just arrived on stage. "You and yer second can inspect that'un." 

"Very well, captain. I suppose I should have expected no less from a pirate." His words were intensely venomous, annunciating each word with a pompous anger. He turned to face the audience. "The pirate has elected to use her own, crude blade even within the context of a gentlemanly duel!" This elicited whispers from the crowd.

Jules paid no mind to Marion as she presented Whetstone's sword to him and his second. They looked at it for only a moment and both scoffed, despite its elegance and craftsmanship. The captain and her second both carefully examined Jules' blade, finding no flaw or alterations. They agreed, and each took their sword as they took their place on stage. The crowd was silent, and the sound of thunder echoing in the distance was joined only by the footsteps of the two duelists as they took their paces.

Jules held his sword point up, taking a dueling stance as he measured each pace. The captain had returned her sword to its scabbard, and was still holding her flute of champagne. She took each step as though she were crossing stones in a river, occasionally pretending to lose her balance playfully as she watched the audience. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. 

With each step Marion's heart raced, she feared for her future, and for her newfound freedom. She'd found a fondness these last three days and had mostly forgotten her anger to her father until she met with him once more on stage. 

Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. 

Jules gripped his sword tightly, eager to rewrite himself as a hero to the people of Marseille. He turned in his position, waiting for the signal from the seconds. The captain turned as well, sword sheathed, glass in hand. 

"At your will, Mr Rogers." Marion stood beside him near the rear of the stage, out of the duelists' way. Her voice was shaky.

"Begin!" Woodes Rogers shouted without hesitation.

Jules lowered himself, rushing into a full sprint. 

The captain tossed her glass into the air, straight. She drew her cutlass quick as lightning, and with incredible speed and precision, cut the stem from the bell. As the glass descended, she caught it in her paw. The audience gasped, a few even squealed as the base sailed far off into the crowd. 

Jules stopped in his tracks for a moment, on guard. It was too late to back out now, despite the impressive display. 

She took a long, protracted sip before gently setting the unharmed top half of the glass onto the stage upside down next to her, empty. "I hope y' brought yer dancing shoes." She extended her arm, the point of her sword idly aimed at her opponent. 

He rushed to strike first, despite his showmanship he aimed to end the duel as fast as he could. He thrust to the captain's side. She sidestepped, grabbing his wrist with her empty paw, and used his momentum to throw him to the ground. He landed with an anticlimactic albeit quite loud thud on his back. 

"That's disappointing, Jules. I thought y' wanted to give these fine folk a show." She spoke at stage volume. She stood over him, the tip of her cutlass resting just above his chest.

"It's to first blood, captain." He gripped his sword tightly, and swept at her ankles. "And I'm not bleeding yet!" He jumped to his feet the moment she was on the defensive. 

She back-stepped, narrowly avoiding his swing. The audience roared to life having been in rapt silence during their first exchange. They shouted and cheered, nearly drowning out the following clanging of steel. 

Jules ferociously delivered cut and thrust after cut and thrust, he was as well practiced as Marion had said. He'd not met an opponent yet that could hold against his onslaught, and yet the captain was calm and focused, dodging and deflecting each of his blows. 

Whetstone feinted high as she had done with Marion, then swung low at his legs, cutting just the fabric of his pant-leg as he changed his stance. 

She laughed. "Ha! Got yer daughter with that'un, too!" 

He snarled, lunging in and following up with several repeated thrusts. The captain knocked each of them aside. She bound her sword against his and closed any distance between them, using her weight to throw him off balance. Jules fell to the ground once more, but rolled off his back and onto his feet again. He rounded her, swapping sides hoping to gain an advantage. He threatened a cut, but dropped his leg and reached out for a long thrust to the captain's inside line. She had previously been neglecting it and stepping aside, and she wouldn't step aside if she had thought it was a cut. He drove his point home as fast as he could, and then-

Thwap!

Whetstone batted aside his blade by the flat using her paw! She charged in now that he was open, blade raised high. He managed to raise his guard just in time, barely withstanding the weight of an oversized moomin crashing against his sword arm like a heavy wave against a ship's bow. He rounded his opponent once more, returning to his side of the stage. 

Jules hated being on the defensive. He hated even more his opponent. He hated that despite his assuredness in his own skill and the effort he put into this display, he had not bested the captain as quickly as he had hoped. His off hand left his hip, abandoning his dueling stance. He abandoned his footwork, too, in exchange for a mad dash. He began throwing wild cuts in front of him as he charged, yelling the whole way. She threw all of her might into one heavy cut, knocking his sword off line once again. He reeled, regaining his composure. 

He realized that he could not beat her in a competition of strength, nor speed.  He would have to stay calm and search for an opening. "The leg!" He thought to himself. "She may be twice the size of your average moomin, but she's still got shorter legs than a fillyjonk!" He closed in once more, focusing in on waist level thrusts. He began changing his rhythm, repeating the same passing steps in his approach. He'd stab and wait for her to cut, then step and do it again. Biding his time until she went for something trickier.

Whetstone noticed the change in his attitude. He was lithe and by now much more warmed up. It was as though he'd settled into the flow of battle. She held both arms out to her side, as if to say "come at me!" Completely opening up her defenses. He threw a cut to her chest, following up on her opening. She took her sword by its spine at one end, and the grip with the other, and swung up as though she were forcing open a window. He reeled once more as his sword was knocked away, but the captain was wide open for exactly the kind of attack he'd hoped for. He readjusted, then swung for her thigh. 

Seeing this, she leapt back once, being caught off guard by such a near miss. She'd kept her cool through most of the fight, but she was beginning to worry that her fooling around might cost her new friend dearly.  She leapt back again, escaping his reach. She spun off her front leg. Jules watched, unsure of the captain's intentions with such a maneuver. He saw her rear leg swoop up midway through the spin, and then back down as she completed it, as if in slow motion. At first he was confused, but then he remembered. "Oh no." He thought. "Not like this!" 

Her back foot kicked the glass she had left on stage, sending it flying straight at his face. He brought up his sword to block it, or knock it aside, but it was in vain. It shattered against the base of his blade, sending shards flying past it. The collective gasp from the previously uproarious crowd would have sucked the air from the room were they not outside. Even the coming storm stood silent as a trickle of blood ran down Jules' forehead. He reached up and touched it gingerly, examining the aftermath upon his paw. 

"I believe that's first blood, Mr. Cartier." The captain flourished with her sword a moment before returning it to its scabbard. She faced the audience, curtsied meekly, and headed off toward Marion at the rear of the stage. Much of the crowd were confused, some even angry. There was cheering and jeering alike, booing and whistling. Jules remained on stage, utterly defeated as the rain began gently dropping. 

"Congratulations, Miss Whetstone." Jules said. His voice was much less performative, taking on a sinister tone. The captain continued her stride, merely raising her paw dismissively. "You have won the duel…" Jules rushed toward her. "But you will lose your life!" 

"Whetstone! Look out!" Marion cried as loud as she could. 

The captain turned to see Jules just behind her, and coming right at her head was the tip of his sword. She threw herself back, headfirst, but it was too late. His sword dug into her face and tore across her left eye, stopping around the middle of her forehead thanks only to luck and to Marion's warning. She shouted in pain, clutching at the wound on her face with one paw and drawing her sword with the other. 

"This isn't fair!" The wouldbe Woodes shouted, sprinting away. He stumbled into the table that had the dueling boxes atop it, knocking it over. "You didn't tell me you were going to kill her!" 

The audience bellowed with shouts of a similar kind. 

"The duel is over! Stop!"

 "You lost! Give it up!"

"He's lost his mind!"

 Many voices cried over one another.

Several members of the audience shrieked in fear from the sight of so much blood, and several others rushed to the stage in an attempt to stop him from continuing his assault.

"Y' cowardly bastard!" The captain growled, fighting as hard as she could with the use of only one eye. "Marion! Get yerself outta here!" She looked around in a half blind panic.

"Duel or no duel, she's a wanted woman! To the man who brings me her head, you'll claim the bounty and I'll make you the richest man in Marseille!" Jules drew the crowd into a frenzy. Those who weren't tempted by his offer began running to the gate, and those who were tempted began surrounding the stage. They were unarmed but very much outnumbered the two who were now stuck between Jules, the manor, and the gate leading back out into the streets. 

Marion rushed in the same direction as Woodes, shaking with panic. She had to act, and quickly. She picked up one of the pistols from the open dueling boxes, pointing it at her father. She tightened her grip, steadying herself. She'd never fired a pistol before, and despite everything, she'd never wanted to kill her father. "Stop! Stop attacking her this instant or I'll shoot you!" She shouted. Tears were streaming down her face, her hair and clothes now soaked with rain as the storm raged on. 

The captain backed off from the fight, holding her ground as Marion made her plea. Jules stopped as well, turning to face his daughter. The herd of newly made bounty hunters waited, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire. 

"Make sure you take that one alive." Jules pointed at Marion with his sword, gesturing to his makeshift militia. 

Click

Marion pulled the trigger, filled with an array of strong emotions that all burnt up in her anger. Jules paused briefly, seemingly offended. His eyes were wide and mouth agape. The flint struck the frizzen, yet there was no smoke, no flash, no bang. The rain had soaked the powder thoroughly, forcing her threats empty.  

The moment seemed to drag on, the clear line in the sand now drawn between Marion and her home life. She screamed, barely able to hear herself as she threw the gun at him, reaching next for the sword left in the box. The captain used this as an opportunity to rush to Marion's side, scooping her up in a bridal carry at full sprint, off stage. 

"After them, you fools!" Jules regained focus after his brush with death. He'd gone too far now to give up. He'd all but given up on raising his daughter to be the way he wanted her, but he refused to relinquish even the slightest bit of control, especially to a pirate. 

Captain Whetstone ran as fast as she could toward the gate. The path was clear and the only remaining bystanders had just made it through. Jules was the fastest among the duo's pursuers, quickly taking charge ahead of his group. The grass underfoot was slick, and the rugs placed upon it now waterlogged. Thunder crashed within the sky, bellowing throughout the humid air below. 

"Come back you coward! Blaggard! Face your fate!" Jules shouted above the racket of the storm as he ran. 

The captain stumbled, woozy from her injury, dropping Marion in the process. They both stopped only a moment, with Jules gaining on them. The gate was tantalizingly near, and their hope for escape pushed them onward. The pair righted themselves and passed the threshold, soon to be followed by Jules and his cohorts. 

"I have you now, you wretch!" Jules raised his sword, closing in. He chanced a cut at the captain's leg rather than attempting to tackle a woman likely twice his weight. 

tst-BOOM

A shot rang out, crushing beneath it for a moment the sound of storm and step alike. Smoke plumed from a covered balcony one floor up, just outside the gate to the Cartier Manor courtyard. Whatever onlookers remained nearby scattered at the sound. 

"I reckon I already told ye…" a hoarse voice spoke from behind the smoke. "Keep yer promises, Cap'n. Lest I be keepin' 'em fer ye." A rugged hemulen woman set her spent rifle to the side, lifting a loaded one from a row against the railing she was perched at. 

For the briefest of moments the world fell silent as those in the vicinity searched for the object of Ruth's aim. The silence broke with the anguished scream of Jules, his sword clattering to the ground as he clutched his arm where he'd been shot. 

"Ruthie!" The captain shouted, gleeful and relieved. 

"Put some wind in yer sails, kid! Ye promised me no foolishness. Ye get that girl outta here, an' maybe I won't be considr'in it foolish n'more!" She took aim, putting a shot between the wounded Mr Cartier and his thugs. The shot caused a few of them to rethink, running back into the courtyard. She once again set her empty rifle aside, picking up a fresh one. "Avast! I've got 'nuff guns up 'ere to take the lot of ye! What'll it be?" She asked the duo's pursuers, mounting her gun on the railing.

Captain Whetstone and Marion ran as far and as fast as they ever had before. Despite eventually making their escape, the two were in need of leave from Marseille. Jules' ire is doubtless to have stirred all manner of trouble, and he had a wound to prove his opponent's guilt. When they arrived at the docks that evening, out of hiding, The Honeyed Word was no longer moored at the harbor. The surrounding area was lousy with law, searching for the both of them. They spent that night together in a cove on the beach tending to Whetstone's wound, making plans for tomorrow and the tomorrow beyond that. 

–

"That's awful, Miss Puukko!" Moominmama had returned from the kitchen to the veranda with a tray set for coffee. She set it down upon the table, having a seat next to her husband. 

"Yes, quite! And what became of the two of you next?" Papa asked from his seat across the table. His agreeance to Mama's exclamation was betrayed by the excitement in his voice. He held a love for all things nautical as well as for a good story, and could not hide it. 

The fluffy brown moomin scratched at the underside of her snout, eyes fixed on the distance as she reminisced. It was a calm, and pleasantly warm evening in Moominvalley. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon and crickets chirped from their hiding places. She puffed on her pipe, exhaling deeply with a contented sigh. She bore a scar across her left eye, and the heavy brow of a long life. Seeing her dressed comfortably, swapping stories on the veranda,  you'd hardly believe she'd once been a fearsome pirate captain. Obscurity suited her quite well, as the last breath of a legend long past. 

"In my absence, Ruthie 'ad told me crew t' weigh anchor an' make fer somewhere near. I reckon I'd consider her t' be a hero, least by my account anyway..." She took another drag off her pipe. "Trouble were certain to have found them if she hadn't got 'em outta there. That was the last anyone saw of her. Sent some men that-a-way fer to go about findin' her some time later. Not hide nor hair. I think she aimed t' make the rest o' her life a quiet one."

"But you pirates are all flare and bravado! A life of excitement, and er, uh, and freedom! Why would you want to give up that?" Moominpapa gestured in his chair as he spoke. 

"Papa…" his wife laid her paw on his arm as if to settle him down. 

"It's a fine thing t' be sure, fer a spell. But it's got its rigors. I fear what I mean t' say ain't kind enough fer this valley. It's foul, and it's wretched. Turn folk into beasts and beasts into.. well I hardly even know what ye'd call it. Bastards 'n scoundrels. When ya find a one like the one I were sweet on, well… it's hard t' live a life like that seein' thems that you'd protect with their teeth gritted behind a sword." She dropped a sugar cube into her cup, watching it slowly dissolve beneath the dark waves of coffee. 

"And to think I'm the one writing memoirs." Papa mused. "And what happened to Marion?"

"After we made it back aboard me ship, I weren't in a way fit fer sailing. Without a first mate and without their captain and helmsman, the crew had t' band together. They fell in with Marion right quick. She'd read up on sailing her whole life, call to the sea an' all that. Just ne'er put it to practice. Did a good turn at the old bailiwick once more, plundered as many ships carryin' the Cane King stuff 'tween Nassau, Curaçao and near Marseille as we could. She learnt t' be quite fierce in a short while. A force to be reckoned with under my care. We became as tall tales walkin'... We got t' bein' quite close, too. Didn't ne'er get to talking out the particulars though, I'm afraid." 

She stopped for a moment, enjoying the coffee, company, and relative peace and quiet. Ever since she'd moved to Moominvalley she'd known more peace than she ever had. Even in her own childhood home,  there were always storms and turmoil. As no more than a pup on the seas apprenticing under good men, she knew even further strife and noise. From her start on the seas she thought she could earn the peace she had now, and never did. 

"It's funny how misfortune and heartache can get ye where ye need t' be goin'. We coulda stayed tall tales iffin things hadn't shaken out like they did. The thing about it is…" She took one last puff on her pipe before tapping it into the ashtray. 

"Whether or not ye tuck it when ye run, if ye made yer tale long enough, someone always catches ye by it in the end. But that's a story fer another time I suppose."

[bluepallilworld]

✨Surprise! ✨

I'm launching a new story for my dark cream ship kids and co ^^

I usually don't warn before the first part is done but I thought Mimosa's birthday was a good day to announce it!

A Tear's Soul!

I already showed that drawing (hehe it's the cover) but now I can talk about it ;3

The project is gonna a mix of comics and writings (because I'd burn myself out trying to do full comic when I'm not very experienced in those... They're hard, ok?)

Sooo it's gonna take me a while........................

Even if I try to shorten it as much as possible (10 parts unless problems)

I think the ones who'd be interested all know how my projects usually go, it's not gonna be a cute, fluffy story uwu. It'll have some fluff tho promise, but angst is part of the journey here! I'll give warnings each time I feel it's necessary :P

So!

If it interests you and you wish to be tagged on it, tell me now and you'll be tagged in each update :D

[I had to compress that gif, it was too big XD]

[cyncerity]

Hey New AU Time!!

i’ve been planning this one for a while so please ask questions or comment or lmk if you wanna see more! It’s very much inspired by my love of analog style horror and i made it after watching Vita Carnis in one night if that tells you anything

The story here:

Tommy is your average high schooler in a normal world. Well, normal to him. This world is infested with mutant bug monsters that have been around for centuries.

Originally, humanity reacted like it was the end of the world, and the apocalypse lasted a few decades. Over time, though, humanity learned to evade these insectoid monsters, and now have adapted to living in a much more dangerous world. Point is, it’s normal nowadays to hear of a massive man eating bug creature in the woods near your house! Just means a few days off of school while you hide in the mandated fallout shelter houses have now! Fun!

Anyway, back to Tommy. He’s got good grades, nice friends, a good dad and adopted brother, and two new foster brothers that he’s very close with! Nothing could go wrong!

Until it can, of course.

Tommy begins hearing a voice, someone under the command of a “Saint,” whatever that meant. Plans for an invasion. Plans for what “each of them” needed to do to take the city down in the coming months.

Tommy, baffled and more than a little terrified eventually just starts pleading with the voice to stop. To his surprise, it does!…until the speaker tracks him down and finds him in person.

Turns out Tommy’s been unwillingly listening in on a hive mind plan between “the Parasites” and their “Saint” (Saints are high ranked Insectoids sent specifically by The Queen to watch over certain areas) in this area leading them to finally come out of hiding now that their numbers were up for the final stand against humanity. Which is a huge problem since bugs aren’t people, they are massive mutant bugs. Theres never been a human looking bug. Until now, apparently, as Tommy learns that Parasites have existed for years, infiltrating and gaining trust in human society to take it down from the inside. And now Tommy is the only one who knows this. The speaker, Dream, as he introduces himself, says that he’s the head leader of the charge in this city specifically, and emphasizes (mildly annoyed) how important it is for Tommy to do his part in the coming fight.

The only issue? Tommy is, like, 99% sure he’s not a Parasite. He goes to a human school, has human friends, a human family, and so on.

He explains this to Dream, and subsequently fails all tests Dream throws his way to test if he’s Insectoid (verbal tests, anyway; Dream doesn’t know how to test physically since Tommy isn’t old enough to have developed insectoid traits yet anyway). Dream gets super confused how he could hear the hive mind, then, and deduces that surely Tommy must be a bug of some kind. Tommy disagrees and tries to leave to tell some sort of authority that the city is full of bug people readying to attack, but Dream is smart enough to realize what he’s doing and threatens his human family that Tommy so desperately cares about as a way to keep him silent. He also says he’ll be keeping an eye on Tommy and conversing with his Saint to see just what’s wrong with him and what they should do.

Now it’s up to Tommy to try to keep delaying Dream’s attack plans and try to subtly hint to his family and friends that things are about to go to horribly wrong.

Dream, on the other hand, starts his master plan of bringing his dumbass Parasite friends to Tommy to help him figure just what exactly he is, and maybe break him of whatever attachment he has to these humans around him so that they can recruit him to the Insectoid cause.

All the while Tommy is trying to grapple with the ever increasing odds that he may not be as human as he once believed…

[wormy-worm]

ANDROMEDA BE UPON YE

[randaccidents]

Heart's live reaction for the chicken plush:

ehehe mini fic potential ask mini fic potential ask-

For context: This is a part of the au I havent talked about much and links to another part that I am. Slightly stuck on trying to bang out. It's specifically the darkest part of the Heartless story (aka the part that looks the most hopeless).

(digging through story doc) General story beats you need to know for this mini fic are just that. This is after they convince Heart he is wanted, but Heart is not convinced he is needed, and his progress stagnates. Perseverance is too blunt about the issue and starts a MASSIVE argument between them. Heart, reminded of the thoughts and emotions he had in Apathy by the argument, relapses into random bouts of unconsciousness (luckily not back into a full coma like before).

Penitence blames Perseverance, Perseverance blames himself. He had just finished the chicken plush for Heart. He was building up the courage to give it to him. Now Penitence won't even let him be in the same ROOM as Heart. Or hear him out. Or interact with him. It's been 5 days since he last slept, the longest he has ever gone.

He manages something anyways. Sneaks in while Penitence is asleep and places the chicken plush into Heart's arms. He needs to give it to Heart before he tries what he's been considering for the last few days.

SO thats where we are for this little mini fic >:3.

Heart wakes up to a chicken plush.

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

The first thing he registers as consciousness crept back in was the gentle weight of something soft in his arms. He scrunched up his nose, weakly shifting his arms in an attempt to figure out what had been given to him. Finding the object was shaped too weirdly to be deduced, Heart sighed. He really didn't want to wake up and face Mind and Soul. Or well, just Soul these past few days. (Did Mind give up on him after hearing what he did? Is that why he hasn't come to see him? Stupid Heart acting on stupid Emotions too inefficient for him? He is unwanted, unneeded, just keep your eyes closed and push the emotions away and fade back into that blissful emptiness without hurt-)

There is a weight in his arms. Heart was always a curious creature. He slowly let one eye peek open, reluctance to face the dawn making the task difficult. A single, black buttoned eye stared back. Blinking both eyes open in shock, Heart gasped quietly.

It was a chicken plush. A small, round thing, made with familiar purplish-white fabric, black button eyes looking out and into him. It was a little lop-sided, sitting slanted in his arms, a more intense shade of purple peeking out from under its belly. Blackened fingers shivering from disbelief, Heart carefully tilted the plush onto its back, uncovering the orchid-coloured heart that sat sewn into its belly. A familiar, orchid-coloured heart.

It's the same one he had Soul sew onto all his hoodies. He runs a finger over the stitching around it, unwilling to believe it. But no, it is the same heart actually, he'd recognize the feeling of those stitches anywhere. Why would they-?

The sound of shuffling behind him had him hiking up his shoulders, arms curling protectively around his new possession. (When did he decide the plush was his? Maybe when he realized it was definitely made with him in mind.)

A hand on his shoulder gently shook him. {"Yo. If you're conscious, good morning Hear- what the fuck."} Heart tensed up at the curse, digging his fingers into the plush and curling around it, trying to hide it from view. (Please don't take this away from him. He hasn't quite processed the tangle of emotions that the plush brought him, but they are nice and warm emotions, and he wants to bask in nice and warm emotions for once.)

He heard Soul sputter behind him for a moment before sighing. The mattress dipped downwards behind his back, making Heart peek up at Soul's back. (It was still weird to him to see Soul wearing long sleeves. Even in the past, Soul would roll up the sleeve on everything he wore even if stolen from others. They never did tell him why that changed.)

He quickly looked away when he noticed Soul turning to face him, gently digging his fingers into the chicken plush in his arms. The chicken was much nicer to him than his halves had been anyway. So soft and squishy, its little button eyes unable to express judgement, only innocence. It made the long-lost feeling of happiness bubble up in his chest. Someone made this for him.

Soul's hand returning to his shoulder stole his attention again. {"...sorry for the poor response Heart, I was just surprised,"} Soul mumbled. Heart tilted his head slightly. Didn't Soul make the plush?

Confusion drove his leaden tongue into movement. ("I thought you made this...?")

{"What- I- no! I mean, I am making something for you- ignore what I just said it was supposed to be a surprise- point is, I didn't make this."}

Heart rolled over, staring wide eyed up at Soul. He didn't make this? But that only left... ("...Mind? I thought he hated me.")

He watched Soul's equally wide eyes blink back at him, forgetting in his shock that it had been days since he had shown this much energy, much less willingly met their gaze. He watched their mouth open and close silently before words finally escaped. {"Where did you get that idea?"}

Heart winced, looking away as days-old bitterness surged up his throat, turning his words to poison. ("He hasn't come by since we argued. He must hate me to stay far away like that, stupid Emotional Side making stupid decisions.")

Soul groaned behind him, muffled curses leaking through his red lips. Heart gently pet the chicken plush, letting the soft plush fabric calm him and remind him of his confusion. Mind made this? For him? For him.

{"I'm a fucking idiot."}

Heart tilted his head, curious to know more yet not wishing to face Soul again. Soul muttered before raising his voice once more, addressing Heart. {"Perseverance hasn't been avoiding you, Heart. I just haven't allowed the two of you to be in the same room as each other. I don't want another rela- another fight."}

(Curious, the word that Soul tripped over. Heart was almost certain he almost said "relapse". But Heart wasn't sick, he was doing just fine without the plague of emotions in his chest. He was finally being efficient. He promises.)

He grumbled quietly at the other implication in Soul's words instead. ("Of course it was you. It's always you.") Blackened fingers squeezed the plush in his hands firmly, feeling the shift of what must be pellets inside. ("Mind would never be able to stay away. Only you would keep us separate after a fight. Not like it worked well the last-") Choking on his anger and betrayal and hurt and bitterness, Heart shoved his face into the fabric of the chicken, shuddering. No. He cannot think about Apathy right now. The memory of it was too cold, and today he wants to stay awake and appreciate his new chicken plush.

Breathe. The chicken plush is soft and warm against his face. A rock in the tide of his returning emotions. He isn't sure he hated their return at the moment. Breathe. Mind cared about him, had made the weight that he was using to hide his face from the world. Breathe. Soul... probably did too. Separating them after fights was normal, and he did mention a gift he was working on too, even if by accident. Breathe.

A hand on his shoulder had him flinching away, rolling back over to face the wall. Soul's voice is quiet behind him. {"...I can go get Perseverance if you want?"}

Go get Mind, he means. Let them finally see each other face to face for the first time since the argument, he means. (Except that's not true, because Mind must have snuck in to gift the chicken plush. Heart feels grateful.) Heart nods shakily, exhaling a shivering, icy breath.

He waits until the door clicks closed before lifting his face from the plush. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he grimaces. That was definitely one of the downsides of letting his emotions back in, he decides, the choking flood.

Rolling back onto his back, he places the chicken plush on his chest, letting the unevenly sewn toy list sideways as his fingers explored its form, taking in its calming weight. A weak smile crawled over his lips as his fingers found uneven stitches at every seam. Mind never was too interested in crafts, making the effort it put in all the more touching, the emotion warm in his chest. This was something he missed about his emotions, he decides, the soothing warmth.

...he is going to ask why it had to use one of his hoodies though. He recognizes the colour and feel of the fabric. He's sure Mind would give him a logical reason, so it had better be a good one. (Whatever reason it was would already be a good one. The plush is warm and soft and safe, and it is a gift. It makes him, dare he admit it, happy.) Wrapping his arms around the chicken plush, he squeezed it against his chest, letting the warmth of the emotions it inspired ground him as he waited.

[starrysharks]

chapter 1 of reassassination's nearly done script-wise! hopefully the next chapters won't take like 6 months of on-and-off work to complete lol