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puckinghischier · 5 months ago

Text

Choices

Jack Hughes x fem!reader

summary: jack proves that he will always choose reader, no matter what anyone has to say

notes: so, the first part of this is literally my favorite thing i’ve ever written. the ending? meh. i don’t hate it, but i definitely think it could have been done better, i just struggle so hard with endings 😭. i also lowkey don’t like the title, but literally couldn’t think of a different one. anyways, i hope you enjoy!! happy reading! 🫶🏼

can be read as a part 2 to this fic, but can also be read by itself

request: Could you write something with Jack getting defensive/choosing her? Maybe he gets cornered by an ex flame or someone about what makes reader so special to get him to commit to a serious relationship when he didn't with her

[6.7k]

“Are you sure I don’t need to dress up tonight? I know you said they’re just some old family friends, but I want to make a good impression,” you question Jack, standing in front of the full-length mirror propped against the wall.

You’re wearing a pale, yellow sundress with daisies imprinted all across the fabric. Jack insisted the Lawsons were just old friends of the family, having owned the house down the street since he was just a kid.

Since meeting Jack’s family last year, you’ve been his plus one to every single trip he’s made home. At thanksgiving he brought you home for a quick, two day trip to meet his grandparents and a few pairs of aunts and uncles, before having to fly out again because of his game schedule. Around Christmas the two of you split your time, spending the actual holiday with your family, then flying to meet Jack’s family for New Year’s activities, where you met several cousins and old school friends of Jack’s.

This year, you’re celebrating the Fourth of July in Michigan, finally getting to experience the infamous Hughes lake house. Jack was able to convince you to spend an entire month here at the large house, telling you the trip was for the Fourth festivities, but suggesting you leave a few weeks beforehand, wanting you to get the full lake house experience.

You had spent your days switching between joining his family on the large pontoon boat sitting at the end of their dock and going out on adventures with Jack alone on the pair of Jet skis Quinn had bought after his first paycheck came in during his rookie year. A few nights a week, Jack would tell you to put on something nice, showing you around the small town a few miles away from the house, taking you to each of his favorite childhood spots for dinner.

One night he had told you to put on the nicest dress you brought, then proceeded to take you to an old, beach themed bar. He sat across from you at the high top table in a collared shirt and khakis, the rest of the patrons around you in their bathing suit cover ups or shorts and t-shirts.

You scolded him, telling him you two looked like fools in there, all dressed up to eat fried seafood. He laughed, telling you the only fool in the room was him, because he was “foolishly and wholly in love with you.” You rolled your eyes at his mushy-ness, a blush making its way to your cheeks at the same time.

That memory, however, is the reason you no longer trust Jack when he tells you to either dress up or dress down for dinners. Including tonight.

“I promise, you don’t have to dress up. You could wear your bathing suit for all I care,” he calls out from the bathroom where he’s ‘fixing’ his hair, which usually means brushing it and then ruffling it around with his hands. “I mean, mom might not be too happy if you’re sitting at the dinner table in just a bikini, but I’d sure enjoy the show.”

You scoff at his words, turning to go and stand in the doorway of the ensuite, crossing your arms.

“I’m being serious, J. I want to make a good impression on these people. They’re really good friends of your parents. Your mom was telling me how you all used to spend almost the entire summer together, constantly over at one another’s houses for dinner and fire talks,” you remember how excited Ellen was to be having her friends over for dinner tonight, claiming she hadn’t seen them in years because of how busy their lives had gotten.

Ellen also mentioned they had a daughter around your and Jack’s age who was in with her parents for the summer. Her name is Sarah and she’s a department director of some big advertisement company in New York. She stopped coming around as often around the same time Jack got drafted to the Devils, according to Ellen. Her job being too demanding for her to make the trip every summer.

You were excited to meet yet another person that knew Jack as a kid. You were hoping to rope a few stories out of her over the course of dinner, wanting to know as much as you can about Jack’s childhood from those around him. Sometimes you really hate the fact that you haven’t known Jack his whole life. You count yourself one of the luckiest people alive to be able to share his life with him now, but you’re always picturing him growing up, wanting to know every detail of what makes Jack, Jack.

Quinn and Luke are always eager to tell you anything you want to know about Jack, from the time he wanted to be “TP man” for Halloween and proceeded to wrap his entire body in toilet paper, wearing the empty rolls on his hands, to the time he wanted to ask his eighth-grade crush out on a date, but instead blurted out that he had to go home to massage their dad’s feet.

You always enjoyed hearing stories about him from people that weren’t his mischievous brothers, though. Like when his grandma told you about the time she got home to see that Jack had rearranged her kitchen cabinets, placing everything he saw her use on a regular basis closer to where she could reach it after watching her drop her favorite mug while trying to put it away on the second highest shelf that morning. Or when his best friend from high school told you about the time Jack gave him a ride home from practice, stopping in to say hello to his parents when Jack heard his little sister crying in her room because she couldn’t figure out her math homework. Jack stayed over for nearly two hours to help the little girl with her multiplication table and gave her words of encouragement the entire time.

You knew Jack was someone special, his calming energy easing your nerves from the first time you ever spoke to him. Hearing the stories that confirm he’s been this way his whole life, from the people that have known him far longer than you, though, makes you burst with so much love for the man you think your heart might actually explode one day.

“And I’m being serious, Sunshine, what you’re wearing is fine and won’t change the fact that they’re going to absolutely love you, just like everyone else does,” Jack walks over to stand in front of you.

You uncross your arms, letting them fall to your sides. Jack reaches down and takes each one of your hands into his, stepping forward slightly.

“I just…I care about how the people that know you view me. It’s important to me that the people important to you know that I love you, not that I’m just trying to ride on the back of some hot shot hockey player,” you whisper, referencing a blog post you were sent by one of your coworkers back in Jersey, asking if the girl in the picture was, in fact, you sitting on Jack’s lap in a crowded bar you went to for a post-game celebration.

The post talked about how you had been seen with Jack at a few games and were seen leaving several bars with him over the course of a few weeks early into your relationship. The blog site was a silly, hockey gossip blog, more concerned about who the players were sleeping with than any of the games themselves, but the accusation made your heart sink nonetheless. You knew you were with Jack for no reason other than you love him and he makes you feel safe, comfortable, and loved. Jack knows you’re not with him for his money, and anyone close to him knows you’re not with him for his money or fame.

He could quit hockey tomorrow and it wouldn’t change even an ounce of your feelings towards him. With or without hockey, he’s still your Jack. The Jack that makes you honey lavender tea every night because he knows it helps you sleep. The Jack that somehow manages to bring you flowers after every home game, no matter how late it is. The Jack that insisted you move in with him after your lease ended because his apartment is closer to your new job, but really because he was tired of not coming home to you every night. The Jack that showed up to your graduation this spring, bringing nearly his whole team and his family, the group cheering so loud when you walked across the stage everyone in attendance laughed, the person handing you your diploma commenting “sounds like you have a few fans out there.”

Even though you know that Jack knows, and his family knows, each time you meet someone new from his life, you feel the need to prove yourself. It’s part of the reason you were so anxious to meet his parents all those months ago. You worry that each person you meet has seen or read an article like the one you were sent. You worry they’ll think you’re not right for Jack, or that you’re only with him to get a taste of the popularity and lifestyle that comes along with his job. All you want is to show them how much you love him for him, and how you never want to leave his side.

Jack looks down at you, bringing your joined hands up to his mouth, pulling them together and kissing your knuckles.

“I promise you, no one here thinks that,” he starts, his words oozing with sincerity. “There is not a single person that matters to me in my life more than you. And absolutely no one’s opinion of you matters to me other than your own. Do you think you’re with me for the wrong reasons?” He asks you, waiting for you to answer him.

You shake your head no, breaking his eye contact.

“Hey, look at me,” he squeezes your hands that are still resting near his mouth, bringing your eyes back to his. “Then absolutely nothing else matters, okay? I know who you are, and you know who you are. Last time I checked, we’re the only two in this relationship, so that’s the only two people I’ll ever be looking to for opinions concerning my choices in this relationship, got it?”

You nod, a little embarrassed you were ever worried in the first place after his small speech, but still needing the hear his words nonetheless.

You’re still looking up at him, opening your mouth to tell him how much you love him when your stomach growls between the two of you, loud enough you nearly jump back.

Jack’s eyes flicker down to your stomach and back up to your eyes, the amusement in them making the blue shade shine even brighter.

“On that note, let’s go get you something to eat,” he chuckles, kissing your forehead before dropping one of your hands, the other still intwined with yours, pulling you out of the room behind him.

Jack led you down to the kitchen, digging around in the fridge to sneak you a snack before everyone sat down for dinner, knowing the meal wouldn’t be ready for at least another hour.

After he was satisfied that you weren’t going to starve, thanks to the small bowl of fruit he found, the two of you walked out to the back deck, joining everyone else.

The Lawsons had already arrived, Jim and Ellen standing on the other side of the large deck, conversing with Mr. and Mrs. Lawson separately.

Mrs. Lawson is a short, slim woman. Her hair is flawlessly styled into a ‘looks lazy but really took an hour’ up do, wearing a light purple, short sleeve pleated dress that fell just above her ankles, a simple pair of sandals on her feet.

Her husband is a tall man with salt and pepper hair, wearing a matching polo shirt and khaki shorts, a pair of Hey Dude brand shoes on his feet.

As soon as the two of you walked out onto the porch, Ellen was immediately halting her conversation to introduce you to the guests.

“Oh! There they are! Aren’t they just dolls? Look at them!” she gushed, walking over to greet the two of you.

You smile warmly at her, your relationship with Jack’s mom almost as dear to you as your relationship with your own. The two of you were able to sit and talk with one another during the hockey game her and Jim had come into town for the first time you met them. You both were invested in the game itself, considering all three Hughes boys were on the ice that night, but the intermissions were full of conversations and stories. You left the rink that night feeling like you had gained another mother, exchanging numbers with Ellen and promising to keep in touch. You now have weekly phone calls with Ellen, her interest in your life and well being matching that of her interest in her son’s.

“Mom, we literally saw you an hour ago on the boat, calm down,” Jack tells her, earning soft smack to his chest from you.

“Don’t be a grump, Jack. She’s telling us how good we look and you choose now to suddenly act like you don’t love being told you look pretty,” you scold.

Jack looks down at you with his mouth slightly open, putting on his best fake offended face.

“See, I told you she keeps him in check for me. Now I don’t have to carry the burden all by myself anymore,” Ellen tells Mrs. Lawson, earning a laugh from the woman standing just behind her.

You and Jack continue to have a small stare down until he conceded, choosing to flash a smile at you instead, sticking his tongue out like a child and earning a small giggle from you.

“Y/N, this is Deborah, but we all call her Deb. Deb, this is Y/N, my new baby girl,” Ellen breaks up yours and Jack’s moment, introducing you to Mrs. Lawson.

“Hi, it’s so nice to meet you Mrs. Lawson,” you say, removing your hand from Jack’s so you could step forward and give a small, greeting hug to the woman in front of you.

“Oh honey, Mrs. Lawson was my mother-in-law, please, call me Deb,” she tells you as she pulls back from the hug.

“Okay, Deb is it,” you laugh, stepping back beside Jack.

“C’mere, I need a hug from you too, Jack,” she motions Jack over to her, your boyfriend walking over to give her a slightly longer hug than you shared with her. “My, you’ve grown up, haven’t you? Last time I saw you, you were just getting ready to declare yourself draft eligible. Now look at you, the real deal.”

Jack blushes as he steps back towards you, knowing how shy he gets when complimented.

He may be cocky on the ice and in interviews, but you’ve learned that when it comes to the people that are close to him, Jack is extremely humble. He turns a light shade of pink any time you compliment how well he played after a game, or when his mom calls to tell him she watched his game on tv and cheered so loud she woke their cat up anytime he scored a goal.

“Just enjoy playing the game, is all,” he slips his hand back into yours. You give it a light squeeze.

“Ron, quit talking golf and get over here! Come say hi to Jack and his girlfriend!” Deb turns and shouts to her husband behind her. Both Mr. Lawson and Jim leave their spot by the heating grill and walk over to join your small group.

“Jack, how are ya, boy?” Mr. Lawson walks up, pulling Jack from your hold, bringing him in by his arm for what you call a ‘guy’ hug, each having one arm slug over the other’s shoulders, their clasped hands trapped between their chests.

“Getting by alright. Happy to have a bit of a break. Couldn’t wait to show Y/N here the ways of the lake house,” Jack motions to where you stand slightly behind him.

“Oh gosh, where are my manners. Hi, sweetheart, I’m Ron,” Mr. Lawson sticks his hand out towards you, shaking it softly.

“Hi, Jack’s told me a lot about you two. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Lawson” you reference both of the Lawsons, repeating part of your greeting to Deb.

“Oh, no, Mr. Lawson is my father, I’m just Ron, dear,” he mirrors his wife’s earlier statement, stepping over to place his arm around her waist.

You chat with the couple a bit longer, noticing after a few minutes that Quinn and Luke are nowhere to be found. Neither was their daughter Ellen had mentioned earlier.

“Not to interrupt, but where are Quinn and Luke?” you ask just as Ellen finishes telling Ron and Deb about a recent cruise her and Jim had been on.

“Oh, they took Sarah out for a spin on the boat before dinner. She said she missed the water, so away they went,” Deb explains, looking over to Jack. “She’s so excited to see you again, Jack. She always talks about wanting to get across the bridge to see a game, but you know her, a workaholic and all.”

You sense a slight rigidness in Jack’s body language at the mention of Sarah. He responds with a simple “Yeah, that’s a shame,” not offering any other words about the mystery girl.

You were confused. You had thought Ellen said the boys were friends with Sarah growing up. Why did Jack tense up when she was mentioned? Had there been some sort of falling out? Was he not excited to see her? He hadn’t mentioned anything when you brought her up earlier, causing you to assume he just didn’t know much about her, having lost contact after they both were busy and didn’t have as much time to spend at the lake anymore.

As soon as Jack had finished speaking, you heard loud laughter coming from the long deck at the end of the house’s yard, seeing three figures quickly approaching the porch you were standing on.

“See, told you I could still beat you, just like when I was a kid!” you hear an unfamiliar voice call out, footsteps coming up the wooden stairs leading to the porch.

“Not fair, you didn’t tell me it was a race until you were already at the end of the deck,” you recognize the voice this time, Luke uttering his words between fast breaths.

As you look towards the stairs, you see one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen in your life step onto the porch.

She had jet black hair that fell to her mid back, perfectly pin straight. She had the greenest eyes you think you’d ever seen, and her tan skin was a shade that people usually had to be photoshopped to achieve. She was wearing a sundress similar to yours, but hers was a baby blue color, complementing her skin tone and hair perfectly. It fell right at her mid-thigh, and had a floral print running across the fabric.

“Hey, everyone. Hope we didn’t miss dinner,” she said, waltzing over to the wet bar to grab a bottle of water as Luke and Quinn make their way up the stairs, coming to stand a few feet from you and Jack.

“Oh, not even close, honey. You’re just in time. Your dad and Jim were just about to put the chicken on the grill,” Deb tells her daughter, beaming at her.

She walks over to join everyone, not stopping until she’s stood right in front of Jack.

“Oh, Jacky! I’ve missed you so much! It’s been so long!” she wraps him in a hug. His arms stay pinned to his sides, his body going rigid with discomfort. You notice the looks from Quinn and Luke, confused at their wide eyes.

He coughs, causing her to detach herself from his body, but not removing her hand from his shoulders.

“Well, that hockey training sure has been good to you, hasn’t it Jacky,” she continues, squeezing his biceps with a smirk before dropping her hands, completely ignoring you.

The second her hands leave his body, Jack is stepping back over to you, placing his hand on your waist.

“Uhh, Sarah, this is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, Sarah,” Jack says, squeezing you to his side.

“Oh! You’re the new girlfriend my mom was telling me about. How sweet!” she coos, placing her hand on her chest. “Jack, she’s so pretty. But, what happened to Macey? You know, the one with the pretty blonde hair? Oh, and the absolute insane body. Seriously, I need her personal trainer’s number,” she asks, looking around at everyone.

You think about your brunette hair and know exactly what she’s trying to do.

“Not in the picture anymore. Didn’t really like the fact that she kept sticking her tongue down some Philly player’s throat when she came to visit me during an away game,” Jack spat out, grinding his teeth.

“What a shame. I liked her,” Sarah waved it off, making a small pout with her lips. “But, I’m sure you’re great too!” she added as an after thought, flashing the fakest smile you’ve ever seen.

You feel a presence step up behind you, Quinn slyly whispering “ex-girlfriend” in your ear, suddenly making Jack’s body language and her backhanded warmth towards you make sense.

“Okay, well, time to go get the food on the grill. Food will be ready in around thirty,” Jim claps his hands together, sensing the need to break up the awkward moment.

“Oh great, I’m absolutely starving,” Sarah exaggerates her last word, turning and walking towards the sliding glass door leading to the kitchen.

You stand there, not knowing how to process what just happened, Jack’s grip on you as tight as ever. You look over to Ellen, who gives you a sympathetic look.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Deb sighs and shakes her head in amusement, completely oblivious to her daughter’s fake niceness and obvious flirting with Jack. “She’s something else, isn’t she? Such a little firecracker,” she reflects, nothing but adoration in her tone and on her face.

“Yeah, one that backfires into the innocent bystanders,” Quinn mumbles under his breath, earning a snort from Luke. Ellen shoots them a glare, darting her eyes towards Deb to see if she heard, but the older woman was still staring adoringly at her daughter in the kitchen through the glass doors.

Thirty minutes later, just like Jim announced, everyone was sat at the large outdoor table, food covering the large surface.

The food was amazing, the bowl of fruit from earlier long gone as you sat down to fill your plate, wanting seconds of almost everything.

“Jack, will you hand me the potato salad, I swear, I can’t get enough of it,” you ask your boyfriend who’s sitting to your right.

He reaches over and grabs the bowl, scooping a spoonful on to your plate for you. “That good? Or you want more?”

“No, that’s good. Gotta save room for dessert,” you tell him, picking up your fork to dig in.

Jack places his hand on your thigh, smiling over at the little happy dance you do when you scoop the potato salad into your mouth.

“Oh, I’m so full,” you hear Sarah say, raising her voice to make sure the whole table hears her. “I wish I could be like you, Y/N, I’d love to have seconds, but I just cannot hold another bite, I’m already so bloated as it is,” she places her hands over her stomach to emphasize. “You’re so lucky you’ve already snagged a man and don’t have to worry about watching what you eat anymore.”

You stop mid-chew, her words sinking in.

You look around the table, everyone looking at you. Deb and Ron are smiling at you, not at all reacting to their daughter’s words, likely not even understanding the connotation of what she just said. Ellen and Jim are looking at Sarah, their eyebrows raised in shock. Quinn is glaring at her while Luke’s mouth is dropped open.

Jack’s hand is digging into your thigh, his other hand closed, clenches in a tight fist on the tablet next to his glass of water.

You finish chewing your food and swallow thickly, placing your fork down and sliding your plate away from you.

“Oh, no, don’t stop on my account. I’d kill to be able to be as comfortable as you are. Not having to worry about impressing anyone anymore, just being able to know you’re loved, no matter what you look like,” she continues, taking a sip of her water to hide her smirk.

You bow your head, your face a shade of red you can physically feel, refusing to meet anyone’s eye.

Luke coughs, a faint “bitch” heard by your ears.

“Okay, I think it’s time we clear the table for dessert, shall we,” Ellen pipes up, her own smile strained.

“Great idea, let me help you,” Deb, either still oblivious or intentionally ignoring the hurtful nature of her daughter’s words, starts to stand.

“No, I got it,” Jack surprises you by standing, taking everyone’s plates and quickly stomping off of the porch.

You could feel the anger radiating off of him when Sarah was talking, probably choosing to leave the area before he said something he would regret.

“Here, let me help, too,” Sarah stands, taking a few food dishes in her hands and stepping inside behind Jack before anyone could protest.

The table is silent after she leaves. You sit there, debating on just sliding out of your seat and under the table, wanting to hide. Luke, who was sitting next to you, brings his hand over to rest on your shoulder, trying to provide some comfort.

You look over at him to see a concerned look as he mouths a silent “You okay?”, nodding your head yes, despite the heavy feeling in your stomach.

You look up again, straight at Sarah’s parents, wondering how they can be so ignorant about their daughter’s malicious words.

You meet Ellen’s eye, seeing a sad, pleading look, begging you to forgive her with her expression. You give her a small smile, shaking your head to tell her it’s alright.

Ron is the one to finally break the silence, looking around at everyone with a genuine smile, once again proving your suspicion they’re unaware of the shift in atmosphere.

“Ellen, please tell me you made your famous cheesecake. It’s been too long since I’ve had a slice,” he speaks, unable to read the room.

Ellen partakes in empty small talk with Deb and Ron about how she makes her cheesecake when you decided you need to go check on Jack.

“I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go help Jack,” you say flatly, standing from your seat and all but running inside, the urge to walk over and shake the Lawsons while shouting “your daughter’s a bitch!” in their face your cue to leave the table.

You enter the kitchen, seeing the dishes both Sarah and Jack brought in littering the counter, but neither one of them was to be found in the spacious area.

You walk through the house, calling out Jack’s name softly as you pass the stairs, making your way to the small sitting room at the front of the house.

“Jack, I don’t get it. What does she have that I don’t? What about her makes her any better than me?” you hear the sound of Sarah’s voice coming from the foyer.

“What the hell do you mean? Everything! She has everything you don’t!” you hear Jack exclaim, stopping in your tracks.

Were they talking about you?

“Jack, we were good together! We had fun. I don’t understand why you ended things between us. Hell, I took a job in New York because you said you were probably going to New Jersey to play. We could have been the new it couple of New Jersey!” it was Sarah’s turn to raise her voice.

Jack shakes his head, a dry laugh making its way out of his mouth. “What part of I didn’t want to don’t you understand?” Jack spits out. “You had fun. You chose to move to New York. You thought were good together. There was never any we in any of that.”

You can practically see the veins popping out on Jack’s forehead through his tone, even though they were out of view.

“All you ever cared about when we were together was the fact that I was about to play professional hockey. You didn’t care about me, you just cared about what I could offer you!” he shouts again. “The fact you just admitted you cared more about being the “it” couple more than you cared about wanting to be with me proves it.”

“Well, sue me for wanting to live the life of the rich and famous,” Sarah says, scoffing.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about,” Jack huffs out. “Y/N doesn’t care about living the life of the rich and famous. She just wants me. She wants Jack, not ‘Jack Hughes, star forward, number one overall draft pick’,” he puts on his announcer voice.

“All my life, people have only ever cared about how well I played hockey. Every coach, every teammate, every girl. They all saw me as a hockey player. They wanted me on their team, or in their bed, because they wanted what came with me: attention and popularity,” Your heart breaks at Jack’s voice, never having heard him sound so deflated before.

“Hell, you introduced me to people as a future professional hockey player before you ever introduced me to them as your boyfriend,” he continues. “With Y/N, that’s far from the most interesting thing about me. When she first introduced me to her family, she told them I was her best friend’s brother,” he refers back to the first time you took him home to meet your family, the subject of hockey not coming up until your dad asked if he liked sports, only to berate him for not being a football player. Later that night he asked him how hockey worked. Your dad has never missed a Devils game since, either in person or on tv.

“Her favorite fun fact to tell people about me isn’t a stat, or how many hat tricks I’ve scored,” he keeps going. “It’s that I love to sing Shakira when I’m in the shower. Or that I’m the only other person other than her dad that has ever made her laugh so hard water has come out of her nose,” Jack lightly laughs.

“Hey, Y/N, everything okay-“ you hear Quinn’s voice rounding the corner.

Cutting him off with a “shhh” you place your finger on your mouth to tell him, and Luke who trails behind him, to be quiet, pointing to the sitting room where Jack and Sarah are arguing.

“So, yeah, I would say I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted out of me, but I’m not. I’m not sorry that I broke things off with you. I’m not sorry that I found someone that actually loves me for who I am. And I’m not sorry that I brought the woman that I plan on marrying here with me, and you just so happened to be here too,” Jack tells her, his voice still holding a slight trace of anger.

“I am sorry that I never told my parents what really went down between us, telling them we just agreed it would be too hard and we needed to go back to being friends, because maybe they wouldn’t have invited you over tonight. I am sorry that I didn’t take Y/N out for dinner, trying to avoid what’s happening right now. I am sorry that you can’t begin to fathom someone can see through your forced smiles and backhanded comments, seeing how cold and rotten you really are on the inside. And I am sorry that your poor, sweet parents were given such a malicious bitch as a daughter,” He finishes.

“You know, my mom said Ellen told her you showed her a ring, but I thought it was just a gift. You’re really going to propose to her?” Sarah asks, annoyance clear in her voice, spitting out her last word with unmistakeable disgust.

“Of course it’s true. Bought the ring months ago, been carrying it around with me every since. Showed mom the night she met her, told her I was serious about her and that she’s the one. I think part of me knew that from the moment I met her,” you hear Jack say, hearing the tenderness in his voice when the subject turns to you.

Your head whips over to Luke and Quinn, your eyes wide and your mouth handing open. The panicked look on their faces is all the confirmation you need to know that you heard Jack right. He bought you a ring. He bought you a ring and showed his mom. He bought you a ring and showed his mom and was going to propose to you.

Before you know what you’re doing, your body is leading you to the entryway where your boyfriend is arguing with his ex-girlfriend.

“Y/N, no, wait,” Quinn tries to stop you, but it’s too late.

“You bought me a ring?” you ask as you enter the room, seeing Jack and Sarah standing several feet apart from each other.

“Oh, great, the woman of the hour,” Sarah rolls her eyes at you, throwing her arms up and letting them fall to her side.

You shoot her a glare, not at all concerned about her comments from earlier anymore.

You turn your head to Jack, who’s face looked as panicked at Luke and Quinn’s.

“Jack, you said you bought me a ring. Is that true?” you ask him, begging him to answer you.

Jack gulps, nodding his head yes.

“Right…” is all you can say, trying to digest what’s happening.

You look back and forth between Jack and Sarah, your gaze finally landing on the unimpressed one of Sarah.

“Listen, I don’t care what happened between you and Jack however many years ago, but I don’t appreciate you coming to his family’s house and acting like a nasty bitch to me because you got dumped and I’m the one getting the ring,” you tell her, earning a shocked scoff from her. “So, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you took your nasty attitude and sad insecurities out of this house and elsewhere. I have something I need to discuss with the man that chose me .”

You hear the faint snorts of Quinn and Luke behind you, while Jack’s face moves from panicked to shocked as he looks between the two of you.

“God, you don’t have to ask me twice. All of this melodrama is giving me a headache. You’re not worth this. I can get any guy from the Knicks roster, I don’t need to waste my time on hockey players anymore,” Sarah says before she storms out of the room.

You watch her go, giving her a sweet smile and a wave on her way out.

“That was…the hottest thing I’ve ever seen you do,” Jack tells you, walking over to where you stood.

You roll your eyes at him, hitting him in the chest once he gets close enough to you.

“Ow! What was that for?” Jack asks you, rubbing where you thumped him

“For not telling me that Sarah was your ex-girlfriend when I was telling you how excited I was to meet her earlier” you exclaim while looking up at him, poking him in the chest with each word

“I didn’t want you to feel like you had anything to be worried about and get even more in your head about this dinner,” he tells you, grabbing your finger and pushing your hand down to your side.

“Yeah, well a lot of good that did,” you roll your eyes, bringing your hand up to softly smack his chest again.

“God, woman, stop hitting me!” Jack yelps again. “What the hell was that one for?”

“For buying me a ring only a few months into our relationship! And then for not telling me you were going to propose, you idiot!” you exclaim, throwing your arms around.

“Well, I don’t know if you know this or not, but most proposals are usually a surprise,” he tells you, grabbing your arms and holding them apart, preventing you from hitting him again.

“Still. Why would you buy it so soon into us dating, Jack? What if you ended up hating me once we hit six months, or you found out I snored and decided you didn’t want to share a bed with me for the rest of your life?” you ask him, earning a laugh from your boyfriend.

“I knew that you were it from the moment I met you. There’s absolutely no chance of me ever getting sick of you, or hating you,” Jack tells you honestly, the intensity behind his eyes causing you to believe his words. “Also, you do snore, and I think it’s cute, don’t worry.”

You try to hit his chest again, but your arms are still being held by his hands.

“So, is this a good time for me to say I never really liked Sarah,” Luke chimes in, reminding you that him and Quinn are standing in the entrance of the room.

“Luke, you’re such an idiot,” Quinn tells him, flicking him on the back of his curly head.

“What? It’s true. I liked Y/N the second I met her, but Sarah was always just a bitch,” Luke rubs the back of his head as he speaks. “Why do you think Quinn and I took one for the team and took the wicked witch out on the boat so we could keep her out of your hair for as long as possible?”

“Thanks, Luke,” you chuckle, shaking your head.

“Well, I guess it’s time to tell mom that she knows you’re proposing,” Quinn says, looking towards Jack.

“Oh, no, no one is going to know that she knows. I had this whole thing planned out, and I’m not letting Y/N ruin her own proposal,” Jack says, finally letting go of your hands.

“Do I at least get to see the ring?” you ask him, hopeful.

“Nope,” Jack shakes his head, popping the ‘p’.

You huff, crossing your arms and looking at him with a pout, until you remember his words from a few minutes before.

“Wait, you told Sarah you carry the ring with you everywhere, does that mean it’s here? In this house?” Jack’s face falls, eyes looking anywhere but your own.

“No…”

Your face lights up, looking towards the stairs before back at Jack, turning and making a run for your room.

“Oh no, you don’t!” he runs after you, catching up to you in no time.

He grabs you by your torso and swings you around, sitting you back at the bottom of the stairs as he guards them.

“Not fair, your stupid hockey speed and reflexes can shove it,” you pout again.

As you stand at the bottom of the stairs, Quinn and Luke watch the two of you, admiring how perfect the two of you are for each other.

Luke thinks back to when he decided to introduce you to his older brother, knowing he made the right decision, the two of you bringing out the best versions of the other.

And when he stands, hidden with his family as he watches his brother get down on one knee, proposing to the girl that stood at the bottom of the stairs, demanding to see her ring, he knew sneaking into Jack’s room and moving the ring to his own room was the right move, the shock on your face worth the two week long silent treatment you gave him when you found out what he had done.

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tabolal · 2 years ago

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Upisle - Devasa+

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kimberly40 · 1 month ago

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Lake Lure in Rutherford County, North Carolina before and after Hurricane Helene.

A mass of debris, including overturned pontoon boats and splintered wooden docks and tree trunks, covered the surface of Lake Lure

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vaderwcn · 2 months ago

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Cheating -- Obikin Promptober Day 18

Thank you to @paracosm-draw for creating the prompt list!

This is the sad kind of cheating, btw, not the fun and sexy kind.

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the other woman (will never have his love to keep) - 3,509 words

Rating: M

Content: Cheating / Hurt No Comfort / Breaking Up / Suicide (this happens at the very end) / MCD

read on ao3 here

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Obi-Wan knows he should’ve seen this coming. Knows that he’s the stupidest, most trusting, most naïve Jedi in the whole damn Order. That, of course, Anakin could never be happy with just him. He had always wanted more, and love was at the very top of the list.

Currently, heartbreak feels a lot like being shipwrecked, he thinks. The hope of the water sending you to shore, to safety, to comfort, only to ram against the jagged rocks. During a thunderstorm. On a pontoon boat. Everywhere he looked, he thought he saw little daggers, each carefully pushing through his chest cavity with precision. It was almost as if Anakin had done it on purpose. It was as if he knew it would destroy Obi-Wan, yet they’d keep having to see each other in the Temple, on joint missions, sparing, and at meals.

What crime did he commit to make Anakin betray him in such a way? Had it been because of their slightly arduous relationship during his apprenticeship? He could turn over every stone, every leaf of the past thirteen years, and still find nothing. Most likely, it was something small and insignificant that Anakin took personally.

He sucks on his teeth as the door to his quarters closes. More signs of Anakin. Spare robes that Obi-Wan couldn’t get rid of nor Anakin would come back for, the caf that he liked that Obi-Wan couldn’t get rid of, his fucking toothbrush in the cup in the fresher. He went over to the robes, the tunic, the obi folded neatly on the couch and stooped to smell. It smelled of the generic laundry soap they all use but also something uniquely Anakin. A spicy, musky scent to it. He had become acquainted with it over the past couple of years.

It reminds him of every first.

The first kiss, which was when they were both undercover and Anakin, frankly, sucked at it and was about to blow both of their covers when Obi-Wan (already in love with his former Padawan) kissed him. The softness of Anakin’s lips, how even when the target left, he tried prodding his tongue into Obi-Wan’s mouth.

Then, their actual first kiss. They had just gotten out of Geonosis after the second time. Bloody and dirty and exhausted. Anakin admitting that he was scared that they were going to lose Obi-Wan. Which, of course, just made him laugh, much to Anakin’s dismay. That it would take much more than that to kill him. Anakin apologizing for caring about him and going to stomp away, when Obi-Wan grabbed his wrist and pulled him to him. “Ridiculous boy,” he murmured before kissing him again.

The first time they fucked. How Anakin had almost timidly admitted that he had never slept with a man before, and so Obi-Wan went slow, savoring every noise, look, and sensation. How it felt as they fit together. The way he had kissed his spine and the back of his neck and told him that Anakin was made for him. Obi-Wan sweet-talked him the entire time, praising him and telling him what a good job he was doing. Then they showered together and Obi-Wan was more than happy to take care of Anakin once more, shampooing and conditioning his hair and cleaning his body.

Which was then followed with the first time Anakin stayed in his bed. How he had to pull Anakin on top of him and how he rested his head on his chest and listened to Obi-Wan’s heartbeat. The sunlight was still coming through, just enough to illuminate his beautiful boy. He kissed the top of his head and murmured an “I love you” so quietly that even he doubted that he ever said it.

And, of course, the real first “I love you.” It had been said by himself. Obi-Wan doubts that Anakin could ever work up the courage to make the first move. They had been lying in bed, Obi-Wan on his datapad with one hand, the other running through Anakin’s hair while he sleepily tried to remain awake. It had just…come out. A sense of contentment so strong that all he could think about was taking Anakin away from the war, the Temple, from everyone. He had never said those words to anyone before, but they felt perfect when he said them to Anakin. The way Anakin had jolted his head, looking up at him with those wide blue eyes, staring at him for a moment before surging to kiss him and saying it back to him over and over and over again.

Obi-Wan had thrown attachment to the wind at that point. Figured it was worth it to break that one rule to have Anakin. Besides, it wouldn’t compromise his position in the GAR. And it didn’t. He knew he could lose him, but that was war. And he knew that he’d find Anakin again in the Force someday.

The only rule they had as they went forward was that he had to stop seeing Senator Amidala. Obi-Wan wouldn’t share Anakin in that regard. They had something only the two of them could understand, something that went far beyond just lovers. They had completed each other.

And Anakin had agreed. Promised he’d break it off immediately, then gave Obi-Wan his word that it was over. That he was all Obi-Wan’s. That he only wanted to be Obi-Wan’s.

When they were on separate missions, they were able to send a quick message through a secured line to at least check-in. If they were close enough, they’d holo-call. Even with Anakin’s figure breaking up due to the distance and his voice becoming distorted, he had at least gotten to see his boy.

But more than that, they had a bond that dipped into the Force itself—weaved its way through the entire galaxy. Something cosmic that tied them together. He could sense when Anakin was in trouble, no matter how faint the feeling was. Could feel his victories and happiness even while they were apart. They could look at each other, and an entire conversation could happen.

Anakin was part of his soul, the very fabric of his being. The fabric that was currently getting shredded every day since the fight. The fabric that was just scraps now. Their bond and looks and conversations remained, but Anakin wasn’t listening anymore.

It was early one morning; they were still intertwined. Dawn was breaking. Obi-Wan had gotten up to make tea and meditate when Anakin’s comm kept flashing. He had tried to ignore it, but he could see the flash of light even with his eyes closed. He had thought that it must’ve been important. Could be the Council calling him for a meeting about a new mission, so he had checked.

p.amidala: I miss you. Visit soon?

It was like a blaster shot to the stomach. Surely…it was just friendly, he thought. Maybe they had remained friends, and Anakin could undoubtedly have those. Of course, he’d rather he not be friends with her. In an instant, Obi-Wan found himself scrolling through backlogs and backlogs of chats. As innocent as just saying ‘hi’ to messages so explicit that he wondered when his Padawan had gotten so bold. They went forever, it seemed. Each one was like a little dagger until he felt himself bleeding out. Everything poured out on his floor.

He had to wake Anakin immediately and question him about it immediately. There must be, has to be, some answer. Some perfectly good reason. Something that wasn’t the obvious answer.

Anakin had tried to talk his way out of it but finally sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair and asked why Obi-Wan cared so much.

All his breath left him in one exhale. “I love you, Anakin,” he said. “I thought…” He had to look away. Anakin. His beautiful, perfect Anakin was starting to look like someone who was never his as if all of this had been pretending and acting. One extended undercover mission where Obi-Wan was the idiot who fell in love. “Break up with her,” he said a bit forcefully. He could still have him. He would take him back in a heartbeat. They could start anew again. It didn’t have to matter.

“Why?”

Had he not asked him to before? Obi-Wan thought he’d understand that they were exclusive and not to bring other people into their relationship. That this was just for them. Away from the Order and the war. He had…he had talked about whisking him away after the war—a vacation. “We were made for each other, Anakin,” he swallowed thickly, going to his knees by the bed as Anakin sat up. “Please, break up with her, and…nothing has to change between us.” Obi-Wan could have a short memory. He’d forget how his Padawan went behind his back and destroyed him. The fabric could be sewn back together.

“I think you’re making a huge deal out of this. I love both of you. I don’t understand why I have to pick.”

Of course, he knew Anakin could be headstrong, but he figured he’d realize his errors here that the rational part of his brain would tell him that what they have is far different from what he had with Padme.

When it was clear that they couldn’t come to some agreement, that Anakin did not care about the pain he was causing, Obi-Wan quickly went from begging to berating. How, of course, he’d never be good enough for Anakin. That he could barely follow the Code of the Jedi Order; how could he even follow one for a relationship? That he was childish. Immature. That Padme’s an idiot if she can’t see that.

Anakin threw it right back to him. How Obi-Wan always wanted impossible things from him, even as a child. That he was also breaking the Code by falling in love with him. How he was an idiot for building Obi-Wan up into the perfect Jedi when all he’d be was a pathetic man. Soon, the Council will see how wrong they were to grant him a spot and expel him.

And like that, he was gone.

Obi-Wan shakes his head, returning to the present rather than a fight that wasn’t all that long ago. He picks up the tunic and holds it tight against him, taking a deep breath. If he closes his eyes, he can pretend he’s hugging Anakin; if he pretends enough, he can hear him joke about sniffing his clothes.

Their bond works just as well as it always did. He can still tell when Anakin is safe and happy, when he’s depressed about something, when he’s on a mission, when he’s with Padme. Obi-Wan wasn't sure how he hadn’t picked up on it before. It was such a powerful emotion that he must’ve been delusional to ignore it. Obi-Wan tries to put in their bond and says that he’ll take him back, even now. That he still loves him, will always love him.

They don’t eat together, don’t train together, haven’t been put on missions together since the fight. His bed feels so cold without Anakin, the human furnace. And somehow, his bed feels too big for just one person. The most important person in his life is just…gone. The person he had dedicated his life to for over a decade. The person he raised. They became men together through the war. Anakin had thrown all of that away.

He is sure that Cody is annoyed because Obi-Wan finds himself being more and more reckless and taking more and more risks despite what his second-in-command thinks. Hears Cody grumble about how he didn’t realize he was working with Skywalker now. That makes it stop, and he’s back being controlled and measured.

One time, their eyes catch at the dining hall, and Obi-Wan gives him a small smile, a small lift of the hand as a wave, praying that maybe today Anakin will come back. Anakin breaks contact first and goes to sit by himself.

Obi-Wan tries to check in on Anakin by asking anyone else. He just says that Anakin is mad at him and wants to make sure that he’s okay. Each person has almost the same response: a shrug and that they have noticed little of a difference in him. Right. Anakin still had someone to go to. It wasn’t like he was the heartbroken, destroyed one. It was Obi-Wan who was easy to toss to the side and forget about.

They end up running into each other, and Obi-Wan smiles. “Anakin,” he says, voice almost breaking. Oh, how he wants to reach out and run a hand through his curls. However, something looks different about him. A new hardness to his face, more and more like a man rather than the boy he had loved.

Anakin’s facial expression looks bored, lips pursed together slightly. He even yawns. “Master Kenobi,” he replies before brushing past him.

“I hope you’re well,” he calls after him.

There is no reply

Time passes too slowly, but soon, it's two months with nothing. Every bone, every joint, and every muscle tells him to stay in bed, to forget about eating and the war, and to go back to sleep. It works a couple of times a week. When he doesn’t listen to his body, he goes through his day sad and goes to bed sad. It’s overwhelming and all-consuming. It’s a loss worse than death. Though it certainly makes Obi-Wan wish he was dead. What was his life without Anakin?

Before Anakin, Obi-Wan had thought about leaving the Order. He didn’t feel like he belonged, like he wasn’t good enough, and it was Anakin who changed all that—changed him. The only reason he was able to turn into the Jedi he is now is because he had Anakin. Anakin, who challenged and pushed him just as much as Obi-Wan, did the same to him.

Everything was pointless now. He didn’t care about the war; he didn’t care about the Council; he didn’t care about his duty. Which is why, after two and a half months, he asks for a break from official duties. Just for a couple of weeks. While hesitant to let their best general take leave, they eventually grant it to him.

And that’s precisely what Obi-Wan does. Sleep and sometimes eat. The best part is that no one ever comes to bother him because everyone is busy with the war.

After three months, he decides he needs to humble himself truly. Beg for forgiveness from Anakin. Tell him he can stay with Padme if he just comes back to him and that he’ll share Anakin happily. He’d be overjoyed just to have a small slice of him if it meant not waking up alone, Anakin resting on his chest, kissing him every once in a while.

Thankfully, Anakin answers.

“Can I come in?” Obi-Wan asks, trying not to get too eager. He’s sure that Anakin will take him back if it means having Padme and himself. If Obi-Wan begs for forgiveness like he knows, he’d want him to. He can almost picture the smile on his Padawan’s face, how he’ll laugh and accept him.

Anakin tilts his head and then steps out of the doorway wordlessly.

Obi-Wan follows him inside and waits for a greeting, question, or anything from Anakin, but it never comes. “I…I just want to say I am so sorry, Anakin, for how I behaved that morning,” he says, bowing his head. “I should not have let my anger get the best of me, shouldn’t have given over to that side.” Again, he waits for Anakin to say something but doesn’t, so he continues. “I miss you terribly. I miss your laugh, I miss sharing my bed with you, I miss having those quiet mornings together. I am more than happy to share you with Padme. You can love both of us, be with both of us. I shouldn’t have tried to force you to break up with her.” Another pause with no reply, so he gets down on his knees, head still bowed. “I’m here to beg for your forgiveness. I will do anything it takes to have even a small slice of you, Anakin.”

There’s a long silence, and Obi-Wan doesn’t even think about raising his head. He’ll stay like this as long as Anakin wants him to.

“You’re an idiot, Obi-Wan,” he spits out. “Pathetic. Begging for my forgiveness to just have a small piece of me three months afterward?” Anakin scoffs and Obi-Wan imagines he rolls his eyes as well. “A little too fucking late, don’t you think?”

He’ll let Anakin express his frustration and anger. “I know, Anakin. I was pathetic. I was scared to say something. But I need you.” Then, Anakin lifts his head with his thumb and pointer finger and smiles. This is it. Forgiveness. “Thank you. Thank you.” But when he finally makes eye contact, his mouth instantly dries up, and his smile falls off his face.

There’s a fire behind Anakin’s eyes. Like Obi-Wan just woke a sleeping Krayt dragon. “You tossed me out first. You started the fight. You called me childish and immature before insulting Padme’s intelligence.”

“I know, I know. But it was wrong, Anakin. I was wrong about it all,” he pleads. Surely, he can see the look in his eyes and tell that he’s being truthful. “I love you. I always have. I always will.”

Anakin takes a deep breath and then stands. “Padme’s pregnant. She doesn’t want me seeing other people.”

Obi-wan is positive that he misheard him. He skips past Padme being pregnant and right to the fact that Anakin’s listening to her about not seeing other people. He has made his choice. Padme had gotten to him before he did all those years ago. It was Padme that he had always been in love with. He was just…a stop along the way. “I…” He stands up. “I’m sorry.” And Obi-Wan quickly leaves his room. Anakin doesn’t come after him.

For the first time since breaking up, Obi-Wan allows himself to cry. Hot tears streaking his face, snot running out of his nose, his breathing coming in just short bursts and never enough. This is what he gets for becoming attached. This is why the Order warns against it. He deserves this for wanting to leave everything, the Order, Coruscant for Anakin. He wants to rip his heart out and give it to Anakin, anyway as if it was ever anyone else’s, including his own.

He should’ve known the other shoe would drop. He was never picked. Never anyone’s first choice. Why would Anakin, beautiful, incredible, perfect Anakin, ever pick him when he could have Padme? Beautiful, kind, and gentle. Padme, who probably always wanted to be a mother. Anakin, who always wanted a family of his own.

Of course, Obi-Wan had thought and hoped that he’d be enough. Anakin was right. He was pathetic. But all he could think about was his smile every time he praised him, every time he found out they got to go on a mission together, every time Obi-Wan would hold him close after fucking him into the mattress.

His life was over.

Nothing would ever feel right again. He couldn’t keep being a Jedi, seeing Anakin around. He couldn’t go on missions with him.

But what would he do otherwise? This is what he’d trained for his entire life. The Temple was his home. The Jedi were his family. But he couldn’t stay. No wonder no one wanted him as a youngling, a Padawan. He was destined for failure.

Obi-Wan looks over to where his lightsaber is resting on the top of his dresser. It’d be over before you know it, he tells himself. His hand twitches, but he doesn’t move. No one needs you anymore anyway, his brain tells him. Not Anakin. Not the other Jedi. Not the Council. He licks his lips and crosses the room, his heart beating so loud he thinks the entire Temple could hear it.

This weapon is your life.

That’s what he told Anakin in what feels like a lifetime ago. Before the war. Before they got together. But if it protected his life, then clearly, the opposite could be true as well.

He grabs it, and his hands shake as he turns it over. Points the emitter at himself. His finger hovered over the button. He’d only be missed for a moment. Everyone would quickly move on. It was the Jedi way.

He could find peace in the Force. Clarity.

It’ll only burn for a moment.

The saber had been designed for a quick death so as not to cause prolonged suffering.

Obi-Wan closes his eyes and puts one last burst of love into the bond with Anakin.

His finger presses the button, and there’s a white-hot heat for a moment. His body falls to the floor.

And then.

Nothing.

#obikin #obikin fanfic #obikin fic #obikin promptober 2024 #obikinpromptober2024

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doveshovel · 6 months ago

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can we get more Hunter lore? 👉👈 niche little blorbo

!! Can't believe my little guy has gained niche blorbo status. I am honored, thank you anon <3

Feels it's important to mention that I'm not a very good writer, and Hunter's entire deal is essentially just me trying to make a character whose backstory is wildly out of place in the girl power sparkly horsie game but still sort of works with the cannon actions of the player character. This is just a hastily thrown together summary of how he winds up in Jorvik. That said, of course you can get more Hunter lore! :^D Sorry this took so long but I had to do some art to go with it :'))

Everything's tucked below since there ended up being a lot more than expected :') I think it's all fairly mild but

Content Warnings: Image 1: Some mild blood

Image 2: (dressed) head injury

Hunter's pre-jorvik summary contains: patricide, improper body disposal, vehicle theft (x5), unlawful operation of motor vehicles, crossing state lines with stolen property, trespassing, breaking and entering, evading arrest, speeding, and other minor crimes. Also some mention of drowning, concussion, and brain damage.

When an attempt to slip away from his childhood home in the dead of night goes awry, Hunter accidentally hits and subsequently kills his father with a stolen car, then does some sloppy short-notice body disposal. It's nowhere near enough to make sure he's not a suspect, but it does ensure that the body isn't found for another week (until the neighbors come by to ask why his father wasn't at church, only to find that the front door's been left wide open and a small family of raccoons have made their home in the kitchen). He makes his way from his old house in rural North Carolina (U.S.) northwards through eight states under cover of night, switching cars three times along the way (once in Virginia, once in Pennsylvania, and again in New Jersey) until he arrives at the coast of Massachusetts.

^Hunter, age 19, 5 hours after hiding the body of his father

It's here that (not knowing shit about sailing, boats, or oceanic navigation) he chooses an old pontoon in a private dock to hotwire and sail across the Atlantic with the hope of evading prosecution. Three days into the so-far shockingly successful voyage, rough seas capsize his little vessel, leaving Hunter stranded half-conscious and about two-thirds drowned on some debris until the North Atlantic Current carries him into Jorvegian fishing territory. Five days after accidentally murdering his father, he's spotted drifting on some debris by the crew of a Jorvik fishing vessel and brought back to Cape West where he gets some bearings and starts life anew. :^)

The little pontoon isn't so lucky, and its remains wash up along the coast of Maine nearly three weeks later. By then, it's been connected to Hunter's murder + string of vehicle thefts, and he's presumed to have died at sea in an unsuccessful getaway. In some ways, he did.

Most memories of life before the storm have been wiped clear from his brain, and what little that returns in brief flashes is usually just as quickly forgotten again. Some foggy details of events in early childhood remain, but his entire personality is altered by damage and Hunter becomes someone else entirely, often feeling that he's living in a borrowed body.

^old doodle of Hunter, age 19, a week after landing in Cape West

Hunter spends about two weeks recovering from a concussion and anoxic brain damage at the fishing club's Cape West bunkhouse before he's well enough to start learning the ropes and work doing some slightly less intensive odd-jobs around the village (fixing nets, processing fish, delivering mail, a little stablehand work at Goldenleaf, etc.). He attends a riding camp in Moorland towards the end of his first year in Jorvik at the suggestion of Mr.Trout, who believes it'll be a good way to get some better ideas of what the horse-loving isle of Jorvik has to offer and find some sense of self beyond Goldenhills Valley.

From here, its essentially the main storyline with some minor changes and seasonings thrown in :^)

#oc asks #sso oc #my art #oUGH THIS ENDED UP LONG. SORRY #there's probably typos and a ton of plotholes and poorly thought out details. I'm just having fun with this guy fr #thank you so much for the ask though anon! This was very fun and inspired some new art :D #Young(er) hunter has short hair! It grows over a year or two and he can't be bothered to cut it :) which leads to his present day design

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nationalboatcovers · 2 months ago

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canvasupholsteryusa · 2 years ago

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warningsine · 4 months ago

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There has never been an opening ceremony quite like it.

For the first time in Olympic Games history, the ceremony took place outside a stadium arena. Despite a rainy and miserable Paris evening, enormous crowds – most who paid no fee to attend – lined the banks of the Seine to witness this outdoor promenade of history, art and sport as 100 boats carrying 10,500 athletes sailed down the river.

Designed to showcase the depth of French culture and celebrate the Olympics as a source of human greatness and unity, the ceremony combined the traditional and the irreverent.

Paris featured as the unmistakable backdrop. The ceremony marked the first since 2018 that has not had to work around COVID restrictions. As the world watched, it took place amid a global context of war, invasion and genocide. Within the performances and speeches featured in the ceremony, there were aspects designed to address and acknowledge this, and promote peace and inclusion.

A mission across Paris

The ceremony was divided into thematic chapters, including Fraternite (fraternity), Sororite (sorority), Sportive (sportsmanship), Solidarite (solidarity), Solennite (solemnity) and Eternite (eternity). These were used as prompts to underpin each section of the sprawling, epic ceremony.

Across the three hours, we travelled throughout Paris. Artists and sportspeople from across the broad spectrum of each of these fields were featured and celebrated.

All was underpinned by an amazing soundtrack featuring French electro-pop bangers, classical music and opera.

The ceremony was anchored by a masked torch bearer who initially arrived at the Olympic stadium only to realise they were in the wrong place. They embarked on a Parkour-like mission across the rooftops and streets of Paris with the torch held aloft.

Kicked off by a short film featuring French soccer star Zinedine Zidane, followed by a performance from Lady Gaga, the ceremony brought together the iconic and the unexpected.

Images of beret-wearing accordion players under bridges and the high kicks of 80 dancers in hot pink performing the can-can were interspersed with tributes to the French revolution and the contemporary rebuild of Notre Dame.

There were stylishly considered moments. A single opera performer sung the French national anthem on the roof of the Grand Palais, as tribute was paid to the history of women in France. During this moment, ten golden statues featuring prominent French female political advocates, anarchists, explorers, botanists, intellectuals, journalists, artists and writers from across history emerged from plinths situated in the river.

The moment ended with a soaring rendition of the anthem as the singer on the roof was accompanied by a chorus of children on a bridge across the river.

The ceremony brought together tradition and contemporary performance. In a stunning moment, French-Mali singer Aya Nakamura performed with 60 musicians of the Republican Choir Guard dressed by Dior (obviously).

Profoundly stunning images such as a concert pianist playing on a bridge over the River Seine on a raindrop covered piano were juxtaposed with an animated film featuring the beloved Minions (created by a French animation studio).

BMX riders, breakers and circus performers on large pontoons performed death-defying stunts in front of illuminated fountains. A fashion parade on a bridge across the river featured up and coming French designers and included a demonstration of Eurodance styles including krumping, vogueing and breaking. DJs on decks and drag performers turned the Seine into Paris’ largest outdoor nightclub.

Peace, inclusion and solidarity

Toward the end of the three hour extravaganza, Paris was plunged into darkness as a singer standing near a burning grand piano floating on a barge delivered a poignant version of John Lennon’s Imagine.

The words “We Stand and Call for Peace” in both English and French appeared on screen. This elicited an enormous cheer from the crowd, and underscored a theme appearing in speeches and theatrical images throughout the ceremony: inclusion, respect, solidarity and the role the Olympics can play in supporting these notions across global borders.

“In our Olympic World we all belong,” claimed the International Olympic Committee chair Thomas Bach in his speech.

Taking this idea further, as part of Solidarite, an illuminated silver mechanical horse carrying a rider wearing the Olympic flag appeared to gallop down the river. We watched images of Olympic moments over the years that united the world – and at times challenged dominant thinking.

The rider emerged from the river on a dappled grey horse at the Trocadero at the base of the iconic and resplendent Eiffel Tower. A parade of flag bearers from all countries assembled behind the rider as they walked together through the streets of Paris to raise the Olympic flag and sing the Olympic anthem.

It was magnificent and humbling.

Zidane returned in person near the end of the ceremony to meet the masked torch bearer and was handed the Olympic torch. As the Eiffel Tower lit up with a jaw-droppingly spectacular laser display illuminating across the city, the torch travelled back down the river on a boat with athletes Rafael Nadal, Serena Williams and Carl Lewis. It continued its journey toward its final destination with a sign-interpreted electronic dance banger in the background.

A parade of extraordinary French athletes completed the torch’s journey to the Olympic cauldron – a hot air balloon, a tribute to daring French inventors.

The cauldron was set aflame and the balloon lifted into the air above Paris to the cheers of the crowds.

Underneath the illuminated Olympic rings on the Eiffel Tour, Celine Dion sung Edith Piaf’s Hymne A l'amour. Dion’s journey to this performance has been publicly marked by illness.

Her stirring and flawless performance against the odds speaks to the Olympic spirit of perseverance and witnessing superhuman feats of the extraordinary, reminding us sport and performance have much in common.

Let’s hope the rest of the sporting event can match this creative beginning.

#olympics 2024

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scotianostra · 5 months ago

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On July 3rd 1883, the Clyde shipyards suffered their worst accident when the SS Daphne capsized at her launch.

The SS Daphne was a 460-ton steamer to be used on the Glasgow-Ireland run. The ship was launched from the shipbuilding yard of Messrs. Alexander Stephen and Sons at Linthouse, Govan. Within three minutes she had capsized with over 200 workers finishing the internal fittings still on board. 124 died as a result.

As was usual in the launching of ships two anchors and cables were employed to check the way on the vessel after she had entered the water. On this occasion the checking apparatus failed to function. The starboard anchor moved some six or seven yards, but the port anchor dragged for about sixty yards and the current of the river catching the ship at a critical moment turned her over on her port side.

A joiner who survived named Kinnaird wrote:

“I was busily engaged on the deck, and felt the vessel moving on the ways, and nothing occurred until she had taken the river. Then an extraordinary scene happened, and tremendous shouts arose from those on board. I felt the vessel toppling over to the right and in a moment every person on board was hurled into the water. The shrieks and cries were terrible. I, along with some others, scrambled on to the bottom of the vessel, which was turned upside, and retained a hold. In a few moments a man came round with a small boat, and asked me to jump into the water. I did so, and was rescued. There would be about twenty persons besides myself who clung to the bottom of the vessel, and also succeeded in getting into the boat. Round about I could see a large number of people struggling and shouting in the water. Prior to the accident there were so many men and boys on deck that it was difficult to move about. I believe that over two hundred people were in the vessel. I cannot possibly describe the heart-breaking scenes which I witnessed.”

An enquiry was held and the yard owners were exonerated from any blame, leading to claims of a cover up. One of the outcomes of the disaster was the limiting of personnel aboard to only those necessary for mooring the ship after the launch. The ship was raised and repaired at Govan Dry Docks and emerged as the ‘Rose’.

Such was the scale and tragedy of the disaster that there are two SS Daphne Memorials in Glasgow. One is located in Craigton Cemetery the other one in Elder Park representing the loss to those communities involved.(As seen in pics 3 & 4)

The following extract is from The Paisley & Renfrewshire Gazette, 7th July 1883 & 14th July 1883.

A PAISLEY VICTIM OF THE DISASTER

Robert Baylis, aged forty-three years, a carpenter, is amongst the unrecovered dead. He resided in Paisley and was known amongst his fellow-workmen as “Paisley Bob”. He has left a widow and seven children, the youngest an infant. When his wife heard of the accident she hurried to Govan, but could not find him in his lodgings. He was one of those upon the ill-fated vessel. The poor woman stated that her husband left home on Monday morning. He turned back three times saying that he could not understand what was wrong but he felt ‘sweer’ to leave, as he felt as if something was going to happen to him.

The Daphne still lies in the bed of the river, and no search was made on Thursday for the bodies, which are still lying in her hold and engine room. About thirty of the victims who perished on Tuesday were buried on Thursday, and a number were buried yesterday. The method fixed upon for raising the Daphne is to close up all apertures, pump the vessel dry and bring it on a level keel by means of pontoons. These operations will necessarily occupy a few days.

As for those who were killed, there are memorials dedicated to them on either side of the Clyde; at Victoria Park to the north and Elder Park in the south.

A total of 126 men lost their lives with 40 women widowed and 150 children left without their main breadwinners as a result of the catastrophe.

#scotland #scottish #history #Glasgow #maritime disaster

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ask-de-writer · 2 years ago

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SEE STORY (Part 4 of 5) A tale from the World of Sea

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See Story

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

Cover art by @wind-the-mama-cat

14372 words

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.

All sorts of Fan Activity, fiction, art, cosplay, music or anything else is ACTIVELY encouraged!

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Sea is a colony assumed lost somewhat over a thousand years before this tale opens. They were sent on a one way trip, not knowing that there was no land at all on the whole world of Sea. Thus, aside from humans, NO CREATURE OF SEA IS IN ANY WAY ITS NAMESAKE. They were simply named for a superficial resemblance to some Earthly creature by the early colonists.

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New to SEE STORY? Read from the beginning HERE.

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The next morning brought the unusual sight, first of mast tops, then later the masts and yards bare of sail, and the massed hulls of the many ships riding at anchorage. The only sails visible belonged to the many small boats plying between the ships and the giant rafts that made up the Gathering marketplace. Sails visible on the horizon told of a few other ships slow to come, but like the Longin, not late. The Longin was assigned to an anchored float, where she tied up. The Grandalor could be seen riding at her float some ways off.

Two large ship construction rafts had been lashed together near the center of the Gathering. These monsters were nearly four hundred feet by two hundred feet. They were the dull yellow-grey of untinted, glued Strong Skin. They floated, decks about six feet above the waves on six long pontoons each. They majestically ignored the small surface waves entirely, rising and falling gently to the long, deep waves. The rafts were designed to build new ships on and to serve as a market square and place for ceremonies, like marriages. On them was the only city that anyone in the Naral Fleet had ever seen. It was a mass of tents in all sizes and shapes, in every hue of natural or bleached mussel fabric.

Captain Mord asked Cat, “Will you come with me to the Gathering Council? We must present ourselves and formally announce the Longin’s presence to get permission to trade and conduct our other business.”

“Captain, I will gladly go with you. I need to gather a few things first. They should be ready now.” Quickly, she was back with a net bag containing a number of carefully wrapped things.

As Cat was putting her back into the oars, along with three other crewmen, First Officer Alys looked curiously at Cat’s bag. “What is in there, Cat? It looks like there are, perhaps, some lobsters?”

“It is a bag of politics. You will see.”

The Captain’s gig pulled up to the market platform. They secured the boat and all got out. The Captain, First Officer and Cat, with her bag, went to the Council Pavilion. Cat stood back while Captain Mord and First Officer Alys presented themselves to the Council.

“To the Council of the Spring Gathering, we bring the greetings of the Longin, moored this morning. We seek permission to trade and conduct other ship’s business,” intoned Captain Mord, formally.

“Be welcome, Longin. Conduct your trade in honor, and your ship’s business likewise,” said the Chief of the Council.

Captain Mord bristled at the veiled warning, insulting as it did the reputation of both himself and his ship, “Since when has the Longin needed to be cautioned about honorable trade and business? I demand a private hearing to know the reason for this dishonor. I can think of many others, some in this pavilion, who owe us more than favors.”

“We have more than an hour before the next ship can present its business,” said the Council Chief. “Let us use it. The Longin has the right to know what has transpired and to defend their honor and rights.” All agreed to that, and the group withdrew to a partitioned area of the Council Pavilion.

Once the flaps were drawn, Mord turned to them in genuine anger and bewilderment.

“What can have happened to tarnish the reputation of the Longin to the extent that we needed a public warning to trade fairly? We have always been openhanded and tried never to take unfair advantage, unless we were first victimized by someone that we have helped.

“In at least one case,” he looked pointedly at Captain Hored, to the right of the Council Chief, “the very existence of your ship is our doing. Three Gatherings have come and gone with no payment forthcoming. Shall I then demand it in full? By Law, I can do so. If I were Barad, it would have been done. Your ship and all its goods could be forfeit to the Longin, your crew scattered, and you caution us about honor? When you exist as a ship only because of ours?”

Hored raised his hands, as if to ward off a blow. “This is not entirely our doing. The Grandalor came early yesterday. Barad told us that you had secretly gone north to the Dragon Sea and also that you were going to try to arrange a match for the Lady of Your Luck.

“He said that you had kept secret that she is helpless, blind, and named for a Dragon. No ship will take on such a person. If her name is changed, and you pay a large sum for her upkeep, another ship might be found to take the risk of her.” He crossed his arms over his chest as if he had pronounced a sentence.

Mord’s retort shot to the heart of whose honor was truly being tested. “Ask Barad then, and publicly, how he happened to come across us in the Dragon Sea! Ask him too, if he says coincidence, whose bare topmasts our lookouts watched for over a week, shadowing us to the south, before he came up to us … from the SOUTH?”

Cat touched Captain Mord’s sleeve. “May I speak, as this also concerns me?”

Suddenly smiling at the thought of these strong Captains running onto the reef of his foster sister’s logic and uncanny knowledge, Captain Mord said, “In all fairness, perhaps you should hear out the person that you malign. Cat, this is …”

“Sarfin, Captain of the Dorton. Leader of this Spring Council. A careful seaman who rarely takes chances and only once has broken the Great Laws. All that I know of him is good.

“To his right is Captain Hored, of the Grython. He should remember me. He too has broken the Great Law once. Sometime, ask my Captain how we knew to look for you, and where.

“To his left is Captain Merced, of the Dolthin. He also has once broken the Great Law and fishes by deep bottom dragging. I think it an unwise practice. They have near come to grief twice this month alone, when nets fouled.”

“I know them. They should know me. They call me the Lady of the Longin’s Luck, and other sidesteps to avoid the possible bad luck that might come from my full name. My name, Gentlemen, dictated by both Custom and Fleet Law, is Mecat. Ask the Longin, now the most prosperous ship of your fleet, how much ill luck I have brought them.”

“By what right do you, a crew-woman, accuse us of violating the Great Law?”

“Captain Sarfin, you have made a grave error. I am not a member of the crew of the Longin or any other ship. To ward off the ill luck that might come with my name, I have never been enrolled in the Longin’s crew.

“The Great Law that you all have broken is the Law of Slavery. The law reads ‘no price may go with any exchange of persons between ships, or the person over whom the price is demanded is considered to be a slave. All slavery is outlawed as also the slaver and the purchaser.’ By demanding that payment go with me you outlaw yourselves and both of the ships in the exchange.”

The Council representatives looked at each other uneasily. They had not thought of this. The notion of payment had been Barad’s, and seemed reasonable at the time. Now they had a dilemma. Looking at her curiously they asked, “If we lift the payment, then no ship will take you. Where will you go?”

Cat looked to Captain Mord. He spoke, “She has told me that the matter is arranged for already. I believe her.”

“There is still the fact of your helplessness due to blindness. What could you do … besides ‘bring the ship luck?’”

“Ask Captain Hored. He as reason to know my skills.”

Sarfin turned to Hored, “What does she mean by that?”

Hored looked at the deck and seemed to shrink. “Between three and four Gatherings back, the Grython grounded on a tropic reef. We took a six foot gash to the hull, which made it impossible to leave the reef without sinking entire. The stone of it was all that held us up. We were preparing to abandon ship when the Longin arrived unlooked for.

“I did not know her from Captain Barad’s description, but I would know that voice anywhere. She is the only reason that the Grython is still afloat. Her skilled diving and the divers that she directed repaired the Grython. That is why we owe the Longin so much …”

He scowled, “We have been lied to! Blind she may be but helpless she’s not! Lift the price! Grython will take her and glad of it, if we get the chance.”

Cat smiled at Hored, “I thank you for a generous offer from a good heart but the matter is already arranged. I will make my groom known on the night of the Full Moons.

“What else can I do? Ask any of the Craft Masters of the Longin. They will tell you the truth of my skills. I also read, write, keep accounts and navigate.”

“Eyes are needed for those boasts. You have none,” stated Captain Barad, walking in through the flaps behind them, and stumbling on a stool in the shade of the pavilion. Captain Mord looked back pointedly at the stool and said nothing.

“I have come,” said Captain Barad, “reiterate my claim to certain waters in the Dragon Sea.” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked smug.

Cat turned angrily, “You followed us! The find is ours! We … ” she trailed off as Captain Mord’s hand was laid in caution on her shoulder.

“Cat, the full Council will meet in only two hours. That is the proper forum for this dispute. Now is the time for food. Sarfin, Hored, Merced, will you join us?”

Cat was laying out the contents of her packages. The plates were large, flatish pearl shells with small shells glued under to level them. Cups were nautilus shell, and there was a platter of tinted, glue hardened Strong Skin, inlaid with a scene of fish and seaweed done in shell nacre of many hues. It was piled with large lobsters, steamed clams, and shrimp, garnished with tasty seaweeds. There was a flagon of pure water to drink.

“This feast is worth a fortune! Where did you find all those shellfish?” asked Merced as he pulled his stool up to the feast.

Barad could only stand and stare goggle-eyed as the others dug into the food, cracking shells and scooping out clams.

Mord winked at Cat. “Oh, up north of here. These are just some we grabbed out of the cargo vat to steam for lunch. This is what we have for trade, this voyage. We would have had much more, but the Grandalor was following us by stealth. We had to hide our operation from them.”

“Did you let them know that you were aware of their presence?” asked Sarfin.

“We allowed them to come to us, when they were running out of time. Captain Barad asked our ship’s business and was rebuffed. He was rude. He insulted Cat and called her helpless. She proved to him that she was not, and now we find that he has spread lies about her and our ‘profitless’ voyage,” Mord said thoughtfully, sucking the meat out of a lobster claw. “I think that we will do well. What do you think?”

“I think that you will do well, this Gathering. You have already found that Barad has laid nets to snare your claim to fishing waters in the Dragon Sea,” said Hored. “I suspect that his claim is the place where you fished for these.” He gestured at the shrimps and lobsters.

“That is against all custom,” said Cat angrily. “None may claim rights in the Dragon Sea. The Great Dragons forbade us that water in the Time of the First Ships.”

Sarfin looked uncomfortable and unhappy. “That is Custom, not Law. Custom has been overset before. We have warned him that such a claim must go to the full Council, and he has agreed to put his claim there.”

“I must warn you,” put in Merced, “that Barad has laid his nets widely and with care to secure those waters. I notice that he has already gone to spread the word. Many Captains are hearing of your cargo as we speak. Greed has overset more Customs than reason ever has.”

Shortly, Captains began to come into the Pavilion for the Council. Many pointed or stared at the remains of lobster, shrimp and clam and to the plates of pearl shell, carelessly left lying near the entrance, in plain view.

Sarfin brought the Council to order, and led them all through the reading of the Great Laws and the Customs of the Sea. At last, the opening ceremonies required by Custom were done and business could begin.

A new ship had been built and was welcomed to the fleet. The Fauline was showered with gifts and offers of crew-folk to fill out her needs. Her first Captain was approved by the Council. At long last, the Council was ready for new business.

There were debits to settle, disputes to adjudicate and finally, fishing rights to deal with. Barad Maks stood up. “The Grandalor would like to apply for new fishing waters. The waters in question to be from the Gula’s Northern boundary, 5o North by 6o wide from Gula’s eastern boundary.”

Sarfin stood and spoke loudly and clearly, “The waters applied for are in violation of Custom. They lie in the Dragon Sea. The Custom, from the time of the First Ships has been that we fish the Deep Waters, except for those of the Dragon Sea. It has been reserved as the abode of the Great Dragons from the Beginning.”

“Custom only!” cried Barad. “This Council has the authority to overturn Custom! We have all seen what Mord brought here from the Dragon Sea! There is wealth there!”

The assembled Captains rumbled agreement.

“We have two issues that we need to deal with, here!” Mord called out. “One is the matter of Custom. The other is Piracy! Barad followed us by stealth when we went north. He does not even deny it. Now he is trying to use this Council to steal our find! Will you let yourselves be so used?”

Merced plunged into the melee, “These are waters found by Captain Mord! Only by turning tail and coming south with all sail spread before they even knew what the Longin had found, was the Grandalor able to get here first. Barad wants to set aside Custom to claim these waters out from under the Longin, but he hides behind Custom when it comes to presenting the claim. He got here first! That is the sole basis of his claim. He did no work for it. He presented his claim without even knowing what was there.”

It was no use. Greed had the Captains in its claws. The vote to overturn Custom and grant fishing waters went to Barad.

“I am Hored. Many of you know me. I say, let Barad have his waters. He wishes to break Custom. Let him. At the next gathering, if he has done well, then is the time for the rest of us to claim Dragon Sea waters for ourselves.”

Barad sneered, “The Great Dragons are legends only. Stories to frighten children.”

“I’m just cautious with my ship,” was the calm reply. “If you do find Dragons, kindly send a bit of identifiable wreckage south to let us know.”

Hored’s proposal was received with laughter, and passed.

Mord spoke at the last of the debate, “Barad, by foul means you have won those waters that we found. You cannot have them until you yield up waters of equal size. The Grandalor already has the maximum a ship may have. You must yield to the council one of your home waters to take up your claim.

“The Longin does not have our full allotment of home waters.” He turned to the Council as a whole. “You must give us what the Grandalor yields in recompense for our loss.”

With the smile of one springing a trap, Barad offered, “Before the Council, I yield 25o West to 31o West by 12o North to 17 o North.”

Mord said angrily, “Have you left your wits on dry land? Those waters are a maze of reefs! There is little deep water for our nets. ‘For safety’s sake alone / Fish deep water / Steer clear the reef of stone.’ That is the Custom and a wise one as you have cause to know having grounded in that labyrinth yourself! This is worthless water. Give us better.”

There was a rumble of agreement from the assembled Captains, but Barad stood against it, grinning. “You demanded water of equal size and I have been generous. Waters in the tropics are larger than Northern waters, longitude is greatest in physical extent nearer the equator. Take it or not, it is all one to me. If you refuse, these are the only waters that will be in the hands of the Council.”

“We will take it then, and curse your name and ship.” Mord sat, apparently still fuming.

When the Council broke up, the departing Captains were treated to the sights, sounds and scents of the trade bazaar that crew-folk from most of the ships had set up while they were inside debating. This was the one time and place where rank had no privilege. The ones behind the board or in the booth dealt with all comers the same. There was a babble of voices as the different ships cried their merchandise.

“Cloth for sails, cloth for clothes! The Gula’s weaving is second to none!”

“Rope! The strongest rope! It’s the Mordan Twist!”

“Perfumes! Many a scent to please your love!”

“Shellfish! Live lobster! Live Crab! Clams! Oysters! Live Shrimp! Longin lace!”

There was a dense crowd gathered around the Longin booth.

“Look at that, will you! They have a whole big tub of crabs!”

“I’m trying to! Move a bit, will you! Thanks … I don’t believe it! Those are lobsters in that tub over there! And there’s clams in the bottom of that shrimp tub! Get your elbow out of my side!”

“Mister! Ma’am! How much for just one of those bigger shrimps?”

“Thank you, Ma’am! Boil the crab soon for best flavor, and watch out, the legs can scratch, even if the claws are tied!”

“Was that the last crab? Oh, Dragons! They’re out of crabs!” There was a ragged chorus of “Oh, no!” and “I didn’t even get a chance!” The tumult began anew as two of the Longin’s sailors dragged out a fresh tub of crabs. The barely controlled riot of buyers for the unheard of cargo of live delicacies previously thought to be rare lucky finds continued until late …

Kurin surprised everyone by setting up a small booth, under Master Juris’ proud and watchful eye. On its board she set out many toys.

To be Continued

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#SEE STORY #Part 4 of 5 #World of Sea #Written by De Writer

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