#all who sail the sea have a madness in them. a possessiveness. they fall for a thing and cannot live without it. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

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Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 8)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself. except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

word count: 3k

warnings: smut (semi-public sex), possessiveness (some sexual, some not), jealousy, some fluff and some angst, also some violence (including a very small amount against the reader, proceed with caution), mentions of infidelity in a previous relationship

a/n: oh y’all thought it was gonna be smooth sailing from here on out? lol

You didn’t want to abandon Bucky to do carpetside interviews, but he refused to get anywhere near a hot mic so you let him go while you walked over to a reporter you recognized; she’d been nice before, probably would be again this time, so you were a little relieved to see her tonight.

She introduced you to the camera and you were slightly spaced out until she turned to you and got your attention again. “So, you’ve been making a lot of headlines lately for your new relationship— what’s the scoop? How’s it going?” she asked playfully, pushing the microphone into your face.

“Uh, great,” you breamed, “he’s my date tonight and he seems to have disappeared to…” you turned around to look for him. “Oh, he’s talking to... is that... Laurence Fishburne?”

“James, is that his name?” she prompted, making you focus your attention back on the interview.

“Um, yeah,” you nodded, the name sounding a bit foreign, “legally, but he goes mostly by his nickname Bucky.”

“Aw, that’s cute,” she smiled. “He’s, uh…” her eyes widened a bit and you laughed.

“Yeah, he is,” you smirked. “I assume by that facial expression you mean ‘crazy hot.’”

“I mean, in the politest way possible… yeah,” she giggled.

“Yeah, no, don’t pretend not to notice for my sake, cause, yeah, it’s… apparent.”

“Apparently he was your driver first?” she pressed.

“Yes!” you beamed, and then heard the way it sounded and backpedaled slightly. “I promise that’s not why I hired him. I actually didn’t meet him before he was on my team, but, I mean, I wasn’t mad to have some eye candy in the front seat.”

“Eye candy, huh?”

“But he’s so much more than that, that’s the thing,” you explained. “We became good friends first, because he’s so smart and funny and kind and… I mean, I know he looks tough, and he is, but he’s really very sensitive underneath the slightly intimidating exterior.”

“Hard shell, soft center, sweet— he really does sound like candy!”

“Indeed,” you nodded. “Gotta run but it was nice to chat!”

You dashed over to Bucky and clung onto his arm. “Oh, hey, we were just talking about you,” he beamed.

“Loved you in After Midnight,” Mr. Fishburne smiled and even you were totally starstruck.

“Oh, wow, thanks, I loved you in… everything…” you trailed off, internally scolding yourself for the vague and useless compliment. He was about to respond but was pulled away by some member of his team, giving you and Bucky a quick wave as he began a carpet-side interview.

“That was Laurence Fishburne, wasn’t it.” Bucky mumbled to you in a stunned monotone.

“Yes, what were you doing talking to him?” you asked, amazed at his bravery to approach such a huge star.

“He came up to me, to congratulate me on… on dating you, I guess…”

“Or he mixed you up with Brad Pitt,” you shrugged.

“Yeah, if Brad Pitt lost all his money, spent a decade in the desert, went loco and buzzed all his hair off,” Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on, you look great,” you soothed him, straightening his tie. “Wanna go take some pictures?”

“I’m a little scared,” he admitted with a shy smile.

“It’s easy, just give them that sexy brooding look you do so well.”

Bucky smirked pridefully. “You think so?”

“Totally. You’re a natural,” you assured.

You tugged his arm and guided him to the carpet, letting him lead the way (or look like he was leading the way) as you found a clear spot and noticed how the cameras instantly flashed faster and brighter. Photographers called your name to get your attention, and you waved and smiled and pulled Bucky closer. The feeling of his arm around your waist was warm and comforting, and you hoped holding you had the same effect for him.

“Where are you looking?” you asked.

“At you,” he answered.

“Bucky,” you giggled, “you’re supposed to look at the cameras!”

“I honestly can’t, it’s blinding,” he frowned.

“Here,” you sighed, pointing out into the darkness just above the sea of flashing lights. “Look out there.”

“I can’t see anything!”

“I know, but, look as if there was something there to look at, trust me, it helps.”

You adjusted slightly a few times, turning a little to show off the low back of your dress. You almost gasped when Bucky held your face and kissed you suddenly, but you were happy to melt into it even as you heard the cameras flash even more aggressively, some whoops and hollers coming from the crowd on and off the carpet.

He pulled back and you wanted to chase him for more but you realized it wasn’t the right time.

“Let’s go inside,” you offered, guiding him the rest of the way down the carpet— mainly because you were afraid you’d end up jumping his bones right here in front of everyone.

He nodded and followed close by, arm resting on your shoulder the whole time, and just as you saw one of your friends and thought you might want to go over and introduce her to Bucky, you saw who she was talking to.

Sam.

Seeing him always made your heart stop. At first, it was because you were starstruck by him, in awe of his talent, amazed that you were going to be working with someone you admired so much. Then it was because you had fallen for him and he had gladly swept you off your feet, bringing you into a whirlwind romance that at the time had felt like the only thing that mattered. But since the break-up, and now, it was something else. Fear wasn’t the word, it’s not like you were afraid of him in a literal sense, but there was this anxiety, this tenseness to seeing him. It always brought back memories— the best and the worst, all at once. Nights laughing together, sharing secrets, stealing glances and touches and kisses; nights spent alone staring at a phone that never rang. Limbs tangled together between the sheets, that warm brown skin encompassing and surrounding yours; laying side by side in a bed that isn’t empty but is still plenty cold, seeing the way he angles his phone away from you and wishing you had the strength to just leave because you already knew what he was doing. The first time you said ‘I love you.’ The first time he said ‘it won’t happen again.’

“You alright?” Bucky asked, tearing you from your thoughts. You looked away and met Bucky’s gaze, hoping he either hadn’t seen your ex or at least hadn’t recognized him.

“Yeah, I’m great,” you answered quickly, “let’s go get some drinks maybe? And then I need to show you off to some people.”

“Show me off?” he scoffed.

“Yeah, why did you think I brought you here, really?” you winked.

“Hey, if we’re showing each other off, does that mean you’ll come to my next high school reunion?”

You’d been antsy ever since the two of you had come inside; it was obvious from the way you were clinging so much closer to him, and yet it was clear that your mind was a million miles away.

“Hey, it’s starting to wrap up, wanna head out soon?” you asked, trying to act casual, but he saw the way your eyes were darting up to where Sam Wilson was mingling and he knew it wasn’t about getting home early. Did you really think he wouldn’t notice that you’d seen him?

“Whatever you wanna do,” he shrugged.

“Okay, could you bring the car around for me then? And I’ll meet you outside?” you offered. “I should say hi and bye to a few people.”

“Sure,” he agreed, starting to walk away after giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

And he really did try to do what he said he was going to, but the further away he walked, the more he glanced back to watch you walk across the room, the harder it was to just let it go. He knew you were going to talk to him, and before he really even decided to do anything about it he found himself circling back around the room, following you.

He thought he’d lost you when he turned a corner and you were gone, but then he heard voices from a doorway and cracked it open slightly to see you inside with a few other people, nobody he recognized although one of them he’d definitely seen in something before.

He sighed with relief, about to turn and go get the car like he said he would, but then Sam Wilson just had to magically materialize out of thin air as he stepped up behind you and tapped your shoulder.

“Sam!” you blurted out, spinning to face him with wide eyes.

“Hey,” he greeted, acting all suave and shit, making Bucky’s blood boil. “You look great.”

“Oh, thanks,” you mumbled, “you too.”

“You’ve been all over the internet lately, making quite the splash,” he recalled with a contemplative nod. “You and this new boytoy you’ve got.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is boyfriend,” you corrected sternly.

“Honey,” he scoffed as he rolled his eyes. Bucky couldn’t decide if it was worse to hear him call you a pet name in earnest or with the derogatory tone that he currently had. “Everybody knows you go through these guys like potato chips. Especially when they’re not famous— how many PAs did you hook up with on your last set, huh?”

“I don’t roll like that anymore,” you denied.

“That’s not what Jake Friedman says,” Sam smirked. It actually took Bucky a moment to remember that that was the guy you’d… entertained in the backseat of your car, or maybe it was more that he had entertained you; you seemed to tense up when Sam mentioned him, as did Bucky. “I mean, sure, he’s not crew, but he’s not famous the way you are. The way we are. And neither is your new guy. He doesn’t ‘get it’, does he? He doesn’t get what it’s like. Has he already started freaking out about all the hate online?”

Bucky regretted that he’d ever said anything about that; if he’d known it would come around to prove Sam Wilson right about something, he wouldn’t have done it. “No,” you lied.

“Well, he will,” Sam assured you, stepping a little closer to you and letting his fingers languidly brush over your arm. “I made a mistake before, letting you go.”

“Damn right,” you hissed as you pulled away from him.

“But I realized that, and now I’m wondering why we aren’t giving the people what they want.”

“That’s what I never understood about you,” you frowned. “It’s always about other people with you. It’s never about you, and it was never about me.”

“But it is about you,” he explained, “and me: us. You’re forgetting how good we were together.”

You shook your head. “I was single for years and you never called. Now you’re all over me with all these regrets about ending it? Get a grip, Sam. This is about you wanting what you can’t have.”

“Can’t have?” he repeated incredulously. “Baby,” he purred— and Bucky decided it was definitely worse to hear him call you that in earnest. “You know you’re always gonna be mine.”

As you started to shiver, Sam’s arms slipping around your back and grabbing your waist, Bucky felt like he had lost control of his body. He was watching himself from far away as he stormed across the room, nearly knocking a few people over on the way, and shoved Sam off of you and onto the ground.

“Bucky!” you yelped. “Bucky, stop!”

“You’d better watch your hands, Wilson, before they get somewhere they’re not supposed to be,” Bucky growled, ignoring you completely even as you helplessly tugged at his suit.

“Jesus,” Sam spat, “the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What are you doing?” you asked Bucky, irate and confused as you stared up at him with a furrowed brow. He grabbed your hand and guided you out of the room and down the hall, barely managing to drag you into a random bathroom before he started tearing at your dress, leaving rough bites and kisses down your neck as you gasped and moaned softly.

“Mine,” he mumbled against your skin, “all mine. Did you forget?”

“No,” you sighed, “I could never…”

“That’s not what it looked like,” he sneered, hiking up your long skirt to run his fingers over your skin and expose the delicate, lacy panties you were wearing.

“Bucky, please,” you sighed, rubbing your hips up against his leg, riding his thigh shamelessly.

“What’s got you so worked up, baby? Is it me, or him?” he asked darkly.

“You, baby, just you, nobody else— I’m yours,” you assured him feverishly, “I’m all yours, please, I need you.”

“Yeah?” he breathed, fumbling with his belt and fly as he pulled his growing cock from his suit pants. “You need it that bad?”

“Please,” you sobbed, “fuck me.”

He pulled your underwear aside and quickly shoved into you, groaning at the feeling of your walls stretching to welcome him. “Fuck, angel, so tight,” he sighed, knowing how much little praises drove you crazy.

“Bucky,” you sighed, “oh my god… harder, please— n-need you deeper…”

His hips moved back only to slam back against yours, making you whimper; he smiled when he felt your leg wrap around his waist and try to hold him inside, but he couldn’t slow down now, not when he needed this so bad.

He sucked on your neck as he kept thrusting into you, your wetness coating his cock so thoroughly that he slid right home every time. It was clear that he was hitting your g-spot from how you moaned with each thrust, your spongy channel pulsing and tightening in rhythmic patterns.

Overcome with the need to assert his, for lack of a better word, ownership over you, he found himself reaching up to hold your throat— not quite in the way to choke you, just to remind you that he could, if he wanted to.

“Did he ever make you come like this?” he asked with a gravelly whisper, lips right against your ear as he tightened his hand around your neck slightly.

“No,” you shook your head, “nobody has.”

“Nobody’s ever loved you this good but me, is that it? Nobody else has ever fucked you like this?”

“Just you, Bucky, please don’t stop— I’m so close…”

“Do you think they can hear you out in the hallway? Say my name when you come, princess, just in case they can— I want them to know who’s making you feel this good.”

“Bucky,” you whined, chanting it over and over with a few ‘yes’s and ‘fuck’s interspersed occasionally. He thrusted faster and harder as he felt his own orgasm building; he needed to come inside you and claim you again, mark you as his one more time, and the flexing of your walls was only egging him on.

“I know you’re close, baby, just let go,” he whispered against your ear, “come for me, just like that, you’re doing so good— fuck, so good for me…”

You whimpered and clutched at his shoulders, a gush of wetness and a final, strong tightening of your inner muscles signaling that you’d reached your peak. He couldn’t hold back any longer when he saw (and felt) that, groaning as he began to release thick streams of come into you.

The absolute second your afterglow began to fade, you pushed him off of you and grimaced as you adjusted your panties and dress. "The fuck is wrong with you?"

"Wh— what?" he stammered, breathless and confused. "What did I do? Was I not supposed to come inside?"

You gaped at him in shock. "Do you really not realize what you did? Bucky, you assaulted my ex-boyfriend."

"I— he'll be fine," he dismissed, "he was putting his hands on you, what was I supposed to do, just let him do it?"

"You were supposed to let me handle it," you hissed. "You were supposed to be pulling the car around and not spying on me!"

"Spying?! I was protecting you."

"You shoved him hard enough to knock him over, Bucky, that's not okay."

"Hold on," he shook his head in disbelief, "so you're mad at me, when we just had sex?! Why didn't you say something before?"

"Just cause it's hot doesn't mean it's okay," you explained, a little embarrassed.

"Tell me something," he frowned, "what is this—" he motioned to the space between the two of you— "to you? Cause it kinda seems like I think we're boyfriend and girlfriend, and you think—"

"What? What do I think?" you challenged. "Go ahead, tell me."

"You think it's just a sex thing."

"Oh my god," you rolled your eyes.

"Well, what am I supposed to think when you get off on me dealing with your ex, and then tell me it's this big terrible thing?"

A sick idea clawed its way out of the back of Bucky's mind: was Sam right about her? Was Sam right about us?

You crossed your arms and huffed, but didn't respond.

"Was everything that just happened just a fuckin' kink for you or something? Cause I meant every goddamn word," he growled.

You sighed, like you weren't taking it seriously— like you weren't taking him seriously. His fist tightened at his side involuntarily. He'd never felt so used, so ignored; or, at least, he never expected it from you. "We'll talk about this later," you dismissed quickly. "Let's just go back there and put on a happy face, okay?"

"Oh, so you can let another guy feel you up? Sounds like a fucking blast," he hissed.

"Fuck you," you snarled as you pushed him aside to leave the bathroom.

He didn't remember grabbing you, he didn't remember twisting your arm as he pulled you back. He didn't remember you crying out, trying to wrench yourself away, clawing at his grip on you. All he remembered was you looking up at him with watery eyes, expression twisted in fear.

"Bucky, you're hurting me," you whimpered weakly, and only then did he notice his metal hand was holding your wrist. When he let go, he already saw a mark forming in the shape of his hand as you grabbed your freed wrist to rub the damaged flesh.

"I'm sorry—" he began to whisper, but you were already gone.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader series #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes smut

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thereluctantinquisitor · 4 years ago

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Another Year

OKAY so it is @frenchy-and-the-sea’s birthday and I am HERE with a terrible gift that is just... okay, listen. LISTEN. I had feelings and I just wrote them down and if it is wildly out of character please just pretend it is a really weird AU!

Aaaanyway, Alex and Tahir belong to the wonderful Frenchy and live in her amazing original work, Seven Cities. If you haven’t already, join me in this glorious rabbit hole and come fall in love with all her characters!

Happy Birthday Frenchy <3

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

If someone had told a young Alex that her life would be shaped like a cradle of wood, set adrift over the ocean chasing fairytales, she would have laughed them out of the room and told them not to bother coming back. Hell, sometimes she felt like laughing herself out of the room when she paused long enough to think about what they were doing. Seven cities. Sitting cross-legged by the Ranger’s bow, her head resting against one of the railing posts, those two words alone were enough to stir something deep and quiet in her chest. It was hard, not to long for answers to unasked questions. Particularly when they had been planted in your head by someone else. Some days, that meeting with Jon, and all the things that followed, felt like a dream. A story that had happened to someone else, a long time ago, that she just happened to overhear at a pub in some piss-soaked harbour town. A story full to the brim of adventure and triumph. Fuller still of mess and mistakes.

“Another year, huh?”

Alex huffed, not bothering to pull her eyes from the waves. “Not sure what you mean. Not sure I care to know, either.”

Of course, she knew exactly what he meant. Maybe at another time, in another place, Tahir might have laughed at her almost dramatic sullenness. But not this time. Instead, he just hovered for a while, before finally lowering himself down beside her with a soft grunt. Exhaling, he tipped his head back. Dark circles framed his eyes, same as hers. There had been some long days, of late, and even longer nights. They wore them about as well as could be expected. “You know, after all this time, I thought you’d soften up to people wanting to celebrate your birthday.” His gaze flicked down, and Alex’s averted just as fast. “It’s a good thing, lad. Means you’ve eked out another year in this mad place. And there’s no one alive who can take that from you.”

“If you’re feeling like waxing poetic, Tahir, there are better audiences for it.”

“Ah, well, Adelina is asleep.”

“Try Duchess.”

The pair exchanged a flat look, like siblings poised to push each other’s buttons. Normally, Alex’s glower was a thing of legend, but this time she felt the corners of her lips twitch traitorously and had to break the contest, masking it by casting her attention back out over the water with a huff. Rather than reveling in his victory, Tahir just allowed a faint smile to spread freely across his face. He was a spot of brightness in the inky dark. Somehow, when she needed him to be, he always was.

The silence lingered until she broke it. “I don’t make a fuss or demand a song and dance because I don’t care about it, Tahir.” Alex wasn’t sure why she started speaking. Normally those kinds of words had to be pried from her like a coin from a miser. “So unless you’ve been spending your lonesome evenings knitting a cape from old hemp sacks and sail rope, best to just treat it the same as any other day.”

There was a pause. “Well,” Tahir began slowly, “I’m not sure about the knitting, but if I’d known you wanted a cape made out of old hemp and---”

He broke off with a surprised grunt as the heel of Alex’s boot connected solidly with his thigh, then quickly caught her foot in one large hand. He raised it slightly, as if to say don’t make me confiscate this, then set it back down on the wooden deck at a pointedly safe distance. “In seriousness,” he continued, one eye still watching for any further signs of attack, “have a drink, at least. Even if it’s just with me or Adelina. Celebrate a little.”

Alex arched a brow. “That an order?”

“It’s a suggestion, Alex. From a friend.”

“Yeah, well…” Alex reached up and ran a hand through her hair. Or at least, she tried it, tangled as it was from the salt and wind. “Consider your friendly suggestion noted. I just…” Her arm suddenly felt heavy. Too heavy. She let it fall to her lap like an anchor to the seafloor. “I just don’t feel in a celebrating mood. Not of late. It’s… there’s so much to do, Tahir.”

“Like what?”

“I…” Alex hesitated. There were things to be done. Of course there were things to be done! There was always something to finish, or begin, or re-do because some half-asleep idiot fucked it up the first time. They were all tired. All drained dry. That meant something was leaking – something that needed to be fixed. Something she needed to fix.

Yet, when asked what that thing was, she found herself at a loss.

Tahir shifted his weight, boot scraping over the deck as he bent his knee and propped his elbow on it. “Sometimes, we have bad weeks. All of us, together, on this ship.” He was looking at her, waiting for her to meet his gaze. When she didn’t, he continued anyway. “None of us blame you for it, Alex. We’ll blame the gods, or the weather, or a bad hand at a tarot reader’s tent well before we’d ever blame you. This is just… how things go sometimes. We can’t change it any more than we can change the tide.”

Finally, Alex turned to face him. “So… what? I’m just meant to accept that sometimes everything goes to shit for no reason? Make my peace with it?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because punishing yourself doesn’t make it any easier.”

Alex opened her mouth – to retort? Argue? She wasn’t sure. But once again, she found the will to fight had abandoned her. Or maybe, just maybe, Tahir had a point, and she’d just rather cast herself into the sea than admit it right now.

Instead, Alex just grunted; a quiet kind of acquiescence, open enough to interpretation that she could stomach it well enough. Tahir, never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, accepted it with wordless grace. They sat in silence for a little while longer, side by side, lulled by the creaking of the ship. Then, there was a rustle of fabric as Tahir reached into his side-pouch and extended a further sign of peace.

A flask.

“What’ve you got in there today?” Alex took the flask and set to unscrewing it with half-numb fingers. The night-chill was starting to rise already. She convinced herself the drink was just to chase it away. Nothing more.

Tahir relaxed back against the rail, stretching his legs out again. “Something you’ll like.”

Frowning, Alex eyed him warily as she slowly raised the flask to her nose. The first inhale was short – a test, of sorts. When she didn’t keel over from a poorly conceived prank by one of the twins, she relaxed and allowed herself a deeper breath. What met her was something rich, lightly spiced, and possessing just enough edge to promise a good, trickling warmth that curled its way to her fingertips. Even without tasting it, she knew one thing for certain: it was good. “When did you even get this?” she asked a little accusingly. Last time they were at port, he’d insisted on staying with the ship while the others enjoyed a well-earned shore leave.

Apparently not.

As though reading her mind, Tahir quickly raised his hands. “Easy there, Captain. I convinced Davin to take my place for a bit. The Ranger was in good hands.” He hesitated. “Well, reasonably good hands. He was still sober enough to stand.”

It was easier to laugh, somehow, with that flask in her hand. Not just because its contents sent a comforting warmth straight to her stomach, but because it was something she hadn’t known she needed. It was a moment with someone she trusted above anyone else, sitting on the bow of her ship, letting sea and sail carry them towards a distant point of the compass.

Some leaks are small. Barely even noticeable, at first. But god, it feels good when someone takes the time to patch it.

“That good, huh?” Tahir asked eventually, after Alex had helped herself to a third hearty swig. Humming contently, she smirked and held out the flask.

“You tell me.” When Tahir raised his brows, Alex just rolled her eyes. “Listen - given you probably owe Dav a favour now – a thing no man alive would envy – you can at least partake in the spoils.”

Laughing, Tahir shrugged his large shoulders. “Well, when you put it that way, how could I say no?”

There it was again. That smile. The one that reminded Alex that she had her own. And she found it, then, as Tahir took the flask and allowed himself a long, deep swallow. Then another. Then another…

“Hey - don’t go emptying it!” There was a moment of frenzy, Alex grabbing for the flask, Tahir twisting away, keeping her at bay with a frantically extended elbow. Eventually, Alex managed to snatch it back and tipped it up, peering inside as though to measure the precise depth of his betrayal. “You rat bastard.”

But Tahir wasn’t listening. He was too busy laughing, one hand on the rail, hauling himself to his feet (and, more importantly, out of range). Once upright, he swayed slightly, then stretched his back. Cat-like. Content in his flagrant hubris.

Duchess would be proud.

“Come on, then,” he said. “Up you get.”

“What?” Alex was still fuming, trying to fish out the last few boozy drops with her finger. Traitor. “Why the hell should I?”

Tahir just grinned.

“Because the rest of the bottle is with Adelina, and you’ve kept her waiting long enough.”

#reluctant writes #seven cities #frenchy-and-the-sea #alex sheffield #tahir #adjksldajdkal i hope you like it #im sorry i know it's weird and out of context but i just wanted to write another alex having a birthday fic #it's no match for the Great Coat Giving one that you wrote that just lit my heart on fire #but it's been a weird-ass year and i wanted to do a little something #on this humble and wonderful day #which is the day of your majestic birth #<3

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radiojamming · 5 years ago

Note

I feel like the low-hanging fruit of a prompt to give you is something around the canonical presence of the Franklin Expedition in TMA lore. Everchase fic?

[GRABS THAT FRUIT AND SCURRIES BACK UP MY TREE WITH IT BEFORE U CAN EVEN BLINK]

also i picked my 3rd favorite franklin expedition boy as the main dude here :3c and this isn’t terror-centric so much as it lines up with MAG 133!

- - -

Tom doesn’t understand what possesses the men he sails with. Some of them have such a want; such a craving and a desire that he cannot fathom, what with his simple daily tasks and basic training. He sees it, sometimes, when he’s tying off ropes or painting or tarring. He sees their hunger, spies it when they look out at where the sea is caked in ice, threatening the end of a cold summer. Out beyond the grey mountains and glaciers, the knife points of broken ice, the strange creatures, the dancing lights that curtain the stars, he knows they see the Northwest Passage. They see it so clearly that they’re blind to what’s in front of them now.

He sees a job. He sees chores and things that years in the Navy have taught him to do.

Of course, he also wants things. Everyone does. Tom wants to make it through the expedition in one piece, whether it end in the Sandwich Islands or England if they have to turn tail. He wants to collect his double pay, count it out from his hands to his mother’s, and feel safe and warm again before the next set of sails and ropes entices him back to the sea.

And once, he wanted adventure. He wouldn’t have had the thought to sign onto Erebus if there wasn’t some part of him that craved it. It didn’t capture his senses the way it does for some of the men, but there was a thrill that ran a gauntlet through his heart when he saw something truly strange, like the auroras or the twirled horns of narwhals peeking up through the ice. Sometimes, he would eagerly run down to the orlop after his watch ended and pen out a quick letter to his sisters, his brother, his mother, or his cousins—just hurried observations of the Arctic and how different it was from Gillingham.

He wanted adventure. The past tense is deliberate and fierce. He wanted, because the only reason it was ever in the present tense at all is now buried under six feet of frozen gravel some two hundred miles north. If he must want something presently, he wants his brother back from the dead.

No, he doesn’t understand the men who seek the Passage like hounds on a scent. What’s the use of wanting something you’re not meant to have?

- - -

They freeze in for the second summer in a row. The sun kisses the horizon, pressing rosy lips to grey shale and pink ice—then draws back up into a powder blue sky to wink above them.

That’s when people start to disappear.

First, it’s Sir John. He dies in June—or so Tom’s told. He apparently dies in the night, long after the dog watches take place. Captain Crozier tells the men that they’ll be burying Sir John right away, but Commander— no, Captain Fitzjames’ face is fixed peculiarly when the announcement is made. Dreadfully ill, Crozier tells them. He can’t be seen.

It doesn’t make sense. Many of the ABs echo the sentiment, but the mates and lieutenants are quick to quash their concerns. The burial is hasty, committing a simple wooden box to the gravel with only a large stone to mark the grave itself. This strikes Tom as stranger than all the Arctic’s oddest traits combined. His brother, a lowly able-bodied seaman, was afforded more decorum than Sir John Franklin.

More disappear after that. Fairholme and Osmer apparently die on a hunting expedition. Aylmore, Goddard, and Kinnaird aren’t far behind, disappearing into that sun-soaked horizon with only whispers left behind.

Reddington makes the oddest display before his disappearance; honestly, he’s the best hint to Tom that something very, very strange is happening. The night before he goes missing, he wakes half the ship up with a maniacal laugh, practically screaming in pure incoherence before Lieutenant Le Vesconte drags him into the Wardroom, presumably to calm him. Le Vesconte opens the door only once to ask for Captain Fitzjames and a glass of brandy before he shuts them both in and the screaming starts again. All Tom can catch is the howl of, “It’s there! It’s there! I’ve seen it!” before Fitzjames arrives.

The next morning, Reddington is gone. Fitzjames says he broke loose and ran off after the second dog watch, presumably having gone mad.

A few days later, Crozier says they’re going to abandon ship and begin a long walk south.

- - -

The craving begins in September, Tom thinks.

If there even is such thing as September.

In his mind, it’s The Craving, titled like a book. In this book, he thinks the plot would be about men so far gone in their hunger that all the humanity in them decays to nothing, leaving them crazed husks searching for the impossible. At this point, what with men falling into the stones and dying halfway through the descent, he feels they shouldn’t be like this. They should be tending their wounded and ill, making camp more often. But The Craving is in Crozier’s eyes, dragging them further and further towards… something.

Tom doesn’t think they’re looking for the Passage anymore.

He follows along, as he always has. Ever the seaman, now ever the AB, following orders from a boatswain with lips scarred from his whistle freezing to the flesh and tearing away.

Then, The Craving gets carnal when their last food stores begin to dwindle. Tom barely notices, watching as if in a dream as the man who used to be Daniel Arthur cracks marrow out of a bone, greedily clawing it out of the hollows with his frostbitten fingers. He eats like an animal, and stops only when they begin to move again.

Tom doesn’t eat with them. Every time he thinks of it, his mind plays some terrible trick. He thinks of John, entombed in ice and rock, emaciated and torn open like an animal was the one who pried his ribs from his body, and not a surgeon. He thinks of what John’s marrow would taste like, and imagines his brother watching him, eyes unfocused behind the mists of death, jaw unhinged in that silent scream of a corpse—judging him.

Tommy, he thinks John would say. Always stealing off my plate, huh?

He doesn’t eat. When the hunger saws at his stomach with iron teeth, he bites his hands, his lips, the wool from his coat, the copper-tasting metal of his buttons. He swallows snow until he vomits.

And somehow, impossibly, he lives on.

- - -

There are no days.

No weeks.

No months.

Maybe years, but Tom’s stopped counting.

There are only steps, one after another. There are bloody footprints thousands of miles behind them. They abandoned the sledges back in the snow and gravel, leaving useless cargo and a trail of broken bodies. Men still die, but there seems to be no real reason why they do. Tom should have been dead… ten? Twenty? Fifty years ago? He can’t remember. All he knows is that he’s still walking, following behind Crozier and Fitzjames and a dwindling party of men still dressed for the Arctic weather.

They’re in a desert.

Surely they should have found the Passage by now? Tom thinks this as he sees a lizard scurry up a strange plant, spiked like a well-used pincushion. The sun bites his blistering flesh, scrapes its glowing teeth along the back of his neck. Still, he’s never felt the need to take off his slops. There’s something comforting about the What Was, after all.

Why is he here? He doesn’t Crave the way the others do. They always talk about the Passage. It’s over that hill, surely. It’s along this river. If we just walk over there, it will be within sight. He knows it won’t be. It never is.

So why does he walk?

Because you Want, something tells him. It’s a deep, odd thing set in his soul, prone to ring out when struck like a bell, reminding him that he Must Always Walk.

For what?

For the Wanting, it says. And what do you Want, Thomas Hartnell?

Somewhere beyond a flat-topped mountain the colour of blood and bile, he thinks about that question. What does he Want?

He wants his mother to kiss his forehead and tell him good night. He wants Charlie to take apart their father’s pocket watch and put it back together, just in time to proudly show it to Tom. He wants to hear Mary Ann sing old shanties while she kneads dough on Friday morning. He wants to sit at the base of an apple tree while Betsy throws down the fruit, giggling as she does so.

He wants John to come back from the dead.

He wants to go home.

And Home is over that next mountain, says The Craving. Tom looks up at another blood-red mountain, the winking sun pressing a kiss to the slant of its neck. Don’t you want to see it again? Gillingham? Kent? The River and the Sea?

Of course he does, but it isn’t—

Well, maybe it is.

So Tom Wants, and he Craves, and he Walks.

#tma #the magnus archives #mag 133 #THIS WAS REALLY REALLY FUN

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inevitably-johnlocked · 6 years ago

Note

Any fics about hair? Whether it’s hair care or hair pulling, I don’t mind.

Hi Nonny!

Ah, I don’t have very many that deal SPECIFICALLY with hair, but more like hair is within the plot or one of the boys loves the hair! So here’s what I can remember; I know there’s another that’s 100% about hair (Sherlock wants to taste John’s hair and doesn’t know how to ask) and I can’t remember which one it is and it’s bugging me LOL. Anyway, here you are, everything that showed up in a search. I’ll also add Beard Fics too:

HAIR & BEARDS

See also: John Has a Beard

Upon Reflection, Tenable Frippery by emmagrant01 (T, 1,299 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4, John’s Beard, First Kiss, Fluff) – John was, inexplicably, growing a beard.

Untouched by KittieHill (E, 3,239 w., 1 Ch. || Kissing, Frottage, Virgin Sherlock, Body Worship, Sherlock’s Scars Mentioned, Masturbation, PWP, Rimming, Multiple Orgasms) – Sherlock leaked a lot. John had never needed lubricant. John loved watching it, had once spent an entire afternoon edging Sherlock so he could watch as the thick precome drip, drip, dripped onto Sherlock’s belly.

Love and Hair Dye by Anonymous (E, 3,920 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Body Worship, Self Conscious John, Voyeurism, Idiots in Love, Smutty Smut) – Self conscious John decides to cover the greys on his head, and the colour isn’t what he thought it would be. Now he’s more self-conscious than ever.

The Oolong Disaster by unicornpoe (T, 4,151 w., 1 Ch. || John’s Beard, Fluff, Humour, Frustrated Sherlock, John Takes Care of Sherlock, Case Fic-ish, Pining Sherlock, First Kiss, Possessive Sherlock) – John has a beard. Sherlock has a panic attack.

If He Knows by shamelessmash (M, 4,513 w., 1 Ch. || TSo3 Fic, Pining Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Angst, Sherlock POV, Texting, Internal Monologue, Blanket Forts) – I imagine mornings: John handing me a cup of tea, hair sticking out at odd angles. How he would bend down to kiss me, smiling fondly as he pulls away. The way his skin crinkles at the corner of his eyes, the way his skin looks in the morning light. The soft sigh as he sits in his chair with the morning paper, the way his toes curl in the carpet, the way he rolls his shoulders before sinking deeper into his seat. I watch him, how he is when he is content, as it should be. As he deserves. Happy. With me.

Facade by distantstarlight (M, 4,715 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, John’s Beard, No-Shave November, Grumpy Sherlock, Clueless Sherlock) – Sherlock is highly irritated with a challenge John has agreed to undertake. Why does he need to grow a beard anyway?

One Day Like This by nondeducible (E, 4,872 w., 1 Ch. || First Time, Bed-Sharing, Romance, Fluff, Virgin Sherlock) – When Sherlock emerged from the bathroom, the sight before him nearly took his breath away. The only light in the room was the small lamp on the bedside table. John’s skin shone like gold, his hair like the purest silver. He was on his side, facing the empty part of the bed, his outstretched hands ready to embrace whoever climbed in next to him. Sherlock could imagine, just for a second, that this was their shared bed and he was coming back to settle into John’s arms.

Survival Strategies for the Domesticated British Butthole by Atiki (E, 6,183 w., 1 Ch. || Crack, Rimming, Anal Sex, Iced Lolly, Hair Removal, Depilation) – In which there’s a rimming disaster, Sherlock depilates his butt, everything goes very, very wrong and groceries are mistreated. This fic contains hair removal creme in a butthole, ice lollies in a butthole and John Watson’s penis in a butthole. You have been warned.

The Death of Doubt by Gingerhermit (E, 6,584 w., 1 Ch. || Alternate Canon, BAMF John, POV Sherlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Hurt/Comfort, Angst/Drama, Meddling Mycroft) – Mycroft asks for John’s help in rescuing Sherlock from his Serbian captors.

The Tip Over Into The Inevitable by ivyblossom (T, 6,894 w., 1 Ch. || Grief, Cuddles, Insomnia, Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers) - When his father dies, Sherlock avoids sleeping. Then discovers he can’t sleep at all. John finds a way to help.

Onomatopoeia by aquabelacqua (M, 6,904 w., 1 Ch. || First Time/Kiss, Frottage, Dirty Talk, Domestics, Word Kink, POV Sherlock, Dry Humping / Sex, Chair Sex, Hair Pulling, Lazy Mornings, Hand Jobs, Friends to Lovers) – Something is the matter with John. Sherlock is determined to figure out what it is. Mark his words.

Beg for Mercy (Twice) by Solitary_Endeavor (E, 7,060 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Bottomlock, Bearded John, Edging, Rough Sex, Idiots in Love, Canon Compliant) – Sherlock hasn’t left the flat in four days, the itch of impatience beneath his skin too great to allow him to suffer interaction with any human being who isn’t John. This is probably a mercy that goes both ways, as he’s driving even himself mad. Sherlock supposes there is a lesson to be learned here about having himself to blame, but of course he blames Mycroft.

Of Razors, Pipes, Red Notebooks and Rugby Jerseys, Or: Sherlock Doesn’t Like His Doctors Clean Shaven by allonsys_girl (E, 7,313 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., PWP / Porn With Feelings, John’s Beard / Beard Kink, Roleplay, Love Declarations, Banter, Rimming, Anal, Domestic Fluff / Bliss, Idiots in Love, Emotional Lovemaking, Pet Names, Obsessive Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Bottomlock, Cranky Sherlock) – John grows a beard. Sherlock really likes it. Part 1 of Consulting Husbands

Christmas by Anonymous (E, 7,673 w., 1 Ch. || Worried Sherlock, PWP, Drunkeness, Christmas, Est. Relationship, Idiots So In Love) – John feels a lump rise in his throat, and it hits him, again, that this beautiful, infuriating creature is his. Completely, one-hundred percent his.

And if you say the word, I could stay with you by CaitlinFairchild (E, 12,842 w., 1 Ch. || Domestic Fluff, BottomJohn / Topping from the Bottom, Fluff and Romance, Dirty Talk, Proposals) – What Sherlock thinks is, On the day I die, be it in a dirty alley at forty or in my bed at eighty, the last thing I will remember is tonight, the way you looked at at me on the snowy pavement, cheeks pink with the cold, breath puffing in frosty white clouds, your heart in your eyes and snowflakes in your hair. I will remember that single perfect moment in my life, that moment I knew I had everything I ever wanted, and whatever happens next, I will die content. What he says is simply, “Marry me.”

Where Else Would I Be? by cwb (E, 34,910 w., 10 Ch. || Retirementlock, Domestic Fluff, Falling in Love, Parentlock, Fluff and Smut, Reminiscing) – John and Sherlock’s five-year-old granddaughter spends the weekend with them in Sussex. Sherlock happily indulges her whims, and John takes care of them while quietly revisiting the past thirty years of their lives together.

Albion and the Woodsman by Glenmore (NR [E], 54,437 w., 50 Ch. || Post S3, Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Angst, Family, Drug Use, Depression, Sherlock POV) – Sherlock and John are devastated after Mary Morstan makes her final moves. Sherlock relapses at the crack house, John walks around the world … and a lot happens in between. Parentlock, in the good way.

The Thing Is by TSylvestris (E, 56,743 w., 21 Ch. || Case Fic, Dev. Rel., Anal/Oral, Blow Jobs, Meddling Mycroft, Drama, Romance, Humour, Casual Encounters, Pining Idiots, Possessive Sherlock, Orgasm Delay, Rough / Alley Sex, Public Sex, John Whump, Drugged John, Emotional Love Making, Awkward Relationship, Marriage of Convenience, Switchlock, BAMF John) – The problem with living with Sherlock, John thought, was that you never, never, ever knew the significance of anything. Like your flatmate’s nose buried in your hair. Whilst you’re in bed. Part 1 of Nitroglycerine

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Facial Shaving, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship’s surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there’s more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin’ the eye, he has to choose… is it a pirate’s life for him?

MARKED FOR LATER

Curlock by 88thParallel (G, 1,285 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Sherlock’s Hair, Fluff, Ficlet) – How Sherlock learned to control and appreciate the incredible gift he was born with, and the man who helped him sort it out.

Of Razors, Pipes, Red Notebooks and Rugby Jerseys, Or: Sherlock Doesn’t Like His Doctors Clean Shaven by allonsys_girl (E, 7,313 w., 1 Ch. || PWP, Porn With Feelings, John’s Beard, Bottomlock, Domestics, Fluff and Smut, Banter, Declarations of Love, Rimming, Anal, Est. Rel.) – John grows a beard. Sherlock really likes it. Part 1 of Consulting Husbands

How to Sleep with Your Enemy in One Semester by 221b_careful_what_you_wish_for (M, 9,699 w., 6 Ch. || College / Uni Professors AU || Professor John/Sherlock, Enemies to Lovers, Rivalry, Bickering, Office Sex, Blow Jobs, Fluff, Domestics, John’s Beard, Idiots in Love) – Visiting professors John Watson and Sherlock Holmes are longtime academic rivals — and now unwilling office mates — at a prestigious American university. When their tense arguments give way to an undercurrent of mutual attraction, their war of wits turns into something more personal — until it goes off course. A party, a phone number, and deserted office at night might just bring them back together.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #hair and beards #Anonymous #fic rec wednesday

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kyogre-blue · 6 years ago

Text

Nanowrimo, day 10 (wc 1923)

That should have been the end of it. Silently, without even a final roar, the monster began to topple. It dissolved into a scattering of black birds, and only the bodies of the three assassins hit the ground. They appeared lifeless, and for a moment, Sinbad’s heart was in his throat.

“Hey! You three!” he called out and cursed metally. He didn’t even know their names -- yet.

He, Hinahoho and Drakon each rushed to one of them. Sinbad easily pulled the smallest one up into his arms. Thankfully, he could see his hand twitch slightly, and his thin chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. Nearby, the other two groaned as they slowly came to themselves.

“Are you guys alright?” Sinbad asked.

“Oh, my head... What happened?” the thin one asked, slowly shaking his head. “Sinbad... you saved us?”

“We did,” Sinbad confirmed. “You were being absorbed by a monster. Do you feel anything wrong?”

“No, I feel a bit tired, but otherwise... I feel lighter, almost like an evil spirit was expelled from me,” he said. “Mahad, what about--”

The invisible flow all around them... trembled. There was no other word for it, and Sinbad had never before felt anything like it. Perhaps this was what the earthquakes he’d heard about would feel like -- something unnatural and so vast that it could not be escaped.

‘You think it’s over that easily? I won’t let you escape.’

The court magician’s voice spoke directly into his head -- and the others’ too, judging by the way their eyes widened and they looked around frantically.

‘Even if you destroyed the core... I’ll just use this child directly!’

A black hurricane of wings sprung up without warning, swirling around Sinbad and the small body he was holding. There was no way to describe the sensation left behind where they brushed against him. Sinbad almost expected to see blood flowing down his arms from a myriad of cuts, but there was no physical mark on him. Holding the child in his arms close, he tried to shield him from the swirling black, but he could have sworn the small birds slipping by disappeared directly into his body.

‘It’s no use, this child is already almost Fallen. With such a plentiful vessel, I can restore the magic beast endlessly. It might even be possible to create a Dark Djinn, as we’ve planned...’

“Sin! Call Baal!” Alibaba’s voice came over the chaos.

“BAAL!”

Sinbad didn’t hesitate or stop to think. Twisting his grip on Baal’s sword, he slammed the blade into the ground and sent his will through it. He hoped Baal understood what to do, because Sinbad himself wasn’t at all sure.

A black flow... cold and reversed...

“Gah!” Lightning burst from the sword, cutting through the dark energy -- and also through Sinbad, though he gritted his teeth and endured, even as his vision whited out and his ears rang deafeningly.

Beyond the white and the noise, he could see flashes of things he didn’t recognize.

Ah, so this kid’s name was Ja’far.

‘Hey, Ja’far! What do you mean about not having a place to go? Didn’t you already agree to become my comrade? Naturally, my home is your home now. ... Of course. I said I won’t let my comrades die, and that means you too. The stuff in the past, we’ll work it out later. ... It’s fine if you don’t trust me now. But since you agreed, you owe me the chance to prove it to you!’

And finally, quietly, weakly, there was a very faint sense of agreement and a small hand slipping into his.

Sinbad grinned. He had succeeded! Subordinate acquired!

There was a sensation like a fist driving into his head and huffing annoyance. Sinbad laughed, as the weight began to lift and his mind cleared.

“Ow, ow, ow...” He came back to himself to aching all over, Baal’s lightning faded away around them. Struggling weakly, Ja’far pounded against his chest.

“Stupid...” he hissed.

“You’re insane!” Drakon agreed, running up to them with Hinahoho. “Do you want to die?!”

“Unbelievable,” Hinahoho agreed, though he seemed to have already accepted that this was Sinbad’s way of doing things and only smirked a little down at him.

Considering Sinbad had blindly hit the two of them with Baal’s power, that was all perhaps deserved. He grinned weakly, still wincing. But at least the cold, strange reverse flow that had blinded him was dispersing. Like this, he could feel the correct direction again, and it was once again in his favor.

‘NO!!’

“Enough already! Just disappear, you damn ghost!” Sinbad snapped. “Baal!”

And, in a final flash of lightning, Falan’s voice faded away.

~.~

Seeing Sinbad droop in relief and get swept up in a huddle of his worried and scolding allies, Alibaba finally let out a long breath and sheathed Amon’s dagger. It seemed that things had been resolved -- as they were fated to be. After all, Sinbad had always been meant to capture Valefor’s dungeon.

But to think he had overcome this much to achieve it.

“He’s really something...” Alibaba murmured to himself, smiling.

“Mm, even I have to agree,” Valefor said, its form shrinking as it padded up to Alibaba. Together, they watched from the sidelines. “His potential is exceptional. If it’s him, maybe he will be the one to unite the world.”

“Unite the world? Is that why you djinn pick kings?”

“Everyone has their own reasons and qualifications they look for,” Valefor said, licking one paw. “But that is the wish we share. To support another great king like Solomon...”

Amon had said something like that too, about magi and djinn searching for a new incarnation of Solomon. Uniting the world... was a very extreme goal. After all, even Sinbad in the future would only become the high king of the seven seas. The Seven Seas Alliance was only one of the three great world powers, no a complete hegemony.

But if it was like that, Alibaba understood even less why Amon had ended up with him.

He lacked any great ambition or even desires. All he wanted was to live a comfortable life as a merchant, not even a top merchant but just a good one. He’d never had the courage to enter Amon’s dungeon alone, and his end goal had been the treasure inside, not power. And even that aside...

He hadn’t been able to protect even a single country. He even abandoned it and ran away when he failed.

The only thing he wanted was to make amends and wipe the slate clean.

That was why he had to return to Balbadd -- his Balbadd of fourteen years later, not the still prospering city he and Sinbad had been in.

He had to find a way back.

“Valefor,” Alibaba called out quietly, “when we head back, could you send me separately, ahead of the others?”

“Hmm? I could,” Valefor said. It huffed. “But I really wonder what your deal is. You come to a dungeon, but you don’t want power. You ask some weird thing that people from that world shouldn’t have any involvement in. You recognize the black rukh, but you don’t take any action. You’re traveling with another king and have so much faith in him... Who does that? You’re weird.”

Alibaba coughed into his fist.

“This... I also think it’s weird,” he admitted.

The look he received from the djinn was droll and unimpressed. “Fine, I don’t care that much,” Valefor said. Raising its voice, the djinn called out, “Alright, pay attention! Did you forget this is a djinn’s treasury? Now that the pest is gone, it’s time! I will choose the one to receive my power.”

Not that there was any doubt who it would be.

The others drew back, naturally falling in around Sinbad. Hinahoho patted him on the shoulder, making him stumble. “Go on,” he said. “We all acknowledge you as our king.”

Looking between them, Sinbad smiled, but his gaze finally rested on Drakon, who crossed his arms and looked away. “I don’t,” he said bluntly. “I’m a soldier of Partevia, and... there’s already a person I want to dedicate my life to. But someone who refuses to abandon any of his subordinates... isn’t bad.”

“What subordinate! I said I’d join you, that’s all!” the smallest assassin protested.

“Just accept it chief,” one of the others laughed. “You’ve acknowledged him too.”

“A-hem!” Valefor cleared its throat loudly. “That’s right! Leading others like this is how a king should be. So I, Valefor, will also select you as my king vessel! Rejoice!” A small, glimmering necklace sailed through the air into Sinbad’s hands. “And take this. Dangerous things are moving about out there, so using this vessel, you’ll be able to call me right away if needed.”

Otherwise, Sinbad did not possess any suitable vessels for Valefor to inhabit, and accumulating familiarity toward a new object would take time.

“Congratulations! You did it!” Alibaba added, clapping lightly. “Way to go, Sinbad!”

Grinning, Sinbad slipped the necklace over his head.

“Yes, yes, good job. Now hurry up and get out of here,” Valefor complained, even though he was going with them. “Don’t worry, I didn’t forget. You first!”

A tunnel of light formed around Alibaba, and he had just enough time to wave to the others before the dungeon fell away, leaving only the strange world far beneath until that vanished as well.

~.~

Sinbad and the others returned about three weeks after going in. Alibaba had returned a week earlier and explained the situation to Hinahoho’s family, who had been going mad with worry.

“Since he said you had already conquered the dungeon and it was just a matter of returning, we have been waiting for you,” the patriarch explained. “He also said you might end up scattered, so I sent messages to the other tribes and kept up a patrol around our territory. We ran into some troublesome fellows trying to sneak in, but don’t worry. They ran like cowards when confronted.”

The three assassins exchanged looks.

“Thank you, sir,” Sinbad said politely. “And thank you for your hospitality.”

“No, I’m the one who needs to express his gratitude. Thank you for looking after my son,” the patriarch said. “Before that friend of yours came back, Pipirika explained what had happened. But now I can see he has found his warrior’s spirit.”

A rare smile creased his weathered face as he looked at his son. Habitually, Hinahoho’s gaze darted away, before he straightened himself and met his father’s eyes with determination.

“Father, I apologize. I dishonored our sacred ritual,” Hinahoho said. “I will accept any punishment you see fit.”

The patriarch shook his head. “You did not hide from the truth in the end. Your heart was true. That is enough. And I’ve heard you slayed a far greater beast than the rampaging unicorn. Even if the celebration was somewhat premature, you are a true warrior now.”

Hinahoho ducked his head, but there was no denying the way his lips curled upward, pleased and proud.

Then, something occurred to him. “But if you sent messages to the other tribes, does that mean...”

“Indeed,” the patriarch nodded. “She has been helping with the patrols. I imagine,” and Sinbad was sure he saw the grave old man’s eyes twinkle, “she will be here very soon.”

Hinahoho paled. But at the same time, blushed.

Behind his back, Sinbad and Alibaba exchanged a look. ‘She’, huh? The famous top beauty of Imuchakk? Sinbad wiggled his eyebrows, smirking. Alibaba glared, unimpressed.

#nanowrimo #My writing

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mirai-eats · 6 years ago

Text

Stray Spring:: Dance (Summer Romance)

Snufmin, 4,673 words, part 2/5

flower symbolism bc thats how i work i dont change, Fluff, Romance, so soft it hurts, Light Angst, Sickfic, Spring Deity Snufkin, little my is a demigod???

A deity borne of spring and summer can’t leave Moominvalley alone.

read on AO3

Moomin had a hard time getting himself out of bed today and that bothered him since today was an important day. Mamma didn’t scold him for stumbling down the stairs well into breakfast, but only wished him a good morning and gently told him to have those midnight adventures on days he doesn’t need to get up early.

Sniff was charged with distracting Little My and taking her up to a rural spot in Lonely Mountain where Snufkin had buried a box of rocks for her to find. Meanwhile, it was up to the Moomins and every spare hand to set up the extravagant party to celebrate the new season and Little My’s new age. Moomin didn’t know how old she was, and every time he asked something would always interrupt. He gave up asking and resorted to counting the candles on her cake.

The party was going to be lovely, Moomin thought. Long tables were set out with summer flowers and stakes with paper lanterns framed the perimeter they set up, strings of lights draped the trees and strung over their heads as an imitation of stars. Mamma was cooking with vigor in the kitchen, preparing enough food to keep the whole valley full through winter. In the meantime, Mamma had set out heaping plates of juicy, red watermelon and sweet berry juice for people setting up the party. Moomin took a few slices and ran down to Mr. Hemulen’s where Snufkin was helping him pick flowers to decorate.

“This is very delicious, thank you Moomintroll,” Snufkin said after chewing thoughtfully on the melon.

“You’re welcome, now let’s haul these over so we can get them on the tables and chairs. Little My is due back soon!”

It was no walk in the park bringing so many flowers in the wheelbarrows. It was a miracle they got them all placed in time right before they heard the large shouts of Little My coming from just beyond.

“Everyone get in place! She’s coming!” Pappa clapped his paws and on cue, everyone rushed to stand in attention, facing the hill Little My will climb to the top of and see the party waiting for her.

“Mymble isn’t here yet, what do we do?” Pappa fretted, his hat tilted askew in his frantic movement.

“She will come, it’ll be a grand surprise on top of this surprise when her mother comes,” Mamma soothed.

---

The party was going well, very well, but the Moomin’s were still eyeing the path from the beach waiting for The Mymble to arrive. She’ll come when she comes, Snufkin thought.

Snufkin didn’t want to admit it, but he was rather nervous himself. He kept to himself at the fringe of the party, in which most, if not all, of Moominvalley, showed up for. The record player Moominpappa had successfully fixed up was playing joyful tunes into the sweet, summer air as the day slowly cooled as the night struggled to blanket the horizons. This was the longest day of the year and sunset didn’t come until the party reached its peak, when the music grew the loudest and drinks splashed refill after refill into cups. Little My had stuck a little cosmo from the table display into her bun as if it were her crown and swung around in the middle of it all, her laughter loud and smile even louder.

It’s when the sun touched the tops of the forests and the sky was a rich gold with strands of rosy pink did a parade arrive. Thirty-four children with hair red like Little My’s and screams somehow louder than hers rushed from the beach trail and over to the party, in the midst of their chaos rose the imposing figure of their mother.

The Mymble was eccentric, a presence so loud and bright it’s hard to ignore, especially how she was taller than even the tallest hemulen. Her red hair was messy atop her head, where little baby’s breath flowers were scattered like sparse snow and her eyes glittered like sunshine on the greenest lake surface. The air felt sweeter in her presence, cooler like a gentle spring breeze dripping with honeysuckle petals. Little My leaped with a shout and ran into her mother’s embrace, her big arms holding her tightly to her chest. The party grew louder, more rambunctious, fit for a Little My with too much energy crammed in that very little body.

From the fringe of the party, Mymble’s eyes landed on Snufkin. This was the first time she’s seen him since he was placed in a basket and sent down the river. He tipped his hat and turned away.

---

He wasn’t mad at her. He couldn’t bring himself to be angry at her for letting him go when he was so young. He grew up fine, he never pined for the affections of a mother or the guidance of a father. He knew what his mother and father were, but when Moominpappa placed a name and face to their beings, shaped their characters through his stories, he ached something sharp like a cold pick of winter ice drilled into his heart.

It was a surprise when it wasn’t Moomintroll who found him first, but The Mymble. Overwhelmed with the party, he had dove into the forest and climbed up a maple tree thick with green leaves. The summer breeze hit him just right, and from here he can watch the sun tiptoe the horizon and paint the sea a brilliant, hazy orange that drove the warmth of the day away.

“Snufkin,” she said.

He nodded in acknowledgment and lit his pipe, letting the smoke waft into the air and fill the thick silence with its odor, the sweet smell of daisies and poppies on his hat was blanketed under a smokey curtain.

“You’ve become quite the deity, haven’t you,” she settled herself on the ground under his tree, her voice rising into the air as if caught by a breeze and sailed up to his perch.

“You couldn’t have done anything for me, could you?” It was a statement, not a question.

“No. I can’t raise a spirit. Those children are all demigods and I enjoy watching them grow, but you aren’t a demigod. You won’t grow like them.”

“Little My?”

“Is like them, and so is my eldest. You’re one of a kind, Snufkin.” A sigh left her lips and it was as if the whole forest took a breath of fresh air. The leaves seemed greener, the air fresher, and the gentle sweetness of the most fragrant flora, of soft sweet peas and mysterious wisteria, star-light jasmine and plump gardenias. It was as if spring came back once more for another round. Snufkin looked down from his perch and saw The Mymble as she truly is- a goddess of spring.

Flowers bloomed and died in her hair, petals dripped like soft snow onto her shoulders and the green grass that’s sprouted out around her. The collar of fur was replaced with a wreath of greenery and flowers oozing their sweet scent, her coat was now a shifting robe that seemed to have been woven from the silkiest petals. She looked up to where Snufkin lounged in the tree, her round face glowing with light only one not of this world can possess.

Snufkin lifted his robe of glamour, the scruffy Snufkin in a coat too old to count the years of and boots worn to the thinnest soles were replaced by his robes of shimmering green. His hat bloomed all sorts of flowers, from the smallest, palest buds to the brightest, largest petals. He descended from the tree with a graceful leap, draped in spring nature, falling far too high to be safe and landed gently on the freshly grown grass, his bare feet hitting the cool blades.

“What of The Joxter, my father?” Snufkin asked.

“A minor god, the personification of a lazy summer day,” she nodded. “It’s why you reign strongest in the spring and summer where the flowers bloom brightest and the sun is the warmest. You spend your days idly and freely, amongst the root of trees and grassy meadows and wherever you go, you bring spring with you.”

She looked up where he stood before him. Even sitting, he was only barely taller than her. “You need to leave earlier than that, my son. I heard from the Moomins you hang around here through the autumn. That can harm you, and it can harm the balance of nature.”

“I know.”

“Then leave as soon as the trees start to shudder and the flowers start to grow smaller. You need to bring your music to the south where the sun sits high in the sky.”

“I will.”

Her eyes narrowed, unbelieving of him. Towers of delphiniums started growing around her, pale blue and pink trumpets of flowers unraveling and reaching for their sun, their spring goddess. Pops of tiny daisies sprung at their feet and brushed up against Snufkin’s bare ankles. “You will. I don’t know if you know this, but if you linger too long in one place, you may perish.”

“I know.” He was starting to sound like a broken record, skipping over select words that would appease his mother. But he knew, he understood the risk of staying too close to winter in Moominvalley. He did it once before because Moomintroll asked him to stay until the winter solstice for their feast so he won’t miss him too terribly when he left. He was ill then, and could barely touch his food, and almost didn’t make it out of Moominvalley before the snow started to really come down. Moomintroll has tried since then to have him stay a little longer, sighing loudly, despondently, into the autumn air. He caved and stayed, and he almost died.

“Don’t do it again. For each time you do, you will grow weaker faster.”

A shout of his named echoed through the forest. A flock of birds rose from the trees and scattered into the orange horizon, the sun swallowed by the midnight blue.

Moomintroll rounded the corner and spotted Snufkin. “There you are! Are you alright? You disappeared during the party.”

“I’m okay, just a little overwhelmed with the number of people,” Snufkin said.

“Oh wow! These are gorgeous!”

The Mymble had disappeared, leaving the patch of jewel-green grass and the stocks of delphiniums at the base of the tree. Snufkin had dropped his glamour back on, his boots crushing the grass and the daisies on his hat matched the ones by Moomin’s feet. Moomintroll did not see a thing. “Aren’t they lovely? They’re called delphinium.”

“They are.” Moomin picked a couple of little daisies and stuck them in the wreath of flowers on Snufkin’s hat. “Do you want to be alone right now?”

Snufkin shook his head. “We can go to the beach and take a walk. I’m just tired of the party.”

Moomintroll’s eyes lit up, a mischevious sparkle that seemed a little too excited for a simple moonlit stroll on the beach.

“Can I show you something instead?”

---

They stole a lantern from the party when no one was looking and traipsed up the forest path. Snufkin realized it was the direction Moomintroll had been sneaking off too for months now.

“What do you want to show me?” Snufkin prodded.

“It’s a surprise.” Moomintroll was practically vibrating.

They reached a bend in the trail and Moomintroll went off the path, over a bushel of bright, yellow yarrow, and down a secret worn path that wound through the trees. He suddenly stopped at the base of a sturdy oak tree. He pushed aside some broken branches piled up at the bottom and revealed a rope ladder dangling down the side of the tree.

“What is this, Moomintroll?” Snufkin asked. He looked up and between the thick branches he could make out wooden boards.

“I built us a secret base,” Moomintroll said, his voice barely able to contain his excitement. “I read a book about spies having secret bases hidden in plain sight, where they can meet and plot their next missions. I thought it would be cool if we had a secret place, too.”

“Oh, Moomintroll, it’s fantastic.” Snufkin’s heart swelled with something warm. A moment of fear iced his veins, that this was Moomintroll asking him to stay forever, but this was a treehouse, a place for them alone and not an actual house. He needn’t read too deeply into the meaning of all this.

“Let’s go, let’s go! You haven’t even seen the best of it yet!” Moomintroll ushered him up the ladder. It took them through a square hole cut out of a wooden platform, buried in the oak branches and green leaves. There was no way someone could see this place from below, and with the thick tree coverage, it was hard to see it coming from the forest path unless someone was looking for it.

The house was a simple box that was morphed around a sturdy branch. The door was a little high off the ground, and there were curtains patterned with summer yellow sunflowers (definitely Moominmamma’s work). The cabin was small, a little rickety for comfort, but Snufkin adored it. The little chairs at the table, a basket of snacks, a worn map from Moominpappa, a bouquet of small sunflowers and pale purple cosmos sat in a vase Snufkin remembered Moomintroll made when he was briefly into pottery, the sides bumpy with paw marks and the smear of bright blues made it personal. Moomin lit the oil lamp on the table and filled the small space with a wonderful warm glow. The blue light left from the twilight was chased away with the golden candlelight.

“This is wonderfully cozy,” Snufkin said as he settled down into one of the chairs. He peaked out from behind the window curtain and could see the main forest path between the branches of their tree. “Perfect for spying, but I’m afraid at night someone will see our light.”

“Then we’ll have to be extra careful and only come when everyone’s asleep,” Moomintroll said. He took the seat across from Snufkin and pulled out a book from a box under the table. “Let me show you the book that inspired me to make this!”

---

Little My bobbed through the tall stocks of gladiolus, a bundle held in her small arms. With her size, it was as if she was carrying lumber, not pink and yellow flowers. She emerged from the stocks and ran full sprint toward Moominhouse, where Moominmamma was trimming the stems of gladiolus and placing them in long vases.

“Thank you, Little My, that will be plenty for now,” Moominmamma said kindly, taking the new bundle from Little My. “Can you deliver this vase to Mrs. Fillyjonk?” She handed Little My a vase almost as tall as her with a spry of artfully arranged flowers, a red bow tied around the slim neck of the bottle.

“Sure thing! Don’t get mad if I spill!” Little My leaped from the porch and teetered down the walkway toward Mrs. Fillyjonk’s house, the water sloshing dangerously in the vase and her arms burned but she refused to put it down.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a Moomintroll-white shape flitter in the corner of her eye. She quietly placed the vase down on the side of the road and scanned the treeline where she saw it.

There! Darting between the trees was Moomintroll, his own armload of gladiolus flowers clutched close to his chest, the red pedals bobbing with his steps. The flowers won’t die if they waited out in the sun for a bit, Little My thought to herself and ran after him.

She stayed far enough away he wouldn’t be able to hear him, but close enough to keep him within sight. They wound through the trees, going off and on trails and pushing through bushes. He stopped suddenly at the bank of a river, a waterfall feeding into the quickly moving water. Snufkin sat at the shore, a bucket next to him and his fishing rod posed in his hand. Branches of green leaves and fern dripped from his hat, the single white dahlia poking from the side was like a beacon amongst the green. Moomintroll came up behind him and plucked a bud of red gladiolus and stuck it in his hat brim. The roar of the waterfall hid their words and Little My scooted closer to catch what they were talking about.

She heard “secret base” and lost face. She hopped from behind the bush and shouted, “And what are you two up to?!”

Moomintroll jumped in surprise and Snufkin turned and tipped his hat in greeting. “Little My, hello.”

“Hello to you, too. What are you talking about?” She asked again.

Moomintroll seemed to be sweating under all his fur, his eyes darting everywhere but Little My. “Nothing much, I wanted to show Snufkin the flowers you and Mamma picked.” Liar.

She tried again, badgering them for good answers, but she only got vague remarks. She got bored, as Moomintroll was giving Snufkin big cow eyes as he fished and Snufkin kept sneaking longing glances at Moomintroll when he wasn’t looking. It was sickening and she couldn’t take it. She left to go finish delivering the flowers

---

Moomin realized that he harbored warm feelings for Snufkin when the sun was at its hottest. Snufkin had stripped to his trousers and worn shirt, the white so faded it was threadbare at the hems and elbows. They splashed around a creek where a willow tree traced its surface, stocks of violet irises waved in the warm, summer breeze and spots of petunias reached for the water. It was a picturesque sight of them chasing frogs in the moving water, tripping over stray stones and tangled in weeds. The cool water felt great in Moomin’s heated skin, his fur thinned for the summer but it wasn’t enough to cool him from the hot sun. Snufkin had a peeling sunburn on his nose, new freckles sprang up across his cheeks and the back of his hands and for a second Moomin wanted to kiss them.

The shock of realization hit him as if Little My dumped ice-cold lemonade over his head. He froze in the creek, the water splashing at his waist as he stared wide-eyed at Snufkin floating on the surface, eyes closed and absorbing the sun peeking through the willow branches and warming the water. Moomin’s heart leaped in his throat and caught his tongue in a stranglehold. Never in his life had he wanted to hold someone’s paw so much.

---

The Moomins shielded themselves from the midsummer sun under their balcony, with Moominappa taking up residence in the hammock with a book over his face to muffle his snores. Snufkin sat on the railing cleaning his harmonica while Moomintroll sat next to him with a book of his own. From where they sat, a breeze hit them just right. Moominmamma was nearby repairing one of Little My’s dresses with a rather large hole in the hem. The little monster herself laid sprawled out on the porch, sweat dampening her hairline and shooting glances and Moomintroll and Snufkin.

Snufkin let his eyes follow her glances where Moomintroll was posed reading a book, one of pirates and seascape adventures. The sun hit his fur where the shade couldn’t shield him, haloing him in a white glow and Snufkin’s heart stuttered in his chest.

Moomintroll chose that moment to look and he smiled at Snufkin, his eyes glittered with mirth from what Snufkin suspects is from a silly part in his novel. He winked at Snufkin and went back to reading.

Little My snorted when Snufkin turned his back to the porch so no one could see his red cheeks.

---

Snufkin found himself napping amongst hydrangeas. They grew off the side of one spot on the road and their fragrant shade was ideal for a mid-afternoon nap. It was August, and the heat was reaching to the point of unbearable. The day before he and the Moomins wore themselves out on their own seascape adventure when they took the boat out. He could still smell the lingering salt and sand on his skin, a smell that won’t go away until summer is gone beyond the horizons.

He heard familiar footsteps coming down a road, a gait he had memorized by heart. Moomintroll caught sight of his boots sticking out of the flowers and crawled under the bush to join him.

“Hullo, Snufkin,” Moomintroll greeted. “Do you mind if I join you? The sun is very harsh right now and it smells wonderful in this shade.”

“Be my guest.” Snufkin patted the spot next to him. It was a tight fit within the sturdy branches and pom poms of pastel flowers, but Snufkin didn’t mind. He could never mind being so close to Moomintroll.

It was peaceful between them, or that’s what Snufkin wanted to say. He was enjoying the air between them, warm and fragrant. It was Moomintroll who seemed to not be able to settle down. He was tense, kept shifting in his spot.

Unable to take it, Snufkin pokes. “What’s the matter, Moomintroll?”

“I want this to last forever,” Moomintroll spoke in a rush, a crack in the dam.

“Well, summer can’t last forever. Soon it will be autumn and I’ll have to leave again, but don’t worry, I’ll always be back,” Snufkin soothed. “Then we can have a whole new spring together.”

“No, not that. It’s-“ Moomintroll gulped and sat up as far as he could with a wide branch of spade leaves in his way. He looked down over at Snufkin. “I don’t want us to change.”

“People are always changing, but we can change together.” Snufkin was admittedly a little confused where Moomintroll’s train of thought was going. He thought they’ve discussed this in-depth?

His heart lit up, fluttered in his chest in hope. He crushed it underfoot.

Moomintroll gulped. “I don’t mean it like that. I’m… I…”

Snufkin waited patiently. He sat up, too, and gripped the brim of his hat in his lap.

“I don’t know how to say this but I need to say this to you Snufkin, but I don’t want ya to change apart, can we still be friends?” Moomintroll looked anywhere but at Snufkin.

“Of course I’ll stay by your side,” Snufkin agreed easily. It was the easiest yet hardest thing he could do.

“Snufkin,” Moomintroll took a deep breath, steadying himself and pulled his gaze to meet Snufkin’s. “I love you so much, I want to stay with you, and you stay with me. I love you like Mamma and Pappa love each other, and if you don’t- don’t feel the same way, that’s okay! As long as we can be friends that’s more than enough for me.”

There was a stutter in Snufkin’s heartbeat at Moomintrolls confession.

“You don’t have to respond, we don’t have to change,” Moomintroll continued. “I needed you to know that before I exploded.”

“What if I want it to change?” Snufkin asked. His heart felt so light, pounding a rhythm into his chest. Before Moomintroll could respond, a look of pain crossing his face, Snufkin said, “What if I want us to be together, too… if you would have me?” He felt… he didn’t know how to voice his love for Moomintroll, he never thought he would ever. He wasn’t prepared.

Moomintroll’s eyes filled with starlight, a smile graced his face so wide and happy Snufkin silently filed away that memory forever. “I would love to,” Moomintroll said.

They held hands, something they’ve done countless times before, but this time it had a whole new meaning.

---

The summer heat got hotter and drier as the season progressed, the riverbed dried out and only the sturdiest flora could withstand the waves of heat. Grass shriveled to brown crisps and Moominmamma’s roses were nothing but bare stumps. In this, like everyone else in Moominvalley, Snufkin found himself dozing off more often than not. With a heat this intense, it left the air dizzy with sleep.

As Moomintroll and Snufkin would be considered officially together, they hardly strayed from each other’s sides. Their honeymoon phase, as Moominmamma called it. Despite how desperately Snufkin wanted to cuddle up to Moomintroll’s soft chest and sleep the day away under the bridge, the heat wouldn’t allow him to go closer than a few inches from Moomintroll. At night, when the air cooled to a more bearable warmth, not nearly cool enough to wear his jacket again but less like he needed to peel his skin off too, they would watch fireflies dance amongst the midnight blue or simply relax on the beach where the waves pounded their stories into the sand.

Snufkin tried not to think of the coming autumn, how the sunflowers were growing less frequently and the air lost the summer touch.

---

As if summoned, or perhaps sent by a certain spring goddess, Snufkin received a visitor on the last day of summer.

The summer left him weak and found that naps helped. Napping in flowers helped a lot. He laid in a grove of lavender brush, the first of the upcoming season and a final goodbye from summer. Their soothing smell lulled him into a deep sleep and he wondered if Moomintroll has seen this yet.

A crunch of footsteps through hard dirt and the sage leaves of the lavender brought Snufkin out of his stupor. Sleepily, he sat up and put his hat back on, the top adorned with more of the lavender stocks and sweet asters Moomintroll had found for him. A figure framed by the too-bright sun shaded his vision.

“Hello, may I help you with something?”

“I’m your dad and your mother sent me to make sure you’re getting ready to leave,” this person, The Joxter, said.

To see both his parents within the span of one season, how fortunate Snufkin must be. The Joxter was as Moominpappa described him to be, his eyes were a piercing blue and his olive coat had seen better days, the hat on his head was similar to Snufkin’s except red and looped through the cord around the brim were dandelions. From the pipe hanging from his lips and the calm disposition, Snufkin was a little unnerved by the similarities between them.

“It’s too early, tell her I’ll leave when it’s properly time,” Snufkin said.

The Joxter’s eyes narrowed. He took a deep breath of his pipe and puffed out a ring of smoke. “Okay.”

Snufkin was taken aback. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” He plopped down next to Snufkin and leaned back, his hat tilted down to shield his face. “I don’t care. You’re a grown man. She never took interest in you before now, so I don’t know what her concern is.”

The remark sort of hurt, but it was the hard truth. “Is she trying to change herself?”

“Not likely. I think she doesn’t want her only god kid to die out because he liked hanging out with the Moomins. Don’t worry, I do too. Your little boyfriend’s dad and I go way back.” His voice was muffled by his hat, the pipe lifted lazily in the air as he tapped out the ashes without care.

Snufkin stared down at him unsure of where to go from there. “They’re good, the Moomins.”

“Yeah, lay down kid, take a nap with me, then let’s go eat some of Moominmamma’s delicious food.” The Joxter patted Snufkin’s spot, the dent still in the grass where Snufkin had been laying.

He complied and found it odd to be having a cat nap with his dad out of the blue, a man he has never met before this moment. A god-like him who chose to spend his days idly, and suddenly he didn’t find it so weird so similar they were.

-----

AN: see Snufkin here!

#moom #moominvalley #the moomins #snufkin #snufmin #springdove #fic #hng

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asteraegis · 6 years ago

Text

that evandra fic lmao

So it’s set in a sort of “kingdom au”, which is basically the same rules of modern day where everyone is alive but it’s a fantasy medieval period. It isn’t as smutty as my edawale and fryeway fics because evie has class unlike edward but there is sex in it eventually. 3604 words

Tags are: wlw, mention of animal death, a fuckton of kissing, cunnilingus, metaphors like that one lesbian sea shanty in odyssey (it’s a dyke/hozier thing), evie crushing big motherfuckin time, kassandra being kassandra

The view outside my modest stained-glass window taunted me as I sat nearly consumed by my studies. Ink I swiped over while writing painted my right hand’s palm and little finger indigo, smudging my forehead as I tried to soothe a fierce headache.

I stood and opened the window, leaning out against its ledge, feeling the breeze play with my loose hair. The crisp air blowing in from the alpines and lush forest gave me a welcomed shiver, a nice change in comparison to the stuffy room I had been holed up in all morning.

“I have got to get out of here,” I muttered, stepping away from the sights and wiping my hands and face clean with a handkerchief.

Abandoning my satin sleepwear, I slipped into a cornflower blue linen gown, tugging the most comfortable sandals in my possession on and descending down stairs of marble, my small travel purse in hand. A walk would do me justice afore I went mad in these walls.

Coming toward the palace mess hall, I decided to grab myself a canteen and loaf of bread seasoned with rosemary, setting these items in my bag next to my leather back journal and dirk. As I left the room and began to make my way toward the doors, my brother that thinks himself to be a jester with the rights of a noble cut in my path.

“Well, well, well! What’s this? The kingdom’s recluse of a princess is leaving her chamber?” Jacob chaffed. “Did the books tell you to give them some space, Evie?”

I rolled my eyes. He really never would understand that with nobility comes more than swordfights and feasts.

“I just want to go for a stroll, Jacob,” I replied, ‘course my reply came out like a hiss as I pushed pass him.

“Like, out in the garden?”

“No, a bit farther, down by the stream.”

“Oooh, an adventure you’re set on! Hope your books can protect you from bears and wolves,” he sneered.

I swallowed as to keep my temper, knowing he just wanted to get a rouse out of me. Turning around with a forced smile, I said to him, “I have a dagger with me, Jacob. How about you see if Arno needs pestering, hm?”

“Hmph, if you’re that desperate to be alone, enjoy your stroll, sweet sister!”

Jacob left and as did I, at last escaping the palace’s walls. I exchanged brief ‘hellos’ with the other noblewomen, Aveline, Elise, and her majesty Amunet, who were having a spot of tea and gossip under a grand willow tree. I strode toward the ivy strangled gate, then went forth venturing down the old river-stone path. Small finches and doves made songs overhead while egrets scouted for salamanders in the bank’s reeds. Squirrels darted in front of me as I headed for my long-time favorite hideaway, a tiny spring hidden by willows, oaks, and looming boulders. I could hear the faint call of its humble waterfall, teasing my skin that longed to stand under the gentle flow. A scenic cove, just for me and plenty to sketch while I lay in a bed of clovers, or, better yet, I could wade in the calm waters naked and let nature shoo my stress away.

But alas my daydreaming was interrupted by a frantic young buck knocking into me as it dashed across the stream elsewhere. I glared at the deer from my spot on the ground, rising to my feet quickly when I laid my eyes on what he had been chased by. A lean, taupe-coated wolf stalked out of the shrubs toward me, seeming to decide I would make and easier meal than the deer. My hand whipped my dirk in front of me and I stood my ground, clutching the blade in my sweaty palms and doing my best not to appear afraid, my heart beating wildly. The wolf went to lunge and I stabbed my knife into its fur, missing a puncture on the animal as I found myself more focused on avoiding its claws. The beast came at me again, pouncing on top of me. I held it back away from my face with my forearms, its teeth biting inches from my nose. The wolf had swatted my measly blade out of my hand from its last attack and from this angle I was beginning to wonder if maybe I should have spent more time sparring with Jacob rather than cooped up at my desk or in the library.

Just as things began to appear bleak, the wolf yelped and fell over, staggering to its feet with a fresh arrow lodged in its neck. Another arrow pierced its chest, giving me time to grab my dirk and finish the mad dog off, panting while my eyes scanned the vicinity for who had helped me.

A tall, muscular woman with scarred olive skin appeared from the bushes, adorned with garments crafted from animal hide I’m sure she fashioned herself. She replaced her bow back behind her, drawing near me with an out stretched hand.

“Are you all right, milady?” she asked, standing over me.

I took her hand and she pulled me effortlessly upright. “I’m, uh, I’m fine, thank you,” I stammered out, taking a step back from her as I felt my cheeks flush from admiration, thankfulness, and her closeness.

“That’s good to hear. Judging by your gold circlet and dress’ dye, you’re one of the princesses from the palace over yonder, no?” she inquired as she picked my satchel from the ground.

“Yes, I was bored and wanted to visit the spring a little north of here,” I said, taking the purse and setting my blade away.

“Might I accompany you, then? To ensure your safety, your highness?”

My heart fluttered at the mere thought of spending time with this heaven-sent Amazonian-esque woman. “Yes! Yes, of course! Oh, and please, ‘your highness’ is sweet, but just call me Evie.”

She smiled warmly, her honey eyes ensnaring my gaze. “Thank you, miss Evie. My name is Kassandra, should you be curious to know.”

“Then many thanks to you, Kassandra.”

We got to the spring in no time. Really, I would have likely been fine alone, but it was nice sharing the path with her while she explained that she was a mercenary, paid by a tanner to collect fox pelts. She was searching this area for the little vulpine creatures when she heard the wolf growling. At the hideaway, the ethereal beauty felt even more fantastical with Kassandra’s presence. She stared in awe of the surrounding area while I shamelessly watched her skin become dotted by the mist’s droplets coming from the falls.

She turned to me with that same charming smile but with childlike wonder in her gaze. “I’m sorry, your high—Evie, do you mind if I stay with you for a bit longer? Please, this place is one of the loveliest views I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh, not at all, Kassandra, I wouldn’t mind your presence. In fact, I have a rosemary loaf, should you be hungry and want to split it with me. It’s the least I can offer for your saving of my life,” I told her, doing my best not to appear desperate for her to stay.

“Really, Evie?” she was beaming from my answer. “I would love to share a meal with you!”

I couldn’t help but grin the entire time we ate together, her telling me that she came from the naval kingdom to the west and answering all the questions I asked about sea travel between bites.

“I’d love to go sailing someday,” I sighed finishing my half as she swallowed hers.

“Well, should your kingdom’s queen allow it, I would gladly petition to take you out,” she said, then hastily continuing with, “um, sailing, take you out sailing.”

It’s a wonder a woman could have such stunning charm, vast natural knowledge, and a kindhearted soul and still appear human by slipping up on her words. I leaned against the oak behind where we sat, giggling at her embarrassed expression. “I’m sure lady Amunet wouldn’t mind.”

Kassandra seemed glad to hear that, standing and facing the spring. “Um, would it be too awkward if I soaked in the water, miss Evie?”

Of course, I wouldn’t mind you being naked, I thought, Who would? “No, it’s fine if you do, Kassandra, please, go right on ahead.”

She thanked me, though it’s not like I own the spring and can dictate who is allowed to use it. I took my journal out of my bag to sketch the dragonflies dancing across lily pads and the rippling surface, but mainly to give Kassandra some privacy while she disrobed. Half way through drawing the body of the insect, my eyes wandered away from the paper and in her direction. She flipped her fur shawl off and unclasped her undershirt, revealing her back. Her skin was visibly sweaty, she must have been exploring for a while before coming across me. Next, she stepped out of her boots and pants, laying her clothes on a stone by the spring. Kassandra waded slowly into the water, moving her arms out to feel the cool, clear liquid swirl around her fingers. I couldn’t look away despite wanting to give her space, after all I had just met her. I found myself flipping to a blank page and sketch her figure as she wiped her hands over her body. I knew it was wrong to draw her nude without her consent, but I wanted to keep her image forever in my mind when I inevitably had to return to the palace and my dusty books. She unbraided her hair and dipped her head under the water. She flung her head back, her hair slinging sprinkles of beads across the surface.

I felt my cheeks warm. It was like watching a nymph play in a river, and I felt her aura pulling me toward her. I set the journal away and took off my sandals, Kassandra turning when she heard me rustling, the sunlight glistening off her wet chest and drenched locks. I gave a friendly smile to make myself feel less of a creep. “I think I might join you, Kassandra, it is terribly humid out and the spring is taunting me.”

It’s true I was being taunted, but it wasn’t by the spring. No, this woman’s body was like a siren’s call, awakening lust with its silent song only your soul could hear.

“It does feel quite refreshing, Evie.”

I lifted my gown up and over my shoulders, pulling down my panties and folding them next to my shoes and purse. Kassandra moved to help me into the spring so I wouldn’t slip, though her standing so near with my hand in hers made me feel light headed, her image clouding my mind. Her chivalry is nice and all, but this might get dangerous if she keeps it up.

The water embraced me, though I ached for the hand I was holding to clutch me instead. My thoughts flooded my common sense as I developed a dazed look in my eyes, staring down her wet frame. To rest my head against her neck, to feel her lips trail down my bosom, to press myself against her, to become one in this secret place. It was immoral of me to think of this as I had been betrothed to another who I loved, but he could never compare to her grace. She just held herself with an air of confidence, like she’s had eras of practice with women of all backgrounds, like she was a mythical creature that comes out whenever a woman heaves a melancholy sigh. I wish a gorgon would come and petrify us in this state so I could stand locked in Kassandra’s eyes with her for the next century. Better yet, to be a stone Kassandra carves so I could feel her press into my body day in day out and smooth me over and over until she’s done with me and I can stare at her without her notice.

“Uh, milady Evie, your hand.”

Her voice startled me and I flicked my eyes down, realizing I was still holding onto her. I released, blushing and staring into the water away from her. “Oh, oh my, I’m sorry about that.”

God, I’m such a dunce sometimes.

She chuckled. “It’s quite all right, dear, I don’t mind you staring.”

My eyes widened. She knows I’ve been staring at her this entire time, I thought, a hot feeling settling in my arms. Of course, she knows, I hadn’t managed to keep my eyes off her for long since she saved me. I’m such a harlot, I haven’t known her for longer than an hour, what am I doing?

“Kassandra, I’m sorry I’ve been lost on you for so long. I know I’m being rude, after everything you’ve done for me in this short time, I really shouldn’t be acting so stricken right now,” I was chagrinned, my desire for her drowning my senses.

She placed her palm to my shoulder, reaching around with her other hand to tilt my chin towards her, snagging my eyes in hers yet again. “Evie, I swear to you whatever you have been daydreaming about is nothing compared to what I yearn to do for you. You’re stunning, you’re intelligent, you’re sweet to me despite our class differences and short time being together, and you being ashamed of yourself for your mind makes you appear restrained. Let me help you release your tenseness; I promise to give you the attention you need.”

I was shocked, to say the least. That this, goddess, would want to treat me so. “Kassandra, I—”

She took both my wrists in her fingers and pulled me near. “Evie, I would build a shrine for you, I would sacrifice myself if it meant to stay with you forever in the afterlife, I want to worship you as the nobility you refuse to accept yourself as. Please, allow me to do this for you.”

This has to be a lucid dream, there is no way this woman is real, she can’t be serious right now, I thought. “Kassandra, you’re lying, you can’t actually want to—”

She leaned in and kissed me on my lips, holding me still for a moment before pulling back. “Did that feel like a lie, miss Evie?”

I’ll be honest, it didn’t. It felt like I had just passed away in my bed and cherubs were leading me to heaven. I closed my eyes for a moment then looked up at her. “Do that again. Everywhere.”

She shown a grateful smile and leaned into me again, our lips fitting together as she undid my hair and tossed my circlet to my things. Kassandra and I made out, our tongues touching at first on accident but then just because neither of us cared. We backed toward the small waterfall, it cascading down us as Kassandra ran her fingers through my hair. Losing a battle with my self-control, I found my arms wrapping around her neck and tugging her against me while I leaned against the wet stone. True, the shower and rocks were freezing, but her touch warmed me so, I could barely notice. She led me away, our lips not once parting, and laid me across a large horizontal stone that stuck out of the spring.

She pulled back for us to get proper breaths and Kassandra held my face in her left hand. “Evie, may I touch here?” she asked, gesturing toward my pelvis.

I nodded. “I did say everywhere.”

“Yes, of course, you’re right.” She lowered her face toward my neck, her breath tickling me. “Everywhere.”

She smelt like petrichor, so close to me, and I knew that today she’d ensure that, every time it rained, she would come to my memories. Her hands held my hips as she trailed her lips down my body like I had desired them to earlier. Kassandra licked at the water that clung to my breasts but didn’t stay fixated on them for too long like a man would, she knew exactly where she needed to be.

Her mouth continued down to my naval and then she spread my legs, a firm grip on both of my thighs. I moaned softly from her teasing kiss she left on my clitoris, her hot breath exciting me. Kassandra’s tongue started at the base of my vagina, coming slowly back up to where she had kissed. She circled it with the underside of her tongue, never lingering too long on one side. Her right thumb came down below her chin and rubbed my perineum, pushing down on it as she closed her lips around my clit. I felt my hips twitch; it had been so long since someone else did this for me. My hands reached down and clutched the back of her head, pulling her closer. I heard her chuckle, muffled against me. She knows that she has me now under the control of her mouth, flicking her tongue up and down like she was flipping a switch.

I felt a sense of hiraeth at her mercy. She had me biting my bottom lip, she could easily make me come quickly but she wanted to make sure she made this feeling last as long as possible. Never has anyone ate me slowly to savor their meal, it’s usually because they’re unsure what to do. I tangled my fingers in her chestnut hair, tilting my head back to moan, her sucking making me gasp.

“Oh, fuck,” I whispered under my breath and she decided it was time to finish me off.

I gasped, my pelvis tingling, my finger tips feeling like they had been burnt, they felt numb but not in a painful way. My toes curled, my clitoris trembling as she kept licking at me, not letting it come up for air. Arching my back from the stone, I wrapped my legs around her shoulders like I had before with my arms. I released her from my thighs’ hold after I steadied my breath and she came to kiss me again, her body over mine. I swung my arms and legs over her, pulling Kassandra down against my skin. She set herself so her thigh would rub against me again, taking one of my hands down to feel her. Kassandra was wet too, from more than the spring, I could feel her pulsing in my palm. I rubbed her clitoris between my fingers, her moaning into my mouth and her hand that get her propped up over me nearly slipping. It made me happy to know I was making her feel as I did earlier. She kept my hand steady on her, guiding my fingers to tell them exactly what she wanted. She backed off from kissing me as she came from my hand, her voice sounding so delicate doused in pleasure. Kassandra pressed her body against mine and kissed me again, this time I could tell it was to make up for her mouth not being able to say “thank you” at the moment.

She stood slowly and I sat up on the stone. She laughed, pointing toward the buck from earlier standing at the spring’s edge, sniffing at us from afar. “It appears we have a peeping tom.”

I giggled, moving to my feet, feeling that Kassandra had stolen part of my heart. The cool water around my pelvis made me shiver again, just not because it was cold. We waded hand in hand back to our belongings, the deer running off from us approaching. Kassandra and I got dressed and she kissed the top of my head.

“Would you mind if I walked you back to the palace’s gate, my princess?” she cooed in my ear.

“Of course not,” I entwined my fingers in hers. “And if you stay in the area, I’ll see about having you knighted in this kingdom, too. You deserve it after proving your ‘worthiness’ today.”

She snorted from her laughter which made me laugh too, leaning against her as she led me back down the path. The poor wolf from earlier was being scavenged by an eagle, which chirped at Kassandra as we passed it. I moved off of her when we neared the queen’s demesne as to not appear to any onlookers that I had been having a little affair while my fiancé was away. Luckily for us, the only person that saw us was the visiting Auditore prince, and he has plenty of scandals of his own to deal with.

I hugged her goodbye, Kassandra assuring me that this wouldn’t be the last time I see her, especially after I pointed out which window was mine with a wink. She kept her eyes on me until I had entered the palace and from outside my window, I could see her petting the eagle. She waved goodbye and walked off into the forest she came from. That night as I laid with my face in my pillow, I thought of her and decided to flip through my rough sketches of her. In my bag I discovered she had left a glove in my bag alongside one of the bird’s speckled feathers. I held them close to my chest, knowing that this night’s memory would last a lifetime, if not longer, then set them next to me in my bed, dreaming of Kassandra and all the things she did for me.

#i write #evandra #evie #kassandra #assassins creed #ac syndicate #ac odyssey #acod #acs #i talk #this is so gay oh my god i need to calm down #my lesbian is showing yall #evie frye #i might reblog my edward smuts so that they can be properly tagged too #since they are gone in my notes #lol anyway have fun with this sorry i used so many metaphors this reads like a hozier song #its 5:37pm #theres literally only one cuss word in this whole fic lol #this is what i do when i have essays due for class

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rose-red-ink · 6 years ago

Text

The Arcane Sea

Part One

Thanks to @villainxprompts for writing the prompt that inspired part 1 and this!

Cordelia looked at the pirate captain, narrowing her eyes.

He and his crew were working to sail the ship back to where he had dragged her out of the waters. He was cracking jokes, slapping his men on the back, laughing and talking with them.

Like he hadn’t just made a plan to steal a weapon more powerful than any of them could handle. Like he wasn’t likely sailing to his death.

Yet again...

Cordelia suppressed a shiver. She couldn’t get the image out of her head; cold blue spheres of blazing energy where normal brown eyes had been moments before. An aura of raw power that triggered some defense mechanism deep in her bones. And that smile...wild, and fierce, and confidence that the world could crumble at his fingertips.

Cordelia pulled her fur closer around herself. She could see it now. He gave her fur back because even with it, there was no point. She had to obey him, for the good of her people.

She was exhausted by her first attempt to retrieve the weapon, she had no doubt even attempting it again would kill her before the handle could rise from the waves.

“Cordelia! Come here a minute.” The captain waved her over, not looking up from the yellowish-white sheet he was looking at.

Pretentious little...

Cordelia ground her teeth. This wasn’t the shore to die on.

She walked over, crossing her arms. “Yes?”

The captain pointed to something on the sheet. “Is this where the weapon is? Where we dragged you out of the water?”

Cordelia frowned. Was he referring to the black marks on the paper? There were several circles, some lines...

She frowned at the captain. “What is this?”

He raised an eyebrow. “A map. Surely you’ve heard of them?”

Cordelia nodded slowly. She’d been to port towns before, knew what they were, sort of. Didn’t mean she could read one.

“I don’t need your little piece of paper,” she said dismissively. “You humans are so obsessed with those maps.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion on maps, I asked where we’re going.” the captain said. “Can you tell me that?”

Cordelia sniffed. “Of course. Look up once in a while, the stars tell you all you need to know.”

It was just past nightfall, and the stars were starting to gleam in the vast expanse of void sky.

But there were those great poles of wood and fabric blocking out parts of the sky.

Cordelia frowned. “Your....masts, right? Masts and sails? They’re in the way, I can’t see the sky. Can you get rid of them?”

The pirates around her chuckled. “Sure, if you want to float dead in the water.” one sneered.

The captain held up a hand, silencing his crew immediately. “Crow’s nest, then,” he said decidedly. “Come on.”

He lead her over to a rope ladder, leading up to the top of one of the masts. Cordelia made it three rungs before tumbling down, nearly on top of the captain.

He steadied her with a single hand. “Still haven’t gotten your sea legs?” he asked with a half-smile.

She scowled at him. “Most of the time, I don’t have any legs.”

The captain shrugged. “We gotta get you up there somehow,” he said decidedly.

“And how are you planning to--hey!”

Without hesitation, the captain grabbed her, tossing him over her shoulder, before starting to climb.

“Better stop moving, or I might drop you.”

Cordelia felt the rumble of his laugh, and she silently vowed to feed him to a shark once this was all through.

They eventually reached the top, Cordelia moving as far away as the crow’s nest would allow, which was unfortunately not far.

“Well?” he was looking at her expectantly.

Cordelia took a deep breath, ignoring him and turning her attention to the stars. If that over there was Polaris, and that one...

She nodded slowly. “We’re heading due east. Past the island you call Tafarth, in the shoals to the island’s north.

He nodded slowly. “That’s right...and you can tell us in more detail once we arrive?”

She nodded. “The weapon acts as a beacon. It was created for the creatures of the sea. Not for mankind.” she couldn’t help the bitterness seeping into her tone at that last part.

He laughed at her tone. “Haven’t I told you already, Cordelia? I’m not human.”

She frowned. “You’ve been touched by the arcane, yes. But you are still a son of men.”

She searched his face, brow furrowed. “There’s something else, a power underneath it. I can sense it, like a storm just over the horizon.”

He didn’t break her gaze, and behind his eyes, she could see it again, the cold blue light. Waiting.

Fear, sharp as ice, jabbed at her heart. But she didn’t back down.

“I can sense your power. But you are a man. Moral. You fear death, and it will come for you. As surely as the moon rises and falls.”

All men who had power feared death. She had seen it, time and again. They wanted power most of all, and death was the one power just out of their grasp. It drove some mad, she supposed.

And with the power he possessed, he would slip away faster than most. She could feel it tugging at his mind, like the pulling of tides. One day, he would grow tired of fighting and give in.

She hoped she wasn’t there to witness it. It was horrible. And dangerous.

He nodded slowly. “You’re very interesting, Cordelia. And your continued life offers me something I want.”

He leaned closer. She could smell the burn on his breath, the taste of arcane held in for too long. It didn’t like being contained.

“Don’t think you’re still alive for any other reason.”

With that, he was over the side, climbing down rapidly.

Cordelia let out a ragged breath, sinking to her knees.

She couldn’t let someone like that get the weapon. She knew that now.

She would have to kill him. One way or another.

#selkies #pirates #writing

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bxrningbrxght · 6 years ago

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Pages

A man in a neat suit sits in an office in Washington D.C, feeding papers into a shredder one at a time, watching as the white curls of paper fall into the plastic garbage bag below. The papers are all about the same thing: public records of still-unexplained fires within the D.C. area, dating back over a decade. An hour ago, he met with another man in a suit at the park. They had exchanged handshakes, and the records had been handed over. The digital copies were being taken care of by someone else. The man toys with the ring on his finger, his eyes flicking between the square and compasses engraved on it and the shredded records. In an hour, he’ll take the bag full of paper strips to a vacant lot outside the city, one the lodge owned. There will be one last fire, and all the evidence will be gone for good.

In Stockholm, a police officer walks out of the precinct. There’s a .38 revolver hidden in the folds of her coat, the same one that’s been sitting in the evidence locker for the last 30 years. She smiles at Erik at the front desk as she leaves. No one will miss it. No one even remembers it exists. She’ll stop at the ICA Nära on her way home; there will be a young man with cloud-grey eyes waiting in the parking lot for her, and she’ll give him the gun without a word. A storm will come later that night, and when it does she’ll climb into her attic and kneel before the altar there and pray to the voice she hears in the thunder, just as her father did. And his father, and his father’s father, and all her fathers as far back as the days when her ancestors pillaged the coasts of England and Ireland and France with all the fury of a storm.

The boat drifts silently into the Macao harbor, and the crew sets about mooring it with practiced ease. No one has noticed their arrival. A woman sleeps in the hold on a mat of straw, and the captain descends the stairs to wake her, taking a drag of his cigarette as he does. His family has sailed the South China Sea for centuries. They were fishermen when times were good, smugglers when they weren’t. He follows in their footsteps. He knows he is mad, and fears the day when his crew realizes it too. He knows he is mad because of the voice he hears in his dreams from time to time, calling to him softly like the tide against the shore. The voice commands him, bids him to ferry someone or something somewhere else without the watchful eyes of Port Authority noticing. Do this, the voice croons, and I will give you fair seas and full nets. The captain knows he’s mad...but every time he listens and obeys, the ocean is calm and his hold quickly fills with fish.

These people, and hundreds or thousands more like them across the face of the globe, are Pages: mortal servants of the Five Kings, much like Knights. Unlike Knights, Pages have not been granted boons by the King they serve. They cannot create or manipulate the elements as Knights can, nor are they blessed with near-superhuman strength, quickness, and endurance. They cannot heal quickly from injuries, let alone regenerate teeth and fingers and eyes. But to discount them altogether would be a grave mistake.

The primary duty of most Pages is to support Knights in their endeavors. Most of the time, this support comes in material form: Pages supply Knights with food, supplies, weapons, shelter, transportation, money, etc. Other times, this support comes in less tangible ways. A Page might spent a week staking out a local Locus after his second-shift job at the gas station, spending a few hours each night watching it through binoculars and jotting notes down in a cheap, bent pocket notebook, waiting for a Knight to roll into town so he can hand it off. Another Page might have strings to pull with the local police department or newspaper, and gives them a tug whenever she needs to quash an investigation into why someone turns up dead of electrocution in a clearing in the nearby woods. Still other Pages have special skills that come in handy in the Kingswar. Sometimes a Knight needs a safe cracked, or some ancient Assyrian translated, or a bomb defused...or set. Or perhaps they need to learn how to do those things themselves.

Sometimes, the skills Pages possess involve inflicting violence on their fellow man. Most often, these Pages serve as trainers and mentors for Knights, passing on their experience in combat to people who can put it to terrifying and effective use. Other martially-minded Pages serve as security for Loci or other important locations, or occasionally as back up when a Knight needs a little additional muscle. While Pages, being only humans, can’t hope to match a Knight (and certainly not the likes of vampires), a couple of guys with shotguns and machetes can still prove to be a problem.

Pages tend to come from one of three groups: individuals who fall into the life, members of underground cults, and members of secret societies. The first of these groups are otherwise ordinary people who are directly contacted by one of the Five Kings and made an offer. This offer tends to be much less grand than those made to potential Knights who catch a King’s attention, but the core of the pact is the same: service in exchange for boons. The boons on offer vary depending on the King in question. Thera, the King of Stone, is fond of offering up the hidden riches of the earth in exchange for service; most people would be hard pressed not to go out of their way now and again in exchange for a lump of pure gold or a raw diamond. Many of these Pages never quite understand the ins and outs of the Kingswar, but just as many come to know exactly what they’ve gotten involved in, one way or another.

Other Pages are motivated less by rewards and more out of duty. These Pages tend to be found in the secret societies and underground mystery cults that honeycomb the Kingsverse. The Kings were humanity’s oldest gods, providing the blueprint for nearly every deific figure in nearly every culture, from the Celtic Manannán to the Egyptian Geb. For many, the Kings remain figures of worship; their cults have persisted throughout the millennia, going underground and vanishing into the shadows cast by this more enlightened era. These cults tend to be comprised of the same core group of families who have been groomed for centuries or even for thousands of years to provide aid to Knights, living their lives normally until the day comes when they encounter a stranger who knows the proper phrases and hand gestures. The secret societies bound to the Kings’ service tend to be much the same, though more secular, more open to recruiting outsiders, and perhaps motivated slightly more by personal gain than by religious faith.

Both groups, however, are far more likely than individual Pages to insinuate themselves into existing power structures, using those structures to advance the agenda of their King. When opposing conspiracies of Pages encounter each other within the same organization, the end result is a bureaucratic war, with each group using the protocols and procedures of the group they’ve infiltrated to attempt to smother the other in red tape; Pages prefer to avoid violence against each other when possible, as it draws far too much scrutiny.

Pages are acceptable targets in the Kingswar, though few Knights will actively hunt down the Pages of another King. While those guarding a Locus are usually dealt with, most others are, in the eyes of many Knights, too much work for too little reward. While disrupting the aid that Pages could provide to rival Knights is, perhaps, tempting, the most useful Pages tend to have resources and defenses of their own.

#[laying down the lore (lore)]#This post has been in the making for years now

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niyes-lahiffe · 7 years ago

Text

Soapy Decks and Flying Underwear

Listening to Pirates of the Caribbean while reading is not required but is strongly recommended.

The Jade Crew and the Coral Crew are mortal enemies. It all started when the Coral Crew went to go find an ancient treasure to which they finally discovered the whereabouts, only to find the Jade Crew sailing away from that exact location the moment they got there, taking the prized possessions with them. Now, they always seem to find out about the same treasures at the same time and one crew ALWAYS beats the other, only heating their rivalry. The crews have never actually met each other face to face, but they do indeed recognize one another's flags. With disdain and scorn.

The Jade Crew: Nino Lahiffe (captain) Adrien Agreste (co-captain) Le Chien Kim (lookout) Rose Lavillant Juleka Couffaine Chloe Bourgeois Sabrina Raincomprix Luka Couffaine

The Coral Crew: Alya Césaire (captain) Marinette Dupain-Cheng (co-captain) Alix Kubdel (lookout) Mylene Harprele Ivan Bruel Nathaniel Kurtzberg Max Kante Kagami Tsurugi

Ao3

Chapter 1: Stormy Seas

The sound of the waves gently lapping against the edge of the boat was one of the most relaxing things in the world, Nino found. He placed his elbows along the trim of his ship and closed his eyes, letting the way it slowly rocked back and forth lull him away from his far-from-unwinding thoughts he had previously. This was definitely his favorite way to calm down after a stressful day.

Still, the back of his head prickled with annoyance and he couldn't stop himself from pondering about the day's earlier events. That blasted Coral Crew...they thought they could just go ahead and steal something his own crew was after for days without punishment! He knew he couldn't just let them off but he was stuck on ideas of what to do.

"Uh, Captain Nino?"

He jumped back slightly, startled enough to have his hand automatically wander to the gun that rested near his waist. He sighed in relief when he realized it was only Luka, his shipmate's ocean blue eyes wide from his captain's sudden threatening movements.

Luka held up his arms with a nervous smile. "Ah, sorry, Cap, didn't mean to startle ya, there!"

Nino noticed his hand still resting on the tip of his weapon and he quickly straightened himself so as not to scare his companion. "It's fine, Luka. I apologize if I startled you." He put on a friendly grin before continuing. "Is there something you needed?"

Luka smiled back before gesturing behind himself. "Yeah, Kim wanted me to warn you that the clouds are darker further in the direction we're going, so there may be a storm up ahead," he replied. "Do you want to change direction or tackle it head-on?"

Nino turned his head to stare at the seas ahead. The water was a beautiful blue as it continued to rush with the wind. The sky ahead was also bluer than Luka's hair, but the ship's captain had learned in the past not to judge what Kim said. He was an expert up in the Crow's Nest, after all, even if there wasn't a cloud in sight.

Nino sighed again. "I'm not feeling risky tonight...tell Kim I'll change the ship's course."

Luka saluted without hesitation, saying, "Right away, Cap!" before running off.

Nino barely had any time to register what he was about to do before a plate of food was shoved into his chest. "Hey there, captain! You look hungry!" That cheerful voice could belong to only one of his crewmates. He looked up to meet the friendly face of Rose Lavillant, her eyes as big and as blue as ever.

A bit thrown off by her sudden interruption, Nino quickly righted himself by grabbing hold of the plate. He smiled at her weakly while trying to push the food back in her direction. "Heh, thanks, Rose, but I'm really not that-"

"Oh, I insist, captain!" she happily interrupted, pushing the plate back towards him a little too harshly, causing Nino to grunt from the force. Bits and pieces of food were starting to fall off from the excessive movements but she persisted nonetheless.

Nino's second in command walked up to the two with an amused expression. He gently grabbed the edge of the plate and pushed it back towards Rose. "How about we don't kill the captain by stabbing him vigorously with a slab of stone, hm?" he teased.

Rose stepped back and giggled. "Sorry!" She used one hand to hold the plate while she played with a strand of her short golden hair with the other. "I just noticed Nino was looking a little down so I thought some food could possibly cheer him up."

"Well, who could say no to that?" Adrien beamed, grabbing Nino's hand so he could lead him to a table once Rose had joyfully walked off.

"Seriously, Adrien, I don't-"

Adrien stopped and grabbed Nino's shoulders, giving his captain a look so stern that he shut his mouth. "Look, sir, I get it. You're disappointed. We're all bummed after what happened today. But should we wallow in pity until the sun falls, hoping that tomorrow we'll have better luck?" Nino opened his mouth to respond but his co-captain continued before he could say anything. "No! The Pearls of Rapum aren't the only treasures to exist! We're pirates, Nino; we don't give up after one measly disappointment. We find the whereabouts to a new treasure and go for that. This isn't the first time the Coral Crew has beaten us and it probably won't be the last, but do you know how many times we've beaten them? More times than we can count. So let's find a new location and go for something of value there. And, of course we need food in our bellies before we can do anything so sit. And eat."

Nino was rendered speechless at his friend's sudden motivation as Adrien grabbed his shoulders and gently but firmly pushed him into a seat.

Adrien had always had that ability and Nino couldn't even be mad about it. They had been best friends since they were toddlers running around half-naked but the captain never got used to Adrien's spontaneous positivity.

Still, Adrien was right. He shouldn't be sulking around all day when there was still tons to find. He smiled as more of his crew came and sat with him at the food-packed table. “Heh...I guess you’re right,” he murmured.

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

Alya yelped as she jumped and clutched onto the main mast. She liked to tell herself she wasn’t afraid of anything but her pet fox running around psychotically with a sword in its mouth was a bit frightening, to say the least. She didn't know how Trixx was able to get his jaws on the extra weapons lying around the ship and yet here he was, pelting through the ship at speed that would rival a cheetah's, everyone leaping out of the way frantically so as not to get unnecessarily chopped into pieces.

This wasn't the first time it's happened, either, but it was always an exhilarating experience.

Alya heard laughing from up above and she looked up to see her lookout guffawing relentlessly, pointing her finger at all her scurrying crewmates.

"Alix Kubdel, if you think this is so funny then you get down and deal with the fox!" Alya yelled angrily.

"Nah, I think I'm good." Only Alix would talk back to the captain without worry. "He's your fox, why don't you deal with him?"

Alya grunted as she climbed slightly higher, replying, "I'd rather not get sliced into bits of pirate today," as she went.

"Well, same goes here, Cap," Alix said, leaning her arm against the edge of the Crow's Nest as she peered down at Alya.

"I'm more important than you." Alya felt a hint of a smirk appearing on her lips.

"Maybe so, but I am your only lookout," the other pirate playfully argued. "How about we send Nathaniel after Trixx, then?"

"HEY!" an offended voice sounded from below.

Alix and Alya started snickering. After a moment, Alix said, "Uhhh, Cap? You might want to look down."

The captain didn't exactly know what to think of the sight of her fox running circles around the mast she was clutching to. It looked ridiculous and terrifying at the same time.

"Okay, okay, someone's got to deal with this and it might as well be me," Alya mumbled, steadily climbing lower. Trixx noticeably slowed as she got nearer to the ground, looking up at her expectantly with those big and purple eyes of his.

"Trixx," Alya said, trying to keep her voice as firm and demanding as possible. The canine tilted his head. "Put. It. Down."

To her surprise, the fox opened his jaws immediately, sending the weapon to the floor with a loud, metallic clank. He wagged his tail joyfully at Alya as she stared in disbelief as though he expected some sort of reward for his obedient behavior.

"Well, that was easy," Alix's voice said from above.

"Shut up," Alya found herself replying. She picked up the sword and pointed it at Nathaniel, who squeaked in surprise. “Nath, take this-“ She tossed the sword at him and he leaped to the side with a yelp. “-and find anything else lying around that could be dangerous and put it somewhere so my fox can't get his grubby paws all over it." She winked at him to lighten the mood.

As Nath picked up the sword and ran off, Alya heard someone from behind her excitedly yelling, "Captain! Captain!" She turned and smiled at Mylene, who was holding a rolled up piece of paper as she ran up to her captain. She clutched her knees and took a few moments to catch her breath, but when she lifted her head and started talking again, there was a joyful spark in her eye and a beaming smile on her face. "Look what I found!" Mylene handed Alya the piece of paper. It was slightly yellow in color and had a texture resembling that of an old leaf, indicating it's age. She carefully opened it so it wouldn't tear as Mylene continued, "I went downstairs after Trixx started running around rambunctiously. While I was down there, I decided to explore a bit and I found a tiny trapdoor underneath one of our barrels. In it was this!"

Alya first gawked at the map before her eyes, then at her crewmate. She couldn't stop her huge grin that was steadily growing bigger by each passing second. "Wh-was there anything else in that trapdoor?!"

Mylene shook her head. "It was barely big enough to fit that map."

"Mylene, this is AWESOME!" Alya squealed, engulfing her friend in a hug. "I can't believe you found this!" Mylene giggled and Alya pulled back to study the map once more. "First the Pearls of Rapum and now this? This is the greatest day of my life!" After thanking Mylene excessively, the captain ran off to go tell her second in command the news.

Marinette was currently in charge of steering the boat, obviously lost in her own world as Alya peeked through the window. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Alya dramatically kicked the door open.

"ALYA, you scared the living-"

"Look at this!" Alya slammed the map onto the steering wheel and Marinette blinked at it, the bright red parrot sitting on her shoulder squawking quietly. "Go on, look!"

As Marinette examined the ancient piece of paper, her eyes steadily grew wider. "This isn't..."

"It is!" Alya nearly screamed with joy. "It's directions to one of the world's most famous and sought-out jewel: the Jade Turtle!"

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

Nino smiled to himself as he wandered to the back of the boat, feeling pleasant with his now full belly. His crew always found a way to cheer him up.

Juleka was leaning against the edge of the ship, staring at the water as though its every movements were mesmerizing to her eyes.

"He still there?" Nino asked, coming up behind her to peer over the trim. Without glancing away, Juleka nodded, a small smile gracing her lips.

The captain chuckled. "That turtle sure has guts following a pirate boat. He's lucky turtles are my favorite animals." He tilted his head at the green creature as it bobbed back and forth in the water, keeping up with ease. Nino hummed, "Maybe it already knows that."

"That turtle looks smart," Juleka added coolly. "I think it knows something we don't."

Nino felt a raindrop on his hand as he nodded in agreement. A few days ago, Sabrina informed everyone that a large turtle was following the boat. Everyone thought it was a little peculiar, for none of them had experienced anything like that before, but they decided to pay it no mind. What was really odd was when they found it still there a day later, swimming along with them as though the boat was now it's new destination. Everyone had started talking about it, wanting to adopt it and give it a name. Nino hadn't exactly wanted to do that yet because he didn't know how long the animal would be following them and he knew naming it would only get him attached to it.

The boat suddenly lurched sharply, throwing a few people to the side as a surprised grunt escaped from Nino's lips. He turned around and felt another raindrop on his nose as he looked up at the ominously dark clouds. A sense of dread overcame him.

They were about to run into a storm! Hadn't he changed the vessel's course so they could avoid it?

Then he realized he got distracted by his crew before he could do anything. He cursed as the rain began to fall harder, members of his crew already scurrying to their prepared positions for bad weather.

The ship shifted again, this time much harsher than before. Nino ran forward and grabbed the ship's rigging as it wandered into the ever-worsening storm, climbing a bit before he turned and tried finding the easiest way out. He shook his head rigorously and placed his hand above his eyes to avoid more water falling into them as he continued to search.

"CAPTAIN!" a voice cried desperately. He looked down and found both Rose and Luka trying to steady the steering wheel, gritting their teeth in frustration and concentration. Rose looked up at him and wheezed, "It won't budge!"

He leaped down and ran over to them, not hesitating to grab the wheel and help make an attempt to steer it in another direction.

"Which way is the best to go?" Luka asked through clenched teeth.

"I don't know," Nino responded, voice strained. "The clouds are dark in every direction!"

With one final heave, all three of them were able to turn the steering wheel to the right. They huffed successfully, a bit too out of breath to cheer loud and sincerely. Nino grabbed the compass in his pocket and told them what direction they were going. He made sure they were good on their own before he ran off to check on everyone else and make sure everything was alright and well prepared for the storm.

He found Chloe leaning over the edge of the boat. He went up to her and placed his hand on her back, and when she looked up at him, her face was a sickly shade of green. She never did do well whenever the boat decided to do anything but sail smoothly.

"You need to go downstairs," Nino commanded gently yet firmly. He was worried that if she hung around the edge of the boat for too long while the weather was out of control, she might fly overboard. He wasn't going to let that happen to any of his crew. For once, Chloe nodded without arguing, most likely too ill to protest, and she ran in the direction of the door leading to the bottom of the boat.

Nino knew he should've been prepared for when his vessel powerfully tilted once more, but the force of it threw him forward. His stomach rammed into the boat's lining and he wheezed at the pain and sudden loss of air. Before he had a chance to catch his breath, there was another lurch and he flung overboard with a yelp.

He opened his mouth to scream as he fell but the rushing wind grabbed whatever was escaping from his lips and tossed it away. He tried to catch a rope hanging from the side of the boat but his hands wouldn't cooperate properly and before he knew it, he slammed into the dark water with an inaudible splash, excruciating pain flowing throughout his entire body like a river of death. Nino opened his eyes despite himself and found himself sinking lower, farther and farther away from the surface of the water that would grant him the gracious air he was loosing by each passing second. Ignoring his agony, he kicked his legs sharply, trying to swim to the top.

Try as he might, the low light from his destination only grew smaller and blurrier.

Nino knew it was bad when he started to see black in his worsening vision. Okay, saying it was bad was an understatement. He needed air at that moment otherwise he would drown.

His head throbbed painfully and his eyes closed without his consent. His heart was nearly beating right out of his chest and he was sure every creature in the sea could hear it. That was the least of Nino's worries, though, for before he knew it, his consciousness slipped away and everything grew black.

#miraculous ladybug #djwifi #djwifi pirate au #soapy decks and flying underwear #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #fics #my fics #SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG #BUT I GOT IT DONE WHOOP

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themageof-blood · 7 years ago

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Thief of Light

Thief of Light.

Powers: Able to steal the luck of others and add to self.

Possible Ability Names:

The Thief of Light has no need for this. They steal luck, simple as that. It's also hypothetically possible for a Thief of Light to steal enlightenment, increasing their wisdom without increasing actual knowledge.

The Land of Maps and Treasure

Description: This is a land of islands and oceans, pirates both grand and cruel traveling the seas and little islands in search of adventure and treasure, following the scraps of maps that appear in the sky and giant compasses that hover over the water. Unless you are a true pirate-or has stolen the knowledge from one-it is impossible to make sense of the information.

The ursine consorts of LoMaT were always explorers of the seas, but with the denizens corruption, many have become more bloody thirsty in their desire for wealth, and roam the waters as big a threat as the underlings.

Land Marks: The Mass Wreck: A section of the ocean where the wrecks of hundreds of ships over the years, creating effectively a large island/series of small islands of splintered wood and metal. Hidden weapons and treasures can be found here, as well as unquiet spirits.

The Pineapple Bomb: A massive mountain with a particularly odd pineapple design. Should this mountain be allowed to detonate, the force of the explosion will send a shock wave across all of LoMaT, tampering with the flow of water and throwing off all the natural compasses.

The Isles of Gold: An island of more unclaimed treasure than any other, enough to make any player or pirate rich should they obtain it, but guarded ferociously by the harsh waves, rocks, and monsters of LoMaT. On top of that, the island itself seems to change location. One needs either a lot of insight, or a lot of luck to find this treasure.

The Hall of Old Maps: A hidden, airtight room hidden within a sunken ship on the sea floor of LoMaT. Inside are hundreds of thousands of maps, marking every inch of the land. If one is able to brave the water, the monsters, and hostile wildlife, and successfully extract the maps without damaging them, they'll never be lost again.

Note- The oceans of this land are also dotted with various other islands hiding various other traps and treasures. The randomly generated nature of LoMaT makes the theft of luck all the more necessary.

Unique Enemies: Consort Pirates: Seafaring consorts sailing across LoMaT in search of plunder (low agility and speed, medium intelligence, strength, and durability, bear claws, bear fangs, pirate weaponry: daggers, cutlass, flintlock pistol, blunderbuss, cannon [on ship]. If consort is a Swashbuckler, they may also carry a harpoon and boarding axe, and has medium speed and agility. If consort is a navigator, they may have low physical stats but high intelligence. If consort is a captain, they may also carry a belt of granado [mini-hand grenades], and have high strength).

Underline Pirates: Pirate-ized forms of common underlings, usually imps, though ogres, golems, lichs, and even giclopse can become pirates (stats and weaponry may vary based on underling and pirate type).

Ghost Pirates: Unquiet spirits from the pirates of the past, appearing only at night over dark waters (no physical contact stats, pirate weaponry, resistance to all physical damage, low intelligence for crew members, high intelligence for captains).

Sea Beast: Creatures of various shapes and sizes that lurk beneath the waves of LoMaT, their bodies and power diverse, but none nice to encounter (Stats may very based on the luck of the player; large fish and crab creatures for players with high luck, medium luck might yield serpent, mist, or shark like monsters, with low luck bringing krackens, beast whales, and aquatic swarms).

Island Spirit: Each island contains a guardian spirit, some corrupted or driven mad, others peaceful, some kind but suspicious. The personality will vary by island, but all guard the most treasure, are highly intelligent, and are very lucky creatures (low endurance, medium speed, strength, very high intelligence/wisdom, levitation, phase, possession, elemental power, luck well).

Trick Box: Mischievous spirits who hide among the treasure chests, folding out into fanged, clawed, and generally horrific beasts; if killed magical items will be dropped (complete invulnerability with high strength and speed for the first ten seconds of the creature's waking, becoming vulnerable afterwards, with medium durability and low intelligence).

The Grand Golden Sea Beast: The amalgam beast of hundreds of thousands of pounds of gold, silver, and gems falling into the seal merging together into a powerful fanged, tentacled sea beast too deep underwater to be found. While the beast is not made of gold per say, it's body will revert back to it's treasure trove state if it is killed (High durability and speed, very high strength, medium intelligence, low agility, minor magic resistance, tentacle thrash, multi-snare, wave pool, cyclone, crystal crunch, gem slash).

Note-The ocean and islands of this land may be populated by many other monsters of unknown origin, as LoMaT will randomly generate things as is its want. This random nature makes the theft of luck all the more necessary.

Challenge: Use powers to steal luck from other pirates, getting more maps to more treasures until finding one to the denizen.

#Homestuck #roleplay #Thief of Light

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save-the-spiral · 7 years ago

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What about romantic headcanons about wizards who’s s/o isn’t a wizard at all?

These aren’t headcanons. More of a fic. Hope you enjoy!! I would’ve posted this sooner, but my laptop was taken away to be fixed up!!

Wizards are known to be adventurous. Common fact, really. Sometimes, wizards go places they shouldn’t, do things they shouldn’t.

And that’s where the real adventure begins.

The wizard was simply experimenting with teleporting- trying to make it cost less magical power, because they’ve lost good wizards who could’ve survived with just one more spell. Just a little bit more mana.

They knew it was dangerous, but so is teleporting into a world full of monsters with a lethally small amount of mana. So while they were risking their life, at least it was a good cause.

Preparing to test their theories, they readied their wand- a delicate rapier that they spent over a year crafting in Avalon, decorated in silver lines and jade. Before teleporting, they stomped on the ground, activating their circle of complex runes in the shape of a shimmery diamond-like ‘X’.

Muttering words of power under their breath, their breathing quickened in the darkness of their castle’s dungeon, the only light radiating from the runes in the room. Their dark eyes were focused on the small, intricate runes that lines their walls, the stone brick carved with rough, ancient magic that glowed a pale blue, becoming brighter with each magical word invoked.

That same magic swirled around the wizard, engulfing them in a whirlwind of something that felt like fear, visible in the magic that was steadily becoming the color of perfect aquamarines.

The faint scent of a salty sea breeze made their nose twitch as their vision went black.

They awoke with a groan, arm reaching out to pull their blankets up, wanting to shield their eyes, only to grab a handful of coarse sand. With a start, their eyes opened to the blinding sun and brilliant blue of the sky.

And the curious grey eyes staring down at them.

They were a wizard who managed to teleport themself into a Spiral of pirates. It was a Spiral full of violence and sailing and old songs.

None of their magic worked anymore. Their wand was nothing more than a knick-knack now, the enchantments gone and the weapon left weak. Their deck of spells still glowed faintly of magic, but without a weapon the wizard risked death if they tried to cast anything.

Admittedly, they could get used to it. It was nice, not having to cast magic, not having to worry about battles and wars.

The pirates were far less structured than the wizards. There was no order, no common area of schools. People here learned through hardship and necessity. Some of them could heal, others could trap, and others just attacked.

It was a chaos that held its own sort of freedom.

The pirate that had come across the wizard passed out on the beach was- odd. He was kind to those he trusted, and a menace to those he didn’t. Others gossiped about him, how he had no crew, but all he would do was smirk and quip about being a lone wolf.

He took the wizard in, explaining his worlds and entrusting them with books and all the knowledge he could impart.

Once or twice, he remarked on how they must’ve been a scholar back home. They were so intelligent, and they treated books with a special kind of loving care, so they must have at least had gone to some kind of school.

At the word school, the wizard had frozen. Fear scrambled into their bones, possessing their body to make way for panic to override their brain.

He learned to avoid words after that. He was patient.

The wizard thought that he was a good man. A murderer. A pirate who made his enemies cower in fear. Yet he was good.

There was goodness in the soft explanations, in the way he sewed them headscarves when their original one was ruined by some particularly angry sea birds, in the smiles and mischievous glances over pints of yum.

The wizard was a bit confused. Days passed of this companionship, and the pirate never mentioned leaving on his own, never claimed to be a lone wolf unless it saved him from awkward questions.

After a while, any time he mentioned leaving the docks of Skull Island, it always included the wizard. He would grin and speak of their future travels like it was what they had always done.

The wizard would only smile back, feeling a childish excitement that they hadn’t allowed themself to feel in a long time.

Was this what friendship was?

They rested in an old rocking chair, their bones settling and creaking like the docks of Flotsam, the driftwood straining and groaning with every moment, attempting a normal where they can exist in peace. The wizard sighed, their head falling back against the thin pillow secured to the rocking chair’s back.

The skies are so much clearer here.

The wizard was used to the dark oppressive skies of Dragonspyre, where they had taken refuge after they had gained enough notoriety for people to attempt to stalk them, trying to challenge for duels and other ridiculous things in order to gain their own reputation.

Back in the wizarding worlds, they were a hero. They were the top of their class, the leader. The pressure they had to withstand since they were twelve was immense, almost making them break-

“What are you thinking about?”

And they were confronted once again with those curious grey eyes, the pirate they belonged to lounging on the railing, one of his legs dangling over the side, the other bent with their boot resting flat against the uneven wood of the railing.

“Home.” They said, tearing their gaze from the horizon to stare into those eyes that pull like the moon pulls the tides.

He huffed, turning his head and resting it against the railing with a light ‘thump’. “’S useless to think of things like that.” He muttered. His boston accent was more obvious than normal, his emotions taking control for a moment.

“I don’t want to go back.” The wizard replied, feeling like they had to reassure the pirate. Their spine sent a sharp burst of pain through their shoulder, and they shifted restlessly, the moment of peace they had now long gone.

The distant cries of sea birds made the following silence all the more lonely, and the wizard shifted again, a cool rush of wind brushing over the pair. The pirate’s large poof of curls covered his face when the wind caught it, making him sit up with a goofy grin.

The wizard shifted again, their headscarf flying loose in the wind, letting their dark hair fall to their shoulders as they flinched harshly, instinctively retreating into the oversized coat they had taken to wearing.

The pirate moved quickly, their agile body a blur of motion as they crossed the balcony, leaping on the railing again to catch the silky headscarf in his hand. His free hand covered his eyes, his head turned to the side, as he returned the scarf.

When the wizard was comfortable again, the pirate settled into the opposing rocking chair, pushing it every time his feet hit the ground, the chair protesting with loud creaks every time.

“No…” The wizard trailed off, their gaze trained on the horizon again. They stole a glance at the pirate, whose face was slack as he stared at the setting sun, entranced as his attention focused solely on the horizon.

“I don’t think I ever want to go back.” The wizard whispered to themself.

The wizard didn’t realize someone could fall in love so fast. The word itself sent flutters through their body, settling in their stomach like a kaleidoscope of crystal butterflies.

They were in love with the pirate.

They were in love, and it was easy. They didn’t think it would be any different if he was a wizard or just a plain human or anything- no, it wouldn’t be any different at all.

Of course, if he wasn’t a pirate, they wouldn’t have met on that beach months ago. The wizard wouldn’t have had a guide through the pirating Spiral, wouldn’t have been able to sail through the universe at his side, their fingers trailing through the sky, catching stardust that burned new scars into the wizard’s hands, adding to a collection of hundreds.

If he wasn’t a pirate, they couldn’t share this perfect moment. On that same balcony in Flotsam where they watched the sunset together, ever since the first time where the wizard’s headscarf flew away and had to be rescued.

The horizon was lighting up in a brilliant array of oranges and reds and pinks, the sky darkening into a velvety violet. As they usually did, the wizard stole glances at the pirate. The golden colors of the sunset seemed to glow off of his beautiful skin. His grey eyes reflected the pink and red, and the wizard couldn’t help but marvel at how impossible in love they were with the pirate.

“I think I love you.” The wizard whispered in the quiet fade to night. It was the most adventurous thing they had ever done.

The pirate turned, a cocksure grin gracing his features as he spoke without pause, as if the wizard’s confession was simple. “’Bout time. I’ve been going mad over you since I met you. Glad you finally figured it out.”

It was like a shock to the wizard’s system, and they laughed incredulously. “You knew?”

The pirate laughed fully, the sound loud enough to cause some of the sea birds to wake up, their startled cawing joining into the sound below of drinking songs and shattering glasses and probably a sword fight or two.

“You didn’t know?” He replied simply, grinning.

The wizard huffed, and in a moment of boldness, they grabbed the pirate by the collar of his jacket and pulled him in. Those grey eyes were wide with shock, and the wizard could feel his breath on their skin.

“May I kiss you?” They asked, a smirk spreading slowly across their face at the dazed nod the pirate gave them.

The wizard leaned in slowly, the mischievous grin on their face fading as they tilted their head to the side, kissing the pirate almost shyly, their hands moving from his collar to brush along his neck, resting on his shoulders.

“I think I love you too.” The pirate whispered back.

Fate won’t let wizards and pirates stay apart forever.

And neither will love.

#ask #anon #anonymous #Wizard101 #Wizzy101 #Wizzy #Wiz101 #W101 #Wizard101 fic #Wizard101 fanfiction #Wizard101 fandom #Writing #Wizzy fic #Wizzy art #Wizzy fandom #Wizzy fanfic #Wizzy fanfiction #w101 fandom #this is gay af

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alexandralyman · 7 years ago

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Beyond the Horizon, Chapter 42

Fic Update: Beyond the Horizon

Summary: When Princess Emma's ship is captured by the Jolly Roger and Captain Killian Jones, she offers herself as a hostage for ransom if he will let the ship and the other passengers go. With Emma, Killian remembers the honour he once held dear, and Emma catches glimpses of the gentleman Killian had been. Against all odds, the pirate and the princess begin to fall for each other.

Read this chapter on ff.net here

Chapter Forty-Two The Villain of the Tale

The Evil Queen's Castle

Regina lifted the little gilt hand mirror from atop her dressing table and carefully studied her face, her reflection framed perfectly between the scalloped edges. It was bare of any cosmetics, she wore none of her usual rouge to enhance her bone structure or any of the carefully chosen pigments to line her lips, define her brows, darken her lashes. As a young woman she'd never bothered much with such artifice, preferring to pink her cheeks with a long ride across the fields and to redden her lips afterwards with stolen kisses in the stable's hayloft instead. Besides, it had hardly been necessary. She'd been beautiful then, not needing flattering hairstyles or cunningly designed gowns to conceal flaws like other, plainer girls did, Regina had been born blessed with natural beauty that her mother had fussed over and paraded about with pride, eagerly commissioning portraits to send to unmarried crown princes and widowed kings both across the realms and sparing no expense in the process. Her daughter was beautiful, and Cora was determined she would be a queen by marriage since she couldn't be sovereign in her own right. She'd clawed and scraped her own way to an exalted title and she would have something even better for Her Royal Highness Princess Regina, bluest of bloods on her father's side, and luckily winsome enough that Cora's much more humble and dubious lineage could easily be overlooked.

Regina's own opinion on the matter was considered of no importance, of course.

In the end it had been more a curse than a blessing. Regina had felt no different than her horse, being presented to foreign ambassadors and envoys as a prospective bride while they did all but examine her teeth as they openly discussed her family tree, her complexion, her likelihood of bearing sons. Breeding stock, that's what she really was, carefully reared and groomed by her mother to be sold at auction to the highest bidder. And sold she was, to a grieving widower old enough to be her father and a pretty child who was both adoring daughter and unwitting rival wrapped up in one.

Snow White

Regina was no longer that proud young filly not yet broken to the saddle she'd been before her marriage (and her mother had broken her, in the end, with a squeeze of her fist and words that still echoed in the back of Regina's mind all these years later) but neither was she a lame old nag ready to be put out to pasture. The face in the mirror was still beautiful, undeniably older than the seventeen-year old reluctant wife and new mother she'd been on her wedding day, with deep lines cut around her eyes by the passage of time and feathering around her lips that were usually hidden by powder and paint. But her hair was still thick and dark and lustrous, her neck and jawline were both firm and supple, and there wasn't a single liver spot to be found anywhere on the backs of her hands. She'd never been as vain as some of the tales made her out to be, the ones that cast her as nothing but a jealous stepmother to a beautiful young stepdaughter, but Regina did possess some vanity and it was impossible to ignore the fact that over three decades had passed since she'd once vowed revenge on the one who'd destroyed her life. Thirty years...a lifetime…time that was gone forever now. Daniel was nothing but bones and dust, forgotten by almost all, even Regina could not longer quite recall the sound of his voice or remember his face with the clarity she once did. Her father was dead, going to sleep one night and never waking up again in a cruel twist of fate that only served to remind her of that failed sleeping curse (True Love's Kiss...the one magic she could never wield) and while her mother still clung to life in that land of strange wonders on the other side of the looking glass, she was nothing but an empty shell who had lived too long without her heart in fear and suspicion and was prone to fits of madness now. Cora had made Regina a queen in the end, but her grand victory had cost her dearly, Regina had seen to that.

Everything comes with a price.

She stared balefully at her reflection, tilting the mirror this way and that to hollow her cheeks with shadows and to bathe her skin in the flickering candlelight, catching a glimpse of that girl in a pale blue gown she'd been once upon a time. Her youth was gone forever now, another casualty of her fruitless quest, but she was still beautiful. If the man from the tavern with the lion tattoo was still out there, somewhere, surely he would think so too. While she didn't lack for male companionship in her bed when she wanted it, there were always plenty of handsome guards around to play with for a while and then dispose of once she'd had her fill, sometimes she imagined finding him again...the man the little green fairy had said was her soulmate with such certainty and a pinch of pixie dust...finding him and seeing if maybe, possibly, there was a chance for her to find happiness.

To be Regina again, just Regina, and not the Evil Queen.

But then she would catch sight of herself in the nearest mirror, ebony gown and fine jewels, face painted and powdered into a stark mask that her younger self wouldn't even recognize and she would remember that she was the Queen now and not Regina and no man, not her handsome young guards with their flattering mouths and fearful eyes, not the stranger with the lion tattoo, none of them would ever see her as anything but that. Too much time had passed, her heart (what was left of it, anyway) was too hard, and her mother's harshest lesson had sunk in and permeated everything with the constant reminder that love was weakness and the one thing a queen without a king could never be was weak.

The King is dead...long live the Queen.

Even now, bare faced and bundled in an old, faded robe with frayed cuffs and loose threads instead of one of her extravagant gowns, she was still the Evil Queen, Snow White's wicked stepmother, forever bound in marriage to that little bitch even though Snow's father, Regina's husband, had been dead for years and his ring no longer graced her slim finger. All through the years of bitter exile and even now, triumphant at last with the kingdom hers alone to rule, it was always about Snow White. Regina would always be the interloper into her perfect family, the usurper to her rightful throne-

-the villain to her hero.

"My Queen…"

"Not now," she snapped at the familiar voice, setting the mirror face down with a thump and standing up from the table, turning away to stare out the window at the forest in the distance as she'd done every day during her first reign when she'd known Snow White was out there, rallying village after village to her cause under the cover of night and falling in love with that tall, blond princeling, so annoyingly proud and full of noble ideals, the one who had done what Regina herself could not, defied his father's will and set aside his royal fiancee to follow his heart into the woods instead.

Even when Snow White had nothing and Regina had everything, it had always felt like it was the other way around.

"Your Majesty." the voice persisted from behind her, both fearful and beseeching and it set her teeth right on edge, she was not in the mood to see or be seen by anyone at the moment, not even her most faithful and loyal companion. Of course, he didn't really have a choice in the matter.

"My apologies for the interruption but you said you wanted to be informed as soon as there was any news...she's been captured."

Something akin to hope flared wildly in Regina's breast and she whirled around, clutching the edges of the robe tight to her chest. "Snow White?"

Her Mirror appeared in the round glass on the wall through a swirl of grey smoke, shaking his head and hope was immediately replaced by rage that had dark magic sparking hot between her fingers, ready to shatter him right to pieces for that split-second of false elation.

"No, it's her daughter, Princess Emma. She's been captured at sea...by pirates."

Regina felt her lips twist at the name while a prickle of interest went right down her spine. Princess Emma was Snow White's only child, born of her love with that insipid Prince Charming, the child that was heir to her throne, her pride and joy and-

-her happiness.

She turned to face the full-length mirror next to her dressing table, taller than she was and twice as wide, seeing nothing but her own reflection.

"Show me," she ordered, in a voice that none in the whole of the kingdom would dare to disobey.

The glass darkened at her command, the image within rippling and distorting until it cleared to reveal what she quickly realized was the wooden deck of a ship, rocking back and forth slightly in the frame. She could see the ocean in the background, a tall mast and the corner of a sail, but her attention was drawn to the group of men congregated in a loose semi-circle around two others dressed in the new uniforms of her navy. One of them held a blood-stained cloth to the side of his face, while the other's jacket was torn at the shoulder and he was clearly favouring one leg over the other, wincing in pain but trying to hide it. Regina had tortured enough peasants to know the look of a man in hidden agony well.

"Now, are you two gentleman finally prepared to listen to my offer? Or do I need to fully sink your vessel to get it through your thick skulls that I am not a man to be trifled with?"

Regina turned her attention to the one who had spoken in such a lazy, unaffected tone that nonetheless carried a menacing undercurrent and had the rest all turning to him in clear deference. He was dressed in a long leather coat that was several notches above everyone else's attire, with a sword at his hip and one ringed hand resting lightly on the hilt. His head was down, features obscured by a shadow while he toyed with the pommel for a moment and when he finally looked up Regina saw that he had a handsome face, lean and sharp-jawed, with thick black brows framing bright blue eyes and a fringe of dark hair that swept across his forehead.

Pirates, her Mirror had said, and she took in the rich jewel that dangled from his ear and the arrogant set to his shoulders under the leather. A pirate he clearly was, a highwayman of the seas who pillaged and plundered his way from port to port. But there was no sign of Princess Emma and impatience had her bare foot tapping up and down silently on the rug. If this was yet another wild goose chase...

"The Evil Queen will have your head for this!" the man in the torn jacket yelled.

Regina rolled her eyes, letting out an annoyed huff. Never just the queen, always the Evil Queen. One of the pirate crew clouted the man in the back and he fell heavily to his hands and knees on the planks.

"On your feet for the captain!"

He was roughly hauled upwards again among jeers from the rest of the men to face the one in the leather coat, obviously the captain, who seemed completely unperturbed by the invocation of her title. Not only that, Regina saw to her shock that he was actually smirking at the threat, the fool. Handsome and arrogant, she'd broken more than her fair share of men like him to her own whip.

She was her mother's daughter, after all.

"Have my head for what?" the captain queried with an amused look, glancing around at his crewmen and lifting one shoulder in a careless shrug, "Putting a few holes in her ships? I'd say it's a small price to pay for what I'm about to give her..or, should I say, whom, and I'm sure Her Majesty would agree."

The feeling returned, a hot, burning coal in her chest that threatened to hollow her from the inside out underneath the threadbare dressing gown. There'd been no news for weeks, no sightings in the forest, no rumours in the villages. Princess Emma had simply vanished into thin air, no spell or spy had been able to locate any sign of her. It was almost as if something or someone was deliberately concealing her from Regina's view. Much to her frustration, she'd been unable to discover the source of it, although she strongly suspected the fairies had a hand in hiding the girl from her. She saw her two subjects exchange hesitant looks on the other side of the glass.

"You claim you have the princess aboard this vessel as your prisoner," one said at last, obviously unconvinced, "Our Queen will require more than just a pirate's boast to believe that, Captain."

"Aye, of course. Mr. Doyle, go and fetch my...the princess, if you please."

The pirate captain rocked back on his heels, jamming a thumb into his belt and giving another smirk of a grin while a large man with a red beard immediately jumped to attention and disappeared down a hatch. Regina clutched a fold of her robe in her fist, hearing the roar of the distant waves through the mirror that matched the roaring of the blood in her ears. If this smirking pirate was trying to deceive his way into the reward with a slattern tavern maid dressed up in silks and velvets or a pretty-faced boy simpering and preening behind a fan, then she would have his head, as well as several other body parts before she was through with him.

A hush had fallen over the group on deck that was thick with expectation. No one spoke and Regina felt like she was fixed in place, unable to tear her gaze away from the mirror and holding her breath until her lungs were fit to burst until finally, finally, the sound came of a feminine voice, high and reedy with fear. Both of her men went stiff-backed, eyes bulging and jaws dropping at something beyond the edge of the frame, beyond Regina's field of view.

"Unhand me at once you brute! Put me down, put me down, now!"

Kicking and flailing madly in the beefy arms of the red-bearded pirate was a woman in a yellow gown the colour of buttercups. Her full skirts spilled over his elbows as he half-carried, half-dragged her bodily onto the deck, ignoring both the shouting and the small fists pounding madly on his chest in vain. Regina felt her heart speed up, running her gaze over every last detail. The woman was young, and blonde, just like that blond princeling who Snow White had oh so cloyingly named "Charming" - though Regina had always found him anything but. The long strands of hair escaped from a green ribbon to curl around a flushed face with a familiar heart shape that had haunted Regina for decades, so flushed with pride and convinced that she had done the right thing in sharing a secret that was not hers to tell. It was the same face from that infuriating broadsheet the peasants traded behind her back, proclaiming her their true queen, the same face from the portrait she'd burned when she'd finally breached the defences and entered the castle in what was supposed to be triumph and finding it empty and cold instead, sending a ball of flame hurtling straight at the painted family hanging on the wall who were supposed to be cowering at her feet, begging fruitlessly for their lives.

Princess Emma

She was dumped somewhat unceremoniously on the deck right in front of the captain's polished boots with her gown billowing out around her, giving a cry of complete outrage that made Regina smile. The captain was also smiling, smug and clearly pleased as he nudged her carelessly with one foot and prodded, "Go on now, darling. Tell these fine gentlemen your name, loud and proud."

The girl glared up at him from under that cloud of golden hair instead, defiance that reminded Regina even more of Snow White. She rose carefully to her feet without assistance and faced him, tipping her head back to look him square in the eye and revealing a dark bruise that bloomed high on her cheek, the skin purple and swollen and a sharp contrast to the cheery buttercup yellow. Someone must have struck her, and recently, too. Rage flashed over the captain's face at her refusal, an emotion as intimately familiar to Regina as her own reflection in the mirror. His lips thinned and his eyes narrowed to slits while one hand grabbed her by the wrist and spun her around, pulling her flush against his chest from behind with his free arm circling her waist.

"That was not a request, Princess," he hissed, bending down so that his whiskered cheek brushed hers and pressing his lips right to her ear, "That was an order, and on my ship no one disobeys my orders."

She turned slightly in his hold, twisting and firing back, "Or what? You'll have me flogged, Captain? You wouldn't dare!"

Flogged. Regina rather liked the sound of that and the pirate looked like he was considering it. "Hmmm, stripped and whipped until you've learned your lesson? Well, I think we'll save the stripping part for later, my dear, but as for whipped no, not you. The lieutenant. While you watch."

"No...no, don't hurt him, please."

She struggled fruitlessly, begging and pleading until finally she slumped in his arms as the fight seemed to go out of her all at once. His own voice was mockingly cruel, practically dripping with scorn. "Still trying so desperately to be a hero, the pretty little princess who thinks she can best a pirate. Won't say a damn word to save your own skin, but you'll do it for him. We both know you'd do anything to protect the ones you love. Now, be a good girl and tell these men your name."

He hauled her back up against his chest, holding her firm while he grasped her chin and forced her to face Regina's men. His other hand was splayed across her stomach, thick rings on every finger save one. The large gemstones stood out against the soft yellow, dark onyx set in silver, rubies that gleamed like drops of fresh-spilled blood, this dark-haired pirate was clearly a man of considerable means. Regina was captivated by the unfolding scene in her mirror, curious as to both his identity and the meaning of his words. Who was this lieutenant that he spoke of, this man that Princess Emma was trying to protect even as a prisoner? She remembered Snow White and the poisoned apple all those years ago, taken not to save herself but to save the man she loved so dear. Snow's greatest weakness was supposed to be the key to destroying her at last, until Prince Charming had ruined everything with that blasted kiss. It seemed their child was just like the pair of them in more than just looks, a hero with a head full of foolish, noble ideals and a heart undoubtedly full to the brim with hope.

No more apples. Regina would take great delight in crushing that noble heart, letting hope turning to ash between her fingers.

The girl stared straight ahead, the wind whipping her hair around her face and shoulders squaring even in the pirate's grip. The posture of a princess, chin tipping slightly up to look down her nose at those she outranked with the haughtiness of one born to the ermine and the purple. Just like her brat of a mother used to do. They even had the same chin.

"Say it," he urged, more softly this time, turning her head to face him again, "Say it and save him."

She gave a tiny nod and his hand fell away, deafening silence reigned across the assembled men as they all waited for what she was about to say.

"I am Her Royal Highness Crown Princess Emma of the Enchanted Forest, daughter and sole heir of Queen Snow White and King David."

It rang through the mirror as clear as a bell, even making the glass vibrate a little from the force of it and even though Regina had recognized the face and the hair and knew she had to be who the pirate captain said she was...actually hearing the names that had been her own personal curse for decades had her vision going white at the edges while a hot rush of emotions flooded through her. Her knees almost buckled and she had to brace a hand on the bedpost to keep herself upright, nails scrabbling madly at the carved wood. After all this time she would finally have what she wanted...almost. Snow White's happiness, in the form of her only child.

"The princess...it's her!"

One of her men seemed to forget his injury and tried to lunge forward, reaching out for the girl with a sudden gleam in his eye, only to be met by a battalion's worth of swords blocking his way. The pirate crew were all heavily armed, their blades flashing bright in the sun. She ran a cursory eye over them, feeling her nose wrinkle in disgust, they were dirty, common men, barely worth her notice. Armed or not, she could destroy them all with nothing but a wave of her hand. Still, Regina was faintly impressed with how quickly they'd reacted, pulling their weapons in a blink and forming a barrier between their captain and the potential threat. Even the one standing to the captain's right who looked barely more than a child, knobby wrist clutching a sword that matched any on the deck and as grim-faced as the rest of the crew under a thick mop of sandy hair.

The captain himself had taken a step back almost as soon as the man moved, lifting Princess Emma clear off her feet with the arm around her waist and turning so that she was tucked against him to the side with his coat swinging open to shield her and his own sword pulled in one smooth motion. He clicked his tongue in reproach and wagged the blade back and forth like a finger. "Ah, ah, ah, look, but don't touch."

"But...how? We've been searching for her for months."

Regina wanted to know the answer to that as well, how had a group of lowly pirates managed what the best of her knights and spies had failed at so spectacularly? The only information they'd managed to bring her was that Snow and Charming had sent their daughter away in secret before she'd laid siege to their castle, along with those seven buffoons with the ridiculous names - Happy, Dopey...Bashful...Reckless….Thrifty? Whatever the hell they were.

A devilish grin spread across the pirate's face, revealing white teeth while the arm he still had wrapped around the princess moved upwards until his hand trailed across her collarbone in a possessive caress, fingertips just barely grazing the skin.

"Oh, now that is a fine tale, isn't it, Princess? Your little ship wandering across my path unawares, trying to flee the queen and heedless of the danger, your men fighting so valiantly when we boarded and the seas running red with their blood until there was only the two of you left. Found her hidden away belowdecks dressed as a peasant, can you imagine? But I knew the moment I laid eyes on her that she was so much more...a young lieutenant was guarding her, or trying to, at least. It was oh so touching watching him trying to defend her honour, he's clearly sweet on her. Took them both prisoner and sank the ship, any man left alive on it didn't stay that way for long."

Princess Emma's eyes closed while the captain recounted the story and Regina thought she saw a tear glistening high on the bruised cheek. So they were all dead, Snow White's allies, the ones who'd taken her in and sheltered her all those years ago. Regina wished it had been by her hands instead, but no matter. If they'd been slain by pirates then they hadn't died peacefully, not according to every tale she'd heard. They were ruthless, hard men who showed no mercy, and the dark-haired captain looked the very picture of such a villain.

The lieutenant was roughly shoved forward by two of the pirate crew, hands tied tight behind his back and forced down to his knees under the gloating stares and the princess's tear-streaked gaze. Regina took in the wrinkled naval uniform, the bland good looks, and could easily imagine a pathetic little romance blooming between him and Princess Emma at sea, all sweeping promises and fervent declarations of love under the stars.

Love is weakness, Regina.

The most important lesson Cora had ever bestowed was an echo in her ear, a lesson, it seemed, that the princess and her would-be lover were learning as well. She was bruised and he was bound, heroes brought low and separated by the man standing between them.

Her own man had his hands raised in supplication, eyeing the blades all still pointed at his throat. "There is a handsome reward for capturing the princess, Captain, surely you know that. Her Majesty has offered a thousand gold pieces-"

"I don't give a damn about gold," the pirate interrupted, practically spitting the words, "What I want is something even more valuable than mere coin, and more precious than any jewel. I've shown you what you wanted to see, you will take the following message back to your queen and tell her to keep her reward. Tell her that Captain Killian Jones of the Jolly Roger has what she wants, Princess Emma, alive and unharmed. Well...mostly, at least, a pirate's always got to keep the best part of the treasure for himself, eh lads?"

He exchanged knowing looks with the rest of his crew while the lieutenant flushed, staring resolutely down at the deck with his shoulders hunched nearly to his ears under his jacket. More laughter and cheers arose when Captain Jones nuzzled openly at Princess Emma's neck and pressed a showy kiss to the dip in her shoulder, leaving very little doubt as to what exactly he might have taken from her.

"I will gladly turn her over in exchange for the queen's formal, written endorsement of my vessel. We will sail henceforth as privateers under Her Majesty's flag, with Her Majesty's protection. Those are my terms, and they are not negotiable."

Regina felt her eyebrow lift. That was unexpected. What kind of pirate didn't care about gold? That was all they were supposed to care about, according to the tales. Killian Jones...the name was unfamiliar, but she was a queen, she didn't associate directly with pirates. Perhaps that had been a mistake, given that this one had managed to do what none of her more highborn knights could. He was still holding Princess Emma with her back to his front, pressed against her intimately from shoulder to knee with his hips flush to hers and her hands clutching at the sleeve of his coat where his arm was wrapped across her chest. So the perfect little princess had been taken by a pirate in more ways than one. Snow White's daughter was no longer as pure as her mother's namesake, the irony was delicious. There would be no grand marriage for her now, no king down on bended knee to play second fiddle to a pirate. The rest of her did appear to be intact, or rather, unmarred, save for the bruise on her face. A taste of what was to come, when Regina got her hands on her. All the plans she'd made for Snow White's punishment while stewing in exile could be made to fit Princess Emma instead. Well, save for what she'd wanted to do first, rip out Snow's husband's heart in front of her and make her watch while it was crushed to dust, just like Cora had done to her. That so-called Prince Charming might have managed to escape Daniel's exact fate, but there were a whole host of other ways to make the girl suffer.

"We will deliver your message then, Captain Jones, when we deliver Princess Emma to the queen's custody. I'm sure she will be amenable to your request."

His face lost all hint of amusement and a muscle moved in his jaw before he spoke in that menacing tone again. "I don't make deals with lackeys," he said, drawing the words out and enunciating them carefully as if he was speaking to a slow, dimwitted child, "And I will deliver her to the queen myself once she had agreed to my terms and not a minute before, the princess does not set one foot off my ship until then. Did you really think I was just going to hand over such a rich prize and hope that my message was received and not mysteriously lost along the way to the Evil Queen? What's to stop you lot from claiming you found her and trying to steal my reward? A pirate keeps his greatest treasures close at hand and welcomes any challenge with the point of his blade."

He pressed his point by pressing the tip of the sword to the man's cheek without removing his arm from around Princess Emma, scraping downwards along his skin and shaving a white line right through his beard. The blade was clearly razor-sharp and he handled it with ease, putting on a deliberate show that made sweat break out on the other man's lip while his tongue darted out to wet his lips and his eyes darted down to follow the movement. There was complete silence for a long moment, but finally he swallowed hard and pressed on despite the clear threat.

"The Evil Queen is not known for her patience, Captain, and will not be pleased to hear that you have refused to relinquish the princess. I suggest you take the gold and not attempt to provoke her by making other demands."

Even battered and bloodied by the pirate crew, he clearly feared her more than he feared the blade pressed so perilously close to his own neck. Regina felt a flicker of annoyance, they would always fear her and never love her the way they did Snow White. But Captain Jones only smiled, displaying no alarm at the prospect of provoking her ire. She was second in power in the whole of the Enchanted Forest only to the Dark One and entire armies fled at the mere mention of her name. The pirate was no coward, she would give him that.

"Then I expect her answer quickly, or I will sail away beyond her grasp. Either way, I will not relinquish Princess Emma until I get what I want, and I always get what I want. But I'm sure Her Majesty and I will both be...satisfied, in the end."

He actually had the audacity to wink, patting the man on the cheek with his sword like a father would pat a child before stepping back and giving an order to have both her men returned to their ship. The other pirates all swung into action at once and this time it was a shorter one in a knit cap who was tasked with taking Princess Emma back down below. Before he did, Captain Jones tucked one of the loose strands of hair back behind her ear and leaned down to whisper something that Regina couldn't hear. Her eyes fluttered shut and her chest heaved, another tear spilling out from under her lashes. His expression was hard, flinty-eyed, revealing nothing when he dragged his thumb over the bruise on her cheek to capture it and wipe it away. This time she didn't try to resist when the man in the cap took her arm and guided her away, glancing down at the slumped lieutenant and back at the captain before turning to follow, seemingly resigned to her fate. Snow White had been the same when she took the apple, right down to the tear. Like mother, like daughter.

Her own mother's face flashed before her eyes, Daniel's heart in her hand. Regina pushed the image away and blinked against the sudden stinging in her eyes.

"The Evil Queen is going to kill you."

It was the lieutenant who had spoken, still down on his knees with his head hanging forward. He sat back on his heels and looked up at Captain Jones, who was staring out at some point in the distance.

"Don't pretend you'll shed any tears on my account if she does, mate," he said.

"You didn't take the gold."

Captain Jones barked a short, harsh laugh, "It's what you expected me to do all along, wasn't it? My most abject apologies for disappointing you."

"I didn't expect a pirate to truly risk his own neck," the lieutenant muttered, rolling his shoulders and rubbing his wrists together behind his back.

With a flick of his wrist the captain pressed his sword to the lieutenant's neck without looking, blunt side turned to dig into the soft point under his jaw and forcing his head back. His voice dropped and took on a dangerous edge.

"I'd risk my life for two things, love and revenge. I gave one up, and I am not going to lose the other. Now hold your tongue, Lieutenant, and remember just who is captain here. I'll not remind you again."

Revenge. Regina stepped closer to the mirror, freezing the image in place with a raised hand. The word struck through her like lightening, illuminating a whole host of possibilities. She was going to give the pirate what he wanted in exchange for the princess, her signature on a royal charter that would grant him legitimacy as her subject to ply the seas in her name. Her own navy was clearly useless, and her allies had been thin on the ground since her return. The Dark One rarely left his own castle these days, too preoccupied with his bizarre married life to lift a finger and assist his star pupil anymore, Maleficent was gone, King George had inconveniently died weeks ago, she really did have no one left.

But now a different idea was beginning to take root.

The captain's face filled the glass, rippling slightly when she reached out and traced a nail along it, tilting her head and considering him carefully. There was a small scar on his cheek, lending him a rakish air that was not unappealing. If he were one of her knights then she might have enjoyed a turn or two in the sheets with someone like him, a man who was a bit rougher around the edges, who wouldn't break too easily.

It was so disappointing when they did.

A swirl of red smoke engulfed her and when it cleared Regina was looking at her own reflection again. Only now she was gowned in crimson velvet that fit her like a glove, her shoulders rolling back under the luxurious folds that fell straight to the floor in a narrow drape. Her lips were nearly black with rouge and her lashes shadowed and curled, while her hair was dressed up high off her forehead. No longer the soft beauty her mother had prized so highly, young and tender-hearted and as easily bruised, now she was as polished at the jewels she wore, glittering and alluring and as hard as a diamond. A true Queen, Cora had made her that.

The Queen is dead...

Years had passed but it wasn't too late, not yet. The pirate was going to bring her Princess Emma and Snow White's happiness would be destroyed for good, her vow fulfilled at last. There would be no happy ending for the girl in the yellow gown and her gallant lover, they might be heroes but they suffered from the same fatal weakness that had already been their undoing.

As for what would happen after, her own destiny was still out there, in another land that just might be within her grasp once more. The people would never love the Evil Queen, but they would love Regina, and Snow White would finally be not just dead, but forgotten. All she needed was one thing...

Captain Killian Jones might think that his terms were non-negotiable, but Regina had learned how to make a deal from the very best. She would agree to his demands, for now, wait for him to claim his reward, and bide her time just a little longer. She'd waited this long, she could wait a bit more to have everything she'd ever wanted.

"Mirror mirror on the wall...find out all you can about the pirate named Killian Jones, captain of the Jolly Roger."

The Mirror appeared in the glass, his brow creased in a frown, "What do you wish to know, my Queen?"

"Find out where he was born, his home, his family. Who he hates, who he loves, what he wants the most. Everything."

Regina turned towards the window and pictured the ocean in the distance, hidden just beyond the forest.

"I need to know what kind of man he truly is."

#cs ff #cs fic #cs au fic #my fic #Beyond the Horizon

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mlaenie · 4 years ago

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I have picked up playing Sea of Thieves again ever since Season 3: A Pirate’s Life released, and I have done so for a few reasons. Reason number one: I do enjoy playing Sea of Thieves most of the time. Sometimes it is an engaging game fully capable of entertaining me for hours, and sometimes I log in, immediately get attacked by another player or harassed over their mic chat, and get discouraged and tired of playing about 5-10 minutes later. Reason number two: I love Pirates of the Caribbean and a Sea of Thieves crossover between the two sounded like an interesting collaboration. Reason Number three: I heard there were some pretty neat Monkey Island easter eggs hidden in the new Tall Tales and I was not satisfied with simply watching a youtube video about them. I wanted to experience them for myself.

Also, while I have absolutely no intention of purchasing microtransactions for SoT, the rewards for leveling up the plunder pass are pretty neat. I can’t resist collecting every Outlaw Pass in Red Dead Online, either. But RDO is easy because you earn gold for completing missions, daily challenges, bounty hunter missions, and opening treasure chests.

In the first chapter of this new pirate adventure, the player meets with the mysterious Castaway. She tells the player that trouble is coming and that in order to prevent it, they must sail to the Sea of the Damned, a mystifying land of the dead where ghost pirates can sail the seas and while away eternity.

In a fascinating homage to the original Disneyland ride and scenes from the Pirates of the Caribbean films, our player character (whom I feel motivated to develop as my own fan-character offspring of Guybrush Threepwood and Elaine Marley from Monkey Island) is instructed to navigate their way through Dead Man’s Grotto, following ghosts of pirates to find themselves just outside of a desolate town known as Sailor’s Grave.

Our character has one goal— to rescue another pirate who has been imprisoned on the Ferry of the Damned. In order to reach the prisoner, the player must stow away on the Ferry. Before we can do that, however, we must summon the Ferry to Sailor’s Grave with help from a disembodied skull of a cursed pirate (Murray?… Bob? The potential for Monkey Island jokes is endless, in my mind)

Sailor’s Grave is an old town that was once a lively hideaway for pirates to hole up with their loot, but as we visit it, we discover that the town has fallen to ruins and most of the inhabitants have moved on in one way or another, save for one who was left hanging in a cage. The reason he was strung up? His crew mutinied against him after he snuffed out the flames of the lighthouse in order to prevent the Ferry of the Damned parting him with his treasure.

I enjoyed the introduction of the Cursed Captain. I like the idea of my young Captain Marley Threepwood telling the old skull that she’s actually had some prior experience with cursed talking skulls through her father’s old pal Murray. As well as telling him the tales Guybrush would most definitely have told her as a young, starry-eyed kid hungry for her own adventures.

I found it depressing whenever I had to set the Cursed Captain down, even just temporarily. A few times while wandering around the abandoned town, I had to pick up another item needed to fulfill an optional quest objective, only to hear him call out not to leave him behind or remarking that he was being abandoned again as his crew had done to him. As chatty as he was to the point of being annoying after a while, in-character I did not blame him at all after spending so long in isolation.

Plus it’s just nice in a game like Sea of Thieves to meet a skeleton who isn’t hellbent on killing you. And as someone who mainly plays solo and only occasionally teams up at random on open crews who will put up with my silent shenanigans and text chat use, it feels like a relief to see an NPC do most of the talking for once.

The player has the option of either progressing with the main story by taking the Cursed Captain to the top of the lighthouse, where he advises you on how to summon the Ferry by restoring the lighthouse and lighting beacons surrounding the island, or taking him around the remnants of Sailor’s Grave so that he can tell you about the town. There is one hidden beacon in town which, when lit using the lighthouse lens, opens up a gate to an area chock full of Monkey Island easter eggs.

Lightning flashes across the sky as you approach an old shipwreck, and a cinematic screen displays the words “Deep in the Caribbean” as the title theme from Monkey Island begins to play over the area instead of the solemn instrumental rendition of “Yo Ho, A Pirate’s Life For Me” that is heard in the rest of the town. I don’t if the developers were thinking about it at the time, but it seems to call back to Curse of Monkey Island and Edward van Helgen’s pirate story of hearing an inescapably catchy, haunting melody that drove most of his shipmates to madness.

The shipwreck found in this area is none other than the Mad Monkey from Monkey Island 2: LeChuck’s Revenge, the famous shipwreck that Guybrush Threepwood needed to track down in order to retrieve the figurehead so that he could barter it for a piece of the map to Big Whoop, the indescribable treasure he spends the majority of the story searching for. The ship is renamed here to the Headless Monkey by its new captain, Kate Capsize. A series of journals authored by Kate reveal that she was out for revenge on Guybrush for having her falsely imprisoned under his name and stealing her near-grog.

Kate pursued Guybrush across the seas and discovered that he was most likely spending his honeymoon with his bride, Elaine Marley, in the Sea of Thieves. What happened to Kate’s ship isn’t explicitly mentioned, but I theorize that her ship lacked the equipment required to survive sailing through The Shroud (the waters that encompass the Sea of Thieves territory and keep it hidden away from intruders) or that she unknowingly sailed through a portal into the Sea of the Damned and found herself trapped there.

Whatever the true reason for the ship’s destruction and her demise, Captain Kate herself is nowhere to be found. Her final journal entry explains that she has realized revenge is nothing worth living or dying for. She has been reunited with her glass-bottomed boat, which she previously sold, and she only wishes to find a way to come back to life. She sailed off alone and was not heard from again, so it is unknown whether she found a way out or not.

The remains of her ship’s quarters contain a small map of Scabb, Booty, and Phatt Islands, as seen in MI2, and a larger map on the table that features the entire Tri-Island Area as seen in Escape From Monkey Island, including Monkey and Dinky Island as well. There’s no telling what, if anything more, will happen with Monkey Island in Sea of Thieves, but it does give me a glimmer of hope that maybe my all time favorite game series isn’t completely dead yet. It would be fun to see iconic Monkey Island characters physically appear in a future update, if Disney/LucasArts were willing to allow it.

After finally returning to the lighthouse to complete the main objective of lighting the beacons at sea, the Ferry of the Damned begins to approach the island, and the Cursed Captain requests that he be taken to his ship, allowing the player passage from the side door of his quarters through his treasure room and out to a rowboat that our pirate hero must take to sneak themselves aboard the Ferry.

On to the next chapter of the tale, once our pirate successfully makes their way onto the Ferry of the Damned, they sabotage the Ferryman’s Well of Fates by lighting it with the Flame of Souls, setting free the trapped souls and secrets he has kept hidden on the lower decks of his ship. Making their way to the brig, the pirate meets up with the prisoner they are intended to rescue, revealed to be none other than Captain Jack Sparrow. Jack is in possession of a peculiar treasure, a glimmering, glowing box he informs the player character is a key between worlds. He used it to flee to the Sea of Thieves whilst being pursued by Davy Jones, who seemed to have been restored to the Flying Dutchman after the Trident of Poseidon was destroyed.

It’s not really clear how Jones came to be once more, after his death in At World’s End, but I’m willing to borrow another quote from The Curse of Monkey Island, “True evil can never be destroyed completely.” In the context of Monkey Island, this is because the Ghost Pirate LeChuck has ostensibly found his true purpose in rising from the grave to torment Guybrush and attempt to win Elaine’s heart and hand in marriage. Perhaps Davy Jones has found a similar purpose in trying to imprison Jack in the locker?

After a tense battle with the Flying Dutchman, Jack loses the key to one of Jones’ minions who jumps ship with it. Jack demands that the Ferryman pursue the Dutchman, but gets knocked off balance and falls overboard the bow of the Ferry when the Dutchman releases a shockwave that rocks the ship.

With Jack lost to the depths of the Sea of the Damned, the Ferryman fears that both worlds are now in grave danger due to the player character’s selfish actions, but he does reward them for their bravery in fighting by returning them to the land of the living so that they may continue to fight to save the Sea of Thieves from Davy Jones, who intends to turn the high seas into his new locker.

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