#and yes I did pick a treasure island one even though I had many other options for 'tear' in order for an Oops All Wig Men special.

[chiropteracupola]

for the wip guessing game: loom, tear, light (or derivatives of each thereof)?

flight of the heron tam lin au:

Keith leaned on his folded arms, and stared out at the void beyond the window. Fog, primarily, and the dark and looming shapes of those too-near mountains, stretching down to clutch the town fast between their craggy fingers.

treasure island selkie au:

“She’s buried there,” Livesey said to himself, quite quietly. Even without the cold wind tearing his words from his mouth, they would have been difficult to hear. He put a hand to the gate latch and pushed, the wrought iron cold even through his gloves, and the gate swung open smoothly and soundlessly. As he stepped within, his shoes sank slightly in the thick grass, the soil richened by the centuries’ worth of dead tucked away beneath.

potc two magicians au:

A flash of silver as she leaps for the sea, and he’s after her as quick as thought, otter-sleek. His own coat gleams as a hundred thousand bubbles catch between its guard hairs, just as bright and shining as her own scales. They are two light-flashes twining through the kelp beneath, the strange underwater forest neither marked in the manner of the roads they had walked on shore nor trackless as the sea’s smooth rim.

[gumnut-logic]

Lego Volcano (Part 5)

Alexander Sweetapple series | Lego Volcano - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

It has been some time, and some of this fic has been sitting on my hard drive waiting for attention since May (wow) but tonight I finally started writing more of this. Writing muscles are still a bit rusty, but fortunately I know mostly where this is going. There is more written so hopefully I can post that soon, too.

I also feel that some fo this might be a bit familiar as there have been a lot of WIP Wednesdays since May and I have the vague feeling I posted some of this already, but there is new stuff here as well.

This one continues to be @idontknowreallywhy, @sofasurf, @womble1 and @sailing-on-a-puddle and other wonderful Thunderfam peeps' fault :D

@onereyofstarlight has been her usual amazing self, even rereading this whole thing from the beginning and helping me out with some of her specialities as well :D Thank you so much for your wonderfulness :D

This is Alexander Sweetapple so the fic is m/m. If that isn't your jam, this isn't your bread. Though I will admit, there is very little of that in this bit as Scotty is the one who is having a hard time this time :D

As always, so many thanks to Thunderfam for being the amazing kind fandom it is ::hugs the lot of you::

I hope you enjoy.

-o-o-o-

Being ever so competitive, all the Tracy brothers knew how to get to any part of the villa in the shortest possible time.

Gordon availed himself of that fact the moment John called him.

He had been putting on his swim trunks ready for his morning foray in the pool. Moments later saw him leaping a Lego volcanic island and landing smoothly enough amongst the bricks to slide to Alex’s side.

“What happened?”

Alex had laid Scott in the recovery position. “He has a fever.”

Gordon ran through vitals without thought.

Scott groaned and attempted to shove him away.

“Yo, Scooter, you’re on the floor clocking a temperature somewhere in the hundreds. Give yourself a break.”

His brother mumbled something and tried to roll over and get up.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Gordon grabbed him as Alex scuttled out of the way. “You are staying put until Grandma gets here.”

As if summoned by her callsign, their grandmother hurried into the room. “Scott, honey, what happened?” She stepped lightly over the Lego scattered across the floor and knelt down beside her grandson.

“I’m’kay, Granma.” Scott pushed himself into a sitting position.

Gordon growled at him, but placed a hand on his back, not convinced he wouldn’t fall over again.

“Looks like you’ve picked up Virgil’s flu, honey.”

Scott swore.

“Gordon, please find us a hoverstretcher.”

And that was how Gordon found himself dragging an obstinate and complaining, cranky big brother up to the infirmary and tucking him into a bed. The protests were of legendary proportions until Grandma brought them to a firm halt.

“I’m fine, Grandma.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’ve got work to do.”

“You’ve got resting to do.” She switched off the scanner and turned to put it away.

“Gordon, stop fussing!” And yes, his hands were swiped at.

He took a step back. “Fine, oh great Commander, tuck yourself in.”

And there it was, his feverish and ill brother trying to be big brother but running out of resources and struggling to hold himself up. Wet, blue eyes attempting stoicism and failing. Damnit, Scott, why do you do this?!

“International Rescue, we have a situation.” John popped up by the bed.

Oh, for the love of-!

Scott sat up, ramrod straight in the bed. “Go ahead, John.”

“We’ve got a cargo freighter foundering off the Great Barrier Reef.”

Gordon exploded. “What?! How the hell did they even get near it? Those are sanctuary waters!” Goddamnit! The remains of the Great Barrier Reef were a World Heritage Treasure. The Supreme Barrier Reef was an attempt to save the ecological system. What little was left of the actual reef off the coast of Australia was ever so precious. How the hell had they ended up in those waters at all?

John, as usual, was calm, but his expression said everything. “Investigating as we speak.” In other words, both he and Eos were out for blood.

Gordon let out a breath. Damn it was good to have a family to depend on.

“Thunderbird Two and Four responding. Get Alan down here. I need transport.”

“Gordon!”

He turned to his beloved eldest brother who was radiating heat like a blast furnace. “Alan and I have this, Commander. You’re staying in bed.” Moving towards the door, he almost collided with Alex. Stumbling, he gestured with a firm finger at Scott. “Make sure he stays put.”

Gordon tore out of the room at a run.

He had a reef, and possibly a few people, to save.

-o-o-o-

It had all happened so fast.

And Alex had no idea what he should be doing right now. He stood beside the door, not sure what to do with his hands, feet, or any body part really.

From the moment he caught Scott, events had just happened around him. The Tracy family responded smoothly and well-practised and before he knew it, Gordon was out the door, and Alex was left in the infirmary with a weak but literally vibrating Mr Tracy.

Mrs Tracy had looked at her watch and cursed. A firm finger and quiet word with the bed ridden man and she was hurrying out the door as fast as her grandchildren had moments before.

But she did brush her fingertips across Alex’s shoulder as she passed, catching his eyes enough to reinforce Gordon’s wish to keep Mr Tracy where he was.

How the hell was he going to do that?

In the distance, Alex heard the roar of Thunderbird Two as she launched from the Island.

Virgil was not going to be happy.

He let out a breath. That’s where he should be now. Virgil would be clambering out of bed. There was no way he would not respond to that sound.

A rustle of sheets and Mr Tracy was sitting upright again. “Thunderbird Five, give me comms.”

“Negative, Thunderbird One.”

“John-“

“Thunderbird Prime’s orders. You’re on sick leave, One.”

Mr Tracy swore dirty, very much not the calm, cool professional Alex was used to.

“Rest, Scooter. We’ve got this.” And the line cut out.

The man on the bed deflated like a balloon, falling back onto the mattress almost as limp as when Alex had first caught him.

An arm came up over his eyes and a barely discernible whisper crossed his lips. “Goddamnit.”

-o-o-o-

Mr Tracy lay there like that for enough time for Alex to think he had fallen asleep.

Should he leave or go? Both Gordon and Mrs Tracy had asked him to stay…really ‘ordered’ him to stay. But Virgil…

Virgil needed Alex to give him permission to relax. Virgil needed Alex to drag him back to bed to stop his headlong run into work and exhaustion.

Yet Virgil was reportedly the level-headed brother.

Virgil had often described Mr Tracy as the embodiment of his Thunderbird - fast, impatient, determined, and consequently ridiculously prone to working himself into collapse.

In Virgil’s case, it was a pot and kettle situation, but after tonight’s demonstration, Alex had first-hand experience and there was the distinct possibility that Mr Tracy would do exactly what Virgil predicted.

As if the thought was permission, Mr Tracy rolled over in the bed and pushed himself into a sitting position.

Alex blinked. “Do you really want to do that?”

The man jumped, tired eyes latching onto him and widening. “Alex?”

Stepping forward, Alex held up a hand. “I’m sorry, Mr Tracy, Mrs Tracy said you need to stay in bed.”

Those blue eyes blinked once sharply and then again but slower. “There’s a situation.” His words were running into each other.

Alex took another step closer. “Mr Tracy, you need to rest.”

He looked away, mumbling something.

“Mr-“

“Alex, my name is Scott.”

“Sorry, sir.”

That drew those eyes back to him, if only for them to roll as Mr Tracy let himself fall back onto the bed. “Augh, Alex.”

“Sorry, s-“

The man grunted.

“-cott.”

A more positive grunt and he shifted on the bed, pulling the covers over himself before fixing his eyes once again on Alex.

Those eyes had so much power.

“So, Grandma has you sitting guard.” It wasn’t a question, more of a challenge.

Alex straightened his spine. “I guess so.”

There was steel in that tired blue, but Alex held on.

Just long enough for Mr Tracy to sigh and relax back into the bed and close his eyes. “Fine.”

There was silence after that. If Alex was working for any other employer than the Tracys, he might have been afraid that he was throwing away his career future.

He wasn’t.

The silence stretched on and Alex resisted the urge to fidget. But then a soft snore wafted up from the bed.

It was followed by another.

Oh, thank god.

Alex wilted where he stood, suddenly aware of exactly how early in the morning it was. A chair beside the bed beckoned, so Alex edged over as silently as possible and curled up.

He watched the bed covers move evenly up and down as Scott slept.

Up and down.

In and out.

Up and…down.

His eyes dropped closed.

-o-o-o-

Next

[novelmonger]

Book Review: Swallows and Amazons by Arthur Ransome

Recommended by @valiantarcher for the 2024 Book Rec Exchange

Premise: The Walker family (sans Father, who is out to sea) is on holiday at a lake, and the four children have been begging to be allowed to sail to a small island and camp there all on their own. Once they receive permission, the adventures begin! Not only do they get to enjoy sailing the open seas and living on a deserted island, but they also encounter pirates, natives, buried treasure, and shipwrecks, all before they have to go home at the end of the summer.

Thoughts: I had the weirdest sense of deja vu in the first few chapters of this book. I think I must have attempted reading this at some point when I was a kid, but then got bored and never finished. Because this definitely seems like the kind of story I would have done that with when I was the target age ^^' Too many nautical terms, not enough actual pirates or kidnappings or wish-granting turtles. And I hadn't yet established my First Hundred Pages rule, so I can absolutely see myself giving up before things really got interesting. (For me, that would be when the Amazons show up.)

But reading it now as an adult, I thought it was delightful ^_^ The kids all acted just like real children, reminding me of games I'd play with my siblings, though the Walker children were much more sophisticated and had more complex ideas of a good time than we did! (For one thing, I don't think any of us had any ambitions of sailing or camping on our own, ever. And we couldn't have managed it, especially not at their ages!) I loved how seriously the narrative took their imaginations, because that's just how it is when you're playing pretend. The story you're pretending can shift and flex, but you still don't want anything breaking the suspension of disbelief if at all possible. (Thus the way my brother and I would always have our LEGO armies have a lunch-time truce when we were called away in the middle of battle.)

I think my favorite character was the unfortunately named Titty. (I assumed, all the way through reading the book, that this was a nickname for Letitia that, like the name Dick, has taken on an unfortunate meaning in this day and age, but upon further research I discovered that it comes from a children's book called Titty Mouse and Tatty Mouse, which was the favorite of the real girl Titty was based on, whose name was Mavis. I hunted up Titty Mouse and Tatty Mouse, and...what. even. I know times have changed since 1930, but...really??? Why would any child in their right mind like that story at all? Let alone pick it as their favorite?! x.x) Titty was the one who reminded me most of myself, other than the way Susan mothered her siblings (what is it with Susans and being the mother of the group?). The turns her imagination took her, the desire to have her own private adventures, the way her heart swelled with the drama of things...yes, I could see myself in that. She also kind of reminded me of Katharine from Edward Eager's books, for similar reasons ^_^

All in all, I found this book highly enjoyable, and even inspiring! It makes me want to recapture some of that child-like complete abandonment to the world of make-believe. It even encouraged me on a day I was feeling very overwhelmed by very adulty problems, because reading the book made me want to find ways I could pretend something more interesting and meaningful was going on, to relieve the oppression of Reality. A very enjoyable book, and I'm happy to have read it.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 31: Veritaserum

186 days.

That's how long Draco had been held in the Department of Mysteries, trapped in a cell that barely left him enough room to lie down except when they came to take him out and interrogate him.

Draco'd relived the horrors of the past two years, over and over through their invasive questioning, through their digging around in his mind, through the imperious curse, and most recently through a stint of days spent with veritaserum flowing through his veins.

He heard their footsteps coming down the hallway, their voices recapping what they'd learned so far. Day 6 of veritaserum. He used his nail to scratch another line in the wall next to his thin mattress.

187 days.

Then he heard a third voice, a voice he would have recognized anywhere. "Veritaserum?" Potter asked, sounding incredulous for some reason. "But that's illegal."

"Auror Potter, I'll remind you that you're out of your jurisdiction here. You have no say in what happens or the means used to collect intelligence that is invaluable when it comes to protecting future generations."

"And," the man, whose breath always smelled stale and turned Draco's stomach, added, "There are no 'laws' during wartime when we need to catch criminals."

"The war is over," Potter replied, voice sharp and something in the pit of Draco's stomach thrilled at that.

"Out of your jurisdiction," the woman reminded.

A moment later, there was a sharp rap of a wand against the metal bar of his cell and the man called, "Let's go, Malfoy."

He stood, moving toward the door with his head down, and that was when he felt it; the crackle of Potter's magic around him like static electricity.

Draco couldn't resist looking up at that, meeting Potter's eyes. The green was blazing, he's furious and Draco wondered what (or whom) that fury was directed at. His fists were clenched at his sides, shoulders stiff.

Even with all of the obvious tension, Potter looked good, Draco thought; healthy, strong, handsome, like he had the entire world at his feet. Which, to be fair, he probably did. He wondered what Potter saw when he looked at him.

(Read more below the cut)

"Move," the woman snapped and Draco dropped his gaze from Potter, his thoughts weren't his own, not really. He couldn't afford to allow even more trouble in his mind.

He staggered down the hall, his legs feeling like they were made out of jelly, and flinched when the door to the white room opened and bright, sterile light spilled out over him. Draco made his way in and sat down in the same chair he always sat it, the shackles immediately chaining his wrists and ankles down. He fought the inevitable wave of panic as the woman walked over.

"Drink," she instructed, holding a vial to his lips.

He clenched his hands but did as he was told because it only made things worse when he didn't comply. The veritaserum flooded his mind, making his mouth feel loose and his mind feel unpleasantly open.

"Last time we talked about the treatment of muggles and muggleborns in your home under He-who-must-not-be-named, do you remember?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Today we'd like to hear about your complicity," the woman said. "We want to hear about everything that you did and that other people did to people who opposed you."

"What was it like to live in your home with He-who-must-not-be-named?"

"Horrible," Draco answered honestly, trying to keep the thoughts and memories at bay as long as he could. "I lived like a prisoner."

"The truth!" the man demanded, even though Draco couldn't have lied if he wanted to. He drew his hand back, preparing to strike Draco and Draco closed his eyes, bracing himself for the impact.

Then there was a surge of magic so strong that it made Draco breathless. He waited for the inevitable pain but there was nothing and when he opened his eyes it was to see that both of the unspeakables had collapsed forward onto the table and Potter was standing in front of him.

"Malfoy," he said and the tone of his voice made it seem like it wasn't the first time he'd said it. "Come on," he urged. "We don't have much time."

He reached out and Draco took his hand uncertainly. This couldn't be real, could it?

"Malfoy," Potter pleaded, "Please, we have to go."

Draco staggered to his feet and followed the other man down a winding set of hallways, through moving doors, and all manner of strange things before they reached a passage that wasn't dark and vaguely terrifying.

"Here," Potter said, handing him a vial. "It's polyjuice potion. You're going to look like unspeakable Harrison. Once you look like him, we're just going to walk straight out, do your best to look calm. As soon as we're outside I'm going to apparate us."

"Potter," he finally managed, "Why are you doing this?"

Potter looked at him then, really looked at him, "Can we talk about this later?" he asked. "I swear I'm not trying to trick you," he added. "Please. Just let me help you."

At this point, what did Draco have to lose? What could be worse than this? He took the potion from Potter's hand and quickly swallowed it down, trying not to gag at the unpleasant taste as his body shifted and changed.

"Keep your head down," Potter said, "Don't answer any questions. You'll still have the veritaserum in your bloodstream."

Draco nodded and Potter opened the door, it was like he morphed into a completely different person. He smiled jovially as he strode across the foyer, waving and greeting people every step of the way. Every eye in the room was on Potter and it made Draco's skin crawl to have attention focused so near to him.

It felt like an eternity but it couldn't have been more than 45 seconds before they were out of the door and Potter was offering him his elbow, "Harry Potter lives at Number 12 Grimmauld Place," he murmured.

And before Draco could ask what the bloody hell he was talking about, Potter was apparating the two of them away. They landed in the Black Ancestral Home and Draco was shocked. And confused.

So confused.

"Hold on," Potter said. "We're not out of the woods yet. Too many people know about this place." He picked up a copy of a book called Treasure Island off the side table. "Portkey," he explained quickly, "Hold on." And then as almost an after thought, he added, "Harry Potter lives at 4 Oceanview Lane."

Draco took the other side of the book and felt the hook and tug behind his belly button as they were moved through time and space.

This time when they landed, it was in soft, soft sand, and Draco staggered, trying to catch his balance. Potter clasped his elbow to steady him, "Alright?" he asked softly.

Draco nodded, "Yes," he found himself compelled to add, the Veritaserum still hadn't quite faded from his veins.

"Come on," Potter said, giving him a gentle tug toward a little cottage just up the beach.

It was a lovely little house, lots of windows and glass doors overlooking the ocean. The walls were painted in cool beiges and light blues and white curtains fluttered in the breeze.

"Are you hungry?" Potter called over his shoulder after he kicked off his shoes and headed deeper into the house.

"Starving," Draco replied and Potter turned to look at him, frowning.

"When is the last time you ate?"

He shook his head, "I don't know. Time passed funny in there. I tried to keep track," he said, "but I don't really know."

Potter's frown deepened, "Come on. Let me show you your room," he said. "I picked up some clothes for you but we'll have to go shopping later so you an pick out what you like."

"Potter," he said as he followed the other man toward the back of the house, "I don't understand."

"You're free, Draco," the other man said. "Well, not entirely because they'll be looking for you. But you're safe here, safe with me. I won't let them find you and I won't let them take you back," he added with a firm nod.

"Potter," he called again, "This doesn't even make sense."

"Please," Potter said, as though he was well aware of how little sense this all made. "I just," his shoulders slumped a bit, "I found out they were keeping you locked up in there like," he shook his head, "Like some-"

"Criminal?" Draco offered.

"Worse," Potter said, shaking his head. "And it was wrong and no one would listen to me. So this is the best I can do," he said, gesturing at the cottage around him. "A little house in the Seychelles. No one even knows this place exists except for Ron and Hermione," he added.

"i don't understand," Draco said, leaning against the wall to support himself.

"I know," Potter said, "Just. Can you trust me for now? We can talk about it more when you're not so exhausted. Come in," he added, gesturing to the room.

Draco stepped through the door to a room with hardwood floors and white walls, with a sliding glass door that lead out into the sand and the ocean beyond. The bed was covered in soft white bedding and a door at the side of the room led to a bathroom with a proper bathtub and a shower.

He was dreaming, he had to be.

"There are some things in the drawers over there for you to wear," Potter said, sounding a touch anxious. "We'll find you things you like better whenever you're ready."

He stepped over and reached out a hand to touch the bed but pulled up short when he caught sight of his filthy hands. "This is for me?" he asked, looking over at Potter.

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "There's a second room across the hall that I'm in, if you'd rather have that one, but I thought you might like to be able to see the ocean."

"I don't know what to say," he said.

"Say you'll stay," Potter asked. "At least until we can get your name cleared."

"I don't think that's ever going to happen."

Potter sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Maybe, but can we just cross that bridge when we get there?" he asked.

"Okay," Draco said because this was all so strange, everything felt surreal, but Potter seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at his acquiescence.

"I'll go make us some lunch," he said quickly. "Do you want to freshen up first?"

Draco nodded, "If that's okay?"

"Yeah," Potter said, nodding, "Yeah. Anything you want." He gave Draco a little smile, "Towels are in the cupboard on the left when you go into the bathroom; there's soap, shampoo, conditioner, and the like in the shower," he added. "I'll be in the kitchen. Just shout if you need anything."

Draco watched him go, still very confused. But for the first time in a very long time, just a little bit hopeful.

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

Part 2 to this story is up! Read it here.

Part 3 is up! You can read it here.

Read Part 4 here!

Part 5

Day 30: Likeness | Day 32: After Wedding Fluff

Ahh! Nonnie. I did not anticipate loving this prompt so much. I could hardly bring myself to stop writing. Thanks so much for this prompt.

If y'all want more of this story, please drop me an ask or leave a comment. I'd definitely be up for writing more if people want to read it. :)

[lokis-army-77]

If you please

Chapter Seventeen

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2800

This is technically a reader insert but without the (y/n) and all that. She also has no name mentioned so feel free to imagine as you please.

Follow the reader through the events of the Captain America movies and experience her love for Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Bucky being sad

<< Previous Next>>

Masterlist

Early one morning I woke up and got ready for the day. Bucky wasn’t awake yet so I walked to the kitchen table, grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, then wrote him a note that said I was going out for a while and that I would be back later. After picking up some of the money we had stored in a giant jar on the floor, I headed to the door and down the stairs, out into the busy Romanian morning.

Cars and people bustled down the streets every which way. I walked a few blocks away before arriving at an old book store. I had been thinking for a while that maybe if Bucky read something that he used to love, then maybe that would help some memories resurface.

Stepping through the threshold, I was hit with the comforting smell of old books and what seemed to be a vanilla candle. In the corner, right next to the door, is the cashier, a small, hunched old woman who, every time I come in here, is sleeping. She jostles a bit at the sound of the bell when the door shuts but doesn't wake.

I continue on into the shelves of books, looking for anything Bucky might like. Even though it was a Romanian book store, there were many English selections of classic books. I scoured the shelves for a while before coming to a stop at one of his favorites, ‘The Hobbit’. I gently took it off the top shelf and fingered through the old, yellowing pages. Dust from the top of the book fell to the floor as I did so. Closing it, I started to scan for something else for me to read, this time making sure it was one of the very long ones, considering I had read the short four hundred page one about three times already. There was a small paperback copy of Victor Hugo’s ‘Les Miserables’ sitting on the second shelf from the floor. I grabbed it and sat it on top of the other book in my arms and headed for the front.

The old woman was still napping away when I placed my small stack onto the counter. I forwent ringing the service bell and just reached over to give a strong tap on her shoulder. Having been here before, I knew she wouldn’t wake up to the sound of it. She swatted my hand away and I tapped her a second time a little more harshly, she woke up that time, muttering in Romanian that she was awake. I greeted her with a soft hello before placing the coins for the books into her boney, outstretched hand. She thanked me then I was on my way back to the apartment.

I took a small detour through the open market stalls a block or two away from the apartment. I take my time looking through the small amount of fresh fruit that was offered so early in the year. I move along, not finding anything of interest. I make my way through the crowd of people to continue my original journey back home.

It was close to eleven by now and when I opened the door and stepped into the apartment, my nose was filled with the smell of something burning. Quickly I shut the door and run down the tiny hallway and into the main room. Bucky was standing over a smoking pan on the stove, while right next to it was a pot, almost boiling over.

“Buck what in the world are you doing?” I ask as I move towards him to turn the eyes off.

“I was trying to make breakfast for lunch. It was supposed to be an ‘I’m sorry I scared you and brought back bad memories’ meal since I never told you I was sorry, but I burnt the eggs and bacon.” He tells me before he leans over to the trash can and dumps the charred food in.

I moved around to stand next to him and placed my right hand on his firm metal bicep. “Thank you, I really appreciate the sentiment.” I smiled up at him then looked down at what was in the now slowly bubbling pot with chopped potatoes. “Look,” I pointed out, “the potatoes are fine.” Bucky followed my outstretched finger and gave a small nod.

“Go sit down, I'll make something with these.” He directed. I looked at him skeptically as I slowly backed away.

“Are you sure you don’t want my help?”

“Yes, sit.”

And so I did. I went directly to my bed where I had thrown the books, took up mine, and then started to read. It was hard to concentrate though since I looked up from the pages every two seconds to make sure Bucky wasn’t going to burn the whole building down again, but he seemed to be doing fine. He had ended up frying the chopped potatoes in butter with a bunch of random seasonings.

Several minutes later he had finished and was scooping the food onto two separate plates. He picked the plates up and made his way around the island and to the loveseat in front of it. Sitting down he placed his plate on the arm of the furniture and then called me over. I picked myself up off the mattress and plopped myself down beside him and took my plate from his hands.

“Thank you,” I mumbled as I took the fork into my hand and started eating. Surprisingly the food was actually good. I turned my eyes to him, he was staring at me, probably waiting for my thoughts on the food. I nodded my head as I chewed as a sign that it was good. He smiled softly and proceeded to eat his.

“That was really good, Buck. Next time when you cook though, stick to one thing at a time, don’t try to cook it all at once.” I said once I had finished.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Um,” he paused a second. “Where did you go this morning?”

“Oh, I actually went to get you something that might help with your memory.” I stood up after placing the dirty plate on the counter behind me and shuffled over to the bag that held Bucky’s book. I gently took it out and held it close. Making my way back to where he was sitting, I held the book out to him. “Here you go.”

He reached out and took it from me, a small smile ghosted his lips. “The Hobbit, I love this book, thank you.”

“See you’re already remembering.”

“Yeah, I think I remember wanting you to read it and you made me read something else.” He shut his eyes tight, trying to remember. “It was Pride and Prejudice wasn’t it?”

I gave him a giant toothy grin at that. “It was,” I almost shouted. I leaned down to give him a hug, excited he remembered something that was so long ago. “We started reading them the week we got engaged.” I backed away a bit.

“Oh yeah-” He looked to his hands and then to my hand. “Do you- do you still have the ring?”

“Of course I do.” I lifted my hands to the chain that always stayed hidden beneath my shirt. There was a small delicate clank as the ring and locket tapped against each other. I brought the chain over my head and then grabbed one of Bucky’s hands, placing the necklace down gently. I watched as he brought the small treasures closer to his face. He studied them quietly.

“Why don’t you ever wear the ring around your finger?” he asked, I heard a little bit of concern come through.

“I didn’t want to lose it. I kept it hidden for a long time, then when everything happened in January I had a feeling that I should keep it on at all times. With all the fighting that took place, I thought it best to wear it around my neck so I wouldn't fall off.” I explained. I eyed him as he fiddled with the clasp, he was taking the ring off.

He rose to his feet silently before grabbing my left hand to place the ring securely where it was meant to be. “Can you wear it like this from now on?” I looked into his eyes, they were soft. I nodded in response as he stepped a little closer to me.

I could feel my heart start to quicken when he started to lean down, coming to eye level with me. I could feel his cool hand snake up to the back of my neck and pull me forward slightly. I closed my eyes, I could feel the warmth of his breath, we were so close. I leaned myself in more and before I knew it I felt his rough but soft lips graze the corner of my mouth. They were warm and just like I remembered, familiar. I moved my hands to the sides of his face to keep him from moving away. His hands came softly atop mine and pulled them away and down between, but he never let go of them. I felt him move back a tiny bit before I opened my eyes with a small huff. I hadn’t realized how much I missed him, how much I missed the feeling of him. I wanted to feel him kiss me, really kiss me.

He whispered my name softly as one of his hands came up to move a strand of my hair away from my face and then brought the hand back to cradle mine. “I want to take this slow.”

“But-” I started but he cut me off.

“Let me find myself before I come back to you,” The broken sound of his voice hit my ears so softly I probably wouldn’t have been able to hear it if my hearing were normal.

“Okay, Bucky I’ll wait. I’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes.” He pulled me into a tight hug at that.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

It is now mid-July and Bucky has been steadily remembering more and more. The process has gone faster than I thought it would, but that’s probably because he isn’t alone and trying to figure things out. I’ve noticed that the longer we are here in Romania, the less paranoid he is about being found, although it still eats at the back of both our minds constantly.

Bucky has started to smile more, he’s started to get closer to me, mentality and physically. Something changed after that afternoon he slipped the ring back onto my finger. Sometimes, while we are sitting at home he will slip his hand into mine and leave it there for a while, or he’ll somehow just gravitate to my side like a magnet. I never push him further than he is comfortable with, knowing he is still trying to find his missing pieces.

He works hard, exhaustingly so, to be able to remember. To be the Bucky he once was. Sometimes when he gets frustrated, I have to remind him that he will never be one hundred percent how he was in 1943, but I love him all the same, I’ll stay beside him.

And that's how we came to this precise moment. Bucky was laid out on the floor staring at the ceiling when I walked out of the bathroom from taking my nightly shower.

“What’s the matter?” I questioned as I rang my hair out with the towel. He didn’t say anything, just turned his head to face away from me. “Hey, come on, you can tell me.” I encouraged as I sat down on the edge of my mattress.

“It’s nothing, really.”

“Oh it isn’t nothing, I can see it all over your face. Something is bothering you so tell me what’s up.”

“I don’t know. I’m just so tired. My head is hurting from all the things I’m trying to remember.” He huffed out gruffly. I gave him a sympathetic look before poking him in the side. He turned his body to the side to look at me.

“You do know it’s okay to take a break? You shouldn’t expect yourself to remember every little thing.”

“I know, it's just. There are these glimpses from the past but I can never place them. It’s frustrating.” He says as his hand comes up to softly play with my fingers near his head.

“Well, you can’t try to remember things clearly if you are exhausted. Get some rest and relax, let the memories clear themselves up instead of trying to force them.” I stilled his hand and rubbed the back of it with the one he wasn’t currently grasping. “How about I make us some tea and then we can get some rest?”

“I’d like that a lot.”

“Okay then.” I stood up and his hand slowly let go of mine.

In the kitchen, I grabbed the kettle and filled it with water, and placed it on the eye of the stove. While waiting for the water to boil I washed the dirty mugs in the sink so that way we could use them. The box of teabags was sitting off to the side of the sink, I slipped two from the box and placed them in the now clean, empty mugs. When the water was done I poured it into our cups along with a few scoops of sugar and a tiny bit of milk and then walked back over to where I was sitting earlier.

“Here you go. Be careful, it’s hot and still needs to steep for a bit.” I warned as he sat up to take the mug from my hand. I sat back down and after a minute, started to take small sips of my tea.

“Thank you. Not just for the tea, but for everything you do. I don’t know how I’d get through this if you weren't with me.” He confessed as he took a long sip.

“You don’t have to thank me, Buck-” I started but he cut me off.

“Yes, I do. I wouldn’t have gotten near as far as I have if it weren't for your help. You’re always so loving and patient with me. I don’t deserve it, especially with the things I’ve done.” His head hung low as he drew his knees up closer to him.

I frowned as I sat my mug on the floor and crawled my way across the floor to sit directly in front of him. Carefully I placed both my hands on his. “Nothing you did is your fault.”

“Yes, it is. I did awful things. They are the only thing I can remember vividly. Can’t you see that I'm a bad guy now?”

“Sweetheart you are not a bad guy, you are a victim.” I moved my hand to his face so I could have him look at me. “And yes, you did those things but none of that was under your control. Nothing you did with HYDRA was in your control.” He looked at me with tears welled up in his eyes, he grabbed my hand and pulled it down away from his face but he never let it go. “I want to help you get through this but I can’t do that if you push me away because you think you are a danger to me. I told you before that you could never hurt me, I’m tougher than I look.”

“I don’t doubt that,” He chuckled. “It’s just hard when at any second I could turn back into that thing. It scares me, it scares me so much that I could be the reason I lose you just after I got you back.” His voice sounded like he was trying hard to hold back tears.

I moved from in front of him to his left side. I wrapped my arms around him, making him lean into me. I squeezed him tight. “It’s okay to cry, don’t hold it back,” I whispered into his ear. I felt him shudder and then all of a sudden it was like the flood gates had been opened.

We sat there on the floor for what felt like hours. We had changed into a more comfortable position, where Bucky had his arms wrapped around my middle and he just wept into my shirt. I softly played with his long hair and scratched his scalp. It seemed to calm him, but he still cried. He cried until no more tears would come until all he could do was jolt with hiccups.

We fell asleep like that, huddled together on the hard floor, next to the couch.

Authors note: Hi everybody, I know this chapter is a little shorter than I have been writing but I started my third year at college and I have like three 15 page essays and a crap tone of homework. So please be patient with me with writing for a while.

Tag List: @ginger-swag-rapunzel @underc0vercryptid-reads @geek-and-proud @intothesoul @leyannrae @starkleila @andy-is-gay

[arilie]

GOD OF WAR

Ares!Eren X GreekPrincess!Reader

Rating: NSFW

Summary: A war waged on a small island that guarded a prize wanted by all of Greece. After years of bloodshed and battles, an unknown warrior graces the battlefield. He swiftly disposes of the armies and makes it to the gates of the castle that held the golden trophy. You stared into his eyes and realized who he was, and that he had come to claim you.

A/N: This was started at like two in the morning and I stayed up wayyyy too late writing it. Shoutout to Izzy for the prompt, this will definitely be a multiple part series because I have so many ideas. Enjoy!

IMPORTANT: this work was inspired by the art posted by @/artofneight on Instagram. Here’s the link to their page!

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https://instagram.com/artofneight?igshid=x1dz5mawokpj

Please do not repost my work without proper credit. Likes, reblogs and feedback is greatly appreciated!!

Helen was known to be the most beautiful woman in all of Greece. Thousands of men and mighty kings fought in Troy for a decade in her name. Even the great hero Achilles was seen on the battlefield, roaring in the name of great Helen. You wondered if she was truly that beautiful, and if her hand in marriage was worth so much bloodshed. As you looked out the window of your bedroom and onto the fortified walls of the castle, you also wondered if this is what she saw. Massive walls caging the castle in a protective circle. A sea of men armed to their necks in weapons stood before the walls. Beyond them were fields that were once a vibrant green. After years of war, the plains were now brown from all the blood they’ve soaked. It wasn’t unusual for you to sit beside your window and stare at the clouds of smoke and listen to the distant sounds of the battles. You have debated if this was all worth the deaths and massacres you’re sure have occurred on your land.

Five years later, the effort to overthrow your father and his reign was still raging on. Your people had options of course: side with the traitors or remain under the rule of the royal family. Those still loyal were the ones serving in your military. But after years of grueling battles your numbers were starting to fall. Your military fought against those part of the coup, and those from other kingdoms. The other nations of Greece were patient and their patience was rewarded with the uprising that suddenly occurred. They took the opportunity to try and take the island themselves. Many of them focused their efforts on the sea, fighting off other nations who wanted to join the war. Those who made it on land either joined the coup or fought against them. The island and its treasures were the spoils of war, but the biggest prize gazed out of a palace window deep on the island.

-

Winter was finally coming to an end, and you saw Demeter’s happiness in the way your plants were flourishing. They were the only things you could really have since the war started. Everything else went towards the war effort and trying to keep the army afloat. You stroked the petal of the flowers perched on your window. Persephone finally returned home from the underworld, and your flowers shared her mother’s joy. The air still had a chill from the remaining fragments of winter. You pulled on the silk that rested on your shoulders. The morning was still frigid and you wanted nothing more than to bury under the warm covers on your bed. Before you could act on your temptations, a knock was heard from your door.

“Y/n? Are you awake yet?”

“Yes I am awake. Please come in.” You replied.

A maid dressed in a simple dress entered your bedroom. In her hands she held a shining dress that had beautiful lace adorning it. You frowned at the item in her hands and stood from your spot near the window. The maid had placed the offending dress on a chair while she fussed over your bed. Watching her tidy the bed made you sigh in regret about not having dove under the covers. You picked up the dress and tried to keep the frown from deepening on your face. You knew this was expensive, you grew up with lavishness and riches many dreamed of. You were a woman after all, who didn’t like a new sparkling dress? But you knew your people—those left—needed it more than you did.

“Did this recently come in?” You asked.

The young maid jumped slightly at being addressed. “Yes my lady, the seamstress that has always made your clothes dropped it off this morning. She left some other items as well, but I thought you might want to wear that today.”

You hummed as an answer and placed the dress back on the chair. The soft patter of your feet was heard as you crossed your bedroom to the wardrobe that contained your clothes. You opened it, picked out an equally expensive dress and held it up.

“I’ve worn this dress maybe once, and I have hundreds more that haven’t even been touched. I don’t think I need new ones. I’ll take what I absolutely need from the seamstress. I want you to sell the rest and distribute it evenly among the workers in the palace.”

The poor girl flushed deep red. You didn’t know if it was at the generosity you just displayed, or the fact that she somehow displeased you.

“Please don’t think you have offended me. I appreciate the thought and tell the seamstress I loved it. What happens to my clothes stays between us, you understand?” You said.

The pink-cheeked girl nodded her head up and down furiously. You smiled at her and gestured for her to help you get dressed. She scurried behind you and helped you remove your nightgown. The linen on the dress you took out was soft against your skin. You thanked the girl for helping you and you finished tying off the dress.

“What’s your name?” You asked.

“My name is Clio, your highness.” The maid answered.

“From now on you’ll be the only one who is allowed to dress me. I look forward to getting to know you, Clio.” You smiled at the younger girl. She stammered before thanking you profusely. You reached out and stroked her hair lovingly.

“Please go and do what I said for my clothes. Once it’s done come by and let me know.” You said.

Clio curtsied before she grabbed the glittering dress from the chair and rushed out of the room. You glanced down at the one you put on and realized it really was one you barely wore. The war made you realize how much you had, and how little others did. You straightened your shoulders and shook the thoughts out of your head. Every morning you and your parents met to discuss any changes in the war. It was usually the same thing every dawn, this army retreated while the other was victorious. You saw no end to it all.

The palace walls were still warming up after the cold night that passed. You were grateful for the warm dress you picked out earlier that morning. Each servant that passed by greeted you and you responded with a soft “good morning” to each one. You were known to be kind and elegant. Your mother taught you well on the principles of how to be a princess. Even though it was rumored you were among the most beautiful princesses in Greece, you were sure you were the most boring. You kept to yourself and focused your energy on your people and your kingdom. You didn’t know how to entertain, let alone keep the attention of a man. If it wasn’t for the war, you’re sure you’d be stumbling from one match up to the next.

The throne room was grand and fitted for the rulers of the kingdom. Your father and mother’s thrones were the same in height, displaying the natural balance they shared in power. You were raised to believe that no man was allowed to keep you as a pretty ornate on his arm. You were born to rule, and that’s what you would do. The chair beside your father’s was yours. It was smaller, but no less striking and imposing. It was in this room you all listened to the pleas and demands of your people. The room has been empty of any subjects since the war began. You walked through the room and took a turn into another, more private room. This was where you and your parents met every morning.

“Good morning my darling y/n, how was your sleep?” Your father stood from the chair he was occupying. You smiled warmly at him and walked into his embrace.

“It was fine, father. Although I can see that yours wasn’t as peaceful.” You remarked. The bags under his eyes seemed more pronounced, and his hair continued to gray at lightning speed.

“War does that to a person I’m afraid. You’re old enough to understand.” The king said.

You gave him a look before your mother came in with a swirl of fragrance and poise. She captured everyone in the room in the grace she held herself in. You were in awe of her when you were little, and you hoped you could have a husband who looked at you like your father did your mother.

“Good morning mother. I was just telling father that he needs to prioritize his rest. He looks like he’s already preparing for Thanatos to come pay a visit.” You teased. Your father still had his arms around you and pinched your hip in retaliation. You squealed and jumped away.

“Yes he certainly does look that way doesn’t he? One could say he’s already in Hades’ domain.” Your mother replied. You heard your father huff in mock anger before the queen kissed his cheek in apology.

“Now that we have concluded the discussion on my withering, I have some news for the both of you.” Your father said. His face suddenly turned serious and the prospect of something finally changing in the war made you sit down in the chair beside his.

“Plague has struck all of the armies except ours. Even those participating in the coup against us have fallen gravely ill. I got this report this morning. I have yet to talk to a priest, but I am not sure if this is the work of a god yet.”

You blinked up at him while you tried to process his words. A plague had struck. Your army was spared but for how long? You picked at the skin beside your nails, a habit your mother has tried to break all your life. The woman in question looked horrified for a second before she composed herself. She was calm and collected whereas my father was brash.

“That’s not all; a warrior has risen among the armies. It seems that he fights alone. I’ve gotten reports that he plows through every brigade and unit mercilessly. He’s getting closer and closer to the castle each day.” Your father said grimly.

This news made your breath hitch. If the so-called warrior made it to the walls—no, if he made it passed them—he’d ask for a reward. You turned to look at your father and saw he was already looking at you.

“If he makes it here, he’ll ask for me as a prize, won’t he?” You asked.

Your father sighed and rubbed at his eyes. Such casualness was only reserved for you and his wife. In front of others he must always convey an act of indifference; not letting his emotions show. You knew giving your hand in marriage was something that had to be included in a peace offering. He wished he could keep you safe in the palace forever, but the bloody war had to come to an end.

“Father, it is alright if he does ask for my hand. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this war end. I want peace as desperately as you do. Our people have suffered too much.” You clasped his hand away from his face and into yours.

Your mother remained quiet, but you expected nothing less. She was more distant with you, having grown up in a different nation with different rules. She didn’t approve of your independence, but you knew she’d agree with you. The king seemed to age in his seat more as he debated your statement. You couldn’t stand to see him in this state any longer.

Before you could answer, your mother intervened, “It is decided then. If he does make it to the castle and gets past the walls, we will give him what he asks for. If that prize is y/n, we can use it to convince the other kingdoms to sign a treaty. The biggest prize would have been claimed and the war doesn’t need to continue.”

You digested your mother’s words and let go of your fathers hand so he wouldn’t feel the tremble in your fingers. You hoped the warrior slashing through all those men would be kind to you. You felt like a child again, hoping that fate would give you mercy for once.

-

The next morning, you were abruptly woken to the shouts of the guards outside your window. You stirred in your sleep, not paying much mind to the ruckus of men. Then you realized, those men were the ones guarding the walls. You jolted upright in your bed and swung the covers off of your body. The chill of the morning air bit at your exposed arms and legs. Clinging to the side of the window, you watched as the men outside all fought against a single enemy. At first, you were confused as to why it took so many of them. You didn’t see infantries and captains on horses. Then a single chill ran down your spine as you realized: the warrior.

You quickly opened your wardrobe and pulled out the first dress you could find. You hastily undressed yourself and put the dress on. If he made it past the walls, you needed to be present. It was just yesterday you were discussing this. Had he been that close already? Who was this man?

Having the dress securely on, you almost sprinted out the door of your bedroom. You hurried to the throne room where no doubt your parents were also arriving at. When you entered, you saw your mother sitting on her throne with her king pacing before her. You walked quickly to them and stood before their thrones gasping for breath. You made eye contact with your mother and for the first time in your life you saw nervousness. Your mother’s blatant show of emotions did nothing to stop the galloping of your heart.

The doors of the throne room were slammed open and you all turned towards the intruder. Standing before you was a man well over six feet. His hips had a white cloth around them that hung loose. His torso was bare and exposed, a clear sign of strength. No wounds were littering the ripples of muscle that shifted as he walked towards you. What armor he did have clanged as he walked; the bronze pieces were placed on his shoulders and around his calves. Dark brown sandals adorned his feet, and he held a mighty spear with one hand and a shield in the other. The shield had two wings adorned on it, a symbol that seemed almost familiar. Once he got close enough, he removed his helmet to reveal his handsome face. His brows were furrowed and his eyes were a forest green. His jaw was sharp and was clenched shut. His hair was past his shoulders and the brown accentuated his beautiful eyes.

You backed up against your father, and he came to stand before you. No words were spoken in the first few seconds, the shock of it all weighing on your shoulders. The warrior then inclined his head in a greeting. His lack of bow indicated he was someone important, of higher or equal standard to your father.

“Greetings. I have fought against many men and many armies to make it to this fortress. I heard a tale that a beautiful maiden was hidden away here. I have come to claim her as my prize.” The warrior said.

Your father didn’t react at first and you saw his fists clenched by his sides. Your mother soon came too and took his hand, instantly relaxing him.

“May we ask first who you are? It has been many years since this war began, and not one army has made it halfway to this castle. Yet here you stand, alone.” Your mother’s tone was curious.

“This war has been going on long enough, with no end in sight. As you said, no one has gotten remotely close to this castle. I thought it was about time I stepped in and put an end to things.” The warrior smiled and the wings on his shield glowed. I gasped as I finally remembered, the wings were the symbol of the gods. A man who obliterated armies and made it here alone was no man at all.

I stepped forward and passed my parents. The warrior—god, looked into my eyes and a warmth spread throughout my entire body. None of us spoke again, we stared into each other’s eyes as if looking for the answers to our own questions. I went through all the names of the gods and who would have any remote interest in a human war.

“I am Ares, god of war and brother to Zeus, king of the gods. I quite enjoyed the prayers and offerings this war brought to me in the beginning. But I believe this war has lasted too long now.” Ares said.

You felt a hand wrap around your arm before you were dragged back and into the chest of your father. You trembled in his grasp, not quite believing what you were hearing. The god of war has come to claim the prize all of Greece was fighting for. Not just any minor god either, an Olympian.

“Ares, god of war, you are welcomed into my home and in my kingdom. We will do our best to ensure your comfort and pleasure while you are here. But if I may be so bold, is my daughter really the only prize you want?” The king asked. You glanced at the glowing god before you and his eyes held a humor to them.

“Yes, I’d like your daughter’s hand in marriage. My siblings have claimed mortals as their spouses and I have yet to. Of course, if my wish is granted I will also stop the war.”

You froze at the last sentence. If you accepted his request, you could end the war for once and for all. You wove out of your father’s protective arms and turned towards the god of war. You took a deep breath in, looked at him in the eyes and curtsied as low as you could.

“I accept your request, my lord. So long as you end the suffering that my people have endured all these years, I will be your wife.” You said shakily.

Ares grinned as he lifted his hand towards you. You took his offered palm and he lifted you off the ground with ease. “Starting now, you will be my equal. You bow down to no one, not even to me.”

You widen your eyes in surprise before you nod your head. You turn back to your parents and a look of bewilderment overtook their features. Ares pulled on your hand some more until you were pressed against his side. His body radiates warmth and power. His smell was that of the hearth and firewood. It was intoxicating.

“Please announce the news that y/n is engaged. I will see to it that this war can finally end on peaceful terms.” Ares declared. Your parents looked at each other before they looked at you. You were still in shock of the events happening, but you gave them a reassuring nod. It was the start of something unforgettable.

-

Ares had kept his word and made sure the war ended. He revealed himself to the armies of Greece and declared your kingdom under his protection. Soon the armies dispersed and left your land barren for the first time in five years. The princess y/n was finally claimed, and Ares was the one who got her hand in marriage.

You spent most of your time enjoying the freedom you had once again. You were able to take strolls out in the gardens and pick more flowers for your bedroom. Ares had been occupied with the ending of the war, but he made sure to visit when he had the chance. He was witty, sarcastic, and everything a god should be. He was radiant and you quickly grew infatuated with him. He joined you on your strolls to the garden and helped you pick flowers. It had been months now since he first arrived at your castle, declaring that he would marry you. The wedding preparations were going as fast as they could after the end of a war.

You picked up a lily that you found and smelled it. The aroma made you sigh in delight. Arms suddenly encircled your waist and a strong chest pressed against your back. You kept the flower close to your face as you were turned to face the perpetrator. Ares glanced down at you and noticed the petals hiding the blush on your cheeks. He chuckled to himself and slowly moved the flower away from your face. He traced your features with his fingers and the gesture had your knees weak.

“We are intended to be married, yet you still blush in my presence.” He said.

“You are a god and I am a mere mortal. I still do not understand why you chose me as your prize.” You confessed.

He grew suddenly serious and you were afraid you had said something offensive. You opened your mouth to apologize when he leaned down to kiss you. His lips were as warm as the rest of him, and their softness made you melt against him. He grabbed your waist and pulled you towards him so his burning chest was against yours. You realized that he was always warm as if he was aflame. Your hands twitched before they reached for his shoulders. He sighed against your lips as they moved with practice and ease. His silky hair brushed against your fingers as you held onto his shoulders for support.

When he pulled away, he leaned his forehead against yours and cupped your cheek. His thumb stroked against the blush still present on your skin. You blinked up at him, still in awe of the kiss he placed on your lips.

“I’ve heard about you for some time now. I knew of your beauty first and was intrigued. Then I watched over you and saw how truly cared for your people. You’d put their happiness over yours in a heartbeat. I admire that, you’d make a fine queen.” He said softly.

You let out a breath and used your grip on his shoulders to drag his addicting lips back to yours. You felt bold as you stood on the tips of your toes and crashed your lips against his. His shock only lasted a second before he cupped your face with both hands. The kiss was more intense than the first, a clear longing present in his tongue as it brushed against your lip. Electricity shot down to your toes as you granted him passage, and you didn’t know if kissing you was enjoyable due to your inexperience. His tongue prodded at yours and coaxed it into a dance that had your legs shaking.

Finally breaking apart, you looked into his deep green eyes once again. His mouth was pulled into a mischievous smirk, and you gave him a small smile in return. If he was to be your husband, you figured you could enjoy the pleasantries that came with your marriage.

“You make me feel like a mortal barely plunging into maturity. I can barely control myself around you.” Ares whispered.

“I am to be your wife, please don’t hold back.” You replied. Your eyes were sultry and he quickly grabbed your arm before pulling you back into the castle. Your chest was full of fluttering monarchs at the prospect of him finally letting go and indulging himself in you.

Servants and soldiers watched you with silent eyes as the god of war dragged you to your chambers. Your blush was evident, and you thanked his siblings for watching over you and placing your parents in another part of the castle.

The door to your bedroom was pushed open and once it closed Ares pushed your back against it. You huffed at the slight force and impact before your lips were once again trapped against his. He snaked his knee between your knees and pressed it against you. You gasped at the feeling and decided to be bold again as you grind down against his thigh. He groaned against your mouth before departing from it. He placed kisses along your jaw and sucked on the space just beneath it. He continued to place searing kisses on your neck as he used his leg to further drive you up the door.

“I won’t take you here, not until you have the security of our marriage as comfort. But there are other things we can do.” Ares mumbled into your neck. He pulled back to look at you, flustered and with lust swirling in your eyes. He suddenly reached under your thighs and lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his lithe waist and he carried you towards your bed.

He gently placed you on the soft cushion and began to slowly untie your linen dress. You stroked his arms and admired the muscle that rippled under the skin like strong waves in a storm. Once your dress was untied, he pulled it up and you took the indication to sit up. He took the dress up and over your head as you lifted your arms. The dress fluttered onto the floor beside your bed as you laid back down. You were told all your life that your beauty could rival Helen’s, but you didn’t believe it until the god in front of you stared at you like you placed the cosmos in the sky.

He leaned down and began to place kisses down your chest until he reached your chest. He whispered praise against your skin as he took one into his mouth and held the other. You took in a sharp breath and let out a low whine as he worked you into oblivion. His tongue was running over your nipple and you squirmed beneath his strong body as he massaged the other. He finally relented and switched breasts until he had you moaning. He smirked up at you as you gasped in the air you desperately needed.

“I’ve barely just begun and you’re already so responsive. I can’t wait for our waiting night.” The god quipped. He trailed his lips lower until it got to the undergarments that covered you. He pulled them down from your hips and his eyes sparkled at how wet you were already. He placed kisses against your inner thighs as he pulled the piece of fabric off of your legs. Then he breathed against you until he placed his mouth on your clit. You threw your head back and cried out. You’ve touched yourself and are aware of what you like and don’t. But all of your preferences were forgotten as he ate you out like a starved man. He moaned against you as your hands reached down to pull on his hair. He licked and sucked on your clit until you were writhing in pleasure, but it wasn’t enough.

“Ares, please…” you whined.

“Use your words, darling. What do you need?” He said.

Your chest heaved as he continued to suck your clothes making you take longer to respond. “Need your fingers inside. Wanna feel them inside please.”

Evergreen eyes looked up at you, and the sight of the god of war between your thighs had you losing your breath. His hand resting on one of your legs came up to your entrance. He erotically licked his lips and slowly eased them into you. Your head was thrown back as you moaned into your pillow. He began to pump his long fingers until his hand was in up to his knuckle. He began to make a motion upwards that had the tips of his fingers press against a spot within you that made you yelp. He grinned up at you as he began to twist and push against the same spot. There was a pressure in your abdomen as he continued to pleasure you. Then his mouth was on you again and you were crying out his name.

“Ares! Yes, right there! Please, please make me cum. I want to cum, let me cum please.” You cried. Your pleading words increased his efforts and you moaned loudly. His hair was still gripped between your fingers and his unoccupied hand was digging bruises into your hip. You felt scorching hot pleasure shoot from your core to the rest of your body.

“Cum for me, y/n. Show me how good I make you feel.” Ares growled beneath you.

One final push and suck had you opening your mouth in a silent scream. The pressure in you finally released making you feel white hot pleasure. Your legs shook as Ares continued his ministrations, prolonging your orgasm into the realm of overstimulation. You whimpered once you came down from your high, pulling against his hair to indicate you were done. He looked up at you and he licked his lips as if the very ambrosia that gave him sustenance was placed within you. He licked his fingers in the same manner, and you felt your body heat up again at the display. He crawled up your body and captured your lips in a searing kiss. You tasted your essence and didn’t mind as his tongue pushed against yours.

He pulled away and laid beside you as he took you into his arms. “That was just a glimpse into the pleasure I can bring to you. When we are married, I’ll lay my claim on you in the most passionate way.”

You smiled up at him and placed your hands on his chest. This was barely the beginning of your life with him, and you couldn’t deny the want and need the thrummed within you. An Olympian, the very god of war chose you as his. You were ready to see what else that entailed.

[midnightseonghwa]

𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 | 𝐣.𝐲𝐡

𝐖𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐮 - 𝟑

✕𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Dragon Shifter!Yunho x Human!Reader 

✕𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Dragon shifter, Halloween, Soulmate Au, Angst, fluff 

✕𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.9k+

✕𝐏𝐥𝐨𝐭: The only thing you had wanted from that day was closure but sometimes, fate’s strings can untangle and pull you towards something much more treasureable. Alternatively: “To treasure your soul more than the gold and diamonds he collects.”  

✕𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: There is violence, blood and death. Things are a bit fast paced. The setting of the story is very ambiguous. Like very...somethimes it’s the modern world but sometimes it’s not (bear with me here). The reader (you) are a bit of an outcast and have a bad past. Mentions of soulmates and hunters. But overall, Yunho is such a cutie...I just couldn’t not write soft fluff...hehe 

✕𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: Unedited

✕𝐀/𝐍: Remember that this is fiction. Enjoy! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist. Leave a comment under this post or message me! This is pretty cliched but who doesn’t like a cliche plot every now and then. I will revisit this though...I feel like there are a lot of plot holes but that is a story for another day...Thank you to the anon who decided to give me that extra encouragement and support, this being posted much earlier than what I had in mind...I have some special love for that anon <3

✕𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @pancakes-for-teddy​ 

✕𝐀𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜: Here 

You felt a disgraceful feeling creep up the back of your throat as you walked into the small shop that looked horribly suspicious. Your friend had informed you that they dealt with all things. Anything sparkly and they would take it off your hands at a reasonable price.

At first, you had been a little off-put by her description of their service but you were desperately trying to get rid of an item and even the slightest bit of off-put feelings were not going to stray you.

The little bell above the door tinkled as you pushed it open, the dust on the door flying about, causing you to cough and wheeze a little.

"Good afternoon! Welcome to Wonderland, how may I help you today?" A cheery voice greeted you from behind the counter and you came face to face with a boy, maybe the same age as you or a year older. His hair resembled the colour of charred orange and you could even smell a faint fruity but toasty smell coming from him.

"Hi, I heard you guys could...take something off my hands?" You said shyly and clutched your bag tighter around your shoulder.

The boy smiled and came out from behind the counter.

"My elder brothers are actually not here at the moment..." he trailed off and sheepishly scratched the back of his neck.

"And?" You asked, the small hope in your body blackening to ash as you realised that what they did for your friend might've been a one-time thing.

"Well...ugh. Okay, just come around here and I can try to help you out," he said and led you to the backroom.

He wasn't planning on killing you or anything...right?

You followed the auburn-haired boy meekly as he led you down a narrow corridor and then opened up one of the rooms.

"Come in," he said and watched with a smile as you gaped and gawked shamelessly at the amount of precious and semi-precious stones that were sparkling on the wall.

"You'll be surprised how desperate people can be for money...or even closure sometimes," he said and turned to look at you with a cheeky smile.

You touched the various pieces of jewellery swearing at the light that reflected off of every cut and chisel in the stone. You could've sworn that you had seen some of these pieces hanging off the necks of the royals you had seen in your high school history textbook.

"How old are these?" You asked and the boy laughed with his teeth on display.

"Pretty old, ancient if I can say but my brothers take care of them really well. They're a sort of treasure, you know?"

You snorted at his last remark and peeked at the article you had come to handoff. Compared to all the extravaganza lining the walls, yours looked like a rock you had picked up from the beach.

"I can only imagine what sort of treasure..." you trailed off and let your eyes roam the room one last time.

"Now, show me. I've been dying to see what you're so eager to get rid off."

The boy was practically bouncing off the walls. His smile was reaching the tips of his eyes and you felt a small pang in your heart at the betrayal he was going to feel once you showed him.

"Well...it's nothing much..." you said and wrung your fingers together. You fished through your bag and produced a small velvet blue pouch that was tied by drawstrings.

The boy pushed a tray towards you and watched in odd fascination as you tipped the pouch onto the tray to produce a monstrous diamond ring. It was almost the size of one of your eyes and the way the boy looked at it, you could tell that even he was quite astonished at the size of it.

Raising an eyebrow, he held the diamond closer to his face, giving it a quick sniff and then holding it to his eye.

"I have no idea where you got this from but I'm sure Yunho hyung will be glad I decided to help you," the boy mumbled under his breath and you exhaled sharply at his comment.

That meant he was willing to take it off you right?

Placing the ring back on the tray, the boy gave you a smile, "I think you-" he started but was quickly interrupted when another voice sounded in the room.

"Jongho, how many time have I told you- oh," the voice said and you turned to face probably one of the tallest humans you had ever seen in your life.

With stark white-ish silver hair and pale skin, he was at least two heads taller than you. His eyes were the colour of soil on a warm spring day and you find yourself staring a little when the boy, apparently named Jongho coughed to gain your attention.

"Yunho hyung! I was just thinking about you! This person here has something I think you're going to like," Jongho said and ushered Yunho into the room.

The male, Yunho's eyes never left yours and you found yours following his figure as well. You felt the strings of fate finally untangle and pull you towards the male who was standing in front of you.

"Yes, uhm..." Yunho muttered and looked at you with a puppy-like smile.

"What can I help you with," he said and you suddenly found it very difficult to get any words out.

"They want you to get rid of that ring," Jongho said and handed the ring to Yunho who looked pleased with the big size of it.

"May I ask where you got this from?" He said and you sighed a little before biting your lip.

"It's my engagement ring," you said and shook your head when you noticed the smile drop from the two boys' face.

"No no, it's alright. It was an arranged marriage anyway and thankfully he was able to kick the bucket before he could walk down the aisle," you laughed sorrowfully and heard Jongho snigger before Yunho slapped his arm.

"Well, for what it's worth, we'll gladly take this off your hands. I hope you can get the closure you deserve," Yunho said and put the ring back into the pouch before turning to one of the displays on the wall.

"Thank you," you said and exhaled as a weight lifted itself off your chest. You were finally able to leave that part of your life behind.

"Before you go," Yunho said and placed in front of you a small translucent white and silver satin pouch with drawstrings.

"I think this will be a nice little replacement for the piece you are giving up," he said and you picked up the pouch to inspect the content on the inside.

Although the fabric was slightly blocking your view, you concluded that whatever parts you could see where a guarantee that the piece would be a lovely one.

While you inspected the piece, Jongho looked at Yunho with wide-eyes and a smile as the older boy nodded back in silent confirmation.

"I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank you," you said and smiled, warming Yunho's heart.

"Just come back and visit us sometime," Yunho said and you nodded, agreeing to the male's request.

"Before you leave, can I at least get your name?" He said and blushed a little before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"It's (Y/n)."

"(Y/n)," Yunho sighed dreamily and flopped onto one of the chairs at the back of the shop.

"Who's (Y/n)," one of his brothers, Mingi asked as he entered the room with the rest.

"His soulmate," Jongho piped up from the other end as the boys erupted into awe-struck comments and questions.

"Is this...(Y/n), a dragon as well?" Mingi's question, although in sheer excitement, sank Yunho's heart.

His soulmate was not a dragon...you were a human...

"No...(Y/n)'s a human," Yunho mumbled and Mingi quieted down with a shocked face.

"Hey, hey it's alright, hyung. They accepted your courting gift, that has to mean something right?"

Yunho smiled at his youngest brother. Jongho was right, you had accepted his courting gift and that had to mean something right?

"Yeah, I'm sure it means something," he said but this time, his big and dreamy smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

Meanwhile, you couldn't help but let curiosity get the better of you when you reached back home. Quite literally pushing your shoes off, you scattered up to the kitchen island and turned on one of the spotlights.

Reaching into your bag, you pulled out the satin pouch and laid it against the granite countertop. You undid the drawstrings and tipped it onto the counter when a gold chain attached to some sort of stone slinked out of it.

You held it up to the yellow light and watched as the teardrop-shaped stone sparkled under it. It was an opaque white with small gold flecks. Its colour resembled Yunho's hair and you find yourself giggling lightly at the thought.

The stone was smooth under your touch and had a gold hook that was connecting it to the chain.

Undoing the clasps and stringing the necklace around your neck, you smiled as the stone sat perfectly right beneath where your collarbones met and for some reason, you felt as if the necklace was made for you.

"(Y/n), you will not believe-" your friend poured into the living room, her hair wild as she stopped in front of you who was still sitting at the kitchen counter.

"Where did you get that from?" She asked and pointed to the necklace on your neck. Your hand instinctively flew up and guarded it against your friend's prying eyes.

"Someone gave it to me," you said dismissively but she raised her eyebrows, giving you a suspicious look.

"Is that person a special someone?" She asked and you sighed, toying with the white stone, the light reflecting off the stone causing reflections on the wall.

"I wish," you sighed and thought back to Yunho's handsome face. Everything about him seemed too good to be real. What kind of man with that face and height walked around single?

But he did seem interested in you...

You dismissed that thought what a shake of your head. Of course, he seemed interested in you. You practically gave off your ring worth millions for nothing but closure and a white stone necklace.

"Okay, regardless. (Y/n), apparently, there have been dragon spottings around here," your friend said and nudged herself closer to you. She had a serious look on her face but you couldn't help but let out a small mocking laugh slip out.

"Didn't dragons all get hunted down?" You asked with a slight tilt in your head and your friend just shook her head.

"Apparently there are still some left. The town's hunters are going to look for them now."

You gulped at your friend's statement. Dragons were beautiful creatures, royals of the skies and here your kind was, sick puny humans, biting off more than they could chew.

"Why can't the town's people leave them alone?" You reasoned and your friend sighed before leaning her head against the counter.

"Human are always scared of the things they can't control," she said and you found yourself nodding at her statement.

A wave of silence took over before your friend got up and walked to the fridge.

"What do you want for dinner?" She asked and you shook your head, politely declining her question.

"I'm good, thanks. Just probably going to go and get some fresh air."

Your friend looked at you sceptically, pulling some vegetables from the fridge and then nodding.

"Alright, but be careful, don't go to the outskirts of town."

Gathering your things, you thanked your friend and walked down the road, the town eerily quiet with most of the people hiding.

Your footsteps echoed in the air around you as they trudged through the dirt, your shoes kicking small pebbles and stones as you walked on, ignoring your friend's warning and going towards the outskirts, the forest.

"Hey!" A voice caught your attention as you turned around and saw a man run up to you.

"What're you doing here? Don't you know about the dragons?" He sneered and stumbled back a bit as he came closer and closer to you.

"I-" you started but were interrupted when he let out another disgusted sneer.

"Or are you one of them? One of those pesky human shifters? Maybe I should skin you and take your scales home for my family," he said and you bit back the whimpers that were threatening to fall out of your mouth.

The man grabbed your arm as he pushed you into a secluded corner of the street, weapon raised he was just about to strike when a loud roar sounded in the air, causing the man to lose his focus and falter a bit.

You took this opportunity and ran. Ran as if your life depended on it; which it did. You could hear his heavy footsteps behind you as you quickly tried to lose him by rounding a corner but that only slowed you down and before you knew, he had caught you by the hair, making you fall onto your back, hitting the asphalt with a sickening skid.

"Show yourself to me you disgusting creature," he said and raised his hand when a voice sounded behind him.

"Don't you dare touch (Y/n)."

You recognised the voice as Jongho's, the same burnt orange hair peeking over at you with concern as your attacker turned around with a furious glare.

"Who are you?" He demanded as Jongho helped you up and ushered you to the side.

"None of your business," Jongho responded and you watched in shock as the boy's eyes flared a rich golden colour.

Your attacker's eyes widened when he saw Jongho's eyes change colour, the blood draining from his face as he sank to his knees, begging for his life.

Not giving the man a glance, Jongho pulled you along and started running towards the forests on the outskirts of town.

"Jongho..." you panted as the male pulled you along, "Where are we going? And...and your eyes...are you a dragon?"

Jongho let out a frustrated groan before turning around to face you.

"(Y/n), there's no time to explain, okay? Right now, I need your help."

"Jongho, what do you mean? Why do you need my help? Jongho, I-" you stuttered and stumbled in your steps before Jongho held you by the shoulders.

"(Y/n)! Listen to me! Yunho hyung, he's hurt. Please, you have to help him. You're the only one who can help him."

Your world stopped spinning as you registered Jongho's words. At the thought of Yunho hurt, a deadly amount of pain unfurled in your body as you hunched over, trying to soothe the pain.

"Jongho, what's happening? Wh...why does it pain so much?" You cried, tears spilling from the side of your eyes.

Jongho cursed under his breath and picked you up, running faster towards the forest.

The pain sizzled through your body like an unbearable heat. It was almost as if your heart was getting ripped out of your chest, each nerve and muscle being ripped out and torn to shreds.

"Jongho, it hurts," you cried and pressed your hands over your chest to ease the pain.

"Yes, I know but just hang on, okay? The mate bond is severing due to Yunho hyung's condition right now and I need to get you to him as fast as possible so just hang on."

"Jongho, you took long enough," Mingi muttered and looked at the very pained human in his arms before groaning.

"Where did you go?"

Jongho nodded, out of breath and placed you next to Yunho's massive dragon form where the grass had now taken on a bright firework red. You were barely conscious but enough to raise yourself to your hands and knees, forcing some air to go into your lungs. You turned to view the dragon behind you, the pain shallowing out in waves like the tides of the ocean you despised.

"Is this..." you trailed off and Jongho gave you small nod. A cry of sorrow broke out from your lips as you felt the last few remaining threads of the mate bond severe.

You hadn't even gotten to know the boy, claimed to be your mate. With hair like snow and eyes like the moon that would keep all your secrets. You weren't sure why you were crying but in a world where you had been pawned off from at a young age, you were crying for the love you had never gotten to know, to experience, to have and hold until death do you apart.

You collapsed onto Yunho's form, his scales bristling slightly under you at the touch of their mate, the one who's touch they had been made for and craving ever since they had been brushed into existence.

"Jongho," you cried again and held Yunho's form as much as could.

"Please, I haven't even gotten a chance to know him yet. Just...please...please help him," you begged until your throat was raw and scratchy.

"Just wait (Y/n), help is on the way," Jongho whispered, but his words fell on deaf ears as fate broke the last bond that attached your soul to Yunho's and your eyes fell shut.

At least you would be with Yunho now.

"My sweet treasure," you heard a voice call out accompanied with soft touches that swept your hair out of your face. The warmth radiating into your skin made you nuzzle your cheek into the voice's hand.

"Fate must look kindly upon me for giving me such a beautiful soulmate," the voice whispered again and your eyes fluttered open. Squinting slightly to adjust to the yellow sunlight, you caught a glimpse of silky white strands and a puppy-like smile that was looking down at you.

It almost felt as if you were in a dream...his face and voice resembled Yunho's so much and you sniggered at fate's cruel tricks before turning on your side and closing your eyes again.

For a dead person, fate sure made your afterlife comfortable...

"(Y/n), my treasure," the Yunho look-alike whispered again and slowly coaxed you awake. Kissing lightly on your forehead, then your fingers one by one and then finally leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses on your cheek.

This time, your eyes opened for the second time and you slowly sat up. Smiling, you touched Yunho's cheek but instead of him disappearing, you were met with warmth and a smile.

"Are we...not dead?" You asked ridiculously and Yunho laughed, certain mirth filling his eyes as he looked at you endearingly.

"We are...not," he said and you shot up from where you were sitting, launching yourself at Yunho.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close, your soul feeling whole as if Yunho's arms was where you were always meant to be.

"Yunho, I-" you stuttered but no amount of words could ever convey the relief you felt.

"Shh, it's alright, my treasure. You're here with me now and that's all that matters." Yunho said and stroked your hair as soft tears of happiness covered your cheeks.

Picking you up off the bed, Yunho nuzzled his head into your neck, inhaling the soft smell of nutmeg with fresh dew drops.  He pulled you closer into his chest, rubbing his cheek against yours as he pulled out of the room and into the narrow corridor.

The boys cheered as you and Yunho made an entry into the small living room that you had first seen when Jongho had led you down the narrow hallway a few days ago.

"You're awake!" Jongho beamed and moved forward to give you a hug before Yunho let out a growl and pulled you into his chest.

"Not your mate, Jongho," he said and gave the younger a warning glare.

Jongho sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and cowered away causing you to laugh and smack Yunho on the arm lovingly.

"Yunho! That's mean," you said and pressed yourself further into his chest, the silver-haired boy protectively putting his arm around you.

"Nothing is mean if it involves my treasure," he said and kissed the top of your head, all his brother making gagging noises at the display of affection.

To Yunho, the everglades had never felt more alive. Spring had finally arrived and the lush green grass felt like cotton under his feet.

The Cherry blossom trees had reached full bloom and Yunho smiled as he watched you twirl and dance around the falling petals. His heart had never felt so full but it always seemed to make more space for you.

"Yuyu! Come and see this!" He heard your voice and walked to you before playfully lifting you off your feet and spinning you around, causing you to let out happy squeals.

The white teardrop-shaped stone glinted in the sunlight as the gold flecks seemed to move across the stone. Yunho smiled as he watched the necklace sway from side to side as you ran through the grass and yelled for him to chase you.

Leaning down, he pressed his forehead to yours and whispered a soft 'i love you' before capturing your lips with his. It was a short loving kiss but each little nuzzle, peck or Eskimo kiss always left you wanting for more.

You wrapped your arms around Yunho's midsection and cuddled into his chest, the dragon in him rolling over with happiness like a puppy as he covered his body with yours and held you suffocatingly close. Resting his head on top of yours, his dragon swelled with pride at the newly created and stronger mate bond. You had finally let Yunho's dragon mark you after a few months of lovely coaxing and Yunho couldn't be prouder that a person like you was willing to bear his mark.

It made you his treasure, his to protect and his to guard.

A treasure more valuable than all the diamonds and gold he kept collected.

"I love you, my sweet treasure. More than all the gold and diamonds I could ever collect.”

[timebird84]

🎄 PotO Advent Calendar 2020 🎄

By @a-partofthenarrative​

“Silver and Gold”

A/N This is a sequel to my 2018 Advent Calendar piece, “Evergreen”. It is not necessary to read that first, but it might be helpful as there are some references to that here. Regardless, I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading. Happy Holidays, y’all!

 Christine loved New York at Christmas.

 The sights, the sounds, the smells…every moment of strolling through the city streets, block by block, had brought an exhilarating thrill that had been absent from her heart for far too many years. Even hours later, as she stood in the kitchen, elbow deep in pie dough, she had been unable to wipe the smile from her face.

 Ms. Fleck had disappeared to somewhere or another at one point, claiming “errands” and leaving Christine to wander lower Manhattan for the better part of an hour. Weighed down by the variety of shopping bags, she had meandered uptown at a leisurely pace, stopping to admire the newly erected Christmas tree in Washington square before making her way up 5th Ave. to Herald Square, where she would find Ms. Fleck and Erik’s odd horseless contraption that had initially spirited her to Coney Island.

 As she passed the stream of elaborate shops boasting anything any man, woman or children could ever desire, she lingered here and there, casting appreciative eyes to the elaborate window displays attracting crowds along the sidewalk. One particular window snagged her attention: a fanciful tower of toys teetering precariously on top of one another, held aloft in some miraculous defiance of gravity. 

 Biting back a smile, she stepped away with a silent resolution to return with Gustave. The poor boy would be positively beside himself when he saw the treasure trove in front of her.

 She had located her shopping companion only moments later and, with confirmation from both parties that their feet and funds were exhausted, bags and passengers were located into the carriage for the trip home.

 At least...she hoped it would become home. Goodness, but it did feel like home; this crazy, complicated family she had formed in a strange netherworld of curiosities. Upon returning to Erik’s home, it had been discovered that they had beaten “the boys” back to the residence, so with no tree to decorate, Christine had set her attention to another one of her favorite holiday pastimes.

 Now, planted firmly in the large kitchen, covered in flour and holiday cheer, she rolled the stubborn dough into a thin sheet, a pie plate stuffed full of apples set to the side patiently waiting for its cover. Satisfied with her work, her fingers had just curled around the edge of the thin sheet when a commotion drew her attention to the front of the house. Brow furrowed, she wiped her hands on her apron and left the kitchen to investigate.

 Ms. Fleck was already present and Christine cast her a questioning look before another shout snapped her eyes to the foyer.

 Dr. Gangle stood just inside the door, the sole member of the group lucky enough to claim the prime position out of the cold, although one’s definition of luck would depend on one’s opinion. The poor man’s arms were wrapped around the top of one of the largest evergreen trees she had ever seen, this one seemingly dwarfing the childhood giant she had described to Erik only hours before. No doubt this had been Gustave’s doing. As his father before him, her son had a tendency to want to “one-up” anyone or anything that he deemed worthy of bragging rights and she bit back a chuckle despite herself. Maybe it was time her beloved masked enigma had a taste of his own medicine; the fact that it was delivered by his own progeny was turning out to be a delightful twist of Fate.

 Shouts echoed from beyond the door, phasing in and out in a cacophony of chaos as the tree twisted and turned in a macabre dance in attempts to be pushed over the threshold.

 “Left! Move it to the left!....No, the OTHER left!”

 “That IS left! Watch it! You’re going to take the paint clean off the frame!”

 “Gangle! Squelch! If either one of you idiots scratches the paint, you’ll be repairing it yourselves with Ms. Fleck’s mascara brush!” 

 Both women watched in stunned silence at the tenuous exchange before Christine glanced down, brow furrowed and voice weary. “Goodness, but it sounds like they’re having some trouble, doesn’t it?”

 The smaller woman shrugged. “Frankly, I’m impressed that the Master knows what a mascara brush is.”

 Christine blinked, unable to answer before the tree moved just so, allowing a small blur through the doorway and straight into her skirts. “Maman!” Gustave beamed up at her, thick snow caked in the hair along his brow. “Look at the tree we found! Isn’t it wonderful? I think it’s even bigger than yours!”

 “It is..something!” she exclaimed brightly, hunkering down to look him in the eyes. “What happened, cherie? You look as though you’ve been caught in a snowstorm.”

 Gustave pulled off his hat and swiped a carelessly palm over his hairline, sending clumps of snow to the wooden floor. “We had the best time! Dr. Gangel and mr. Squelch had a hard time cutting down the tree, so Mr. Y stepped in to help them. Well, the three of them began to argue over which way was the best way and while they were yelling at each other, the tree started to creak and then fell- right toward the sleigh!”

 Christine gasped, feeling slightly “Oh no…”

 “Oh yes!” The boy chattered on, seemingly oblivious to the picture he was painting. “That seemed to get their attention and then they ran toward the sleight. I didn’t get to see much after that because Mr. Y grabbed me, but we ended up in the snow. You should see him, Mama! He looks so funny!”

 “Gustave, do you realize any of you could have been hurt or worse?! Mr. Y likely saved your life!”

 Gustave rolled his eyes in a fashion so similar to Erik that Christine’s breath caught. “Maman, I’m fine. The tree didn’t even land anywhere near us.” His little brow furrowed as he glanced at the tree in the doorway, a frustrated Dr. Gangle staring at its branches with open disdain. “Do you think we’ll be able to get it inside?”

 “I..don’t know, love. I’m sure Mr. Y and the others are doing everything they can.”

 More grunts and shouts caused mother and son to glance up and Christine quickly snatched Gustave and stepped back as the tree hurtled forward, succumbing to a final desperate push from Squelch and Gangle. With one hand planted firmly on her son and the other pressed to her chest, she watched wide-eyed as the men muscled the enormous evergreen deeper into the house, and a masked figure stumble in behind them, shutting the door with an echoing bang and slumping against it with a weary sigh.

.

This man looked nothing like the impeccable figure she had always known. Instead, the man before her was a disheveled mess; wilted against the doorway, chest heaving, hair caked with snow, overcoat askew and one glove and his cravat missing (although really, who wore full evening dress to trek through the woods?).

 With a quiet word and a promise to reconvene soon, Christine sent Gustave upstairs with Ms. Fleck to clean up before pasting a sympathetic smile on her lips and moving to his side. “Oh, my poor Erik,” she soothed, taking his gloveless hand in hers. “Something tells me today did not go exactly as planned.”

 He cracked one eye open at the sound of her voice. “Christine…” Even his voice was exhausted. “Never again…”

 “But Gustave is happy, Erik. You did well.”

 “...and nearly killed us both in the process.”

 “Yes, well, he did mention that,” she muttered. “But thankfully no one was killed or maimed and the tree was delivered successfully…”

 Both eyes opened to regard her now and she only sighed and smoothed a hand over his snow-wet face. “I am nearly done with an apple pie. I meant it to be a surprise, but given the circumstances…” She chuckled at the faint light that came to his gaze at the mention of his favorite dessert, another newly discovered similarity to their son. “Go and clean up while I finish and then we’ll all decorate our new tree together.”

 This brought another groan as Erik let his head fall back against the door with a thump. “Christine, I have a bountiful staff. This is what they are paid for.”

 “Not this year.” she countered. “Besides, decorating is the most fun of all. I’ve already laid out the popcorn to be strung and I picked out some lovely ornaments in the City today.”

 “The City? Christine, you went to Manhattan alone?!?”

 “Of course not, Erik. Ms. Fleck accompanied me” She squeezed his hand. “Now up you go.”

 “But Christine!”

 She met him eye for eye. “Don’t! I am a grown woman. We were perfectly safe. Now go upstairs, change into some fresh clothes and decorate the Christmas tree with your son.” Stepping back, she helped him to his feet, smoothing her hands down the sleeves of his overcoat and pressing a kiss to his frozen lips. “I shall join you as soon as I get this pie in the oven.” 

 *********************************************************************

Nearly an hour later, the pie covered and browning nicely, Christine untied her apron, let down her hair and migrated to the living room where the festivities already appeared to be happening in full swing.

 The tree now stood in the place of honor in the front corner of the room, beautifully centered in front of the large bay window, creating a lovely visual for anyone who happened to pass along the street. Dr. Gangle, Squelch and Ms. Fleck had taken up positions nearby, sorting through the packages and parcels from their shopping excursion, taking turns to comment on the contents of each.

 Muttering from the back corner turned her attention to Erik and Gustave, both dressed in fresh shirtsleeves, waistcoats and trousers, and seated side-by-side on the couch with a bowl of popcorn between them. Gustave was attempting to teach his father to string the snack food to create a festive garland that would be just perfect. Erik, bless his heart, listened indulgently as he tried to copy Gustave’s motions. Unfortunately, while the former Opera Ghost was a master of innumerable things, the muttered curses and muffled cries of pain indicated that the needle was making better progress connecting with skin rather than kernels. 

 The rustling of skirts announced her presence to the room and Erik immediately set the string and bowl aside as he stood to greet her. “Ah, there you are, Christine. Would you care to ah...take over the garland crafting?”

 Biting back a smile at his attempts to cover his inadequate stringing skills, she gave him an impish grin as she drew near. “And deprive you of the experience? I wouldn’t dream of it.”

 “It’s all right, Maman,” Gustave commented, never taking his eyes from his work. “He’s not very good at it.”

 Erik’s gaze snapped to hers as if to say There! You see? but she quickly and quietly tempered it with one of her own. “Not everyone excels at the same things, Gustave. But if there is one thing I know about Mr. Y, it is that he has quite the eye for making beautiful things.”

 “Except popcorn garland,” Gustave supplied.

 Erik’s expression was positively indignant as she worked to suppress the quirk of her lips. “So it would seem.”

 “We’ve got all of the ornaments arranged for you when you’re ready, Boss,” Squelch announced, waving a hand over the various boxes of colored bulbs laid out beside the tree. “Ms. Christine picked up quite the selection.”

 “Wonderful. Thank you, all.” Erik managed, taking Christine’s hand as they approached the tree. “Shall be begin?”

 The three glanced between themselves, then back at the Master and his lady. “You want us to help?”

 “Of course!” Christine smiled, “besides, none of this would have been possible without you.”

 No further permission was needed by any of the parties. Gustave, finished with his popcorn garland, wound it around the tree, accepting assistance from Erik and Dr. Gangle at different points depending on height and availability. Christine, Squelch and Ms. Fleck declared themselves in charge of the myriad colors of ornaments and directed where and what were hung until the tree was transformed from a blank green palette to a wonder of color and light.

 One of the most important purchases for Christine had been a set of candles for Advent. “This was one of my favorite traditions growing up,” she remarked as she struck a match. “With all of the traveling my father and I did, there were many of our traditions that we were forced to forego, but he always made certain we had a set of candles for Advent.” With a radiant smile, she lit their first candle, relishing in the pop and crack of the wick catching fire. “This one represents hope.”

“The second represents faith,” Passing the match to Gustave, she helped him light the second candle before offering it to the masked man standing at her side. Wordlessly, he accepted it, his expression unreadable as he set the match to the wick and the third candle spring to life. “And the third,” she supplied, meeting Erik’s gaze over the flickering flame, “is for joy.” A ghost of a smile crossed his lips then and her heart squeezed a bit tighter in her chest.

 “What about the other candles?” Gustave asked.

 Christine blew out the match and smiled down at him. “Traditionally, there are four Sundays in Advent and each week one more candle is lit. The fifth is lit on Christmas Eve. We’ve started a bit late this year, as it’s nearly Christmas, but all will be lit as the season progresses.”

 Gustave studied the candles, then glanced at her “Did mofar teach you any other traditions that we can have here?”  

 “Oh, cheri, so many! Although, we rarely had the chance to partake in any of them given that we were never in Sweden much after my fifth birthday. The legend of St. Lucia, julbord, julklapper.” She brightened. “I may be able to make julmust for Christmas Eve if I can find the proper ingredients. That is, if you don’t mind, Erik?”

 Slipping an arm around her waist, he remarked. “I want to know everything that is important to you, ange. If it makes you and Gustave happy, then consider it done.”

 The boy’s attention shifted to him then. “What about you, Mr. Y? Did you have any traditions growing up?”

 Erik’s panicked eyes immediately shot to her and Christine smoothly took control of the conversation. “Gustave, I’m sure Mr. Y knows many of the same holiday traditions that you do.”

 “But he’s never even had a Christmas tree before…”

 “And there were many years where I did not either. Like myself, Mr. Y has spent a great deal of his life traveling, haven't you, Erik?”

 “I have,” the masked man confirmed, but offered no further explanation.

 Thankfully, this seemed to satisfy the boy for the moment. “So... we’re blending. Maman’s traditions with Mr. Y’s?”

 Christine glanced at Erik, who looked as lost as she felt. “Er…”

 “In a sense, I suppose,” Erik supplied. “But perhaps it is more accurate to say that we are starting our own traditions. As a..” he trailed off suddenly, his normally stoic face slipping into something akin to sudden wonder.

 “As a family?” Gustave ventured.

 “Yes, my love,” Christine whispered, fingers covertly creeping into Erik’s palm as he held her hand like a lifeline. “Exactly that.” Drawing him close to her side, she bent down to press a kiss to his cheek. “You’ve had an exciting day and according to that clock in the hall, it is much past your bedtime. Say goodnight to everyone and I’ll be up in a moment.”

 “Ah, actually, Christine, may I speak with you for a moment?” Erik cut in.

 “Come on, little master,” Ms. Fleck said with a wink, catching Erik’s eye. “If you can get your nightclothes on, I’ll read you a story before your mama comes to tuck you in.”

 Gustave broke into a grin, pecking Christine on the cheek before dashing for the stairs. Christine watched him go with a loving smile before tipping her head back to smile up at the man stationed behind her. “Look at how happy he is, Erik. You gave him one of the best days, despite all of the trials that came with it. That boy worships the ground you walk on.”

 “I care for him in a way that I never knew I was capable of,” he admitted, tucking her hand in his arm and turning to the tree. “I would move heaven and earth for that boy.”

 “Welcome to parenthood, my love,” she whispered.

 With a sigh, Erik moved to stand before her, cloaked in the colors cast by the candles flames against the glass ornaments of the tree. “Christine, I admit I’ve been struggling when it comes to you and Gustave. I am not proud of it, but you must understand that I spent the majority of my life in utter solitude. Even in our...early acquaintance, the very notion that someone would care for me, let alone that I would one day have a son of my own…. was laughable.

 “Both of us know how the last story ended and quite frankly, as far as I was concerned, that was the end,” He shook his head, glancing down to the floor. “But then our paths converged again, ten years later with the knowledge of Gustave...and almost losing you again...it awoke something in me, Christine. Something that made me realize that I never want to feel that way again.

 “You, my darling, are the only thing that matters to me. You and Gustave and, if it is agreeable to you, you would make me innumerably happy if you would remain in Coney Island.”

 Her breath caught as the weight of what he was asking began to sink in. “Erik, are you…?

 He gripped her hands tighter, gaze steady, but pleading. “Stay with me, Christine. Be my wife. Let’s give Gustave the family we should have been from the beginning.”

 ‘Erik…” she whispered, leaning her forehead into his chest as tears flooded her eyes. “Truly?”

 In response, he pulled a box from his vest pocket, flipping it open to reveal a diamond solitaire. On one side, a band of gold, warm and radiant, linked a band of silver on the other, cool but elegant, joining in metallic harmony to cradle the diamond that winked up at her.

 “Oh, Erik…” she breathed again, “it’s stunning”

 “I know the tradition is bended knee, but I seem to have had a traumatic incident with a rather aggressive evergreen,” he replied dryly, “so I hope you’ll forgive...”

 “Yes.”

 He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

 “Yes. I’ll marry you. We shall stay.” Christine beamed up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “With all of my heart, I love you, you stubborn boar. The answer is ‘yes’.” Curling her fingers around the edges of his waistcoat she pulled him forward in a flash of motion and kissed him thoroughly in front of said evergreen tree.

 A chorus of enthusiastic cheers broke the spell a moment later and the couple turned to see Gustave, Ms. Fleck, Dr. Gangle and Squelch positively glowing at them from the stairs. “Way to go, Boss!”

 “Yes, well...” Erik sputtered, looking to Christine for assistance. She only chuckled, kissed him deeply again and extended her left hand, to which he responded by obediently sliding the ring on her finger.

 Gustave rushed down the stairs to embrace them both, begging to see his mother’s ring, then beaming up at Erik as if he had just been handed the world on a plate. “Does this mean I can call you ‘Father’ now?”

 Christine’s breath caught as her brown eyes collided with Erik’s mismatched ones, which looked slightly watery again. She watched as his throat bobbed, silently struggling for control before managing an answer. “Of course, my boy. You may call me whatever you wish,” he said, stooping down to look the boy in the eye. “You are my son and I am sorry if I’ve done anything to make you feel as though I’ve held you at arm’s length. I..love you, Gustave. I always have.”

 Christine pressed her hands to her mouth, tears flowing anew as the boy’s mouth trembled and he launched himself into the arms of the masked man whom he had come to idolize. Erik caught him, holding him in an awkward embrace as he met Christine’s teary smile, unbidden moisture already beginning to track down his visible cheek.

 Erik stood, bringing Gustave with him and Christine moved forward to join the embrace. As Erik’s free arm came around her and Gustave’s little hand held tight to hers, she was sure her heart would burst. 

 Her father used to say that a broken, battered path often led to the most beautiful destination and as she stood in the embrace of the two men she loved most in the world, bathed in the silver and gold glow of the candles and Christmas lights, she knew that she was finally home.

 With a family of her own making.

 As it always should have been.

 Eyes slipping closed, her fingers languidly trailed up and down Erik’s spine and smiled as the large hand at her waist squeezed her imperceptibly closer.

 From this day forward, as it always would be.

[softrozene]

I Can Keep Complimenting You

Omg, I have not seen the whole movie, only bits and pieces but I loved that part! I adored writing this, so I hope you enjoy this lovely!

Oh, Reader and Shanks are fifteen like requested so that means this is right after Gol D. Roger’s execution!

Shanks x Female Reader

Warnings: Slight violence, fluff, comedy, I added a pinch of angst because why not, cringy common pick-up lines because I love them

Words: 1275

Shanks is a simple teenage boy. If he sees a pretty girl, he is of course going to flirt with her. It does not really matter to him since he had thought his face would be forgettable since Roger died. However, that turned out not to be the case when he went up to the prettiest girl he ever saw, you.

Before he can even utter the pick-up line that he has chosen for you, you give him the nastiest of glares and it freezes him to the spot. The first emotion he feels is confusion before he realizes he likes you glaring at him too because that means he got your attention.

Then when he gets the giddy feeling out of him and takes in the sight of your body, or more particularly, your outfit, he realizes why he got such a heated glare. You are a marine and from the looks of it a fresh one. He cannot just leave you alone. Something in his gut told him to make you look at him in a different light other than what the marines painted him and the Roger Pirates in, so he went for it.

As he gets closer to your tensing up figure, he makes that charming smile on his face grow and he says in a calm and slightly teasing tone.

“Do you have a name, or can I call you mine?”

He watches as your tense form shakes before slowly releasing all tension as a smile forms on your face. He can practically feel the heat radiate off your cheeks and it makes him feel proud. Even you can’t take him as a serious threat after that lame but cute pick-up line because you end up stifling your giggles.

“(Name). I already know you are Shanks,” You state.

(Name)? He thinks it suits you and he can’t help but pin it in his memory.

“Hey, ain’t you a little young to be a marine?” Shanks questions.

You seem his age and that means you are definitely a bit young to take on a role of a marine but it isn’t uncommon for teenagers to join, especially after a tragedy in family so that is what he assumes to be your case.

Your reply is quick and witty, “Ain’t you a little young to be a pirate?”

His grin widens more, and he can feel his heart hammering in his chest. Yes, he can that you are already seeing him in a different light.

“Touché. Hey, I know we just met but if I had to rate you out of 10, I’d rate you a 9… because I am the one that you are missing!” Shanks says his heart racing the more you try and fight that cute smile to get off your face.

You look around the busy street and avoid eye contact with him as you say, “You should go before I go get back up since you are a criminal.”

He can see through the lie. He knows he already charmed you and somehow you charmed him. With that goofy grin, he does heed your warning.

“I will leave for now but… Are you sure you are not the criminal? Because I swear, you just stole my heart from across the street,” He states.

This time you have to physically turn around so he can’t see your face, but it is too late. He saw it, the genuine smile, and he fell harder. Deciding not to push his luck anymore, he leaves but first promising you that he will be back.

Shanks does end up keeping his word. He hangs around the island, not much in a hurry either since he has no leads to find a crew to make, and since he seems smitten with you. It felt perfect since he just went through a terrible loss with Gol D. Roger.

He took his time with his visits since he did not wish to get you in trouble and in each visit, he would tease and flirt with you relentlessly. Your cute reactions filled him with life. It seems you like him as well since you put up with him, but he does feel you get tenser with each visit.

It is the sixth visit that he realizes that yes, something has changed. He has a good idea of what, but he does not dare bring it up. Instead, he does what he usually does and teases and flirts with you.

“Hey (Name), did you have lunch yet? Because if not I want to know what is on the menu? I am thinking Me-n-u,” Shanks says.

It is the third joke he had given this visit but instead of your usual stifled laugh or the hand over your face, he notices that your hand twitches to go over your pocket. He knows what is going to happen and he accepts it.

“Are you okay (Name)? I noticed you have looked off and if you are not okay, I know this great vitamin that can help you. Vitamin ME-“

Shanks is pushed to the ground with you on top of him and your knife to his neck. You look so conflicted as if you really do want to end him but at the same time it would kill you if you did that. He stays quiet as he takes in your appearance.

You speak up with a shaky voice, “Why? Why do you do this? It is so annoying the way you care for me when it is all going to be vain due to our different sides! Doesn’t that bother you? I should just end this here and now and save us the heartbreak.”

The knife against his throat feels cool to the touch but it is shaking badly to show how conflicted you are. You want him to show hatred at you for this act of betrayal you have done since he has been nothing but nice, but he does not hold an ounce of it in his eyes.

Instead, he gives you that goofy grin you love so much, and he says, “You’re so beautiful.”

You’re confused and it shows on your face. His smile widens and he laughs. “I can keep complimenting you. If you want to end this, that is up to you, but I have so many compliments to keep giving you that I feel my heart will burst.”

His stupid and genuine laugh causes tears to well up in your eyes and fast as the knife feels heavy in your hand now. You chuck it a few feet away from you and immediately bury your face into his chest. Shanks is fast to wrap his arms around you so he can sit up with you in his lap. He remains quiet as he rubs your back gently, allowing you to gather your thoughts.

“I do not wish to end this at all. You stole my heart too, idiot. The second you said that stupid pick-up line I liked you. I’m sorry,” You murmur.

His face grows warm at the confession and he feels like he just won the biggest treasure in the world.

“Nothing to apologize for. If we keep up on our paths, I do not mind a game of cat and mouse with you. You are the only marine I would let capture me though,” He jokes.

Yes, he did not take your harsh actions to heart because, at that moment when you wanted to cause him harm, he still found you beautiful. If it were you to bring an end to his life, he would not regret anything.

[blackjack-15]

Hunting For Some Buried Story — Thoughts on: Ransom of the Seven Ships (RAN)

Previous Metas: SCK/SCK2, STFD, MHM, TRT, FIN, SSH, DOG, CAR, DDI, SHA, CUR, CLK, TRN, DAN, CRE, ICE, CRY, VEN, HAU

Hello and welcome to a Nancy Drew meta series! 30 metas, 30 Nancy Drew Games that I’m comfortable with doing meta about. Hot takes, cold takes, and just Takes will abound, but one thing’s for sure: they’ll all be longer than I mean them to be.

Each meta will have different distinct sections: an Introduction, an exploration of the Title, an explanation of the Mystery, a run-through of the Suspects. Then, I’ll tackle some of my favorite and least favorite things about the game, and finish it off with ideas on how to improve it. Like with all of the Odd Games, there will be a section between The Intro and The Title called The Weird Stuff, where I go into what makes this game stand out as a little strange.

If any game requires an extra section or two, they’ll be listed in the paragraph above, along with links to previous metas.

These metas are not spoiler free, though I’ll list any games/media that they might spoil here: RAN; STFD; mention of FIN; GTH; mention of SPY.

The Intro:

We’re two-thirds of the way through the meta series officially (yay for meta #20!), and what a way to cap off that marker: with the last of the Odd Games.

And my land, how Odd it is. And that’s ignoring that in August of 2020, this game was very quietly discontinued — speculated to be because of the…well, pseudo-brownface in the game.

Oh yeah, we’re starting with that little bomb.

Before we truly begin, however, let me state one fact: the controversies over this game do not make it any more interesting, unfortunately. I don’t know how a game can be both this objectively bad and this objectively boring as a mystery, but RAN is an example of many, many impossible feats in the video game industry (boring yet bad, controversial yet uninteresting, finicky yet sluggish in controls, so it might as well begin as it means to go on.

I’m also stating here for the record that I’m not really going to focus on the social aspect of this game; it’s always been out of the scope of these metas to focus on current events or social issues, and race is such a hot button issue that no matter what anyone says, someone gets mad. Besides that, it’s really not an interesting tack to take with this meta, not when there’s so many things to talk about regarding RAN as a game and/or as a mystery. If you came into this meta expecting a breakdown as it relates to any social issues, this might not be the meta for you.

If you came for a beat-down on RAN, however, you’re in the right place. Get comfy.

Ransom of the Seven Ships had all the pieces in place to make it a great game; we’ve got Bess and George in the (weird, plasticky) flesh, a fascinating and beautiful location, a historical background based in Spanish exploration, the Age of Piracy, and treasure hunting…all of these are great, honestly, and it’s part of what makes RAN so offensively bad — it could have been really great.

Instead of a wonderful game based around pirate treasure, however, Nancy plays games with monkeys, drives on the world’s slowest golf cart, and trusts the only other person on the entire freaking island when he says he didn’t kidnap her friend. Even though he is the ONLY OTHER PERSON ON THE FREAKING ISLAND.

This game is based off of a Nancy Drew mystery entitled “The Broken Anchor”, which actually is fairly close to the plot of the game — the girls win a contest (though in this case it’s one they didn’t even enter) to go to the Bahamas, Nancy arrives (with Carson) and can’t contact Bess or George, there’s a mysterious treasure, etc. etc. In part, I think, RAN’s problems come from following the book too closely, as there’s really very little to the plot of the book. Game plots necessarily have to have a little more meat to them, as you can’t spend the whole time with Nancy pontificating on the scenery or food (as she is wont to do), and RAN is missing a lot of meat.

Specifically, the meat that it’s missing is any suspects at all. Like I said, there’s only one other person (other than Nancy, Bess, and George) on the island, and it’s ‘Johnny Rolle’ — a self-professed fisherman and loner who’s boat has been wrecked by the monkeys.

There are way too many effing monkeys in this game, side note. How I wish the monkeys were a side note.

Nancy, despite her normal M.O when a kidnapping of a friend has taken place, just kinda rolls with his story and accepts it, digging pointless holes in the sand while he definitely has Bess trapped. And then there’s the weirdness with the monkeys trying to kill her as she scales a sheer cliff wall.

Honestly, if I go any more into it, I’m just going to end up tearing it apart piece by piece, and that’s for the Fix section. So let’s move on to the specific things that make this game truly the capstone of the Odd Games.

The Weird Stuff:

This game is, first and foremost, a story about personal revenge — or, at least, that’s the big takeaway, no matter what HER actually intended for it to be about. After being busted by Nancy (and Lillian, and Ralph, but he apparently doesn’t care about them), Dwayne sat in prison stewing over his ignominious defeat at the hands of a teenaged sleuth until he heard about the supposed treasure on Dread Isle. His greed for the treasure combined with his hatred of Nancy began to fester together, culminating in a slightly complex but ultimately stupid plan to get both money and revenge.

This is a motivation unlike any we’ve encountered. Sure, a handful of Nancy Drew villains have sworn their revenge on Nancy (most notably at this point in the series Helena from VEN), but no one has actually done it — until Dwayne.

This should have made the whole game feel intensely personal — and indeed, bringing back tokens and things from Nancy’s past cases and locations should have built to that. However, the game never really comes to a fever pitch of a feeling of someone is watching Nancy and actively hates her, even though it makes a few attempts. More than any other game, Nancy should have been scared here — and it’s odd that she isn’t.

The second odd thing here is the returning villain. I don’t think this is a bad thing at all — I love the idea of a returning villain — but I do think it was a mistake to pick Dwayne Powers. At this point in the series, STFD was hardly a well-known game, and was generally unplayable due to technological advances.

Yes, later STFD would get a bit of a sprucing up and become playable again (and this game, funnily enough, would be relegated to the ‘unplayable’ pile — Dwayne never can win, I guess), but that didn’t matter at the time that RAN was coming out.

There were several better choices — VEN’s Helena, SHA’s Shorty, DOG’s Emily (who had already received a mention recently in DAN) — so why go with Dwayne? Did they pick him on purpose because no one would suspect (or rather, remember) him? Was he the most obscure villain they could think of? Mitch Dillon (who never appeared really) from SCK would have been an equally obscure but somehow more frightening choice. I’m really at a loss to figure out why they chose Dwayne, of all people.

The third thing that makes this game odd is the lack of suspects. Sure, they give a hat-tip to the Gibsons perhaps being hidden on the island (which, let’s just say, they shouldn’t have — never use as a red herring something that would have made the game so much better), but Dwayne/Johnny really is the only suspect.

I have no idea if they were rushed, if they thought that his different identities counted as extra suspects, or if they just wanted to try something different with this game, but it in no way worked. It’s so mind-bogglingly simple to figure out who kidnapped Bess that it makes Nancy look like she’s quite a few sandwiches short of a picnic.

The last Odd thing that I’ll hang on is how incredibly out-of-character Nancy is in this game. We’ve only seen Nancy work kidnapping (or supposed kidnapping) cases a few times in the series as a whole — FIN’s Maya, RAN’s Bess, and GTH’s Jessalyn — but in both FIN and GTH Nancy takes them very seriously, being harsher and more impatient with less time for people’s lies and stories than she usually is, and really feeling the pressure of the clock.

It makes sense; even discounting the Missing Mom trauma that sits deep within Nancy, the first 48 hours of a kidnapping are basically the only window that she has, statistically speaking, to find the victim still alive and okay. She nearly flies off the handle at the suspects in FIN, and digs uncomfortably deep even at very touchy subjects in GTH.

It then stands to reason that, with FIN in the past and GTH in the future, that Nancy would react similarly in this case. Bess is one of Nancy’s best friends, and the friend that we’re shown most often (think of the flashback in SPY; Bess is the one who comes over after Kate and Carson’s fight) around Nancy, like in CRY.

You’d think that, in the face of Bess’ unambiguous kidnapping, that Nancy would be raising hell — contacting anyone she could, taking no prisoners, ripping Dwayne’s tarp down, turning the island upside down, etc. — but instead, she’s calm, almost relaxed, spending time playing games with monkeys and driving aimlessly around the island.

It honestly makes no sense that she’s like this. This is one of a small handful of games where Nancy is deeply, personally invested, where she has a quick running clock, and where the stakes are deadly yet somewhat unknown.

Nancy comes into this with no background, no contacts, no ability to really look things up, and no help — George’s meager efforts do not count — and yet she acts like there are really no stakes. It doesn’t make me dislike her, it doesn’t make me fold that into her characterization — it just makes me say “wow, the writing is really bad here, huh”.

The Title:

Ransom of the Seven Ships is an amazing title; there’s really no getting around this fact. And for the bare bones of the game, it’s more than a suitable title. You’ve got the word ‘ransom’ doing double duty — meaning both treasure and the price to return someone who’s been kidnapped — you’ve got the ships indicating pirate treasure, and that also tells us we’re probably on an island.

Honestly, this is a far better title than this game really deserved (which is half the reason for this meta: turning the game into something that deserves its title). It’s certainly far better than “The Broken Anchor”, its source material, while keeping a pirate-y nature about it. While it’s a little different than most Nancy Drew games’ titles have been up to this point — as they’re usually “The (Adjective) Noun of Location” or “The Adjective Noun”, that’s not a bad thing at all.

This title really does make me sad with how wonderful it is. It deserved so much better. Same with Ship of Shadows, which is also boss.

The Mystery:

Having won an all-expense paid vacation to Dread Isle in the Bahamas (which should have been their first clue that something hinky was afoot), Bess invites Nancy and George along with her. Nancy arrives the day after the cousins, having stayed for a later flight because of a prior engagement with Carson, and is greeted by a frantic George who tells her that Bess has been kidnapped, that the owners of the resort – the Gibsons — aren’t there, and that she’s been worried sick.

  Nancy, naturally, senses something Amiss, and sets off to explore the islands, beginning from the pink sand beach where Bess’ water powered golf cart (yes, I know) is still sitting. She discovers Bess’ shoe next to the only other person on the island — a fisherman named Johnny Rolle from Jamaica — and sets off to explore the rest of the island.

Along the way she finds notes from Bess’ kidnappers, instructions on digging for treasure, twisting island paths, and monkeys. So many friggin monkeys. All of whom Nancy must appease in order to progress in her hunt for one of her oldest friends.

Yeah.

As a mystery…well, what is there really to say about the mystery? It should have been over the second Nancy found Bess’ shoe right outside Dwayne’s camp where a Suspicious Tarp Just Big Enough To Hide the Body of a Young Adult was hanging. An intelligent way to draw it out would be to have Nancy discover Bess there, but for Dwayne to pull a fast one on her and trap her below…but this isn’t the fix section, so let’s just move on past that.

If you weren’t going to add in any new characters or suspects, it might be best to have this game flip from a whodunnit to a howdunnit/howcatchem after the first third; as it is (aka since I’m going to add far more characters in The Fix section), we’ll move right along to the suspect in question himself.

The Suspects:

Yes, I know that this part should just be “The Suspect”.

Believe me, I know.

Wearing a whole cornucopia of masks, Johnny Rolle — aka John E. Poole — is an Australian accountant, hiding from ‘bad clients’ by painting himself brown and adopting a horrible (and horribly stereotypical) Jamaican accent. Nancy discovers his ‘true’ identity by finding an ID with his name on it while he’s still in the ‘Johnny’ disguise. Of course, this ‘true identity’ isn’t his true identity as all…

Dwayne Powers —aka Owen W. Spayder — is sitting underneath the bad wig, bandana, brownface, and horrible accents, and is voiced in this go-around by HER’s chameleon of many voices, good ol’ JVS. After hearing about Dread Isle’s rumors of treasure and their monkey research lab shutting down from a volunteer at his prison (yes, we’re already way too complicated for this game), Dwayne started planning to get the treasure and get revenge on Nancy at the same time.

As the culprit…man is Dwayne horrible. He’s so stupid that it really kills me that Nancy actually falls for his act, because it makes her even stupider. It’s not a good plan, it’s not well thought out, it’s not even a complete plan — it relies on too many unknowables. What if Nancy and George had just stormed his camp and found Bess? What if Nancy figured out it was him? Like, I know Dwayne is an egotist, but this is just dumb.

Before I eviscerate any more, let’s just move on to the few good things in this game.

The Favorite:

The best thing about RAN (other than its music, which as always is super good) is honestly its location. Dread Isle is beautifully and uniquely rendered, and doesn’t look like any other game with the pink-sand beaches, beautiful horizon line, and foliage all befitting a Bahamian resort.

I also like the idea of a returning culprit; while it wasn’t handled well here, I do think it’s a great idea as quite a few culprits have promised revenge on Nancy at the end of their games. Do I think it would have been better if it was Helena, who promised revenge only 2 games ago, rather than going back 18 games to a game that most hadn’t played due to lack of availability? Of course; but the idea behind it was sound.

I don’t have a favorite puzzle or favorite moment; even Dwayne’s dramatic reveal is ruined by the fact that Nancy is at all surprised that he was wearing a disguise and, once again, that the only other person on the island was responsible for kidnapping her friend.

The Un-Favorite:

As far as this section goes…there’s a lot that I don’t like, but there are a few things that stand out more than the rest as truly un-favorite.

My least favorite thing about this game, as you might be able to guess, is that it makes Nancy seem so stupid. We’ve had 19 games of Nancy (mostly; this meta series does go over the exceptions) figuring out clues, chasing bad guys, and solving puzzles without breaking a sweat, and then for this game she’s fooled by some makeup, a wig, and a bad accent? At least in STFD Dwayne put some effort into his work; this is just sad, and it’s even sadder that Nancy falls for it.

My least favorite moment in the game is probably the first conversation with ‘Johnny’. Nancy finds Bess’ shoe, gets strung up in a trap, and then believes that the guy sitting a few feet away is innocent and telling the truth? It’s a moment that truly sets up what a crap shoot this game is about to become, and that alone is enough to make it my least favorite.

My least favorite puzzle is anything to do with the monkeys; playing games with them, scaling the cliff, talking to them, talking about them — literally anything. I don’t like monkeys on a good day, but to have so many puzzles in the game revolve around playing their stupid little games with them? Not a good thing at all. Especially since getting around the island (and, of course, the monkeys live quite far away from anything else on the island) is so aggravatingly slow and clunky — it makes everything feel like a total slog.

The Fix:

So how would I fix Ransom of the Seven Ships?

My gosh, just remake the game.

More seriously, there are quite a few things that I would do in order to make playing through RAN a little more enjoyable and a lot more story-driven (and in line with Nancy and George’s characters). As always, I’m trying to keep this as close to the actual game as possible with few or no huge changes, so Dwayne will still be our culprit, Bess will still have won his giveaway, and Dread Isle will still be the spot of El Toro’s treasure.

The first thing I would do is get rid of Dwayne’s brownface/first disguise, and have him be the Australian accountant named John E. Poole, running from Bad News clients who he didn’t allow to cheat come tax day. That sets him up as a good guy to begin with (if a little foolish to cross such powerful clients), and gives a reason why he’s not staying at the resort (he’s trying to hide and not leave a paper/money trail at the same time). He should be staying in a little homemade hut, not with a Suspicious Tarp Obviously Hiding Bess, as he would have had to been on the island for a while to perfect his disguise (and seem trustworthy to the people at the resort).

I would also have the game take place on Nancy’s 19th birthday; if we assume she was barely 18 at the time of STFD, that makes it about a year that he would have been plotting and escaping and setting up this contest and such. It also makes sense as to why Nancy would have a banquet-thing with Carson and why Bess invited her and George — it’s a fabulous birthday party trip, even for the well-off Nancy Drew. That would also add to her anger — this was a great present that Bess (and George) gave her, and Dwayne has just straight-up ruined it.

Another change that would help the atmosphere is to have at least half the game take place at night. I would have the game take place over roughly two days — it ends the night of the second day — so that you can see the island at night. A lot of the demands made by ‘the kidnappers’ should be done at night — treasure digging, in particular — so as to not be more disruptive to the island than a missing persons case would already be.

Of course, one of the biggest things to do would be to add more suspects.

The Gibsons — both of them — should definitely be there at the resort. I’d have one half of the couple be in the resort during the day, and the other at night, so Nancy can interact with them both differently and have different tasks/discussions with them. Perhaps Mrs. Gibson is an expert on the island’s ‘lore’ — El Toro’s treasure and stuff — while Mr. Gibson is more up on island life and is the law enforcement liaison for the island (who can effectively deputize Nancy to help with the search for Bess).

I would also add one other guest who was supposed to check out right before the first note from the kidnappers came in, and is now stuck on the island until the case is solved. What I’d probably do is make them a Secret Australian (to contrast with Dwayne’s fake Australian accent) — sporting an English accent due to a posh upbringing and studying in England for most of their school life, living in England somewhere (maybe near Blackmoor Manor for a cool Easter egg) — who is Very Grumpy about this and thinks Bess ran off to explore and just got lost. I’d probably make them unhelpful to the last — even when Bess is found and had definitely been kidnapped, to just shrug it off and to board the plane to get home as quickly as possible.

The last person I’d add in is someone working the desk — specifically, an older teenager who is very cagey about themselves and how they know what they know, but who seems to know a lot more than they let on. This person would, of course, end up being a member of ATAC, and once Nancy figures it out, would be able to connect you with help from the Hardy Boys. This ATAC member would be scoping out the Gibsons for evidence of getting guests under false pretenses, but would ultimately change their suspicions to Dwayne and help Nancy and George catch him. Through this ATAC teen, the Hardy Boys could use outside information to give Nancy information about monkeys, the island, treasure, El Toro, and anything else that she encounters, as well as spread their feelers out about the Gibsons, the other guest, and John E. Poole.

I would of course want to improve the tone, which would be helped by having more people on the island — Nancy should feel scared that Bess disappeared with this many people around, and it should feel personal. As the game goes on, even with the added help, the walls should feel like they’re closing in. I would include way more second chances, traps, threatening notes, maybe even recordings of Bess screaming or scared or in pain — something that might push the rating to E+ because, quite frankly, the situation calls for it.

Mechanically, I would put way less focus on the monkeys; they really shouldn’t control everything on the island. Keeping them for a minigame and location is cool, but they definitely shouldn’t have their place of prominence in the game.

I would also remove the fact that you can control George. Out of all the games where I think controlling people other than Nancy would be great, this is not one of them. As worried as Nancy should be, this is George’s cousin — practically her sister, from how close their families are and how much time they spend together — and George would probably be in a State. Sure, she can help with some of the tech stuff, but the player definitely shouldn’t be playing as her in this game. It just feels forced, and it’s not necessary.

Would these changes make RAN a fantastic, award-winning game? No, honestly, they wouldn’t. In order to do that, you’d probably have to scrap the game entirely and start over with even barer bones. But I do think it would help to make it at least better and more playable, and I think that’s a win. Let RAN be remembered for its returning villain and its kidnapping plot, not for being the game that everyone skips during a replay of the series.

[maysbanks]

hold out. (jj maybank)

here it is, the second part to hypersonic missiles ! the response to the first part was absolutely amazing, the support & love in this fandom is incredible & i just wanna say a huge thank you to all of you that take the time to like, reblog & comment, every single one means so much !! gotta admit im not loving this as in it's not my best work and kinda all over the place & half way through writing this i almost scrapped the whole thing to rewrite the full series with an oc bc writing as the reader was starting to get to me lol. but alas here it is & as always i hope u enjoy x

warning: swearing, drug use, underage drinking, violence etc 

summary: after accidentally inserting herself into a treasure hunt with four teenagers, one of which could be considered her 'friend with benefits', y/n grubbs is left to deal with the complications and misfortunes that come along with it - including her ever-growing feelings for said 'friend with benefits'. 

( gif isn't mine! please let me know if it's yours so i can credit you. )

If someone had told you a week before that you would lose your father, get your house raided by two men you had never seen before in your life, make friends with a group of teenagers, embark on a two hundred year old treasure hunt with said teenagers, and be hanging out with JJ Maybank every day and willingly, all in the space of one week; you'd have laughed in their face, asked them what drugs they were on and could you have some, and then laugh in their face again.

But alas, there you were. You still couldn't quite believe it, especially the JJ part. You'd had worries at first, like would the gang really want you involved, did they secretly hate having you around, were they just being nice and letting you in on this because your dad had died? All the doubts swirled in your mind, running around like clock-work, just ticking away constantly in the back of your head. Surprisingly, JJ had been the one you'd gone to about them.

"I just feel guilty," you'd said. It was after a day of riding around in John B's boat and using fancy hotels' WiFi, and 'borrowing' a drone from JJ's dads old workplace. His eyebrows furrowed when he looked at you, confused. "I mean, you guys have been friends for like, forever. And then I just show up and you conveniently find out about John B's dad and the treasure hunt on the same day when I'm there, and it's just like - I don't belong with you guys, it's your thing and I'm just kinda, here." 

"You're part of this just as much as we all are," he'd told you, matter of fact. His body was angled to face you as you sat outside John B's self-proclaimed Chateau, a freshly rolled blunt being passed back and forth between the pair of you. "You need to stop doubting yourself, man. You're apart of us now." 

The words had warmed your heart, an instant smile being spread on your lips as you looked at him through red-rimmed eyes. Underneath the setting sun, he looked almost angelic; his golden hair blowing in the slight breeze, tanned skin exposed due to the heat. You had pretended not to notice the tense of the muscles in his arms whenever your fingers brushed when you passed the juul between yourselves. 

"You're too kind to me, Maybank," you'd grinned, boot-clad foot nudging his knee gently. "If I didn't know you so well I'd have thought you'd have ulterior motives."

"Who says I haven't?" He'd smirked back. You'd just smiled, teeth biting down on the plump skin of your bottom lip before you'd looked away from his burning gaze and focused your attention on anything, anywhere but JJ fucking Maybank.

You got along with the gang amazingly, you couldn't doubt that. Pope was the smartest guy you'd met, sweet and funny and passionate and so certain of what he wanted to do in life. Kiara, or Kie, as you'd come to call her, was very environmentally involved, almost too cool for the guys, you thought. She cared so much about so many things, and she had a great taste in music too. John B was a bit like you, you supposed. Fatherless, on the hunt for answers, things like that - but other than that he was a great guy, the makeshift leader of the little group, a little lost in life, but that was to be understood.

And then there was JJ. You felt most comfortable around the blonde, but that was kinda a given too, due to the fact you'd seen each other in your most vulnerable states that came with having sex rather regularly, something the other members of the gang didn't share. He was a spit-fire, always ready to throw a punch and fire threats at those who deserved it, head-strong and stubborn. But he was more so caring, God he cared so much for his friends, you'd discovered. He would do just about anything for them, whatever position that put him in. JJ put the gang before himself, always. You'd noticed all different types of things about JJ especially, little things you had never taken the time to notice before.

These little discoveries probably came from watching him too much, you'd thought one night. It was a bit of a problem, though you never mentioned it. The unspoken rule amongst the group was No Pogue on Pogue Macking, which basically meant everyone was off limits to each other. You understood the rule, Kie having been the only girl before you'd arrived on the scene amongst three guys, and after becoming apart of the gang you had no choice but to respect it - which also meant that JJ was off limits. But was he technically off limits when you'd already been there, so far past the line on macking with each other?

There was some sort of agreement between the two of you, that in order to make this work; your friendship with the Pogues, the hunt for the Merchant's treasure, that nothing could happen. You'd spoken briefly about it that first day, outside the lighthouse beside the Twinkie (John B's van, you'd learned had a nickname), we're cool, right? Pretend we haven't seen each other naked, conversation. It had been cut short, but it still happened. And the pair of you never mentioned it after that, a few off-handed comments here and there from JJ, but nothing specific. So you assumed yours and JJ's hook ups were off the table, and you had no idea why that had come to bother you so damn much.

On the day following your talk with JJ on John B's porch, he'd invited you to come along with him and Pope as they delivered groceries for Pope's dad, Heyward. You had almost said no, because really, you could probably do with a break from the Maybank boy, all the time spent with him was doing no favours for your little situation of Fighting Attraction While Hunting For Gold. That's what you were putting it down to in your mind anyway, too much time spent with the person you're sleeping with can begin to mess with anyone's head, and hey, maybe it was the fact that you were grieving and JJ was familiar - but you couldn't be doing with all these thoughts anymore.

Despite the angel on your shoulder urging you to turn his offer down, you'd said yes. But that was little to do with JJ and more to do with your mom and your current home situation, which was unbearable, to say the least. Your mother was barely speaking to you, as if she was scared of letting something slip if she did. In return, you shut her out, too. Told her lame excuses and empty lies when you were heading out with the gang, lying through your teeth when she'd asked where you were or where you were going.

Lana Grubbs wasn't a stupid woman, though, and you knew she knew you were up to something. But she hadn't mentioned anything outright yet, and so you hadn't said anything either. The hole your father had left was huge and gaping, evident in both your lives. You hadn't spoken about it yet, and you weren't intending to until she could be completely honest with you. You didn't want to hear anymore lies, and you were already on the path to discovering the full truth. On your own.

Her words echoed in your mind every time you left the house, voice small and gentle as she never failed to say the same thing. "Just be careful." You'd always look over your shoulder, and she'd never look back at you. She hadn't looked at you much at all since your dad had died.

It was after a certain drop-off of groceries, you'd joined JJ in his delivery whilst Pope had docked the boat and gone off to deliver his own, yours and JJ's strides matching as you walked the seemingly never-ending drive of the abnormally large house that loomed over you. The Kook part of the island never ceased to intimidate you, no matter how much you didn't want it to. There was something about it, the people that lived amongst it, that unsettled you whenever you entered it. Figure Eight wasn't somewhere you usually visited other than an odd job you'd picked up, and you were reminded why of that fact as you walked alongside JJ.

"Just think," he breathed, all starry eyed and parted lips as he gazed around the pair of you. "This could all be ours soon."

You snorted, bumping his side with your own. "Don't be melodramatic, JJ,"

"I'm serious!" JJ protested. His sea blue eyes caught yours when he turned his head to look at you head-on. The intensity of his stare almost made you stop in your spot, but you managed to carry on, gulping when his eyes continued to hold yours. "I'm sticking to my earlier statement, right, we're going to move here, and out-rich all these fuckin' Kooks."

"Out-rich?" You raised an eyebrow, lips quirking. "Your grammar is so adequate, Maybank."

"It's a word," JJ insisted, nudging your side with the point of his elbow. "Who the fuck uses words like adequate these days, anyway? I don't even think Mrs. Humphrey knows what that word means."

You laughed at the mention of your shared English teacher, the grey-haired, short, spectacle wearing woman immediately entering your mind. JJ grinned when he heard your laugh, dimples winking in his cheeks.

"Mrs. Humphrey can't even spell Wednesday," you giggled, JJ chuckling along with you as he nodded. "It's a wonder how that woman has been working there for like, eighteen years or something."

Your steps faltered as you neared the door to the house, pace slowing as you both basked in the time spent with each other, though neither of you would admit it. "She was probably a good teacher at first," JJ said thoughtfully, shuffling the groceries in his hands. (You tried not to notice the way his arms looked when he did that, muscles clenching and on full show with his cut-off tank.) "I bet each year another brain cell of hers just like, dies."

"Wouldn't surprise me," you nodded. "Mine would attempting to teach classes full of teenagers," rather dramatically, you shuddered. "Especially if one of those teenagers was JJ Maybank."

"Hey!" JJ shouted, though his grin proved that he found your jab amusing. You laughed along with him, bumping his side once more as you finally landed at the door, watching as he turned to you, expression trying to be serious and failing, rather horribly. "You better watch yourself, Grubbs. I'm serious here, I can be a pretty scary guy if need be, y'know."

You didn't doubt that, of course. You'd seen JJ in action with your own two eyes, you knew what he was capable of. But somehow, stood with you there, on the doorstep of some filthy rich Kook's mansion, groceries in hand, blonde hair shining golden in the sun, sun-kissed skin exposed to your wandering eyes, grin on pink lips; you couldn't imagine JJ Maybank hurting a fly.

"Trust me, I know." You'd said just as he knocked on the door, shooting you one last toothy grin before the door was opened and he was pulled into a conversation with the woman who'd answered it, talking about all things from the weather to the next semester at school. You watched him all the while, smile growing on your lips without your knowledge as you took him in, seemingly in his element as he sweet-talked the middle-aged woman inside the house. When he turned to you suddenly, you startled, broken from your thoughts and caught red-handed staring at him like some freak. He grinned, tongue wetting his pink lips at the same time you internally groaned.

"I was just saying, the groceries," he trailed off as he pointed to the bags in your hands in which you'd forgotten were even there. You let out an 'oh' as you quickly passed the groceries over to the waiting woman, shooting her an apologetic smile as she looked at you knowingly. JJ nodded his head in your direction, speaking once more to the woman, "New guys, huh?"

You glared at him as the woman laughed, perfectly manicured hand reaching beside her and grabbing hold of her purse, pulling a note out with her slender fingers. She held the note out to JJ, who immediately tried to turn it down, insisting there was no need, but the woman was unrelenting - sending a pointed look your way as she told him, "For your troubles, sweetie."

JJ picked the note from her hands, a gracious smile being sent to her as he nodded. "It's been a long day," he sighed heavily and your jaw almost dropped as you resisted the urge to reach out and slap his arm. What a fucker. "Thank you very much, Mrs. Ramirez. I really appreciate it."

The woman, Mrs. Ramirez, as you learned, nodded and waved a hand. "No bother, sweetie," she told him before turning her eyes back to you. You forced a smile as she simply eyed you up and down, before sending an obviously forced one of her own. "And thank you." She said curtly, and you were ready to give her a piece of your mind before JJ was grabbing your arm and dragging you in the direction of where you'd come from, shouting one last thank you over his shoulder as he walked you back towards the boat.

It was when you were a safe distance away that you shook your arm from his hold only to slap him gently on his own as you glowered, glare smouldering as he laughed, throwing his head back as he stumbled beside you.

"You're such an ass," you huffed as you tried to ignore his chuckling, speeding your steps. "I mean, she literally just tipped you a hundred dollars for showing up and smiling, I'm sure if I had a third leg down there I would have got the same treatment too."

"Are you jealous?" JJ asked, having to jog slightly to keep up your hurried pace. His smile was huge and infectious, and you made a point not to meet his stare when he landed next to you in fear of breaking your fake annoyed stance. "Maybe if you weren't too busy checking me out then you could have talked to her, and y'know, make a small fortune yourself."

You scoffed, whirling around and halting him in place. He almost stumbled into you, and you stepped back when his hands landed on your arms to steady himself, shaking his grip off almost immediately. "I wasn't checking you out," you told him, matter of fact.

JJ grinned and ran a hand through his hair as he replied, "Sure you were," he shrugged. You crossed your arms over your chest and glared, biting down on your tongue as you resisted your own smile as he motioned to his body from head to toe. "Not that I can blame you, I mean look at me."

"I've looked, JJ," your voice was low when you said it, a knowing tone to your words. "I've looked, and I've seen it all, in case you forgot."

A low chuckle slipped past his lips. "How could I ever forget?" He asked rhetorically, tongue darting out to wet his chapped lips as you tried not to follow the action with your eyes, and failed, miserably. "Trust me, that image is forever dented in my brain. I think of it, sometimes. Just randomly."

You rolled your eyes. And he's back, _you thought. _He never left, a voice at the back of your head piped up. You ignored them both. "C'mon," you said, already turning on your heel and starting off in the direction of where Pope had docked the boat. "Let's go get these deliveries finished."

The pair of you said nothing more for the rest of the duration of the short walk back, and when the boat was in your sights JJ was off running, more than likely eager to show off his one hundred dollar tip to Pope, as you idled, watching his back as he ran. When you finally landed in the boat, it was silent. You immediately picked up on the tension, heavy in the small space, and shot JJ a confused glance when he looked back at you.

Slowly, you made your way towards where the two boys were up at the front of the boat, Pope situated at the wheel. The dark skinned boy was staring straight ahead, refusing to meet either yours or JJ's eyes. When you looked to the latter, he subtly shrugged a shoulder, letting you know that he had no clue himself what was going on with his best friend.

"Pope?" You questioned softly. "What's wrong?" When there was no answer, you shared another glance with JJ, his concern shining in his blue eyes. You tilted your head as you went to ask him again, but when you did, your eyes caught on to the colour crimson that was slowly streaming down the side of his face. You gasped and JJ startled, chest bumping your shoulder as he tugged the cap from Pope's head, revealing the injury near the top of his head.

"Jesus!" JJ exclaimed when he caught sight of the wound, Pope swatting at his hands that held his hat, pulling it back down once JJ had let go. "What happened?"

"Rafe and Topper jumped me," Pope's voice was slightly wobbly as he informed you both, a tear sliding down his cheek as he recounted, "They said no Pogues on their side of the island."

Your blood began to boil just as JJ demanded, "What are you gonna do?" His own jaw clenched in anger as he looked at his best friend, beaten and bruised in front of him from the hands of some entitled selfish pricks that thought they were better than everyone because they had more money in their pockets. Rafe Cameron was a name that never failed to make you queasy at just the mention of it, and his little gang of followers including Topper Thorton were just as unbearable.

"I have something in mind." Pope spoke, voice and stance determined. And something he did, as he drove to Topper's new boat - and promptly swam over and removed the plug from it, causing the new model to sink into the water as you and JJ watched from Heyward's boat, keeping an eye out for anyone that may have spotted your trio.

And though it was bad, and you knew you probably shouldn't have taken part in such an activity, nor prompted Pope to either; you couldn't deny the rush it gave you as you watched Topper Thorton's boat begin to sink, and maybe it was the fact that you knew that Topper was a Grade A Asshole and deserved it, or maybe it was Pope's own unsure but excitable adrenaline that mixed with your own, or maybe it was just the fact that JJ wrapped his arm around your shoulder without a care in the world as he shouted his support to his friend, squeezing you to his side almost unknowingly, like it was some kind of instinct.

You thought, yeah, it probably was, as you immediately felt the loss of it when he moved to grab Pope in a hug. And then you thought, well shit.

There was a mutual share of disappointment when the gang had found just about absolutely nothing when you'd taken Pope's fathers boat out the next morning, drone ready and in hand to go hunt for the gold, where John B Routledge had marked down on the map it having been.

Granted, the Royal Merchant was there. It was just missing the one thing they were after - the gold was nowhere in sight, and the journey had been a complete waste of time. You thought it to be too good to be true, of course it had to be. Four hundred million in gold and you were expected to find it? There was no way, you thought bitterly as JJ steered the gang back to land, not one of you daring to speak as the disappointment crashed over you all in huge waves.

You'd departed with the guys not long after that, after promising Kie that you would accompany her to the annual summer movie night, making your way towards home. The bitter frustration ate away at your insides, you were mad, angry - fucking infuriated, each step the gang got closer to finding the gold, it was as if someone was stood in your path and shoving you all back another ten.

Had your dad really died for this? This seemingly never-ending hunt for promised gold that, for all you knew, could be complete and utter bullshit. You didn't understand it at first, when the pieces began to slot together, but it was like every time the chase got harder it made you want it even more; and then you understood your fathers fascination and Big John Routledge's obsession. This gold meant everything to you and the gang, and you knew, John B especially, would never give up on this chase.

"Hey, sweetheart," your mother called when you entered the house. The front door was still broken, only the screen in place, and was leaning against the wall as you maneuvered past it. Lana was sat at the couch, and when you walked in she'd shoved a box away from her, the lid laying haphazardly over the top. "I wasn't expecting you home so early."

You shot her a small and forced smile, shuffling your bag from your shoulder and onto the floor, landing with a soft thud. "Hey mom," you greeted back, noting her teary eyes and flushed cheeks. "What're you doing?"

When you arrived at the back of the couch, looking over her shoulder, you immediately recognised the box - Family Photos! _written atop _the cardboard.

"I was just looking through some old pictures," she told you, sniffling as she attempted to smile at you. "Just wanted to see his face again."

You nodded, your throat tightening at the mention of your dad. Reaching a hand up and wiping away her tears, she looked at you questioning, "Where have you been?"

"Just out," you said, bluntly and unconvincing. "Doing a few jobs here and there, y'know. Nothing exciting."

Lana hummed, quirking an eyebrow at you. "Mr. Phelps told me that he seen you with that Maybank kid the other day," she informed, your face falling for a millisecond as her words sunk in. She looked at you, tear-stained face and serious gaze, lips pulled to a thin line. "I told you to stay from those guys, Y/N."

"I was helping him deliver groceries, mom," you deadpanned - which wasn't exactly a lie, if that's when Mr. Phelps had spotted you. Most of your time spent with the gang was mainly off the land and away from prying eyes, whether that be on a boat or the Chateau, so you knew that was the safest bet of when you'd been spotted. "For Heyward's. It's not like I'm hanging out with him on purpose."

Lie, lie, lie. It was becoming alarmingly easy to lie straight through your teeth, and to your mother nonetheless, but you couldn't dare tell her anything, and why should you, when she hadn't told you anything? It took two to Tango, you thought.

"I just don't want you getting hurt," your mother reminded, and you let out a sigh as you nodded, faked closed-mouth smile on your lips. "I'm serious, Y/N, please just be careful out there."

"Always am," you promised (bull-fucking-shit). You turned on your heel, heading towards your room as you called over your shoulder, "I got invited out tonight, by the way. To the movie thing on the North Side. Is it alright if I go, please?"

You waited at your door, hearing your mother sigh from the couch. "Yes, you can go." You smiled, this one more real than all the rest, and thanked her gently. She didn't look back at you though, and the familiar unspoken tension was back with vengeance. You couldn't wait to get out of it.

The movie night was a welcome distraction from your frustrations with the treasure hunt, the haunting memories of your dad, and the tension with your mom. It was only you, Kie, Pope and JJ that attended - John B having seemingly disappeared for the day, none of the gang having heard from him. You'd managed to leave the house with relatively no questioning from your mom, and met JJ a little way down the block.

("Woah, keep two feet away from me please," you'd joked, halting in your tracks as you spotted him standing there. He'd furrowed his brows at you, frown etched on his face. "My cover's been blown, everyone knows about us!

He just looked even more confused, eyes squinting down at you as you raised a hand and layed it across your forehead dramatically. "What'd you mean?" He questioned, eyes darting around, seemingly searching for answers in the air around you both. "What, do people know we sleep together or something?"

You'd rolled your eyes, shoving him gently when you were close enough, beginning to walk away. "No, you doof," you chuckled. "Mr. Phelps ratted me out to my mom, told her that he saw us together the other day. I had to tell her that we were just delivering groceries for Pope's dad."

"Ah," JJ nodded, shooting you a mischievous grin. "We better go into hiding then, I'm thinking... log cabin in the mountains, all fur sheets and deer heads on the walls, ooh a hot tub too."

You laughed, "Trying to whisk me away there, Maybank?"

You were joking, but his eyes were surprisingly serious as he looked at you. "Always, Grubbs.")

The field was already packed full of people by the time the four of you arrived, groups of people scattered around, idle chatter filling the air. It was being held on the Kook side of the island, and your eyes swooped over the people, most of them being Kook's themselves, expensive clothing and an aura that just screamed, I'm better than you. It made you feel uneasy, but you tried not to think about it as Kiara led you through the crowds.

"I'm so glad they're still doing this," she tells you all, sighing happily. The faces of the guys revealed they were not nearly as happy to be there as she was, while you were simply just glad to be out of your house once again. "Keep calm, carry on. Back to normal, OBX life, y'know?" She stopped once she found a decent spot, turning to the three of you. "Aren't you guys glad I made you come?"

"Ecstatic." Pope deadpanned, sarcastic lull to his tone.

"My couch was pretty comfy." JJ piped up.

"I'm just happy to be out the house, I guess." You said.

You were aware why the guys were so uncertain about being there; it wasn't so long ago that Pope was sinking Topper Thorton's boat, you and JJ accompanying, and now you were all on his side of the island. Not only that, but you knew that if Topper was to discover that it was Pope who'd done his boat in, it wouldn't just be Topper that confronted him - it would be the full Happy Days Gang. Nothing was ever a fair game when it came to Kooks.

Kiara excused herself to go buy soda's from the conession stand, and you shifted as you seated yourself on the blanket you'd bought, having opted out of bringing a chair. You sat in front of JJ, his legs touching your back.

"What's wrong with you guys?" You turned your head when Pope and JJ began to whisper, the former's panicked eyes landing on you as you frowned at the pair.

"Topper and Rafe are on my ass," Pope revealed. "They know I sunk Topper's boat."

You sighed heavily, muttering a shit as JJ grabbed his friend by the arm, focusing his attention towards him. "They can't prove it, okay. Just deny, deny, deny."

Pope nodded along, muttering along with him as you watched the pair, before your eyes moved to Kie that arrived back, her eyes narrowing as she seated herself beside Pope. "Just saw Rafe," she informed, your blood running cold. You could practically feel JJ tense from behind you. "He said, and I quote, 'Tell your boy we know what he did'. What is that?"

"Um, where is he?" JJ questioned, his tone of voice revealing his hidden anxiety.

"Right there." Kiara nodded her head, right in the direction of where Rafe Cameron and his goons sat, as you, Pope and JJ whipped around, Pope practically turning his full body in their direction. You groaned as JJ desperately urged him to turn back round, and away from their taunting eyes.

"The whole death squad!" Pope exclaimed, anxiety riding off of him in waves.

"Don't stare, bro," JJ urged, hand wrapping around Pope's shoulders. You tuned out the rest of the blonde's words as he informed you all that he'd be coming out swinging if they were to corner him, and you felt dread build as you heard his last words. "If that doesn't work, I got this right here." He patted his bag.

"JJ, please tell me you did not bring a gun here," Kie practically begged. "JJ, there are kids!"

You focused your attention straight ahead of you as the guys continued to argue; Pope simply telling Kie that it might go down to her line of questioning, her brown eyes darting back and forth between you all. You refused to meet her eyes, however, and were glad when the large screen ahead of you suddenly lit up. "Oh, look," you exclaimed, laughing nervously. "The movie's starting."

And it was left at that - JJ whispering deny, deny, deny to Pope once more before you all turned your attention to the screen, trying to block out the intruding thoughts of having the knowledge that the gang of Kooks were staring you down, awaiting your next move like a predator would its pray.

All was going fine - the movie was good, everyone's attention on the black and white screen. You tried not to think about Rafe and Topper, or the gold or your dad, and definitely not the feel of JJ's legs either side of you, trapping you into his hold. You let yourself believe that everything would be okay, and then Pope had revealed he needed a piss, and everything had gone to shit.

JJ had accompanied him, and the two had set off behind the screen, hidden away from Rafe's watchful eyes. They hadn't done a good enough job to be discreet though, and you immediately took notice of Rafe, Topper and Kelce making their way towards the opposite side of the screen. You swore, catching Kie's attention as she questioned, "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Looks like that piss break just got a lot more complicated," you said, and realisation dawned on her face. It didn't take the pair of you long to locate the guys, all in various forms of fighting, as you and Kie screamed at them to stop. You grabbed Rafe's arm mid-swing, his fist raised and ready to send a hit to JJ's face from where Kelce had hold of him. "Stop it, you dick!"

You let out a scream as you were sent flying back from his shove, Rafe's blue eyes wild and crazed as he glared down at you. "Stay out of this, Grubbs!" He barked, and without a moments hesitation sent a fist hurling towards JJ's cheek.

Kiara had jumped on Topper's back from the small distance away from you, and you took a moment to ready yourself before hurtling towards Rafe from your crouched position, tackling him to the ground from his knees, effectively stopping his blows. He seemed stunned for a second, staring dazed up at you before he promptly threw you off of him, shoving you to the ground without a care. "Don't fucking touch me," he growled down at you, and you groaned slightly as the wind was knocked from you.

You heard JJ from somewhere above you, shouting insults at Rafe and repeating your name over and over. You lifted yourself from the ground just as Topper puts Pope in a headlock, his tight grip causing the dark skinned boys breath to leave him in choked gasps. You shoved at Rafe's back once more, sending him stumbling forward before he whipped around, hand reaching out and grabbing you by the face, tugging you so you stood nose-to-nose with him.

"I said," he ground out darkly, eyes boring into yours. "Don't fucking touch me."

You were beginning to fear what would come next before a sudden glow caught your eye from the side, the movie screen lighting up in harsh flames. Rafe dropped you, your hands moving to rub over the imprint he'd left, as you looked towards where Kie stood, JJ lighter in hand. Screams of terror echoed from the other side, as people began to flee, and it didn't take long for the three Kooks on your side to follow, sprinting quickly from the scene. Fucking cowards, you thought.

JJ's hands were on you before you could even blink, eyes earnest and worried as they looked over you, your cheeks red from the earlier grip Rafe had on you. "You good?" He asked you, slightly out of breath. You nodded, repeating the question to him. He smiled lightly. "Yeah, yeah. I'm good."

The night had ended promptly there, Kie dropping you off at your respected houses. You'd bid them all a good night, and as quietly as possible made your way into your home, not wanting your mother to see the marks imprinted on your face from Rafe's fingers. Luckily, she'd already been in bed, and it didn't take long for you to crawl into yours, thoughts of the day and a certain blonde running through your mind.

The next morning you'd met the gang (save for John B, who was still seemingly missing) at the Heyward's store; your morning had been spent desperately trying to hide the red marks that Rafe's fingers had left from your mom before she could notice and ground you in your room for the rest of your life. It had a been a success for the most part, and she asked no questions as you left the house, though you took note of her uncertain expression as you bid your goodbyes.

"Have you heard from John B?" You asked Kiara who was working closest to you. You had realised the brunette boy was missing from the group upon your arrival, and you couldn't help the worries in your mind at where he could be or what could have happened to him.

"No, nothing. Have you?" She returned the question, brown eyes meeting yours as you shook your head no, a short sigh falling from her lips. "Neither have the guys. What're you thinking?" Kiara eyed you, gaze suddenly sullen. "Do you think something's happened?"

"I don't know, Kie," you told her because honestly, you didn't. John B had a target on his back, that much was for sure. Son of Big John, once owner of the proclaimed death compass. Your mind thought back to the two men that had raised your home, and chased the guys on more than one occasion, and you couldn't help but think the worst. "I'm sure he's fine, though."

Kiara nodded, though she looked anything but sure. "Yeah, you're probably right." The pair of you continued on with your respected work, JJ's and Pope's voice trailing from somewhere in the store as they talked. "You're working Midsummers, right?"

You groaned, nodding. Kiara laughed at your sour expression. "Oh yeah, second year running. To be honest, I'm surprised they let me work it after last year, my customer service must be better than my right hand hook," you joked, chuckle escaping your lips as you thought back to the Midsummer's party the year before. Your dad had gotten you the gig, because he was a weasel like that - always talking people into getting what he wanted, and what he wanted was the gas bill to be paid, and his face just didn't fit the portfolio to be serving Kook's their drinks at their fancy party, and so it had left left to you to do just that.

The night had ended with Dean Kipp on his ass after his hand had fallen on your ass, and you'd been let off with a warning as the guy clutched his bloody nose and called you everything ranging from psycho bitch to slutty pogue. Your surprise was immense when you were offered a job again this year, and a large amount of the reason you'd said yes was just so you could see the look on his face when he saw you.

"He totally deserved that," Kiara remarked, grinning. You smiled back, the pair of you sharing a laugh as you returned to your work.

For a second, you let your worries wash away as you were pulled into a conversation with the gang, your spirts high for the first time in a while. You were happy, you realised. What had started off as being the worst period of your life was slowly turning into the best, the gang and treasure hunt a blessing in disguise. The four of you shared laughs and joked back and forth as you worked, and you found yourself to be perfectly content.

All that came crashing down when Pope's father entered the shop, police officer trailing behind him. "Hey, Pope! There's someone here to see you."

You stopped dead-on, the rest of the gang halting in their movements as you all stared towards the officer you recognised as Shoupe. "Evening, officer." Pope greeted, gulping.

"I have an arrear warrant for felony destruction of property," Deputy Shoupe approached your group, handing the said warrant to Pope's dad. From beside you, JJ tensed, and when you turned to look at him, his blue eyes glanced down at you, freshly beaten face pulled into an anxious grimace as his jaw clenched. Shoupe had gotten remarkably closer, hands reaching for the handcuffs placed on his belt. "Hands where I can see 'em."

Pope glanced desperately towards JJ, who shook his head quickly, his words, though unspoken, clear as day. Deny, deny, deny. But denying wasn't going to get Pope out of handcuffs, you decided as you stepped forward, tone pleading as you demanded, "Stop, you can't just do this!"

"Out of my way please, Miss Grubbs," Shoupe dismissed you, sounding almost bored as he shoved past you, beginning to handcuff Pope who can do nothing but allow it to happen, his anxious eyes focusing on one spot as reality began to sink in.

"What did he do, Shoupe?" Mr. Heyward questioned in disbelief, watching as his son was getting arrested in front of his very eyes.

"Take a look at the warrant," the cop said simply as he begun to tug Pope out of the store.

It was chaos. Everyone was shouting, demanding answers and hurling insults. JJ is screaming something about somebody paying him, Kiara is in your ear asking what the hell was going on, Mr. Heyward is hurtling questions towards both his son and Shoupe. Passbyers stared at the scene, whispering to each other as they walked by or stopped to watch. Everything blurred together, and you could do nothing but watch the scene unfold in front of you.

Those fucking assholes, you thought. Topper Thorton came to mind, tan skin and bleached ends, million dollar smile and designer clothes. You remembered his wild gaze as he held Pope in a headlock the night before, close to almost killing him. And yet he was off somewhere doing god knows what, probably shopping for a new boat to replace the one he'd lost, not that he probably cared all that much about it in the first place. Rafe Cameron's eyes entered your mind next, and you felt a shudder run through you as you remembered them boring into yours as he held your face frighteningly tight and close to his own.

JJ's voice was suddenly breaking through your stream of thoughts - "It wasn't him!" He was calling out, eyes directed on Shoupe who paused and turned toward him, Pope's face disbelieving from behind him. "It was me."

It sunk in then what JJ was trying to do, and you whirled around from his left, quickly shaking your head as you muttered, "JJ." He ignored you however, and stepped forward towards where the officer was standing, Pope still in his arms.

"He tried to talk me out of it," JJ continued. "But I was mad because he had just been beaten up, I was sick of those assholes from Figure Eight that I lost my shit." He was stood directly in front of Shoupe, almost boot-to-boot. You couldn't see his face from where you were, and you were almost thankful for the fact as you heard him direct his words to Pope, "I can't let you take the fall for what I did. You've got too much to lose."

"JJ, what are you doing?" Pope demanded. His face was confused, just as much in shock as the rest of you. For a second, his eyes leave JJ's and land on yours, a shaky breath leaving your lips as his eyes were practically pleading.

"I'm telling the truth, for once in my goddamn life, I'm gonna tell the truth," JJ announced loudly. "I took his old man's boat, too."

"What the hell?" Mr. Heyward questioned, though nobody paid him any mind. Your gaze was too focused on the unfolding scene of JJ Maybank taking the fall for something he most definitely do, and you could do nothing but watch it happen.

Your heart finally shattered when JJ's last words entered your ears, "He's a good kid. You know where I'm from."

He only looked back once as he was put into the handcuffs that previously held Pope, and that wasn't until he was shoved in the back of the police car and the door was slammed behind him. You walked closer towards it, hand on Pope's back as he watched his best friend get arrested for something he'd done, and you both knew it. When JJ glanced up and out of the window, bruised face clear behind the glass, his sea blue eyes caught yours and then he smiled.

The fucker.

You could only watch helplessly as the police car was driven away and out of sight, Pope throwing his cap down in a fit of anger as he stormed off, his dad calling after him, Kie landing to your right. The dark haired girl wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tugging you to her side gently.

"JJ'll be alright," she told you, voice confident though her face read anything but as she glanced in the direction the car had been driven off. "He always is."

But what, a voice in the back in your head nagged at you, if this time he wasn't?

And then it dawned on you: you actually really, generally, sincerely and whole-heartedly cared about JJ Maybank.

(And the thought scared you more than you would ever like to admit.)

& to the lovely people that asked to be tagged in this, love you all x @ponyboys-sunsets @mysticsthinking @danicarosaline

[yukipri]

On Koala and Fishman Karate - a One Piece Mermaid AU Story

Not an ask response, but here with another story which was posted last month on Patreon!

I never actually intended on writing this, because this was originally supposed to just be exposition leading up to Marco's Bauble 2, and kinda explaining why Luffy's being tutored in Fishman Karate. But, it ended up being too long and going off on WAY too many unrelated tangents, so I chopped it off and made it its own thing ^ ^;

Mostly introspective, with Koala x Luffy, mention of Sabo x Luffy, and some thoughts on Nami from Koala's perspective as well.

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Koala gently nudges Luffy's hand a little higher, and the mermaid makes a tiny whine of frustration as she sways on her tail, trying her best to maintain the posture she's been taught. Luffy glares at her own fist with such adorable determined ferocity that Koala doesn't have the heart to tell her that she doesn't need to try so hard, and that if anything, staying relaxed is the point.

Koala's been trying to teach Luffy Fishman Karate during the few lulls between their adventures. She knows that the disciplined martial art is probably not Luffy's style, but Fishman Karate focusses fishmen and merfolks' innate sensitivity to water. It's honed for combat in this case, but it can be applied to daily life as well, which is why fishman karate is a regular part of grade school curriculum on Fishman Isand. When one lives surrounded entirely by water, ten thousand meters below sea level, it's remarkably beneficial to be in tune with it.

Even if Luffy never fully masters it, Koala's sure she can gain something of value to apply to her regular fighting style, and even if not, it's part of her heritage. It's why Koala had insisted on teaching her, and Sabo had grudgingly agreed (Koala knows the grudging part mostly comes from Sabo still being petty about being terrible at it himself. Which, shouldn't come as a surprise since fishmen arts are difficult for non fishmen and merfolk, but it gives Koala something to rub in his face, which is always wonderful).

It's nice, Koala thinks as she sings praises in Luffy's ear while fixing her posture once again. It's nice because even though Koala'll do any assignment thrown her way, and will do anything to further her primary goal of achieving justice for fishmen and merfolk, being an assistant Fishman Karate instructor is her actual formal position in the Revolutionary Army. It's so easy to forget, with the number of missions she's been on with her acting support for Sabo and others, and the increasing amount of time she spends away from Baltigo and her students. But suddenly, she's given an unexpected opportunity to actually practice and share her passion, and to someone who could really benefit from it too. It would be an utter waste for Luffy to not learn from Koala while they travel together.

(Even if it means Sabo sulks and stews with pathetically transparent jealousy over losing sibling bonding time. He can deal. He'll have plenty of time later.)

And well, Luffy's honestly a joy as a student too. Even if explanations mostly go over her head, she's got amazing physical intuition and picks things up fast. And she's so dedicated, staring at Koala with wide eyes like she holds the secrets to the universe when Koala shows her something new, always blurting out her awe exactly as she feels it and--it's endearing.

Luffy, everything about her, is honestly endearing.

The fishman karate tutoring sessions are honestly the only times Koala can have alone with the mermaid (or as alone as one can be, on the deck of a small vessel like Merry), especially without Mr. Nosy Possessive Big Bro butting in between them. So yes, maybe Koala enjoys spending time with Luffy for reasons other than just getting to do karate together, but she'll confess that to Sabo over her own dead body.

Not that Koala thinks it really matters; Sabo's already giving her the Suspicious Stink Eye (though to be fair, he gives that to everyone other than Ace). And yeah, in hindsight she honestly should have expected his suspicion, given how well her partner knows knows her dating history.

I'm warning you, Koala, Sabo'd grouched when they were alone, dropping his Cool Big Bro act to reveal the Shitty Little Dumpster Brat that Koala knows and grew up with. Don't even think about it with Luffy. Even if she's infinitely cuter than what were their names...Marinara and Cartwheels.

Their names were Marina and Kara. And I don't date every mermaid I meet!

Koala's honestly offended, but decides to let it go; Sabo's overwhelmed by his sudden wave of previously repressed Brotherly Love, and he's still not entirely rational (not that rational's a particularly good word to apply to him at any time). And she doesn't have a thing for fishgals and mermaids, she swears. She just happens to spend a disproportionate amount of time working with them, given her specific focus in the Revolutionary Army. It just makes sense.

Or fine, maybe she has a slight thing for them. And, well, maybe Luffy's her type. Just a little bit. On top of being, well, a super cute pupil. But Koala's not going to do anything, other than enjoy spending time together! Is she not allowed even that?

But, the point is, Sabo's being ridiculous! Koala's been his partner for years! Doesn't he trust Koala enough to know that she'd treasure Luffy, in the very hypothetical situation they ever dated?

(Koala knows the answer to that, knew it the moment she saw Sabo's expression melt as he cupped Luffy's face, and sighs. She never imagined she'd be love rivals against Sabo of all people, but well, shit happens.)

Anyway, Fishman Karate times are Koala's times with Luffy, and if Sabo comes poking his snooty little nose into their sessions, well, Koala's happy to volunteer him as a punching bag. Which he knows, hence why he's not here.

In fact, the deck is mostly empty, the other members of their limited crew occupying themselves elsewhere. Their sole observer is the navigator, sitting by the rail and marking up some maps, seemingly not paying attention.

But Koala knows that Nami's very much attuned to their lesson, her head jerking every time a particularly hard smack lands.

Koala doesn't blame her. She's aware of what Arlong did, had had to swallow bile when she accessed the full report when it came through, days before their fateful meeting with Luffy and the ASL pirates. She knows what Nami must think of fishmen, and to know that her impression came from former Sun Pirates leaves Koala feeling a special kind of numb.

Because that isn't what they're like at all, she wants to say. The Sun Pirates, to Koala, are a gleaming example of why fishmen deserve better, and are victims of human prejudice and ignorance. It's terrible that they mean the opposite to Nami. But given her experiences, Koala knows she has no right to preach at her. If anything, she just feels sad, and bitter, knowing that the cycle of hatred can come back to hurt those so very far away from where it started.

Koala guides Luffy's arms into position again, and despite Luffy struggling to remember everything mentally, the young mermaid's body easily accepts the form. It's an art designed for her kind after all, unlike the marine martial arts that Sabo said their grandfather had beaten into them. Koala's sure Luffy struggled with those, unable to fully copy moves that require certain feet positions, and an assumption of a more human perception of the world. But this, Fishman Karate, was made for her.

Nami twitches again, and Koala makes a note of it. She knows Nami has likely seen the form before; there were several martial artists in Arlong's group.

She knows it's difficult to watch, but admires Nami's stubborn determination in doing so. Koala's sure that part of Nami's reason for watching is to make sure Koala doesn't teach anything unsavory to Luffy, and she respects that wariness, because they haven't known each other long enough for Nami to open up to Koala and her history of friendship with fishmen.

But, and it's only a guess, but Koala thinks Nami also watches to try to learn and accept this part of her captain as well. Koala might not be important, but Luffy is the captain Nami's pledged to follow, for all that Ace is also her captain. And whether she likes it or not, Luffy's a mermaid, which, while not the exact same as fishmen, has plenty of things in common.

Now that she's no longer isolated on an island in East Blue, heading closer to Fishman Island which they'll inevitably have to cross in order to enter the New World, Luffy's learning more about herself. Specifically, the mer part of herself. And she'd be doing that, regardless of whether Koala's there to help her along.

Koala thinks it wise that Nami's forcing herself to learn alongside Luffy, so that there are no surprises, and that one day, she doesn't wake up and realize that her captain shares far too much with her tormentors for her to handle. Koala hopes that Nami's love and acceptance for Luffy will plant a seed of hope that eventually helps her accept other fishmen and merfolk, to see that they're not all Arlong--but Koala can wait.

~~

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Thanks so much for reading if you got through this~! <3 As always any comments/thoughts are super appreciated!

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

~This ask has been added to the Mermaid AU Text Headcanons Compilation post~

[jupiterdrabbles]

Cautionary Tail

Gender-neutral, Hylian reader has recently returned from a long-winded and incredibly taxing journey that has them blundered and bruised. This is what they live for though, so if a couple of scars appear than there’s no real hurt done.

Prince Sidon, however, has a different opinion on the matter.

(Yes, the pun was necessary.)

You can also read this on my ao3 here!

You trudged through Zora’s gates, your horse’s reins in one hand as you tried your best to stand up straight. A once dull throbbing in your jaw and ribs had somehow increased tenfold on your journey back home, but you powered through it. You lived for the thrill of battle, adventuring and discovering new lands and people only to bring such pretty gifts back along with you. Your latest trip to Gonponga Island had not gone particularly as planned, with being ambushed and having to turn back when you were so close to your destination. 

But nonetheless, you were home now. Safe within the arms of the city that had grown to love you, and ever closer to being with that dork you adored ever so much. 

As you walked along the path to the stables, a group of young pups ran up to you and began to tug on your clothing, all demanding your attention. They cried your name and giggled, brandishing little wooden daggers or newly grown fangs, or even a small shell that had been picked up off of one of the many shorelines. 

“Look, look here! My momma made this new crest for me, isn’t it pretty?”

“I’m gonna be just like you when I grow up! I have my own sword already!”

“Will you tell me a story again?”

“Have you ever met mister Link? He did cool stuff like you!”

“Alright, alright!” You called, laughing a little under your breath as you tried to calm the hyper group of children. You placed one of your hands on one of their heads- a girl who was currently hugging your leg like it was a statue of the Goddess herself. “I will tell you my tales and admire your treasures soon, alright? First I have to go and get the rest of my errands done.” Truth be told, you were currently sporting an ear-splitting headache and really needed a moment to yourself, but the pups around you were just too damn cute. 

The children whined a little in protest and many pinkie promises were dished out as they reluctantly made their way back to their homes or other friends. You put your horse into his stable and pet along his face gently, thanking him for assisting in your journey. You made your way into the castle throne room, where Sidon and the King were waiting for you. 

Upon your arrival, Sidon was at a loss for words. It was true that he admired your strength, but this was too much! You carried yourself well, but he could see the pain you were in- the slight limp in your left side and the black and purple splotch that decorated the arch of your jaw. The circles under your eyes lay heavy and your eyes were dull. He ached to hold you, but he stayed firmly planted as you talked with the king.

You told his father of the marshes and heavy rainfall, plucking a map from your pocket and unfolding it to show him the route you took. Your job as head of the royal guard was to scout the land beyond the kingdom’s borders, to keep up relations and offer safe passage to newcomers or merchants. You had thought that the Lizalfo had cleared that area and left, but there was a group that remained behind. Sidon’s eyes widened as you described their camp, and winced when you coughed lightly. As soon as the king dismissed you, he ran and scooped you into his arms and took to the medic’s wing.

“Woah- Sidon!” You giggled lightly, pushing against his chest to look up at his face. “It’s nice to see you too!” The prince smiled fondly down at you but kept going with a determined glint in his eye. 

“My love, you know I adore your antics, but could it wait? My mind’s been abuzz since you walked in like- like that.” You cocked an eyebrow at him in confusion. 

“It’s just a couple of bruises, Sidon.”

“I want to be sure. I am confident in your abilities and strength, don’t get me wrong!” He clarified when your expression turned defensive. “It’s just sometimes you downplay your ailments and emotions. I want to be there for you.” 

The softness in his voice warmed your heart, and a small smile crept onto your face. You nodded at him and rested your head against his chest, not expecting sleep to take you so quickly.

…

You wake with a struggle, the bright light of the setting sun streaming in through the window shining directly on your face. You try to move your hand to block it, but you can’t. There’s something pinning your hand to the mattress (mattress? Weren’t you just being carried like twenty seconds ago?) and keeping it from rising. You push yourself up- or attempt to before a sharp white pain shoots through your abdomen, causing you to cry out and try to curl up into a ball to block as much of your surroundings off as possible. There’s a flash of bright red in your peripheral as Sidon’s head snaps up, his sleepy expression vanishing when he sees you in pain. 

“Ah- take it easy! The healer said you would be quite exhausted and sore when you woke.” Sidon pressed a gentle hand to your shoulder, guiding you to lean back against the bed and relax. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding when you saw his kind eyes looking into yours.

“...How long..?” You asked, voice hoarse and quiet. “You’ve been asleep for a couple of hours, my love. You were right- the wounds aren’t drastic, but the lack of rest has also taken a toll on your body, and isn’t supplying the strength it needs to heal.” Sidon ponders for a moment, then addresses you again. “How many nights have you gone without rest or proper food while away?”

You look away, feeling a scolding build in his tone. You shrugged and he sighed, bringing his hand to hold one of yours. You are completely dwarfed by him. 

“You need to take care of yourself. If not for yourself, then for me!” he exclaimed, causing you to look back up at him. “I admire your work, I truly do, but sometimes when you go out beyond my reach I cannot help but pray you won’t return with nothing more than a scrape- and even that is enough to worry me!” He looks to your hands in his, stroking a thumb along your palm as his shoulders slowly lost their tension. “I love you, ever so, and it burns me to see you like this. Any of the greatest warriors would crumple to their feet if they neglected their basic needs.” He brought a hand to cup your cheek and you leaned into it. “So please, just try to look after yourself when you’re out there. And when you’re here, when you’re home, I can take care of you! It’s the least I can do for our fearless protector.” He threw in a cheeky grin to lighten the mood a bit, showcasing a few pointed teeth. You giggled softly, then nodded. 

“Alright, fine. If you insist, my prince.”

That night, and for many nights after that, Sidon pampered you like no tomorrow. He personally dressed and rebandaged your cuts and bruises, pressing small kisses atop them when he finished, he would learn some of your favorite recipes and attempt to cook them for you before handing them off to one of the chefs nearby, and he would even draw baths for you and made sure you were always clean and warm. He would take you to the hot springs and bring you to open markets- whatever it was that would help you regain your strength, it was done. And you did it together, hand in hand and smiles on your faces.

When your next task arose he packed an extra bag and clipped it to your horse’s saddle. If was full of fruits and an extra waterskin and even another flint-match set to light your fires. You smiled as you thought of him and for once, set up a decent camp and got some sleep.

[underbardk]

The Bronze Bird Terrace Tile Inkstone of the Matsumae Domain

It’s not everyday that I come across a historical tidbit that manages to connect several areas of my interest. The Matsumae clan based in southern Hokkaido, in charge of the northernmost domain of Japan until the modern period, claims to possess an inkstone made from a roof tile from Cao Cao’s Bronze Bird Terrace in Ye.

According to the Bunmei 17 (1485) entry of the Fukuyama Hifu (1780), the official clan documents of the Matsumae clan:

In this year, the northern barbarians presented an inkstone made from a roof tile. This is a tile from the Bronze Bird Terrace built by Cao Mengde [Cao Cao] of Eastern Han. Later people inscribed seal script on the inkstone, the words which say: “The Providence of Heaven grants me with this disc of Cao. The time was Qingming when it presented itself to man. This ceramic disc is of considerable antiquity and quality, and I write to tell of its provenance.“

On its underside are the five characters “Jian’an Year 15 [210 CE]“. From then to An’ei 9 (1780) now in Japan is 1570 years. The Register of Inkstones says Bronze Bird Tiles often came from the Bronze Bird Terrace, then chiseled into inkstones. The antiquity of such artifact is evident. The inkstone is now stored in the treasure vault.

And sure enough, the Matsumae Castle has the inkstone on display:

(Image source)

Seeing this, two questions naturally arise:

“Is this real?“ and “How did it get here?“

Inkstones of the Terrace

The Bronze Bird Terrace, or Tongquetai, is an iconic structure in Cao Cao’s base city Ye built in 210, the 15th year of the Jian’an era. Ever since Cao Cao invited his sons Cao Pi and Cao Zhi to write poetry atop the terrace, the place has been surrounded by a poetic tradition that far outlived the physical destruction of the city in 580, such that the words Bronze Bird themselves would immediately evoke in the minds of the literati images of Wei’s former glory, of the women continually condemned to perform for the dead, of the impermanence of human life, and of the rise and fall of dynasties.

Writers and poets began to collect memorabilia of the Bronze Bird Terrace by the Tang dynasty. They would go to the ruins of Ye to look for roof tiles and carve them into inkstones where they can grind inksticks and dip their brushes. The inkstones made from the Bronze Bird Terrace tiles were apparently “quite well made“ and can “hold water without drying up for days” according to a Song dynasty guide to writing implements. It also describes what sets these inkstones from others:

In the past, when the terrace was being built, the tiles were made by pottery workers who would filter the clay with fine linen and then add walnut oil to it before firing; therefore they were different from ordinary pottery tiles.

Su Yijian (958-97), The Four Lineages of the Study (trans. by Tian Xiaofei)

The Southern Tang minister Xu Xuan tested it out to his amusement:

As soon as water was poured in, it infiltrated the inkstones; however much water was poured into them, they were dried out right away, and the wet surface made a sort of sucking sound. Xuan said with a chuckle: “Ain’t the Bronze Bird thirsty!” In the end the inkstones could not be used; they were no different from any ordinary broken tile and brick.

Yang Yi (974-1020), Yang Wengong tanyuan (trans. by Tian Xiaofei)

Regardless of their utility (or lack thereof), the allure of “owning a piece of history“ was attractive enough that the demand created a market for fake Bronze Bird Tiles:

The authentic ancient tiles from Xiangzhou [Ye] are decayed and useless. The world merely values their name. People nowadays purify the clay and then mold it in the shape of the ancient tile and bury it underground. After a long time they [dig it out again and] make it into an inkstone.

Ouyang Xiu (1007-1072), Lineages of Inkstones (trans. by Tian Xiaofei)

Some locals would fake such inkstones in the shape of ancient tiles, and have sold a great many of them.

Su Yijian (958-97), The Four Lineages of the Study (trans. by Tian Xiaofei)

It would seem that the Bronze Bird Terrace tiles commonly found were mostly fakes, since authentic tiles from the Wei period would likely have been disintegrated in the centuries, not least because the whole city had been razed. Even if an intact tile was found, there is no guarantee that it came from Cao Wei since the pavilions atop the terraces had been remodeled and rebuilt several times, including during the Later Zhao in 337 and the Northern Qi in 558. This is why a fake tile would have to include obvious features that would link it to Cao Cao’s time, such as a year number, despite there being no indication that Cao Cao required the tiles to his buildings to have year numbers (though the practice exists in Chinese buildings like the Great Wall, where bricks would be marked with the date of their production and the name of the supervisor in charge).

Ultimately, unless proven otherwise by techniques like carbon dating, it is most likely that the Matsumae inkstone did not originate from Cao Cao’s Bronze Bird Terrace.

Mass-produced Appraisals by a Thirteen-year-old

The description in the Fukuyama Hifu does not fully transcribe the words on the Matsumae inkstone. It leaves out some details, including the following words on the bottom which gives some clues on its true origins:

Gotten from the depths of the Zhang River bank for 39 copper coins. Calligraphy added for the amusement of the cultured and aficionados of antiquity. Appraised by Dixian on Chongjiu day, Xinwei year of the Hongwu reign (October 7, 1391)

There is a tradition of literati adding words onto artifacts, works of art, and natural landforms. But instead of adding his name onto an ancient artifact, in this case Dixian seems to be trying to add value to a piece of clay dug out of the ground sold on the market. Dixian (翟仙) may be a variant of Quxian (臞仙), the courtesy name of the Ming dynasty Prince of Ning Zhu Quan, a man of literary pursuits. However, Zhu Quan was only 13 years old in 1391. If the identification is correct, one must question the value of the appraisal or if someone else was using his name to add value to the tile.

In fact, the Matsumae inkstone isn’t the only tile to bear this inscription of Dixian’s appraisal on October 7, 1391. Similar Bronze Bird Terrace Tile Inkstones with this exact inscription (including the price of 39 copper coins) show up in museums in China, Taiwan, and even Japan (and some ended up on auction sites), suggesting that these inkstones may have been mass-produced in the early Ming dynasty. So the Matsumae inkstone is not unique in this regard. What is unique is the way the inkstone reached Matsumae.

The Bronze Bird Flies Northeast

The Fukuyama Hifu says the inkstone came via “northern barbarians“, which means the Ainu in this case. The later source Matsumae Kaki (1878) elaborates that the “barbarian chiefs from Karato presented the Bronze Bird Terrace Tile Inkstone“, where Karato (Karafuto) is the Japanese name for the island of Sakhalin. If this is true, then it means that the inkstone began its journey from China around 1391, went northeast to Manchuria, crossed the Tatar Strait to Sakhalin, then went south from there to Hokkaido where it reached Japanese hands on the southern shores in 1485.

The Ainu’s role in the inkstone’s transmission is interesting, since the Ainu wasn’t known for their appreciation for Chinese literary culture. On the other hand, foreign goods were often emblems of Ainu wealth and prestige, which makes it plausible as a item they would present to the Japanese regardless of whether they recognized the alleged history attached to the inkstone. It is not entirely clear how the Ainu came across the inkstone. It could have been bestowed by the Ming court to the Tungisic peoples of the Amur Estuary as part of the so-called tributary trade in return for local goods (though Ming records show no evidence of inkstones being given), and from there ended up in the hands of the Ainu as part of a regional trade connecting Sakhalin, Hokkaido, Manchuria, and Kamchatka. Otherwise, they could have taken it from Manchuria, as the Sakhalin Ainu were in the habit of crossing into Manchuria when the sea ice froze over. In this scenario, the inkstone would be part of the stationery set of a Ming scholar-official sent on business to Manchuria, likely the headquarters in Nurgan (today Tyr, Russia); and somehow got left behind when the Ming abandoned the area after the Tumu Crisis of 1449, only to be picked up by the Ainu or one of the indigenous groups in the Amur Estuary.

The retreat of the Ming from the Amur Basin had a ripple effect on Ainu-Japanese relations. According to the Hokkaido researcher Kazuyuki Nakamura, the Ainu depended on trade for metal products, and as the Chinese left the area they had to look to Japan. Increasing contact and trade disputes were a contributing factor to Koshamain's War of 1457, where Takeda Nobuhiro, ancestor of the Matsumae clan, made a name for himself defending the Japanese outposts in southern Hokkaido from the Ainu. In 1475, Ainu chieftains from as far as Sakhalin presented tribute to Nobuhiro as a sign of nominal submission. One would imagine that the inkstone ended up in Matsumae through similar efforts.

Map of relevant locations

Engagement with the North

Interestingly, there is another record of how the inkstone reached Matsumae, which has nothing to do with the Ainu at all. According to the Toukai Santan written by shogunal inspectors on tour to Matsumae in 1806, their hosts explained the inkstone as part of a dowry given to the Matsumae by the court aristocrat class (kuge) in Kyoto. If this is the case, the inkstone would have entered Japan through the usual Ming-Japan trade routes by sea. The Matsumae had close marriage ties to the kuge, so there were ample opportunities for the inkstone to be included in a dowry to the Matsumae.

On the surface, this explanation sounds more plausible than the Ainu route, but researcher Yasushi Kubo casts doubt on this simpler explanation. The Matsumae hosts had reason to lie to the shogunal inspectors, considering this was the time when Russia began to encroach upon Japan’s northern borders, and the shogunate was sensitive about where Matsumae stood. (There was a misunderstanding in 1799 where oversensitive shogunate inspectors saw a plaque on a shrine that read 降福孔夷 and interpreted it as “Fortune to the red barbarians”, when in fact it was a line from the Classic of Poetry that means “greatly blessed by fortune”. If not for the Confucian scholars in Edo, Matsumae domain would have been abolished then and there.) According to Kubo, the Matsumae had to play down their ties to the north to not rouse suspicion, so instead they made up an excuse for the inkstone that emphasizes Matsumae’s ties to central government. Otherwise, it would be difficult to explain why the earlier Fukuyama Hifu did not have the dowry story and instead has a less plausible-sounding origin story involving the Ainu. After all, Fukuyama Hifu was written by the well-learned Matsumae samurai Matsumae Hironaga, and it is hard to imagine that he would be unaware of the kuge dowry or had any reason to conceal it.

Remarks

Of course, there is the possibility that both routes described above are made up, since both descriptions are published hundreds of years after the purported event. The earliest independent eye-witness account of the inkstone being physically in Matsumae possession is an appraisal dated 1669, close to two centuries after 1485.

The Matsumae Castle Museum supplements the inkstone with a 1594 document stating that a Nakarai Shunran went to Ming China in the Zhengde era (1506-21) to learn medicine and returned to Japan with a Bronze Bird Terrace Tile Inkstone, gifted to him by his Chinese teacher. However, I wasn’t able to find out whether this is the same inkstone (as there is a number of such inkstones in Japan), or if Nakarai Shunran went to Hokkaido.

Regardless of how the inkstone came to Matsumae, it remained there as heirloom until it was sold off around 1922. For most of the 20th century it was considered missing until it was rediscovered in 2007. While not the finest specimen of a Bronze Bird Terrace Tile Inkstone - and most likely not from Cao Cao’s time - the Matsumae inkstone is nonetheless special for all the roles it might have played throughout its journey from China to Japan. From stationery to plaything to merchandise to emblem of prestige, the inkstone now rests as an exhibit in a display case in the Matsumae Castle Museum.

Selected sources

Kubo Yasushi [久保 泰] (2008), 松前家の家宝「銅雀台瓦硯」について

Nakamura Kazuyuki [中村 和之] (2008), アイヌの北方交易とアイヌ文化 : 銅雀台瓦硯の再発見をめぐって

Tian Xiaofei (2018), The Halberd at Red Cliff: Jian'an and the Three Kingdoms 　　

[steves-on-a-plane]

On The Fourth of July

On The Fourth of July Words: 1818 Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader Summary: Being an Avenger isn’t easy. There are a lot of bad days with tough calls. So Reader does their best to make sure every Avenger’s birthday is special. Captain Steve Rogers doesn’t much care for birthday celebrations, so Reader along with some help from Bucky and Tony plan a low key birthday for the Star Spangled Man. 

Birthdays were your thing. Tony had fancy gadgets. Peter and Scott had sarcasm and comedic timing. You had birthdays. Well, technically you only had one birthday a year, but celebrating birthdays was important to you. You kept a calendar with everyone’s birthdays on it and it was updated with every new recruit. You always tried to plan events catered to what each member of the team would want. Your birthday parties were loved, revered even! Loved by everyone except a certain Captain that is.

Steve was the one of the few Avengers who didn’t want you to make a big deal about his birthday. You couldn’t imagine why, he looked incredible for a guy who was over a hundred. Unfortunately for him, he also shared a birthday with the country. Yes, the Captain America’s birthday is on the fourth of July. That typically meant that whether he wanted to or not there was always a big July fourth bash of some kind.

This year, you decided to try and throw Steve a metaphorical bone and give him a year off. You enlisted the help of the party king himself, Tony Stark. While Tony threw his usual grand backyard barbeque at Clint’s house for the rest of the team, you and Bucky would spend the day with Steve celebrating his birthday in the low key way he always wanted to. The morning of the big day, you knocked on the Captain’s dorm room door.

“Don’t worry, [Y/N],” Steve laughed as he answered the door. “I’m not trying to skip out on my own birthday party. I’ll be ready to go in a few minutes.”

“Actually, this year you are. There will be no Independence Day soiree for us, Steve.” You explained. “We’re starting the day with one of your favorite activities, running! So put your gym clothes on and meet me at the track!”

You jogged in place outside, waiting for Steve and Bucky to join you. The early morning sun was already shining down and sweat was creeping down your brow. You hated running and so did Bucky, but Steve always insisted it was the best way to start the day, so starting the day with a run was what you were going to do. You heard the sound of laughter in the distance as the two old friends approached you. They ambled over to the track from the main building of the compound. You stopped jogging when they got close to you.

“[Y/N], promise me on my birthday, no running, please?” Bucky whined when he stood near you.

“Sergeant Barnes, have you ever had a bad birthday with me?” You huffed. Bucky didn’t answer you. “That’s what I thought!” You exclaimed. “Now, Steve’s the birthday man so he’s number one.” You pointed to the large “1” marked in chalk paint on the track. You motioned for the Bucky to stand in the second line and you occupied the third. “Okay boys, five laps around the track and then we’ll move on to the next activity.”

Naturally you finished the run in last place. Your leg muscles though powerful, were no match for two super soldiers. After the run, you led them to the Avengers’ obstacle course. A route that featured a rope ladder, an incline wall, monkey bars, and several other elements.

“Okay, the first one through the course gets to pick the movie.” You announced.

“Movie?” Bucky sound relieved. “So not all of Rogers’ birthday is going to physical challenges?”

“I’m going to beat you both if you keep standing there like that!” You announced grabbing for the rope attached to the incline wall. Again, the chances of you beating Bucky or Steve in the course were pretty low, but you brought a competitive side out of the pair. You noticed that they both had more fun when they were trying to outdo each other at something.

Steve beat the course with his personal best time, and in the end, he got to choose the movie. The three of you dispersed to shower and change into more comfortable clothes. In honor of Steve, and Independence Day, you put on a pair of leggings with silver stars printed over a blue background and a red and white stripped t-shirt. The T-shirt even had a little blue pocket with silver stars on it. While you waited for Steve to choose a movie, you had Bucky help you lay out all the snacks for the movie night.

There were tiny cheeseburger sliders and pigs in a blanket on one tray. A bowl of popcorn coated in red, white and blue caramel sat next to a slightly smaller bowl of patriotically colored M&Ms. You had arranged a platter of strawberries, blueberries and coconut slices to form an American flag as best you could. The last snack was a boxes of July 4th themed Hostess cupcakes that the company had marketed as “Star Spangled Cupcakes.” You knew you had to buy them when you saw them in the store.

“So,” You stood back from the coffee table and proudly admired the little buffet you’d put together. You grabbed a cola out of the mini fridge that Tony always kept stocked with drinks and looked up at the birthday man.  “What are we watching?” You asked before flopping down onto the couch. You pulled back the tab on the cola can, causing it to hisss.

“I thought maybe this might be appropriate?” Steve held up a DVD for you and Bucky’s approval.

“Independence Day.” You nodded with approval. “Very appropriate.” So Steve put the DVD in and started the movie.

“Ah, a movie about an unlikely group of heroes stopping an alien invasion?” Bucky laughed. “Why on earth would you want to watch that?” Bucky grabbed a cheeseburger slider and took a bite before sitting on the opposite end of the couch. As the movie began, Steve took the remaining seat in the middle of the couch.

“It’s not a movie without popcorn.” He announced. He reached out and took the bowl of popcorn and sat it in his lap. “Generally, I prefer buttered, but caramel is good too. This is cute!” Steve scooped a handful of popcorn and popped it into his mouth.

“We will not go quietly into the night!” Bucky and Steve shouted along with Bill Pullman when it came time for the president’s speech during the movie. “We will not vanish without a fight! We’re going to live on! We’re going to survive! Today we celebrate our Independence Day!”

“How many times have you two seen this movie?” You asked reaching for some of Steve’s popcorn.

“A few times.” They both answered without looking away from the screen.

“[Y/N], it’s my birthday!” Steve gasped tugging the popcorn away from you.

“So, I can’t have any of the popcorn that I made?” You laughed reaching for it again.

“Age over beauty, [Y/N].” The captain shrugged, teasing you. He ate another handful of popcorn.

“C’mon Steve! I want some popcorn!” You reached for the bowl again, but Steve was quicker. He pulled the bowl sending some popcorn flying.

“Will you two knock it off?” Bucky huffed as he picked a piece of popcorn off his lap and popped it in his mouth. “I’m trying to watch this.”

“It’s almost over anyway, Buck.” Steve laughed at him and tossed more popcorn at his best friend.

“Steve Rogers, you’re a bully.” You announced childishly. You crossed your arms over your chest and sulked.

“Alright, alright,” Steve sighed, and you knew you’d made him feel guilty. He held the bowl out to you. You eyed the popcorn skeptically for a minute, afraid he’d pull it away from you at the last second. You tentatively reached into the bowl and successfully pulled out a sticky handful.

“Can we watch National Treasure next?” Bucky asked, now that you finally got the sweet taste of caramel popcorn in your mouth.

“Well, it’s Steve’s birthday.” You commented, stealing another handful of the nearly empty bowl of popcorn. Steve looked down at the bowl in his hands.

“I think we’re going to need more popcorn if we watch another movie.” He decided. “[Y/N], how about we go make some more while Bucky start’s the next movie.”

“Okay.” You nodded. “But only if you’re going to share some this time.”

In the kitchen, Steve placed the popcorn bowl on the counter and you searched the cupboards trying to remember which one you’d found the microwave popcorn in earlier.

“You know, [Y/N],” Steve said leaning against the counter island. “This has been one of the best birthdays I’ve had in a while. Not that I don’t appreciate all the hard work you do every year, but I really appreciate you taking the time to plan a whole day around my favorite activities. I just wish I had some way to thank you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to thank me, Steve!” You assured him, turning to face him. “Just knowing that I made you happy is thanks enough. I’m glad you’re enjoying your day.”

“You make me happy every time you’re around me, [Y/N].” Steve confessed quietly.

“Oh.” You didn’t know what else to say.

“The truth is I’ve imagined us having movie nights together before, but when I do, Bucky’s not usually the third wheel if you know what I mean.” Steve looked down at his shoes. In a second he was that skinny, dorky, little kid from Brooklyn again. He seemed to hold his breath as he waited for you to say something.

“Oh.” You said again. You felt like your brain was running on a slower processor than normal. Surely Steve couldn’t have possibly been implying what you thought he was implying. He couldn’t have feelings for you?

Then it felt like everything was catching up with you all at once. Why wouldn’t he have feelings for you? You were badass. But you were more than that. You were an Avenger. You as kind and caring as you were brave and strong. You were cool and most importantly, you’d been in love with Steve Rogers since you’d first met.

“Sorry!” You apologized, once the world stopped feeling like it had been happening in slow motion. “I meant, I would like that very much. For you and I to have a movie night sometime just the two of us. Maybe with a dinner even?”

“Yeah?” Steve looked up from the ground. “Dinner? Dinner’s great.” He nodded.

“Then it’s a date.” You smiled. “While we’re alone, I can at least offer you a birthday kiss.” You stepped closer to him.

“A birthday kiss would be swell.”  Steve smirked stepping closer to you. He wrapped you in his arms and snaked your own along his midsection. You tilted your head upwards and Steve bent his down low. When your lips connected, it was better than fireworks on the fourth of July.

[jj-lives]

Treasure Inktober Bmblb

Blake wasn’t sure if her mother actually loved scavenger hunts or if it was the nostalgia of them that she was going for. Blake could think of plenty of activities they could have been doing but the island’s amusement park scavenger hunt would not have been one of them. Ever the competitor, her father had suggested they race to the treasure. It was childish and oh-so-endearing how he accepted Yang so readily into their little family. Yang took the challenge without even asking for Blake’s input in the matter.

It’s how she found herself being dragged through the enormous path of the park, up and down hills, around giant rocks and jumping rock-to-rock over one of the many river’s running towards the ocean. Yang was determined to prove her worth. Blake thought it adorable that she believed a plastic piece of gold —which she was sure still rested at the end of clues— would win her some points with her dad. The fact he challenged her to such a silly game already spoke of his approval.

But Yang didn’t know him like Blake did, so she remained oblivious.

Yang was pulling her around a bend in the path when she halted suddenly. It took Blake by such surprise she crashed into Yang’s back before she could react.

“What-“

“It’s gorgeous.”

The reverence in her voice caused Blake to follow her gaze. They were glued to a break in the trees. Blake’s eyes grew nearly as wide as Yang’s. She hadn’t noticed they’d climbed so high. The space was railed off and looked out at the island below. The drop was quite drastic so Blake knew they had to have come up the other side. Cliffs jutted out dangerously interspersed with the green canopies of trees below. Further in the distance the ocean sparkled as the sun’s rays danced off its undulating waves.

Mission temporarily forgotten Yang pulled Blake close so they could enjoy the view together. Blake basked once again in how happy she was to have Yang here. How giddy it made her to show her around where she grew up and that she fit in so well with her family. Clutching Yang’s hand she couldn’t help but grip it tighter.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” Blake’s voice rose, confused at the sudden break in silence.

“Squeeze my hand exactly three times.”

If she did it was accidental. She hadn’t made a conscious effort this time to do it, but she had to admit it was becoming almost second nature at this point. It seemed after months of being in the dark Yang finally needed to know.

“Mmm,” Blake smiled softly to herself, leaning into Yang’s shoulder once again. “It was the day you came and rescued me from my apartment fire.”

“I picked you up.” Yang snorted. “Don’t make it sound like I ran into a burning building.”

“You would have, though. Would you not?”

Yang’s silence was confirmation enough. Of course, if Blake was in a building burning to the ground, Blake was sure there would be no one strong enough to hold her back or stop her from entering that building.

“And, watching you fret and worry over me that night… I think I realized what lengths you would go to. You would do anything for me; to keep me safe.”

“I love you.”

“Hmmm, yes. I know.” Blake’s hold on her arm tightened. “But you hadn’t said those words at the time. That night I saw it. I didn’t need you to say it. I could see it... I felt it.”  

She squeezed Yang’s hand firmly. “I...” another firm squeeze, “love…” on the third squeeze Blake smiled up at Yang. “You.”

Pulling away Yang looked incredulous down at their intertwined fingers. The wheels, almost visibly turning, as they remembered each time Blake had performed the same action. Every night before they slept, nearly every time they parted and the numerous other small moments. All the way back to the night of the fire, months before they’d said it out loud.

“All this time you’d been telling me you love me?”

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you say it?”

“At first,” Blake took a deep breath of ocean air, letting the warm wind caress both of their heat slicked skin. “I wasn’t allowed to voice it when I first realized what I felt, because of the smoke I inhaled that night. So it was a way to get it out, to tell you without verbalizing it. I continued it even after because I enjoyed being able to tell you I loved you without the pressure of wondering how you would react.” She traced the lines of Yang’s palm contemplating her next confession. “I think I liked having the ability to say it anytime I wanted and I found it amusing you hadn’t yet asked what it meant.”

“Uh huh, you were being a tease.”

“What?! I am not a tease.” Her nose scrunched and wrinkles formed over its bridge as if she’d bit into a lemon, sour taste on her tongue.

“Withholding telling me you loved me for your own entertainment. Is that not teasing?”

Yang wasn’t upset. Her tone held a familiar playfulness, she seemed actually quite amused to learn the truth. The gesture had been a part of her daily life for months now and she never would have thought a love confession was what started it.

“Okay, maybe I was teasing a little. I made a kind of game of it, sometimes seeing how many times I could do it in a day to see if you would ask.”

“You didn’t?”

“I did,” Blake laughed freely. And the way Yang lit up at the simple sound of her amusement made her feel so special.

“Do I even want to know?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Liar!” Yang accused.

“I am not a liar,” was her indignant response. “Take that back right now.” Blake pushed her with her elbow strong enough Yang needed to shuffle her feet to catch her balance. Relaxing again they turned their attention to the view. “We’re supposed to be finding the treasure.” Blake’s quiet voice eventually broke the silence. She sighed an apology obviously not wanting to break the peaceful moment.

“I already found it.” Yang whispered into Blake’s ear as if sharing the most important secret.

Blake preemptively rolled her eyes knowing Yang was up to something. “You haven’t.”

“You need to reduce the amount of time you spend with Weiss. Soon your eyes will be permanently rolled to the back of your skull.”

Blake snorted. “And how do you suggest I do that once all of us are living in the same apartment?”

Yang started down the path and Blake was quick to keep step with her.

“Ack, well that’s an easy one.” Her smile, wide and full of cunning. “I just won’t let that happen.”

Yang was pulled to a stop when Blake’s body froze on the gravel beneath her feet. Blake studied her with her amber eyes, scrutinizing her like she did one of the mystery books she sometimes read. Yang parted her lips, to question her sudden silence, but Blake keeled over laughing harder than she could remember in a long time. She really didn’t know. She reached to grasp the branch of a tree beside her for support as she drew in great gasps of air in between her deep bellied laughs.

“Y-you really d-don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?” Yang laughed, caught up in Blake’s high.

Blake wiped the moisture from her eyes and focused on her breathing. When she stopped falling back into giggles she surprised Yang by placing a quick kiss to her cheek.

“It’s cute you haven’t noticed.” Intertwining their fingers she pulled Yang along the path.

“Notice what?”

“That Weiss is all but moved in already.”

Yang scoffed, obviously not believing her. But again the wheels turned and Blake could almost hear each internal argument she was having. She would have noticed if Weiss moved in. Of course she was there a lot… like all the time, but her and Ruby were dating. It only made sense they spent a lot of time together. Their apartment just made more sense to be at than Weiss’. It was bigger and now housed the third party of their trio of friends. The toothbrush in the bathroom marked by her name was only there as sometimes date nights or study sessions ran long and it was only smart to stay over on those nights rather than drive home tired. The fridge held an entire shelf of Weiss’ weird fancy food Yang couldn’t even begin to name if she tried, but that was just Ruby being a good girlfriend. Blake knew Yang made sure to have some of Blake’s favourite snacks on hand before she’d moved in. And yes, the clothing hamper from Ruby’s room did come into the wash twice as often now and three quarters of it weren’t her sister’s clothes, but that didn’t-

“Shit.”

Blake gripped Yang’s hand tightly with both of her own. “There, there, it’ll be okay.”

“How could I not have noticed?” Yang struggled to wheeze the words passed her deflating lungs. “She’s there all the time.”

“She makes Ruby happy. Remember that.”

“Ugh, who did you meet first, Ruby or Weiss?”

“Well…” Blake was taken aback at the sudden change of subject. “Weiss and I were paired up in my Business class and one day she dragged me along to meet Ruby as we had to work on our project.”

“You know,” Yang’s tone dropped menacingly. “You make it very hard for me to despise that girl, right?”

“Because she makes Ruby happy?”

“And she’s the reason we met. It’s not fair.”

“Poor baby,” Blake cooed, knowing Yang didn’t really hate Weiss. She just liked stirring up drama sometimes. “Do you want me to kiss it better?”

“Yes please.”

Blake giggled at Yang’s exaggerated protruding lower lip. Yang pointed to her pout.

“Is that where it hurts?” Yang nodded and Blake leaned in. The moment their lips met Blake could feel Yang’s mouth lift into a smile. When she pulled back Yang was giving her the most adorable endearing look… like she was the most precious thing on earth. “You are such a goof. We really should be going. We-“ pausing she realized Yang had mentioned finding what they were looking for. “You said you found the treasure?”

“Mhmm, and she’s right here.” Blake was spun back into Yang’s arm as she kissed her again. They separated only with their need to breathe but Yang held her tight lest she try to put any distance between them. She still wore that ridiculous grin. The lilac of her eyes softened, as they always did when they looked at her. “The only treasure I’ll ever need was the one thing I hadn’t even been searching for.”

“Well,” Blake swallowed passed the heavy feeling in her chest. “Maybe the treasure was the one looking for you.”

“That would make me a very poor pirate.” Yang kissed her again and with the way she was looking at her the softness and honesty in her voice Blake couldn’t help but fall over and over again for her. She wondered if she’d ever stop falling. She hoped not.

“I wouldn't like you in an eyepatch anyway.” Blake whispered, their breath still mingling. She realized she was still holding Yang’s hand, imprisoned now between their bodies. She tightened her hold, once, twice, three times.

“I love you, too.” Yang returned the squeezes with her words and Blake’s heart soared. She would miss the secrecy the action held but knowing Yang could now reciprocate filled her with joy.