#if only we could still outright lie on our resumes so easily

[swept-away-sands]

Black Sails I: "A YOUNG SAILOR enters."

COOK: Oh, so you're a coward then?

JOHN SILVER YOUNG SAILOR: Yeah. You too?

Item the first: Where do I begin with John Silver? Actually, let's start from a different angle. John Silver begins Here, no sooner and no later than he sees The Opportunity (though he does not know the Narrative has chosen him just yet, nor that aligning his fiscal goals with those of Captain Flint will irrevocably alter the course of his life) and he takes it.

My first impression of John Silver is that he was a cheeky bastard an impish scoundrel who was possessed of the bad habit of biting off more than he could chew and just enough strategic/ballsy charm to walk away relatively unscathed. I was drawn in by the fact that he was equipped with a dashing smile, at least before, you know, everything that followed, but you could tell behind his big blue eyes that he was playing some sort of 4D Chess.

I would like to credit the writers, showrunners, and actor man Luke Arnold for unfolding this character like a map with only half a key. He intrigues me, he infuriates me, I hate him forever, I love and forgive him implicitly, I cringe when he makes me think of myself. That rare sense of unbalance and discomfort brought on by a story is something I will treasure and hope to even come close to brushing against again. There is a John Silver imprint on my heart, thanks to this story, my own personal Black Spot.

[chews-erotically]

Waxing Gibbous 

Pairing: Ezra + femNurse! Reader

Rating: Hard M / 18+ ONLY

       * Warnings: Angst/ mentions of childhood trauma/ mention of domestic abuse, violence/ killing both in- and unintentional/ SMUT/ hand job/ fingering/ mentions of partner-sharing, threesomes/ PTSD/ nightmares

      * Summary: Confessions of sin and of desires.

      * Word Count: ~2200

*Part ONE* *Part TWO* *Part THREE* *Part FOUR* *Part FIVE**Part SIX*        *Part SEVEN*  *Part EIGHT*  *Part NINE*  *Part TEN*  *Part ELEVEN*  *Part TWELVE*

 PART THIRTEEN

    The weather on Central turned cool as the months stretched on. You’d realized after the bar that you had perhaps pushed too far, too soon. You’d both retreated back to the sanctuary of your home to regroup. The insidious nightmares continued for you, though nowhere near the level of intensity of the first. You continued to sleep with the lights on, limbs entangled with Ezra’s. You held on to one another, fingers drifting over pulse points, entwining fingers and legs. Two halves of some damaged whole.

    You’d found some solace in cooking. You had gone so long without anything more than the nutritionally dense, yet bland and uninspired nutribars and ration packs that you were desperate to experiment. It was slow going at first, but Ezra was far from selective with what he’d eat. He devoured everything you put in front of him, even burnt and strangely seasoned. He offered profuse compliments that expounded upon his good fortune in having found someone so willing to graciously cook for him. It always made you snort, but you appreciated the fact that he was supportive.

    Ezra had begun writing an autobiography of sorts. You often heard his dictation well into the stretch of your afternoons, his voice animating into flights of vivid imagery and florid, expounding descriptions. He dictated, but he also typed, pecking with the pointer fingers of each hand. You knew that when he was typing he was not to be disturbed. He never said it outright, but you knew that he typed because he could not bring to life the horrors he’d both witnessed and committed, he could not convince himself to speak of things he’d done that would shake the foundations of a kinder man’s moral compass.

    You were not privy to those thoughts. You stayed away, you respected his need to keep that part of him tucked away. You knew it was his way of working through it, of processing the deeds that had led him to what seemed in the reaches of his mind to be an unearned reward. He would tell you in his own time, you did not press or push him as you knew better than most how fragile peace of mind could be. You would allow him any indulgence that may work to keep the dreams away.

    When Ezra had a nightmare, you were most often awoken by a keening whine between clenching teeth. He did not thrash as you did, rather he’d lie beside you as if paralyzed. You had to talk to him to bring him back, coaxing his rigid muscles to loosen with careful, even strokes of your palms across his limbs and torso. 

    “Come back to me, love. You’re not back there. You’re here with me.”

    He would reemerge from his fathomless depths gasping, and reach out to you, winding his limbs through yours as a thistle seeks to weave itself into the wind that caresses it.

    You moved your hand to his chest, felt the frantic pounding beneath his breast. Like a trapped bird desperate to escape. You smoothed your fingers across the expanse of his bare chest, his skin warm and alive, thrumming. Present. And then lower, rubbed against the soft curve of his belly as its panicked heaving incrementally slowed.

    Lower still to the soft curls beneath his navel. Your fingers wove through the hair, teasing the skin with your nails. Ezra huffed, eyes fluttering. He turned his head toward you, knocking his forehead against yours.

    “My Dove….the succubi had their talons hooked into my tattered soul once again, I’m afraid.”

    You leaned forward and kissed him softly. His hitching exhale made its home within your mouth.

    “Is there nothing I can do to take this away, Ezra? Nothing I can offer you that will soothe you?”

    Your finger dipped down, lightly tracing the curve of his half-hard cock. You felt it twitch, followed by Ezra’s sharp intake of breath.

    “The demons that consume the nether regions of my addled mind cannot be placated so easily, Dove. The things I have done, the wretched life I’ve lived would leave you without thought of staying. My greatest fear is your discovering the nefarious deeds of my past, of learning exactly who it is that you lie willingly next to in this bed.”

    “I know who I lie next to, Ezra. I lie next to a man who decided to trust me, who gave me my voice back and showed me that I am worthy of love. That will never change. No matter what sins you’ve committed, I can stop loving you no more than I can keep the moon from waxing and waning.” Your hand encircled his length, rubbing gently. You trailed kisses across his shoulder as he gasped. He reached a hand to cover yours, stilling your actions momentarily. He paused for what seemed an impossibly long beat, seeming to consider his next words to you.

    “When I was a child in Louisiana we were poor. Mama worked three jobs to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads. My father was a drunk, shiftless sonofabitch. He put his hands on Mama and on me and Isaiah like clockwork when his life did not go his way. It did not go his way often. One night, he was really workin’ Mama over something awful. Isaiah was out in the shed fiddlin’ with an old transistor we found earlier that day at the salvage yard. I was alone in the house and Father had his hands around Mama’s neck.

    “She was strugglin’ and kicking at his knees, wherever she could reach, but Father wouldn’t stop. When he maneuvered close enough to the root cellar I saw my chance. I ran and I screamed, as loud as I could, and I shoved up against Father with all of the force I could muster. A meager show, to be sure, but Father was well on his way to obliterated by that time. He was just unsteady enough on his feet to topple forward down the steps. I heard his neck snap like a twig and he was dead before he hit the dirt. Mama and I told Isaiah it was an accident. But the truth is, Dovie, I took a life for the first time when I was nine years old.”

    Your hand raised from his groin to cup his cheek, your throat constricting around the lump forming there.

    “You were just a little boy, Ezra, scared for his Mama. You were protecting her. He may have killed her that day, if not for you.”

    His eyes narrowed, his voice thick with emotion. “That day set my path. I knew that I was not fortunate. I hated that I didn’t have what others were so freely given. I was born under a bad star, under an awning of misfortune. I was determined from that day forward to do whatever it took to survive. Kill, maim, steal. I have sold my soul a million times over to ensure my own victory in all my ensuing endeavors.”

    When he paused to collect his thoughts further, your hand drifted back down to his groin. He was now fully erect, and you felt the precum beading at the tip of his cock. He was hot, unbelievably so, and his eyes squeezed shut with a low groan as you swept your thumb through the slick of his crown. His head tipped back into his pillow. He resumed his confessions with a straining voice.

    “Later on, when Isaiah and I began prospecting as a means of finding our fortunes, we often found ourselves on the wrong end of an underhanded deal. We were green, and we were easy marks. We were swindled, robbed and double-crossed more than I care to admit, Dove. It took me a fair amount of time to become just as ruthless as those who would venture to hoodwink myself and my partner. The first time I killed on a job, it was a woman who thought she could bewitch and seduce me. Isaiah had overheard her plans with her partner to satiate my carnal desires before making off with my haul in the dead of night. I saw the knife in her hand as she tried her best to take my cock down her throat. I wrested it from her and used it to penetrate her chest. The third intercostal space of the ribcage houses an anatomical landmark known as Erb’s Point. Her own weapon found its home at the apex of her heart, and she bled out summarily.”

    His breathing was becoming more shallow,  his exhales more explosive as you continued to stroke him as he spoke, reaching every so often lower still to cup and gently roll his balls, which were steadily drawing themselves up, tightening against his tensing body. He canted his hips up into the air as you worked him. He rasped out a stuttering groan and panted up into the ceiling before whipping his head toward you, turning his body onto its side in the bed beside yours.

    “You know by now….”

    (gasp)

    “Isaiah was stabbed and left to die in an alley. It was the work of that woman’s partner. While I…”

    (groan)

    “While a did heartily mourn the loss of my only sibling, I could not….Kevva, girl….I could not begrudge him his need for karmic justice.”

    You brought your palm to your mouth, licked a wide, lascivious stripe from the base of your palm to the tips of your fingers. Ezra’s hand found your hip and squeezed. His eyes were dark, lust-filled and far away. He was lost in his reverie while consumed with your ministrations.

    “Keep going, sweetheart,” you soothed to him, nipping at the junction of his neck and shoulder. “I’ll take it from you. Don’t hold it back..”

    He answered with a full-body shudder, teeth catching his lip. He swelled and twitched and leaked into your eager hand; you knew he was close. He canted his lips to the cusp of your ear, breath hitching, stirring the hair there like chaffs of wheat in summer wind.

    “I found...myself alone and so I was available to partner up with whomever I could find that I deemed beneficial on my various excursions. I...fuck, I….found myself attached to a most open arrangement related to a job I signed up for on the Pug. A married couple, male and female. They….they both took a shine to my proselytizing, indeed they each became in short order equally enamored with...other more physical aspects of my prowesssweetmother….”

    His canting hips began an erratic stutter as your hand squeezed and stroked and twisted around his turgid cock. Your own breath became thick and shallow, a pool of arousal collecting at your center that you soon felt drooling onto the flesh of your inner thighs. You nipped at his jawline as his eyes fluttered shut, eyebrows knit together, mouth open as he embraced the divine sensations you were giving him.

    “Ezra….” you moaned against him. “Ezra, did you fuck them? Tell me how you fucked them…”

    “Always….shit….always together. That was the agreement. His cock in my mouth, her mouth on my cock… oh my gods sweetheart I’m close….he’d eat her pussy while I fucked his tight ass….she...fuck meee...she loved a hard cock in her cunt and in her ass at the same tiiiimme…..oh Jesus Dove FUCK.”

    His hips thrust and stuttered, his balls drawn taut and tight as he spilled into your hand. He buried his face in your neck and moaned, whimpered, as his seed came forth hot and thick to paint your palm and fingers.

    When he finally stilled, you brought the mess he’d made to your lips and made a show of licking every finger before lapping at your palm to clean it thoroughly.

    Ezra’s fingers found themselves parting your soaked, swollen folds as you gasped against his mouth, your tongue licking in to caress his teeth, to tangle with the slick velvet of his own talented instrument.

    “I want that, Ezra,” you groaned against his hot mouth. “I want that with you...I want you to watch me while I lick a cunt. I want to gag on someone else’s cock for you. Perform for you. I want to watch you get fucked in that beautiful ass….” you keened as two of his fingers entered your twitching, weeping hole. Ezra watched your face, eyes wide and mouth open, as he processed the frantic, lust-soaked words that spilled from your lips unabashed in their filth.

    “Is that what you desire my love? To explore the whims of the Satyr, to share the pleasure of other willing bodies with one another?”

    “Fuck yes, Ezra…” you sobbed against his flexing bicep as his fingers and palm worked you toward your own rapid petit mort.

    “Kevva wept, Dove, then you shall have it.”

tag list:  @ifimayhaveaword, @rzrcrst, @absurdthirst, @cinewhore, @hopelikethesun, @yespolkadotkitty, @sin-djarin, @lackofhonor, @din-damn-djarin, @mrpascals, @theocatkov, @thefineandnobleartofavoidance, @hellojustheretolookatmeemees, @cyaredindjarin, @im-like-reallythirsty, @mstgsmy, @goldafterglow, @givemethatgold, @shaqbutt, @sirianisrock, @artemiseamoon, @thatreclusewriter, @scribbledghost, @f0rever15elf, @opheliaelysia, @qveenbvtch, @hdlynn, @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa, @spacegayofficial, @ezraslittlebirdie, @ezrasarm, @ezraslittleblondestreak, @tintinwrites, @kindablackenedsuperhero, @darthadeline, @alexisinorbit, @knittingqueen13, @lueurnotes, @xakilicious, @keeper0fthestars, @huliabitch, @di-kut, @zombieaurora, @corrupt-fvcker, @cryptkeepersoul, @teaofpeach, @thestreamergirl, @frannyzooey, @mndalorians, @sistasarah-sallysaidso, @autumnleaves1991-blog, @heatherbel, @the-feckless-wonder, @millllenniawrites, @revolution-starter, @melon-eyes 

[writernotwaiting]

Mis-Matched, part 2

(I told you I wouldn’t abandon this. It’s only been, what, a year? aaaarrrrgh!).

Title: Mis-Matched Rating: M (this is subject to change at the whim of the author’s muses) Characters: Loki, Sigyn, Frigga, Theoric, and various supporting OCs Description: This is an attempt to fill the propmt requested by @someillplanetreigns (and now I can’t even tag you!): “you asked for prompts and pairings - I would like to humbly beg for more Logyn? I don’t have a great prompt, but this odd thought is in my head about a way to make the comic plot about Theoric and the marriage into something about marriage by proxy? Maybe something like Loki has the duty of proxy-marrying Sigyn cos Theoric’s in the army, and totally plays everyone by going the whole hog and appearing as Theoric, but then Sigyn, who thought Theoric was dull as ditchwater and Loki is… well, y’know, Loki.” Chapter: 2 of 3 (hope!) Acknowledgements: thank you @icybluepenguin for serving as one of my favorite institgaors and sounding boards – you rock!

See Part 1 here and see both on Ao3 here

____________________________________________

          It’s done. I’m married. Signed. Sealed. Now awaiting delivery.

           Sigyn stood on the grand steps of her guardian’s house awaiting the carriage that would remove her from his condescending gaze forever, and into the midst of the Aesir court—one tiny victory in exchange for what could easily turn into a lifetime of defeats. She smiled tightly as Loki offered to help her into the cushioned interior of the carriage before he stepped back to salute her guardian and mount his horse.

           A week earlier, she’d almost ruined everything. Loki had been showing her some illusions—skillful fireworks. And though they were in an inner courtyard, they were alone—at least Sigyn had thought so. So on impulse Sigyn decided to show him some fire magic. Just a few things, a tiny fireball in the palm of her hand, flames on her fingertips. He was fascinated when he discovered that the flames weren’t illusory, that they threw real heat. She was about to bring up the fireball once more, when the voice of her guardian rang out, “Sigyn, there you are! I’ve been looking for you.”

           Sigyn froze in her tracks, quickly dousing the spell. “Herr Braggison! I apologize. What can I do for you?”

           “Come with me, girl, I need to talk to you about the packing.”

           That was a lie, and she knew it, but what could she do? Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, she curtsied quickly to Loki and followed her guardian into the house as he led her to his office. [read more cut below]

           As soon as the door shut he rounded on her. “What in all the nine realms do you think you’re doing, girl?”

           “Just making conversation with our guest,” she replied through gritted teeth. “You know, making him feel welcome, just like you told me to.”

           “Idiot! What did I say? No fire magic, ever!”

           “We were just trading spells. Anyone can do a simple flame spell.”

           “Not like that! No one summons fire like that—only you, only your kind. What do you think will happen if they find out?”

           She shifted her gaze to the window, eyes full of resentment, still clenching her teeth, so her voice was barely audible. “Banished.”

           “Exactly. No wedding. No bride price. No fancy house. Nothing. Both of us will be ruined, and as much as I know you would love to see me disgraced, I think the price is too heavy, even for you.” Iric stuck his index finger right in her face. “No more fire spells. Ever.”

           “Yes, sir.” She stayed in the little office for a good half hour after Iric stormed out, just breathing, working hard to get her temper back under control, before she ventured back out into the house proper. By then, Iric had distracted Loki with the promise of a ride through the grounds, so Sigyn was safe to bury herself in her room until supper. Iric was right, of course. She had been showing off and not thinking about the implications. Loki wasn’t stupid, and if her secret got out, she would no longer be welcome in Asgard. But that didn’t mean she made that admission with good grace.

           Now that the proxy wedding was over, and she settled in for the carriage ride to court, Sigyn scowled as the door latched shut.

I can ride a horse, guys! At least then I could talk to him. I hate this. I hate the marriage. I hate Theoric. I hate my guardian. I hate my father. I hate everything!And she flopped back into the soft seat with all the grace of a 14 year old.

           If no one can see me, I can pout all I want.

           And who could fault that logic?

           Not Loki.

           He would like nothing more than to crawl in the carriage and pout right along with her.

           Well, he’s pretty certain he would get to the pouting part, eventually. He would probably start with the comforting part first. Or maybe soothing distraction. Or just outright distraction. Perhaps active distraction. At any rate, Loki had to admit to himself that he was pretty darn distracted, dammit, as he rode next to the carriage and tried valiantly to keep looking forward with a straight face. Somewhere along the line he had lost the diplomat’s objectivity. His mother would be appalled.

How in the name of all that’s blessed did this happen?  

           After a second day spent in Sigyn’s company, Loki had decided that a real look at the contract was in order. His conversation with Frigga replayed in his imagination, “If the couple are pleased enough with the match to sign the contract, there is nothing to be done against it,” Frigga had said. But Sigyn did not seem pleased.

           In private, Sigyn’s laughter was quick, her smile bright, and her company sent something down his spine akin to warm water trickling into a pool. When Loki followed her out to her hiding places around Herr Braggison’s estate, they talked about books, favorite stories, even traded favorite spells—usually by blowing things up (little things, honest).  

           However, once in the house again, she shuttered everything. Her mouth transformed into a tight line or rigid smile, especially if her guardian appeared or Theoric’s name was mentioned.

           And so, of course, he had a professional duty to read the contract. Granted, this was only a temporary assignment until his wounds had finally healed enough to return to the fighting, but as an official representative of the court, he couldn’t permit a vulnerable member of society to be taken advantage of. Frigga would expect of him. His investigation was purely in the government’s interest. There had to be a loophole or a mistake somewhere that would free Sigyn from such a disadvantageous match.

He read it twice.

           Unfortunately, all he managed to discover was how thoroughly precise Sigyn’s guardian had been. Every legal contingency covered. Every stipulation specified. Every punctuation mark of her father’s wishes taken into account.

           He noticed only one particular omission: the distinct lack of the intended bride’s signature. Loki repeated this to himself like a mantra. Sigyn had never signed the negotiated contract. She hadn’t signed.

           “If the couple are pleased enough with the match to sign the contract, there is nothing to be done against it.”

           But Sigyn hadn’t signed.

           Well, in another two weeks Loki would be cleared to go back to the fighting himself, and then he could do a bit of reconnaissance on his own — a character study of the groom was in order. Perhaps he could locate his second loophole there. In the meanwhile, he would absolutely ensure Sigyn felt more than welcome at the palace.

           Perhaps he could serve as proxy at more than just the wedding. He smirked at the thought, then startled when his horse jostled him around a tree branch in the road.

           Idiot! Pay attention to what you’re doing.

           Loki, however, was nothing if not an opportunist.

           No one would criticize him if he chose to take a break from his horse and ride for a bit in the carriage. He was a prince, after all.

           Which is exactly what he did on the second day. They talked about books, about what life would be like at court, about the life Sigyn was leaving behind (though this seemed curiously edited, to Loki’s mind), and the shared little illusions. Loki found himself increasingly caught by the sparkle in her eyes when she became excited, by the way the light occasionally glinted off her riotous curls, by the tiny little scar by her eye that got swallowed in a dimple when she smiled. And he thought she might be caught, too, just a little bit—her gaze slow to leave his when they laughed together.

           But then her ease vanished again as soon as she sensed a change in the road, from rutted dirt, to smooth hard-packed earth, and then to gravel. Sigyn peered out the window at the large buildings that sprang up before them and her expression became shuttered and her shoulders tense. Loki tried to distract her by naming the more prominent ones, playing tour guide, but where her hands had animated with her interest before, her fists withdrew into a tight knot in her lap.

           “Are you alright, Sigyn?”

           “Yes, your highness,” with a smile obviously practiced, “everything’s fine. What were you saying about that building over there?” Here actions transformed from something nearly flirtatious to polished politeness.

           Loki paused before he resumed playing tour guide, doing his best to hide his own frustration and growing anger at the situation.

This is not right. Why is she going along with something that she obviously dreads. There is some piece I’m missing.

He took one risk, covering her hands with one of his own. He felt her flinch, before she briefly squeezed his fingers and pulled her hands away to hide them in her pockets. She flashed him a tight smile, but he could see the glitter in her eyes before she turned away to face the window.

           When they arrived at the palace, their first duty was to pay their respects to the queen. And after brief introductions, Frigga had one of her own attendants guide Sigyn to her room so she could rest a bit and change, “We’ll talk again over a light snack this evening. I’ll arrange for you to have supper on your own—I’m sure you’re exhausted after your travels.”

           “Thank you, your majesty,” Sigyn curtsied, “I would appreciate a little time to get settled.”

           “Gudren, help Sigyn navigate her way about, won’t you? The place can be a bit of a maze until you’re used to it.”

           After the women left, Loki started to leave as well, but Frigga caught his arm and dragged him back with a serious look. “Loki.”

           He looked at his mother, surprised at her sharp tone, “Mother?”

           “Don’t.”

           Again, he frowned. “What do you mean?”

           “I do have eyes, dearest, and you cannot hide That Look from me. She’s married. You need to stop looking at her like that.”

           Loki was all over innocence as he replied, “Like what?”

           “Loki!”

           He scrunched up his face in distaste, giving up the pretense. “She doesn’t want this. Everything she does screams it. And I can’t blame her. She’s smart, witty, highly educated. She’ll be miserable. There’s nothing about her that will appeal to Theoric and nothing about Theoric that would appeal to her.”

           “She signed the contract, Loki. We cannot judge her circumstances. Love is a completely unpredictable thing.”

           “She didn’t.”

           Frigga’s tone rose. “What?”

           “She didn’t sign the contract. It was drawn up a month before her majority, and her guardian signed for her. Something isn’t right about this, Mother.”

           “And you have absolutely no vested interest in something being wrong?” Frigga raised an eyebrow as she spoke.

           Loki paused as he tried to read his mother’s expression. This was not a time to be flippant. “Would it be frowned upon if I did have some interest in the outcome?”

           Frigga pursed her lips as she examined his face carefully. “I had not planned to think on this for many years to come.” Another long pause. “I’m sure your father would prefer something more politically astute.”

           Loki replied carefully, though he had already given it a good deal of thought over the past few days, “Well, I am, after all, only a second son. Does this not give me slightly more leeway in this area?”

           Frigga mostly suppressed a smile at that. “Slightly. Why don’t I tell you exactly how much leeway you have after I have spoken with her a bit further?”

           Loki bowed his head and smiled, “I have full confidence in your judgement.”

           “You are a very naughty young man. Rather than mooning about your room this evening, perhaps you should spend a few hours in either the law or the genealogy libraries?”

           “That is an excellent thought, Mother. I love nothing more than tracing family histories.”

           Frigga turned him toward the doors and shoved him out, whispering, “Be discreet!”

_____

           Sigyn took stock of her situation after Gudren left. Her room was slightly smaller than the one she was used to—the bed took up a good deal of the available real estate. But there was a dresser, a little desk near a large window, and best of all she had her own bath with a small vanity and mirror, separated from her bedroom by a short hall that doubled as a closet.

Then she stared ruefully at the crates full of books stacked on her floor. Perhaps I can ask for some shelves to be put on one side of the closet.

           It was already late afternoon, so she went about unpacking the barest necessities, starting with the clothes and toiletries. She tried hard to not think about the day’s ride, which meant, of course, that it was all she thought about. The carriage was small and stacked with boxes she hadn’t wanted to risk to the cart, so Loki sat nearly scrunched up next to her—Sigyn’s skin fairly tingled every time their arms or thighs brushed. She could still call up the clean smell of his leather jacket, and the mischievous twinkle in his eyes when he laughed.

All of the things that could not be hers, for a multitude of reasons. When Loki covered her hands with his own, it nearly broke her.

           I hope Iric chokes on his money.

           Someone brought in her supper after a bit and let her know the queen would like to see her in three hours. Right. Eat now.  Think later. Much, much later.

           Sigyn dressed with care, entertaining vague hopes that Loki might keep his mother company at her evening table, but it was not to be. In fact, Frigga dismissed her other women as Sigyn arrived. “I wanted to get to know you without having an audience. It can be intimidating, moving to this crowded place from a country estate. I wanted to get to know you, so I know how best to make use of your talents in the little time I get to keep you.”

           And there was the reminder—the little time. Sigyn checked her face to make sure it was still that of the well-behaved bride. “Of course, your majesty, I will do whatever I can to be useful until my husband returns from the front.”

           Frigga nodded, giving no indication that she noticed the flicker in Sigyn’s expression. “Loki tells me that you work seidr?”

           “Yes, majesty.”

           “And that you’re self taught?”

           Sigyn blushed a bit. “Not entirely—I started to study with my mother a couple of years before she passed away.”

           “But after that?”

           “Yes. After that I was left to my own devices, pretty much. And after Father died, I was able to keep Mother’s books. Some of it was slow going, but there’s not much to do on Herr Braggison’s estate, so I could spend as much time in study as possible.”

           “So you’re self motivated—I like that.”

           “Thank you, ma’am.”

           “Tell me about your favorite spells.”

           Sigyn had a brief thrill of panic, but the conversation went easily after that short hitch. Frigga was good at that, putting others at ease, drawing them out. Sigyn quite lost track of time, until Frigga broke up their conversation. “It’s getting a bit late, Sigyn. Since you’re here, why don’t you help me get ready for bed rather than calling for someone else.”

           “Of course.”

           She led her into an inner chamber where her clothes hung on long, well-organized racks, pulling a night dress down and laying it across the back of a chair. “Would you undo my laces, dear.”

           “Yes, ma’am.” Sigyn reached up to undo Frigga’s breastplate, then untangle the laces at her neck. After Frigga had changed, she sat in front of the vanity.

           “Would you unpin my hair for me?”

           “Certainly.” Sigyn searched for and then pulled out the pins holding together Frigga’s elaborate up-do, unwinding the braids before gently running her finger through them to pull them apart. When Frigga handed her a brush, Sigyn felt a slight tingle as she ran it through the long, golden locks. Not a single snag.

           “It’s magic, isn’t it?” Sigyn marveled.

           Frigga smiled broadly. “The brush? Yes, how could you tell?”

           “I can feel it. Did you do this?”

           “It was a gift. Loki made it for me. He was always underfoot when he was young, and was always noticing things. He saw one of the ladies struggling with the knots in my hair and gave me this brush for my name day.”

           “That was very thoughtful. How clever.”

           Frigga laughed, “He can be when he wants to be.”

           That night Sigyn curled into herself in the new, unfamiliar bed trying to find sleep. Her mind, though, simply would not let her go. She wanted so badly to just enjoy how welcome she felt. The queen had been more than gracious—Sigyn felt real approval. There was no hint of the outlander prejudice her guardian always threw in her face, no disparagement for her studies or magic-sensitivity—far from it. But, she reminded herself, her place here was temporary—only as long as Theoric was needed in the war. As soon as there was a break, he would take her out to his estate. She shuddered. How long would she be able to postpone being alone with him? Never long enough.

           If the will hadn’t insisted on marriage, she would have set herself up independently—a little herb shop in town—surely a city as big as the one surrounding the castle could support another kitchen witch. It wouldn’t be glamorous, sure, but a single life where she controlled her own destiny was infinitely preferable to what she faced now. But why Theoric? Surely Iric could have come to an arrangement with someone else—someone clever, perhaps even a magic user, someone with green eyes and sculpted cheekbones with lean muscles and a liquid voice as deep as a forest pool whose touch felt electric on her skin . . .

           Arrrrrhg!

           Thatwas exactly what she should not be thinking about. As if she weren’t in enough trouble as it was, now her brain readily produced vivid alternatives to her oaf of a husband, and the more pleasant those dreams were, the more miserable she became. Even if she weren’t married Loki was a prince. Princes marry for politics not money, which was all she had to offer. There was certainly no prestige attached to her breeding. They both of them should be wearing big signs: Do Not Touch!

Oh Norns, it would be so easy to get into so much trouble!

And unfortunately, part of her really wanted to get into trouble right now.

           Sleep took a long time to find her.

_____

           Frigga, on the other hand, found herself quite satisfied by the evening’s conversation, and made a note to herself to gather as much gossip as possible about Herr Braggison and Theoric—after all, she had vast resources with which to do so. Loki was right, Sigyn was wasted on Theoric, and something about that marriage contract definitely smelled of three-day-old fish.

[queenevaine]

Whoops, I had another idea.  

Another edition of a story in @aviatorhead‘s Alive By Nightfall AU!  I had to do both Lullaby for the Dark characters, so enjoy survivor!Anna with some accidental Ace/Anna.  It just sorta developed. 

She wanted to go home.  Not the perversion she was used to hunting down survivors in, but the normal forest where her mother raised her.  Her mother was always safe, warm, comforting, loving, and she wanted to be the same.  And the lullaby she was taught had always been soft, a fond memory of her mother after her passing.  And then the Entity stepped in, allowing her to hunt to her heart’s content, so long as prey was put on a hook.  So be it, she thought.  She would put her skills to use, doing what she had always done.

Then the Entity left her in the dark.  What had she done wrong?  She was diligent in hooking survivors, never asking for anything in return.  So why now, was she left alone?  Abandoned?  And then she saw him.  The survivor she came to this place at the same time with, if the others were to be believed.  The one with the attitude, a stubborn refusal to avoid danger and instead met it head-on.  But he wasn’t the mere whelp she was accustomed to seeing.  Instead, he wore bear pelt over his shoulder, with sharp teeth-like knuckle weapons and a claw mark over his left eye.  

To say she was hurt was an understatement.  She was angry, hurt, confused, stunned.  How could she have been tossed aside, like a worn toy?  Was that all she was to the Entity?  The things she taught the other Killers was commonplace, yet she was never given any thanks, from them or the Entity.  And more than that, she was truly thanked by being left in her cabin, with nothing to idle the time with?

She was more than this.  More than some plaything, and even if it meant she would always be feared, always be alone, she would do so on her own terms, in her real home.  Not here.  And all at once, the Entity’s screeching resumed around her, giving her attention after who knows how long of silence.  It whispered of treachery, of anger.  “How dare you think of leaving all I have given you,”  It seemed to whisper, “How dare you shun what I have granted you!  This is betrayal.  You have no home to return to, there is no purpose in leaving my realm!”  It grew urgent, the walls of the cabin closing in on Anna.

“Your home is here, it is as you remember.  Why would you turn your back on all that you hold dear?”  It seemed sad, as a parent talking to a child who threatened to run away.  It was so tempting to believe the words whispered around her, to beg forgiveness and plead for another trial, to prove just how grateful she was.  But, she knew it was all a lie.  Where had that gotten her all this time she had done just that?  

“Ungrateful waste!”  It’s words were no louder, but it seemed to echo all around her with the volume of a charging bear.  All at once, Anna felt the tearing of her clothes at her arms, legs, and her body.  The Entity’s limbs were ripping away every shred of power she held as the Huntress.

“You have hope there is escape from my realm?  Then you shall live as your prey does, and see where it gets you!”  

The fog closed in around her, and she felt small, scared, and weak.  She held herself tight and hummed the age old lullaby to her by her mother.  She couldn’t stay still, not if she wanted to prove to the Entity that she was it’s better.  With no hatchets, no colossal axe to defend herself with, she let herself fall into line with the surroundings.  She was a natural creature of the forest, and this would not defeat her.  Slow, calm steps gave Anna hope, a newfound determination in her heart.  Was this what being human meant?  Was this the notion she had long ago abandoned after she lost her only tie to it?  

The Entity would not have her back.  This was her fresh start, to fulfill all the wishes she had always harbored, to mother a child and be close with a family, no matter where she lived.  She could live anywhere she desired, and nothing would stop her.  She heard the crackling of the fire and sensed it’s shift on the land far before she saw it’s flames through the thickness of the fog.  

The faces she met at the campfire were familiar to her, the other survivors huddled close to its warmth and tending to each other’s injuries.  In the treeline, she hesitated.  She was always known as the Huntress to them, had thrown hatchets at them, and had mercilessly cut them down.  What would they think now, that she was among them?  Would they always leave her to a fate at the hands of the Entity?  

With a deep breath, she took her mask off and cleaned it as best as she could of blood.  The tears in her clothes could be mended later.  She realized now just how small she was, compared to how she used to be.  The Entity’s doing, granting profound strength equalling several men.  But now it was taken away, and she was human.  ‘A better fate than what was before,’  She thought.  She met eyes with her mask, the proof of countless attempts to put young girls to ease as she tried to take care of them as her own.  Perhaps now, she could start again.  The masks she had always comforted her.  

“Who's there?”  The voice was accusatory and cautious, and she couldn’t help but be surprised.  She knew how to hide amongst trees, and what trickery let her understand the language they spoke?  She knew they were not from her home.  She adorned her mask again, walking towards the fire.  The owner of the voice, the one usually sabotaging hooks, stood in front, eyes narrowed.  The others were mixes of emotions, some fear, some shock, and some outright confusion.  

“The fuck is this?”  The old soldier spoke up.  She could tell he was tense, all too ready to spring to his feet like a wary deer.  The saboteur faltered, resolving himself to keep up a persona of confidence.  But Anna knew too well how humans acted when fearful.  The twitchy man in a tie was frozen; she knew he had been terrorized one too many times by her own hand to not be.  The runner, the competitor, and the healer stayed by the man’s side, not as fearful but still cautious.  The look she saw in the competitor was one that confused her.  

“I get it.”  Her voice was a higher pitch than Anna expected.  “The rules are different now.  Now we’ve gotta watch our backs outside trials, too.”  

She was stunned.  What about her own appearance made the competitor think that?  The girl in the black and blue shirt continued on.  “We get sent to more trials, this time with her, and we’ll end up with a hatchet in the back as we try to escape, and then we get left behind to be put on a hook.”  Abruptly, the competitor stood.  “Or, we try running and get a pallet thrown down in our face and get screwed over.  That’s not happening to me.  You all have fun with that.”  Her form was near invisible as she walked to the edges of the fog, keeping wary eyes on Anna.  

Did they all believe this to be true?  They at least thought about it, as they warily turned their attention from the competitor to Anna.  She shook her head, words shakily coming out of her mouth.  

“No, not true!  Entity abandoned me, I want to go home.  It's possible, I believe it is.”  

How long had it been since she had spoken words?  They survivors stayed in silence.  She couldn't blame their hesitance.  The healer stood, walking up to the saboteur’s side.  The one in the tie had always been the leader, from what she saw, but he stayed motionless.  She could tell he was nursing an injured jaw, the way he held it with a free hand, while the other cradled his ribs.  He had come back from a trial with the Bear, she assumed.  The newcomer that effectively replaced her.  

“Well isn't that a stroke of luck.  Just as we lose one, we get another.  I'm willing to believe that.”  

The gambler had a surprisingly calm take on the matter.  She had known luck was usually on his side, perhaps that was something the Entity could never take away?  She liked hoping that was true, and he vouched for her do quickly.  

“Don't talk like that, Ace.”  

A blonde woman spoke, arms crossed and expression indecipherable to Anna.  She was used to running for her life, and Anna noted her as the veteran for it.  Ace, the gambler, shrugged.

“I don’t want to, but what else can we do?  Considering the fact that three of us ended up on hooks, and the last one got his jaw pretty much smashed by a new Killer, coincidentally not long after David stops coming back here?  And then, a Killer isn’t a Killer anymore and shows up here.  I just think Lady Luck’s being kind while the Entity’s being, well, the Entity.”

Anna couldn’t understand him.  They were in this hellish snare of the Entity’s creation, and he never failed to have a smirk on his face, always looking at the brightest he could find.  She promised herself to always have his back, to never let the Entity turn him into something monstrous.  

The youngest, a persistently tired and wary man, spoke softly.  

“I don’t think we can afford to be naive, but we can’t watch for a threat that doesn’t exist either.”  

Anna remained quiet as they discussed.  They didn’t have to let her stay near the fire, they could easily push her to the edges of the fog.  Ace stood off the log, walking up to the saboteur.

“Then we’ll make a deal, she sticks with me, and if I don’t get an axe in my back, we’re alright, yeah?”  

The leader tried opening his mouth to speak, letting out a yelp of pain and making the healer spin around to tend to him.  The runner grimaced.  

“I don’t think that’s a great way to tell.”  

“Neither is avoiding the issue.”  

This time, the scavenger spoke up.  Anna didn’t know how else to think of her as, she was always resourceful and quiet in a crouch, and surprisingly quick.  The soldier groaned.  

“Let ‘er stay around then.  Not much we can do about it anyway.”  

The competitor stayed at a distance, a wary and spiteful stare focused on Anna. She supposed earning her trust would take time.

“Alright, fine.  But, take off the mask, at least.”  The saboteur crossed his arms.  Anna nodded, reaching up to take it off.  It provided her comfort, and she wouldn’t ever get rid of it, but she understood how uneasy it made the others.  Her hair was extremely short, dark brown in color.  Her eyes matched, and she gave a small smile, with an attempt at being reassuring.  

“So, what do we call you?”  The veteran seemed to calm slightly, arms at her side.  “I don’t think calling you the Huntress is really accurate, or fair anymore.”  

“Anna.”  She responded without hesitation.  This was a step in the right direction!  The other survivors started relaxing some, settling into spots around the campfire.  She let out a quiet sigh.  It would take quite a bit of time to fully earn their trust.  She felt a hand clap on her shoulder, and turned to see Ace grinning.  

“Don’t worry too much.  They’ll get used to you.  There’s always been a little skepticism with new survivors anyway.  Name’s Ace, but you already heard that.”  

He ushered Anna to a log near the fire, sitting back as if he had not a single care in the world.  

“If you don’t mind, I’d love to hear how you came here.  Course, I’m not gonna pry, but seems awfully lucky to have you come around right about now, and I’d like to appreciate any stroke of luck we get.”  

Anna couldn’t help but smile.  Did Ace have this effect on everyone?  It would be a shame if they didn’t appreciate him as she did now.  With a genuine smile, she chatted with Ace, sharing lives before the Entity, and all they were, up to now.  Neither of them realized just how much time had passed, or really minded when they fell asleep next to each other.  

[nanenna]

Mystery Machine Mishap!

Chapter 3: A New Routine

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 4

Fandom: Undertale Rating: General Audiences Pairing: None Summary: There was an accident at the Lab and now Papyrus is left trying to take care of Sans as a toddler while Alphys tries to figure out what went wrong and how to fix it. To say Papyrus is unprepared is not just an understatement, it’s downright fact. But Papyrus is determined to be the best big brother ever, even better than Sans is when he’s the older on.

As usual, also available to read on fanfiction.net or AO3 under the same name. (links not included because that messes with the search function)

   Nearly a week had gone by. Papyrus found that his days fell into a rhythm as he cared for his little big brother. He couldn’t help but feel forgotten by Alphys, she hadn’t called since that first day, she barely updated her Undernet profile anymore, and even Undyne hadn’t heard much from the reclusive scientist. Papyrus wanted to take it as a good sign, that it meant Alphys was working hard on fixing the machine and getting Sans back to normal. But at the same time he would have liked to hear from her. So after laying Sans down for his afternoon nap, Papyrus pulled up the doctor’s contact info and started a call.

“H-hello?”

“HELLO, DR. ALPHYS!”

“Oh! P-Papyrus! What are you… why are you… what’s g-going on?”

“I WANTED TO FIND OUT HOW YOU ARE DOING. UNDYNE TELLS ME YOU SOMETIMES FORGET TO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF AND I WANTED TO MAKE SURE YOU WERE EATING AND RESTING REGULARLY.”

“Oh, um… it’s fine. I’m fine, Undyne has been over often to make sure I uh… don’t get lost in my work?? She really wants to help me as much as she can, she says with both you and Sans uh… out of commission th-that the sentry stations are really falling apart.”

“OH DEAR, I WAS SO BUSY TAKING CARE OF SANS THAT I DIDN’T EVEN THINK ABOUT HOW MANY SENTRY STATIONS WERE GOING UNMANNED!”

“Y-yeah, I don’t think Undyne has replacements for you either. She wants you both to have jobs waiting for you when uh… when I eventually m-m-manage to fix things.”

“THAT IS THE OTHER REASON I WAS CALLING, I WAS HOPING YOU WOULD TELL ME HOW THINGS ARE GOING. HAVE YOU FINISHED DECIPHERING THE NOTES? HOW BADLY IS THE MACHINE BROKEN?”

“I’ve uh… I’m almost halfway through the notes! I had to use the other blueprints and notes that Sans had already deciphered for me to try and make a cipher for these notes. At first it seemed like it was just a straight one for one alphabet replacement and would be fairly simple, but not all of the translations Sans has written out match up. I was starting to wonder if there were some shifting going on, some sort of extra key I’d need but don’t have, but when I applied the cipher I had first developed to the already translated notes I realized that Sans was summarizing a lot of this stuff, so my cipher actually works! It’s going faster now that I’ve figured that out, the only hard part is just how messy the handwriting is. Whoever wrote all this down has just the worst handwriting!”

“SO NOW THAT YOU HAVE A CIPHER, THINGS WILL MOVE QUICKER? HOW MUCH LONGER DO YOU THINK IT WILL TAKE?”

“Oh, w-well… like I said the handwriting is very m-messy so I have to keep going back and correcting my translations, w-which means my translations are g-getting messy too and uh… even after I finish t-translating all these I still have to start work on the machine itself so uh… it might take a w-while yet.”

“THAT IS FINE, I WOULD RATHER YOU TAKE THINGS SLOW AND GET IT RIGHT THAN TO RUSH AND HAVE AN ACCIDENT YOURSELF!”

“Y-yeah, that’d be just… just awful!” Alphys laughed nervously.

“WELL THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME, DR. ALPHYS. GOOD LUCK!”

“Oh! Okay then, g-good luck to you too! With uh… with little Sans that is. I m-mean, I’m sure you’re taking great c-care of him. And uh… okaygottagohaveagooddaybye!”

There was a faint click as the call abruptly ended, then Papyrus scrolled through his contacts. He hadn’t put much thought into what he was about to do, but it just felt right. Papyrus hit the call button.

“Hey dork!” Undyne’s voice greeted him.

“HELLO UNDYNE!”

“So what’s going on, the little squirt doing okay?”

“OH SANS IS FINE, HE’S DOWN FOR A NAP RIGHT NOW. I WAS JUST TALKING TO DR. ALPHYS AND SHE REMINDED ME THAT I HAVE BEEN TERRIBLY NEGLECTFUL OF MY DUTIES EVER SINCE THE ACCIDENT.”

“Well yeah, you have a baby to take care of. A literal baby! That’s a lot of work!”

“A TODDLER, BUT THAT IS NO EXCUSE TO NEGLECT MY DUTIES AS A SENTRY! SO TOMORROW I’M GOING TO RESUME MY DUTIES. I’M AFRAID THERE IS NOT MUCH WE CAN DO ABOUT SANS, BUT I CAN AT LEAST RE-CALIBRATE MY PUZZLES, DO MY PATROLS, AND WATCH OUT FOR HUMANS LIKE I’M SUPPOSED TO!”

“Well, if you’re sure...”

“DON’T WORRY, I HAVE EVERYTHING UNDER CONTROL! NYEH HEH HEH!” Papyrus hit the end call button, then decided to go upstairs and check on Sans. When he got to the top of the stairs his eye sockets were drawn to the end of the hallway where Sans was staring up at the blank wall, one elbow up which probably meant his thumb was in his mouth again, and a bright orange dinosaur plush toy dragging limply from his other hand. “SANS? WHAT RE YOU DOING OVER THERE?”

Sans turned around at Papyrus’s voice, then slowly toddled over to the taller skeleton and raised his arms to be picked up. Papyrus obligingly picked Sans up and cuddled him close. “WHAT IS IT, BROTHER?”

“i miss daddy.” Sans sniffled as he clung to Papyrus, “where daddy?”

“DADDY IS…” Papyrus hesitated, unsure what exactly to tell Sans, “DADDY IS AWAY. RIGHT NOW.” There, that was close enough to the truth. He didn’t want to outright lie to Sans, but he also had no idea how to tell the toddler that he had no idea where their father was or even if he was still alive at all. Papyrus couldn’t remember it, but he was fairly certain their father had Fallen Down a long time ago. He sighed as he rocked the clinging toddler. “I’M SURE HE MISSES YOU AS MUCH AS YOU MISS HIM.”

Sans made an indistinct noise as he buried his face into Papyrus’s shoulder. Well, the only thing to do was to distract him. “WHY DON’T WE GET SOME STURDY CLOTHES ON AND GO OUTSIDE TO PLAY IN THE SNOW? WE CAN BUILD A SNOWMAN!” Papyrus suggested enthusiastically.

Sans gave a small nod, he did like building snowmen with Papyrus.

The next day, after breakfast was finished and the dishes were washed and put away, Papyrus dressed Sans in the warmest clothes they had. Papyrus knew it didn’t really matter, that Sans wouldn’t even feel the cold, but it made him feel better anyway. Papyrus also pulled out one of the things Gerson had sent over: a toddler leash. Papyrus hadn’t felt the need for it yet, he had stayed pretty close to Sans so far or carried the toddler whenever they went somewhere far. But while he was on patrol and re-calibrating his puzzles… Papyrus attached it to Sans, then clipped the other end to his belt.

“TODAY, SANS, WE ARE FINALLY GOING BACK TO WORK. I WILL RE-CALIBRATE ALL OF OUR PUZZLES! AND WE WILL GO ON PATROL! AND WE WILL BE PRODUCTIVE! TOGETHER!”

“yay!” Sans cheered, and Papyrus was so happy to see Sans be enthusiastic about work for once!

“LET’S GO!” Papyrus took Sans outside and they set off. Papyrus knew they had a lot of ground to cover, so he was striding along at his usual, speedy pace.

“pappus! pappus wait!” Sans’s little legs couldn’t keep up. He tried running after Papyrus, tripped, and fell flat on his face.

Papyrus stopped and went back to pick him up, but Sans was already sniffling and whining about the snow in his orbits and nasal cavity. “NOW, NOW, YOU’RE SUCH A BIG MONSTER! NO NEED TO CRY!” Papyrus gently brushed the snow form his brother’s face, then picked Sans up. “WHY DON’T I CARRY YOU TO THE PUZZLES, THEN WE CAN RE-CALIBRATE THEM TOGETHER!” Sans simply nodded as he snuggled into his brother’s arms.

As Papyrus continued to walk Sans perked up and began looking around in interest, he hadn’t been brought past the ‘Welcome to Snowdin’ sign. Not since the accident, anyway. The scenery quickly became boring, just more of the same snow and trees as the town without interesting buildings to break it up. Sans settled into Papyrus’s arms and let himself be carried. Soon they came to the first puzzle, the slippery Xs and Os one. Re-calibrating it was always a challenge for Papyrus, even without a toddler along for the ride, but Papyrus refused to be defeated. He deftly skated across the ice with Sans in one arm and soon had it calibrated perfectly.

“THERE, SEE? I KNEW WE COULD DO IT!”

“’m bored,” Sans whined.

“WELL THAT IS BECAUSE YOU COULD NOT HELP WITH THIS PUZZLE. I AM SURE THE NEXT ONE WILL BE FAR MORE ENTERTAINING. IN FACT, AFTER I RE-CALIBRATE IT YOU SHOULD TRY SOLVING IT!”

Sans nodded, unsure how exciting that really would be.

Papyrus easily stepped over the spikes to the next puzzle and set Sans down. He started working on the puzzle, leaving Sans to his own devices. The toddler ran back and forth over the tiles until all the ones in the leash’s reach were triangles, then he stomped about in the snow. After that grew boring, he picked up a handful of snow and dropped it onto Papyrus’s back as the taller skeleton knelt over the tiles.

“SANS, PLEASE! I’M WORKING!”

Sans huffed, plopped his coccyx in the snow and crossed his arms. He was now thoroughly bored and his brother was ignore him. After a while that got boring too, so Sans got up and ran to the end of his leash, then zigzagged around Papyrus.

Papyrus finally finished with the tile he was working on and got up to move onto the next one. When he stood he immediately lost his balance and fell face first into the snow. There was something caught around his ankles. Papyrus managed to push himself half up and get a look at what had happened: he was completely tangled up in the leash.

“SANS! WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

Sans just looked up at him with the biggest grin across his face. Papyrus sighed, then untangled himself. He did a quick check of his inventory, he had taken to keeping a couple toys in there for when he needed a quick distraction for Sans. Oh good, he had a pail and little plastic shovel set in there. “HERE SANS, WHY DON’T YOU BUILD A SNOW CASTLE?”

“okay.” Sans took the offered toys and plopped down in the snow. With a sigh of relief Papyrus returned to re-calibrating his puzzle.

“THERE, ALL RE-CALIBRATED! NOW, ONTO THE NEXT PUZZLE.” Sans didn’t resist as Papyrus picked him up and carried him over the spikes to the next puzzle. Having learned from his mistake, Papyrus decided to attach the leash to a nearby tree so Sans couldn’t tangle him up again. Though this shouldn’t take long, this puzzle was much simpler than the one he had just finished.

It turned out this puzzle had taken some damage the more complex puzzle hadn’t. Not only did Papyrus have to re-calibrate it, he had to thaw and repair it first. Eventually everything was finished and the puzzle was good as new. Papyrus dusted off his hands in satisfaction as he looked down at the puzzle. “THERE, ALL DONE! DO YOU WANT TO TRY SOLVING THIS ONE, SANS?” Papyrus turned to where he had left the toddler, “SANS?” The toddler harness was abandoned in the snow, the leash still attached to the tree. “SANS!” Papyrus ran over to the tree, little footprints lead further up the path. Papyrus thanked his lucky stars that today it wasn’t snowing and the tracks were untouched.“IT’S OKAY,” Papyrus told himself as he followed the tiny little footprints, “SANS WON’T BE ABLE TO GET PAST THE SPIKES AT THE NEXT PUZZLE, HE’S TOO SMALL!”

A surge of panic welled up in Papyrus’s chest, the spikes to the next puzzle were down. It needed to be re-calibrated. And Sans’s footprints lead right through the thin layer of snow over the retracted spikes. Papyrus tried not to panic as he kept following the footprints, then a noise caught his attention. It sounded like something was whining and… snuffling? Breathing of some kind, and lots of it. He looked around the next tree and found a pile of dogs gathered around a happily squealing babybones.

“puppy!” Sans declared as he tried to pet Doggo, Dogamy, and Dogaressa all at once.

(Puppy!) Dogaressa agreed as she happily wagged her tail and sniffed at Sans’s hands.

“SANS! THERE YOU ARE! YOU HAD ME WORRIED SICK!” Papyrus ran over and picked Sans up, cuddling his babybones brother close. “DON’T EVER WANDER OFF LIKE THAT AGAIN!”

“Hello Papyrus!” The three dogs greeted as they all rolled onto their feet and got up.

Dogamy held up a paw in greeting, “Why is Sans out here?”

(… so far from town?) Dogaressa continued.

“I’M WATCHING HIM, OF COURSE!”

Dogamy and Dogaressa looked at each other, then back at Papyrus. “Make sure to keep an eye on the little pup.”

(We wouldn’t want him to get lost.)

“I KNOW,” Papyrus assured. “HE CAN BE QUITE THE SLIPPERY SNAIL SOMETIMES, BUT I AM KEEPING A VERY CAREFUL EYE SOCKET ON HIM.”

“Hmmm...” Dogamy hummed to himself, but otherwise said nothing.

Doggo pulled out a dog treat and started to light it, only to be smacked by Dogaressa. (Not near the puppy!)

“Alright, alright. Sheesh!” Doggo turned and started wandering towards his sentry station.

“WELL, I’VE GOT MORE ROUNDS TO DO AND PUZZLEs TO RE-CALIBRATE.”

“We’ll see you later,” Dogamy called.

“SAY GOODBYE TO THE DOGGIES, SANS.”

“bye bye, I love you!”

There was a gasp, followed by, (“We love you too”) as Papyrus carried Sans away.

The rest of Papyrus’s shift went off without a hitch, he managed to keep Sans busy or distracted enough to not wander off again. After stopping off at home to feed Sans and grab a few more snacks and toys, Papyrus carried Sans towards Waterfall.

“gun?” Sans asked as they entered the damp caverns.

“NO, WE’RE NOT GOING TO VISIT GERSON TODAY. WE’RE GOING TO GO SEE AUNTY UNDYNE.”

“aunty!” Sans yelled happily and threw his arms up in the air.

Undyne was waiting for them outside her house, foot tapping impatiently as they entered the little nook her house was tucked in. “Papyrus,” Undyne grit out angrily.

“HELLO UNDYNE, WE’RE HERE FOR MY WARRIOR TRAINING!”

Undyne ground her teeth, “Papyrus I just… I can’t believe you!”

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND, WHAT DON’T YOU BELIEVE?” Sans started fussing as Papyrus stared at Undyne in confusion.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’D DO SOMETHING SO… SO..!” Rather than finish her sentence, Undyne yelled at the cavern roof. Sans hid his face in Papyrus’s shoulder, his bones started rattling. “You took a small child with you out into the middle of the woods while you were WORKING! And what’s more, YOU LOST HIM! Do you have any idea how lucky you are the Dogi found him?!” Papyrus tried to speak but Undyne just kept going. “What if the Dogi hadn’t found him? What if someone dangerous had? Or what if he had fallen off one of those cliffs? What would you have done if he had gotten lost in the woods and you couldn’t find him?!”

“THAT’S-”

“And then you brought him to WARRIOR TRAINING?! Papyrus! You can’t bring a toddler to warrior training! He’s a toddler for the Angel’s sake!”

“UNDYNE, YOU’RE SCARING SANS.” Papyrus ran a soothing hand up and down the trembling toddler’s spine.

“He shouldn’t even be here right now. And if you can’t get someone to take care of him for you, neither should you!”

Papyrus’s jaw opened and closed a few times, then he turned and walked away. The walk home was much slower, Papyrus kept pausing every now and then to whisper comforting words to the still trembling toddler in his arms. One of those times was next to the bridge seed puzzle, and Sans finally responded.

“aunty meeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaan!” He wailed loudly, then burst into big, messy tears. Papyrus was relieved, if a little sad that is battle body was going to need to be washed again. The subdued trembling had stopped, and the wailing he knew how to handle. By the time they made it home Sans had quieted down to sniffles and muffled sobs that meant all Papyrus would have to do was clean him up and put on a cheerful face to distract him. Maybe put him down for a nap since he was overdue. “aunty mean,” Sans repeated once they were through the door.

“YES, UNDYNE WAS BEING QUITE FORCEFUL, BUT SHE ONLY YELLED LIKE THAT BECAUSE SHE REALLY CARES AND WAS WORRIED ABOUT YOU.”

“aunty mean,” Sans insisted angrily.

“AND SHE WON’T BE AGAIN, BECAUSE I AM GOING TO TAKE EVEN BETTER CARE OF YOU THAN BEFORE, SO SHE WON’T HAVE A REASON TO WORRY LIKE THAT AGAIN! NOW! LET’S GET YOU CLEANED UP, IT CAN’T BE COMFORTABLE HAVING YOUR SKULL COVERED IN SNOT AND DRIED TEARS!” Sans huffed, but otherwise made no fuss as Papyrus carried him upstairs to get washed up.

The next morning Papyrus walked Sans over to the Libarby, careful to keep his steps slow and small so the toddler could keep up. Inside the librarian greeted Papyrus and Sans cheerfully, “And is Sans here for the daycare?”

“YES, I WAS TOLD I COULD LEAVE HIM WITH YOU WHILE I TEND TO MY DUTIES.”

“Of course,” the librarian chirped cheerfully, “we just need you to sign him in.” The librarian pushed a clipboard over to Papyrus, which he quickly filled out.

“OKAY SANS, BE GOOD FOR THE LIBRARIANS WHILE I’M GONE.”

“no!” Sans attached himself to Papyrus’s boot and glared up at the librarian.

“SANS, PLEASE!”

“Don’t you want to play with the other children?” The librarian’s question had Sans pausing to look up at her inquisitively. “You can walk him back, a lot of children get over their separation anxiety easier when they have other children to distract them.”

“GREAT IDEA! COME ALONG SANS, LET’S GO MEET THE OTHER CHILDREN YOU WILL BE SPENDING THE DAY WITH.” Sans allowed himself to be led into the back of the library where a few other young children were already playing with toys. A curious puppy trotted over to the new comers and sniffed at Sans.

“puppy!” Sans squealed happily before enthusiastically petting the puppy.

“Pets!” The puppy happily squealed back, their tail already thrashing about. Sans was so engrossed by his new playmate that he didn’t even notice Papyrus quietly sneaking away.

When Papyrus returned to pick Sans up that afternoon, Sans dropped the toy he had been holding and ran full tilt into Papyrus’s legs. “HELLO SANS, DID YOU HAVE A GOOD DAY PLAYING WITH THE OTHER CHILDREN?”

“missed you,” Sans grumbled as he clung to his bother’s legs.

“I MISSED YOU TOO, HOW ABOUT WE GO HOME NOW?”

“ok.” Sans held his arms up, refusing to budge until Papyrus picked him up.

“Don’t forget your drawings,” one of the librarians called as she held out a few papers to Papyrus.

“OH! I CAN’T WAIT TO LOOK AT THESE! I’LL PUT THEM RIGHT UP ON THE FRIDGE.” A big, excited grin was plastered over Papyrus’s face as he accepted the drawings.

Sans smiled bashfully and leaned his head against his brother’s shoulder, “love you, pappus.”

“I LOVE YOU TOO, SANS.” Papyrus dropped a kiss on top of Sans’s skull as they left the library.

Once home Sans refused to be put down, so Papyrus simply settled on the couch with Sans in his lap as he began looking through the drawings Sans had made. The first one was a lot of black shapes scribbled all over the page.

“WHAT’S THIS?”

“a bastard!” Sans replied as he pointed to one of the empty spots the black was scribbled around.

“A… A BASTARD?” Papyrus asked in disbelief.

“yeah! it goes bweeeeeeeen!” Sans held his hand up to his teeth and made a “roar” motion.

Papyrus looked back at the drawing, if the black were background and not the drawing itself like Papyrus had originally assumed… “OH, A BLASTER! YOU MEAN OUR SPECIAL ATTACK.” Papyrus summoned a blaster to illustrate his point.

Sans clapped his hands and pointed at the large skull floating serenely in the living room, “bastard! bastard!”

Papyrus dispelled the attack before an accident could happen, it was never wise to summon attacks indoors after all. “IT’S PRONOUNCED ‘BLASTER’, SANS. BLA-STER.”

“baster.”

“GETTING CLOSER.” He flipped to the next drawing, it was three faces. He could tell one was him and one was Sans, which meant the third one must be their father. Since it was just their faces this time there were more details, like uneven pupils inside their father’s eyes. Then again, the pupils Sans drew for his own eyes weren’t even either, it was likely just due to his toddlery hand-eye coordination. Aside from the pupils and what Papyrus could only assume was a pair of square-ish glasses, their father’s face looked very similar to his own, right down to the exaggerated cheekbones Sans had given them both.

“thaz you an’ me an’ daddy!” Sans cheerfully explained as he pointed to the faces.

“I CAN TELL, YOU DREW US VERY WELL.” The next drawing was their father again, this time alone. A full body picture that had their father wearing a long, white coat with dark clothes under it and some sort of square thing in on hand. “AND THIS IS DADDY TOO, RIGHT?”

“yeah!” Sans said excitedly. “when daddy come home?”

“I… I DON’T KNOW.” Papyrus admitted sadly. He really wished he could remember their father, or what had happened to him. Papyrus flipped to the next drawing, the first one to actually have any color in it. “OH! IT’S ME! AND MY BATTLE BODY!”

“yeah!” Sans grinned up at Papyrus.

The older skeleton felt tears welling up in his eye sockets, “THIS IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL DRAWING I’VE EVER SEEN! I’M GOING TO GET THIS FRAMED!” Papyrus hugged Sans, which the toddler returned while giggling. After they had a moment to calm down, Papyrus flipped to the last picture. “IS THIS GRILLBY?”

“girby!”

The picture featured an orange, vaguely flame shaped blob with a few black shapes below it that could be Grillby’s usual vest and bow tie if you turned your head and squinted. “WE’LL HAVE TO SHOW THIS TO GRILLBY NEXT TIME WE SEE HIM, I’M SURE HE’LL BE VERY FLATTERED.”

“girby,” Sans said again, more quietly this time.

Papyrus picked Sans up and walked into the kitchen, “IN THE MEANTIME, LET’S PUT THESE ALL UP ON THE FRIDGE.” It was already overflowing with the drawings Sans had made, but Papyrus couldn’t bear the thought of taking any of them down. He shuffled the drawings around until there was room for the new ones, which were promptly put on display. “THERE! NOW, WHO’S READY FOR DINNER?”

“dinner!” Sans repeated and threw his hands into the air.

  This chapter has some of my favorite lines, including my all fic favorite: bastard! I love it so much! I just... I’m so glad I came up with that. *wipes a tear away*

[harmonywiccan]

Peaceful (Percy Jackson/Marvel Crossover) (Bucky Barnes X OC)

Part Two

Serenity Mortez, daughter of Thanatos, God of Peaceful Death, born 1919 in New York. She was the girlfriend of James Barnes and the best friend of Steven Rogers. On a quest for her father, she disappeared for 70 years, finally being freed by Nico Di Angelo in 2014, she was easily integrated into this time and eventually sent on quests, mostly by Hades or her father.

On yet another quest for her father, she was sent up to Alaska to retrieve the Scythe that was taken during his imprisonment. At that moment Hecate was attacked and the mist fell for a time, leaving SHEILD to find the Scythe and arrested Serenity.

“Sir, we found a 0-8-4. Located in Denali, Alaska. We’ve isolated it and set up the containment unit.” Coulson smirked.

“Description?” He requested, walking into the common area of The Bus.

“A scythe made of pure black metal, it’s almost like it’s absorbing light,” The reporting agent told him, “But the weirdest part of this is the girl. A young woman, late teens- early twenties, golden eyes, took out three of our agents trying to get at it. Said some BS about how we would die if we touched it.”

“Do not touch it. Let me and my team get there, I want to talk to the girl. Alone.”

Earlier:  Serenity's POV:

“What the hell?! How could he lose his scythe!?” I cursed as I kept looking down at the icy terrain. I was riding on Mrs. O’Leary, I had asked Percy if I could take her with. Currently, I was freezing my ass off trying to track down my father’s Scythe and cursing at him for losing the damn thing. The giants stripped it from him when he was imprisoned and now I was having to find it while he rounded up all the escaped souls, “Whoa, over there.” The overgrow hound whined, “Mrs. O’Leary, you won’t have to be around it long. I promise, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll see about getting you a stake, or a dozen when we get back to camp.” She started forward, creeping slow but moving.

“Thanks, girlie,” I said as I slid down and walked over. I pulled out my dagger, Καρδιά, the weapon was shoved into a block of ice. I ran my thumb over the blood red ruby in the guard, the knife turning into a charm on my bracelet and pulled out a pair of gloved, grabbing the handle, I began to work the object tree.

“Stop!” I flicked the charm and the dagger materialized in my hand and I faced who it was. A man in a black snowsuit, a gun in hand aimed at me. I started cursing in Greek, my hand up, “Drop the dagger.” I looked at my hand and then to him, “Drop it!” I touched the ruby and the dagger faded out of my hand, “On your knees, Kid.”

“How the hell...” I muttered and compiled out of shock, this man wasn’t a monster, he would have just outright attacked or shied away at the sight of my dagger and my father’s scythe. But he could see through the mist…unless something happened.

He went to cuff my hands and I slammed my elbow into his groin and brought it up to his nose, getting a crunch as it shattered. I took off as a bunch of others, stormed the area. I was grabbed and spun around, slamming my elbow into his sternum before flipping them on to their back. Another grabbed me from behind and I squirmed out and took off before getting arm bared across the chest.

I coughed, going down and was turned over and cuffed before I was dragged off to a large black van and shoved in. I saw a man approach the scythe, “NO! DON’T TOUCH IT, YOU’LL KILL YOURSELF DUMBASS!” I screamed as the door was slammed in my face, I kept shouting at them, but none listened.

Now:

I laughed brightly, hand in hand with another, I couldn’t tell who he was, but I could remember those dark eyes and that smile. He was dressed in an Army uniform, he was a Sargent. He pulled me in and kissed me hard, his hands on my waist, “I’m gonna miss you, Doll.”

"Why-“I was pulled out of the truck, my dream interrupted as I almost face plant in the snow. I gasped and looked around, a whole perimeter was set around the scythe and I looked up seeing two men, a man with a muscular build, brown hair and blue eyes. He had maybe a foot and a half on me. He had on a suit, with a white shirt and a tie, “How the hell are you not frozen?” I asked looking at him.

“You were arrested and just jerked out of a van by the arm and that is what you ask?” The man holding me asked. I smirked and slammed my foot into his knee, bringing him down to his knees and brought my knee up, but was blocked and shoved to the ground, “Feisty.”

“Well, she did take out Garrison and Tilda, managed to evade Townson.” The suit said shrugging, “Come with me, we just want to talk.”

“Tell me no one touched it.” I breathed, closing my eyes.

“Sadly yes, an agent of ours touched the Scythe.” I sighed and was pulled up, “What do you know about it?”

“A lot. It’s my father’s; he and a select few can lay hands on that and not die.” I said pointedly, “I came out to this Gods forsaken land to get it before that happened. But your militia took my ass out before I could.” He nodded and led me over to a folding table, setting me down and taking the cuffs off. I immediately touched the warn metal tag around my neck, finding comfort that it's still there. 

“Hot chocolate?” I took some without question, “Now, why can you touch it?” I laughed and pushed the cup away, “Oh, no, drink. You’re practically blue. But I need to know.”

“And I need to live. Not my call.” I said sipping the hot, heavenly tasting liquid. He nodded, “What’s your name?”

“Phil Coulson. That may, who you knee checked, is Grant Ward.” I nodded, “You?”

“Serenity Mortez.” He wrote that down, “And you came out to Denali, Alaska to retrieve that weapon?”

“Yeah. The things we do for family. But listen, there are Asgardians out there, who's to say that other things don’t exist. I mean we have a man flying in an Iron suit, a guy who’s anger issues could rival that of my best friend, who trust me it’s bad. So, what else is there, you know?” I shrugged smiling.

“And they may not have the power to tell us.” I nodded, “Is that what you’re getting at?”

“Bingo. Give the man a cookie.”

“No. NO. She can’t get off like that, Garrison has a broken nose and is missing two teeth, Tilda’s arm is dislocated, and Mikael is dead.” The man who arm barred me stormed over, “What the fuck are you?!”

“PISSED OFF!” I hissed as I stood, “Look, you guys have your job. I have mine. And mine, right now, is getting that scythe out of the hands of dipshit mortals.” I told him and looked at Coulson, “Trust me when I say that you can not keep that here, not without serious problems.”

“And you can’t lie about your identity without problems. Serenity Mortez is dead and has been dead for 70 years. Who are you?” A woman, dressed more casually, with brown hair and eyes slapped a freshly printed paper in front of me, “Who. Are. You?”

“I forgot to point out, there are men, many thoughts died, who really were frozen and were defrosted,” I said smirking.

“So what, you were frozen in ice?”

“No. Not exactly, but I look damn good for my age.” I said grinning as I sipped my drink, “Again, can’t say anything without an okay from the guys above me.” I almost laughed at that but kept quiet. Philly stood up the two others walking off to talk to him as I closed my eyes, letting my mind wander, hoping someone might catch my attention.

“Prayer’s been answered kiddo.” Everything around me seemed to slow down and a man in a suit, with winged shoes appeared, Hermes, it was common, for the most part, so I didn’t let on, “Listen. You can talk freely, for now, the gods up here are scattered due to Hecate letting the mist go due to an attack on her. The mortal world is scrambling for the sense of the matter.” Time resumed around me and he faded as the others approached, setting down.

“While you three were gossiping like high school girls, I had a little chat of my own. What you need to know, only. No other information.” I conceded to them, tapping my nails on the cup, “My name is Serenity Mortez, my mother was mortal, a nurse at a Brooklyn Hospital. The thing was, I was born in 1918, yeah, I told you, I look good for my age.”

“What are you?” Ward asked me.

“My father is Thanatos, the God of Peaceful Death. I’m a Demigod.”