#rapscallion navigator

[recovering-vamp]

[the-kr8tor]

In Deep Water

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 8.7k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, CW vomit mention, CW Inaccurate medical procedures, CW injury, TW blood, CW violence, TW death, CW guns.

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

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CHAPTER 7 >>> CHAPTER 8

The laughter gets louder as the source of it shows itself aboard the black hellion, the fog makes way like a curtain opening to start a performance.

Hobie's grip is tight, fingers weaved around your arm, bruisingly strong. Your nails dig into his flesh as the uniformed man tilts his head to look at you, his toothy yellowing grin thrown in your direction. His powdered white wig flutters in the breeze, medals glinting off the single lamp on the bow, hands resting on the pommel of his pristine sword. The angelic figure head is a stark contrast to the devil sneering down.

The blackened wood of his ship groans as it continues to break a part of the revenge. The sails unfurled behind him, blue wings fluttering in the wind.

The angel of death has come.

“Look at what we have here.” He clicks his tongue, eyes boring a hole through your skulls, he narrows them into slits, and like a snake, he slithers as close as he can, tethering close to the edge. There's a flash of emotion in his eyes, snarling, the navy man chuckles, the mere sound makes you want to cower. “Hello little birdy, now how far did you fly to get where you are now?”

Hobie clenches his jaw, stepping over to hide you from his view. His hand never leaves yours, the dull ache from his hold says that this isn't just a nightmare.

You want to wake up even if it means losing his hold on you.

“Oh where are my manners? Mummy would whip me if she ever knew I didn't introduce myself to a lady.”

Hobie shifts his weight, ready to pounce if need be. You grab his shirt, making sure he doesn't do anything drastic. Subtly flicking your eyes to the side, you see the crew do the same. They look at you with fear in their eyes, the hunter’s gazes illuminating their contorted faces.

You can't help but let out a shuddering breath, the sound echoing around the open waters, hoping to get your cry for help to somebody who can do something, anything to get you and everyone out to safety.

“My name's Captain Mathias Bradshaw.” He drawls, thin lips curling into a smirk. “This here is my little merry band of sailors who has a bone to pick with—” pointing at Hobie with his thick finger, white cosmetic smeared on his palms. “Him. The red hydra. I forgot to greet you yet, long time no see you rapscallion.”

You hear Hobie's shallow breathing. Grey eyes thundering, a storm brewing, lightning flowing through his veins. The only reason why he doesn't let himself loose on Mathias is your touch.

“You see here, sweetheart,” The man addresses you and you only. “For the past three years your so-called captain and I have had a bit of a tiff.” He chuckles coldly. “A rivalry of sorts.” He pauses, looking over his shoulder. “Is it still a rivalry if you're leagues above your rival?”

“No, sir.” A gruff voice says, hidden behind the mist.

Mathias turns back around. “Well, we got our answer then.”

Hobie sneakily murmurs to you. “Hide—”

“I'm not done talking!” The sudden outburst makes you jump in your skin.

“You should've been done with your senseless dialogue a long time ago.” Hobie straightens his posture, head held high, a picture of a pirate captain. “Come down here and fight like a fuckin' man, show me your flames and I'll show mine.”

The man scoffs, amusement in his green eyes. “Flames? Yours is barely a spark.”

Hobie scoffs. “Let's be done with it then. Get the closure we both want, fight me in single combat.” Mathias knits his brows, Hobie smirks. “No? Thought you were a gentleman, where's your fuckin' honour?”

A booming laugh replaces Mathias’ scowl. “I guess it died with your little red hair—”

Hobie lets go of you, drawing his gun, pointing it directly at the monster's head. The crew takes this as their cue, doing the same, pointing their weapons towards the men surrounding them.

There's hunger in his eyes, beneath the swirling grey there's a hunger waiting to be fed.

The enemy ships don't even aim their cannons at the revenge, instead they float still in the water, unmoving, the men aboard their ships smirk in your direction like you're being served to them on a silver platter. It's then you notice the sons of the sea’s ship is no more. They took the brunt of the hellion’s collision.

No longer their sails fly, their crow's nest and pieces of wood lay floating in dark waters.

Left behind, slowly drowning in the depths.

You feel droplets sliding on your cheeks, for a second you thought it's your tears. And then more and more of it comes pouring down, splashing on the wooden floorboards.

Thunder booms from a distance, lightning flashes in the sky, lighting everyone's scornful faces.

A few of Karl's men stand with Hobie, clutching their injuries. You don't see Robbie, his lack of presence makes you glare at the sneering men.

“Say her fuckin’ name.” Hobie says through gritted teeth. “After what you did— Say her name.”

“Eh.” Mathias shrugs, “I forgot.” the laughter of his men echoes in the mist.

“You fucker—!” Hobie's hand shakes despite this, he draws the golden gun, aiming it at the navy man whose smirk gets wider.

“I recognize that little blunderbuss.” He chuckles, wiggling his pointing finger, “She pointed that at my head too, you'll be unsuccessful just like she was.”

It takes every fiber inside Hobie to not just shoot and face the consequences later. But he's surrounded, his crew is surrounded, they have no chance of escaping death if he shoots. The only option he has is through single combat and to appeal to the man's ego. He's hoping the idea works.

One look over his shoulder, one glance at your trembling face and he's back to that day, the day MJ was lost. He prays that this day doesn't end the same way three years ago.

“Little dove,” Mathias’ devilish eyes roam over your trembling body. “Look at you,” he chuckles lowly, “I'd say dear ol' Hobie here got an upgrade just because this one's got her head still glued on her neck!”

Hobie almost shoots him until someone from his crew screams, their voice full of malice, venom dripping with every utterance.

“Fuck you!” Gwen exclaims, “Don't you have any honour? She's dead and you're still spitting on her watery grave! After everything you've put her through!”

“Ah! Gwen Stacy, the ballerina turned pirate. How you doin', miss Stacy? I heard your father's still down in the stables, trying to repay his debt to the crown.” he rags her on, scoffing.

“You're still defending her? She's a traitor, a navy spy. The greatest one we've ever had in fact. Her only downfall is loving a bunch of…” he sucks in his teeth, trying to find the word. “Thieves like you. Love got her head cut off and love will be your ruin too.” Flicking his eyes to you, he observes everyone's faces after his tirade.

Hobie steps between Gwen and Mathias, his guns still raised, eyes brimming with the anger of a forsaken God. Yet he remains calm, clearing his throat, standing tall.

“Mathias Bradshaw, I challenge you to single combat, a duel. I win, you let us go. You win and you get to take us all back to the capital.” Hobie's voice booms louder than the thunder above. Lightning strikes near, the water sizzles at the contact. “I know a man of your stature can't say no.”

The man in the uniform guffaws loudly, broad shoulders shaking. “Oh that's hilarious, you think you'd win against me, little pirate? Hmm?”

“Yes.” Hobie doesn't miss a beat.

Mathias smiles, “I guess this one's less messy than what I was planning. Name your terms.”

“Guns only, five bullets. You get shot three times you lose.”

“I'll add a tiny thing to your wager.” The navy man looks over to your direction, pointing his crooked finger at you. “Same terms but I get to keep your little bird.”

Hobie turns to you, wide eyes staring back at you. “No—” He's already shaking his head before you speak up.

“Deal!” You roar above the thunder storm, deciding your own fate. The rain is getting heavier, drenching your terrified self. “The captain will take your terms as long as you honour it.” Nodding to Hobie, he holsters his weapon away from you.

Mathias cackles in the background.

Gently holding on to your arm, you already know what he'll say.

“Don't. Do you know what you just agreed to?”

“I do,” you stare at his raging eyes but they're tender when he looks at you. “I know you can take him, I trust you.” Taking his hand away from your arm, you squeeze him once before pulling him towards you. “Don't play fair, because he won't.” you whisper. “Fucking obliterate him, for MJ.”

Hobie takes you in like it's the last thing he'll ever do. He imprints your touch in his mind, wanting to remember the softness of it when the bullets get too much for him to bear.

He nods slowly, still unsure of your decision. If you trust him enough to sell your soul then he'll fight to the death so you don't have to.

With one last look at you, he turns around, facing up to the man he loathes the most, wanting to just strangle him with his bare hands. Maybe he'll do just that.

For the crew.

Mathias takes his blue coat off, grinning the entire time.

For MJ.

He grabs on to a rope, rappelling off the black hellion, landing in a thunderous impact on the deck.

For you.

Now that he's leveled with your gaze, he's a lot smaller down on the deck, stout with a round belly, face painted with white lead that's currently melting in the downpour. Hobie's taller and slimmer but he makes up for it in his agility and speed. You've seen him fight but Mathias' form could be compared to Finn's build, all muscle and strength hidden behind his uniform.

You're glad this was a duel of pistols if it was any other fight Hobie could be in trouble.

A few of his men do the same, jumping off the hellion while the ones on the smaller ships stay on board but keeping their eyes peeled.

Surrounding the bloodsail pirates, the hands of Mathias' men never leave the pommels of their rapiers. Hobie clenches his jaw, now standing before the king's flame, he can't help but gaze behind the man, back to you and his crew.

Gwen goes to your side, lacing her trembling fingers through yours, Pav sidles behind you, clutching the back of your vest. Miles stands next to Gwen, holding her other hand. You see them look at eachother with a knowing glance and glimmering eyes.

Your eyes meet Hobie's, you give him a nod, eyes full of fury, and trembling lips. You mouth a ‘Bleed him dry’.

The simple act of Hobie smiling at you, makes you tear up. It's the same one he gives you after you patch him up, it's the same one when he handed you the hot chocolate. It's the same smile that makes your heart flutter in your chest.

You're afraid as you part with the crowd to the side of the duelists, lest you get caught in the crossfire. As the one in front, you get a good look at the enemy on the other side, all lined up perfectly like the obedient soldier men that they are. You roam your eyes to their faces, wondering how they could obey a man like Mathias.

You assume the uniformed man walking towards the duelists is Mathias' right hand man. Left eye covered in an eye patch, his hazel eyes observe you. He's carrying a large wooden box, pristine and smooth at the edges with golden locks and embellishments. He opens it with a creak, rain water landing on the wood and soaking the velvet inside.

“You're the challenger, you get the first pick.” Mathias gestures towards Hobie, all smiles like he's not about to meet the end of a bullet.

You stand on your tippy toes to take a peek inside. There are two dueling pistols, flintlocks. One white as fresh snow, one is black like the hellion.

Hobie takes his pick, pocketing what you assume is the five bullets. The black gun in his hand shines when a lightning strikes the mast of the hellion. You hear splintering wood in the distance.

He steps back in place, measuring the metal’s weight in his hand.

“Good choice.” Mathias eyes down the gun. “Death has touched that one.”

Hobie glares, baring his teeth. If only that was enough to kill the man before him.

Mathias takes the remaining gun, wiggling it in his hand. “You ready, little pirate?”

Hobie doesn't show an ounce of fear. “You're going to die today.”

“How confident, confidence alone won't help you aim straight.”

Your entire body shakes whilst they stand back to back, guns raised on their sides. They walk slowly, counting their steps.

The pouring rain doesn't help, raindrops obscuring your vision, the cold mixing in with the ice in your veins.

With every step Hobie takes,

Five

with every hit of his boots on the floorboards,

Four

your heart tries to escape,

Three

pulse hammering,

Two

threatening to give out. Afraid of what's to come. No one else dares to make a sound.

One

Standing end to end on the dock, they turn around swiftly.

After a beat, the man with the box yells. “Fire!”

Bang!

The sound echoes out in the dark, above all the rain and thunder.

Hobie hits his mark, Mathias groans, clutching his dominant shoulder. Smoke bellows out of their guns, dissolving into the rain.

Your words are repeating in Hobie's head ‘Don't play fair’ you say, then he won't play fair.

He notices his bleeding arm, looking down he sees the bullet nicked his skin, leaving an angry gash in its wake. The wood behind him gets the brunt of the bullet, the metal embedding inside, splintering a gaping hole.

You jump when Mathias laughs along the thunder. More and more lightning pierces the sky. You can taste iron in your mouth, not realizing the pain from biting the inside of your cheeks.

They reload, Mathias’ man observing with his watchful eye, making sure they both adhere to the rules; but you highly doubt he's doing it for fairness sake.

Metallic clanking, gunpowder clinking against steel, Mathias' voice enters the fray to your dismay.

“You know, you were too easy to fool.” He starts, finishing up his reload. “You never asked why I left my lieutenant in your hands and why was it so damn easy for you to get my travel documents.” Smiling, the lead on his face melts further, dripping on the floorboards, the white paint mixing in with his blood. “Just like I said, love will be your downfall.”

Hobie doesn't have enough time to squabble, instead he would let his aim talk for him.

“Twenty paces!” The eye patch man yells again.

Hobie and Mathias move forwards, getting closer and closer to each other. You want to put a stop to the duel, but you have to trust Hobie that he'll make it, that he'll win. He has to.

You dare not blink.

“Fire!”

Bang!

Hobie almost keels over, his shoulder heavily bleeds, trembling hand holding his flesh together. You see him smile underneath the pain, following his gaze, Mathias clutches his shooting hand, groaning and hissing. It looks like Hobie shot a hole right in the man's hand. The white gun lays on the bloodied floor, discarded.

Gwen's hold on you tightens, you can hear Pavitr sob quietly.

You catch Hobie's eyes. There's hope in the swirling grey, nodding, you encourage him, mouthing an ‘end it’. He seems to understand, straightening his stance, he reloads the gun as best as he can with an injured shoulder.

Mathias wheezes out a strained laugh. “I gotta hand it to you, your aim is pretty good.” He stands, grabbing his gun on the way up with his uninjured hand. “No matter how amazing your aim is, you're still bloody blind!” He screams, spit flying out of his mouth.

“My two bullets that's in you say otherwise.” Hobie tilts his head mockingly.

“No, no, no.” Mathias clicks his tongue, waving the gun wildly. “You still don't get it do you? You're not asking questions, letting everything fall into your lap, thinking God's on your side on your little revenge quest. But he's not,” he chuckles. “Sacrificing my lieutenant was the best decision I've ever made, especially knowing the fucker can absolutely sing. Loose lips sink ships, little pirate. Do remember that. Especially since you didn't seem to learn from it last time.”

Hobie's face falls, dread filling his chest.

“Bribing the governor to plant my travel documents and telling him to go unwind in a brothel for a couple of days was well worth my coin.” Mathias stretches his shoulder, reloading his pistol with bloodied hands.

He continues. “The two idiots at the gates were…well idiots, I barely had to do anything to them. The lock was a false security to make you sweat a little bit.” The king's flame proves himself. “You're blind. You've focused so much on taking me down that you didn't notice the little details. It's either that or you're also deaf, preferring not to hear your crew's concerns.”

“Not a very good attribute for a supposed captain.” he shrugs, he says his words mockingly.

“Fuck you!” Hobie aims directly at his rival's head.

It's all his fault, everything that led up to this point is his fault.

The gun trembles in his hold. Mathias looks pleased, smiling at Hobie.

“You know the rules.” Mathias sucks in his teeth. “Don't fire until lieutenant Dubois says so or I win and I get your little bird.” he looks over at you. “Oh we're gonna have so much fun together, every night, every day.” His laughter makes you want to grab the nearest knife and shove it down his throat.

You don't back down from his disgusting gaze. “If he doesn't kill you, I will.” Pavitr tries to hold you back. “And it won't be quick.” your voice shakes from sheer anger.

“I look forward to it, duchess.” Mathias spares you one last glance.

You don't notice how Hobie looks angrier than he did, he's clearly holding back. His glare alone could burn a hole through Mathias' skull. Yet he stands tall, getting a second wind; he's gonna shoot a hole in his skull instead.

His head goes a hundred knots per hour, thinking of all the what ifs. What if he just listened, what if he didn't let her stay, what if, what if, what if, the words are tattooed in his mind, clawing and biting at his psyche.

“Ten paces!”

They walk in sync, closer to each other more than ever. Pausing in place, they stare each other down, Mathias' smile never leaving his lips. Hobie's scowl gets deeper with every second that passes.

“Fire—!”

“Fuck this.” Mathias lunges in surprise, grappling Hobie.

Hobie doesn't get a chance to dodge, his gun clattering on the floor as the heavier man tackles him to the ground. The wet floors make it hard for Hobie to find leverage against Mathias who's currently choking him with his large arm.

Chaos ensues, everyone breaks the line, unsheathing their weapons, fighting, steel and skin clashing. Pistols going off left and right, but your main focus is on the two men writhing on the floor.

You hear Hobie choke so you run faster, taking a fallen dagger from a corpse, you quickly dodge people, determined to save Hobie.

“This is what happens when you let your feelings decide for you!” Mathias yells above the mayhem.

Finally making it close to them, in one swift movement, you stab Mathias on his back, crimson ebbs on his white shirt like spiderwebs. He screams, letting go of Hobie.

You don't spare him a glance as you take Hobie by his arm, dragging him below deck. Shutting the doors closed, Mathias bids you farewell with one last cackling.

Guiding him through the corridors, you hope the winding hallways help make it harder for the enemies to find you.

“Y/N.” He wheezes out.

“Don't fucking talk.” Your feet brings you to the galley. Sitting him down, he plops like a fish on the chair, head lolling to the side.

Slapping his cheek, he wakes back up with a groan. “Actually, keep talking. Stay awake, please.”

Hobie nods, “I need to go back up, I can't leave them there.” He tries to stand but your hands stop him, making him sit back down.

“You can't help in this state. Let me treat you then you can go and help.” You look in his pained eyes. “Please, at least let me help with your shoulder.” your other hand fumbles to his back, searching for an exit wound. You already know the answer when you feel the hot crimson weeping out from the puncture left behind.

You plead with your eyes.

“Alright, do what you have to do. Make it quick.” he nods, you leave his side to light a fire in the hearth, laying a metal poker on top of the hot coals. “Can I tell you a story?”

“Whatever keeps you awake.” Taking out the first aid kit from your bag, you notice your hands tremble. They never shake when you're treating someone, with your back turned away from him, you swallow down a sob.

“There was this girl, she had red hair like one of those…” he sighs, injuries aching, throat throbbing. “Apples.”

You reach his side once again, trembling fingers dipping into the wound ointment. “You have a way with words.”

He grabs your shaking hands in his, “Are you alright?”

You pause in your frantic movements, blinking rapidly. “Y-you’re the one who's bleeding right now.”

“You're shaking.”

You twist your wrists away from his touch. “I'm alright, worry about yourself and your crew.”

“You're a part of my crew”

“Shut– just…” you exhale. “Continue your story.”

Hobie nods, eyes drooping. “She just one day showed up on the docks, asking for a place.” He inhales sharply. “I needed to fill the second ship so I agreed, I let her in. I shouldn't have done it.” His eyes well up but no tears fall. “I should've turned her away but she was determined, she had the skills to stay— can you give me somethin’ for the pain? A fuckin' rum or wine, anythin’”

“No alcohol, if you want to bleed out be my guest.” You hold a cloth above his wound, pressing down to stop the bleeding as much as you can.

“Fucker!” He stomps his foot, “you can be such a little shit sometimes you know?”

You can hear the struggle upstairs. Weirdly enough, there's no sound of cannons firing.

“I know—” the ship tilts suddenly, flinging you and Hobie brutally to the side. You do your best to shield his injured self, taking the brunt of the impact, back stinging from the wall.

He lands on top of you, arms on your side, face hidden on the crook of your neck. You can feel his staggered breathing on your skin.

Bottles and pans fly towards you two. Pushing him away, you guide each other to the corner of the room, huddled together, protected by the hearth.

“Shit!” Hobie protects your head with his hand when a pot flies towards you. The ship keeps turning and tossing the both of you until it finally straightens out, you can feel how fast its going by how wild the utensils are swinging.

“Someone got hold of the helm.” He whispers, his cool hand on your tender shoulder. “We're running.” Hobie doesn't say it with pride or dejection, he utters it with embarrassment.

“That's good,” you stand up, giving him a helping hand. “We can get out—”

The unmistakable sound of a cannonball whizzes past and the ship lunges harshly on the side again. You can hear frantic yells from above.

Hobie takes your hand, “I need to get up there.”

Helping him up, you nod. “And you will, let me close that wound off and give you something for the pain and we'll go back up there.”

“Y/N, you can't—”

“We will go up there.” the fire in your eyes makes him obey. “Sit down, I'll make this quick but not painless.”

He flops down, masking the pain with a grimace. Inhaling, he continues. “I let MJ in.”

You pause for a second before taking the metal poker. “Even after seeing all the bloody signs.” He sighs. “Maybe I am blind.”

You hold his face tenderly. “You were, but you still have a chance to change that. You can still help your crew. Make it right for their sake.”

He holds the back of your neck, kneading the skin with his bloodied fingers. “I don't regret letting you stay.”

You look at him apologetically. “You will after this.” Shoving the leather pot holder in his mouth, moving aside his clothes. “Inhale” you place the hot poker directly on his bullet wound, cauterizing the gaping hole.

It sizzles, Hobie holds on to your sides tightly, bunching up the fabric in his hands. Muffled screams eaten up by the leather in his mouth.

You move the rod away once it's done. Hobie's eyes roll in the back of his head. Slapping him lightly, he wakes back up.

“Stay awake, hey. Look at me.” He stares at you through half-lidded eyes. “There you are, captain.” You smile to reassure him. He gives you a tired nod. “Now for the exit wound.”

Hobie inhales, more than ready this time around. His skin is clammy, eyes red from the brimming tears. He clenches his entire body, determined to get it over with. Twisting around in his seat, he hopes the ship doesn't rock as you push the searing metal poker on the back of his shoulder.

With a muffled yell from him, you take the tool away, letting it cool down. Moving his head with your hand, you look at him apologetically.

“I'm sorry, if I warned you first you would've flinched.”

Hobie spits the leather out of his mouth, patting your cheek with his sweaty hand, he leaves it there, stroking your skin.

“I wouldn't have flinched.” He chuckles through the searing pain.

“Of course you wouldn't.” You hold his hand that's on top of your cheek. “You did good.”

He laughs, hand leaving your skin to hold your hand instead. “Not the first time I've felt fire.”

You smile, without thinking, you lay your forehead on his as more cannonballs fly around the revenge.

“You did good too.” He whispers. Eyes closed, he leans away. “Now get me something for the pain and let's get the bastard.”

You smile, nodding to him. Taking a bottle from your bag, you rub mint oil on his upper lip, igniting his nerves, keeping him awake.

“That's the only thing I have that could help. I can't give you alcohol.”

Hobie tentatively stands up, “Maybe after this then.” He groans, slightly limping. “‘m gonna need an entire crate of ‘em.” he thinks adrenaline is enough to keep him on his feet.

He faces you, a ghost of a smile on his pained face. Hobie bends at the waist, you scramble to help him but he refuses with his hand raising to stop you. Taking something from inside his boot, he grabs a shiny and slender thing.

“Here.” Hobie hands a silver dagger to you, intricate carvings of a turtle and a sea snake looping around the glimmering handle. “Somethin’ to defend yourself.”

“Are you sure? It looks—”

“I don't mind givin’ it to you.” He closes your hand around the hilt. “Make sure this one hits his neck this time.”

“I will.” Your eyes fill with determination, adrenaline still coursing through you.

He wobbles towards the door, sparing you a smile on the way.

“Hobie,” you call after him. “Continue your story after this?”

“Only if you tell me yours.” He looks over his shoulder, giving you the same smile he always has.

You scoff with a small smile, “Maybe I will.”

“Let's fuckin’ go and be pirates then.”

—

Getting up the deck was tedious work with all the rocking and shifting from the ship and the wild waves, add that with all the cannon balls whizzing past, it was like riding an angry bull. Meeting halfway with Karl on the way there made it easier, filling your chest with hope.

“Where's Robbie?!” He frantically yells, forehead bleeding, hands gripping Hobie's vest.

“I-I don't know.” Karl's face falls. “But we'll find him, I know he got out.”

“Got out from what?” His voice trembles, “what happened, Hobie?”

Hobie holds his friend’s wrist, “I'm sorry.” Karl weeps. “Go find Robbie and your crew.” He shakes his head. “And get the hell out of here, he's after me not you.”

Karl's eyes fill with tears, flicking towards you who look on with sad eyes. “What about you and the others?”

“We'll find a way out. We always do, remember?” Hobie reassures him with a smile. “Take one of my dinghies, and row the hell out of here.” he takes Karl's hands away from his vest. “We'll see you back at the old place, yeah?”

“You fucking better, Hobart or I'll drown you myself.” Karl takes your hand briefly, nodding. “I hope I see you again, doc.”

“Me too, captain. Find Robbie.”

You part ways with Karl, praying that he finds Robbie and what remains of his men.

“Ready, trouble?” Hobie gets your attention by brushing his pinky against the back of your hand.

“I'm right behind you.”

—

It's war.

The moment Hobie opened the door to the deck you smell petrichor and blood in the air.

You get a glimpse of the battle before he could shut the doors. Bodies, both pirates and navy alike lay motionless on the floor. The sound of thunder mixes in with the pained yells, flashes of lightning illuminates the night sky and you see the faces of the dead clearly.

Two-fingers lay face first on the deck, arms bent at an angle, blood pooling from his head. Through the smoke and splintered wood, Foul screams when a sword plunges through his heart, silencing him immediately. Danny takes a bullet for Finn who promptly avenges him with his cutlass, swiftly separating the man's head from his body.

One face you were hoping was among the dead was missing. Mathias isn't on board.

Something flashes in his eyes when he looks at you. Grabbing your arm, he leans in, your heart stops.

Hobie moves past your head to press his forehead on your shoulder. Bathing in your presence, hand squeezing your skin

“Hobie?”

He smiles, moving his hand up to cup your jaw. Chuckling, he cleans his dried blood off your cheek with his thumb. “Do me a favour, Scuttlebutt?”

“What is it? We need to get up there!”

Hobie ignores you, leaning away. “Survive for me would you? Live, find your family. Promise me.” He sniffs, eyes glinting.

“What?”

“Just promise me, trouble.” He shakes you.

“Alright I promise. Can we—”

“I'm sorry.”

“What—?” Hobie pushes you hard, you fall off the steps, landing on your behind, he exits without looking back, shutting the doors closed. “What the fuck?!”

You rattle the doorknob but it's no use, he locked it on the outside. Frustrated, you try to kick in the door, hurting yourself from the hard wood.

“Fuck! Hobie!” You bang the door, peeking through the keyhole you see carnage as Hobie makes quick work of the remaining men. “Let me help!”

The sound of cannon balls going off almost deafens your eardrums. If only you had your lockpick you could open it.

Your lockpick.

It's a stretch but you still run towards your cabin, feet thudding loudly, echoing around the hallways that you've memorized.

You feel relieved after seeing your door. Shouldering it open, you frantically search for the metal on the shelves. The tip of it scratches your hand but you don't care, already bolting off towards the exit. Running off with your bag tied around you, hoping the medical kit inside is enough to treat the wounded, you hold the lockpick in your hand while you run.

Your hope dwindles with every cannon hitting the ship.

Doors whizz past, ankle stinging, the sounds of screams and gunfire makes you sprint faster.

You don't notice the blood soaked hulking man leaving Hobie's cabin.

Running into him, you stagger, tumbling down, heart falling into your stomach as he looks down at you through his nose.

“Hello there.”

Scrambling to get to your feet, you slide under his legs, stabbing his achilles heel with your lockpick. The man screams in agony, you take the opportunity to sprint like you've never ran before. You'd take running away from O’hara any day.

Your lungs scream for you to stop, but you go on as you hear thundering stomping behind you.

There's no exit and you can't run forever.

The metallic click rings behind you, rounding the corner, you barely dodge the bullet aimed at you, nicking your hip.

“Shit!” You almost fall yet you continue on, entering the library, you shut the doors behind you, locking it swiftly.

Lifting your hand away, the sight of your own blood turns your fear into fury. With your trembling hands, you unsheathe the dagger from your belt.

You have a promise to keep, and you never break a promise.

Hiding behind the armchair you always sat on, you crouch down, gripping the dagger, ready to strike like a viper in the sand.

You look back on what she taught you, “Strike fast and hit hard. Don't give them a chance to get back up.” her voice whispers it to you and you intend to follow it.

The door bursts open, splintering the wood to a thousand pieces.

“The captain wants you alive, little birdy. This doesn't have to hurt if you just come with me, eh?” You hear him chuckle lowly, blatantly lying to you.

His heavy footsteps thud closer.

You use the shadows as your guide, the oil lamp left open on the corner table does the work. For once you thank Gwen for forgetting to close the light.

“I can help with your wound. Glue your wings back together again” he whistles. “The red hydra can't help you with that but I can. I'm a surgeon you see.” Getting closer and closer, you time your strike right.

You come out of your hiding place with a battle cry. Still crouches down, “I highly doubt that!” Slicing his tendons in one quick movement. The second he falls to his knees, you stab him in the neck.

Stepping back, he chokes in his own blood. With wide eyes you flinch when he stands, seemingly unaffected but his shaking pupils say otherwise. With a garbled noise from your assailant, he reaches for you.

“What the fuck?!”

With a split second decision, you dodge his hands, moving backwards, throwing books from the shelves which bounce almost harmlessly on his head and body.

There's a loud thrumming sound outside, its warbling is almost mechanical but definitely something an animal could've made.

He heard it too, pausing in his movement for a second before he lunged towards you. With a scream, your back against the corner, he jumps you.

Your head hits the wall in an ugly crunch, seeing stars, sliding down the wall, landing on the floor, he chokes you with his bare hands. Indistinct noises escape from his mouth, your dagger nowhere to be found in his throat. His entire body hides anything in front of you, drowning your vision, filling it with your murderer. His blood drips down on your face, almost drowning you in it.

You know he's running on fumes but based on your vision fading, lungs gasping for air, you think you'd go out first before him.

Hands grazing something metallic on the floor next to you, you inch your fingers towards it. Finally finding your grip, you smack it on his head.

You've got a promise to keep after all.

He yells, the oil from the lamp spreading on his skin and clothes, engulfing him in flames.

You frantically roll away, killing the fire clinging to your clothes until there's nothing left but burned cloth.

The flames light up the entire room in orange and reds, the paper around him helps feed the fire as he tries to desperately put it out.

There's that thrumming again.

You watch on, holding your tender neck. Your face is flat, eyes reflecting the fire that's quickly eating at the man. Fabric burns on his flesh, flesh turns into charred muscle, the fire eats at that too until he falls, silence hanging in the room except for the fire cackling, ashes and flames surrounding his corpse.

You stand up, ratty shoes stepping over fire to grab the fallen dagger with a thick cloth from your bag.

For a second you stand amidst the fire.

The thrumming outside and the warmth wakes you up, flames licking at your clothes, it's heat scorching your skin, nose filling with smoke. Even with all the pain you still escape with your life, determined to keep your promise.

Running outside the former library, the cracking of splintering wood fills your ears, you instinctively dodge, backing away before the mast of the revenge falls on your head.

Shielding your face, you cower. The mast stills, sharp wood lay next to your feet. Tentatively opening your eyes, the sounds from above are clearer in your ears, all the screams and guns going off, you hear it loud and clear that you can decipher whose screams belong to whom.

The fog enters below deck through the gaping hole left by the broken mast. All the while, the smoke from the library rises up, replacing the mist.

Your exit.

You don't hesitate to climb up. Jagged edges of sharp wood rip amd snag your clothes, stabbing your skin. Finding leverage, you manage to prop yourself up on the deck, meeting face to face with a lifeless Ned.

The light in his eyes is gone, unsung music escaping from his open lips. Skin dirtied by flowing ichor.

You don't hear anything else other than skin meeting skin in a brutal dance.

“No.” You quickly jump up, leaving the fire behind you to consume, to devour what's left of the revenge. “Ned?”

Desperately feeling for a pulse, your heart wretches in your throat, saliva filling your mouth, bile rising up from your gut.

There's no pulse.

With a choked sob, you close his eyes for him. The sound of wet punching makes you turn to your side. Hobie's eyes are wild, vicious and desperate, bloodied knuckles pummeling the man under him. Skin broken, nose cracked, skull open for the world to see. Yet, Hobie doesn't stop even with the obvious signs of death. Fueled by rage, he paints the wooden floorboards with the man's brain.

It all feels sickenly real, your heart is still beating in sync with his punches but there's so much death around you that you feel like you're a part of the dead. Blood and smoke filling your senses, adrenaline slowly washed away like the tides.

You're sitting in a graveyard and nobody else has noticed.

“Hobie.”

His fists pound harshly through the man's head, splintered wood now embedded in his skin.

You apprehensively crawl towards him, your various injuries aching, blood seeping out from your hip. The chaos around you still continues on while he still doesn't stop.

“Hobie—” your fingers brush his arm, he flinches back, fist raised to knock you out. But he halts, knuckles kissing the tip of your nose, painting it with crimson.

With wide eyes, he heaves, muscles tensed, grief all over his expression. You shove your fear down, holding his raised knuckles, moving it away gently. You hold his face in your other hand, smearing the fresh ichor on his cheeks, staining your own skin.

“It's done, he's dead.” You nod, caressing his face, turning it away from the carnage below him. “Hobie,” you unclench his fist carefully, shattered bone and hair sticking to him. With a shallow breath, you let the tears flow on your cheeks. “He's dead.”

His face flashes with fury only to be triumphed over by misery. With a heavy heart, he nods.

Behind Hobie, a uniformed man raises his pistol, without a second thought, you take the golden blunderbuss from his waist, hastily aiming it directly at the man's head.

Your ears ring, the smoke from the gun blinds you for a second before you see your target fall dead with a bullet right between his eyes, blood splattering like fireworks from his head.

Hobie looks at you in surprise, taking his gun away from you carefully. Hands soft on your raised skin. He pats your cheek and you could only shake your head.

“We need to—” the ship collides with something, Hobie holds you close, covering you away from debris. With his embrace, he protects you. Scarred hand on the back of your head, face hiding in the crook of your neck. Leather, sea salt and blood invades your senses.

The hellion is once again looming over the revenge, its golden façade cracking under the damage made by Hobie's ship.

Mathias shows himself, looking worse for wear, he wobbles on two feet, clutching his injuries.

You hear footsteps around you, raising your head, eyes widening at what's left of the crew, they stand behind you and Hobie. Wiping blood off their faces, reloading their guns, sharpening their swords. The red sails of the people's revenge still fly above, more than ready to take what they're owed, no matter what it takes.

Gwen's blond hair is dipped in ruby red, hands tight around her blunderbuss. Miles wipes his face clean, stepping next to Gwen with clenched jaw. Pavitr stands directly behind you, face covered in what you hoped to be someone else's blood. He nods, reassuring you.

Yuri and James take one look at Ned, their expression alone could make you weep again. Finn, crouches down next to you, nodding wordlessly, blue eyes glossy.

Hobie exhales, with shaky legs he stands up, helping you back to your feet. Gripping your knife, you scowl at the man above.

“How cute. The power of friendship isn't enough to save you.” Mathias says through gritted teeth.

The rest of his crew arrives, there's less ships than before, proving how the bloodsail pirates is a force to be reckoned with. They have what Mathias doesn't have, giving them something worth fighting for.

Mathias nods, signaling his ship to turn their cannons towards you and your family.

You step in front of Hobie. “I have a proposition!” Yelling above the rain and metallic clanking, you push away Hobie's hand from your shoulder.

“What is it?” The man rolls his eyes, looking incredibly bored. “We can't be here all night.”

“Me,” the crew voices their concerns, Hobie takes your hand, face terrified.

You smile, “it's alright.” Whispering to him and the crew only. With tearful eyes, you turn back to the devil above. “You seem like you really want me, so fucking take me instead. Let them go.”

You feel the heat beneath your feet. The fire devours everything just a few feet below you.

They all yell your name behind you. Protests fill your ears but you choose to ignore them. You feel his calloused fingers squeeze your hand.

The man guffaws, “Holy shit! You like them that much?” He observes Hobie's contorted face.

“You like her that much?” He chuckles. “You know what? I don't even want you that much, sure, get on up here, birdy!”

There's that thrumming and warbling again. It's much clearer now that you're above, it seems like it's coming from beneath the ship.

“Come here and take me then!” The rain mixes in with your salty tears. Raising your arms, shoving everyone away, you taunt him. “But let them go or I'll plunge this dagger through your eye!”

“Christ, you're as insane as him. Perfect for eachother eh?” he sighs, gesturing for his cannons to cease. “I'm already satisfied even though a few of your men escaped from a dinghy but eh, I'm sure I'll get them soon enough. Just like how I'll get you one day, little pirate. I'm a very patient man, I'll wait three more years if I have to.”

Hobie's face is full of anguish when he swivels you around to look at him. “Don't fuckin' do this. He won't keep his word,” he flicks his eyes to Mathias, then back to you, grey eyes darker than before. “the moment you step foot on that ship he'll kill you.” his mind comes back to that fateful day.

He can't let that happen again, not to you.

You look at him softly. “I know, but I'll make it hard for him, that'll give you enough time to escape. Hobie, I have nothing else, just this.” swallowing the lump in your throat, there's heat under your eyes. Taking his hand, you squeeze it once. “Let me do this, for you and for them. You still have to get your revenge so let me do this. Don't let him win.”

“You promised.” His voice cracks.

“I don't think I can keep it now.” You flick your eyes behind him, the crew looks on with grief marring their eyes. “They're too young for this, Gwen, Pav and Miles, they deserve to live too.”

You hear the rope fall from the hellion's deck. “I'm glad I got stuck in that net even though you made me walk the plank.” chuckling through the tears, you give them your best smile to remember you by.

“Don't leave.” he pleads.

Sliding your hand away, you take one last look at them, making a sketch of their faces in your mind to remember when the inevitable happens.

“I have to go now or this won't work.”

The captain has no plan on how to fix it, how to fix everything, and he beats himself bloody for it.

Turning around, with every step you take feels heavier than the last. You make amends to her in your mind, praying that it reaches back home. You also thank her, but you don't regret running away that day.

You'll never know what lies for you up north or if there's someone there waiting for you. If there is someone, you apologize to them too.

You leave traces of yourself to the people behind you with the hope you live on through those pieces. That at least they won't forget your name.

The howling wind and rain whips at your drenched form, committing the feel of it to memory.

Grabbing the rope, you fight the urge to look behind.

“Hurry up, birdy!” Mathias cackles. “Come on then—!”

The thrumming is deafening, everything seems to freeze mid motion.

Giant mounds of flesh rise up from the water. Snake-like features curl above, rising to the heavens, cutting through the grey clouds.

You can't help but be mesmerized by the beauty of it. Iridescent scales glimmer against the lightning, cracked scales teeming in gold. the lightning bolts ricochet off their scaly skin, unharmed.

More serpents appear from the depths, towers of scaled flesh. They rain sea water from above, dripping from their massive bodies.

One curls just above the hellion, opening its eyes, revealing an entire ocean in its orbs.

You can't stop looking at it, petrified.

“Dragons.” You say in awe.

“Y/N!” Hobie races towards you. His hand brushes against your shirt, so close yet so far.

You get yanked up with the hellion, grip still frozen on the ropes. Holding on for life, the beast has curled around the ship, in your peripheral you see men jumping off, splashing down into the depths, taking their chances in the cold.

Facing the creature, they trill and thrum, crushing the hellion and the navy ships in their massive jaws and swirling flesh.

You wake up from the trance they had you in, almost losing your grip off the rope.

“No!” You screech, saving yourself, arm socket straining against your weight. Twirling the rope around your hand, you tie it just like how they taught you.

Palms burning on the hemp, looking down, you're hanging high above the revenge. You watch as the crew frantically unties a dinghy while Hobie and Finn stay behind, they're too far for you to make out what they're doing.

Your only chance is to jump in the water but you know that'll be the end of you.

Water parts for something swimming fast under the water, it moves towards the Revenge. You scream their names in an attempt to warn them.

“Gwen!” Your throat struggles from the screaming. “Brace yourselves!”

The serpent crashes on the starboard side, away from where the small boat hangs. Hobie clings to the remaining mast, knife in his hand. Heart pounding, you watch as Gwen runs towards Hobie, he yells, she shakes her head but in the end she bolts for the dinghy. You nod, hoping she saw that you forgave her.

The beast constricts around the helion, crashing the oak and its gilded carvings in its wrapped body.

You sway in the wind with the serpent’s movements, praying that the rope hangs on to the figure head. The figure head of an angel looks down at you, lifeless eyes observing your slow demise.

This is the end for you, you've never thought you'd be killed by a mythical being turned into reality but here you are, hanging on by a thread, waiting for death to come.

With one last glimpse at the revenge, you see the fire finally reaching above deck. Gwen and the others lower down on the dinghy while Hobie grabs onto a rope, cutting the knot off the steel rings, remembering James' teachings, if he keeps doing that he’ll get yanked up, and with the wild wind, it will surely be a disaster.

You yell his name in a futile attempt to stop his effort at saving you.

Finn raises something in his hands, heaving it over his shoulder.

You sharply turn your head when a snapping sound fills your ears. The hemp untangles, with the rope breaking in the middle, you close your eyes.

The sea serpent lets out a guttural scream, the sound alone sends shivers down your spine. It uncurls around the hellion and you get a glimpse of a sharp harpoon sticking out from its eye.

Falling with the hellion, the serpent's eyes turn from blue to a bloody red, bathing everything in its gaze in crimson. it's the last thing you see before you shut your eyes.

You feel a familiar arm around your middle, looking over your shoulder, you think you've already died.

“I've got you!” Hobie yells, with him carrying you and his hand grasping on the rising rope, he struggles to hold on.

So you help him, wrapping your arm behind him, you hold the rope in the other, face close to his as you two fly above the revenge, swinging and whipping uncontrollably in the storm.

The beast trills, jaw unhinging, its rows of shark like teeth in full display.

“Shit!” Hobie manipulates the rope to swing you two away from its sharp teeth.

It fails to catch you, instead it turns its attention to Finn on the deck.

“Finn! Run!” Your blood curdling scream gets his attention, yet he pays no heed.

But everyone already knows it's too late, with one last fight in him, he raises his harpoon, yelling, meeting the serpent's opened mouth halfway.

It swallows him whole.

You just stare at where Finn once stood, he leaves patches of his ichor on the floor.

The revenge sinks, fire and water engulfing Hobie's home, your home.

“Love!” The name rots in his mouth, it gets you out of your frozen state. “I—”

The last standing mast cracks and breaks apart. You lose your grip on Hobie.

And you fall once again. For a second you fly, eyes peering towards the clearing sky, with white clouds in your vision, you brace for impact.

“MJ!”

That's the last thing you hear as you fall in the depths in a harsh splash.

A/N: so sorry for the late update!! Hope you like it 🫶 (if i forgot to put any warnings on the tags please tell me)

[msweebyness]

DuPont School for Monstrous Youths- Max Kante

Max is geared up and ready to go! As always, thanks to @imsparky2002 and @artzychic27!

Species: Steam-Powered Robot

Appearance/Attire: Short, Bronze skin, bolted together at the joints, square black afro, brown eyes with gear-shaped irises, rockets in soles of feet. Bronze steampunk goggles, white button up shirt, meadow green double breasted vest, black work gloves, black dress pants with bronze gear decals, bronze rocket boots.

Bio: A tech-geek through and through, Max has a passion for both the old-fashioned and the newly-updated! Always tinkering with some new creation, it’s rare you’ll see him without a tool in hand. Being a Victorian-esque steam-power machine, Max’s old-English vocal language patterns can make him a bit difficult to understand at times. A brilliant analytic and logical mind, he’s the go-to tutor for most of the gang. He can be a bit stuck in his ways, but he’ll update his programming as needed!

Quotes:

"By Jove, how fascinating!"

"Keep up this nonsense and I shall cleave you in twixt, rapscallion."

"I suppose l've always related to Jenny Wakeman.”

"Oh, bother! My navigation interim is on the fritz again!"

"Thank the maker that I met all of you lovely chums!"

"I say, that Jack-O’-Lantern fellow right grinds my gears!”

Don’t underestimate the older models! Leave thoughts in the comments and reblogs!

[bsideminibang]

Masterlist

And that's a wrap! Many, many thanks to all the amazing authors, artists and betas who worked on this year's bang!

Below the cut are all the pieces that were submitted this year, so now's the time to check them out!

You're Fucking Perfect (To Me) by TwinOne with art from nickelkeep (8600 words, T)

Every Thursday Castiel visits Sam’s house, they share a glass or two of good whiskey and a bit of conversation like they’ve done for years. Everything changes the day he smells a new and intriguing scent as soon as he steps inside his friend’s house.

It’s the scent of an omega. Not just any omega, but his true mate.

A story told using the lyrics of the song Fucking Perfect by P!nk as prompts for each chapter.

You Can Keep Your Hat On by Redamber79 with art from PetraAmia (5444 words, E)

When a staff party with Cas' coworkers and boss gets too uncomfortable with unwanted advances on both of them, Dean and Cas ditch the party to go back to their place and celebrate on their own, starting with Dean performing a strip tease for Cas, and ending up in their bedroom.

Steve? Really...Steve? by Hectatess with art from Acaademicqueer (7625 words, M)

When Castiel wanders the empty streets out for revenge, he gets kidnapped. By the Law, no less. Had he been breaking the law so badly? And will he get that revenge?

When FBI-agents Sam and Dean are on an undercover job, they see the spitting image of one of the murdered victims in the case, walking, talking and… committing misdemeanours? Who is this guy, claiming to be Steve Milton? And can he really help them crack this case wide open?

Nice Like by MBQ with art from sidewinder (13700 words, E)

Dean and Benny search for Castiel in Purgatory, but the trio is rife with tensions when they finally "catch up" with the wayward angel.

Inspired by Lord Huron's, Meet Me in the Woods.

Play It Pretty For the World by cactusdragon517 with art from PetraAmaia (10805 words, E)

It's an old story, in the end: Boy meets boy. Boy falls in love. Happily ever after. But how they get there is a different story altogether (after all, what can you expect from rockstars?)

Family Business is in need of a new guitarist and lucky for them, session musician Castiel Novak is available. Guitar in hand and a bag over his shoulder, Castiel arrives in LA with Family Business on the brink of making it big.

Internally, however, is a bit more complex. Dean Winchester, lead singer and older brother, has found himself navigating his brother's growing addiction and their band's impending success.

After tours and traveling the world, they go their separate ways.

Can Dean and Castiel find their way back to each other?

Love From the Other Side by LadyKnightSkye with art from Dmitrievans (9245 words, T)

When Zachariah sends Dean forward into the world after the Apocalypse, instead of running into the National Guard, he runs into a person he thinks is his brother. In relief, he hugs “Sam.” This one choice of affection instead of aggression sets off a chain of events that ripples out from both sides of the Apocalypse.

Only Physical by nickelkeep with art from PetraAmia (4470 words, E)

Cas and Dean have been best friends for as long as Cas can remember. He's always wanted more, and when he and Dean slip into the friends-with-benefits category, he knew he could be satisfied with that. Until he wasn't.

Art for the bang by Rapscallion

I Had Some Time (With You) by songliili with art from Keikakudom (23970 words, E)

It’s 2005 when things go to hell.

Well. They go to hell for everyone except Dean, ‘cause he was ready for it.

Well. He was ready for the apocalypse, not for the gorgeous man who fell into his life, quite literally.

OR

A Destiel rewrite of Bill and Frank’s love story as shown on HBO’s The Last of Us episode 3: Long Long Time that uses elements of both universes.

Unraveling Unrolled by bleuzombie with art from golby-moon (3134 words, M)

A parent’s love should be unconditional. Coming out as trans has really put John’s love to the test.

[basedkikuenjoyer]

Things That Probably Happened, Vol. 18

(Shortly after the gang all came together at the castle ruins end of Act 1.)

Kin'emon: Ah, Kiku...I feel there is something I should tell you about our new friends the Straw Hats. Do you recall the one with the peculiar eyebrow, Sir Sanji?

Kiku: Yes, the one who was attracted to this one?

Kin'emon: Well...yes. But you must understand! I only bring it up to inform you that you can trust this band of rapscallions. For I have reason to believe the two of you are not so different.

Kiku: Are you calling this one a pervert?

Kin'emon: Heavens no! I would never want Otsuru to think I implied such a thing. It is simply because Sir Sanji seemed so overjoyed to have swapped bodies with the crew's buxom Navigator around the time I met them.

Kiku: (Makes an "I'm telling Tsuru about..." face and considers giving today's second haircut)

Kin'emon: What other reason could there be? Surely his womanizing is some kind of mask he wears out of fear of rejection!

[aceofalmonds]

Rapscallion: A new pirate RPG!

Do you like role-playing games? Pirates? Weird crews who you can't quite trust (until you become family)? Have I got the game for you!

Rapscallion is is a tabletop roleplaying game in which you play a rambunctious crew of pirates, testing their luck against the unpredictable winds of Fate. Grown from the PbtA system, play to your strengths and embrace your weaknesses with a narrative-driven 2d6 system. Perfect for a range of comedy and drama, realism and magic, for all your Our Flag Means Death, Pirates of the Caribbean, or Treasure Island gaming needs!

Want to try it out? The quickstart is free! And available at: https://magpiegames.com/products/rapscallion-quickstart-1 This covers six of the available playbooks/character archetypes (the Captain, the Chronicler, the Swashbuckler, the Montebank, the Matelot, and the Navigator), two of the available ships (the Legend and the Ramshackle), and all the rules and lore you need to get started. Plus some drop-dead gorgeous art!

Want more? Sadly, this is all that's available for now, but you can keep appraised of when the full-fledged crowd-funded version is coming out by joining Magpie Game's mailing list on their site: https://magpiegames.com/pages/faq (Some of the playbooks in the full version are an absolute *chef's kiss* of expanded content.)

[twelvelms]

An Important Update to the Twelvelms Crowdfunder!!

You can now read a draft version of the script for episode one at the link below!

[authoramandaparsons]

YOU STILL HAVE TIME!!

My Time of Blood in the Snow is OUT! And as a limited time promotion, for November 5th-November 9th, the ebook will be FREE on Amazon!

"My Time of Blood in the Snow takes readers on a thrilling journey through political intrigue, war, and unexpected romance. Alexander, the military commander of Corvale, is faced with the monumental task of navigating alliances while contending with ambushes, deceptive schemes, and the complexities of his own growing connection with Bill, a captivating male prostitute. I loved how the book expertly balances action and emotion, with Alexander's internal struggles adding depth to the fast-paced narrative. It's a gripping LGBT romantasy that pulls you in and doesn't let go."

-Abigail L., Netgalley

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DJCCVWBW

--

Alexander, military commander of the empire of Corvale and avatar of the mysterious Sanguine God, embarks on a campaign to forge ties with the rest of the continent--a tricky task, as their neighbors view their nation as bloodthirsty usurpers.

As Alexander's efforts plunge into a calamity of ambushes, cunning political schemes, and a bold deception to pass off prostitutes as religious envoys, he slowly begins to understand the true nature of the empire he has sworn to defend.

All the while, he is slowly becoming more invested in the life of a male prostitute from the city: Bill, a flirtatious rapscallion whose unique perspective begins causing Alexander's perfectly maintained facade to crack--and emotions he'd long buried to rise to the surface.

Genre: The novel is an LGBT Romantasy, intended for adults.

Content warnings are available on author site: https://ajparsonsprofesh.wixsite.com/amandaparsons

--

GET IT TODAY! :D

[bitchesgetriches]

“If any one unwarily draws in too close and hears the singing of the Sirens, his wife and children will never welcome him home again, for they sit in a green field and warble him to death with the sweetness of their song. There is a great heap of dead men’s bones lying all around, with the flesh still rotting off them. Therefore pass these Sirens by, and stop your men’s ears with wax that none of them may hear…”

You might remember this passage from high school. It’s from Homer’s Odyssey. Specifically, it’s the part where the sorceress Bavmorda gives advice to Willow Ufgood (you know, the hero of the Odyssey) about how to navigate temptation.

Although she’s a rapscallion known for turning soldiers into pigs, Bavmorda is also a smart lady who gives pretty good advice. Willow ends up lashing Madmartigan to the mast of their ship while stopping his own ears (and those of the prophesied child Elora Danan) with wax.

The moral of this ancient epic poem? Sometimes, the best way to resist temptation is to physically stop yourself from experiencing it in the first place.

Here are some easy ways to make yourself harder to find—and harder to tempt.

[magpie-scribbles]

Honeyed Words

Hello, hello! Here is my entry to for the All The Ways to Say I Love You event! Hope you all enjoy the spice!

Pairing: Smoker x AFAB Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Prompt: “ I’d rather be hurt and be with you than be okay without you.” 

Warnings: Smut, mild violence

Additional: Takes place before the timeskip!

You somehow find yourself in front of his office door, even though you had told yourself not to come...even though you had told yourself he'd still be in the infirmary…

It had been your fault after all. 

With a heavy sigh you lean against the coolness of the wall and let yourself settle into the steady, subtle rocking of the massive ship.

It was your fault he was there…

It had honestly been so routine; chasing down a group of pirates keen on making their name on the Grandline. They weren't even that noteworthy; at most ten million berries for their Captain. But even the small fry's must be kept in line, and usually everything went smooth... usually everything was fine…

You had been trying to get a better vantage point; running along the starboard side of the vessel. A tailwind was coming in and you could feel it, you needed to get to the bow and then the helm to figure out the exact position you needed to navigate the ship into in order to make good use of the oncoming wind. 

A spray of water jetted up beside you, and you had barely managed to tip toe out of the way of the brunt of it. 

Beside you a smaller, more nimble ship had made an appearance, obviously a secondary ship of the rapscallions you were chasing down. It wouldn't do much damage on its own; well unless the crew attempted to board. The Marines behind you readied their weapons as some of the pirate crew began an attempted boarding preparation. 

Your hand went to the sword at your side, ready to help your men.

"They need you up at the helm ma'am!" 

You paused for a moment, you knew your men could handle it but you still felt as though you needed to help them. You were their superior officer after all!

"We'll be okay ma'am!" Another assured.

You gave a tight nod, giving the men a quick salute before continuing your route.

As you got closer to the bow it sounded as though another part of the pirate crew had managed to board and were causing a bit of trouble on deck, and as you rounded the corner your suspicions were solidified as you all but ran into the thick of the fighting.

You hardly had any time to reach for your sword before one of the pirates was charging at you with a dagger. But before he could even swing his arm towards you he was practically catapulted over the side of the ship by a powerful kick from none other than Captain Smoker.

You swallowed thickly, in awe of the sheer strength behind the man that had just sent your would-be assailant into the sea below...he was just so...strong.

"Y/N! We gotta catch up to their main ship!" He called over the throng of voices, clearly all business.

You needed to clear your head and fast.

"Sir! A tail wind is coming! If I can get us into position-" you started.

"Don't just stand there talking, get up to the helm!" He interrupted.

You moved to run towards the stairway to the helm when you heard the sound of cannon fire.

You turned to see twin plums of smoke rising from the stern of the main pirate ship...they had backwards mounted cannons… and with the way your ship and their ship was positioned…

"Sir! The cannons they're going to-" they're coming right for us your brain kept saying over and over; they are going to be a direct hit.

But your legs wouldn't budge...there was two balls of iron heading straight for your position and your body stood there like a statue.

Suddenly you're being flung back, your ass making contact with the deck harshly as you tumbled. 

You...had been thrown?

Your head spun for a moment as you tried to gain your bearings as you looked back from where you had been standing and…

The Cannon balls made contact with the ship.

Wood and metal exploded right next to the spot you had been standing...the spot Captain Smoker was still standing in.

You swallow and bite your lip, willing yourself not to cry as the events of that afternoon played through your head again. A brutal reminder of why your Captain was currently getting patched up in the infirmary.

He had thrown you out of the way...he had saved your life and put his own in danger to do so. 

It felt as though there was a lump in your throat and you pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes to try and stave off the tears that threatened to fall. 

"Marine." 

You jump and the squeak that leaves your lips is almost as embarrassing as the tears.

"S-sir!" 

He's standing there as proud as ever despite his abdomen being wrapped up neatly in crisp, white bandages and an angry bruise blooming across his cheek bone and brow bone. You do notice though with some surprise that he is lacking any of his cigars. 

"Doc wouldn't let me smoke down there." He decides to ignore your puffy red eyes and tear stained cheeks as he walks up beside you to grip the door handle to his office. 

"...Sir I…" 

The door swings open and he walks inside but doesn't go far, pausing before turning back to gaze back at you lazily.

"You coming in or not?" He gruffs and you scurry in behind him, quick to comply. 

You want to wring your hands as you step inside and hear the door click behind you. Your gaze is practically burning a hole in the floor as Smoker makes his way over to his desk a bit stiffer than usual, no doubt grabbing a cigar from his stash.

You hear the striking of a match when you finally gather up the strength to look up and make eye contact with the large man on the other side of the desk.

"Sir...I'm so sorry." You can hear how watery your voice is.

Smoker pauses, his gaze steely; the cigar between his lips already lit but the match still crackling away at its end. Just when you are certain the match has burned nearly to his fingers, surely about to singe his skin he flicks his wrist putting out the little flame. And then to your surprise after he puts the used match stick into the ashtray on his desk, he pulls the newly lit cigar from his lips and stamps it out as well. 

The room becomes incredibly quiet then; behind thick walls you can make out the muffled sounds of chatter and laughter, the other Marines are most likely on their way to the mess hall for dinner.

"Y/n." He says finally. 

You're not sure when you started staring at the floor again but you look up slowly to meet his cool stare...but there's something different about it...the wall of impenetrable iron that you usually find is softer, kinder...more open, and it causes your breath to hitch for a moment. 

And well fuck that makes you want to cry more suddenly.

"Sir I'm so sorry, it was my fault you got hurt!" You were practically shouting and you felt fat wet tears running freely down your face now.

"Y/n crying doesn't-" Smoker never was good with crying and you knew that, but now you couldn't stop, you had been so scared.

"I was being careless and cost us the pirates and it nearly cost me…" you paused, suddenly aware of how much you were baring your soul to him. 

Since you had been assigned to his unit you had so much admiration for him. He was a hard person to get to know, and sometimes hard to deal with due to his stubbornness and walled off emotions. But he was a good man, a just man, and as time went by your admiration had turned into adoration. And here you are now after he could have died for you due to some stupid pirate scum, practically spilling your heart out 

"Could have cost you what?" He asks, much softer than you've ever heard him before. 

You feel your heart in your chest, beating against your rib cage as if it were a caged butterfly trying to escape it's prison.

He rounds the desk and steps closer to you.

"Y/n, could have cost you what?" He repeats and he takes another step and then another, until he's towering over you pinning you with both the sharpest and softest stare you've ever seen.

You could lie and say "my position...or my life." But you would never let yourself lie to him no matter how terrified of speaking the truth you are. 

"You…" you say finally, barely above a whisper. You finally met his gaze head on, practically trembling as you say it again. "It nearly cost me you…" 

He's quite, absolutely silent, but his eyes...they soften and look almost confused for a moment before you feel his calloused fingertips grazing your jaw and then his large, warm palm is cradling your cheek as he bends down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

You wonder for a moment if perhaps you had actually died up on deck. But when he presses closer to you and tilts his head to slot his lips to gently pull your bottom lip between his teeth, the reality of the situation comes crashing into your chest.

You hear the sharp intake of his breath through his nose as you practically throw your arms around his neck, curving your body into his. His other arm moves around you, forearm at the small of your back pulling you to him. 

You can feel the heat radiating off of him as his lips slide against yours and you can smell his wonderfully heady scent of tobacco and wood smoke and a small bit of astringent from being in the infirmary.

You're about to pull away, remembering he was literally just getting patched up by the ship's doctors when his tongue brushes against your lips. 

You feel you should be self-conscious with the mewling sound you release when you welcome him in but he quickly answers you with a rumbling groan you can feel reverberating in his chest.

As you cling to him, desperate to receive all that he'll give you, you barely notice that he's moving you both further into office. Careful steps between hot open mouth kisses and then you feel the back of your legs hit something soft. 

Somehow your brain supplies that it must be the old worn leather sofa that is one of the few creature comforts of his office before you are slowly being lowered to it. 

Eagerly you sit, trying to pull him along with you without breaking from your kiss, but you finally realize he doesn't have his jacket on, and only the bandages adorn his torso so you lack any real leverage to pull him to you. 

He breaks away from you and you whine softly at the loss. 

He lets out a soft huff, somewhere between a chuckle and a steadying breath before moving to cage you in on the couch.

The sharp intake of breath startles you and you notice him clench his teeth and furrow his brow.

"Si- Smoker are you alright?" You gingerly touch his chest and he steadies himself with a tight grip on the back of the couch.

"Yeah...just forgot about the bruised ribs, it's fine." He replies trying to adjust himself.

You lick your lips and in a split second you are gently pushing at his chest urging him back. 

"Do you want to stop?" He takes your action in the wrong direction, and you do your best to corral him into a sitting position. And with all the braveness you can muster you slide into his lap straddling his thighs, slotting yourself against him and oh! You can feel the stirring line of him beneath the confines of his pants and the not too subtle twitch of him as you settle.

"I just - I just think this might be more comfortable for you Sir." You reply and his hands move to frame your hips and you practically shiver when you feel his fingertips dig into you.

He eyes you for a moment, obviously not used to someone else taking charge.

"A bit out of my element here." He admits as he starts to knead the flesh under his broad palms. His thumbs occasionally dipping beneath the hem of your shirt to tease the soft skin there.

You mewl and squirm in his lap, desperate for more contact and he leans forward to nuzzle into the crook of your neck.

"You deserve better than a quick fuck on the couch." He gruffs against your neck, stubble scraping against your sensitive skin as nips at you.

"I want this." You sigh, tilting your head to give him better access, your hands coming up to his broad shoulders to scratch at him with each nip and soothing lick he gives you.

"I should be able to do more than just sit here." He sounds more displeased with himself than anything else and you can't help but think how selfless he is.

"I don't mind, really, not one bit." 

He hums and pauses and you really hope that he agrees because he's already worked you up to the point of near delirium. Then he pats your thigh.

"Up." He says and you nearly whimper, thinking he's telling you that you need to end this here. "Take off your pants and panties." 

You don't think you've ever moved so fast in your life, nearly falling off his lap in your eagerness. 

"Yes sir!" As you wrestle with your garments you hear the clink of his belt and the soft shuffle of fabric and you look up just in time to see his flushed, hard cock spring from the confines of his trousers and slap against his stomach.

For a moment you're frozen, not really even noticing that you're staring, you briefly wonder if he's even going to fit. He's so...big.

"You trying to catch flies?" His quip brings you out of your trance and you feel your face heating up.

"N-no!" You stutter defiantly. "You're just- ah!"

His calloused fingertips swipe against your already dripping slit; your pants and panties still only half way down your thighs having forgotten that you had been told to remove them.

"I thought I gave you an order." His gaze is sharp and then he suddenly thrusts a thick finger into your needy hole all the way to the last knuckle.

For a moment you think that your knees would completely buckle as a wave of pleasure washes over you; and a sharp cry of ecstasy leaves our lungs as he curls his finger.

"Y/n." He prompts again and begins to thrust his finger in and out of you. 

"S-Smoker I-I mean yes Sir!" You grapple with your words as you feel him beckon inside of you before adding another finger.

You start the near impossible task of removing your pants and undergarments the rest of the way down your legs. He blessedly removes his digits from your now drenched pussy to allow you to fully divest yourself. (which proves more of a hassle when you realize your shoes were still on) But finally you manage to wrestle everything off yourself and stand before your Captain completely bare from the waist down. 

Realizing that you're now baring most of yourself to your commanding officer; a man you have been hopelessly crushing on for so long you suddenly start to feel incredibly self conscious. You start to curl in on yourself when he reaches out and grabs your wrist, subsequently gaining your attention.

"Come here." While his voice is never not rough, the adoration behind his gravelly tone is clear. 

Nodding shyly, you gather yourself and slip back into his lap, letting out a breathy moan when he pulls you tightly against him, his hot length pressing along your belly. 

Once again he nuzzles into your neck and his hands fall heavily on your hips.

"Is this okay...are you sure this is what you want?" He asks and you reach up to pet his hair.

"Yes...please Sir...Smoker." you reply and kiss his temple. 

And then you are being hoisted up, a primal growl leaving the man beneath you   and fuck he impales you on his straining length in one go. 

You throw your head back with a wanton moan, it's almost too much; he's stretching you to your absolute limit but it's heavenly. 

"Fuck." He says through gritted teeth and gives a shallow thrust up into you even though he's completely bottomed out inside of you already. 

"Ah! Smoker!" You gasp your hands coming to clasp around the back of his neck as you finally manage to look back at him with lust heavy eyes.

"Your so fucking tight…" he grits and grinds up into you, wanting to be as close to you as physically possible. 

He finally backs off and slides out of you until just the head of his cock is breaching you. You let out a whine of protest that quickly turns into a whorish moan as he slams back into you. 

He sets up a steady, deep pace that you try desperately to match, but he's in control and in the end you allow him to move you as he sees fit; not that you are complaining in the least. In fact if you were to suddenly pass away here and now you would go happier than any person has any right to. 

With a harsh sudden buck of his hips you fall forward and he quickly captures your lips in a heady kiss as he bounces you in his lap. You whimper against him, your hands at the back of his neck moving up to thread through the soft hairs at the base of his skull. 

You feel one of his hands leave your hips and begin to slide up beneath your shirt, until his hand is cupping one of your breasts. You press eagerly into his warm palm, wishing your bra wasn't in the way so you could feel the roughness of his skin against yours.

It's as if he is reading your mind because the next moment he's pulling your bra down harshly to rest under the swell of your breasts so that he can knead the soft flesh beneath unimpeded.

"Smoker!" You know you sound like a broken record but his name is the only thing you want passing your lips, and frankly he's the only thing on your mind.

"You're so fucking perfect." He says between open mouthed kisses, his calloused fingers pinching your nipple roughly. You can only moan in reply, spurring him on. 

You rapidly start to feel the coil of heat building in your belly and by the way his hips have started to jerk out of rhythm every so often you know he's getting close too. And after a few more deep thrusts you are practically there.

"Please, Smoker, I'm so close...I just …" you can feel yourself teetering on the edge, desperate to tumble over the precipice.

He growls against your lips and pulls away for a moment, you look at him blearily wondering why he's leaving you in the cold suddenly. But oh is he a sight now that you see him clearly; heavy blush across his cheeks running up to even tint the tips of his ears, hair mused and out of place. And his eyes...his eyes, normally so sharp and keen are hazy, pupils blown so wide his irises almost look like inky black pools surrounded by a ring of umber eclipses. 

"Wanna see your face when you come…" he says, the words sending a shiver down your spine, pushing you closer. 

You feel his hand on your hip shift and then his thumb is pressing against your clit. You keen as he presses tight measured strokes against the little pearl of nerves.

Suddenly the coil that's been tightening and tightening within you breaks and an intense wave of pleasure washes over you; You cry out into the stale air if the office not caring if anyone can hear you; somewhere in your delirium you feel your hands fist in his hair and your toes curl as another hot wave crashes over you as he continues to work you through your orgasm, and then pushing you beyond. 

You beg for him to stop, it's too much but your voice is drowned out by his own roar as you feel him flood you with his hot release. He fills you to the brim with his seed, pumping more into you with each thrust until you can feel him leaking out of you, your body not able to hold any more.

He finally slows and his thumb comes to a halt, giving your abused clit some needed relief (though you are quite certain if he had kept it up he would have gotten you to come again).

He gives you a few more lazy bucks of his hips as you start to come down from your high, shivering and hiccuping in his lap. He sighs and finally stills beneath you, completely spent. 

It's quiet for a moment, both his hands coming to rest on your hips as he soothingly rubs his thumbs against the skin there. You sigh and decide to take a chance and snuggle up against him, resting your head against his warm chest as you feel him softening inside of you. 

He lets out a contented hum much to your surprise and then kisses your temple. 

As you bask in the afterglow there is still something nagging in the back of your mind; a question that just won't leave you alone.

"Smoker…" you begin, pausing to try and parse your words together.

He lets out a hum in response.

"Why did you risk getting hurt...or worse...for me?" You assume it's going to to be the fact you are one of his 'men' but fuck if you don't hope for something more...

When the silence goes on longer than you expect you think that he might not answer you, or he might just ignore the question; perhaps you had overstepped but then...

“I’d rather be hurt and be with you than be okay without you.” he says finally.

And you decide that in that moment that admission is sweeter than any other honeyed words of adoration you have ever received.

[natalieironside]

*navigating to the SCP wiki and pounding my fists on the table like a rapscallion demanding figgy pudding* "Meat wizards! Meat wizards! Meat wizards!"

[carewyncromwell]

[Fantastic Beasts] Desiree Lestrange Moodboard

“It's funny how some distance makes everything seem small, And the fears that once controlled me can't get to me at all! It's time to see what I can do -- To test the limits and break through! No right, no wrong -- no rules for me... I'm free!

~“Let It Go (cover)” by Elsie Lovelock

x~x~x~x

Tagging @kathrynalicemc because her brainstorming fueled mine times ten -- love you, girl!! 💙💙💙

x~x~x~x

The Lestrange family was well-respected in Europe, particularly in their home country of France. Among the heirs of the Lestrange family was Cyrille Lestrange, fourth of his name, who fathered two very beautiful and talented children: an analytical, sensible daughter named Desiree and a careless, arrogant son named Marius. Unfortunately, Cyrille died very suddenly of dragon pox, leaving his son and heir to inherit the entire family fortune at the ripe old age of sixteen. Marius Lestrange almost instantly relished the privilege that came with becoming head of the household, spending lavishly on parties, fine wines, and pleasurable company and leaving his mother and sister to try to pick up the pieces for his bad behavior as best they could. Desiree was pressured, from the time she was very young, to set a good example for Marius and take responsibility for all of his mistakes, both as his older sister and as the more grounded of the two siblings, since “boys will be boys” and Marius as heir really never had as many expectations or boundaries placed upon him by either of his parents. Desiree was also expected to take on a job that would earn her money so as to mitigate Marius’s bad spending habits, which ended up leading her to work for the Banque Ducristaux, the most well-regarded bank in France, as Head Cursebreaker. Everything changed one day, though, when Desiree collided with the Captain and navigator of the infamous flying ship Empyrean. Although few know the full story of how this starry-eyed rapscallion with no glory in his surname swept such a down-to-earth, practical woman from a wealthy, well-respected Pureblood family up in his dreams of sky-sailing and high-flying adventure, one thing is for certain -- if she was forced to go back in time to the day she left France, Desiree would take flight on the Empyrean again a thousand times over. 

[thischarmingand]

Tides Q&A 1

Not to be a hater on main but why is it every thing we find out about the new Rapscallion updates seems to be making the game more generic and less invested in the thematic stuff that actually made me want to run it?

Like, Witch and Gunslinger as playbooks vs. Swashbuckler, Navigator and Chronicler is... 

[gumnut-logic]

Minerva (Bit 1)

Okay, this fic is an attempt to get my mojo back. Every time I go on holiday it gets sideswiped. Being sick definitely did not help, though admittedly coughing all night last night may have made me my usual sleep deprived self, so who knows, it might have helped :D

But anyway, This fic is Kermadec because I needed a boat :D It also required a little research - Minerva Reef is a pair of actual atolls not far from Tracy Island. I’m not sure of the distance so I fluffed it.

Andre and Cecil are a pair of private nurses first mentioned in Gentle Rain. I like to recycle my OCs but I haven’t read that story in ages. Here’s hoping I’ve kept them true to form. They haven’t been sketched out in this much detail before, in any case.

There is fluff. I broke Virg again, oops, but there is resultant fluff. I’m sick, I can’t help myself. 

Many thanks to @scribbles97​ and @vegetacide​ for the read throughs and support. I haven’t forgotten about The Tattoo, I just needed a little self indulgence first.

This bit is mainly set up and I hope to write more asap. 1726 words.

I hope you enjoy it.

-o-o-o-

Two broken legs.

If there was anything worse than a broken limb, it was more than one and two broken legs was the worst.

Or two broken arms. He wasn’t sure as he hadn’t managed to break two arms as yet. But two broken legs definitely sucked.

Of course, it was worth it. Saving children was always worth it. But weeks of confinement, of being unable to do anything for himself, was about to send him around the bend, out the window and into the Pacific.

His brothers did their best and both Andre and Cecil, the family nursing staff - yes, they had enough injuries on enough of a regular basis to have nursing staff on their payroll -  had been called in on this one to cart him back and forth across the house, see to his necessaries, and pretty much do his bidding.

Which was fine, since he and Andre got on like a house on fire. The man spoke both paint and piano almost as much as Virgil and there had been fun times, despite his infirmities.

Cecil was a Gordon clone and those two got up to much more mischief than was really acceptable for an employee. But since Gordon usually took all the credit, even the time Scott had his eyebrows shaved, they got away with hell.

Besides, Scott’s eyebrows had been partly burnt off already and had looked stupid, so shaving them both off was an improvement that had to be done. How Gordon had managed it, Virgil didn’t have a clue...and also didn’t want to think too hard about it because it gave his rapscallion little brother powers that he really shouldn’t have.

Cecil played it straight and the Tracys put up with it. Because despite Cecil’s idiosyncrasies, the two nurses were very, very good at their jobs.

That and they came as a pair because Andre and Cecil were married.

So, other than expanding Gordon’s power of pranking, things were good. Well, as good as they could be while he had two broken legs. 

But there were days.

God, were there days.

Days, so many days, and today was one of them.

Scott had been called out early in the morning and consequently everyone was up. Alan was called next and he and Kayo were out dealing with yet another space freighter collision. Scott was going to kick some space agency ass about updating some space etiquette rules in the near future to stop this stupidity from happening, and considering how much profanity was bouncing down from orbit, both John and Alan would be there to back him up.

So three brothers were out, leaving Virgil imprisoned with Gordon, Andre, Cecil and Grandma. This combination wouldn’t normally be an issue, but Grandma was cooking up a storm and Virgil was trapped.

Gordon may be a pain at times, but he saw the hazard coming and he was a good brother at heart. So, with some assistance from Andre and Cecil, the Fish deployed his yacht, A Little Lightning, and suddenly the day seemed so much brighter.

Virgil was ensconced in pillows and the best of comfort on the back deck and had the privilege of watching Mateo pass on their starboard side as Gordon guided the yacht out into the open ocean.

Why he seemed to always be injured when aboard this boat, he had no idea, but Gordon was a life saver.

Virgil had no idea where his brother might be taking him and he didn’t really care. He just lay back and enjoyed a beautiful day, the breeze, the many sounds of water and the gentle bounce of the boat.

At some point he dozed off.

It had to be a sign of how much healing his body needed, but somehow he managed to sleep the entire trip, because it was the sudden change in the engine noise that woke him.

Andre was smiling at him in that soft caring way he had about him. Dark hair, blue eyes and a soft smile, the nurse was somewhat reminiscent of his big brother, but without the fire and the drive. The man was quiet and reassuring, exactly what was needed when ill or injured.

“It looks like you needed that.”

Virgil grunted, never a fan of waking up. 

But Andre knew this and had exactly what the injured engineer needed - a mug of steaming coffee.

Virgil forced the last few steps to full consciousness, and, pushing himself up, made a grab for the mug.

The mug moved away. “Uh-uh, stretch first.”

Shit.

It was a thing Andre made him do every time he woke. Before coffee, he had to stretch abused muscles that were forced to sleep in awkward positions due to his legs.

Virgil mumbled and grumbled, but did as he was bid. He knew how important the exercises were, but the lure of coffee was just cruel. He vaguely noted the yacht’s engine dropping to a slow cruise and the open ocean having just that touch more sway, rolling the yacht in the swell.

“Where are we?”

“Cecil says we’re visiting Minerva.”

“Oh.” Virgil blinked. He’d flown over the Minerva Reefs many, many times. They were a navigation marker not that far from Tracy Island. Though they were far enough away for him to have been asleep for some time. “How long was I out?”

That smile again. “Several hours. Did you good.” The nurse had placed the coffee on a side table and was helping Virgil sit up straight enough to consume the taunting liquid from heaven.

A breathless moment and the mug was in his hands and coffee was pouring down his throat. God, Andre made great coffee. Yet another reason to put up with his husband.

He surfaced at some point and managed a thank you that set the nurse grinning just as a coral reef started to drift past.

Virgil didn’t know much about the Minerva Reefs other than Melissa Fisher on Raoul swore about them..alot.

They were on the very edge of the Kermadec Ocean Sanctuary and she had wanted to add them to the exclusion zone for a very long time. But the reefs were owned by Tonga or Fiji, depending on which country you spoke to and the environment continued to suffer from it.

He vaguely remembered Gordon saying something about visiting the reefs in Four on several occasions and Virgil had no doubt that he and Melissa were likely doing some kind of sneaky ecological monitoring or some such. After all, the reefs were rather close to Tracy Island and Gordon rather passionate about such things.

As A Little Lightning cruised between two reef headlands, Virgil surmised they were at the northern of the two atolls.

As Virgil guzzled the last of his coffee, the yacht came to a complete halt in the lee of one of the headlands - if you could call it that, the reef barely made it above the water line. He heard the sea anchor deployed and there was suddenly silence except for the crashing of waves against coral and sand and the breeze.

Virgil closed his eyes and soaked it in.

The empty mug was tugged gently from his hand and he vaguely registered a plate being placed on the table beside him. “Cecil made pie.”

That snapped him out of it. “Pie?” The prankster could cook and he was suddenly assaulted with a delicious aroma.

“Steak and bacon, topped with mashed potato and cheese.” The plate had a generous serving along with salad piled up beside it. Andre was grinning at his expression. “He’s mine, you can’t have him.”

Virgil had to grin. “Well, at least I know one of the reasons why you nabbed him.”

Andre’s grin softened, but it was still a grin. “In the top five.” A hand landed on Virgil’s shoulder. “Eat up, you’ll need it for this afternoon’s workout.”

That deflated him a little.

The nurse noted what must have been in his expression. “Okay, perhaps it can be a brief session today.” A shrug. “After all, an atoll is hardly a swimming pool.”

“Virg trying to con you out of rehab?” Gordon bounced onto the deck, a grin on his face and that look of absolute relaxation the man got whenever he was out on the water.

“‘S not rehab.” So Virgil was pouting and acting like a child. “It’s maintenance.” Of what still worked, until the casts came off and then the hell would really start.

“Don’t let those baby browns lure you from the path of righteousness, Andre.”

“What? Like you attempted last time?” The nurse was grinning at the aquanaut.

That brought Gordon up short.

“I have to say that your eyes are a lighter brown, not quite the same colour, but the manoeuvring is almost identical.”

“What?” It was a two Tracy chorus shot at Andre with two brows, one dark, one light, shooting daggers at the nurse.

Andre just laughed and turned back to Virgil. “You going to eat your pie?”

The nurse’s blue eyes did some manoeuvring of their own and Virgil found himself snatching up the plate and hovering over it to protect his slice of pie.

Cecil chose that moment to appear. As usual, there was never a laugh far behind him as he was wearing a bright pink chef’s cap canted at an angle. But it was the two plates of pie in his hands that drew the attention of the other two men on deck.

Gordon didn’t hesitate, grabbing his plate and shovelling pie down his throat with barely a thank you. Virgil growled in his direction.

“What? It’s good pie. Cecil knows I appreciate him, don’t you, Cecil?”

But the cook was accepting a gentle kiss from his husband as the man took his plate, his other hand drifting from Cecil’s shoulder, down to the small of his back in a gesture simple but intimate enough for Virgil to turn away to give them privacy.

His eyes landed on Gordon, who’s face had an odd expression as he looked back at Virgil, as if he knew something that Virgil didn’t.

Virgil glared at him.

It, no doubt, had something to do with Kay. He would slap his little bro about the head later.

In the meantime...”So, what are we doing here?”

-o-o-o-

Bit 2

[theonyxpath]

Shhhhh.

Mum’s the word! A few weeks ago in this blog, I mentioned that we’re working on a bunch of secret projects that for one reason or the other we can’t announce as yet. But that we’re going to announce during the year as we can, particularly at conventions as we attend them.

(Werewolf: The Apocalypse 5th Edition is not one of them. Saying that now, because I know how rumors start.)

This is why we have what appears to be a lighter than normal First Draft section below in the Blurbs!.

But now it’s time to reveal one of these projects!

This Wednesday, the Phone PDF version of Scion Origin goes on sale on DTRPG! If you had a chance to check out the free Pugmire core Phone PDF, then this version of Scion Origin is based off of that process and set-up. Hyper-linked out the wazoo for ease of use, but still containing all the great info and art of the regular PDF and print versions.

Here’s some info about Phone PDFs from DTRPG:

Using a Phone PDF

Phone PDFs are designed so you can quickly navigate them by touch using links in the PDF, instead of relying upon bookmarks or other navigation. Look for the Quick Links menu at the front of the book to give you links to touch to reach the most often referenced parts of the book. Links in the footer of each page help you easily navigate through the PDF.

Navigating the Pugmire Phone PDF

Some of the link navigation in the Phone PDF file works better in certain readers.

If you’re on iOS, we recommend the Apple’s Books reading app (which comes on every Apple phone) as it supports the Back navigation links in the Phone PDF. If you’re on Android, then we recommend grabbing the free Xodo reader app as that reader has a built in Back function which will jump back one link. This is a handy feature when touch navigating through the Phone PDF (no PDF viewers we’ve tested on Android natively support the Back navigation links in the Phone PDF so Xodo‘s Back function is the next best thing).

When we put up the Pugmire Phone PDF, there were a few demands that we investigate ePub as a format for this rather than PDFs. Long time readers of this blog know that we have, in fact, been working with ePub for years, trying to find a way for it to allow us to present our projects with the same usability and beauty as we have ported from physical books to PDFs. So far, there just hasn’t been a way to produce something that will hold charts and visuals the way we need them.

Maybe someday, as we keep pecking away at it. But that day is not today. Today we had an opportunity to create a phone-based version of a core rulebook, and we did that. One does not preclude the other ever happening, and now we have a very user friendly hand-held electronic version that is still very much recognizable as Scion Origin.

V5 Chicago Folio art by Michele Giorgi

Of course, this week’s headline also refers to our ongoing Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition Kickstarter as it approaches the two week mark and 200% funding with almost 1000 backers. We’re thrilled and gratified at the reaction the book is receiving, and we’re REALLY looking forward to hitting more Stretch Goals that start creating extra projects to expand this new version of Mummy.

If you just aren’t sure it’s your cup of tanis leaves, please check out the last several weeks’ blogs, or last Friday’s Onyx Pathcast, or one of the many interviews developer Matthew Dawkins has given out, or one of the actual plays linked below in the Media section.

In fact, you can ask Matthew all of your Mummy 2e questions on our Onyx Path forums, right here on this site, as he prepares for a Twitch Q&A planned for 15:00 EST / 21:00 GMT on Tuesday 19th: http://forum.theonyxpath.com/forum/main-category/main-forum/the-new-world-of-darkness/mummy-the-curse/1348728-mummy-the-curse-twitch-q-a-questions-thread

Deviant: The Renegades art by Michael Gaydos

One question you might ask Matthew is how he managed to make sure that the Timeless Chronicle (the subtitle of the game) was included in the book. I hear that it was something that permeated every decision, yet at the book’s earliest stage wasn’t actually directly written about. An oversight Matthew messaged someone not-me about:

“…failed to add the Timeless bit.”

And then he added, after making sure that the book actually did directly address and include that Chronicle:

“I won’t tell Rich if you won’t”.

What a rapscallion! (This info, by the way, was revealed during last Friday’s Onyx Pathcast deep dive into Mummy 2e because Matthew thinks I don’t listen every week).

But Judge Rich, you might say, “Traitorous minions aside, what if I can’t make it to that Q&A, plus I’m more interested in other Chronicles of Darkness games, or Exalted, or V5, or Scion. Whatever can I do?”

Well, I have good news! We’re running an Onyx Path AMA on Reddit on Wednesday November 27th starting at 12 noon Eastern US time and running until ya’ll run out of questions. It’ll be labelled more for Chronicles of Darkness questions, I think, but bring and ask whatever you’re into.

More news on that next week and on our various and many social media venues!

Memento Mori art by Drew Tucker

When we talk of social media, it’s often with a sort of worst expectations mind-set, but just a few years ago a post led to a viral campaign to celebrate a brand new holiday: Wolfenoot. This is an annual festival which commemorates the anniversary of The Great Wolf’s death. The holiday is observed on November 23. According to tradition, during Wolfenoot the Spirit of the Wolf brings small gifts to homes and hides them around the house for everyone. People who display kindness to dogs receive better gifts than everyone else.

The holiday was created by a 7-year-old boy in New Zealand. his mother shared the idea for the holiday via Facebook in 2018, and the post was quickly shared more than 2,000 times. The FB event page for the holiday got more than 13,000 Facebook users marking that they were interested in the event or planned to attend. An official page was created and soon numerous FB groups, pages, and events followed.

The central theme of the Nov 23rd holiday is kindness to dogs and wolves. Various celebrations along these elements have been proposed by participants, such as feasting on roasted meat, giving gifts, donating time and money to charitable organizations which benefit dogs and wolves, and decorating homes with wolf and dog themes. Participants are encouraged to celebrate by eating roast meat and cakes decorated as a full moon. Those who prefer not to consume meat are encouraged to omit the consumption of meat and celebrate in the spirit of “being kind to animals.”

To celebrate the holiday, DriveThruRPG will have a Pugmire sale from Nov 21th-28th. As part of the celebration, we’ve also given the Canis Minor community their own gift: Now Canis Minor creators can write and sell Pugmire and Mau fiction! Check out the Canis Minor program for details: https://www.drivethrurpg.com/cc/17/canis-minor

Pugsteady and Onyx Path be donating 50% of our earning from the Pugmire sale to the Guide Dog Foundation.

And that then, is our blog this week. Hope everybody can find at least one part of it of interest; something that speaks to you about our:

Many Worlds, One Path!

BLURBS!

Kickstarter!

The Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition Kickstarter funded within a day, and is now almost at 200% funding with over two weeks to go. Backers have already unlocked the Mummy 2e Screen as a Stretch Goal, additional Utterances, and are now headed towards starting a whole new project, the Mummy 2e Companion!

Please check out this blog from the last two weeks for a description of all the amazing features of this new edition!

Be there to witness the majesty and terror of this new version of Mummy: The Curse!

Onyx Path Media!

This Friday’s Onyx Pathcast features a discussion by the Terrific Trio of some of the weirder elements and plot points of the Vampire: The Masquerade metaplot!

The Onyx Path Twitch schedule continues apace with a staggering number of games, including Vampire: The Masquerade, Pugmire, Hunter: The Vigil, Aberrant, Scarred Lands, Changeling: The Lost, Mage: The Awakening, and even an exploration into Expedition: Scarred Lands!

Stay tuned to the Twitch channel, as this coming weekend we have a Deviant: The Renegades one-shot at 16:00 EST on Saturday, and on a date to be confirmed, an interview with developer extraordinaire Meghan Fitzgerald.

We also have a Q&A regarding Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition planned for 15:00 EST / 21:00 GMT on Tuesday 19th, so do check it out and ask us your questions live, or post them in the following thread: http://forum.theonyxpath.com/forum/main-category/main-forum/the-new-world-of-darkness/mummy-the-curse/1348728-mummy-the-curse-twitch-q-a-questions-thread

In other words, do check us out on twitch.tv/theonyxpath and give us a follow and a subscribe! We ambush the channel with news episodes every week, so keep your eyes open!

It really helps us to have subscribers on our Twitch channel, and you can do so for free and catch premieres as they go up if you have an Amazon Prime account. Just type Twitch Amazon Prime into Google and you’ll be shown how to subscribe for free.

The rampage of Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition media continues:

The Story Told Podcast interviewed Matthew Dawkins regarding Mummy: The Curse right here: https://thestorytold.libsyn.com/mummy-2nd-edition-with-matthew-dawkins

Red Moon Roleplaying continue their World War II era Mummy: The Curse chronicle right here, run by Matthew Dawkins for players including Onyx Path writers Bianca Savazzi and John Burke: https://youtu.be/MxNxPx7TPeU

And Red Moon Roleplaying have a Mummy: The Curse character creation session here, in case you missed it, where a mummy, an immortal, and a mortal are created: https://youtu.be/GJIEAEAx2MY

But there’s more to our media than just Mummy:

The fine folks at the Story Told RPG Podcast have recorded and uploaded a review / overview of TheTrinity Continuum:Æon: http://thestorytold.libsyn.com/episode-40-trinity-continuum-on-overview

Satyros Phil Brucato and Jacqueline Bryk were interviewed for the Symposium podcast about Book of the Fallen and Technocracy Reloaded for Mage: The Ascension: https://symposium.podbean.com/e/the-symposium-podcast-episode-6-m20-book-of-the-fallen/

And Red Moon Roleplaying, who put out so much content, continue with their actual play of The Sacrifice from V5 Chicago by Night, including Matthew Dawkins as a player and Klara Horskjær Herbøl as the Storyteller: https://youtu.be/XHl9-2dqHpw

Finally, if you’ve not subscribed to our Onyx Path YouTube channel at youtube.com/user/theonyxpath, you really should, because if you miss any of our content from Twitch it ends up over there! Please subscribe and leave comments!

Drop Matthew a message via the contact button on matthewdawkins.com if you have actual plays, reviews, or game overviews you want us to profile on the blog!

Please check any of these out and let us know if you find or produce any actual plays of our games!

Electronic Gaming!

As we find ways to enable our community to more easily play our games, the Onyx Dice Rolling App is live! Our dev team has been doing updates since we launched based on the excellent use-case comments by our community, and this thing is awesome! (Seriously, you need to roll 100 dice for Exalted? This app has you covered.)

On Amazon and Barnes & Noble!

You can now read our fiction from the comfort and convenience of your Kindle (from Amazon) and Nook (from Barnes & Noble).

If you enjoy these or any other of our books, please help us by writing reviews on the site of the sales venue from which you bought it. Reviews really, really help us get folks interested in our amazing fiction!

Our selection includes these latest fiction books:

Our Sales Partners!

We’re working with Studio2 to get Pugmire and Monarchies of Mau out into stores, as well as to individuals through their online store. You can pick up the traditionally printed main book, the screen, and the official Pugmire dice through our friends there! https://studio2publishing.com/search?q=pugmire

We’ve added Prince’s Gambit to our Studio2 catalog: https://studio2publishing.com/products/prince-s-gambit-card-game

Now, we’ve added Changeling: The Lost 2nd Edition products to Studio2‘s store! See them here: https://studio2publishing.com/collections/all-products/changeling-the-lost

Scarred Lands (Pathfinder) books are also on sale at Studio2, and they have the 5e version, supplements, and dice as well!: https://studio2publishing.com/collections/scarred-lands

Scion 2e books and other products are available now at Studio2: https://studio2publishing.com/blogs/new-releases/scion-second-edition-book-one-origin-now-available-at-your-local-retailer-or-online

Looking for our Deluxe or Prestige Edition books? Try this link! http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/Onyx-Path-Publishing/

And you can order Pugmire, Monarchies of Mau, Cavaliers of Mars, and Changeling: The Lost 2e at the same link! And NOW Scion Origin and Scion Hero are available to order!

As always, you can find most of Onyx Path’s titles at DriveThruRPG.com!

To celebrate the latest Internet holiday, Wolfenoot, DriveThruRPG will have a Pugmire sale from Nov 21th-28th. As part of the celebration, we’ve also given the Canis Minor community their own gift: Now Canis Minor creators can write and sell Pugmire and Mau fiction! Check out the Canis Minor program for details: https://www.drivethrurpg.com/cc/17/canis-minor

On Sale This Week!

This Wednesday, the IPhone PDF version of the Scion Origin core rulebook premieres on DTRPG!

In addition, we are also offering this Wednesday a variety of new Pugmire merchandise on our RedBubble store including character and symbol stickers!

Conventions!

PAX Unplugged: December 6th – 8th, in Philadelphia, PA. We’re going to have lots and lots of gaming for folks to sign up for, a lot of them featuring our game creators! 2020: Midwinter: January 9th – 12th, in Milwaukee, WI.

And now, the new project status updates!

DEVELOPMENT STATUS FROM EDDY WEBB (projects in bold have changed status since last week):

First Draft (The first phase of a project that is about the work being done by writers, not dev prep)

Exalted Essay Collection (Exalted)

N!ternational Wrestling Entertainment (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Creating in the Realms of Pugmire (Realms of Pugmire)

Contagion Chronicle Ready-Made Characters (Chronicles of Darkness)

Trinity Continuum: Adventure! core (Trinity Continuum: Adventure!)

Duke Rollo fiction (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Redlines

Kith and Kin (Changeling: The Lost 2e)

Crucible of Legends (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Dragon-Blooded Novella #2 (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Exigents (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Many-Faced Strangers – Lunars Companion (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Second Draft

Across the Eight Directions (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Contagion Chronicle: Global Outbreaks (Chronicles of Darkness)

Player’s Guide to the Contagion Chronicle (Chronicles of Darkness)

Tales of Aquatic Terror (They Came From Beneath the Sea!)

M20 Victorian Mage (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

Contagion Chronicle Jumpstart (Chronicles of Darkness)

Development

Heirs to the Shogunate (Exalted 3rd Edition)

TC: Aberrant Reference Screen (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Titanomachy (Scion 2nd Edition)

Trinity Continuum Jumpstart (Trinity Continuum Core)

Monsters of the Deep (They Came From Beneath the Sea!)

One Foot in the Grave Jumpstart (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2e)

Lunars Novella (Rosenberg) (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Scion: Demigod (Scion 2nd Edition)

Manuscript Approval

Scion: Dragon (Scion 2nd Edition)

Masks of the Mythos (Scion 2nd Edition)

Post-Approval Development

Scion LARP Rules (Scion)

Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition core rulebook (Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition)

Editing

Lunars: Fangs at the Gate (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Hunter: The Vigil 2e core (Hunter: The Vigil 2nd Edition)

Let the Streets Run Red (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Geist 2e Fiction Anthology (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2nd Edition)

Dragon-Blooded Novella #1 (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Scion Companion: Mysteries of the World (Scion 2nd Edition)

Cults of the Blood Gods (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Legendlore core book (Legendlore)

WoD Ghost Hunters (World of Darkness)

Mythical Denizens (Creatures of the World Bestiary) (Scion 2nd Edition)

Pirates of Pugmire KS-Added Adventure (Realms of Pugmire)

M20 The Technocracy Reloaded (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

Yugman’s Guide to Ghelspad (Scarred Lands)

Trinity Continuum: Aberrant core (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Terra Firma (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

Wraith20 Fiction Anthology (Wraith: The Oblivion 20th Anniversary Edition)

Deviant: The Renegades (Deviant: The Renegades)

Post-Editing Development

Chicago Folio/Dossier (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

TC: Aeon Ready-Made Characters (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

Night Horrors: Nameless and Accursed (Mage: the Awakening Second Edition)

City of the Towered Tombs (Cavaliers of Mars)

Oak, Ash, and Thorn: Changeling: The Lost 2nd Companion (Changeling: The Lost 2nd)

W20 Shattered Dreams Gift Cards (Werewolf: The Apocalypse 20th)

TC: Aeon Jumpstart (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

Tales of Good Dogs – Pugmire Fiction Anthology (Pugmire)

Vigil Watch (Scarred Lands)

Indexing

ART DIRECTION FROM MIKE CHANEY!

In Art Direction

Contagion Chronicle – Sent out contracts.

Trinity Continuum: Aberrant

Hunter: The Vigil 2e

Ex3 Lunars – Just need two artists’ pieces in.

TCfBtS!: Heroic Land Dwellers

Night Horrors: Nameless and Accursed

Ex3 Monthly Stuff

Cults of the Blood God (KS)

Chicago Folio – Got most of the finals in. Need to run through my list and match everything up to make sure I’m not missing anything.

Mummy 2 (KS) – Going.

City of the Towered Tombs

Let the Streets Run Red – Going over artnotes and dividing stuff up.

CtL Oak Ash and Thorn – Awaiting artnotes.

Scion Mythical Denizens – Contracted.

Deviant

Yugman’s Guide to Ghelspad – Getting it going.

Vigil Watch – Awaiting artnotes.

In Layout

They Came from Beneath the Sea! – Working on it.

Trinity Continuum Aeon: Distant Worlds

VtR Spilled Blood – Josh is working on it.

Pirates of Pugmire

Proofing

Memento Mori – On second proof.

Dark Eras 2 – Aileen finalizing second proof.

Trinity Continuum Aeon Jumpstart

At Press

Trinity: In Media Res – PoD proofs coming.

V5: Chicago – Printing. Prepping PoD files.

Aeon Aexpansion – PoD proofs coming.

Geist 2e (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2nd Edition) – At press, waiting for proofs.

Geist 2e Screen – Getting print files ready.

DR:E – At press, waiting for proofs.

DRE Screen – Getting print files prepped.

DR:E Threat Guide – Helnau’s Guide to Wasteland Beasties – PoD proof ordered.

M20 Book of the Fallen – Backer PDF errata being gathered.

Trinity RMCs

Scion Origins Iphone Edition – Should be good to go this week!

Today’s Reason to Celebrate!

Happy Birthday, in a way, to Alan Moore – one of the most influential comic book writers ever. Swamp Thing, Watchmen, V For Vigilante, From Hell, The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen…his list of highlights just goes on and on, along with plenty of other works, that turn our ideas of what comic book writing styles and themes are inside out. I say “in a way”, though, because his huge novel Jerusalem postulates that all time is an illusion and we are born, live, and die all at the same time – so the concept of a separate day of birth seems a bit artificial and limited to our perception of reality. Can’t have that!

[merryfortune]

Betrothal in a Nutshell

Hello @justanotherotakuandartist here is a tumblr upload of your gift fic <3

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Arc V

Ship: Serena/Yuri

Word Count: 5.5k

Synopsis: Prince Yuri is certain that the girl whom he is betrothed to is an imposter so his mother, Queen Yoko, devises a plan to prove Princess Serena's identity. 

  “Mother!” Prince Yuri exclaimed, as his hands flapped about in utter disbelief over what had unravelled just mere moments ago. “I refuse to believe that thing of a girl is a princess!”

  “Yuri!” gasped Queen Yoko. “That is no way to talk of your betrothed.”

  “I refuse.” Yuri said, lifting his chin and brow indignantly and stamping his foot. “You cannot make me marry that heathen woman.”

  His mother glowered. She was uncertain of where she had gone wrong, either in raising her darling Prince Yuri or in introducing him to his fiancé. It couldn’t be the former, surely, not when he was – usually – such a gentleman and his elder brothers had no such personality problems.

  Really, the origin of this problem could be traced back to the fact of the notion was it was the spoilt and entitled fourth princeling of a royal family turn to be married off. Due to his nature, something a touch twisted and very finicky, he had high expectations of the woman whom he would be married to and thus far, had been unable to find such a woman. Each woman he was presented with, he wrote off as too fat or too thin, too tall or too short and so on and so forth.

  Thus, he told his exasperated parents that he would only marry if they could find someone with skin of luminous moonlight, eyes which were as green as farmland in spring, and hair as soft as the petals of the beloved flowers that he tended to in his private and most royal greenhouse. He desired a woman as firm as oak and as graceful as elm. And so, his parents endeavoured to find such a fanciful woman of good background and, thus, Queen Yoko and King Yusho were quite certain that they found a girl in the young Princess Serena from the faraway kingdom of En Moonlight.

  She who was exactly as their fourth child described. She had hair the colour of violets, just like the pedigree of plants whom Prince Yuri adored. She had eyes of verdant green, like a jungle and a pale complexion befitting of that of the moon’s surface, but far smoother. She was deft and swift, and they were confident their son would become enamoured with her upon meeting.

  That was not what had happened. Not even in the slightest.

  Mere moments of ago was when such a meeting was supposed to have occurred. And when such a meeting did occur, it was not a meeting of smouldering facial expressions and polite laughter. They had met, instead of with an explosive flirting, but with an explosive rivalry. Their personalities immediately grated and grinded against one another; locking each other in argumentative verbal spars which even escalated into physical ones too. Princess Serena, who despite her elegant garb, was quick to prove herself as firm as oak and graceful as elm when she was able to take Prince Yuri’s arm and all but break it in a matter of seconds.

  It was only when the Prince’s consorts stepped in, did Princess Serena release her betrothed from such a grip. And from there, the jester Dennis was able to diffuse the situation by distracting Princess Serena with jokes and the bodyguard Sora was able to remove Prince Yuri from the situation, bringing him to a powder room where he could reconvene with his mother.

  “I refuse to marry that hellion girl. She is a spawn of the underworld.” Prince Yuri snarled.

  “As your mother and as the Queen, you will do such a thing.” Queen Yoko stared down her son. “I am certain that such a girl is perfect for you. I consulted the finest soothsayers in the world, and we are all certain that girl is the best fit based on that which you asked for, my darling boy.”

  “Your soothsayers must be wrong then. I could never be compatible with such a scoundrel of a woman.” Prince Yuri said.

  “I disagree and you will be married to this woman or so help me, Yuri, darling.” Queen Yoko growled.

  Outside the powder room, Sora grew uncomfortable, but he couldn’t help but pipe up. So, he swung in and took the chewed candy from his mouth. He sighed.

  “What if we something has gone wrong… regarding Princess Serena, your highnesses…” he drawled, uncomfortable.

  Both Prince Yuri and Queen Yoko glared at him and he took another breath.

  “I don’t doubt the soothsayers; that stuff’s above my head and I don’t know much about love or princesses, but, like I do know security detail and let me just say, those girls – the ones who came with Princess Serena, uh, Gloria, Grace – they don’t exactly scream “bodyguard” to me.” rambled Sora.

  “Get to the thick of it, Sora.” Prince Yuri spat.

   “So, not to posit something’s gone wrong but it is possible we have the wrong girl and the real Princess Serena has somehow been intercepted and we have a fake in our midst.” Sora said.

  Prince Yuri’s eyes widened whilst his mother’s narrowed.

  “That is exactly what must have happened!” Prince Yuri exclaimed, vibrating with excitement. “We clearly have a fake in our midst. Somewhere, somehow, the real Princess Serena is waiting for me and that rapscallion in our drawing room is a fake! It’s all so clear to me now.”

  “Sora.” Queen Yoko said, her voice as sharp as the edge of a blade. “That is the real Princess Serena. This is all poppycock.”

  “No, no its not.” Prince Yuri argued.

  “Then let’s test this ridiculous theory of yours, then. I believe you will find that is, beyond doubt, the real Princess Serena.” Queen Yoko said.

  “But, um, how do you think we should do such a thing, your majesty?” Sora asked.

  Queen Yoko’s brow drew in, knitted together and she then glanced at her son. An idea struck her. She smiled cattishly.

  “I have an idea, one which will very much satisfy you, my dear son.” Queen Yoko drawled.

  “Elucidate me, mother.” Prince Yuri hissed.

  “All we require is a peanut shell and with that, we can deduce if Princess Serena is indeed of noble blood or not.” Queen Yoko said.

  “A peanut shell?” Prince Yuri echoed, incredulous.

  “Surely you keep peanuts in that little greenhouse of yours, Yuri.” Queen Yoko said.

  “I mean, I do. And I wouldn’t call it “little”, Mother. My greenhouse is quite expansive, you would find if you paid attention to me just as much as you paid attention to your golden boy, my elder brother Yuya.” Yuri sniped.

  “Oh hush, I love all my boys equally.” Queen Yoko insisted.

  “Some more equally than others.” mumbled Prince Yuri under his breath.

  Queen Yoko, unimpressed, clasped her hands together and frowned. “Back to the matter at hand, my darling and handsome son. I still require that peanut shell, my dear.”

  “Very well then. I will go to the greenhouse and acquire one.” Prince Yuri sighed.

  “After that, you will hide the peanut shell in Princess Serena’s sleeping quarters. we will put Princess Serena to the test. If she can feel the peanut shell in her bed, beneath her mattress, then that will prove her noble worth. After all, even the most hardened, warrior princess will be susceptible to this trick.” Queen Yoko said.

  “I see.” Prince Yuri’s eyes shone cattishly. “And, if she is not of noble blood, then she will not feel such an inconsequential thing. Very well then, consider it done Mother. Thank you for your insight.”

  “Your welcome.” Queen Yoko replied.

  With that, Prince Yuri was dismissed. He grabbed Sora and then made a beeline for his greenhouse. As he had mentioned before, his greenhouse truly was quite expansive. The glass panes it was composed of were able to contain what was, essentially, a foreign jungle. Prince Yuri had an affinity for the foreign and poisonous so, entering was something for the brave of heart. Even his dear companion Sora trod uncertainly within the greenhouse which was set up like a maze and yet, Prince Yuri kept his shoulders back and had an air of confidence as he navigated his greenhouse.

  It seemed strange to Sora that Prince Yuri would even have peanuts in his greenhouse. After all, they just passed by all manner of the strange and grotesque. Something like a peanut bush seemed far too mundane for Prince Yuri’s interests. Though, peanuts were a common allergy and one which could lead to fatalities in the worst-case scenario so Sora supposed he could understand why Prince Yuri would have such a plant.

  Though, his peanut bush truly was quite neglected. It was small and uncared for. Cared enough for it to survive, but Prince Yuri held it in disdain as he plucked a single peanut from its entanglements. He inspected it then passed it to Sora who sighed and cracked it open for him.

  “Want the nuts?” Sora asked.

  “No, you have them, thank you.” Prince Yuri replied.

  “Yum, thanks.” Sora said as he popped the two nuts in his mouth.

  He handed back the shell to Prince Yuri who was, once more, in a hurry to get where he was going. He was beginning to formulate a plan to ensure that he would not have to be married to that brute of a woman. He would simply have to interfere with his mother’s inane plan to prove the worth of the girl to him and it ought to be easy enough. After all, she was their guest and therefore deserved nothing but their utmost luxury.

  Soon, Prince Yuri and Sora returned to the drawing room of the castle. He smiled, ominously, in the hallway with Sora standing guard. Dennis, inside, breathed a sigh of relief and ceased his juggling.

  “Thank goodness, you’re back. I am completely out of ideas for entertaining your betrothed, Prince Yuri.” he sighed.

  Prince Yuri pulled Dennis aside, rather than continue the conversation. Sora replaced Prince Yuri’s stance in the hallway.

  “I need you and Sora to do a little favour for me.” Prince Yuri said.

  “Oh, uh, sure.” Dennis said. “What is it?”

  “I need you to hide this peanut shell in Princess Serena’s bed. And, speaking of her bed, I need you both to put as many mattresses and linen and sheets and pillows on it as physically possible. After all, our guest deserves to be comfortable.” Prince Yuri said.

  “On it, boss.” Sora said.

  “Wh-Wh-What?” stammered Dennis.

  “It’s a long story.” Sora sighed.

  “Now run along you two. I will… keep Princess Serena distracted in the meanwhile.” Prince Yuri said.

  “Very well then.” Dennis said with a curling curtsey.

  With that, Sora and Dennis were dismissed. They scurried off quickly and Prince Yuri waltzed into the drawing room. He had his shoulders back, chin up, and not even the slightest inkling of a plan in mind. Well, he knew the outcome of what he wanted. He didn’t want a broken arm and he didn’t want Princess Serena to catch onto the subterfuge that was going on in her private quarters.

  The moment that Prince Yuri entered the room, officially, Prince Serena’s ears pricked up. She crossed her arms, the bodice of her dress shimmered as she moved petulantly, and she frowned. Prince Yuri immediately went onto his hackles. Though she was dressed finely, he knew better than underestimating her. Underestimating her previously had caused her to lock onto his physical weakness and crown herself as dominant between them. Prince Yuri most certainly did not want a repeat of that.

  “Back for round two? Or perhaps mummy’s told you to play nice with me or else your royal behind will get quite the spanking.” Princess Serena taunted.

  “No, no, it’s nothing like that.” Prince Yuri replied.

  Princess Serena pouted. Tutted. She absolutely did not believe Prince Yuri and that left a sour taste in his mind. But her demeanour softened. She huffed and let her arms fall back to her side.

  “So, like, what are you here for?” Princess Serena asked. “You sent your jester away and now I’m bored. And you’re no fun. I have no idea how we’re going to make this relationship work.”

  Prince Yuri was genuinely reviled by such a statement. What an impudent girl, he found himself thinking in the utmost disdain. All whilst becoming more and more certain she was some imposter fiendishly after his life or his wealth. His brows knitted together as he locked his heart – and slightly more importantly, his mouth – up tight.

  Princess Serena huffed and sighed, even kicked her foot, her dress rippling. “The silent treatment, huh?”

  Prince Yuri’s ears pricked at that. That wasn’t his intention but letting her project whatever she wished onto his completely and totally guarded self. Actually, keeping his mouth shut for as long as possible to sate Princess Serena’s social needs seemed like a good plan. But, having no plan, all plans seemed like good plans at this point. Still, he would keep his options open based on whatever she said.

  “Like, I get it.” she said, voice heavy like a stone. “I was… rude.”

  “Rude?!” Prince Yuri scoffed, unable to help himself. “You very much endangered me with your inexcusable, ruffian behaviour!”

  “Yeah, and I’m sorry about that. I’m not… I’m not good with people.” she confessed.

  Princess Serena kicked her foot again. Her brows knitted together, and her gaze began to drill into the stone underfoot. She pouted. And, Prince Yuri may not want to admit this, but she actually looked quite adorable in her petulance. It was strange, but it seemed like it was coming from a place of awkward sincerity.

  Not that Prince Yuri would believe such a thing when he was still of the utmost certainty that the woman before him was some sort of ill-intentioned fiend.

  “I wasn’t really… brought up to behave, I guess, you would say… Like, I’m very…” She made an odd hand gesture which seemed borne of frustration. “I’m very socially stunted. Awkward? Yeah. Something like that. I know it’s rude and I shouldn’t have done it, but I was kind of scared. Like, you’re some strange man and now we’re supposed to get shacked up together or something. I was worried if I didn’t, like, prove myself as dominate or something, you would take that as your invitation to walk all over me in this marriage and there is no way in Hell, I’m going to let that happen. I’m the strongest swordswoman you’ll find anywhere, I swear.”

  There were two parts of her rambling that Prince Yuri found fascinating. The first was her making reference to being socially stunted. He didn’t want, to but he could emphasise with that. He had grown up quite lonely; feeling lesser than his elder brothers and always trying to find some way out of their shadow but mostly failing to. As such, he had always felt starving for praise and validation, but he never got to eat his fill of such things unlike his gluttonous brothers. Not to mention, his keen intellect had often made peers feel lesser to him and that indignation at being obviously inferior had made Prince Yuri more enemies than friends. So, against his will, Prince Yuri could, perhaps, understand Princess Serena in this element despite his suspicions of her.

  The other thing which piqued his interest was Princess Serena having made mention of her being a swordswoman. That very much intrigued Prince Yuri as fencing was one of his hobbies. He would call himself the fiercest and well-versed in the sport amongst his brothers. He was easily the most blood-thirsty of them and Princess Serena had already severely proven such a streak in herself, so he was intrigued. He quirked a brow at her mention of it.

  “Very well then,” Prince Yuri began diplomatically, assuring himself this was okay because it was to be done in the guise of good will and not good will itself, “then let’s put this evening’s past encounter behind us. So, en Garde.”

  “En Garde?” echoed Princess Serena, confused.

  “Yes. I desire to duel you. I believe that will be the easiest way for us to, er, get to know one another. After all, since you’ve voiced your true intentions, you must be interested in making this arranged marriage work.” Prince Yuri said, his voice laced with dulcet, poisonous lies as he had already made his plans to sabotage this ill-fated union.

  Princess Serena smiled. “Very well then, princey-pooh, let’s do this.” she said with her hands on her hips.

  With that, Prince Yuri made the decision to lead Princess Serena away from the drawing room – and her private quarters which were still, hopefully, under reconstruction – and towards somewhere she may be permitted to be rowdy. Princess Serena, not realising this invitation was duplicitous, took it in heart and decided to latch onto Prince Yuri as he led her through the halls. It was strange, but her touch made Prince Yuri feel prickly and warm. He told himself that this was his intuition affirming that her presence was supposed to be a negative thing in his life, even if this feeling made his heart feel light and fluttery. All whilst Gloria and Grace Tyler, the body guards, watched on from a reasonable but protective distance.

  Whilst Prince Yuri took Princess Serena in one direction, his own consorts were far further along in a completely opposite direction. Their endeavour to fulfil Prince Yuri’s request had them dashing and darting from the guest rooms to the linen closets and back again. In the time that they had, which they feared were much, they were more than able to transform the royal guest quarters from ample to beyond luxury and straight into the territory of the gauche and absurd.

  The guest quarters, and there were quite some prepared rooms given that this was a castle, had been luxuriantly decorated for the leisure of their guests. Though, admittedly, guests were few and far between and the young Princess Serena had been their first in some time. And her bedroom which had been prepared had been spruced up to make a good impression upon her as she had come with the intent of becoming a bride, after all. A good impression was necessary, but she hadn’t been shown her room and now that Sora and Dennis were through with all but thrashing it, they had no idea what her impression of it would be.

  Especially now that they had stringently obeyed their instructions. The already opulent room had been plied higher still with mattresses and pillows and silks of every kind. Before, it had been handsome and now it was something else entirely.

  But in Sora and Dennis’ endeavour, they had roused the attentions and suspicions of the other princes; Prince Yuri’s elder brothers. They curious as to what was going on, especially since Sora and Dennis had taken to guarding the entrance to Princess Serena’s guest bedroom, but they were assured that nothing of ill-intent was happening. Though, the three young gentleman all sincerely and severely doubted that but, Dennis and Sora were tough on them. Immoveable, really so Princes Yuya, Yuto, and Yugo were given no choice but to move on when they were unable to get Prince Yuri’s consorts to budge in their duties. They were, however, told that all would be revealed come morning and that was not exactly promising but they had little choice in the matter.

  Meanwhile, on all but arrival, Prince Yuri and Princess Serena locked themselves into games of friendly sparring. Though, friendly might be the wrong word as both heirs were very vicious in their attack upon the other – all supposedly in good nature. Still, it was strangely encouraging to both of them in the progression of their relationship to see how they looked, glistening with sweat, cunning in their eyes, and a rapier in their hands.

  Princess Serena found the matches thrilling. Prince Yuri kept her on her toes and posed a challenge the likes of which she had never encountered before. He was sly and unafraid of playing dirty; something she didn’t want to encourage but it was completely different from the masterful and respectful duels of those in her court. Those who could not risk sullying the match due to their station. Here, in a foreign chamber to duel, Princess Serena was not deprived of such mars. It was exhilarating.

  As for Prince Yuri, he would would deny all such allegations that he was enjoying the matches with Princess Serena and therefore bonding with her which was positive. Despite his more underhanded tactics. Prince Yuri would prefer to believe that he was studying the minx before him for her weaknesses in her swordplay as he was still deludedly convinced that she was some imposter.

  For the most part, Prince Yuri and Princess Serena were evenly matched in talent and in strength. Such realisation was peculiar within the context of their back-and-forth exchanges given that Prince Yuri did not duel honourably, unlike Princess Serena. Still, it stoked a personal fascination between them which soon culminated in a heated moment underpinned by Princess Serena’s sharp actions.

  It was she who prevailed. Prince Yuri would call it luck, but Princess Serena would call it skill. But, somehow, Princess Serena was able to top Prince Yuri and his dirty deeds. It was she who had him at the end of her rapier; not the other way around. And so, Prince Yuri looked up at the girl, a playful snarl on his lips. He was intrigued as he riffled through the memories so quick and formless that it was difficult to discern why he was on his ass at all and why it was she who had the tip of her weapon beneath his chin. So close and so tactful.

  “One point.” she said.

  Her eyes, as they looked down on him, sizing him up, were a sharp and verdant green. They were alluring in their smugness. But Prince Yuri could only click his tongue. His demeanour impressed, but ultimately petulant.

  “Very well,” he huffed with half a shrug, “you have me trounced, for today anyway, darling.”

  “You wag your tongue too much.” Princess Serena replied.

  “Now, would you do me the honour of allowing me to get to my feet?” Prince Yuri asked.

  “Of course.”

  Princess Serena sheathed her rapier and extended her hand. Prince Yuri hesitated but he figured it would be gauche, and therefore detrimental to his ulterior motives, if he slapped her hand away like he so very much desired to. So, his hand slotted into hers and he was surprised by how soft her palms were and how delicate her fingers were. However, any illusions of glamourous, princess-like qualities that Prince Yuri may or may not have suddenly acquired in that moment were ruthlessly dashed. Princess Serena uncouthly yanked Prince Yuri to his feet and sent him stumbling.

  He huffed as he tugged on his jacket, adjusting himself and swatting at dust. He looked over his shoulder and pouted.

  “I think we ought to retire for the night.” he said. He hoped that Dennis and Sora had had sufficient time to improve Princess Serena’s private quarters for the sake of his mother’s inane game.

  “We?” Prince Serena echoed, incredulous as a playfully scandalised look crossed her face. “As in you and me? Together? In one bed?”

  “Wh-What? No. That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Cease putting words in my mouth.” Prince Yuri stammered, completely thrown off-kilter by Princess Serena’s flirtations.

  “I know, Yuri, I’m just teasing. Very well, have me shown to my room.” Princess Serena said.

  Prince Yuri scowled and glowered at her familiarity of him but obliged reluctantly. So, he returned her to the west wing of the castle which was designated for living spaces. And as they walked together, Princess Serena had her consorts, Gloria and Grace, fetch her things from the drawing room so she may change into her pyjamas, as well as use her own pillow which was far more appealing to her than using some strange and foreign pillow.

  Of course, once Princess Serena got to her room, she realised that having to deal with a pillow which simply just ‘wasn’t right’ was going to be the least of her problems. Really, she should have known something was amiss because Dennis and Sora – her betrothed’s consorts – had practically jumped out of their skins upon seeing her and Prince Yuri.

  “We hope the accommodations are too your liking, our lady.” Dennis said with a sweeping hand gesture as he permitted entrance into the room.

 “Is everything good?” whispered Prince Yuri to Sora whilst Princess Serena mystifiedly stumbled into her private quarters.

  “Everything.” Sora snickered.

  “What on the Gods’ green Earth is going on here?” Princess Serena exclaimed.

  She was awed in how baffled she was. Her eyes were wide open as she was forced to confront the very bizarre sleeping conditions expected of her. Never in her life had seen so many mattresses and pillows piled high on a bed. It looked as though they all went up unto the ceiling and as though there was barely any room for her to sleep at all.

  “How am I meant to sleep here?” she asked, hostile.

  “This is a very old custom in my lineage. Every princess must spend one night in the most sublime luxury we can present, or it would bring disgrace to our House. So, please, just for one night, my dear Princess Serena, please put up with it for if you reject it, you reject my hand in marriage. I refuse to court a woman who would not respect such a long-held tradition.” Prince Yuri lied.

  Princess Serena erred and she glanced at the consorts. Sora had his hand clamped over his mouth in restrained glee. The other looked as innocent as the day he was born, flashing her encouraging smiles to validate the truth of the matter. Princess Serena then conferred with her own consorts. Trusting their judgement. Gloria made a cut-throat gesture whereas Grace looked positively over the moon with how novel it was.

  “Very well then, I shall honour this custom. I am many things, including rude but if you so wish then I shall… I shall sleep here.” Princess Serena conceded.

  In smarmy bluster, Prince Yuri rushed her and grabbed her hands. Once again, noting of their softness as he smiled with duplicitous intent. Yet, it was a pretty look on his cattish face regardless.

  “Thank you so very much, my love, now please, sweet dreams. I hope you want for nothing during the night. Enjoy your stay here. I shall see you in the morning, my dear.” Yuri said and in his, mouth as he spoke what were intentioned as lies, he couldn’t help but feel a sweet and fizzy feeling. It was giddy. He almost liked it.

  Princess Serena swallowed. “Very well then, Yuri, I shall see you in the morning. Sweet dreams.”

  Then, to seal the faux sincerity, Prince Yuri pressed a kiss onto Princess Serena’s cheek. Her heart fluttered and his lips tingled. He smiled and then pardoned himself and his own consorts, leaving Princess Serena in the dark with Gloria and Grace.

  Gloria and Grace aided in helping Serena to the mount of her bed. It was a struggle and a half, but Princess Serena was able to get to the final layer and she snuggled in tight. Gloria and Grace bade her good night and Princess Serena was alone. She took a breath and closed her eyes and as she tried to lull herself to sleep, she was racked with the sensation that something was very wrong.

  Meanwhile, Prince Yuri entered his own bedroom and he felt grand. And he felt that way all throughout the night. A beautiful and wondrous slumber because he was utterly certain that come morning, he would be able to oust Princess Serena as some sort of con-artist and he would never have to marry her.

  Though, his sleep was tinged with haunted memories of her sharp eyes and her sharp rapier. He would miss having someone to spar with who was prepared for underhanded tactics and had rather soft hands and a kinship with him regarding lonely childhoods. But, overall, Prince Yuri slept fabulously even if there was a bittersweet element to what he believed was his impending victory.

  Princess Serena was sleeping similarly in her meticulously and heavily laden bed. By all accounts, this was the truest height of luxury as it felt as though her bed consisted of several stories and each layer was soft and fluffy and yet… something was intrinsically wrong. It was uncomfortable. There was something, somewhere, which was causing her inordinate contrary.

  And it wasn’t just the sugar and ice personality of her betrothed. One moment he was being awful to her and the next, it felt like they were making genuine strides in their potential relationship. Princess Serena could hardly believe that she had found herself enamoured with such a peculiar young man. But alas, she had though she may not want to admit it forthright.

  Still, the hours bore on and soon, in came the morning sun and Prince Yuri could not have been more thrilled. He had not felt so refreshed. He couldn’t wait to have this fraudulent princess exiled from his kingdom, and more importantly, from his heart which was beginning to waver from its initial ambitions. The morning sun was sweet but the thought of victory sweeter. Even when tinged with the bitter of not having the chance to continue duelling with her or continue admiring her more splendid qualities.

  With a mixed expression, Prince Yuri drew close to Princess Serena’s chambers and he was not the only one. His consorts, her consorts, his brothers, and his mother had all drawn in close. They all wanted the culmination of all the strange on-goings and schemes which unfolded.

  Thus, Princess Serena was permitted to descend from her bed. Something that Prince Yuri’s elder brothers were shocked to learn the decadent existence of. Their mother, Queen Yoko, looked confidently pleased with herself. She should have known her cunning fourth son would put in place a countermeasure, but she knew the match to be true tinder, so she allowed it.

  And it was her voice which crooned through Princess Serena’s private quarters: “Good morning, my soon to be daughter-in-law, how slept you?”

   Princess Serena’s hair was a shock of indigo and her eyes had lost their verdant, green gloss. She was pale with purple bags under her eyes. She looked more haggard than redolent. She sighed.

  “I slept awful…” she admitted.

  Prince Yuri stiffened. “Awful? You say?” He was nervous. Fidgety.

  “Yes. Awful. Horrid. Terrible. All through the night… It felt like something was digging into my bloody back.” Princess Serena said.

  “Oh Serena,” chided Gloria, “no need for such language.”

  “Oh yes there is Gloria!” Princess Serena argued. “I have never heard of such an insane custom and I slept awful! It – It was like something was underneath all those mattresses and it tortured me through the night.”

  “And what sort of something might that be?” Queen Yoko asked as she glanced between Dennis and Sora.

  Princess Serena scowled. “I dunno… a pea?” she murmured.

  “Close. A pea-nut.” Prince Yuri corrected her.

  “A peanut?” Princess Serena echoed.

  Prince Yuri huffed and he stepped forward. For the third time, he clasped the girl’s soft hands. He looked stridently into her eyes. He took a breath.

  “I must confess,” he began, “I lied. There is no such custom.”

  “I knew it!” Princess Serena exclaimed.

  “But I was convinced by my conniving mother to give you a try. I was concerned you were not ladylike enough for my heart, but I realise now that there are for more interesting things about you than your manners. Such as your swordsmanship and your abrasion. I was… unwilling at first, but truly, you may have my heart, dear and sweet Serena.”

  Princess Serena’s heart pounded. She blinked; eyelashes, and her heart, were sent a-fluttering. She smiled.

  “Thank you, Yuri.” Princess Serena said and for the first time, Prince Yuri let his heart sing with girlish praise over her lack of manners and her overt familiarity.

  “I would be honoured if I could take you as my bride as I see you are not a fraudulent princess or some hellion girl. Well, I mean you are, but I’ve decided I would prefer a shrew to some perfect doll. I would prefer you a thousand times over any other woman that the soothsayer might be able to match me.” Prince Yuri continued.

  “Hey, calling me a shrew was uncalled for, but very well. I accept. And I would be honoured if I could take you as my groom.” Princess Serena replied.

  “Aw! I love a happy ending.” Grace cooed, only to have her sister elbow her.

  But she wasn’t the only one. The rest of the court were similarly pleased by the fact that Prince Yuri and Princess Serena could begin a union which would signify a happily ever after for them both.