#thank you miss tarja

[kenmaspuddinghair]

Guess who’s Miguel O’Hara obsession is back

[planethell]

Women of Metal by Tim Tronckoe

[miss-tarja]

About me: Formerly @tarjapearce, new account. Latina. Still in my Miguel O'Hara era, thanks for stopping by. Happy Reading!

•✧° m a s t e r l i s t

╰➝ Miguel O'hara ՞｡⁠◕

╰➝ Miguelverse ՞｡⁠◕

╰➝ Soccer Family AU ՞｡⁠◕

╰➝ Gallery ✿°♡⁠

•✧ ° s o c i a l s

╰➝ ao3

╰➝ Wattpad (For spanish speaking readers only)

•✧° Original Writing (Little poetry)

MINORS DNI, I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU DECIDE TO CONSUME.

dividers by: @xxbimbobunnyxx @firefly-graphics

miss-tarja © do not steal, plagiarize, modify, translate or repost without consent or credits outside Tumblr.

[kuromikuma]

Rekindle (rewritten)

Joshua Rosfield x female reader | reunited with his betrothed.

TW: none

wc-491

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Still trying to sort out the gyomei fic but I rewrote my first ff16 fic

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"There's someone I think you would like to see." Joshua's brows furrowed in confusion at his brother's words.

  "Someone I'd like to see?" he repeated, a perplexed expression crossing his face. He looked at his brother, his mind racing with the possibilities.

With that, Clive turned and left the room, leaving Joshua alone with his thoughts. He wondered who it could be that his brother thought he would like to see. A friend? A family member? The possibilities swirled through his mind, but he couldn't settle on anything specific. He decided to just wait and see, as his brother had instructed.

A few moments later, the door to the infirmary opened again. Tarja approached Joshua's bedside placing water on the side table with a slight smile on her face.

Joshua's heart skipped a beat. He straightened up in his bed. "Who is it?" he asked, slightly nervous.

He keeps his eyes on the door and a familiar girl walks in. "(Y/n)?" Joshua stands and the girl walks quickly to him and into his arms for a hug. He stands still for a moment in shock before he wraps his arms around her. While traveling with Jote he has thought a lot about what had happened to (y/n), where would she be and now she stands in front of him. Her long dark hair flowing over her shoulders. She was wearing a simple white dress, which you don't see very often now.

She tightens her hold on him. "Joshua."

Joshua couldn't believe his eyes. (Y/n) had been a childhood friend . They had grown up together, played together, and shared countless secrets. They were betrothed to each other as soon as his family found out the neighboring kingdoms queen had a daughter. After they left for phoenix gate he hadn't seen her since.

"How... how did you find her?" he asked, his mind still reeling from the surprise.

"Story for another time," Clive said. "But she's been with us at the hideaway for a while now."

Joshua's eyes filled with tears. He pulled away from the hug and reached took her hand in his. "I'm so glad you're here." he said. (Y/n) smiled and squeezed his hand. The two studied each other. Her face was radiant with beauty. The same honey colored eyes. She pulls one of her hands out of his and plays with the tips of his blond hair. She smiles, "Your hair has gotten longer."

Joshua returns her smile equally as excited about seeing her again after so long, "My hair, look at yours," he runs his fingers through the ends of her hair, "It used to reach your shoulders." Clive and Jill stand at the door watching them interact after so many years with smiles on their faces.

Then, (y/n) leaned forward and gave Joshua a gentle kiss on the cheek.

"I missed you," she said.

"I missed you too, my betrothed." Joshua replied.

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ

Thank you for reading

[flowersbane]

a scenario with a baker!reader gifting Joshua a little cake… which he happily eats (it’s carrot cake and he has no clue lol)

Idk but I wanted to share my silly little thought because I enjoyed your writing :’3

pls, this idea is so freaking cute!!! i'm so glad i finally got to write it, thank you so much for your request and patience, i hope you enjoy

(=´∀｀)人(´∀｀=)

The Trojan Cake

Joshua Rosfield x Reader

I might write another, shorter version of this where the reader bakes him a carrot cake without knowing about his carrot aversion, but, idk, let me know if anyone wants to see that. It would have to be a bit further in the future because I have some other things I'm working on that you can learn about here.

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 1.5k

Tags: Baker!Reader, Finally Getting Joshua To Eat Some Gosh Darn Vegetables, Fluff, Teasing, Unedited, Lots Of Appearances From Other Characters, Fun, Cutesy, Joshua Is Just A Big Golden Retriever

A new shipment of baking supplies was due to arrive today. You sway on your feet as you wait. Water laps at the wood beneath you, but you pay it no mind. Cursebreakers and laborers work on moving boxes off the ship and onto the Hideaway’s Pier.

“Carrots? Again?” Gav’s voice sounds from nearby. “And what are we supposed to do with all of these? We still haven’t gotten through the last shipment of them. There’s only so much carrot bisque a man can stomach. Soon enough, half the Hideaway’ll have orange hair and orange skin.”

Otto sighs. “Food’s food, Gav. We’ll find some use for them.”

Gav’s disgruntled expression doesn’t fade. “Unbelievable.”

Your attention is caught by someone calling your name. Mid waves you over from the ship’s deck. “You’ve got to come and see this! You’ll be grinning from ear to ear when you see how much stuff they’ve sent for you!”

You’re already grinning from ear to ear by the time you reach her side. Crates of flour, sugar, and yeast are tied down to the deck with sturdy rope. “And this is all for me?” you ask.

“You’re the one best suited for it,” Mid points out. “Now, I don’t mean to rush you but I’m pretty sure everyone at the Hideaway can already smell all the fresh baked sweets!”

“Oh, certainly,” Cole agrees as he and a handful of other Cursebreakers approach. “We’ll get these supplies to the Ale Hall,” he assures you.

“What are you going to make?” asks Mid.

You miss a beat before answering, “it’s a surprise.” In truth, you have no idea. You know the people of the Hideaway would be happy with anything you baked, but you didn’t want to fall into a boring routine. You wanted to try something new, even if you didn’t need to.

Mid only makes an excited sound from behind sealed lips. “The suspense is killing me!”

You laugh, but you know how she feels. The frustration of not knowing what you’ll bake weighs on you as well. “Well, best get to it.”

You descend from the boat and make your way back up to the main floor of the Hideaway. There are plenty of boxes that still need to be moved, so the lift is somewhat crowded. You wait for a path to be cleared before darting out.

“Have you tried chopping them up and hiding them in a stew?” Tarja’s voice catches your ear. She and Jote are crossing the Boarding Deck, clearly on their way to the Infirmary.

“If he sees them, he’ll claim he’s not hungry and refuse to eat,” Jote replies. “Not to mention, I can’t say I feel very comfortable trying to deceive His Grace.”

“They’re just carrots, Jote. I’m sure your decree says nothing against ensuring the Phoenix eats well.”

“If it were up to His Grace, I’m sure there would be.”

You continue your way into the main hall. It’s not uncommon to hear Tarja complaining about Joshua’s bad habits. You suppose this time it’s his aversion to vegetables. Especially carrots. Unfortunate, given that seems to be what the Hideaway has most of these days.

You’re halfway across the Main Deck when someone else calls your name, their voice sounding from your left. Speak of the devil. Joshua approaches with an easy skip to his step. The smile on his face tells you that he’s heard about your new arrival of supplies, but not that of the carrots’ reinforcements. Well, he might’ve and is simply choosing to ignore it. In fact, that is more likely to be the reality of things.

“I heard about the shipment of goods. Will you get to baking soon?”

If he were a dog, his tail would be wagging uncontrollably despite his cool disposition. You nod, your own smile creeping onto your face as an idea begins to form. “And you’ll be the first to get a taste.”

“Really? I will?”

You nod again. He’s always terribly eager to sample your new recipes.

He’ll have no idea. “Ah, my love, you’re brilliant.” He places a hand on either side of your head and plants a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll look forward to it.”

“You should.” You certainly are.

As he disappears on to the Boarding Deck, you dart over to the bar. 

“Psst. Cole.” You wave the cursebreaker over.

“What is it?”

“Could you acquire me a crate of those carrots that just arrived? I have plans for them. Oh, but don’t let Joshua know. Keep this between us.”

He gives you a curious look, but does as you ask without question. You ask another of the cursebreakers to keep Joshua distracted for the time being. Your plans would be ruined if he were to walk in midway through.

“What, exactly, are you planning?” someone asks from behind you.

Jill runs her finger over the wooden boxes on the counter. You can’t help the little, proud gleam in your eye. “I’m going to get Joshua to eat carrots and like them,” you declare.

“Oh?”

“A carrot cake! He won’t even know they’re there.”

“I’m not sure if eating carrots in a cake counts as Joshua getting a proper intake of vegetables,” she points out.

You shrug. “Gotta start somewhere.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Lots.” 

You, Jill, and a handful of other helpers get to work immediately. With no time to waste, the work is made lighter with more hands to share in its labor. The only thing you can’t speed up is the time of actual baking.

“Do you truly believe this will work?” Jill asks.

“I do. Although, it would be a little funny if he could tell anyway. Like some sort of carrot-sniffing bloodhound. A carrot-hound.”

“Who’s a carrot-hound?” Clive stops at Jill’s side.

“Depending on the results of this experiment, Joshua.”

Clive gives you an almost pained look. “Please do not tell me you’re planning on experimenting on my brother.”

“I promise it won’t become a regular occurrence. Probably. Most likely.”

Clive only sighs and shakes his head.

The cakes finish baking and the air is filled with the scent of freshly baked sweets. You and your assistants–now including Clive–are just finishing spreading the frosting when Joshua arrives, eyes alight with excitement. He says your name with a boyish eagerness that makes your heart squeeze. He truly has no idea. “I hope no one has prevented you from keeping your promise to me.”

You do your best not to roll your eyes. He can still be so childish at times, despite himself. “No, of course not. In fact, you’re just on time. I was about to cut the first slice.”

He smiles. “Excellent.”

He doesn’t even seem to notice how everyone pauses to watch as he takes the first bite. He closes his eyes to savor it. You press your lips together to keep your mischief from showing. “This is delicious, my love, as always.” Your heart soars. You’ve done it. And he’s none the wiser.

You exchange a knowing glance with Jill and Clive. Jill looks mildly impressed while Clive simply seems to be marveling at his brother’s obliviousness. “Alright, everyone,” you announce, “you’re all free to dig in!”

- 

Gav arrives about a half an hour after everyone has already begun eating. He and Otto approach, standing on the other side of Clive, who has taken a seat at the bar beside Joshua.

Gav takes note of the remaining cakes. “Ooo, carrot cake, one of Otto’s favorites.”

You, Clive, and Jill freeze, eyes darting to Joshua. You practically see the life drain from his face. He turns a betrayed expression on you, like a pup who’s found his medicine at the center of his treat. By now, he’s already finished two large slices and is halfway through his third. You can’t help, you begin your apologies but the laughter in your voice steals any sincerity from them.

He practically whines your name, saying, “how could you?”

“But you liked it, didn’t you? Before you knew what it was?”

You can practically see his invisible tail and ears drooping. You’ve never seen him look so unlike the Phoenix before. It only makes you giggle more.

“I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know how I’ll recover from this.”

“Alright, my love, no need to be so overdramatic.”

He pouts. He actually pouts. “You’ll have to find a way to make this up to me.”

“Up to you? I did all of this for you.”

“You did all of this for yourself. I hope you’ve had your fun.”

You lean over the counter, smug as one could be. “Oh, I have.”

“Mhm.” He leans forward and places a soft kiss on your lips. You can still taste the frosting. “You better have. Otherwise, I will have eaten this for nothing.”

“You would have, at the very least, learned that you can stomach carrots. Isn’t that something?”

He laughs. “No, absolutely not. Just promise you won’t do something like this again.”

“I promise,” you draw out the word, “that it won’t become a regular occurrence.”

He rolls his eyes, but a smile toys at the corners of his mouth. “What did I ever do to deserve this?”

“Something really good, I imagine.”

His smile grows. “Must have been.”

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

The hills turn crimson as I take your hand in mine (Part 2)

Detective!Shanks x reader. Modern AU. As usual, NSFW!! This is part two of two.

Title inspired by a verse of Left on Mars by Marko Hietala & Tarja Turunen.

Discussion of child kidnapping and child abuse but nothing graphic is shown. Characters deaths (not Shanks or reader), two past and one in the course of the story. Luffy and Zoro are both nine, Shanks is in his late twenties. 

Animanga characters who have not (yet) appeared on the show are mentioned; Shanks is Roger’s and Rayleigh’s son. 

*****

You don’t get car sick, which is certainly lucky for you, since most of the expeditions in the pursuit of the various missing people you had been tasked to find occurred on the road, even if a few times you did have to take a plane, and once even a boat. You still remember Garp’s car, that the commander drove with you sitting by his side and a second vehicle, usually driven by his assistant Bogard and to use in case of engine trouble or accidents, following you; he had bought a car cushion especially for you, since the seats felt too hard on your backside, and he always treated you to tea at the end of every mission, even if you had arrived too late.

You liked Garp. At first, soon after you had been assigned as his partner at the end of your training, you felt quite intimidated by him, but his rank and physical presence, but in time you got to see he was a good man, who actually believed in what you both did, and would have given everything to save, or punish, the people you were chasing. Had circumstances been different, you would have been happy to help him… and you don’t want to believe he’s hiding something from you and Shanks, even if you have to admit the fact that he tasked a former agent to find Luffy, rather than following the normal procedure of the force for kidnapping cases is suspicious.

“Everything alright?” Shanks asks, interrupting your ruminations “I can stop if you need a break.”

“I’m fine, thank you.” you assure him, and you really are. His hair tousled by the wind, his relaxed posture against the car seat, the open collar of his white shirt showing a glimpse of his tan chest… Shanks is more handsome than ever, so attractive that no matter how sincerely worried you are for Luffy, you’re seriously tempted to beg him to park the car in a secluded corner so that you can jump his bones.

If you didn’t have a missing child to worry about, this would be an excellent way to spend a morning: cool air coming in through the car’s window, music on the radio, an attractive man by your side, the conversation flowing easy and relaxed. You can almost pretend you and Shanks are taking a pleasure trip, with no concern save enjoying each other’s company, that you’ll stop for lunch somewhere and then, perhaps, you’ll end the day together at your place or his. It’d be nice; it’d be amazing, really, and perhaps it may still happen one day…

You’ve been travelling for little less than three hours, leaving Foosha City behind you to cross vast expanses of countryside; Shanks drives smoothly, below the speed limit despite the almost empty roads, having assured you he doesn’t mind the radio turned on, and you concentrate on Luffy every few minutes, to make sure he is still where you first picked him up - a place you still don’t have a name, or even a general direction, for, but that you are slowly drawing closer to.

This is how it works, a process that is the same for all Hounds but that you still can’t articulate to describe it to those who have never experienced it. Despite the name, those like you do not perceive the smell of the person they need to find, and the trace has nothing to do with their nose, nor with a sound their ears pick up. It’s a call, an instinct that pushes you forward, as if you and the person you had been tasked with retrieving were the two opposite poles of a magnet, and you were inexorably attracted towards them. 

Have you ever heard of a dog who tracks down his family after they have moved and left him on the highway? Belle-mère told you once, or how birds cover great distances during their migrations, finding their way across the globe? A theory says that like some animals, Hounds can detect the Earth’s magnetic field and we orient ourselves through that, another that it’s a sort of low-level telepathy; maybe we’ll never know, and I don’t particularly care. Maybe this ability we have is proof of the infinite potential of the human mind, an ability only few have unlocked but that is latent in all of us. We have been given this gift, and the least we can do is to put it to good use.

She was right, of course, your trainer, and you’re determined to make the most of her teachings; you’ll never forgive yourself for not realising Makino might have had a good reason to run away, but you won’t make the same mistake twice: you’ll make sure Luffy is safe, whether that means bringing him back to his parents or leaving him where he is. 

You promise yourself. 

“So.” you say in the end, turning to look at the man next to you, full of a new determination “Want to tell me why you dislike Hounds so much?”

You see Shanks tense; he hesitates for a moment, his eyes fixed on the road as you pass a truck, and then he sighs. “I guess I owe it to you; you told me your story, even though it pained you, not to mention those hurtful things about Hounds I said over the phone.”

“Well, I don’t think you owe me.” you precise, immediately regretting your request “And I’m not offended; I just wish we could talk freely, you know… like friends do.”

“Is this what we are? Friends?”

“I’m sorry, you must think I’m very stupid…”

“On the contrary; I think you’re the sweetest woman I’ve ever met. It’s just that I don’t usually do with my friends what we did last night.”

“True.” you admit, and he smiles - breathtaking once more, even if it lasts just for a moment before Shanks’ expression turns serious. “I’ve never told anyone about this; well, except Beck, but we were friends already when it happened and he sort of lived it through me, so he doesn’t count.”

You nod mutely, well aware of the responsibility that confidence entails; Shanks is not going to confess a murder, nor to share with you the launch codes of a nuclear missile, but what he’s about to tell you is important for him, a source of great pain, and that deserves respect.

“I had a friend when I was a child; his name was Buggy, we sat next to each other in class, we were literally attached at the hip; we got in trouble so many times… His dream was to become a clown in the circus; weird, I know, but he had talent. I thought we’d be friends forever; we had sworn we’d be… until one day Buggy disappeared.”

You remain silent, unsurprised when you realise Shanks is pulling over, parking the car in a stopping place at the side of the road; he stops the engine, sighs as he rests his arm on the steering wheel, and keeps talking, without looking at you.

“We were both twelve. We usually left school together, went to his place or mine to watch TV and do our homework together; but that day we had a math test and I hadn’t studied, so I pretended I was sick, and my dads let me stay home. Our classmates remembered seeing Buggy leave at the end of the school day, alone; he never arrived home, and no one ever saw him again.”

You silently reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers; your hand is squeezed gently, but Shanks is still not looking at you, lost as he is in his memories.

“Buggy’s parents did try asking for the Hounds’ help; the best in the country offered their help, but no one was able to find any trace of Buggy, no matter how long they kept sniffing his clothes and his toys. In the end, two months after his disappearance, the Police officially closed the investigation, and no one else gave a shit -sorry- about Buggy anymore, only me and his parents. I cried every night, but they were crushed… and that’s why, I think, they believed that woman.”

It is, unfortunately, a story you have already heard: unscrupulous criminals, without a drop of Hound ability, that prey on the fear and desperation of family and friends of missing people offering to find the spouse, the child, the parent who disappeared - for a fee, obviously. Shanks’ case is partially different though, because the person who took advantage of Buggy’s parents was a Hound, with a respectable career behind her.  

“They were intelligent people, but the disappearance of their son had somehow… lowered their defences. They would have believed anything and anyone for the barest hope that Buggy was alive and could come back to them, and as I said, that woman had already found many people, she wasn’t a fraud; how could they suspect she was lying? The woman had them give her his favourite shirt and pretended to sense him; Buggy was alive, she said, but it would take time to find him, she had so many other people willing to pay for her services, and she needed expensive tools and other things to make sure her readings were accurate… in three months they had given her everything they owned, and even took out a loan on their house to pay; their friends and even I insisted that woman was taking advantage of them, but they didn’t listen, because they still hoped they could find him. And in the end… in the end they did.”

Even though most of them have a maximum distance beyond which their ability stops working, Hounds can, at least theoretically, perceive the presence of another person in any part of the world. Whether their target is still or moving, in a building or out in the open, on ground level or at the fiftieth floor of a skyscraper or deep down in an iron mine, they will be found. You personally helped find the crew of a submarine that had lost contact with the base, and Belle-mère told you she once tracked a child that his father had kidnapped and was taking out of the country by plane.

You can even track dead people, even if that requires some training; what you need is there to be a person as such, and not just an amputated arm or foot, and that, sadly, is the reason why the Hounds hadn’t been able to find Shanks’ friend.

“He had… he had been dismembered, and then his pieces tossed on the bottom of a lake, in a bag with a heavy rock attached so that it wouldn’t return to the surface. Some divers were doing I don’t know what research about the lake’s flora, and they found it. I insisted on going with Buggy’s parents to the morgue, to see th - to see him, and… oh, my God, it was like the pieces of a puzzle, only that it wasn’t paperboard, it was the flesh and bones of my friend…”

Of all the dramatic, gruesome and violent cases you have learnt about during your collaboration with the Police -Garp always did his best to keep you in the dark, convinced as he was that you were too young to witness the atrocities he was by now more than familiar with, while Belle-mère had a higher opinion of your nerves and often discussed her cases with you, in the interest of your training- none has ever been more inhuman, violent and unnecessarily cruel than the scene Shanks is describing; for months he and Buggy’s parents had hoped to see him return, to then be informed he had died, his poor body dismembered to make sure the Hounds could not find him and, as a consequence, his kidnappers. 

He was only twelve; still a child. You don’t even want to know what those people did to him…

“I’m so sorry.” you murmur, well aware of how empty those words sound no matter how intensely you mean it, and Shanks finally turns to look at you.

“It gets worse. The Hound, that… that bitch… she disappeared the day Buggy was found, no doubt because she expected Buggy’s parents to realise she had lied to them and tricked them out of all their money. The Police might have caught her, but Buggy’s parents never even sued her; the day after Buggy’s funeral they… they committed suicide; they took pills, and died together on their bed. I went to their home a few hours later, I thought Buggy would have wanted me to keep them company, and… and I found them. I called an ambulance, but it was already too late. They didn’t leave a note or anything, but it was clear: they had stayed strong until they still had hope Buggy was alive, but they had no reason to keep living without him. A whole family destroyed… and a woman who had gotten rich preying on their vulnerability. I can’t help but wonder… if that day I had gone to school, if I had been with him as he returned home…”

“Shanks, no. It wasn’t your fault, how could you have known?”

He admits that obviously you’re right, and looks up at you, pain and guilt clear in his eyes. “I was wrong to say those things; I was wrong to even just think them, but I can’t help it.” he recognises, voice lowered to a whisper “I was in the force, I know many Hounds generously offer their help, that your powers are real and you have helped hundreds of people; but I can’t stop thinking about that woman, of how she took advantage of the pain and fear of Buggy’s parents to rob them. I would have gladly killed her with my own hands, and I was still a child back then, but I should know better now that I'm an adult; there are rotten apples in every category of people, and you have no fault for the crimes of those like you. I’m sorry, (name).”

“I could never be angry with you; especially now that I know the reason for your resentment; you hated that woman so much, you can’t help despising all those like her as well.”

“Exactly. Very mature of me, isn’t it?”

You opt not to answer, preferring to take the face of the man in front of you in your hands, your heart full of anguish; with a sigh, Shanks rests his forehead against yours, and for a minute you remain like that, sharing your space, Shanks slowly coming to terms with that pain that is still part of him, so many years after the fact, and you doing what you can to comfort him. “I’m sorry.” you murmur once more, and he grins before kissing your brow.

“At least I know you’re different. And had I known Hounds can be this sexy, I would have asked Garp to let me work with you.”

“But relationships among agents, and their collaborators, are strictly forbidden.”

“It’s lucky that neither of us works with the force anymore then…”

Shanks winks at you as he starts the engine once more; he’s pulling himself together, determined to do whatever it takes to stop Luffy from meeting the same destiny of Buggy. “Do you know what percentage of the way we have covered already?”

“I’m not sure.” you admit “It doesn’t work like a car navigator, I can’t say how many miles or minutes away we are; I only know we’re in the right direction, and that Luffy is alive and that he’s standing still - not literally, but as if he were moving inside a building or a very restricted area. I’m sorry, I wish I could be more precise.”

“It’s alright; at least you’ve only given me good news, again.”

You share a smile, the car’s engine roars under you, and you’re back on the road.

You stop again two hours later, to grab a bite at a service station; you insist on paying, since Shanks has gone to get gas. “Ah, if only they had hamburgers!” you comment with a sigh as you observe the menu behind the counter, and the man by your side bites his lip to hide a smile, a slight flush complimenting the red hair hidden under his straw hat.

You depart again with two to-go cups, one of coffee and the other of tea, in the cupholder; the conversation between you and Shanks is pleasant and relaxed, and you both sing along with the radio, but the longer your journey lasts, the closer you come to your destination, you both feel yourself growing tense. It would be a relief to find out Luffy is fine, that he simply ran away from home after a fight with his parents, somehow crossing most of the country by himself without anyone wondering why a nine-year-old is walking around alone, and who will obediently let you bring him back, to his room and toys and favourite breakfast, but if this doesn’t happen… if the child were to be in danger, or if there were a more serious reason for his disappearance, then it’d be up to the two of you to decide what to do, in his best interest. As he promised, Shanks has his gun with him, hidden in its holster under his leather jacket; you know, without the need to ask, that he’ll do whatever it takes to protect you and Luffy, but you really hope it won’t come to that. 

“He’s moving.” you announce suddenly, after two more hours on the road; you have reached a more remote part of the country, large expanses of countryside punctuated with small towns, farms and cultivated fields, and Shanks is telling you about his fathers when suddenly you feel -not hear, not smell, not touch; you feel- something shift, as if the needle of the compass inside you had moved of a few degrees on the side.

“You mean Luffy?” Shanks asks, immediately tense “They’re moving him?”

“Not in the sense that his captors have put him in a car to hide him somewhere else; at least I think, It’s more of a sensation than something I’m seeing or hearing.” you try to explain; you have often reflected than being a Hound is like speaking a language only a handful of other people know, which makes it enormously harder to talk to laymen “He’s walking, very slowly, but I don’t know if it’s because he’s simply taking a walk or because he’s hurt and can’t run. God, I hope he’s not struggling to get away… in any case we’re close.”

“Alright, then…”

“Are you sure?”

“I am now. I can’t say how close, but… it’s not long before you reach him.”

You see tension enveloping Shanks’ shoulders. “Put your seatbelt on.” he warns you; he steps on the gas, and the car surges ahead, devouring the asphalt.

Shimotsuki Town is actually barely a village surrounded by sprawling rice fields, a couple dozens of houses gathered around a tiny square, the sort of place no one living twenty miles away has ever heard of; there are no museums or restaurants or relevant companies in the area, nothing of importance… except for one thing.

“Are you sure he’s here?” Shanks asks. You have left the car in the fields surrounding the town, after which you have led him for a short distance along the main street, the impulse in your mind more and more intense with every step you take; the whisper, subtle but persistent, that you have followed on the way is now a shout, loud and impossible to ignore.

You have found Luffy; he’s alive, thanks to Belle-mère’s training you are absolutely sure, but you have no way of knowing what conditions he’s in, physically and mentally both, and part of you is too afraid to know…

“I am; either in the building or in the back, but we’re… I don’t know, twenty feet from him at most.” you answer confidently “Whatever here is.” 

The door of the old-style building in front of you is surmounted by a banner: Isshin Dojo it says.

“Dojo is a type of martial arts school, a place where you learn to fight either bare-handed or with weapons.” Shanks explains, having noticed the perplexity of your expression.

“How do you know?”

“Well, I studied swordsmanship when I was younger; not in the style of the dojos, but I saw a couple of places like this.”

“You can use a sword!? That is amazing!” you exclaim, not bothering to hide your awe, and Shanks smiles, clearly flattered. 

“Both my dads could, so it was natural for me to learn; I am sort of ambidextrous, but to be honest I have never touched my sword after the accident. Truth to be told I have missed it…”

“Then you should start again.” you comment; a pause, and then: “And then you can teach me.”

“I’d like that.”

Shanks smiles, and you do your best to reciprocate, even though anxiety is eating you alive; you’ve felt more and more nervous the closer you got to your destination, and now part of you wishes you could simply leave, abandoning Luffy to his destiny and taking no responsibility regarding his well-being. You can’t, of course, but you can’t help…

“You’re shivering.” Shanks murmurs; the longer you remain still in front of the Dojo the more you risk Luffy’s captors, if they really are here, to see you, realise you’re looking for the child and take him away, but the man next to you seems unconcerned for a moment - unconcerned for anything and anyone who is not you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing; he’s here, I could bet my life on it, just… I’m scared. He’s just a child, what if something terrible happened and we weren’t here to stop it?”

Shanks softly points out that it would be terrible to discover it’s too late to help Luffy, but it wouldn’t be your fault; he has his gun, and this wouldn’t be the first time he needs to use it on the job, and he’s going to do whatever it takes to protect the child. 

“It’s going to be alright.” he promises, and while you’re not fully reassured the conviction in those words does make you feel better, enough to make you smile, enough to make you decide to throw caution to the wind and press your mouth on Shanks’ for a kiss, ardent and hungry and desperate, a kiss the man in front of you quickly reciprocates, holding you by the waist as his mouth ravishes yours.

“God, you’re amazing.” he murmurs in the end, without fully breaking the kiss, the straw hat he’s wearing once again almost toppled over in the excitement “Absolutely gorgeous, and you smell so good…”

You giggle. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“I really don’t; and I could prove you how sincere I’m being if you came… fuck!”

The expletive, unexpected enough to make you jump, is due to Shanks’ phone, which has just started ringing in the pocket of his jacket, interrupting you for the second time. 

“Is that Garp?” you ask, anxious once again; Shanks takes a look at the screen and shakes his head.

“My partner.” he explains as he accepts the call “Beck? Tell me you have good news.”

“I’m not sure they’re good but sure they are interesting.” his partner comments, and Shanks tenses; he’s known, and worked with, Beckman long enough to know that in his vocabulary interesting actually means shocking. Luffy’s story was not simple and crystal-clear as it appeared to be; there is something fishy behind it, as both he and (name) thought.

“I’ll put you on speaker.” he says, and (name) approaches, as serious as he is “Tell us.”

“First thing I wanted to know was whether a child as young as Luffy could have had a reason to run away from home, or if his parents have enemies of some kind, and at first I found nothing; kid goes to school, mom and dad are a doctor and a bank teller, normal people with a mortgage. Very normal.”

“Too normal.”

“You know it. I dug deeper, and I did find something: Luffy was adopted four years ago.”

“What if his real parents…?” (name) whispers, and Shanks nods; he had the same thought, and this wouldn’t be the first time a relative, desperate for a connection to a child they feel they have lost, resort to extreme measures to have them for themselves.

“I don’t think they have something to do with it; or he does, since the mom died. Dad is in jail. But there’s something else, and Shanks, this is very…”  

“Interesting?” the younger man can’t help but joke; he can almost see his partner, sitting with his feet on the desk, a cigarette as usual on his lips. 

“You tell me. The files are classified, since Luffy’s a minor, but I knew where to look. It turns out that when Luffy was adopted, there was a person who tried gaining custody of the child, even though the judge refused, but was allowed to still be part of Luffy’s life, visiting on the week-ends, a week in the summer and so on.”

It is nothing new, nothing out of the ordinary for an adopted child, but Shanks’s heart is pounding; (name) is clinging to his arm, having equally perceived the revelation will be earth-shattering… and not in a good way.

“Who is it?” he asks, already steering himself; he has no reason to suspect this person is involved in Luffy’s disappearance -yet- but… “Who is this person, Beck?”

His partner hesitates, as if the information had affected him as well - a rare occurrence, for Benn Beckman. “It’s Luffy’s grandfather.” he says in the end, his voice mortally serious “Your old commander, Monkey D. Garp.”

“What do you want?”

It’s a child who opens the door of the Dojo, almost five minutes after he and (name) have started knocking on it, and Shanks’ heart leaps - only for a moment, before he realises this child, who is wearing a gi, might be Luffy’s age but looks nothing like him.

They both stare at him for a moment, flabbergasted, but when the child moves to close the door Shanks leaves (name)’s hand to use his to stop him. “Wait.”

“We’re not buying anything.”

“That’s a good thing, because we’re not selling. What’s your name?”

The child looks at him, resentful and too young to successfully hide how scared he is. 

“Zoro.” he mumbles in the end, having accepted that the two strangers won’t leave “Roronoa Zoro.”

“Alright, Roronoa Zoro. I’m Shanks, this is (name), and we won’t cause any problem, I promise. Can we talk to your parents?”

“I don’t have those; I live here with my sensei, but he’s out for the day.”

Shanks and (name) share a glance; talking to a child without an adult present is often a source of trouble, not to mention they’re often even less reliable than the average witness, but they can’t afford to be selective. 

“Zoro, listen, we’re here for a very important matter.” (name) intervenes, crouching to meet the child’s eyes, who returns the gaze, diffident. Zoro can’t be more than nine but he’s tall for his age, his hair the same green hue of his gi, with the ramrod straight posture so common among swordsmen “We’re looking for a child who we think might be in trouble; his name is Luffy, he’s about your age, he has black hair. He disappeared from his home and his mom and dad are very worried about him.”

“There’s no one with that name here; and I know all the students of the dojo. You sure you got the right address?”

Shanks meets (name)’s eyes, and he sees her nod; Luffy is still there, and while he might have hidden himself somewhere inside or around the dojo without Zoro knowing, Shanks is ready to bet the child knows something.

“You need to leave; the dojo is closed for the day, and the sensei told me not to let strangers in.” Zoro warns them; Shanks notices there is a sword hanging from his belt, the child’s hand closed around the hilt. Then his curiosity gets the best of him: “You guys are Police?”

“No.”

“Then why are you looking for a person who disappeared?”

It’s a very good question, that Shanks keeps mulling over while he thanks Zoro for his help and then turns to leave, (name) following silently; they are both aware of the green-haired child’s eyes following them. 

They call Luffy’s name as they cross the rice fields behind the dojo; the azure of the sky is starting to turn red, the approaching night swallowing the light of the day. Whether they find the child or not, Shanks thinks, they’ll have to find a hostel or some other place, if they don’t want to spend the night in the car. 

“He’s still in there.”

“I know; but I didn’t want to insist too much with a child, we better wait for his sensei to return.” Shanks suggests; he takes (name)’s hand in his once more, his heart fluttering when he sees a happy smile blossom on the woman’s lips; he didn’t lie, she is gorgeous, and a child’s life and safety is at stake, he can’t and mustn’t focus on anything else, but as soon as this matter is closed, hopefully for the best, he’ll make sure (name) forgets any other man she’s ever been with “Let’s have a look around, shall we?”

“Can you feel anything?”

“Nothing; I know he’s close, within perhaps a couple minutes walk, and that he’s standing still, but I can’t narrow it down any further.” (name) explains with a sigh “I’m sorry I can’t be of any help.”

“We will; I’m sure of it.” Shanks promises as they approach a row of trees, the fields empty save for them; the truth is he doesn’t know, he’s tired after so many hours spent driving and even (name)’s powers won’t stop Luffy from slipping away and disappear, but he’s not ready to throw in the towel, not with the child’s life potentially still hanging in the balance “Maybe we’ll even convince Zoro to help us; that boy knows something.”

“Are you joking? (name), we’re halfway across the country, no one would have thought to look for Luffy here! I wouldn’t have known where to start without you; I know we haven’t found him yet, but I really appreciate your help.”

The woman smiles, flattered. “It was a pleasure; I mean… I had missed being a Hound; I was scared to do it again, after what happened to Makino, but it was an important part of my life, and I feel better now that I’m doing it again. I just hope we can find him.”

“I think so as well; even though I’d be curious to know how he and Luffy met, since they lived so far apart. Shanks… why do you think Garp didn’t tell us Luffy is his grandson?”

That is the million berry question, and Shanks still doesn’t know what to think: Garp could have his reasons, but if he kept them in the dark regarding that, what else is the older man hiding? Could Luffy have decided to run away from home not after a fight with his adoptive parents but because of something that concerned his grandfather? Did Garp task them with finding his grandson because he didn’t want his colleagues to stick their nose in a private matter -a superfluous concern, since the safety of a child was at stake- or is there something more, something else he and (name) have been kept unaware of? Is Luffy in danger? 

Are they?

“I don’t know what to think.” Shank sighs “I’ve worked with Garp for three years, we were not friends but I trusted him; that he might be involved with the abduction of a child is… monstrous. Maybe I’m wrong and he’s simply a grandfather worried sick, but…”

“I really hope so; I didn’t even know he had had a child! Maybe it has to do with his job? Someone he helped put behind bars and who now wants to get back at him kidnapping Luffy?” (name) suggests; Shanks opens his mouth to answer, but he doesn’t have the time to. Above his head, a branch snaps… (name) screams… and he’s knocked on the ground.

“Shit…!”

“LUFFY!”

“Shoot!” he screams, scrambling to his feet, and Shanks, felled by the child’s body that plummeted down on him, reflects once more that it’s not easy to quickly get up on your feet when you only have an arm to push yourself off the ground. And Luffy, a red shirt and jean shorts on, is running like the wind, taking advantage of the two adults’ astonishment to get away.

“Get him! (name)!” Shanks cries, unnecessarily because the woman has already dashed after the child, her longer stride quickly covering the distance; she grabs him, locking her arms under Luffy’s armpits, and holds him tight, no matter how desperately the child tries to wriggle free.

“Put me down! Let me go, or I’ll show you!”

“Luffy, it’s alright… we’re friends, we just want to…”

“You want to bring me back, don’t you? Well, I’m not going!”

In the end Shanks is able to heave himself on his feet; his back hurts where the child fell on it, but he shouldn’t have broken anything, including the arm he instinctively used to protect his face as he crashed to the ground. Still gasping, he sees the woman try to calm and reassure the child, and he’s about to offer his help when a gelid kiss touches the side of his neck, a sensation Shanks hasn’t felt for more than a year but that he recognises thanks to the many years he spent training with his fathers… 

“Tell her to let him go. Now.”

He turns slowly, mindful of the blade; it could slit his throat if only he, or his assailant, made a wrong move, but Shanks is not afraid, not when he realises that Zoro, for all the determination in his eyes and excellent posture in holding the sword, looks terrified.

“Put that down, son; you could get hurt.”

“I’m not your son.” the child answers; the appellative seems to have hit a nerve, the tight grip of his hands on the hilt of the sword betraying his anxiety “And you’ll be the one who gets hurt, if you don’t tell your friend to let Luffy go.”

“We just want to help him.”

“Like hell you do. What will you do to him? Did his grandfather send…?”

Shanks acts quickly, taking advantage of the child’s momentary distraction for a feint Rayleigh taught him; a sudden movement, and Zoro’s sword is now in his hand.

“This is an excellent sword.” Shanks says, his tone friendly, as he admires the weapon, while Luffy has stopped squirming in (name)’s arms “And I admire the fact you wanted to protect your friend; but the last thing I want is to hurt him, Zoro, or you. You have my word.”

The child looks at him, wary and embarrassed; Shanks looks at (name), who silently nods and releases Luffy. The child, who could now run away, remains where he is, looking at Shanks with what he could only describe as fascination.

“How did you do that? Zoro is very strong.”

“I’m sure he is; I have just been handling swords a little longer than he has.”

Zoro grunts.

“What happened to your arm?”

“I lost it in an accident.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Only when it rains.”

“Can you still feel it even though you no longer have it?”

“I actually can, sometimes. Luffy…” Shanks returns the sword to Zoro, who begrudgingly accepts it, and crouches to be at eye level with him “(name) and I have a few questions for you.”

“You’re angry because I ran away from home.”

“We’re not angry; we were only very worried, just like your mom and dad are.”

The child’s expression turns dejected; he suddenly looks even smaller than his young age and short stature can account for. “They’re not my mom and dad; they are taking care of me because my grandfather gives them money to do it.”

A moment later (name) is kneeling beside the child, her hand on his shoulder. “Luffy, those people… do they hurt you? I mean…”

“No, no; they give me food and buy me things for school and everything, but… but they don’t care about me. It’s like a job; you do it because you have to, and because you get paid for it.” the child explains miserably; he bites his lip, and then, his voice reduced to a whisper: “And then they force me to spend time with my gramps.”

Shanks’ eyes meet (name)’s above the child’s head; suddenly they’re both too scared to ask.

“Luffy, about your grandfather…”

“The old man hits him.” Zoro intervenes; Luffy gasps. 

“You said you wouldn’t tell anyone!”

“Is this true, Luffy?” Shanks asks; the child looks at him, both unwilling to trust him -why? How many times have adults let him down already? How many doctors and social workers and teachers have looked the other way, or not bothered to follow their suspicions, on top of the adoptive parents who treated the child in their care with the same emotional attachment of the floors to mop or the bedding to change? How deep must Luffy’s desperation and disappointment have become, for the child to decide to run away?- and desperately wishing he could. Shanks has never been in a situation like his, but he might have, if his dads had not intervened, and maybe it’s because of this that he sees himself reflected in the child’s bright eyes.

“Don’t make me go back.” Luffy murmurs “Please.”

“I won’t. You have my word, you won’t have to go back if you don’t want to.”

It’s a promise Shanks can’t afford to make and he knows it, but he doesn’t regret it, not when he sees the child’s eyes fill with tears - not of pain or anger, but of relief.

“It’s alright, Luffy.” he murmurs gently “You’re safe. Your grandfather will no longer hurt you.”

A moment later Luffy’s crying fills the air; the child has thrown his arms around Shanks’ neck, his body so small and fragile in the man’s arm. Shanks can’t remember the last time he has been close to a child this young, or that he was responsible for comforting one; nevertheless, he must be doing a decent job, because within a couple of minutes the child’s sobs subside. Luffy looks up at him, and Shanks expects him to ask what will become of him, but a moment later the child has taken his straw hat from his head to decisively depose it on his own. 

“You like it? My dad gave it to me, it’s my greatest treasure.”

“This is so cool!”

Shanks smiles; besides the relief to discover the child is safe and not kept prisoner, deciding what to do with him and ensuring his safety will be no small matter, but the last thing Shanks feels is regret for having been involved in that mess. He looks up at (name), now standing with her arm draped around Zoro -who is also crying silently, his face hidden against the woman’s side- and she smiles, nodding slightly. In that smile there is understanding and courage, and no matter how desperately he wishes he could have Garp in front of him to strangle him, Shanks is happy the older man decided to involve (name) - for Luffy’s sake and his as well.

With Zoro’s permission, (name) has prepared some tea for them all in the kitchen of the apartment above the dojo, where the child lives with his sensei. It’s there, while the four sit in front of a small table, that Luffy, perfectly at ease in Shanks’ lap, tells them his story.

That commander Garp, a man well-known and respected for his integrity and righteousness might also be a child abuser, is something both Shanks and (name), who have known and worked with him for years, would have never believed, but that is the sad truth.

Garp is Luffy’s paternal grandfather; he tried gaining custody of the child when his son went to prison two years ago, and when the judge refused, on account of his age, unmarried state and dangerous job, Garp has paid a couple to adopt the child and makes sure to visit often, even more often than the visitation rights afford him… and takes advantage of that time alone to train his grandson.

“He hits me.” Luffy explains matter-of-factly as he lifts his shirt to show the bruises that litter his delicate skin; his chest and tummy, his arms, his back… his little body is covered in them, even though the bastard has been careful to only hit the child where his clothes would cover the signs “He says he does it for my good, that he wants me to become strong. He wants me to join the Police like him, but I’m going to be a pirate, and once I told him and he told my parents to keep me in my room without food for two days.”

It was Zoro who saved him. The child followed his sensei to Foosha City for a course the man had to teach in a fencing school, they moved into an hotel close to Luffy’s home, and the two children became friends, the bond deep enough for Luffy to confide his grandfather’s mistreatment, and for Zoro to decide to help.

When Zoro and his sensei departed from Foosha City, Luffy went with them, hidden in the car’s trunk; he had snuck out of his room taking advantage of his parents’ deep sleep, and he remained there until the end of the trip. Then, Zoro helped him hide in the Dojo’s spare room, bringing him a blanket and candles and food - a lot of food. Undoubtedly ingenious, especially for two children who together are barely old enough to vote. How long they thought they could get away with it, it’s anybody’s guess; but the beauty of being children is that they live in the present, while it’s up to the adults to assure them a future.

“A pirate? Is that your dream?” Shanks asks, amused, holding the child against his body; he dreamt the same when he was that age.

“Hmm-hmm; pirates are free, that is the best thing in the world! I’m the captain, because I’m the strongest, my punch is like a pistol, and Zoro is my first mate, and he’s also gonna be the world’s strongest swordsman…”

It’s good to see the child so calm and serene. Shanks, in turn, is all too aware of the trouble he and (name) have on their hands; they have to find a solution - fast, too, before Zoro’s sensei returns and asks who the three strangers in his house are. 

Once more, their eyes meet above the child’ head; she nods in the direction of the door.

“Luffy, you and Zoro remain here, alright?” he asks gently as the child turns to look at him “We’ll be back soon.”

“Alright; we’ll watch cartoons.”

The two adults remain silent as they leave the room, closing the slide door behind them, and walk to the other side of the corridor, making sure Luffy can’t hear them and, at the same time, keeping an eye on the room in case the child decides to run away again.

“What do we do?” (name) asks, anguish filling her voice “We can’t bring him back to Garp! But he’s going to look for Luffy, and…”

Shanks nods, well aware of how hard it’s going to be. Returning Luffy to his abusive grandfather is out of the question, but Shanks knows well how stubborn and relentless the older man can be; there is no place in the world where Luffy would be safe, as long as his grandfather is still looking for him. The child deserves peace and serenity, to go to school and have friends and play, not to spend the next decade -or until Garp dies, which could be even longer- locked up at home, fearing to find himself face to face with his grandfather every time he looks out of the window.

Going to the Police would be counterproductive to put it mildly, for obvious reasons. What can they do? How can they be sure this child has the life he deserves, or at least some of it?

“Garp is the problem.” Shanks summarises, his closed fist under his hand “If he were to disappear, Luffy would have nothing to fear.”

“You’re thinking…?”

“I am.”

(name) sighs; she doesn’t immediately object, which is at the same time sad and comforting.

“I don’t want it to come to that.” she murmurs “I mean, i could hide him, but…”

Shanks looks at her. “Hide him? How?”

For a moment (name) seems to regret having spoken; then she shrugs. “I know you’ll keep this for yourself.” she says easily, as if she really trusted him, as if they hadn’t met barely twenty-four hours ago, and it’s not naivety or lack of understanding, it’s something deeper and more precious and damn, Shanks is this close to falling to his knees and asking for her hand “The fact is… we Hounds are usually asked to find people, but we’re also capable of hiding them; it’s more complicated, something you have to learn and practice rather than being naturally able to do it, but Belle-mère taught me. It’s a secret among us, that we mainly keep for ourselves; we’re able to… well, to make a person invisible, not in the sense that you can see through them or anything, we just make them harder to notice, you know?”

“You mean… as if they were there, but you couldn’t realise? The way you sometimes don’t notice a person has entered the room until they tap you on the shoulder?”

“Exactly; if I did this, Garp wouldn’t even see Luffy if he crossed the road in front of him, or sat across from him on the bus. He’d be safe… but Garp is still his grandfather, he is legally allowed to spend time with him, and Luffy deserves better than a life spent on the run.”

Shanks agrees; (name)’s solution would work if Luffy was a criminal on the run from the police, or a battered wife who had to avoid running into her abusive husband, but he is neither, the child will sooner or later have to return to his adoptive parents, and Garp will simply have to present himself to their door to demand his grandson for the time the judge has granted him. They could denounce Garp, show someone in charge the bruises on the child’s body and have him explain his grandfather is responsible, but Garp has friends in high places, how can they be sure their complaint will serve its purpose?

“He can’t stay here, hidden; but if we take him away with us, Garp could have us charged with child abduction.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I don’t either.” Shanks admits. He doesn’t particularly relish the thought of ending up behind bars, where he could end up sharing a cell with a few criminals he helped arrest, not to mention he wouldn’t be able to take (name) out since they’d be serving time in different facilities, but taking care of Luffy takes precedence “But we need to decide what to do before taking him away; sooner or later Garp will want to know where we are, and our families…”

According to Zoro, his sensei will be back in less than an hour. Shanks and (name) decide that no matter how dangerous it is, they have to take Luffy away; they’ll find a safe place, sleep in the car, and tomorrow morning, with a clear head, they’ll decide what to do.

Neither mentions how unreasonably optimistic that plan sounds; they hold each other for a moment, gathering strength from each other, and then go back to the children, who both look crestfallen at the thought of being separated.

“You can’t tell anyone about this.” Shanks tells Zoro. Normally he would feel guilty, not to mention nervous, at the thought of entrusting such an important secret to a child, but Zoro is clearly made of sterner stuff than most of his peers, and when the child nods in response, promising he’ll take the truth to his grave, Shanks knows he can trust him “About us, and about Luffy; forget you ever met him, and if someone asks, deny everything.”

“I will.” Zoro promises; he bites his lip, and “So we’ll never meet again? Never for the rest of our lives?”  

The thought is clearly heartbreaking, no matter how short their acquaintance has been. Shanks remembers how it was at that age, how quickly and easily you could fall in friendship with another person and forge bonds that you felt would last for the rest of your life, and sometimes they did. He and Buggy were the same.

“I don’t know, really.” he confesses; he’s kneeling, his hand resting on Zoro’s shoulder “We don’t know what we’ll do; we need to keep Luffy safe, which might mean taking him far from here, but as soon as it’s safe we’ll call you. I really hope you kids can meet again, Zoro; you’re a good child.”

Zoro accepts the compliment with a shrug of his shoulders. “When we meet again, can you teach me that feint you did before?” he asks “That was very cool.”

“Of course.”

Zoro is too young to have a phone, but Shanks has the child learn his - by heart, in order not to leave a potentially incriminating business card with him. In the meantime, (name) has helped Luffy remove all traces of his passage in the house, and retrieve his backpack; it’s almost empty, because most of what the child brought with him from home was food.

“Where are we going?” he asks, sunny and relaxed as if Shanks and (name) were taking him on a day trip; neither of the adults has the heart to ruin his mood. 

“We’ll keep you safe from your grandfather, Luffy; I promise.” Shanks says, and the child stares at him for a moment, as if testing his resolve and sincerity, and then nods, slipping his tiny hand in Shanks’. 

Zoro insists on walking them to the car; they leave the dojo together, Luffy still holding Shanks’ hand, and the moon is already high in the sky as they walk, crossing the fields outside the village. No one speaks, both adults and children aware of the danger they’re facing, especially the youngest member of their little group; the night is warm and clear, the song of the cicada rising from the vegetation surrounding them. A beautiful night, Shanks thinks; if only they didn’t have to spend it running from an abusive grandfather who has forced them to practically kidnap his grandson to protect him, it’d be a really amazing one.

“Alright, here we are.” (name) says when they finally reach the car; while tired she’s smiling, no doubt in an effort to cheer the children up “You need to say good-bye now; it’s going to be an adventure, we’ll have to sleep in the car but…”

“He won’t. He will be coming with me.”

It’s like their worst fears have evoked him. Garp, until now hidden in the shadows cast by the trees, walks unhurriedly towards them, the gun in his hand raised and pointed towards the foursome; he smiles when he sees Luffy who, in turn, screams into the hand he has quickly slapped on his mouth. Zoro, who easily recognises the man even though they’ve never met, grabs the hilt of his sword; (name), white in the face, pushes the two children behind her. Shanks…

Shanks has never felt so stupid in all his life. The old man played them like a fiddle, and he had no idea.

For a whole minute no one speaks; he can feel (name)’s laboured breathing behind him, but he forces himself to remain lucid, because not to boast, because he really isn’t, but he is their only hope of survival and the last thing he can afford to do is lower his guard.

“This has been your plan all along, hasn’t it?” he asks in the end, his voice even “You have used us to get to the child.”

“I have.” Garp admits, or maybe he doesn’t, because admission implies a certain level of reticence, shame or even guilt, and the man clearly feels none of them “I’ve been tracking your phones since this morning; child’s play, when you’re in my position. Luffy, come here.”

“No!” the child screams, he and Zoro holding each other tight, and “No!” (name) exclaims at the same time, outraged; she seems ready to jump on Garp to kill him with her own hands “You won’t be lying another finger on him!”

For a moment there is sincere regret on Garp’s face. “I’m just trying to protect him.” he explains softly; he’s still looking at Luffy, but his gun is trained on Shanks’ forehead “And to prepare him for when he’ll be an adult. I was too soft on his father, too afraid he would hate me if I were too strict, and look where he is now; I won’t make the same mistake again. This is not a kind world we live in; he needs to be strong, to face whatever danger…”

“He’s my grandson; I am responsible for him.”

“The hell you are! We’ve seen the bruises, he’s covered in them. God, commander, how could you?!”

(name)’s scream fills the air around them. “You beat the crap out of a child! What do you expect, an invading army kidnapping him from the schoolyard? You’re insane - you’re a monster! You won’t…!”

Garp shoots. Luffy screams. Shanks feels the bullet fly no more than three inches away from his left ear before it hits the trunk of a tree behind him; that wasn’t a miss, it was a warning, and his old commander is not the sort of man who likes to repeat himself.

“Who’s the other kid?” he asks, sincerely curious for a moment.

Zoro doesn’t answer; he lifts his free hand to show his middle finger to the older man, who sighs. “I see; another brat who needs straightening. Luffy, come here.”

“Luffy, don’t move.” Shanks says; neither man has raised his voice.

“Luffy, if you’re not here next to me within ten seconds, I’ll shoot them all, including your little friend. You know I’m not joking.”

Luffy clearly knows -and is it not disheartening, a child this young well aware that his grandfather would not hesitate before killing three people, including another child?- because he starts walking slowly towards Garp, ignoring both Zoro and (name) who try to stop him. Shanks doesn’t look at him when the child walks past him. “Nuts.” he simply says, and a moment later Luffy is next to his grandfather, the man’s heavy hand on his shoulder, deceptively gentle.

“You had me worried, you know, son? I thought something terrible had happened to you.”

Silence.

“Do you want me to discipline you in front of your friends?”

“No, sir.” Luffy mutters, eyes downcast “I’m sorry, sir.”

“That’s better. We’ll talk some more when we’re home, I’m sure you know what awaits you. Now…”

Shanks wishes he could say he’s surprised when Garp cocks the gun and points it at him once more. “You always intended to kill us, didn’t you?” he asks “You can’t leave witnesses.”

Garp doesn’t smile. “I always thought you were a clever man. Now, on your knees; (name), you and the boy too. I’m sorry, I really am; you know how fond I’ve always been of you, but I can’t let you go talk about this.”

Shanks can almost feel (name) seething behind him, but when Zoro tries to unsheathe his sword to fight Garp, she stops him and forces him to kneel next to her. “Let him go at least.” she says, defiant even though she’s begging, hate and contempt evident in her eyes; although terrified, she’s trying to be strong for Luffy and Zoro and Shanks, who has cautiously turned his head to look at her, knows he’s lost already “He’s only a child, he will keep his mouth shut…”

“Like hell I will! Let me at him, I’ll cut his head off…”

Garp does not budge; Zoro keeps threatening him; (name) tries to restrain him, showing nothing of the fear she feels. Shanks… Shanks looks at the child in front of him, who has voluntarily surrendered himself to pain and abuse to save three people he has known for less than two days.

God, and Garp thinks he can teach his grandson to be a man?

“Luffy.” he says, smiling at the boy “Didn’t you say your punch is as strong as a pistol?”

There is confusion in the child’s bright eyes; then there’s realisation, and even joy, as he lifts his fist, turns, and hits his grandfather in the only place he can reach given his small stature. 

Garp’s scream of pain is excruciating, and highly satisfying. 

“Run!” Shanks cries, as he already reaches for the gun under his jacket, and Luffy doesn’t need to be told twice, but Garp’s distraction only lasts for a moment, and then he shoots, missing Shanks’ head by only an inch this time, and he has no time to thanks his lucky stars because suddenly (name) is crying in pain behind him, Luffy and Zoro desperately trying to stop the blood pouring out of her wound.

The blood. Her blood. She’s bleeding, she’s hurt, and the fault is only his.

Garp is preparing to shoot again, but he doesn’t have the time: Shanks draws his gun and fires two shots, hitting the older man in the forehead. 

Luffy screams. For a moment, despite the relative darkness, Shanks could swear he’s seeing Garp look up to contemplate the hole above his hairline. Then the heavy body is falling forward, and Shanks doesn’t bother checking for a pulse; he’s been in the force long enough to know his bullets have passed through the man’s cranium. He turns and runs to (name), falling to his knees in front of her. “Hey, hey…”

“He shot me.” the woman whispers; she’s in shock, shaking, cradling her right arm to her chest, blood falling on her clothes, on the ground, everywhere “It hurts, Shanks, it hurts so much…”

Inside him Shanks is screaming, but he remains calm as he places the gun safely on the ground; he needs to call an ambulance, and the Police, but first of all he has to take care of her, of them, he wants to, he needs to…

“It’s alright.” he murmurs as he rests his hand on her cheek; he meets her eyes, and he holds her against his chest, while Luffy’s tiny body presses against his, shaken by sobs, and Zoro is crying as he tries to support (name)’s weight since the woman looks ready to pass out “(name), darling, it’s alright, look at me…”

She does, and Shanks kisses her tears away before looking for something to stanch the blood.

Taking care of your appearance is not easy when you only have a working arm, but you’ve become quite adept in the last three weeks and so you feel quite proud of yourself as you observe your reflection in the mirror in your room, your hair and make-up on point. The cast on your right arm clashes a bit with your outfit, but still… 

You spend a minute admiring yourself before the sound of a car horn draws your attention; as you look out of the window your gaze falls on Shanks, breath-takingly handsome as he leans against the side of his car, the straw hat as usual covering his red hair. He smiles at you, warm brown eyes filled with joy and excitement. “Ready?”

“Coming!” 

You are out of the flat a minute later, your bag slung across your shoulders as you stuff your keys inside it; you don’t slow down until you have reached the sidewalk outside the complex, and you throw your good arm around Shanks’ neck, who laughs happily, his own arm quickly raising to circle your waist.

“Is all of this enthusiasm for me, or for the hamburgers we’ll eat tonight?” he jokes. After a couple days in which you have been both too busy with work to meet you finally have some time for yourselves; you’re going to the movies, and then Shanks has promised to take you out to dinner, not to one of the city’s best restaurants, but at the hamburger kiosk you have met at and that has quickly become your favourite spot. 

“I’ve missed you, that’s all.” you reveal without embarrassment, and Shanks beams at you.

“I better make this evening worth it then…”

He presses his mouth on yours, soft but intense like all his kisses are, like everything he does is; your fingers play with the fabric of his shirt, your right arm resting awkwardly against your side, safe from accidental bumps. Shanks said the two of you form quite a pair now, you with your cast and him with his stump, but besides the fear and excruciating pain of that night and the unpleasantness of having to do everything with one hand, you don’t mind it too much: better your arm than Shanks’ head - or Luffy’s. 

He did ask you to start working with his agency, a week ago, which you sort of expected; Hounds can be very helpful for those in his line of work, but you told him you’ll have to think about it. After all Shanks and his partner are paid for finding missing people, they can’t simply dismiss their client if they realise their target is in the same situation as Makino was, and you can’t have another life on your conscience. Of course, he told you gently; you were walking back home after a medical checkup, and Shanks didn’t mind kissing you in a street full of people, the warmth of his mouth scorching and gentle at the same time, take all the time you need. Working with you would be great, but all I need is to have you by my side. 

Good thing that’s exactly where you plan on remaining. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask in a murmur after a couple minutes you have spent in each other’s arms; Shanks’ expression has turned serious, and he sighs as he rests his forehead against yours “Shanks? I thought you’d be happy…”

“I am; but I’m also terrified.” he admits “What if everything we did was for nothing? What if we made it worse for him?”

“Worse than being abused by his grandfather on a regular basis, and raised by people who only considered him a walking paycheck? I don’t think that’d be possible.”

“You know what I mean. The social worker said they’d take care of him, make sure he gets into a good family, but it might take time, and he’s already suffered so much…”

You softly point out that while you and Shanks weren’t allowed to meet Luffy while the Police investigated Garp’s death and his past abuse of the child, he seemed happy and serene when the social workers finally let you talk to him over the phone, and excited at the thought of meeting you again. “That child is young, but more resilient than you’d expect him to be; I’m sure he’ll be alright.”

Shanks manages to smile, but he doesn’t seem fully convinced, and reassured even less. You know he feels guilty, not so much for having killed his former commander -even though he admitted that hadn’t been pleasant, no matter how desperately he wanted to protect you and the children; he had never killed a man, and he would have preferred if his first victim hadn’t been a man he had once respected- but for having put you in danger, and for what could have happened to you, Zoro and Luffy. 

“Even now that he has to live in an orphanage?”

“It’s not an orphanage, Shanks, it’s a group home; I looked into it, even spoken to the parents of a kid who’s been adopted from there years ago; it’s a good place, and I’m sure a child who has already gone through so much will be given special attention and care.”

It’s not your fault, you told him one night as you held him in your arms, his body cold and his mind far away despite the recent passion of your lovemaking still enveloping you, nothing of it is. Garp lured us in a trap, and I don’t regret a single moment of that day; I was not your responsibility, and my arm will heal. We are alright, Shanks, all of us; all thanks to you. You did everything you could and then some, and you deserve to forgive yourself. 

He has started seeing a therapist, someone he knew already from his days in the force, and you pray this will help him heal, and that seeing Luffy also will; the law will not punish him for what he had to do, and both him and the child need to leave Garp’s shadow behind them, otherwise they will never be able to go on. Shanks recognised he was probably not in the right mindset to begin a new relationship, and the last thing you wanted was to force him, but you did begin dating, the instinctive and natural connection you formed that night at the kiosk having developed in something that is more than sexual, more than occasional, and that you both want to last; Shanks has told you that the hours you spend together are among the few precious moments he can forget what happened, and you’re determined to support him every step of the way and then some.

In the end you get in the car; Shanks drives carefully as usual, your hand on his thigh, your gazes meeting in a smile when a red light or a traffic jam forces you to stop. Your destination is just six blocks away, and you both breathe a sigh of relief when the group home Luffy has been living in for the last three weeks appears in front of you: a decent-sized building, more similar to a bed&breakfast than the ominous, derelict orphanages of the past. Someone inside is playing the piano; two kids older than Luffy are doing homework sitting at a garden table in the front yard, a line of rose bushes decorating the gate.

“Seems like a nice place.” Shanks comments, his hand firmly clasped in yours; you share a new smile, and a moment later the front door is violently open, and a child-sized cannonball erupts from the inside, advancing at full speed towards them.

“Shanks! (name)! You came!” Luffy screams, elated; he hugs Shanks’ leg, his smile radiant, and it’s returning that smile that Shanks kneels to look at the child in the face, a hand resting on his dark hair.

“How are you, Luffy?” he asks, the question much less obvious than it might seem. The child in front of him has, after all, witnessed his grandfather being killed, on top of all the abuses he suffered for years at the old man’s hands, events that he can’t simply leave behind and forget to easily begin a new life. But children can be stronger than adults give them credit for, the social worker has told you over the phone, and Luffy seems to have settled well in his new house, is able to discuss what he went through and only rarely has nightmares about Garp’s death. It’s like the shock of that night bounced right off him, as if the child were made of rubber, they said, and while you didn’t exactly see the need for a joke, given the serious topic you were discussing, you were happy to learn Luffy wasn’t once more suffering the consequences of his grandfather’s actions.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you? Really?” you ask, almost fearful to hear him contradict himself, but Luffy nods earnestly, as if you were the ones who needed reassuring - and perhaps you are. 

“Yeah, I’m good. I have to speak to a theparist every monday and sometimes I have nightmares about my gramps, but it’s fine.”

“You know that Shanks had to… to do what he did, right?” you ask gently, and you feel the man next to you tense, as if he feared Luffy could actually reproach him for what he did. Luffy’s expression does grow sorrowful, and for a moment he looks even smaller than he actually is, as he clings to Shanks’ shoulders as if fearing to be swept away by the tide. 

“I… I sometimes miss him, you know? My gramps.” he whispers, with the tone of someone who is confessing a particularly shameful secrets “Not everything he did to me, just… him. I think he did love me, even if he wasn’t good at showing it. And I know it wasn’t fair of him to treat me like that, and now I’ll probably have a new mom and dad and even a brother, but sometimes… sometimes I wish he were still here. Is that wrong?”

Shanks sighs. “No, Luffy; it means that you’re human.” he says gently, and then he holds the child’s body against his as Luffy hides his face against Shanks’ neck, shaking slightly.

“I wish you were my dad, you know?” he murmurs “That you were my dad and (name) was my mom; that way I could come live with you two, and everything would be alright.”

Shanks laughs softly; it’s evident on his face that the child’s words have touched him, just like they have touched you, but he keeps smiling as he gently breaks the hug, takes his beloved straw hat from his head to place it on the child’s dark hair.

“Shanks…?”

“This hat is my most precious possession; my dad gave it to me many years ago, before he died.” he explains softly “If I give it to you now, you’re going to be part of our family as well. I may not be your father, or your brother, but I promise I’ll always be there for you.”

“And I as well.” you add, kneeling to meet the boy’s eyes; a heavy, painful emotion has set on your heart, affection and sadness and protectivity all in one, and you’ve never thought about having children of your own, but it takes you a moment to decide you wouldn’t mind, that you’d be happy, to have Luffy be part of your life, and to be part of his “I’m sure you’ll find an amazing family, but you can count of me, now and forever.”

You embrace once more, long and tight, drying Luffy’s tears and kissing his little face; in the end the child is smiling once more, excitingly telling you about the couple who he has met yesterday, nice people he thinks will ask to adopt him and like they  did with an older child named Ace, and of how he and Zoro have started writing to and calling each other to keep in touch. He seems relaxed and in peace and most of all hopeful - hopeful for the life all children deserve, and that has until now escaped him; he will find a family able to give it to him, if there’s any justice in the world, and otherwise… otherwise you’ll take care of it, you decide. It’s way too early to make plans about your relationships with both the men in front of you, but you know already you care about them enormously, and that healing will be easier, and faster, for both Shanks and Luffy if they can count on each other. 

“Luffy, do you think the social worker will let you come to the movies with us?” you ask then, and the child’s face lights up.

“You mean today?”

“Would you like that?” 

“Amazing!” Luffy cries excitedly “I’m gonna ask them!”

He turns and runs inside, his hands holding the brim of the hat to keep it firm on his head, leaving the two of you alone. “You don’t mind, do you?” you ask as you turn towards Shanks, suddenly unsure; the movies had been your idea, but maybe you should have asked for his opinion first nonetheless… “I’m afraid we’ll have to watch a children’s movie…”

“Cartoons are fine.” Shanks reassures you; he’s smiling broadly, clearly approving of your plan “We can ask if he can have dinner with us too, but then you’re all mine tonight, alright?”

“Only tonight?”

“Hmm, don’t tempt me…”

You share a smile; being close to Shanks makes your heart sing. 

“Oh, right; I have something for you.” Shanks mentions after a moment; he retrieves a folded piece of paper from his pocket, that then he offers you. 

“What’s this?”

“You were wondering what happened to Belle-mère’s daughters after her death; well, her fiancée adopted them both, now they’re living with him. They seem fine, this Genzo guy takes good care of them, but I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you.”

You’ll be happy as well, and your heart is full of gratitude for Shanks’ thoughtfulness; having pocketed the piece of paper with the girls’ new number, you circle his neck with your arms.

“I’m sorry you lost your hat, but… it’s amazing what you did for him.” you murmur, and he shrugs, admitting that while it wasn’t easy to abandon his father’s gift, he knows Luffy will take good care of it. He looks at you, his eyes full of an affection you already feel you can’t do without.“You really are amazing, you know?” he murmurs, and you’re about to ask him what caused the shift from gorgeous to amazing -not that you’re complaining, mind you- but you can’t, because Shanks is kissing you once more, and the whole world disappears as you lose yourself in the warmth of his embrace.

[16eggsforxio]

little cuts and bruises

Joshua x Reader (Joshua with a crush vs incredibly socially unaware reader)

1988 words, fluff

I wanted to write 10 seconds of handholding but this happened instead.

---

“Tarja?”

You hadn’t heard the aforementioned stern lady barking at anyone, so when you poked your head into the infirmary, it wasn’t a surprise that she was nowhere to be seen. She would probably return in a matter of minutes, loaded with an onslaught of warranted naggings at the patients there. Your hands were still fully occupied with the herbs you had painstakingly scavenged for, and you didn’t quite feel like sitting around waiting for her, so you shouldered your way through the door and let yourself in.

Helping Tarja collect materials for her medicine was nothing new to you, anyway. For the most part, you knew where she kept what, so you might as well get started on keeping them. She would probably praise you, too, and the thought made you eagerly approach the drawers that were the medicinal treasury.

Pain streaked across your palm momentarily. You winced. A stalk from one of the herbs had dug into an open cut across your hand.

The most recent outing had been successful, but… of course it had been successful. You knew your way around a sword… well, maybe halfway around it? So it wasn’t your fault for running and rolling off a ledge to escape one of those giant monsters and bruising your palms terribly. Bruises were better than being probably dead. And one of the herbs you had been looking for was encased in a thorny bush, but you had been exhausted from running from the monster and just wanted to return to the Hideaway, so you had thrusted your hands through the spikes anyway. Your already worn out gloves failed to persevere and the thorns had sliced through them and right into the skin of your hands.

Injuring yourself was decently normal during scavenging, but you had to admit your hands were quite the bloodied sight this time.

…Tarja would probably scold you, too. Oh, well…

Before you reached the drawers, you caught sight of something rare.

“Oh.”

Joshua Rosfield, red scarf and gloves missing as they normally were when he was being treated, sat on the edge of a bed, was staring up at you, eyes wide like sparrow’s when a human approached it.

You clutched the herbs closer to your chest and bowed your head towards him slightly. “Joshua. Hello.”

A smile adorned his rosy lips as he mimicked you and bowed his head. “Hello. You’ve just returned, I take it?”

“Yes. I found all these… stuff.” Herbs, you scolded yourself inwardly. Sometimes you weren’t the best at talking. You lifted your arms slightly to gesture to them.

“Ah.” He nodded. “Thank you for all your hard work.”

He was working way harder than you, though.

You awkwardly nodded in reply and continued shuffling over to the drawer. Gingerly, you placed the herbs on top.

Your interactions with Joshua were limited, as were most people’s, you guessed. He kept to himself to a severe extent and didn’t speak much to the average Hideaway member. Not out of rudeness, you imagined. He never seemed at ease.

Because you reported directly to Clive, sometimes you did see and speak to Joshua. But only briefly, for the most part. You couldn’t quite recall any memorable events between the two of you–on your side, anyway. Maybe Joshua thought of you as an awkward, bumbling mess. Or maybe an incredibly helpful scavenger? Or maybe he thought nothing of you at all. It didn’t matter that much, you supposed. You hardly saw him. You addressed him by his first name since you addressed Clive by his first name, at his insistence, but you weren’t even sure if he knew yours.

A heavy cough snapped you out of your thoughts. Joshua was hunched over, hand shielding his mouth. You blinked, unsure of what to do for a second. (Get Tarja?) When blood dripped from his lips after he moves his crimson-stained hand, you rushed to kneel in front of him and touch his arm.

“Joshua–” What were you supposed to do? You knew the basics of medicine for minor cuts and wounds, but nothing about this deadly cough that plagued him.

Get Tarja. You scrambled to your feet.

Joshua reached out with his clean hand and grabbed your wrist, shaking his head. You paused.

“Tarja will be back soon.” He tilted his head up to lock his gaze onto yours, and for a moment, you noticed a bit too much how delicately his golden locks framed his face. He smiled wryly. “She’s left to retrieve something, but she said she won’t be long. I will be fine, I assure you.”

As you said, you knew nothing about this deadly cough that plagued him.

“Are you sure?” You squinted at him. “...You won’t run away again?” Tarja often complained about that.

“I won’t. As a matter of fact, she has taken my garments with her as hostage temporarily.”

Oh, the scarf and the glove. Not that that meant much. You imagined if someone burst into the infirmary screaming that Clive was in deep trouble, Joshua would leap out of the window and prime and Tarja’s rage later would be unassuageable. You knew that much about him.

But you weren’t a healer, and you probably wouldn’t help by meddling, so you nodded slowly. Maybe you could help wipe the blood off, though.

Looking around, you located a brown rag nearby on one of the tables. Neatly folded, so it should be clean. You stepped towards it, only to feel a tug on your wrist. You looked down. Joshua was still holding onto you.

Uh. “Um, excuse me.” With your free hand, you carefully pried his fingers off of you. Your cuts did not sting against his hands.

Joshua shrunk back, arm held in front of him almost defensively. He was frowning. “Are you in a rush?” Did he sound disappointed? You couldn’t clearly tell.

“Huh?” You furrowed your brows. “...No? I’m just getting…” You pointed at the cloth.

Joshua relaxed. “Oh, I see.”

You felt like it was hard to understand him at times.

You grabbed the cloth, returned, tousled your hand under it, then leaned forward to dab at his mouth softly. You ignored the way he was looking right at you with those vivid blue eyes of his. It was unnerving.

When you moved down to wipe his bloodied hand, he looked down, and suddenly bolted forward. You only had a split second to wonder if you somehow offended him before he grabbed both of your hands and turned them to face your palms upwards.

“What happened here?” he asked softly.

Your cuts and bruises were a nasty sight. And his hands felt so smooth and unblemished. How did he do it? They somehow reminded you of Torgal’s squishy paws.

You shrugged. “Went scavenging.” You tilted your head at the herbs you had deposited.

“And this happens normally?”

It was difficult to answer that, because you kept no track record of small things like these. “I guess so.” The grimace on his face told you he was not satisfied. “Someone has to go out and get them, right? We have a lot of fighters here, and they get hurt.”

“At your own expense?” he pressed, leaning closer to you.

You did not pull away, but you decided to stare at a spectacular corner of the room that didn’t have anything. “These aren’t that bad. Just a few days–and they’ll be all better… Tarja might be upset, but that’s all.” You were unsure why he was so upset over a few cuts and bruises across your hands.

Joshua was quiet. You shifted awkwardly, unsure of what to make of the silence, and glanced back at him.

Then he cocked his head, blinked slowly at you and smiled the same way someone would when reassuring a lost child. “I could help you, if you’d allow me?”

Did he know his way around these medicinal salves, too? Maybe it would be better than suffering a scolding from Tarja.

“Sure.”

Joshua began to stand up, and you took a step backwards to give him space. He turned your hands over and up so your palms faced him with his hands pressed against them, and interlocked your fingers with his.

You weren’t very sure what this was, but Joshua’s demeanor was known for sticking out like a sore, princely thumb. Groomed to become Rosaria’s archduke, and all. This could be some pre-treatment gesture they did in Rosarian culture or something. You had heard he had given Mid an awkward but well-meaning greeting, too.

The back of Joshua’s hands glowed, and only now you acutely remembered that he was the Phoenix’s Dominant, who had an uncontested healing prowess.

Flames unfurled from his hands and cozily cocooned around yours; it reminded you of drinking hot tea in a harsh winter. The bruises began to lighten, and your skin began to stitch itself together over the cuts. You stared, awed, watching the fire ripple across in waves of brilliant magic, then blinked up at him.

“Is this okay? I mean, the curse…”

He chuckled. “That price is much too small to deny rewarding the most hardworking and endearing member of our team.”

Your face felt warm. Part of it was because of the fire, you told yourself.

“That’s an overstatement, I think,” you mumbled.

“Is it? I don’t think so.”

You couldn’t think of a reply.

Soon, all the cuts and bruises had vanished and your hands looked like they hadn’t worked a day in the field. You withdrew your hands from his and turned them over and over again in wonder. Joshua leaned over slightly to join you in having a look at them.

Pristine. You could go back to your duties almost immediately, and you wouldn’t have to face the wrath of Tarja. You didn’t know how to express with words how grateful you were.

…Oh, right. Recently, you often saw Clive do this thing when he was thanking Jill. You had thought it was a bit too close, but they were both raised in Rosaria, so maybe it really was a royal Rosarian thing. (When you had asked Clive about it, he had said it was nothing, and then walked away strangely quickly.)

You leaned forward, standing on the tips of your toes just a little, and gently bumped your forehead against Joshua’s. Your eyes met his gaze.

“Thank you.”

…Hm, his face looked a little flushed. You guessed it was an aftereffect of using the Phoenix’s abilities.

The sound of his breathing somehow felt even louder in those few seconds. Then he drew back and dusted the hair out of your face with the back of his fingers.

“–Didn’t I tell you to stay in bed?”

You jumped backwards, swinging towards the door of the infirmary. Tarja was grunting at Joshua, as usual, and oddly empty-handed.

“My apologies.” Joshua made a half-smile, as if to appease her.

Her eyes fell on you, and she nodded, before she caught sight of the spoils you had retrieved earlier.

“Oh, thank the Founder,” she breathed, striding over to the herbs. “We’d just run out of these. I was looking to see if you’d come back. This one here,” she casted a dirty look in Joshua’s direction, “needs it urgently, you see.”

You started. “These were for him?”

“Of course. A guzzler of our medicinal supplies, that’s what he is.” She tipped her head at him. “You should thank your lifesaver.”

Joshua tilted his head, smile full of mirth. “It’s mutual, I suppose.”

“What are you blabbering about this time?” Tarja grumbled from sifting through the leaves.

She soon shooed you out of the infirmary, after letting you know Clive was looking for you again. You idly wandered down the corridor and stopped for a while to stroke a sleepy Torgal.

Maybe you should go get yourself more cuts and bruises on the next assignment, too. Just little ones.

[tarjaturunenfansource]

#Repost @tarjaofficial vis Instagram

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It’s over. Again mixed feelings of happiness and sadness. I am gonna miss all of my guys and a girl a lot. This tour was a tough one, but at the same time a very rewarding one. I fought and faced my fears and doubts, so that now I can say goodbye and thanks to all of you incredible people. Marko, brother, no words can describe how happy I am. Thank you!!! And without you people, I couldn’t be living my dream. I love you all. Thank you thank you thank you. Until we meet again. ♥️🥰 #livingmydream

#tarja #tarjaturunen #livingthedream2024

[robo-writing]

Hey love hope your days going well 💓💓 your lovely work has blessed mine and my friend days it got us through some gruesome exam and college work days when we need a break still does cause I love repeating good fics wanted you to hear that so don’t give up if you’re in struggle in anything a break is need and hard days will pass so keep it up 💞💞

Annnnnnnnnd i actually embarrassed to ask this. 👉🏻👈🏻 i don’t know if you still work on ff16 but maybe if you could do something for cid again

I do have some ideas like maybe he hasn’t been taking care of himself and stressing out a lot Tarja just up and gave up maybe so you kind of take care of him pull him away from work doesn’t have to be nsfw a fluff is sooooo lovely too

Or his fatherly side towards mini miss troublemaker midadol starts pulling you in towards him after seeing him only as the flirtatious righteous outlaw maybe love is blooming 🤭

Thank you again for the good work 💓

Have a great day 🤍

First of all: thank you so so much this actually just brightened my day! All of these are great ideas and to answer your question I do have something in the works for Cid! I have a lot of WIPS that are like 80-90% done but life stuff is currently getting in the way of that.

Second of all being told my works actually helped someone else who was having a bad day???? Deceased, gone, departed from this world.

[equescaeli]

@secondflame || 𝐿𝐼𝒦𝐸𝒟 for a 𝒮𝒯𝒜𝑅𝒯𝐸𝑅

How long had it been since their fathers had first signed their alliance? How long had it been since they'd escaped the castle and its hoity festivities and instead found their own enjoyment within the grounds and just beyond? Too long to recall, mayhap, but Dion remembered.

The morning at hand bought with it an opportunity; the beauty of the rising sun in all of its colours at dawn one in which he had not missed in years and, as he sat keeping darker thoughts at bay with reminiscence, did Dion fathom a small - if not silly - idea for thanks.

Clive hadn't had to carry him all the way back from the Crystalline Dominium and the utter tragedy that had happened there, but he had - at the behest of Joshua. He'd given him another chance, and now as he recovered within the confines of the Hideaway did his mind wander. Already, through Joshua, had he pledged his lance in aid but he felt something more personal was in order.

Only when deemed fit enough for a short excursion did the Prince take a slow walk out of the infirmary; the sensation of a crisp breeze upon his face filling his chest with solace, a relief after so long cooped up within a bed, resting.

Steps were taken very slowly, not yet trusting the weak strength of his legs to rush about and after picking up a cursebreaker (as insisted by Otto--) for company did Dion head out and away from the comfortable oasis of the Hideaway and instead towards the shoreline.

It is there that he chooses to sit for a few moments, upon the smooth surface of a rock, and simply observes; the remaining tendrils of dawn painted across the sky still catch his attention and a few prayers for the present and the future are cast upward, to the heavens, ere he begins his hunt.

Frogs.

In truth, the idea of getting his boots wet in bog water to find such creatures was not particularly appealing but the memories of doing such a thing aside Clive when they were young spurred him onward and, with his cursebreaker companion watching on - both dumbfounded and curious - did he begin looking.

He was much larger than he had been back then- and thus catching such creatures was somewhat more difficult but eventually - eventually - did Dion gently clasp his gloved hands around one such amphibian and place it - gently - inside of a box already fitited with some moss. A dish of water would be added upon their return.

As far as he could tell, it was just a green frog but Clive had always been the one with more intensive knowledge.

Upon his return, he takes his time ascending the steps and towards Clive's quarters; knuckles wrapping at the door with the hand free of the box he was steadily carrying. If he didn't hurry up, he would most certainly have Tarja upon his heels for being away longer than granted, and yet he felt it important nonetheless to continue.

"Clive-?" He's quiet as he enters, placing the box upon the first surface he finds; "I've something for you." And mayhap his wet boots gave a hint toward his actions previous.

[bestboygav]

"don't close your eyes. you hear me? stay with me." - from clive !!

One bearer’s life versus getting kidnapped, tortured, and possibly even killed. After taking up Cid’s mantle, Clive had said he wanted to create a world where all were equal. It was a lofty dream, but one that Gav supported fully, despite the inherent risk it posed to all of them. Which brought him to his current dilemma. After Titan destroyed their previous hideaway a year ago, Clive had sent him to Dhalmekia to keep an eye on the republican army. Considering no one knew what was going through Kupka’s head, it was a smart strategy. And he wasn’t the best scout in the hideaway for nothing. 

Or, well, maybe they would take that title from him if he managed to get back alive. After watching how the guards continued to abuse their bearers, he’d decided to step in. He’d been watching this encampment for a month now, so he knew their routine by heart. Waiting until he knew the coast was clear, he headed into the camp and freed all he could find without raising any alarms. He thought he’d gotten them all; leading them away from the camp, he pulled out his map and showed them how to get back to the hideaway. Wrote a quick letter to Clive as well, sending it ahead to let him know they had new arrivals coming. 

Upon returning to his scouting spot, he realized that he’d missed one of the bearers. Where they’d been hiding, he wasn’t sure, but the guards were taking out their frustrations of the other missing bearers on them. He would’ve waited until nightfall, not risking his own life, if it hadn’t been a child. It was giving him flashbacks to his childhood; even though it had been knights of Sanbreque who’d murdered his family, he couldn’t - wouldn’t - sit back and watch it happen again to someone else. 

Rushing in saved the child's life, but it sealed his fate rather quickly. He made short work of the guards but got caught when a Stone Headsman appeared out of nowhere. Thankfully he’d managed to get the child to safety - and send them off towards the hideaway with his map - before he found himself bleeding out in the sand with a sword to his neck, passing out not long after. The next few weeks - he assumed, it was hard to tell time between bouts of passing out and being tortured - were hell, gaining him new open wounds and broken bones every few days.

To his credit, he refused to say a word even when the Headsman's blade slid into him, just barely missing his vital organs, or broke bones and threatened to pull them out of him. He just bided his time until he could finally free himself from his chains and make his escape in the dead of night, adrenaline pumping so fast and hard that his wounds couldn’t stop him. It wouldn’t last, he knew, but he had to get as far away as he could before letting himself rest for even a second. Thankfully the Headsman hadn’t thought to break his legs, assuming he wouldn’t be able to escape. 

The return to the hideaway was a different kind of hell. He couldn’t stop in any towns or cities to get supplies - he didn’t want to tip off any of the guards in case the news had spread - so he had to force himself to keep moving through the pain and blood loss. He could rest once he was home where it was safe. Well, safe until Tarja saw the state he was in. He’d done what little first aid he could on himself, but it honestly wasn’t enough; if he didn’t get back soon, he might not make it back at all. 

Thankfully, after making it to the edge of Lake Bennumere, he found Obolus just before he was to set off back to the hideaway. The ride back across the lake was familiar and soothing, but he tried to keep his eye open. If that failed, he’d stick his finger into one of his open wounds; the jolt of pain kept him awake, though it did cause more blood to spill into the bottom of the boat. As they got closer to the docks, he could make out a familiar black and red clad figure. Clive. A sight he wasn’t sure he’d ever see again, but was thankful he could. 

He was home - and the world turned black around him. He could hear Clive speaking to him, but he couldn’t understand him. The second he’d let himself relax, his body gave out. The exhaustion from not getting enough rest, the blood loss, and the torture were all catching up to him in one go and he just wanted to sleep. In a bed or on this boat, it didn’t matter which one. He let his eye open one last time, looking up into Clive’s. They were as blue as the ocean on a clear, sunny day. If that was the last sight he was allowed to see, he honestly wouldn’t complain. His then fluttered closed once more as he slipped into darkness, his body finally getting the rest it deserved.

[lathalea]

The White Raven 3 / 9

Surprise! It's time for the next chapter of my latest fic! And not only that - it comes with a delicious eye-candy - a wonderful piece of art I commissioned from the extremely talented @mewpet. Thank you! 💙

This was actually how this fic started. I had the image of Thorin at a waterfall in my head for quite a while and couldn't get rid of it... and then a white raven flying through the waterfall popped up in my head. After that, I knew this was the story I wanted to tell you.

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x OC Rating: E (18+) Author's notes: This is the story of Thorin Oakenshield's quest to find the White Raven, a mysterious creature of legends only few were fortunate enough to see. This is the story of love stronger than time, destiny, and laws of gods and mortals alike. Years have passed, but Thorin can't stop thinking about the white raveness, her eyes, and her kiss...

You can find this fic on AO3.

🌟This chapter comes with a prompt from @mismaeve's February Challenge: “I want all of you, forever, every day”.

HUGE thanks to @legolasbadass and @linasofia for taking the time from your busy schedules to read it in advance and offer me your invaluable advice and extra thanks to @laurfilijames for helping me out with the horse-related vocabulary 💙💙💙

Oh, and this chapter is a bit longer than the previous ones. I hope you don't mind!

🌟 Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 ... 🌟

Khuzdul: Karkûnê - My Raveness

The White Raven Chapter 3: The Chance

“Uncle?” A familiar voice filled the stable.

“I am here, Fili,” Thorin tightened the girth on the saddle of his buckskin pony.

“I thought you were going to leave in a week, after the Summer Solstice festivities, like you usually do,” the sound of his nephew’s steps ceased behind his back.

“I am riding out today,” Thorin checked the stirrup leathers, his back still towards Fili. “There have been rumours about a solitary Dwarf wandering through forests north from here.”

“I see,” Fili said after a moment’s silence in a softer voice. “Do you think it could be Grandfather this time?”

“I intend to find out,” he replied quietly, patting his mare’s neck. “Let me ride out with you, Uncle, like the last time. Two pairs of eyes are better than one.”

“It is a kind offer, Fili, but I have to decline it. I will manage on my own. Besides, you will miss the celebrations if you follow me,” Thorin turned to face his nephew.

“So will you. And Bombur ordered twice as much ale as last year!”

“Then there will be more ale for you, Kili and the lads,” Thorin grinned encouragingly. “Drink and be merry as the saying goes.”

“If that is what you want, Uncle… but what about our Firebeard guests?” Fili’s eyebrows forced together into a pronounced frown. “They expect to see you tonight at the feast.”

“I have already sent them my apologies. If the rumours are true, I need to find my Father before our enemies do. Fili, I am certain that you will be a most courteous host to the Firebeards, ” Thorin’s hand rested on his nephew’s shoulder. “You will not be alone – your mother and Balin will be there, beside you.”

“But… Lady Tarja…” Fili cleared his throat, his lightly bearded cheeks darkening slightly.

“Oh, I see,” Thorin hummed. “Tell your mother that Lady Tarja would be a better match for her oldest son than for me. Not only in age.” “Uncle, you know better than me what is at stake here!” Silver cuffs clinked in Fili’s bright hair as he shook his head. “Lord Yngví wishes to join our clans in alliance by marrying his daughter, Tarja… I mean, Lady Tarja, to you.” “Lord Yngví wishes for his daughter to become a queen,” Thorin gave him a smile. “He does not care which heir of Durin she marries as long as he is a king at some point. Besides, something tells me that if he asked his daughter’s opinion, she would choose the golden-haired one. Is that not so?”

“How do you know?” Fili’s eyes widened.

“You two were not the only ones who decided to take a breath of fresh air last evening. It was not your first meeting, was it?” “We met a year ago on Durin’s Day but we decided to keep it secret until we knew that her father would approve of me courting Tarja. I swear, Uncle, none of us knew that Lord Yngví planned to offer her hand to you in marriage. And when I heard of it from Mother two weeks ago…” his nephew looked him straight in the eye. “We love each other and I wish to marry her!”

“Then there is only one thing you should do, Fili.” Thorin said, recalling another young, golden-haired Dwarf who spoke very similar words to Thráin, years ago. “What is it, Uncle?” Fili’s jaw was set and there was a determined glint in his eyes. Like father, like son. 

Thorin’s response was short.

“Tell your mother that I approve of this match.” 

***

Apparently, history likes to repeat itself, Thorin mused, riding out of Thorinuldûm and leaving all the negotiations, contracts, and intrigues, along with a very joyful Fili, behind. At least his oldest nephew had a chance at happiness now. Kili was too young to think of those things yet and as for himself… It was complicated. He had never been inclined to find himself a wife, but since that night he met Carra all those years ago Thorin would sometimes catch himself wondering about how it would be to have a life companion. Someone to share his days with. Someone to embrace. Someone to wake him up with gentle caresses of his face. 

Thorin grunted at his own ridiculous thoughts. Perhaps Dwalin’s teasing contained a grain of truth after all and he was becoming softer with age. Life in the Blue Mountains was comfortable, his people became prosperous and a tad, well, sluggish, exactly like him. That was why every year he would ride out into the wilderness to remind himself of the hard but simple life he used to lead. At least this was the explanation he offered to anyone who asked. No one needed to know that with his excursions came hope. His eyes would search the sky above his head for a white, graceful shape, hoping to hear that characteristic flutter of wings, or find a silver-white feather or two at his feet. Thorin’s fingers wandered to his chest, where, under his brigantine armour, a feather of that same colour hung from his neck. This was the only proof that his meeting with the White Raven truly happened. Years had passed, but his efforts to find her never ceased, even if he kept on returning empty-handed. Sometimes he would hear gossip at taverns about sightings of a large white bird flying along the River Lhûn or over the peaks of the Blue Mountains. If not for the tale Fili brought home when he was but a pebble, Thorin would have probably disregarded it all. Asking around for a silver-white haired woman with eyes black as coals usually ended the same way and yet he continued searching. The silver-white token pressed against his chest kept on reminding him that Carra was not a dream.

***

Almost ten days had passed since Thorin departed from Thorinuldûm. The rumours of a solitary Dwarf turned out to be true, but not in a way he expected: the Dwarf was a wandering storyteller on his way from Shire who had never met a Dwarf that matched Thráin's description. Another false lead. Thorin hung his head.

It was late afternoon, but the forest air was heavy with summer heat and his pony’s gait became slower and slower. Stopping for the night seemed like a sensible choice. He was not in a hurry and both he and his steed deserved some shade and a good rest. Besides, Thorin suspected that his four-legged companion was as parched as him. He got off his buckskin mare and led her into the woods.

Luck was on his side that day. Deeper in the forest, among rock formations overgrown by lush plants he did not know the names of, Thorin found a waterfall with a small pond at its feet. His pony gave out an approving neigh and proceeded to quench her thirst. Thorin followed suit. The crystal-clear water was pleasantly cool and refreshing. Some of the drops trickled down his beard and found their way under his tunic, a thought formed in his mind. This was a perfect place for an evening bath.

Thorin was not entirely sure how long he let himself drift in the pond. With his eyes closed, he enjoyed the way the water washed over him, taking away both the heat of the day from his skin and the soreness from his muscles. In truth, he did not wish to know how much time had passed since he stopped there. He was not in a hurry. Leaves rustled in a gentle evening breeze, crickets chirped, and he floated in the water, feeling almost weightless, his mind pleasantly blank. Dwalin would have probably scolded him at the carelessness he showed; his clothes and weapons lay in the grass at the edge of the pond, out of his reach. His pony was even further away, grazing. If Orcs or bandits were to appear in the area…

A strange, or rather familiar sound interrupted his thoughts. In his ears, it sounded like a cry for help. Or a pleading raven’s croak.

Thorin rose rapidly, ignoring the water splattering around him. His gaze turned to the waterfall. Were his senses deceiving him? Was it possible that the alarmed sound came from that place?

Mindful of the slippery stones that covered the bottom of the pond, Thorin approached the curtain of flowing water painted silver by the moonlight. Moments after stepping into the cloud of water dust that surrounded the waterfall, he stilled, listening. That unusual sound didn’t repeat. Curiously, he reached out ahead. His hand disappeared among the sparkling ropes of water that descended from above and then his tattooed forearm followed. Instead of a stone wall, his fingers encountered some greenery, leaves most likely, and then… nothing. Emptiness. He took a step ahead, crossing through the humming, flowing veil, eager to discover the secrets it hid.

Thorin found himself in a small cavern. Water trickled down his bare body, pooling at his feet, as he looked around. Moonlight seeped in through the waterfall, giving the walls a faint bluish tint. The place seemed empty. Almost. By the wall opposite of him, a white, irregular shape lay, covered with a silver-white mantle.

And then it dawned on him. It was not a mantle. In a few strides he closed the distance between them, kneeling beside her. Carra. Her eyes were closed, her cheek rested on the back of her hand, and the rest of her face was hidden behind her hair. Her luscious locks looked much longer than the last time he saw her. What a wonderful feeling it would be to braid them, to feel their silky smoothness on his skin…

A barely audible whimper escaped her. A frown appeared on her face. Another whimper reached his ears.

“Carra?” Thorin whispered. The last thing he wanted was to alarm her. “Wake up, my lady.”

“No…” she mumbled, not reacting to his words, a grimace contorting her features. “Please… No…”

He found her arm and shook her as gently as he could. She seemed fragile under his touch, making him feel a sudden urge to protect her from any harm that might befall her, now, tomorrow, in a year, or fifty.

Only a moment passed before her eyes fluttered open, focusing on him.

“Thorin…” she gasped. “Thorin?”

“It is me,” he reassured her, warmth blooming in his chest at the way her face immediately brightened.

“It is you,” Carra exhaled in clear relief.

In a blink of an eye a pair of arms wrapped around his neck, the cool skin of her cheek pressed against his, and her joyful whispers seeped into his ear like life-giving nectar into an ailing person’s mouth.

“You are alive… Thank the Great Mother, you are alive!”

“Why would I not be?” he chuckled, wrapping his arms carefully around her lithe body, painfully aware that under the mantle of her hair she was as naked as he was.

“The dreams…” she stumbled upon her words. “In my dreams, there was snow… ice… and blood… so much blood…”

He pulled back slightly, looking into the inky depths of her eyes, “It was only a bad dream, nothing more. I am well and so are you.”

“You truly are,” hesitantly, Carra’s palm rested against his bearded cheek.

“Aye. And I am not a dream,” Thorin covered her hand with his in a reassuring gesture. “But I am glad to have found you, Carra.”

As those words slipped off his lips, he found himself taking in all the charming details of her face, confronting them with his memories, and finding that the latter could not hold a candle to what he saw and felt at this very moment. Her unique beauty, the way a delicate smile danced on her lips, the smell of snowdrops in the air, her hand cupping his cheek; everything seemed perfectly right, stirring up all the sensations he thought he had forgotten years ago. She was with him again, in his arms, and he had never felt more alive than at this very moment.

“Found me? But you have not lost me,” she tilted her head to the side in a very bird-like manner. 

“Have I not? You disappeared,” he grunted at the bittersweet memory of their last meeting. “Because I kissed you.”

“It was I who kissed you first,” her whisper was fainter than the murmurs of the waterfall behind them.

Something lit up in his chest, warmth quickly spreading inside him. Time blurred his recollection of the details, but he still remembered vividly how those raspberry lips inflamed him, fueling his imagination and dreams. “Then why did you leave?” he asked, focusing on her words.

“Because it is against the laws of my people,” when Carra spoke, there were hints of sadness in her voice and a small frown on her face. Then her other hand moved to his right cheek and hesitantly hovered over it for a heartbeat before cupping his beard. What battle she fought with herself he could not venture to guess. In the end, her eyes flickered over his features and her gaze softened as she breathed, “I am unable to watch over you if I do this…”

The softness of her lips took his breath away. A faint thought flickered in Thorin’s mind, some question he wanted to ask, but a wave of heat washed over it. Inch by inch, Carra, the woman he could only dream of until yesterday, peppered his lips with a myriad of little kisses, kindling flames of passion inside him. She tasted like spun sugar one could buy at a spring market in Dale, featherlight and sweet, waking his hunger. Thorin’s reaction to her caresses was not the most patient one: he claimed her lips, grazing them with his teeth, parting them slightly with his tongue. The fervour with which Carra responded made the blood sing in his veins. As their tongues danced with each other, he pulled her closer to him, eager to taste more of her, his hand splayed flat on her back, her small, pebbled breasts pressed against his chest. A symphony of contrasts played at his senses. Her cool touch scorched his heated body; her pale thigh pressed against his tawny skin; her soft, slim body pressed against his large, sturdy dwarven bulk; he marvelled at the softness of her skin as his calloused fingers explored her curves. Her soft moans were accentuated by his groans; the silver-white river of her tresses flowed together with the damp, dark waves of his hair. Every single thing about her, every detail, set him ablaze, filling his senses to the brim. He wanted to taste her more, listen to the sweet little whines she made as his hand closed over her shapely breast, admire the flushed skin of her cleavage as her chest rapidly rose and fell, smell the flowery scent of her hair, touch even the most intimate parts of her alluring body, he wanted to know everything about her. He wanted every single part of her, and more.

Thorin didn’t know when it happened, but she lay underneath him, deliciously bare, her hand delving in his hair, their legs intertwined. He, the leader of his people, always praised for his self-control and adherence to tradition, found himself a moment away from breaking all the rules and giving in to his desires. This was not the way of his people. In a situation like this, the Dwarven laws demanded at least a year of courting and then signing a marriage contract, and only then....

“We should…” he murmured hoarsely, his lips reluctantly parting from hers. “Tell me to stop, my lady.”

She found his gaze, running her finger along his upper lip, “I will not. This is what I want, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór.”

Her arms closed around his neck, pulling him towards her, and he needed nothing more. Only her. 

Thorin delved into a deep, ardent kiss, letting his passion sing praises of her, rules of propriety completely forgotten. Carra eagerly explored his body, her fingers sinking into his muscled arms, running along the peaks and valleys of his chest, kindling the fire of his passion more and more, as if he was a red-hot furnace, melting the steel of his resolve even before work in the foundry started.

His hand ventured on an uncharted trail of her inviting body. She was truly different from his kind; slight and feminine in a completely non-dwarven and yet overwhelmingly enticing way. Every little detail he encountered fascinated him. As he covered the lovely hollow between her clavicles with his lips, it turned out to be much more sensitive than he expected. A sigh. The ruby tips of her breasts hardened like precious gems when he slowly swirled the tip of his tongue around each of them. A moan. The way her breath hitched when his fingers traced purposeful patterns on the pale plain of her belly. A purr. The way her legs parted when his hand caressed the roundness of her hip made his breath hitch. 

He delved between them with eagerness, but not before his lips finished discovering all the wonders of her body. The sensitive skin at her wrist. The bend of her elbow, which when caressed by his lips, made her tremble. The rounded line of her shoulders. The arch of her neck as he found her earlobe with his lips, her whispers reaching his ears, asking him for more. The alluring shapes of her breasts he worshipped thoroughly while her hands buried in his hair, her fingers running against his scalp, igniting new flames inside him. She was perfect in every way; the woman who enchanted him completely with one single kiss on a winter night. Thorin lifted his gaze and their eyes met, sapphires and opals, and he was pulled into an endless sea of senses. Space and time cease to exist.

Their lips meet again in a new kiss, so different, so slow and tender; their breaths intermingle and their bodies intertwine in an attempt to close the last inches between them. His steel hardness presses against her moist, silky heat. He lets out a groan, savouring the sensation. Her hands move down the muscles of his back. He sinks into her in an unhurried motion. Her hips lift to meet him and then they find it together. Perfect harmony. His hand runs through her hair. Her lips curl up in a smile, diamonds shine in her eyes, and he finds the answer to the spark of hope he tucked away in his heart when they first met.

“Carra,” he murmurs softly, returning her smile.

“Thorin,” she gives out a soft cry of wonder.

They are like two rivers winding through a barren landscape for ages, only to finally join and flow together as one, their currents entwined. They rush under the hills of desire and through the valleys of passion. One by one, waves of their pleasure wash over new, breathtaking shores, rapture blooming in their wake. It does not matter where he ends and she begins, it only matters that they surge ahead, merged, undivided. 

Joy sings in their veins, spurring them towards the rapids of rapture ahead and they take a leap, still together. Ecstasy claims them, filling them with impossible sweetness, branding them with its ancient magic. 

The echoes of their voices—of their heated breaths—slowly quietened as they drifted together on the island of bliss. Carra drowsily opened her eyes, seeing the unmoving tangle of their bodies painted silver and blue by the light of the moon. She lay sideways, enjoying the afterglow of their lovemaking, curled up against Thorin’s chest, wrapped in his arms, her cheek resting on his arm. Somehow, she didn’t mind the way his coarse chest hair tickled her skin, so different from the way feathers felt. In fact, she welcomed all the new, unexpected sensations their meeting brought her.

Perhaps because they were undreamed; unforeseen and yet untainted by the darkness that lurked in her dreams these days. Forbidden and yet very much wanted. She and Thorin, her son of Durin, were like two pieces of a magnetite rock, constantly circling around each other and drawn to each other by an invisible force. Together at this very point in time. Just this once.

His warm, broad hand cupped her cheek. Then, his lips brushed gently against hers before he spoke, his rumbling voice filled with affection.

“I want all of you, forever, every day, Karkûnê.”

Savouring the warmth that bloomed inside her as Thorin’s words rang in her ears, Carra refused to breathe, not wanting to interrupt this precious moment, as if it could stop time from moving forward. She could not. Something stung in her eyes and she let her eyelids drop, tucking her head under his chin, clinging to him, wishing away the world that existed beyond this hidden cavern. A faint, mewling sound escaped her. At first, Thorin was silent; he caressed her hair with slow, soothing motions, holding her close, but he spoke after a while.

“I did not wish for my words to be the reason for your tears.” “My tears?” she blinked, looking up at him puzzled. Only then did she feel the surprising wetness on her cheeks. She brushed it away with her fingertips and curiously looked at  the moisture they gathered. 

Tears. Ravens did not cry. It was something Dwarves did whenever they were moved by something, great sadness or overwhelming happiness. What was the emotion she felt at this very moment? “My tears are… of no consequence,” she swallowed, letting her fingers caress his cheek. “Unlike you, son of Durin. The Raven Crown of Erebor is to rest on your head one day and you have a destiny to fulfil as a king.” “What do you speak of, Carra?” Thorin’s eyes searched her face. “What does destiny have to do with my feelings for you? And with yours?”

“Mine?” she whispered faintly.

“I can see it in your eyes, Karkûnê,” he added with a soft smile on his lips, running his fingers through her hair. 

“I…” her cheeks burned with another new, confusing sensation, but she had to focus on more significant matters. “What I speak of is of greater importance than my feelings. Dark clouds are gathering over these lands. If the light is to prevail, the Dwarves need to grow in strength and the line of Durin must stay unbroken. It must grow.”

Thorin’s fingers intertwined with her trembling ones, steadying them.

“It will,” she heard him speak. “I am hoping for my oldest nephew to wed soon – he is my heir.” “Your nephew has a different role to play. You are the direct descendant of Durin. The oldest son of the oldest son. You need to have your own heirs. Only then…” the words died on her lips. Thoughts spinned in her head. She had already said what should have remained unspoken, and yet the dreams kept on whispering to her. Coaxing her.

“I am listening,” his cerulean eyes sparkled in the moonlight. His fingers tightened around hers and his voice softened. “You spoke of me needing sons and daughters.”

Something tightened in her throat under his gaze. Something fluttered in her belly. Carra chased away all those unknown feelings. She had to make him understand.

“You must find yourself a queen that will bear you children. A strong and worthy Dwarf-woman of an ancient lineage. This is the only way the line of Durin will not perish,” she managed to finish the sentence without letting her voice tremble. She said all that she could. She didn’t say that in her dreams the queen has luscious, red hair and a beautifully braided beard, and she is wise and beautiful. In her dreams, Thorin and his wife look at each other with deep affection in their eyes. She didn’t say that there are two children beside them as well. She was trying to ignore the ache of her heart.

“Why do you speak of such things?” anger rumbled in Thorin’s words as he sat up swiftly. His hand moved away and clenched into a fist.

“Because this is my purpose in the world, son of Thrór’s son. Not only to watch over the Lonely Mountain in the absence of your people, but to guard the path ahead of you, son of Durin. To ensure that it stays unchanged, untainted by darkness,” she wanted to reach out and touch him again but stopped herself before it was too late. She allowed herself a moment of weakness, but now it had to end, regardless of their feelings. This was not written in stars. Not for them. They both had different roles to play in days to come.

“I shall not find myself a queen!” Thorin snarled, his brow furrowed in sudden fury. 

“You must! This is the only way for…” Carra protested, but was not allowed to finish. “You speak of destiny and future, of light triumphing over darkness,” he leaned towards her, silver cuffs clinging fiercely in his hair. “And yet you offend my honour!” “On the contrary, I wish to ensure that you tread the path of honour and glory in the days to come, just like my ancestors did with yours. You must see this!”

“I see only one thing: you claim that your gaze goes beyond the mundane and yet you seem to be blind to one simple truth,” he retorted.

“What truth do you speak of?” “You forget that Dwarves mate for life,” the hoarseness in his voice gave way to silkier tones and yet it pierced her newly found confidence as if it was a soap bubble. The realisation hit her like a sudden blast of turbulent wind and suddenly she found herself in the eye of the storm of her own emotions. Utterly lost, exactly like the path she was supposed to mark out and he – to follow.

“Forgive me, Thorin,” she heard herself say, trying to find the courage to look into his eyes and failing. Her cheeks were wet again. “So do ravens…”

The gentleness of his embrace surprised her, but she leaned into him, hoping to find solace again, relishing in his reassuring closeness. How could something forbidden feel so overwhelmingly right? They strayed and yet…

Thorin’s beard prickled against her cheek as he whispered into her ear: “I know, Karkûnê. I know.”

And then they let their bodies speak instead of their words. 

Unlike the previous time they met, she did not fly away before dawn. When the first rays of morning sun filled the cavern with their glow, she rested her head on Thorin’s chest and closed her eyes, lulled to sleep by his steady breathing. For the first time in years, Carra’s dreams were filled with joy.

***

One passionate night in each other’s arms was not enough. They cherished each other’s presence for several days until it was time for Thorin to return to his life in the Blue Mountains and Carra to hers, at Ravenhill. When they parted, there was no sorrow in their hearts for they whispered promises of meeting again whenever circumstances allowed. It often happened that she found him travelling through the wilderness. Many a time he came to their hidden cavern behind the waterfall only to see her already waiting for him. In secret they enjoyed their time together, a handful of stolen nights and blissful days, year after year, and their feelings never wavered – on the contrary, they seemed to bloom stronger with each joyous meeting.

Change came on dark wings, bringing unfortunate tidings on the day when Thorin Oakenshield, the ruler of the Longbeards in exile, had a chance meeting with a wizard at the Prancing Pony in Bree.

🌟 Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 ... 🌟

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[x--daughters-of-darkness--x]

20 WOMEN VOCALISTS IN METAL WHO ARE A DRIVING FORCE FOR THE GENRE

Lzzy Hale

If you haven’t heard of the colossal Halestorm and their show-stealing frontlady Lzzy Hale by now, how’s it been living under that rock? Out here in the real world, both rock and metal have been battling to claim Halestorm and Hale’s presence since the band’s first EP, (Don’t Mess With The) Time Man, in 1999. From the vitriolic masochism of “I Miss The Misery” to the heart-wrenching “Here’s To Us,” Hale’s vocal range reaches each extreme of moving emotion and devastating attitude. We couldn’t pay tribute to Hale without also recognizing her guitar talents. Check the sassy leading line from “Love Bites (So Do I)” as an example of this phenomenal lady’s ability to step beyond musical expression and into aural artistry.

SKYND

True crime has never been more compelling than at the hands of Australian electronic-metal sensation SKYND and their mystifying frontwoman of the same name. Tackling a new real-life mystery with each track, covering the disappearance and mysterious death of “Elisa Lam” and the doomed cult following of “Jim Jones,” SKYND’s haunting vocals tell each tale as if they were acting out in front of you. SKYND’s dedication to her theatrical persona (plus the ability to keep her real identity a secret), her iconic look and the creation of lore around her exposition of real-life crimes is a mystery the metal world may never solve, but perhaps it never should.

Taylor Momsen

Gossip Girl? We don’t know her—we know Taylor Momsen as the sultry tones commanding metal’s sassiest frontrunners the Pretty Reckless. With her gravelly vocals offset by her signature blacked-out eyes and suspenders, Momsen is an all-around powerhouse frontlady who bends all of your stereotypical expectations of a female vocalist. Take the hissing attitude of “Make Me Wanna Die,” the iconic summer anthem through “Messed Up World (F’d Up World),” the doomed “Going To Hell” and the gloriously filthy “My Medicine”—she’s not here for your entertainment, simply to make music in her own inimitable devil-may-care way.

Sharon den Adel

Where symphonic-metal outfits go through vocalists like water, Within Temptation’s Sharon den Adel has held on to her throne at the very beating heart of the genre since 1996. The band that introduced you to the dark side in high school has come a long way from “Angels” and “Our Farewell” to their most recent sensation “The Purge,” but the enduring talents of the angelic den Adel at the helm remain as moving as ever. Whether your heart breaks or races along with the captivating stories told through her cherubic vocals, den Adel’s talents have kept this legendary band alive and relevant for 25 years. We’re hanging on the edge of our seats for a new album.

Amy Lee

Most millennials were introduced to the world of metal through Evanescence’s invasion of radio airtime in the early 2000s, making vocalist Amy Lee an initial encounter in female presence in a heavily male realm. With an unforgettably haunting vocal range that can reach into your chest and pull out your heart with a single note, Lee’s trademark sound has lived in our minds since 2003’s Fallen and has no intention of letting go. From the iconic “Bring Me To Life” to her solo career’s “Speak To Me” and most notably the captivating “My Immortal,” Lee’s inimitable voice of an angel showed metal how to truly capture the mainstream.

Melissa Bonny

You’ve never seen symphonic metal quite like Switzerland’s Ad Infinitum and, consequently, you’ve never seen a frontwoman quite like Melissa Bonny. With her compelling vocals at the helm, each track tells a story steeped in historic struggles and triumphs as the band members each adopt a story of survival during the time of the Black Death in Europe. Every member appears in a plague doctor’s mask except Bonny, commanding the narrative as her show-stopping range transitions from heavenly cleans to venomous screams with ease. Ad Infinitum and Bonny’s towering talents begin an epic quest through the ranks of metal, and nothing will stand in their way.

Simone Simons

Symphonic-metal outfits face a constant challenge to stay relevant and move forward with the scene around them, more so than any other subgenre. However, the dreamy contributions of Simone Simons have kept Epica at the forefront of their genre since 2002. The band that once created “Storm The Sorrow” have matured to the lofty heights of “The Skeleton Key” with Simons’ operatic tones at the helm, bringing her angelic range to the band’s cinematic instrumentals and occasional death-metal infusions.

Maria Brink

Since their inception in 2005, In This Moment have redefined performance art and metal all at the same time, thanks to the command of iconic vocalist Maria Brink. Challenging religious imagery alongside feminine stereotypes, Brink’s presence both on and offstage has decimated the white male dominance of the metal genre. It takes a certain conviction and attitude to pull off the likes of “Whore” and “Blood” without trivializing their core moral messages, but Brink has rewritten the book on expectations of women in the heavy music industry. Long may she reign.

Larissa Stupar

Vicious, teeth-baring uncleans are the domain of Venom Prison’s Larissa Stupar, death metal’s brightest rising star. Whoever said women had to be the saccharine, angelic feminine contribution to metal clearly never met Stupar, who belts savage growls as if delivered from the gates of hell itself. The likes of “Uterine Industrialisation” and “Slayer Of Holofernes” prove devastating both live and in the studio when this unrelenting powerhouse gets her chops around them.

Alissa White-Gluz

Arch Enemy’s screamer-in-chief makes belting superhuman notes look easy. Alissa White-Gluz’s cord-shredding talents are the result of a career that started when she formed the Agonist at the age of 19. Joining Arch Enemy in 2014 gave White-Gluz a platform to showcase her range and also gave us her contagious live presence on a bigger stage. Providing her distinctive tones to regular collaborations with Kamelot and Delain, the voice behind Arch Enemy’s “War Eternal” and “You Will Know My Name” is no stranger to framing racing riffs with her guttural chops and showing off her heavenly cleans when the instrumentals allow.

Cristina Scabbia

The dual vocal onslaught we know and love from Lacuna Coil compels and fascinates, thanks to the storming presence of Cristina Scabbia. Dominating the metal scene since the ’90s, the enduring Italian crew pour richly gothic melodies over devastating riffs. Scabbia’s heavenly clean vocal is the cherry on top. From unforgettable classics such as “Our Truth” to their latest show-stopping “Save Me,” her dream-like range has been an invaluable gift to metal for over two decades and hopefully many, many more.

Tarja Turunen

The thought of losing founding Nightwish vocalist Tarja Turunen to the abyss of former symphonic singers when she left the outfit in 2005 was too much to bear. Luckily for us, Turunen kick-started her solo career the following year, and she’s been a mainstay of the metal scene ever since. The heavenly operatics that once heralded classics such as “Wish I Had An Angel” and “Nemo” now belts “Innocence” and “Tears In Rain” with the most celestial, earthbound vocals the genre has seen to date.

Suzuka Nakamoto

Easily the youngest member of our ranking, Suzuka Nakamoto, known as Su-metal, is the founding member of Japanese sensations BABYMETAL. With all the maturity of an artist twice her age, this 23-year-old puts us all to shame with her consistent energetic vocals and seemingly endless energy supplies while performing impeccable dance routines onstage. Between the iconic “Gimme Chocolate!!” and BABYMETAL’s latest “Kingslayer” collaboration with Bring Me The Horizon, there’s no denying she has a long and prolific career ahead of her.

Amalie Bruun

Myrkur has become a relentless hot topic in metal since its inception in 2014, and we have only recently discovered the identity of the haunting vocals at its heart. Now we can credit multi-instrumental composer Amalie Bruun with the rise of this mysterious Danish project, led into the wilderness by her raw screams bursting through cherubic cleans just when you least expect it. Often singing in Norwegian as an authentic twist on her own style of black metal, the theatrical “Ulvinde” and “Juniper”’s lingering atmospherics merely scratch the surface of Bruun’s compelling storytelling talents.

Elize Ryd

Amaranthe’s triple-threat vocals fetch their lighter tones from Elize Ryd, the Swedish outfit’s not-so-secret weapon who brings cherubic notes to their modern take on organized metallic chaos. Also known for her additions to Kamelot, both live and in the studio, Ryd’s heavenly cords and quirky songwriting add a bucketload of atmosphere and depth to the likes of “Amaranthine” and “Maximize,” making Amaranthe’s unique versatility one that continually sets trends for years to come.

Cammie Gilbert

Houston doom-metal upstarts Oceans Of Slumber have found themselves on a near-vertical trajectory over the last few years, a movement fronted by the tireless energy and boundless talents of their powerhouse vocalist Cammie Gilbert. Upon joining the band in 2014, Gilbert’s towering range came to the surface as her vocals neatly expand the lulling melancholy of “Winter” and the desperate cries of “A Return To The Earth Below,” as if her vocals project both fragility and strength at the same moment.

Heidi Shepherd and Carla Harvey

We couldn’t separate the two ladies commanding Butcher Babies, so this slot goes out to both Heidi Shepherd and Carla Harvey as the double-trouble onslaught who have brought us “Monsters Ball” and “Magnolia Blvd.” If you’re looking for a nonstop, indulgent party with the possibility of a snapped neck or two, look no further than L.A.’s dirtiest metal export that have become a staple on everybody’s festival bucket list. This versatile pair have made thrash their own ever since their 2013 debut, Goliath, showed the metal scene what it had been so desperately lacking—two relentless ladies who know exactly how to have a good time.

Chelsea Wolfe

Surprisingly the only strictly solo appearance on this list, Chelsea Wolfe has made metal her very own since her arrival in 2010, draping a veil of folk-y atmosphere and gothic depth over seductive doom-metal undertones. Combining her boundary-smashing approach with a sadistically dark visual style, Chelsea Wolfe somewhat ironically injects life into doom by refusing to conform to the genre’s ’90s stereotypes. She wraps her smooth vocal swathes around the compelling melancholy of “Feral Love” and “16 Psyche,” as if redressing the world around her in her own image.

Tatiana Shmayluk

You’d be forgiven for thinking Ukrainian outfit Jinjer tell their lyrical tales through the voice of three separate individuals covering melodic cleans, ear-splitting screams and guttural snarls and somewhat effortlessly slipping between them. The single towering voice behind this band’s meteoric rise belongs to Tatiana Shmayluk, flexing her multi-talented chops on “Perennial” and “Sit Stay Roll Over” just to increase your vocal envy. We’re still not sure how she pulls off such smooth transitions between the polar opposite personas onstage, but we can’t seem to look away.

Floor Jansen

Taking on the mammoth task of fronting the pioneering outfit Nightwish in 2013, Floor Jansen donned her new role as if she was born for it. Jansen’s inimitable honeyed tones ushered in a new age for the symphonic-metal icons, weaving her slick melodic range through the band’s trademark cinematic instrumentals. The theatrical atmospheres tracked on “Élan” and “Noise” give Jansen the room to flex her operatic range while she narrates the vibrant, tall tales we know and love from Nightwish.

[beyondthetemples-ooc]

Tagged!

By @impulse-goblin, thanks Randy!

Three ships: JeriRae (Raven x Joey in NTT), puffshipping (Ryou x Joey in Yugioh), and I like griddlehark when it's done right! (A lot of the fandom misses the Nuances of their personalities, and I am VERY particular about my griddlehark.)

First ship ever: Uhhhhmmmm, I honestly don't remember my first ship. I sorta shipped RobStar (esp in NTT) and sorta shipped RobRae (esp in TT'03), but I didn't have that whole-hearted I LOVE THIS SHIP feeling until....... Okay that honestly might have been secretshipping (Dove x Srentha) because I'm a nerd with way too many feelings for my OCs!

Last song: Too Many by Tarja!

Last movie: I genuinely do not remember. Probably when I watched Arrival with my friend in England and her boyfriend? (Yes, that was months ago. I don't watch movies much on my own. ^^'; ) I really enjoyed it though!

Currently watching: Nothing, really! I know there are new Owl House episodes I need to watch, but my Internet connection at "home" sucks. I did watch a few assorted Pokemon episodes recently though, mostly because I wanted to see Goh's Misdreavus. (And I was not disappointed!)

Currently consuming: Water. Little while ago I had peanut butter and peach juice though.

Currently craving: Matcha tea or hot soup or stir fry or an omelette, honestly at this point I just want fresh food I can heat up. My landlady-roommate hasn't addressed the electrical problems yet and now the stove won't even work when she does let me use it. <XP And there is only so much you can do to pretty up a meal of canned tuna and canned vegetables.

Now for the tags! Apparently I'm supposed to tag 9. So I tag, under the condition that you want to do this:

@chasm-connected

@creepycute-kitty-gf (Do you like these?)

@cyberninja

@eos-the-burnished (take your mind off Some Hells?)

@monstrousgourmandizingcats (I know you've recently done a version of this, but I think this one has a couple different questions?)

@morraien (if you see this of course!)

@sailoraquila (If you'd rather not be tagged, let me know!)

@sirenianheart

@sleepingway

[handsofdarkness]

After The The Aftermath – An Interview With Sharon Den Adel Of Within Temptation

Sharon Den Adel Talks About The Bands Recent Virtual Reality Show, New Album, Tours, And More

Dutch symphonic metal legends Within Temptation have been quite busy as of late. The band recently held an impressive virtual reality stream event, which was unlike anything we’ve seen before. Along with ‘The Aftermath – A Show In A Virtual Reality,’ the band has also released a brand new single, ‘Shed My Skin,” featuring German metalcore act, Annisokay. I caught up with frontwoman Sharon Den Adel, to talk about the recent stream, the new single, and what the band has planned in terms of a new album, and going on tour.

Thanks for speaking with me, Sharon. You’re coming off the release of your event, ‘The Aftermath, A Show In Virtual Reality’, which has been getting a lot of praise. How have you felt about the feedback you’ve been received?

A lot of fans seemed to have liked it. The technology is something new. It’s only the tip of the iceberg that we touched. And it looks a little bit like a game crossed with a music video. It being a show, it did not look as flashy as, say, some of our music videos. Which most people understood, but some didn’t. It’s a new technology after all .I was really happy to see that a lot of people did get the idea behind it, and how we made the show.

The show had to be postponed briefly, and during the filming, did you encounter many technical hurdles?

It was something that we were afraid of that might happen. That was also why the show was prerecorded because we didn’t want to have the show stopped halfway because the data might not have been managed. So that’s why we prerecorded it.

But we still had a lot of technical difficulties because we are pioneering here. After all, it’s a new program. Everybody does it in their own way, and it’s only been out recently. There’s only one other, a Dutch dance event, who did it the way we did as well. And because of so many multi-cameras and all this imagery that’s behind them to canalize the data, it’s a big process. And when something goes wrong, you have to start over again. So there are a lot of technical things that can go wrong, and it takes a lot of time to process.

Fans like to try and immerse themselves as much as they can into streamed content because live shows are something that we all missed, and we miss the feeling of being there. But how difficult is it as a performer to get some of those feelings when there’s no audience to feed off of, and you’re surrounded by green screens?

It’s difficult because you have to really imagine the audience there. But we did have the crew there trying to get me into that vibe, applauding and stuff like that. But it of course, it’s different. I also knew that I had to do it in a very short amount of time. We did it in one day, like the recordings of everyone and all band members.

So it was like, okay, you have one shot, and you better do it well, and immediately go into that vibe as if you are on stage. So you really have to use your imagination a little bit. But I was really happy that people would be watching this, and keeping that in mind is what got me through it.

Something the band is notorious for is performing with these elaborate stage setups, beautiful wardrobes, and stunning visuals. How important was the storytelling aspect of the show, and who came up with the idea of the post-apocalyptic theme?

Robert was really working on that, and I worked with it as well. We’ve seen so many doomsday kind of films over the years. These big, epic movies and stuff. So that was the inspiration, especially coming from a pandemic and talking about where is the world going, and how we living in it.

There was the inspiration from that. It’s something that’s an ongoing process. We also have the Silent Force album; we were inspired very much by that theme, especially because a lot of things were happening in the world at that time as well, as it is now.

How did you go about choosing a setlist for this show? Of course, there was new material, but did you select songs on storytelling aspects to match the overall apocalyptic theme?

Yes, that’s the case because we felt like if you’re telling a story, you need to find the right songs to back it up and give that atmosphere. It also helped that we’ve also had a lot of songs in the past touching this theme. I think it’s also nice for the ones who bought a tickets to see some older songs. Songs that we haven’t played for a long time, like for instance, ‘Forsaken’, which is really an old and golden song from the Silent Force album.

Fans were greeted with many surprises and big moments, but personally for you, what was your favorite moment from the show? And what song did you enjoy playing the most?

The song that registers for me is ‘Shed My Skin”. For the vocal nerd that I am, it’s nice to go from really high to really low. And it’s a real challenge for a singer. So I was really happy to put that song in the setlist.

And very well done too! It was great to see Tarja again; what was it like working with her and getting her to make an appearance for the event?

We always keep in contact with each other, and it’s always an easy connection to make with each other. And we’ve always worked really well with each other, and it’s always fun to work with her. She’s somebody who goes really for the music and is passionate about it. It’s really nice working with her, always.

I’ve always had contact with her throughout the year, and it’s always great, but this time it was not face-to-face. We had a camera crew go to Spain so she could be recorded there. She was very busy with a lot of other stuff as well. So that was the best way to record her live.

Speaking of collaborations, your most recent single, which we’ve talked about, ‘Shed My Skin,’ has a bit of a metalcore twist, and you appropriately collaborated with metalcore act, Annisokay for the song. How did the collaboration come about? And did you specifically write this song for the collaboration?

It’s more that we are always interested in bands who are new and who bring a new sound to the scene. This was a sound we’ve never noticed before. Not for Annisokay, but the metalcore scene was just something that we didn’t listen to much. So for us, it was kind of a new sound with a new vibe, and one of the bands that we like was Annisokay.

And we felt like, okay, let’s approach them and see if they are interested in doing a song with us. And we had already written it. Everything was finished, but they were able to do their own interpretation, but they stayed close to what we had written. It was really fun to work with them.

They are very talented guys, they are very melodic with their music and that’s something that we always like as well. Because we wanted to bring something heavy with the guitars and everything in the music, but we also wanted to bring out a lot of melodies, and that’s something that they do with metalcore.

So we wrote the music and thought it would be cool to approach a band that comes from that scene. And they were our favorites, so we called them and they were really cool and very down to earth and easy people to work with. So yeah, I was happy to meet them and work with them.

Do you enjoy working with other styles of metal and sub-genres, and do you think you’ll do more in the future?

We’ve always done that throughout the years. I think we’re a typical kind of band who likes orchestras and epic kinds of sounds. Throughout our career, we have worked with so many different people. Mina Caputo of Life of Agony, Papa Roach, and some Polish artists. It’s not always people that everybody knows. Sometimes it’s a singer-songwriter, sometimes it’s from totally different kinds of genres that people would not expect from us. But it’s just that some people you really admire or a style that you think is so beautiful that you want to integrate it into your own music. And we’ve always done that in our own way.

Do you plan on releasing any more new music this year, and when can we expect a new album?

We are planning to do maybe one more song this year if things turn out the way we want them to. And, hopefully, at the end of next year, we have a new album out, so we’re working hard trying to manage everything that we have in mind and trying to release new singles every few months. That’s a new idea that we want to try, releasing a new song every three or four months. And so far, we have managed to do that. We’ll see if we can keep it up. You also need to have the right inspiration, of course, to write new stuff.

Are there any shows that you’ll be playing during the festival season?

We’re going to Finland next week, so I’m looking forward to that stuff first, and it’s the only summer festival this year, unfortunately. We also have one in October, which is in the Netherlands, which is also a big festival. I’m looking forward to that as well. But I’m wondering if it will be able to take place because a lot of festivals in the Netherlands have been canceled because of COVID again, unfortunately.

Otherwise, it’s just the shows that we have with Evanescence on the ‘When Worlds Collide” tour, which starts in March and in April. We also have some Russian shows in February, but we have to see how this pandemic is going to go, and where it’s gonna go.

I was just about to bring up the ‘When Worlds Collide’ tour with Evanescence. Do you think that any time in the future we might see a North American tour as well?

I hope so. I think that it’s something that’s on our list, but we don’t know when we’re going to go, because we did have some things cooking, but then the whole pandemic started. We still have to catch up with all these tours that are planed. All the tours and the festivals that we have planed are going to continue and hopefully, after that will be, we will come your way.

We would love to have you guys here. We’re really excited for the upcoming single and the ‘When Wolrds Collide tour,” Which I think is going to happen because everything is opening back up. I just shot my first huge festival here. I travel all over, and there are festivals opening up all over here. So I think that we will be the world stage in seeing how things go in terms of these big festivals if they continue or get postponed due to COVID.

Yeah, I totally understand. And I would love to come to America again, it’s been a while!

We can’t wait to have you guys here, and thank you for speaking with me, Sharon, do you have anything else that you would like to add or say to the fans?

Thank for you the interview, it’s nice to give everyone an update on how were doing here in Europe, and we hope to come your way soon!

[your-local-metal-lesbian]

Old Friends and Missing Make-Up

A short Floorja one-shot. Written with @theshityoucallmyheart.

When Tarja read her girlfriend’s letter, she was both euphoric about seeing Floor again and conflicted because she was probably going to run into one of her former bandmates again. It had been ten years since she last spoke to any of the Nightwish members - Anette excluded. And now that she was dating their current singer, things were bound to go downhill sooner or later.

Fuck it, she thought. She would go through hell for Floor, why was she even worrying about sneaking into a concert venue? Now, the most important thing to do was picking an outfit. Of course she was not going to let Floor see her looking like she’d been dragged out from behind a dumpster. She was Tarja Turunen after all, and if one thing stood out about her, it was her fashion sense.

An hour later, she was cursing the sheer mass of her closet’s contents that piled up behind her, when an emerald flash caught her eyes. Of course, the same dress she’d worn on their first date six years ago. It was perfect.

---

Tuomas was getting ready for the show. He was almost done, but there was still one thing missing. His eyeshadow. He went through all his stuff, but still couldn't find it. Without it, his look just couldn't be considered complete. At least that's what he thought. Fucking eyeshadow, I swear I saw it somewhere, he thought. Even though he'd been performing for around 20 years, he was still pretty nervous. And such a complication didn't make it any better.

In the meantime, Floor was having an awesome time with her girlfriend, Tarja. She was a bit nervous as well, but unlike Tuomas, she had someone to support her.. Everything just felt much better and less complicated with her girlfriend on her lap. She was there for her, kissing her and whispering comforting words in her ear.

‘’Does this outfit look okay on me?’’ Floor asked for the millionth time.

‘’You look gorgeous. Although you'd look better without it. Without anything at all.’’

Floor giggled and kissed the tip of her nose.

‘’Oh shut up. We don't have time for that now. We're going on the stage in 20 minutes. After the show, you can take it off me.’’

Tarja stroked her cheek and kissed her slowly.

‘’You sure?’’ she whispered when their lips separated.

‘’Ok, a slight change of plans.’’ Floor smiled. ‘’20 minutes is more than enough.’’

After a few minutes of struggling, looking into the mirror, feeling even less confident, Tuomas decided to ask his friend for help. He walked out of his dressing room and headed to Floor’s. He didn't dare to knock. He was really confused, he heard voices. What if she wasn't alone? Perhaps she was just giving herself a little motivational talk before the show. He finally decided to knock and entered before she had a chance to answer. He was just too stressed to care.

When he realized what was going on in the room, he froze on the spot. He saw a familiar figure on her lap, making out with his bandmate. He thanked God that both of them were still fully dressed.

‘’Tarja?’’

She turned around.

‘’What are you doing here?’’ he asked her.

‘’Oh jeez, what does it look like I'm doing?’’ she answered, not getting her eyes off him. He stared at the floor, biting his lip.

‘’Tarja… What does she have that I don't?’’ he still didn't dare to look her in the eyes.

‘’Well, boobs, for example.’’ she remarked, but reeled back in shock when she noticed the tears forming in his eyes and covered her mouth as she realized what she just said.

‘’Oh my god I'm so sorry, I didn't realize what I was saying.’’ She quickly apologized. ‘’Tuomas, I care about you and I love you as a friend. But not romantically. I'm in love with Floor. And I hope that maybe we can finally move past it. We both made our mistakes and that's alright. Without mistakes, we wouldn't learn anything. So why don't we just let it go.’’

She saw Tuomas nodding with a hint of a smile on his face. She quickly got up, walking towards him and hugged him. Soon, she was followed by Floor.

‘’Did you need something, when you went here?’’ Floor asked when they let go.

‘’Oh, yeah, I couldn't find my eyeshadow, can I borrow yours?’’

Floor nodded.

‘’Yeah, definitely. You want black, right?’’

‘’Yes’’

She handed him the small object.

‘’Ok, bye for now, you two. Dont do anything stupid before we go on the stage. See you in 10 minutes’’ he said and left.

‘’Feels good to finally have this off my chest’’ Tarja said. Floor pulled her into her embrace and held her close until it was the time.

Before they went on stage, Tarja quickly said hi to all the guys and wished them luck. She gave Floor a passionate kiss and watched the show from the backstage. The show was awesome. Tuomas couldn't remember the last time he was this confident. Finally, he felt clean.