#wicker basket coffin

[sebuckyverse]

for a good time, call [3]

modern!rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

series summary: Eddie Munson is a burnt out rockstar, touring the country. When he finds a phone number written on a bathroom wall, he strikes an unusual friendship with a coffee shop barista who has no idea who he is.

warnings: 18+ cussing, f!masturbation, fingering, dirty talk, smoking, flirting, mutual pining, angst, strangers to friends to lovers word count: 3,5k

an: omg guys, here it is! i hope you enjoy. as always, if you like it let me know by reblogging or leaving a comment - it means so much to me!

chapter two ♫ masterlist ♫ askbox

chapter three ♫♪♩·..·

After a beat of silence, the phone went dead. Disappointment creeped into your soul, but you tried to fight it off. Maybe it was an accident, perhaps the connection just cut out. But as the minutes ticked by, you sat on your bed, clutching your phone that silent. Your bedroom door was open and you could see the moon illuminating your worn out sofa in the living room. It was dead silent, just like your phone.

Was this all a scam? Were you being catfished by some lonely elder, or worse, a disgusting perv? Were you that stupid and naïve?

With shaky hands, you placed your phone back on your nightstand, plugging the charger in. You settled back under the covers with your back facing your bedroom window, clutching the blanket under your chin. In the warm cocoon of your sheets, you fell into a restless sleep.

.•♫•♬•

Eddie wasn't better off. He didn't sleep at all that night. He was racking his brain trying to come up with an excuse that could justify his actions. Landing on zero ideas, he gave up at about 4.30am. He kept opening and closing his iMessage app, sometimes just watching the empty text box and other times actually typing something, then deleting it and tossing his phone on the floor.

He was a piece of shit, honestly. He was wired up to call you, he hit the right button, he heard your voice and then he panicked, once again. In those two seconds, your voice was enough to take his breath away. Your voice was quiet but hopeful and he wrecked everything.

Eddie opened the doors to his suite balcony, sitting down on a wicker basket chair and propping his feet on the metal railing. The chilly air was dancing around his hair and bare shoulders, he was only wearing a simple pair of dark sweats, from which fished out his (regular) cigarettes and lit one. He kept looking at the skyline and the city below it, he could see the roof of the arena he would be playing at later that night.

He pondered what type of music you liked, if you would like his stuff. Would you go to a show, cheer him on from the front row? Or would you be the type to wait in the dressing room unbothered, like his ex. What would you say if he asked you to come to one of his shows? They are scheduled to play two shows in New York in two weeks...

Eddie finished his cigarette stepped back into the room, opening the closet where he caught a glimpse of his rosy cheeks on the mirrored doors and putting on a Corroded Coffin hoodie. He stepped to the desk adjacent to the closet and pulled open a small drawer filled with hotel amenities. He found what he was looking for, a blank sheet of paper and a pencil, returning to the balcony where the sunrise was creeping up on the city. He used to do this back in high school, when he was still playing Dungeons & Dragons, drawing different maps and monsters for each session. It almost felt liberating, skimming the ashy tip of the pencil along the paper. He hadn't done anything creative in months, he'd only kept the same routine every day. Maybe it was time to change that. Maybe it was time to stop moping around and improve some things.

.•♫•♬•

''There you go, sir. Have a nice day!'' Robin piped out next to you, handing a middle aged guy in a very expensive looking suit his go-to espresso, to which he didn't even respond to as he kept typing away on his phone. When he was out the door, Robin rolled her eyes and muttered ''Asshole.''

You snorted, grateful for he company and for the fact that the café was pretty busy today, you could use the distraction. You woke up this morning to two text messages, one from your co-worker asking for you to fill in for her today as she had to take her dog to the vet and another was from him. You didn't open his text yet and you couldn't see it from the preview either, because he had sent a photo right after the text, so the screen just said ''Sent a photo.''

You were itching to know what could he have possibly sent, but you purposefully kept your phone at your locker today. Still feeling iffy about the situation, you hadn't mentioned the call thing to Robin, but you did fill her casually in on your texting to which in return you got a confirmation that her and Cherry were indeed now girlfriends.

''Ugh, she asked me after the show - which was amazing, by the way - and I had to say yes. You just can't say no to her,'' she kept babbling while putting a new tray full of frozen croissants to the oven.

You were re-filling the espresso machine with new beans. ''What show was it anyway?''

Robin closed the oven door with her hip while pulling the oven mitts off. ''I don't really remember, coffin something. Cherry loves them, that's why we went. It was real heavy, the singer was pretty cool though, straight from the 80s.''

''What do you mean?'' you asked.

''He had long hair, so he looked like Bon Jovi or something. I mean it was cool, but you don't see that look every day.'' she replied, straightening her apron and greeting another customer who'd just stepped in.

You hummed in response and proceeded to the cash register to take new orders. The day flew by and by the time you only had 20 minutes left, Robin was at the back, emptying the dishwasher and you were counting cash when the door opened again. You vaguely remembered her hair color and her wine red lipgloss, so it wasn't too hard to recognize Cherry when she strolled in.

''Hey, I'm Cherry.''

You accepted her outstretched palm and shook her hand. ''Y/N. Nice to finally meet you, for real this time.''

''Same here,'' she smiled ''Though I feel like I know you already. Robin talks about you a lot and I already know you can't handle more than two drinks.''

''And three tequila shots!'' you returned her smile and Robin came busting out the back, rushing past the counter and throwing her arms around Cherry, pecking her cheek.

''Glad the introductions are over,'' she quipped and turned to Cherry ''missed you, by the way.''

''Gross.'' you joked, which ended up with Robin's apron in your face.

''Ha-ha. Would you mind if-''

Before she could finish her sentence, you dismissed her with a hand swipe. ''Yeah yeah, I can finish up here.''

''You're an angel. You know I'd do the same for you if you weren't single and lonely!'' Robin snickered and you fake gasped, but they were out the door before you could say anything back, waving at you from the outside.

''Idiot.''

You grabbed your things from your locker and closed the café, stepping out onto a golden sunset. You walked along the streets leading to your apartment building, passing a bus stop with a big poster on it, the deep rich colors popping and a guy in the middle of it, clutching a guitar. You recalled your conversation with Robin from earlier. Coffin something, a singer with long hair. The name on the poster said Corroded Coffin and the guy on the poster did seem like he could be from the 80s.

Not thinking much of it, you finally decide to take a look at your phone. Besides the two texts, your breath hitched when you noticed there was a missed call as well, 4 hours ago. You checked out the messages first and opened the photo he had sent. It was a picture of a sketch, what could immediately be recognized as the New York skyline. It was nice too, the lines were sharp, it was pretty detailed too.

7.21am - Kirk ''I'm an asshole and I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to offend you, I panicked at the last second. It's a shitty excuse but it's the truth. I'm really sorry, I'd love to talk to you if I could have another chance. I couldn't sleep all night, so I drew this for you as an apology. It's not great, but I hope you accept.''

8.01pm - Kiwi 'It's a great sketch, btw.''

It didn't even take him a second to hit you back.

8.01pm - Kirk ' 'God, I thought you'd blocked me.''

8.02pm - Kiwi ''I'm still thinking about it. I'm convinced you're a catfish.''

8.02pm - Kirk ''I promise I'm not.''

8.02pm - Kiwi ''Okay, prove it.''

8.03pm - Kirk ''How would I do that?''

8.05pm - Kiwi ''I'm sure you can figure it out.''

.•♫•♬•

What the hell was he going to do? He was convinced you had blocked him last night. He sent you the text this morning and for more than 12 hours it was only showing as 'sent.' Not received, not read, nothing. Now reading you thought he was catfishing you, Eddie needed to prove to you that he was real and that he was serious this time.

Without thinking much of it, he dialed your number again and waited as it rang. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder and made his way to the dressing room bathroom, locking himself in to give him some sort of privacy.

The phone kept ringing and ringing. Were you punishing him for not picking up? He wouldn't hold it against you, he kind of deserves it. Besides, Eddie loves a woman who can beat him up.

Finally, after he had already given up hope, the line clicked and he heard your voice again. ''Yes?''

Eddie could also hear cars driving in the background, your breathing was a bit quicker than normal, a little shallow. You were outside somewhere.

''Is this proof enough?'' he asked, barely breathing.

''You could still be some weirdo, but I'll let you off the hook for now. Hi.'' Eddie thought he could hear a smile in your voice.

''Hi,'' he sighed, shoulder relaxing where he was leaning against the door. ''How are you?''

''I'm fine,'' you replied. ''I just got off work, I'm walking home.''

''I thought you had the day off.''

''I did,'' you sighed, some shuffling coming from your side. ''A co-worker asked me to switch, so I did.''

''That's generous of you, are you always this nice?'' Eddie teased.

''You tell me,'' you quipped back, matching his energy right away. He liked that, a lot. He liked you.

''I'd say so. You gave me another shot, though you didn't have to.''

''Don't waste it. I normally don't give second chances.''

Eddie chuckled, ''I won't. Can I ask you something?''

''Shoot,'' you agreed.

''Do you, like.. recognize my voice?'' he cringed. ''It's a silly thing to ask, 'm sorry.''

You laughed and the sound danced around his brain, shooting a bunch of endorphins into his belly. He hoped it wasn't weird to picture you based on your voice alone, but you sounded pretty.

''No...'' trailing off, but quickly you recouped ''So you're a musician then?''

''Uhh... maybe.''

''That's cool! Don't worry, unless you're in an 80s indie band or a 90s boyband, I probably don't know you, sorry!''

''Is that the only stuff you listen to?'' Eddie asked incredulously.

''Hey, I like what I like!'' you defended and he could hear the slight creak of a door and soft steps that became a bit louder, like you were climbing some stairs. The call crackled for a second and then he could hear keys jingling and the unlocking of another door.

''You made it home?'' he quizzed, destined to make sure you were alright.

''Yeah, finally. Now I have a three day weekend!''

''Cool! What are you pl-''

Before Eddie could finish his question, he was startled by the banging behind him, the door he was leaning against shaking under his back. He quickly covered the microphone, holding the device against his chest. ''Eddie, you in there man? We gotta start getting ready.''

It was their drummer asking. Eddie shushed him and told him he was on the phone. The drummer replied with a dishonest 'sorry' and left him be.

''Um, sorry about that. Shit.'' Eddie apologized and wondered if you heard anything.

''Don't worry about it, Eddie.'' you shot back and he could almost see the grin on your face. Why did it seem like you had the upper hand every time?

''Hmm, you got me. Now you tell me your name,'' he challenged.

''I thought you already named me,'' you shot back, your voice suddenly so sweet and innocent.

''Oh, come on. That's not fair.''

''I don't think you've earned it yet.'' Something about that sentence made him twitch in his pants. Fuck. He wanted to earn your name, something else too. Your voice was sultry, the tone of it sticking to his brain like honey. He needed more of it, he needed to keep you talking. He was in a trance almost.

''Making me work for it?'' he prompted, closing his eyes and leaning his head back, resting it on the door.

''You bet. I come with a price, you know.'' You joked.

''I'm willing to pay.'' Eddie replied, dead serious.

.•♫•♬•

Your phone call with Eddie, as you now know him, ended pretty abruptly after that. He got interrupted again and he had to go, to start getting ready for the show you supposed. For exactly two seconds after you hung up, you thought about googling him, but decided against it just as fast as that. You wanted to get to know him personally, not through tabloids.

Your body was thrumming however, your cheeks felt hot to the touch and there was the tiniest vibration between your thighs. You needed a cold shower, asap. You didn't expect the talk to excite you that much, but his voice was something else. Smooth, raspy at times when he lowered his tone. A bit more nasally when he got excited. You wanted to hear it again, teasing you. You wondered what he sounded in person, what his laugh was like, what sounded like when he was out of breath, gasping in your ear.

Stop, you scolded yourself and hurried in removing your work clothes and dumping them in the laundry basket. You took a cool shower to calm down, changed into silky pajamas, then popped a frozen pizza into the pre-heated oven and set the timer to 15 minutes. While you waited for dinner to be ready, you occupied yourself with finding a good movie to watch while you ate, poured a glass of water and changed Eddie's contact name on your phone. Watching a movie should keep you distracted for a few hours, until Eddie was free to call again, which would presumably be in the early hours of the night.

When the movie finally finished, you were full and hydrated. It was only a quarter past eleven so you still had a couple more hours to kill. You decided to move to be this time, grabbing an unfinished book from your desk and settled in under the covers. You turned on the reading lamp on the bedside table and kept your phone close to you. Soon enough, you were submerged in the book, the scene written on the page getting spicier. You gulped as you read how the main characters were ripping each others clothes off, devouring one another. You had a perfect picture in your head, the words coming alive in front of you, envisioning the guy eating out his girl the way the author had put it in the book. Shit, your thighs clenched at the thought of someone doing that to you.

You jumped when your phone vibrated against your bare thigh, slapping the book shut abruptly.

''Hello?'' you answered, trying to calm your breathing.

''Hey, what's up?'' Eddie asked, sounding a little out of breath himself.

''Oh, um, I was just reading a book.''

''What's it about?''

You cleared your throat, ''J-just some rom com, don't think you'd be interested.''

''You alright over there?'' Eddie quipped, chuckling softly.

''I'm fine, totally fine.''

''Uh-uh,'' Eddie sounded totally unconvinced ''tell me what you were reading.''

''Why?'' you were growing nervous.

''You're basically hyperventilating, that must be some book. Was it scary?''

''No.''

''Erotic?'' he joked, chuckling.

You remained quiet, the words dying on your tongue.

''Oh, it was.'' Eddie mused, his voice lower now. ''What were they doing?''

''They were just kissing and stuff,'' you whispered like you were scared someone would overhear, chewing on your bottom lip as a nervous habit.

''Did some simple kissing get you that worked up, baby?''

Baby. He was doing nothing but enhancing the tingling in your white cotton panties.

''No,'' you breathe, rubbing your thighs together at this point.

''Hmm.. Were they doing more? Having sex?'' he spoke and you could hear faint shuffling on his side, then the soft close of a door.

''Not exactly.''

''No? What then? Don't be shy.''

You squeezed your eyes shut, somehow embarrassed like the whole world could see you right now. You took a shaky breath in and quickly blurted out ''He was eating her out.''

There was a small pause before Eddie hummed. ''And how did that make you feel?''

''Good,'' you replied.

''Just good?''

You whimpered. He was toying with you, pulling your strings but you didn't want him to stop either. You switched the phone to your left hand, to free your dominant hand to caress your stomach, occasionally dipping lower. ''Aroused.''

''What are you doing right now?'' Eddies breathing sounded heavier now, too. His voice has a raspier edge than before.

''Rubbing my thighs,'' you sighed. The feeling of your palm sliding over the inside of your thighs felt nice, for a while. There was a warm wet patch on your panties, too.

''Shit. Lay down for me.''

You did as he told, scooting lower on the bed until you were horizontal. ''Okay.''

''Good girl,'' he praised.

Jesus Christ. No one had ever talked to you like that, you'd only read that in your books. Those words sent a jolt straight to your pussy.

''Want you to touch yourself, can you do that for me?''

''Y-yeah,'' you hiccupped, guiding your hand under your pajama pants and skipping your panties too, cupping your mound and feeling the gathered wetness there.

''Doing so good for me, honey. Touch your little pussy for me, tell me how wet you are.''

You couldn't hold back the moan that bubbled up as you followed his instructions, sliding your fingers easily through your blazing folds due to the slickness. ''S-so wet, Eddie.''

''Fuck,'' he groaned. ''Wish I could be there, need to see it for myself. Would you want that?''

''Yes, Eddie!'' you wailed, gliding your wet fingers down your slit, then back up again and focusing on your puffy clit, pulsing with want. You circled your clit with your middle fingers, putting the phone on speaker and dumping it next to your head so you could use your other hand to slide it under your shirt to thumb your nipple, adding even more pleasure.

''Would you let me eat your pussy, too? Let me tongue fuck your little hole?'' Your cunt clenched just at the thought of having his warm muscle shoved deep into it. It was begging to be filled, hungry for it. You found your weeping hole and pushed your middle finger in, moaning at the stretch. Eddie meanwhile continued his verbal assault. ''Fuck, baby I'd lick you so good if you'd let me have the honor. I bet you're already knuckles deep in your pussy, aren't you?''

You could only cry out ''uh uh'' as you added another finger, pushing them as far as you could reach, curling them upward to graze that one and only spot.

''Good fucking girl. Keep punishing that tight hole for me. I know it's so tight, would barely fit my fat cock. Shit. I wanna fill you up, fuck you 'til your crying, begging for me to stop. But I wouldn't stop until you were stuffed full of my cum - you want that baby? Wanna be so filled with my cum that it's flowing out of your abused hole, huh? Leaking down your crack, I'd clean you right up.''

''Eddie, oh my God!'' you cried, tears stinging your eyes as you thrashed around, your clothes sticking to your sweaty body. Fucking your fingers in and out, you pressed your palm down to add more pressure to your clit, building up your high.

''You close, sweetheart? Wanna hear you cum, you sound so fucking perfect already. Keep working those fingers, don't stop.''

''Fuckuckfuck, I'm cumming. Ohmygod.'' Your high hit and you lost all vision, only listening to Eddie talk you through it, telling you what a good girl you were, how proud he was, how good you sounded.

When you came down, you carefully withdrew your fingers and wiped them clean on your pants, trying to catch your breath.

''My name's Y/N, by the way.''

On the other side, Eddie burst out laughing.

[zellink]

all the bells say

a pre-calamity zelink longfic. [chapter 1 of 28 // Act 0 of 5]

>> Read Act 0: "Genesis / Heavy" on AO3

Summary:

Rating: M Main Tags: canon compliant / angst with a happy ending / character study / romance / slow burn / all the goddamn tension. / mutual pining / self-doubt / following all the botw memories / Zelda is an unreliable narrator / Link is so hopelessly in love (until it's not) What will you do with what you've been given when the story forever tolls the same way? Link and Zelda, the Calamity, and their tale of inevitability and doom, and most of all, of love.

Notes:

Here I am, 7 years late to the party, 3 years after witnessing my boyfriend first play BOTW, with a Starbucks in hand and yet another pre-Calamity long fic that absolutely nobody asked for. But I have to do it. I have to bounce these two blonde elves in my head indefinitely and breathe life into my many, many headcanons.

All my love and thanks to my trench buddy and writing soulmate @1up-girl for all your invaluable beta'ing, brainrotting, and everything in between—I seriously owe you forever and ever. Thousands of thanks to the lovely @mustardcheesedog for your amazing energy and hype as an early reader and the daily zelink brainrot.

I also wanna to thank @milkywayes for doing the beautiful banner art for Bells; for understanding my vision and for all the conversations we've had about zelink—headcanons concocted in our DMs that I eventually adopted into this fic.

Fic title taken from the famous John Berryman poem, "Dream Song 29".

~~~ Please go to the fic page on AO3 and read the extended author's note in the beginning for warnings! ~~~

Anyway..... here's Act 0, y'all!

Act 0: Genesis / Heavy

There sat down, once, a thing on Henry's heart só heavy, if he had a hundred years & more, & weeping, sleepless, in all them time Henry could not make good. […] Ghastly, with open eyes, he attends, blind. All the bells say: too late. This is not for tears; thinking. “Dream Song 29” - John Berryman

Link is no stranger to death.

At five years old, he’s already witnessed more than his peers ever would. Growing up at a farm can do that to a kid. Cows, lambs, cuccos—all to the slaughter for sustenance, for profit. He stations himself beside Father and Mother as they butcher them to sell at the family shop. He’s also seen Father shoot countless deers and elk during their leisure hunts whenever Father is back home from Castle Town. More often than not, Father would let him borrow his old bow, and Link would contribute to their hunt, too.

But then Link’s pet fish dies one afternoon—a fat white freshwater carp with gold and black splotches he named Goldie—and he weeps and weeps in Mother’s lap. Goldie was his friend. Goldie was always there in the morning when he would wake up, and was there at night before he’d go to bed. But now Goldie is floating in the pond, its tiny mouth agape.

Mother strokes his hair. “It’s okay, Link. Goldie is with the Goddess, now.”

“Can I be with the Goddess, too?” he asks. Snot runs down his nose.

“Well, no.” Mother huffs a laugh. “Where Goldie is… we cannot go there. But what you can do is pray.”

Link withdraws his head from Mother’s lap. He wipes the tears from his face with the heel of his palms.

“Can we pray together, Mom?”

At that, something unreadable passes through Mother’s face. Her blue eyes turn steely.

���You can pray, Link,” she says, something sad about her small smile. “I won’t join. But we can arrange a funeral for Goldie, if you would like that?”

So they spend the rest of the day gathering flowers from the brambles that surround their estate until Mother’s wicker basket is full of white roses, blue nightshades, and armoranths. Mother also allows him to use the small wooden box that sits atop her vanity—a coffin perfect for Goldie. Mother says that it’s a box that used to house a necklace she bought and gave to Father long ago, but that necklace is long lost, so she has no use for it now.

Link wraps Goldie in an old rag and lays it gently inside the box. Then, they dig a hole in their backyard and bury the box and Goldie in it. He cries again, but not as hard as earlier. He clasps his hands in front of his chest, shuts his eyes, and utters his prayers aloud.

“Goddess Hylia, please welcome Goldie in your loving arms, give it many, many worms to eat, and bring it back as a strong and healthy fish in its next life.” Let its next life start tomorrow, please, Link does not say aloud.

When they make it back inside the living room, Father is already there, sitting at the dining table with a cup of coffee. He asks about what they have been up to, and Link answers honestly. Father doesn’t press on, and he looks rather exhausted, so Link goes back into his bedroom and closes the door behind him.

He climbs into his bed and crawls toward the far end of the wall, looking out from the window and into the backyard. He sees it—a small grave by the shrubs, complete with a rock roughly the shape of an oval as the tombstone, with flowers surrounding the little plot of land.

He hears voices from beyond his bedroom door.

“I don’t think it is best for us to go soft on him.”

“Wha— soft? He is five and his pet just died!”

“And you helped him throw a funeral. For a fish.”

“Because he’s just a child!”

There’s a grating sound—a chair being dragged on the floor. “Well, he’s always said that he wants to become a knight. Then we must prepare him for such an occupation.”

“Being a knight does not mean he can’t feel emotions.”

“Eleana, being a knight is not easy. He will see hundreds of deaths in his lifetime. The next death he’ll witness won’t be of a fish, but of a comrade. I just want to prepare him for when he eventually becomes one.”

“Well—” a pause, “—then I hope, for Link’s sake, he never becomes one.”

Link, however, doesn’t pay much attention to his parents’ conversation. Instead, he imagines Goldie wiggling its way past the layers of cloth and wood and soil, flopping around the backyard until it finds its way to the pond again. Once everybody is asleep Goldie will rise up from its grave, he thinks. He prayed to the Goddess, after all.

But come morning, the pond is still empty, and Goldie remains lifeless in its little coffin.

And he never sheds another tear after that.

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

Link is no stranger to death, and no stranger to funerals, either.

A year after Goldie’s humble funeral in his backyard in Hateno Village, Father must attend one of the most important funerals in the kingdom for as long as Link can remember.

(Well, six years is quite long for him, anyway.)

So here he is, holding Mother’s gloved hand, in the congregation at the Grand Chapel of Hyrule Castle. It’s a sad occasion, of course—everyone’s wearing black, all the women have their faces obscured with a veil, and he can hear sniffles from the crowd. But Link also can’t wait to tell his friends back home of his first real experience in the castle.

There are speeches, sermons, hymns, and many, many other long-drawn-out processions that he has no choice but to zone out on. But once the burial is over, Link is rather excited, because the Royal Guards (and by extension, Father) must accompany the Prince Consort to the Sanctum for an intimate reception.

The Sanctum is grand—big, luxurious, grand. Red velvet is draped everywhere—the thrones, the floor, the curtains, the banners. There’s also a lot of gold, and streaks of blue here and there. Link likes the blue the most.

When Father makes his way through the crowd to find Link and Mother, Link knows it’s time. He straightens his back, draws his chin a little bit higher, and follows Father.

“This is pretty exciting, right, Mom?” Link whispers. “Meeting the Prince!”

“The King,” Father corrects him. “He was the Prince, and now, without the Queen, he has become the King.” He sounds annoyed. “Please don’t make that mistake in front of His Majesty.”

Link clears his throat. “Sorry, Father.”

He gazes up at Mother again, but she’s quiet, and it’s hard to look past her veil.

They climb the grand marble staircase leading to the floating dais above the room, and find a large man standing in front of the throne.

Father and Mother immediately drop to their knees. Link follows suit.

“Your Majesty,” Father says, his head bowed.

“Sir William! Please, no need for this,” the King’s voice booms. Father rises, followed by Mother, and then Link. “I am very pleased to see you again, Lady Eleana. It’s been too long.” The King sounds friendly, but there’s a lot of sadness at the edge of his voice. That makes sense, Link thinks. He just lost his wife.

Then, the King sets his eyes on Link.

Link’s hands feel clammy, all of a sudden.

“And you, young boy—how you have grown! It was not that long ago when your father brought you as an infant to the Castle to celebrate my daughter’s birth,” he says. Link can only muster up a nod and a shaky smile. “Speaking of—” the King turns around to shoo something from his back. “Don’t just hide! Introduce yourself.”

From behind the King’s robe, a little girl emerges, clad in a black dress and a black surcoat. Her face, however, isn’t covered with a veil like the other women, and the first thing Link notices is how golden her hair is compared to the rest of her outfit. It’s almost blinding.

The second thing Link notices is how green her eyes are. Very green. Like grass, like trees. Like the forests that he likes to spend time in.

The girl extends a gloved hand. Palm facing down.

“I’m Princess Zelda,” she says. “Nice to meet you.”

Link takes her hand in a gentlemanly way that Father has taught him when greeting noblewomen. His thumb pad rests on her knuckles. His left hand rises to splay over his right breast. Then, he puts one foot in front of the other and bends his knees, bowing his head.

“Nice to meet you, Princess,” he says. “My name is Link.”

As he straightens up again, Link finds it hard to let go of her hand. The Princess doesn’t, either; her forest green gaze is still piercing through his eyes. It feels like vines are growing out of his wrist and twining around his hand and the Princess’.

“Hello, Link,” she says.

Oh, his heart is racing.

Father lets out a cough, and the vines vanish. Link withdraws his hand as if shocked by a jolt of electricity. The Princess lets her arm fall limp at her side once more, but her eyes are still on him. Mother grabs him by his shoulders, pulling him back to stand next to her again.

“Your Majesty, once again, Eleana, Link, and I would like to offer our deepest condolences for your loss,” Father says. “For this kingdom’s loss. The Queen is—was—a strong and wise monarch, and as a people, we shall mourn her absence forevermore.” His lips are trembling a little, Link notes. He’s never seen that on Father before.

“Thank you, Sir William,” the King says. “You were a steadfast presence in her life, truly.” At that, Mother’s grip tightens. Link tilts his head up to look at her, but is met with that layer of veil again. “Well, I must be on my way. Duty calls upon us all, after all.”

With one last bow from Father, Mother, and Link himself, the King makes his way toward the other end of the dais and descends the opposite staircase. The Princess follows, her back straight and steps never once faltering.

She doesn’t turn back to cast one last glance at his family, but Link watches and watches and watches. He’s still watching as she disappears beneath the grand archway that leads further into the castle.

On the walk back to Castle Town where Father resides, Link feels something heavy settling in his gut. Like his little inconsequential life makes sense, all of a sudden. Like being six years old doesn’t really matter because, in that moment, he feels like there are hundreds of ancient men residing within the confines of his bones. And all those men are whispering the same name over and over.

The name he heard just a half hour ago.

So he speaks up.

“Father, I think I’m ready to really train,” he says. “I really wanna be in the Royal Guard.”

Father laughs.

Mother, beneath her black veil, stays quiet.

>> Continue reading on AO3

[rindragon-from-twewy]

Context: Ok so as a mentally ill writer/artist with mild sleeping issues, I tend to have very complex dreams often with somewhat understandable plot lines. I just woke up from my first ever dream like this featuring raincode characters and I need to share my highlights cuz it's wack-

1: Kanai Ward had some sort of like... demon realm? You could go in to it and do things like black market trades with strange creatures who'd kill you if they figured out you're human. Unfortunately sometimes it was important to go there for investigations so Yakou would go instead since as a Kanai Ward resident, he had more experience with it. The other detectives, of course, would just go right in without a care anyways despite being told not to.

2: Halara is bad at art. Like they try to draw and it's all children's scribbles. They're very embarrassed by it cuz they really do put their best effort in to everything but art just isn't their thing.

3: On the contrary though, Desuhiko and Fubuki are great at drawing but both have pretty distinct styles. I unfortunately can't remember what they looked like so even though they're wrong, I'll quickly make something up; Fubuki draws like a renesaunce artist but doesn't realise how good she actually is and Desuhiko has a strange combination between punk collage work and that stereotypical french fashion design art style

4: At one point they all went to my local ice cream shop and fit in really well with the aesthetic cuz it's all glowy and purple- next time I'm there I wanna take pics of empty booths so I can draw them in now-

5: At one point everyone went looking for a container of some sort. I think it had something to do with Desuhiko's forte? Maybe he lost his bag? I'm not sure. Either way, they were in some kind of antique shop looking at wicker baskets and stuff until they suddenly found a section full of small wooden coffins and caskets. He tapped at one, saying that it wasn't the right kind of wood that was needed and then it got flipped over to reveal golden etched writing on the back of basically what's written on a tomb stone. This meant that all the coffins and caskets were obtained via graverobbing (somehow-)

I don't think any of this had any deeper meaning to it- I find that the only dreams I have that have meanings are ones set in my real life where things featuring characters and stuff is just to give me fic/fanart/headcanon inspo- :3

[tuttle-did-it]

(a rant about Star Trek: Picard)

So I just watched an episode of The Ray Bradbury Theatre (S.2, e11), 'There was an Old Woman.' It aired in May of 1988.

In this episode, an old woman, Tildy, played by Mary Morris, is surprised when men come into her house with a wicker basket that is the general shape of a coffin. There's a strange man who is completely silent. Tildy talks to him, yells at him and eventually tells all the men to get out of her house.

Turns out, predictably, they've come to collect her body and she is dead. The silent man is obviously Death, and he seems to respect the fact that she's spent all this time yelling at him because he eventually just puts his hat on and leaves.

For 30 minutes, this 70+ woman essentially monologues about her life. How she had refused to marry, how she had refused to have children. How she had raised her sister's daughter (and loved her) when she died. How she had never compromised her needs and wants for men. And how proud she was of all of this.

In the end, Tildy screams at the men at the funeral parlour to give her back possession of her own body. Confused, they agree. She gets back into her body, and goes back to her house.

Tildy was the primary focus for the entire show. Her needs, wants and desires were paramount. Sometimes she talked about men, but most of the time, she talked about herself and her own life.

Tildy was allowed to be angry. She was allowed to be emotional. She was allowed to tell men to leave her space. Tildy demanded autonomy over her own body- she literally screamed at about 10 men and argued to get possession of her own body back. Tildy yelled at all the men to take her body back home, to pick her up and put her back over her body, and then SHE found a way on her own to take control back over herself. And then she kicked all the men out.

Raffi's entire storyline in season 3 has been Worf telling her to control herself and calm down, but Tildy, in 1988, was allowed to be angry and emotional the whole time.

Tildy, as a ghost, got more respect from all the men in the room than Shaw has shown Seven in every scene.

The final scene is her in her chair, Tildy happily muses that the coroner's sewing up of her chest during her autopsy was 'decent sewing, for a man.'

Tildy had more agency and identity in a show from 1988 than ANY of the women from Star Trek: Picard have had in season 3 in particular.

All I could think about when watching this was how much more progressive this episode was compared to what I've seen from Star Trek: Picard.

How, in Picard, they keep everyone (but especially the mature women) in dark corners so you can barely see their faces. Picard's age is one that feeds directly into the plot at various points- sometimes there are light-hearted jokes, but for the most part, we're encouraged to relate and understand what life is like for man 'past his prime'.

Where is this discussion of age for Crusher? For Troi? For Laris (remember she exists?)? For any of the women? Riker gets to complain that his knees are shot- where's Crusher talking about her shoulder replacement? Oh, wait, that's right- Crusher's barely allowed to speak. Instead, she has to have long meaningful glances. And Gates does this amazingly well, but the men are allowed to monologue whilst the women are stuck in dark gloomy corners with ~meaningful glances~.

Tildy had her own unique storyline and identity that had nothing to do with the needs, wants and trauma of all the men around them. Because Seven, Crusher and Troi in particular have each been denied independent storylines, forced instead to orbit the men and mitigate the men's trauma and stories. Even Sidney's plot revolves around Daddy issues and a love interest with Picard's son.

And all I could think was how sad it was that this 70+ year old woman had more agency and identity in a show from 1988 than ANY of the women from Star Trek: Picard have had in season 3 in particular.

How we're allowed to SEE her -- LOOK at these lines.

Picard keeps all of their characters, but especially the ~women of a certain age~ in dark shadows. Gates McFadden literally said that she couldn't even see Patrick Stewart during filming for their scenes.

The saddest thing is, this episode from 1988 is not that groundbreaking; rather, it's just that Picard is that much of a failure when it comes to women.

In DS9, they gave Keiko her own storyline, and she wasn't even a main character. They gave Grilka her own storyline and she was in two episodes. So why can't Picard bother to give Seven something more to do than sit there and listen to abuse from Shaw and trauma-dumping from Picard and Jack? Oh, and wax lyrical nostalgia. Not enough.

And this isn't just a Star Trek: Picard thing. Yes, hands down, TOS was awful toward women and rarely let women even speak to each other. TNG only let Crusher and Troi talk to each other when it was about men and they were in leotards. But by the time they reached DS9, things were better. Kira is allowed to be angry when we meet her- and she stays angry for a long time. There are storylines about her anger. Keiko hates DS9. She's allowed to have a storyline about that. And for Voyager, Janeway has plenty of chats with B'Elanna, Kes and Seven that are not about men. B'Elanna is, like Kira, allowed to be angry (though VOY often takes a step backward saying that she is 'out of control' with her emotions-- notice the white woman (Kira) is allowed to be angry, but the woman of colour (B'Elanna,) is out of control. Some racial bias there, I think). Janeway is allowed to be occasionally batshit crazy, and that's okay.

Point is, by the time DS9 and VOY came on, they figured out that it was okay to have women as a focus for a story, and they were allowed to have their stories and plots and identities and needs and wants and mistakes of their own. There was room for improvement, but it was the 90s and it was better than TNG. Kira and Dax were allowed to be together to talk about nothing significant. They did this well on DS9, and although they could have done better on Voyager, the women were still autonomous and had their own identities.

So if Janeway, B'Elanna and Kira were allowed to be angry and emotional more than 2 decades ago, why is Raffi is treated as defective for her emotions? Why is she treated as a time-bomb who can't be controlled-- who is so out of control, by the way, that they have to separate her and Seven?

Dax (and Evil Kira!) are allowed to have romantic relationships with women and a career at the same time- something Seven and Raffi are not allowed to do because Matalas doesn't think you can have both simultaneously.

Star Trek: Picard has NO EXCUSE.

Gates McFadden, Jeri Ryan, Michelle Hurd, Michelle Forbes, Marina Sirtis and Ashlei Sharpe Chestnut have done amazingly well with the tiny crumbs they've been given this season. They've managed to make what are completely forgettable and insignificant moments realised just through brilliant acting- to move their characters beyond what few bits there are for them on the page. They deserve so much more than to only exist in order to further the needs and wants of the men in the show, and to give the men a sounding board to process their trauma.

But here's what I'm asking myself...

WHY IS AN EPISODE FROM A SHOW FROM 35 YEARS AGO MORE PROGRESSIVE IN ITS DEPICTION OF WOMEN THAN STAR TREK: PICARD?

In conclusion... tl;dr

The petrol of Nostalgia that this show [Picard] is currently running on is not enough because the very era they're being nostalgic about was more progressive than the current show.

[silverhyenaart]

Hey, a day late, I know, but here's just a cute romantic expert from Out of the Shadows, Chapter 6 to be exact. Just a super cute romantic moment with Jack and Sally.

* * *

Meanwhile, back at Skellington Manor, Jack waited patiently in the parlor for his beloved to get ready. Well, perhaps "patiently" wasn't quite the right word. More like pacing back and fourth, checking to make sure that he had the ring box in his suit pocket for the thousandth time, and picking out the exact right words to say. A black wicker picnic basket waited on the coffin-shaped coffee table, having been carefully packed up with tantalizing goodies earlier.

The Pumpkin King had chosen to dress in his black 'Phantom Suit', as Sally liked to call it, wanting to look his absolute best for such an important night. During his anxious pacing, going over and over again in his head about just how he was going to "pop the question", Jack's eye sockets fell on the Dragon's Claw resting on the mantle.

"Hmmmmmm," the skeleton mused, with a light chuckle, "well, I've got the cloak."

Experimentally, he equipped the knife at his side, covering it with his elegant black and purple cloak. Honestly, it looked pretty good with his suit! Why the heck not? It was a special occasion, afterall.

"Alright, Jack. Focus... you can do this," Jack whispered to himself, taking in a deep breath, "you've come this far, Jack. Oh, do I love her. I love her more than death itself."

He reached into his pocket, withdrawing his silver pumpkin-shaped pocket watch and checked the time. Nearly 6:30pm. Perfect! Night had fallen outside. However, before snapping it closed, Jack took a moment to read the inscription written inside, 'We'll be Together, Now and Forever.' Tears welled in his empty eye sockets as he smiled softly. Sally had gifted him this watch on their first anniversary, atop Spiral Hill where they shared their first kiss. Now, Jack intended to give her the greatest, most heartfelt gift that he ever had in his death.

"Jack," Sally called from the stairwell, "I... ummm... I'm ready."

At once, the Pumpkin King straightened up attention, his undead heart hammering against his ribcage as he snapped his pocket watch closed. If it was possible for his eye sockets to get any wider, they did. Sally stopped at the landing, a shy smile on her face. Instead of her usual dress of mismatched, patchwork rags, she wore an elegant evening gown of black and purple, (specifically designed to match with the suit Jack had worn this evening.) Her hair, still worn long, had small black thistles and roses weaved into it. Around her neck was a simple silver pendant in the shape of a cat's head. Finally, a purple silk shawl gently draped across both of her arms.

"Well... ummm, w-what do you think, my love?" questioned the ragdoll, pulling her shawl more firmly around herself.

It was no secret that Sally had come from humble origins. Created by Dr. Finkelstein as a mere servant. Meant to clean, cook, and attend to her master's every whim. Yet, despite her current standing, being on the arm of the king, she had always maintained her humility. Now, the story of one of royal heritage falling in love with a commoner was nothing new. But as the mighty Pumpkin King had discovered on that one fateful Christmas Eve, there was absolutely nothing "common" about Sally. And tonight, she truly looked like the queen she was soon to be.

"My dearest friend, you're absolutely ravishing this evening!" Jack answered, taking her dainty hand gently in his slender fingers.

He bowed gracefully and kissed her hand, causing Sally to giggle and her cheeks to blush. The ragdoll couldn't hold it in any more, lest she burst at the seams, "I-I must say, Jack, you look... devastatingly dashing."

The Pumpkin King's chest puffed out just a little further as he offered Sally his arm. Graciously, she accepted, already feeling the butterflies fluttering wildly in her stomach. There was something just... a little bit different about Jack tonight, but she couldn't quite place it.

* * *

If you're curious about the whole story, here is the link.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52154395/chapters/131915893

Honestly, I love this bit. I mean, all of the "fanciness" and getting to dress up like a queen... it might be a little unsettling to someone like Sally. And, let's be honest... no matter if you're the King of a mystical realm or Joe Average, proposing is scary!!

[streamofuncertainty]

I’m dressed in a wool casket,

Thanks to the things we’ve forgotten,

A weaving for the wicker basket,

And slippers made of wooden coffins,

So just get off my back step,

I’ve got some earth to soften.

[buzz-london]

Coffin made from cane / wicker basket 

[virgofunerals]

How To Arrange An Eco-Friendly Funeral?

Increasingly, people are thinking about the impact that their funerals will have on the environment. The good news is that you can make your final farewell more environmentally friendly in a few straightforward ways. Here are some options that you can explore. 

Reduce The Amount Of Paper You Are Using

One of the easiest options is to send out digital invitations, rather than printing and mailing them to guests. This will reduce the amount of paper and ink used. It will also lower emissions, as you won’t need to use cars and trucks to distribute the invitations. It’s common to create service programs. You can use recycled paper when you are doing this. Or you can create a digital program, showing it on a tablet. If you prefer, you can write it on the blackboard at the entrance to the funeral venue. 

Locally Sourcing Food

It’s common to have a wake after the funeral. This is a chance to talk with friends and family in a more relaxed atmosphere. During this time, it’s common for some food to be served. It’s best to choose a local caterer, who works with local growers. This reduces the number of emissions associated with transporting the food. It’s a good idea to use paper plates. These can be recycled at the end of the service. You can use plastic containers, so you can save any food that isn’t eaten during the wake. 

Choosing Local Flowers

Flowers play an important role in funeral services in Kingaroy. They can be used to add warmth to the funeral venue and pay respects to your loved one. When you are sourcing flowers, it’s best to choose a local grower, to reduce the emissions associated with transport. Another option is to ask mourners to pick flowers from their backyard to bring to the service. If you prefer, you can ask for a donation in place of flowers. The money raised can be donated to your loved one’s favorite environmental charity. 

Limiting Emissions From Vehicles

One of the biggest sources of emissions during a funeral ceremony will be vehicles. Because of this, you might want to consider asking guests to carpool. Alternatively, you can consider asking people to take public transport or arranging a bus to pick up mourners.  

Selecting A Biodegradable Coffin

When you are making a funeral arrangement in Kingaroy, there will be a wide range of coffins for you to choose from. It’s best to choose one that will be made from natural materials. As a result, it will biodegrade naturally. For example, you might want to select a wicker basket. Your funeral director can assist you in making an environmentally friendly selection. 

Offsetting Emissions With A Memorial Tree

Inevitably, there will be some emissions released during the funeral service. A memorial tree can allow you to offset emissions, absorbing greenhouse gases as it grows. It can also provide a place for you to go and reflect on the life of your loved one. 

Conclusion

Several minor alterations can be made to create a beautiful final farewell. This service will be a heartfelt farewell for your loved one while having a minimal impact on the planet. 

[stevenmitchell]

Wicker coffins are natural and biodegradable. It comprises environment-friendly fabrics, thus making them suitable for all types of funeral service and cremation. Visit our online store to buy wicker coffins and know more about delivery options.

[applebutterfemme]

ok so like, i'm not tryna d*e any time soon, but i fell down a rabbit hole and:

who gave eco friendly coffins the right to be so cute?? like, you are not simply being put into the ground, no no. you are being given to the earth like a present in a little wicker basket. love it.

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Any ideas for my baby's gender reveal party? The more violent, dramatic, and environmentally destructive it is, the better. I wanna make sure this trends on social media and results in at least 3 deaths.

If my baby will be a vampire, it should be in an open coffin and left out on the front stoop in the full moon. I should take out the casket and cover the baby with silver makeup to avoid a vampire hunt.

If my baby will be a fairy, it should be in a wicker basket on a porch on a hot summer day when the smell of roses permeates the surrounding air.

[creativerogues]

1d20 Hag Chariots & Hag Vehicles...

A gigantic flying Horse skull.

A Giant Hummingbird.

The hollowed out eggshell of a Roc.

An Animated Bathtub that walks using Spider legs!

A magically preserved chunk of a rune-covered Iceberg.

An enormous metal thimble.

An overly large mortar and pestle.

The spoon from a Storm Giant’s soup bowl.

An over-sized and animated garden gnome.

An empty coffin.

A huge bird's nest.

A wicker basket carried by an elven knight.

A magic broom.

A blanket made out of a Griffin’s bladder.

A banana peal.

The helm of an Iron Golem.

The taxidermized hand of a Giant.

A human-sized child's doll.

A giant smoking pipe filled with foul-smelling burnt herbs.

An enormous jagged stone knife, which the hag rides like a surfboard.

This Post was made possible thanks to the contributions of our Discord Community!

[comparethecoffin]

Handcrafted coffins like basket and wicker can reflect the shape of the body and character of the person. Visit us to choose one from a wide range we offer.

[sunbluethinking]

The finished cookie project!

Vanilla meringues, oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, and spiced snickerdoodles for Dorian, Orym, and Fearne respectively.

Lemon ricotta cookies for Imogen and whoopie pies for Laudna.

Honey crinkle cookies for Ashton and iced sugar cookies for FCG.

Finally, thumbprint jammers for Chetney and a coffin full of Werther's peppermint palmiers for Bertrand.

(Photo description beneath cut.)

[Photo ID: First photo has a roughly rectangular crystal dish with a gradient of blue swirled macarons with yellow sugar on top. The dish and one lone meringue are sitting on purple paper with yellow and silver origami paper in the background.

Second photo has several oatmeal cookies with a few miniature chocolate chips visible. The round container they are in is covered by a olive and burgundy plaid cloth and is sitting on a white cloth.

Third photo has a small wicker basket with handles, surrounded by several colorful ribbons. The basket is lined with a bright red cloth and contains a number of snickerdoodle cookies.

Fourth photo has five lemon ricotta cookies, which are pale yellow and slightly lumpy, with zig zags of purple icing on top. Three are on a small clear plate, and two are on the paper napkin which is also under the plate. Under all of that is a blue cloth.

Fifth photo has a small pyramid of four whoopie pies on a jade green and black plate. The plate is on a white cloth with a fringe and a small blue stripe.

Sixth photo has a tall white bowl with a crack in it, sitting on a bright red piece of folded tissue paper and surrounded by smooth rocks, one of which is a small tumbled purple rock. In the bowl are several honey crinkle cookies, which have cracks in the top.

Seventh photo has a small metal tray of circle shaped and slightly flower-shaped sugar cookies. The sugar cookies are mostly iced with yellow frosting, but three of the flower shaped ones have blue icing. In the center of the tray is one larger circle cookie, which has FCG's logo of four blades of grass in brown icing.

Eighth photo has a very rounded wooded bowl made of darker wood, sitting on top of a lighter colored wooden coaster. Inside the bowl are a couple slightly lumpy shortbread cookies with red jam filling the indents in the middle of the cookies.

Ninth photo has a small china plate with pale blue flowers around the edge. The plate is on a navy cloth with a slightly shiny diamond pattern. On the plate are four whole cookies in a small pyramid and one broken cookie on the side. The cookies are spirals of light brown dough with a dark pink filling.]

[azusawrites]

chapter IX. Charming Lights

excerpt.

“Remember,” Kore said as she harshly tugged on the carrot’s leaves. It came out with some effort, caked in dirt and a few worms, and she shook it slightly to remove the excess. A clump flew right through Onion, hitting the ground a few feet behind him, as he gave out a small chuckle. “I just want you to keep him busy. Not actually hurt him. Have him run around for a while until he gets tired, or something. Exercise will do him good. He’s been getting kinda pudgy lately…”

She thought back to the night before, when Grim performed a great dive on the bed and landed on her stomach so hard she was sure yesterday’s lunch might come sprawling out. It did not come to that, luckily. But she had to push him onto the pillow, still fuming and irate, and turn on her side to massage it until it calmed down. This morning she did not have much of an appetite.

“You know, blondie,” Onion said. “If you’re so worried about him, why not take him with you?”

“I can’t do that. He’s still sore about the fact that I didn’t take him to the school like I promised him.”

The dive was confirmation enough. Another nail in the coffin that would soon turn out to be their slowly decaying relationship. Kore wasn’t sure how to deal with this sort of situation. She’d never had a fight with anybody other than Theo, mostly on account that there was nobody else to be fighting with and reindeer were not yet capable of speech as she had hoped they would be. And fights with Theo were an altogether different affair too, one that involved more groaning and dissecting their problems into minute details that eventually became too overwhelming to handle. Kore did not have that innate drive to be argumentative, and she took things too much to heart when perhaps they should not have been taken in the first place.

That she was just a child, she understood.

That the world was rough and scary, she did as well.

That the minute she walked out the door, things will go badly, in ways that should not be described, and she wouldn’t be able to deal with them because she was still the aforementioned child - now that she found difficult to understand.

And it was for no other reason than she hoped there was a lie in there somewhere that would nullify it all. But perhaps there wasn’t. Her first time outside the walls of the cabin had been proof enough, and for that, she would have to be reminded the rest of her life how incompetent she was without supervision. And without magic.

She put the worms beside the wicker basket, picking them up one by one. They wiggled in her grasp, coiled and uncoiled, then slithered across the ground in random directions. Some buried themselves in the ground. Some tried to crawl onto the basket. When they’d reach beyond the plot that was her garden, fuelled by its magic, they’d most likely die from the cold. The nights had been getting chiller or at least so complained Grim. To Kore, it was not something to take note of. It was still September, and though the leaves had been falling and the wind had been blowing, sometimes carrying a nice, gentle feeling of content, Grim did not seem amenable to that.

“Oh, so you never went?”

Kore glanced at him. His grin did seem slightly more sinister than she remembered, so she pulled the basket closer to her and watched his hands carefully. “No. We were… intercepted on the way.”

“You met the hooligans already? That was fast! Hihihihihihihi!”

“It wasn’t my intention,” she insisted. “They just showed up out of the blue. And then wouldn’t leave. It was only two of them, so maybe I could have taken them on, but…”

The image of the pen flashed across her mind. The other one, Mastermind, had a pen as well. She knew from Theo that fights in this place were settled with fists - he complained about it so often, Kore suggested that maybe he should start a fight club to calm them down. He did not take the suggestion well. It would incite the spirits too much, he said. Reaching over, he flashed the light in her other eye, until that characteristic sheen was there again. Then he noted something down in those papers of his and the subject was dropped.

It was not much. Barely two sentences, but Kore figured out there really was no other way to think of things - if fights would get too rough, who could say they wouldn’t resort to magic to get their way? People often did just that, because it was the easiest path and generally people liked to take the easiest path.

Even she did.

AO3 LINK

taglist: @viskafrer, @ocfairygodmother, @chillableu

[steves-on-a-plane]

At The Start...

Words: 1625 Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader   Request: “Maybe a Bucky one. Where the girl is an office worker at the Stark compound and every time he sees her around he gets all clumsy and nervous but neither of you wants to make the first step. So maybe Nat and Steve take it in their hands and bring you two together? :)” - Anon Summary: Reader works in Human Resources for the Avengers, which means she gets to know everyone on the team pretty well. But there is a certain Sergeant that she’d like to know a little better.

“You boys just getting up?” Natasha asked Steve and Bucky as they walked into the kitchen. She wrapped her fingers around her coffee mug and waited for one of them to offer a snarky comment.

“It’s six in the morning.” Bucky commented after confirming the time on his watch. “I thought you’d be asleep or do you get until the last ray of sunlight shines through the window before you have to crawl back into your coffin?” Bucky teased. He indicated the purple-grey sunset visible through the kitchen window.

“Always good for a laugh, Barnes.” Nat smirked before bringing the mug to her lips. She was glad he’d been the one to take her up on her bait. Bucky was always good for some biting banter. “If you wanted to get a tattoo on your left arm would you paint it on or just stick a magnet to it?” She hid her smirk behind her lips.

“You know Romanoff, I was just about to make an omelette. I’d offer you one but I make them with garlic.” He winked.

“Vampire jokes the best you can do?” Nat raised an eyebrow at him. “I expected better from someone who’s almost a century old.” Bucky rolled his eyes. He picked up three oranges from the fruit bowl on the counter and began to juggle them.

“If it’s not broke, don’t fix it.” He shrugged.

“Ah, ancient wisdom from one of the two living fossils.” Nat smirked. “I’ve got to go wake Bruce.” She announced, getting up from her seat.

You walked into the compound kitchen, alerting everyone to your presence with the slight squeak of your sneakers. You weren’t an Avenger and you had no desire to become one. Technically speaking, you weren’t even on their payroll. You were a Stark Industries employee who was being outsourced to the Avengers HR department. Actually, you were the entire Avenger’s human resources department.

“Morning everyone!” You greeted them cheerily. The soft thud of an orange hitting the floor followed by another and another was the first response you received. This caused Steve, who’d been hunting for ingredients in the fridge, to turn around. “I come bearing gifts.” You said holding up two paper paychecks. One was addressed to Steve and the other to Bucky.

“You two still get physical paychecks?” Nat questioned. “Do you have bank accounts, or do you stuff all your money between your mattresses?”

“I keep mine in a plastic bank shaped like an eagle.” Steve joked back. “Thank you, [Y/N].” He accepted his paycheck from you and tucked into his back pocket. Bucky bent down to pic up the oranges he had dropped.

“You know if you like, I could help you both set up direct deposit so that the money goes directly to your bank accounts.” You offered.

“But if we did that you wouldn’t bring us our checks anymore, right?” Bucky asked. He struggled to hold all three oranges in his right hand. One of them rolled right out of his palm and back onto the floor.

“Right.” You agreed, bending down to pick up the mishandled fruit. “You wouldn’t have to chase me down on Fridays or have me interrupting your breakfast. You’d have your money ready right away. Maybe even as early as Thursdays.”

“I like things the way they are. If that’s okay?” Bucky deposited his two oranges back into the fruit bowl.

“Of course.” You smiled. “I work for you guys, so I’m happy to help however you need me to. It’s still a little early, so I’m gonna go take care of a few personal things, but if anyone needs me, I’ll be in my office all day from eight to five.” You set the orange you’d picked up down on the counter and started walking out of the kitchen.

“Hey, [Y/N]?” Bucky called out to you. You looked back at him and nodded so he knew you were listening. “Do you think you might want to…I mean if you’re free later…” He was stumbled over his words and seemed to be having trouble finishing his sentence. “Could you look at my pay stub with me later and make sure my overtime was recorded correctly?”

“Uh, sure Bucky.” You agreed, not sure why he was so nervous to ask you. Maybe he worried you’d be insulted? But you both knew overtime hours were reported through the automated computer system so if his paycheck was wrong it wouldn’t be through any error of yours. “I’m free all day. Come by whenever you can, okay?” With that you walked out of the kitchen.

“What the heck was that?” Nat asked. She watched Bucky drop the oranges again as he buried his face in his hands.

“Bucky is in love with [Y/N].” Steve explained, igniting the burner on the stove and cracking a few eggs into a frying Pan.

“I’m not in love with her.” Bucky argued from behind his hands. He sighed before bending down to pick up the oranges again. “I just… I’d like to get to know her better. She’s sweet and smart.”

“Well have you ever asked her out on a date?” Nat questioned.

“A date?” Steve laughed. “You see him. He can’t even formulate a sentence around her.”

“Then we’ll just have to help.” Nat told him.

Two hours later you were exactly where you said you’d be, working in your office. Nat stepped in. She smirked, eager to get her plan in motion.

“Hey [Y/N], you free for lunch this afternoon?” She asked, leaning against the counter.

“Uh, yeah I should be. Let me just check my schedule.” You reached for the planner on your desk and riffled through to the correct date. “I’m free at a bird.” You told her.

“Great!” She replied, a little too excited. “Remind me again, your boyfriend, what’s his name?”

“Very funny.” You rolled your eyes. “Have you come all the way here just to tease me? You know I’m not dating anyone.”

“No.” Nat acted insulted. “I came to invite my friend to lunch and maybe ask a few more questions. Like if you’re not dating anyone, how come you’ve never asked Bucky on a date?”

“Why haven’t I…? I mean I can’t just…” You stammered. “I’m sure I’m not his type. Now, any other non-work related questions you have, you can ask me at lunch. I have a lot of work to do.”

“You just said your schedule was empty.” She reminded you. “I’m leaving anyway. Meet me in the garden at twelve.” She invited before leaving the room.

It wasn’t unusual for the Avengers to invite you to social engagements. In fact, Steve often insisted you join in on his mandatory team building game and Tony would invite you to all of his best parties. You’re part of our team. They always said. But you couldn’t help feeling like Natasha had a little more planned than some friends bonding over brunch. Still weary of her true intentions, you arrived at the compound’s garden on time. You wandered around for a bit admiring the perennial flowers. You noted that the daylilies in particular were a beautiful pigment of orange. You rounded a corner and came upon a table neatly set for a picnic.

The small round table for two was covered with a white tablecloth. A wicker picnic basket was set on top. Two wine glasses were set out with two matching plates. The basket was packed with sandwiches, chips, cheese, crackers and grapes.

“It’s a bit too much isn’t it?” Bucky asked as he approached the table from another path. “I asked them to do something simple. Should have known, Rogers doesn’t know how to do anything simple.”

“Too much for what exactly?” You questioned him.

“[Y/N]! There you are!” Natasha and Steve both appeared behind you on the trail you’d just come from. You turned around to face them, confused. “Now don’t be mad, but I knew you’d never agree to come if I told you the truth.”

“The truth about what?” You asked her impatiently.

“I-I asked them to set this up.” Bucky confessed. You looked back over your shoulder at him. “The truth is [Y/N], I’m crazy about you and I’ve been wanting to ask you out on a date since, well, since I first met you. I Don’t know what it is but for some reason whenever I’m around you I’m suddenly really clumsy and my words get scrabbled and I wasn’t even sure you would like me.”

“Bucky why wouldn’t I like you?” You wondered.

“So many reasons.” He laughed. You looked back over at Steve and Nat.

“You two can go.” You told them. “And thank you, for helping us. Obviously neither one of us were brave enough to set this up on our own.”

“You kids behave yourselves, alright?” Nat instructed with a wink.

“Take all the time you need.” Steve said. “The two of you deserve some alone time.” Bucky waited until they were gone before he spoke again.

“I’m sorry again, it seems like Nat lied a bit to get you here.” Bucky apologized.

“Only because like she said, I would have told her no. Not because I’m not into you!” You promised. “Actually quite the opposite. Until about three seconds ago I thought you couldn’t stand me. I thought you were always so quiet around me because you didn’t think I was worth your time.”

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing Romanoff and Rogers talked me into this picnic then.” He smirked. “Will you stay and have lunch with me? And then maybe if things go well, I can take you on a real date later tonight?”

“I’d like that very much.” You smiled back.