#Grandmum's the Word

[spongebobsoundtrack]

Fredric Bayco - Epic Struggle Plays in:

SpongeBob SquarePants

43b. "The Bully" 

45b. "Doing Time" 

113b. "The Card"

139a. "Gramma's Secret Recipe"

228b. "Grandmum's the Word"

233b. "Krusty Kleaners"

235a. "Plankton Paranoia"

252a. "Mind the Gap"

Kamp Koral: SpongeBob's Under Years

11a. "Wise Kraken" 

25b. "Scaredy Squirrel"

[patricksexylegs]

SpongeBob: Ooo, I think someone has a not-so-secret admirer!

Lol, it’s literally you.

[the-chumbucket]

How quickly Krabs acquiesced to Plankton temporarily running the Krusty Krab in “Grandmum’s the Word”…❤️☺️ and how he continued to help Plankton maintain his charade, even though he quite easily could’ve said no to it all. 😭

[leclsrc]

hi auds bear!! dunno if you saw charles' insta story of his new sky ad but now begging for a 2k celebration blurb of dad!charles <3

misspelled – cl16

genre: fluff, 2k celebration, girldad!charles

“It’s L-E-S, love.” He points to the piece of paper peppered with doodles. “Go ahead for me.”

The sun is high and sweltering, with noontime March heat, but still Charles is undeterred in his quest to get your daughter to spell his name properly. The evening prior, you’d presented him with a welcome home card signed by her, and addressed to Daddy Charlse—cue the Leclerc dramatics.

He’d pressed about a thousand kisses to her tiny face, thanking her over and over and keeping the card in his bag so they could cook dinner together. But once the pasta was finished and the toothbrush jingle was sang (twice) and he’d stowed her off to bed (three storybooks later), he padded over to your bed and sighed lowly, stopping just shy of the foot of it. Already you’d sensed his incoming anxious complaint.

It comes. “So. Charl-s-e.” 

“She’s four, honey.” You’d shut your book softly, smiling. “She spells her grandmum’s name as Packal.”

“It’s because I’m always out for work, isn’t it?” He climbed into bed beside you, perching his chin on your stomach. “And this is also because Max keeps insisting he babysit, sweetie. I swear, he’s brainwashing my baby girl.”

You laughed; the vibration extended into him and he smiled fondly at your reaction. “Charles, it’s nothing. They’re working on spelling at school, you know—she’s got a few words she gets wrong sometimes, the same ones. But she’s learning.”

“Charl-s-e,” he’d repeated sullenly. “Charl-seh.”

“If it matters that much, why don’t you try teaching her tomorrow?” You swept your hand through his hair, mouth in a half-smile. “Make an afternoon of it.”

He’d taken your advice very seriously—woken up a bit earlier, cooked them both pancakes (and you French toast, as always) and led her into the yard for some daddy-daughter time. “If you’re thirsty, I made lemonade,” you sing-song from the patio door. “You two’ve been at it for a bit.”

There are scrapped pieces of paper with his name misspelled on most of them—there is the occasional success, though you’re guessing Charles wants just one more—and drawings of your family all over them. You already sense the influx of pictures Charles has on his phone, of these drawings and cards he always posts on his Instagram or sends to you.

At your announcement, Julia looks up, green eyes piqued with interest, grip on the red crayon loosening. But her father’s faster, gently coaxing her back into the mini lawn chair that sits on the yard. She nods along his careful instructions, writing slowly, sun filtering through her light brown hair.

You get short moments of reprieve like this during the season. It’s rare for Charles to visit if he’s in the thick of it—most of the time you travel to a different city to see him, Julia going from your hip to his arms in seconds once he spots the two of you. But this moment is irreplaceable: the sunrays on the grass, the lemonade waiting to be drank, the pieces of paper with Mommy and Papa, bunchfuls of grapes on the patio table. 

He tries again. “Come on, love. C-H-A…” 

She bounds into the kitchen five minutes clutching a final paper, which she shows you with a sun-tinged face of pride. CHARLSE, it reads still. You pour her a glass, wait for Charles to finish packing up the rest of the art materials Julia was too excited to do herself; he comes in a bit sweaty from the sun asking to see the card.

You hand him a glass and press a kiss to his cheek. “Still S-E,” you say, both of you reading over the various scribbles.

“I don’t care.” He pauses. “You see this?” He points to the lower part of the page. 

Best Daddy Ever is written on it in wild vivid colors. You beam, love bubbling up in your chest overwhelmingly. He takes it from you and tacks it onto on the fridge, smiling. “She wrote that. I couldn’t have asked for a better card.” 

[fishnets-fingers]

Underneath the Stars

“So, accept defeat,” he urges.

“Fine. Tell me where the alpha centauri is,” she demands.

“What would my compensation be?”

“How about not making you walk the plank at dawn,” she scoffs.

 “You drive a hard bargain, Princess. I was thinking less along the lines of not drowning and more along the lines of this,” he mutters as his hands reach to cup her full cheeks. They are warm under his palms, even against the biting gust, his thumb moves to caress her pillowy lips, eyes flicking down to her mouth landing on the crescent birthmark by her chin.

PAIRING - spy!harry x princess!y/n

a/n -  i wrote so much. so, i’ve decided to split it into two parts. i made a banner for forbidden hours and it took me a lot longer than anticipated but i think it tured out great. as always, like and reblog. feed back is not only appreciated but much welcome. happy reading!

Word Count - 6.2k (not proofread) 

MASTERPOST | MASTERLIST

….

நீள்பயணம். Voyage. News had spread far and wide across the expanse of the empire about the Princess’ journey far East. Throngs of people gathered on the docks to bid farewell to her and scream out wishes of luck and fortune. It was a busy day, filled with fanfare from the subjects, priests blessing the vessel and ministers of court spewing out strategies whilst handing bundles of parchment of the meticulously crafted plans. 

A journey always stirred up feelings of unbridled joy, especially since the aim of this particular voyage is to draw up a treaty with Handuman - three small islands that lie smack in the middle of a crucial trade route between the Cholas and Burmese. A tiny island kingdom that was a thorn on Y/N’s side for the past year; with news of shipment from Burma being pillaged and sabotaged at sea constantly thwarting her plans of bringing components of machinery to assemble aiding with agriculture. She put together a counsel which oversaw striking a peaceful agreement that would mutually benefit both nations, a long drawn process of negotiations with a vacillating King that finally culminated to this day.

A day where she set sail on a three week journey to visit the islands, attend a ball hosted in her honour, and cap it off with signing the treaty. Needless to say the kingdom was ecstatic with the promise of the Princess Royal bringing more riches into the land. All of Y/N’s voyages to neighbouring kingdoms resulted in astounding successes, so people did have a shred of doubt that this one would go south. At the break of dawn, the majestic vessel was filled with her entourage - guards, a trade minister, the guard captain who was responsible for her safety, the sail crew, two of her handmaidens, and her lady-in-waiting, Shobhita.

Shobhita has been by Y/N’s side since they were partnered together for dance lessons fifteen years ago. As kids, Y/N took it upon herself to teach her how to conduct herself properly in court. Despite not liking the bossy Princess Royal, things took a turn for Shobhita when some children of nobility made fun of her lineage - going so far as to calling her ‘murky blood.’ She had light blue irises and hair the colour of sticky toffee - resembling her overseas mother, far different from what everyone else looked like and that made her an easy target. Though Y/N was not around for the name calling, she personally gave the other kids a stern talking, going so far as shoving one them and getting confined to her quarters by the Queen Mother. The two have been thick as thieves ever since. 

“Remember Y/N, you are representing our Dynasty from the second you dock there until you set sail,” the Queen Mother starts. 

“I know. I know, grandmum. Best behaviour and all,” Y/N rolls her eyes. 

“You know better than to roll your eyes at me?!?” The older woman narrows her eyes in warning. 

“Have I not conducted myself well on my trips so far?”

“I’m not saying that you haven’t, but be wary. I’ve heard nothing but vile things about the Prince of Handuman. I’ve seen to it that your guards have been doubled.”

“Is that why I’m going there alone without any advisors? You know I can take care of myself-“

“I know you can,” the Queen Mother interrupts her. “Keep an eye out on all our girls.” She whispers, taking her palm in her hands and gives it a warm squeeze, before walking towards the chief. 

When she gets a minute to herself, Y/N turns away from the enthusiastic crowd, gripping on to a wooden mast, she closes her eyes, picturing her garden. The patch of flowering shrub - right by her reading bench - which attracted the prettiest of blue butterflies. She feels the tightness in her shoulders ebb away, only to have it disrupted when she feels someone pull on her braid. She flicks her head around in annoyance to find her little brother sheepishly looking at her. 

“What do you want?”

“You’re sleeping standing up,” Karthi notes. 

“I was not. I was trying to relax,” she sighs. 

“I’m sure that the vast blue of the water is relaxing enough. Never knowing what’s under the thousands of leagues under the sea. Maybe there’s a giant fish with razor sharp teeth as long as the mountains waiting to capsize the boat. Shame, won’t even know it’s coming in the dark of the night with nothing but pitch black in the horizon-“

“Shut up, Karthi!”

“Calm down,” he throws his hands over her shoulder, pulling her into his side. “You really think Dad is gonna let that happen to his favourite child. There’s no way this voyage was approved by him without contingencies for every single thing that could go wrong. He’s not gonna let the people’s Princess get lost at sea.”

“I appreciate you trying but it’s not helping. Why are you still here anyway? Didn’t Dad want you at the capital yesterday?”

“It can wait,” he shrugs it off. “I’m not going to leave without saying goodbye to my favourite sister.” He bends down to engulf his big sister in a hug. 

“I’m your only sister,” she chuckles, swatting him away. “In other words you hung around for morsels of attention from Shobhita.”

“Give me some credit!” He says feigning being wounded. “I brushed my hand against her arm,” he whispers, pointing to his left palm. 

Y/N shakes her head at the smirk that tugged at the corner of her little brother’s lips. They’ve had a crush on each other from when they were both old enough to understand what that meant. Being the daughter of a vassal king, who happened to be close friends with her father, it was agreed upon by the elders that Shobhita and Karthi were to wed. Though Shobhita was a Princess of a small hilly region in the dynasty, it was thought best by the parents to have her grow up in the palace and serve with Y/N as her lady-in-waiting to learn the ropes of handing the responsibilities that would fall on her shoulders once she married. 

Right as Y/N was going to say something witty, their attention was pulled to the commotion at the gangplank. When Y/N peers over she sees Harry hold up his royal seal to the guards before lugging up his things. 

“What’s he doing here?” Y/N asks her grandmother, but finds the Queen Mother cluelessly staring at her grandchildren. 

“Your majesties,” Harry bows, and wordlessly hands the Queen Mother’s guard the parchment before it’s passed to the old woman. 

His eyes flit over to Y/N with a small smile tugging but he finds her pointedly staring over his shoulder with a scowl. He frowns, did she forget our time at the docks? The last time he saw her was filled with fiery passionate kisses and sweet nothings. He didn’t expect the Princess Royal to throw herself at him in front of everyone but was he not warranted a polite smile. 

“It’s from your brother,” the Queen Mother tells the siblings. “Looks like Harry over here would also be travelling with you.”

“What? Why?” Y/N asks, dreading the thought of being locked in close quarters with the spy. 

“He wants Harry to accompany you and be added to oversee your guard detail along with the chief.”

“But that makes no sense, he’s hardly a guard,” she protests. 

“That’s quite true, Princess but I do know a thing or two about fighting. The Crown Prince wants you to be protected, that-“

“I do not require your protection, Mister Styles,” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“The Crown Prince has spoken. His reasons are clear,” the Queen Mother tells Y/N firmly, handing her the parchment. “Harry Styles will be accompanying you.”

////

The texts spoke of the majestic wonders of the sea in all its boundless beauty, sailors talked about the vast bodies of water being their companion; the sea was glorified by almost everyone Y/N had met and even by herself - she’d allow herself to stand at the edge of the shoreline and daydream about what life on the other side of the water looked like. There was immeasurable poetry that was either written at sea or took place at sea, but what none of them talked about was what it did to your psyche. Four days of constantly bobbing about the tides, with nothing around but endless blue and a blanket of darkness at nightfall, not to mention the terrifying sounds that accompanied no visibility. She missed the feel of the earth beneath her feet, the smell of her freshly watered gardens, the buzz of bees, birdsong, the vivid colours of her flowers against the green.

She brushed them aside as champagne problems for the first two days but the confines of close quarters were slowly creeping up on her. It didn’t help that she was avoiding Harry on top of all this, so she’d holed herself up in her room with Shobhita working on a project for the gala that’s being thrown in her honour. That’s how she found herself standing at the stern, hands clasped firmly on the wooden banister, at an odd hour in the night. She had her eyes closed, not that it made much of a difference in pitch darkness as she felt the wind against her face. It was eerily quiet, yet noisy as the vessel zipped through the tides, and everytime she flicked her eyes open she would only stare into the vast expanse of the hazy abyss. An insidious fear crept in which made her bones tremble about the nightmarish creatures that would leap out from the water at any moment.

“Careful there, Princess, any more harder and you might splinter the wood,” Harry’s voice cuts through the silence, the teasing apparent in the undercurrent of his tone.

She blinks down at her the way her knuckles have gone pale from gripping onto the wood. Sighing she turns her head to the side, to catch a sweet smile painted on his face as he bows spitting out the formalities. 

“Mister Styles,” she acknowledges him halfheartedly, turning her attention back to the abyss.

“Trouble sleeping?” He enquires, stepping forward but the guard captain steps out from the shadow, directly in front of him, blocking his path. Harry throws his arms up, pausing. “I don’t mean any trouble, Captain.”

“You may not approach her royal highness,” he warns, the captain towers over Harry.

“It’s alright, Captain. He may step closer,” Y/N says.

“Princess, no man is allowed in your vicinity without a chaperone,” the Captain reminds her, and it doesn’t escape Y/N, the way he flexes his mammoth muscles to intimidate the spy. 

“He is no ordinary man, remember. The Crown Prince has instated him to oversee my guard detail,” she points out. “I think it is time he took over the watch. I have kept you up for three nights now, and it’s high time you get some sleep. You may retire to your cabin for the night, Captain.” She smiles, wordlessly thanking him for being diligent enough to follow her each night.

He nods, muttering something to Harry as he hands over his spear to him. He bids Y/N goodnight and disappears down to his cabin.

“Whew,” Harry breathes out in relief. “Thought I’d be tossed overboard. Thanks for the save.” He mutters, making his way to the banister, leaving a comfortable distance between the two in case the Captain decides to check in on him.

“Don’t go thanking your lucky stars yet, I can certainly see to it that it’s arranged,” she bites back at him.

“You’re angry with me,” he states, making her chuckle.

“Wonder what gave that away,” she mutters, directing an eye roll at him.

He ignores her retort and continues, “You’ve been avoiding me since the minute I came on board.”

“That’s two for two. Gee for a spy, you sure do have a knack for picking up on the fucking obvious,” she shakes her head. 

“I don’t understa-”

“Of course you don’t,” she huffs out a weak chuckle. “Apologies start with an I’m sorry.”

“Princess-” he starts, running his hand through his locks. “Y/N, I don’t understand why you’re cross with me. Is it because I’m sailing with you unannounced?”

“God, you’re thick,” she lets out a weak chuckle. “A storm hit the coast two days after you set sail to Lanka, Harry. I didn’t know for weeks if Karthi got the message on time!”

“I’m a good spy, am I not? When have I ever faltered in keeping to your word? Prince Karthi reached the Port Palace two weeks ago, according to your word, did he not?”

“That’s not the point, you idiot!” She turns to face him. “I did not hear from you! I did not know if you made it there. For three whole months! I didn’t know what to think.”

“Oh.” His face reddens as warmth spreads across his chest. He doesn’t understand why but he feels his face split into a wide grin as he replies, “I was doing my job and protocol states that - .”

“And you rode off to Vikram up north,” her tone was still accusatory.

“I had to, Y/N.”

“Why? Why did you have to get to him with such urgency? Was it Karthi’s orders? Why was it so important that you come with me all this way? Don’t give me all that poppycock about me needing extra security. My brother and I trust the captain with our lives. He’s overseen our protection since we were children.”

“Vikram’s mingled with the close friend of the Prince of Handuman. He’s foul, according to his best friend’s admission. He hits women and beds them without consent. He has complete disregard for matters of the court and he is well known for schmoozing -”

“Why does that even matter?” 

Harry lets out a frustrated groan, “Will you please just listen to me.” He continues when Y/N quietens down. “The royal astrologer had seen to it that your portraits were sent to all neighbouring kingdoms - under your father’s orders - for matrimony. Prince Vinay had come across it when you were liaising with them for the trade deal. He, um, publicly vowed to…”

“Vowed to what?” She implores when he trails off.

“I’m sorry for being crude but he said that he wanted to ‘tear off your clothes, pin you against his throne and thrust some obedience into you while the court watches.’” He takes in a long breath before he continues, “So you will be under his pinkie and he can boast that the great Chola Princess was another notch on his bedpost.”

Y/N’s face twists in disgust as she processes what Harry had just shared with her. “Vikram knows I can handle myself around such odious men. I have more protection during this trip than I ever had in my life. Why did he send you to supervise my security? You have no experience…”

“It was my idea actually. I asked him to sign that decree to let me join this company and this was the only way to not raise any eyebrows among our men. I know you can handle yourself around the Handuman Prince, but I would not forgive myself if something were to happen to you…” He pauses, eyes roaming around for any lurking shadows, what comes next is communicated in a murmur, “This could provide a perfect cover for a Chola spy to be digging around Handuman.”

“A cover for what?” Her eyebrows scrunch, mouth twisting down in displeasure of being kept in the dark.

“Too many ears around,” he reminds her. He interjects before she can protest, “You will be the first to know once I have evidence.”

They hear a heavy splash making the ship drag, and the two lurch forward at the sudden movement. Y/N gasps, grabbing hold of the bannister and tightening her grip as a strong hand wraps around her elbow and tries to pull her away. 

Things feel dissonant for her, there’s a ringing in her ears that’s managed to make all other sounds feel like it’s echoing from deep inside a well, she feels her body spasm as she struggles to draw in breaths, like her throat has something blocking the way. Her vision fades around the edges making her scrunch her eyes shut, but that only makes the successive shallow drum of her heart louder. She can feel the way the boat has a pull under her feet, like it was lugging around something heavy as it resists the sway of the vessel. She’s experienced unease before, but this time was different. This uneasiness was not fleeting. It was a type of fear. Fear oozes from the centre of her bones, slowly following its wake across everything it could consume inside her being. Paralysing to her anomalous senses. “I knew it,” she whispers. “Consumed by the waters, of course.”

If this was how she was going to perish, so be it.

“Princess,” his voice is distorted and faint but she picks it up. “Y/N.” It’s louder this time, floating closer. “We’re fine.” She feels his arms tightening around her frame. “Y/N, look at me.”

////

Harry does not understand what’s happening. Once second, he hears the men throw the anchor into the water and the next Y/N’s crumpled over the banister beside him. She looks to be in pain, her face ashen under the silver beam, he tries to tug her back - away from the edge but she’s bolted, hunching over the banister. He tries getting her attention, but can hear her mutter something about being engulfed by the water and it all makes sense to him. Why she was so hesitant to get on his boat when they were at the docks, how uncomfortable she was sitting opposite him, what made her hole up in her quarters all this time, the way she was gripping onto the banister earlier. The ocean petrified her. 

He understands why she was mad for not hearing from him sooner. He left right before a storm hit the coast, showering her in kisses and whispering sweet promises. Promises. Well, promise. He promised to be safe and he did keep up his word, and he left for the battle tents of the Crown Prince, like he normally would when his job was done. But things were not normal. They’d kissed. Several times in fact. And he’d confessed his fondness for her.

He never faltered in his duties, he’d kept them up this time too. He had not realised a duty had implicitly fallen in his shoulders to bear when their lips met. To let her know that he was safe and not taken by the treacherous waters of the stormy seas as she’d let herself imagine. She had been worried about him. He made her worry.

“We’re fine,” he reassures, moving closer to her, holding her close to him. 

It takes him a few tries but he gets her to look at him and a few more to convince her to let go of the banister. Her quivering lips and glassy eyes pierce his heart, but he manages to get her to slump to the floor beside him. It takes her a long while to stop trembling but he tightens her torso to his side, hoping to instill some warmth into her.

“We’re fine now,” he reassures, squeezing her hands. “The men tossed the anchor overboard. That is what made us jerk forward along with the ship. It takes a while for the anchor to latch onto the seabed. They’ve retired to their cabins for the night. It’s just that. It has happened everyday since we boarded the ship. It will keep happening until we reach home. We will sail again just before the break of dawn. Nothing is wrong with the ship. We are not in the way of any harm.” 

She nods as he continues, “I apologise for not letting you know that I had reached Lanka in one piece. I’m sorry for all the worry I have caused you. I never intended to. I promise to never make you fret again.”

“Okay,” she tells him in a quiet voice, closing her eyes, as she forces her shallow shuddering breath to regain its steadiness. 

He looks around once more, making sure that they’re truly alone, before focusing on her blinking back her watery eyes. “Why did you agree to the voyage in the first place?”

“King’s orders,” she tells him softly.

“You’re terrified of the ocean,Y/N ,” he reasons. 

“I have duties, Harry. I get to experience all the luxuries one can imagine, compared to all that-” she shrugs. “Champagne problems, I guess.”

Harry shakes his head, she says king like it wasn’t her father. He would never do something that he didn’t want to, no matter who’s orders. But it was important to the princess in front of him and there was no use trying to challenge that. This was her deal, and it only made sense that she saw it through - she owed her people that. Instead he picks a different route, one that would help him understand her better, “What’s got you this scared? I’ve never seen you like this before.” It’s true. She was the first Chola Princess to be trained in combat alongside her brothers - demanding her father that when it came to the worst, she wanted to defend her people. She did not want to be holed underground with other women of court or in a temple praying for victory. She was an excellent rider, often would compete in races and encouraged young girls to follow suit. 

“I do not wish to say,” she says hesitantly. She leans back and scoots away, her face slowly regaining composure.

“I don’t mean to pry, Princess. I grew up sailing the waters, I understand not wanting to recount a time -”

“It’s not that. I don’t have a harrowing story or anything.” She adds the next part quietly, “It is risible,” and her cheeks heat in response. Harry quickly notes the way she blushes, making him smile down at her in endearment.

“I promise not to laugh. Sailor’s honour,” he crosses over his heart.

Y/N lets out a peeling giggle in response, “You’re no sailor, Harry.”

“Yes, I am! Was practically born on a ship, Y/N.”

“You were born on a ship?” Y/N asks, sometimes it felt like he knew more about her than she did him. 

Harry shakes his head, “Was born in my mother’s cottage in North England.”

“Did you grow up there?”

He shakes his head again, this time quicker with a frown. “No. I grew up on my father’s ship. Back to what we were talking about; you can’t discredit me as a sailor.”

Y/N’s brows scrunch at the sudden pivot in the conversation, but she doesn’t press on further, opting to say, “I thought you were a spy.”

A warmth blossomed in Harry’s chest from the mocking undercurrent of her tone. He’s never had anyone volley a conversation with him, and it came easy with her. “I am more of a ‘Jack of all trades’ kind of person.”

“Ah, I see,” she chuckles, bringing her knees up to her chest and encircling her arms around it. “So a master of none?”

Harry laughs, a high pitched carefree one, “Better than a master of one.”

Companionate silence blankets around the two, Harry passes her his leather water flask - that was clasped to his belt - and she quickly drains it muttering a quiet thank you. Harry leans back on his elbows, looking up at the shimmering moon above, it’s lovely tonight, he thinks. He’s spent many nights in a bobbing vessel with nothing around but the moon as company but he doesn’t feel the familiar solitude tonight. There was no intolerable silence this particular night, just the tinkle of Y/N’s anklet and silent sighs that escapes her lungs. His gaze flits over to her cheek, smushed against her arm, her gaze is fixed on her fingers as they fiddle with the ornament. A simple gold rope with a small lotus motif made from three pink diamonds and an emerald, clasped around her ankle. 

Her foot. That’s what caught his attention, not the precious stones, but the curve of the arch of her bare feet. He wonders if it would tickle when he runs his lips over them, as he slowly nudged her knees apart, the fabric slipping away, the way her anklets would tinkle over his shoulders in sync with his head between her thighs. He shakes his head, rubbing his face, shifting to conceal his hardening cock and shoots her a polite smile.

“Not knowing,” Y/N says. “I do not like the deep waters because I have no idea what’s underneath.”

“No one does, Y/N,” he reminds her.

“I know. It is uncomfortable to not know. It feels like I am at its mercy, with the currents that can drag me under in a split second, if I’m not careful enough. It’s vast, and we have not explored these territories. I met with this woman that studies living creatures, and she believes that there is a high possibility of colossal squids and fishes deep down. There are old sailing accounts and drawings as proof. You have seen giant sharks and whales, have you not?”

Harry nods, as she continues fidgeting with her anklet. 

“Life began in the waters, Harry, and we hardly know a thing about it. We cannot survive diving the depths; we certainly cannot compete with the predators that we know of. Imagine being at mercy of something unknown. It is the biggest mystery known, quite possibly the worst because it takes up much of our planet and we cannot even begin to understand it. The ocean has had a longer time to evolve than us, and we know much of the sky than we do about what is below.” 

Y/N looks up at him, chin resting on her arm, as she waits for a response. She feels a pang of regret opening up to him when she is not met with anything. You expect him to comfort him just because you kissed a few times, a voice rings in her head followed by her grandmother’s lecture of having one’s cards close to your chest. No royal ever spoke of things that frightened them, she never did either. So, why did she think this was a good idea? Her maternal great - grandfather, a Chera king, was thrown into the castle moat filled with crocodiles by his subjects. He was vain and cruel to his people - granted that could have been the reason - but it had been prophesied that he would meet his end by the scaly reptilians, so he rewarded people to poach every last one of them and had them all in his moat. Ironically, he actively participated in furthering his prophecy while trying to avoid it. People would not have picked death by crocodiles if they never knew about his irrational fear. The kingdom was in shambles for many years until the birth of her mother, which enabled them to forge an alliance with the Cholas through matrimony.

 While the Princess was caught in her own dilemma, Harry had a similar one running through his mind. He wants to assure her how secure ships are. He wants to explain how when you’re in the middle of nowhere with dwindling supplies, you start to see and hear things that aren’t really there. He wants to tell her that worrying would do her no good, especially the things that were occupying her mind because they were simply out of her control. All of the things he’d come to learn from his father’s experiences and his own. She was right, they barely knew about the ocean, but it wasn’t something to lose sleep over. But he understands, Harry was also scared of the ocean as a child before he got used to it. This was Y/N’s first time, and fears aren’t supposed to be rational. It wasn’t far-fetched, she had her nose stuck in books for answers and was born into duties, which required she understood the workings of life. She prided herself for being a step ahead of people around her and to do that one needed control. But the moment didn’t call for revelations; she needed solace. 

He gives her a sympathetic smile before going on to say, “I was scared of the endless ocean as a child too, especially at night. You’re right, we don’t know much about the sea but we do know a lot about the sky.

“Look up for me, Princess,” he continues and they both take in the twinkling dots in the blanket of the night. 

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers, beaming up at the gleaming moon. 

“It is. We’re so caught up by things around us, we often forget to look up. The sky's the one thing that will not change. The moon will wax and wane and the stars will stay right where they are, flickering, guiding us to shore. It helped to look up at the sky when I was scared or in trouble. To be reminded that in the grand scheme of things, my fears didn’t matter. For whatever reason, the cosmos flows through me and that would mean my existence is a marvel. Even for a speck - no bigger than a grain of sand on the beach - the sky has many wonders in store for me.”

She stays quiet, her eyes glassing over, blurring her vision. Harry quickly catches the stray tear from the corner of her eyes with the backs of his fingers. He coos, leaning over to brush his lips against her temple, “I apologise for saying something out of line, Y/N.”

“You're not out of line, Harry,” she hastily blinks back her tears. “It helps. Thank you.”

“You don’t need to-“

“I want to.”

Anyone else pondering their significance by looking out into the universe might end up feeling helpless, paralysed even, but she feels none of that. She was born into significance and her roles only cemented the burden of upholding the legacy of the Crown. So, letting herself feel like a mere speckle was liberating. 

////

The days that follow the same routine - the Princess holes herself up in her cabin during the day with Shobhita. Harry’s unsure what she was up to - and formulating any judgement from the box of fabric spools one of the handmaidens carted into her room, and the occasional laughs from behind the door - he’s happy she was occupied. It was hard to catch a glimpse of her when the sun was shining; there were guard’s stationed outside at all times and he did not want to tick off the guard captain.

The nights. That solely belongs to the two of them. She would come out of her cabin two hours before midnight to catch some fresh air to find him softly smiling at her. He'd readily stand, at the ship’s bow, with a spear in his hand by the intricately carved wooden swan figurehead. Y/N had ordered the guard captain to retire at night, since he’d been stationed by her cabin all day. When he’d resisted - uncomfortable that the Crown Prince had instated a young man with no prior expertise as head of security- she’d gently reminded him that it was best for Harry to learn what guarding actually entailed in the safe confines of their ship. They’d spend the nights in each other’s companionship, Y/N’s heart swelled with Harry’s stories. Particularly the one of him as a boy, where he was convinced that someone had left a giant bunny up the moon. She looked at him endeared as he pointed out the outline of the rabbit in the dark markings of the full moon. It soothed her, looking up at the heavens with someone made her confining thoughts about the ocean melt away.

This night was no different, the Princess pads to her usual spot to find a blanket spread out with two pillows. Her eyes fly to meet him and he gives her the same smile he did every night, bending down to light the two oil lamps, illuminating the jade of his eyes. “Your highness,” he bows, stepping away.

She nods, shooting him a surprised smirk as she curls up with her book. Harry eyes the old parchment she unfolds, a star catalogue, and he can’t help the chortle that escapes his lips.

“Stop it, Mr. Styles,” Y/N shoots him a warning look, not wanting to draw the attention of the crew.

“I apologise, majesty,” he murmurs, but Y/N notices the mocking smile that paints his lips.

She pointedly ignores him with a roll of her eyes, as she focuses her attention on Aryabhata’s text in front of her. Harry had challenged her last night, and she was determined not to lose.

The crew had dropped the anchor and had retired below deck a short while ago, and Harry could not help but admire the furrow in between her brows as she concentrated. Harry had spent the last few nights pointing out different constellations that Y/N simply could not fathom. Harry was amused that it bugged her so much that she couldn’t map out the stars in the night’s sky with ease. Her anklet falls on the blanket, and he’s sure that she had loosened the clasp from how much she fiddled with it while reading. She sighs, turning her attention back to the gold rope, fastening it in place, making sure to press down on the hook.

“Rijl al-Qinṭūrus”, she reads out loud in Arabic after a long while, flicking up to look at the sky. The star map had a figure of a centaur and all she had to do was find the brightest one right at the bottom. Her head cranes to find the brightest spot in the sky - the alpha centauri.

The only problem was, there were multiple bright specks and she lets out a defeated sigh, pushing her hair back, “Fuck this,” she mutters.

“Not very royal of you, Princess,” Harry’s teasing tone floats over, she finds him slumped over the bannister looking at her. 

“It is the brightest and biggest star to spot at night,” he reminds her.

She narrows her eyes at him, looking back at the star catalogue again, and slumps back in defeat. “There’s something wrong with this star catalogue,” she declares. “There has to be, Harry.”

“Or maybe you are inept at this,” he smirks, coming to sit beside her. 

“I am not!” She protests. “The illustrations are misleading. None of the constellations look like this,” she points to the image of a centaur holding a spear on one hand and a dead goat on the other.

“That’s because it’s meant for people like you,” he chuckles.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She arches her brow.

“Someone who learns from books. It only makes sense the catalogue has full fledged pictures of animals on there, otherwise it would be a mess of lines connecting one dot to another. So, accept defeat,” he urges.

“Fine. Tell me where the alpha centauri is,” she demands.

“What would my compensation be?”

“How about not making you walk the plank at dawn,” she scoffs. 

“You drive a hard bargain, Princess. I was thinking less along the lines of drowning and more along the lines of this,” he mutters as his hands reach to cup her full cheeks. They are warm under his palms, even against the biting gust, his thumb moves to caress her pillowy lips, eyes flicking down to her mouth landing on the crescent birthmark by her chin. They hadn’t kissed since he’d left for Lanka and every night he’d spend in her presence, Harry’s mind could not stop drifting to the way her mouth pressed against his with urgency.

Y/N eyes flutter shut, leaning towards him, nudging his cupid's bow with her lips. Her mouth brushes his as she whispers, “Not before I get my information, spy.” She backs away, observing the way his pupils dilate under the soft buttery light.

“You can’t spot the alpha centauri-”

“I know, which is why I asked you.”

He rolls his eyes at her hastiness. “No one can, because it can only be seen from the southern hemisphere.”

“You tricked me,” she gasps. 

He shrugs, as he tugs her to him, wasting no time in capturing her lips against his. It was more heavenly than he’d remembered. Y/N’s hands snake up to bury them in the baby curls at the nape of his neck, bringing him closer. She melts against his chest, curiously slicking her tongue against his lips, smiling as he parts his mouth for her. She tasted like the tamarind candy she loved. Harry drops one of his hands from her cheek, finding home in the curve of her hip. It’s heady, both greedily smacking wet kisses the curve of their jaw when they part to draw in air. Harry’s heart thumps loudly against his chest, sending him rhythmic reminders that he was twitterpated by the woman trailing her lips against the stubble of his jaw. Plebeians and royalty don’t mix, and on the rare occasion that they did, it never ended well. But until midday tomorrow - when they would reach the port of Handuman - she was just a woman, made from the same stardust as him, whom he wanted to keep melding lips with.

LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK SO FAR!

[nakamopapina]

I drew this a while ago. The idea came during mass in August.

And I miss these two! Tabitha! ;^;

It’s a pretty old map that Tabitha has. The backstory is that her Grandmum loved to collect maps.

In the wise words of Rabbit, don’t fold the maps!

[tuhhadkeryo]

24 for the Artist Ask Game!

24. whats a compliment about your art that has always stuck with you?

Well this took a bit of thinking! I suppose a lot of compliments stick with me, like being: good with hands, good at shading, blah blah blah. I try to capitalize on that.

But in reality the biggest thing that’s stuck with me for YEARS is something my Grandmum said. She looked at my art for a minute or two then was like, “You know, your art style is grotesque to me, but the idea that it just comes out of you like that is amazing. Keep going.”

Probably not word for word like that but it’s close enough. It was a learning moment for me as not everyone is going to like your style so make it absolutely amazing in that style. I stopped holding back on things that I used to think made my art ugly that I REALLY enjoyed drawing like: lots of wrinkles, harsh lines, detailed nostrils and teeth, spiky hair…etc.

Ik that comment will probably sound kinda mean to others but in the moment it was helpful. Thanks Granny.

[cats-and-confusion]

"Adelaide" and the Honest Compulsive Liar

.

She’s woken by a heavy pounding on the door, rolling off the couch and onto the floor. Scrambling to her feet, she rips open the door to be met with a tall, burly man, wearing adventurer’s clothing. When he speaks, his voice is softer than she expected. "Pardon me, milady, but may I stay the night? There doesn't seem to be a tavern in this town, but I'll compensate you. I can just stay in the shed, if it's not too much trouble." He shifts his weight, and she notes the presence of a warhammer sheathed on his back.

Her face breaks into a cheerful grin. "Oh! I don't mind one bit! Come in, come in. Ooh, it's been so long since I had a stranger visit. New friends! How exciting. I think I'll call you Adelaide." She ushers him into the house, paying no mind that he has to duck to fit through the doorway as she practically drags him in.

"Oh, um…" He hesitates, unsure whether to correct her and properly introduce himself, or just let her do her thing. He’s met a lot of people in his travels, but this…this was new.

She guides him through the house, a decently sized home, clearly well used. Dirty dishes lie on practically every surface, and the floor is littered with clothes and quills and empty plastic bottles. "Now come here Adelaide, I've a spare room for you in the house! Haha, just kidding, I lied. But I do have a storage room that’s relatively well insulated, I reckon you could sleep in there!" She giggles.

The newly assigned Adelaide tries again to interject, not wanting to seem impolite by outright interrupting, but also having very little energy to deal with this eccentric individual. “I don’t, uh-”

“Ooh, take your shoes off before we go into the kitchen! I don’t like cleaning wood floors, you know. Actually you should sit down at the dining table, I’ll go ahead and get something for you.” She sits him at the cluttered table in a chair wildly too small for him, and she brushes aside the various trinkets and trash in front of him, effectively clearing a portion of the table.

She continues. “Y’see, my grandmum came over an’ gave me cooked squash in one of those bowls, but I hate squash, so I don’t want it. I reckon the roads ain’t too kind to you, you’re hungry, yeah? You want squash?” She gestures at him with a wooden spoon in her hand, taking things from the ice box already.

“...S- sure…” He agrees, resigned to his fate at this point. And, he may admit, he is rather hungry. 

She beams, heating the bowl over the fire just a little. “Splendid! Anyway, I lied, it’s not squash, it’s carrots. Here you go!” She sets down a bowl of carrots and other assorted leaves in front of him, along with the spoon. It’s still mostly carrots.

“I don’t know what the spices are so just pray you aren’t allergic. Cheers!” She takes a seat back on the couch, practically the only non-cluttered thing in this place, and picks up a notebook from the floor. She fishes a quill off of the floor, too, and begins writing in the notebook. He wonders where she gets all that paper; it’s rather expensive, after all.

He fiddles with the utensil, much too small in his hand, and stirs his food uncertainly. Should he mention it? He shouldn’t mention it. His mouth is already moving. “Hey, um…I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but…what the hell is wrong with you?” He asks sincerely, cringing at his wording. This person is being so kind to him, why did he say that? How will she react?

Shockingly, she bursts into laughter, interrupting his anxious spiral. “Ehehahahahah! Yeah, I get that a bunch. Actually I don’t because I never talk to people. But I bet I would!” Her laughter dies down to soft giggles, and then stops, yet she remains smiling.

“...Oh,” is all he can manage to say. This woman is baffling. Insane, even, but she doesn’t seem harmful like some perfectly sane people he’s met, so…this is a fine alternative, he supposes. “...Can i still stay the night?” he asks hopefully, wincing.

“You sure can, Adelaide!” She affirms brightly. He resists the urge to rub his face in stress.

“That’s not my-”

“You sure can, Adelaide!” She repeats, in a lower tone this time, more firmly. He doesn’t know why this lady is so intent on calling a very burly masculine man ‘Adelaide’, but he doesn’t have the heart to argue with her. Adelaide it is.

He relents. “...Okay.”

Adelaide begins to eat, or at least tries to, but it’s rather difficult. Who eats carrots with a spoon?

[marta-bee]

There's a Sherlock monthly challenge where the February theme is fear, and because my brain is a persnicketty little thing and my Tolkien inner-fan has been making itself known with a vengeance, I've been thinking abot the fun of instead of writing a story about fëar as in the ...Quenyan?... word for souls.

Aristotle's quote about a single soul in two bodies may also be playing into it.

I swear, I swear, (risky business where Tolkien is concerned), I just don't have the emotional bandwidth to write it. Too mentally exhausted. But this is really how nuzgul are born.

Anyway, it does have me thinking about just the kind of Tolkien fan our Baker Street Boys would be. Leaving aside the obvious Freebatch Hobbit parallels, John strikes me as sort of a casual, cultural Tolkien fan. He probably read The Hobbit as a child, and is reading it to Rosie, too. Probably saw the Jackson movies. Maybe grew up overhearing the BBC radio dramatization playing over his grandmum's radio. He knows it the way he knows Doctor Who or James Bond. A fun adventure, vaguely aware of the high points, but not necessarily a superfan or anything.

Sherlock on the other hand was more or less oblivious to it, because it's a) pop culture, and b) not obviously his type of thing. Sentiment, fairy tales, etc. But overhearing John reading The Hobbit to Rosie could definitely be a gateway drug. He'd yell from the other room how even trolls couldn't be so oblivious as to not noticing the sun rising, or how really Elrond had a much better claim to the Gondolin blades than any of the dwarves did. John prefers not to mention the three-day long rolling argument of whether balrogs had wings. And Eru help him, at some point Sherlock would read the Silmarillion, and.... yeah. Just Eru help him. (Him being John, but also Sherlock.)

It would be a magnificent obsession.

It would be a bloody mess.

And it would be such glorious fun.

[piers-official]

The Broken Family Tree

“Hey Bro, how’s the organizin’ going?”

Piers is seated on the floor, surrounded by a flurry of papers and photos. He glances up at his little sister before sighing wearily, “S’alright, -lot of old junk if ya ask me.”

“Hmm maybe, but it’s junk that’s important to grandmum.” Marnie cautiously moves through the clutter of papers, tiptoeing around albums and old cardboard boxes used for storage. She squats down next to her brother, “I brought some tea, freshly made just for ya.” She offers a mug to him, which he gladly takes with a small thanks. Softly he blows on the steam before taking a sip of the bittersweet drink and quickly finishes it off.

“Thanks Mar.” he responds, handing the empty mug back to her.

“How long do ya think it’s gonna take?” The teen gently brushes some papers away and plops down next to her brother, Piers shrugs.

“Not sure, but ya can go home if ya like. No use stayin’ here if ya gonna be bored.”

“Nah I’m alright, Besides-” she glances around the seemingly tornado-stricken room, “Gram won’t be able to help ya clean all this…up…” her voice suddenly trails off as something catches her attention from the corner of her eye.

“S’wrong, Mar- having second guesses?” he smirks in a teasing manner, but when there’s no reply from his younger sibling, he looks up from his work, “Marnie-?”

“Who’s this?” 

A (clearly very) old photo is suddenly shoved into his face, he grumbles a bit before plucking the photograph from Marnie’s hand. Silently he studies it for a moment before humming inquisitively.

“Well Obviously that’s Grandmum Mara-” he points to a young woman on the right, “-And that’s…” Piers squints his eyes, before holding out the photo in front of him as if trying to get a better view of the whole picture, “-Well I don’t know actually. Kinda looks like dad, but not quite?”

Marnie cranes her head outward toward the picture curiously, when a noise of surprise escapes from her lips, “Piers there’s somethin’ on the bottom!” She points. His eyes scan downward and sure enough there is indeed writing, in faded black pen, scrawled onto the photo:

Atticus and Mara Astor

The sibling duo sat in questionable, puzzled silence, simply staring at the words as if they would jump out at them any second. Piers blinks several times as if the words would change, and provide more of an answer, with each subsequent blink.

“Who’s… Atticus?”

Piers pauses in consideration, “I think… he might be our Granpap?” he answers, in slight shock. Then, the sudden realization hits him like a freight train,  “-The one Grandmum never talks about. -It’s our dad’s dad!” he emphasizes, for both Marnie and his own waning skepticism. After glossing over the couple in the photograph for the umpteenth time, he decides to flip it over. 

His heart drops into the pit of his stomach, eyes widening with surprise. -There’s more information written on the back:

Married in Nimbasa, Unova - Oct. 1981

Another moment of silence washes over the room, before Piers suddenly jumps to his feet, jarring his sister slightly. With the photo clutched in one hand, he quickly turns back to Marnie, “I need to talk to Grandmum, right now. I’ll be right back, stay here.”

Marnie was understandably confused, but simply nods in quiet bemusement. Piers eyes her worriedly for a second before taking a deep breath. With that, he makes his way to his Grandmother’s bedroom for answers.

[bechloeislegit]

Pitch Perfect SpookFest 2022 - Day 4

Master of Puppets

Summary: Fat Amy buys a ventriloquist's dummy at a flea market. She wants to learn how to be a ventriloquist. Things take a wrong turn when the dummy seems to come to life and speaks on its own.

Several of the Bellas are spending the afternoon at a local flea market. Beca found and purchase an old record player. She then spent most of her time at a table selling vinyl records. She had found a couple that she was planning to buy and was looking at the back covers at the list of songs. She was so engrossed that she didn't hear someone come up behind her.

"Are you going to buy that?"

The voice suddenly speaking in her ear startled Beca. She put her hand to her chest, turned, and screamed.

"What the hell is THAT?" Beca asked, pointing at the thing Fat Amy was holding.

Amy chuckled. "It's a ventriloquist's dummy. See? Look here." Fat Amy held the dummy up and removed her hand from its back. "There's a lever to make his mouth move, and I throw my voice, so it sounds like he's speaking."

"I didn't know you could throw your voice," Beca said.

"I can't," Fat Amy said. "But, I'm going to learn. I think it will be fun, don't you?"

"It's creepy looking," Beca said. "It reminds me of a clown, and I hate clowns."

"You're afraid of clowns?" Fat Amy asked. "Since when?"

"I didn't say I was afraid of clowns," Beca said. "I said I hated them."

"Same thing," Fat Amy said, shrugging.

Beca glared at her and turned back to the record she had been looking at.

"Why are you afraid of clowns?" Fat Amy asked.

"I am not afraid-"

Fat Amy stared at Beca with a raised brow.

"Fine," Beca said. "When I was five, my mom took me to the circus, and I got separated from her, and I started crying because I couldn't find her. My mother didn't find me, but a clown did. He was big and had a scary face. I ran away from him screaming; my mother found me a minute later. After that, I had nightmares for months. And I still can't be around them, so you need to keep that thing away from our room."

"But it's my room, too," Fat Amy said.

"If you plan to keep that thing, you'll need to find someone else to room with," Beca said. "Or, I'll just move into Chloe's room with her, and that dummy can be your new roommate."

"His name is Jasper," Fat Amy said.

"I don't care what its name is," Beca said. "I meant what I said. Keep that thing away from me."

"Fine," Fat Amy said. "I'll keep him somewhere other than our room."

"Good," Beca said. "Now, let's find the girls and get out of here."

~~ Pitch Perfect SpookFest 2022 - Day 4 ~~

When the girls got home, Fat Amy took her purchases, including Jasper, up to her and Beca's room. She looked around and decided the best place to hide Jasper was under her bed. She had just shoved the dummy under her bed when she heard Beca coming up the stairs. She remained kneeling by the bed and acted as if she was straightening out the sheets.

"You're making your bed?" Beca asked. "You never make your bed."

"As my grandmum used to say," Fat Amy responded. "There is a first time for everything."

Beca laughed. "She's right," she said. "But in your case, I think it means you're up to something."

"Words hurt, short stuff," Amy scoffed as she stood up. "I'm going to see what we're doing for dinner."

"Chloe wants to order in," Beca said. "I think she was going to check with the girls so we can decide what to get."

"Oh, okay," Fat Amy said and flopped down on her bed.

"Owwww!"

"What was that?" Beca asked.

"What was what?" Fat Amy responded.

Fat Amy quickly looked down at her bed when they heard, "Get off me, FAT Amy!"

"That! What's that?" Beca screeched, pointing at Amy's bed.

"Oh, that," Amy said, chuckling nervously. "I'm practicing throwing my voice. You thought that was coming from under the bed, didn't you? I did that. I threw my voice, um, eh, so you would think there was something under there."

"There is no way you learned how to throw your voice in just the last hour," Beca said.

"I am a puppet master, Beca," Fat Amy said. "I can control Jasper to speak whenever and wherever I want."

"Leave her alone, Beca, and maybe she'll shut up!"

Fat Amy's eyes widened, and she looked from Beca to her bed and back again.

"You did not just say that," Beca said, glaring at Amy.

"I did say that," Fat Amy said. "I swear it was me."

"Do it again," Beca said. "Throw your voice and say something."

"Okay," Fat Amy said. "I will."

Fat Amy stood and smoothed down her shirt. She then cleared her throat and asked, "Jasper, where are you right now?"

"I'm right where you left me, lard ass!"

Beca stood staring at Fat Amy. "Your lips moved."

"They did not!"

To prove it, Fat Amy spoke out of the side of her mouth, saying, "You heard me, lard ass!"

"Stop! Just stop!" Beca yelled, waving her arms at Amy. "How did you really do it? Do you have a tape recorder or something under your bed?"

"No, you idiot," a third voice said. "It's me!"

Beca and Fat Amy both screamed and jumped onto their beds when Jasper crawled from under Amy's bed.

"What the hell is that thing doing in here!?" Beca yelled.

"I didn't know where else to hide him!" Fat Amy yelled back.

"Beca! Amy!" Chloe's voice called from the door. "Are you two alright up there?"

Just then, Jasper ran to the stairs. Chloe screamed, stepping out of the way when he ran down the steps and out into the hallway.

"What the hell?" Chloe yelled as she rushed up the stairs. "What WAS that?"

"That was Jasper," Fat Amy said calmly, hopping off her bed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go find him."

Fat Amy started down the stairs. Beca yelled after her, "DO NOT BRING THAT THING BACK UP HERE! I MEAN IT, AMY!"

"What's going on, Beca?" Chloe asked.

Beca looked around to make sure Jasper wasn't around and then slowly climbed off her bed.

"Amy found that, that thing at the flea market," Beca said, watching the stairs for signs that Jasper was coming back. "She said she's going to learn ventriloquism so she can make it talk. Only, it seems it can talk and move all on its own."

Beca and Chloe were startled by sudden screams coming from downstairs. They both ran down the stairs until they reached the first floor.

Beca put her arm out to stop Chloe when she saw Jasper chasing Fat Amy with a knife. Beca then stepped in front of Chloe to keep Jasper away from her. Fat Amy ran out the front door, screaming as Jasper ran out after her.

Beca immediately slammed the door behind them and locked it.

"Beca, what about Fat Amy?" Chloe asked.

"What about her?"

"We can't leave her out there, Beca," Chloe said. "We'll open the door and call for Fat Amy. Once she gets inside, we'll close the door before Jasper can get back in."

"So, you're okay with leaving that thing out there?" Beca asked. "I don't know if you realized, but he had a knife. He could go after someone. We have to figure out how to kill him."

"He's a dummy, Beca," Chloe said. "I don't think we can kill him because he's not alive."

"But he is," Lily said, startling Beca and Chloe. "Or soon will be if we don't take care of him."

"What do you know, Lily?" Beca asked.

"Jasper is possessed by someone who calls himself the Master of Puppets," Lily explained. "He is putting together a puppet army to take over the World."

Beca snorted out a laugh. She stopped when she saw how serious Lily was.

"Oh, you're serious," Beca said.

"So, what can we do to stop that from happening?" Chloe asked.

"We have to kill the vessel that the Master is inhabiting," Lily said.

"How do we do that?" Chloe asked.

"I have a plan," Lily said, grinning.

"I don't think I'm going to like this," Beca said.

~~ Pitch Perfect SpookFest 2022 - Day 4 ~~

After explaining her plan to Beca and Chloe, Lily left to find Fat Amy and Jasper. While she was gone, Beca and Chloe gathered the other Bellas together to explain what was happening.

When they were done, Stacie and Cynthia Rose began laughing.

"Wait," Stacie said, laughing loudly. "You're telling us there's a puppet chasing Fat Amy around with a knife? And this same puppet is possessed by a puppet master who wants to rule the World? That's hilarious!"

Cynthia Rose stopped laughing when she saw the looks on Beca and Chloe's faces. "You're serious?"

"Yes," Beca said, causing Stacie to stop laughing as well. "Lily is out looking for Amy and Jasper. She's going to lure them back here, and then we're going to help get the demon out of the puppet and vanquish it."

"No way," Stacie said. "You guys are pulling our legs. I have to give you kudos for keeping a straight face, though."

"I don't think they're kidding around," Cynthia Rose said.

"Come on, CR," Stacie said. "You can't seriously believe this is true."

"What if it is?" Emily asked. "Shouldn't we do everything we can to stop Jasper?"

"He's a dummy!" Stacie exclaimed. "He's not a real person."

Everyone jumped when the front door flung open, and Fat Amy came running in with Jasper right behind her.

They all watched as Fat Amy ran and pulled Beca in front of her.

"Save me," Fat Amy cried. "He's trying to kill me."

Jasper stopped in front of Beca and looked up at her.

"Move!" Jasper said, glaring at Beca.

"No!" Beca said and kicked Jasper, sending him flying against the wall.

"Oh, my God!" Jessica squealed. "He is real!"

Stacie and Cynthia Rose sat with their mouths open in shock.

Ashley jumped up and grabbed Jasper from where he fell. He seemed dazed but shook his head and stared at Ashley. He suddenly raised his arm and brought the knife down on Ashley's arm. Ashley screamed and threw him down to the floor.

"Ashley!" Jessica cried out, running over to her.

"Look out!" Ashley said, pushing Jessica aside when Jasper raised the knife toward Jessica.

The girls began screaming and rushed over to Ashley and Jessica. Emily ran to the kitchen and grabbed a towel. She hurried over to Ashley and wrapped the towel around her arm.

Jasper shook his head again and stood, waving the knife around in front of him. The girls stepped back to avoid being stabbed. Beca carefully made her way behind Jasper; he didn't see her as he was suddenly focused on getting to Fat Amy.

"You will be mine, you fat bitch," Jasper said, looking at Fat Amy.

"Beca, do something!" Chloe yelled.

Beca nodded her head and grabbed Jasper, wrapping her arms around him and pinning his arms to his side.

"Let me go!" Jasper yelled as he started struggling to get out of Beca's grasp

"Somebody grab the knife!" Beca yelled, holding onto Jasper.

Before anyone could move, Lily was standing in front of Beca. She grabbed the knife and pulled, slicing Jasper's palm in the process. Jasper screamed.

"Oh, my gosh," Emily yelled, pointing at Jasper's hand. "Is he…bleeding?"

Lily looked down and saw blood dripping from Jasper's hand.

"He's morphing," Lily said. "If we don't get the demon out of him, he'll be real and will continue his quest to take over the World. And we won't be able to stop him."

"I'll kill you all," Jasper yelled as he continued to struggle against Beca.

"Somebody get the fire pit started," Beca called out while trying to maintain her hold on Jasper.

"What?! Nooooo!" Jasper screeched as he doubled his efforts to get Beca to let him go.

"I'm on it," Chloe said as she ran out of the room.

"Hurry!" Beca called after her. "I don't know how much longer I can hold him."

Stacie ran over and wrapped her arms around Beca, pinning Jasper between them.

"Mmmph!" Jasper moaned as Stacie squeezed him between her and Beca.

"Ow!" Stacie yelped as she jumped back. "The little fucker bit me!"

Cynthia Rose grabbed Beca from behind and wrapped her arms around them, immobilizing Jasper.

"We got him," Cynthia Rose said.

"Someone check on Chloe and see how the fire pit's coming," Beca said.

"We'll go," Jessica and Ashley said, rushing out of the room.

"Emily, help me grab some weapons to keep him in the fire once we throw him in there," Lily said.

Jasper gasped and tried once more to get out of Beca and Cynthia Rose's grasp.

"What kind of weapons?" Emily asked as she and Lily rushed from the room.

"I guess we just stand here and wait for the fire to be ready," Beca mumbled.

"Don't worry, Beca," Cynthia Rose said. "I've got you. He's not getting loose."

~~ Pitch Perfect SpookFest 2022 - Day 4 ~~

After what seemed like hours but was only ten minutes, Jessica and Ashley came rushing into the living room. Lily and Emily came in as Jessica said, "Fire pit's ready."

"Good," Beca said. "Let's burn this little shit."

Jasper renewed his efforts to struggle loose.

"Start walking, Beca," Cynthia Rose. "I'm right behind you and won't let go."

Beca took a tentative step; Cynthia Rose stepped forward as well. They managed to get through the kitchen and out the back door without Jasper breaking free.

Emily and Lily handed each of the Bellas a weapon. They held onto them as Lily explained what they needed to do.

"Beca, you and CR need to pin him down to the ground so I can skewer him with this," Lily said, holding up a broadsword.

"Where did you get that?" Chloe asked, eying the weapon.

"I have my sources," Lily said, shrugging. "Now pin him down."

"Okay," Beca said. "Cynthia, can you move around front and grab one of his arms? Once you do that, we can body-slam him to the ground. Hopefully, that will stun him enough for Lily to do what she needs to do."

Cynthia Rose nodded and did as Beca said, and before they knew it, Jasper was pinned down. He screamed and struggled but couldn't get out of their grip.

"Here goes," Lily said, standing over Jasper while holding the broadsword pointed down at him.

"Nooooo!" Jasper cried just as Lily pushed the broadsword through him.

The girls all cringed at the wails coming from Jasper. Lily managed to lift Jasper without dislodging the sword and placed him onto the fire. The fire started popping and sizzling.

Emily covered her ears to drown out the screams coming from Jasper. Lily pressed down on the sword to keep Jasper from escaping the flames. The other girls stood at the ready to help keep him in the flames if needed.

The fire crackled and popped around Jasper. Suddenly, a stream of fire shot straight into the air, causing the girls to all fall back. They watched as a purple haze emanated from the flames. Screeching and screaming could be heard over the roar of the flames.

And, suddenly, all was quiet. Lily jumped up and rushed over to the fire pit, and looked down. All that was left of Jasper was ashes.

"Is he really gone?" Fat Amy asked, peering over Lily's shoulder.

"Jasper's gone," Lily said. "Let's just hope the Master of Puppets is gone with him."

"You mean, the thing that possessed Jasper could still be around?" Chloe asked.

The girls shuddered and looked around, expecting to see another dummy coming for them.

"I mean," Lily said, looking at the group. "He may have invaded another body so he can continue his plan."

"How will we know if he did?" Emily asked nervously.

"We won't," Lily responded.

"How sure are you that the demon would possess another puppet?" Ashley asked.

"I'm not sure about that at all," Lily said. "He could be strong enough to possess a puppet or even a human."

The girls all looked up to the sky one last time before collectively turning and going into the house.

Beca remained behind. An evil grin came over her face as she picked up the discarded broadsword and made her way toward the house.

[galaxcias-archived]

@scxrletheart : "It's past midnight, why are we still up?" - for theodore!

“Shh…!” A simple warning accentuated with a finger to his lips. Normally the young lad didn’t mind noise, but not this time. He didn’t want to scare away the Pokémon he had been patiently waiting for. And speak of the devil, the Pokémon that had burrowed in the ground earlier resurfaced.

“Take a look”, spoken in a hushed whisper, the brunet pointed towards the Pokémon in question. It was a dunsparce, that was obvious from a first glance, but upon closer inspection, it lacked teal in its color scheme, said color being a bright pink instead.

In other words, it was shiny.

“I was hoping to snap a photo for my grandmum… or perhaps one of us can try to catch him…?” Regardless of how much he wanted the land snake pokemon for himself, he was going to offer Andrea the chance to do so before him.

Like the saying goes, ladies first.

[flock-keeper]

⊗ + Jewelry

Send me ⊗ + a word for my muse’s thoughts on that subject.

"It does look well nice, but tae be honest it's not really my thing. Both my grandmum and sister like jewelry though, and I try tae buy tae both of them some for their birthdays if I have tae funds. My grandpa collects watches, but that's not really jewelry."

[kingcrane8]

"Grandmum's the Word" (tr • ga)

[isleofancients]

Bells spares only a moment to wonder whether Aiden had a charm now too, or this was just something he could innately do- both seemed equally likely, honestly- before turning back to Edwin. they offer a murmur of "okay," and watch, nervous but hopeful. they'd been lucky enough not to see how badly his curse could react... but now it left them unsure, because they didn't really know what to expect if something went wrong.

"I forgot to pass on Green's well wishes, by the way," they admit, "I don't remember his exact words. just a general 'congratulations/pride/comfort on getting past that' with... uh, him. but, do you really think that now that... that's gone," meaning the forced soul bond, a thought that made them uneasy just to think about, "you might be free from this too?"

electing not to eavesdrop, instead Blue gently urges Magnus to shift, letting them support some of his weight with gentle fussings. they're content to be close to their grandchildren, and the rest of their family, and offer whatever snuggles are welcome. as the cuddle pile grows, Umbra, Aiden, and Magnus are going to find themself 'outnumbered' by loved ones with a great many feathers, so likely there are now many arms offered to hug, shoulders to lean on, or wings to wrap around, if they so want it.

Umbra has a lot to take in, and their last minute attempts to warn had done nothing, leaving him still very caught by surprise. for now they just offer a small squeeze, promising softly, "you can talk if you think it might help, or we just cuddle and rest for a while. either way, it's a lot. you don't have to figure everything out right now."

Aiden chirps and pulls himself from his brothers lap, shrunk a little too small to be proportional. Eh, first try, he'll get the hang of it eventually.

"Grandmum! Grandpops!!" He crows proudly, flopping onto them and delightedly nuzzling. "I'm hugs sized!"

"You are!" Magnus beams, giving him the coveted hug. "Our little starbaby, so small and cute-"

"Wh- I'm not a baby!" Aiden huffs, indignant, purring regardless.

"Remind me to thank him." Edwin says softly, a growing grin on his face as the mug spins, slowly warming. "Yeah, I mean, it should be. Rasse said the curse was explicitly woven into the soul bond, so-"

He plucks the mug from the microwave, careful to avoid the steaming ceramic. He steps to the side, places it on the counter, meticulously measures out the hot chocolate mix and starts stirring maybe a little too gleefully.

"I just want to think." Umbra says, quietly, snuggly trapped in the middle of the cuddle pile, cradled by glowing wings. "...we could all use some rest."

"We could." Huitzi rumbles, gaze soft, larger hand squeezing Umbra's own.

Hot milk sloshes against the countertop, burning Edwin's fingers. He hisses and waits a baited breath for the mug to explode into chocolatey shards.

When it doesn't, he absolutely beams, proudly presenting his creation to you.

The first thing he's cooked in almost 200 years.

Even if it only needed a microwave and prepackaged mix.

[greenieflor]

2, 16, 21, and 24 for that ask thing that was a long time ago <333

2. thoughts on veganism?

There's a lot of elitism that can come with veganism and I don't fuck with it at all but if you're not a dick about it then we're good

16. thoughts on mint chocolate chip?

Big fan. Don't eat ice cream a ton but mint chocolate chip is for sure one of my top flavours

21. a number that weirds you out?

34. Not really sure why

24. which do you find yourself using, american or british english?

A mix. My grandmum and mom both use like Canadian English (is that a thing?) And that rubs off on me. The biggest thing is I use u's in words a lot