#hair of the salty seadog

[dndtreasury]

[softpadawan]

imagine mer kanan actually getting caught by bad humans and mer ezra manages to free him by using his trademark sneakiness to distract them and cut kanan loose

Oh yes, this is a great idea. Kanan, whose deepest darkest fear is Ezra being caught, ends up caught himself, and Ezra has to come to his rescue by utilizing those “dangerous” landfaring skills he acquired. 

I love this because it allows Ezra to shake off the “damsel in distress” image that so often happens when you’ve got a younger, smaller, naïve character in a relationship with an older, bigger, more experienced partner—especially when the latter is a big strong sharkman. The small fry will save the day!

Kanan, trapped in a net on the deck of a ship, eyes dilated black and teeth bared, maybe a little bloody because we like our men just a bit tenderized, his long wet hair plastered to his face, snarling and swiping uselessly at the cruel poachers around him. They close in on him slowly, clubs raised to deliver that killing blow, when from out of nowhere they hear a hideous ripping sound and whip around to see a—a merboy!—who has somehow managed to climb up into the rigging and is gleefully riding a knife from the topsail down to the mainsail, shredding the canvases in half with the ease of a well-seasoned pirate.

The crew abandon their catch with startled cries and proceed to chase after the merboy, who leads them on a wild goose chase through the rigging, absolutely dismantling the ship as he goes. He makes these salty old seadogs look like absolute landlubbers as he leaps from mast to mast, working his way from top to bottom, whacking the men with his tail if they get too close, sending them falling to their deaths on the hard deck or over the side of the ship.

Meanwhile, Kanan has chewed his way out of the net and is now free. By the time he’s spotted, it’s already too late. 

A captured sharkman is dangerous, but a freed one is deadly.

In just a few short minutes, the entire crew of men is dead, dying, or drowned. Kanan has worn himself out. He can’t take being out of the water for so long, and the sun has sapped him of his strength. He collapses onto the deck and closes his eyes, utterly spent.

Ezra, proudly scanning the havoc he has wrought, notices Kanan and flops over to him. He’s pale and parched, drawing wheezing gasps through his dried lips. Ezra immediately hooks his arms under Kanan’s and drags him to a splintered hole in the bulwark, leaping back into the water with him. Kanan rallies once he’s down in the cool depths and opens his eyes. Ezra grins at him, but that grin fades when Kanan raises a critical finger.

“You shouldn’t have come after me. That was a stupid, reckless, insane thing to do. You could have been killed!”

Ezra wraps his hand around Kanan’s finger. “You would have done the same for me,” he says tenderly. “In fact, you have.”

The anger drains out of Kanan, and his eyes develop a film of unseen tears. Face crumpling under the weight of his emotions, he throws his arms around Ezra and embraces him tightly.

With a contented smile, Ezra closes his eyes and hugs him back as hard as he can.

[cryptidwritings]

Dark Water

Chapter 4 : Drunken Sailors

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CW: implied past lady whump (literally one line), drinking, whumper backstory.

Morning came and the ship was deathly still. Captain Isola exit her quarters, called on deck by a small knock and Adair's voice through the solid wood door:

"Dead water, Captain."

She stepped out onto the quarter deck with boots, and brown slacks with her white shirt tucked into the waistband. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she headed portside.

"Captain on deck!"

She leaned over the rail, peering down to still water, clear enough to see into the depths but not even a fish to awaken it. Adair approached, taking a look around the deck. The crew stood at their posts, wiping sweat from their brows, glancing at one another without a word.

"A becalmed ship makes for weary sailors," He leaned on the rail and stared out onto the glass-like sea. It reflected the sky; blending together in an ethereal, continuous blue. There was no indication for when the wind would return. Could be hours, maybe days.

Isola nodded and took in a lungful of the salty air.

"How many barrels of rum do we have left?" She asked.

“Just under three, Captain."

"Plenty to raise the spirits, don't you think?"

Adair looked at Isola with a smile, "Aye. Never a better way."

Isola nodded and pushed her sleeves up to her elbows, "Well then, let's have a day of spirits while we wait for this ghost to pass."

She glanced towards the foremast where the cook was tied, kneeling with her face pressed to the mast and cloth over her eyes.

"And release the cook," she said, taking the stairs up to the navigation room.

"Aye aye," Adair turned to the main deck with a grin, "ye heard the Captain! Drop anchor, furl the sail and get the rum. let's have us a clap a t'under!"

Cheers erupted, rattling the otherwise immobile ship.

A mandolin and fife blasted through the Gehenna galley along with the beat of boots along the deck floor. A rousing shanty filled the deck as the hundreds of Gehenna crew sang, drank, and danced riotously. 

Adair lifted a cup in the air, leading the shanty’s last verse, echoed by the crew before the instruments finished the song with cheers. He stood up, swaying. Multiple hands reached out to steady him, chuckling along with him as he stood upright in the center of the Galley.

“Avast ye!” he yelled. The Galley quieted, and he looked at the musicians, “play something rousing.”

They began, and he looked to the back corner where Isola lounged with a half-empty glass in her hand.

“Did ye ever hear the story of Isola the Devil’s Grin?” he asked the crew.

“Nay!” They stomped their feet on the deck.

“Well, lemme tell it to ye!” Adair gulped down his rum and slammed it on the nearest table, one of ten that lined the sides of the galley. He immediately picked up another, prying it from a sailors hands.

“The sea called to our Captain as a landlubbing lass,” he quieted down the spattering of chuckles from the crew as he took another drink and wiped it from his lips.

“But she was told she couldn’t sail by those Lumrey fools!”

“Boo!”

“Aye, aye,” Adair spun in the Galley, eyeing each of the crowd, “but the call of the sea be bewitching, and our Captain stole the sailor garb and snuck aboard!”

The crew played up the amazement, clapping their drinks together, stomping their feet. Adair continued.

“Three months she sailed with none the wiser, until she,” Adair looked at the Captain with a smile, “the seadog, took a liking to one of ‘em.”

Whistles erupted from the crew. Isola smirked and finished her drink, planting her feet on the deck.

“Their lily-livered excuse for a Captain found out and, instead of taking her Clinside, ordered her to walk the plank!” Adair shook his head, as the rest of the crew scoffed with derision, “aye, and as her body hit the sea her fate was left to Davy Jones. Only, when on her last breath, did it offer her safety. Rotted wood of a sunken ship between Clinside and Ghost Key bubbled up from the briny deep, and our Captain clung to it for days until what should come from the horizon?”

“Gehenna, hoy!” the crew resounded, lifting their drinks as the music continued at a hefty pace.

“Fished her out of the sea and set her on her decks. When met with death from Captain Arrowood’s blade, rest his soul, our Devil’s Grin puffed out her chest and said- well I’ll let her tell ye,” he nodded to Isola, who grabbed the now full cup from the table.

“The sea let my vengeance live. Kill me, and she’ll drag your sorry carcass down with my corpse.”

Adair nodded sharply and raised his cup, “To Captain Isola! Devil’s Grin hoay!”

“Devil’s Grin hoay!”

The cheers melded together as the band picked up speed and volume, and the crew danced and drank, forgetting about the becalmed sea beyond the Gehenna’s decks.

Adair approached the Captain on wobbling sea legs as he finished off another cup of rum. Isola’s cheeks flushed from the strong drink, and she looked at Adair with a smile as she raised her glass to him.

He sighed and took a seat next to her.

“Three sheets to the wind and it isn’t even sundown,” Isola smirked, “becoming quartermaster has made you soft, aye?”

“The Scourge doesn’t go soft, Captain, even if the days under ye are more prosperous and the sea be easy,” Adair reassured, settling back and watching the crew. The chef skirted along the other side, filling drinks and replenishing plates, wincing with contact from the other crew’s bodies that were otherwise unaware of her presence. 

The supplies were getting low; both Adair and Isola knew. Any of the crew that had their wits about them ate little and drank much, hoping that the wind would come soon.

“I did promise you that,” Isola stated, taking another drink.

“Ye did the ‘arder thing, keepin’ it,” his words slurred together, and Isola smiled.

“Th’s why I can’ stand that rat an’ ‘is mouf,” the words trickled out as Adair’s eyes began to shut.

“A rat’s opinion belongs to the bilge,” Isola reassured.

Adair nodded, “aye, bu’ the bilge-” he burped, “talks back. Tha’s why I had ta’ stop it from squealin’ somehow.”

Isola sat up, “what did you do?”

“Nothin’ it couldn’ handle, Cap’n.”

“Adair,” Isola’s voice sharpened, and he opened his eyes and looked at her.

“It ain’ dead,” he said, “jus’ a li’l bruised aroun’ tha neck.”

Isola rolled her eyes and stood, leaving her rum on the table as she grabbed Adair’s shirt and pulled him up. The crew quieted down a bit, keeping an eye on the tense situation in the corner of the Galley.

“That rat is mine,” Isola grit her teeth as Adair lifted his hands in surrender.

“I didn’ have a choice. It tried ta run.”

She relaxed, “Run?”

He nodded, “Bilge-sucker is faster than it looks…” his eyes fell shut again as Isola’s fists let go of his shirt. 

“Oh, I see,” she looked out, eyeing the stairs, “Adair.”

“Mm?”

“I’m going below. Keep an eye out.”

“Aye, Cap’n.”

Taglist: @sparrowsage @kixngiggles

[greaserink]

I... What if captain magnum was actually hella short and mad so he just replaced his legs with logs out of short anger.

I mean he's finding solutions to his "problems". Frankly, I'd love to see a Captain Magnum who is slightly shorter than me.

__________

-It's only when you are invited to his private quarters at night, when all work is done. He sent a crew member to fetch and escort you there, and you here a gentle "come in" from the other side of the oak door.

- This is the first time he has ever allowed you even remotely near his room so you hesitate slightly to enter.

- You don't expect to see a fairly average height man, sitting down behin a desk with nothing bit his slacks, a blouse unbuttoned for comfort, and mismatched socks.

- His hair is long and tied back with a ribbon, his hat resting at the corner of his desk. It looks curly but you know that it's only because of how matted it is.

- Captain Magnum glances up from his writing to you, finding great pleasure that it seems you yourself have foregone your usual working clothes for an evening garb as well.

- "Please, come. Sit," he gestures with the quill to the seat in front of him then continues writing what seemes to be a list of what is stocked on the ship. Or at least that is what you can gleam with what candlelight there is in here.

- He seems so much more reserved than what he usually is when manning the wheel and commanding you to address the once dancing hempen.

- His eyes are so tired as well.

- This is definately a 180° to what you're used to.

- He seemed he just wanted your company that night, seemingly at ease with just conversating you as he worked. Sometimes asking you for your opinion on things now and then.

- After that night he would have someone fetch you to take you to his room just so you two can ruminate, drinking quite a bit with one another as well.

- Up on deck seemed to be a lone soul accordian, playing a slow tune. And you couldn't help but sway to the sound since there isn't much music to come by in the middle of the ocean.

- He couldn't help but study you as you did so, being so at peace in front of him.

- You opened you eyes when you heard him clear his throat just to see that he has abandoned the chair that sits behind his desk, the usual split that break you two apart, and now is standing beside your chair offering his rather calloused hand.

- His light brown pants clung to his legs and were tucked his mismatched socks. It felt strange seeing how surprisingly large his thighs were. Of course, anyone would build a lot of muscle from toting literal logs around.

- "Would ye offer this ol' salty seadog a bit 'o yer time and a bit 'o a dance?"

- You blinked once. Twice. Completely forgetting that you are probably looking like a fool, staring at him while he is waiting for your reaction.

- You agree, placing your hand in his. It was nice not having to crane your neck to just have eye contact with him, and it was even more pleasant being able to have his hand on your waist as the two of you swayed to the song. Seeing each other at the same height.

- Then there was the time where you all made it ashore and had to go delving into the brush of a thick jungle. And he knew that his uncertainty about his height would have to be for later because those logs definately were not for exploring.

- He was definately not as used to not having the logs around tye crew as much as he was with you.

- It was surreal seeing him guiding his crew with his usual long coat forgotten and leather boots now strapped around his calves.

- He seemed more on edge and cranky, supposedly waiting for someone to pipe up about it.

- No one did since everyone valued keeping all of their fingers.

- That is until that night, when you all were now resting up and done with setting camp did you speak to Captain Magum, commenting how you found it pleasant seeing him like this. As himself in front of his crew. Takes a lot of strength and courage.

- He grumbled to himself for a moment, enjoying you buttering him up before saying, "Well don't ye get used to it."

- But it seemed he took your words to heart and began wearing the logs less and less, as to which you would reward him with pleasant words and compliments.

- Mayhaps it ain't to much of a hassle not to wear those darn heavy things all the time.

[cuppykin]

The Adventures of Tintin: The Dressed Cattle, Chapter 1

This is the beginning of a few chapters of fanfiction for the Adventures of Tintin series, BUT, the focus here is my dear self insert, her name in this being Terry Westenburg, the shy baker who develops a feeling for a certain old salty seadog. 

YEP this is mostly a self ship fanfiction but extended to be loyal to the source material (or as loyal as I could be), but if that isn’t your cup of tea, you’re not pressured to read it. If you are interested in reading, hopefully I’ll have Chapter 2 posted in maybe the next week or two weeks. So with that, enjoy!!

It was a nice, cool morning that day, the perfect weather for something warm and sweet. Terry was awake at a nice hour like any other day of her life, and was dressed, a nice skirt, blouse, and pretty black shoes. She brushed out her kinky black hair, short for a woman to have, even for a black woman to have, but it was easy to manage.

She could say she was in a nice mood, but something last night really shocked both her and her aunt. Outside her street, she couldn’t hear too much, but her aunt said she heard a confrontation, before a loud gunshot, which is what woke Terry up in the first place. They didn’t wanna dwell on it too much, and went to sleep, sure that whatever happened was just an incident that meant to happen to a specific person and not somebody random in the streets. The tension seemed to have been all around the apartment building, as nobody called the police until dawn broke

Terry had been greeted by her Aunt Ines, who had cooked breakfast for the both of them. Ines was her primary caretaker ever since Terry had moved back to Brussels after spending a good portion of her life in America. In some ways, Brussels felt very unfamiliar to her, but Ines loved the company Terry brought her.

“Good morning dear,” Ines smiled, the two of them putting up a casual front despite what they had both heard last night. “Are you sure about going to work today?”

“I gotta, it’s good to have spare money in the house, for nice things,” she said.

“Oh you would know something about buying nice things,” Ines chuckled. Terry was a bit girly, always wore pink with nice earrings and pretty shoes. It was all for her, she didn’t have much in the way of money for a while growing up. But she always was there to spend money on whatever Ines needed if the time came.

Terry got a piece of bread and spread honey on it, her aunt poured a cup of tea for her as she sat down.

“That reminds me,” Ines said. “That Mr. Laurent, you’ve been working with him for what, two years? He should’ve given you a raise by then.” Mr. Laurent was Terry’s boss. Her aunt never really liked him, despite his friendly exterior there was something about her she didn’t like, but Terry liked him. He was a good boss and she went to work in the back preparing food, since she was nervous actually talking to people during the day. But he was also old and she knew that for a little while he had trouble keeping the business afloat.

“I don’t mind, but I’ll ask him eventually,” Terry commented. “I think in the past few months the business is improving and by then he’ll have enough to increase my wages.”

“Alright, if you say so dear,” Ines said. “Want something else aside from bread dear?” Terry shook her head and stood up. “I get plenty to eat during work, love you Aunt Ines, I’ll see you later today.” Terry hugged her aunt and left the apartment they lived in, taking her coat and walking out into the streets of Brussels. She was immediately stopped by two very similar looking detectives, whom she only slightly recognized.

“Good morning miss,” the two said simultaneously with a tip of the hat.

“Good morning er, Thomson and Thompson was it?” Terry said.

“Right you are miss,” Thomson said happily. “Can we ask you a few questions?”

“About what?” She had figured it might be for that gunshot heard last night.

“Did you witness the murder of last night?” Thompson asked. It was a murder? Terry froze up in fear.

“N-no, just heard it.”

“At what time did you hear it?”

“I-I think it was a few minutes before midnight, but that’s all I know, I never looked and saw anything.”

“I see.”

“And you didn’t act on the murder at all did you?”

“What? No I could never,” she exclaimed.

“Very well miss!” Thompson smiled.

“You have a nice rest of the day,” Thomson said. Terry nervously walked past them, not daring to look any place where the murder might have taken place. It sounds much worse knowing that somebody was found dead not far from where she lived.

She quickly arrived at work, Mr. Laurent already there as he was the one who opened up, and Terry walked in with a smile. Mr. Laurent grinned as she came in. “Terry! How are you doing dear?”

“Great, it’s nice to come in,” she said, going into the back to put on her apron. “What’s the plan for today?” She wanted to go straight into talking about work, cause the murder was just eating at her after she found out.

“Start making a fresh batch of bread for the day, your hot cross buns recipe is getting rather popular,” Mr. Laurent smiled.

“Happy to experiment when needed,” Terry said. She went to the kitchen, getting all that she needed to cook some nice fresh bread rolls brushed with honey.

As she was beating dough when making the bread, she heard the phone ring in the other room. Mr. Laurent never really let her answer it, and she didn’t know why, but she didn’t think too much on it. Mr. Laurent took the phone, and Terry went back to focus on working at molding the dough into its proper shape for buns. Mr. Laurent soon came into the kitchen, as Terry put the buns in the oven.

“Terry dear, can you please do me a favor?” he asked. “I’ll pay you extra for it.”

“Yes sir?” she asked, wiping off her hands.

“Please, can you operate the front for me, there’s something I have to do urgently, and I’m not too sure how long I’ll be gone.” Terry stiffened a bit. Very, very rarely did she ever work in the front, Mr. Laurent preferred that, and it made her extremely anxious talking to others and taking their orders. But, this was her job, she had to overcome it eventually.

“Uhm...yes sir,” She said. “But right now I just put something in the oven, but no fears, I’ll monitor it while I look after this place.”

“Thank you so much, so so much,” Mr. Laurent smiled through his bushy grey mustache. Something about him seemed nervous, but Terry didn’t want to ask, as not to butt into his boss’s business.

“Of course sir, happy to help,” Terry smiled nervously. “I’ll make sure to do my best while you’re away.” Mr. Laurent smiled down at her, before he left in a hurry. Terry took a good look at the buns as they were cooking, and then went to the front of the bakery to start helping as saw fit.

The day seemed to start out a bit slower than other days, but of course people did come in for things like breakfast pastries. Terry was mousy and quiet, but got people what they needed, and soon grew a bit into it. Talking to people for her was the equivalent of stepping into a pool of cold water on a hot day. Hard to get used to, but forcing yourself to dive in is more comfortable when you get used to it.

It was past noon, and her boss still wasn’t back, and Terry had just sold a few slices of pie to a mother and her kids. The door opened again minutes after the mother left, and Terry had came to attention to help them.

“Good afternoon and welcome to Laurent’s, how may I help you?” she said as she did to others coming in. Walking into the bakery, a red headed young man and his pure white dog, and a dark haired older man with a bushy beard, who looked more irritated than anything. “Good afternoon miss, sorry to come in so suddenly, but can I ask a few questions?”

“Uh, yes, of course,” Terry said in surprise. “About what?”

“The recent murder not far from here near an apartment complex.” Her face dropped.

“Oh, that, I lived right where it happened,” she replied. “It kinda scares me, the thought of why whoever was killed was killed.”

“Whoever did that is a coward!” the dark haired man said loudly behind the red haired one. “Coming after a disabled sailor like that! To kill a man who can’t even run away from you is an act of a weak man with a gun!”

“Wait, who now?” Terry said in response. She might know the murder victim. She knew him as Wout. He was a bit of her aunt’s friend, and a sob story. He was a sailor for years and went on multiple voyages in his lifetime to many places, but one injury made his legs crooked and painful to walk on. As a result, he lost work, and went to live with his already elderly mother in the same apartment as Terry. She never talked much to him, but when she did, he seemed like such a nice man. Who would want him dead?

“Was his name Wout?” Terry asked.

“It-”

“It was!” The bearded man interrupted his younger friend. “When I find out who in the world would kill such a harmless man I’m gonna-”

“Captain, please!” the red headed man said, trying to calm him down. “This must be rough to hear, and you’re upset, and right now, we need answers from whoever we can.” He turned to Terry, a similar expression of concern as on her face. “I’m so sorry, miss, my name’s Tintin, you?”

“My name’s Terry,” she replied. “And uh...sir?” she turned to the bearded man, obviously enraged. He turned to her, trying to calm down in front of her.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said sadly. “I knew Wout too, but not as much as you might have.” She went and got a slice of cake from the stand, holding it up to the older man. He looked surprised to say the least.

“Miss no I can’t accept that, I’m just having a rough-”

“I uh, well, you know, even a little bit of sugar makes the most bitter medicine better,” Terry said. He took it, but went in his pocket afterwards for money.

“It’s on the house sir.”

“I know, but, if we’re gonna be at a bakery, might as well order something for the rest of us.” Tintin smiled a bit.

“I appreciate it, Captain,” he said. “I’ll have a berry tart, and, maybe a meat filled bun for Snowy here.” Terry leaned over to get a good look at the small dog at Tintin’s foot, and grinned.

“Awww what a cutie!” she grinned, the cute little dog yipping in response.

“A best friend of mine as well,” Tintin smiled.

“My name’s Haddock by the way,” the older man told Terry. “Captain Archibald Haddock.” Terry smiled a bit.

“A captain, what a nice title,” she said. “A man I’d figure have a care for former sailors.” She presented the pastries to the group, and they sat at one of the two tables there at the bakery (nobody really sat there in all honesty). As they ate, Terry went to Tintin and Haddock, and began telling Tintin what she could, which admittedly, was very little on this case, and did explain a lot about her reaction to the ordeal.

“And nobody called the police, at all during the time of the incident?” Tintin asked.

“Not to my knowledge, because I didn’t see the police until the morning when I left for work,” Terry answered. “Poor man wasn’t the richest, in fact was very very poor, how him and his mother could still afford to live in that apartment I have no idea.”

“He was only out of commission for the last six months,” Haddock said. “An injury like his could change a man so drastically in such a short period of time.” Terry looked to him sadly, and went to pour the group some glasses of water.

“Bad things can happen to such humble people,” Terry said. “But uh...I’m sorry, I didn’t know Wout nearly as well as I imagine you’d have.”

“No, it’s fine,” Haddock said. “I feel better knowing that people knew him fondly.”

“Captain, hopefully the man who did this will be brought to justice, and we don’t have another tragedy like the one last night,” Tintin look to his notebook, closing it after that. “Thank you so much Terry, say, I don’t think I’ve ever eaten here before.”

“That was a really nice slice of cake,” Haddock smiled, Snowy barking as to agree with them. Terry smiled.

“Thank you both, hopefully you all can come again, but I might be in the kitchen instead of up front.”

“Don’t like to show your face much do you, lass?” Haddock asked. Terry blushed a bit in response.

“I get nervous around customers a lot,” she said.

“You’re doing just fine with us aren’t you?” Haddock smiled. Terry smiled back, rather flustered. Such a friendly duo, and a rather charming captain despite his anger earlier. She didn’t expect to be so comfortable around these men so fast.

“Thank you so much,” Tintin stood up. “Stay safe going back home tonight.”

“Thank you, have a nice day,” Terry smiled at the two. “Come by again, maybe, if you want.”

“I’m certainly stopping by if the sweets here taste that good!” Haddock grinned, as they left. Terry smiled, and she let an excited chill run up her body. Despite the discussion of something so grim, Terry enjoyed her time around those two. A rare feeling that was so unfamiliar it was weird. She wanted to see them again, maybe be friends, if they even wanted to be her friend in return. Her default assumption, sadly, was everyone only tolerated her until she was told otherwise.

It was the evening, an hour before her scheduled time to head home, and yet, Mr. Laurent wasn’t there yet. Terry didn’t want to be worried, and yet, she was wondering what he was doing for so long. She spent the entire day baking, cleaning, and serving customers all at once. How that man could do so much on his own before she never knew. But the radio on the shelf of the bakery tuned into the news. Terry listened in closely as she mopped the floor. It was about the murder, and she wanted to start to drown it out, until one feature about it stood in her mind.

“...the murder victim was shown to have a mark of an X branded into his cheek, and is one of three other men in the past several months that have been murdered in this fashion, shot, branded, and left on the side of the street.” Terry knew about these incidents, 3 men before him murdered, with a single gunshot wound to the head, and an X branded into their cheek. She never thought that this would be a reality until it happened so close to where she lived.

The door to the bakery opened again, and Terry wondered who would come for cake at 6 in the evening. She turned around, and there was the man from earlier. Haddock, the dark haired bearded captain.

“Oh! Good evening sir,” Terry said. “What brings you here?”

“Don’t you have another one working with you?” he asked too abruptly. “You look too young to be owning a shop on your own.”

“My boss has been out all day, actually,” Terry explained. “I don’t know what for, but I don’t really mind, I think.”

“Hopefully you’re not a total pushover to him,” he said. “I came back to order a devil’s food cake slice, and apologize for earlier.”

“Apologize?” Terry went to the glass case to get a slice of cake for the captain.

“I imagine just bursting in here yelling shook you up a fair bit, eh?”

“Well, I mean, it’s fine, really sir, what am I to judge?” She gave him a slice of devil’s cake. “You’re rightly upset, I’m more shook up at the fact that it happened right in the apartment building I live in. You never think this stuff can happen so close to home, and to you, but then it does.”

“Oh, Tintin and I know a thing about that,” Haddock chuckled.

“You all get into danger a lot?”

“That ain’t the half of it.” Terry’s eyes sparkled in curiosity.

“That, that sounds really nice, I would love to hear some stories, but I have work right now.”

“I don’t see anybody in the shop except for you and I, how about we sit down and spin a yarn or two?”

“Oh! No I can’t do that what will my boss say?”

“Don’t worry, he won’t mind you taking a few minutes to chat, he’s the one who's been gone all day anyhow.” Terry smiled a bit. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t happy to see this man again, and did sit down, putting the mop aside. “Tell me anything you can, sir.”

Terry listened with great interest to Haddock, his life as a captain on the high seas, meeting Tintin in the first place and find the riches of his ancestor that got him to own Marlinspike Hall, travelling to the arctic to discover an odd asteroid and competing against a boat on the race to claim it. She was intrigued, it was so much more of an intriguing lifestyle compared to how she lived for a good portion of her young life.

“Sir, that sounds so, well, I’d say fun but a lot of that sounds borderline life risking,” Terry said. “I’d wanna experience that, maybe just once.”

“Be careful what you wish for, dear,” Haddock said. “You just might get it.”

“That’s why I wished for it in the first place!” Terry giggled in response. The door opened up, and Terry looked to see who it was. It was her boss! Terry stood up. “O-oh, good evening sir, don’t worry I kept the bakery running-”

“Terry, don’t worry, you did great in my absence,” Mr. Laurent said. Terry looked at her  boss, and noticed the state of him. He had a horrible black eye, there were several bruises across his face and his lip was bleeding underneath his mustache.

“Sir…? Are you alright?” She asked, Haddock stood up and took a good look at him as well. “Looks like ya got into a nasty fight.”

“What? No, no, this was all in an accident on my way home,” he said. Terry noticed something very, very faint on one of the bruises across his face. It couldn’t been seen unless you were really staring, but there was an odd X on one of the bruises on his face, like something hit, or even slapped or punched him.

“Terry, you did good, and you can go home for the day, you’ll get a good sum of money for taking care of the shop for the day.”

“Will you be okay sir?” she asked.

“Of course, no worries, you can go home and rest for the night, I’ll take care of everything else.”

“A-alright sir, I’ll pack up for the night.”

“Oh, I still have to pay, don’t I?” Haddock said. “I ordered a cake, sir.” Terry went to the back and removed her apron, coming out and grabbing her coat to leave. “Have a nice night, Mr. Laurent.”

“I can walk you home, miss,” Haddock offered. “With what’s going on it’s not safe for a woman to be out here on her own.”

“I uh...are you sure?” Terry asked. “I don’t wanna be a bother.

“Of course, come on, get enough rest sir.” Haddock left with Terry down the street.

“I don’t live far from here, it’s quite alright,” Terry told him.

“Still, doesn’t feel a little better to walk home with someone for the night?” He was right about that, and Terry just nodded in response.

“Sorry, it must be creepy for an old man like myself to be so buddy buddy with a woman your age.”

“It’s fine, really, I don’t talk to people much because I assume well...I’m just an inconvenience in their space.”

“Nonsense, you’ve been a delight so far, if you don’t mind me saying.” They eventually made a stop right by Terry’s apartment building.

“This is where I live,” she said to him. “Told you, it’s not very far from the bakery.” She saw the police tape and chalk on the side of the road, where the man was murdered, and sighed. “I guess it is rather dangerous, but I don’t really, have friends to walk with me after work.”

“None? No friend in the world?”

“Just me and my aunt, I get scared finding my place amongst others, and I just fade out and not talk to them. I guess it’s gotten worse for me living here, I don’t look like anyone here as far as I’ve seen.” Haddock furrowed his brow, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“There’s no need to feel like that, I know this seems odd but, perhaps I can come around when you’re able to, and we can maybe go on walks or get a drink or two.” Terry blushed, looking at how Haddock had his hand on her shoulder.

“You...you want to do that with me? Are you sure, because I was just ranting about my own stupid issu-”

“Of course, you seem nice enough, a part of me wishes we bonded over something less…” he looked to the chalk lines of the body once there. “...tragic, but, it’s still something.”

“I’d love that!” Terry smiled. “I live on the second floor, the only door on the second floor that’s black, so it’s not hard to spot.”

“Can I count on you being there tomorrow?”

“In the morning, I leave for work at nine, but…” Terry thought back to the injury her boss had. “I’m not sure I’ll be in work, Mr. Laurent will probably have to close because of that nasty injury.”

“That one, I noticed…” Haddock thought about it. “What kind of accident gives a man that look?” One that makes you run into a fist and boot multiple times.

“I hope he’s alright, the older you are, the less likely you’ll bounce back from injuries like that.”

“I can agree, but still, have a nice evening dear.” Haddock left at that, and as Terry entered the apartment his face went bright red in embarrassment. “I’m an idiot, a dunce! What kind of a man my age just asks a young woman that?” He hopes Tintin could join them, at least he’s closer in age with that young woman, but she was awful nice to him.

Terry breathed a sigh of relief as she arrived home. “Hello? Aunt Ines?”

“You’re home early,” she smiled, on the couch with a book and tea. “I haven’t even started dinner.”

“I had to leave sooner, Mr. Laurent looked to have gotten hurt pretty badly.”

“What happened to him?”

“He just told me it was an accident.” Terry took off her coat and rolled up her sleeves. “But since I am early, how about I help you with dinner?” Ines stood up and smiled, walking off with her young niece into the kitchen to cook for the night. They talked as they do usually at the end of the day, Terry bringing up how she met Tintin and Haddock.

“They sound like nice men,” she said. “And this Haddock man is coming over tomorrow morning?”

“Maybe, we never really confirmed anything solid.”

“It’s nice seeing you make friends dear, I love being with you, but a girl your age, living here for two and a half years with not a friend in site, I get worried sometimes.”

“I’m fine Aunt Ines, really.”

“I know, but I care about you, as any guardian figure would.” Terry smiled, her forehead being lovingly kissed by her aunt. The two finished a simple dinner for the both of them, and they sat and ate, in silence, but a nice, comforting silence that only two people with a strong bond could experience with each other. A nice, comforting end to a day that was both pleasant, and a little scary.

[riccardolll-blog]

NPC Building Tips #1 - Flaws

Why do players come to bond with some NPCs but not others?   What makes an engaging NPC?   How do you create a recurring NPC who your players will love?

I think the answer to this question has a couple of different answers, but in this post I’ll be focusing on what I consider one of the most fundamental requirements for creating key NPC - their flaws.

Why focus on the NPCs flaws?  Quite simply because whatever flaws your NPC has will make the character a) memorable, b) likeable, and c) creates story and world building opportunities. 

Memorable NPCs

Players are more likely to remember the queen who can never find her coronet, much to the exasperation of her elderly lady in waiting.  Or the blacksmith with several missing teeth who likes to whistle loudly through the gaps while he works. 

These tidbits give clues about the kind of personalities your players are dealing with, and can form a reference point for your players when they later want to revist that NPC. 

“Where was that ranger who dressed entirely in snakeskin?  Didn’t they know something about poisons?” 

“Didn’t we meet a young gnome merchant who liked to gamble in that city?  Maybe they know someone from the underground we can talk to?”

Lifelike NPCs

Players are also more likely to connect with a character they see as in some way fragile or lacking because an NPC who revealing their “human nature” is more real/lifelike.  Their flaws will resonate with your players own humanity. 

What’s more is that NPCs with flaws gives you options for story building.  An NPC with no weaknesses has no need for the heroes (or villains) of the story.  To build a story around an NPC, push the flaw to a small extreme and imagine what the consequences would be.  For example, a salty old seadog whose love of sailing keeps him away most of the time comes home one day to find his wife missing.  He now lives in a disorganised dump of a dwelling and pines for his love day and night.  Can the players help?  

Story/World Building Opportunities

Giving NPCs flaws also allows for world development outside the players story arc.   Take the above example our beloved seadog.  After the players successfully reunite the sailor with his wife, there is a graceful cut scene and the players continue on with their adventures elsewhere.  After some time, something brings them back to the coastal town where the seaman and his wife live.  They discover that the sailor has learnt the error of his ways, but still struggles with his passion for sailing/the sea.  In an attempt at loving compromise, the sailor has opened a ship building business.  The business allows him to continue to sail, but means he does not travel too far or for too long.   Unfortunately, it’s early days and the business is struggling which is putting financial strain on the couple.  Etc.

Building NPCs with Flaws

Assuming you’re now sold on the idea that flaws are a critical part of NPC character building, how do you go about picking/dreaming up your flaws?  And how many flaws should an NPC have? 

To be annoying and answer in reverse, generally your players won’t remember more than two flaws in a character, and generally you as DM won’t have enough time to sufficiently illustrate/explore more flaws than that. 

Personally, I think one major flaw and a minor flaw in an NPC is enough.  Remember, your NPCs like your characters have other facets to their characters like dreams, ideals, relationships, etc.  The flaws do not make the entire NPC, but they will be a defining trait.

With this in mind, how do you pick your flaws?  Well, you have two main options.  You can either build your character from the flaw up (see generator below), or if you already have a character with some kind of context/story behind it, pick a flaw that seems to fit with that context.  Take into account factors such as the NPCs age, race, what kind of environment they were born/raised, the society they live in now, influential people in their life and their potential flaws,

E.g. a little mermaid with an interest in goods that fall from passing ships may be naive and strong willed.  Alternatively, an old warrior whose people are facing almost certain genocide from an invading force may suffer from a deep existentialism and be slightly deaf. 

NPC Flaw Generator 

A little silly, but a fun way to get the creative juices running.

Follow the generator twice.

Your NPC is:

Roll 1d4.

A little

Somewhat

Fairly

Very

Roll 1d100

Gullible

Obsessed with [open the nearest book to page 6 and read until you find the first common noun]

Pedantic

Timid/shy

Allergic to something (anything! e.g. herbs, insects, dust, grass, magic, sunlight before 9am, constructs, etc.)

Blustering/bombastic/flamboyant

Frugal/meager/scrooge

Annoyed by people younger than them.

Tired at all times

Cold

Missing something (a nail, eyebrows, fingers, eyes, teeth, lips, limbs, a heart, a loved one, etc.)

Arrogant

Pious and/or religious

Deceitful

Acerbic/sour

Paranoid

Evasive/keen on avoiding questions

Overly cheery/chipper/optimistic about everything

Absent minded

Reclusive

Overweight or underweight

in debt to someone

Traumatised by something (e.g. lost a parent when young, witnessed a murder, was conscripted into a rebel army at a young age, seen a ghost/apparition, experience a severe drought/famine, survived the black plague, etc.)

Unlucky (could be mechanical as well as story based, e.g. always rolls with disadvantage)

Callous/insensitive/tactless/abrasive

Socially awkward

Pretentious

Unsubtle about being a peeping Tom/Tammy

Nosy/in need of getting to the bottom of everything

Unscrupulous

Fastidious

Lazy

Cruel

Servile

Impatient

Ignorant and/or bigoted

Ungainly

Legalistic

Dreamy/disconnected from reality

Susceptible to outbursts of small person syndrome (whether actually short or not)

Cheat

Uncouth

Discourteous

Aggressive/vexatious/pugnacious/cantankerous

Doubtful

Mad/insane

Narcissistic/egocentric

Insomniac

Tall tale teller/liar

Over energetic

Anxious

Patriotic

Mechanical

Psychic

Stubborn

Delicate/frail/sickly

Weak/feeble/elderly

Easily embarrassed

Fussy

Self indulgent

Prejudiced (your choice of prejudice)

Claustrophobic

Tone deaf

Tattletale/snitch

Overworked/stressed

Rebellious/surly

Nihilistic

Despised (by someone specific or in general)

Creepy

Nomadic/itchy feet

Bossy

Idiosyncratic.  Pick a distinct/unique personal behavior proportionate to your first roll.  (e.g. waves their hands above their heads before entering another room, always turns/travels in a clockwise direciton, must always be carrying something in their left hand, will never wash their hair, adopts every stray cat they come across, etc.)

Gluttonous

Guilty about a crime they committed that has not yet been found out

Talkative/chatter box

Domineering

Flirtatious

Fearful of change (a specific change or change in general)

Untidy

Bludger/moocher

Confused

Fickle/capricious

Pessimistic

Easily distracted

Paternalistic

Elitist

Evangelistic for a specific cause (pick your own! e.g. veganism, industrialisation, communal childminding, fitness lifestyles, unions for magic users, compulsory documentary photography, etc.)

Punny, at all time

Conflict adverse

Expensive in their taste (whether they can afford it or not)

Colour blind

Conformist/complacent

Uncooperative

Privileged

Childish/immature

Insecure

Epicurean or stoic

Insipid/irresolute

Procrastinator

Cynical

Which grates on the nerves of:

Roll 1d6.

Family member

Friend.

Authority figure.

Neighbour.

The players.

No one in particular (but may have other consequences!)

All the best for your planning and playing.

[themadlostgirl]

Not Dead Yet (Part 23)

*Wow did this not turn out how I was planning it. I’m just gonna go stare at a wall for a couple hours now.*

Pairing: Reader x Peter Pan

Warnings: language

After Peter had told us that pirates were floating out in our lagoon we dropped training and raced to the beach. I was on Ben’s shoulders trying to get a better view. Out in the distance was the outline of a ship, any other details were too far away to notice. Even with the telescope I nicked from Ben all I could distinguish was the skull and crossbones fluttering in the wind.

“So,” I handed Ben’s telescope back to him, “What is our plan of attack?”

“No attack.” Peter said, “If we killed them all then what fun is there? Wait till they come ashore then the games will begin.”

“Fine…” I muttered, “Come on Ben, let’s go back to camp.” I kicked my heels against his sides.

“I am not a horse, Y/N.” he pinched my thigh.

“You’re right, horses don’t talk. Now forward!” I kicked again and he dropped me from his shoulders. I hit the ground with a resounding thud. “Bad horsey…”

“Idiot.” Devin held out a hand for me. As we were walking back to camp a thought occurred to me.

“Devin, have you seen that ship before?” I asked.

“No. Why?”

“Because back there Peter said he had seen it before. I thought maybe since you’ve been here longer than I have that maybe you knew.”

“Nope. That’s the first time I’ve seen anything but Pan and Lost Boys show up on the island.”

“Makes you wonder doesn’t it? This is an isolated realm. The only ones that ever come and go are Peter and his shadow. So how does a ship full of pirates even know about this place? And if they were here before and got away why would they come back?”

“They’re adults and adults do stupid things.” Devin shrugged like this was obvious. “It does make a change to routine though. Fighting pirates will hopefully give us some real practice.”

“It would be nice beat up a salty seadog than you lot for once.” I smirked and Devin smacked the back of my head. “Kidding, mostly.”

“Wanna go a round? I will take you down.”

“Please don’t,” Ben piped up, “I don’t want to have to stitch you back up when she cuts you to ribbons.”

“Thank you Benny,” I gave his cheek a kiss, “I knew you were my favorite!”

“Please don’t call me Benny,” he wiped the spot where I kissed him, “Since when are you so affectionate?”

“The same time she started calling Pan, Pete--”

I tackled Devin to the ground. “Shut your trap!” I seethed through clenched teeth.

“Y/N…” he gasped in a strangled breath, “Can’t breathe…”

I pressed my forearm harder against his throat. “Then shut it.”

“What’s going on here?” Felix came back to see what the commotion was about.

“Nothing, just horsing around. Right, Devin?”

“Right.” he glared up at me. This conversation was far from done.

I stood up and shoved past Felix who was also giving me a skeptical look. I had explained to Ben and Devin and Nick what had really happened back in the Enchanted Forest. All the others could believe I was off having sex with Peter but not them. They were the only ones whose opinion I cared about. Out of the three of them I knew that Devin suspected more happened than I said. I would rather skinny dip in the mermaid lagoon than let him know what had happened...and was technically still happening.

I got back to camp and plunked myself down on a log and started sharpening my dagger. I wish those pirates were on the island now, I could use a distraction. “If you’re not more careful you’ll cut yourself.”

Peter sat down next to me. That’ll work. I sheathed my dagger again and pulled on Peter’s arm. “Come with me.”

“What have I done?” he asked as I dragged him away.

“Nothing yet.” The second I thought we were far enough away from the others I pulled him against me and kissed him. He responded with equal fervor after a moment. All the troublesome thoughts before about this exact situation started to dull away.

I pulled away to catch my breath. “Thanks.” I whispered quietly, “See ya.”

“Wait? What?” Peter grabbed me as I started to walk away and pulled me back next to him, “Is something going on?”

“No. Why?”

He cocked an eyebrow up at me. “I know you my little Lost Girl. I know when something’s bothering you.”

“Don’t worry yourself about it, it’s my problem.” I pushed his hands off me, “I just needed a distraction.”

“For the love of…” he pulled me back again, “Talk to me.”

“I don’t want to.”

He continued to stare at me until I relented and told him about my little spat with Devin. “Wow, you’re really that embarrassed of me?”

“No,” I leaned against a tree, “I just don’t want Devin to look at me like I’m some kind of harlot.”

“Oh yes, and dragging me off so that we can snog behind a tree just barely on the outskirts of camp is the way to do that.”

“I know I shouldn’t have told you about this.”

“Pet, please,” he rubbed his hand up and down along my side, “If I could tell you my problems then you should be able to tell me the same.”

“Thanks, Peter. I’m gonna head back to the beach, see if the ship is any closer.”

He nodded and let me go.

The ship had moved closer but kept to the lagoon for the first couple of days it was here. Peter gave us some insight as to who exactly we were dealing with. A man named Killian Jones who had at one time been a member of the royal navy alongside his brother. They had traveled here a long time ago where his brother had died from poisoning himself with dreamshade. Not the brightest were they? Why would someone want to return to the place that killed their only family?

After some time they came ashore. The Lost Boys and I watched from the trees as they stepped foot on the beach. We were given specific instructions to stay out of sight and not interfere unless things turned hostile.

~~~

“Hello Lieutenant, gone rogue I see.” The pirate and his crew turned at the sudden voice. Peter stood behind them, a sense of superiority flowing through his veins at their dumbfounded expressions.

“You,” the grizzled former lieutenant growled at him, “You’re the boy. The one that killed my brother.”

“Oh no, he did that himself. I gave you the cure, I told you if you left the island you would pay the price. I have no fault in your brother’s stupidity.” he circled the pirates slowly sizing them up. They might not be navy anymore but the stink of adult responsibility still clung to them.

“You could have mentioned that the water only worked in this realm.”

“You should have asked.” Peter smirked at his sneering face, “Why’d you come back, Killian?”

“For this,” his hook glinted in the light, “And that’s Captain Hook to you boy.”

“Alright, Captain, tell me who has done such a thing as to make you desperate enough to travel here again.” This did have him genuinely curious.

“A coward that turned into a crocodile and killed my love.”

“Well that’s all well and poetic but it doesn’t answer my question.”

“The Dark One, a demon by the name of Rumpelstiltskin.”

Peter’s smile dropped slightly at the mention of the Dark One. He shrugged it off and found his tongue again. “Oh? Haven’t seen that rat in a few years, how’s he been?”

“Dead, the next time I see him.”

“A common threat by the few that get away from him alive. I suppose you came for the dreamshade as a way to kill him?”

“It was a thought but not even my hook in his heart could vanquish him. I need something stronger than your poisons.”

“Perhaps I could be of help then. I’ve seen far more lands than you ever have and know more than you could comprehend. I’d be willing to make a deal.”

“I’m not in the habit of making deals with self proclaimed kings on deserted islands.” he brandished his sword, “I should cut you down here and now.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” Peter pushed the tip of the sword away from his face, “Because I’m not alone anymore.” He gave a whistle and the Lost Boys started pouring out from the jungle.

The captain and his crew drew their weapons as they took in the horde of Lost Boys. “My boys outnumber your crew two to one. You really want to try and take us on?”

“Fine, you stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours? Sound reasonable?”

“I can’t be so sure about that, my boys can get bored very easily and who am I to deny them a new game?”

“We are not a game?”

“You’re on my island, you are what I say you are.” Peter stepped back into his group, “Come on boys, I think they understand.”

Together the boys turned around and sauntered back into the jungle. Peter kept up a brave face until such a time as he was able to detach without being noticed. He had something he needed to do.

~~~

“Well that was anti-climatic,” I sighed that night around the campfire.

“They did seem pretty scared of us though.” Nick reminded me.

“Yeah, but I would have loved a good fight.” I tossed my dagger in the air and caught it again, “It’s been too long since I’ve had a good enemy.”

“Your bloodlust is never ending isn’t it?” Nick laughed.

“Are you kidding? She’d chop my hand off if I so much as touched her club and I’m her best friend.” Ben interceded.

“I believe that title belongs to me.” Devin wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

“Awe and to think that you hated me when I first came here.” I ruffled his hair.

“Well you did hit me with a rock.”

“Did I? That doesn’t sound like me.”

“No, she didn’t hit you.” Nick said, “She tried to hit Pan and he threw it back and then it hit you. I remember because I was standing next to you laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe.”

“Thanks pal,” Devin knocked him over the head.

“No problem chum,” Nick hit him back.

“You’re a great friend, buddy.” Devin punched him.

“I know I am, friend.” Nick socked him hard in the stomach and soon the two were rolling on the ground beating up each other.

“Remind me why we’re friends with them?” I asked Ben.

“Because they’re family.”

“Right…” I stretched the word. “You make sure they don’t lose any fingers, I’m going to bed.”

“Will do, night.”

“Night.” I ducked into my tent and started to strip off my dagger and cloak when a hand wrapped around my ankle and dragged me back out. “Hey--”

I was pulled up and a hand shoved over my mouth as my captor started to drag me into the jungle. I bit down on the hand and kicked back. They let go and I reached for my dagger. Dammit, I just took it off! The person on the ground kicked out a leg and swept my feet out from underneath me before pinning me in place. I tried to push them off when a pair of lips met mine.

“Are you done being a crazy thing?” Peter asked.

“You are an ass!” I fumed up at his shadowed face. ��Do you know how to use that mouth for anything else besides kissing?”

“Well now that you mention it--”

“I meant talking pig.” I kneed him hard and he rolled off me, “Would a simple, ‘Y/N, follow me’, be too hard for you to do?”

“It is a lot less fun.”

“What do you want? I’m tired and don’t feel like having a snog.” I pushed myself up to standing.

“It’s not about that. I need your help with something.” he grabbed my arm and started pulling me forward.

“And this couldn’t wait till morning because…?” I stumbled along behind him.

“Because I can’t wait till then. I need this done now.”

I let out an unhappy groan. A familiar rush of wind surrounded us and the next thing I knew we were standing on the far side of the island where the cliff overlooked Skull Rock. “Peter?”

“Shut up. Let’s just get this over with before I change my mind.” another gust of wind and we were standing on the beach. The boat I had used before was bobbing in the waves. I sat down and he took either oar as he started to row us across to Skull Rock.

What was he doing? He tethered the boat again when we got to the cave and gestured for me to follow. He knew I had already been here. Felix had told him as much. Was this some kind of continuation from our discussion weeks ago in the Enchanted Forest?

We came to the top tier of the cavern where the giant golden hourglass sat. Peter moved past and took out the crate filled with all his past mementos. “Peter, what’s going on? What are we doing here?” I asked unable to take the silence.

“These,” he dropped the crate down at my feet, “I need them destroyed.”

“Why? Why now? Does this have to do with the pirates?” I sought his gaze but he turned away from me, “Peter, remember what you said earlier about you being able to tell me what your problems are? If this is one of them then you can tell me. It’s the reason you brought me here because I know you don’t need me to turn these old memories to ashes.”

He went to the back of the cave where the large opening looked out across the sea and sat down. I sat down next to him waiting for him to speak first.

“Do you remember back in the Enchanted Forest when I said nothing good ever followed that dagger of yours?” he spoke quietly.

“Yes.”

“Did you ever wonder why there was an R carved in the bottom?”

“A bit yes. I just figured it was from a past Lost Boy.”

“It was. One of the first.” Peter’s expression was unreadable, “He was such a puny thing when he came here, couldn’t have been more than ten years old. Practically orphaned, drunk father, lived with a couple of spinner women, a very boring, sad, little life.”

“You brought him to Neverland.” I risked scooting closer.

Peter nodded. “I showed him how to fight, how to fly, took him to different realms all the time and taught him everything I could.”

“What was his name?”

“Rumpelstiltskin.” he spat the word.

“You mean the Dark One was a Lost Boy?”

“That he was. That dagger I gave you was the one I gave him. It’s been through a few owners since then of course.”

“What happened?”

He kept staring out into the distance without responding. “Peter,” I laid my hand overtop of his. He finally turned to face me and I could see the years in his eyes. How long he had lived, what all he had seen, all he had experienced. I pleaded with them to talk to me.

“He left.” his voice teetered between serenity and rage, “He wanted to be with his lazy drunk father instead of me! I gave him everything he could ever want and he chose to go back to the man that didn’t give a damn about him!”

“You loved him. Loved him like a brother.”

“He was the closest thing to a real family I had ever felt. Through all the families I had gone through and little brothers I had, had, he was the best.”

“You didn’t have to let him leave.” I squeezed his hand assuredly.

“He was my little brother, the thing I loved in this entire world more than myself. What kind of a person would I have been if I hadn’t let him go? If I had forced him to stay then he would have hated me, I couldn’t face that.”

I brought another hand up to sweep the hair out of his eyes. “I know you. You wouldn’t have let him go just like that.”

“You’re right. One night after he had gone I knew I wanted him back. I got it into my head that his place was on Neverland having adventures with me.” there was a small remnant of a smile ghosting his features before it crumbled into a deep scowl, “The only thing holding him back was that coward he called a father.”

My heart dropped down into my stomach, “Please tell me you didn’t.”

He gave a single nod. “I didn’t know he was there. I thought he was asleep but he must have woken up. He watched me slice his father’s neck open from the window.” Peter drew in a deep breath his grip on my hand becoming painful but I didn’t make a move to stop him, “After that, he never wanted anything to do with me again. He hated me, he made a point of telling me so over and over before I left.”

I rested my head on his shoulder. “It was like a curse. The only thing left of him being that dagger and this.” he was holding a straw doll in a little blue coat all of the sudden. “Ever since that day anyone who has ever wielded that dagger became important to me then met an end in some way or another.”

The sheath at my side was empty but it weighed like log at my hip. Without another word I stood up and dumped all the belongs in the crate on the ground. Peter watched me as I grabbed a torch along the wall and walked back to him. “I think it’s time we broke that curse.” I held out the torch to him, “And it starts here.”

He stood up and took the torch from me. He stared down at the pile of children’s clothes, family drawings, dried foxglove flowers and wooden toys before tipping the flames to them. The pile caught fire and soon were engulfed entirely in flames. Bits of paper and cloth curled and turned to ash. I took the spot next to him and watched the pile burn.

“Y/N,” Peter said without looking at me, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His hand reached for mine holding it gentler than before.

We stayed in that cave the entire night in silence watching the pile of childhood memorabilia turn to ashes. Anything that didn’t burn we tossed into the sea. The only thing still remaining was the straw doll. I didn’t try to make him burn it too. He had a use for it whether or not I agreed with its purpose was yet to be seen.

In the morning light we gave one another a knowing look and laid down on the cave floor and fell asleep. It had been a long night and there was more to do today but we needed rest. When I woke up later I was resting just in the curve of Peter’s body and the world seemed clearer.

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