#@hans

[silvcrignis]

I need him Lord knows I tried to fight it Heaven knows I tried to find a way around it But I need him

We weren’t written in the stars, no. We were drawn from the bowels of Hell

[sappyhub]

@ Hans

It was lonesome, on the fort.

Peter was sitting in his crawl space of a room, his back propped up against one side of the room and his feet resting on the opposite wall. His head was pressed against the wall as he listening intently to the waves crash just outside his room. Mister Buns was sitting firmly in his lap, and Peter's tiny fingers skated over the fabric, the bandages on his hands rubbing and itching against the stuffed animal. 

Blowing out a breath through his mouth, Peter poked his tongue out of his mouth to lick his lips. He was hungry, though not hungry enough to leave his room. The soldiers had scolded him something fierce, and sent him to his room as a sort of punishment after a few whacks to the wrist with a wooden ruler that was kept especially for the purpose of discipline. It throbbed a little bit, but the boy didn't mind so much.

Closing his eyes, Peter whispered out a small wish. He could hear the ships outside, dropping off and switching cargo. Desperatly, he clutched Mister Buns and whispered,

"Please, let Arthur be on that ship. Please."