So… has this been shared here yet? Or it's the kind of thing all the Alma haters who plague this fandom don't wanna see? :)
If you like Jared Bush's tweets, take this one: Alma wasn't as stern before Mirabel's failed ceremony, what happened that night scared the hell out of her and she changed after that. Also: before that, she was probably starting to put more pressure on the family. She was starting to, when she was on her sixties. And that's probably because she was getting old and anxious towards the survival of the town and the miracle after her death. So no, I'm sorry, she wasn't a horrible monster who abused her family and destroyed their lives since her children were five years old. Big surprise, people grow and develop and change all over each stage of their lives. The 25yo Alma wasn't the same than the 40yo Alma, and that wasn't the same as the 65yo, as well as none of them was the same as 75yo movie-Alma. All of them were traumatized, but that trauma manifested in different ways throughout her life, with different kinds of attitudes, responses and reactions.
Are you going to take this as canon or are you going to ignore it?
BuT sHe HaS bEeN tRaUmAtIzInG bRuNo HiS wHoLe LiFe!!!¡!
Ok, good, let's discuss this further under the cut.
Look, I love Bruno, but all the Bruno-groupies out there idolizing his character and demonizing the rest of the family to defend him are getting on my nerves.
I wish you could understand something: Alma is a woman traumatized by a forced displacement, which means she and the rest of the town fled their home and were chased, hunted, by their attackers, some of them (like Pedro) hunted to death. And that kind of experience generates PARANOIA. When Bruno says "everyone always assumes the worst", he means everyone (his mother included) who asked him for a prophecy always ended up focusing on the bad side of whatever he saw. Why? Because that's what paranoid people tend to do, and the whole Encanto is full of paranoid people.
Visions are things that must be interpreted, not a detailed thesis of you future. If you're already expecting disasters, you're gonna see disasters, and that was the reason Bruno was so wore out. Because gifts were supposed to help the Encanto, and at some point his gift started fueling the town's paranoia instead of soothing it. "My gift wasn't helping the family", come on, he said it himself! Of course it wasn't helping, because everyone was spiraling over their own fears, and he wasn't managing to help them. He isolated himself (literal words of Jared in another tweet, btw) because he was feeling like a failure, not just because the town folks were shunning him. And Bruno is a victim of the same trauma and the same paranoia, so he started spiraling over his own fears too, thinking he was bringing actual bad luck to their loved ones, to the point his mother had to beg him to look into Mirabel's future after her ceremony.
I've said this before, but I'll repeat it again: Alma asked him for a vision because she trusted him and his powers. She still trusted her son, she knew his gift was "useful", though not in the way Bruno wished it to be. Does that mean everything was fun and games yadda yadda in Casa Madrigal? NO, IT DOESN'T. Things were complicated and difficult, all of them had their own problems and worries, but it doesn't mean either every second of their fucking life was miserable and all of them hate each other. Alma failed to notice how conflicted her son was feeling, as she failed to notice how exhausted Luisa was and how repressed Isa was, because she had her focus on keep going keep going keep going keep going without looking behind.
Bruno left because he knew how Alma was going to react towards that vision of the miracle dying, because he knew his mother was paranoid, and that was going to hurt the family deeply. When Mirabel says "Bruno left because you only saw the worst in him" she's talking about this, about the use Alma did of Bruno's power without realizing he was breaking under the pressure of being the messenger of bad news. But that doesn't mean she hates her fucking son. Stop with the "everybody hates poor Bruno" thing, you're exhausting.
Let me tell you, as a woman with eight brothers, that relationships between siblings are a complex thing. You can love you siblings deeply and choose them over everything else, and STILL be aware that sometimes they can be assholes towards some things, and you can get frustrated with them, and you can argue, sometimes for real, sometimes just as banter, and two minutes later you both are laughing over some stupid family running gag you've been laughing at for 20 years, and that's it. It's not a black&white thing. So yes, of course the Madrigals would have a lot of happy moments in the forty years they spent together, and that doesn't erase in the slightest their pain, their struggles and their problems. That's just how real life is, goddamnit. And I'm saying this very aware of the fact that actual toxic families where everyone lives actively hurting each other exist, BUT that's not the case of the Madrigals, please, assume it and stop projecting your issues into them, because it's fucking obvious how much Alma, Pepa and Julieta love and miss Bruno in the movie.
BuT tHeY sInG a SoNg ShItTiNg On HiM!!!!¡¡!!¡1!
Ok, my opinions about We don't talk about Bruno are too long, I'll reserve them for another post. But long story short: if you can't see that Pepa is telling you the greatest hit of her brother's gaffes, Dolores is defending him, Camilo is just joking, town people are being ridiculous and Isa is remembering his good omens, you're the one who's shitting on someone else without reason. I'll elaborate another day.
Also, THEY DON'T TALK ABOUT BRUNO BECAUSE BRUNO ABANDONED THEM AND THEY'RE HURT AF. "But Bruno didn't—" OK, BUT THE FAMILY DOESN’T KNOW IT. Probably, the reason because no one talks about Bruno is Alma; for her, remembering his absence must be like sticking a fork in her eye. She doesn't talk about her dead husband and she doesn't talk about her missing son. Period.
Feb challenge event- dancing/dipping with your partner // Haldir or Thranduil or Legolas // 😊 Please enjoy
Hello Thrandy-anon...
Here we go...the follow-up to the Bonus-Thrandy story
Dancing in the moonlight
Words : 1,7 k
Characters: Thrandy x reader
You were given a room, a bath, and a set of clothing that was magically exactly your size, probably to make you look less like a ‘strange creature’.
Really, your ears were completely normal, you were dressed casually, and you were still a bit vexed that you were the peculiar one.
When a very taciturn person – looking like a walking statue – came to fetch you for dinner, you wiped your moist hands nervously on the velvet garment they had lent you; the silken underwear felt divine on your skin, and you smelled faintly of lavender.
In short, you had never felt so exceedingly lovely in your whole life, and you wondered if it was a waste to spend the rare moments where your confidence reared its cowardly head with a ‘man’ – you were not sure if he really was a man per se – as fantastical as the king of the dark trees.
When you saw him pacing to and fro in front of the dining room though, you had to revise your assessment; he had changed as well and was now wearing another long cape that billowed in the light wind despite looking heavy enough to smother someone in it.
Thranduil looked like a flame in the last rays of the day; gilded by the warm light that gave his hair golden reflections, he now stood tall and straight – looking out over his immobile subjects – while threads in all the shades of the precious metals for which men and women died day after day in your world shimmered and glistened on his exquisite garments.
If he was to walk down the streets of your hometown, he’d be attacked and mugged before he could even make it to the corner shop, you thought, but here, he looked so right; he was untouchable.
“Your Majesty?” you called softly to him, a smile blossoming almost instantly on your face upon seeing the quiet pleasure in his expression when he glimpsed you standing there – awkward in those unusual clothes – just observing him.
“Legolas calls me vain,” he sighed, “but I thought I’d make an extra effort for our select company tonight.”
You were almost certain that Thranduil never looked anything but perfect, and that he took too much pleasure in changing his robes every few hours to forego that joy even when he had to dine alone.
Within a few steps – fluid as water running downhill – he was at your side and offered you his arm to escort you into the dining room as if you were about to step into a Disney-fantasy.
Distracted and dazed still, your mind leaped from that asinine thought to the last movie you’d seen and, naturally, you started humming a few notes of ‘We don’t talk about Bruno’ under your breath.
“Oh? You are fond of music?” Thranduil turned to you in genuine surprise and excitement.
“Isn’t everyone, oh eminent king?” you replied with a small, embarrassed chuckle.
“Please do not call me that, it sounds very strange within my own dining hall,” he said, frowning, “you may call me Thranduil…because that is my name.”
“Alright, Thranduil,” you agreed; you liked the way his name felt on your tongue, conjuring up the taste of the best wine you had ever had in your whole life.
“So…do you like music?” he asked insistently; for some reason, this seemed very important to him.
“Yes,” you replied hesitantly; maybe it was a crime to like music in this realm because it disrupted the discreet chirping of the birds and the soft whispering of the trees.
The king didn’t give any answer to your acquiescence though; he merely smiled to himself as he drew out a chair for you at the dinner table.
“Yes, and well…Pepa…her mood controls the weather or has an impact…anyway…”
You had spent the whole dinner explaining the plot of ‘Encanto’ – and the notion of a movie – to the entranced audience made up of Thranduil and his beloved son.
“And that’s a miracle?” Thranduil didn’t sound very convinced, “My dearest lady, you are in for an awful surprise then.”
“Ada,” Legolas cut in, frowning, “could you please not disparage your kin so? It isquite remarkable.”
“I wish seeing the future was reason enough to ban someone into the walls,” Thranduil muttered, “or messing with the weather.”
“You said the one who could talk to animals was cute though, no?” he leaned forward with an eager gleam in his eyes.
“He’s a small boy, so yes,” you nodded, wondering if Thranduil could talk to animals himself; somehow – given his unearthly beauty and renowned strength – that would not even have surprised you.
“Oh father mine, you are much more like the frightening apparition apparently sporting rats along his back and so on,” Legolas chuckled; they had made you sing them all the parts of the song separately after explaining every single character in detail.
“Rats?” Thranduil sounded horrified at first, but then he shrugged declaring that he was everybody’s king. You came to understand that he literally meant ‘every body’, including the smallest critters crawling in the shade of the tall, dark trees.
Interrupting their bickering with compliments about the truly delightful food, you made it to the end of the best dinner you had had in a very long while, almost forgetting how strange and unreal the whole situation you found yourself in was.
“Do you want to sing us another song?” Thranduil invited you as the plates were cleared away and – in a moment of blind panic – nothing better than Anna Kendrick’s ‘Cups’ came to mind, especially because you didn’t have any instrumental backup.
“You have a good voice,” Thranduil praised you, “you should come with me to the terrace and sing to the trees, they like it.”
Now, you definitely had questions pertaining to his sanity; did he stand on his balcony in the evening and serenaded trees?
“Sing to the trees?” you asked – confused – and cocked your head inquisitively.
“And let them sing to you, yes. Do you dance, Milady?”
You were almost certain that Thranduil was not thinking of ‘The Floss’ or twerking, so you just shook your head slowly – there was a smidgen of regret blossoming in your heart at the thought of what you were missing – but, to your surprise, the king only gave you a very soft and slightly mocking smile.
“You can learn; I’ll lead and you’ll follow.”
You didn’t know what folly overcame your senses then, but – after every single crazy thing that had happened since you had stepped out of your world and into another one – you felt more brazen than you ever had before; the idea of being held in those gracile, strong arms, floating across a balcony as the trees hummed a lullaby in a language your heart understood while your mind barely acknowledged it, sounded too good to be easily passed up.
His hand in yours was cool and smooth as he led you out on a colonnaded parapet overlooking the vast forest extending like an ocean of softly rustling leaves and breathing like a huge beast fast asleep in the moonlight.
“What do you want me to sing to your trees then?” you asked, still not entirely certain that he was not having you on.
“Sing them a song about your heart,” Thranduil recommended, leaning against the railing, and waiting for you to decide.
After a few bars of ‘Caruso’, you could not deny that it seemed as if the forest was waking up to your song; there were whispers and movements in the darkness that filled your heart with an unknown warmth.
“Oh,” Thranduil gasped, “apparently even the forest has grown tired of my voice. It very much welcomes the change.”
He seemed delighted about that and extended an inviting hand to you.
“May I have the honour of a dance?” he asked – cloaked in dignity and starlight – as he slowly spun you around where you stood.
Who were you to refuse a king? Especially one whose eyes were soft as a summer spring now, deep as the fountain of youth, and shimmering like the great oceans of your world in the midday sunlight.
“There’s no music,” you tried to deflect, but – as soon as you allowed his presence as much as his bodily strength to steer you across the smooth stone tiles – the world around you came alive.
And so you danced to the song of the gurgling river and the whispering leaves, to the melody of the whistling of the wind and the humming of the earth, and to the rhythm of the strong heartbeat of a creature you had only just met.
“Trust me,” he begged in a low voice, “let me give you that miracle you’ve been waiting for.”
The peaceful soundscape rose to a crescendo, submerging your heart and mind with emotions and sensations thrilling and new as much as strangely familiar and sorely missed.
You did not contradict; maybe, you were much more like Mirabel than you had thought and – melting into his arms and into his voice whispering things you felt more than understood – you found yourself falling without being afraid a single second.
His hand was splayed on the small of your back as he let you flow backwards; Master of the trees, Thranduil bent you like a reed and let you flow through his arms like a river of velvet and flesh.
Completely stunned, you looked up and sighed.
All you could see was him, wreathed in darkness, crowned in starlight, bedecked in the otherworldly cloth of a nightly secret; he was gorgeous in ways no man ever could be, and you could but stare at him in wonder and amazement.
Your hair almost brushed the ground underneath you, but you felt as comfortable in his palm as if he had laid you out on a bed of finest down; your prediction turned out to be correct: Thranduil had made you float, he had made you hover, he was keeping you suspended on his gaze and cradled in his hand even now.
In that second, you truly felt magical yourself; you were the one to walk between worlds, drifting weightlessly between heaven and earth, beholding a sunny sky in the middle of the night, and you could feel the living power pulsate through every fibre of your body.
“May I?” Thranduil asked, a breath, a whisper, a heartbeat away from your lips.
Again, who were you to deny a king?
@otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @myselfandfantasy there we go :D
This is my follow up for my previous entry for @stanuary after seeing a comment on my 3D work by @eregyrn-falls so i hope you guys enjoy it, because I enjoyed writing this. A big thank you to @bluestuffeh for beta reading this for me!
(also on ao3!)
The ocean was quiet, the water was placid. The waves hardly rocked a small row boat that sat alone in the middle of the clear water. It’s bright white paint job made it stand out easily amongst the bright blue of the water around it. It oars stood in their holders, untouched for multiple hours. A fishing rod lay in the boat, it’s hook still in the water, the red and white bobber riding the gentle waves as they came and went. A pair of tan fishing hats, with names lovingly stitched into them lay unworn in the boat.
Had it not been for the hats, anyone passing by would assume that the boat had been abandoned or was lost. However, the truth, as it often is, was much stranger than fiction. No matter how obvious that fiction ended up being.
Several thousand feet below the calm surface, an epic battle was taking place between two old men and a rather vicious kraken. It had many long dark and thick tentacles that swung through the water with little difficulty. It had eyes the size of wrecking balls, its mantle was as tall as an aerial tower; and the beak that lay between its many highway-length tentacles was the size of the very rowboat that floated so far above it.
Comparatively, the old men that were desperately fighting against it were no larger than the typical human. Perhaps a little rounder in some areas than most. However, in their current situations, Stanley and Stanford Pines felt like ants that had wandered into a pesticide enthusiast’s picnic.
The pair of old men wore underwater breathing masks, as they had somehow found the normally rare occurrence of sea monster attacks to be surprisingly common. However this statistic might have been influenced by Stanford’s life long desire to head towards any sea creature, monster or otherwise, that made a blip on his anomaly radar.
If Stanley had the breath, he would currently be threatening to smack some sense into his twin. Unfortunately, he was currently holding on for dear life to one of the savage beast’s tentacles as it waved around angrily, trying to squish him as though he were the world’s smuggest fly. Seeing that the tentacle was headed towards some jagged rocks, Stanley released his hold, letting the tentacle launch him several feet in the water.
Stanley quickly swam towards his brother, who had taken refuge in a nearby cave. He was busy fiddling away with a pistol. The many brightly coloured discs and parts to the weapon made Stanley think his twin had finally lost his marbles and was playing with a children’s toy. There were a couple of sparks as Stanford pulled at multiple wires and to Stanley’s surprise soldered some control panels together. Despite traveling together on the seas for multiple years, Stanley was still finding many different tricks that Stanford had picked up from his travels in the multiverse.
The ground, or rather the cave around them, began to rumble as many tentacles began to slam against the rock face. Despite the limited visibility provided by an underwater cave, Stanley was able to spot multiple cracks appearing on the ceiling above them. He grabbed his brother and kicked off against the ground. Stanford wriggled against his hold, but Stanley tightened his grasp, swimming his way out of the cave just as the roof began to collapse. Seeing how close to being crushed he was, Stanford stopped fighting his brother’s hold and helped him swim the pair of them to relative safety.
Stanford worked quickly, poking multiple parts of his pistol with the soldering iron. Sending small sparks in the water. Stanley tried his best to weave through the tentacles as he dragged Stanford to safety. He silently prayed that the monster would not notice him swimming out of the cave. A tentacle slammed behind him, narrowly missing Stanford. Another slammed right in front of Stanley, trapping the pair in place.
“If you have a gizmo to save us now would be the time!” Stanley said. Unfortunately, due to his mask his twin could not hear him.
With a finishing jab Stanford cocked his space gun and pointed it at the rock wall beside them and pulled the trigger. Instantly the pair were rocketed away from the wall and out of the creature’s clutches. Just in time as the cave seemed to completely collapse from the wrath of the monster’s tentacles. Stanley felt his clothes pulling back from their weight as he was rocketed forward. Soon they were in the open sea and safe from the creature, for now.
Looking down Stanley could see that his brother had propelled them a good hundred or so feet above the creature. Stanley finally released his grasp on his twin, who wore a smug grin. Stanley rolled his eyes as Stanford threw him the pistol. He raised his eyebrow, looking between the pistol and his brother.
Stanford tugged on his gloves, lighting up the six fingertips on them. He then punched the palm of his hand before pointing at his own eyes and then the creature. As the realization dawned upon Stanley, a wicked smile spread across his wrinkled cheeks. Reaching into his inner coat pocket, he quickly equipped his left hand with his trusted knuckle dusters.
Nodding towards one another, the twins swam apart. Stanley used the pistol to propel himself through the water, weaving between the monster’s tentacles. Meanwhile Stanford stealthy swam towards the monster’s mantle, his gloves glowing with a faint cyan light. He watched his brother avoid the tentacles like a fly avoiding the hands of a family trying to enjoy their picnic. He could only imagine how happy his brother was to be in his element, being as annoying as possible.
The moment Stanford saw that Stanley was in a good position, he clasped both gloved hands into the beast’s mantle, shocking it’s soft body. Seeing how the tentacles had grown slack, Stanley took his chance and turned the pistol behind him and rocketed towards the Monster’s eye, his fist outstretched like the nose of the world’s smuggest rocket.
Stanley was inches from the monster’s giant yellow eye, he could feel the thrum of the pistol in his hand as he grew closer. ‘Any second now and you’ll be sorry you ever messed with the Pines’ he thought. But the eye did not grow any closer. It took a moment but Stanley felt something wrap tightly around his waist and drag him away. He blinked and beside him was his brother, also wrapped in a thick tentacle.
The creature let out a scream from its beak that shook the ground beneath it. Stanley could feel it’s cry in his bones. It pulled them towards its beak. Thinking back, he did not expect himself to meet his end in the beak of some oversized sea creature. But if he was going down he wasn’t going down without a fight.
He struggled against the tentacle that bound him. He could see his brother doing the same, struggling to release his hands to shock the beast once more. But it was all pointless as it tightened its grip on the twins. Closing his eyes Stanley braced for the worst.
“Bruno. Stop this at once!” Commanded a voice with a heavy spanish accent.
The twins, realizing that they were not in fact torn to pieces by a monster’s giant beak; opened their eyes and slowly turned towards the origin of the voice.
They were met with the sight of a young Merman. He looked no older than the 16 year old great niblings that were waiting for the old men to return home. He had long flowing hair that reached past his waist and flowed behind him like a dark brown cape. His tail shimmered a bright green like the emerald sea; and he wore a red shell on a string around his neck. A gold crown sat upon his head.
He swam down past the twins and looked the monster in the eye.
“El hecho de que estés molesto no te da derecho a lastimar a extraños. Eso es muy grosero de tu parte.” He said quickly. He shook his head in disappointment.
The merman pointed at Stanley and Stanford. “Suéltalos Bruno, ya has causado suficientes problemas.”
The monster gave a sad squeak.
“I will not repeat myself.” The merman crossed his arms.
The monster released the men and turned away, tucking its tentacles beneath itself. It looked like it was sulking.
The merman swam over to the two men. He reached for his necklace with one hand, and opened his other, pointing his palm at the twins. He muttered quietly before a pair of bubbles wrapped around Stanley and Stanford’s heads. Their breathing masks beeped, indicating the presence of oxygen gas. Gazing carefully at the merman, Stanford reached into his bubble and removed his mask. Breathing freely for the first time in multiple hours.
Stanley followed suit, enjoying the ability to breath without the uncomfortable mask covering his nose. He turned to face his savior with a suspicious eye.
“Greetings humans, my name is Mermando.” The merman gave a small bow. “The Prince of the merpeople.”
“Stan Pines.” Stanley said.
“Stanford Pines.” Stanford added.
“Pines? You would not be related to that angel who walks on land Mabel Pines would you?” Mermando asked, a spark of joy entering his eyes.
“Yes, she’s our niece.” Stanford nodded.
Mermando turned back to the monster and gave it a disappointed look. “To think my beloved Mabel’s family almost met such a terrible fate.” Mermando clasped his hands together. “Please, accept my most humble apologies.”
“No need for apologies” Stanford waved a hand.
“What exactly was that ‘terrible fate’.” Stan pointed his chin towards the monster that was still sulking.
“That is Bruno, he is the pet of my manatee princess bride. However he has a habit of escaping whenever he is bored. Which, unfortunately, due to our many duties as royalty is very often.” Mermando said, hanging his head.
“All of that was playing?” Stanley asked in disbelief. “He kidnapped us from our boat and almost crushed us!”
“Yes, my bride’s family have been known to partake in rough play.” Memrando said.
“Well, since all of that’s out of the way, can we get back to the surface? I was trying to catch some dinner before Mr. Tall, ugly and grabby dragged us down.” Stanley pointed his thumb at Bruno, who sulked more at each word.
“Stanley, wait, I want to find out more about-” Stanford was interrupted by Mermando taking a firm hold of each twin’s wrists, before swimming towards the ocean surface.
There was a sense of urgency in his tail’s fast movements. The dark ocean water around them slowly began to lighten as the trio neared the higher areas of the sea where the sun’s light could reach. The light grew lighter still, however visibility was not the only lightness forming around them, as the water pressure around them began to lessen, the bubbles on Stanley and Stanford’s heads began to expand. As the bottom of their boat grew into view, both bubbles burst, leaving both twins vulnerable to the cold water as it rushed into the empty space that once protected their heads.
Luckily, before they could drown, Mermando breached the water’s surface, jumping over the boat. He released the older men, letting them fall into the boat. He landed not far, and quickly swam over, fear washing over his face as he stared at the unmoving bodies of Stanley and Stanford. His frown of fear quickly turned into a sigh of relief when both men started to cough up the water that had gone up their noses when their bubble helmets burst.
“Thank Goodness, you are not harmed.” Mermando said.
“That's a matter of perspective.” Stanford said upside down. He had been unlucky enough to fall on his head.
“Speak for yourself,” Stanley said. He stood up and knocked out some water from his ear. “Gonna be hearing bubbles for a month.”
“I’ll make sure that Bruno is properly disciplined for his misbehavior,” Mermando promised.
“Since we have you here, do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions about Bruno?” Stanford said, withdrawing a notebook from his coat-pocket.
“Unfortunately, I am urgently needed back home. I cannot talk about Bruno.” Memrnado said.
“May I ask one question then? Why did he attack our little rowboat?” Stanford asked.
“Oh! That is simple. It looks like one of the toy boats he plays with.”
“Oh.” Stanford took note.
Bubbles erupted from the water next to Mermando. Both twins jumped back, rocking their boat in the process.
Memrando ducked his head under the water. Stanley and Stanford could faintly hear him yell “Silencio Bruno!”
Mermando resurfaced and hung his head. “It is sad that I must part with you two so soon, however, now that I know of you, it shall be easier to send letters to my dearest Mabel. Farewell.”
The pair watched as Mermando waved them goodbye before delving into the depths of the ocean. There was a beat as both twins enjoyed the cool air, the calm of the waves felt refreshing after the exhilaration of what they both just endured. It was several minutes before Stanley noticed the sun starting its slow descent over the horizon that he began to swear like the sailor he was.
“What’s the matter?” Stanford asked. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Look around Sixer, do you notice something missing?” Stanley waved his arms.
“There’s nothing around but open oc…ean.” Stanford said slowly. “We’re lost.”
“That stupid Bruno pulled us away from our ship! Now who knows how long we’ve got to row to get back.” Stanley stamped his foot.
“Not to worry. I put a tracking device into the ship for such an occasion.” Stanford fiddled with his watch.
“And how did this dingy keep up with us anyway?” Stanley asked.
“I input a small motor that would have it follow us if we left the boat for any reason. That way it would always be nearby in case of an emergency.” Stanford said. His chest puffing out with pride about his invention.
“Right, so how far are we?”
Stanford’s watch beeped. “5 miles.”
“Ugh, the least that prince could do was give us a ride.”
“Come on,” Stanford reached for an oar. “We have a long row ahead of us.”
“If we ever see that prince or Bruno I’m giving them a piece of my mind.” Stanley said. “I'll turn that oversized squid into calamari.”
Stanford hummed. “If we get back quickly, we might be able to sail to shore and find ourselves a seafood place.”
“After today we deserve it.” Stanley groaned, reaching for the other oar.
