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searchingwardrobes · 5 years ago

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The Early Leaf’s a Flower: 1/11

I can’t believe this day is finally here! I have worked so hard on this, and I am both nervous and excited to post it. This is a re-write of Someone to Watch Over Me. I changed the title because the focus was no longer on Emma’s “imaginary friend” watching over her, but equally on Emma and Killian and how, when, and why the wardrobe brings them together. There’s also a theme about growing up and loss of innocence, which is why I took the title from one of my favorite poems, “Nothing Gold Can Stay” by Robert Frost. For those of you who loved the original fic, I haven’t done away with little!Emma and little!Killy. As a matter of fact, there’s more of it with parts from Killian’s point of view, where the original was just from Emma’s.

The biggest change in this is that I have completely thrown out canon. Emma and Killian are the same age in this, and the plot focuses on Neverland. I had just finished re-reading Barrie’s Peter Pan with my daughter when I started this, so it became a mixture of Once’s Neverland and Barrie’s. I love how that part in particular came out, and I hope you all do as well!

Massive thanks to the mods of the @captainswanbigbang ( @optomisticgirl , @phiralovesloki, @shippingtheswann , and @spartanguard). @optomisticgirl in particular helped beta when my original had to bow out and also encouraged me when I doubted myself (enduring really long pms in the process!) @shippingtheswann, I just don’t have words to express your beta skills in this! Emma and Killian’s relationship as kids would not be what it is without you, for one, and you just overall made me so much better as a writer. @distant-rose, thank you for encouraging me to write Milah the way I envisioned her and helping me create an awesome pirate crew for Killian. And finally, every single one of you in the discord chat for your constant encouragement, advice, and sprinting.

And now I will shut up and get to the fic! Therefore, tags at the end :)

Summary: She saw eyes that were the blue of the forget me not peering at her through the cracked door of the wardrobe. He saw hair as gold as the buttercups. Why does the wardrobe keep bringing them back to one another, if fate keeps tearing them apart? Or maybe fate has her reasons . . .

Rating: M for eventual sexy times, violence, canonical major character death, and attempted rape

Trigger warnings: vague references to child abuse (physical and sexual), violence, and eventual positive Millian

Words: about 3k in this chapter

This fic is complete and will be updated every Monday.

Also on Ao3

Emma: Age 10

Emma’s palms are damp with sweat as they clutch the small duffel in her lap. Another social worker, another foster home. Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins had been nice enough, but their biological sons? Emma shudders as she thinks of their sneering taunts and cruel pranks. She loosens her grip on her duffel bag so she can rub her thumb over the birthmark on the inside of her left wrist. Sometimes the flower-shaped mark becomes red and raw from the nervous habit.

Sighing, she watches the scenery go by outside the car window. Emma tries to keep her mind blank, knowing that getting her hopes up will bring nothing but pain. Yet she can’t help the anticipation swirling in her stomach.

The social worker pulls into a modest gravel drive just off the busy highway. The house looks old, and so does the woman who stands on the porch that spreads across the entire front of it.

“That’s Martha,” the social worker tells Emma, “she’s your new foster mother.”

Emma steps out of the car hesitantly, her eyes trained on her feet. Martha tells her hello, but she only mumbles a response. Instead of looking at her new guardian, Emma takes in the front of the house. Dingy white paint covers cracked shingles, the banister lining the porch is broken in places, and the red brick steps are crumbling at the corners. Emma doesn’t really care about any of that, however. Not when brilliant blooms crowd the ground beside the steps and in front of the banister. Emma reaches her hand out tentatively to feel the soft, blue petals.

“Those are forget-me-nots,” Martha tells her, “they’re my favorite flower.”

“The blue is so bright,” Emma says shyly.

“Aren’t they?” Martha leans down closer to Emma, chuckling as her knees crack. “Despite these old bones of mine, I tend these flowers carefully. Want to know why?”

For the first time, Emma looks directly at Martha, and the woman’s kind hazel eyes put her at ease. She nods silently.

“My Alfred, God rest his soul, gave me a bouquet of these before he left for Korea many, many years ago. Forget me not, Martha.”

The woman chuckles, and Emma tries out a tiny smile. “And you didn’t?”

“No,” Martha says, as she rises, extending a hand to Emma, “and he came home to me. We raised two kids in this old house, and now that he’s gone and my children have moved away, I get a bit lonely. I’d like us to keep each other company, Emma, if you want.”

Blinking in surprise, Emma looks at Martha’s hand, then at her face. She’s never had a foster parent or social worker ask her what she wanted. The question gives her the courage to take Martha’s hand.

Emma examines the woman as she takes her inside and shows her around the house. Martha looks to be in her seventies with brittle gray hair and deep wrinkles. Yet her smile is kind, and her hands are soft as they gently give her slim shoulders a squeeze. The house is at least a hundred years old with cracked, peeling paint, and scuffed hardwood floors. A monstrous, black pot-bellied stove radiates heat from the corner of the main room. Like most old houses, one room leads into the next, and Martha gently steers her through the doorway next to the stove. She tells her this will be the room she shares with Lindsey, the sullen teenager with a permanent scowl on her face. Emma looks around, taking it all in through her wide jaded eyes. There’s a fireplace in this room, but it’s bricked up. A small space heater instead runs in the corner of the room. Martha tells her this used to be the dining room, and a set of French doors line one wall. A long, low piece of furniture sits in front of it to block the door, but through the beveled glass, Emma can see the foyer and the front door that she knows leads out to a massive front porch complete with a swing.

Martha shows Emma her bed, and she’s surprised to find that she gets the larger one. A massive double bed of thick, dark wood with tall posts. Lindsay’s twin bed, just a simple metal frame and mattress sits in front of the room’s one window.

“Lindsay couldn’t sleep in that huge bed, so I got her that cot,” Martha explains with a shrug. She sets Emma’s bag beside the bed and then pulls a small step stool from beneath it. “This thing is so high off the ground, you’ll have to use this to get in. It’s a very old bed.”

Emma eyes the stool and tries to hide how pleased she is with the bed. It’s ornate and obviously an antique. It’s like something out of a movie. She’ll feel like a princess sleeping in that bed. All her life, she’s wanted more than the cots or metal twin beds she usually gets in foster homes. She flings her duffel right on top, lest this Lindsay change her mind and steal the bed away.

But the best thing of all is the wide space between the bed and the hardwood floor. No monsters can lurk there. In this bed, in this room, with Martha who tends flowers despite her creaking bones, maybe she’ll finally feel safe.

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

Martha wears a faded house dress covered in tiny blue flowers and blue terry-cloth house shoes on her feet. She dons an apron to make supper, and Emma thinks of old black and white TV shows. Maybe this place won’t be so bad. Maybe Martha will one day tell her, “I love you, please stay. And why don’t you call me grandma?”

Emma tries to push that fantasy aside. If it doesn’t come true, she’ll be disappointed. Again. Martha asks if she wants to help with supper, and she eagerly agrees. Martha lets her pour the macaroni noodles into the boiling water on the stove, warning her to go slowly so she doesn’t burn herself. She then lets Emma stir the noodles so they won’t stick together while she expertly chops an onion into tiny pieces.

“These are the chicken pot pies,” she explains next, handing Emma a fork. She shows Emma how to slowly poke the fork into the crust to make each family member’s initials. Emma grins as she presses the fork into hers, then turns the fork sideways to make three more straight lines. “E” for Emma.

Martha’s kitchen table is of chipped formica that was probably once a bright blue but is now faded. The metal chairs with matching blue leather seats are like something out of the 1950s. Emma sits at the table with Martha and the other foster children the woman has taken in. Besides Lindsay and Emma, there’s also a little boy named Tyler with wide eyes and a sad, fearful face. His parents and sister were killed in a car accident, and he’s only here temporarily while his aunt and grandparents argue over who gets to keep him. Emma has a hard time imagining family, much less one who will want you so badly they would fight about it.

Martha hands Tyler a little plastic box shaped like a loaf of bread. She tells him to take out a card and pass it around the table. On each is a Bible verse, and they can’t eat until they’ve each read one. Lindsay rolls her eyes but does as Martha asks anyway.

Emma’s verse reads, “When my father and my mother forsake me; then the Lord will take me up.”

Martha takes a surprising interest in hearing about each child’s day. Lindsay’s eye rolling, Tyler’s quiet sadness, and Emma’s nervousness doesn’t phase the woman at all. After the meal, everyone helps clear the table and do the dishes. It’s a small kitchen, and several times Martha bumps softly into Emma or brushes against her. Each time, the woman laughs and gives her a tentative side hug. When she does, the elderly woman’s scent washes over Emma. It’s a distinctive smell that Emma can’t quite place, but it’s comforting and makes Emma want to bury herself in a bear hug with the woman. However, she refrains. She can’t seem too eager; it might scare Martha and then she won’t want to keep her.

The bathroom in this house is in an odd place: off the kitchen. When Emma goes to brush her teeth, she sees two jars on the pedestal sink. Inside one is a pinkish cold cream, and in the other is powder with a fat, fluffy puff resting on top. Emma lifts both to her nose and sniffs deeply. Yes, the combination of the two. That’s Martha’s scent. Emma eyes the makeup puff as she screws the top back on the cream. She simply can’t resist it, she lifts the puff and starts patting the powder onto her face. She starts and almost drops the puff when Martha suddenly steps into the room. Emma wilts. This will be her shortest stay at a foster home ever. A new record. She waits silently, heart pounding, for the yelling, frustration, and inevitable punishment.

But a smile simply deepens the crows feet around Martha’s eyes as she chuckles softly. She wets a washcloth and swipes it across Emma’s face.

“This pretty face doesn��t need makeup,” she tells her with a sparkle in her eye. “Of course,” she continues, “pretty is as pretty does.”

Emma cocks her head to one side and wrinkles her forehead, “What does that mean?”

Martha pats Emma’s cheek gently, “It means our hearts are what make us truly beautiful. The way we treat people and the things we do are far more important than what we look like.”

Relief washes through Emma when it sinks in that the woman isn’t going to punish her or even yell. Lessons on true beauty aren’t exactly what Emma is used to in a foster home, and she’s not quite sure how to accept it. Martha helps her off the stool, then takes her hand. She leads her to her room, tucks her in, and says a short prayer. Emma bites her bottom lip, wanting so badly to request a hug, but afraid to do so.

“Could I give you a hug and kiss good night?” Martha asks, and Emma thinks that the old woman looks just as nervous as Emma asking.

Emma beams and pulls her arms out from under the covers. The woman gives her a good, firm hug. Over her shoulder, Emma notices for the first time a large, ornate piece of furniture in the corner. There are a large set of doors in the top half, and two drawers on the bottom.

“What is that?” Emma asks in a shaky voice, pointing, when Martha releases her from the hug.

“It’s a wardrobe,” the woman explains, as she tucks the blankets back around Emma. “Old houses didn’t have closets, so people put their clothes in those.”

Emma says nothing as Martha brushes a kiss to her forehead and tells her goodnight, but she eyes the wardrobe warily. It’s the perfect place for monsters. She squeezes her eyes shut as Martha brushes her hair back from her face. Emma tries to tell herself that the boys at the last place were probably making things up. There’s no such thing as monsters . . . right? Yet she can’t forget the panic that had clawed at her when she was locked in that dark room . . .

“Sleepy, huh?” Martha chuckles, tucking her hair behind her ear. Emma lets her believe she is, waiting to open her eyes after the woman is gone.

A few minutes later, Lindsay comes in, rubbing her wet hair with a towel. Instead of pajamas, she’s dressed in tight jeans and a skimpy tank top. Emma sits up in bed and watches curiously as the teenager slips into a pair of boots.

“What are you doing?” Emma asks as Lindsay slowly and quietly opens the window.

“None of your business, kid,” she snaps, tossing a backpack out the open window. “Just don’t snitch. Got that?”

Emma nods as she pulls the blanket to her chest. Why should she care what Lindsay does? The teenager disappears out the window, and Emma falls back against the mattress with a sigh. She can’t remember the last time she had a room all to herself, and it makes her a little nervous.

She eyes the wardrobe warily, sitting up in bed and scrambling back against the headboard. She clutches the handmade quilt Martha had tucked around her in sweaty fists. Did it just creak open a little? She squints in the dark. Through the open slit of the wardrobe, she swears she sees a pair of bright blue eyes, the color of the forget me nots in Martha’s yard, looking at her. She gasps and throws the covers over her head. She counts to twenty slowly, squeezing her eyes shut. The wardrobe door makes another long, rusty sound. After another count to twenty, she slowly eases her head out of the covers.

The wardrobe door is shut tight.

Killian: Age 10

The sea is calm as glass, the air still and stifling. The sailors are antsy and on-edge, praying to every deity for wind. Rowers are sent to the galley every day to make some headway, and it’s exhausting work. Killian isn’t big or strong enough at just ten years of age, but Liam, at twelve, is. The elder Jones collapses into his bunk each night with sore arms and blistered hands. Killian prays the wind comes soon so he can have his brother back.

Perhaps his absence is why Killian’s mind is so distracted lately with thoughts of ginger curls and hazel eyes. His mother’s touch was always so gentle, her voice soft and lilting, her smile and eyes bright. He remembers her being sick; her eyes losing some of their brightness, and her laughter coming less often. But she still smiled. She still held him whenever he crawled into her sick bed. She still kissed him with her soft lips.

Killian remembers she would sing, too, with that lilting voice that was so different from his father’s deep, critical one. Every night, he was lulled to sleep by her lullabies. He begins to sing one now as he knots rope.

She stepped away from me

And she moved through the Fair

And fondly I watched her

Move here and move there

And she went her way homeward

With one star awake

As the swans in the evening

Move over the lake

Killian jumps as an empty bottle of rum shatters against the railing to his right.

“Shut up, boy, and get back to work!”

But to Killian’s surprise, the other sailors yell at the first to leave him alone. The lullaby reminds them of home, they say, so let the boy sing. And sing he does, passing the long, weary, windless days. The sailors who normally terrorize him are lulled by the bright, clear voice that only a child can possess. It changes the morale of the crew to such an extent, that the captain even sends him below to encourage the rowers with his songs. That is the best development of all, for now he’s near his brother; the only family he has.

A few nights later, Killian Jones can’t seem to get comfortable in his hammock. The ship creaks and sways, men snore loudly all around him, and the air smells, clogging his nose and making him gag. Nevertheless, his days are so brutally exhausting that sleep comes swiftly. Even last week when he was forced to sleep on his stomach because of the bloody lashes criss-crossing his back, sleep had claimed him easily.

But not tonight.

He shifts again, his hammock swinging with the motion. In his new position, he sees something in the hold that is completely out of place: a large, wooden wardrobe. No one would keep such a nice piece of furniture in the damp, dark hold. Killian furrows his brow in confusion - the large, bulky thing isn’t even moving an inch as the ship sways, which should be impossible, and it surely wasn’t there when he first went to bed.

“Liam, Li-am!” he whispers, poking at the hammock above him. Liam just mumbles in his sleep, something partially intelligible along the lines of leave me alone, Killy. Exasperated, Killian huffs and swings his scrawny legs over the edge of his hammock. He moves silently and cautiously across the wet wooden boards, his hand trembling as he reaches up to grasp the knob on the door of the wardrobe. He opens it a crack and gasps when he hears voices, female voices, on the other side. He glances behind him, but when he sees that no one else is awake, he crawls up inside the wardrobe. It is deeper than he expected it to be, and instead of a back, there is another set of doors. Killian is comforted to still see the ship’s hold through the open door he just crawled through, so he turns back around and pushes slowly on the second set of doors, opening them only a little.

He sees a bedroom, lit with soft light from a bedside lamp. A little girl about his age, with blonde hair the color of buttercups is being tucked into bed by a soft, wrinkled old woman with a gentle smile. Killian watches, fascinated, as the woman asks for a hug. He’s been surrounded by nothing but rough, loud men for so long, that he yearns to receive a hug for himself from someone so soft and warm. The little girl smiles as the woman embraces her, her eyes shut tight as she relishes the hug. But then her eyes, the color of seafoam, open and he quickly shuts the wardrobe as quietly as he can. His heart pounds in his chest as he hears the little girl ask the woman – her grandmother? – about the large piece of furniture. The girl’s voice wobbles as if she’s frightened, and Killian hopes she didn’t see him.

He thinks that maybe he should go back to his hammock, but he can’t get those sea green eyes out of his mind, nor the way the girl’s hair had shimmered like gold from the lamplight. He’s never thought long on any lass, or found any of them pretty. Most women he sees on his occasional stops in port are loud, brazen, and considerably older. This one, however, is different. She’s his age, for one, and there’s a softness about her that he hasn’t known since his mother was living. So finally, he musters up the courage to open the door a crack once more. This time, those green eyes lock on his, and the girl gasps and dives under the covers. He frowns as he pulls the door shut once more. He hadn’t meant to frighten her.

The next morning, he thinks he’ll talk to Liam about the wardrobe and the little girl on the other side. But when his brother teasingly upends his hammock, depositing him unceremoniously upon the floor, Killian rolls over to find the wardrobe is gone.

tagging: @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @teamhook @bethacaciakay @let-it-raines @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @courtorderedcake @xhookswenchx @vvbooklady1256 @profdanglaisstuff @carpedzem @ekr032-blog-blog @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @kday426 @ultraluckycatnd @lfh1226-linda @sherlockianwhovian @shireness-says @superchocovian @scientificapricot @tiganasummertree @delirious-latenight-laughs @ohmakemeahercules @branlovestowrite @snidgetsafan @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @jennjenn615 @nikkiemms

#cs ff #csrt #captain swan rewrite a thon #cs canon divergence #cs neverland au #childhood sweethearts #angst #soul mates #magic wardrobes #little!emma #little!killy

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canon-adjacent · 5 years ago

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More mutant/Gotham crossover ideas!

Consider Laura and Gabby Kinney getting ‘ported into the DC-verse.

There are numerous reasons I want to see this happen.

Bruce Wayne would take one look at this bubbly sweet girl with a dark past and a reforming goth girl (also with a dark past) and adopt them so fast, your head would spin. If Emma Frost is in this AU and shagging the bat, like I mentioned in a previous post, she would be cracking up at the prospect of becoming the bad stepmom and I support that.

Gabby Kinney is adorable and she would love Gotham despite it being the hellhole that it is and I support that kind of positivity

Gabby would make so many wolverine references when she meets Batman, and that’d be hilarious

Nightwing and Gabby would get along like a house on fire

Gabby would take one look at a grappling hook and immediately freak out

Laura would also take one look at a grappling hook and also freak out...but more quietly

Laura would slot in so perfectly with the other bats it would be insane

Laura and Connor Kent could interact and I would love to see her blue screen of death when she mistakes him for Julian Keller

But the biggest reason I want them to join this weird crossover is to see X-23 interact with Cassandra Cain.

They’re so similar, yet also completely different, and I feel that would freak them both out.

Some quick heaccanons

Cass always wins their fights. Laura doesn’t know how she keeps losing, but it’s really annoying and gabby finds her sister’s annoyance hilarious

Laura is visibly uncomfortable being the talkative one in a duo, and she didn’t realize how much she got used to Gabby’s constant talking, until having to work with Cassandra “One word is enough” Cain

Cass complains about Laura being too talkative whenever the mutant is around because she knows it screws with her

Despite being very quiet, Cass and Gabby get along amazingly well, something about her bubbly energy is just really nice to be around. Her whole body just radiates happiness even to Cass’s body reading. It’s like Nightwing but even more innocent.

Laura gets disproportionately jealous when he baby sister spends time with Cass and x-23 doesn’t know how to cope with that.

...so she starts hanging out with Stephanie more often. Something about her personality reminds Laura of Gabby.

Which makes Cass disproportionately jealous so she’s been spending more and more time with Steph too.

And she drags along gabby to meet Steph because, come on, they’d love each other!

Long story short Steph is like 30% sure she’s starting a Harem and she’s okay with that

Also, Emma is there, knows literally everything that is going on, and is loving the absolute trainwreck of a family she wandered into.

And since this was originally kind of @spiralcass ‘s idea, Imma ping them. Got any other headcanons?

#gabby kinney #laura kinney #cassandra cain #bruce wayne #emma frost #my writing #im thinking of calling this #the #selective crossover #since only selective marvel characters are being dragged into DC

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rebuildhq · 7 years ago

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Lily James || Katherine “Kitty” Pryde || Shadowcat || X-Men || Identity: Not Common Knowledge || 27 || Female || Deerfield, IL || Teacher / X-Men || Unregistered || Unlisted || PLAYED BY KITTY

biography:

Kitty was born in Deerfield, Illinois, and for the first thirteen years of her life she was just an ordinary child. Her parents were attentive and nurturing, and she has little to no bad memories from these first years. when she turned thirteen, things started to change. she began having headaches, and then migraines. Initially worried something was medically wrong, it soon turned out to be the first sign of her mutant powers developing. She realised what she was when she fell through the floor of her bedroom to the room below. at this point, both the X-Men led by Charles Xavier, and the hellfire club led by Emma Frost, took note of her. her parents were charmed by both leaders, but Kitty felt far more welcome with the X-Men. This opinion was solidified when she witnessed the hellfire club harm and kidnap the X-Men. Kitty followed after the group, leading to her first unofficial mission - rescuing the X-Men! Kitty Pryde became a member of the X-Men, a very small team at the time, when she was only 13. She astounded the others by breezing through danger room sessions, and showing above average intellect in many subjects.

Kitty proved she could hold her own from the start, having many memorable adventures with and without the rest of the team. During her first few months, Kitty soon found herself battling a dangerous n'garai demon all by herself on Christmas Eve. The demon destroyed nearly a whole wing of the building, but Kitty eventually defeated it through use of the danger room.

Kitty soon formed a close attachment - this time to an alien, which only served to increase her feeling that humans, mutants, and aliens can live peacefully. when the alien brood implanted themselves with certain X-Men, Kitty was rescued from such a fate by the alien Lockheed. They met in outer space, forming a very close bond. Kitty and Lockheed learnt to communicate with one another and lockheed stowed away to head back to earth with Kitty.

Soon though, Kitty found out her father was dealing with Japanese gangsters.When she traveled to Japan to meet with her father, she was put under the mental control of Ogun - a ninja master who had trained many assassins. Possessed, Kitty was made to believe she was Ogun’s daughter. During this time, Kitty learned how to defend herself - essentially becoming a ninja herself as she fought hard to find herself. After the training she took on the name ‘Shadowcat’ which has stuck with her ever since.

Though Kitty continued to work with the X-Men after this adventure, she soon began to feel the effects of all the battles that she had been through. Now older (and hopefully wiser) she began to help teach students and train young mutants as she once had been trained. However, living as a member of the X-Men, living as a mutant was always going to be tough. When her father died as part of an attack on mutants, Kitty felt lost. This feeling became solidified and then turned into a heroic action on an epic scale. The earth was being threatened by a being of extra-ordinary power - from outer space, and had set a giant metal bullet on a collision course with earth. There was little anyone could do to stop the attack, the bullet had already been fired. Kitty had been living in the shadow of many X-Men before her, more well known and versed in heroics than herself. She’d lost and gained many family members over the years. She thought sacrificing yourself was incredibly stupid and selfish.

But she phased herself with the bullet, and when she found out she may be unable to phase back out she did not stop. She merged with the bullet, causing it to become intangible and pass through the earth.

And so for many months Kitty Pryde roamed the universe, trapped. And so began a hatred of space (well, okay, space had never really been her jam before). Kitty was eventually returned to Earth and the bullet was cracked not long before things began falling apart on Earth. She was returned to the X-Men

And immediately left.

Well, not immediately. For a couple of months, as Earth was dealing with fighting space aliens in new york, Kitty was intangible and could not resolidify. She was dealing with the trauma of losing her father and then being lost in space in quick succession, and returning to an earth filled with new heroes and worries. Though she soon regained control of her powers, she left and went to Chicago where she went on various computer science and mechanical engineering courses at the university.

Kitty heard all about the registration of heroes when it first came up, and she stayed out the way. She was not strong enough to lose other people, not about something like this. She hid her powers and did her degree, and was saddened she had to hide herself. When the New Panel was selected and the registration chaos was beginning to die down, Kitty returned to New York and the X-Men - just in time to arrive in the middle of the Skrull invasion.

She is still recovering from the trauma of the last couple of years, but Kitty has always been strong. And a greater actress than people think, she can cope - or at least fake it until she makes it! Back with the X-Men, she no longer has to hide that she’s a mutant. But it’s tough getting into the swing of things again.

#lily james #kitty pryde #shadowcat #rebuildunregistered #rebuildbio

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nausiwindstrider · 7 years ago

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Daken, Bobby, Remy

Oh man three? Well let’s go in order and see what happens.You’re mean @dysfunctionalcyke

D A K E N

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would banghogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuffbest quality: Determinationworst quality: Inaccurate self image (thinks he is a psychopath but he isn’t)ship them with: Bobby Drake OTP. Would be down for Rachel Grey/Summers, or crack pairing with Namor come on they both love being shirtlessbrotp them with: This one is obvious it’s the brotp trio of Daken/Laura/Gabbyneeds to stay away from: Logan, he’s never gunna be a good dadmisc. thoughts: I want to see more of Daken in Japan

B O B B Y

R E M Y

#dysfunctionalcyke #daken akihiro #bobby drake #remy lebeau #ask games #marvel #headcanons

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giftofthegodess · 6 years ago

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apernor (Cas) [x] (Weiss) This Silent Sacrifice || Inversed Reunion || Chrono [x] (Yazoo) This Silent Sacrifice || Another’s Memories || Chrono [x] (W/ old blog) (Remnants) This Silent Sacrifice || A Fragment of the Past || Chrono [x] (W/ old blog) (Angeal) Take to the Sky || Quite the View || Chrono [x] (W/ old blog) (Angeal) Take to the Sky || Flare Flair || Chrono [x] (W/ old blog) (Angeal) Take to the Sky || The Game || Chrono [x] (W/ old blog) (Angeal) Healer of Worlds || Apple Blossoms of Banora || Chrono [x] (W/ old blog) (Angeal) The Shattered Soul || Resting Doubts || Chrono [x] (W/ old blog) (Angeal) Crack || Halloween Costumes || Chrono [x] (W/ old blog) (Angeal) The Shattered Soul || Should I be Jealous || Chrono

boundwithdarkness (Lyrieux) [^] This Silent Sacrifice || Below || Chrono || Latest

cssnei (Jae Jae) [^] Wings Stripped Away || Bone Village || Chrono || Starter prepared

cultivatxr (Phoe) [~] Wings Stripped Away || New Curiosities || Chrono [~] Wings Stripped Away || Wiggly Gremlin || Chrono [>] Wings Stripped Away || 2. Commission Collection || Chrono [~] Wings Stripped Away || 1. Fruit and Flowers || Chrono

dogof-war (Han) [>] Take to the Sky || 1. Entertaining Company || Chrono [x] (W/ old blog) This Silent Sacrifice || Fractures || Chrono

lifedxbt (Cas) [x] Take to the Sky || Silent Regrets || Chrono [>] Take to the Sky || Business or Pleasure || Chrono

multiplice (Vetlan) - Multimuse [^] (Luxiere) Take to the Sky || The SOLDIERs Plight || Chrono || Latest [^] (Luxiere) Take to the Sky || Begrudged Bureaucracy || Chrono || Latest

sanguinepeccatorum (Lyrieux) [^] Ripples Form || Sleepless || Chrono || Latest [x] This Silent Sacrifice || You can call me G || Chrono

shinrasfirst (Min) - Multimuse [^] (Sephiroth) Take to the Sky || ??? || Chrono || Starter coming [^] (Rufus) Take to the Sky || Journey to Junon || Chrono || Latest [^] (Zack) Wings Stripped Away || Mr Fair || Chrono || Latest

speedjunkie (Moogle) [>] Take to the Sky || Never was salt as sweet || Chrono [>] Take to the Sky || Abandonment || Chrono [x] Take to the Sky || Drama Abroad || Chrono

warofthebeasts (Kevin) [x] Crack || Beatsaber || Chrono [x] Healer of Worlds || Apple Blossoms of Banora || Chrono [x] Crack || Halloween Costumes || Chrono [x] The Shattered Soul || Denier of Truth || Chrono

All Threads, Sorted by RP Partner: (FF7 OCs)

stingslikeabee (Mari) [>] Take to the Sky || ??? || Chrono

xupointe (Lyrieux) [>] Take to the Sky || 1. Prelude || Chrono [~] Take to the Sky || Unfounded Rumors || Chrono [~] Take to the Sky || What boredom begets || Chrono

All Threads, Sorted by RP Partner: (Crossovers)

infideliis‌ (Kevin) - Final Fantasy XV [x] Your Eternal Slumber || Costlemark || Chrono

sneakysouls (Han) - Dark Souls Multimuse / FF7 Verse [>] (Lautrec) Take to the Sky || Her Apostles || Chrono

tombsandtreasures (Shiva) - Lara Croft / FF7 Verse [x] The Shattered Soul || The Archaeologist || Chrono

xdiamondsareforeverx (Shiva) - Emma Frost / FF7 Verse [x] This Silent Sacrifice || Answers and Atonement || Chrono

#Quietly but surely (OOC)#GiftOfTheGodess || Info

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