#⸢ headcanon ⤑ bode ⸥ wonder where you are.

[mutatiio]

thinking about how painful of a task it must have been for bode to open up again after the order fell. about how afraid he must of been when he fell in love with tayala. how scared he probably was over how much he loved her. and then over how much he loved kata... only for his worst fears to happen AGAIN - his family being torn apart.

thinking about bode giving pieces of himself away with every terrible deed he did for denvik. losing himself completely in it - to keep kata safe. all he is after tayala dies is keeping kata safe. he doesn't care about what it does to him, what he has to do to other people so long as he can keep his little girl safe. and in the end, he barely even thinks about kata's future or her happiness. she's safe. she can't be taken from him. nothing else mattered.

[ryemackerel]

been scheming stuff for a wtfuture eddsworld au with the help of star 🫶🫶 my brainrot has been immense about them and we tried coming up with some ideas for how red leader tord would fit with our hcs. redraw of old red army 2018 art and some future tomtord GIGGLE.

lore below!!!

——————

i like to think this future au is a completely separate universe from the current timeline. in my current headcanon timeline, character tord left the army and came back to reunite and catch up with his friends. paul and pat also became casual friends with tord and the crew.

they’re all happy with each other, and tord never goes back to the army. what if, in the future timeline though, tord left and never came back?

fast forward many years (they’re in their 40s now?), tord remains a part of the red army, an all-powerful military that has risen to power into the future. edd, tom, and matt have separated to live their own lives, but the one thing they all seem to notice is the very person *seemingly* in charge of the army. is this where tord has been all along?

little do they know, tord isn’t truly the person in power. to the public, he’s known as the “red leader”. however what if there was a person EVEN higher up who’s in charge of everything tord has to do or say? the TRUE red leader that oversees everything that happens in their army?

makes me think how tord regrets never leaving the army. if he chose to leave now, he could be called for treason or betrayal. in the current timeline, he reunited with the others early and narrowly avoided that fate he would’ve experienced in the future timeline. he definitely still thinks about his friends. (makes me think about forbidden love with tom HWGEHEHE)

i genuinely wonder how tord managed to reunite with the others without getting caught? of course, that wouldn’t bode well with the true red leader. tord would meet appalling consequences if he was caught.

[tremendouskoalachild]

Transcript (from about 0:27 on) under the cut

I've had a lot of Star Wars fans, and gamers in general, ask some pretty great questions about Bode and his motivations and why he does some of the things he does. So I figured I'd just share a little bit of some of the behind the scenes work that I do for a character like Bode. And let me say right off the bat: I'm a huge Star Wars fan but I don't pretend to be, like, a Star Wars academic – so if you want to come at me with how my headcanon is factually inaccurate, you're welcome to do so, it's not going to bother me, but that's not why I do it. I create these backstories because it gives me an emotional hook, so that Bode's emotional journey is honest, for me.

And I should also say, anything I say now isn't on any of the writers or anyone else on the Survivor team, this is all just my broken dumb brain. So, let's talk today about Ghost Star.

So, the song Ghost Star was introduced by one of the writers, Danny – mad genius Danny – pretty late in the sequence of things, and then brought to beautiful life by Tajinae, who plays Kata and is ridiculously talented. I'm very jealous. So, Danny had asked me in a session, would you feel comfortable singing a song as Bode? I don't sing, which may have become quite apparent if you play the game, but any chance for me to show and share more of who Bode is, stuff that you don't get to see in all the missions, I'm grateful for. So I was like, hell yeah. And I got this song titled Ghost Star, so the first thing I did was look up "ghost star", specifically looking for anything revolving around astronomy.

I don't know if this was Danny's thought from the get-go, I have never talked to him about it, but in my research I found that there is a theory being postulated that when you're looking up at the night sky and you see the sky just covered in stars, that there's actually a lot of astral bodies you're not seeing. Among them being ghost stars, which are stars with dark matter cores. Dark matter has gravity but never undergoes nuclear fission the way a normal star does, and therefore emits no light. So there are stars out there with tremendous gravity that are essentially invisible to the naked eye.

And I thought that was really beautiful and poetic, in a way, and then I started thinking about Bode and a question that arises a lot, which is: why does Bode not get found out by Cal, or Cere, or Cordova, these incredibly powerful Jedi?

That's a really good question, and it made me wonder if perhaps there is a rare contingent of individuals who have the ability to tap into the Force but don't emit a Force resonance like most people do – which is how a Jedi is able to tell that someone else is able to manipulate the Force. I mean, Emperor Palpatine is a perfect example of an incredibly powerful Force user who is literally standing right in front of Master Yoda and all the Masters on the Jedi Council, and they never know. So, maybe this is a rare trait that they share.

And that got me thinking, that would probably be something that you'd pick up on very early at the Jedi Academy as a youngling. And one of the things that Bode shares with Cal is that before Order 66 he worked in intelligence.

It would be a very powerful asset to be able to take an operative and insert them into situations where they can watch over Force users without that target knowing that he can manipulate the Force. Where would that be useful? Intelligence gathering, obviously, but also the Jedi equivalent of internal affairs. Jedi are incredibly powerful. And power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. And if anyone's seen The Clone Wars, you know that there are very powerful “Jedi” that are not good. Pong Krell being a great example. I want to punch him, repeatedly.

So perhaps operatives like Bode were sent to gather intel and make sure that the Jedi out there were doing what they're supposed to be doing. One example. And, perhaps, his operative name was Ghost Star.

Order 66 happens, all hell breaks loose, everything that Bode has known burns to ash. He's on the run and somewhere on his journey he meets a wonderful woman named Tayala.

When you have to run and hide and constantly change locations for fear of being found, that's not something you can do with a significant other and not let them know what you're doing and why. So I'm sure Bode shares his past with Tayala. And then a while later, Kata is born.

Anytime Bode gets an inkling that Imperial intelligence has been sniffing around, or forbid an inquisitor makes their presence known anywhere nearby, I think Bode leaves his family behind, travels to distant parts of the Galaxy and very subtly makes himself known, so that he attracts the attention of intelligence or the inquisitors and draws that focus away from his family.

And Kata's so young and doesn't understand why her father has to leave for weeks or months at a time, and so Tayala sings her a lullaby called Ghost Star, which brings Kata comfort while she waits for her father to come home. And it's also for Tayala, perhaps a silent prayer that her husband comes back safely.

And they survive like this, constantly moving, constantly on the run. And then one day Bode is out with Kata. They're coming home and as they're getting closer to the house, he hears Tayala singing Ghost Star, which is a song she never sings if he's home. And he knows that something's gone terribly, terribly wrong.

And he flees with Kata, and the inquisitor that was waiting for him at home in their anger strikes down Tayala, knowing that, somehow, she gave them away.

So, a lot of things happen. Bode makes some very difficult, very terrible choices in the pursuit of keeping Kata safe, and now sings Ghost Star as a way to make sure that Kata's memories of her mother stay as fresh as they can; and just because it brings him comfort, but it also is a poignant reminder of a terrible, terrible day and the fact that he left his wife behind and that his wife paid the price for Bode being who he is.

And I think in his time as a dog for the Empire Bode has done some terrible, terrible things. I think he's often sent to hunt down Jedi that are that are in hiding, especially if it seems like they're trying to rally up resistance, because he can come in and his target will never see him coming. I think he's an assassin, and I think every time he does it a little piece of Bode chips off.

And I think Bode hates himself for it, and I think a lot of times, especially if it's a mission where he's gotten to know his target to any degree, that makes it that much harder to do what he knows he has to do. And in those moments he uses Ghost Star as his anchor. He sings it to himself when he's alone, as a way to remind himself of why he's doing the terrible things he's doing, that there is a greater purpose, which is making sure that his daughter stays safe and that Tayala’s sacrifice is never in vain.

And then he meets Cal, and I think finds the brother he never had. And in the crew of the Mantis the family he's lost, a family that would allow Kata to live a normal life. And he really struggles with what to do, and tries desperately to make it work. And when it becomes clear that Cal is going to share the information on Tanalorr and turn it into essentially an access point, Bode is devastated, because the Empire has already found Cal, Cal just doesn't know it yet. And if they found him now they'll definitely find them again, if this turns into essentially a way station. And Bode makes an impossible choice.

And he tries to use Ghost Star the way it's always worked in the past, to kind of remind him of what's important, and I think it fails him, and I think it breaks him.

[esta-elavaris]

Flufftober Day 6: Hot chocolate - alternate prompt ~ James Norrington/OC [1,365 words]

My Flufftober '23 masterpost can be found here, and my behemoth of a main fic about these two is here 💜✨

Notes: Drinking chocolate was actually the most common form of chocolate in this time period, but I have decided that I am flouting historical accuracy here. Alternatively, given that this is a world where Beckett existed and he was a horrible little fuck who hated joy, I like to think he and his ancestors were on a lifelong campaign to stamp out drinking chocolate from the lives of those in their sphere of influence, and James has therefore never heard of or tried it. Not only is this a reasonable headcanon to have, it’s also so valid and so wise. Okay? Okay.

James had lost count of how many voyages he had undertaken under the banner of Norne Maritime Protection at this point. Enough for the crew of their flagship to stop grumbling over Theodora’s presence – both in matters of business, and on a literal level – which could only mean that there had been many. A combination of James’ firmly making it clear that disrespect would not be tolerated, combined with Theodora’s nature, the one that had her rubbing shoulders with pirates like it was nothing, soon disabused their men of any notions that she should be sneered at or talked down to. Those who did not come to this realisation in a timely manner soon found themselves without employment.

Unsurprisingly – at least to James himself – those who lasted any sort of time before ultimately being let go only did so at her insistence. He would have them off the ship from the first moment of disrespect, to make the no-tolerance policy very clear. It was Theodora who insisted on having a chance or two at cracking them. Usually through stomach-dropping feats like scaling to the top of the rigging to do some repairs herself or, on one memorable occasion, almost costing a man his finger in a game that involved taking turns with a knife and unfailing hand-eye coordination. Unfailing in his wife’s case, at least.

James struggled to decide which of the tactics he liked least. More often than not, however, they worked – especially now that the bulk of their growing pains were behind them, and this…this thing of theirs was running smoothly. Consistently. This voyage had been a particular success. There had been but one glimpse of a pirate ship, and it had turned around the moment its captain realised that the merchant vessel they’d sailed with was accompanied by a force to be reckoned with. Their fiercest foe had proven to be the cold, with winter swiftly nearing, but Theodora adored the cold so that he could hardly grudge her the happiness it brought.

Conditions above deck were frosty as he moved about, looking this way and that for the telltale red hair of his wife. She hadn’t been in the cabin, and with the day drawing to a close he was hoping they might eat together and then retire, but he would have to find her first.

It was one of the men aboard who directed him to her in the end, answering his enquiry of ‘Mrs Norrington?’ with ‘the galley, sir’ which boded…suspiciously. James wondered what combination of bread and cheese he was about to be confronted with this time. The crew having long since eaten, he found his wife alone in the galley, an enormous simmering pot of milk to her left and a slab of chocolate to her right, which she was massacring with a vigour that was both fearsome and oddly enticing.

“What are you concocting?” he asked in the way of greeting.

Theodora looked up, then she smiled at him – something he always had no choice but to return – before she returned to her efforts.

“Concocting?” she echoed. “Are we resurrecting the witch rumours, then?”

“Didn’t you know? I was the one to start them the first time around. It was my way of warding off any competition I may have had.”

Approaching, he moved to stand behind her, his chest at her back as he watched her work from over her shoulder. Theodora chuckled.

“Oh? You like your women on fire, then?”

“Evidently,” he teased, lifting a hand to tug gently at an errant strand of her hair.

Laughing softly, she set the knife down and leaned into him, taking up a chunk of chocolate she had not yet cut to shreds and holding it up towards him in offering. After a quick glance ensured none were about to bother them, James leaned forward and ate it directly from her grasp, his lips enveloping her fingertips and sucking the swiftly melting chocolate off of them as he did so.

“Your hands are cold,” he murmured, feigning ignorance to how her eyes had become hooded as he teased her.

“You needed your mouth to assess that, did you?”

“An old naval trick,” he said with a great deal of mock-solemnity.

“I’ll verify that with Groves, you know. We write.”

James doubted it was an empty threat, knowing Theodora.

“I’ll confiscate your quill,” he countered casually.

“This is how it’s going to be, is it? Not allowed to read or write…what’s next? Chaining me to the stove?”

“My love, if I was going to chain you to something, it would not be the stove.”

A beat passed – not because it took that long for her to understand him, he knew, but because she was second-guessing whether she’d understood him correctly. Turning her head, but remaining in his arms as she did so, she caught sight of his smirk and her eyes widened in dismay that he knew her far too well to believe.

“James Norrington!” she gasped, before smirking up at him. “I’m sure we’ve spoken about your threatening me with a good time.”

He chuckled lowly, keeping the close proximity and watching as she worked. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

His intrigue grew as she loaded the pot of simmering milk up with the chocolate she’d just demolished, stirring it until the milk turned to a pale brown colour and a sweet smell permeated the galley. Then, she added a pinch of cinnamon and, after tasting, a touch of sugar.

“I do hope this isn’t some strange manner of soup,” he commented.

“It’s hot chocolate.”

“You’re…warming chocolate? Wouldn’t that just be melted chocolate, then?”

“Not literally hot chocolate. Drinking chocolate. I’m surprised you’ve never had it – then again, it’s not really suited to Caribbean climates. I knew it’d get cold while we were out here, so I brought what we’d need with us. Then I started making it and realised I’d feel guilty if I didn’t make enough for everybody…hence the vat. But we get first crack at it.”

James watched, intrigued, as she ladled some of the hot chocolate into two tankards she’d set aside, evidently expecting him to root her out sooner or later. He smirked at that, and only stepped away from her when she handed one of the tankards towards him, knowing if he tried to drink that from her hand things would take the gesture from flirtatious to ridiculous. Then again, given his wife’s penchant for the ridiculous, perhaps she’d enjoy it.

She turned to watch him, sipping from her own cup as he tried this hot chocolate – and then beamed when he, after scarcely a mouthful, stopped to stare at her in amazement.

“See?” she grinned.

“I can’t believe you’ve kept this from me in all the time we’ve been married,” he hummed, taking another sip, relishing in how it warmed him after all those hours above deck.

“Have to keep a few things up my sleeve to keep the spark alive,” she said drily, topping up their mugs despite the fact that neither were yet half-empty.

“Oh?” he played along. “What else do you have stashed up there?”

“Well I know you’ve got chains up yours, so I’ll have to set about outdoing that.”

He chuckled – not least because of the pink tinge her cheeks adopted as she said it, however much she tried to act unbothered as she teased him. There would never come a time, he knew, when he’d tire of making her blush. Not least because it seemed a privilege granted only to him.

Links: AO3 -- FF.net -- flufftober masterpost -- dividers by cafekitsune

[effyoukeyhouse]

I didn't read the Locke & Key "...Only Bad" edition YET, but I read the summary on the wikia, since it snatched my interest as soon as I read the description: "an all-new ending… only bad." Ever since I finished the comics I've been hungry for more content about the Locke family after the canon series, so how could I wait to get a copy?

Spoilers under the cut.

Trigger warnings for: death, depression, suicide, mentions of sexual assault, alcoholism below

HOLY MCFUCKING SHIT

And of course, since I'm a slut for canon divergences and AUs, my mind tried to speculate on how the series would diverge from there, how the plot would proceed. I wondered about how Tyler and Kinsey would find the keys and stop Dodge without Bode, but I came to one conclusion in the end:

The plot wouldn't proceed at all. Because when you think about it, Bode is the reason his family survives the first arc of the series. And his death would spell that of his family's.

Tyler

In Issue #4 of "Welcome to Lovecraft", there's a scene where Tyler is stewing in his own guilt and self-loathing over what he believes is his part in his father's death. In the comic, it is strongly implied he's contemplating suicide, and in the audible it's confirmed.

But Bode comes and interrupts him, asking about a knock-knock joke. After Bode leaves, Tyler puts any thoughts of suicide out of his mind, fearing how it would affect Bode.

But now? After seeing his little brother get literally sliced in two by a freak accident? So soon, after his father's death, the death Tyler believes he's responsible for? Not to mention the likelihood of Tyler's guilt-warped mind twisting Bode's death into his own fault too? Not only would there be nothing to stop Tyler from committing suicide, it’d be likely he’d do it much sooner.

Kinsey

In Issue #3 of the first arc, Kinsey was constantly reliving the moment she was hiding with Bode on the roof while Sam was looking for Tyler. Not just while she was breaking down in her room by herself, but she took this everywhere she went. Kinsey responded to her trauma by keeping her head down and staying hidden in social settings. She seems to find a healthy way to deal with it at the end of the issue, but we see that wound reopened after the news of Joe Ridgeway's death comes out in Issue #2 of the "Head Games" arc.

Kinsey is ultimately afraid of losing people, a fear set off by her father dying and reinforced by both Joe Ridgeway dying.

If Kinsey saw her little brother die from simply a freak accident that could happen to anyone at any moment? Literally the same day Kinsey herself said she couldn't stop crying over what happened? She only spiral further and further into her own fears and grief, taking an even heavier toll on her than what we saw in canon. Kinsey wouldn't be able to get to a better state like she did in canon, probably not heeding Ellie's advice or taking Jackie's offer of friendship.

Nina

Through most of the main series of Locke & Key, we see Nina's alcoholism and her mental state get progressively worse, until it escalates to her hitting Kinsey in Issue #6 of "Crown of Shadows". The grief over her husband's death and the trauma of her sexual assault makes an unhealthy combination with the fact that she doesn't talk about her problems with anyone. So, she lets herself stew in her grief and drown her sorrows.

If Bode died when and how he did in "...Only Bad"? With her previous trauma still fresh in her mind? Nina's alcoholism would get a whole lot worse and a lot faster, and even more so after Tyler commits suicide. The resentment and anger between her and Kinsey would very likely get worse and come quicker too, considering they’re both in terrible places mentally and emotionally.

Duncan

Something to note about Duncan is that we never see him properly grieve his brother. He says in Issue #2 of "Welcome to Lovecraft" that keeping himself busy helps. A personal headcanon of mine is that Duncan has this "I don't wanna burden others with my problems" mentality, so he just shuts it in and keeps quiet, which seems consistent with his canon personality.

But it would wear down on him so much harder if Bode died so soon after his brother did, with Tyler following not long after. And Duncan would try to be there for his last two living relatives, trying to be the peacekeeper or the shoulder to cry on, not just for them but in an attempt to ignore his own grief, and that would very much put a lot of strain on him too. I can even picture him starting to resent Kinsey and Nina, wanting to leave but unable to leave them like this and feeling trapped as a result.

Dodge

Bode was Dodge’s ticket out of the Wellhouse in canon. He was young and naive enough to trust a mysterious voice in a well, and could be convinced to get them the Anywhere Key after Sam arrived. Neither Tyler (if he were alive at that point) nor Kinsey would be as receptive to a mysterious voice in a well as Bode would be. So, Dodge had to trust Sam to get them out.

Which would probably go as well as it did when Sam tried to get the Omega and Anywhere Keys from Rendell.

Sam

Sam would come to Keyhouse similar to how he did in canon. He’d demand the Anywhere Key and the Omega Key, and neither Nina, Duncan, nor Kinsey would know what he was talking about. Even if Kinsey, the last living Locke child, found a magic key, she probably wouldn't think much of it. Why would she? It's just some old key. And as in canon, Sam wouldn’t notice the Anywhere Key in Kinsey’s bracelet. None of the Lockes would be able to give Sam what they don't know about, and he would almost certainly kill them all.

In Conclusion:

Tyler would commit suicide over the combined grief and guilt of his father's and brother's deaths. Kinsey's fear and grief would multiply to a debilitating degree with no hope of things getting better. Nina's drinking problem would worsen at a quicker pace. Duncan's grief and stress would wear him down and make him a mess alongside his last surviving family. Sam would kill off the rest of the Locke family and go back to jail or get shot to death. Finally, Dodge would stay trapped in the Wellhouse, and with no living Locke children to come to the house and find keys for them, probably forever.

It really is an “Only Bad” ending.

For everyone.

[windblooms]

mondstadt boys – how they kiss their s/o

mondstadt boys × gender-neutral!reader; 1k words. headcanons of how albedo, diluc, kaeya, and venti kiss their s/o. fluff/sfw.

- ̗̀ albedo  ̖́-

he'd only ever heard of physical affection from lisa – and, admittedly, only because was at the wrong place at the right time.

"oh, didn't you know?  when two people have affections for each other, they might kiss, and the sensation is . . . rather shocking."

romantic context or not, albedo wouldn't exactly consider being “shocked” a positive experience.  he's already been electrocuted one too many times from various trials involving the odd combination of lightning prisms and noctilucous jade, and isn't eager to intentionally replicate the sensation.  

however, since albedo’s involved himself with you, he makes an exception to this precedent on the daily: fleeting kisses on your cheeks when they’re rosy, on your lips when soft words are on the edge, and even around the shell of your ear.  his pecks are very innocent in nature; albedo isn’t an incredibly sentimental individual, rational to nearly a fault.  and even when he does choose to indulge in tender emotions, they’re in your name and exceedingly brief.

he’ll study the reactions you give, invested in the things that bring you joy – and he’s ultimately found his kisses to be one of them, so he persists.  

“well then, it looks like you’re satisfied for now.  hm, more?  if you’re like this now, i wonder what will happen if you go without me for even a day . . . ah, purely for pondering purposes.  no need to look so scandalized.”

- ̗̀ diluc  ̖́-

his respect isn’t easily earned, and his affections even less likely so – but you’ve won them all the same, and he intends to cherish you, so long as you’ll have him.

moments of genuinity are cursory with diluc: he’s too accustomed to dampening his vulnerability, and substitutes it instead with deadpan consideration.  oftentimes, his attempts at romantics are only charming because of his obvious inexperience – but he still tries, archons bless him.

very traditional with his courting: will only kiss you once it’s evident that you’ve relaxed around him, and with your permission.  initially, diluc is rather stiff, with only inklings of warmth behind his pecks.  but over time, he finds a rhythm with you; he deduces fair quickly that you’re not concerned about where he kisses you, and that you’re more pleased by the how.  

“you never cease to teach me new things . . . was that not to your liking?  we should try again, with something different.  huh, that sounded ’lewd’?  who do you take me for – ”

antics aside, the heat behind his kisses evolves: diluc learns how to let go of his rigid composure and melt into you, abdicating the guard that he’s so carefully built around himself.  fingers fluttering around your jaw, cradling your face in his calloused palms as his thumbs brush over your cheeks.  piece by piece giving up his turmoil and pushing aside the burden on his shoulders – just for you, just for now.

- ̗̀ kaeya  ̖́-

if kaeya is a winter storm, then you’re the water he paralyzes; inescapable, brazen, and even sometimes underhanded, his trek is as stunning as it is all-consuming.  no matter what you do, he always seems to know two steps beforehand, and if you hadn’t known better, you would’ve assumed that he could read minds.

but no, he can’t – he’s just unbelievably proficient at reading you, the homey porch to his midnight snow, and his precious, frost-nipped calla lily.  he can elicit a reaction from you with just a few words, and on occasion, with the help of a few gestures as well.

from the top of your head to the tips of your fingers, his lips are an instrument of war, and the claim to victory is the spark in your eyes.  whatever prompts a smile on your face, even if you giggle yourself off the couch at his foolery, he’d be more than willing to undertake.

“haha, you always put up a brave front.  relax now; let me take over.  you’ve worked hard, and my lily should enjoy themselves after a long day.”

whether it be in the favonius library, through the forests of windrise, or the ruins of starfell valley, kaeya will find any reason he can to pamper you with his kisses.  the occasion doesn’t matter, only the presentation and the joy you receive – he’s quite the tease, coy and knowing when he can tug on that string around your heart a little more, before willingly falling victim into your sincerities. 

- ̗̀ venti  ̖́-

whimsical and mercurial in agenda, barbatos is never one to stay in place for long.  it’s not that he’s innately restless, only that he has the calling to something other: to explore, trifle, and experience. 

“it’s been such a long time since i’ve had a lasting companion . . . gah, nevermind my own thoughts!  this is a time to celebrate, preferably at a nearby tavern, where there’ll be plenty of song and dance to go around . . . among other things.”

the pecks he gives you are few and far between – unlike his presented spirit, his vulnerability has been locked away long ago.  hundreds of years of witnessing, drifting, and existing, don’t exactly bode well with the soul.  he might poke fun at the flush in your cheeks, or rag good-naturedly on your unorthodox thoughts, but this is how he’s always carried himself, and the wind never reveals its secrets upfront. 

at the base of the great tree in windrise is where you first kissed.  just as an autumn gust nips at one’s skin, venti’s pecks are primarily experimental and secondarily chaste.  attachment isn’t something that comes easily to him, despite his ostentatious presentations, and the part of him that’s uncertain of the future conveys itself when his lips meet your skin.

but he will keep his perseverance for you.  lips at the shell of your ear when you lean on him, his midnight lullabies cherishing your presence, lulling you to bright days ahead, alongside him.

[spacedikut]

hi different anon here! but what if spencer had to take a mandatory arts class of some kind for his degree (i don’t know how caltech or phd courses work but we’re going to ignore that) and he’s getting super frustrated because he’s so good at all of his other academic classes but he just! can’t! figure! out! the arts!!! but then reader is in the same class as him and notices that he’s struggling so they offer to help him out?

it’s kind of a role reversal of the usual spencer-tutors-reader in college (because he’s a genius so it’s an obvious [and very good!] dynamic)

and bonus points if it’s a pottery class and they have a “ghost” moment 🙈🙈 (reader is obv patrick swayze 🤤) but make it any medium you want! or even a music class!! up to you my dear <3

ok for some reason i immedaitely thought of finger painting but. have decided against that

idk how art classes work either but if it’s anything like art was in school then you’re kind of left to you own devices? so let’s go with that. it’s fiction babey!

this was meant to be headcanons/random concepts but turned in a messy blurb so it’s under read more

he loves art and isn’t so bummed out that he has to take the class because - again - he likes it But the issue is he likes Looking at it, Not creating it. he’s got jiggly hands that squirm and twitch without his consent constantly and that doesn’t bode well for drawing fine details and intricate patterns, so he’s hoping because it’s an introductory course it’ll be. maybe more theory than anything else? or at least just basic tools and mediums so he can struggle through with a grimace from the professor

he ends up with /oil/ paints though and he’s looking from the bowl of fruit to his easel to thr OIL PAINTS and derek is there, in spirit, going hahahaha good luck pretty boy! and spencer Could ask to change the type of paint he’s using but he’s awkward and so. grits his teeth and goes. alrighty this is it this is life im using oil paints, something notoriously difficult for a beginner, which is what i am, a beginner, and i am now putting these expensive paints to this expensive easel with my inexperienced hands-

and you’ve been watching him since he stepped in, because he’s pretty, and now you’re grimacing cause Oh Boy he does not know what he’s doing and he’s. he’s breaking the paintbrushes. you can hear the bristles cracking from across the room.

spencer would’ve noticed you if he wasn’t so Humiliated (he, too, easily notices pretty people) so when you creep up behind him and say, “oil paints are difficult, aren’t they?” in this understanding voice that he follows with his head, his first thought is- oh, so to top it all off a piece of art has come to life? this is where we are now?

he does that thing where he forces out a little breath along with a small smile and goes, “ah, yeah. i didn’t want to ask for something else, so,” and weakly lifts the palette in his hand as if to say, it is what it is.

“i could help, if you’d like?”

and he agrees cause he’s eager to learn! and you, a masterful artistic genius, blow him away with not only your knowledge (you’re into the theory kind of stuff too and at one point he jolts himself, realises he was staring at you with his mouth open, and deeeeep down wishes someone would think of him the way he thinks of you when you ramble) but your actual skills too! and you’re a great teacher! patient, understanding, and did he say patient? because he has painted a damn sky at least 15 times and every time he Somehow makes clouds look phallic and you just go hehe :) and he’s like I love u (internally)

several weeks in, when you and spencer have become arty friends, the subject turns to drawing people rather than objects - you tell him getting people /right/ is something you struggle with yet you love doodling your friends and family in your sketchbook. the first body spencer draws (that isn’t a stick man) is done in crayons, which he’s found is the medium that works best for him (only when the crayon is properly wrapped. because the waxy feel of them Freaks him out)

you help him learn about drawing anatomy while he tells you /about/ anatomy, he attempts to sketch a hand and it’s so odd looking he laughs so hard he CRIES and you finally convince him to try charcoal, your personal favourite

it’s messy and gets everywhere (spencer opens his mouth to complain about his expensive grey cardigan but then- the little mark is a physical representation of this memory between you and him, huddled close together as you both draw aimlessly in your sketchbook, and the mark feels more like a blessing) but spencer ends up agreeing that charcoal sketches look the best.

then he sees something he shouldn’t have.

you’re talking about how you sketch your family all the time - there’s several of your roommates and your pets and a sheep u saw this one time - then there’s...someone oddly familiar? that he catches a glimpse of? and before he can think he goes “wait-“ opens that page and it’s him. him, standing too close to an easel with his tongue slightly poking out in concentration and it’s a charcoal sketch of him from last week.

you’re embarrassed. “that’s weird, im sorry-“

“you make me look good” he tells you, smiling sweetly, and you’re convinced it’s just to comfort you but you’re too glad he isn’t filing a restraining order you let it slide

i mean. have you seen his face? how can anyone look at that and not want to start chiselling marble?

then he gets secretive, weird, a little odd and definitely is avoiding you. he paints and draws with his back to you, still talks to you but over his shoulder and can never really look you in the eyes. you think this is it and that the sweetheart you’ve come to see as more than a friend is Done with you, because you’re a CREEP, and then after a weekend of silence on his end this happens:

while you’re getting your stuff ready, he walks up silently and slides a small sketchbook in front of you. you stare at it, wondering what it’s for, and he nods at it and tells you to open it. when you go to, he stops you-

“a-actually, let me give you a page to start on-“

when he manhandles the book his hands brush yours, his already bright red cheeks get redder, and you bite your tongue so you don’t sigh dreamily.

he’s drawn you.

it’s not perfect and kind of not pretty - a lot of harsh edges and weird shading - but you can tell its you. it’s you, drawn by him, probably from memory, and he’s drawn little hearts around your head because he’s the cutest? evidently?

“it’s really bad, but i thought-“ you look directly at him, making him freeze. he’s got a little charcoal just under his eye. unabashedly, you reach up and wipe it away, hand remaining at the side of his face when you’re done. “i thought you deserve to feel how i felt when you drew me.”

“and how did you feel?”

he gulps. “loved.”

all you can do in the Classroom you’re in is beam sickeningly sweet at one another, lost in your own world while there’s a wordless exchange. the rest of the sketchbook is full of half attempts at sketching you - in different positions, with different expressions, some with a full head while others are half a face. some of them are hilarious, but they’re all made with the purest intentions. “i love it.”

and when you share a look then, you don’t need to verbally say what comes next just yet.

(and. yes. the second you see a pottery class is available you drag him and Make him sit between your legs and he’s never blushed so much in his life the teacher asks if he needs air. at one point you think it’d be funny to peck his neck and the shiver it sends through him is so shocking your mould on the wheel is squished between his hands)

[wallgirl]

All characters reactions to MC stealing a car and doing donuts in a parking lot until they spin out, leading to their arrest (Headcanons)

Lucifer

What in the world were you thinking?

Great. Lucifer had had hopes you might be smarter and more responsible than his brothers, or at least less of a handful - but now those hopes were dashed.

Only bails you out quickly because the whole Devildom doesn't need to catch wind that one of the first human exchange students is sitting in jail. Otherwise, if it were up to him, you'd be ruminating in your cell for a day or two.

You're placed on lockdown, with special charms on all entrances and windows to the HoL to monitor your coming and going, and to keep you home during the night.

Just another headache for him. Not only does he have to keep other demons from killing you, he has to keep YOU from killing you.

He's only keeping his patience for Diavolo's sake. But once this is all over, boy, does Diavolo owe him big time.

Mammon

What the hell were ya thinking?!

If you're gonna do something like that, you could've at least brought him along too.

Lucifer beats him for this little speech and sends him back to react more appropriately.

Okay, look, human, you're not the only one with their neck on the line here. I am supposed to be guarding you, after all. So could ya try to rein it in... so, you know, Lucifer doesn't kill me?

In private, he'll tell you that he doesn't blame you for seeking a thrill, but there are other, less deadly ways to do so. He's willing to show you around, just don't tell Lucifer!

Leviathan

Nani?!?!?

Completely caught off-guard. He's seen people do donuts in some of his movies, and he knows that if the stunt goes wrong, humans don't really walk away from it unscathed.

A little wary of you. If you're willing to risk your own life and break the law for some adrenaline, maybe you're not quite as stable as he thought...

Satan

Mhm. And you thought that was a good idea why?

He's finding it hard to grasp this level of stupidity. He'll question you for a little bit, trying to understand what thought process led you to thinking that that was a smart thing to do.

Entertained by Lucifer's scramble to sort out the problems you've caused. At least there’s that.

Tempted to egg you on to do something else... Just to watch Lucifer sweat.

Asmodeus

Eh?!

Asmo knows all about the need to get one's kicks and thrills... but this is excessive. Dying isn't cute; too messy. And jail wreaks havoc on the skin.

Wonders if you really understand the weight of what you did. Like, you do know you could've gotten seriously injured from that, right?

Scolds you lightly for not thinking about the consequences. You could've ended up with injuries on your cute face!

If you want to feel a real rush, he knows just the thing~

Beelzebub

Very disappointed at first that you didn't think to invite him. He loves donuts!!

When it's made clear that you didn't mean food, he becomes greatly concerned. Why would you do something like that? Were you upset? Was this some kind of self-destructive behavior?

Asks you to promise him that you won't do something so foolish like that again. He hates the thought of you getting hurt.

For a while afterwards, whenever you're going out, he'll ask what you're up to, just to make sure you're not going to do something dangerous like that again.

Belphegor

Doesn't even want to deal with this.

Doesn't even get out of bed to address it until Beel asks him to say something to you.

He tells you in no uncertain terms that you're an idiot for what you did. But it's not his place to really scold you for it. You're an adult, you can do as you please, and you'll have to face the results of it.

He is actually disturbed that you would do something so dangerous, though he's trying not to show it. He goes around himself to check the charms Lucifer's placed... and adds a few of his own where Lucifer may have missed.

May ask you with a dry grin when he sees you going out if you're headed out to do donuts again.

Diavolo

Haha Um, okay.

This really wasn't something he'd planned for. Diavolo may be a demon, but he understands that humans have a general respect for the law and their own safety, so this throws him for a loop.

He won't really scold you or get mad, he's just really concerned. He'll ask if someone goaded you into doing it, or if you're going through something mentally/emotionally that led you to do this.

Once he’s sure there aren’t any special circumstances, he asks you, regardless of what your human customs may be, to please respect the laws of the Devildom... and please, don’t be so reckless.

Now he has to worry about one of the first exchange students of his program being a loose cannon. He makes sure there are eyes on you as much as possible to prevent you from doing something else in the future.

Barbatos

Ah... well, this wasn't a future he'd checked for.

Murder? War? Civil unrest? Sure, he'd checked for multiple futures involving MC. Driving recklessly and doing donuts in parking lots? Not so much.

Slightly amused by the oddness of the situation, but he knows your erratic behavior could lead to problems for Diavolo if they don't keep a handle on things. He's on guard now, constantly keeping an eye on the ever shifting future.

Tempted to ask you whenever he sees you if you've broken any more laws recently. He'll never admit it, though.

Solomon

Well, isn't this interesting. His fellow exchange student appears to be a little bit bonkers.

He finds it entertaining, to say the least. He asks you if you have any more shenanigans planned for the future.

Of course, Solomon isn't stupid, and he knows that you getting yourself hurt wouldn't bode well for the exchange program. If he does catch you doing something dangerous, he'll do what he can to ensure no harm comes to you.

In fact, he may even ask to come with you. Solomon likes a good thrill himself, and if he's with you, there's no way you'll get hurt.

Simeon

...What?

Simeon had already caught on that you were a bit... reckless, but this took the cake.

Wonders if Diavolo knew that you had these tendencies before bringing you to the Devildom.

Will not be letting you spend much time around Luke alone, or just in general - you’re not a good influence for an angel-in-training.

Luke

Why would you do something so dangerous?!

He’s super upset that you would do something so risky just to have some fun.

He’ll yell at you more than anybody else, simply because he’s worried and upset and doesn’t know how else to express it.

Give him a pat on the head and promise him you won’t do something like that ever again, (even if you don’t mean it) because that’s the only way his tears will stop.

Takes to spying on you whenever he can to make sure you’re staying out of trouble.

[mutatiio]

How do your muses sleep?

maul grew up essentially sleeping on the ground. he had a thin sleep mat, but nothing else. he finds luxurious beds pathetic - thinks people who sleep in them are pampered and weak. he'll typically refuse a bed when offered and opts to sleep somewhere high up, where he can curl into himself or on the floor, usually sitting upright. he prefers to have his back against the wall so that he can see anything that might come at him. he doesn't sleep often. years of torturous tests and training that required him to stay awake and alert for days. and then years on lotho minor, unable to sleep due to rats chewing on his flesh.

he often stays awake for extended periods of time, his paranoia getting worse and worse with each passing day, making it more difficult to sleep. his rage is always overwhelming, but more when he's been up for days.

after lotho minor he tends to get very cold. sometimes he feels as though the coldness of the isolation planet seeped into his bones - that there's nothing he can do to rid himself of it. still, he refuses blankets. he's so smart but so incredible stupid. but this is also why when he's with a partner (and he's trusting enough to let them) he's the little spoon. needs to steal all of their warmth.

sleeps fully clothed.

anakin can survive days without sleep, but once his head hits a pillow he'll be out for so many hours.

he doesn't like sleeping alone. on tatooine, during the really cold nights, he and shmi would cuddle up together to keep each other warm. shmi would press her forehead to anakin's and they'd fall asleep like that.

when anakin is taken to the temple, he finds it difficult to sleep alone in his room. soooo... he finds his way to obi-wan's room. he would sneak as best he could. when successful, he'd sleep on the ground near him. when he wasn't, obi-wan would move over and let him use part of the bed. still, he would be restless. obi-wan discovered (one time while anakin was sick) that sleep would come quite quickly when he placed his hand on anakin's forehead. so that's his tactic and it pretty much always works.

anakin has nightmares which tend to wake him, leaving him too spooked to rest again. during these times, anakin typically gets up and works on something (a droid or a speeder). while he was a padawan, he often snuck out of the temple to rummage around lower coruscant - trying to find parts he might need. he would barely sleep those nights, but he'd never be late for a mission should he be called to one early the next day.

during t.cw, time is a luxury. anakin doesn't get much time to sleep. but sometimes he's been seen to just curl up near or on obi-wan and pass out (very tall man can curl up and make himself so small when he wants to).

and when sleeping with a partner, he likes to put his cold hands on their stomach. he doesn't really care whether he's the small or big spoon, he just wants to be touching in any sort of way.

used to sleep with a baggy top and some sort of,, sw joggers. now just sleeps with the joggers.

bode could sleep so well if god would only allow it. typically, he's sleeping while being transported to some sort of job. uses his arm as a pillow, leaned against a wall or a desk. it's lots of acky necks and sore backs for poor bode. he'll sleep anywhere - more from necessity than desire.

real dad sleeping though. when the situation permits it, he will pass out with his head stretched back over the seat, hand on his stomach, the loudest snores.

he sleeps best when kata is near, when he knows she's safe.

he does suffer from nightmares after order 66, after tayala. when he's woken from them, he tries to get back to sleep (knows he might not get another chance to rest for awhile). when the attempt isn't successful, he'll get up and record a message for kata or flick through any files he has left of tayala.

when with a partner, he is typically the big spoon. ends up away from them during the night, flat on his back.

usually sleeps in his boxers only.

dryden sleeps beautifully. he's extremely well rested. sleeps on a plush bed with his silk sheets that are changed every single day. he's easily roused, but he can sleep a full eight hours without interruptions most nights. he doesn't shift much in his sleep and doesn't curl in on himself. honestly, if you didn't know better, he would probably look like he's dead.

when with a partner, which is incredible rare because he doesn't allow people to sleep in his bed, he's not very touchy.

he's probably got some disgustingly fashionable pyjamas. silk. a long, flowy robe.

[crispyjenkins]

Prompt where the 212 gets together to paint Obi-Wan’s armor so he would wear it more but at some point our fool gets captured and his captor wears the armor to piss Kenobi off so when the 212 comes in Cody goes absolutely feral when he sees someone else where his general’s armor and Kenobi gets absolutely railed by Cody after.

(i don’t do smut, but i love this idea so so much, i really don’t know why i haven’t come across more painted armour Obi stuff, and y’all have probably realised i’m all about Obi angst, sooo this one was a lot of fun. thank you so much for prompting, lovely! threw in some headcanon mandalorian family and courting culture just for you) 

  Jedi were not made to wear armour, they were not soldiers, at least not before. Cody knows his general picked up clone culture better than most, from the little bits of Mando’a to the importance of Vode An, and he should perhaps be thankful that General Kenobi wears any armour at all, but what good are simple pauldrons and vambraces when Kenobi throws himself against hundreds of clankers without backup on a weekly basis?

  It’s Wupi that suggests it, drunk on Waxer’s rotgut and going grey with how often he has to patch up their general after missions. Boil is mostly amused by Kenobi’s apparent death wish, but he isn’t like their medic, or Cody: he doesn't have to deal with the fallout when Kenobi comes back to the Negotiator so much worse off than his men.

  “Why don’t we give him one o’ yours armours?” Wupi had slurred, half out of his blacks and staring into his cup like it would relieve him of his duty. “S’General’s too nice to lose someone else’s.” 

  Wooley had jerked his attention from his own cup and stared at Cody because that... that wasn’t a bad idea. 

  And because Wupi is too hungover the next day to do anything about it himself, it’s Wooley that starts the task of finding and retrofitting pieces of clone armour to fit their general (their “wonderfully tiny" general, as Wupi had put before passing out in his chair). It takes a few days, bouncing between three different quartermasters and Commander Tano for input on how to wear it over more traditional Jedi clothes, but Wooley finally amasses something close to a full set that they might convince Kenobi to wear, and then goes around giving each member of the Ghost Company a few pieces to paint. 

  Cody tries not to think about why Wooley gives him the chestplate. He tries really hard.

  There’s something to be said about family giving each other armour, of course, Cody doesn’t think Wooley or Boil or Wupi or Waxer are trying to woo their general, and it shows in the pieces of armour they choose to paint, but the breastplate is... forward, when not given in a familial sense, and Cody can’t pretend that he is. Giving it in a familial sense. Kriff. 

  Ghost Company all sit together in the empty mess one night, Cody having strategically made sure their sleeping shifts line up, and they paint the pieces while drinking more of Waxer’s rotgut and pretending they don’t have a battle tomorrow that they might not win. Cody’s men paint each piece to match their own, so that Kenobi’s set is a mix of bits of each of them. They aren’t quite sure how it works for natborn Mandalorians, there were limits on what the Kaminoins let the Cuy’val Dar teach them, but this is as close as they can get to claiming Ken— Obi-Wan as one of the vode. The meaning won’t be lost on him.

  Cody carefully paints his sun rays onto Obi-Wan’s chestplate, the orange crisp and shiny-bright, and he wonders if Obi-Wan knows the meaning of colours on beskar’gam. He seems to know a lot about Mandalorian culture that even the clones don’t, but Cody has never pushed to know more about why, not when it makes Obi-Wan clam up like that.

  Boil finishes quickly, and just as quickly gets completely smashed to the point he’s singing the last raunchy jig they’d picked up planet-side, and it’s almost calming to see him so relaxed. Waxer smiles fondly at his brother and switches his cup for one of water instead, shaking his head at Wooley’s disapproving glare. 

  Cody waits until the others have gone to bed to ask for the medic’s steady hand, to help him stencil a beskar’ta right above the sternum. He isn’t sure if he’s ever seen another vode with a beskar’ta, and perhaps it’s a little presumptuous for Cody to give Obi-Wan one without discussing it with him first, but he can offer no greater protection to his general. The way Wupi doesn’t say anything when Cody carefully paints in the lines says more about his relationship with Obi-Wan than he’d really like to admit. 

  Cody isn’t there when Wooley presents the armour to him, but when Obi-Wan joins them in the hangar before descent planet-side, he wears every piece as if it were the regalia of some ancient royal, and not a cobbled-together attempt to keep him alive. The rest of the 212th hide their stares inside their buckets, and Obi-Wan still wears his outer robe over it all, but Ghost Company all preen at the sight of their general not only protected, but in their colour and crests. 

  Obi-Wan smiles at Cody as they load into the shuttles, tapping a closed fist over the beskar’ta in all-too-knowing thanks. So he knows at least the familial connotations, which doesn’t bode well for Cody’s half hope that that’s all he knows.

  Crys claps Cody on the shoulder with an eyebrow wiggle, and Cody wishes Jango hadn’t taught them a damn thing. 

-

  Day three without water, even with the Force sustaining him, leaves Obi-Wan more than a little delirious. The Nikto bounty hunter that thought they could somehow convince Count Dooku that they’d captured the famed Negotiator grows increasingly agitated as the hours roll by, and Obi-Wan wishes he had better presence of mind to appreciate it. 

  They have him on his knees and strung up in chains like a barbarian, and stick him with a needle every three hours with some sort of Force suppressor that makes him even more incoherent — Obi-Wan is fairly sure they’re over-drugging him. Actually, perhaps the Force isn’t sustaining him properly; that would certainly explain a lot. 

  The morning of day four in the brig of a ship Obi-Wan can’t remember the make of, the Nikto starts picking through his removed armour, with scathing comments about the colour and fact that it had come from “cannon-fodder slaves that are better put-down than eating up the galaxy’s resources”, and oh, Obi-Wan wishes he could rend them limb from limb.

  “A bastardisation of Mando armour, you know,” the Nikto grumbles, sending Obi-Wan a pitying look when all he can do is grunt angrily. “Look, this even has an iron heart; what poor kriffing fool told you you were allowed to wear such a mark?” Scoffing, the Nikto discards their cloak to slip on Obi-Wan’s chestplate; every last scrap of energy in Obi-Wan screams at the wrongness, and he jerks in his chains.

  The Nikto startles and doesn’t get to fastening the sides as they stare at their prisoner. “You shouldn’t have any mobility left,” they say in part surprise, part anger, getting back to their feet to drag the small medical crate of suppressors back across the room. They kick it open and pull out an almost-empty vial, but don’t get to the needles before a proximity alarm goes off.

  They drop the vial and grab the blaster from their hip, and barely get it up in time for the single door to explode inwards, Ghost Company forcing their way into the room before the smoke has even cleared. And Obi-Wan trusts his men, his family, with every Force-forsaken bit of him, which means he promptly passes out at the sight of them.

  He doesn’t wake in safety, rather with a vibroblade pressed to his throat and a hand twisting cruelly in his hair. His vision is filled with white and orange and warmth, before his brain catches up to what he’s actually seeing, and he focuses on the blank helmets of his men. The suppressors in his system do nothing to hide the molten metal anger that leaks into the Force all around them, and Obi-Wan must look worse than he thought, if Cody’s hand is trembling on his blaster.

  ‘Easy,’ Obi-Wan whispers without moving his lips, Cody giving the smallest of jerks so Obi-Wan knows the message is received.

  ‘Sir?’ Cody shifts on his feet, the Nikto saying something from behind Obi-Wan that’s surely full of gloating and threat, but Cody’s helmet is tilted towards Obi-Wan, his presence fluttering in the Force like a lamp in the dark.

  ‘I’m not quite sure how you’re managing this,’ Obi-Wan admits, with half a thought to the cosmic implication of Cody giving him a beskar’ta, which has meaning even outside Mandalore, outside even the Force. ‘But my lovely captor is weak on their left side, an old injury, I think.’

  ‘He’s wearing your armour,’ Cody all but growls and raises his blaster properly, and the Nikto must sense the change as they nervously fumble the vibroblade and cut through the collar of Obi-Wan’s tunic.

  And Obi-Wan is tired, he’s been in chains for four days with drugs he’s never encountered burning the ends of his nerves and cutting off an entire sense he has never been without, so he looks up until he meets Cody’s eyes squarely. ‘Then relieve them of it.’

  ‘With pleasure, sir.’

Mando’a: Vode An — "Brothers All" (a Mando’a war chant taught to the clones by Jango and the Cuy’val Dar)  Cuy’val Dar — “Those who no longer exist”, group of 75 Mando’ade and 25 others put together by Jango to train the clones beskar’gam — Armour made of beskar, “Mandalorian Iron” that was actually probably a steel alloy beskar’ta — “Iron heart”, the elongated hex-shape common in Mandalorian armour designs (great post here comparing them to katana tsuba). also called ka’rta beskar or “heart of the iron”

[bailey-reaper]

Bless your blog. I adore van Zieks and his complexity and his aesthetic is just *chef's kiss*. (I fucking live for this man.) Your writing is wonderful and you capture his personality quite well. I was wondering, in your view, how Barok would handle kidnapping or even an attempted one. I'm sure it's happened and he would be especially vulnerable when he was younger. (No doubt Klint had his hands full when it came to keeping his baby brother safe.)

Headcanons (The perils of being a Prosecutor's brother...)

Notes: 🥺 Oh gosh, thank you so much! It's so heartening to meet so many fellow Mr. Leggy fans! His complexity and aesthetic are some of my favourite aspects to his character. I really feel like Capcom made a very special Prosecutor!

And thank you so much ;A; I'm really happy to hear that my writing and characterisation are working for you! I hope you continue to enjoy the blog!

Some headcanons below!

Content Warnings: kidnapping; fear of violence; threats; intimidation; sadistic criminals

It's a sad fact that Klint had to brief his younger brother on the possibility that he might be attacked and sometimes there might be too many for him to fend off. In such circumstances, Klint was at pains to instill in Barok that he should not try to be a hero. Far better to allow himself to be kidnapped than risk being hurt for causing too much trouble.

However, that doesn't mean that Barok doesn't have a few tricks up his sleeve including running away long enough to unfasten his cravat and leave it somewhere for Klint and Balmung to find so the hunting dog can pick up his scent and the two can find out where he's being held.

The whole thing makes sense in the young man's head, in principle, but the first time he's kidnapped is a harrowing experience. He just about remembers to loosen his cravat and leave it somewhere, but after that it's all a bit of a blur. Being shackled and gagged, left in a dark room while vicious criminals talk about the ways they're going to butcher him and send his pieces to his brother...

It's far more terrifying than he could ever have conceived in his imagination; but, true to his word, Klint finds him and rescues him.

Avoiding a situation like that again is a big driving factor in his desire to become even more accomplished with a sword and better able to defend himself.

Sadly, he does end up getting kidnapped a few more times as a young man but familiarity makes it a little less scary and he slowly becomes conditioned on how to handle such situations - he knows to start loosening his cravat when he feels himself being watched and he starts to play with taking chances to escape.

Klint doesn't approve of Barok taking risks, but he's also extremely proud of his brother for his shrewdness and how capable he is. In a way, he's relieved that Barok is able to take calculated risks and save himself. It bodes well for his future, even if it's a future that one shouldn't have to prepare for...

[turtletimewriting]

Hello! has loceit been done yet? 👉👈

Okay. this is going to be my last one. I feel like, at this point, I’m just repeating myself. But this has been genuinely so so so much fun! And, if I can be vague for a second, this whole thing bodes well for a future project I’m planning. 

1. Who has the cutest tickle laugh?

Logan’s of course! His laugh already is beautiful with all its snorts and squeals compared to his normal serious self, but there’s a particular laugh that is Janus’ favourite. It’s a shame because he’s yet to cause that laugh again. He was tickling his sides while Logan was lying on his stomach and his hands drifted to back of his ribs, on his back. It was just the most frantic uncontrollable giggles you’ve ever heard. Logan’s choked attempts at saying ‘oh sweet lord this really tickles’. Neither of them knew his back was ticklish and Logan’s sheer panic at the hidden tickle spot which is very ticklish. The laughter from a new tickle spot where it tickles a new way and the panic of not realising he was ticklish produced the best laughter Janus has ever heard. His biggest regret in life is not recording that laugh. Oh well, all the more reason to try and replicate that laughter. 

2. Who is ticklish in unusual places and where would that be?

Not really an unusual spot but more like unusual tickles. Janus quite likes experimenting with how to tickle in his snake form and one day, when he was a teeny weeny snake, he managed to curl around one of Logan’s individual toe. And Logan’s feet is his death spot. Logan wasn’t really aware of his own screaming laughs but the fact that all the others (including Remus, so it must’ve been bad) came storming into the room with various weapons. None of them even saw the small tiny little yellow noodle slowly twisting around Logan’s little toe. 

3. Who gets cheer-up tickles?

Janus. Logan has this habit of resting his hands underneath Janus’ cape near his ribs to keep his hands warm or even just to have a spot to keep his hands while talking. This then evolved into slow gentle tracing around Janus’ ribs and of course he can’t bat away at his hands because no one can even tell that Logan’s hands are under there and there’s no way he’s telling the whole mindscape he’s ticklish. But this quickly become a way for Logan to help Janus realise he’s stressed and needs to take a moment. His hands will go from gently resting to slowly curling fingers around his ribs and it completely takes Janus out of the moment and helps him realise that he’s screaming in frustration at an upset Patton. It becomes a way for Janus to know when he’s hitting a nerve or needs to back away and calm down. 

4. Who takes advantage of the other one getting their arms stuck while taking off their shirt?

Janus loves to take advantage of Logan because Logan is so delightfully clueless. Not only is he useless in the mornings but he’s very ‘no funny business’ and doesn’t even think it’s fathomable that Janus will tickle and joke with him. His brain is turning on! Of course no one will try to start a conversation with him! And so it is the perfect time to attack his little pudgy sides with tickles or scitter up his spine as he walks by. To make it even better, Logan always forget by the next morning and will just stand there will Janus creeps forward with wiggling fingers. 

5. How did they discover each other’s ticklishness?

Logan’s ticklishness was discovered when Janus was in his snake form. Janus made it a habit to turn into a snake so he could extra appreciate the warmth. But Janus decided to finally take a leap and slide up to (gently) around his neck rather than curled up in his lap. But his sliding scales going up his arm before settling and curling around his ticklish neck. To make it worse, this was after a long day’s work and so Logan didn’t even try to hide his giggles. It took him a worrying amount of time to notice Janus had stopped and was now staring at him in front of his head with a judgmental snake look.

Janus’ ticklishness isn’t much of a story. I have no clue where this has come from; I don’t even ever have consistent height headcanons. BUT! Janus has made it his place to sit down is Logan’s lap. I like the idea of them not being the most affectionate couple but also just casual contact is done without batting an eye. Logan is sitting on the sofa, he won’t even move or look up when Janus plops down on his lap and sits cross legged in his lap. But then one day, maybe after his own ticklishness was discovered, Logan just wondered if he was ticklish too. He then squeezed his sides. Janus threw himself back, trying to back away from the squeezes, but of course that then means he allowed himself to be trapped in Logan’s arms who then tickled the snot out of him. And he does not regret it. Seeing Logan’s peaceful smirk still lives in Janus’ mind rent free. 

6. Who can’t take tickle bites?

Neither of them. Both of them are equally as weak to the silliness and sensation of tickle bites. One day they even wanted to battle this out, prove it once and for all. They both got sat in Patton and Remus’ laps so they could be effectively pinned down and tickle bit to pieces. First one to safeword would be the loser and the weakest to the tickle bites. Patton starts nibbling on Janus’ neck and made sure to linger on the scales while Remus immediately dived for Logan’s sides. They both safeworded at the same time and they still argue to this day over how unfair that battle was (even though neither of them really lost). Remus has a moustache! Oh yeah well you don’t have scales! I’m bigger so there’s more surface area to tickle! I’m smaller and you have no idea how flustering it is to have everyone tower over you!

7. Who has to be tickle-forced out of bed in the morning?

To put a spin on this, Logan absolutely needs to be tickle chased IN to bed. Janus is absolutely not above fighting unfairly to get his genius idiot boyfriend some amount of sleep. He’ll duck under the desk and destroy Logan’s death spot in plenty of tickles and maybe a few raspberries here or there. Logan will even be begging that he promises he will go straight to bed but Janus will not listen. If he did then Logan would 

8. Who gives up in a tickle fight?

Oh this is absolutely not what this question is asking but oh this only just hit me. Both Logan and Janus are the sort to deliberately lose a tickle fight. Logan actually enjoys the tickles and sometimes it only just hits him that he can sit back and socially acceptably just take all the tickles he wants. Janus is the sort to treasure when Logan is having unabashed fun and genuine silliness and he will absolutely sit back and let things last longer so he can teach Logan that silliness is something good. But one day they both dramatically flop backwards thinking they can sit back and enjoy the tickles. They both awkwardly flop away from each other thinking the other will go to pin them. But obviously they just flop heavily against the floor in deafening silence. Janus finishes his giggle fit and Logan awkwardly brushed off the tingly sensations. The silence lasts for a solid minute. Then they burst into laughter and they both curl up to each other like the hopeless tickle addicts they are. From that point on, they are aware the other will deliberately lose a tickle fight but they still pretend like their tickle fights are genuine. 

9. Who is in danger of getting hurt when attacking the other?

Logan can sometimes just flop over during a tickle attack. Like his legs just don’t do the working thing anymore. So there’s been a few moments where he’ll collapse on to Janus who is completely unprepared to have his huge boyfriend fall on him. He doesn’t really get hurt but it always make him laugh when one second he’s evilly attacking his boyfriend to the next being buried underneath Logan. To make it better, Logan then has access to his little stick legs underneath him which are perfect for some revenge tickles. 

10. Who always provokes the other into tickling them and how?

Janus. He’ll never admit that he wants tickles but he’s also too much of a lee to outright ask. To make it even better worse, Logan can be a little dense so all this subterfuge goes to complete waste when Logan ends up proclaiming loud enough for anyone in the mindscape to hear, “Oh wait, are you trying to provoke me into tickling you? Is that it? Do you want some tickles? Why are you blushing so much, there is nothing to be ashamed of about liking being tickled.” 

[veliseraptor]

Hey I was watching Thor 1 again last night and when I got to the part where Odin found Loki for the first time on Jotunheim I just thought of you since the canon we got was so short I was like, “you know what, I think Lise could actually describe this in a more detailed description,” so I was wondering if you could maybe give us a short baby! Loki and Odin headcanon where Odin found him as a frost giant baby in that temple, decided to take him in and how Frigga reacted when she first met Loki?

Foundling, 3.1k, odin pov, pre-canon, content warning for infant death, not sure if this is my definitive headcanon or not but it was fun to write, thanks to this fic for breaking up at least a little of the writing block I’ve been fighting for the last month, this is almost completely unedited just throwing it out there

The Jotun babe stopped crying almost immediately when Odin lifted him. He blinked, wide eyed, and went quiet. Blue skin changed to Aesir pink, and Odin almost dropped him.

He did not, and several things occurred to him at once.

Firstly, Odin did not know why Laufey would have abandoned his own son to die, but in doing so he had handed Odin an heir to Jotunheim.

Secondly, he was an heir who was a natural shapeshifter and, unless Odin was greatly mistaken, had the makings of a mage as well.

Thirdly, Odin had received word not two weeks past that Frigga had lost the baby she had been carrying and was suffering under the weight of her grief. Their unnamed child could not be replaced, but perhaps...

Fourthly, left alone, this babe would die, either of exposure - so young, he was not made to endure the cold of his native land for too long - or of hunger, or even at the hand of one of Odin’s own soldiers who would not care for his youth, only his blood.

And finally: Odin was, after this long and grueling war, very tired of death.

The decision was made.

“There you have it,” Odin murmured to the baby in his arms. “You are returning home with me.”

The baby closed his eyes and went to sleep. His empty eye socket throbbed, but a small smile tugged at the corner of Odin’s mouth.

It was possible, he considered ruefully, that he had made his decision the moment he’d lifted a crying baby from the ice, and worked backwards from there. But he could live with that.

**

Odin wrestled for a while over how to bring the babe back to Asgard unnoticed. There was no question that it needed to be unnoticed. Asking his people to accept their king adopting a Jotun child before a formal peace was even made would be too much.

In the end, he swaddled the babe (Loki, he already had a name unspoken in Odin’s mind) in some scraps of a banner, tucked him in a knapsack, and called the Bifrost to bring them home. The young watchman’s eyebrows twitched slightly as he watched Odin pass, but he said nothing. Good lad, Odin thought, and made a note to ensure that he was clear on the need to say nothing in the future, either.

It wasn’t until he had reached the palace and was standing outside the door to the room where Frigga was lying in that it occurred to him that Frigga might not accept a new baby so readily, even - or perhaps especially - after losing her own. What would he do if she rejected him? There were too few he could trust to care for a Jotun baby, and it was imperative for his future plans that he be kept close by.

Odin grimaced. He would just have to find some way to convince her. This would only work with her assent.

He tapped lightly on the door and waited until it opened. It was the new chief healer, who looked awfully young in comparison with Gudrun her predecessor, but by all accounts she was capable. Eir, he thought he remembered.

She seemed surprised to see him. “All-Father,” she said. “I did not hear word of your return. Your eye-”

“I have not returned, officially,” Odin said. “I wished to see Frigga with some privacy, first.” He paused, then lowered his voice and asked, “how is she?”

Eir pressed her lips together, then said, “physically, she is recovering well. But her heart is sore grieved.”

“And Thor?”

“Is well,” Eir said. “With his nurses, since Frigga took to her bed. She has been...reluctant to see him.”

That did not seem to bode well. Odin hesitated, wondering if there was some way of waiting to introduce the baby until Frigga was better.

With a truly spectacular sense of timing, Loki let out a gurgle and began to cry.

Eir’s eyes widened, going to the knapsack he was carefully cradling, and Odin cursed, shoving past her and into the room, pulling her in before closing the door firmly.

“What,” Eir began.

“You must say nothing of what you see here,” Odin interrupted. “Swear secrecy to me.”

“I swear,” she said immediately, without hesitation. Odin did not relax, waiting, and she added, “on the World Tree itself. Is there a baby in your bag, All-Father?”

Odin saw the knob on the inner door turn and could have cursed again. It opened and Frigga stood there in her dressing-gown, pale with dark-circles around her eyes, their usual brightness dulled. “Eir, I thought I heard…”

She trailed off, looking at him. He could see her taking in his eye, still swathed only in a field dressing, and then the knapsack cradled in his arms

“My husband,” she said, and did not sound entirely pleased. Odin glanced at Eir, who looked back at him with an expression of helpless confusion. Loki was still crying.

Odin set the bag down and drew out Loki, who, apparently now awake and indignant at having been transported thus, howled his displeasure. Eir gasped, and Frigga took a step back, her eyes widening as though he held a serpent.

“I found him abandoned on Jotunheim,” Odin said, before either of them could speak. “He would have died if I left him there.”

“So you…” Frigga trailed off, her eyes still fixed on the crying baby.

“Why was he there to begin with?” Eir asked. “An Aesir baby on Jotunheim-”

“He isn’t,” Odin said, trying to rock Loki as he’d rocked Thor, to soothe him. When both women looked at him, frowning, he said, “he isn’t Aesir. He is a shapeshifter. And Laufey’s son.”

Frigga continued to stare, though her blankness was rapidly turning toward something else. Toward anger. “And you want us - want me - to raise him as ours?”

“There is no one else,” Odin said, deciding that mention of his more political thoughts could wait until later.

“Our daughter is scarcely buried,” Frigga hissed, tears springing to her eyes, and green fire twisted around her clenched fists. “Did you know she was a daughter? She will never even receive her name. And you bring this, this foundling to me, as though she was a bauble to be replaced-”

“No,” Odin said. “I didn’t think-”

“Frigga turned her head away. “I hear her,” she said. “I hear her crying when I am half-asleep, somewhere close by. That is what I thought I heard when you came in.”

Odin cringed. “My love-”

“No,” she said. “No. Do not try to-” She took in a gulping breath, and turned on her heel, fleeing back into the room she had just emerged from and slamming the door. And Loki was still crying.

“Let me take him,” Eir said after a few moments of silence. Odin handed him wordlessly over and in her hands he settled, though not entirely. He still seemed agitated, anxious - or perhaps it was just Odin who was agitated and anxious.

“You will need that eye seen to,” Eir said, when he said nothing. “I will look after the babe-”

“Loki,” Odin said automatically, and did not react to Eir’s glance in his direction.

“After Loki,” she said smoothly. “For now.”

Odin sighed. “Thank you,” he said. It was not a permanent solution. Not even close. But until he could work out something more permanent...it was what he had.

**

He let the healers tend to his eye, covering it with a modest black patch for now, though he would have to have something more grand made to match his armor. He washed, changed his clothes, and went to find his son.

Thor seemed bigger than when Odin had last seen him even a few months before. He was on his feet and toddling toward Odin the moment he saw him with an enthusiastic “Pabbi!” and Odin knelt to lift him up into his arms.

“Have you been good to your nurses, my boy?” he asked.

“I have!” Thor said, and then reached out toward Odin’s face. “What happened to your eye? Did you hurt it?”

“Yes,” Odin said. “I’m afraid so.” Thor frowned, and Odin added, “A Frost Giant took it.” Thor’s eyes went wide, and Odin added, “he can have it! I only need one, anyway.”

Thor didn’t look wholly mollified, but his attention moved on quickly. “Can I see Amma now? And my baby brother?”

So he hadn’t been told, Odin thought unhappily. “Thor,” he began, and then stopped. If Frigga changed her mind - and she still might, he told himself insistently, she still might - Thor needed to believe that Loki was his natural born brother. A child his age would not be able to keep such a secret - and might be less likely to accept him knowing the truth. “Not yet,” he said. “Soon.”

Thor sulked, but not seriously, and not for long. He was young, and resilient, and his exuberance did Odin’s heart good. This war had brought back too many memories, none of them fond.

Thor tugged on his arm. “Did we win?” he asked, bright blue eyes wide. “Did we beat the Frost Giants?”

“Yes,” Odin said. “The fighting’s over. I’m home for good, now.”

Thor beamed. “Did you kill all of them?” he asked brightly, and Odin stopped dead for a moment. His thoughts flashed to the baby and he cleared his throat.

“No,” he said. “That wasn’t what we were trying to do. We just wanted them to go back to their Realm and stop attacking Midgard. And we did that. They’ve learned their lesson, and won’t do it again.”

Thor seemed a bit disappointed. “Oh,” he said. “All right.”

“Tell me what you’ve been up to,” Odin said as he set Thor down, eager to change the subject. “I’ve missed you, my boy.”

As Thor began to chatter, Odin imagined leaving Thor out in the cold, exposed to the elements, and felt a flash of anger. Laufey was a father undeserving of his son. Loki would be better off in Asgard.

**

When Thor began to flag, Odin turned him over to his nurse and went to find Eir. She had deposited Loki in a cradle in one of the birthing rooms, where he appeared to be asleep.

“How is he,” Odin asked, keeping his voice low.

“To all intents and purposes he appears to be Aesir, albeit with a temperature lower than normal for us,” she said. “But he won’t take formula, and I can’t exactly request a wet-nurse without raising questions.” She paused. “He is weak, and getting weaker.”

Odin blinked. “He seemed fine.”

“It may be the exposure catching up with him,” Eir said, “or the shock of a journey between worlds. Or simply hunger; we have no way of knowing how long he had been left there.” Odin moved over to the cradle and frowned down at him.

“What can be done?”

Eir shrugged. “I know nothing about Jotun infants, and however he appears, I fear that treating him like an Aesir baby might do more harm than good. I would say the most pressing issue right now is nutrition. We could force him to take it, but that has its own risks, and if he is refusing it might be for a reason.”

Odin rubbed his eyepatch where the socket was beginning to ache. “Could you try ordinary breastmilk? Make some excuse…”

Eir pressed her lips together and said, “I’ll see what I can do.” She went out, leaving Odin alone with Loki. After a moment, Odin picked him up, frowning down at him. He stirred with a small, sleepy noise.

“What’s to be done with you,” Odin asked him. “What do you need of us?”

Loki, naturally, didn’t reply. He really did look just like any Aesir baby. If Odin had to give him up to some other family...perhaps he wouldn’t have to tell them anything. Could simply claim that he was a war orphan, and…

No. The entire point of taking the baby in was to provide for a future in which Asgard and Jotunheim need not be at war. That wouldn’t work if he gave him over to be raised as an ordinary, anonymous Asgardian. And besides, Odin did not really want to give him up. He had brought Loki home; that made him Odin’s responsibility.

Of course, none of this would be relevant if he didn’t survive.

He sighed out and set Loki carefully back down. There wasn’t much he could do here. For now, he would just have to trust Eir to manage what could be managed. He set a light spell before leaving, though, that would alert him if anything changed. Just in case.

**

Odin went back to speak to Frigga, apprehension bubbling in his gut. He knocked softly on her door and waited for her to come and open it. His queen looked far from her usually composed self, and her expression was cool.

“Frigga,” he said. “I must apologize. I was tactless-”

“Is that what you would call it?”

Odin managed to contain his wince. “I didn’t think.”

“That much was obvious.” Frigga moved away from him, her usual grace diminished. “Our daughter is dead, and your first thought is to offer me another’s son?”

Odin faltered. “That wasn’t…” He’d thought it, though, hadn’t he? ‘Tactless’ was the kindest word he could have used. “I am sorry.” Norns, but he hated saying that. Especially when he knew he needed to.

Frigga regarded him. “Do you grieve for her at all?” she asked.

Odin bowed his head. “Of course I do,” he said. “I grieve for a daughter I will never know. But-”

“But,” Frigga hissed. “You grieve, but. I carried her. She lived with me, and I with her, for most of a year. And before she took her first breath, she was gone. And now - and now-” Her voice broke and she took an unsteady breath. Odin reached out and she pulled away. “You do not understand. You cannot. And you were not here.”

“I would have been,” Odin said. “If I could have-”

“But you could not,” Frigga said, “because you were busy fighting for another Realm and plucking strange babies from the ice.”

“That is unfair,” Odin objected.

“Is it? What of it is untrue?” She turned away from him, her hands twisting together.

“My love, I am only asking you to consider - this is a baby. Alone, and abandoned, and helpless. He needs a family. A mother.”

“And that must be me?”

“I…”

“Go,” Frigga said, gesturing toward the door. “Get out. If you will not respect my grief, then leave me to it.”

“Frigga.”

“Go.”

Odin knew when it was not wise to disobey. He left, though he stood outside the door a moment, hearing her start to cry, and wondered if he shouldn’t go back in. In the end, he decided against it, and retreated into the easier world of governance.

**

Odin fell asleep in his office and woke to the soft chime of the spell he’d set on Loki’s cradle. He sat up, groaned at his protesting back muscles (Norns, when had he gotten old) and hurried toward the room where Odin had left him sleeping. Already preparing himself for the worst. Telling himself that if Loki died - well, better here than abandoned on the ice, surely.

He took a breath before letting himself in. He expected Eir to be there, but she was not.

“Frigga,” he said.

“I sent Eir away,” she said, her back to him where she stood in front of the cradle. “I did notice your spell. Keeping an eye on your investment?”

Odin grimaced. “I wanted to know if anything changed.”

“Changed,” Frigga said. “Do you mean, if he died? Eir said he was weak.” While Odin was still figuring out how to answer, she turned, and Odin realized that she was holding him. Holding Loki, her expression difficult to read. “I wanted to see him. This baby you plucked from another Realm and brought into our house.”

“And?” Odin said cautiously.

“He is what I might have expected: small, and helpless, and innocent of all that you or I would place on him.”

“That is so,” Odin said carefully.

Frigga looked down at Loki in her arms, her expression solemn. “You said he was left there,” she said. “Just...left.”

“Yes,” Odin said. “Abandoned. Because of his size, I imagine. It is also possible he is half-blooded on his mother’s side, whoever she was. Vanir, perhaps.”

“Who would just throw away a baby to die,” Frigga murmured, eyebrows knitting together.

“I cannot explain it,” Odin said.

Frigga swayed back and forth. “There is no one else, is there,” she said. “He has no one else.”

“No,” Odin said. “He hasn’t.”

Frigga sighed, something aching in her expression. At long last, she sighed. “You would claim, then, that I didn’t - lose the baby after all,” she said, sounding nothing so much as resigned. “That it was a rumor, and a difficult birth, but the child survived. You would use our tragedy to mask your lie.”

Odin winced. “They will not accept him with the truth,” he said. “The outcry...frost giants are not well thought of, here. Especially not now. He would be hated just for being what he is, even if he doesn’t look it.”

“I understand,” Frigga said. “It is convenient timing, I suppose.” The bitterness in her voice was thick enough to cut.

“My love…”

“I know.” Frigga sighed and stopped swaying, shifting her hold on Loki. “Fine. I’ll do it. But not for you, husband. For him. An unintended casualty of this war. And I will try to love him for what he is, and not hate him for what he is not.”

Odin bowed his head. “Thank you.”

“And will you?” Frigga asked. Odin looked up, and she said, “love him for what he is? I know you, my husband. You do nothing for only sentimental reasons.”

“Not only,” Odin said after a brief pause, “but partially.”

“And for the rest? No, I can guess.” Frigga was still looking down at Loki, brushing a finger against his cheek. “A father is not the same thing as a tactician, Odin. You should remember that.”

Odin frowned at what felt like a rebuke, but said only, “I understand.”

Loki roused with a faint and fragile cry. Frigga turned away from Odin, though he saw her face soften. “He hasn’t eaten,” Odin volunteered. “Not since I brought him back.”

Frigga sighed. “Well,” she said, “let’s start with that. Has he a name?”

“Loki,” Odin said.

Frigga made a bit of a ‘hm’ sound. “Loki,” she repeated. “It’ll do.”

[fizzingwizard]

Episode 6 was AWESOME. Finally it really and truly felt like Digimon Adventure!!

This episode plus the last one makes me eat my words of despair over the blandness of episode 4. I’m counting that one as just a miss. I’m hoping that it doesn’t bode for the tone they’ll take with all Sora episodes though. Sora’s easy to overlook because she’s already kind, brave, and responsible - the main things the other kids need to work on. Still she never bored me in old Adventure. I only ever wanted more of her and that was my hope for 2020 Sora. Her intro episode wasn’t a great start, but guess what, she got to be pretty darn cool in this episode, and overall the tone of this ep was such an improvement on ep 4 that I’m back to thinking we will absolutely get a modern, cool girl Sora who rocks her spotlight episodes in the future. Pray with me friends.

By the way we finally got some decent animation in this episode. So I took gratuitous Taichi pics and I’ll post a couple to start us off bahahaha

Okay, so this was the much-awaited MIMI episode. Heck yeah. It’s called “The Targeted Kingdom.” Who is the queen of the kingdom, I’ll give you three guesses, eh what’s that Mimi? like WOW you got it on the first try!

More below!!

^ So I’m not quite sure what’s going on here. I think Sora is standing on Taichi’s back and Piyomon is helping lift her (them?) up into the trees so Sora can look around? They are trying to find the way to the ocean. This seems like the most awkward way possible to go about it but you do you kiddo...

See, Adventure Taichi would be making jokes while this is happening. 2020 Taichi is thinking about The Big Picture, at least as much of it as he knows of. He’s turning into such a pensive type. Yamato’s gonna have to work hard to keep his lead brooder status.

Also I was thinking... there’s a few times in this ep, and more in others, where I feel like the animators don’t show us enough... Idk what to call it, movement? The fall out of actions? Like why don’t we see them climb into the tree? Why are we zoomed into so close when they fall out? Later during the big fight scene, there’s stuff going on that could definitely be shown in a clearer, and also cooler to watch, way. My theory of course is it’s all budget issues but what a bummer.

The kids’ first intro to the bottomless pit that is a Digimon’s stomach. They have no food (seriously? in that pack of emergency supplies Sora brought by pure happenstance there is NO food??) so they go... steal some. But they don’t know they’re stealing.

Not that SHE cares.

Mimi: Bahaha... you’ve fallen into my trap! *cutest maniacal laugh ever*

^The trap

There is another trap that comes later in the ep and I’ll just say here. It’s some Jessie & James level shit. Way to go Meems!

ugh soooo cuuuute I want twenty

Introducing... Queen Mimi! Yes, Queen. They’ve upgraded her!

Honestly, I love how she’s introduced as royalty, but she’s dressed as a cowgirl. No one would ever ask Mimi to pick just one theme. Like her kimchi fried rice with whipped cream and strawberries, Mimi is not afraid to mix genres!

Like I said, the animation in this ep is a cut above what’s it been recently, which is a relief. And everyone’s appearance is so much like Adventure that I wonder why they changed anything xD But I’m just so grateful everyone kept their unique eyes. It was the one thing I missed in the animation of Tri, even though I wouldn’t have wanted high school kids to have baby eyes. But the eyes really highlighted each character’s individuality. Glad that’s still a thing even if not every animator pays attention to it.

Taichi & Sora: Were those your fruit trees? Uhh sorry? My Digimon was close to death and we were starving...

Mimi: You will starve again unless you learn the meaning of the law!

that’s a little les mis interlude for ya youre welcome

So Mimi arrived in the digital world, separated from the others, and immediately became Queen of the Tanemon. I SENSE A TREND.

Mimi doesn’t come across as ditzy and selfish as she did in early Adventure. I am not sure if that side of her’s been erased in favor of simply making her reluctant to fight because she’s soft-hearted, or if we’ll see her self-centeredness appear later on. I hope so. Right now the 2020 story is very focused on the plot and not on the children’s growth, which is a huge departure from Adventure, but I don’t think it will remain that way. I hope not at least. But I do think it’s possible that they’ll rewrite Mimi to be a bit less self-centered and/or airheady, and I’m not exactly against that. After all, post-Adventure Mimi showed her cool side more when she was willful or opinionated, and I’m on board with more of that in the 2020 show too. A better balance would definitely be a good thing in Mimi’s case.

She kind of made me think of Sailor Moon in this episode, lol

GASP! We are all Chosen Children! Mimi immediately says NOOO WAY i’m queen of the Tanemon!! But not because the Tanemon are catering to her every whim (they’re not, as far as I can tell! Though they did make her a throne!). Because she honestly feels a responsibility to look after them. Again, pretty different from old Adventure.

Pocket Koushirou returns and Taichi tries to absorb him into his brain!!

Taichi: *grunting* HNNNNGGGG!! Give me me your curiosity!!!

Koushirou: Are you Vademon!?!?!

Koushirou shows video footage from the human world that shows the effect the power outage is having. Though it’s not a complete blackout yet, some places like hospitals have already lost power and are in trouble. 

Mimi sees her grandfather, the president of Tachikawa Industries, on the TV helping people in trouble. VERY DIFFERENT. VERY COOL. I approve

Koushirou also points out that there is INDEED a time lapse between the human and digital worlds. I’m not exactly sure how different the time lapse is from old Adventure. At first, I thought it was much smaller, but thinking about it... given how slow the video from the human world was moving, it might be sizable. But I don’t think it’s as big as old Adventure. At any rate, Taichi and Sora figure out this means Mimi was on her own with Palmon and the Tanemon village for longer than they realized.

Also makes me wonder just how much time Yamato’s spent in the digital world...

Mimi feels torn between wanting to help her grandfather and needed to protect the Tanemon village! Naturally Taichi suggests they work together!

And a Tanemon rudely kicks him in the face!! Just kidding. But it was too cute not to cap

Mimi brings the waterworks like three or four times this episode.

Mimi: Alright! You work for me now!

Taichi: ...??? Okay I guess????

Yes, Princess or Queen, Mimi is still Mimi <3

So they join up and uhh... get ready for war I guess??

I MEAN HOW CUTE IS THAT

So this is the second Team Rocket trap, a giant hole in the ground. How did they dig it? How did the build that raft two eps ago?? Inquiring minds want to know

Greymon is surprisingly limber for a chubby dinosaur.

Taichi does what he does best in battle scenes: stand in immediate danger and look up a dinosaur’s bum.

OGREMON MAKES HIS BIG APPEARANCE IN A MIMI EP. I totally called it last week. Okay, technically he already appeared in episode 5... but we barely saw him okay! He uses Soundbirdmon (who may indeed not be sentient?) to mind-control other Digimon to find and apparently kill?? the children. Ogremon honestly sounds kind of mind-controlled himself but not sure. If he is, it’s a different kind of control. He may just talk like that because he’s an ogre and not very articulate...

I guess I capped this because CUTE CUTE CUTE

So speaking of rushing into immediate danger... Not only is Sora right in the middle of the right, she’s HANGING OFF BIRDRAMON’S LEG. This show is SO not promoting child safety hahahhahaha

Cute Taichi. Cuter still - Taichi and Sora tag teaming it. PLEEEEEASE give me more of this!! I want nothing more than for Sora to join Taichi and Yamato as a heavy-hitter. I always headcanoned her that way growing up. Let Sora kick ass 2020!!

^Palmon’s method of rescuing Mimi... effective, yet questionable

Capped because Cute.

Sora and Birdramon take down the blue bird digimon (sorry... forgot its name... will likely forget the name of every other Digimon not from old Adventure as well. i am a senior citizen). Taichi cheers for them and says “You nabbed the best bit from me!” SO CUTE. Come on, they are the best team!!

Meanwhile, Palmon: *screams bloody murder*

Mimi: Palmon! Noooo!

Episode 6: Palmon friggin DIES

I mean she is like glitching in and out. So it totally FIGURES it would be a Mimi ep that tells us “yeah kids we’re not Pokemon!” I mean. Keep watching...

Mimi recalls being all alone in a strange world when she meets Palmon. Btw they totally revamped the Pyokomon Village for this Tanemon village, I dig.

EVOLUUUUUTION!!

Boxing!!! Cactus!!! Eat this Precure!!!!

While Togemon takes out Drimogemon, Greymon rushes in to protect the kids from Ogremon...

... AND FREAKING SAWS HIS HORN OFF.

Like I said. THIS AIN’T POKEMON, KIDS.

Isn’t this actually darker than old Adventure? I mean I guess at least no one dies (I think? uhh...) and I suppose that’s less dark... but sawing off body parts... Idk man... I’m down with it, I just don’t know that it’s any nicer than old Adventure... hahahaha

POW! Err, Drimogemon’s drill ain’t looking too good either...

More waterworks as Mimi tells Palmon she loves her, and Palmon says it right back. Foreshadowing for Mimi/Koushirou tiffs in the future!? It was lit last ep that Koushirou tried to say he loves his partner and choked on it. Something tells me these two are gonna butt heads again ;)

Ugggggghhhh so cute I can’t staaaaaaand ittttt

Mimi decides to go with Taichi and Sora and leave the Tanemon village, Idk, I guess they’ll be safe now???  at least they won’t be targeted for having a human child among them.

Also I like her leaf bag. The Tanemon totally made it for her.

We end with Ogremon gripping his broken horn and fricking sobbing. This... does not bode well.

I want to hug him

so cast your votes, who gets the first hurt/comfort scene with Ogremon? Will it be gentle chastisement from Mimi while she patches him up with stuff from Sora’s pack? Or will it be Jou and the toilet paper you know he brought even if it makes no sense?!? hahahaha

I give this ep a 7/10 WELL DONE. That’s what a Digimon episode should be. Very close to VERY VERY GOOD.

I missed the trailer for next week so have more gratuitous Taichis instead.

[kelseaaa]

Together with the Sundown

Day One: Hurt & Comfort

Part 2/4 | Masterlist

Pairing: Lieutenant Oliver Cochrane x f!MC (Abigail Bellamy)

Word Count: 6,666

Series Summary:  This story takes place on Lieutenant Oliver’s ship just after he saves the Poseidon’s Revenge’s crew from the island and before they get to Port Monarque in Chapter 13. Since the book says that it takes a few days to get to the port, I wanted to expand on what might happen on the ship between Oliver, MC and the crew. I headcanon that it took them three full sea days to arrive at the port and this story will give insight on what might have happened, specifically between Oliver and MC.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, mention of death and illness (minor)

~~~~~

Oliver walked into the ship’s mess hall after spending the majority of his morning in his cabin where he was hunched over his desk reviewing various maps and documents. Though fatigued, Oliver had always been an early riser. So even after a restless night - where his thoughts seemed to wander to a particular pirate woman on the other side of the ship - he awoke at the crack of dawn to start his day.

The large mess hall was filled with raucous laughter and chatter as the Poseidon's Revenge crew milled about, enjoying their rations of hard tack biscuits and salted pork. Though Oliver was used to seeing many more people in the space, he didn’t think his men had ever been so loud.

Oliver’s eyes wandered around the space, finally landing on his own two crew members seated alongside one of the twins - the girl whose name he couldn’t quite remember at the moment - from the pirate crew. He made his way across the room to his men until he was standing just beside them. He realized quickly that neither his First Mate nor Master at Arms had noticed their Lieutenant standing there. Both men seemed to be enraptured by the girl at their table.

“...taught myself to do this when I was a wee lass,” Oliver barely caught the end of her sentence before the girl quickly leaned backwards on the bench she was sitting on, twisting her body around and under the seat to grab her ankles on the other side. Both Officer Doyle and Alvarez stood to look over the table, their jaws slightly unhinged at the sight.

Oliver knitted his brows then loudly cleared his throat. His men jumped at attention, whirling around to face their commanding officer. They quickly forget about the twin who was now untangling herself from, well, herself.

“Sir,” both men chorused, their bodies now ramrod straight as Oliver stared them down.

The glare in Oliver’s eyes soon transformed into mischief as his lips twitched into a slight smirk. “At ease, gentlemen.”

Doyle and Alvarez glanced at each other nervously before slowly relaxing their bodies, though they stayed standing. Oliver ran a tight ship and he knew that his men were leery of showing any signs of insubordination. But times were different now and Oliver knew that it was about time for change.

“Sit, please,” Oliver said and the two officer followed his command, taking their seats across from the flexible pirate. Adelia stood from her seat, nodding her head at Oliver who smiled in response. Just before she stepped away she shot a wink over to Doyle and Alvarez, both of which now wore goofy smiles and redder cheeks than before. Oliver rolled his eyes but sat down in the now empty space across from his officers.

“Do I need to keep my eye on her or the both of you?” Oliver jested, watching how his men’s eyes grew wide. He wasn’t sure which caused his men to act so shocked and flustered: whether it was the content of his joke or the fact that their Lieutenant was actually making one in the first place.

Before either men could speak, they were interrupted by Henry dropping off a plate of salted meat and leavened bread in front of Oliver. “Mornin’, figured ye could use this,” Henry said before turning around and heading back into the galley across the room.

Though the relationship between Oliver and Henry was not without hardship, the pair grew to tolerate one another. Oliver commended Henry’s skill in the kitchen and Henry appreciated Oliver’s willingness to turn on the Admiral and save the pirate crew. They weren’t friends - far from it - but they respected each other and on the open sea, sometimes that was worth more than friendship.

Oliver focused his attention on the food in front of him and began to speak with his officers, “So, how did the tour go this morning? I trust everyone survived?” Another joke from their Lieutenant, the world really must be ending.

“Yes, sir,” the First Mate, Office Alvarez, replied. “All went well.”

Oliver nodded his head approvingly as he took a bite of the dried pork in his hand.

“Although I was wondering,” Officer Doyle started, looking at his Lieutenant for a sign to stop or continue. Oliver arched his brow but silently nodded, encouraging him to continue. “What brought on the sudden request for the tour, sir?”

Oliver continued to chew his food as he thought of an answer for his men. He thought back to last night. To Abigail and their conversation and for a brief moment he smiled to himself. But then his smile faltered, remembering the pain in her eyes. He shook his head, focusing back on his officers.

After he swallowed his food, he responded to his Master at Arms, “I thought it best we show our hospitality while they’re on board. We are, after all, helping them in their endeavors. A tour of The Intrepid seemed like a fine place to start.”

Doyle and Alvarez gave each other another sideways glance but didn’t press further on the matter.

“We were short one pirate, however,” Doyle commented after a moment of silence.

Oliver arched his brow again, swallowing his bite of bread. “Oh, everything alright?”

Doyle nodded, “Aye, all fine. At least that’s what Miss Smith over there claimed.” Doyle tilted his head to the Poseidon's Revenge’s Quartermaster where she sat at a table with Captain Edward.

Oliver’s eyes scanned the rest of the room, finally taking in the faces that surrounded him. After a moment his brows furrowed into something close to uneasiness. Turning his attention back to his men, he knew they could sense their Lieutenant’s shift in demeanor.

Every possible bad thought ran through his mind. “Who was missing?” Oliver asked, holding his breath as he waited for them to answer.

Doyle looked down at the table, unable to meet his leader’s stare. Realizing that his peer wasn’t going to answer, Alvarez cleared his throat to respond, “Miss Bellamy, sir.”

It was as though Oliver had plunged into the deepest part of the ocean. His skin burned as if freezing water had engulfed him and his lungs were emptied of all air. Again, every possible, terrible scenario crowded his mind and it took everything in him not to jump up and rush to her cabin.

He needed to think with reason. Surely there was a logical explanation for Abigail not to be in attendance this morning. Maybe she fell ill? She had been ‘barefoot’ as she mentioned and it was terribly cold outside. Maybe she caught something from the island where she had been stranded. Maybe she had been hurt and hid her injuries from him and the crew. Maybe she…

His thoughts were cut off, thankfully, as Alvarez cleared his throat to get Oliver’s attention. “Sir, maybe you could talk with Miss Smith and the captain. They seemed to think she was fine.”

In that moment, Oliver had never been more thankful for his loyal men who had stayed with him. He nodded his head and stood from the table. Doyle and Alvarez went to stand, as well, but Oliver waived them off, encouraging them to sit and stay. As he made his way across the mess hall to Charlie and Edward’s table, he couldn’t help but notice the young twin girl from earlier somersaulting her way back to the officers.

As he got closer to the table, Oliver tried to force himself to regulate his breathing, not wanting to come off as overly desperate or concerned as he was. His eyes caught Charlie’s who merely smiled at him. Edward shifted in his seat and turned to look behind him, locking eyes with the Navy man. Edward’s eyes narrowed then he quickly turned his back to the Lieutenant.

This did not bode well.

Oliver now stood next to the table where Charlie and Edward sat silently. Charlie continued to smile while Edward looked down at the empty space in front of him. “Good morning,” Oliver greeted, “I trust my men provided your crew with an adequate tour?” The pirate captain merely nodded his head and grunted a response.

Across the table from Edward, Charlie rolled her eyes and smiled up at Oliver who was still standing next to their table. “Don’t worry, love, I would say our captain here ‘tisn’t a morning person, but honestly he is like this all the time.” Edward didn’t bother to respond. “The tour was grand, our thanks,” Charlie responded before taking a drink of whatever liquid laid in her tankard.

Oliver could see where Abigail got her humor and kind nature, and clearly it wasn’t from Edward.

“Glad to hear,” Oliver responded and soon the air around them grew awkwardly quiet.

“So,” Charlie started after several tense seconds of silence, “what can we do fer ye today, Lieutenant?”

Oliver inhaled sharply, gathering his nerves to speak. “I wanted to see if Abi- er, Miss Bellamy was alright? My men advised me that she wasn’t in attendance this morning.” Oliver prayed hopelessly that the shakiness he felt in his throat didn’t come out as obvious to them.

Edward lifted his head at this, eyeing the Navy man cautiously. “Aye, she’s fine,” Edward stated, not bothering to provide any further information.

Charlie rolled her eyes again - a common occurrence it seems - at her Captain then looked back up to Oliver, a gleam of something akin to mischief in her eyes that Oliver doesn't miss. “Aye, she’s fine, alright. She’s a heavy sleeper that one.” Oliver didn’t miss the pointed look that Edward shot his Quartermaster, but it seemed that she chose to ignore it. “We learned the hard way not to wake her until she is good and ready.” Charlie’s smile was contagious, making both Oliver and Edwards' lips quirk into their own smiles.

“I see, so she is still in bed?” Oliver asked and Charlie nodded in response.

Clear that Edward wasn’t going to speak anymore, Oliver bid them goodbye and turned on his heels to go back to the table with his men. Before he could make it all the way to the table, he felt a small tap on his shoulder. Charlie was there, a plate with food and a tankard of what he suspected was not water in her hands.

“Here,” Charlie said, thrusting the items into Oliver’s hands.

Oliver took the plate and tankard but opened his mouth to protest. Before he could speak, Charlie raised her hand to silence him. “For Abigail. Why don’t ye take it to her room and wake her? She shouldn’t be wasting her day away in bed, anyways.”

Oliver looked down at the items in his hands then back up to Charlie, giving her a grateful smile. “Thank you, Miss Smith. I truly appreciate it.”

Charlie waved him off, laughing heartily. “Aye, ‘tis nothing. I know there are worse ways to start your day. And please, it’s just Charlie. None of the ‘Miss Smith’ nonsense.” She smiled and bid him farewell, turning to go back to her table with Edward.

Oliver made a beeline for the doors, a small pep in his step as he exited the mess hall to head toward Abigail’s room.

~~~~~

Abigail loved taking baths. She loved soaking in scalding water until her skin turned to wrinkles. She loved using bath bombs and epsom salts that smelled of eucalyptus and lavender. She enjoyed reading her favorite books or looking over new scripts while she soaked. And her absolute favorite part of relaxing in a bath was the peace and quiet.

So when the sound of knocking on the door rang through the room, she was understandably annoyed. That was until she opened her eyes and realized she wasn’t enjoying a nice, relaxing bath and was instead sleeping on The Intrepid. The knocking was coming from her cabin door and she muttered several curses under her breath.

Abigail hurriedly flung the covers to the ground and grabbed her clothes. As soon as her blouse was over her torso, Abigail threw open the cabin door, ready to lay into the person who disturbed her. That was until her eyes landed on Oliver standing in the doorway.

“Good morning,” he greeted, “I brought breakfast.”

Oliver motioned to his full hands where a plate of some kind of meat and round disc sat and a wooden tankard that Abigail assumed was not a piping hot cup of coffee or cold, refreshing orange juice.

Abigail smiled politely and thanked him before moving from the doorway, allowing Oliver to step inside. Taking the food and drink from his hands, Abigail sat back down on the bed. She placed the cup of ‘clearly not coffee’ on the floor beside her feet and took a tentative bite of the hard biscuit on her plate.

“Thank you for this,” she said after swallowing down her first bite. Oliver’s lips curled to a tight smile and he nodded his head once, but did not speak any further.

He stood tall and motionless in the center of the room and for a moment Abigail briefly felt like she was in the ship’s cell again. It was as though Oliver held her prisoner, only bringing food and drink then standing over to watch her. The thought made her stomach churn and she sat the plate down on the bed beside her.

“So,” she started, trying to push the thought out of her mind as best as she could, “breakfast in bed, huh?”

Oliver gave her a quizzical look, obvious that he didn’t fully understand her reference or the joke she was trying to make.

“Aye, I thought you might like to eat before we begin our tour.”

Ah, right, the tour of the ship he promised.

Abigail nodded her head, turning back to the plate by her side and forcing down another bite of the dried pork or beef or whatever it was. She would never get used to the food in this time period.

“Did you deliver breakfast to everyone else, as well?” she quipped and this time she watched Oliver’s lips quirk into a small smile.

“I did not, your crew has already participated in their tour and are finishing up their meal in the mess hall as we speak.”

Abigail’s eyes widened slightly, “oh?”

“Aye, seems you are not an early riser like the rest of ‘em.”

Abigail couldn’t help the small laugh that left her lips at what she believed was Oliver’s attempt at a joke. Even though the words he spoke were the truth.

“Does that mean I get a private tour?” she asked, realizing too late the suggestiveness in her voice. Oliver must have noticed too. A slight blush started to form on his cheeks and he quickly tilted his head away from her gaze.

He cleared his throat before speaking, his voice a husky timbre in comparison from before, “If that is what you desire, Abigail.”

The room was quiet, save for the creaking wood and crashing of wave against the hull. Abigail stared at Oliver who refused to meet her gaze. She took in every detail of the Navy man in front of her. The glittering shine of gold buttons that reflected the sun coming in from the small porthole. The defined lines of his collarbones that just barely peeked out the top of his jacket. The few stray hairs from his pale, blonde locks that had fallen from his loose bun. She wondered why the men back home, in her time, never looked like this.

“Abigail?”

Shaking her head from the dangerous thoughts clouding her mind, Abigail focused her eyes back on Oliver’s face. “I’m sorry,” she admitted, “ready to go?”

“Do you want to finish your breakfast?”

Abigail looked down at the almost untouched plate. She grabbed the hardtack biscuit, shoving it in her mouth, and stood up from the bed. With her free hands she quickly worked her hair into a braid then made her way over to her boots. She wasn’t going to forget those this time. After a flurry of movement she was ready to go.

Finishing up the final bite of her biscuit, she made her way to stand by Oliver who still hadn’t moved from the spot in the room. “Lead the way,” she said expectantly, motioning to the door.

Oliver shot her a small smile then held up his arm in offering to hers. “Right this way, Miss Bellamy.”

Abigail looked at his face, then his arm, and rolled her eyes. She snaked her arm through his and together they made their way out of the cabin to explore the rest of The Intrepid.

~~~~~

“I thought we would start at the bottom.”

Abigail barely registered Oliver’s words as the pair made their way down the familiar wooden steps towards the bottom of the ship. She felt cold and unnerved as they walked past barrels of gunpowder, cannonballs and wooden planks.

“This is the cargo hold,” Oliver announced, not noticing the grim expression on Abigail’s face. “And further back,” he continued, “is the brig.”

“I know,” Abigail responded distantly.

The memories were fresh in her mind. Oliver’s men ushering Edward, Henry and her down to this very deck, their hands bound behind their back like prisoners. Because they were prisoners. The scent of copper still lingered in the air and she wondered if that was a smell she would ever be able to forget.

It was suffocating. She could feel her breath turning shallow and her throat constricted as she tried to inhale. She had never been the type to have a panic attack, but this seemed like the right time for one to happen.

Oliver seemed to have finally registered the strained and haunted expression on Abigail’s face. He followed her gaze to where it stared at the metal bars of the cells. “Oh, Abigail, I’m so sorry. I should not have brought you here. This was-”

His sentence was cut off as Abigail whirled around to face him, a look of anguish and helplessness in her eyes. “No, you should not have brought me here. Not now and certainly not then.”

She finally started to feel some control on her breathing again. The grimace on Oliver’s face made Abigail soften just a fraction but she stayed true, refusing to back down even when he couldn’t look her in the eye any longer.

“I know,” he sighed, the defeat clear in his shaky voice.

It felt like the walls were closing in on them. “Can we go?” she asked, though she didn’t bother giving him time to answer as she turned on her heels and raced back to the stairs. Oliver quickly trailed behind, taking the steps two at a time to catch up.

Abigail was leaning against the wall of the mid deck, her back to him. She tried to muffle the sobs but silently cursed herself when an audible sniffle escaped. She could feel him standing behind her. Could feel the regret and sadness that radiated off him and filled the small space between them. Then she felt a strong, but gentle hand on her shoulder. His touch was hesitant and guarded and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to shrug it off or lean into it, so instead she stood still and continued to cry.

And he let her.

“I’m so sorry,” he said hoarsely, “I promise you, Abigail, I will do everything in my power to right the wrongs I have done to you and your crew.” He gently tugged at her shoulder to turn her until she was facing him. He moved his thumb across her cheeks, wiping away stray tears in his path. Then his hand went to her chin, tilting her head so her eyes met his. “And I have never broken a promise.”

Abigail sighed and finally allowed herself to lean into his touch. She wanted - with everything in her being - to believe him. The constant war raging between her mind and heart was tearing her apart and she thought maybe it would just be easier to walk away. Walk away from him and from everything else. But he was just so damn alluring.

“Oliver…” Abigail realized how close they were. She could feel his breath against her face. Could smell the leather and ocean salt on his skin. Could almost taste the richness of his lips. “Can we finish the tour?”

His eyes had been hooded, almost drowsy, but they shot open in surprise. “Are you sure? I understand if you would prefer to stop.”

Abigail shook her head, then pulled away from him until his hands fell back to his side. “No, no, please. I would like to continue.”

Oliver gave her an appraising look and Abigail shuddered under his gaze. She wondered what he was searching for as his eyes raked over her. “Alright, darling, if you insist.”

The next stop was the gundeck where rows of cannons rested, jutting out of the sides of the ship. This was familiar, as well. Though in a different circumstance. Abigail’s training as a gunner on the Poseidon’s Revenge made her very comfortable in this area. As she walked along the center of the room, hand grazing over the powerful weapons, the tension in her body slowly relaxed.

“What do you think?” Oliver asked. He stood several feet behind her, his eyes watching her walk along her path.

“Impressive,” she replied without bothering to turn back towards him. “Though it seems you may be trying to compensate for something.”

Oliver huffed out a laugh and crossed his arms over his chest. The rapier sword jingled at his side with his movement. “This is actually quite modest,” he jested, “there are larger vessels in the fleet.”

Abigail rolled her eyes but couldn’t keep a smile from forming on her lips. She turned back around and was relieved to see him grinning, too. She couldn’t understand how she could go from upset and angry with him in one moment to almost completely smitten in the other. It was frustrating and overwhelming but she didn’t want to fight it.

As she looked around the room, a small sense of dread and sadness washed over her. Memories of her time on the Poseidon’s Revenge filled her mind, warping her face to something solemn and somber.

“The Poseidon’s Revenge was the first ship I had ever been on,” she started, red eyes gleaming ever so slightly. “It was the first time I shot a cannon, tied a knot, sailed a ship.” She closed her eyes, parting her mouth to inhale deeply before sighing and speaking again. “It was like I had found my place. My home. And now it’s gone.”

Not having a moment to really register that their pirate ship was actually gone had finally caught up to her. Though she had only been in this place for a short period, it had felt like a lifetime.

“I’m so sorry, Abigail,” Oliver apologized but Abigail just shook her head and frowned.

“I don’t want you to apologize anymore,” she demanded, though there was no malice or hardness in her words. “You didn’t blow up our ship. You were just following your orders.”

“I’m-,” he stopped himself short, wincing as he looked down at his feet. “I understand.”

Abigail collected herself, wiping her face with the sleeve of her blouse before making her way back over to the Lieutenant. “Enough of this, on to the next stop,” she quipped.

The way Oliver looked at her, his brown eyes staring through her, she knew exactly what he was thinking. She could tell that he knew she was just trying to suppress all her pain and grief. Without words she knew that seeing her like this was likely hurting him just as much. And right now there wasn’t time to worry about it.

The look she returned to him was a plea, almost begging for him to move on and not ask questions. And she was thankful when he simply nodded his head and extended his arm out so they could walk out of the gundeck together.

As they walked up the steps to the top deck of the ship, Oliver cleared his throat, his eyes never straying from the steps below him. “I hope that you’re able to find it again.” Abigail shot him a curious look before he elaborated. “A home, I mean.”

The surprisingly uncharacteristic tenderness of his voice made Abigail’s knees weak and the flutter in her chest ran almost rampant. Even though Abigail already knew what the future held, she wondered if it was all truly set in stone as she always had thought.

~~~~~

“I didn’t mean for this tour to be so… taxing.” Oliver and Abigail walked along the deck of The Intrepid, weaving around the bustling crew. The white sails above billowed in the harsh wind which made it almost entirely too hard to carry on a leisurely conversation.

“What did you say?” Abigail basically yelled, trying her hardest to speak over all the noise on the top deck.

Oliver gave her a defeated look before shaking his head, having not been able to hear her either. Instead he reached his hand down and gently grabbed her wrist, pulling her along to the door that led off from the topdeck and under the quarterdeck. Once on the other side of the door, the raucous sounds from outside seemed to disappear entirely.

Abigail and Oliver now stood in a small room, furnished with a plush carpet, a desk with a red chair on one side and shelf on the other. There was a bed carved into the side of the room, the linen pressed neatly against the mattress, an obvious sign of how Oliver had been raised. There was another door at the back of the room, nestled between two windows that looked out over the back of the ship and into the sea. The familiar scent of leather filled her senses and Abigail couldn’t stop herself from smiling.

“These are your quarters,” Abigail stated and Oliver nodded.

“Figured this could be the last stop of the tour. And an escape from all the noise topside,” Oliver replied, removing his hat to set it down on his desk.

She smiled, “good idea.”

Abigail walked around the room, taking in the various parchments and documents lining the desk and shelves in the small space. There was a display case on the center of the shelf where an intricately detailed pistol sat. Ever so gently, she ran her fingers over the weapon until she felt the heat of him against her back. He was close, not quite touching, and Abigail resisted the urge to lean back into him.

“‘Twas a gift,” he answered, her silence being question enough. “For when I was promoted to Lieutenant.”

Abigail smiled at the thought, then her lips turned down slightly. “Was it from your father?” she asked and could immediately feel his body grow rigid behind her. She turned to face him, her breath catching in her throat with how dangerously close they were. His face was pained with a scowl and Abigail knew that subject was just as hard on him as it was on her and her crew.

Oliver nodded his head in response, “aye, it was.” The room grew silent but neither of them moved from their close proximity.

“I do not wish to make excuses for him, but he was not always like this,” Oliver’s words broke the silence and Abigail almost sighed with relief, until he continued. “Things were harder after my mother passed.”

Abigail’s heart stuttered in her chest and the face Oliver made - so broken and vulnerable - left her feeling guilty. She reached out, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him into a tight embrace. “Oh, Oliver, I’m so sorry.”

She could feel him stiffen from the contact, but after a moment his strong arms returned the favor, wrapping around her just as tightly, squeezing gently until Abigail’s face pressed firmly against his chest.

“Please,” he croaked, his voice bearing a slight tremble as he spoke, “there is no need for apologies. It was a long time ago.”

That didn’t help ease the ache in her heart that she felt for him. Abigail understood the pain he felt. She had lived it just like him, but now wasn’t the time to bring that up. Words escaped her in that moment so all she could do was hug him tighter, her thumbs rubbing gentle circles into his back. She couldn’t stop the tears from spilling in her eyes and Oliver must have noticed as the dampness reached the skin of his chest.

“Why do you cry?” he asked, but she couldn’t answer. She shook her head and buried it further into him. He didn’t press further so instead they continued to comfort one another until Abigail could find her voice again.

“Could you tell me about her?” Abigail hoped that she hadn’t stepped over a line. After all, they barely knew each other and what right did she have to ask him such personal information?

But to her surprise, he didn’t hesitate. Instead he spoke freely.

“She was kind but strong. Definitely a fighter in her own right. She had to put up with my father and me after all,” she felt the rumble of laughter in his chest at his own words and Abigail couldn’t help but laugh, as well. “She was the best cook and even taught me a few things in the kitchen before father could put a stop to that.”

Abigail rolled her eyes at the thought but didn’t say anything.

He continued, “I have her eyes... And her smile. I also like to think that the best qualities of mine I inherited from her.” He was silent and Abigail could feel his arms wrapping tighter around her body. She did the same, preparing for whatever he was about to say next.

“I was around fourteen years when she passed. I knew she was sick but father wouldn’t tell me anything for years. I later found out it was tuberculosis.”

Abigail’s heart shattered beneath her ribcage. She closed her eyes, an attempt to stop the tears from flowing freely. Even when she felt his hands roam up to her shoulders to gently pull her away, she kept her eyes closed. And when she felt his forehead press delicately against hers they stayed closed. And even while he whispered that everything was okay, she didn't open her eyes.

It wasn’t until there was a loud knock on the door that her eyes finally flew open. Now she could see how close they really were. His face - cheeks tinged pink, lips parted and pupils blown wide - was mere inches from hers and she couldn’t remember a more beautiful sight. It was all too much.

But then another knock reverberated through the room and Oliver let out an exasperated sigh before pulling away. Their hands landed back down to their sides and Oliver made his way to the cabin door.

“What is it?” Oliver barked at his First Mate who stood on the other side of the door.

Officer Alvarez’s eyes grew wide at the harshness of his Lieutenants words, considering how easygoing he had been at breakfast. Then his eyes wandered over to Abigail who was still standing near the shelves in the room, wiping her face which was sure to be beet red both from tears and embarrassment.

“My apologies for interrupting, sir,” the officer said, his attention going back to his commanding officer. “but it’s midday. We usually meet and-”

“Right,” Oliver said, cutting his officer off in mid sentence, “thank you, Alvarez. If you could allow me one moment with Miss Bellamy, please.”

Alvarez nodded his head and stepped back from the doorway. Oliver turned to face Abigail who was already walking towards the exit.

“Sorry about that,” he commented before Abigail raised her hand to stop him.

“I already told you, Oliver. No more apologies,” she smiled and was elated to see his lips curl into a matching grin. “I should go.”

Oliver nodded before reaching out to grab her hand. He brought it to his lips where he brushed a gentle kiss across her knuckles. “Will I see you later?” he asked.

“Maybe,” Abigail tried to give a nonchalant shrug but the small smirk on her lips betrayed her true intentions, “it is a small ship.”

With that, Abigail turned and walked out of the cabin, shooting Officer Alvarez a wicked look before continuing out on the deck to meet up with Kendrick and Charlie.

“Permission to speak freely, sir,” Office Alvarez asked as he made his way into the Lieutenant's quarters. Oliver nodded in response. “She’s trouble, that one,” Officer Alvarez continued and Oliver couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face before he responded to his First Mate.

“Oh, I know.”

~~~~~

The sun was low on the horizon as Abigail made her way to the rail of the ship where a familiar figure was already standing. After a day of working hard to keep the ship moving - the sudden lack of wind for a few hours didn’t help - and a surprisingly filling dinner, Abigail was ready for a peaceful night.

“Evenin’, Lieutenant,” she greeted as she sidled next to Oliver at the ship’s railing. She leaned her back against the wood and tilted her head to look at him. He kept his gaze towards the horizon but Abigail watched as his lips twitched to a smile. “We really should stop meeting like this,” she jested.

She wasn’t sure if he didn’t quite get the joke or if he chose to ignore it as he greeted her instead. “Good evening to you, Miss Bellamy. I hope dinner was well,” Oliver’s voice was as calm as the ocean below them.

“It was, though you were missed,” she responded, not bothering to hide the teasing in her voice. “Even Edward was asking for your whereabouts.” At that she swore she saw him roll his eyes and this time she knew he ignored her.

“Well, ‘tis my job to keep this ship on a steady course. I relieved my men for a time so they could enjoy a meal and some company.”

Abigail turned to him and raised her brow. “Company?”

Oliver shot her a mischievous grin. “Aye, seems someone in particular from your crew has caught their attention.”

“Both of them?” she asked incredulously. She was unable to keep the bubble of laughter from escaping her throat. “I have a good guess on who that might be.”

The pair spent the next half hour catching up on the rest of their day. Oliver worked with his men on setting the course based on Abigail’s unconventional directions then worked on inventory. Abigail helped her crew around the ship then spent some time relaxing in her cabin until dinner time.

“I’m glad to hear you and your crew are adjusting well.” The pair were now facing each other, their elbows propped up on the railing.

“Me too,” Abigail agreed, “it was a good day despite some minor, uh, well, you know.”

She couldn’t even finish her sentence before the all too familiar feeling of dread crept into her mind. It pained her to know that every conversation they hand, they somehow just brought up the bad blood between them. She was tired of it. Tired of feeling hurt and sadness and regret. She just wanted to move on. So she grit her teeth and quickly changed the subject, saying the first thing that popped into her mind in hopes that it would help maybe fix things between them.

“I lost my sister when I was very young,” she blurted out.

This was not a promising start.

Oliver frowned, his eyes locking onto hers. She could tell what he wanted to do. Could see the apology just begging to be released from his tongue. But instead he reached out and grabbed her hand, his thumb swiping gentle strokes against her skin. “Tell me about her,” he asked, parroting her words to him from earlier in the day.

Abigail nodded her head then slowly started to speak, keeping her mind focused on not giving away too much information about the future. Hoping that whatever she said would be just vague enough without passing suspicion.

“She was three years younger than me. I remember the day she was born. I was so mad at my parents because I wanted a little brother but instead they gave me a sister. I thought I should have been the only girl.” A ghost of a smile was on her lips as Oliver exhaled a near silent laugh.

“But we became inseparable once she was old enough to talk. Until one day my parents told me that she was sick.”

~~~~~

The day Abigail had found out her little sister was diagnosed with leukemia had been a cold one, with Halloween fast approaching. The leaves were brown and red and scattered all across the hospital’s playground where she spent most of her time while her parents spoke with nurses and doctors.

Her parents had been honest with her. She was, after all, already nine years old. Practically an adult, she thought. They told her that Sophie, her little sister, would be spending a lot of time in the hospital and would be unable to come home. Abigail thought of it as a vacation at first, but quickly changed her mind after the first few weeks.

Abigail could remember the sad looks her parents shared between each other everyday as they sat in the hospital room. She remembered her sister’s frail body laying in the hospital bed. She remembered laying in that same bed, watching the television and pointing out all the things they wanted to add to their Christmas list.

But Sophie didn’t make it to Christmas that year.

~~~~~

Mentally shaking her head, Abigail continued to talk, the words falling out of her mouth with unstoppable force. “She was six years old. It was an incurable disease,” she paused for a second, choosing her words carefully. “I never learned what it was called, but it was swift and devastating and all I could do was watch as she left this world. But she was strong. Fearless. For someone so young she accepted and faced death better than anyone else I’ve ever known.”

Oliver now stood directly in front of Abigail, his free hand wiping away the tears flowing down her cheeks. His other hand squeezing hers in an attempt to soothe the pain.

“You know,” he said once Abigail grew quiet, her choking sobs keeping her from speaking further, “that sounds like someone else I know.”

Through the tears and the ache in her chest, Abigail was able to smile. She thought back to their conversation earlier in the day while in Oliver’s cabin. How he had told her an equally heartbreaking story which only reminded her of her own experiences.

“We’re not so different, it seems,” she said once the lump in her throat had disappeared.

Oliver smiled, “I never had a doubt.”

He gave her hand one final squeeze before releasing it. Then he took another step forward, opening his arms in a silent invitation in which she happily accepted. This embrace was different than the one shared in his cabin earlier. That one had been one of grief and comfort. This hug was of understanding. It helped open up a new chapter between the two of them. It helped them both move on.

“Thank you for sharing this with me,” Oliver whispered against her temple before leaving a tentative kiss in the same spot. It was soft and warm and it melted away every underlying fear she may have had about the man in her arms.

“Thank you for listening,” she replied.

“Always, darling, always.”

~~~~~

Tagging:  @jaxsmutsuo​, @krishu213​, @greedy-choices, @imrookieramsey

[hesthefox]

Descendants Verse Lorse

I know this is part of my post on my descendants verse, but it needs its own post. Most of my lore for my descendants verse is based a bit off the canon in descendants the 1953 movie, the 2003 movie, and for the fairies specifically the Tinkerbell movies.

Neverland

Neverland is a magical island. It lives and breathes off the wonderment of children. It is slowly dying as imagination of children is slowly dying off and because of the ban on magic in Auradon. Neverland as a whole listens to Peter’s wills and desires as it is seen as “waking up” upon his return. Neverland looks different to every person who views it, but there is a general layout to it that is understood by all who look upon it, and visit. Originally Neverland was impossibly to get to, but with time it became a place off the Coast of Auradon as a whole.

Neverland is not part of Auradon proper. Peter absolutely refused to allow this, which rejects the tourist attraction that is presented in The VK’s guide for new VKs. The island is more or less his, the ban on magic, it just would not work as part of Auradon. Particularly when he sees that other magical places are being turned into tourist attractions, he refuses to let that happen to Neverland. It is first and foremost a place for fun, but not orchestrated fun.

Additionally Peter is very morally grey, and could be considered a villain simply because he steals children, as he technically stole all the lost boys, and even Wendy, Michael, and John. Allowing Neverland to fall to someone who deemed themselves the supreme source of good, it just did not vibe well.

Pixie Hollow and Pixie Dust

Pixie Hollow is important for two reasons, one it is the home of pixie dust, or fairy dust. Two it is the mecca for fairies, not just pixies. It is more or less the ultimate source for fae magic, and works as a resource for fae as well.

According to Return to Isle of the Lost, Pixie Hollow is the home to the records of the fae. These records are of all fae and have samples from them including images, and scales ( in the case of maleficent ), in order to identify Fae, and for historical purposes. It is sacred text, and the fairies are very protective over it.

Pixie Hollow also responds to Peter as it is part of Neverland but it also acts as a separate entity. While not part of Auradon, the pixie dust is siphoned off in order to create the barrier, and if Auradon is not careful they will run out. Pixie dust is not an infinite source as we assume, and from the Tinker Bell movies it is shown to have to be created under very certain circumstances.

The Hangman’s Tree

Largely the home of Peter, and Slightly when he is in Neverland. It is mostly empty since the Lost Boys have grown. If their are ever any “visitors” they stay there. There are many relics of past lost boys, the famous ones, and others because there have indeed been others. It is fairly empty otherwise for various reasons.

Peter

Neverland is more or less dying, so imagine how that effects a being that is pure magic. It doesn’t bode well. Because Peter is weak when away from Neverland, he sends Slightly in his stead. Peter is a magical being akin to a god, and does not deal with Auradon’s ban on magic. He is strongest in Neverland, but even then the Island knows he’s not fairing well. With the magic ban, and siphoning of pixie dust to keep the barrier going strong, Peter is feeling the drain of magic, not to mention children just don’t have a sense of wonderment as that once did.

Peter abhors the idea of Auradon coming together to take away individual kingdoms to create one big kingdom. He is not the only inhabitant of Neverland that hates this idea as well.

Wendy and the Lost Boys School

According to the first book, Isle of the Lost, there is a school that uses the Lost Boys as their mascot. It is implied that they are in Neverland and are absolutely Feral, especially regarding Tourney. So what I take from this is that on the coast of Auradon, where you can see Neverland, Wendy created a school to instill more of her own principals into curriculum. It is a freeing environment and very much organized chaos. The school is not part of Neverland, and Neverland does not recognize it because Peter is a boy who didn’t want to grow up a school no matter the curriculum is a sign of growing up.

Wendy does however take the mascot of the Lost Boys for her school, which causes some tension between her and Peter, and Slightly as the last remaining Lost Boy he hates it. That is a term to describe him, and to use it for school children it just doesn’t sit well with him, as there is nothing about the kids at the school that would be considered a true lost boy.

The Pirates and the Croc

None of the inhabitants of Neverland were okay with Hook and the pirates being sent to the Isle. For Slightly, and by extension Peter, what they did with Hook was fun and games (where my verse name comes from), despite what Hook and the pirates thought.

The Pirates are an integral part of Neverland, as they are lost too. They have just at much of a right to be there as the other inhabitants. Them being sent to the Isle was more or less the straw that broke the camel’s back for Peter and by extension Slightly to be cooperative with Auradon.

The Crocodile also should have never been sent to the Isle on the principal that it wasn’t evil. “Technically” it ate the villain, and Peter goes to find it to tell the time because of the clock inside it. Therefore this baffled the inhabitants on why it was sent to the Isle. The crocodile is an ancient being in Neverland and they view it as wrong to banish him to the Isle.

Other Neverland Inhabitants

Very generally this includes Mermaids that are vastly different from the Mermaids in Atlantica. The Neverland Mermaids are much more sinister and vicious. However they don’t like what Auradon did to their distant cousins and how Auradon refuses to allow Atlantis to no longer be a tourist attraction, as stated as that is what is in Isle of the Lost.

When it comes to the Natives they are their own people, and are largely left alone, Peter has talks with leaders to make sure he, and therefore Slightly represents them correctly seeing as they want nothing to do with Auradon and that stance has not changed. They do not give specific reasons, nor do they need to, or have to. This works just fine with Slightly. Unless they appoint their own representative he is fine saying they have no desire to interact with Auradon.

Other inhabitants include the Neverbird, and other various creatures. For more on certain physical aspects of Neverland go take a look through my headcanons.