#I thought it would be cool to draw him desperate and angry about his father

[blue-bird1967]

today i’m offering you pre/Stanford Sam sketches🤲🏽🌸 tomorrow? who knows (my naruto brainrot is back I’m afraid………)

[twistedmusings]

Wake Up From Your Dream

A/N: I don't even know what I can SAY to this one except...I think I was so angry at not writing that I wrote smut outta SPITE? Can I be so angry with myself that I write Malleus smut to just get something out there? I guess I can. Anyways this ask certainly let my imagination fly q wq

Warnings: Non-con making its way into dub-con, manipulation, impregnating sex and Malleus realizing that family is really important.

You needed to find your way back to Night Raven College.

It has been so long since you’ve been back there, laughing and walking around as if there was no trouble in the world. Nevermind that you weren’t anywhere close to home and nevermind that your family was seeking you out.

As long as there was a possibility of you finding your way home, you had pretended that everything was going to be alright.

You were still a stranger to this world, you had no ties to this world and there would be no reason for you to stay once Crowley found your way back home. It was wonderful making friends with such a variety of people and watching them all grow in their own way. The way you knew you would grow from this experience as well.

Watching Ace and Deuce really come into themselves and their Unique Magic, watching the dorm leaders step into their positions of power and truly start to make a name for themselves that would help them out in their own version of the ‘real’ world. Riddle had gotten a wonderful position befitting of his family name, Leona was actually graduating, Azul was said to open a Monstro Lounge in the Coral Sea while Kalim had started investing time in his father’s trade without having Jamil help him. Even Idia was starting to take strides in his own field!

And you were proudest of Malleus. One simple conversation outside of Ramshackle had turned into a friendship you thought you would never forget. It was so wonderful to see him interact more with students, shyly following after you as you pushed him to talk more to others despite his position. That was what college was for, right? To experience new things and find your future--

You just didn’t think that Malleus would take it that far.

Was it because he was spoiled? No, even though he was born in a monarchy he still did his best to remain kind to others, especially his subjects. You were sure he was going to make a kind king in the future, even if you never got to see with your own two eyes.

You pull the hood over your head as you enter a bath house, the fae receiving you with a curious look and a smile as you hand her 2000 madols.

“Will you be booking a room tonight as well?”

“Just a simple shower and bath, that is all.”

If you were to make a guess, you were in the borders of the Valley of Thorns, a more rural area compared to the now rather modernized capital. You had stolen enough money to get you by for a few trips and you knew that places like these were the best at getting you directions. It had been a bit of a grueling trip, testing your knowledge of the fae language as well as avoiding questions about who you were and why you so desperately needed to make your way back to such a prestigious college. In a sense, you kept it minimal.

You needed to get back home.

“It’s fine. You’re fine. It’s fine. You’re fine.”

The mantra you kept repeating to yourself was whispered under your breath as you removed your articles of clothing slowly, still looking around to see if anybody had followed you in. But this is what was raising all of the hairs on your body, wasn’t it? This constant vigilance that didn’t let you sleep at night. You needed to relax, no one else would come this far.

You feel the fatigue melt as several days of walking are washed right off your body, a smile slowly creeping up on your face as you wash the dirt and oil from your hair.

It would be fine.

You would make it to Night Raven College and sneak into the Hall of Mirrors before wishing yourself back home. Crowley had said that they had pinned down the world you lived in and only after you make your wish would the connection be broken. This most likely meant that the connection was still intact since you didn’t even get a chance to to look at the mirror before you were whisked away.

Everything was going to work itself out, that’s the most you could promise yourself.

The bath is heavenly, the temperate water cooling you down from the hot shower as you look around.

There were no other patrons.

“Good.”

You lean back and press your head against a soft pillow of towels, enjoying the silence as you feel your worries soften while thinking back to what you would do when you were back home. It had been so long since you’ve seen some of your friends, your family was probably worried sick and you still had your own plans you wanted to get through.

If you had time, you could maybe drop by to see how your first year friends were doing?

Or were they in their third year now?

Wouldn’t that be a sight to see?

Your eyes close as you let yourself relax entirely, almost succumbing to sleep.

Only for a hand to grab your throat, the other covering your eyes as you hear a familiar chuckle that tenses your body up and breaks your heart.

“I am afraid we will have to postpone this shower.”

Tears well up in the corner of your eyes as you hear the sound of footsteps into the area, most likely the royal guard.

“Lilia--”

“You’d do well to stay put lest they chase after you.”

The hands covering your eyes pull back as you see a teasing smile looking down pitifully at your fresh set of tears.

“It has taken far too long to find you, Your Majesty.”

-----

“HUMAN!”

“[Y/N]-san!”

Lilia smiles as he leads you by the hand, the royal guard following close behind as Sebek and Silver join him.

“He might have already woken up, Father.”

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? DO YOU KNOW WHAT MY YOUNG MASTER HAS GONE THROUGH?”

“Sebek.” Lilia looks at his charge, “Quiet. Malleus might still be sleeping.”

Silver takes one peek at you, trying to meet your gaze but pulling away when he sees that the veil Lilia had put on you is blocking anybody’s stares from seeing your face. In fact, the second in command had put you in one of the traditional outfits for fae royalty, complete with a light veil that flowed down from the silver circlet placed on your head.

“Excellent.”

Lilia turns his attention to you and laughs.

“He has been absolutely miserable since you left. It was quite a surprise to all of us when you managed to leave the palace walls. None of us thought that you had really done it, especially him, and it really was a hassle to search the palace up and down to see just where our little human had run off to.”

His voice drops to a whisper as he brings your hand up to his lips.

“I’ll make sure to punish you for that later.”

The older fae leads you along as you finally reach your destination, smiling as he knocks on large wooden doors while pushing you slightly to stand in front of everybody.

An answer he was going to get by the end of the night.

“Malleus.”

No answer. He tests the doors and nods when he sees they are unlocked, opening them as he leads you to step inside so that you both could see the figure drenched in moonlight, looking out the window as if awaiting for an answer.

Lilia waits for his other charge to say anything but shrugs as he looks at you with a smile and a bow.

“We are glad to have you back, Your Majesty.”

The door closes with a loud click as you turn your eyes to look up at the imposing figure, your nails digging into your fingertips enough to draw blood as you try to hold back from screaming and shouting at him to stop acting like such a child. Yet you do not wish to anger him, at least to save yourself from any sort of harsher punishment.

So instead you make your way over to the bed--

Only for the fae to turn around, grab your wrist and slam your back into the rough stone wall. Bright green eyes glare down at you as you wince in pain, still looking away from him but letting out a yelp when Malleus’s fingers grab your chin and force you to look at him in the eye.

“Why did you run?”

He really had no idea, did he?

“Because I don’t belong here--”

Malleus tightens his hold on your wrist.

“We’ve discussed this before, child of man, you belong here just like anybody else, you are my Queen--”

“Malleus wake UP!”

You push against his hold but the fae’s hold gets tighter, most likely leaving a mark. But that wouldn’t deter you, not anymore, you were going to tell him.

“I’m not from this world! Coming to Twisted Wonderland was just an accident! A stupid, stupid accident that no one bothered to fix! And just when we were close to making it right you---you--!”

Shit, you’re crying again.

“I have people waiting for me. Just like you had a family waiting for you. I came to the Valley of Thorns thinking that I was supporting you during your coronation but you just--made a decision entirely by yourself and announced me as yours! Why did you lie to me? To them?!”

Malleus’s hold softens as you finally let your tears flow freely, wishing to wipe them away only due to how weak they were making you look.

“...did you not say you loved me?”

“I did! I did but--Malleus after what you did I can’t--”

He lets go of your wrist only to cup your face as he leans down to press his lips on your cheek, his tongue licking up the warm tears as you grab hold of his wrists to try and push him away.

“Do you miss your family?”

You nod as he moves to kiss the corner of your eyes.

“More than anything…”

The dragon fae hums, letting his lips stay where they were a few seconds longer before chuckling as he pulls you close.

“I see--I really have been cruel to you, haven’t I?”

Your heart nearly leaps out of your throat at his words, hands clutching at his robes as you quickly nod. Maybe this was it, maybe it had taken you breaking down to let him see reason?

Please. Please!

“...A family.”

Malleus’s words are like dripped honey as a thought formed in his head, the thought taking shape and form as his hands clutched you tighter.

“Then we’ll just need to make a family of our own…”

-----

Hands clutch at his sheets as Malleus takes in the shape under him.

How beautiful could you be? How complex? To him it was as if not a day had passed since you first met. What had been mere curiosity had delved into deep affection and blossomed into a love that Malleus would only read about in fairytales. The sort of books that led him to believe in soulmates, in happily ever after’s and the possibility of spending the rest of your life with the one you loved.

And yes, you weren’t a fae, but the power of his magic was grand enough to keep you tied to him for the rest of eternity.

His lips can’t help but seek out yours as he thinks about how he is the one who will decide when you die.

This love hadn’t started out like this. What he felt for you had been a bit more relaxed, a lot softer and dreamier. You had confessed to him after his Overblot incident and he had gladly accepted your feelings. He was still keen on finding you a way home and promised himself to not let any moment be wasted in thinking how you soon would be far away from him.

Every day was spent happily with you, the rest of the school year flying by as you both enjoyed the time you still had together.

But Malleus was still a dragon at heart, a fae that yearned and longed to take and take.

So when thoughts about you leaving started to make their way to the forefront of his mind, not even your constant love and affection could keep him from his instincts.

You would leave him to go back to your world. Go back to the normal and the familiar. As you walked your path, you would eventually find someone that enchanted you the way he had, all ending with you walking down a beautiful aisle to your now beloved.

A person that wasn’t...him.

As the days of his third year started to run to a close, his hold on you had become a lot tighter, his kisses a lot more possessive and in the end he had invited you to watch his coronation as he entered his fourth and final year.

With his announcement of making you his Queen.

“Malleus! Please I can’t--I’m not ready--!”

He let Lilia make up some story about you not returning to Night Raven, fooling Crowley into believing that you had found your future in the Valley of Thorns with him. The announcement of you taking up the role of Queen had been surprising but Malleus had woven the story in such a way that there had been talks of having it printed for others to read.

It was a wonderful ending to your love story, you ending up in his arms. But something was missing…

Malleus was glad that you had given him the answer.

Both of your knees were on either side of his waist, your hands clutching at whatever they could as his cock buried itself deep into your cunt. The veil was long forgotten as his robes and your own are thrown carelessly around the room while you wail and scream at being broken into by such a thick length. The small sight of blood on his cock made Malleus smile as he pushed in further, the tightness that was pushing him back slowly opening up for him as he watched you do your best to fit him inside.

It would be fine, you would be fine.

With a growl he finally bottoms out, two hands holding your hips and forcing you down to take all of him as the tip of his cock pressed right under your womb--

He shivers as you tighten up again, leaning down to lick up the trail of tears on your cheek before eating up your tiny whimpers with a hungry kiss.

“Here...right here is where our family will start.”

A large hand takes yours as Malleus puts it right over the small bulge on your stomach, your eyes growing wide as you realize just how deep inside he is. He kisses you again, not daring to break away as he lets a trail of saliva dangle from his lips to yours, the clear liquid disappearing into your mouth as your body relaxed and your eyes grew hazy.

“Do you love me, child of man?”

It was a simple question, but your brain seemed muddled from his kiss. Dragons tended to excrete a certain liquid as they got ready to mate, the experience painful even within his own species but being eased with the help of saliva, sweat or cum.

And with the way he was pressed against you, his sweat matted on your skin as he let more of his spit drip down his tongue and onto yours...surely the answer would come the more you two worked to start your family.

Malleus hardly gave you any time to recover as he started to move, his eyes entranced with the way he disappeared into you with each thrust. Your mind was still muddled but your body was already eagerly accepting him, your legs wrapping around him slowly before locking him in place as he repeated the question.

“Do you love me, child of man?”

You open your mouth but the only word that comes out is a plea for him to go faster.

Which Malleus gladly listens to.

It didn’t take long for him to start pounding into you at a brutal pace, every thrust having the tip of his cock slamming against your womb as your toes curled from the pleasure of taking him so deep. His cock disappeared inside your tiny cunt, shaft now coated not just with blood but with your arousal as well. The bed creaked in protest while the sounds of the bed frame hitting the wall helped him keep time, Malleus leaning back down to kiss you again as your lips this time part eagerly and sucked on his tongue while your hands clutched his shoulders and horns.

Cries turned into happy moans, your sad and abandoned look now one of pure ecstasy as your pussy flutters and tightens around him, pushing him to go harder and harder so he could---!

“[Y/N]--!”

Your legs close tighter around him as you bury your face on the crook of his neck, your orgasm being ripped from you unexpectedly as Malleus halted his movements with a stiff body. He drops his head on your shoulder as your legs keep him in place.

“Malleus...ah--!”

He groans as he paints the inside of your walls white, the warmth of his cum filling your womb to the point that what you hadn’t taken merely dripped out onto the now stained sheets. Malleus lifts his head to look down at you, smiling as he sees your eyes staring up at him eagerly despite how much you had protested before.

“A family…”

You smile as Malleus nods, your hands going all the way to your stomach as you feel the warmth start to twist your brain even more.

“A family with you…how wonderful…”

Arms wrap around him as Malleus kisses a trail from your shoulder to your lips. He just needed to ask you one last time.

“Do you love me, child of man?”

With a hum, your answer is whispered into his ear as Malleus closes his eyes as he realizes that this is where his happily ever after would finally start.

“I love you Malleus, more than anything else.”

[thunderheadfred]

🤚The Second Worst (Pt. 1/?)🤚

Part 2 of my Shigaraki Thesis Headcanons. HC's // The Second Worst: 1 - 2

The half-mad ghost of Shimura Tenko is in love with you, and your life is about to become a tragic wreck. -- AKA here's when I gave up on bullet points and went off the fuckin rails

I'm self-conscious about writing so much, so uhhhh, please be kind, hahaaa. This is rather long and involved. Are these still even HCs or just a self-indulgent AU outline? There are some mysteries we may never solve.

This is on AO3 now, if you prefer reading there. Anyway. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

You met Tenko before the League existed.

Believe it or not, there are a million ways it might have happened, but in the end: you were both bargain-binning in Akihabara.

You reached for a copy of a collectible bullet-hell cute-'em-up (near-mint! CIB!!!) and accidentally bonked hands with a complete stranger. He flinched about five million feet away from you. Ouch. You're just a nobody, quirkless and average, but you didn't think you were THAT repulsive.

(You're not. Hell, even if you were, this guy couldn't care less. He barely registers that you have a face.)

(Shigaraki is accustomed to getting in and out of this shop in seconds. He always comes in before anyone else and goes straight home. -- Is that really home? Is 'home' a real place? -- ANYWAY he's already pirated this shit, god, why does he even care? He doesn't need to be here. Father doesn't like it. Is that why he's here? Just to do something Father doesn't like? That's pathetic.)

He's had at least ten complete internal arguments with himself before he so much as looks at you.

You know in the tenth of a second he actually meets your eyes... this fucker is going to fight you to the death over this game.

- - - The death match ends in a draw. He was not expecting you to know the first fucking thing about this game. Nobody knows about it, even in Japan. Who the fuck do you even think you are? Oh, no, he's still taking it. But... maybe he can show you how to play it it. He'll give you a little taste, just to make you jealous. He's got his hoodie pulled down like he's going to commit an act of terrorism. What little you can see of his face looks twitchy and messed up. If you have any survival instincts at all, they're kicking in right about now. But... why not. You're not going anywhere with this dude unsupervised, so you suggest a crowded web cafe down the street. The cafe has the necessary console... but the retro gaming booth is laughably small. The TV is about four inches across and you end up having to practically sit in his lap. You were sure this guy was a nasty fucking creep, but he's................ only mostly terrible. Way too angry, for sure. Has no idea how to have a normal, friendly conversation. Inadvertently insults you every other sentence and seems to have a deep-seated persecution complex.

You'd prefer to be mad about the awful company, but... he's obviously deprived of human contact. When it's established that you two share a lot of media fixations, he calms down and starts treating you a little more like a human being. Or at least like a fellow elite.

Wherever he came from, he doesn't seem to want to go back. He keeps pushing you to play one more level, pretending he wants to beat your score. You feel kinda bad for him. You get the distinct feeling that his life is a disaster. He looks like he's never had a full night of sleep in his life. He trips your trigger hairs in that 'is he gonna follow me home?' kind of way, but... up close, he's a lot more depressing than scary. At the very least, you want to buy him a stupidly cute dessert. Just... as thanks. For letting you try out the game and stuff. It's not a big deal, so just pick a flavor, okay? The world isn't actually that awful, y'know.

It's not even that impressive... Definitely not a great cafe. But he takes practically a full hour to eat a single slice of strawberry cake.

When the hoodie comes down. He's all shriveled and dried out, like someone left him him in the desert to die. He chews on his peeling bottom lip and nervously scratches his neck. He doesn't thank you for the cake. Which is fine. It's not a big deal. Actually, you wish he would eat faster; you feel weirdly responsible for him now.

Under all that mess he's... gorgeous? His hair is stunning: a bright, gleaming silver that catches the light. His bone structure is flawless. If it weren't for all the scars and the misanthropic slouch, he'd look like a fairy fucking prince.

You were not prepared for that. In another life he could have been a model, the type of guy who would never even look at you. But something bad happened to him. Something... very bad. Do you even want to know? You have no idea how to ask. Has anyone ever been nice to him? It doesn't seem like it. Should YOU be nice to him? You sort of want to try. - - - This becomes a regular thing. This weird little secret. You should probably tell someone when you see him, just in case you don't come back one day, but you say nothing; how the hell would you explain why you want to see him so bad? You don't know his full name. Maybe he's on a watch list. When he gives you a long string of random numbers so you can schedule meet-ups (is THAT his e-mail, really?) he tells you to just... call him Tenko. Or whatever. It doesn't matter. (He sneaks out when Father is deep in his plots. As long as he comes home on time, it doesn't really matter where he goes, right?) He brings a different game every time. He has an insane collection. Where does he get the money for all this? You know he doesn't work. God, is it drugs? It's probably drugs. Wherever these hidden gems came from, he proudly shows them off to you, like he's never had an audience before. It's sort of cringe-inducing, the way he one-ups and rubs every little victory in your face, desperate for attention.

But at the same time, you are becoming too... something...to mind. Do you... like him? He's not funny, but he thinks you are. His mouth is huge when he laughs. He seems to hate everyone but you, and you've had to earn the distinction of being merely tolerable. Still, he gets really excited about random shit like the garage kit black market and haunted dolls and the price of weed on the dark web.

And... strawberry cake. The realization hits you both at the same time when the waitress brings one piece with two forks. God, what the fuck, are you... are you dating? Quick, think. You look forward to seeing him, and don't even mind sitting close to him anymore. Sometimes you push your leg up against him just to see if he'll still flinch away... and he doesn't.

You jealously notice the way he touches everything but you: with delicate precision, one finger at a time. His large, elegant hands always have a pinky up like he's aspiring for a fiefdom, and you wonder what his skin feels like. You go home and dwell on the way he plucks flowering weeds out of the pavement in front of the cafe. The way he stands rooted to the spot as you leave, just... looking at nothing, unsmiling.

You watch his lips too much, and not just because you want to buy him chapstick. You catch him gaping at you all the time. You thought he was just creepy like that, but maybe... Yeah. I guess you are dating him. Shit. - - - Okay, so, yeah. Bringing him back to your place was definitely a bad idea. You know you shouldn't trust him, even if he is... apparently... your boyfriend? Sort of? You still don't have his phone number. So. Um. What now? You order overpriced pizza and queue up a campy horror movie. What the fuck are you even doing. You don't really think he's going to murder you anymore, but... still. Is the suburban massacre scene gonna give him ideas? Turns out, no. He doesn't like gore, even when the blood is neon pink. He gets upset. Like, really upset. Shaky and green, like he might puke on you. He can't stop scratching that scaly spot on his neck.

Tenko, are you crying? Fucking hell, did you just trigger him? Of course he has a traumatic past, it's carved all over his face. You're so fucking stupid. You don't know how to make it right. You want to hug him, kiss him... anything. But he's never really touched you, and you're too afraid to push now. It ruins the whole night. He leaves without explaining anything. Doesn't even say goodbye. He just. Leaves. Maybe you'll never see him again. Maybe that's for the best. Your chest hurts. - - - He shows up at your door a few weeks later. You haven't heard from him since that disastrous movie night. You had pretty much accepted that you'd broken up with a boyfriend you never actually had. But no. Apparently not.

This time, he’s brought his own entertainment. He's holding a boxed set of some show you're not familiar with. You're distracted by these weird little half-gloves he's wearing, like a cyberpunk hacker. That's a new look, and even if it's a bit edgelord adjacent, he makes it look cool. You tell him as much. It's the first time you've let on how attractive you find him. He's wearing a tight black shirt with a deep, deep V-neck. That's distracting too.

He clears his slender throat and doesn't look at you.

You try to apologize for before, but he's acting like it never happened. What are you even talking about? Have you seen this OVA or not? Get out of the way and let him in already. You've watched three episodes now, but you still have no idea what this stupid anime is about. You can't pay attention to a single frame. All you can think about is how his arm has crept up behind your shoulders. A few inches more and he'll be holding you. Does he... want to hold you? You lean toward him so slowly your spine creaks. One molecule at a time. After a thousand years, your head slides nervously under his chin. His arm comes down, locking you in, fingers clutching your sleeve in a death grip. Even that snobby little pinky. His head tucks down into you hair. A sharp collarbone bites into your cheek. His heartbeat is hard, fast, and irregular. There's not a scrap of fat on him, and as you wrap your arm around his stomach, you think you see a twitch in his pants. Is that just you being desperate? Or... hopeful? This is really happening. --- Soon, you learn that Tenko is a clumsy kisser. It doesn't matter; the fact that he's kissing you at all is good enough for now. His lips are dry, but not half as dry as you expected. There's a slick of menthol helping things along; he's been using something medicated on his lips. Plus, his mouth tastes like he drank a gallon of mouthwash.

All this thrills you more than a little, because it means he came here wanting to impress you. Wanting you. Full stop. Underneath that minty sting is a strange, worrisome aftertaste, like something rotten. Your brain fires off an alarm. Stop kissing him. Right now. This thing will make you sick. But his hands nervously slide over your body... and you decide not to worry about it. Instead, you kiss him deeper. He makes a sweet, startled little noise. Your brain is a fucking liar. It occurs to you he's probably never done this before.

When you lace your fingers in his and try to pull one of his gloves off, he rips his hand away.

Don't. That’s the only explanation he gives.

No need to ask if it's a quirk thing or a trauma thing. Judging by how jittery he gets, it's probably both. You remember the way his hands almost float over objects without ever holding them. Maybe his touch is dangerous. Maybe that's why his face looks like that.

Maybe you should learn more about him before things go way too far...

No. It can't be that bad. Now that he's in your arms, everything frightening about him evaporates. He's vulnerable. He's alone. He's shaking a little. Has anyone else ever seen this side of him? You want to keep him all to yourself, just like this.

So what if he has to touch you with gloves on? You've heard of worse quirk-related inconveniences.

It's okay, Tenko. Do you want to keep going?

You put his hands back on you and wait for him to kiss you again. It doesn't take long.

---

You open his pants. He's long and thin, calloused even here. Every part of him feels untouched, unloved. You hold him tight and squeeze.

It doesn't seem to occur to him to please you in return. He looks afraid. Confused. You're sure you scared him earlier with the glove thing. Is this too much? No. He gasps and leans into you. The tiniest, broken please.

He cums in your hand right away, face buried in your shoulder, his eyes wet and hidden.

I have to go, he says. Over and over and over.

It's okay, Tenko.

You know he doesn't want to.

- - - - - (oops I wrote more)

[blu-joons]

DATING GOT7 HEADCANON A⇴Z ⇴ Im Jaebum

A ⇴ AFFECTION

His affection always came from a place of protection, he’d spent years looking after the boys, and that reflected in your relationship too. He’d always make you feel incredibly safe whenever he was affectionate with you, which you loved.

B ⇴ BEFORE DATING

You’d always been close friends since you met years ago, but that was all you thought you’d ever be. Jaebum knew he felt more for you, but he was always too scared to tell you how he felt. As his contract came to an end, he confided in Jinyoung the most about his feelings and where he should go from there to maybe see if you’d want to date him too.

C ⇴ CONFESSION

He sat you down one night to tell you about what was going on with his contract and the changes it meant for his life. When he casually told you what it meant he could start dating more comfortably you began to worry that you’d lose your friend, but when he continued to tell you that it meant he could ask you out on a date comfortably, you were more than surprised. The silence that came from you worried Jaebum greatly, but you quickly reassured him, and accepted.

D ⇴ DATES

The two of you would often end up having dates at his studio because he was so busy. You absolutely loved your studio dates together, shutting out the rest of the world. You’d show up in the early evening with takeout and a bag filled with blankets and cushions for you to relax underneath. You’d both sit on the floor of the studio, using his laptop to watch something whilst you ate. Once his break was over, Jaebum would usually make you comfortable on the sofa so you could sleep, or he’d allow you to sit in his lap as he worked, giving him the motivation that he needed to be able to finish quickly for the night.

E ⇴ EXPERIENCE

There had been a few brief relationships he’d had in school, but since debut, you were the first proper relationship he’d had. He knew under contract he couldn’t balance work and a relationship, but now with a little more freedom it was definitely something he wanted to try. He was still the leader of GOT7 though, regardless, and that was something he often took into consideration. There was often a pressure on his shoulders to make sure as the leader he made his relationship work, but as he’d often confided in you before about his feelings on dating and love, you knew exactly how to help him.

F ⇴ FIGHTING

The two of you wouldn’t argue often per se, if Jaebum was angry you’d usually be able to tell by the expression on his face before letting things kick off. Sometimes he forgot to switch off his leader mode when he was around you, and he’d struggle to relax and not worry. He hated arguing with you though, if it ever did happen, he’d take some time away, usually by going to his studio, and then come back to you when he felt a lot calmer. He was so often the mediator during conflict that he was confident he’d know exactly how to rectify the situation, the two of you would talk a lot about your feelings before moving past things.

G ⇴ GETTING TO KNOW HIS FAMILY

You knew he came from a very close family, which made you quite apprehensive about becoming a part of it. JB had told his mother plenty about you before the first time you met which meant there was plenty of expectation on your shoulders. Luckily for you, she quickly loved you, seeing her only son happy was all that she ever wanted.

H ⇴ HOME

Having already been friends before your relationship, you’d spent a lot of time at Jaebum’s apartment, and of course, that meant you’d bonded with the cats. He didn’t want to move you in straight away when you started dating as he was nervous that it would be overwhelming, but after a couple of months he’d definitely start dropping hints that if you were comfortable, then maybe it was a step the two of you could take.

I ⇴ “I LOVE YOU”

The first ‘I love you,’ was uttered by Jaebum, well, it was sung. He came up to you one night at the end of a day in the studio to let you know that he’d written a song. You’d listened closely to every word, but as the song came to an end and the three words were uttered, you thought it was a joke. But when Jaebum said it again, you knew that it was true.

J ⇴ JEALOUSY

If he was jealous, that would be when the famous chin would appear. You’d know straight away that the second you saw his chin stick out that he wasn’t happy about something. He’d try and play it cool and convince you that he wasn’t jealous, but when your hand tapped at the tip of his chin, he’d know the game was up. You were always quick to assure him, and you’d often spend the rest of the night by his side, so he knew not to worry, but when you left, you’d be sure to tease him about how obvious his feelings were.

K ⇴ KIDS

He’d never really made his mind up about kids, he loved being a father of cats for now. But as your relationship grew and became more serious, he began to wonder about starting a family and how his future would like. There was still a lot that he wanted to achieve before becoming a father, but it was something that as days went by, he’d see clearer and clearer in his future. He’d always get nervous talking about it around you, but you could tell exactly how he felt.

L ⇴ LAUGHTER

At times he was quite serious, and laughter was difficult to draw out of him, but that made the moments that he did laugh a lot more precious. He was much happier whenever he was able to make you laugh, he’d surprise you in the day with photos and filters that he knew would have you in stitches at work. He was a hard nut to crack, but when you eventually found the way to make him laugh, you’d never stop. Every day you’d work hard to make him laugh until he couldn’t laugh anymore, and make sure that he relaxed after the end of his day.

M ⇴ MISSING

He never imagined himself missing you as much as he did when he went on tour for the first time since you started dating. He’d gotten used to missing you as a friend, he had plenty of friends that he missed, but when he had the emotional connection with you, it introduced a whole new feeling to him. He’d try and be strong for the sake of the rest of the members if they were with him, but as soon as he closed the hotel door for the night, he’d be straight on the phone with you, often forgetting that it wasn’t the same time for you as it was for him. Regardless, you’d pick up, just so that you could check on him too.

N ⇴ NICKNAMES

You tended to just call him, ‘jae,’ it was what you called him before dating, and a habit you couldn’t break. It was the same for him too, he’d often call you ‘buddy,’ or something, which became a recurring joke for you both.

O ⇴ OBSESSION

He was obsessed with your hair, as much as he hated that you had better hair then him, he loved to play with it whenever he was focussing or trying to fall asleep.

P ⇴ PDA

Jaebum wasn’t huge on PDA, again, his PDA came from a protective place, he’d like to keep you close to him, and if he felt like he needed to keep you closer, he’d keep you in front of him with both of his arms wrapped around your waist. He’d judge a situation closely before deciding how affectionate he needed to be with you.

Q ⇴ QUESTIONS

Whenever he was working on a piece of music, he would often ask for your opinion it. Your studio dates were great for him to be able to show you what he was working on and get your opinion on all of it.

R ⇴ RANDOM FACTS

In his studio, he had several photos that he kept hold of that he’d piece together to try and come up with as a storyboard for song writing. All of his photos were of scenery or nature, except for two that were of you. Whenever he felt that love was appropriate in a song, he’d place the picture of you in his timeline. No one else ever saw them photos when they visited the studio, they were hidden away for only him to see.

S ⇴ SEX

Intimate moments were definitely when Jaebum would be at his softest. He was always an absolute gentleman and took priority of your needs over his own. He would love to play with your hair, whilst you often would play with his too, making sure the two of you were very close to each other. He was very loving and affectionate towards you, it was a bit of a stress relief for him too, he’d always feel a lot happier at the end.

T ⇴ TEXTS

He forgot sometimes that he wasn’t a leader of you too, he’d often text you when he knew you had appointments or something to make sure you showed up. You’d often remind him you didn’t need him to remind you, but it was a habit of his.

U ⇴ UNIVERSE

In a world where he often felt misunderstood or pushed aside, around you, he really felt like he could be himself. There was nowhere that made him as comfortable as being by your side, wherever the two of you were.

V ⇴ VACATION

He loved to adventure with you whenever the two of you got the time to go away. He’d use the time as inspiration, sourcing plenty of things that he could use in the studio when he got back. He’d also take plenty of photos too, so when the two of you got back home you could spend a few nights scrapbooking all the photos and memories that you’d made to be able to look back over fondly one day.

W ⇴ WHINING

If something didn’t feel right, he’d definitely sigh and whine, he’d be desperate for you to go over and help him try and put things right.

X ⇴ XXXXX

Jaebum was much more of a cuddler than a kisser, he’d save his kisses for when he felt they were needed. Most of that was spent when you were falling asleep or if you’d had a bad day, he’d kiss against your cheeks to make sure that all of your tears disappeared. Being less frequent, you made sure to savour each one, and repay the gesture whenever he needed a bit of affection from you too.

Y ⇴ YOU

You were the one who he saw forever with, he didn’t need anyone else but you.

Z ⇴ ZZZ

He always made sure to keep the cats off the bed at night so that he could dedicate his time to you, his arms would always be around you or tangled in your hair, he made sure to know exactly what you wanted from him to help you fall asleep.

---

Masterlist

[thedragonnerd]

Rayaari headcanon - let's keep Disney magic with The Lion King AU

(inspired by this lovely anon)

To the people of Heart, Benja is their King, an admired ruler who is fair to his citizens and listens to their troubles. To Raya though, he is simply her father Ba, and one of her best friends.

Her mother passed away when Raya was young, but she has an uncle who lives at the palace. Raya can't actually remember his real name - his nickname has been 'Druun' for as long as she can remember.

The role of being a ruler does not particularly appeal to Raya at her young age. She much prefers to spend her time having adventures around Heart, much to the annoyance of her bodyguards.

Namaari is the Princess of Fang, Heart's neighbouring land and close ally. Raya has known her since they were babies, with Benja and Virana often holding diplomatic meetings. While these discussions are going on, Raya finds ways to drag Namaari into whatever important adventures she may find.

After one particularly chaotic visit to Fang, where Raya and Namaari had tried to climb out of the window in Namaari's room and ended up being caught on the roof instead, Benja wakes Raya early. He is determined to instill a sense of responsibility in her, and so he leads her up the great mountain in the darkness of the early morning. They arrive at the temple just as dawn is breaking, and together they watch the sun rise slowly across their lands.

'Over there is Fang,' he points to his right, and Raya peers into the distance. 'Everywhere the light touches is our land, Raya...our people of Heart. One day, the sun will set on my time here as leader, and rise with you as Queen instead. And you must be ready for it.'

Raya sweeps her gaze across the land of Heart, before it finally alights on a dark and shadowy speck on the horizon. 'What about that shadowy place?' she asks, intrigued. Benja grasps her shoulder tightly. 'That's beyond our borders, Raya, and into Spine territory. You must never go there.' The adventurous side of Raya can't help but be intrigued.

On her way back to the palace, Raya runs into her uncle, and can't help but mention this to him - interested to know if he'll share more information with her. 'Ah yes, the forests of Spine,' Druun mentions with a sneer. 'But your father is absolutely right! You must never go there, Raya. It's a beautiful land, covered with snow for much of the year, but only the most hardened of warriors can go there. It's far too dangerous for a little girl like you.'

Raya is both annoyed by the implication that she cannot face down a Spine warrior, and fascinated by the idea of the land's magical forests, which Heart children know only from stories.

Namaari and her mother are visiting Heart the following day, and Raya doesn't hesitate to grab her friend by the hand and drag her away from the adults. 'I have a really cool place to show you,' she whispers to Namaari.

They manage to evade their royal guards, and steal away after the midday meal, riding Namaari's serlot out to the borderland. When they slip across the boundary into a land of cold snow, tall trees, and a buzzing sense of magic in the air, Raya is entranced. She's so busy exploring her new surroundings that she doesn't notice the danger from three Spine warriors until Namaari tugs on her sleeve, an urgent 'Raya' hissed in her ear.

The Spine warriors are delighted to discover the children of their enemies standing right within their territory, and they attack before Raya and Namaari even have a chance to run. The two girls try to fight them off, but they don't have the skill to face down an entire group of adult warriors.

Suddenly, Benja and Virana arrive, alerted by an eagle-eyed scout, and fight back the Spine men with ease, dragging their daughters away. Once they are safely back in Heart territory, Benja turns his disappointment on Raya.

Virana takes Naamari back to Fang that very day, also angry at her own daughter. Raya feels terrible when she realizes Namaari could have gotten hurt or worse during their adventure, and can barely wave goodbye. Years later, she wishes she had hugged Namaari instead, not realizing it would be the last time she'd see her for a very long time.

A week later, Raya happens to cross paths with Druun, when he reaches out to stop her, sharp fingers digging into her shoulder. 'Your father's looking for you,' he says shortly. 'Something about wanting to train you to fight properly, after that Spine fiasco.' Raya is slightly hurt by the idea that she is a poor fighter, but she goes down to the empty training grounds to wait for her Ba.

Instead of Ba, she is set upon by an even larger group of Spine warriors, who have clearly entered Heart with deadly intent. She sprints back towards the palace, hearing their heavy breaths close behind her as she flees.

Benja flies past her in the other direction, sword already raised to meet them in combat. 'Raya, run!' he yells, and the fear in his voice makes her listen.

She turns back when she thinks she is at a safer distance, just in time to see Ba be kicked to the ground. One of the Spine warriors brings his blade swinging down, and she screams at the sight.

The invaders leave as soon as the deed is done, Benja lying prone on the ground. Raya stumbles over to him as fast as she can, ignoring the retreating backs of Spine for a moment. 'Ba?' she whispers, kneeling in the bloodied dirt beside him and grasping one of his hands. 'Ba? Please wake up.'

'Raya, what have you done?' Drunn says, appearing from behind her. 'Your little excursion into Spine must have brought them here for revenge. What will your people think...What will Fang think? You've just caused your father to be killed, and started a war.'

'I didn't mean to,' Raya sobs, dropping her forehead to rest on Benja's chest, with her fingers clenching at his clothes. 'What do I do?'

'Run,' Druun says. 'And never return.' Raya runs, still covered in her father's blood.

She can't bring herself to go to Fang; instead, she flees through Spine, narrowly avoiding their hunting parties, and then through Talon. It's only when she arrives in Tail, the farthest land she can be from Heart, that she can breathe properly. The heartbreak threatens to overwhelm her.

She's found in the midst of the Tail desert by Sisu, a loud but kind-hearted individual who immediately introduces Raya to the rest of her family, an eclectic group of outcasts in their own rights.

Years pass, and Raya makes herself a new home in Tail, alongside Sisu and the rest of her family. It's a simple life, and she does everything possible to forget her past, choosing to live always in the present instead.

During rare times where she does allow herself to reminisce, she can't help but miss Namaari fiercely as well as her Ba. She knows she will never see her friend again, but wishes they could have talked at least once more in life.

One day, Raya is out on a hunting trip, stalking her prey for a long time to find the perfect shot, when an arrow shoots out from behind her. Spinning around, she sees a beautiful young woman, carrying a crossbow.

'That was my dinner,' Raya says in annoyance, but the other woman just snorts. 'No way, binturi...this is all mine.'

The voice is so familiar, so Raya squints at her opponent for a second, before recognition suddenly springs to mind. '...'Maari?' she whispers, and she can see the moment Namaari recognizes her in return. She rushes to Namaari, who picks her up and spins her around before settling into an embrace, both of them talking excitedly over each other. 'I thought you were dead,' Namaari says, arms tight around Raya's waist.

Later, when they have calmed down, Namaari tells her she is on a mission to find food...and help. Heart is apparently in disarray, with Druun allowing Spine to bring in their own forces and use up many of the natural resources. Fang has held out against their desire for further expansion for now, but war between Heart/Spine and Fang is imminent.

'I will not let our people kill each other for the whims of a mad king,' Namaari tells her passionately. 'They are starving and desperate, and we need to find a way to remove Spine's influence from Heart. But Raya, this is perfect. You can return and challenge your uncle...Take your place as rightful leader of Heart.'

Raya feels sick to her stomach at the idea of returning to Heart, wanting more than anything to avoid facing her past and the blame that lies at her feet. But Namaari is a shining beacon in front of her, burning with a righteous passion about saving everyone. Raya never could say no to Namaari.

Raya and Namaari return together, riding side by side into the desolate wasteland that has befallen Heart, with Sisu and her siblings following not far behind. It hurts to be back home, especially seeing it in this state, and as Raya marches up the stairs to the palace, she draws strength from her anger.

'Raya, what a surprise to see you...alive,' Druun says, when she bursts into the throne room. His eyes glance towards the Spine warriors at his side.

'Uncle, stop whatever madness that has you waging wars against our allies, whilst our enemies now take from our lands as they choose,' Raya says, trying to appear strong, but Druun merely gestures his hand in order to amass his Spine fighters around him.

'I should have killed you and Benja with my own hands, rather leaving it to these imbeciles to do it for me,' Druun snaps, and then he is upon her with his sword. Raya fights back with everything she has, white-hot rage fueling her as she realizes what he means by those words.

But Druun is a seasoned warrior, with strong backup, and soon Raya finds herself surrounded.

'FOR HEART!' a yell sounds, and then Heart soldiers are streaming into the palace, accompanied by hundreds of Fang warriors, led by Namaari.

Spine soldiers are pushed back towards their own borders, although Raya pays little attention when she has Druun at the end of her blade. 'I should execute you for what you did to my father,' she snarls, but relaxes when she feels Namaari gently touch her shoulder. She watches instead as he is dragged away to prison, to await proper justice.

Heart is almost in ruins, her people hungry, desperate and lost, but Raya feels as if she can breathe again properly for the first time in years, just by being back.

There is a warmth by her side, and then Namaari is there, smiling down at her. 'Welcome home, dep la,' she says, and Raya reaches out to hold her hand.

[flowerbloom-arts]

Welp, since two people asked (@xanzusx and @ratdaduniverse ) I suppose I have an excuse to do an unnecessarily deep dive into a character literally nobody cared about that much or bothers to draw before I came along with my thing for all too unpopular characters!

Let's start with a quick tl;dr :

Aunt Jane is (probably, this is more speculative than anything) a victim of capitalism and misogyny working together to create a damaged woman with anger issues and a toxic relationship with money.

How, you may ask? Well, let's take a close look at her titular, starring, and only episode of the 90s series;

episode 27: Aunt Jane

In the beginning of the episode, Moominpappa receives a letter from an aunt from his father's side and it's made immediately clear that he is not a fan of his aunt or the reason she sent the letter to him, it's also stated that Aunt Jane had no one else to turn to besides her nephew to "discuss money matters" as the episode puts it. Moominpappa says that he isn't really scared of Aunt Jane herself (though she is quite scary and a not-great person as MP himself describes, being bossy and not letting people have a moment of peace) but it's the money he's afraid of, he's afraid of having to discuss something he knows nothing about with someone he dislikes, so he takes it upon himself to leave before she arrives. (sidenote: this may tie into some fear Moominpappa has of looking dumb and ruining his ego, aswell as generally not being able to put up with people he finds unpleasant for very long)

Then Aunt Jane arrives on a rowboat down the Moomin Valley river with someone else rowing for her (cool detail: her boat actually matches her umbrella! We can assume she owns the boat based on this and the rower is either an employee or some guy she paid [his mustache is delightful by the way, I love the round little fella]) and she just has this... Very odd blank stare as our very first shot of her? It's an odd first impression for the viewer to be sure.

Jane gets off the boat and the rower simply continues down stream without her, Jane notices Snufkin fishing and asks for directions to Moominhouse, Snufkin gives her the tip and then Jane asks Snufkin if he could carry her suitcase of gold coins for her. Snufkin politely declines, saying he's busy, and then Jane attempts to bribe Snufkin by offering a "handsome reward" in a very confident manner, almost as if that trick has always worked before. Snufkin still declines, saying he just wants to fish. Aunt Jane is legitimately shocked at Snufkin not wanting money, now a first-time viewer might interpret this as Jane being vain with her wealth but it actually ties into how everyone in her life would simply be interested in her money (which is something that'll be elaborated further on) so Snufkin is perhaps the first person in a long while to not be interested.

Jane has little time to let that sink in as Sniff (the ultimate capitalist of the show) runs in, introduces himself as simply someone to help take her to Moominhouse and goes to help Jane carry her suitcase, to which Jane simply acts like a more poised individual and bimbles behind Sniff.

They arrive at Moominhouse right after Moominpappa had already left in the previous scene, Aunt Jane adjusts her glasses and says "A round house? How stupi- typical of my nephew." which establishes that Jane... doesn't like her nephew (and considers round shaped houses as being dumb [which I think a couple architects/engineers would agree but correct me if I'm wrong])

Jane gets welcomed by Moominmamma and after Moomintroll introduces himself Jane's attention immediately goes to Little My, assuming that My is a child of the family, she says that My's too small for a daughter (her expression says that she's bothered by it more than anything), then Moominmamma explains that Little My's not related but lives with them and My says she won't get any bigger, to which Jane simply squints at the small creature in a strange but I guess concerned manner? It's easy to assume that there were some strange beliefs about daughters that she was raised on.

Jane then asks where her "worthless nephew" is (again, she doesn't think highly of him), Moominmamma barely manages to not tell her the truth and Moomintroll saves her by saying Pappa's away to find inspiration for his work. Jane says "When has he ever worked? I'm here to see him!" (Score 3 for putting down her nephew) and Moomintroll suggests she should talk to him instead, Sniff butts in saying Moomintroll knows nothing about money and Aunt Jane simply says "In that case it's about high time he learned! As for his father, I may still disinherit him." (Score 4), Sniff says he's a member of the family and she can talk to him about money, Moomintroll says he's a great friend of his, and Jane adjusts her glasses then says "But hardly a member of the family" (we can see here she only really cares about relations more than anything when it comes to others taking care of her money, perhaps the money was passed down through generations and she wants to uphold that tradition, which is only one major reason she wants to get rid of it)

Snork and Snorkmaiden walk in, Snork introduces himself and explains how his sister is a "special friend" to Moomintroll and basically that they might get married someday, thus merging the Snork and Moomin family together, thus making them practically family already (Which I find just so utterly hilarious, he can be such a weasel I love him). Jane doesn't accept that as an argument (OBVIOUSLY) so Snork explains that he needs money to fund his flying ship project, and then Mr. Hemulen walks in with a very happy confidence (that chaotic metallic theme [you know the one if you pay attention to the soundtrack] cues but then stops shortly, I got so hyped and it just ended like that :( ) and he tells Aunt Jane about himself and asks her to fund his scientific research (assuming Sniff had already told her about it) and Sniff tries to save it by explaining that they could grow a greenhouse of orchids and roses and sell them to make money, he corrects himself by saying "I mean you'll make alot of money!" instead of "we'll" which he thinks might make her more lenient to the idea, but Jane shuts it down by saying she already has plenty of money (showing that she really isn't interested in hoarding wealth, she's satisfied with what she has especially since the whole point of going to the Valley was to shove her money-related issues onto her nephew)

The three guys try to talk over eachother trying to explain themselves, Jane is overwhelmed and confused so she stops them and asks Snork to clarify that he's Snorkmaiden and it goes downhill from there, Snork asks if he's explained his connection to the moomins well enough, Sniff says he's a friend of Moomin's, Mr. Hemulen asks Sniff if he could explain his research to her for him, and they all talk over eachother, Aunt Jane looks back in forth in a confused and overwhelmed manner and then gets angry, then she yells "BE QUIET EVERYONE!" with an overhead shot of Moominhouse (this sort of sets up Jane's anger issues which builds and builds until the climax of the episode)

Moominmamma escorts Jane to her room and tells her that she can call if she needs anything before leaving Jane alone, Jane more or less just observes her surroundings (it's clear she wasn't used to such a simple environment but she isn't opposed to it either) and then sits down on her bed with her eyes closed, looking peaceful for literally less than two seconds before Sniff knocks and she stands up instantly with her hands held in front of her like a "proper woman" sort of pose. Sniff stumbles in the room with the suitcase of gold and sets it on the floor, Jane thanks him and then Sniff stands there and looks around as if he's looking for something and goes "Ehem". Jane sees this and unenthusiastically asks "What is it? Want a reward?" (This is like the most telling scene of the episode and shows that this kind of thing is something that she's used to) Sniff lies at first but then admits it after a second thought, he hesitates and looks around if anyone would eavesdrop on them, Jane tells him to make up his mind and then Sniff gets close to her and whispers that he knows where Moominpappa is, Jane dismisses it saying she knows that he's on a trip (atleast she's willing to believe it? Doesn't revert any of her put-down points tho), Sniff corrects her by saying he's actually nearby and Jane is immediately interested and asks Sniff where he is, Sniff says Pappa said not to tell her where he is since it's a secret and after teasing it with her Sniff says he'll be taking a risk if he tells her so Jane asks "Oh, how much do you want?" knowing full well Sniff wanted to get paid for this without him even saying it, Sniff plays it safe and says she can decide how much she'll give him.

Sniff leads her on the beach, Snufkin notices this and runs to the cave to warn Moominpappa before she arrives (what a champ, that Snufkin) and then Sniff and Jane enter the cave with it's watery floor, Jane thanks him with a singular silver coin, Sniff asks if that's it and then Jane replies (with a very angry tone) that yes that's it until she actually sees her nephew, the two enter the cave with no Moominpappa in sight, Sniff is bewildered by this and Jane is very angrily disappointed that her "worthless nephew" (Score 5, though it's just a repeated insult, it still counts) isn't there, Sniff says "this is very strange!" while desperately looking for Moominpappa and Jane assumes Sniff had tricked her and takes away Sniff's one coin as punishment and simply leaves despite Sniff's desperate cries that he has to be there somewhere.

Jane goes back to Moominhouse and enters the kitchen to ask Moominmamma where Moominpappa is hiding, Moominmamma gasps and tries to reiterate the lie Moomintroll said, but Jane says she wants to know the TRUTH, so Moominmamma stutters and Jane tells her to hurry up, Mamma sadly admits that Moominpappa is hiding in the cave but Jane says she's already been there and didn't find him. Mamma is suddenly hopeful and is like "Oh so he really must have gone on a trip!", Jane proceeds to ask why Moominpappa would want to hide from her anyway, Moominmamma "suggests" that maybe Moominpappa is afraid of her, and Jane gets legitimately surprised and furious over this and asks "But why!?", Mamma says that he's mostly afraid of money matters, Jane exclaims "Incredible!" and contemplates "Afraid of me because of money matters...?" and then storms out of the kitchen saying "He must be utterly mad!" (Score 6)

Jane sits down on the table in her room and talks to herself about how this family is so confusing and only Sniff seems to know anything about money, Little My enters smuggly and shits the behind her, saying she knows where Moominpappa is at that moment, Jane assumes Little My wants gold from her and My says she couldn't care less about her silly gold, Jane strangely enough seems to try and defend the thing by saying "My 'silly gold' indeed! With my 'silly gold' I can assure you you could do just about anything you want!" and My claps back with how it isn't helping her find Moominpappa, this arouses Jane and My continues saying she should forget about her money. Jane responds by turning around in her chair to look at Little My directly and says "Young lady, money isn't something you could just forget about! It needs constant looking after- that's why I must talk to Moominpappa at once! Now take me to that rascal nephew you of mine if you really know where he is, you hear me!?"

My and Jane walk down the dirt path and see Moomintroll and Snorkmaiden being all lovey-dovey with eachother on a tree stump, saying how they love eachother and such, Jane scoffs "Oh, how frivolous!" and My smugky responds with "Not really, if I could find a small enough boyfriend, I'd be frivolous just like them too!" and starts to walk away, Aunt Jane turns to her and says with a very strong sense of longing "Ah well, Fredrick and I were frivolous once..." (With an inexplicable voice change by the way) and My just teasingly says "Really? If you says so! Suppose I'll have to believe you!" while still walking away, and Jane gets so mad at this dismissal/mockery that she almost snaps her umbrella but stops herself and stomps forward to follow Little My. The marshmallow couple notices the two and follow them.

Little My interrupts a game of chess between Snufkin and Moominpappa in Snufkin's tent, she introduces them to Jane as a "special guest" and Snufkin is shocked by her presence, he says Moominpappa's name and he looks up to look at his very angry aunt, Moominpappa runs out of the tent and Jane chases him with her umbrella around a tree and stomps on the ground with enough force to make Moominpappa, Moomintroll and Snorkmaiden hop off the ground (OKAY I'M NOT GONNA GET INTO THIS PART SINCE IT DOESN'T REALLY TIE INTO THE THESIS THAT MUCH AND WOULD BE TOO SPECULATIVE BUT HOLY CRAP??? HOW??? WHY DOES SHE HAVE THAT KIND OF STRENGTH??? IS IT SUPERNATURAL??? HELP????), this causes Moominpappa to fall over on the ground and Snufkin intervenes by saying Moominpappa was just coming back from his trip and stopping by to play chess with him, Moominpappa tries to go along with this but Little My says it's no use since Moominmamma already told her the truth, Moominpappa gets all defeated and Jane asks him why he's afraid of her, Moominpappa says it's not that he's afraid of her, he's afraid of her money. Jane gets enraged by this and stomps of the ground again to send everyone hopping, she then tries to "reason" with Moominpappa on this by saying "It's perfectly good money and all in gold coins! Listen nephew, I'm depending on you as my only relative!" (For some reason her voice gradually gets higher pitched in this line? But anyway this just confirms Moominpappa is literally the only family she has left), Moominpappa echoes "Yes, yes, depend." and Jane continues with "When I get too old to do it, you must look after my gold for me! I'm relying on you!", Moominpappa gets spooked by this and desperately suggests they should just give it away to people who need it, Jane blurts out "HOW UNGRATEFUL!" and turns red from rage but then is subsides, the red fades away and Jane, probably after having a thought, breaks into actual sobbing and falls to the ground to cry even more, Moominpappa tries to comfort her and suggests that maybe they should put it in a bank, Jane retorts through her sobbing that her money would hate being in a bank and it's a terrible idea (which is the start of her talking about it like it's a person/entity which follows to the very end of the episode), Moominpappa reassures her by saying banks are so nice these days and Jane looks up asking "They are...?", Moominpappa continues by describing how they have "Flowers and shiny little piggy banks and paintings on the wall!" and Jane lifts herself up asking "Is that really true...?", then Moominpappa tells everyone they should go home and fix a welcoming party for Aunt Jane, the scene ends with a shot of a sad Aunt Jane looking around everyone, possibly confused or even sorry.

We cut to the dinner party when Mamma is putting the cake on the table saying it's her grandma's best recipe (I have to note that Aunt Jane's face here is just... So sad and guilty-looking), Moominpappa gets up and says to drink a toast to the only millionaire in their small circle and how he hopes she'll live a long and happy life. Everyone drinks except for Jane who simply looks around and then looks down at her glass to sigh, Moominmamma asks what's wrong and Jane says "Never in my life have I and my money felt ourselves so welcomed before, I'm so happy I could cry" (jeez woman that is actually sad to hear considering just earlier that day 3 complete strangers went to her asking for money and her nephew literally tried to hide from her before she even arrived, that must've been one heck of a welcoming party) and then she genuinely starts crying saying "And once you start crying- you just wanna go on and on-" and proceeds to sob a bit and says "Oh dear- oh deAr- Moominmamma-" and looks up "Moominpappa-?" Moominpappa answers and she says "I'll put some of my gold in a bag, but you must look after the rest when I'm too old!", Moominpappa hesitates and then Jane snaps into anger mode by asking "Why not?" and slamming her fists against the table, Moominpappa sheepishly describes how they'll take care of it and Jane says it's not what she had in mind though it does sound nice and sufficient, but then she says how the money will miss her. She decides then and there that she'll leave the suitcase of gold to Moominpappa so they can "get sorta used to eachother" and use it as they please, even complimenting the flying ship and botanical research funding as rather splendid. Everyone is happy except Sniff who laments he should've gotten a better idea than flowers, and the episode ends with Jane smiling and a pan out of the house as the narrator closes off the episode.

~

Alright so already we have quite alot to unpack here and it's all gonna get a bit rambly and jumbled if I don't segment it into specific parts so let's do that. We're gonna put allllll of that baggage into 5 parts

1. Moominpappa and the lack of a family

2. Money is not a good partner

3. A woman millionaire

4. A bitter, lonely maiden

5. Conclusion

~

1. Moominpappa and the lack of a family

It's been stated twice that Moominpappa is Aunt Jane's only relative, and it's said that they relate through Moominpappa's father.

(Side note: We'll be going by the 90s cartoon canon because Aunt Jane is a moomin comic strip character and in the comic strip Moominpappa wasn't left at an orphanage I don't think, so it's logical to assume they just met eachother because they're family. But we're talking about the 90s canon where Moominpappa WAS left at an orphanage like in Moominpappa's Memoirs/Exploits of Moominpappa)

It's really unclear on the backstory of their relationship. It's unclear how these two met, it's unclear when they've met, and it's unclear how they knew they were related. Moominpappa clearly met her atleast without anyone in his current family (esp. Moominmamma) and hasn't talked about her ever since (given how literally nobody INCLUDING MOOMINMAMMA knew who she was) which to me signifies that their encounter was both somewhat isolated and unpleasant given how he describes her as bossy and not letting people have a moment of peace (which only brings images of some kind of business setting when they met in my mind, and knowing how Moomin stories operate Moominpappa probably found himself as one of her employees somehow). Whatever happened between them has certainly put a sour taste in eachother's mouths, making Moominpappa believe Aunt Jane to be unpleasant enough to avoid at all cost (he probably also witnessed the horrors of wealth which is why he's scared of her money) and Jane believing Moominpappa to be incompetent, worthless and idiotic.

Pulling back from whatever encounter they had... Was Aunt Jane aware of her nephew's existence before then? We don't know the circumstances which lead to Moominpappa's parents leaving him at an orphanage in a paper grocery bag (if the person/people who left him ever WERE his parents), and since him and Aunt Jane are the last members of their family, it's easy assume something tragic most likely happened to the parents. And not only that, the rest of Jane's family would've been gone aswell, leaving Jane as the sole heir and possibly not knowing about her orphaned nephew. Can you imagine being in such a position? Your whole family is gone for whatever reason, you're the only one left to your knowledge, and you have all the money you could ever want in the early 20th century. You are responsible for millions of [money unit] in gold coins. Jane is responsible of that kind of money. And what is that to her?

2. Money is not a good partner

Aunt Jane's relationship with money is extremely weird but clearly somewhat toxic in a sense. We know she has it in the millions and she's not interested in making more of it (though we do have to ask if she runs a business or if all of it is inheritance and nothing more, does she turn in a profit? What business does she work in? How big is her paycheck? Does she work with employees? Why is it all in gold coins? Where does she even live? Nobody knows! It's all vague and unspecified and there really is no point in speculating something like this because there's literally no evidence to speculate about)

Anyway, money is 3 things to her: it's something people use to get what they want, it's a burden and it's something that needs to be taken great care of. It's both a commodity and a child to her, she doesn't particularly "like" having it yet she thinks it's in need of care by someone she knows she could trust, it's a pet she doesn't want since it attracts so many people who want to pet it. By the end of the episode she treats her money like it has feelings, it "hates being in a bank" (presumably because it's "uncomfortable" since Aunt Jane is swayed as Moominpappa describes how nice they are), it "has never felt so welcomed", it "will miss [Jane]" and it "needs to get used to Moominpappa", the thing is she hasn't treated it like an entity with feelings until her breakdown near the end of the episode. Moominpappa's "ungratefulness" broke her so much that she resorted to characterizing her money, and it's unclear if she ever has done this before in her life. It's odd to me, but her life does revolve around the thing, for all we know she's gone for extended periods of time talking to her money when she feels particularly unsafe/alone, but I digress.

Aunt Jane has presumably spent alot of her life taking care of her money and fears growing too old to do so anymore, so she turns to the only person she believes she could trust to continue that legacy. She has enough wealth to do whatever her heart desires, And what is her social reward for having such wealth to look after?

3. A woman millionaire

Misogyny exists. Yes, even in the moominverse, it sucks but it's true even if it isn't explicit sexism. Jane is presumably single, she had someone by the name of Fredrick who she was "frivolous" with but clearly that didn't work out as implied with the tone of her voice when she drops that information, Jane is alone in her wealth and that leaves her open to many people who believe they can get themselves some cash for whatever venture they want to pursue. It has happened plenty of times before in her life and it has happened within the episode when 3 males come up to her asking for funds, of course they didn't seem to care that she is a woman, not a word of it was even mentioned, but it's an issue that may be less present if she wasn't. Nobody is intimidated by her aside from Moominpappa who has met her, Snork and Sniff think they can weasel a family inheritance if they just do enough logical leaps, Mr. Hemulen just assumes she'd be interested from his botany credentials alone, and none of them really listen to her, they just talk over eachother trying to convince her to give them money until she bursts out yelling at them to shut up.

And she has to have some traditional feminity instilled in her, given the way she stands when Sniff knocks and gets in her room, how she arrived to Moomin Valley under a pink shade with curtains, having someone else carry her suitcase for her, being bothered at how small Little My is, her whole outfit among other small things, she seems to have been raised on traditional values, and those values, well, they don't lend well to someone of her status. She can be bossy and terrifying (and surprisingly powerful) but she's not respected by anyone that we know of, nobody's explicitly treated her kindly besides Moominmamma and maybe everyone at the welcome party if you count that, everyone only cares about her because of her money. Moominpappa is scared of her money and every other male only cares to get it from her for their own gain, she just can't win as a millionairess because any care directed towards her is actually care directed towards her money. And what does that treatment leave her as?

4. A bitter, lonely maiden

Jane is very, very alone. Nobody likes her as a person and the fact nobody likes her as a person only makes her more bitter and unlikable, it's a feedback loop. She doesn't seem to have anyone, and I mean, literally ANYONE. We have her rower but he's just a random guy she pays for all we know, she just sits there and stares blankly at the pink curtains until the guy rings the bell and she gets out, she just has no personal connection with anyone even by the end of the episode. Speaking of the end of the episode; she literally cries because she hasn't felt so welcomed by anyone IN HER LIFE (side note: I know I'm not supposed to bring up the comics but she actually cries when Moominpappa uses the word fond on her and it makes me so upset because she's treated even worse there too)

She's angry and alone because people use her for her money and don't care about her, everybody cares only about her money including herself, the only times she'd pay mind to her own self as a person is when she's flabbergasted at Moominpappa "BEING AFRAID OF HIS OWN AUNT!?" or when she feels disrespected by My teasing her about how she used to be frivolous with someone, Little My doesn't really care about her, she just takes her to Moominpappa to view the chaos that would ensue at such a meeting of two worlds. Moominpappa says she doesn't let people have a moment of peace yet it looks like she doesn't have a moment's peace herself, there's literally one moment and it's the one second she sits on her bed before Sniff knocks on the door.

Aunt Jane is both pitiful and somewhat sympathetic, she's an antagonist who's clearly not a good person but she has her own very understandable reasons as to why she's the way that she is. And what do we take from this?

5. Conclusion

I don't know if you know this but uhm, capitalism is bad, folks. It really just brings out the worst in people wether it's the scummy ways they gain money or the problems money causes for your mental health, and in Jane's case it's the latter. It's unclear how she got the money to begin with, I assume it's inherited but I could be wrong obviously, though I don't think that question could truly be answered. Aunt Jane is insistent on keeping her wealth and only giving her wealth away to her own family even if it's the root of her problems, but also Snork and Mr. Hemulen only ask for her money so they can continue with their hopes and dreams, Sniff is well, Sniff, but I'm pretty sure he's traumatized into believing he's only worth the wealth he has so that's another capitalistic problem.

Moominpappa is happy the way he is without the money, the Moomin family is decidedly non-capitalistic and Moominpappa knows nothing about how it works, so he chooses to simply not have it. They simply don't need it with the way things are.

And I suppose that was the appeal of the Moomins franchise that got people hooked into the fantasy of living there, it's pure freedom from an oppressive system that doesn't even give people what they're worth, it's being able to be yourself with a small, loving and accepting community.

But Aunt Jane never had that, which makes her feel out of place in this valley more than other outsider characters do in the show. And like the weirdly smooth and good animation that was clearly outsourced to a different studio for this one specific episode, being rich looks nice, but the cutthroat system of how it's made probably doesn't make it worth it.

[gingersnapwolves]

The Untamed, a brief summary [Part 1/6]

Okay my friends, I have heard your calls. Here’s my play-by-play version of The Untamed.

Note the first: I’m dividing it up into sections because it is, after all, a 50 episode series and I doubt anyone will want to wade through it all in one go.

Note the second: I am going to try to be as unbiased as possible. There are different ways to interpret some of the characters’ actions, especially later in the show when things get morally complex. You can find oceans of meta on this stuff, so I will try not to pick a side when at all possible. 

Note the third: I’m going to keep the tone pretty light and humorous. This show gets *dark* in the middle but y’all are reading a summary and I don’t want it to get too dry or too depressing. Please pardon me if I am flippant from time to time.

Part One: Sword Wizard School

I thought about doing a character guide but decided it would be easier to introduce you to characters as we meet them, because there are a LOT of characters. However, I am going to give you a brief primer on the important families/places.

Actually, let me back up a little further. The Untamed is a xianxia drama, so it’s about people trying to become immortal celestial beings. They fight monsters and do a lot of magic, and they live in clans/sects. A clan is a family. A sect is a cultivation style/school. The terms are often used interchangeably (even I’m guilty) but they are not exactly the same. Members of a clan will belong to that sect, but the sect will also take in outsiders to train, who are sect members but not clan members.

There are five Great Sects:

Province: Yunmeng; sect: Jiang, home: Lotus Pier

Province: Gusu, sect: Lan, home: Cloud Recesses

Province: Lanling, sect: Jin, home: Koi/Carp Tower

Province: Qinghe, sect: Nie, home: The Unclean Realm (this is not to say it is dirty, it’s from Buddhism and might also translate to ‘The Worldly Realm’)

Province: Qishan, sect: Wen, home: Nightless City/Nevernight (depending on translation) 

Here’s a map I made for my fic reference which shows roughly where these provinces are in relation to each other. I may have pretended they were cities in America so I could calculate mileage. Yes I am the world’s biggest nerd, thanks.

H’okay! The show is not in chronological order but I am going in chronological order because the point is to make this simple for you. I’ll admit that I may not get everything 100% correct because it’s been a while since I watched parts of it but I’ll try.

Setting: Caiyi Town, [Gusu]

ENTER A GREMLIN.

Meet Wei Wuxian. He is a 16 year old chaos gremlin with ADHD. He does not look 16 but actors in American dramas pretending to be teenagers also do not look 16 so we’ll let that go. He is with his adopted brother (also 16ish, but younger than Wei Wuxian) Jiang Cheng, and his adopted older sister, Jiang Yanli (probably about 6 years older).

Oh, right. Names. Most characters have two names, a birth name and a ‘courtesy’ name which is a fancy name they get when they’re old enough to get their swords and stuff. They also have titles. For the sake of not driving y’all crazy, I will choose the most commonly used name for the character and stick with it, and then give you a chart at the end so you’ll understand fanfiction.

Wei Wuxian and his siblings are headed to Sword Wizard School in Gusu, hosted by the Lan sect. Wei Wuxian is clearly planning to Be Himself during these lectures, and Jiang Cheng does Not Approve. Jiang Cheng is obviously very serious and concerned with appearances, which makes sense because he is the sect heir. As an adopted son, Wei Wuxian can goof off; Jiang Cheng does not have that luxury. (Wei Wuxian is the son of two of Jiang Cheng’s father’s friends, who died when he was young. More on this later.) Jiang Cheng reminds Wei Wuxian and the other disciples that are with them that they are representing the Jiang sect and they should make a good impression.

They don’t think they can get to Cloud Recesses before dark so they get rooms at an inn.

ENTER A SNOB.

Jin Zixuan is the next fun character you’ll meet. He’s also 16 or thereabouts despite looking 24 at minimum. He is a sect heir to the Lanling Jin and he does not like being near or interacting with strangers. He pays the innkeeper to rent the whole inn and throw any other guests out. Is this a dick move? I’m trying to be unbiased here, so yes. Yes it is.

Wei Wuxian tries to flirt with a couple of Jin Zixuan’s retainers to get them to allow the Yunmeng siblings to stay, but Jin Zixuan decides to be a big jerk about it. Fun fact! Jin Zixuan is betrothed to Jiang Yanli! He is literally throwing his betrothed out of an inn so he doesn’t have to share a building with people. Wei Wuxian gets pissy and picks a fight with him but Jiang Yanli convinces him that he’s not worth it (although she is much nicer about it than any of us would be in her shoes), and they decide to head up to Cloud Recesses despite the time.

But alas! In their haste, they leave their invitation behind.

ENTER AN ICE PRINCE

As the Yunmeng trio try to talk their way past the gate, Lan Wangji arrives. Also 16, he is your classic stoic, repressed gay, and is the younger brother of the Lan Sect leader. With him are a bunch of Lan cultivators and a guy on a stretcher who is clearly in rough shape. The Lan cultivators carry him inside.

Wei Wuxian, pure of heart and dumb of ass, decides that this is a great time to try to talk his way through the gate, figuring that Lan Wangji, being an important person, can let them in. Lan Wangji reacts about how you would expect a stoic repressed gay would to a cute boy flirting with him for the first time: uses a silencing spell on him, tells him he’s absolutely not admitted without their invitation, and locks them out. 

Jiang Cheng, who has spent the last 3 minutes desperately trying to get his brother to shut up before he gets them all in trouble, sends him back to town to find the invitation.

Int. Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

ENTER A SOFT MAN AND HIS EXTREMELY STARCHED UNCLE

Lan Xichen, the head of the Lan sect and Lan Wangji’s older brother, is studying the guy they brought in, with his uncle. Lan Xichen is young for a sect leader (he’s only 19 in the book but probably 24-25ish in the show) and his uncle advises him a lot of the time. The guy they brought is kind of dead but also kind of not. They say a bunch of stuff you won’t understand if you have not seen xianxia dramas before. It’s not really important.

Ext. Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

RE-ENTER THE GREMLIN

Wei Wuxian has come back with the invitation to find the rest of his sect no longer waiting outside and all of Cloud Recesses sealed by wards. “Wards are made to be broken,” he says, demonstrating a clear lack of understanding of their purpose. It’s a good thing he’s here for school.

He breaks in, carrying a couple jars of liquor, only to find Lan Wangji standing guard. Lan Wangji reprimands him for breaking important Lan sect rules like a) not breaking and entering, b) not coming in after dark, and c) bringing alcohol, which is forbidden. Wei Wuxian offers him one of the jars because he is 16 and stupid and for some reason thought a bribe was what this situation needed. Lan Wangji pulls a sword on him, which is definitely a reasonable response and not because he has his first boner and he’s angry about it.

They have a sword fight, basically to a draw. Lan Wangji drags him in to see Lan Xichen, who clearly thinks this is hilarious. Wei Wuxian blames everything on Jin Zixuan and Lan Wangji. He also says intelligent things about the not-a-corpse they’re examining, because the writers wanted us to know that he’s not a whole dumbass. Lan Xichen basically slaps him on the wrist, tells him to behave himself and sends him off to the guest house his siblings were given, and then teases Lan Wangji about Baby’s First Crush.

Ext, Nightless City [Qishan]

ENTER AN OVER THE TOP VILLAIN AND HIS HENCHMEN

Nightless City isn’t actually nightless. It’s just never dark there because it’s on top of a volcano, because that’s where all the cool villains live.

This is the home of the Qishan Wen, who are Obviously Evil from the Black Outfits, Volcano Lair, and Shuffling Zombies. Their leader is Wen Ruohan. His personality is that he is evil. He’s saying a bunch of stuff you won’t understand yet and then sends his Obnoxious Son Wen Chao off to look for something. He also sends Wen Qing, who is related to him somehow, presumably. She asks if she can bring her brother, Wen Ning, and Wen Ruohan says sure because all he cares about is Being Evil in his Zombie Volcano Lair.

Int, Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

ENTER A SLACKER and his friend, EVERY RETAIL EMPLOYEE DEALING WITH A KAREN YOU’VE EVER MET. 

They’re all at the first lecture, and there’s a ceremony where each visiting sect presents a gift to Lan Qiren (the uncle/teacher). I think we might see what the Jin give him but I don’t care. Right now we’re talking about Nie Huaisang, the younger brother of the sect leader of the Nie sect. He is baby. He has brought a bird to class for no reason other than that he caught it and thinks it’s cool. Presenting to the dour and stern Lan Qiren makes him nervous.

With him is Meng Yao. Unlike everyone else you’ve met so far, Meng Yao is not a member of the gentry. He is the son of the Jin sect leader and a prostitute. (Yes, this makes him Jin ‘I can’t breathe the same air as commoners’ Zixuan’s younger brother.) When he was old enough to do Sword Magic he went to the Jin sect and asked for admittance, and his father had him thrown down a set of 200 steps because his father is an Enormous Douche. (That’s not biased. Hating this dude is one of the few things everyone agrees on.) Then he went to the Nie sect, and they said, “Sure, you can come in, but you’re not really a disciple, mmkay?” and he said sure. But he has worked his way up to being the assistant to the sect leader which is a pretty important position for someone with his background. 

Naturally, because Meng Yao is Not Like the Others, a few people take this opportunity to gossip and talk smack about him. Meng Yao is upset but tries not to look it. Lan Xichen takes a moment to reassure him, saying that the Nie sect leader had written to him about what a helpful and awesome assistant he had now, and that Meng Yao obviously lived up to it. Meng Yao immediately develops the world’s Most Obvious Crush Don’t @ Me You Would Too.

ENTER MR. OBNOXIOUS, AN IRON MAIDEN, and A PUPPY. Fortunately these are the last characters you’ll meet for a while.

The Wen sect shows up at the gates of Cloud Recesses like ‘what up, I got a big attitude and fuck you’. The gate dude tells them they can’t come in without an invitation, and Wen Chao attacks him because he was raised in a volcano and they go in anyway. With Wen Chao are Wen Qing and her brother, Wen Ning. They are actually pretty awesome, you just don’t know it yet.

Wen Chao busts in on the Saluting Ceremony just as Jiang Cheng is trying to present their gift, and immediately begins insulting everyone there. You should count yourself fortunate that you’re only reading this because Wen Chao is literally the most obnoxious character in this show. Anyway, Wei Wuxian decides to pick a fight with him even though this is *obviously* a stupid thing to do. (I love Wei Wuxian with my whole heart but he is so stupid at 16 lmao.) He calls Wen Chao out on interrupting Jiang Cheng. Wen Chao reacts completely rationally and calmly BAHAHA who am I kidding, he pulls his sword out. Everyone else pulls their swords out. Wen Qing looks like she has the world’s worst migraine.

Lan Xichen takes out his flute and plays eight seconds of music that makes everyone’s swords go flying into the ceiling. Had I mentioned how awesome Lan Xichen is? Because he is Awesome.

Wen Chao gets even more pissy but Wen Qing shuts him down, saying she and her brother are there for Sword Wizard School and she’s sorry her cousin is such an asshole. Lan Xichen tells them to ‘try to come on time’ tomorrow. Had I mentioned how awesome Lan Xichen is? It bears repeating.

Ext, Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

Wei Wuxian is making fast friends with Nie Huaisang. They decide to go fishing in one of the streams. He sees Wen Qing sneaking around and asks what she’s doing there. She blows him off.

Meng Yao stops Lan Xichen and says goodbye to him. Lan Xichen asks why he’s leaving so soon, and Meng Yao says that he can’t actually stay for the lectures, since he’s only an assistant to the Nie sect, not a disciple. Lan Xichen tells him that Nie Mingjue (the head of the Nie sect) is just and honorable and will surely reward him for working so hard. They make heart eyes at each other for like a solid thirty seconds before Meng Yao manages to leave.  I’m sorry, I’m trying to be unbiased. They gaze at each other longingly – no, shit, that’s still biased. They, uh, regard each other with mutual respect for thirty solid seconds and then Meng Yao leaves.

Meanwhile Jiang Cheng is Fretting about the fact that Wei Wuxian is Making a Bad Impression. He ain’t seen nothing yet. Jiang Yanli calms him down.

Wen Qing talks to her brother Wen Ning and is sad because he’s sick. She promises him that someday they’ll be able to leave Nightless City.

Int, Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

Lan Qiren is lecturing. Wei Wuxian proposes some casual heresy. Lan Qiren gets mad and tells him to copy the Chapter of Conduct a thousand times, and throws him out of class. Jiang Cheng tries to crawl under his desk.

Instead of going to copy lines, Wei Wuxian wanders off and meets A PUPPY, ie Wen Ning. He is practicing his archery. Wei Wuxian proceeds to help him with his stance and Wen Ning looks like he just discovered his bisexuality. Wen Qing sees them together and is clearly not thrilled. Wei Wuxian asks her why she’s always wandering around the back hills of Cloud Recesses and asks if she’s looking for something. She tells him not to be stupid and leaves with her brother.

Lan Wangji drags Wei Wuxian back to the library for his punishment. Wei Wuxian proceeds to spend the next few hours doing Everything That Is Not That, which culminates in him exchanging Lan Wangji’s book for some porn when he’s not looking. Lan Wangji tears the porn up and tells him to piss off.

~romance~

Jiang Cheng: I hope you’re proud of yourself.

Wei Wuxian: I absolutely am.

They go back to their guest house. Wen Qing is there. She’s a doctor! Told you she was awesome. Jiang Yanli wasn’t feeling well and Wen Qing gave her some medicine. They talk about the fact that there aren’t lectures for a few days because Lan Qiren is off doing Official Stuff.

But there’s still fun to be had! There’s a water demon attacking people in the nearby town. Lan Xichen is worried that it’s serious and he’s going to go himself. Lan Wangji goes with him. Wei Wuxian asks if he and Jiang Cheng can go ‘get some practice’ as they fight lots of water demons in Yunmeng. Lan Xichen, remembering his brother’s obvious crush, says sure. Wen Ning wants to go too. So does Wen Qing. Lan Xichen suddenly feels like a chaperone on a field trip but says fine because he’s the cool older brother.

Wei Wuxian takes the opportunity to ask questions about the not-a-corpse from earlier. Lan Xichen politely tells him that’s it handled and not to worry about it. Wei Wuxian thinks there’s something he’s not telling him, and he mentions that to Lan Wangji, who agrees but won’t say so. Wei Wuxian can tell anyway because he’s learning to read Lan Wangji’s microexpressions.

They fight a water demon. Jiang Cheng gets injured and Wen Qing patches him up. He looks at her with puppy eyes. Some dumbass loses his sword in the water. Wen Ning tries to help him despite being uniquely unqualified to do so, and passes out. Wei Wuxian tries to rescue both of them, and Lan Wangji ends up rescuing all three of them despite clearly wanting to let the water demon eat them. Jiang Cheng buys a comb to give to Wen Qing but chickens out and doesn’t give it to her. Wei Wuxian deduces that Wen Ning’s illness is because of a previous bad experience with ghostly spirits or something, and gives Wen Qing a talisman to give to her brother that will help protect him from monsters. He says that no matter what she’s looking for at Cloud Recesses, he hopes the talisman will help Wen Ning.

Then he tries to buy Lan Wangji some fruit as a gift. Lan Wangji refuses to look at him. Lan Xichen starts mentally writing wedding invitations.

Ext. Nightless City [Qishan]

ENTER AN EDGELORD (sorry I forgot about him, in fact I think this happened earlier but the timing isn’t really important)

Meet Xue Yang. You have no idea who he is. Wen Ruohan is demanding he hand over something called yin iron. Xue Yang’s response to this is basically ‘choke me harder, Daddy’ and you’re left feeling vaguely disturbed.

Int. Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

It’s party time! Wei Wuxian smuggled some liquor back with him. He, Jiang Cheng, and Nie Huaisang get drunk. They give Jiang Cheng a hard time about his high standards for women.

Lan Wangji comes in like the hall monitor you hated in high school to break it up. Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang run away. Wei Wuxian uses a talisman on Lan Wangji to keep him from reporting them and make him take a drink of the alcohol. We all remind ourselves very firmly that he is only 16 and will do stupid shit, despite wanting to slap him. Lan Wangji has never had alcohol before and one drink makes him blackout drunk. Wei Wuxian has to babysit him for the rest of the night. Serves him right.

The next day, they’re all in trouble, even Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian tries to tell Lan Qiren that it’s not Lan Wangji’s fault, but Lan Wangji accepts his punishment anyway. They get hit with a stick a bunch of times.

Lan Wangji goes to recuperate in the cold springs. Lan Xichen, the world’s biggest troll, sends Wei Wuxian to do the same. Lan Wangji nearly has an aneurysm when Wei Wuxian tries to start taking his clothes off.

ENTER THE PLOT

They get pulled underwater and end up in a cave. It’s a magic cave where only members of the Lan clan are allowed to be. To keep the cave from killing him, Lan Wangji wraps his Magic Forehead Ribbon around Wei Wuxian’s wrist. This is the same magic forehead ribbon he told Wei Wuxian ten episode minutes ago that only parents, spouses, and children are allowed to touch. Draw what conclusions you will.

There’s a ghostly lady in the cave who is Lan Wangji’s ancestor. She tells them Evil Is Abroad. A long time ago a dude named Xue Chonghai took a bunch of pieces of metal and filled them full of evil energy. Everyone banded together and killed him, but the metal couldn’t be completely destroyed, so it was split into ‘the cardinal directions’ and then sealed and hidden. Ah ha! This is what Wen Ruohan is looking for! It’s called Evil MacGuffin yin iron.

Wei Wuxian says if it’s so powerful, why don’t they use it to fight back? Ghost lady says she tried that but it’s too evil and it doesn’t work. She gives them the piece that was sealed in the cave and tells them to go fight evil together. Lan Wangji is glad it’s too cold to have a boner.

Except then she throws them out of the cave and onto dry land and Wei Wuxian lands on top of him and he definitely gets one from that. Sorry, Lan Wangji, I don’t make the rules.

They’ve been missing for two days and everyone is really upset, especially Jiang Cheng, who thinks Wei Wuxian was just goofing off.

Lan Xichen takes the piece of yin iron they got in the cave and seals it in a pouch. They discuss the fact that Wen Ruohan is clearly collecting the pieces of yin iron and this is Bad News Bears. The yin iron will respond to other pieces of yin iron so they decide they should use the piece they have to locate the other pieces.

But first, classes are over! Despite the fact that each of these events has led seamlessly into the next and it seems like they’ve been there a week, they’ve actually been there six months. If you dealt with the Teen Wolf ‘timeline’ I assume you can deal with that lmao.

There’s a lantern-lighting ceremony to celebrate. Wei Wuxian paints a rabbit on his lantern because there were a bunch of rabbits in the cave and Lan Wangji clearly likes rabbits. This makes Lan Wangji smile for the first time. They all light their lanterns and make a wish.

Wei Wuxian wishes he can stand with justice and live without regrets. Lan Wangji looks at him like he’s about to propose. Wen Qing wishes she could protect her little brother and that he’ll always be safe. Jiang Cheng looks at her like he’s about to propose. Nie Huaisang wishes he can pass his classes and get the hell out of high school. Truly, the most relatable.

But the moment is ruined because people start teasing Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli, asking why they didn’t light a lantern together and wish for a happy marriage. Jin Zixuan, the paragon of reacting reasonably to things, storms off. He tells his sect members he doesn’t want to hear about the marriage and they should stop bringing it up. Wei Wuxian overhears and they get into a fight. Jiang Yanli manages to get Wei Wuxian to back off.

The next day, Wei Wuxian is being punished for punching a jerk in the face. He is kneeling on the rocks of the courtyard. But he’s already gotten distracted because there’s an anthill and he has ADHD. Lan Wangji calls him ‘unteachable’ and stomps off, clearly mad at his boner like usual.

Because this is kind of important, the two sect leaders have showed up to hash it out. Jiang Yanli’s dad says ‘listen, if your son doesn’t want to marry my daughter, we shouldn’t force him’. Jin Zixuan’s dad says, ‘kids are stupid and they don’t know what they want’. Jiang Yanli’s dad says, ‘well I absolutely agree your son is stupid but he’s being a jerk to my daughter so why don’t we politely call this off before something happens that makes one of us impolitely call it off’, and Jin Zixuan’s dad agrees. Jiang Yanli is upset, although why she actually wanted to marry Jin Zixuan is beyond everyone involved, including the audience. Then again it can’t be easy to hear that some dude who has barely even met you has decided you’re not good enough for him.

Meanwhile, Wei Wuxian sees Lan Xichen telling Lan Wangji ‘be careful’ and correctly deduces that Lan Wangji is leaving with the yin iron to try to find the other pieces, while Lan Xichen stays behind to protect Cloud Recesses since the Wen sect thinks it’s still there. He leaves a note that says ‘gone monster hunting, meet you back at home!’ Jiang Cheng nearly has an aneurysm, especially when his dad is like ‘lmao that kid is such a dumbass’.

~end Sword Wizard School~

okay, guys, what did you think? was this helpful? could you follow it? was it at least vaguely entertaining? should I keep going?

[gisellelx]

Faces

Carlisle x Esme 2200 words

for @needahugfromesme

Faces

Fall, 1934 Amherst, MA

It was an utterly ordinary afternoon. Rosalie and Edward had recently returned from university, and the sounds of their bickering rose up the stairs. Why the two of them did not find their peace elsewhere, she didn’t know. She might send them off to hunt, she thought. Perhaps in different counties.

Yet there was something familiar about the way the two of them had fallen into rhythm as siblings. Edward, older and younger brother at once. Rosalie, full of disastrously-won wisdom and always aggrieved, unwilling to listen to Edward’s point of view. There was no sign that they would ever be the partners Esme’s husband had once imagined, hoping that a woman might solve the same hole in Edward’s heart that Esme herself had solved in his. And yet there was a camaraderie in their arguments and insults, a rhythm to their family dynamic that somehow made it more whole. They were true siblings—occasionally quietly bonded over the latest news from Chevrolet, more often sniping like children about closed bedroom doors.

Carlisle, though—he was more difficult. Rosalie had snapped at him before he’d left for work. Her resentment knew no bounds, exacerbated by the knowledge that even in his moment of profoundly foolish savior-complex, he had been thinking of Edward, and the pain that still burned in his own heart, two years after their prodigal son had returned…

Esme wasn’t sure Rosalie would ever forgive him.

She wasn’t sure Rosalie should.

Her husband didn’t know how to relate to a daughter, Esme understood. His son had completed him so fully—unlocking with his gift the centuries of solitude which made Carlisle Cullen who he was. Like everything of importance Carlisle did, he had turned Rosalie it rashly, without regard to her effects on anyone else.

Rosalie was just strong enough to force him to pay the price for that.

Esme recalled her husband’s slumped shoulders as he exited the house after the latest round of berating from his daughter. The look in his eyes of utter defeat.

“She’ll cool off,” Esme had whispered to him hours before, but she hadn’t—as usual, she had taken her discomfort out on Edward. And as Esme listened to the voices reaching a fever pitch downstairs—a back and forth which grew increasingly intense but did not reach a point where she needed to intervene—she selected charcoal, her hand flying across the paper on her easel before she even knew what she was beginning. As so many times before, it was her husband’s face her fingers brought to mind. She had drawn him how many dozens of times in the ten years between the time she had met him and when she had awoken to this new life. The high cheekbones, the square jaw, the singular lock of utterly unruly hair at his temple which seemed to exist only to prove that there were some things Carlisle Cullen could never control. She had forced herself to recall those features over and over, to render them in more permanent forms—charcoal, pencil, oil pastel. Over and over she had drawn him until his face had been committed not only to the memory of her mind but also the memory of her fingers.

She had never planned to have a daughter. She had known, somehow, from the moment she felt the first strange sensation in her abdomen. Not a kick or a flutter or any of the things that her girlfriends had told her to expect, but instead as though some of her internal organs simply…flipped over. She had touched her own belly in awe, and had known right then, without thinking, that it was a male child. Perhaps a daughter would have softened her husband, but she knew, somehow, that a male child was in greater danger. That he would not be protected; that he would be pushed, that the expectation upon his barely-formed shoulders would be impossible. It had been that conviction that had put her on the Great Lakes train, whisked her to a state she’d never seen before,  and which later drove her from her cousin’s to the very northern tip of the country.

Then her son had been born, with his tiny squalling body and his perfect smell, only to be ripped away fewer than two days later. And she had reached out in despair and found not her son, but the gentle face she had sketched for  a decade, staring down at her.

Today, as she laid out the roughest of her husband’s familiar form, Esme was not fully aware that somehow, she had softened the beautiful severity of his cheekbones, that she had added subtle curvature to the sharpness of his jaw. But she had done so, and it wasn’t Carlisle’s face which was emerging.

It had been an entire year, now, that their family of three had been a family of four. And a scant single score of years that the hardened bachelor and his beloved son had welcomed any feminine presence into their lives. She had worried about being a bother to them both, and she knew, that sometimes, she was—the way Edward’s eyes would narrow from time to time, the way Carlisle shadowed him when he was upset.

And so she tried. She tried to reach to Rosalie. She tried to bridge the shared elements of their past, only to be met with the coldest of shoulders. This family, Rosalie seemed to say, was the world of the men. Rose hated Carlisle for his hubris, hated Edward for his gift, and if she didn’t hate Esme, it was only for Esme’s shared experience of these two things.

So, as she thought of her daughter, listened to bickering give way to quiet conversation, and then to silence, and then to the gentle chords of a sonata, the cheekbones softened, the jawbone became subtler, the high forehead became heart-shaped with a widow’s peak. The nose became thinner, the lips softer, and the single unruly lock of golden hair became dozens, spilling onto shoulders which sloped more gently.

It was difficult for vampires to get fully lost in work, and so she heard when the front door open and close. Edward was still playing, and wherever Rose had moved to—her bedroom, if the distance to her scent was to believed—she was quiet. So Esme knew that her husband was home even before she heard a briefcase drop gently to the floor and before the waft of smoked cinnamon made its way to her nose. She had a split-second to consider this fact before warm lips had buried themselves where her neck met her collarbone.

“What are you drawing,” her husband muttered, and she shook her head.

“Nothing.”

“It’s never nothing.” He stepped back and appraised the easel, reaching out with one hand. She laid down her charcoal and smacked his arm playfully.

“It isn’t nothing. But I’m not finished yet. Go bother the children.”

He sighed. “They’re fighting.”

“They’ve been fighting all afternoon. It’s quieter, now.”

Her husband chuckled, pressing his lips to her neck again. “I apologize for leaving you alone all day with that.”  

She shook her head. “Edward plays impromptus when he’s angry with Rose. It’s good background.” It had been Fauré , today—the impossibly fast descending scales across the keyboard, sounding like water. Esme had never bothered to learn the details of classical music before, but now it was impossible not to—she marveled at times at the way her mind was able to store the names of styles and composers and even the actual beats of the music itself. She hadn’t cared, before, but with Edward, it became a thing about which one cared. To love Edward was to love his piano, and that meant that all of them learned to understand it.

“Give me another half-hour?” she asked.

Her husband nodded, kissing her neck again and then disappearing. The piano stopped mid-phrase, and she heard only one-sided murmurs which told her that Carlisle and Edward were engaged in one of their desperately intimate conversations. If she strained, she could hear them, no doubt, but she chose not to, letting her hand bring shape to the face whose provenance she now understood. She kept the long eyelashes, and the light-hued eyes. She made the lips ever so slightly fuller, and drew the slightest hint of a bosom at the bottom of the page.

It was longer than a half hour before Carlisle returned. From the subtle addition to his scent, it seemed likely he had been sitting with Edward at the piano, having one of their near-silent conversations. Edward could read Carlisle’s mind, of course, but after a decade and a half, it often seemed that Carlisle could read Edward’s almost as surely. They often sat in silent companionship, Edward plying, Carlisle listening, bonded by their thoughts and impenetrable by either Rosalie or Esme.

Carlisle kissed her before even bothering to look at the easel. She let herself fall into the kiss, the way her husband’s supple lips moved against her own. It was only several minutes later that he seemed to remember what he had intended to inquire after, and pulled away to appraise the drawing. His head cocked to one side as he gazed at it, his mouth falling open slightly in recognition.

He had revealed this sad fact in their very first conversation. She, half-delirious from the laudanum, he, trying bravely to keep his demeanor professional. Yet she recalled it with her hazy, opiate-influenced human memory, nearly with the same crystal clarity that he did. As she’d asked after his name, and after receiving his title, asked his first name, which he had, to his own surprise, volunteered.

“I’ve never met a Carlisle before,” she’d told him, and he’d only smirked.

“Nor I an Esme. One wonders why you are not a Mary, or a Margaret.”

And she’d returned his smile and his gentle banter. She had inquired where the unusual name had come from, and he had answered that perhaps it was his mother’s maiden name, and then she had asked after his mother, eliciting the same pained, faraway look that graced his features now as he explained how and when she had died...

“Not knowing what your father looked like,” Esme offered as he stared silently, “I wasn’t sure which of your features to subtract, but…”

The gulp was audible. “No,” her husband said quietly, “I imagine this is about right.” Another deep swallow, then: “What brought this on?”

She shrugged. “I’m not even sure myself.” Involuntarily, her right hand opened and closed, feeling the ghost of the charcoal still in her fingers. She sighed.

“Rosalie,” she said quietly.

Carlisle shot her a quizzical look.

“I suppose I was thinking about Rosalie. And how you left with her still angry.”

There were two stools in her studio, one before each easel, both unnecessary in the strictest sense, but they encouraged the right posture for sweeping her arm across wide paper or canvas. Carlisle pulled the second one near her and sat down, his lips suddenly pressed tight.

“She hates me,” he muttered.

Esme nodded. “Sometimes, yes. You don’t always make it easy for her.”

He thrust a hand into his hair, and the unruly lock fell through his fingers. When he spoke again, his voice was clipped with frustration. “I just want her to be happy.”

“You can’t force people to be happy, Carlisle.”

To her surprise, he chuckled. “You’d think that after what happened with Edward, I’d know that.”

She laughed in answer. Two years on, their mercurial son was beginning to recover from his shame and anger. Gentler songs came from the piano more often than not, and every now and then, even an original composition. Slowly, month by month, arpeggio by arpeggio, he was coming back to them.

“I suppose…” she began. When she hadn’t finished her sentence a moment later, Carlisle prodded.

“You suppose?”

She gestured. She had drawn the woman with the same tired but indulgently kind eyes her husband had. Eyes that suggested that whatever the person being looked on was wont to do, they would be forgiven. They would be loved.

“You have a daughter now,” she said gently. “I thought it might be helpful for you to remember that once, you had a mother, too.”

Her husband’s thin lips pressed together even more tightly, and she saw his adam’s apple move yet again. She stood up, brushing the charcoal off her fingertips against her skirt as she leaned in to kiss his cheek. She laid a hand on his shoulder briefly, then went down the stairs.

It was nearly two hours of listening to the piano later, watching Rosalie read and pretend not to care what Edward was playing, before Esme bothered to creep back up to her studio. The door was still open a crack, and the air was still thick with the smoked cinnamon that was her husband’s scent as she peeked inside.

Carlisle sat alone in the utter dark, his legs crossed, the moonbeams shading in through the window making his skin a translucent blue white as he gazed up into the portrait’s kind, pale eyes. Slowly, his hand crept from his side to reach out, the pad of his finger tracing the jawline she had sketched. And then it hung there, index finger outstretched, as though it was not the strong, assured hand of a surgeon but the beseeching hand of a child, reaching, desperately, across space and time.

Quietly, Esme pulled the door closed and went to find her daughter.

[once-upon-a-pirate-ship]

How Restlessly the Stars Do Gleam 1/?

Here we go! Comment/reblog/share/dm me (always).

Summary: Princess Emma isn't the princess of much anymore. It's been months since her parents and brother were taken, and she's been on the run with her godmother Red (she's a werewolf and doesn't age, whether or not that detail is canon because I honestly can't remember). When Emma and Red board a merchant vessel to sail to Arendelle, Emma quickly finds that the captain is not to be trusted. After helping two slave brothers (Liam and Killian, if you didn't figure that out already), Emma takes over the ship and begins her journey to save and rebuild her kingdom.

We've got action, we've got adventure, we've got the most badass Emma I've ever written--there's tension and brothers and curses and love! What more could you want? (Is it Will Scarlet? Because he's also gonna be in this)

Story rating: M for the violence and stuff (just to be on the safe side because this will probably get dark very quickly) though there will also be other stuff later.

Chapter 1: Unfit for a Princess

Chapter word count: 6.7k (whoops. I know I said 4k, but I couldn't help it)

Read it on AO3

Most people probably would’ve been surprised at the things she’s seen. They certainly hadn’t been fit for a princess, though she wasn’t the princess of much anymore. Her lands had been trampled, her castle destroyed, but what devastated her the most was the loss of her people and the lives taken. Perhaps she could’ve withstood all of that, had her brother and her parents not been stolen from her as well. Months on the run and time wasted spent searching for something she couldn’t even name, but when Emma boarded a merchant vessel with her godmother Red at her side and her sword on her hip, she had to trust that she was headed towards that something.

Captain Silver never would’ve been her first pick. But his ship was one of the few that still sailed her kingdom’s waters, and his papers claimed allegiance to her parents. It was the first they’d found in the weeks they’d watched the port.

Silver was a slimy fellow, broad shoulders and yellowing teeth and he leered at Emma and Red from his place at the helm.

“We can’t exactly be choosy, Emma,” Red murmured, but by the way her eyes flashed when she glanced back at the captain, she’d been thinking the same thing.

Emma scanned the deck rather than focus on Silver, her eyes flitting from person to person as she surveyed the crew and their movements. Her gut tangled itself into a knot at the scene before her, though there was nothing innately wrong about anything she saw.

But Emma had spent her whole life training. Her father had put a sword in her hand as soon as she was big enough to hold it on her own. Her mother followed with a bow not long after. Tracking, fighting, surviving—these lessons were interwoven between court etiquette classes and political strategy lectures. Her parents had taught her to trust her instincts, and that feeling in her stomach told her that something wasn’t right.

“Let’s just keep our heads down and get to Arendelle,” Red advised, her voice cool. Emma’s godmother was a fiery woman, a force of nature who didn’t need her wolf form to take down men twice her size. But she was also her only counsel, the only one who had made it out of the attack.

And she was right, of course. Emma knew that. But Emma also knew that men like Silver were not to be trusted, and if there’s ever a case where one should keep their head up, it’s when someone untrustworthy is nearby.

It only took her a few hours to learn what made her skin crawl.

Emma emerged from below deck, her hand itching to reach for her sword on instinct the second she met the eyes of one of the crew. Red had stayed below, encouraging Emma to stretch her legs and take some air above, but it wasn’t the relaxing scene she’d expected.

Silver towered over a man on his knees, and the captain’s disgusting expression revealed something vindictive in his manner.

“Captain, I’m sorry, he was only—”

Silver’s hand was quick, cutting off the pleading man with a smack to his jaw. The punch was enough to knock the man over, a quiet groan of pain falling from his lips as another rushed to his aid.

This man’s glare came from sharp blue eyes that were partially shadowed by the dark hair that fell onto his forehead. “It was my fault, Captain, you needn’t punish my brother for my mistakes.” His words were firm, clear, but edged with desperation that felt too familiar to one particular observer.

Captain Silver chuckled, shaking his head at the man before him. “Twenty lashes wasn’t enough to teach you before, boy. Perhaps if it’s your brother who takes them this time, you’ll learn.” The captain waved a hand, and two of his crew grabbed the man by the arms, dragging him away from his brother.

Several feet away on the deck behind, Emma remained perfectly still, but it wasn’t fear, shock, or unwillingness to intervene that had her so.

The brother pushed himself up, cool resolve settling over his features. They were softer than his brother’s, his hair lighter and slightly curled, but his eyes were the same piercing blue. Those eyes tightened when he was ordered to turn, but it disappeared when he caught sight of his brother—younger, by the looks of it—kneeling at the other end of the main deck, his shoulders braced by the captain’s men as he was made to watch.

“No!” the younger cried, watching in horror as Silver pulled the whip into his hand.

But before the lash could connect with his brother’s back, its path was obstructed, wrapping around the blade of a sword. Emma tugged, the whip slipping from Silver’s grasp and flying into her hands.

She had waited—for Silver to be more distracted, for the men to least expect interference, for the perfect opening—and then she had slipped from the quarterdeck to prevent the monstrous act from taking place.

“Please, tell me exactly what you thought you were going to do just now,” she said, and although her voice did not boom across the deck, it was fire and ice, and it sliced through the ears of anyone within range.

The captain turned to face her, his eyes angry despite his smile. “Come now, Princess,” Silver cooed, “you shouldn’t be on deck for this.”

It was almost a warning, nearly a threat, and Emma narrowed her eyes. “Answer me, Silver.”

He smirked, glancing around at his men before returning his attention to her. “What, a man doesn’t have the right to punish his own slave? Is that what your kingdom has come to?” he asked innocently, laughter lacing his tone.

If Emma had looked around, she would’ve seen the surprised and curious looks of the crew and the slaves in question, but her gaze was focused only on the captain. “If you knew anything about this kingdom, Captain, you’d know that slavery is prohibited and punishable by death.” She did not tremble, did not raise her voice, did not allow her immense rage to overpower her.

The captain scowled, his eyes hardening as he reached for his cutlass. “You’re out of your depth, Princess,” he spat.

“Am I?” she asked, her tone imitating the clueless princess they believed she was, cocking her head to the side. “Perhaps you really know nothing about my kingdom, because there’s another thing you should know.” She paused, and maybe it was for the dramatic effect, but she was her father’s daughter, so no one could really blame her. “If you draw your weapon against me, you’ll lose it before you have a chance to blink,” she promised. If anything, her voice had gotten quieter, but there was no doubt that she was heard across the deck.

It seemed, however, that Silver was one of those ‘see it to believe it’ types, because he didn’t take her at her word. She moved as soon as the sound of scraping metal reached her ears, and a few steps and a simple twist of her wrist had his cutlass thudding against the deck.

“Now do you believe me?” she asked. “Or would you like a more detailed demonstration?”

Silver growled, but he’d barely taken a step before Emma’s quick feet had her behind him, the hilt of her sword bashing into his skull and knocking him clean out. She could’ve given him a real fight, but it wasn’t worth the energy. And there were other, greater concerns she had at the moment.

When she turned to face the open-mouthed men, she caught sight of Red who leaned casually against some rigging, a nod and a small, encouraging smile sent from her godmother for her to continue.

“I hereby strip Captain Silver of his rank and his ship,” Emma announced. “As his crew, I ask you to join me on my journey to Arendelle. If anyone has a problem with this leadership change, I’ll be happy to lock you in the brig beside Silver.” No one moved, either too stunned or too enraptured by the princess to do anything.

She cleared her throat, “Now, unless there are any questions, I suggest you all get back to work.” It must’ve been her regal voice that made them all comply so willingly. Her mother had trained it into her just as harshly as she had trained her to shoot and curtsey. It was, in many aspects, a well-rounded education.

Red threw her a grin, Emma signaling her to dispose of Silver. And just like that, she kindly rid the deck of the scum that was the former captain.

Once he was gone, Emma turned back to the brothers. She studied them for a moment, resheathing her sword as she did. Both were still wide-eyed, though the younger was now sitting of his own volition, but neither of them seemed to have fully processed the turn of events.

The elder recovered from his shock quickly. “Thank you, Your Highness,” he told her, his head bowed.

Emma’s fierce anger and all of her noble posture disappeared as she took in the man who still knelt before her, the look in his eye and the hunch of his shoulders. And then that other thing her mother had taught her, kindness, rose to the surface and softened her gaze.

“And what is your name, sir?”

The man fumbled, blinking up at her. “Liam, Your Highness. Liam Jones.”

“Well, Liam, think nothing of it. What kind of ruler would I be if I allowed such horrors to continue?” She offered him a hand, but he just stared at it. “Let me help you,” she said softly.

“I am already indebted to you, Your Highness, my brother and I, we can’t possibly—”

She grabbed his protesting hand, forcing him to his feet. “There now,” she said, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Emma smiled, ignoring his flabbergasted expression and moving instead to the brother. He stared up at her, and it seemed to her that he was peering directly into her soul. When she offered him her hand, he took it.

“And your name, sir?”

“Killian Jones, Your Highness.” Emma’s lips twitched, and though she still hated the way her title sounded, she found that she didn’t hate it quite so much when it came from this man.

Emma stepped back, watching as Liam crossed to his brother, and their embrace had her missing hers. She sighed, tossing the whip unceremoniously overboard before facing Red who had appeared from below.

“How fares our guest?”

“Oh, I’ve ensured that his journey will be as uncomfortable as possible,” Red smirked.

Emma nodded, her eyes moving across the deck before returning to her companion. “Good,” she replied. “Stay here. Deal with any…problems. I’ve got some things to take care of.”

Red saluted, and it was only partially teasing. “Aye, aye, Captain,” she grinned.

Emma rolled her eyes, then turned to face the brothers who stood a few feet away, their heads bowed in close conference. The second they realized she was watching them, they turned their attention to her.

“Brothers Jones, follow me,” she said, and they were almost too quick to obey.

They were silent behind her as she crossed the deck, the other men parting to let them by. No one dared meet her gaze, but it was with an air of respect rather than insubordination, or so it seemed to her. She wasn’t naive enough to think her control would hold, but Red’s presence on deck would likely keep them at bay for the time being.

When the door to the captain’s quarters swung open, Emma didn’t try to hide her grimace. A sharp contrast to the spotless deck, Silver’s cabin was covered in papers that had been thrown about, there were clothes littering the floor, food tossed aside and even lingering on parts of the walls.

“Is it always like this?” she asked, turning back to the brothers. She got her answer when Killian’s eyes darkened. “It’s like this until you clean it,” she deduced. “I see.”

They exchanged a look, but she ignored it. “Well, this won’t do. Come along!” she called, leaving them behind her as she headed towards her own quarters.

Liam and Killian hesitated in the doorway of her cabin, and she turned to them with raised eyebrows, her hand gesturing for them to sit at her table. When they shifted their feet reluctantly, she added, “Please sit. There are several questions I have for you, but first I’d like to tend to your injuries. This will go much more smoothly if you sit.”

When they finally acquiesced, Emma moved to the trunk in the corner of the room. It was a recent purchase, one that she’d agreed upon only after Red promised to make use of it as well. Emma was used to living out of the leather satchel that she dug through now, as months running and searching were better suited to packing lightly.

Emma retrieved the small wooden box from the bag, setting it on the table between the two men who watched her every move. The lid creaked when she opened it, revealing the few healing supplies she’d managed to hold onto throughout her travels. The jar of salve was something she’d made herself—her mother’s recipe—and after finding a clean cloth from beside the water basin, Emma dapped at the mixture.

Liam flinched when she raised the cloth to his face, relaxing a moment later when she waited for him to assure her that all was well with a small nod. She eased the salve over the bruise that had already begun to form, attempting to be as gentle as possible.

When she was done, she set the cloth over the jar, her hand finding the back of the empty chair as she looked between them.

“Any more injuries I need to know about?” To another, their silence might have indicated that the answer was no, but she read their expressions before they were schooled, measuring the looks they exchanged.

Emma’s arms folded over her chest, and something not quite as biting as a glare cut through their silence. “Hiding them isn’t going to help you very much,” she added.

Liam shifted uncomfortably. “Your Highness—”

“Call me Emma.”

His lips pulled down sharply as he looked from his brother to her. “You’re a princess,” he replied, “it isn’t proper.”

She let out a suffering sigh, releasing her arms from their hold around herself and gripping the back of the chair instead. “I’m barely a princess anymore,” she told them, her tone too matter-of-fact to reveal the devastation that came with the confession. “My kingdom is in ashes, my castle is little more than rubble, and my people are terrified, lost, or dead. My command on this ship may be the last royal duty I have, and I intend to do it right. That starts with helping the two of you.”

Her words hung heavily in the air, and Liam relented. “Killian’s back…”

“Is fine,” Killian finished quickly. Too quickly.

Liam’s eyebrows shot up at his brother, his head shaking slightly. “It’s not,” he told her, his pleading eyes slicing into her. “But I’m not sure it’s work for a—” he caught himself, pausing and starting again, “—for a lady.”

For a princess. The words, though unsaid, haunted her.

Emma’s lips pulled together as she glanced between them again. “I don’t know if you were paying attention back there, but I’m hardly the type to shy away from getting her hands dirty. And trust me, I have years of experience tending to my own wounds,” she said, “I think I can handle it.”

The months she’d spent with Red swirled in her mind, pointed memories of biting on straps of leather and suppressing cries, stitches rushed beneath moonlight with nothing but alcohol to numb the pain.

“If you supply me with sutures, I’m sure I can make quick work of it,” Liam offered.

Anyone else might have let him, but there was something in her gut that told her she needed to do it. To prevent Liam from having to cause his brother pain again, however helpful that pain might be, or perhaps to ensure that the wound was being properly taken care of, or maybe she was just too damn stubborn to let them do it themselves.

“I’m sure you’re right,” Emma replied, “but between my work with injuries and needlepoint, I think I’ve got you beat with even stitches.” They didn’t have a response to that, and she counted it as a victory.

But that victory was rather hollow when she recalled the words of the captain, the ‘twenty lashes’ that had failed to teach whatever twisted lesson Silver believed was fair, and she was reaching for the numbing gel in her box before she realized what she was doing. It had become her most precious item in the past months, aside from the few trinkets she had from her parents and her father’s dagger, but if made to choose, she’d have to pick the more practical one.

“Liam, I’m not certain—”

Emma didn’t let him finish. “Look, I realize that this is less than ideal. I’m just a stranger to you, and I understand that I’m asking you to trust me. But if this is about pride or protecting my sensibilities, you’re wasting time for both of us,” she said firmly, holding Killian’s gaze. “The reality is that I can help you. You just have to let me. So either tell me to leave you to your pain, or take off your shirt and let me help you.”

Killian did not move right away, blinking up at her with his eyes blown wide. But Emma was never one to back down from a challenge, and she wasn’t going to be the one to break the staring contest they’d gotten into.

“Killian, she’s right,” Liam said, Killian’s eyes flitting from hers to look at his brother. “Just do it. You’ll heal much faster this way.”

When Killian finally stood to unbutton his shirt, Emma returned to her box, gathering the other supplies rather than look at the man she found dangerously intriguing. She forced herself to focus, not looking up until he’d laid on the bed, his back exposed.

“Is there anything you need?” Liam asked her as she crossed to the bunk, pulling the chair so she could sit beside it.

“A wet cloth, thank you,” she replied, laying her supplies out onto the small table next to her.

Part of her training to become an effective ruler included learning to put her mind in a box. She had to be rational even when being rational nearly killed her, and letting her emotions surface now, when there was a person who needed healing…she wasn’t going to let that happen. So she swallowed every thought and feeling that rose in her stomach and in her mind, examining the torn skin before her as if it were a war that had to be fought, and order, strategy, precision would let her succeed.

Emma accepted the wet cloth from Liam before he returned to sit at the table. “I’ll have to clean it first,” she told Killian softly. “It will sting for a moment, but once I’m done I’ll apply the numbing gel.” It was confusing for her, trying to dance the line between empathy and cool rationality. Comfort, kindness, but calm, exact, detached but not apathetic.

Killian didn’t meet her gaze, nodding as his hand gripped the pillow. His jaw was taut, and she recognized the expression. The anticipation of pain, the kind that came with knowing what was to come.

It was the lack of a cry, a groan, or even a whimper that tore into her heart and almost shattered the dam that restrained her emotions. The cleansing liquid burned, she knew it did, but as she dabbed it against the bright red gashes that covered his upper back, he did not make a sound. She followed with the cloth quickly to ease the fire, but it wasn’t enough. It never had been for her.

Emma forced herself to breathe when she returned the bottle to the table, taking the numbing gel in hand. She grounded herself in the release of tension the second it touched his skin, how his jaw loosened and the way his exhale was almost a sigh.

“Alright, Liam, tell me who’s gonna be a problem,” she said, eager for both the distraction and the information.

“What?”

She didn’t turn to look at him, reaching for the needle instead. “You talk while I work,” she told him. Killian didn’t show any sign of pain or even sensation when she made the first stitch, but Emma knew it wasn’t because he couldn’t feel it. The numbing gel was good, but it could only do so much.

“Who is going to try to mutiny?” she asked, pausing before forming another stitch.

“Carver,” Killian grunted. “He and Johnson aren’t likely to be your biggest fans,” he said, and he spoke as if he were sitting beside her at the table.

She kept her eyes and her hands focused on making quick, even stitches. “Greatest assets? I need to know who’s going to be the most helpful on our voyage, who can navigate, who I can trust.”

“Terry’s the best sailor we’ve got,” Liam said.

Killian made a sound, and at first, Emma thought she’d hurt him. “I’d say you’ve got at least as much skill, brother,” he muttered.

Emma stopped her moving hand, glancing back at Liam. “Is this true?” Heat spread across his face, answering before he could.

“Aye,” Killian replied.

“Okay, we’ll discuss that later,” she said, resuming her task. It was easier to think of it like that, a task, just something she needed to do. “Is there anyone else on board who will be needing my nursing abilities?”

“Not that I’m aware of, no,” Liam said softly.

Emma nodded, letting silence fall for a few minutes while she worked. Half of her energy was channeled towards the actual stitching, the other half spent on trying not to think about the scar tissue on this man’s back. She wasn’t sure she’d ever stitched something faster in her life.

“If I didn’t make it abundantly clear before, you’re both free,” she said after a while. “If you’d prefer it, we can drop you off at the nearest port, but you’re welcome to stay. I’ll see to it that you have proper wages—retroactive ones, either way—but you’ll have a place among the crew should you wish it. The choice is entirely yours.”

“We’ll stay,” Liam told her, his tone more resolved than she’d ever heard it.

“Aye,” Killian agreed as if there were no question.

She smiled softly, relieved at their choice, if she were being honest with herself. She would’ve kept her word had they chosen otherwise, but it was a comfort to know that she’d have at least two she could rely on aboard the ship.

It didn’t take much longer for her to finish the last of the stitches, and she covered his back in her special salve a little more liberally than normal. Her hand froze as she pulled it back, her ears catching the sounds from the deck.

“Damn,” she muttered, wiping her hands with the wet cloth quickly, “I thought we’d have more time.” She left the room before Killian could even replace his shirt, but the brothers Jones were not far behind.

Her sword was in her hand when she reached the deck, scanning the scene and finding Red in the center of it. Several men had gathered around her as she bared her blade and her teeth, but Emma was at her side before the first man had the chance to attack.

Emma’s sword was fast, although it wasn’t the cutlass the crew used, and she parried her opponent’s first attack, then his second, the metal clanging so familiar that she got lost in the fight, a lunge and a hit against him and then a step to the side at the last second that threw him off balance. A sweep of her leg brought the man down faster than he could recover, his ass then his head slamming against the ground.

A half-turn brought her to the next enemy, a quicker man who still wasn’t quite quick enough. She used his size against him, tricked him into an ill-timed attack that revealed more of her target, and she nicked him in the arm, just enough to make him falter. She disarmed him with a move her father had taught her, knocking him out with the butt of her sword without waiting to watch him drop onto the deck.

But when she spun to face her third opponent, someone else was there to interrupt her.

Liam charged with a fallen blade, his footwork a little clumsy but good enough to face the oversized mutineer. He lunged at the man, catching him in the side, and Liam took him down with just a few more swipes.

The fourth was already engaged in a fight with Killian when she turned. This brother was quicker, more agile, better suited for the blade in his hand. He was skilled, that was apparent to her even in the thirty seconds or so she was able to observe before he disarmed the attacker. The hilt of his sword collided with the man’s head, and then Killian turned to face his princess and captain.

Red cast her weary gaze across the deck, eyeing the rest of the crew who had gathered to watch the events unfold. “Anyone else?” she taunted, and Emma joined her in measuring them up. “Good, at least we’ve retained the ones with common sense. I could use a hand taking these traitors to the brig,” she hinted.

Several men moved right away, both brothers with them, but Emma stopped Killian with a hand on his shoulder. His startled eyes met hers, his eyebrow raised questioningly.

“If you pull those stitches, all of my hard work will be for nothing,” she said. She felt her lips pull up at his sheepish expression, his hand reaching to scratch behind his ear.

She turned to his brother who was hoisting an attacker over his shoulder. “Thank you, Liam.” Another hand held out to him, this time to shake.

“You’re welcome, Your Hi—” he paused, taking it. “Emma.”

It was just her name, but it really wasn’t. It felt like acceptance, like loyalty. Fighting for each other, crossing enemy blades to defend. With Liam, the use of her name was respect and a promise. She watched him join the others in heading below, and then she turned to his brother.

“Thank you, Killian,” she said, offering him the same gesture.

“We owe you much, love. It’s the least we could do.”

Emma tried to pretend that she didn’t feel a jolt rush through her when her hand touched his, like lightning didn’t shiver up her arm from where their skin met. She mourned the sensation when it disappeared with the release of his hand.

“You’re a better swordsman than your brother,” she said suddenly.

“Aye, well,” he hesitated, ducking his head. “He was a little busy covering for my mistakes to learn the footwork.”

“That was more than just footwork,” she pointed out.

Killian flushed, his ears turning a most delightful shade. He opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he was about to say was interrupted when a man approached.

The newcomer was older, slightly graying, and he wore a kind smile. “Your Highness,” he greeted, bowing properly. “My name is John Terry. I’d like to offer my navigational skills to aid Your Highness on our voyage to Arendelle.”

Although she was put off by his terrible timing, she smiled her sweetest diplomat smile. “Thank you, sir. I am certain that Liam will appreciate the assistance, as he will be leading the charge, so to speak.”

She hadn’t entirely decided on this particular detail, not until she saw how readily he fought for her, how quickly he and his brother came to help her. After all that, how could she not trust him to lead their way? As always, she listened to her instincts, and her instincts were screaming at her to trust the Jones brothers.

“Of course, Your Highness,” Terry nodded. “I will meet with the elder Jones just as soon as he finishing helping Lady Red.” With another bow, Terry retreated, the sincere expression never wavering.

Killian was staring when she turned back to him. “You…”

“Took you at your word?” He nodded. “Allow me to let you in on a little secret,” she said, her voice low, “I can always tell when people are lying.” It had saved her life more than once, and though she’d had reservations about giving Liam the post before, his skill was never in question.

Killian’s eyes didn’t leave her, they only widened as if he couldn’t help himself but look at her in awe.

“What?”

“You’re bloody brilliant,” he blurted, and red came to stain his cheeks again. “Apologies, Your Highness,” he muttered.

Emma sighed, resheathing her sword so she could twist her hands together. “What did I say about my title?” she reminded him.

Once again he was prevented from speaking, unable to amend his statement before Red and Liam returned from below and joined them. And force of habit kept Emma from dallying, turning to Liam to get right to business.

“I’ve told Terry he may assist you in leading our navigation,” she told him. “He wishes to meet to discuss our course, but make no mistake, you’re taking the reins on this. And I want not a word from you against it,” Emma added, narrowing her gaze as if to prove that she was serious.

Liam nodded, but he wisely remained silent.

“Red, I want you at the helm until one of them takes over.”

“Of course, Emma.”

“Report any relevant information or concerns you have directly to me,” Emma told them. “I’d rather not have to defend the ship from a second mutiny, if it can be avoided.”

Red huffed, shaking her head at the thought. “And if we need you? Where will you be?”

“I will be learning the ins and outs of the ship from Killian—unless he has any objections?” Emma raised an eyebrow, looking to him to confirm. When he did, she continued, “Right then, we’ll remain on deck to keep the crew from deciding to do anything extremely stupid.”

And with that, they dispersed, Red towards the stern and Liam below while Emma led Killian to the forecastle where the fewest men lingered to work. But the eyes of the crew followed the princess wherever she moved, until her biting glare forced their attention back to their tasks.

“Would I be wrong to assume that the two you mentioned are now occupying the brig?” she asked. “Carver and Johnson?”

“No.”

She’d already guessed this, of course, but it was satisfying to have her hunch confirmed. “So I’m also assuming that you know quite a bit about how this crew works, based on the accurate prediction.”

“I suppose,” he replied, eyeing her curiously as they walked along the railing.

“Perfect,” she grinned.

It only took a few strategic questions from her before he was laying out the exact dynamics of the crew, the hierarchy that was always present, the groups that would form in the right climate. With Killian’s knowledge, she had a clear picture of who could be trusted and who she’d encourage to vacate the premises the second they were docked.

Emma had anticipated this. He was perceptive, clever, and his mind worked more like a soldier than a sailor. Killian’s instincts were much like hers, and she would’ve made bets on his intuition.

“What’s in Arendelle?” he asked once his information was exhausted and silence had settled over them.

She sighed, dropping to sit on a nearby barrel. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, or even that the information was particularly secret, but she hated revealing that she was truly just searching blindly in the dark for anything at all to help her succeed.

“They’re our closest ally that has magic,” she said honestly. It wasn’t all of it, but it was the truth.

He was the curious sort, and she could read all of the questions in his eyes. But he held his tongue for whatever the reason, and the opportunity was lost anyway when Liam joined them. Though Liam’s information was likely vital, she couldn’t help but feel that something else was rather important, too. Red requested an audience before she could consider it further.

They located a secluded part of the deck rather than going below for privacy, neither willing to risk it so soon after the mutiny attempt. Emma braced herself for the oncoming lecture. Well, Red wasn’t exactly the lecturing type, so perhaps she’d simply scold her and move on.

“You did the right thing.”

“I think so, too,” Emma replied.

“Silver is a slimy little bastard, and I can’t say that I’m upset to see him and his friends in the brig,” Red chuckled.

It was true, Emma knew, but she’d expected to have to defend her actions, her recklessness, to her godmother. “So you wanted to talk to me,” Emma prompted.

Red sighed, leaning against the rail that overlooked the deck. “You forget, kid,” she began, “I watched your mother do this the first time. It’s not enough to just get them back, to save them, we need allies. You need allies. And that’s exactly what you’re doing.”

Emma smirked, “You’re telling me to keep up the good work?”

“I’m telling you to use that gut of yours, Emma. Trust it, just as you have been. If you continue to do that, continue to lead the way like you’ve always been trained to, we can’t lose.”

--

Emma stood at the helm, her sharp eyes trained on the deck before her. Silence enshrouded the ship, only the gentle crashing of the waves sounding in the air. Light was scarce, the half-formed moon above giving her just enough to assure her that all was well.

Red had long since gone to bed, her and Emma’s things moved into the first mate’s quarters for the time being—the previous occupant had recently relocated to less comfortable arrangements far below. Naturally, Emma had dispatched Red to order the Jones brothers into the newly vacant cabin, and she’d been given express instructions to ensure they’d both reapplied the salve. But that was hours ago, and Emma had a few more before Red was due to relieve her at the wheel.

“Liam or I would’ve gladly taken the night shift, Princess.”

Emma turned at the voice, unsurprised to find Killian already beside her. “Be that as it may,” she said, “I still wished for both of you to get a good night’s sleep.”

“And what of our fearless captain?” The moon lit the side of his face, an eyebrow raised in her direction. “Doesn’t she deserve a restful night?”

Her grip tightened on the helm as the memories flickered before her eyes without her permission, the calm nights that turned into chaos foreshadowed only by a single twig snapping or the turn of a doorknob, the things she would’ve missed had she not been awake.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to get anything resembling a restful night,” she confessed bitterly.

“Is this your brilliant war strategy? To be so exhausted that your enemies pity you and surrender?”

She shot him a glare, but his expression didn’t falter, remaining open and questioning. “Fair point,” she relented. “However, my bunk won’t be free until Red returns to take the next shift, and I don’t think the floor would be very comfortable.”

“Ah,” he breathed. “Luckily for you, the matter has been taken care of,” he told her. “I think you’ll find that the captain’s quarters are more to your liking now.”

Concern and frustration made a strange combination in her voice. “Killian, you didn’t—”

He held up a hand. “It was no trouble, I assure you. I found the task much more pleasant when I knew it was for you and not Silver,” he smiled. “And before you can ask, I was careful with my back. Liam checked my stitches, and your handiwork hasn’t been ruined.”

“And now I’m just supposed to let you finish the shift for me? After you worked for who knows how long cleaning that horrible cabin?” she nearly snapped at him, pausing to take a breath. “You need sleep more than I do, Killian. You’re healing.”

“I’ve already slept for a couple of hours, but if it suits you, Your Highness, I’ll rise late tomorrow.”

“I thought I told you to call me Emma,” she interjected.

“And as my brother already said, it isn’t proper.” He didn’t cower beneath her pointed gaze, holding his head high as challenged her.

She deliberated a moment before speaking. “I’ll let you take over as soon as you call me Emma.”

Killian’s eyebrow shot up again, his expression a mixture of irritation and something softer, fondness with an edge of awe that revealed to her that she’d impressed him yet again. Their locked eyes brought a new tension between them this time, until Killian seemed to remember himself and glanced away quickly.

He sighed, and moonlight reflected in his eyes as they moved to meet hers again. “I owe you much,” he said.

“You don’t owe me anything.”

Killian nearly snorted at that. “Saving Liam? Relieving Silver of this ship? Freeing my brother and myself, essentially saving our lives? Tending to my wounds? Giving Liam the chance to be a real sailor?”

“Okay, not nothing,” Emma mumbled. She cleared her throat in an attempt to start over. “I did what was right. Don’t…I don’t want you to feel trapped because of a sense of obligation, not when you’ve just gotten your freedom back.”

His eyes were gentle, almost tender, and she wished it was light enough to see their exact shade. “Don’t you see,” he paused, and when he finally said her name, it was almost a prayer, his lips caressing as he murmured, “Emma?”

She couldn’t reply, not when she was lost in his eyes and his voice and his expression. Where Liam’s use of her name was respect, loyalty, Killian’s was something more. It was something far too deep, vast and powerful like the seas that rocked them. When Killian used her name, it was as if the world trembled around her, pausing for a fraction of a second just to revel in the sound.

“You’ve given us our freedom—freedom to choose,” he continued. “We’ve gone so long having to witness Silver’s atrocities and those done by others just like him, never able to stop it, never able to do anything but watch. But with you here, you’re giving us a chance to do something about it. Now we can do the right thing. And after seeing you today, love, I’m certain that the right thing is to remain at your side.”

Killian smiled, his hand taking the helm. “And you can’t very well lead us into battle if you’re passed out,” he added.

Emma’s hands dropped from their hold on the wheel, and she stepped aside to relinquish her post. He immediately slid into her spot, a satisfied grin stretching across his lips.

“I expect you to rise late, remember,” Emma reminded him.

“Of course.”

“And if there’s trouble—”

“There won’t be.”

“If there’s trouble,” she repeated, “make sure I’m the first to know about it.”

He nodded, “Aye, aye, Captain.”

“Here we go,” she said under her breath, turning away from him to head towards her cabin.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing!” she called over her shoulder. She stopped before she reached the opening, glancing back at him. “Good night, Killian.”

“Good night, Captain.”

It wasn’t her name, but at least it wasn’t ‘Your Highness,’ which was much worse. And he’d said her name once. Given her reaction, it might not have been the best idea to make it a regular occurrence. Besides, there was something about the way he said Captain that felt like…well, it was nice.

The waves lulled Emma to sleep not long after her head hit the pillow, something almost like a smile on her lips as she drifted off.

[in-tua-deep]

Daemon AU? Yes PLEASE!

I will give u the pre-canon material exploring Five and his daemon’s relationship ;3c 

---

Pancha prefers small forms. Five never knows for certain why, and when he asks her she just tilts her head and shrugs at him because she doesn’t know what to say, either.

She likes being a hummingbird, flitting around Five’s head and hovering in front of his face before nesting in his hair. She likes being a mouse, scurrying up Five’s arm and tucking herself into the pocket on the front of his blazer.  She likes being a rabbit, feet thumping against the floor as she zoomed around the room at top speed.

Five never knows, or maybe just never vocalizes why the representation of his soul prefers to be small. 

But when Reginald Hargreeves gives him scathing performance reviews, his cane clicking against the floor in time with the soft clicking of Aryia’s claws as they look down their noses, as Five stands with his back straight and proud while - 

While Pancha curls up tight in his pocket, a mouse biting the end of her own tail so that she would not whimper aloud. They know then, even if they never voice it aloud. The reason that Pancha prefers to stay small.

---

The thing that people learn early is to watch daemons. Not directly, that would be rude, but to keep them in the corner of your eye and observe. Daemons are the representation of a person’s soul after all, and souls can’t lie. 

If someone is nervous, their daemon will shuffle anxiously. If someone is angry, their daemon will puff up in fury. When someone is scared, their daemon will cringe and cower. It’s easy to spot a liar in a world where the heart lays outside of the body.

Five’s very good at lying with his own body. He stands up straight and proud. He bares his teeth in furious smiles, licking blood from his lips and refusing to back down. He speaks loudly, with purpose, with challenge in his voice and in his words. Five is hard-headed. Five is disobedient. Five is an unruly little monster.

Pancha shifts into a hummingbird, because everyone knows hummingbirds flit around to keep aloft. It doesn’t look like nervous energy when it’s for a purpose. Pancha shifts into an australian tiger beetle, because they don’t have lips to draw back in wordless snarls. Pancha shifts into a gerbil and hides in Five’s pockets, because what you don’t see cannot betray you.

They call her adaptable, laugh when their siblings’ daemons begin to settle. They tolerate the speculation about who is going to settle next and what they will become.

They both dread the day Pancha will settle, even if they don’t say anything to one another. They don’t address the fact that she changes from one form to another, cycling through dozens within the space of a day even though their siblings stick to perhaps three. They don’t talk about the buzz under their skin that drives Pancha racing around their room at top speed until they crash on the bed panting together with something clawing desperately inside their soul. 

They don’t talk about a lot of things, but they don’t need to. They’re two halves of the same whole. 

---

Luther snaps at Five for cheating, for running ahead on a mission. They’re twelve, and Andromeda looks down on Pancha with something cold in her eyes and says, “Of course they can’t obey. They’re still unsettled.”

She says it like an insult, lip drawing back to show off too sharp teeth, says it like it’s something for Five to be ashamed of. Says it like what she’s really saying is that Five is a child. Like they aren’t all twelve-years-old and just settling into their own skins. 

She says it like it’s Five’s fault that Pancha can flit through forms like she can’t shed them fast enough. Even as Andromeda speaks, Pancha is a bat, is a wren, is landing on Five’s shoulder as a sugar glider, is curling around his neck as a ferret.

She says it like it’s his fault that he’s twelve-years-old and his daemon is unsettled. Like half the twelve-year-olds running around aren’t doing so with daemons just as unsettled as his. 

(Five read once, in a book, that trauma can make daemons settle earlier. There are so many cases of children as young as nine, seven, six with daemons tiny and scared and permanent.

The same book mentioned that abused children’s daemons often fell into one of two categories: large predators, to protect themselves and bare their teeth and intimidate any who try and hurt them. And the small ones, who are tiny and scared and do their best to be beneath notice.

Luther and Diego’s daemons are large, with teeth that can tear flesh and muscles beneath their skin.

Pancha likes to take small forms. Five doesn’t think about it too much.)

Five curls his lip and snarls back at Andromeda in a way that he never does when they’re in front of cameras, because etiquette says that people don’t talk to other people’s daemons, “If you weren’t so slow then maybe I wouldn’t have had to go in alone.”

Pancha shifts from a ferret to a squirrel to a kangaroo rat. The others are used to her rapid changes, but they also mean that they can’t pin down Five’s mood based on his daemon’s body language. She’s shifting too rapidly for that, clawing down his jacket as a hispid cotton mouse and settling into his arms as a pika, as a pygmy rabbit, as a stoat.

“Maybe I should hear a rumor about everyone calming down.” Allison threatens, her hands on her hips and tapping her foot impatiently. Amraphel is wrapped around her shoulders like a scarf, lazily flicking his tongue out.

(Allison has been of ill temper and short of patience ever since Raph settled a month ago. The whole house had heard her shouting about it, and none had dared to address it when they came down to dinner with Raph draped over the back of the chair instead of his customary place in Allison’s lap. 

Raph and Allison haven’t sat properly together since he settled, and no one talks about it.)

But Allison’s words settle Andromeda and Luther, both of them backing up in a way they wouldn’t for any other sibling. 

Pancha is a bush baby now, climbing up to Five’s shoulder and tugging lightly on the hair behind his ear. 

Five holds his hands behind his back and twists his fingers together to the point of pain.

“No need for that.” Pancha says, voice clear and level and almost haughty. “They’re only jealous they can’t be as adaptable as us.”

Luther snarls and lunges forward, only to be blocked by a bristling Andromeda. “They’re not worth it.” She growls, low and deep in her chest with flashes of white teeth. Luther and his daemon try so hard to be respectable, to be cool and aloof like their father and his daemon. It’s almost sad, really.

Pancha is a manipur bush rat, scurrying to Five’s other shoulder. Five untwists his hands from behind his back and reaches up to grab her when she shifts into a black jackrabbit. 

“Have you looked in a mirror lately?” Five says, with all his twelve-year-old wit, “Your face isn’t worth it.”

The black eye he sports for three weeks is, in fact, worth it.

---

Pancha is the last one left unsettled. It shouldn’t bother them, they don’t even really want Pancha to settle, but it does in some terrible inexplicable way.

Pancha flits between forms, and none of them feel right.

“We’re obviously going to be something that can jump properly.” Five muses, tapping a pencil against a little black notebook as he thinks. “You said the kangaroo mouse didn’t feel right?”

“Nothing will feel right until the moment we settle.” Pancha points out, flicking the tail of her current ginger-tabby-cat form back and forth, “Val was definitely a wolf a few times before she settled.”

“Yeah, well, I’m like 90% sure Val settled out of pure competitive spirit.” Five dismisses rolling his eyes. 

Valencia had settled two hours before Andromeda had, and has lorded it over the other daemon ever since. Diego still preens about how he was the first of the siblings to settle before even Luther.

(Five kind of wants to tell them both that Tamaya settled a week before Valencia and Andromeda both. No one noticed because Ben hadn’t brought it up, and Tamaya had always favored hiding to confrontation. Instead, Tamaya ‘officially’ settled around three days after their siblings.)

“I’m probably not going to be a big animal.” Pancha says, her claws pricking into his skin through his pajama top as she leans against his shoulder to peer at his list. “You can cross kangaroo off.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t be sure?” Five says, eyebrow raised.

Pancha just stares at him blankly. He stares back. Pancha shifts into a Florida king snake.

“Not having eyelids is cheating.” Five scowls, crossing his arms.

Pancha easily swaps into a possum, shaking out her fur. “It wasn’t cheating, it was adapting.” She tosses his words back in his face, “Besides. You thought I could be a kangaroo.”

Five grudgingly crosses an entry out. “Well why are you a possum now?”

Pancha shrugs as well as she can as a possum. “Dunno. It’s a marsupial or whatever, isn’t it? Besides, I’m sort of digging the fingerless gloves aesthetic.” She offers a foot out for Five to inspect.

“You look like you just climbed out of a trash can.” Five informs her.

“No, that was last night.” Pancha shoots back, shifting into a pine marten to crawl into Five’s lap and bat at his notebook. He just holds the notebook a little bit higher, making her huff in irritation. 

“Dad really needs to feed us more.”

Pancha nuzzles against Five’s stomach as comfortingly as she can, even though she can feel the slight pang of hunger gnawing at her belly as well as he can. Their power takes so much out of them sometimes, it’s difficult to justify taking more to a man who sees them as an experiment instead of a person.

“I could turn into a tiger and eat Aryia.” Pancha offers, shifting into an otter and making another grab for the notebook that Five easily avoids.

“You don’t like taking big forms.” Five dismisses easily, as though it’s nothing. As though it isn’t something they don’t discuss between them.

Pancha is silent for a few minutes, and even Five stops scribbling away as he waits for her response.

Finally she says, very carefully, “Just because I don’t like to, doesn’t mean I can’t.”

They both are silent after that, Five lowering his arms to curl around Pancha’s latest form in something just a little bit too loose to call a hug. 

“It’s safer.” Pancha whispers, breaking the silence between them, “I don’t know why, but it’s safer this way. Smaller daemons - they aren’t looked at as closely. When a tiger daemon bristles, people pay attention. When a mouse daemon bristles, no one even notices.”

“Is my soul really mouse shaped?” Five huffs a laugh, but they both know that he wouldn’t be disappointed in her being a mouse so much as he would her being trapped a mouse.

Pancha nudges at his chin with her broad muscular head, “Hey, don’t knock mice. They’re survivors. Practically anywhere you go, you’ll find mice. Inside, outside, they know how to get around.”

Five hums, dropping his notebook on the bed and bringing his hands up to run them through Pancha’s fur.

“Maybe we should be something with a beak.” Pancha whispers, knowing that Five will hear her no matter how softly she speaks. “No one bothers to look at bird daemon expressions, either.”

“Maybe you’ll be a swan, able to break someone’s arm and look pretty while doing it.” 

Pancha snorts, “Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you. Vicious representation of our soul, that.” 

Instead of saying anything more, Pancha shifts from an otter into a meerkat. She curls into a tight little ball in Five’s lap.

“Not this one either, then?” Five says with a smile.

“Shut up.” Is Pancha’s intelligent response. “Next time you ask, I’m going to bite you.”

---

The moment they figure out what they can, theoretically, do, the buzzing under their skins gets louder than ever.

“Ask dad again, please.” Pancha begs, shifting from a budgie to a canary to a superb fairy wren as she flits about close to the ceiling of their room.

“You ask Aryia!” Five shoots back, bouncing lightly on the top of his bed even though it’s sort of childish. If anyone comes in though, he’ll just say he was trying to catch Pancha and they’d probably believe it.

Pancha turns into a magpie and immediately tries to divebomb Five in irritation, who stands there unimpressed and she’s forced to veer back towards the ceiling or crash into him. “You know she’s a mythic bitch!”

“And you think dad isn’t?” Five asks incredulously, bouncing a little more frantically.

“You don’t get lectures on how you’re -” Pancha flies to the floor and shifts into an impressive rendition of a marble fox identical to their father’s daemon, “Still unsettled Pancha, honestly, I expected better of you. Why can’t you be like the others, you’re so unruly and disheveled and I have no idea why dear old Reggie didn’t do away with you long ago -”

Five is cackling, his bouncing having come to a stop so he could slap a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter at Pancha’s, frankly, spot on impression of their father’s daemon.

Pancha grins, shifting from a fox into a jack russell terrier and jumping on the bed with Five. “Spot on, wasn’t I?”

“Absolutely impeccable.” Five manages, sticking his nose haughtily in the air, “Why, I almost thought our dearest Aryia was in the room with us!”

Pancha nips at his heels, making him flop down onto the bed with her automatically. The shift in weight and position makes them both bounce a few times before they settle down. They’re still buzzing with energy though, even sitting still.

“I bet time travel would fix us.” Pancha says finally, voice strangely serious in the face of their previous jostling and cheer.

“We aren’t broken.” Five says equally seriously, watching as Pancha shifts into a grey collared chipmunk, then a harvest mouse, and then an antelope jackrabbit. She uses that form’s legs to launch herself from the bed to the desk across the room and back again. 

“There’s something wrong with us, Five.” Pancha corrects him fiercely, clawing up his arm as a pallid bat to his shoulder. “The others weren’t like this. We’re thirteen, now. Statistically, we should have settled by now. Or - or slowed down at least.”

Now she’s a margay, precariously balanced on his shoulder with her tail whipping into his face. Five brings up a hand to gently grasp at the twitching appendage, “The average is twelve to fourteen, technically.” He corrects her gently, “We practically just turned thirteen, we have time.”

Pancha hisses, hopping down off his shoulders in the form of a mongoose. “If we just - we have to try, Five. Can’t you feel it?”

Five bops her gently over the head, half scolding. “Of course I can, I’m you aren’t I?”

The buzz under their skin gets stronger by the day, and Pancha hasn’t been able to hold a form for longer than five or ten minutes in almost a year. It takes more effort not to jump than it does to actually jump, these days. Pancha shifts into a brush rabbit and levels him with an unimpressed look.

Five heaves a sigh, foot bouncing against the floorboards as though Pancha has transferred her nervous energy to him. “You know what dad’s gonna say, anyway.” He brings a hand to his chest and put on a nasally fancy tone, “Maybe we can revisit this topic when you’ve matured a bit, Number Five.”

Pancha gnashes her teeth together as a beaver. “You know what that’s code for.”

Five’s look is just as bitter as his daemon’s tone. He does know. Everyone knows. It’s a whole thing - people have weird ideas about what it means to settle. That it means, in some weird way, that it’s a transition into adulthood and responsibility.

How many hospital dramas and detective shows make it a point to draw attention to a child actor’s shifting daemon? How many true crime shows have grieving parents wailing about how the daughter or son wasn’t even settled yet, as though it might have been less of a tragedy if the kid’s daemon had been permanently stuck as a woodchuck. How many courtroom dramas have dismissed eyewitness testimony on the basis of the kid isn’t even settled yet.

Five and Pancha thinks it’s stupid, the emphasis put on settling. Thinks it’s dumb that he’s somehow considered less mature than a nine-year-old with a settled hedgehog daemon, even though he’s thirteen. But his age doesn’t matter. Just his daemon’s settled status. 

“What if time travel fixes us.” Pancha proposes again, fluttering over to the desk in the form of a cardinal. “What if it helps. What if it’s what we need to - ”

Settle, she doesn’t say. Because to settle is to know yourself, and they don’t even know they extent of their powers.

Five shakes his hands out, blue sparks flying down his wrists as he does so. Anything to try and get the buzz out from under his skin. 

“I’ll ask dad again tomorrow.” Five says finally, “And if he says no - ”

“Then we do it anyway.” Pancha is a coyote, lips pulled back in a wordless snarl before blue lightning runs down her form and she’s suddenly pressed against Five’s side.

“Then we do it anyway.” Five confirms, grim.

---

Time travel does not fix them.

Time travel breaks them.

They stand in the rubble of the end of the world, howling for their family with something that tastes like desperation on their lips, and no one answers. Dust swirls across the ground, glittering and gruesome as the smoke chokes the air from their lungs.

They claw through ruin until they find what they’re looking for, until Five shoves a piece of debris off of a face that belongs to a wrist with a black umbrella inked upon it, dark and final.

He finds Luther. He finds Allison, finds Diego, finds Klaus. He does not find their daemons.

Pancha is a falcon, is a racoon, is a wolf howling desperately into the crackling air, hoping, praying for an answer. But the only thing they hear are the quiet roar and crackles of the fires and their own footfalls.

It’s eerily quiet, at the end of the world. There’s no movie soundtrack, or screams, or howling winds. It’s just the pops of distant fires and the sound of rock across rock as their feet dislodge pieces of the wreckage.

“We can fix this.” Five says feverishly, “We have to go back.”

“It’s not working.” Pancha grits her teeth, pushing and pushing and pushing against the wall of their powers. It’s about as useful as trying to break down a brick wall with her shoulder.

“We’ll make it work.” Five vows, “We’ll go back. We’ll save them all.”

Pancha nods, equally grim and equally serious. 

“What we need,” Pancha says slowly, sounding out each word. She has Five’s full attention on her, “Is an equation.”

Math isn’t something they technically need anymore. It’s a crutch from their younger days, something that soothes them and calms them and helps them focus. They can jump without it, their brain doing most equations automatically.

But when they’d first been figuring out their limits on distance, when they’d first figured out the differences between jumping in water and jumping in air - they’d used math. When they were figuring out time travel was possible, they’d looked at the math.

“Okay.” Five says, breathy and small and scared, “Okay.”

---

They don’t figure out until a week in that the buzzing under their skin is - not gone, but lesser somehow. 

In their defense, they have a lot bigger things to worry about.

Five is scooping cold spaghetti-o’s directly into his mouth with a spoon he’d buffed against his shirt when he finally looks at Pancha and realizes that she’s been a barbary macaque for… hours now. She has a box of children’s sidewalk chalk by her side and is concentrating fiercely on writing while Five takes a break.

“Pancha - ” Five starts, and then finds himself at a loss for words when she looks up at him. 

“Hmm?” She asks absently, little monkey face still scrunched up in concentration. Five can’t help but wonder when the last time Pancha stayed in one form long enough for him to pick up proper expressions from her face.

“...Never mind.” Five says, and watches Pancha turn back to her work. 

They have more important things to worry about now anyway.

---

“This is a bad idea.” Pancha informs him, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth as she pants in the scorching heat. She’s a dingo today, has started experimenting with bigger and bigger forms.

(Five is seventeen-years-old. She still hasn’t settled.)

“We’re literally starving to death, Pan.” Five says dryly gripping bright packaging between thumb and forefinger like he would prefer not to be touching it himself, thanks. “Look, I definitely remember something about these things never going off.”

“That doesn’t sound right.” Pancha frowns, “But then again, I don’t know enough about twinkies to dispute it.”

They both look at the innocent little treat that Five has managed to unearth from inside of what looks like it used to be a child’s backpack. They don’t think about the child the backpack might have belonged to.

“Don’t those things have like, cream in them or something?” Pancha asks doubtfully, leaning forward to sniff the treat suspiciously, “Pretty sure anything with dairy in it went off like, years ago.”

“They’re like, 90% preservatives probably.” Five says, bringing it closer to his face so he can sniff it as well. “What do you think?”

“I think this is a terrible idea.” Pancha shrugs, which looks strange with a Dingo’s shoulders, “But then again, we are starving to death. Not sure we can afford to be picky.”

“We also can’t really afford to be sick.” Five points out sensibly. 

They both take another pause to consider the twinkie. 

“We’re so going to regret this.” Pancha sighs, laying down and putting her head on her paws. “But hey, if we die, we die.”

“We’re not going to die.” Five scolds her, peeling open the twinkie finally and giving it a distrustful look, “We totally aren’t going to regret this. Power of positive thinking, right?”

They absolutely regret it.

They don’t die, though.

---

The bright side of Pancha being unsettled is that she’s actually very useful in the apocalypse. She can take on the form of an elephant, acting as a one-daemon construction crew to clear out debris when they need a place to stay. She can run through the rubble as a mouse, squeezing through cracks in search of anything useful.

She takes the form of a chameleon, snagging insects from the air and offering them to Five when his skin starts looks paper thin and his ribs stick out prominently. 

Pancha lays in the body of a tiger, curled around her human to protect him from the cold nip of the night air. The weather is turning, and soon enough there will probably be snow on the ground.

“We’re twenty-one this year.” Pancha says quietly.

Five hums, fingers twisted into her fur. “Five more years and then we’ll have officially been here longer than we were there.” 

“Doesn’t matter how long it takes us.” Pancha says, squeezing her paws around his shoulders in warning, “We’re going to get back to them.”

Neither of them are sure they really believe it anymore, but oh how they want to.

They let the silence sit for a while between them before Five speaks up with a snort, “Not this one then?”

The question is almost an old joke at this point. Thirteen was a late bloomer. Sixteen was maybe-we-should-get-you-checked-out territory. Twenty-one was practically unheard of.

Pancha gives him a punishing lick with her sandpaper tongue over his forehead, making Five squawk with outrage. “Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to, idiot.”

“You know, calling me an idiot is really only calling yourself an idiot.” Five bites back, but they both know he’s not really offended. If he was, he wouldn’t still be cuddled into Pancha’s fur. Even their arguments are performative these days. 

“I can call you scruffy without offending myself, I suppose.” Pancha says dryly, “What is wrong with your face.”

“If you can find a good razor kit in the apocalypse then be my guest.” Five says grumpily, but he ruins it by nuzzling his face into Pancha’s chest fur making her huff with laughter.

Pancha squishes him closer, mindful of her big paws and powerful muscles. But even in this form - her hip bones are too prominent and her ribs can easily be felt through her fur. They’ll go out scavenging again tomorrow, but for tonight they can just… lay here. Bask in one another’s company. 

“Stop thinking so much.” Five draws his head back a little to sleepily scold his daemon, “You’re going to keep us both up.”

“Shut up then.” Pancha shoots back.

“Night, Pancha.” Five’s words are muffled against her fur, but she hears him loud and clear.

“Night, Five.” Pancha says softly.

---

Pancha hops tentatively through the first snow of the season, her white fur blending in well. “Five,” She says, not sure how she’s planning on following up.

“I know.” Five says quietly, reaching down to pick her up. She rubs her face under his chin comfortingly, feeling the scratch of his beard across her fur. “Happy birthday to us, I guess.”

“Twenty-six.” Pancha whispers.

“It was - it was 2019, right?” Five asks suddenly, “When the apocalypse happened?”

“April 1st, 2019.” Pancha confirms solemnly.

Five hums. “They’d have been, what, thirty?”

“It was still April.” Pancha corrects, shaking her head gently, “Our birthday is in October. They’d have still been twenty-nine.”

Five is very quiet for a long time, and Pancha keeps her own silence as they trudge through the wasteland. They’ve been doing a little better food-wise recently. They’ve discovered that while Five doesn’t get much out of Pancha eating, they get something out of it. She’s taken to wearing herbivorous forms and munching on grass and other plantlife where she can. The coming winter may make that trickier, though.

“If we go back before we hit thirty, we’d be about the same age.” Five says finally.

Pancha hums in agreement.

“But - ” Five hesitates, “We have to go back to, to before Ben dies, right?”

“They were what, sixteen?” Pancha taps at Five’s chest in a request to be put down, which he readily complies with. “Maybe we could get them out. Be the responsible adult.”

Five snorts, “Adopt our siblings?”

Pancha grins, “Hey, don’t tell me you wouldn’t enjoy the hell out of bossing Luther and Andromeda around.”

“We’ll see who’s the kid then.” Five chuckles before they both fall silent.

After all, Luther’s entire thing about Five being a brat was because - well. Pancha silently shifts into a husky with thick fur, coming over to nudge at Five’s leg as they walk side by side.

“We never really talked about what we’d do about - about me once we get back.” Pancha says carefully, warily.

They don’t need to change like they used to. Don’t shift between forms with the blink of an eye. They’re more solid now, Pancha tends to take a form for hours or entire days now unless she finds another form more useful to their current situation.

But they aren’t settled.

Five offers her a strained smile, “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“Maybe if we get back, it’ll fix us.” Pancha offers, but her voice is soft and a little bit wistful. She doesn’t believe what she’s saying any more than Five does. They already travelled down that road before, and look where it got them.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” Five repeats firmly, before his face softens a little bit, “Happy birthday, Pancha.”

“Happy birthday, Five.”

---

“Do you remember how old we are now?” Five whispers, his hair and his beard have gotten streaked with grey. Pancha’s not exactly a spring chicken herself anymore, allowing Five to card his fingers through the feathers in her wing and straighten them out.

“Too old.” Pancha complains, “What’s the point in keeping track anyway? It’s not like we know what day it is.”

“We should probably keep track in general.” Five sounds amused, “Gotta remember how far to go back after all.”

“Fuck it.” Pancha declares, nipping at Five’s fingers when he’s a tad rough with a tender spot, “Just overshoot. Either we’ll pop out when the family are babies, and we can just steal everyone, or we don’t and bam we’re right on track.”

“You’re suddenly finding a motherly bone in your body, somewhere?” Five removes his hands from her wings to brush them off on his pants. Pancha gives them an experimental flap or two. “I, for one, could not be paid enough to deal with a baby Diego. Can you imagine?”

“He’d have fantastic aim when he’d throw his toys at you.” Pancha snickers.

“Can you imagine baby Allison?” Five demands, and they look at each other for a heartbeat before they both break down into laughter.

“Oh my god,” Pancha gasps, burying her face into her own wing, “Can you imagine what she’d rumor? Everyday would be Disney world day and she would be the prettiest princess of all.”

“Ruling the world with an iron fist and a sparkly tiara.” Five manages to get out, his own face buried in his hands as he wheezes.

“Klaus would be right next to her, tiara and all.”

“Fuck you’re right.” Five laughs, a deep belly laugh they neither of them hear very much these days, “There would be so much glitter.”

That statement makes Pancha dissolve into giggles again where she was just getting control of herself. 

“If we ever get back, I’m going to buy both of them the sparkliest tiaras available. No, wait. Gonna buy the whole family a bunch of those little kid birthday tiaras, and never explain why.” Five declares, grinning, “They’d be so confused.”

“When.” Pancha corrects, and the mood suddenly turns serious. “When we get back.”

Five doesn’t apologize, doesn’t sputter or claim it was just an error of speech. He just inclines his head a little bit and says, “Right. When we get back.”

---

They’re old and broken and creaky and tired when their endless days of bouncing math off of each other and testing at the boundary of the blue that stays frustratingly solid to them changes.

Five’s hair is entirely grey now, and his beard is long and scraggly where he hasn’t taken a knife to it in a while. 

Pancha is a european hare and she’s the one that first senses danger.

The thing about living in the apocalypse, is that it’s quiet. There’s no hum of electric lights. There’s no brawls between stray cats or dogs. There’s no squirrels or rats or mice scurrying around. 

So when Pancha’s sensitive ears pick up the sound of footsteps she feels such an intense sense of - of something that it makes Five drop his chalk and swing around to look at her with alarm.

She’s glad her form today is swift, because she’s across their little ‘camp’ in seconds and in his arms, clawing her way up to his shoulder to press her mouth to his ear, “There’s something out there.” She whispers, somehow terrified and she doesn’t know why.

To his credit, Five doesn’t even hesitate despite the impossibility of her words. He scoops her under one arm and turns and picks up the gun (they don’t talk about why they have a gun) with the other. He turns around and points it at - 

A woman. They both freeze like deer in headlights.

“Hello!” The woman calls, picking her way down the debris in high heeled shoes.

“Five.” Pancha swallows, making her human look at her, “Five, where’s her daemon.”

Five’s head whips back around, and they both stare. It’s entirely possible that the woman’s daemon is just small, just out of sight and out of mind. It’s even possible that she’s a witch, and her daemon is off gallivanting about.

But Pancha can feel a scream trapped behind her teeth, feel her ears go back as she fights the urge to run run run away from this terrifying woman who tastes of empty empty empty. Something is wrong. 

She can see the way Five’s fingers tremble as the sense of wrong wrong wrong reverberates through their bond. 

“Who the hell are you!” Five snarls out, and Pancha takes the opportunity to squirm and wriggle so that she’s balanced precariously on Five’s shoulder, freeing up his other hand to steady the gun.

“I’m here to help.” The woman says brightly, still picking her way towards them.

“Five.” Pancha whimpers, and as she feels her paws tremble she watches his hands go still and steady.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t just put a bullet through your head right now.” Five raises the gun further, but the woman doesn’t even hesitate. 

“Because,” The woman says, smiling a carefree smile as she adjusts her hat and pulls her sunglasses from her face. “Then you wouldn’t hear the offer I’m about to make you.”

Five and Pancha are more tense than they’ve ever been before in their lives, and considering some of their childhood missions - that’s saying a lot.

“Which would be rather tragic given your…” The woman looks around and even though she doesn’t look disgusted the implication is there anyway which makes them both bristle, “...Current circumstances. I work for an organization called the Commission. We are tasked with the preservation of the time continuum through manipulation and removals. 

“Why are you telling us this.” Five manages to grit out, never letting his gun drop.

The woman just looks at him like he’s a child and she’s disappointed he asked such an obvious question.

“I’ve come to offer you a job, Number Five.” She says simply. 

They don’t miss the way she only offered the job to him, not to Pancha. 

There’s a lot after that. The woman explains that she wants to hire him - them - to, to eliminate threats to time caused by humanity’s free will. She tells him that her organization has had their eye on him. That he has potential. That Five can retire with a pension plan for the low low price of his soul.

Well, he’s paraphrasing. 

She at least allows him a moment of privacy to discuss things with his daemon, telling him that she will be back in an hour to pick him up and that he should take the time to gather what possessions he wishes to take with him. She seems awfully confident he will take her deal.

“She doesn’t have a daemon.” Pancha shudders against him, “She’s so empty inside. She scares me, Five.”

“I know.” Five says, smoothing his hands over her fur comfortingly, “But - Pan, the chance to get out. If they know how to properly time travel - ”

“Then we can finally get out of here.” Pancha says softly, longingly. “It’s been so long, Five.”

“I know.” He whispers. 

“She wants us to kill for her.” Pancha tells him, “Removing the problems - she just wants us to become an assassin. She wants us to be a weapon.”

“Would we kill to get our siblings back?” Five asks, but it’s a rhetorical question. They both know that they’d probably let the world burn all over again if only it meant saving the people most important to them. 

“We’d have food.” Pancha offers finally, “If it’s a job, we’ll have money. No more scavenging. We could focus more time on, on - you know.”

Five nods solemnly, “So, do we take the job?”

A shudder ripples through Pancha’s body, “What about me, Five?”

“What about you?” Five asks, brow furrowing.

“I’m not normal.” Pancha states tightly, watching Five’s face light up in comprehension. It’s been a long time since they discussed Pancha’s ability to shift. After so many years, it almost seems normal. “She’s already seen me as a hare. So do I just - pretend to be a hare?”

Five bites his lip, “Just until we figure out how to get back.”

They both know that’s not a real answer. They both have no idea what they’re going to do when they show up, old and decrepit and still unsettled. 

“She can’t know.” Five says, because at least that much is certain. “She doesn’t have a daemon. She can’t know.”

Pancha sighs, but they both already know what their choice is going to be. “Okay. Okay let’s become assassins.”

---

They’re in a hotel room, and Pancha shifts a few times just to prove she can. She likes being a hare, but sometimes it just gets itchy. Wrong. Sometimes she needs wings, or fangs, or something. 

She feels like she needs fangs a lot around the Handler. Or like she needs to be something small, like a mouse and curl up in Five’s pockets again to hide away. Usually she just hides behind Five and lets him deal with the woman, which is perhaps unfair of her but Five hasn’t protested yet.

(Actually, Pancha doesn’t speak to anybody. Not after the doctor and his capuchin daemon looked entirely scandalized when she addressed him instead of his daemon. Apparently missing out on socialization for an estimated forty-five years led to… some not so great manners.)

Five methodically cleans his gun as Pancha shifts from a lion to a gazelle to a pallas cat and back into a hare to jump onto the bed with him. 

“Today?” She asks him.

He looks up at her and frowns, his hands pausing.

“Something feels different. More right.”

Five tilts his head a little bit in though and then nods. He’s been quiet, since they got back. When they’re alone together at least. The opposite of Pancha. Sometimes she wonders if they’re just switching off, the way they do when it comes to shows of emotion sometimes. 

Pancha crawls into his lap, nudging at his hands until they put the gun aside and bury themselves in her fur. 

“We’re going to save the world, Five.” She says, projecting as much confidence as she can into her voice, as much confidence as she can into him. “We’re going to save them all.”

Five’s hands tremble in her fur, and they both politely pretend that they don’t.

“You aren’t going to do this alone, because you have me. We’re a team.” She cranes her head back so she can offer him a smile, “Team Adaptable, right?”

“Right.” Five rasps out, touching the silver patches in her fur. 

And then they get up, and move out. They’re on a mission now.

[northcarolinanative]

𝐈𝐟 𝐈𝐭 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮 - Boxer!JJ

Requested by anon: Can you write about boxer!JJ, with or without the outer banks’ plot. JJ enjoys boxing and you can’t go to matches because they scare you. But you always prepare with him before and he always comes to see you after. One night something happens and they confess their feelings whatever you want haha I just thought it would be a cool idea (:

Description: After the disappearance of their best friends the pogues all search for different ways to cope. Some working too hard, some fighting, some just blocking it all out. JJ puts himself in danger too often for Y/N’s liking. She finds him an alternative, but in typical JJ fashion he moves too much too fast and gets out in a tricky situation. 

A/N: This is so different from what I normally write. I got a bit carried away per usual:) I chose to put it in the OBX plot, this is all after 1x10 because we all know that I am a sucker for that at this point let's be honest. I tried to do my research but the more I read the more confused I got so I am sorry if it is inaccurate. I have ZERO experience with boxing and stuff. As I said this is so different for me so ANY feedback would be FANTASTIC!! MY asks/requests/messages are always open! ALSO, italics are flashbacks. // TW: This talks about character death, panic/anxiety, abuse, and violence.// 

*pic courtesy of pinterest*  

After the disappearance of John B and Sarah, each of the pogues had their own unique way of dealing with the major loss. The unknown ate them from the inside out until it was turned to grief, washing over them the moment the pair was presumed dead. Over the next few days, they went into denial, finally understanding why John B had been so desperate to hold onto clues about his father when the group had thought that he was grasping at straws. They understood why John B led them on the hunt for the gold because he thought it would lead to his dad. They understood because now they too would follow any lead, risk anything, or go anywhere to find John B and Sarah. 

Each of the Pogues were dealing with their feelings in its respective way. Pope was trying his hardest to prove to his parents that he had not messed up his chance to get off the Island. He applied for every academic scholarship on the east coast. Pope was scared. Kie, while the two of us helped Pope when we could, worked countless hours at the Wreck. After running from her parents and being brought into question with the police she was in hot water with her parents. She allowed herself to stay focused on her work and earn back the trust and respect of her parents so that when the time came that John B and Sarah needed them, we could help. Kie was hopeful. JJ was starting fights with everyone that looked at him wrong. He threw punch after punch at the one boneyard party that we tried to attend in an attempt to make things feel normal. He kept going home and picking fights with his dad, he said that he deserved the torment for letting John B get on that boat. JJ blamed himself for pushing John B to his death. JJ was Angry. I let myself get swept up in my art, going to the docks, or sitting in the dunes, drawing. This where the other Pogues found me when I was not working my shift at the Wreck. When I sat down to create I let my thoughts go and wander to whatever I needed to try and process. This was the only time I let myself think about the things that happened between the pogues, or what was ahead for us. I let myself think about both the options, whether they were dead or they were alive somewhere. Outside of that, I shut it off and tried to help the other pogues, as much as I could, to get back to something normal. I was numb. 

Kie and Pope had a lot to figure out between the two of them. It took them a while to actually begin to talk about what was going on between the two of them since they kept defecting. That left JJ and I alone rather often. Not that I was complaining. The two of us had never been super close when it came to the group. I was always Kie’s best friend first, pogue second, until now. The disappearance had brought all of us closer. Though I appreciated the closeness with JJ, I was worried about him. He showed up on my doorstep night after night bruised and broken. More often than not it was a fight with some rando that has looked at him on the side of the road. JJ didn’t care who felt his wrath anymore, he would fight anyone, kooks, and pogues alike. The worst nights were those that he came back from his house. Those nights were always the worst because the injuries on his body and the way that his soul sat shattered in front of me told me that he didn’t fight back. 

JJ was sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes not daring to look up at me. His face covered in red splotches and bruised from the other fights he had gotten in over the week. Tonight was different though. Normally JJ talked about the way that he handed the Kook a can of whoop-ass or the guy had it coming and that he had ‘totally won’ the fight. Every other night he would boast saying “Y/N, don’t worry about me! You should see the other guy.” He would try to soothe my nerves, but tonight there didn’t seem to be another guy. Just JJ fighting himself, the thoughts raging war in his head, making him beat himself up. 

I moved to sit beside him. Finally deciding to break the rooms heavy silence. “JJ, did you go home again?” 

His breath caught in his throat as he slowly nodded his head. I saw his jaw clenched as he fought back the urge to let tears fall down his face. He rested his head in his open palms. I wrapped one of my arms loosely around the boy before laying my head on his shoulder. “Why do you go home JJ? Every time you come back you end up so broken?” 

“It’s just a few bruises and split lips Y/N, nothing I’m not used to.” He said shaking his head. 

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” I spoke. I moved my hand so that I could rub his back. I moved softly up and down his spine, trying to comfort the broken boy in front of me. 

“I deserve everything he says to me.” He started, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Every time

 I go I know he’s ready for a fight.” 

I took a moment to collect my thoughts. I took a deep breath before speaking. “JJ, getting into fights with your dad like that, the things he says to you.” I paused, looking over his face, trying to figure out what was going through his mind. “You know that they aren’t true right? He’s saying those things to hurt you?” 

“I know that, but deep down I’m so scared that everyone else sees what he sees.” He signed leaning back and falling onto the bed. “I’m just so angry. I am angry at the system for screwing up so bad that they ran JB away.” My breath caught in my throat as he began his rant. “I am mad that we couldn’t do anything to help him after his dad left. I’m mad that we lost him and have no way to contact him or even know if he’s alive!’ He stood up beginning to pace, and raising his voice. “I’m mad that I pushed him on that boat to sail straight to his death Y/N!” 

I stood up on my feet, moving so that I can be in his direct line of vision. “Hey!” I called to him, even though he was right in front of me, he felt a thousand miles away. “You did not push John B to do anything that he would not have done on his own! You have got to stop blaming yourself for all the unfortunate events that lead to John B’s disappearance. This on Ward Cameron and you know it!” I said pointing at him. He locked his eyes with mine for a moment. 

He ripped his glance from mine, his jaw still clenched and nostrils flaring as he tried to even out his breathing. It took a few moments and several paces across the length of my room, but he seemed to calm down. “I’m-” He started, looking around the room and taking a deep breath before continuing. “I’m just so angry. All the time.” He confessed. “I’m honestly scared, it’s like all I can think about is how pissed off I am and the smallest things just add on top of it until I explode for what seems like no reason.” He stopped rubbing his hands over his face. “I just don’t know how to channel it, make it die down.” He confessed, moving to join me back at the end of my bed. 

“You know, whenever my brother is upset he goes to the gym-” I started 

“You are not seriously telling me to work out right now, are you?” He huffed rolling his eyes.

  “Let me finish.” I scolded him before continuing. “He’s a boxer, the have matches and fight, but it is in a safe environment. One where you can let your anger out with out going home or exploding on some rando on the side of the street.” I said. I laughed awkwardly, trying to fill the silence as I gauged his reaction. 

“You really think that would help?” He said, the softness in his eyes returning. 

“It helped my brother” 

It had become routine over the past few weeks that JJ came to my house so that I could help him prepare for whatever match he had lined up for that night. When he first started all the Pogues were supportive of JJ’s new interest, but after the first match, Kie and I decided that we would support him from afar. Neither of us could stomach the blows that JJ took in his first fight. I was happy that he was able to find a more acceptable outlet for his anger, it was still just as painful to clean JJ up after, or to hear from Pope about the hits that JJ landed or had taken. Pope always attended, Kie and I chalked it up to him being a boy and into that stuff, but we both know that he watched because he wanted to be there in case something went wrong. 

Tonight was one of JJ’s biggest matches. He had been talking about it for weeks. The guy was from the mainland and was supposed to drag in a huge audience with him. He was being scouted as a professional, bordering on going pro. That bothered me because it had only been a short time since JJ had started boxing. While he had grown up his entire life fighting, boxing against people like this was much different than landing a few punches on Topper. 

JJ was sitting on my kitchen table, I was right in front of him with his left hand in my own. I wrapped the sticky red tape around his hands, knuckles, and wrists. I pulled it tighter after each pass around his hand. “Please be careful tonight. These guys got a really good record.” I spoke softly, but the concern coating my voice was evident. 

“I think I’ve got it though Y/N!” He said, happiness coating his voice. I just shook my head and switched his hands, beginning to wrap the right one. I was weary when JJ first mentioned the idea of the match, and still am, because the guy was well known and it just did not make sense that he wanted to come down to the OBX to fight a Newby. Things didn’t add up. Of course, none of us dared to tell JJ, because he was so happy, and he finally seemed to be getting back normal, no one wanted to set him off. 

I finished wrapping his hands and handed him his gym shorts. I had got him some with his name on the waistband for his birthday the week before. While I couldn’t stomach to sit through the fights and watch them, I wanted him to know that I was supportive of him finding a healthy outlet for his feelings and grief. I had washed the shorts for him so that they would be fresh for him. 

“All done.” I smiled, handing them to him. He took them into his newly wrapped hands. “So you look all spiffy when you win the fight tonight.” 

“Spiffy?” He questioned causing us both to laugh. He reached forward pulling me into a hug. Whenever I touched JJ I melted into the warmth that his body gave off. He smelled like pine, I assumed it was from his deodorant, but it captivated me every time. He let me go after squeezing me tighter. “Thanks for, you know.” He said scratching the back of his neck. “Helping me with all of this. I wouldn’t even be doing this if it weren’t for you.” He said with a smile. 

“Stop being so sappy Maybank!” I said and I turned him to the door. I put my hands on his broad shoulder pushing him softly towards the door. “Now go! You don’t want to be late.” He made his way to the door opening it and standing for a second to look back and smile. 

“I’ll see you after right?” He questioned, the hope in his eyes was hard to miss. 

“Wouldn’t want anyone else cleaning you up would we?” I joked, before answering him. “Yes I will, just make sure Pope tells me when you're finishing up and I’ll head that way to pick you up okay?” As I finished the car horn outside honked. It seemed to reverberate off the walls. “Now go! You know how Kie gets when you're running late!” I shooed him out the door. I stood watching them back out of the driveway as I waved to Kie and Pope in the car. 

I walked to the TV, flipping it onto a random TV show before grabbing my sketchbook and settling into the couch. I had been working on a piece of a deer skull and a floral pattern. I was using ink to draw it. I got lost in stippling the dots on the paged, shading in the sides of the skull, and forming the cracked texture of the bone. I barely noticed the buzzing that came from my phone beside me. When I looked up the sun was setting, almost disappearing behind the horizon. The name flashed across my phone and sent me into an immediate panic. “Popey” was read across the screen, my stomach dropping when I set my eyes on the time. It was way too soon for the fight to be over. I quickly slide my finger across the bottom of the screen, seeing it click open. 

I held the phone to my ear, “Hello, Pope? What’s wrong?” I could hear the panic in my voice. My body was moving so fast as I swiped my keys across the counter with a screech, and started through the garage to my car. 

“Y/N.” I hear him say on my way out the door. There was pause filled with chants and yelling in the background, signaling that the fight was still happening. “Things don’t look good, Kie’s on her way, but JJ needs you to be here when he gets out.” I was nodding my head, but Pope couldn’t see me. “If he gets out.” My breath stopped in my throat, making me choke slightly on my own air. “ Y/N it’s bad, I don’t know why they won’t call the fight.” 

I let out a shaky breath as I pulled myself into the driver seat of my car, slamming the door behind me with a thud. “I’ll be there as fast as I can Pope, Promise.” 

“Hurry!” was all he said before the line went static. I pulled the phone down slowly, looking at it. JJ was really hurt. It was my fault, I wanted him to do this professionally. I snapped myself out of my guilty haze, picking my keys up from my lap with my shaking hands. I struggled to get the key into the ignition, before turning it to start it up. I turned out of the driveway as quickly as my mind would let me, leaving a cloud of dust behind me as pulled from the driveway. 

I tapped the steering wheel with my thumb, my eyes flicking between the road and the number growing on the speedometer. The words of JJ and I’s conversation from just hours before replaying over and over in my head. “I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you.” Over and over again. I felt a warmth fall down my cheek. I touched my hand to my cheek only to find the warm wetness of tears falling from my eyes. I was shocked at the reaction that this event had on me. I felt like I was back to the night that we watched John B drive off on that boat. I felt that same sense of panic wash over me. What if this was it? “I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you.” JJ was a fighter, literally, no matter what punches were thrown at him, he was always able to fight back. Part of me wanted to think rationally that Pope was overreacting and when I got there JJ might have a concussion and a bruised ego. “I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you.” If it was that bad why had they not stopped the fight, right? Pope had to be overreacting, it was Pope. He likes to be careful. 

My fingers kept tapping a quick pace on the back of the I kept telling myself that over and over in my head. I was driving but everything around me was a blur. I was glad that I had the roads of the cut memorized so that I could get there in my haze of worry. “I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you.” I know what he meant by this, he meant that I had helped him, but I just didn’t feel helpful at that moment. I was the reason that he was fighting and trained a skillful fighter. This guy hardly ever lost a fight, but none of us wanted JJ’s improvement with his anger to stop, so we let him continue. 

I hit the pothole in the gyms driveway, jolting me out of my thoughts. I fell back into the seat from the rough jump and dirt that was kicked up around me once again. I pulled into a spot at a dangerous speed. I practically threw the car in park and yanked my keys from the ignition. The sun seemed to paint the air around us a beautiful shade of orange, but my worry made me look past the beautiful sunset that was illustrated in the sky. Instead I approached the gym. I hadn’t stepped foot in for months now. The one that was seemingly making my worst fears come to life. 

I scanned the parking lot looking for Kie. When our eyes met, I started making my way toward her. I broke into a jog, but quickly came to a halt, when I looked behind her. The red and white lights behind her become blinding. I stuttered stepped, coming face to face with her, but I could not look at her face. I was focused on the broken boy that was laid in front of me on a gurney. The blood on his face made him almost unrecognizable. I clenched my teeth so hard that I hurt. Pope was by his side, struggling to keep up with the boy on the gurney. Pope’s worried eyes met with mine that barely held back the tears. He said something that I couldn’t make out before pointing to us. I followed my eyes down to JJ, who’s eyes I met. Even from this distance, I could see the spark still in them. I felt my stomach drop and a wave of nausea hit me. I felt myself physically fall back and feel weak. He weekly raised his hand to wave at me weakly before they began wheeling him into the emergency vehicle. “I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you.”  My arm felt like my shaking hand to wave at him, The barrier broke and the warm tears fell down my face. I felt the sob make it way up my throat, catching Kie’s attention once again. Her expression was a little shocked at my reaction but wrapped an arm around me pulling me into her. I glanced over to see her worried expression as she watched Pope.

Pope quickly made his way over to us after talking briefly with the medics. As soon as he was turned away from JJ, his expression turned to anger. Kie and I looked at each other, both silently questioning the boy’s actions. He got to us, visibly angry, his breath was heavy as he started walking back and forth. He threw his hat on the ground and ran a hand across his head in distress. 

“What happened there?” Kie said being the first to break the tension. 

“We shouldn’t have let him fight that guy!” He said, raising his voice making me visibly flinch. “There’s a reason that he always wins! He knocked JJ out in the 7th round!” He spoke looking me straight in the eye. I felt two inches tall and wanted nothing more than to disappear in that moment. 

“I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you.” 

“I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you.” 

I stepped back, it felt the air had been knocked out of my lungs. I heard the conversation that Pope and Kie continued to have, but they still felt miles away. I tried to listen and regain the ability to breathe. 

“He had plaster in his gloves” Pope spoke loudly, as people walking outta the gym snickered, only making Pope’s anger grow. I snapped my head up at the tall boy, before looking at Kie, whose face held a confused expression. I knitted my eyebrows looking at Pope who just nodded, silently reinforcing his last statement. 

“They caught on, but I’m gonna go back to talk to the fight manager, but y’all should go and meet him at the hospital.” He said, looking between me and Kiara. 

Kie was quick to act, while I felt like I was still frozen in place. “Here,” she said, holding her keys out to Pope. “I’ll ride with Y/N and you can meet us there after you talk to whoever you need to?” She questioned, but she had alright dropped the keys in his hand. Pope nodded at the two of us before turning back to the gym. 

I looked at Kie just as she placed her shaking hand on my wrist pulling me to the car. “Are you okay to drive? I mean do you think-” He started to mumble on. 

“Yea, yea. I can. I think I got it.” I said send her a tight lipped smile. I could tell in her eyes that she knew neither of us believed me. Nonetheless, we both got into the car and made our way to a small emergency hospital on the Island, both of us praying that they had enough space for JJ. The entire car ride was filled with silent, sad, tension. The two of us stuck in our own thoughts, filled with worries about JJ’s health. Kie was the first to break the car’s heart-wrenching tension. 

“What did Pope mean, when he said that he had plaster in his gloves?” Kie asked. She hadn’t been privy to the boxing world, much like me. My brother had told me that it was illegal. He knew a kid that got kicked out of his gym for doing it and had told me about it. 

“It’s when boxer’s wrap plaster in their wraps and gloves and stuff.” I started, I stuttered over my words a bit, because I was unsure of what I was talking about. “As they sweat it makes the plaster harden or something,” I said shaking my head. The image of JJ getting hit over and over without a chance to fight back made me push the accelerator down and speed up on the long stretch to the hospital. “It essentially makes their hands like stone,” I said recalling the words my brother had used to tell me. 

Kiara looked over at me with wide eyes. “That’s seriously fucked up!” She exclaimed. She let out a deep sign before falling back into the passenger seat. The rest of the ride remained silent, except for the news that was faintly being spoken from the radio. 

When we pulled up to the hospital, it was all a blur from there. Kie could tell that I was worried and in a state of panic. She seemed to be rather calm about the situation, because of this she took the lead on speaking to the front desk. They pointed us to a waiting room saying that the doctor would come out after they examined him. 

We sat in the cold metal chair in the waiting room. I tried to blame my shaking on the chill air that seemed to always be contained in hospitals, but I knew it was nerves. Kie placed her hand on my bouncing leg to stop it before looking up at me. 

“Hey, It’s JJ.” She said moving to hold my hand in hers, giving me a soft smile. “He’s got the survival instincts of a cockroach, alright?” 

I laughed slightly at her joke, looking up to her with a hopeful smile on her face. “You’re oddly calm.” I stated, looking over her relaxed figure, slightly laid back in the chair, her hand resting still on the chair handle, the other firmly grasped in mine. 

“Eh, like it said, JJ’s gonna be fine.” She smiled. She leaned forward a bit, resting her weight on the armrest that sat between us. “I am more interested in what is going on inside your head?” She said nudging me with her shoulders. 

I took a deep breath, my eyes lining with tears once again. “Over the last few months JJ and I have gotten so close, and after everything with John B and Sarah I just-” I was cut off by a sob, which came out more like a cough. Kie was quick to move her hand to my back, rubbing small, comforting circles on my back. “I am scared to lose him too.” I said quietly, tears falling still, but at a much less rapid pace. Kiara pulled me into a tight hug. I took a deep breath, letting the scent of her coconut shampoo ground me. I closed my arms around her tightly before we split. Kie pushed a piece of hair out of my face softly. 

“You’ve got it bad.” She said with a soft chuckle. I looked at her knitting my eyebrows together in confusion causing her to laugh. “You and JJ are so blindly in love with each other that neither of you can see it.” She spoke. Suddenly, things started to make a lot of sense. The way that my stomach dropped whenever JJ was getting into a fight or how I wanted to end Luke Maybank for the things that he did to his son. The most important thing that I had become accustomed to was the way that my stomach erupted in butterflies every time we were close to each other, the way my skin broke into goosebumps when we bumped into each other, or the way that I smiled every time he cracked a joke or showed up at work. I played with my fingers letting a smile spread across my face.I looked up at Kie sheepishly. 

“I told you.” She smiled at me, causing me to roll my eyes at her. 

We were taken from the serenity of our moment by the doctor calling for those that were here with ‘Maybank.” She informed us that JJ took a lot of hard hits but managed to leave fairly unscathed from such a brutal fight. She let us know that JJ had had a lot of minor injuries, a broken lower rib, and that he passed out due to a pretty serious concussion. It took Kie and I a moment to soak in the abundance of information. “With his current state, we think it would be best if you all went in one at a time.” The doctor spoke, looking between you and Kie. 

Kie pushed my shoulder lightly. “I’ll wait here for Pope and fill him in. “She said, a cheesy smile plastering her face. “Go get your man,” She joked causing me to roll my eyes before following the doctor back through the long hallway. The fluorescent lighting made the hallway look and feel more daunting than it should have. The doctor stopped in front of the room letting me know that he was inside. 

I smiled and nodded at her. I took a deep breath before preparing myself to enter. I walked through the doorway to see JJ playing with the IV cable that was hooked up to his arm. I was wrapped and tangled around the opposite hand. I laughed involuntarily at the blonde boys antics. He looked up at me, smiling when he realized that it was me. I felt a tsunami of relief wash over me, just seeing that, while he wasn’t completely unharmed, that he was going to be okay. 

“There you are, come here!” He said patting the bed beside his legs. I walked into the room slowly, making my way to his bedside. I sat down and turned to look at his bright, smiling face. He scanned over my face, his smile quickly fading. “Wait, are you crying? “ He asked, reaching up to wipe the stale tears from my face. 

“Yes JJ,” I said laughing at the boy's oblivious nature. “You looked terrible when they took you out on that gurney at the gym,” I said looking down at the crinkled white bed sheet in front of the two of us. “You scared me. I can’t lose you too.” I said quietly. 

JJ hand came up once again cupping the side of my face, pushing me to look at me. “Hey now. You know better than anyone that it's gonna take more than some cheating ring rat to take me out.” Both of us laughed at the statement. I met his bright blue eyes, and instantly felt drawn in. 

I didn’t think much about it before I did it. I leaned forward and pressed my lips into JJ's. The kiss started off still and innocent. JJ’s hand moved from my face to the back of my head pulling me in closer. I moved my hands to his shoulders, placing them softly trying not to hurt him. The kiss was passionate and heated, our lips molding together, allowing us to melt into one another. I felt light headed just from the kiss itself. I could feel JJ’s emotion poured into the way that he kissed me back and the way that his hands caressed my sides and the way that he held me close to him. 

We were interrupted by the loud beeping of the monitor beside him. I pulled away looking at the machine that ruined the moment. The warning flashing “High Heart Rate”. I looked at JJ and saw the same warning causing us to laugh slightly. 

“What was that about?” JJ asked, a blush creeping up his cheeks. 

“After John B and Sarah I thought I would have learned that time is finite, but I guess it took you, at least in my mind, almost dying for me to realize that I should just say something,” I said, laughing nervously. “Oh and Kie made me realize just how in love with you I am” I spoke rolling my eyes before realizing what I said. I felt my face heat up, as I looked over at JJ with wide eyes trying to gauge his reaction. 

JJ grabbed my hand. Struggling slightly because of the awkward tangled IV that was stuck in the back of his hand. He huffed as he tugged at it trying to pull it out of the way. His hand was wrapped around mine when he started speaking. “You know, I’m glad she did because I’ve been in love with you all summer.”

Masterlist

Tagging b/c I asked:) @tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar​ @write-from-the-heart​ @jjmaybanksbaby​ @kikifromtheblock​

[hopelesshawks]

Official Accounts Part 29 (Bakugo Route)- Heavy

Summary: (y/n) was perfectly happy remaining anonymous, even if her best friends were all pro heroes and she worked under THE Hawks. Handling the technical aspects of hero work from the background suited her just fine, thank you very much. That goes out the window when suddenly her twitter blows up thanks Denki and the famed no. 2 hero is asking her to run his own official twitter as a result

If you don’t want to see Official Accounts content blacklist #hopelessoa

Masterlist

You walk into your apartment somewhat exhausted. You’d spent the whole day doing hardware fixes and tinkering with some of the new equipment the commission had sent over. You greatly preferred software so days you are primarily doing hardware work are always harder. For a moment you forget you aren’t occupying your home alone, and then suddenly you hear the sound of your kettle whistling. You wander into the kitchen to find Keigo grabbing out two mugs. His wings are finally starting to grow back in earnest although they’re still too small to fly with. Seeing them reminds you of small cherub wings almost and every so often you’ll catch him fluttering them just a little bit as if to confirm they’re really there. You notice a few of his feathers rifling through your tea cabinet to find your favorite before dropping a bag in each mug. The sight makes you smile.

“Isn’t your spot typically on the counter little techie?” Keigo asks, interrupting your thoughts as he pours the hot water. You hop up on the counter and take the mug he offers you. “That it is Kei,” you smile. “You sent your friends to check on me,” he replies casually as he moves to lean against the counter just like that first time the two of you had tea together. “I did,” you confirm. “Thank you. I hated it but I needed it. So thank you.”

The two of you lapse back into silence for awhile. It’s different this time. Not uncomfortable per say, but there’s a weight to the silence. You can tell Keigo wants to say something but can’t quite get himself to. Perhaps he’s searching for the perfect wording to express his thoughts. Perhaps he isn’t sure he’s truly ready to share them at all. Regardless, you wait patiently. You wait patiently even as your tea cools. You wait patiently even as you start to drink it. You’re still waiting patiently as you finish off your tea and Keigo’s grip tightens around his still full mug in apparent frustration. You put your own mug down before carefully prying Keigo’s away from him. He waits for the moment you ask what’s wrong, a sense of failure already sinking in because even with how much he’s let his guard down around you he still can’t completely let go. He dreads the moment you ask because he just knows he won’t be able to tell you and it will break your heart again. He braces himself. And then you ask your question: “Wanna get high for the first time?”

He blinks at you, surprised, and wonders how you do it. How did you know he wouldn’t be able to handle disappointing you again? “Sure,” he finally replies. “I’ll meet you on the balcony,” you tell him with a small smile before hopping off the counter and heading to your bedroom, where Denki had left the remaining weed from the party the other night. By the time you head to the balcony, the door is open and Keigo is sitting on the floor outside, staring up at the sky. You close the door behind you as you step out to join him before taking a seat next to him. He watches as you somewhat clumsily roll a joint for the two of you. “Denki has always been better at this than I am,” you chuckle sheepishly. “I think you’re doing great,” Keigo responds. “Of course you would. You have no idea what great rolling looks like,” you tease before procuring a lighter from your pocket. “Ok, so here’s how this goes,” you start, “if you don’t want to cough here’s the trick. First bring the smoke into your mouth, hold it there for a second, and then inhale more and bring it into your lungs. Got it?” “Got it.” “Good.”

You put the joint to your lips and carefully light it. You take your time drawing it in and Keigo can’t help but think there’s something strangely beautiful about the way you do it. When you’ve finished you pass it to him and watch as he carefully follows your directions. You resist the urge to giggle at how serious he looks. “Relax Keigo, that’s kind of the point,” you tease. He rolls his eyes but does his best to not think quite so much on his second hit. After you’ve each taken a few hits, you give him a considering look and then decide to address what had made you invite him to smoke with you in the first place. “Look I’m not saying you should make weed the answer every time you’re struggling to open up. I refuse to be the reason the number two hero picks up a drug addiction. But you also looked like you were going to give yourself an aneurysm trying to say whatever it is you wanted to say. So we’re going to sit here and smoke and it will mellow you out and if you decide you can and want to say whatever it is that was on your mind in the kitchen that’s great. If not, well, that’s fine too,” you assure him. The thank you Keigo gives you is quiet but genuine, and you cherish it all the more for it.

After an hour, Keigo finally speaks. “I owe you an explanation,” he confesses, but he won’t look you in the eyes. Instead he stares straight ahead, looking frustrated. “What do you mean?” you ask. “I owe you an explanation for why I did what I did but I can’t,” he pauses gritting his teeth and your heart breaks a little when you notice his eyes are watering, “I can’t make myself say it.” “It’s ok Keigo.” “No it’s not! Don’t you think you deserve to fucking know why I broke your heart?” “Of course I do!” “Then why are you saying it’s ok?” “Because you’re my friend!” “What if I want to be more than that.” “Romantic relationships aren’t more than platonic ones Kei. They’re just different.”

The two of you lapse back into a heavy silence. “I shouldn’t have yelled,” Keigo finally sighs once the silence becomes too much. “Lay down,” you tell him and he gives you a confused look but does as told anyway, you shift so his head is in your lap and then begin stroking through his hair. “You keep having to comfort me,” he notes with a certain amount of frustration. “That’s what friends are for,” you shrug. “I’m starting to think I’m a bad friend.” “You’re just still learning.” “That’s a nice way of putting it.” “Let’s talk about something else. No more heavy stuff,” you decide. “We could talk about how aggressively Endeavor doesn’t understand twitter and internet culture,” Hawks suggests half-jokingly. “I am way too high to talk about that asshole right now,” you reply rolling your eyes and then immediately realize your mistake. You freeze a little in place, your hand stilling in Keigo’s hair as he asks “What do you mean by that?” “Don’t worry about it Kei, neither of us are in the headspace to talk about it. I said no more heavy stuff.” “So whatever it is is heavy?” he presses as he sits back up. “I’m serious Kei. You’re not gonna like what I have to say, let’s just drop it for the night and we can talk about it later,” you sigh. “Or we can talk about it now.” “Drop it.” “Tell me.” “No.” “Tell me!” “No!” “(Y/n) I swear to god-“ “Endeavor was fucking abusive alright!?” you finally blurt out.

Keigo reels back as if you’ve struck him and it hurts to see. “No. No you’re lying,” he insists. “I’m not,” you sigh. “You have to be!” “Why would I lie about this?” “You’ve never liked Endeavor.” “Yea because I was in class with one of his sons who, by the way, can still barely stand him.” “That doesn’t mean he was abusive.” “No it doesn’t.” “Then what makes you so sure!”

You know he’s not going to like your answer but it’s too late to back out now. It hurts to fight with him and it hurts to see him looking so desperate for you to be wrong but you’re in too deep now, you have to finish the conversation. “Dabi told me,” you finally confess. “Oh well, if Dabi told you,” Hawks rolls his eyes. “Oh fuck you, don’t make it seem like I’m so gullible,” you fire back, getting angry now. “Maybe you are! Of course Dabi would say some shit like that. Anything to take down Endeavor.” “And why exactly do you propose he hates his father so much? If not because he was abusive.” “I don’t know! But you’re wrong about Endeavor, I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for him! If he hadn’t saved me and-“ “Just because he saved you doesn’t mean he’s incapable of hurting someone else!” “I thought you were smarter than this!” “Yea well I thought you trusted me more than this so I guess we’re both disappointed!” you fire back.

The frustrated tears you’d been holding back finally start to fall and you hate it. You hate that you’re so angry, you hate that Hawks won’t see sense, and you hate that you’re crying. Regardless your tears are what finally make him realize how ugly the conversation is getting. “Shit, (y/n), I’m sorry I-“ “Don’t,” you cut him off before he can finish. You stand up without another word and go back inside, heading straight to your room and slamming the door behind you. The guilt crawling up Keigo’s throat is immediate. You had tried to warn him that now wasn’t the time for the conversation and instead he had pushed and insisted and now everything was fucked.

Mirko is going to kill him.

He pulls out his phone with every intention of calling her for advice on how to fix the mess he’s made but he stops as his eyes fall on Endeavor’s name instead. It’s a horrible idea. He still feels raw from his argument with you and Endeavor is probably asleep anyway. He should wait until tomorrow.

He doesn’t wait.

His heart starts racing in his chest as he selects Endeavor’s number and holds his phone up to his ear to wait. The line rings and rings and for a minute Keigo is convinced that Endeavor really won’t answer but then there’s a click and suddenly Endeavor’s rough voice is answering “Hello?” Keigo could swear his heart stopped beating altogether. This was a mistake. He should hang up and just call Mirko like his original plan was. But at the same time he needs to know. He needs to know he didn’t just blow up at you for no reason. “Hawks are you there? Are you in danger?” Endeavor tries again. “Is it true?” Keigo finally manages to ask and it’s so quiet he’s a little surprised Endeavor heard him. “Is what true?” Endeavor replies cautiously. Hawks feels his grip tighten on the phone as his stomach starts to sink. “Is it true what you did to Shoto and Dabi?” Hawks tries again. The line stays silent for a long time. Too long. “I’m trying to atone,” is all Endeavor says.

Hawks immediately hangs up the phone.

He can feel his world view crumbling around him as the pieces fall into place. It explains a lot. It explains why the HPSC has been so tight lipped about Dabi being Endeavor’s son, it explains why the son of a top hero would grow up to become a ruthless villain, it explains why Shoto so rarely interacts with his father. He should’ve just listened to you. Why didn’t he listen to you? He should apologize.

Hawks stands and goes back inside, closing the balcony door behind him. He has every intention of going to apologize and talk to you but instead he watches the front door close behind you as you leave the apartment without so much as a goodbye.

Author’s Note: OOF this hurt to write but I’m very excited to get started on the Bakugo route! If you read the main route there will be some similarities between the two (as you could tell from the first few paragraphs of this part) but obviously we’re gonna see some major deviations that lead to (y/n) ending up with Bakugo instead. I hope y’all enjoy!

Taglist [open]: @maltese-sparrow @someweirdshitman

[nerdbee]

Sunshine and Shadows- Chapter 1

Watching Nico talking to Annabeth and Percy, Will mentally slapped himself in the face. That conversation had gone about as smoothly as the surface of the moon. There was no chance of Nico ever willingly talking to him if he behaved like an overprotective mother hen, although part of him still wanted to wrap the son of Hades up in a blanket, burrito-style, and hand-feed him nutritious snacks.

“Solace!”

The harsh tone of Clarisse’s voice snapped him back to reality.

“Quit admiring Di Angelo! I know you’d be more than happy to do that all day, so I’m reminding you now! You have an appointment after lunch to give Chuck a check-up DO NOT BE LATE OR YOU’LL BE GETTING AN APPOINTMENT WITH MY SPEAR!”

On that friendly note, the newly-elected godmother stormed over to the Athena Cabin to harass the campers who had offered to weave clothes for the new-born satyr. Gods help whoever stood in the way of her warpath. She adored Chuck and was determined to make his life as perfect as possible. 

Will nodded vaguely, before turning back to watch the son of Hades. He couldn’t help it. It wasn’t his fault that Nico was so gods damned attractive. Nico laughed at something Percy said, the action lighting up his face, making him truly look like the angel his name said he was. He gave Annabeth a high-five before heading back towards where Will was standing in front of the Apollo Cabin. 

Will noticed a blush creeping into his cheeks and quickly turned away, mortified. A moment later he felt a prod at his shoulder and looked up to see the son of Hades regarding him questioningly. 

“Will? We’d better get these 3 days over and done with then, right?”

Startled, Will let out a weird laugh that sounded like a piece of machinery made by Cabin 9, before nodding, turning round, and promptly walking into the doorframe, much to the amusement of Kayla, who was sitting inside, waxing her bowstring. Embarrassed, he quickly changed from his flip-flops into something more suitable for the infirmary before emerging again onto the porch. 

✧✧✧

Nico was waiting for him on the porch, leaning against a post, drumming his fingers against the railing. When Will approached him, he stood up and gestured for the son of Apollo to lead the way. The walk to the infirmary was short, thank the gods, and Will spent the time determinedly staring forwards. A few campers were hurrying around, carrying supplies. Will nodded a hello towards Jake Mason, who  was with a few other Hephaestus kids. The older boy didn’t have crutches any more, but preferred to use a cane when he had to walk around. Typical Cabin 9-style it had several cool additions, such as being able to extend into a fighting staff and, if Harley had anything to do with it, probably a flamethrower somewhere. The scarily muscular 8-year-old was chatting animatedly to his older brother, but he wasn’t at his usual bouncy self. Harley had worshipped Leo, and had been devastated by his loss. It didn’t help that now, closer to the start of school, all of his siblings, save for Nyssa, would be heading home or to college for a while. Will made a mental note to hang out with him more. 

The two boys reached the doors of the infirmary and Will opened one, stepping aside to let Nico in first. Once they were inside, Will made a beeline for an empty bed at the back of the infirmary.

“We save the front beds for anyone that comes in with a really severe injury”,

he explained. He gestured for Nico to sit on the bed while he fussed around, clearing some of Austin’s sheet music away from a chair before plonking himself down on it. He’d have a word later with his brother about working on his compositions in the infirmary. Glancing up, he noticed that Nico was looking rather awkward (and adorable). He kept moving his hands around, as if he weren’t quite sure what he was doing, whilst desperately avoiding eye contact with anyone. Right. Nico wasn’t a people person, and it was currently quite busy in the surrounding area. Will stood up to draw the blue curtain around their area, before turning to address the son of Hades. 

“I know this is primarily for you to get some rest, but I think I should give you a general check just to make sure nothing other than your irresponsible use of underworldy powers is a problem.”

Nico scowled at him but didn’t argue, instead opting for a curt nod. Will continued,

“I’ll start by looking under that bandage on your arm”

He reached out to Nico’s arm 

“Is this ok?”,

he asked. Nico paused slightly, before nodding again. As gently as he could, Will raised Nico’s arm and began to slowly unwind the bandage, revealing several nasty-looking red claw-marks gouged into his skin.

“Werewolf claws”,

mumbled Nico. Will frowned.

“These are definitely infected. I’ll check for a fever and get some ambrosia for you. I reckon these will leave scars.”

He hesitated, then leaned in and brushed Nico’s raven-black hair from his forehead. It felt soft and, to his dismay, Will found his cheeks turning pink again. Holding the back of his hand against Nico’s pale forehead, he noticed how warm the son of Hades was.

“Nico, you’re burning up!”,

he announced before rummaging around in a nearby cupboard for some ambrosia and anything else he could use to treat the wound. He noticed a rather sad-looking Aloe Vera plant. Didn’t his siblings know that Aloe Vera should be placed in direct sunlight and not at the back of supply cupboards? He placed the poor plant in the windowsill, before taking a washcloth and some antibacterial ointment from the cupboard, along with the promised ambrosia. After thoroughly washing his hands, he handed the ambrosia to Nico, who began to delicately take small bites out of it, while he wet the cloth under the tap and started to carefully clean the wound. Nico winced slightly when the cloth made contact with the infected area, but had a slightly dopey faraway expression whilst he ate the ambrosia. Will wondered what Nico tasted when he consumed ambrosia. When Will ate it he tasted the sweet lemonade his grandma made whenever he returned home to visit. He tended to remain at camp most of the time, due to his mum always travelling for work and his insistence not to attend any sort of boarding school, but every now and again, he would fly over with a satyr protector to stay at his grandparent’s house with her. When he left, he would spend most of his time wondering when, or if, he’d ever get to go back. Especially after having 2 big wars in the space of a few years. Of course, his problems were all miniscule compared to what Nico had had to go through. He’d had to face the death of his sister, being alone with only a ghost for company, knowing about Camp Jupiter and not being able to tell anyone, being kidnapped and locked in a jar by crazy giants, and then on top of all of that had to deal with everyone at camp avoiding him, because they thought that he wasn’t normal. It all made Will so angry at the world, for allowing some people so many good things, when Nico could probably count the number of times he’d been happy since coming to camp on one hand, and still have fingers left over to spare.

Nico cleared his throat, and Will realised to his embarrassment, that he was staring again. He sheepishly placed the cloth in the sink, before lightly spreading a thin layer of the antibacterial ointment over the claw marks and murmuring a prayer to his father, while wondering if it would even work, seeing as Apollo was probably at that moment in time in the middle of a long lecture from his father, Zeus, concerning Octavian, the evil stuffed-toy destroyer (Percy had treated the whole camp to a story at the campfire of how his panda pillow pet had been brutally slaughtered). 

He then covered the wound with a gauze pad, finishing by gently wrapping a length of bandage around, to prevent further infection. 

He turned round to clean up while giving Nico strict instructions,

“I’ll talk to Chiron and explain that you are under no circumstances to partake in any sort of training exercises. You should spend most of your time here, getting some much needed sleep, however I think it’s a good idea for you to attend 1 meal a day at the pavilion, which will also allow you to have some healthy time outdoors. The rest of the time I will provide food for you.”

Even though he was facing away, he could imagine the son of Hades glaring daggers at him. 

“I can get food myself. There’s a McDonalds near enough that the shadow travel shouldn’t hurt me.”

Will sighed in exasperation, running a hand through his hair and turning around to face his stubborn patient.

“Really? What part of ‘you can’t even summon a wishbone without melting into a puddle of darkness’ do you not get? I’m not even going to start on the ridiculous lack of proper nutrients in a McDonalds meal. What can they offer you that camp doesn’t?”

Nico raised his chin in a show of defiance

“Does Camp Half-Blood offer snazzy boxes? No I thought not. It also has an over-bearing mamma bear watching my every move. When I agreed to this, I expected gentle rest, not a prison sentence.”

He dramatically flopped back on the bed, his head on the pillow. 

“I’m not even tired! Not one bit!”

Fixing his glare at the ceiling he mumbled

“This is a nice pillow. Soft and squishy.”

On that note, he fell asleep, still muttering about how fully awake he was. Amused, Will shook his head and stepped out of the curtained area into the main area of the infirmary to see Cecil and Austin chuckling in his direction. Austin was in the process of checking Cecil’s strained calf muscle and met Will’s eyes with an amused look.

“Why William my dear brother, I do believe that you have met your match. He’s just as headstrong as you are!”

Disgruntled, the senior counsellor of the Apollo cabin went to the storage closet to reorganise the medical supplies.

[johaerys-writes]

Fandom: The Song of Achilles Pairing: Achilles/Patroclus

Chapter 9: Moments in Time of High-Flying Birds is up! Some more fluff with the sweetest boys in the whole wide world, this time from Achilles’ POV :) 

Read here or on AO3! Or read from the beginning 

*****

The moments Achilles spends with Patroclus are precious to him. He gathers them all, one by one, like pearls on a string.

~

The owls hidden in the trees beyond their cave hooted softly into the night as Achilles lay next to Patroclus on their narrow pallet, catching his breath. The air around them was heavy and sweet like overripe fruit, the sheets tangled around their feet. The light of their lone candle cast trembling shadows along the domed wall.

How long have you felt like this? Achilles had asked Patroclus, his arm resting on his stomach, moving with his breaths. He watched him carefully now, committing his features to memory, the way the shadows played across his cheek, pooled in the hollow of his eye, carved the delicate slope of his nose.

“I’ve loved you ever since I laid eyes on you, I suppose,” Patroclus whispered. His finger traced the side of Achilles’ face, cool and soft like lily-of-the-valley petals at dawn. His lips were still flushed, his voice slightly hoarse from passion.

Achilles blinked, puzzled. “You did?”  He propped himself on one elbow to glance down at him, lying as he was beneath him, his dark brown curls a halo around his head. “I thought you didn’t care for me at all. You used to glare at me.”

“Did I? I remember no such thing.” Patroclus blushed, his lips curling in a cheeky smile. When Achilles narrowed his eyes in puzzlement, he chuckled softly.  “I didn’t know what to make of you. You had everything. I had nothing, yet I could still find no flaw in you, nothing for my anger to latch on.” His eyes flashed then, the flickering light reflecting in them like twin flames. “It was different, when I got to know you. That was when I realised that my search for things to dislike in you was pointless. So I couldn’t help but love you instead.”

“You make it sound as if you had no choice,” Achilles said, half in jest, yet worry pulsed within him while he waited for Patroclus’ reply. The thought of Patroclus having no choice but to love him at once warmed and chilled him. Blind adoration was reserved for gods, and what they all believed was owed to them. His mother had often told him that most men were bound to admire him, because of his divine birth. Achilles didn’t want that. He wanted Patroclus to give him his heart of his own accord, as Achilles was offering him his.

Patroclus stayed silent for a long time. Just when Achilles thought he would never answer, he finally spoke. “No,” he said quietly. “Before I met you, I thought I had no say in anything. You were the one who showed me that I had a choice in everything.”

The quiet solemnity of Patroclus’ voice stirred something within him that he couldn’t quite explain. He wrapped his arms around him and leaned forward, catching his lips between his own, threading his fingers through his hair. Patroclus was soft and pliant in his hold, but Achilles could feel the metal that hid deep within, the steadfastness of his will. If there was anyone in the world that could stand beside him as an equal, then that was him.

Achilles pulled him close, so close he could feel his heart beating against his own, letting Patroclus’ soft breathing lull him to sleep.

One.

~

Patroclus’ breaths were coming swiftly, almost panting, as they climbed the steep path to the olive grove, on the north side of the mountain. It was past the stream, past the clearing of maple trees with their burnt orange canopy of leaves. The summer was just coming to an end, and the leaves on the centuries old trees were just starting to darken. Whenever Chiron sent them to chop firewood, they always went there. They hadn’t had as much need for wood that summer- their winter reserves had been enough for their daily cooking- but the cold during autumn nights on the mountain was often biting. After their chores were done, they would sit under the olive trees’ dappled shade and let the clear breeze dry the dampness on their skin, the merry trill of the birds overhead to ease the rapid beating of their hearts.

Patroclus ducked under some low hanging branches, following the old path amidst the tall grasses and overgrown weeds sprouting from the soil, undisturbed by human presence. His axe was hanging by his leather belt, its handle dressed with tough leather. Achilles let his gaze follow the lines of Patroclus’ frame, the light coloured fabric of his tunic, almost transparent now, damp with the sweat on his back. His face was flushed from the exertion, the skin on his brow glistening, tan and golden brown.

Patroclus glanced at him over his shoulder, having noticed him watching. He still blushed ever so slightly whenever he caught Achilles’ eyes on him. Achilles liked watching the colour that crept up his cheeks, the warmth in his eyes. Sometimes, he could still see the surprise in his gaze, split seconds before he averted it. It was almost instinctive, no doubt from all the years he’d had to hide it. Yet, with every day that passed, their bond grew stronger, their desire bolder. Achilles didn’t even think before threading his fingers through his when they walked, before drawing him close for a quick kiss in between the chores and tasks Chiron gave them. Things he had often dreamed about, yet never thought he could grasp in earnest.

“Where shall we start?” Patroclus asked, bringing his open palm over his eyes to shield them from the midday glare. They were standing at the edge of the meadow, overlooking the clearing. “That tree over there looks easy enough to cut down.”

“I have a better idea,” Achilles said, taking his hand. Patroclus’ breath hitched just a little when Achilles pulled him close. His lips were warm and plush when Achilles bent down to kiss them, his dark brown curls slightly damp with sweat when Achilles’ threaded his fingers through them.

“What about the firewood?” he asked breathlessly against Achilles’ lips, even as he let himself be nudged back towards an oak tree.

“Later.” Achilles’ teeth closed over Patroclus’ pillowy bottom lip as he pressed him against the tree trunk. Their kisses were sometimes sweet and tender, others passionate and almost desperate, but they always lit the same fire in Achilles’ heart. He liked the feel of Patroclus’ breath on his lips, the pressure of his body against his own. He knew the curves of his body now, all the little things he’d never noticed before; the dip in the center of his pillowy bottom lip, the tiny pinpricks of orange and gold hidden in the deep brown of his eyes, the way his pulse thrummed in the hollow of his throat whenever Achilles was near. His sighs, the little sounds he made, the way he held him, that never failed to make Achilles’ blood stir in his veins.

Achilles pulled back to look at him, brushing his thumb over Patroclus’ lower lip. Patroclus’ lids were heavy with want when he glanced up at him. His colour was high, his cheekbones warm and rosy, the life pulsating just beneath his skin.

Patroclus laughed, a sound soft and clear like bell chimes, when Achilles’ gaze lingered on him for a long moment, steady and unmoving. “What? Is there something on my face?”

Achilles smiled. It surprised him still, sometimes, how much they’d both changed since they’d first met. They’d been but children then, yet now they were men grown. Achilles let his finger trail lower, caressing the apple of Patroclus’ throat, then lower still, following the line of his collarbone, the curve of his shoulder, broader now and stronger than it had ever been. He felt Patroclus shiver under his touch, his smooth skin prickle and grow warm.

“I think you’re really beautiful, Patroclus.”

Patroclus’ breath caught. The pearl white bite of his teeth flashed over his bottom lip, the flush on his cheeks darkening, but this time, he didn’t draw his eyes away. “Kiss me,” he said in a breathless whisper.

And Achilles did. Amidst the blood red poppies and the gently swinging daisies, in a square of gossamer sunlight, Achilles lay down with his Patroclus.

Two.

~

After they both lay sated, Achilles watched the intricate lacework of light and shadows that fell on Patroclus’ chest, his smooth stomach. His eyes were closed and his expression was serene, but his mouth had this contemplative curl to it, as it always did when something troubled him. "What are you thinking about?"

Patroclus’ lids fluttered open to reveal gentle brown eyes. “Chiron,” he replied, his voice taking on a slow, thoughtful lilt. In it, Achilles could read more than Patroclus had said; he could hear his worry about their mentor finding out about them, and along with him, Achilles’ father, his mother.

Achilles gazed at him quietly for a moment, considering. They had had this conversation before, many times. They were valid concerns, as reasonable as any other, though Achilles only thought of them for Patroclus’ sake. He didn’t care what people would do if they found out about them. He had sworn to himself, the very night they had lain together, that he would never let anything come between them; not Chiron with his wise words, not his father, not even his mother, with all the power and wisdom her divine blood granted her. Achilles wouldn’t let Patroclus go, not for all of the world.

With his fingers, Achilles followed lazily the dark dots that lay scattered across Patroclus’ dewy olive skin like constellations. “Do you care if they are angry?”

Patroclus shifted on his side to face him. Achilles could see his mind working, the gears churning, ever so quietly, methodically. He had a neat and careful mind, Patroclus did. “No,” he replied at last.

“Good.” Achilles closed his eyes and sighed when Patroclus caressed the side of his face, pushing a strand of his hair behind his ear. When he glanced back at him, there were pinpoints of light moving gently across his face, twinkling like stars as the wind moved. When they lay like this together, Achilles could spend a thousand moments, hours, a lifetime just gazing at him, noticing every small detail as if he was about to paint his likeness in fresco, to have and to hold for all time. Everyone in the world would know of him then, of them. One day, Achilles would be famous, so his mother had said; amongst the heroes of old the most renowned. The thought stirred no awe or fascination within him. It was just the way things were. So many men had risen to great heights, only to fall soon after. Hercules had slain the Hydra and the Nemean lion, only for jealous Hera to steal his wits and lead him to kill his wife and children. Meleager had killed the famed Calydonian boar, but after a bloody dispute with his uncles, had been killed by his own mother. Theseus had defeated the Minotaur and returned to Athens a hero, only to be thrown off the cliff of a distant island years later, after having lost the favour of his people.

Achilles had often thought of them and their stories, had tried to find the similarities between their lives and his own. Yet, every time, he returned to the same conclusion. None of those great heroes had what Achilles had. None of them had someone like Patroclus by their side. Their fates were linked inexorably, twin flames from the same fire. Achilles would do anything within his power to make Patroclus happy. No matter what came, as long as Patroclus was with him, Achilles’ fate would be one of happiness, as well as of glory.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” he said.

Patroclus looked at him quizzically, an amused smile already playing at the edges of his lips. “What secret?”

“I’ll be the first hero to be happy.” He took Patroclus’ hand in his, threaded their fingers together. “Swear it.”

“Why me?”

Achilles beamed, satisfaction burning bright within him for having finally solved the riddle. “Because you’re the reason.”

The smile on Patroclus’ lips widened and slipped sideways, filled with warmth and adoration. The sunlight painted the side of his face golden, caught in the chestnut brown highlights in his dark, unruly curls. When Patroclus smiled like that, Achilles wanted to reach up towards the heavens, pluck the sun from its place in the sky like a ripe pear from a bough and lay it at his feet, a sacred offering and a testament to their immortal bond. Their love.

“I swear it,” Patroclus whispered.

Three.

[black-streak]

Little Pistol - Oops

Chapter 9

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Song by Vince Staples w/ Yugen Blakrok. It's from Black Panther, and while I'm aware Tim is often the pastiest bat, they asked for this when they mentioned Gotham in the lyrics and made it way too relatable to Tim's (here) and Jason's (canon) experience. Whoops. Also, I might've completely torn and sewn together bits of DC canon to my own liking because reasons.

This chapter is one of the few that was barely planned for. Um... Verbal abuse? Verbal abuse. Of a child. Mentions of neglect and abandonment.

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~---~

Jason had warned him it would happen far sooner than he'd like. Well joke's on him, any time was too soon. Too soon to see his own replacement. To see the person who was supposed to be his older brother but just turned out to be another person who'd abandoned him. Which is why he planned for this encounter. Planned for the moment they would corner him. Box him in. Take him down. Or at least, they would try to. Tim wasn't about to let that happen. He knew how to plan and evade and keep his cool with the best of them. Knew how to strategize and win against opponents that by all rights should be able to take him down without thought. How to use their emotion driven instincts to take them down. He'd done it hundreds of times with businessmen and rogues alike. A couple vigilantes wouldn't change that.

So he thought of every instance, every possibility, every reaction and planned accordingly. And how fitting he'd use this against them. After all, it was the one quality Bruce praised him on most. 

What he hadn't expected was to have Robin come across him alone. He'd thought of it, of course, but it had always seemed so unlikely with how much the new Batman mother birded the kid. 

Oh how wonderfully lucky he felt. Guess something had to go right in his life once in a while so the world could pretend it was balanced and good.

"Drake. I thought you might have the dignity to not be where you are unwanted.. I see you lost that as well," came the clipped, high pitched voice behind him. He had to give it to the kid, while lacking any sense of control, he had some skill. He reached up to turn off the comm link with Red Hood.

"Devin. If that is the standard for dignity, I suppose you never had any," Red Robin turned, a pleasant little smile staying firmly in place, "where's your babysitter, by the way? I thought you weren't allowed out after your bedtime?"

"It's Damian," the boy growled before turning cocksure, ignoring the last half of the comment, "or are you so dumb you can't even remember the name of the person who unseated you?"

"Funny, I thought it was you who struggled with names? Only seems fitting since you can't even say mine. Tell me, did you know that in many languages, addressing someone by their last name is a sign of respect?" He kept from grinning at the squawk of indignation he received, "You didn't deny never having dignity, so I'll assume I'm correct."

"I have more dignity in one pinky than you'll ever have," he failed to address the full sentence once more, but Red would allow it for now.

"I suppose you're right. You did make yourself disappear rather fast when it was made clear your mother and grandfather wanted nothing to do with you. Now if only you could take the hint now."

"You-" the kid started advancing, drawing his sword.

"Aww, poor baby, can't even fight with his words. Do you want to kill me because I'm right? Or because you know as long as I'm alive, you'll never be good enough?"

"I'm Robin! Batman chose me!" Red dodged a wild slash from the katana trained on him, carefully twisting out of the way but never fighting back, the same way he always had. The way Damian had come to expect by now. But he continued talking as they made their way around the rooftop, keeping the brat too angry to focus on technique.

"Yeah, a fake Batman. The real one had to die for you to be chosen. How does it feel to know your father didn't want you on the streets with him? That he didn't trust you. That he chose me over you every time?"

"Grayson was your brother and he chose me! You have no family," the attacks became more sporadic, angrier. Less in control.

"We don't share blood," despite the accuracy of the kid's words, he knew blood meant everything to Damian. And he knew how to use that against him. "My blood family is all dead. They can't be with me. Yours sent you away. Sent you to a father who didn't want you either. And when Bruce died, yours still wouldn't take you back," Red kept dodging, taking note of how the strikes lost all rhyme or reason as the boy lost words and started only letting out frustrated sounds, "Did you know Ras wants me as an heir? Has made so many offers and attempts to take me in? Your grandfather is so desperate to be my family, meanwhile he couldn't get rid of you fast enough. I wonder how that must feel? To know the only person who wants you is a man who only pities you?"

Right as a slash almost made contact, he drew his bow staff, deflecting the hit and disarming Robin in two perfect moves. It took him only a moment to pin the kid to the gravel beneath them.

"I'm Robin! I earned it!" Screamed from below.

Lowering his mouth to one ear, he spoke with quiet calm, only upsetting Damian further, "You are Robin. And you know why? Because Robin is a position given to those who have nothing left to cling to. Who need direction and commands to keep intact. It was never given to me. I took Robin because I wanted to. It was given to you because Dick saw how pathetically in need of it you were."

"I almost killed you, you weren't worthy," he argued, struggling against the pin.

"You only ever won because I let you. Because I never fought back. Because I knew Bruce wouldn't want me to. Now there's no one stopping me. You were never better than me. If you were, someone would love you."

The body below pushed and pushed and struggled until finally it settled down, angry tears glistening in the night.

"Run home, little Robin. You're unwanted here," he let go and watched the kid scramble up and away, straight into Red Hood. Launching backwards, Robin took one look at the crossed arms and tilted head of the bigger man and turned tail off the roof.

"How'd you manage to get that reaction out of the demon brat?" Hood asked as he picked his way over the where Red still crouched.

"He's useless when he lets his emotions get the best of him. Just had to hit the right buttons," he shrugged, pretending it was not a big deal. Like he hadn't verbally torn up a twelve year old just for being right.

"He got under your skin, didn't he?"

Grimacing, he stood and made way to the other's side, "You didn't hear, did you?"

"No," he admitted.

"I reacted to his words only in that I adjusted accordingly. Nothing was said in the heat of the moment on my part," he assured.

Sighing, Hood clapped him on the shoulder once, "If you say so. Let's call it a night, eh?"

"Yeah…"

[the-oc-lass]

Second Chances - The Prologue

*Waves* Hi there. I wanted to promote my book Second Chances (I will put the links to my Wattpad and Ao3 accounts at the bottom of the post - or remind me to post them if I forget to) by posting the prologue here and letting everyone have a taste of my work. So, like, weeeeee. 

(Note: I know my work isn’t perfect so feel free to leave suggestions on how I can make my writing better. I need to get better with criticism)

(Note #2: This is a Hamilton AU fic from the perspective of OCs, so there you go)

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO...

The End and The Beginning:

It’s a dreary day, yet so beautiful. These days are always nice. The lovely day is shattered as a single gunshot, followed by another, rings through the air. I freeze and listen, before creeping through the streets slowly. I look around, ever careful. Then my eyes find him, lying there on the cobblestones. I gasp.

“Philip,” I breath, before rushing to his side and falling to my knees. His hands are pressing against a bleeding wound. Although I know how little it will help, I pull a handkerchief out and press it over the wound in a feeble attempt to absorb the blood. His breathing is ragged, and I’m scared.

“Someone get a Doctor!” I scream, looking around the streets. Whoever had shot him is nowhere to be seen. A coward! I look back down at Philip’s face. It’s contorted in pain and agony, and his eyes hold so much fear as they stare up at me. 

“Everything will be alright. Come here,” I say gently. I lift his head and place it in my lap, and he hisses in pain.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I whisper, brushing his hair off his forehead. He has tears on his face, and looks so afraid. I run my fingers through his hair slowly, hoping to soothe him and calm him down. He makes a strangled noise, and I shush him softly.

“Hush. I’ll take care of you until you’re brought to a doctor. Please, save what strength you have. You must survive, for your family,” I say, pausing to brush my thumb gently across his freckled cheek. Blood smears across where I touched. He coughs, and I shush him again softly, still stroking my thumb across his cheek, ignoring the blood. The expression shaping his face is breaking my heart. I want nothing more than to comfort him. He reaches a hand up toward me, and I pull one of mine from his hair to hold it. His hand is still covered in his blood, but I don’t care. Mine is too.

“Who are you?” he manages to ask in a strained voice. He doesn’t know who I am...Of course he doesn’t. I smile softly down at him, giving his hand a comforting squeeze. 

“It does not matter. I am just someone who could not leave you here all alone. For, fear only grows in the privacy of one's own thoughts,” I say. He makes a strangled noise that sounds something like a laugh. He’s smiling at me very slightly.

“You are a poet?” he asks. I give his hand another squeeze and continue to run my fingers through his hair.

“Something of the sort, Mr. Hamilton,” I say kindly. He continues to smile at me.

“Philip. Call me Philip,” he says. I smile back at him.

“Philip,” I correct myself quietly. He coughs again, and I frown with concern. 

“Let us take him!” Men cry, and I raise my head to see them coming. They’ll take Philip to get the help he needs. I nod, and they hoist him from my lap. 

“One minute,” I say, stopping them before they go. Philip is still holding my hand, and I hold it tightly before leaning down and kissing his forehead.

“All will be well, Philip. I promise,” I say softly. He squeezes my hand weakly, before he’s hauled away. And I stand there in the street for a moment. Blood sits sticky on my hand. My handkerchief is gone. It’s okay. As long as he is okay.

“M-mother, you cannot be serious,” I stutter, eyes wide with horror. My mother shakes her head.

“Too serious, my darling. He passed many hours after he left you. You are likely the last person outside of his blood that he saw,” she says, holding my hands in hers. Her eyes shine with sympathy, but all I can think of is the darkness from her words. Philip is dead. He didn’t recognize me, but I’ve known him for my whole life. He’s...The first man I’ve ever loved. And I knew the fear on his face as he laid in my lap, dying. And now he’s...I shake my head and draw back, refusing to believe it.

“They have lied. It is not true!” I say, voice overtaken by emotion. My mother reaches out for me once more, but I flee from her, into my father’s study. I lock her out, and move slowly to my father’s desk. I know he keeps a pistol inside the drawer. It’s a man’s job to carry on the legacy in the first place. This will not matter. I take up a quill, dip it in ink, and write. My words spill desperately across the parchment. For I am running out of time. My last poem, my last words. And the words I’m Sorry curling at the bottom. I do not sign my name. I place the quill down gently and lean down, opening the drawer containing my father’s pistol. There is a bang on the study door, and my mother is calling my name. I do not answer. I draw the pistol out. It is loaded, as it always is, and I know how to use it. Father was adamant that I learned how. I move over to the window, and I stare out it. The gun somehow doesn’t feel heavy in my hand. In fact, it feels nice. As if it were made to sit there. My mother is still calling for me. I lift the gun, and the metal feels cool against my head. I whisper an “I love you” into the air, and close my eyes. The air smells of books, paper, and ink. All of the things I love. 

“I’m sorry, Philip, mon amour,” I whisper. My finger moves to the trigger. I take in a last deep breath, and push it down. Bang. 

I open my eyes. It’s bright and beautiful here. For a moment, I wonder where I am. I wonder how I got here. And it all comes back. I look around, searching for anything or anyone. 

“It’s you.” I turn toward the voice. And there’s a freckled face, framed by bouncing locks of curls. Philip. I reach a hand out slowly, carefully. He does too. Our hands meet, and his is...Warm. His hand is bigger than mine, and he has the calluses of a poet. The same as me.

“What did you do?” he asks me, a sad look on his face that should never sit there. I frown and turn my head away, hand dropping.

“I lied to a dying man. I removed the liar,” I say softly. His hand takes mine again, holding it.

“Miss, you said what was necessary to comfort a dying man. I do not feel as though you lied to me,” he says. I risk a glance, and his gaze on me is one that is kind and soft. Everything but angry. 

“This is her?” another voice inquires. I turn. He’s a man in uniform, from a war long gone. A bouncy head of curls tied back. Something about him reminds me of Philip. Perhaps it is the freckles and the curls.

“This is her,” Philip confirms, and I glance back at him. My other hand is lifted, and a kiss is placed upon my knuckles. I stare at the top of his head for a moment, until he straightens. 

“Who are-“

“John Laurens, Miss,” he says. My eyes widen.

“Laurens...My mother’s Laurens?” I ask. His brows wrinkle in confusion. 

“Your mother?” he asks. I step toward him, tears in my eyes.

“Mr. Laurens...My name is Lilith Derven. I’m your goddaughter,” I say. His eyes widen, and he reaches out to take his face in my hands. 

“You’re...My Anastasia’s daughter,” he says. I nod, and he pulls me to him. I bury my face into his chest. 

“You’re just as beautiful as your mother. I can see her intelligence in your eyes...She must be so proud of you,” he says, holding my head. I laugh slightly, a tear running down my cheek.

“Lilith?” Philip mutters. I turn my head, and his mouth is agape as he stares at me. 

“Hi, Philip. I was waiting for you to recognize me,” I say, smiling through the tears. He runs to me and sweeps me into his arms, lifting me and holding me close. 

“How long has it been...My Lily. My beautiful Lilith. My best friend in this world, a poet greater than I, and the girl I’ve-“ He pauses, and sets me down. 

“Laurens, could you-“

“I’ll leave you two be. I’d like to check up on Alexander anyway,” Laurens says. I hear him retreat, but my eyes are only on Philip. He takes my hands and stares me in the eye, cheeks flushed. 

“I wish I’d told you when we were both alive...Maybe we wouldn’t be dead in the first place if I had. We’d just grown apart. I was busy with school, as were you, I’m sure. I’ve always known you wouldn’t require a man to become successful, so some part of me was afraid that if I told you...You’d turn me down, or I would hold you back from your dreams. I didn’t think I could. I wanted to be bold like my pops, but it seems like the boldest thing was the one thing I couldn’t do,” he says. I tilt my head slightly, giving him a kind look. 

“Pip, what are you talking about?” I ask, using his old nickname. He squeezes my hands and looks down at them for a second, then back up into my eyes.

“Lilith...I’ve been in love with you since I was ten years old,” he says. My face flushes and my lips part in surprise. 

“You...Love me?” I repeat, still shocked. He swallows and nods. 

“I do,” he says. I smile at him and pull one hand away from him to raise it and touch his cheek. 

“Mon doux petit poète (My sweet little poet), I wish you would’ve told me sooner. Je t’aime aussi,” I say, caressing his face with my thumb. He stares at me for a moment.

“You do?” he asks. I smile wider and nod.

“Have I ever lied to you, mon amour?” I ask. He grins at me. 

“Probably, when we were children,” he says. I laugh and lean my forehead against his. 

“I’ve missed you, ma douce (my sweet) Philip,” I say. He chuckles, putting a hand respectfully at my hip. I pull back slightly to look at him through my eyelashes. 

“Pip?” I ask softly. He tilts his head to show he’s listening. 

“How much French do you know?” He hums in thought for a moment, looking at me curiously.

“Only what you taught me,” he says. My stomach twists nervously. Damn this corset. I take a deep breath and lean toward him.

“Embrasse moi,” I whisper in his ear. He pauses as I pull back. He swallows and licks his lips.

“That...Kiss you?” he asks. I look away shyly and nod. He smiles bashfully, before gently taking my face and turning it toward him. His eyes sparkle with adoration as they look at me, before they drop to my lips. His eyes close as he leans toward me, and mine do too. His kiss is soft and sweet, warm like the morning sunlight, and a bliss unheard of. I smile against his lips and I feel him do that same. It lasts for only a few seconds, before we pull away from one another. Blushes spread across our cheeks, and smiles curve our lips. 

“Wow,” he breathes. I giggle and throw my arms around him. 

“Je t'aime,” I say, holding tightly to him. He laughs, kissing behind my ear. 

“I love you too, ma beauté française (My French beauty),” he says. I giggle, and then shriek as he lifts me up. He’s spinning with me, and I hold on tighter. When he finally puts me down, I step back and sway.

“You’ve made me dizzy!” I giggle, grinning at him. He laughs at me, and I hug him tightly. Someone clears their throat, and we jump, moving away from each other. Laurens smiles at us. 

“I take it your feelings were mutual?” he asks. Philip blushes and nods.

“U-um, how are my parents?” he asks, changing the subject. Laurens’ face drops. 

“They’re...Grieving. Not just you, but Lilith. And they’re still searching for Evangeline,” he says. For a moment, my heart breaks. The Hamilton’s are grieving for me as well? I’m not even their daughter, I’m not of their blood at all, but they still grieve for me? Then my attention is drawn away from the fact. I look at Philip and raise an eyebrow. 

“Who’s Evangeline?” I ask. He looks at me for a moment, silent. 

“You are,” he says. I crinkle my eyebrows in confusion, tilting my head.

“What?” Laurens and I ask in unison, each with differing ratios of shock and confusion. Philip takes my hand, seemingly planning out his response.

“My mind was so blurred after I got shot. I was looking at the sky and still didn’t know which way was up. When I saw you, I couldn’t see your face. Not in the literal sense, but it didn’t click. In my mind you were a pretty stranger with pretty words, and I couldn’t see you as Lilith. Maybe it was my own mind’s way of trying to be merciful, because knowing that it was you I was dying on would’ve been many times worse than believing I was dying in the arms of a stranger. I tried to describe you to my mom, I wanted to have you speak at my funeral,” he looks up at Laurens to address him instead. “We couldn’t just call her ‘the girl in the purple dress,’ so my mom decided to call her Evangeline. It’s supposed to mean bringer of good news, which she associated with Lilith comforting me.” The way he’d described it all had been so poetic and sad. And he’d wanted me to speak at his funeral? What...What have I done? I turn to Philip.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, feeling overridden with guilt. He puts his other hand over mine. 

“Lilith, it’s perfectly fine-“

“But it’s not. I caused your family so much pain and uncertainty. They may never know that it was me who sat with you, and they’ll live the rest of their lives wondering who I was. Not to mention that I’ve caused them more grieving by taking my own life,” I exclaim, tears welling up in my eyes. The outburst is so unladylike, and nothing like how my mother taught me to act. Yes, speak to be heard, but stand strong. Women are already seen as weak, do not allow yourself to show weakness if you wish to be taken seriously. Show emotion with words, not with your tears. Philip wipes a stray tear from my cheek, kissing my forehead. 

“Don’t cry, mon amour,” he mutters softly. I hiccup and nod, taking a deep breath to pull myself together. There’s a long silence.

“I want to show you kids something,” Laurens says, placing a hand on each of our shoulders. I grin slightly. 

“You just aged yourself a lot, Mr. Laurens,” I giggle. He sighs and rolls his eyes fondly, shaking his head. He turns and waves for us to follow him. We do so, hand in hand. Eventually, he leads us to a cliff. The horizon is a painting of beautiful colors, which reflect serenely off the waves of the deep blue waters below the cliff. 

“It’s beautiful,” I say, awestruck. Philip is at a complete loss for words beside me. 

“As is everything in heaven,” Laurens says, eyes remaining glued to the horizon. I release Philip’s hand to climb a bit higher on the cliff, standing beside Laurens. He looks at me and I look back.

“As much as it saddens me that you’ve both come so early...Welcome to the afterlife,” he says. I smile slightly. 

“Thank you, Mr. Laurens. I’m glad to have finally met you.”

~~~~~~

“My mother talked of you often, Mr. Laurens,” I say, staring across the sky. I pull at the petals of my flower crown absently. Laurens turns toward me.

“Did she?” I nod, smiling softly.

“She would tell my brothers and I stories of you, and read us your letters. And she told me once that when you saw me as an infant, you looked at me as if I were yours. You had the same love in your eyes as my father did, which is why they decided to make me your goddaughter,” I say. I try to imagine it. My infant self in his arms, a look in his eyes that can be described only as the all too pure pride of a loving father. I will never be able to feel that pride. I have robbed myself of it. Somehow, though, I do not worry. I am with Philip now, and John, and other family that has passed. I am content.

“Mon bien-aimé (My beloved) Anastasia,” he says, soft and fond. My smile is sad now, and I place the flower crown in my lap to prevent myself from crushing it.

“You loved her, didn’t you?” I ask. I miss my mother. My father. My blessed little brothers. 

“Not in the way that I love my Alexander, or in the way she loves your father, but, yes. She and I loved each other deeply,” he says, smiling sadly. I nod.

“She told me that she saw you at that ball and could tell you were different. She approached you, and you looked at her with all the politeness of a man that thought he was going to have to fend her off like other women. But the first thing she did when she reached you was turn her gaze across the room to Alexander, and whisper in a tone only you would hear ‘you love him, don’t you?’” I say, remembering the story my mother told me when teaching me to accept others. We never owned slaves. We claimed to, but we paid them and treated them as humans. And we’d never harmed them. They had families, children I’d played with. I smile softly at him, and he returns it.

“She’s always been such a strong, intelligent, and accepting woman. I never felt as though she was disgusted by me, and I never felt unsafe in her presence. She and your father were more of a family to me than my own blood,” he says, pausing for a moment before reaching for my hand and adding, “and when you were born, you were as well.” I hold onto his hands and gaze at him softly. 

“She’s always wished you could have loved him openly,” I say, unaware of the tear rolling down my cheek. He reaches up to wipe the tear away, and pulls me to him. 

“Mon petit tout (My little everything),” he mutters. I can’t help but laugh.

“Mother told me you called me that,” I say, pressing my cheek against his coat. We sit silently for a moment, the both of us reminiscing on our individual memories of my mother - his Anastasia - and longing to be back with her. We move away from each other in unison, and he smiles at me with an adoring look I’ve only ever seen from my father. He lifts the flower crown from my lap and places it on my head, grinning at me. 

“I didn’t know it was possible for people to accept this part of me until I met your mother. She looked at me with a teasing and playful twinkle in her eyes, and I could always talk to her without fear of judgement,” he says fondly. I touch the flowers in my hair, a fond smile on my own lips.

“She taught us that we do not choose how we are made, or how we are born. She said that we must treat everyone as we feel we should be treated. It is why we never owned slaves,” I say. John chuckles.

“Yes, your mother and I were adamant abolitionists. She had so much passion, especially when she was young and newly wedded. She went against the societal standards of women and we all admired her for it. Lafayette was quite taken with her,” he says. I gasp and put a hand over my mouth.

“Marquis de Lafayette and my mother?” I ask, mouth agape with a surprised grin. He laughs at my expression.

“Yes, but as far as I am aware, all that was shared was a few dances and some flirting in French. Your mother knew about his wife, however, and respected his love for her. Ever self sacrificing, your mother,” he says. I sigh and nod. 

“That she is, ma chère mère (My dear mother),” I say. He pats my shoulder.

“She’s-“

“Mr. Laurens!” We both turn when we hear Philip. He looks panicked. Afraid. Laurens and I both rise.

“What is it, Philip?” he asks, voice steady. Ever the soldier. Philip swallows

“It’s my father. He’s about to duel with Aaron Burr.”

~~~~~

Laurens has descended to be with Alexander for the duel. I hold tightly to Philip’s hand as we watch from above. He flinches when his father is shot, but Alexander seems quite calm considering the situation. Typical Alexander. He’s taken to a doctor, and Laurens comes back to retrieve Philip. 

“We should be with him,” he says. Philip nods, and his hand slips from mine. 

“Time passes differently when you don’t watch. It will only be a few minutes for you. We’ll be back soon,” he says, looking briefly at me. I nod, and I watch them go. Then I’m alone. Is this what it was like for Laurens? Long and lonely silence? I wait, eventually sitting in the grass. Sounds of nature surround me, so it’s not a deafening quiet, but I miss the presence of another person. I find myself weaving more flower crowns, and singing a French lullaby my mother sang to me as a child. I’m about halfway through my third flower crown when a voice breaks through my song. 

“My dear Laurens...And Philip?” I look up. It’s Alexander. He’s been reunited with his lover and his son. For a moment, I think to rise. I decide against it. Let him have his moment with the ones he loves first. I return to my flower crown, and continue to sing. I sound nothing like my mother, but it’s comforting nonetheless. 

“Lilith?” My singing stops as I look up, and I smile. Dropping the half-made crown, I rise to my feet.

“Monsieur Hamilton,” I say with a curtsy. He breaks away from Laurens and Philip to come forth and embrace me.

“Do not be so formal with me, my dear. You are like a daughter to me,” he says, sounding...Heartbroken? I wrap my arms around him in an effort to comfort him. 

“Darling, why did you do it? Why did you leave your poor mother in the manner of which you did? You have no idea how much heartbreak we felt in losing you. Lafayette returned for your funeral. Why, Lilith, why?” he asks desperately. I...I caused all that? 

“Because she’s Evangeline.” Alexander pulls away from me to look at his son. 

“She’s...What do you mean she’s Evangeline? You would’ve recognized her, and you didn’t know who the woman was. That’s why we’ve called her Evangeline,” he says. Philip shakes his head and moves to my side, taking my hand.

“My vision was blurred and my mind wasn’t working correctly. Think about it, Pops. Look at her. She’s exactly as I described Evangeline,” he says. Alexander looks from Philip to me and stares for a moment. 

“I don’t understand why being Evangeline would cause her to-“

“I felt guilty. So guilty that it hurt. I couldn’t take it,” I say, fingers twitching in Philip’s grasp. Alexander stares at me, shocked. Then suddenly he has my face between his hands.

“You had nothing to feel guilty for. I should’ve stopped him,” he says. I blink back tears.

“I should’ve told him I loved him sooner. Perhaps the three of us would not be here in this moment,” I say. The hand against mine flexes.

“Do not think in what if’s. What if’s will only destroy us,” Philip says. Alexander releases my face to look at his son, and I look at him too. 

“Mon doux petit poète,” I say with teary eyes, releasing his hand to touch his cheek. Alexander chuckles a little.

“We always hoped you’d fall in love,” he says. I grin a little bit.

“The plan always was to have us married anyway, wasn’t it? You wanted Derven-Hamilton grandchildren. That’s what mother said anyway,” I say. Alexander and Laurens both laugh, and Philip turns his head away to hide a blush rising to his cheeks. 

“It has been a while since I’ve been to a Derven wedding,” Laurens says. Mother mentioned that the four had come to her wedding. Laurens had given a speech, and danced with her. She said that until the day I was born, the day she married my father was the best day of her life. Not just because of her marriage to my father, but because of her friends, whom she loved so dearly. I can see why. 

~~~~~

As the years go by, more join us, and I meet many whom I never had the chance to meet. I’m reunited with others. My parents, my brothers, Eliza, all of Philip’s siblings. I’m properly introduced to people whom I haven’t met since I was born, or very young. I meet spouses and nieces and nephews. They all remain in their best form. Some being as they were when they died, and others appearing younger. Many reunions are tearful, joyous. When I first saw my mother, some ten years after my father passed away, I broke into sobs and collapsed in her arms. We all spent years in the blissful afterlife together, creating memories we never got. Philip and I get married in the presence of our families and friends. In the year 2016 on the regular Earth, I see a young woman portraying pieces of mine and my mother’s stories in a big theater in New York, in a show that is big on what is now known as Broadway. It is after I see this that the disappearances occur. The first to go is General Washington. Then my grandparents, and Philip’s. Years pass and Angelica is gone. A year later and Mr. Mulligan and Lafayette, then my father. The following year, Mr. Laurens, Alexander, my mother, and Eliza are gone. Two years and Aunt Peggy disappears. Very soon, it is Philip and I, and our siblings and their families. We await the certain fates of disappearance. And it is to my horror that Philip is gone first. Months later, I see a bright light. Each memory of my life flashes through my mind rapidly, and the light swallows me. The last thing I can see in my mind is Philip. Philip. Philip. Philip…

Yo. So that’s the prologue. It probably reads better on Wattpad or Ao3. It’s not updated as frequently on Ao3, but every time I finish a chapter, I update on Wattpad. I’m up to Chapter 14 there. So like. 

Wattpad (Main platform): https://www.wattpad.com/story/238070007-second-chances 

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28575150/chapters/70031022