#loyalty? morals? who is u i only see this wonder of a man

[crystallinemoonlight]

honestly the kinnporsche characters should consider themselves lucky that vegas had short hair because if that man had pulled up with bible's long hair there'd be no survivors half the plot wouldn't have happened cus porsche and pete and whoever else would just have given in immediately I stand by that

[gracefullou]

I wonder if yall realize u lot act like harries sometimes... Even if liam deserves to be ignored (cause we all know hes an ab*ser) yall woud STILL want louis to ignore him publicly even *if* we didnt know about mayas statements. Kinda like when harries celebrate that harry ignores liam time and time again. Louis will never be that guy btw, hes actually kind :)

That is so not true. In fact, out of all the fandoms, louies were the nicest to Liam. Nowhere near as bad as hrries that's for sure. Louies would never tell someone to k*ll themselves and try their hardest to tarnish their reputation and career just bc they made a comment about their fav's clothes. And if i speak for myself, for the longest time i was actually very empathatic towards Liam bc i've seen all the shit that's happened to him in 2019. I've seen a person in need of serious help (and certain people ykw turning their back on him). But saying that, there comes a time when you just can't look past a person's mistakes bc yes, he needed (s) help but he has to seek it, he has to at least attempt to do better, be better. Unfortunately, there was and still are no indications of that. The man just kept doing problematic things and when it comes to Louis, well he never supported him and honestly straight out uses him for 1D points (remmember how he deleted the aotv post but never his posts praising the almighty Hrry Styles and don't tell me bc he received hate bc i was shocked to see not only ot5s but louies fawning over that post). Still, i tolerated him for Louis' sake bc as you said Louis inspires kindness and loyalty even if they're sometimes misplaced. But after that latam circus? No way in hell. No more excuses for him. Not only the man is an abuser, but the way he so disgustingly invited himself to Louis' tour and used him to blow off the heat coming his way for Maya's book? so shamelessy walking around taking pics with fans and singing that 1 dead song over Louis for his gf to post after? The way he not for a second stopped to think of his "friend", that maybe he shouldn't involve him in such a mess? bc trust me he knows how the 1 deaders fandom works and ot5s did not disappoint. They did their damnest best to convince themselves and others that Liam is an angel that could never do something like that bc look! he's at Louis' concert Louis still loves and supports him therefore he can do no wrong 🥺(the way directioners somehow project Louis' kindness and morals over the rest of that band needs to be studied btw 😬). So, yes i will celebrate Louis ignoring a selfish friend who never gave him back half of the love and support Louis has always publicly showed him. Even before the abuse allegations but especially after that. Some louies were "disappointed" when Liam showed up at Louis' shows seeing it as a sign of support but my man never disappoints 😌. Not only am i happy that he ignored Liam's existence but proud as well bc he didn't allow his misplaced loyalty to cloud his judgement. My man is no supporter for abusers, not even his ugly ex-colleagues <3

[gogolstoelicker]

Oh sevens, i love your work keep it up hunny uh maybe a request about twisted wonderland, a chuuya like MC ?

Honestly i wonder how he/she/they interact with riddle

Dorm leaders with a Chuuya!MC

Warning(s): none

notes: CHUUYA NATION LET'S GOOOOO‼️‼️‼️‼️I WOULD LET THAT MAN CRUSH ME WITH GRAVITY

You're a temperamental and a rather arrogant, blunt individual. You revel in fighting, happy to show off your combative ability, and taking great pride in your reputation as the mafia's strongest martial artist.

For as hot-headed as you may seem, you're not impossible to reason with. In fact, you're rather reasonable when no one is pushing your buttons. Fierce in your loyalties, you find betrayal intolerable and treat your subordinates quite well.

Riddle:

stop picking fights with everyone that provoked u, will u?

he's having a headache

he have to collar u so many time

it may have stopped ur ability but it won't stop these foot‼️‼️

like dazai, he can probably stop corruption

only if its strong enough that is

i mean corruption is literally some god's power, how is anyone gonna cancel that unless they're really strong

but let's say he can bc i have some favoritism towards Riddle

then good for u!! he's now ur new partner in crime!!

like if there's an overblot and you're using corruption to defeat them? ace and deuce will bring riddle

you're insecure abt how u looked? riddle got yo back

he's not the best at comforting but he can try!!

riddle also tried to stop u from drinking alcohol

and from smoking when you're stressed

esp if you're underage, he would literally snatch that bottle or cigarette away from u and go 😠😠😠

^u got a very long lecture from him btw

overall, you guys got along great!!

u appreciate that he cares abt u so you're pretty loyal to him!!

u treat him pretty well, tried ur best to look out for him and help him in some ways

like hm? he says smth abt these guys not listening to him no matter what? well no worries, u can fight!!

he used u to fight some guys whenever there's those who's brave enough to go against him again and again

Leona:

was probably abt to fight him at the botanical garden when yall got interrupted

thankfully

looks like they could kill you and could actually kill you duo

you're probably his new rival or smth

all bc u accidentally stepped on his tail one time

u, on the other hand, also sees him as one just bc you're not one to back off a challenge

probably caught ur ass drunk one time

??where did u even got some alcohol???

oh well

now he always talks about the time u got drunk whenever u guys had your daily tongue fight

i meant bickering, not making out. sorry folks

u guys can make out with him in a different situation tho

and then u go 🤨😮😠

almost got into a fist fight when riddle stormed in like😠

so now you're 🕴and Leona's🙄

BUT AT LEAST HE STOPPED THE FIGHT YES⁉️WHO KNOWS WHAT COULD'VE HAPPENED IF THAT DIDN'T HAPPEN

Azul:

almost got beat up by you multiple times but u got held back by ur friends the same amount of times

saw ur gravity ability and so suddenly he's glad ur friend held u back

u probably used that gravity power against the twins at the coral sea

unfortunately, floyd thought the situation was interesting so his unique magic uh interrupted(?) yours?

they complained to azul after btw

azul went *pushes glasses👓 up*

"i see"

^his knees are shaking btw

from excitement that he wants ur ability? or from fear of that ability? he doesn't know

he genuinely wants to know more abt that ability of urs

oh dw he def don't have any ulterior motives abt it!!

😁

u probably don't click well?

bc from my understanding, chuuya doesn't like dazai bc of his strategic personality or smth

azul is pretty much the same

except he probably have more morals and emotions than dazai /hj

well he's added to ur dislike list ig?

Kalim:

starry eyed looking at you

kenji 2.0 ig

you've accidentally adopted him? congrats?

like you're literally his idol now

chuuya mc dancing to blackpink or twice HELPPP

ahem back to topic

whenever he saw u fighting, he's just so???? amazed???

who cares if you're kicking ass, you're just sO COOL

teach him some martial arts pretty please😊

you took HUGE pride in it so ofc‼️

jamil looking from the sidelines like🕴😐

well at least he doesn't need to deal with kalim's shenanigans since he's busy training with you

he would say he trust kalim in your hands if its not for the fact that you're literally a walking fighting machine who likes alcohol

yeah don't lie to him, both him and kalim caught u drunk one time too yknow😐

when jamil overbloted, u probably have this small feeling of 😠 esp for kalim's sake

DW U KNOCKED SOME SENSE INTO HIM FOR KALIM‼️LETS GOOO‼️‼️

Vil:

he really likes that you care about your appearance and tried to improve them each time🤗

look at the students in nrc who barely fit the bare minimum

and now look at u who tried to look ur best everytime

even so, he dislikes that you picked fights so easily

someone pisses u off? a foot is shoved in their face

anyone and literally anyone who pisses u off will have a foot shoved in their face

vil was probably almost one of the target

he's strong

BUT YOU'RE STRONGER LET'S GOOO💪💪‼️‼️‼️

IT'S LIKE A DRAGON BALL SCENE

don't ask me why an i comparing this to a dragon ball scene

but it's like 👊💥💥🦶

we can already guess who is who

for those who have an android, that's a foot btw

Idia:

finds out you're a clone for a god or like a god's vessel from listening in through the cctv since he's kind of curious about ur ability

(idk if cctv can do that i suck at technology but if cctv can't do that then let's say it's smth idia trampled with that made him able to listen in??)

now he's even more curious

God's vessel?? corruption?? clone??

looks at ortho

jkjk

he's really interested in how they made a clone that's so human like

but he doesn't really wanna go up tp u and socialize about it

he's not good at socializing so uh

he just gotta watch ur movement and pray for the great seven to suddenly make him confident and strike up a conversation to research about u???😊😊

whenever he saw u beat someone up from the cctv, he winced and felt a tiny bit of bad for the student you're beating up

probably caught ur ass drunk too LMFOAOAOA

he just finished gaming and instinctively look into the cctv

he's an empath

he can see u, drunk.

u fell into the fountain and mumbled something that he can't hear

it's his core memory now

Malleus:

aren't you a brave one, child of man?🤗

u probably picked a fight with him once u heard that he's THEE malleus draconia

like you know youre strong, he and u know HE'S strong

so like to test who's stronger, WHY NOT FIGHT IT OUT??:D

was kind of excited at first but then realized he shouldn't faught a human bc humans are fragile being

u going "I AIN'T EVEN HUMAN😠"

malleus:😮😃😄

SO THE DUEL DID HAPPEN‼️

damn u both crazy strong

lilia had to step in bc you both were so lost in the moment

all ur friends were shaking in their timbers

half of the training ground(?) is probably destroyed

you two are more than satisfied tho

ended with u two being best friends

u even brought ur wine to him‼️

where did u got that wine? hehe 😊

idk if malleus drinks tho

he probably became another responsible friend after riddle to watch u as u slowly go drunk

[softyoongiionly]

For Whom the Bell Tolls

Just outside the boundaries of your town, deep within the trenches of the forest sits a massive tower made from smoke-stained ivory. Decrepit and ominous, it looms over your town like a warning- like a shadow...

There are opposing rumors as to what resides in the tower.

One of them, the one that just so happens to appeal to you the most, is that there is a deity living in that tower.  

The one who knows.  

The one who blesses and curses the deserving and offers wisdom that no mortal can.  

And now, faced with the imminent demise of your family- you have no choice but to seek answers in the darkness. 

What, in god’s name, will you find?

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: demi-god! au, demi-god! Jimin, mythology, slight angst, smut, fantasy

Word count: 8k (THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PWP)

Warnings: likely inaccurate representations of greek mythology lmao, unprotected sex (wrap it up plz), mentions of violence/death, slightly spooky??? allusions to corruption and murder (non-explicit), JIMIN (cause he’s always a warning), probably a messy plot cause I went feral with this one. parts are unedited oops. 

A/N: i have nothing to say. this was supposed to be demon porn and now we have a completely new au. SOMEONE PLEASE STOP ME. okay anyways,,,, i love u. 

Corruption.  

It ran rampant through your town like the plague, devouring everything in its path. One right after another, you have seen it swallow those who you had come to respect; good town folk, who at one time, moved through the world with a moral compass stronger than the one you felt you possessed, had now fallen ill to the disease.  

And you understood...to an extent. The universe was not a benevolent dealer. It randomly assigns cards to its patrons and cares not about the outcome- or the losses. You understood that sometimes people were simply without a winning hand.  

But the need to win was still present.  

However, your town was spoiled with a type of greed that wafted through the streets and turned everything to mold. Neighbor betraying neighbor, partner betraying partner- even mother’s betraying their children...

All to please one man...

Lord Instinctus was the ruler of your province. Born into nobility, he took over the position after his father passed away and began turning the tides in his favor. Taxes were raised, work hours following suit and, harsh punishments were administered to anyone who dared questioned the new system. He forced your town to pledge their loyalty to him on the day he took over and sent ‘enforcers’ to hide out in the town in search of any signs of rebellion.  

However, his cruelty was not unique. Too many men have followed the path paved before them and suckled at the teet of avarice, until they were compelled to out do one another.

To outkill one another...

What made Lord Instinctus unique was the fact that he had never shown his face before. During his initiation into the noble court, the townspeople were given blindfolds and told to face away from their Lord and simply listen. Few people broke the rules but, the ones who did were immediately executed.  

You still remember the shudder that ran through your body as you heard the sound of your townspeople hitting the pavement. From that point on, the tone was set. Insubordination means death; the terms were simple.  

The lack of knowledge and the possibility of death didn’t stop speculation from blooming. In fact, the appearance of the Lord was essentially the usual topic of conversation at every pub on the main street. After the freeing of spirits, both liquid or otherwise, the rumors begin pouring into the atmosphere.

“He’s probably horribly deformed...”

“Inbreeding is common amongst the nobility; it would make sense...”

“My cousin walked by the villa the other day, he said Lord Invictus had a tail!”

“A tail you say?! So is he some sort of hybrid?!”

“Oh please, that’s preposterous- he's probably just hideous...”

You bite your bottom lip, as you wipe the whiskey from the chestnut countertop, resisting the urge to smirk. Bartending was certainly not a glamorous job but, it paid your taxes and helped put food on the table for you and your family.  

Glamorous it was not but, amusing it definitely was.  

“I bet you he still beds a new woman every night though...”

“A pretty face ain’t worth more than all that gold he has aye?”

“Maybe he’s cursed...”

“That wouldn’t surprise me either- I hear noble families make deals with the magic folk all the time.”

“If you all want to know so bad, why don’t you just pay the tower a visit?”

With that meager suggestion, the bustle of the pub comes to halt- all eyes now on the man who mentioned a topic that is normally banned from public spaces.

“What? You can’t tell me you haven’t wondered what was up there...”

“We know what’s up there-”

“Or rather- who's up there.”

Just outside the boundaries of your town, deep within the trenches of the forest sits a massive tower made from smoke-stained ivory. Decrepit and ominous, it looms over your town like a warning- like a shadow...

It’s said to be the home a monster.  

The tower was used as a prison for the most dastardly of criminals. For years, just before the establishment of your town, it served as a last resort for the rotten underbelly of society. Countless lives were taken, madness ensued- until the revolution came. The tower was set aflame by revolutionaries but for whatever reason, it did not crumble.  

The ivory merely sizzled and turned gray and then over time, it turned black. For years it was abandoned until one day, just after sunset, light emanated from the tower once more. Onlookers who were near the building went inside to see if some vagrant had moved in.  

And they never returned...

Several spiritual advisors have visited the town, including religious figures from various faiths, and they have all arrived at the same conclusion: a demon has taken residence in the tower. Despite the efforts to bless the building, the light comes on every evening.  

Thus, it is assumed that the demon remains unharmed.  

“What about Mrs. Jeon? She left offerings for the beast and her son was cured of the plague the next morning.”

“Or Mr. Kim- he left one as well and found gold in his backyard that very night...”

“You aren’t suggesting there is a benevolent being in that tower, are you? Should I remind you of how many disappearances have occurred?”

There are opposing rumors you suppose.  

One of them, the one that just so happens to appeal to you the most, is that there is a deity living in that tower.  

The one who knows.  

The one who blesses and curses the deserving and offers wisdom that no mortal can.  

“Hey here’s a thought- how about Jacob tests his theory eh? Why don’t you go down and find out yourself? Report back to us with your findings...”

The pub erupts with laughter now, the uneasiness slowly melting away from the room.  

You elect to keep your thoughts to yourself, as you finish up counting the money you had made from that evening- making sure to leave a portion for the incoming team.  

The bite of the winter wind is harsh and untamed as it scraps across your skin, causing you to hurriedly put your coat on. It feels like winter never ends in your town and if it weren’t for the fact that your family stocks up throughout the year, you would be worried where your next meal is coming from.  

Walking down the street towards your home, you catch sight of the tower in the distance. The way the windows begin to glow, almost makes you feel like it’s somehow staring back at you- taunting you.  

You would be lying if you said it didn’t tempt you.  

It always has.  

Even as a young girl, you remember being drawn to the infamy, to the danger...

Your mother always told you that being curious was a good thing, that it led the greatest minds of humankind. You kept that with you as you moved through life, trying your best to understand what your purpose was.  

But times were hard...

With a malevolent lord hanging over the morale of your town, digging his fingers into the heart and soul of your people and crippling them with eternal debt, it was causing you to look for answers.  

And you were beginning to look in some unorthodox places.

Dinner with your family soothes the aching curiosity in your chest as you try and remind yourself of all the things you have to be grateful for. After your meal, you wrestle your little brother into his bed before telling him his favorite bedtime story. Once his eyelids have kissed, you turn out his light and move into the main room to wish sweet dreams upon your parents.  

And although the pleasantries are nice, there are a few things throughout the evening that disturbed you.  

The limp in your father’s movement.

The blisters on your mother’s hands.

The bags beneath the otherwise unburden gaze of your little brother.  

Exhaustion was palpable.  

Living beneath the weight of a corrupt leadership will do that to you.

As your head hits the pillow, you can hear your mother murmur in desperation.

“I won’t have enough to pay him this week...what are we going to do?”

“I can work extra hours at the mill- we will figure it out.”

“How could you possibly work any longer-”

You feel your chest twist with guilt as you hear the crack in your mother's voice.

“You’re falling apart my love...if you continue pushing yourself this way, I’m afraid I will lose you and I can’t- I can’t-”

The muffled nature of her cries suggests that your father has pulled her in for a hug, trying to erase the inevitable with his affection.  

“We will endure, I promise. Just hang on a little longer.”

With your father’s final words, their conversation begins to die down.  

This can’t possibly go on much longer. You might be able to pick up more hours at the pub and, perhaps procure a second job but, the dues will never end.  

Your family will never exist for any other reason aside from paying to the noble family.  

So you make a decision. Hard work clearly isn’t the answer and revolution would only shed innocent blood. If the practical world had nothing else to offer then, you would seek answers from beyond.  

Your parents retired to their rooms shortly after their conversation but, you wait until you’re sure the house has fallen silent before you make your next move. Embarking on this mission would be simple but what lies at your destination is anything but; so, you try to be prepared for the possible outcomes.

Wrapping yourself in the thickest coat you can find, you slip your dagger beneath the onyx material and slowly creep out of your bedroom.  

The streets were still bustling with life; your town rarely ever rests and the pubs and shops are open well past midnight.  

It might sound like the product of a vibrant town but, it’s mainly due to the ever-present demand for profit.  

Limited hours mean limited sales.

Thankfully, no one really notices your presence as you traverse your way down the streets and through the alleyway. The noise echoing from the main street slowly diminishes and makes way for the sound of the wind dancing through the trees. The forest itself does not frighten you. You grew up memorizing it with your father as he taught you the fundamentals or foraging and gardening. The sound of the owls is expected as is the chill that runs up your spine with the increase of the breeze.  

However, as you near the tower- fear begins to slither its way into your veins. It’s quite a sickening feeling as it seems to stop you in your tracks but, you push on anyway- determined to finish what you have started.

The wrought iron surrounding the tower is stained with rust, corroded and crackling with age, the creaking of its bars alarms you, stopping you in your tracks and forcing you to look up.  

And there it is: the tower.  

It stands above you like a menacing giant and although it’s presence should deter you, it doesn’t. Making an effort to be as silent as you can, you slip past the opening in the gate and begin walking up the broken cobblestone pathway.  

There is nothing but dirt surrounding the perimeter of the tower and other than the moon, the only light before you is coming from the very top window. It’s glowing but the color isn’t stable- it's as if it were shifting slowly from red to green to blue and then back again. Faced with the wooden French doors, you question the idea of knocking.  

If someone truly did live here, it would only be polite...right?

With a shaky hand, you knock three times as loudly as you can. For a moment there is nothing, but just as you ready your hand to knock again, the door groans and begins to slowly creak open.  

The already unstable heartbeat in your chest begins to rattle without mercy as you brace yourself for whatever horrible creature might lay on the other side. Instead, however, there is no one.  

The door opens entirely to reveal that instead of the simple but filthy interior you expect from an abandoned tower such as this one, there is a rather decadent home. Large marble pillars extend upwards seemingly holding nothing in place while glamorous furniture positions itself through the foray. Everything is cooled tone with greys and shades of blue, black often lining the borders of the funiture. There is no lantern, the moon lighting up the interior of the room just as it led your path up to the door.  

The layout doesn’t make sense.  

The tower is cylindrical and doesn’t offer enough space for such an open floor plan so, how is it that the inside looks like lavish mansion?

You swallow your fear and newfound confusion as you tentatively look around the expanse of the room.

“Hello?”

Nothing.  

You take a deep breath and decide that the likelihood of someone (or something) answering that call is slim, especially given the way you were welcomed into the tower in the first place.  

You place your hand inside your pocket, gripping the dagger for good measure before beginning to make your way towards the staircase. The moonlight is sufficient enough at first but for whatever reason, as you begin making your way up the stone staircase, the interior of the tower seems to slowly darken. Your grip on the dagger tightens as you stop walking, frozen in your steps, cursing yourself for embarking on a journey so reckless.  

Suddenly, all of the light from the room vanishes, forcing a gasp from your throat. You manage to grip the railing to steady yourself but you have no idea what you are to do next.  

And then, someone speaks.

“Well- you’re awfully far from home...aren’t you?”

The sound of the voice rushes through your senses much like the wind did. It’s too sweet for your liking but, it entrances you none the less.

“Who are you?”  

As much as you try to steady your breathing, the way your voice cracks, gives you away instantly.

Laughter bounces off the stone walls, sinister and playful all at once before the voice speaks again,

“Don’t you think that’s a question I should be asking you? You are the intruder after all...”

Disembodied or not, the voice makes a valid point. You did walk in unannounced and you most certainly weren’t invited.  

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” The strength in your voice comes back slightly as you grip the railing a bit tighter, “I came here because- “

“I know why you’re here...” The voice is much closer now, likely positioned at the top of the stairs, “Humans are so predictable; always looking for a handout.”

This offends you greatly and regardless of the amount of danger you might be in, you let the voice know anyway.

“I am not looking for a hand out. My family and I work from sunrise until sunset to make ends meet. I’m here to make an offering- not merely to take whatever miracles that you make.” Stronger and stronger, your voice rises to the occasion, preparing itself to either spar with the beast or scream for help.

“Miracles hm?” Sinister laughter slinks down the staircase, practically teasing the exposed skin of your neck, “Is that what you think I do?”  

You swallow the bile that creeps up your throat, “I’ve heard many stories- but I wanted to see for myself. Some of my people claim you’ve blessed them but, the clergy said a demon lived here...”

“Oh?” It rises with inquisition, “And you came anyway? Do I have a heretic in my presence?”  

Shaking your head does nothing in the darkness but it’s instinctual, “I don’t believe in demons- at least, not the kind who dwell in abandoned towers.”

“Is there a kind you do believe in then?”  

There is something in you that urges you forward, captivated by the sweet sound of the voice above you, desperate to view the owner and desperate to see the moonlight again.

“Hell is nothing but a metaphor and it’s demons all the same. There is plenty of evil here, plenty of suffering- by definition, there is a demon ruling over my town- he is draining us of our resources for his own gain. I couldn’t imagine a more accurate representation.”

Suddenly, you hear the sound of boots clicking slowly and steadily down the stone stairs. You brace yourself, still feeling frozen in your place- wishing to see whoever or whatever is front of you.

“If I did make miracles,” It muses and, now you’re able to discern that it’s only a few steps in front of you, “What exactly would you be offering me in return?”

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you place all your effort into trying to make out whether or not there was an actual owner to this voice. Finally, your eyes adjust enough to see the faint shadow of a figure which appears to be sitting on the second set of stairs.  

“Name your terms, I will do my best.”  

“Ah ah-” The voice corrects along with a side of twinkling laughter, “That isn’t how this works...”

You’re growing frustrated with the apparent mind games but, you know it’s in your best interest to be patient; you still don’t know what you’re dealing with.

“How does it work then?”

Silence passes through the air for a moment before the voice speaks again, “You must bring me the thing you treasure the most so, that I may know your true intentions- I cannot help you until I can see you properly.”

You snort, “You’d be able to see me if you hadn’t wiped the light from this room...”

Laughter comes again but this time, it’s lower and deepened with suggestion, “I’m not referring to physical sight, human. You might not be able to see in the dark but, I can.”

For whatever reason, its response sounds salacious and riddled with an innuendo that you’re slightly afraid to comment on.  

And the reaction it creates within you, only frightens you further.  

“I’ve just told you that I barely have enough money to scrape by- I don’t have anything of value to give you.”  

“I never asked you to bring me anything of value nor did I ask you to give it away- you’re not listening very well...I don’t know how I’m supposed to help you if you can’t follow instructions.”

It sounds irritated and fond all at once, prompting you to nod immediately, not wanting to upset your only shot at freedom.

“I’m sorry.” You breathe, “I’m just-”

“Don’t lie to me...”

Your gaze strains to try and make out the expression of the figure in front of you but, its futile- the darkness impeding your effort.

“What do you mean?”

“You were going to tell me that you’re scared.” The voice accuses, “But you’re not- even though, you most certainly should be.”  

It wasn’t wrong. You should have ran when the door opened on its own, when the lights began to dim, when a voice began speaking to you...

But you didn’t.

You were undeniably intrigued.  

“Are you going to hurt me?”

An insidious bought of laughter comes from the figure before it sighs, “Hmmm, maybe a little bit.”

When your lips part with something that resembles shock, the laughter comes again only slowing to a halt for the sound of the figure’s tongue tutting against its teeth.

“You are a curious girl...” It observes, “...promises of harm should not excite you and yet- excitement flows from you anyway. Why?”

It kills you to refrain from denying it but, you have no choice.

“Your voice-” A sigh leaves your lips, “it’s very intriguing.”

Maybe it’s part of the creature's abilities, you think, its voice is the main weapon to lure unsuspecting and vulnerable humans into its clutches. The only question is-  what happens once it has you.

“Is it now?” The voice sounds intrigued, “Most humans don’t seem to think so. Are you sure you’re hearing me right, girl? I’ve been told my voice is the thing of nightmares.”

This perplexes you; how could anyone possibly think such a voice was frightening? Despite this creature being anything but human, it sounds very much like a man- a warm and mischievous man who seems hellbent on getting you into bed.  

“What does my voice sound like to you?” It asks, a smile in its tone.

You ponder this question for a second, realizing very quickly that you can’t exactly tell this creature that it sounds like it’s trying to seduce you. But still, that does seem to be the only appropriate description.

“Sort of...like a melody.”

Laughter comes again but, this time it’s paired with the moonlight slowly fading back into the tower, covering every surface until it finally reveals the appearance of the figure.  

Beautiful.  

Not an it but a he...

A man with wings.  

On the steps before you, he stands, leaning casually against the railing now. Atop his head is a tousled mop of sapphire hair, just below are his eyes- nearly black and hooded with the same seduction as his voice and cloaking his figure is a black linen ensemble fitted only by the same color corset. His pillowy lips and soft skin would be a masterpiece on their own but coupled with the giant pair of onyx wings protruding proudly from his back- his visuals become simply devastating.  

“What do you see?” He smirks, licking over his lips.

Unable to resist, you shake your head in complete awe, all of the sensible words dying before they leave your throat, “You- are you an angel?”

The light allows you to see him now as his head tilts another round of laughter, “Try again...you’re very close.”

Perhaps the clergy was right...

“A demon then...” You resign because despite your previously-held beliefs, if this really was a demon, then you know very well you shouldn’t be dealing with him. “I should go.”

His smirk broadens, “But I thought you didn’t believe in demons?”

“I didn’t but, that’s clearly what you’re alluding to. If a winged man tells me he’s a demon, I think it’s wise that I return home.”  

Through your moment of clarity, your desire for him persists- especially now that you see what he looks like. But you know better than to make a deal with a demon, even if you are desperate.

“Do you think the universe is that simple? Angels and demons? Good and evil? You don’t think that maybe- in all of his vastness, there is a chance for the inbetweeners?” He presses and now his black eyes seem to glow, his gaze slightly hypnotic.  

Tightening your coat around your body, you stay staring at him for a moment before you respond, “Is that what you are? Something in between?”

He licks his lips, his eyes finally allowing themselves to wander over your figure. There isn’t much of you showing but, he still drinks you up regardless, exposing and exciting you all at once.  

“I was sent by the underworld to do business for the gods...” He drops his voice to a near whisper, his gaze burning a hole in you, which now aches to be filled.  

You take in a shaky breath through your nose, nodding in understanding, “Did you kill the people who disappeared here? Is that what happens when their judgment goes south?”  

He arches his brow, tilting his head with his inquiry- his voice dripping with darkness, “Maybe I did...maybe I didn’t. I don’t see how that’s relevant- especially since you’ve already decided you were leaving. Which of course-” He waves his hand then, the wooden door behind you creaking open, “-you are free to do.”

There is something about him you haven’t touched on but, it’s beginning to eat you up inside. He may be an otherworldly being, possessing the tower like a beautiful virus but, he is starting to look familiar. This of course, is hard to imagine because his beauty is so striking that you don’t see how you could ever forget it. But nonetheless, you feel like you’ve seen him before.  

And this is what has kept you frozen.  

“Will you not give me any answers?” You border on pleading but, attempt to keep your tone firm.

He chuckles, “You didn’t come to me for answers. You came for help- which I’ve already agreed to give you.”

The supernatural discourse that has transpired, thoroughly distracted you from the reasons for seeking him out in the first place. Your situation had not changed; you were still desperate for money, desperate for justice and desperate for peace.  

“You won’t hurt my family...” It’s not a question, and it leaves no room for any other response aside from the one he gives you.

“I won’t.”  

Nodding, you glance behind your shoulder towards the door, “I have to go home. I don’t have the item you asked for. I can be back within the hour...”

For the first time, he looks slightly disappointed but as you complete your sentence, he shakes his head, “No. Don't come back tonight.” He insists, “If you wish to do business with me- you must return tomorrow after midnight. I will wait for you at the shoreline.”

This confuses you, “The shoreline? Why can’t we meet here? The water is dangerous after dark.”

The smirk returns to his tender lips, “I know.”  

With that, he waves his hand again- causing the door to swing open and slam against the tower walls.

Jumping at the sound, your gaze shoots back behind you before returning to where the creature stood.  

But he had vanished.  

You have no choice but to heed his requests and rush away from the tower, the curiosity inside you almost too much to bear.  

Nothing is out of the ordinary as you walk back home, at least not at first. But when you pass the massive clock tower in the center of town, you realize something strange...

The clock hadn’t moved, not even a second.  

You remember very clearly reading the time as you hurried past it on your way to the tower and now, even as you’re staring at it, it stands perfectly still. Until suddenly, without warning, the hands of time begin to move again. The clicking almost startles you, your brain filling with a million questions despite your decision to turn away and return home.  

Time had seemingly stood still whilst you were in the tower.  

Slipping beneath the covers, you try your hardest to get to sleep despite being bombarded with images of the haunting man you had just encountered.  

You know you should be terrified.  

You know you should be wary.

But the familiarity of him has possessed you and, you’re determined to understand why.  

The next night, with your treasured object tucked securely in your coat, you make your way back to him.  

You make sure to check the clock tower before you do, logging the time away for later to see if last night had been more than just a fluke.  

12:32am.

The clock tower has never lied but, you’re starting to think it might be influenced by whatever resided in the tower- magic, beast, or otherwise.  

As you pass through the many trees, you begin to hear the chaotic crashing of the waves in the distance. The tower may be frightening but, few things could match the malevolent temper of the sea. In fact, you’ve always believed that nothing could. The sea was unrivaled in her cruelty, consuming the world at will, just for the fun of it- you've theorized that she likes the screams. During the day, she simmered- blue and serene, allowing boats to decorate her surface like candles on a birthday cake. At night though, her temper worsens and it’s as if she suddenly remembers all the injustice she has faced. Her waves swell to horrific heights, smashing into the seawalls built around your town, creeping over like a titan looking for vengeance.  

You’ve always felt pity for her. It must be hard: being the heart and soul of humanity, being responsible for the very nature of things- only to be forgotten. Only to be mistreated...

Your boots are discarded near the last patch of grass before the sand and, your toes brace themselves icy chill of the sea breeze. You’re especially thankful for the coat now as you suspect that your teeth would have already begun chattering had it not been for the thick fabric protecting you.  

The waves haven’t begun their violent dance just yet but, you can sense their temper beneath your feet. They will begin soon.  

“The sea-” The voice from the tower is behind you, “it suits you.”

Breathless, you turn to face him and even though you’re more prepared for his beauty than you were last night, it still shocks you.

He’s wearing a black silk gown, that drapes effortlessly off his body, the sleeves made out of French lace and extending well past his fingertips. His wings are shuttered behind him, folded almost modestly against his back.

“Thank you.” It’s the only response you have before you reach into the fold of your coat, “I have the-”

He holds up his hand, his voice commanding but gentle, “Wait. I want you to walk with me first. I don’t like rushing through my business deals.”

Your hand slowly retreats from your coat as you warily look behind you, “You want to walk along the shoreline? I told you, it’s too dangerous- at least for me it is, I don’t exactly have an escape mechanism attached to my back.”

He smirks, his tempting gaze flourishing with fondness you cannot place, “What causes you to mistrust the sea so much? Surely she wouldn’t hurt one of her own...”

Your brow furrows, “What do you mean?”

Extending from the confines of silk, his fingers reach out to you, fluttering with invitation, “I will show you.”

And really, you’d be a fool not to accept.  

Interlacing your fingers with his, you feel electricity simmer ever so slightly beneath your skin. You’re assuming it’s from the power that likely resides within him but, you don’t expect it to affect you so much.

The sound of the waves begins to softly roar in the distance but the water isn’t close enough to the shoreline to pose any immediate threat.

Not yet at least...

You begin walking alongside him as he leads you both in the opposite direction of your town border. For quite a few moments, he just gazes at the eternal stretch of sand before you, his soft mouth curved up ever so slightly. He looks pensive and serene all at once and, it confuses you.

“May I tell you a story?”

His request surprises you but, you aren’t really in a position to say no. And if you’re being honest, you really didn’t want to.  

“Yes.” You murmur, feeling compelled to keep your volume at a minimum.

He smiles softly to himself, glancing towards the water briefly before beginning.  

“The water has many gods...” He speaks softly, letting out a sigh, “Lir, Irish god of the sea, Tefnut, Egyptian goddess of the rain, Amimitl, Aztec god of lakes and fisherman...” His explanation already has you interested. You were taught much of the stories beyond your land but, it had always fascinated you, “The gods of the sea are known for the temperate nature, they often stay away from humans and avoid interfering with the mortal coil. Death by water is merely a request they carry out for the gods of death and destruction and thus, there is goddess who rules over the violence of the sea itself.”

Just as he finishes his sentence, the temper of the sea seems to roar to life, the swollen waves crashing aggressively, still not close enough to reach you.

Not yet at least...

“Cymopoleia, is the goddess of violent sea storms. Poseidon, her father, tasked her with overseeing the malignant waters and tending to the causalities. She was not the creator of the storms but she carried the ability.” He moves through the story as if he has told it a 100 times but he seems captivated by it nonetheless, “When it came time for her to bear a child. She conjured up a spirit from within her very core. She crafted them out of the essence of the sea and placed them inside of clamshell in her palace. She was awaiting the full moon when someone snuck into the depths of the ocean and stole them from her.”

The gasp that leaves your lips cannot be helped, you didn’t realize how engrossed you were until suddenly you recognize the port from another town nearby.

You had been walking awhile.

“Why would someone do that?” You press, shaking your head.

He sends a solemn look your way, “Many thoughtless humans believe that if they capture the essence of a god, they will become one themselves. Foolishly, he opened the clam shell and released the spirit into the world. By the time the goddess found him, it was too late- but she delegated his fate anyway. She took his life beneath the depths of a violent storm and placed a curse upon anyone who shared his bloodline. She made it so that any one of his descendants would bear the physical embodiment of his fate.”

“So, they look like they’ve died at sea?”

He can’t help but smirk, a bit of the darkness you saw at the tower, beginning to creep back. “Indeed. They are horribly disfigured and regardless of their efforts, they all meet the same fate. His lineage believes that if they send enough offerings out to sea or if they build high enough walls, that they will somehow escape their deaths. But of course, this if futile- the goddess vowed that she would continue to collect them until her spirit was returned.”  

His story ends and it’s like something clicks within you. Without warning, you squeeze his hand, slowing both of you to a stop, just before the light of the upcoming pier hits you.  

“Does this have something to do with my town? Is that why you’re telling me this?”  

Lord Invictus certainly fit the description for a descendent of this thief and, although it bores no sense of logic- you have no choice but to believe it anyway.  

It all fits together too well...

He turns towards you now, his smirk now a small smile, “It has to do with you Y/N.”

Your brow furrows, “Me? What do you mean?”

He nods to your coat, something otherworldly lingering in his eyes, “I’d like to see what you’ve brought with you now.”

Still riddled with confusion, you reach inside your coat and find that the item you had brought with you (a beaded necklace gifted to you at birth by your parents) had turned into something else.  

And now, sitting in the palm of your hand- was a clamshell.  

“What is this? This isn’t what I brought to you- I-” You begin to panic, confusion and fear starting to take over, “Did you do this? Did you take my necklace?”

Finally, the sinister smirk returns as his wings begin to unfurl from behind his back. Along with his shift in expression, another danger is brewing very close to you- you can feel it.  

The sea is growing irritated and whipping the wind and the water up into a frenzy. As you look toward the water, you have no choice but to look on in horror as you see the beginning of something deadly.  

A rogue wave.

The grip on your hand tightens as his extraordinary strength keeps you in place.  

“I think it’s time I formally introduce myself-” His voice is loaded with bad intentions but it sounds sweet anyway as he burns his gaze into yours, “My name is Jimin. Son of Tartarus, the god of punishment and Nyx, the goddess of the night.”

Your eyes are wide with desperation, not fully registering what he said before he’s yanking you against his chest and turning you to face the sea. Standing behind you, he unleashes a spell of wicked laughter as his wings unfurl from behind is back to wrap around the both of you, so that the only thing you’re able to see is the wall of water coming for you.  

“I have to come to send you home Y/N...your mother has been waiting for you a very long time.”

His arms are wrapped around you now, crushing you against his chest as his wings begin flapping- the wind picking up furiously around you.

“Jimin!” You scream, eyes welling up with tears, “You promised you wouldn’t hurt me! You promised! Why are you doing this to me?!”

He laughs at you, and it isn’t necessarily malevolent but merely amused, as if he in on a joke you weren’t part of.

“Shhhh, quiet down my little sea nymph...” He whispers salaciously into your ear, “...your fate will be painless.”

You’re crying now, digging your nails into his skin, attempting to break free as the massive creature that is the ocean rushes towards you without mercy. The crest of the wave arches above you proudly, the swirling darkness of the water mocking the mere audacity of your existence but, as you brace for impact- it never comes.  

Only the darkness does...

And it’s the darkness that consumes you.  

“Jimin!” A voice breaks into your subconscious, luring you out of what you hope was a nightmare, “You couldn’t have brought her home without scaring her? She was practically driftwood when she arrived here.”

That familiar twinkle of laughter sounds then and, it forces your eyes open.  

“I’m sorry your grace- it's just in my nature.” He defends poorly, still chuckling to himself, “I can’t imagine my brothers are doing much better.”

You are somewhere extraordinary, that much is certain. Above your immediate line of sight is an ornate glass ceiling that seems to glow a cerulean blue. All around you are gold furnishings, each decorated with various moldings of sea creatures.  

“She’s awake!”  

Your vision, still slightly cloudy, now lands upon a being so beautiful- that you have to blink a few times to ensure you’re seeing the right thing. Draped in blue silk and decorated with gold and pearls, is a woman who looks at you with nothing but love in her eyes.

“Oh my- its really you...”

She seems tentative but, you’re suddenly overcome with joy- filled with an almost cosmic sense of peace.  

“Mother!” You cry, rushing off of the bed you were laying on and into her arms.  

She takes you in her arms immediately, her skin cool against yours like the tepid waters of the bay. She sniffles, tightening her grip on you,

“I knew you’d come home...I knew one day I would find you.”

And it really doesn’t make much sense does it?

How could your life swing so violently from one direction to the next?

Your life on earth seems so insignificant now...now that you’re back with her.  

Cymopoleia- queen of violent sea storms and, your mother.  

She explains it all to you, gently stroking your hair and fawning over you.  

The spirit in the depths was you. Born into a human body, you were fated to one day meet with the demi-god of darkness, who with a bit of trickery- would return you to your rightful place in the cosmos.  

Your mother assures you that your mortal family would be relieved of your memory until it was safe for you to visit them, until the gods of fate decide. In addition, Lord Invictus would be the last of the bloodline to pay for what his ancestor had done and, the fog of greed and corruption- which begin the day you were born, would soon be lifted.  

The explanation is long and doesn’t leave you completely fulfilled but, your mother assures you that you have all the time in the world to understand the complexity of the universe.  

Hours later, after you’ve had a decent feast, your mother instructs Jimin to escort you to your bedroom.  

As he leads you down the hallway towards your chambers, you send a playful glare his way, “So- how much of what you told me was a lie?”

He merely smirks, “None of it.”

You scoff, “Even the part of about your voice? And all that nonsense about excitement and me being curious? You knew all along what was to happen- you just tricked me.”

Jimin chuckles darkly, stopping just outside your bedroom door before turning to you, “The part about my voice frightening people wasn’t a lie, Y/N. My father is the god of punishment, any mortal that hears my voice usually cowers in fear...”

“Is that why I felt so drawn to you? Because you were meant to take me home?”  

His smirk broadens, “No...you feel drawn me because you want to fuck me.”

Your mouth goes completely dry at his bold statement but, you are unable to deny it- your fingers suddenly twitching at your side.

“Wh-”

“It’s not your fault really...” He murmurs, his body shifting towards you, “...it’s just the way I was made. I am used to people lusting after me- however,” Jimin reaches out then, to brush his thumb over the swell of your cheek, “-I have never known true lust until I had the pleasure of meeting you.”

“You lust for me?” You whisper, completely drawn up with desire- finally allowing your true nature, the nature of a demi-goddess pour out of your soul.

He licks his lips, his gaze upon you timid as he presses his thumb into your face, “I do.”  

You turn to the side suddenly, capturing his thumb between your lips, “Show me.”

It's all it takes: that one phrase of consent being enough to unleash all the urges within him.

You’re inside your chamber seconds later, Jimin clawing at the fabric of your robe, his fingers digging into your skin as he does, his lips latching on to every part of you he can reach.

“I knew the moment you walked into my tower-” He grunts, “I knew- there was no way a mortal could be tempting, so dreadfully seductive.”

You sigh hopelessly, raking your hands through the sapphire tendrils on his head, your lips ghosting along the swell of his cheek, the tail of his brow, the shell of his ear...

“In the underworld...” He’s practically growling now, scratching his nails up the newly exposed skin of your back, “We are never taught to refuse our desires. You were my greatest challenge- it took everything in me not to devour you right there.”

You smirk now, positioning your lips at his ear, “I wouldn’t have known what to do with you though- aren't you glad you were patient?”

He grunts again, pressing his hips against yours defiantly, “Patience is for virtuous gods- “ He doesn't answer your question but, you know that he means yes. In spite of his darker nature, Jimin still believes in doing the right thing.... most of the time.  

He has you on the bed moments later, his wings spreading proudly. He’s panting, his eyes completely black with lust as he nudges your legs open, determined to finally taste what he’s been craving.  

For the demi-god of darkness, denying his desires for even a second is painful. He aches to fufill them over and over again...

You were certainly no exception.  

But you want to keep teasing him...

Reaching down, you spread yourself open for him- feeling the visceral substance of your arousal sticking to your inner thighs.

“What are you waiting for then?” You lean up, grasping your hand behind his neck and staring directly into the abyss that is his gaze, “Defile me...”

Jimin growls, sliding into you instantly, his hands quickly bracing themselves on either side of your head. He smirks as your eyes roll back the sheer pleasure of him inside of you causing your nipples to harden.  

“Oh look at that-” He chuckles, his own expression unstable with pleasure, “Are you going brain dead already hm? Is this cock that good?”

Your eyes come back into play as you stare up at him, your hands gripping either side of his face as he starts a power rhythm within you.  

This wasn’t meant to last long, the carnal desire too much for either one of you to handle...

Perhaps, if your feelings permitted it- you'd make love another time.  

Nodding, you moan as he increases the rhythm, pressing your forehead against his own.  

“You feel so good.” You whisper, “I didn’t know it could- oh...” A whimper leaves your lips as he hits that spot inside of you, the pleasure completely ruining your ability to speak.

“Of course you didn’t- you’ve only ever let mortals play with your pretty cunt haven’t you?” He laughs, mocking you and cooing all at once, “And now that I’ve gotten ahold of it, you’re never going to want anyone else. I will ruin you ugh-” He finally breaks, his own brow furrowed with the onslaught of his release as you tighten around him, “-ugh fuck yes. I can feel how badly your cunt wants me- it's like you’re begging me to cum.”

“I want you to cum,” You whisper shakily, kissing at his mouth, “Fill me up please, I need it.”

He growls, kissing you back with just as much fervor, his hips moving so fast that the pleasure fucks with your vision.  

“I’m going to make a mess of you, they will smell me on you until I can come back-” He promises, smirking ever so slightly, “and then- I'll paint the inside of you all over again won’t I? Such a masterpiece this cunt will be...and you’ll be all mine, cumming only for me.”  

And he wasn’t wrong because, mere seconds later- the two of you are cumming all over one another, ruining the silk sheets with your release and clawing desperately at one another.  

With the mutual utterance of your names, Jimin collapses beside you and, moments later- when you get your wits about you, he is ushering you onto his chest.  

Sweaty, exhausted and satisfied, you lay together in silence for quite a while.

Until finally you speak, “I’m not quite sure what came over me.”

Jimin chuckles but this time, the sound is much warmer than you’re used to, “Immortal lust, it’s a blessing and a curse but, eternal life has to stay interesting somehow.”

You trace patterns on his chest whilst he covers your body with one of his wings, the feathers teasing at your sensitive skin.

“Did you mean it?”  

And he doesn’t even bother asking, he knows exactly what you’re referring to.

“I want you.” He affirms, “If you’ll have me- I felt quite possessive of you then but, I won’t insist on anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

You smile, tracing a heart directly over the spot where his heart would beat, “It fits doesn’t it? You and I?”

If the past few days have taught you anything, it is that sometimes- it is appropriate to succumb to fate. Sometimes, believing in the simplicity of destiny works out. Being with Jimin felt right and, for now, this was enough.  

“It does.” His statement is simple but his expression says it all: he is elated.

You fall back into comfortable silence once again before one more pressing question leaves your lips, “Did I hear you mention something about your brothers earlier?”

Jimin nods, his eyes half-closed as he cuddles closer to you, “You did. I have six of them.”

“Are they- like you?” You murmur, unable to stop your curiosity.

He nods again, “They are.”

You think one more question will suffice but, his answer will unfortunately bring about a thousand more, “Are they all on missions too?”

Jimin’s trademark smirk shows itself once again as he snickers, “They are-” He repeats before a great sense of pride comes over his expression...

“I was just the first one to return.”

A/N: should this be a series? asking for a friend...

[powerosewaterpuff]

yo ,i remember a post about sort of reverse batfam , between jason and dick , can you do the headcanons about under the red hood please

yes yes yes yes yes and another yes to top it all off. i really really love the idea, and i love under the red hood in general so thank u so much for suggesting this :) like i spent all day brainstorming (probs shoulda been studying but shhhhh) diff headcanons so i’m pretty excited to write it out. also so the timeline with this is a little tight ig?? i really wanted to include tim as bruce’s new sidekick with dick in the middle of his fallout with bruce but again a lil too tight so we’re just gonna have rebellious dick for now and i also haven’t watched death in the family so i’m basing this purely off of under the red hood :) (oh and fuck dick’s hair in the movie oh my god i’m ignoring that it even exists i’m so sorry)

dick is 17 on the cusp of hitting 18 and he’s so fucking sick of batman. every conversation of theirs was leading to a screaming match where each one tries to push their opinion as fact. it was getting messy and soul crushing at this point, and dick hated it. the rising action of it all was dick getting fired from robin, a role he hadn’t even been formally granted by batman yet he felt it in his power to strip him of it. he felt like a pawn in a chess game that gambled his identity and being off of the mind numbing mantra of be better. do better. faster. punch harder. follow orders. be better be better better. and dick was sick of it, so he shed the robin uniform. swallowing it like a bitter pill because he was forced to do so. but nightwing was giving him clarity as of late. the sheer rush, brilliance and exuberance of it all reminded him of when flying was a much simpler task.

however, dick had an annoyingly unwavering loyalty to protecting bruce’s (less batman then bruce. bruce was his father. batman was not. yet nowadays the man himself was forgetting who exactly was the secret identity and who the real person was.) safety and well-being, even if it meant risking another shouting round. so, once dick catches wind of batman’s whereabouts for the night, he decides to help him with Amazo etc., and dick cant help but realize how well they still mesh together when it comes to fighting. the talking part however, did not come naturally anymore. (it used to. it used to be so much easier)

now bruce, is attempting his best to keep dick out of the loop. he knows dick will furious. and dick’s temper is something not many can tame, but bruce would take the risk. he’d rather dick spit on his memory then be dead in his arms (just like jason was, blown to bits when he should’ve been in his room. safe. sleeping after studying for some test not fighting crime with him in the underbelly of Gotham city, or getting dragged along bruce’s self induced fight with the world.)

dick, of course, does not appreciate this and can very easily tell the bruce is trying to get him off the case. dick doesn’t appreciate that in the slightest, and it only makes him want to push more. to fight bruce on every detail and demand he be apart of this because that’s the only way he can get anywhere with him. it was fair to say, that the interrogation with the joker he had to force bruce into taking him too, wasn’t exactly pleasant. he watches, leaning back against the wall as batman has joker by the neck. some part of him hates himself for not being upset about this, like he’s failing his moral code in some way. but he ignores that half, and tries not to feel angry as bruce doesn’t choke joker out like the rat he is. dick wished, in the darkest parts of his mind, that he could burn joker alive, just to watch in vengeful satisfaction that the man who stole his brothers breath wither in pain. ( and watch that fucking laugh die out)

now, the confrontation goes quite similar. except dick is noticing these little things that resemble jason too much it be a coincidence. too much. he knows how jason fights, he’s sparred with him for years and used to spend countless nights in his room trying to emulate his older brothers swift and hard hitting movements in front of his mirror. he always wished he could hit as hard as jason, as dicks strength at the time was his inhuman flexiblity and professional acrobatic skills. now, when he and batman are against the red hood, fuck it doesn’t feel right to dick. it’s all too similar. it wasn’t even the bigger moves that caught his attention but the little moves in stance that screamed at him that it was his brother. he kept shutting the idea down, because if it was possible dick would have made it happen. he would’ve.

dick gets hurt in the aftermath, but bruce must be a fucking comedian if he thinks it’s going to stop him. they get into another argument, bruce talking him down to nothing and dick frustrated that bruce couldn’t see that he’s been doing this for too long to be lectured on it, and that bruce wasn’t atlas. he wasn’t responsible for the world being held up between his two hands. it simmers down to loud silence, like it always does and dick hobbles out. leaning slightly on alfred.

bruce’s hunch is eating him alive. devouring his soul and heart with a satisfying crunch, not sparing crumb. with the revelation that his son could be alive, and the Red Hood of all people, one of the first thoughts that run through his mind is that he could not tell dick. dick could never know, and will never know. it was a hushed promise, one kept inside his chest, locked like all of his unspoken words. it would crush dick, just like it was crushing bruce now. (or maybe it was because if bruce was on the fence about breaking his moral agenda, he knows that dick would hurdle over that fence. he hates that he knows this but he does. dick wears a bleeding heart on his sleeve for his family, especially for jason. this is the same boy that was set on killing zucco all those years ago before jason and him had stopped it.)

(jason’s tasting bitter green as he mulls over why the fuck dick was there. that little idiot was supposed to be at home. safe. not carrying out bruce’s destructive agenda of self proclaimed justice. he didn’t know whether to be mad at bruce or dick. because of course bruce encouraged this shit, eager to force another child soldier into the suit and send him out to die. but God, did it hurt that dick had taken bruce’s side over his even if he didn’t know it was jason. and that stung like a motherfucker. his little brother, whose fond memories were becoming hazed in a cloud of viridecent smoke, had picked bruce’s side. a little part of himself though, shy and hesitant, whispered that he had hurt dick. he had hurt his little brother and he couldn’t justify it no matter how vengeful he was. but he shoved that part aside, trying to ignore its desperate murmurs as they told him that every time he looked at nightwing or whatever the fuck his new name was, he saw his eight year old little brother smiling up at him).

dick knows that bruce thinks he’s covering his tracks well. he is but dick knows bruce, better then bruce thinks he does. so dick is slowly beginning to formulate a hunch of his own, as he spends countless nights rubbing his formerly injured leg and wondering if he really did everything he could’ve to save jason. if there was something he missed. it’s starting to gnaw away at him, until realization settles into his chest after snooping through bruce’s files. then, he’s dashing to get into uniform, giving a breathless and hasty apology to alfred. itsjasonitsjasonitsjasongogogorunrunrun

batman. red hood. bruce. jason. father. son. bruce cannot stomach the vigor in jason’s words and jason’s heart is giving out at the fact that his father won’t do this for him. to end that pathetic excuse of a fucking life, one that’s stolen from so many people, but it still wasn’t up to his moral standards limit. was jason not enough to warrant a sacrifice for the greater good. (was jason’s desperate need to feel safe of that walking nightmare not worthy to overtake any mission)

it happens in a rush. dick is swinging up to the building, the blood pumping through his ears drowning out the screams of his chest. the joker tackles batman as the timer tick tick tick’s away numbingly. suddenly, dick has kicked the joker off and has one hand over his neck while the other smothers itself over his mouth and nose. why didn’t he do this before? why didn’t he kill the thing before? it didn’t even deserve to be called human, so why would any moral standards apply to a human based code. if batman wanted to be the whole representer of pure justice, fine. he could do that. dick wasn’t though. he was going this kill piece of shit then never let go of jason as long as he lived.

suddenly, there’s a pull at the back of dick’s uniform and at the corner of his eye he catches sight of jason being pulled by bruce as well and he’s just about to call out for him when the next thing he knows a blast rockets through his ears and the world goes black.

jason was no where to be found. and bruce ends up having to shove dick into the batmobile before he lunged after the joker, after realizing jason was missing and that the joker was still alive and kicking. the argument that insues? isn’t pretty. in fact it’s their worst. dick had spun around and asked bruce, ‘who are you? batman or bruce? because im not talking to batman, i want to hear why bruce couldn’t do the one thing his son needed! i want to know why bruce thought it was going to be beneficial not to fucking tell me that my brother-Bruce, he’s my brother! that he was alive, because you thought I was gonna pull shit like this? look at that! the exact thing you tried to avoid happened, you know why? because you cannot trust me, and it blew up in your face!’

it goes on. and on. and on. there’s no resolution, or admittance to what happened. bruce simply shuts himself down, stating this wasn’t changing anything. there was a then and a now, one in which bruce harbours enough guilt to crush his shoulders.

there’s a stony resolution in dick’s voice after bruce tells him to get out with more finality to it then he’s ever said it before, when he says, “fine. batman.”

(jason replays it over and over again in his head. the batarang. bruce turning his back to him. the jokers screechy laugh eating at his mind. eruptions of pain from the crowbar. again. again. again. and dick. smothering the joker. a steely resolve in his brothers eyes he never wanted to see but was secretly glad for. it replays like a broken film in his head, cutting and chopping but creaking out the same tune.)

AHHH OK SO i def wanted to do so much more with this ugh but i really wanted it done td so excuse just how unpolished it is, i might go back with some new ideas in it, but i like where i ended it off. this is more or less the ‘detachment’ phase in dick’s relationship with bruce, as hes nearing the end of high school and cannot do this with bruce anymore (oh college is a whooole other ordeal hehe) but i think dick would be better to tim then what he canonically was to jason. (also because dick is totally not on a mission to get his brother back at all costs and fix this family, nope. not at all.), and i think dick just has a lot more anger in this too? and bitterness here ig? just because he had lost his parents, then his brother essentially, and had to deal with being the emotional support to bruce who was falling apart. it’s a heavy load, and dick is absolutely still himself, just when it comes to jason and the joker as well as his family in general, i think he has a lot more anger as well as less control yk? (oh also i have him less in blüdhaven in this lil thing just bc like he’s still in highschool and is in this weird phase with bruce that hes fired etc., but is now yk fully going into the, ‘i’m not speaking to you anymore’ part. SOO THATS IT FOR THAT THANK YALL SO SOOOO MUCH FOR READING UR KINDA ALL THE BEST TBH AND TYSM FOR THE SUGGESTION AGAIN THIS WAS HELLA FUN :)!!

[sunshine-in-a-bottle]

I'm watching Beast Wars again for no reason and so you all have to hear me talk about it.

If I was personally given Rights I would first use them to erase Cheetors weird crush on Blackarachnia because it literally adds nothing to the plot or the characters. Instead I'd take full advantage of my personal headcanon and make Cheetor desperately want a big sister because I am always a slut for Found Family. Like, that scene with Una ?"Aw, she wants to be you!" Like c'mon viewing him reaching out to Blackarachnia because he desperately wants some semblance of a relationship is a lot more wholesome when it isn't romantically coded. Cheetor is Lonely, so horribly lonely, and so young seeming in comparison to the rest of the cast. He hasn't lost that love for the stars or spiraled into cynicism just yet, and I would much rather explore the ways he tries to reach out to his bitter, jaded teammates. And maybe he's left wanting, maybe he gets tired of being lonely, and maybe he fucks up trying to be like them because "he tried to prove himself." And maybe that scene where Optimus, Silverbolt, and Rattrap reach out to him has a little more weight because it isn’t just Cheetor trying to be an adult, but a Cheetor that tried to be them and post Feral Cheetor has real fucking consequences and isn't just a cool upgrade.

I want that episode where Rattrap finds out they spat on Dinobot’s memory by making him into a "dishonorable" clone and goes ballistic. I want him to find the memories Dinobot stowed away and be conflicted. Is it Dinobot without the spark? Could he live with only a shade? Would Dinobot even want that? I want him to try and fail and be utterly distraught over the whole damn thing. I want him to be angry every time he sees Dinobot 2. I want Rhinox to try and fail to comfort him. I want Cheetor to sit with him, neither speaking but both knowing they're in this fucked up mess together now. CONSEQUENCES. WHERE ARE THEY. GIVE THEM TO ME.

I also just really want Blackarachnia to have closer bonds with the team??? Idk, I'm vibin well enough with her and Silverbolt but tbh I'd really just like her to have an episode where she's hanging out with someone else and Isn’t A Complete Rude Person. I think that's something I actually really vibed with in Beast Machines (although my memory there is still pretty fuzzy, I'll probably have to rewatch that to say for sure) Blackarachnia could actually work with the team in a friendly and occasionally sweet way. She was capable of a blunt and angry sort of kindness. Should that happen right away? Nah of course not, she needs to get comfy with her shiny new Dumbfuck Teammates. But there’s no real Solid Connections there other than Silverbolt, which is purely romantic. (Once again I emphasize Cheetor and Found Family)

Rhinox just needs more in general. If I had to guess the reason he was made a villain in beast machines was because he is only Meh as a Developed character after Blackarachnia shows up and takes over tech wise, not to mention rattrap is also pretty damn techy when he wants to be.(it was also probably to increase tension since his whole deal is being diplomatic but that's a separate thing) Sort of an issue when you make them scientists but don't have them specialize in anything and, more importantly, have a weakness in anything. If your character is simply the backup scientist when the other one is out of commission u gotta problem. Rhinox is stagnant personality wise, I can’t honestly say anything about him changes in the whole series. He has functionally gained nothing from this perilous journey, no real trauma, no bonds he didn't already have with the team, not even an upgrade in form. Isn’t rattrap supposed to be his best friend???? SHOW ME MORE THEN. Seriously if this show had let me have Rights I’m not saying I wouldn’t have loved if we had actually Really Dug In to a character arc or something about Rattrap and the concept of Honor vs Loyalty but that’s exactly what I’m saying lets talk about that. Season One Rattrap they played with this a little (After the whole early on “I would not send someone to do something I would not do myself” and “double agent rattrap” WHICH NO ONE WOULD EVER BELIEVE IF THAT HAPPENED ANY LATER THAN IT DID SINCE RATTRAP IS SO ANTIPRED) and the whole Dinobot thing really wedged it in (”But at least you know where he stands”) AND THEN FROM MY SHODDY MEMORIES OF BEAST MACHINES ITS PLAYED WITH EVEN MORE WHEN HE FUCKING GOES TO MEGATRON BECAUSE EVERYONE WAS BEING A LITTLE BITCH TO HIM 

Where was I going with this? uhhhhhhhhhhhhh oh yeah LISTEN Rattrap and his morals are Very Fascinating and I really wished there was more about that. Like, he gives no shits about Doing What’s Right or Being A Good Person, but he rewards friendship and loyalty and not getting him killed by miles. And despite his Hatefest Dinobot he was actually really... shocked? Offended??? about Dinobot handing over the disc because you’re an asshole but you’re also our asshole what fuckery is this did all our arguments mean nothing to you. And then attempting to join Megatron in BM because he might be Evil and it might be Bad Moral Conduct but fuck morals his teammates were being shitty friends. Is that petty of him? Maybe, but if the maximals had been evil but still genuinely kind and caring towards Rattrap I don’t believe he would ever leave for a second, not for all the Morals or Its The Right Thing To Do in the world. And that’s why darkfics that still use Found Family are the best! The End.

All the characters would actually be the size of their animals because goddamit I want a tiny Rattrap that has to be carried around by the others while he screeches indignantly. Or at the very least make him just a little smaller. Just a bit. And maybe they all have a big Sleep Pile. I like physical affection and cuddling and things no I don't care if they're robots no I don’t take criticism. Dinobot would have feathers fight me.

Optimus has died, been tortured, and painfully grew to like 3 times his size why doesn’t he have ptsd someone give him a hug.

Could we have waited for Airrazor and Tigatron to get kidnapped???? We should have gotten more for them. Let me see them more often. LISTEN THEY’RE VERY CUTE I LOVE THEM SHUT UP. 

WHICH LMAO BRINGS ME RIGHT BACK TO CHEETOR BECAUSE HE CONSIDERED AIRRAZOR AND TIGATRON HIS BROTHER AND SISTER AND HE THINKS THEYRE GONE FOREVER AND THEN ITS NEVER REALLY BROUGHT UP AGAIN LIKE CHEETOR AND FOUND FAMILY REALLY SHOULD BE EXPLORED HERE

Silverbolt is fun, but suffers from the same problem as Blackarachnia where all you really remember about them Relationship wise is the one they have with each other. Who does Silverbolt like best among the maximals, who does he like the least? And if I'm erasing that weird Cheetor crush thing then their interactions probably have a lot less tension so... what else do they have.

Depth Charge is an unrepentant asshole and I love him. He is so hostile but it doesn’t stop him from begrudgingly helping out on occasion. He also gave Optimus some backstory??? Like not as much as my greedy Character Loving hands would have wanted but GIVE ME.

Other Stuff:

Nothing will ever be as funny as Optimus being like “Evacuate the base you’re all gonna die” and Rhinox grabbing his fucking plant

Blackarachnia Craves Power 

Cheetor suffer from Bad Bondage multiple times throughout the series, but specifically during the web I remember Tarantulas leaning over him and thinking “wow this is kind of... date gone wrong vibes??? What the fuck”

Rattrap and Dinobot: *Spot each other from any distance* Miracle Hatemance has entered the chat

Why is Megatron wearing roller skates. Who did this. Why.

“Spider/Bird dog is hetero nonsense” - everyone who has to bear witness to them ever, including me the viewer

Tarantulas is completely done with any attempts to seduce him. Ever.

Airrazor tries so hard to be cool and hip oh my god she is a complete dork i love her

“FOR THE ROYALTYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY”

please be nice to Waspinator he’s trying his best

Rhinox: exists

Me: hello yes sir I love u wise mentor sir

Holy shit Dinobot’s death scene is a gut punch. Rattrap honestly is what makes this scene perfect. I have never seen him so respectful or emotional is a way that wasn’t meant for comedic relief.

That scene, man

Tigatron’s speech about bringing beast mode and robot mode together is like foreshadowing to beast machines. Or it isn’t. Idk. Would have been really nice if they, yknow,

bothered to bring up literally anything from the previous series to beast machines

 (yes its been awhile since I’ve seen Beast Machines, but I do remember that being my primary complaint.)

This series is so cheesy but Thundercats is still cheesier so its fine

Rattrap was canonically a miner at some point apparently.

He’s also super prejudiced and honestly that’s interesting. HONESTLY SOMETHING I WOULD HAVE LOVED TO SEE DISCUSSED IN BEAST MACHINES IS THE SUPER MEGA DIVIDE IN PREDS AND MAXIMALS BUT I GUESS WE WEREN’T GETTING THAT OH WELL

The ‘Everyone is blind’ episode was always one of my favorites and it never gets old

Upon rewatching the series I have concluded Cheetor is Babey. Which is weird because I didn’t think much of him from what I remember. Shift in perspective I suppose. They really made Rhinox farting the thing that saves the day, huh. What even was season one.

BITCH THAT IS A TERRIBLE WAY TO TRANSPORT MEGATRON NO WONDER HE FUCKING CONQUERED CYBERTRON Y’ALL DESERVED THIS HONESTLY

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh in conclusion:

Rattrap is my new religion apparently

[its-jijii]

i’m scared of tanizaki junichirou

welcome to me theorizing and questioning the tanizaki siblings cause they honestly kinda scare me. everything im talking about has already been animated in s3 but warning for spoilers if u haven’t seen it yet.

hi okay well i’ll start off with the eyes. harukawa has explained this so i’m sure most people know of it, but if you don’t, eyes = danger/morality. characters with darker eyes are more dangerous or “evil”, and characters with light eyes are more innocent. i personally think something is off with naomi’s eyes. also if you wanna skip reading about eyes go ahead

in comparison to mafia members or ex-mafia members, naomi doesn’t stand out that much. it’s true that her pupil isn’t large and dark, like kyouka or kenji, and her eyes don’t have any kind of shading or rings.

however, if you were to only look at ADA members with more narrowed eyes, naomi’s starts to stand out. her iris has thicker lining and touches the bottom of her eye (ranpos also do but hes squinting 24/7). her pupil is bigger than others, too. without harukawa’s stated stylistic choices, her eyes being like this wouldn’t have much significance. 

buuut i wouldn’t be talking about it if it were normal. considering naomi’s role, her eyes are uncomfortably dark. she’s supposedly a student and part time office worker. fukuzawa worked as a government assassin in the past. kunikida isn’t evil, but he is physically capable and dangerous. even her brother has lighter eyes. why are naomi’s eyes darker, indicative of evil or danger, than that of other dangerous ADA members? she has no ability from our knowledge.

for a nonviolent, non-combative character, naomi’s eyes pretty dark. i can’t help but think she is hiding something. 

beyond naomi’s unusually dark eyes, there’s the subject matter of the sibling’s relationship. not the incest part. something is clearly off between them- their willingness to do anything for each other is what is off-putting. naomi jumping in front of her brother to save him? not unusual. tanizaki willing to commit murder for his sister’s sake? woah there, hold on a sec

there is normally a line you would draw in what you would do for your sibling(s). for someone who is supposedly on the good side, that’s an extreme measure to take. and unfortunately it isn’t just tanizaki threatening to hurt people who hurt naomi- he has literally attempted to kill people to protect her or get revenge. 

first there was him choking higuchi, where if akutagawa hadn’t interrupted him, he probably would’ve killed her. secondly, when rescuing naomi and haruno from the guild, he intentionally used his ability to attempt to kill the guild members by getting them hit by a truck.

i’m led to believe that this love and dedication between them is mutual. naomi is protective of her brother and frequently follows him around. if she had any combative skills or ability, she would likely be using them to protect tanizaki. assuming this is the case, i wonder what caused their relationship to escalate to this point. for both of them to be so close that they would commit murder, throw away all morals and self preservation- i can’t see a normal sibling relationship getting to that point. technically they’re not that normal but you get the point.

aside from their actions proving their dedication to each other, there’s what they’ve said about the relationship. particularly, what tanizaki said about what naomi means to him during his conflict with the guild.

sorry for low quality screenshots. they’re from chapter 22

well, here we go. for starters, eyes again- tanizaki normally has pretty light eyes. however, when he speaks seriously about naomi in these panels, his eyes are always considerably darker. he is more dangerous, and as he said, willing to throw away all morals.

then there’s the god thing. he says that he can’t compare his love or willingness for naomi with anything. the example he uses is that “nobody would compare god with anything, right?” the way this is phrased strongly suggests that to him, naomi is akin to a god. highly revered, dutifully loved and willing to do anything, and that she can’t be compared to anything. she can’t be compared to other people, or concepts, or anything- to him, naomi is godlike and her importance is unquestionable.

lastly, there’s him saying that he would gladly reduce the world to ashes for naomi. at this point, there’s little doubt in the reader’s mind that he means this. he is very, very serious in what he would do for naomi. this kind of obsession and worship must have stemmed from somewhere or something. something must have happened for tanizaki in particular to act this way. but alas asagiri hasn’t given me jack shit so i have no idea what

tanizaki is scary beyond his loyalty to his sister, though. his ability, and what he said in chapter three. he doesn’t have a flashy or amazing ability, and it isn’t used in combat. this is true. of course there are other creative ways tanizaki has utilized his ability, but it is limited. in another post i discussed ability classifications in bsd. light snow falls under the non-combative category.

tanizaki’s ability itself cannot hurt people. his ability can affect himself, others, and his surroundings, but making illusions can’t hurt people. so, given this fact and the fact that he said that he is non-combative, i find his actions strange. other ADA members have either training in combat (kuni, fuku) or their ability  gives them a strength boost (atsu, kenji, kyouka, etc).

he hasn’t shown any knowledge of martial arts, and his ability is one of the few that can’t injure other people. so,,,, how did this man stand up to the three black lizard commanders on his own? he nearly successfully killed mori. he nearly killed higuchi. and though he physically didn’t do much, he did incapacitate two formidable guild members.

it’s true that most of these involved using his ability to disguise himself or his surroundings. however, he seems very, very adept at using his ability in these unconventional ways. maybe he’s just creative and good at thinking up tactics. buuut given that most of these instances involve him attempting murder, i have to wonder how he is so used to using his ability to assassinate or trick others. for a non-combative person, he seems preetttty violent

bonus that in most of these scenes, his eyes are very dark. sometimes they revolve around protecting naomi, and sometimes they revolve around infiltrating and assassinating the boss of the port mafia.

in conclusion i’m scared of tanizaki junichirou. naomi is suspicious and lowkey shady af, but i have not seen her act as drastically and terrifyingly as tanizaki has. thanks for coming to my ted talk i’ve been writing this for like three hours and now its four am. bye thanks for reading, i hope you enjoyed

[theaurorfileshq]

D A N T E   V A L E N T I N O   V I T A L E  /  A U R O R   O F F I C E R

AGE: Twenty-Seven

BADGE NUMBER: U88S10

BLOODSTATUS:  Pureblood

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Cis Man, He/Him

IDENTIFYING FEATURES:  Small tattoo of a key at the base of his neck, sunglasses, vague European accent.

STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:

(+): Occlumency, Obliviation, Charismatic/Social Chameleon

(-):  Secretive, Hypocritical, Deeply Compromised Morals and Questionable Loyalties

BACKGROUND:

His childhood is a glittering mosaic of fabulous places, beautiful clothes, parties and mansions and all kinds of glamorous things. His mother, Evelina Valentino, is a celebrity after all, a model, then an actress, then a designer, a producer, all manner of things. Beloved across Europe, she receives weekly invitations to new places, and accepts them all with a wave of one gloved hand, whisking her child along with her as she moves from place to place. The definition of elegance, she is, elegance and taste, and all the more impressive for doing it as a single mother whose child is, unlike the expectation, far from neglected.

No, Evelina Valentino loves him, her precious son. He is beloved, entirely wanted, and she is so involved, pampers him, to the point where he never even thinks to ask if there’s a reason he doesn’t have a father in the picture. He doesn’t need one, doesn’t even think of himself as having one: he feels like Athena, sprung fully formed from the brilliant mind of his genius mother, her little magic trick.

The closest thing to home he knows is a villa in Sicily, but he spends fewer nights there than not, most of his time spent in extravagant hotel rooms, his mother’s collection of designer apartments sprawled across Europe, or the guest suites of family friends, other fabulously wealthy and wonderful people who dote on him nearly as much as he does. But really, the thing he thinks of when he hears home is his mother’s embrace, her lips on his forehead, her little muttered affections and her dazzling smile.

He hates to tear himself from her side, to attend school, but Beauxbatons is calling, and he loves that, too, once he’s there, lets it become home for a few years, spends breaks jetting across the continent, not just with his mother, but with friends, too, plenty of them, enough to give him a picture of a future of his own, much like hers, full of parties and events and outings, adventure and luxury and wonder. Just like her, Dante Valentino feels like he will rule the world, one day.

It’s a rude awakening, to realize he won’t. To realize that being beloved has never made anyone immortal. He’s sixteen when his mother dies, suddenly and unexpectedly—at least, to him, because she had never told him that she was sick, and didn’t live long enough to explain why. Maybe she didn’t want him to worry. Maybe she didn’t want to seem weak. Either way, she’s gone five weeks after he starts his final year at school.

He finds himself at loose ends without her. Directionless. Finds it hard to get up in the morning, finds it hard to focus. His professors tell him he can take some time off, the rest of the semester, come back when he’s ready, but he doesn’t want to leave. Wouldn’t know where else to go. His life feels shapeless, in a strange and unidentifiable way he can’t articulate. He goes to every class, and learns nothing. He has no memory of how he passes the rest of his time. Weeks go by, and the ache in his chest only gets worse.

Until one day, he gets a letter, from a man he does not know, a man he has never had occasion to think about: his father. His father, in America, who writes to tell him how sorry he was, to hear about Evelina. How he wanted to check to see if Dante needed anything, help or support. Money, a place to stay, any of that. They correspond, back and forth, for weeks, and Enzo Vitale is so patient with him, the fog in his brain and his newly-shaky handwriting.

When you finish out the year, Enzo—his father writes, come out to California. We’re family, we’ll make sure you’re taken care of.

Of course, he’s already there when he begins to understand that there is a cost, for his father’s love, in a way there never had been for his mother’s.

Enzo Vitale is a part of something. Its edges are blurry, when Dante tries to look at it: an amorphous thing he doesn’t fully understand. Maybe it’s that he’s still struggling to see anything clearly (depression, a MACUSA therapist will explain to him one day, years later, and he’ll think oh, a little distantly) or maybe it’s because of the secrecy of it all. The New Blood Order is many things, and those who are a part of it have many roles, and it’s easier to go along with things than it is to try to trace them.

(Maybe, he’ll realize one day, it wasn’t the fog or the secrecy, but the fact that he didn’t want to see the truth and admit he was losing what felt like the last hope he had left.)

The New Blood Order is many things, needs many things: soldiers and masterminds, financiers and politicians. His father never uses the word spy, but it’s the most honest one there is.  

A simple trade: he goes to the auror academy, he gets a spot on the Pacific Squad, he does whatever it takes to divert attention, to compromise evidence, to throw MACUSA’s scent off of the NBO by whatever means necessary. He learns how to blend in, to make everyone like him just enough, but never get attached enough to know anything real about him. He learns how to obliviate, learns occlumency and legilimency, long nights after his lessons at the academy spent learning extra lessons under the instruction of other people who work with his father.

In exchange, he gets a family.

Utterly alone in the world, and still so young, it feels like a fair trade.

[nightmare-circus]

Serica | Reaction 4/4 | Ode to…

When: Second motive, when their surroundings were not these ephemeral islands but a quiet village. In the midst of suffocating fear, after she had committed to holing up in her room, before he had come to stay with her.

Where: On their mirrors. Due to aforementioned self-isolation.

Who: One conspiracy theorist, one nurse. Just friends, for now.

What:

( > seriously though i dont want to find you dead )

> then don’t go looking

( > how could i not? )

Why:

IX. Yamamoto, Deacon

Was it her fault, for trying to make concrete plans for the future?

( “Deacon Yamamoto, I will do everything in my power to make sure you and I can leave here, that I will find you and bring you home and we’ll spend days just sitting on the couch watching terrible sitcoms, riding on the subway gossiping about tourists, walking through the park hand in hand…“ )

No, that was stupid. 

Serica may have been a woman who believed in more than the average person, trusted in platitudes and jinxes where others would scoff, but even in the midst of the unthinkable she was dimly aware this wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t his fault. It was…. someone else. Someone else’s fault.

A someone else who she needed to find. But, she found herself once again incapable of meaningfully investigating. Not this time for exaggerated pain and weakness, but of a pure inability to move forward both physically and psychologically.

She’s done this before. She had just forced herself to shallowly rationalize and pack away the deaths of Miles, Juniper, Tatsuya, Elise. One more couldn’t be bad. She was great at compartmentalization wasn’t she? She was able to laugh and have drinks hours after poisoning a man, she was able to pretend to be a victim when only half an hour before she had killed one Danny Ostergard with her two hands. If she approached this from a distance, with the veneer of a woman who had nothing to do with the dead man before her, with the objectivity of a woman who simply was trying to figure out what was going on… she could do this, right?

Let’s begin.

How does she even begin to explain Deacon Yamamoto?

(Ah… he’d probably like that reference, wouldn’t he?)

u/BoysBBUGS ||  u/aviary23

Head mod of Fanatical Ravings of the Disappeared, he(?) had a lot of theories that she didn’t necessarily subscribe to, but saw his contributions interesting to pick at. Ships passing through the night on the world wide web ocean.

IX. The Hermit || XI. Justice

A neighbor of a neighbor, though she hadn’t seen him around much. Does he keep to himself? Why the mask?

Cockroach & Serica

A riot of a man, able to make her laugh to hysterics at their first meeting. Supposedly 32 years old, supposedly unable to bath for fear of chemicals, supposedly with child with a man he had just met. Willing to have himself come off as incredibly unreasonable in public. Despite all this, clearly intelligent, clearly possessed a mind that had a voracious appetite for information and was wonderful to bounce theories on. An asset, despite it all.

( “I’m Serica by the way!” )

[…]

“They gave me the name Cockroach. Fucking COCKROACH Ser. What kinda joke is this shit?”

“I have a dumb fucking gift and Cockroach might as well be my real name since I doubt I’ll ever hear my original one ever again.”

Roach & Riccy

Slippery in every way, but not so unreasonable as he seemed. Logic was a great way to combat him, and any answer often had to be weaseled with either heavy theorizing (her specialty) or with a tango with some off the cuff roleplaying (decidedly not her specialty). She wouldn’t be so cocky to say that he changed his habits for her but… she thinks she had a hand in convincing him. He really wasn’t so bad, if you gave him a chance, and he’d surprised her more than once with acts of care and thoughtfulness.

Dee & ██

A friend for sure, and one who seemed to have a genuine loyalty. No qualms at seeing her drop a stun gun in front of him, no reservations when she admitted tentatively that she slept with a knife, no judgements when she casually brought up murder once more. Morals in the traditional sense didn’t seem to shackle him, which was very convenient to incorporating him into her tentative plans. 26, not 32. A New Yorker, as well though rather than any borough, his car was his home. Given his life he had become a stranger to hugs, to positive affection, but once he had a taste he was hungry for more. For all his mock lovers and public swooning, he was dense to actual subtle flirting.

( “My middle name. Aka, no risk of harming me if a faelien hears it. ██.” )

“I don’t have a middle name. I’d tell you if I did, swear. You can call me Dee though. It’s a part of my first name and you already know the first letter of it when I fucked up that one time. So Dee is a pretty good substitute then, yeah?”

Deacon & ███

Incredibly cute. A true newcomer to being hit on, to being told he’s handsome, to being kissed, to being in a relationship. A strong backbone even as she herself wavered in the days leading up to the decisive moment. Determined, stating possibilities as if they were facts and refusing to acknowledge her agonizing over the worst case scenario. Through everything, an unwavering support, a hand on her back, a shoulder to lean on. A good singer of lullabies, in her opinion.

( “███. My name is ███.” )

“Deacon.”

Deacon Yamamoto & ███ ██ █

Did not hold himself in the same concern he showed her. Makes a fuss in the public chat about the wrongs done to him but brushes off the severity when questioned by his own girlfriend. Still a liar, still a master of faking a smile. 

( “I won’t remember much but i’ll know your name, your, that you helped me so much in escaping that, that you mean the World to me–” she’s just babbling “I probably will believe myself if, if I actually try to find your information or maybe your drivers license– maybe if I put you in as a missing person or– But oh no will you believe me? What if I just show up at your car and you just think I’m a scam artist or–” )

“My license plate is HGO789. Deacon Yamamoto. I’ll believe you. I’ll always believe you.”

( “…█. My last name is… █.” )

███ ██ █

There once was a man upon whom was foisted a change. Upon his rise to a breathing dream, he was stripped of his taste and stripped of subsequent limits. Immune not only to the aches of poison but the salve of saccharin, the burn of capsaicin. To match with his steel stomach was his mercurial tongue, not gifted but cultivated carefully. Silvery and poisonous with every other word, it was at the command of a mind that paralleled in fluidity. It was as if he was a maestro, and his instrument of choice was a dictionary, phrases and scenarios slung with such rapidity that all who listened were on guard for constant whiplash.

So, it meant something when words became actions.

Anyone can say anything. He especially was able to say anything, a master class perjurer of the highest degree. The sun was about to peek through the sky at any moment, he was a Staten Island woman in an unhappy marriage trying to hook up her hair dresser with her son, he was fine, he was going to be okay, he was going to get out of here–

…

There is a difference, between telling someone that you will take consideration for the situation, and spending precious currency to fit yourself with a weapon.

There is a difference, between telling someone that you will help them, protect them, and taking the extra mile to pull down the mattress of a woman who’s waking hell of a gift would not let her climb up the steps otherwise.

There is a difference, between telling someone that you want them to live and helping them plan and execute the death of another person.

There is a difference, between telling someone that you want to live and…

…

(She was failing miserably in this task).

…

No one who looked at his body, at the stagnant ichor dripping out of his head, could understand the potential for warmth like she would. His fingers combing through her hair, pulling out loose tangles and tucking locks behind her ear so she could look at him unfettered. A grin, not sharp and pulled taught, but gently reassuring, murmuring soothing phrases to ease her anxious hands. Irises, bright not with the promise of information to unravel but with unbridled emotion that made his eyes crinkle, a devoted gaze meant for one.

One person, who stood here alone.

“And it’s not like I need it, yanno? I kinda wasted my life away before all of this. Not sure if I want it back.”

"I won’t die. Not yet at least. I have some things that need getting done." 

“I mean I’m not gonna let myself die after I break a leg like some racehorse. I wanna be useful, not a damn trigger happy martyr. ” He had snorted. “I’ll still make a valiant effort to get out of here Rics. But if it comes down to me and you? Well.” He had shrugged. “As a consolation prize I will say, you do make me wanna become someone worth living again.”

"I was impliiiied my dear, of course I’m making it out of here with you. What would the point be otherwise. I was trying to make it seem all badass and broody, adding a technicality to it all would’ve been underwhelming.”

“You’re going to be stuck with me until the end of times.”

“You’re getting out of- we’re getting out of here. You were wonderful.”

“Yes I know. I will. I’m going to get out. With you.”

“Of course, █. We can live a life worth living together out there.”

“It’s going to be alright █.”

“I love you █, please. Trust me, things are gonna be fine.”

“One day at a time.”

One day at a time, she had repeated.

One day at a time, she repeats, staring at his face, flesh frozen in the way that only a cadaver could. She’d never forget the first time she had touched a dead body, and was forced to confront the jarring dissonance, the coldness, the stiffness, the pallor of the skin that had been warm, soft, pliable, just hours before. Only a child, forced to confront the concept of lives ending for the first time. Since then she had seen more than her fair share, from work, from this place, before her very eyes.

Joints creak and echo through her body as she moves, finally. To fold her knees under herself, sit at his side, hand hovering indefinitely, torn between not having to face that final moment of confirmation and wanting to just hold him once more. Before she would have to be torn from him for hours, before they returned from a useless trial and his body would be gone, before she’d have to trudge to their caravan, who’s emptiness would threaten to collapse on her.

“There is nothing worse than not knowing.”

( “No, there’s nothing worse than not living.” )

[severusdefender]

Back on my '2 Gryffs & a Slyth Walk Into a Traincar AU' Bullshit again (lol)

So like, I just figured that the mystery of Lily’s Empty Grave could be an interesting adventure that might drag former AU friends Remus and Severus back together before realizing that Lily is alive again.

Remus happens to be eking out a temporary living in or nearby Godric’s Hollow, where Lily was buried next to James (which Remus was left wondering if she had iced him [Remus] out in the end too bc he was left way outta the loop, those Daily Prophet rumors be strong despite being total lies). And I already HC that Severus visits the grave periodically to not only mourn but hate himself, expert multitasker that he is.

But Severus visits the grave again, not at his usual time, because he got a mysterious package (idk, like a box of Lily’s things? Addressed to “Severus Snape or Remus Lupin, in the Event of my Untimely Demise” which was never sent until Something got involved) handdelivered by a strangely normal man (Lily’s FaeDad) before he just… Fooshes away quietly like Batman, unnerving Severus.

And then they both run into each other, and there’s no buffer here, just… Raw, old hurts and bad blood and what could’ve (spoiler: will be, but not yet) been. It’s barely civil, and shows signs of devolving into a loud fight (because Severus would still token fight back at least, but not like he hates Remus or anything), but the first time they’ve spoken in a long time for them. But then something’s amiss, the mud that had barely filled in the over the broken bits of the coffin gets stepped on, and the ground just collapses. 

Can’t really decide who falling into the grave would be better, Remus or Severus. If Remus falls in, Severus is Still Concerned for his (former) friend, like he’s afraid that the man’s broken an ankle or leg and post-1stWar!Severus out of his scripted comfort zone is always good. But if it’s Severus who falls in, and Remus has a moment where he’s immediately concerned for the former friend, before catching himself as he’s pulling Severus outta the grave. And Severus notices it spark and immediately ebb away and it’s extremely bittersweet on both sides because these morons are affection-starved af, but both pretend that the other didn’t see anything regardless of who falls in. Thoughts?

Then they realize that the Grave is Empty, and that the enchantments on the coffin have been destroyed (& Lily’s wand is missing, another detail Sev later brings up). And suddenly it’s just this mystery that the both of them have to solve together, who stole their friend’s body and for what (probably dark) purpose? 

Shipping Ahead: Watch as Remus and Severus, old former friends who ended badly, get prickly with one another, but are forced to work together because they can’t/don’t trust the Wizarding authorities or public with this at all. And then the Mutual P I N I N G starts on top of their complicated baggage and raw hurt and everything just hurts so GOOD.

X'3

All the while, a distressed and confused FaeLily is wandering the English countryside & towns like a strange, magical hobo with amnesia, leaving small ripples of chaos in her wake, trying to figure out wtf is going on, how to get a grip on her magical superpowers and helping literally every distressed child she sees like some wrathful Fairy Godmother ripped from Grimm’s Fairy Tales, because Fae and Fae logic. Maybe some accidental curse-breaking and sorta Eldritch horror-type adventures, but generally let’s explore some of the magic that’s in the Muggle World because I think the Wizard-centric Ideology is dumb and needs to go lol.

Maybe like, her FaeDad acts like a… Detached trickster mentor figure? He’s pretty hands-off for the most part, and doesn’t intervene unless dragged in or invoked directly (which FaeLily doesn’t remember rn, both while “Dead” and Alive both times). But his motives are pretty ambiguous and he isn’t a fuzzy figure either, but resurrected Lily is still an interesting investment, so he’s… Watching his kid (despite being an adult, he’s a Fae, she’s YOUNG in comparison) find her feet without his help, while occasionally trying to herd her toward where Harry would be.

(Or maybe uses her like a strategic catspaw to deal with some of his local enemies/nuisances in the Fae/Magical realm without her knowing? Some sort of longgame probably in the works.)

But consider, in this way, Lily’s learning to be “Fae,” while wandering on her own, having occasional nightmares of her former life and some of the inbetween time wherever tf she spent “being Dead.” Her logic and actions are driven by survival and impulse, along with her need to find out what happened to her and who even IS her? She drifts away from human societal norms and moral-paradigms, making her own decisions and observations of this strange and unfamiliar world around her. 

Maybe toss in some international evil wizards too, like, okay so Voldemort’s Civil War that he started might have started to build at least a little traction outside the UK? Not a lot, mind you, but perhaps some like former Grindelwalder-esque peeps who went to ground, because racist rich people tend to flock together? And Voldemort would’ve probably been seen as a good bludgeon that some arrogant douche probably thought they could easily remove when he was done sacking the country, or a weapon-ally-of-convenience to point at their enemies in the name of their cause.

Separately, FaeLily and the Snupin Detectives clash with these wizards, who are doing a Plot, which I haven’t quite sussed out what exactly, but it’s probably bad for everybody in the future, though. Thoughts?

Anyways, back to detectives Remus & Severus! But for a while, just keep barely missing her once they finally get on the trail. In the meantime, OH HOW THEY PINE! THE BAGGAGE! THE DRAMA! THE S U F F E R I N G~! The moments of accidental fluff and bittersweet remembrance of good times, both Remus’ & Sev’s self-hatred, their regrets, the misunderstandings, the old chemistry sparking to life again, THE GUILT over accidental fluffy moments. And alllllll that Mutual Self-Denial. Delicious.

Severus is still concerned over his friend’s apparent dedication to not bothering his still-alive and (possibly? Sev doesn’t know really) not-shitty father, Lyall Lupin, that Remus would rather suffer and be in danger and a possible danger to others in a roulette of circumstance instead. Remus is trying to keep himself from trying to unravel whatever tf is going on with Severus, because he’s like, not entirely sure of Sev’s loyalties, or that Severus flipped because Dumbledore didn’t tell Remus shit for some reason (security?) and Severus isn’t expositing for shit. Just give me these two broken-hearted and damaged morons trying so hard to pretend they don’t care and fail, but deny it up and down until FaeLily decides that she ships it and decides to intervene later.

Then suddenly their dealing with more bad magic-users and strange occurrences, all the while on the trail of… Something (FaeLily). But the tension is growing between them, and they’re still not communicating very well either (also poverty, because poverty sucks, also I’m really down for the HC that Severus owes Lucius money for a loan he took for his Mastery from TAB). Then Remus & Sev finally stumble into some misadventure, expecting to find a thief or another wizard criminal or Plot involving their friend’s corpse for a ritual of some kind or worse.

But then they come face to face with FaeLily, who doesn’t know who the fuck-diddley they are, alive. What a twist~

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*✲ﾟ*｡⋆

That’s very interesting esp with the inclusion of Lily’s Fae father. I think Severus should fall in  just for the horror of thinking he was lying on his dead best friend’s body but there’s nothing. Maybe the plot could have something to do with wizards trying to steal Fae magic to subjugate the world

[kegofglory]

Sea Meets Earth (1/1)

Fandom: Once Upon A Time

Pairing: Killian Jones/Emma Swan

Summary: Modern Neighbors Au.

She presses her lips together into a hard line, trying to figure out why she’s intrigued by this man, her new neighbor. There’s the obvious--he’s incredibly attractive, even at six in the morning in sweatpants and an old t-shirt. There’s the fact that she knows he’s an incredible support to her brother and sister-in-law. But mostly, she thinks, it might be that there’s something eerily familiar in his eyes. She can’t really explain it, but she feels a weird sense of understanding when they look at each other.

AO3

---///---

Killian’s knowledge of Emma Swan is incredibly limited. In fact, he knows four things about her.

1. She’s David’s younger sister. 2. She’s a pastry chef. 3. She lives in Boston--or at least, she did live in Boston. 4. She has an eleven-year-old son, Henry.

That’s it. After six years of friendship with David Nolan, and four years of being partners, those are the only facts that he’s collected about her.

He also knows that David loves her deeply and fully, and that he’s crazy protective of her.

That’s what gets him to even mention the soon to be vacant apartment above him in his nice duplex in New York City. Finding real estate in the city is no joke, and he’s only lucky enough to be close friends with his landlord, Nemo.

“So, my upstairs neighbor is moving out in two weeks if you’re still worried about your sister finding a place in the city,” Killian says from his side of the patrol car.

David raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

“I’m not lying, mate,” Killian says.

His partner rolls his eyes. “Has Nemo rented it out yet?”

“No, I mentioned it to him and he said to give you his number to pass along to Emma. It’s a two bedroom one bath, and he’s cheap in terms of New York prices.”

David nods, “Thanks man. I’ll let her know.”

“So, what brings your mysterious sister to the city?” he asks.

Beside him, David’s entire body goes tense. Killian remains silent, allowing his friend some time to respond, if he even wants to. “She just needs to be closer to us, ya know?”

Killian nods. David has always reminded him a lot of Liam. Sometimes, it’s hard, but sometimes, it’s comforting to have someone like Liam in his life. When he’s feeling particularly sentimental, he thinks that Liam sent David his way on purpose.

“Sure. Well, I’ll text his number to you and she can check it out, I guess.”

---///--- “And we have to go to the library, the one on 5th! Mom, it is so cool, and you can probably find all the fairytale books you like there.”

Emma stares down at her son, who is rambling despite the fact that he’s struggling to get a few boxes out of the U-haul.

“Sure, kid. What do you say we at least get these boxes inside first, though?” she says, unable to fight the affectionate laughter bubbling up in her chest.

“Uncle David said we have to go to the Hall of Science. It sounds sooo cool,” he’s still going on, and Emma rolls her eyes.

“Kid, relax. We’re going to have time to do all the things, okay?” she says. “Listen, David and Mary Margaret are on their way here, and they’re going to help us with some of Uncle David’s coworkers so we can get this done fast.”

Henry grunts. “I just want us to do it all before we go again.”

Emma stops in her tracks, turning to stare at her son. He looks up at her guiltily.

“Hey, Henry. Put that box down, come here,” she mumbles, grabbing his hand and leading him to their new front porch steps. Thankfully, according to her brother, their new downstairs neighbor is apparently out of town, so she doesn’t have to worry about bothering him as they noisily move everything into the upstairs unit.

“I didn’t mean it,” Henry mutters, sitting down beside her.

“It’s okay if you did. I know I’ve moved us around a bit too much in the past,” Emma says, rubbing her lips together as her son nods sadly. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Mom, it’s fine. This is only our third move,” he says, sounding way too adult, as always. “I know it’s because you needed to do it.”

Emma squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head. “We’re here to stay. We’re not going anywhere for awhile, so I hope you like it here.”

He smiles. “I’m going to love it if you do, mom,” he says.

That’s really all it takes for tears to prick at the corners of her eyes. She sighs, leaning over and kissing the top of his head. “I love you, kid.”

He smiles, and like clockwork, David pulls into her drive with his wife and two large men from work.

She approaches his truck, watching the strangers pile out. “Hi guys. I’m Emma and I’m also eternally grateful you’re all here to help. I’ve supplied all the pizza and all the beer upstairs in the fridge.”

The tall man laughs, stretching his hand out to her. “It’s no worries. I’m Robin, and this is Jefferson,” he says.

She shakes both of their hands, smiling kindly as they head toward the u-haul.

David is about to wrap his sister into a hug but is interrupted when Mary Margaret practically pushes him into the bushes, running to wrap Emma into a tight hug.

“It’s so good to finally have you here,” her sister-in-law cries into her ear.

There’s something that is so consistently warm and welcoming about Mary Margaret that makes Emma feel at home for the first time since arriving to this bustling city.

David groans, “Let’s get unpacking, girls. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can take Emma and Henry to Granny’s.”

At this, Henry perks up visibly, well aware of the diner that they go to every time Henry and Emma visit. “Do they still have those onion rings?”

“Of course they do,” David says, chuckling as he leads the way to the truck.

And Emma finds that, throughout the day, her stomach begins to hurt less and less. Maybe she is home, at least for awhile.

---///---

Killian has lived in the same duplex for eight years, and he’s never had much of a relationship with the tenants that have lived above him. There are instances where he sees them, of course. He has a beautiful front porch, where both of their entry doors are located, and the tenants upstairs get a lovely balcony right above his porch.

He figures it will probably be the same with Emma and her boy.

The first night he gets back from his trip, it’s late and he can see the light upstairs shining through the window, along with a yellow bug sitting on the street in front of the house. Killian laughs when he sees the car and shrugs, entering his apartment and heading straight to bed.

Any Sunday morning that Killian is lucky enough to have off, he sticks to the same routine. He wakes up as early as he can and enjoys the sunrise sitting on his porch swing with a cup of coffee. He’s done it for as long as he can remember. Even as a child, Liam would wake him up and take him outside, where they’d sit in the grass and watch in silence.

After his trip to go visit Elsa this past week, he finds his mind wandering to a dark, sad place a little more often than usual. Elsa was Liam’s best friend, his soulmate, and he tries to make an effort to go see her at least once a month.

His heart hurts, though, when he leaves. She always wants to revel in the memories of Liam. His kindness, his loyalty, his morals. It’s nice, because she’s the only person on this planet that loved Liam as much as he did. At the same time, it forces a lot of thoughts to the front and center of his brain,

Like how his brother practically raised him while his alcoholic father did absolutely nothing, or how it was always their dream to one day go back home to London and visit all the places their mother wrote about in her old journals.

Or how he knows that Liam would want more for Killian than what he settles for now.

An unfamiliar voice pulls him from this dangerous road, though. “Mom! Mary Margaret called me and asked why you’re ignoring her texts,” a young voice calls. Killian looks up. They must be on the balcony. If he stood up and walked forward a few feet, he’d be able to see. But, that would be creepy, so he stays seated.

A feminine laugh sounds, and he raises an eyebrow out of instinct.

“I didn’t consider that moving to New York meant I’d be even closer to the two most controlling people I’ve ever met,” she says. Her son laughs in response.

“Should I tell her what we’re doing today?” he asks.

“No, kid. It’s our day. Just tell her we’re busy,” she says, and she sounds a little guilty.

“Good, because we can just meet them later anyways. We should go explore on our own. But mom--”

“Henry,” she cuts him off, chuckling. “If you tell me the hall of science opens at ten one more time, I’m going to go back to sleep until noon just to spite you.”

Killian can’t help the small smile that fights its way onto his face. The domestic familiarity between the two makes his heart swell.

“It’s nine, mom! What if there’s traffic? What if there’s a line to get in?”

He hears footsteps above him. “Okay, okay. I’m jumping in the shower. We will leave in twenty minutes. Can you go, like, complain about being up early on a Sunday or something like a normal kid?”

“Normal? But you’re the one that raised me this way,” Henry jokes and then their voices grow quieter. And Killian wonders for the first time what Emma Swan’s story is.

David keeps his stories about her close to his chest. He can see the love and pride in his eyes every time he brings his sister up, but he never shares many details. And Killian never pushes, because that’s how their friendship has always worked. David has returned the favor tenfold, allowing him to talk about his childhood only as much as he felt comfortable.

It’s a half hour later when Killian almost done with his coffee and the front door swings open to reveal a young boy with brown hair and a blue backpack on his shoulders. “Mom!” he calls up the stairs before turning and noticing Killian.

“Oh, hello! Sorry for shouting,” he says and Killian laughs.

“It’s quite alright, lad,” he says, standing up and approaching the young boy. “I’m Killian Jones. I’m guessing you’re Henry?”

Henry grins. “You’re Uncle David’s partner?” he asks, reaching forward to shake his hand. The manners in the young boy remind him of David. Or Liam.

“Yes, that I am,” he replies, shaking the young boy’s hand. “How are you liking the city?”

Henry shrugs. “It’s pretty cool, but we haven’t had a chance to do anything other any unpack and organize. Mom and I are sneaking out into the city today.”

“Sneaking out?” he asks.

Henry nods, fiddling with the straps of his backpack. “Uncle David and Aunt Snow said that on our first free day they want to take us on a tour,” he says.

“First of all,” he ticks off one finger. “Aunt Snow?”

Henry chuckles, and his nose scrunches up. “My mom always calls her Snow White… you know… because she’s kind of like a nice princess,” he explains.

Killian barks a laugh at this. “Very fitting. And two, do you guys not want to go on a tour?”

Henry looks around nervously, like he’s sharing a top secret. “My mom and I like to do things on our own, sometimes. Every time we move somewhere or go on a vacation, we take the first day just us to explore whatever we want. No itinerary. We don’t want to hurt Aunt Snow or Uncle David’s feelings so we’re keeping it a secret.”

Henry’s face is bright as he explains this tradition to Killian, and it brings a genuine smile to his face. It’s obvious that Emma is this boy’s hero.

“Sounds like a good tradition to uphold,” Killian says.

Before Henry can respond, though, the door swings open again to reveal a blonde, her fingers wrapped tightly around a black thermos full of what he only assumes is coffee.

She looks at her son, then her green eyes land on Killian, and he has to physically take a step back at the intensity in her gaze.

She smiles tightly, turning to Henry and handing him the thermos, her hair falling around her in waves. “You have extra cinnamon in your backpack, right?”

He nods. “Of course.”

She turns back to Killian, and her smile is a little more open now, though her eyes are still electric and curious.

“Mom, this is Killian, Uncle David’s partner,” he says, clearly unaware of the effect that his mother is having on his ability to speak or even breathe.

“I’m Emma Swan. I’ve heard tons about you,” she says, extending her hand forward.

He clears his throat. “That can’t be good,” he jokes.

She laughs, and it’s beautiful. He wants to hear it again.

“Please, it’s David. He has a hard time finding a bad thing to say about anyone. I’ve only heard good things.”

He smiles, trying to think of anything to say. For some reason, he knows the charm and bravado he normally relies on won’t work with her.

Before he can even formulate a response, she turns and locks her front door. “Well, we’re off. See ya around,” she says.

Henry grins. “Bye Killian!”

“Bye, lad. See you around, Swan,” he says, the words falling off his lips before he can think about it. She whips her head around to look at him, wonder in her eyes, before she nods and leads her son to her little yellow car.

It’s not until they speed off that Killian can even out his breathing again. He swallows hard, shaking his head. Fuck. He doesn’t need this kind of distraction right now.

---///---

A week goes by without Emma seeing Killian, and she thinks that’s probably for the best. She had to make a conscious effort not to think about him on her entire day with Henry last weekend. Something about his eyes, his smile, his… something, got under her skin. In a wonderful, terrifying way.

It’s the following Sunday that she sees him again. She opens her door to leave at 5:45 in the morning when he makes his presence known.

“Good morning, Swan,” he says, and she jumps, letting out an embarrassing yelp. She turns to see him sitting on his porch swing.

“Fuck,” she mutters, placing her hand over her racing heart. “You scared me.”

“My apologies,” he says, though he’s wearing an amused smile. “I’m just surprised you’re up so early.”

She laughs, leaning against the wood pillar and she takes a sip from her coffee cup. “I work in a bakery, Jones, so this is a normal hour for me.”

His eyes brighten when she sarcastically calls him by his last name. He stands, and she watches the swing move back and forth as he steps into her space. She doesn’t step back though, just looks up at him knowingly.

“Oh yes, you’re a pastry chef. Tell me, what’s your specialty?” he asks, raising a suggestive eyebrow. She can feel his breath on her face.

She smirks. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she asks, surprising herself when she holds his gaze.

“Perhaps I would,” he returns, and her whole body warms at the way he looks at her.

She presses her lips together into a hard line, trying to figure out why she’s intrigued by this man, her new neighbor. There’s the obvious--he’s incredibly attractive, even at six in the morning in sweatpants and an old t-shirt. There’s the fact that she knows he’s an incredible support to her brother and sister-in-law. But mostly, she thinks, it might be that there’s something eerily familiar in his eyes. She can’t really explain it, but she feels a weird sense of understanding when they look at each other.

“If you hear a child screaming violently, it’s most likely my son playing video games, just so you know,” she says, changing the subject to something safe.

He laughs at this. “Good to know.”

“Don’t worry, though. David and Snow are coming to get him at nine for breakfast,” she says.

He shakes his head. “I’m not worried.” He dips his head slightly, his eyes never leaving hers, and she has to force herself to breathe normally.

She clears her throat. “I’d better go. Have a good day,” she says.

“I’d say it’s off to a pretty great start, love,” he says.

She rolls her eyes, turning around before he can see the smile on her face.

---///---

Killian is pacing a hole into his floor at nine when there’s a knock at his door. He sighs, swinging the door open to reveal David, Mary Margaret and Henry all smiling brightly at him.

Jesus Christ.

“Hello,” he drawls out awkwardly.

Mary Margaret giggles. “We’re going to go get breakfast. Would you like to join?”

Killian raises an eyebrow. His only plan for the day was to sit in his apartment and wonder why he has no control over his actions when Emma’s around. This seems like a better alternative.

“Sure,” he says, slipping some shoes on. “Where to?”

“Grannys, of course!” Henry practically cheers. “And we’re going to surprise my mom and bring her some hot chocolate.”

Killian stops in his tracks, suddenly unsure if he should join. David looks at Killian suspiciously and he can even feel Mary Margaret’s curious eyes on him.

“Alright, let’s go,” he says breezily before anyone can question him

Henry grins. “Awesome! Have you been to Granny’s, Killian?”

The entire walk to Granny’s is filled with mindless chatter, mostly on Henry’s part, and he can’t help but notice the looks that Mary Margaret and David keep exchanging.

“I hate when you guys do that,” Killian says suddenly, staring at his best friend.

David feigns confusion. “Do what?”

“Have conversations with each other without speaking,” he mumbles.

Henry laughs loudly at this. “You guys do actually do that. It’s really weird,” he agrees.

Killian looks at the married couple, pointing at Henry as if that’s proof enough.

“Whatever, Henry. Don’t act like you and your mother don’t have a second language of your own. Half the time, I need a translator just to keep up,” David replies, laughing.

“At least we actually talk, though,” Henry counters. “You guys don’t even say words… just stare at each other.”

Mary Margaret scoffs, glaring at Killian. “Do you see what you’ve started!?”

He laughs fully, shaking his head as he enters Granny’s.

The lunch carries on like that. The conversation is easy and Henry’s kindness and intelligence continues to shock him.

Henry happily leaves with the to go hot chocolate in his hands. “Come on, Killian. My mom’s work is only a block away,” Henry calls, running to catch up to Mary Margaret and David, who are holding hands and giggling together a few feet ahead of them.

Killian starts to get nervous, though. He already feels like a fool when he sees Emma at their house. He knows the moment David sees Killian look at Emma, he’ll know what’s going on.

Henry swings the door open, and Killian looks up at the sign. Blackbird Baking Co.

The bell on the door chimes, and Emma looks up, her face brightening obviously when she sees her family. She grins, wiping her hands on her red apron.

“Hi guys. Couldn’t handle one morning without me?” she asks before her eyes land on Killian. Her mouth opens slightly, surprise crossing her face for a millisecond before she schools her features.

“We brought you hot chocolate with cinnamon,” Henry says proudly, and Emma’s face changes suddenly.

It takes Killian by surprise, the way every single part of her softens when she engages with her son. She smiles, taking the cup from him and shooting him a wink.

“Best kid in the world,” she says.

“Hey, I paid for it,” David calls out defensively, and Emma rolls her eyes.

“Best brother in the world,” she deadpans. “I see you guys have dragged my neighbor out with you today,” she nods at Killian, who’s still standing a bit behind the other three.

“It’s so nice that the two people we love most in this city live in the same house. Makes life so much easier,” Mary Margaret says.

Emma laughs, walking around the counter and wrapping an arm around Henry.

“So, I was thinking…” Mary Margaret starts nervously, and Emma smirks.

“Yes?” she asks knowingly.

“I was thinking we could have a housewarming party? We’ll plan it on a night that Killian’s off, so we don’t have to worry about disturbing him with the noise, and so that he can be there, of course! And we can invite all of our friends so you can get to know them.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “I should be surprised it took you this long to suggest such a thing.”

David chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of Mary Margaret’s head affectionately. “I had to really compromise with her on this. She wanted to do it the night you arrived.”

Even Killian laughs at this, and Emma’s eyes dart to him. He smiles kindly, trying to keep his eyes from lingering on her for too long.

“I don’t think I stand much a chance stopping you so okay, Snow. Just… try to keep it lowkey,” she says, dragging her eyes back to Mary Margaret.

“I can be lowkey,” Mary Margaret counters, looking at her husband, who is smirking.

“Sure, honey,” he agrees sarcastically and Henry laughs loudly.

“Well, I think it sounds nice. Mom, you need some friends in your life.”

Emma’s jaw drops, turning to glare playfully at her son. “I have friends!”

She rolls her eyes when Killian, David, and Mary Margaret all begin laughing at the exchange.

“These two don’t count, they’re family,” he says, jabbing his thumb toward his aunt and uncle. “And I don’t count either.”

Emma presses her lips together and motions toward Killian. “He’s my friend.”

“Really?” Henry asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Doubtful. I’m pretty sure I’ve spent more time with him than you have, mom.”

Killian can’t help but raise his eyebrows at Emma when she glances over at him. “The lad’s got a point, Swan. When are you going to come downstairs and hang out with me. I can play video games, too,” he says, and although his voice is teasing, David’s head whips toward Killian immediately.

“You’ve never invited me, Jones. Next time Henry and I have a Super Mario showdown, though, we’ll yell for you.”

He grins widely at her. “I’d be honored to join.”

Mary Margaret giggles lightly, and he doesn’t miss the knowing look she shoots Emma. Or the way Emma shoots a glare back.

Okay, so maybe the silent conversation thing is more of a Mary Margaret thing.

“We’ll let you get back to work, Em,” David says finally. “We’ll see you later though.”

“Thanks for feeding my child, guys,” she says.

“I can fend for myself, you know,” Henry cuts in. “I’m eleven.”

Emma just rolls her eyes, her free hand landing on her son’s shoulder. “You’re practically an adult. See you this afternoon, kid.”

“Are you going to bring home any extra pastries?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows as he looks at the brownies in the display case behind her.

She rolls her eyes. “Goodbye, guys,” she calls and they all turn to leave.

And try as he might, Killian still turns around to get another look at her, and to his surprise, she’s watching him as well.

“See ya later, friend,” he says, and her eyes widen, shaking her head.

“Goodbye, Jones.”

---///---

“So, how is it living under my sister and nephew?” David asks the next day when they are finishing up paperwork at the end of their shift.

Killian shrugs. “Fine. I don’t see much of them, really,” he says quickly, refusing to meet his best friend’s eyes.

“Yeah, that makes sense. You know, you and Emma are eerily similar. I never really thought about it before.”

“Oh, are we?” Killian asks. “I don’t see how that’s possible.”

David laughs, and Killian realizes he has said too much. “And why is that?”

Killian rolls his eyes. He’s not in the mood to be psychoanalyzed by his best friend. “I just don’t see it, is all.”

David hums. “Okay. Sure. Just, be careful,” he says.

Killian raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t push. He wants this conversation to end yesterday.

David leans back in his chair, the squeaking cutting through the tension. “Killian,” he says quietly.

Finally, Killian looks up. When he meets his friend’s eyes, though, he’s surprised to see genuine sincerity etched into his features. “What is it, mate?” Killian asks, swallowing the lump in his throat.

There’s so much love in David’s heart, and he’s always wondered what David even saw in him. When Killian met David, he was in the worst place of his life. It was right after his brother had died. Killian and David met at the precinct on Killian’s first day, which was a month after Liam’s death. He was a right prick at the time, spending every day off hiding in his bedroom and drinking himself to sleep.

David didn’t even know what was going on, but he just seemed to sense that Killian needed someone. So he continuously invited him over for dinner with his wife. Killian declined every time, honestly getting annoyed that the man would not let up.

Then, one day, after a particularly rough shift, David walked up to him and told him they were going to the bar. Seeing as that was much more Killian’s speed, he agreed. David was terrible at holding his liquor, and Killian got plastered as well. Mary Margaret came to pick them up at closing time, and she basically tucked him into bed in their guest room.

The next morning, nursing a hangover, David stood in front of him and said something that Killian will never forget. He said, “I know there’s a lot of good in you. Sometimes, the darkness seems insurmountable, but it’s not. You are better than this, and I’m going to keep harassing you and trying to help you no matter how mad it makes you, Killian.”

Then Mary Margaret made him breakfast and coffee and when he left she hugged him so tightly. He didn’t even know a hug could carry so much emotion.

The rest was history. They basically took him in as their adopted child and he wouldn’t change a thing about it.

When it came to Emma, David always seemed to get that same look in his eyes that he had when he lectured Killian that morning.

David sighs, pulling Killian from his thoughts. “She can use a friend like you,” he says, his words measured.

Killian nods gravely, and David nods before he looks away and changes the subject to a case they’re working on.

---///---

Emma’s leaning against the ledge of her balcony when she spots Killian walking up the sidewalk. She ignores the ridiculous way her stomach lurches, and before she can control it, she’s calling his name. He looks up and smiles so brightly it almost blinds her, even with the distance and the darkness surrounding him.

“How are you still up, Swan? Don’t you work at the crack of dawn?” he calls, stopping in the grass and crossing his arms over his chest.

“I have a hard time sleeping,” she admits. “Are you just getting off work?” she asks.

He nods. “Yeah. David and I had to work the once a month 10am to 10pm today.”

“Yuck,” she says. “I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

For some reason, Emma doesn’t want to let this conversation to die. She feels so much safer with the distance between them, like she can let her guard down and just chat as herself.

He seems to sense this, smiling softly at her. “I also have a hard time sleeping, so it’ll be awhile before I finally fall asleep.”

She nods, looking up at the moon for a minute when she can’t find anything to say.

“So, love, what’s on your mind this evening?” he asks, and she sighs.

“Just thinking about Henry,” she replies honestly. He raises an eyebrow at her in surprise, waiting for her to elaborate. “He’s just so grown up… sometimes, it makes me sad.”

“How so?” he questions, his voice free of any judgement.

Emma leans forward more, trying to get a better look at his face. He’s so beautiful. She’s never described and grown man as beautiful, but looking at him, it’s all she can think.

“I hope he didn’t feel the need to grow up too fast, you know? He deserves a chance to just be a kid,” she explains.

He nods slowly. “I don’t know the lad that well, but if you want my opinion, I’d say that Henry is just a smart, mature kid. I don’t think it’s due to some emotional trauma. He seems like he gets a lot of his qualities from you.”

She scoffs. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

He shakes his head, eyebrows pulling together in confusion. “Trust me, love. It’s not a bad thing.”

She smiles despite herself. “Thanks,,” she says so softly that she’d assume he couldn’t hear her if it weren’t for the next words out of his mouth.

“No worries. Would you like to come down and sit on the porch or should we continue this Romeo & Juliet scenario here?” he asks, and even she can hear the nerves in his voice.

And she wants to say sure.

Yes.

That’s what normal people do.

He watches her carefully as she thinks to herself. “I should probably try to get some sleep, but raincheck,” she says.

And all she can think is she’s such a chicken. He nods, looking a little disappointed.

“Sweet dreams, Swan,” he calls before walking toward the house and out of her view.

“Fuck,” she mutters to herself before heading inside and she definitely does not have sweet dreams about the man living below her.

---///---

It takes Mary Margaret only three days to plan and organize Emma’s housewarming party. She sends David and Killian out to pick up ice, because according to Mary Margaret, there’s no such thing as too much ice. They dropped Henry off at a new friends house on the way, which is giving Emma enough anxiety to last her the rest of the night.

In the meantime, Emma helps her sister-in-law set up. And by help, she means does exactly as instructed.

“So,” Mary Margaret starts, trailing off.

Emma knows that voice well. She has heard it about a hundred times in her life. Mary Margaret came into their lives when Emma was sixteen, and they’ve always been able to read each other.

“What is it, Snow?” she asks.

“I was just thinking,” she starts, keeping her focus on the cheese tray she’s assembling, “You know, Killian is a really good guy.”

“Oh shit,” Emma says immediately. “This was bound to happen, I guess.”

Mary Margaret snorts. “I’m just saying. He’s cute, and he’s nice, and Henry seems to like him.”

“So, should we get married tomorrow then?” Emma asks sarcastically, pulling a beer out of the fridge even though they still have two hours before the party begins.

“In my ideal world, sure,” Mary Margaret teases. “Seriously, Em, I’m just saying. We love Killian and I happen to think you are at least a little intrigued.”

“I don’t know what gives you that idea,” Emma mutters, taking a long swig from her beer as she avoids eye contact with her sister-in-law.

“I saw the weird way you looked at him when we came to the bakery the other day. It was… different. I’ve never seen your eyes look like that before.”

Emma clears her throat, shaking her head. Thankfully, the boys choose the perfect moment to return home. “Thank God,” Emma mumbles, much to Mary Margaret’s chagrin.

“Okay,” David says as soon she he opens her door. “So when Killian and I were trying to do a shot of rum earlier we were sent out of the house to keep out of trouble, but Emma can start drinking beer at six?” he asks.

Killian laughs, walking into the house and smiling. “It’s nice up here, Swan,” he says, eyeing the picture frames on her mantle. She feels exposed, the way he stares at her family photos with obvious interest.

“Thanks,” she says breezily. “And it’s my party, so I say we all start drinking now,” she says.

David grins, setting the ice into the kooler before placing a quick kiss on Emma’s cheek. “What a good host you are,” he says.

Mary Margaret groans. “Actually, Emma. You’ve never had the displeasure of seeing these two when they drink together. It’s in everyone best interest that they hold off.”

Emma barks out a laugh at that. “Okay, that’s something I want to see. Last time I drank with David was, like, four years ago,” she says before bursting into a fit of giggles. “Remember, David! You fell asleep on my porch and my neighbor called the cops because they thought you were homeless.”

Killian’s eyebrows immediately shoot skyward, and even Mary Margaret giggles.

“It was your birthday and we were supposed to take you out on the town,” Mary Margaret reminisces.

“We didn’t even make it out of my apartment thanks to David,” she says between her laughter. She glances over at Killian to see him watching her with a new look in his eyes.

What is that? Curiosity? Surprise? She can’t quite tell.

“He is quite the lightweight,” Killian adds, and Emma beams at him.

“I can’t have this conversation with either of you,” David groans. “You both have super human tolerance.”

“Is that so, Swan?”

Emma raises her beer toward him. “It is so,” she replies, smiling mischievously at him.

He chuckles. “Seems like you’re challenging me,” he mumbles.

She shrugs innocently, walking into the kitchen and retrieving a beer from the fridge. “Cheap beer work?” she asks.

He smirks. “It’s not rum, but it’ll do,” he replies.

Mary Margaret snorts. “Knowing Emma, there’s a flask of rum somewhere around this house.”

David chuckles lightly as Emma rolls her eyes. “Maybe,” she mutters, handing Killian the beer. He leans it toward her and grins.

“Cheers, love.” He stares at her is a way that is so disarming that she has to break eye contact, tapping the bottleneck to his before taking a long swig. She walks away immediately, unable to take the unnerving way that he seems to read her face more easily than anyone else in her life.

David observes them, making a weird hum under his breath that she decidedly ignores. “Okay, so I’m going to take a shower and get ready so that I can look presentable for the people that arrive,” Emma announces, leaving out the part where she just needs to put a physical wall between herself and Killian.

Mary Margaret chuckles. “Okay, Em… are you taking that beer into the shower with you?”

Emma shrugs, “I don’t see why not. I’ve got a lot of socializing ahead of me. I’ll need it.”

Killian laughs. “Besides, she’s gotta keep up with me tonight,” he cut in.

David claps a hand onto Killian’s shoulder. “It will probably be you keeping up with her, bud.”

Before Emma can hear his most likely charming response, she slips into the bathroom and turns the water on, sighing loudly when she can finally catch her breath.

Something about being around Killian and her family at the same time throws Emma for a loop. Because she loves the way he fits into her life seamlessly. And she can’t show that, because Mary Margaret and David will see right through her, and she doesn’t need the typical lectures that they tend to lovingly dole out. It’s always well intentioned, but it makes Emma feels so broken.

If anyone is aware that Emma has some serious issues, it’s her. Her family trying to psychoanalyze her just makes her feel guilty for things out of her control.

She stands under cold water first, silently counting to herself as she tries to pull herself together. Then she turns the faucet all the way to the left, the water suddenly burning her skin. She stands there until her skin turns red, and then turns the water off.

“Okay,” she whispers, staring at herself in the mirror. She quickly dries her hair and gets ready for the night ahead of her.

When she finally exits the bathroom, there’s a new beer sitting on the counter right outside the door. She looks around but Killian, David, and Mary Margaret are nowhere to be found. She allows herself to laugh quietly, bringing the beer to her lips before heading to her room to change.

Emma gets thrown around between David and Mary Margaret like a ping pong ball, both of them tugging her in different directions of her own home to meet their friends.

She smiles and does her best to make small talk, even though it’s never been her strong suit. This isn’t exactly her idea of a fun night, but it makes two of the most important people in her life very happy, so she sucks it up. After everything they’ve done for her in this life, she figures she owes them.

The best part of her night comes from Killian, which is irritatingly not surprising. While she gets stuck in several conversations with strangers, he sneaks behind her and replaces her empty beers with new ones. Most people don’t even notice the sneaky exchange, but she smiles and bites back laughter every time.

The fifth time he does this, she’s engaged in an awkward conversation with a kind man that goes by Archie. She meets Killians eyes over Archie’s shoulder, and he’s smirking at her knowingly from across the room. He raises his own beer toward her before returning to his conversation with Robin.

Finally, Mary Margaret and David are distracted enough in the corner of her living room that she can breathe. She makes her way toward Killian, who is staring down at his phone.

“If I didn’t know any better, Jones, I’d think you’re trying to get me drunk,” she says, and he jumps. He beams at her, shoving his phone into his pocket.

“I’m just trying to see who can outdrink who. Killian Jones never backs down from a challenge,” he says, his blue eyes dancing.

“I have an idea,” she says suddenly. He does that outrageous thing with his eyebrows that makes her stomach clench, but she does her best to power through. “Follow me,” she says.

He nods, “As you wish, love,” he says quietly, and she ignores the way his low voice makes her skin feel as if it’s on fire.

She looks around to make sure no one is looking, and when she’s satisfied, she opens her bedroom door and pulls him in with her.

He raises an eyebrow. “Okay, Swan, I have to say, I definitely think I’m holding my alcohol better than you if you’re already drunk enough to drag me into your bedroom.”

She laughs, rolling her eyes. “Shut up,” she muters. “I’m looking for something.”

“Is it your inhibitions?”

She doesn’t justify his question with an answer, reaching into her sock drawer, digging around the back until her hand meets something metal.

“A-ha!” she shouts, producing her flask from the drawer and waving it in his face. “I do have rum in here,” she says.

“I’m impressed,” he says, eyeing her carefully as she twists the cap on and takes a long pull. She squeezes her eyes shut as the rum burns her throat on the way down. She hands it to him and he takes an appreciative shot.

She smiles. “Hold onto that, would you. My pockets aren’t big enough,” she says, heading back to her door.

“We’re leaving already? I think we can find something to do in here, don’t you?” he questions, and his voice is teasing, but his eyes are dark.

“Come on,” she groans, putting her hands on his shoulders and half pushing him back out of her room. She pretends that the simple act of placing her hands on his body doesn’t send a chill down her spine. And she’s pretty sure he pretends not to notice.

As if her spidey senses are tingling, Mary Margaret sees them as soon as they exit her bedroom. Emma rolls her eyes at the look that crosses her sister-in-law’s face, shaking her head. Killian chuckles beside her and Emma sighs.

“Em!” David calls out, timing perfect as ever. “Come here, I want you to meet my sergeant.”

Emma bites back her groan, leaving Killian’s side to meet yet another face who’s name she will most likely forget by the end of the evening.

The night flies by like that, and she hardly gets another chance to talk to Killian. When she finally sees him again, the party is winding down and Emma is only slightly buzzed, the constant socialization very sobering.

She walks over to Killian, who is sitting on her couch talking to Robin again. “Hey guys,” she says, falling onto the couch beside him. She notices him tense slightly when her arm brushes against his, so she scoots away a bit.

“How are you liking it here, Emma?” Robin asks kindly, and Emma smiles politely. She’s only had to answer this question a dozen times this evening. But she’s aware they all mean well.

“I like it a lot. My neighbor is a little strange but that’s to be expected in a big city I suppose,” she says, and Killian scoffs from beside her.

Robin chuckles, “I work with the guy… you don’t have to tell me how strange he is.”

“Alright,” Kilian cuts in. “Enough of this.”

Emma giggles, and for the first time all night, she feels comfortable. She doesn’t think about how she feels most comfortable sitting beside Killian. Robin says his goodbyes and leaves.

She closes her eyes, resting her head back against the couch cushion.

“Thanks for making tonight bearable, Killian,” she says quietly. She hears him move, feels his arm against hers, and she opens her eyes, turning to find that he’s looking at her with soft eyes. “What?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “That’s the first time you’ve called me by my name,” he says.

Before she can respond, Mary Margaret is back and she’s talking a mile a minute. Killian clears his throat, scooting away ever so slightly. His absence leaves her feeling cold.

The party comes to an end, and Killian leaves after a quick goodbye. She glances back at him when he leaves, sighing when the door shuts and she’s left alone with David and Mary Margaret.

Mary Margaret seems to read her face, but glances at David and doesn’t say anything.

They clean everything up, and David and Mary Margaret end up falling asleep on couch. She smiles to herself when she looks at the couple, cuddled together. Then she locks the door, turns off the lights, and puts herself to sleep.

---///---

She can hear Henry rambling on and on from the top of the steps as she locks their door. She assumes he’s talking to Killian on his porch, and her heart pounds in anticipation.

She takes the steps down slowly, biting back her smile as she reaches the porch. She stops short when she sees a beautiful redhead speaking to her son.

“Oh, hi,” Emma says, and she doesn’t mean to sound short, but she can hear how clipped her tone is.

Her arms are full of brown bags filled with groceries. “Hi, hi,” she says, struggling to keep everything in her arms. “I’m just trying to help Killy. Sometimes I surprise him by leaving actual real groceries in his home. I know he gets busy, you know, but having real nutritious food in your kitchen makes life so much easier. Especially when he’s too good of a cook to not have groceries stocked up here. He says I’m overbearing but I think deep down he appreciates it.”

Henry laughs, taking a couple bags from her hands. Emma watches as the woman digs into her pocket and pulls out her keys, fishing out of the one for Killian’s front door quickly.

“Thanks so much,” she says to Henry once she swings the door open. “You’re a real gentlemen.”

Her son smiles, beaming at Emma as he follows her inside and sets the bags down for her. Emma stays on the porch, the idea of stepping into Killian’s apartment without him present making her feel strange.

Henry and the stranger walk back out to the porch and Henry readjusts his backpack. The girl smiles. “I’m Anna. You must be Killian’s new upstairs neighbor,” she says.

“Emma,” she says tightly. “This is Henry. I’m sorry, but we have to get to my brother’s. We are going to be late.”

“Oh, David? Ugh I love David. And Mary Margaret. Talk about a match made in heaven, right?”

Emma raises an eyebrow, nodding slowly. “Yep, a real fairytale,” she says. “Nice meeting you,” she says before practically dragging a smiling Henry to her yellow bug.

“Why were you so rude to that girl?” Henry asks, but his tone is smug and knowing. Emma shoots him a look as she starts her car.

“I wasn’t rude, kid. We really are running late.”

“We’re always running late. What’s the big deal with today?” he asks. He’s staring out the window, trying to sound more casual than he actually is.

Emma laughs despite herself, swallowing down the irrational anger and jealousy as she pulls into traffic. “I just don’t want to hear it from them today, is all.”

“Sure,” Henry says breezily, not quite able to cover up the laugh in his voice.

---///---

Killian should not be surprised by the way his sisters-in-law both feel the need to insert themselves into his life, playing mother when he has never asked. He laughs when he walks into his apartment to find it stocked with groceries. He knows Elsa is out of town for work, so he falls down onto his couch before he calls Anna.

“Oh, hello Killy!” she greets happily.

“You know I’m capable of doing my own shopping, correct?” he asks lightly.

He can hear the smile in her voice. “Yes, I am. You know that I love you and just want to help you because I know your job is stressful and keeps you very busy, correct?”

“How’s Kristoff?” he asks, because he and Anna have had this conversation so many times it has honestly gotten old at this point.

“He’s good. How’s your neighbor?” she counters, her voice mischievous.

Her question gives him pause. “What do you mean?”

“I met her today when I was bringing in your groceries. She is stunning, Killian! And her son is adorable and kind.”

He doesn’t know why he gets so tense, but he does. “They’re both very nice, yeah,” he says vaguely.

Anna snorts. “Emma wasn’t very nice, actually. But I suppose she didn’t know I was your sister-in-law and therefore got a little jealous. I should have mentioned it, but it slipped my mind. I can relate though. Back in college, I saw this girl talking to Kristoff and I literally lost my mind. It was kind of crazy, since I had only just broken up with Hans. I had no right to be jealous and yet I was. Turns out, it was his cousin. Also, it turns out, you can’t control your irrational anger.”

Killian rolls his eyes. “Trust me, Emma was not jealous. She is just a little standoff-ish at first. She’s quite nice once you get to know her, though,” he says, because there’s no way she could have been jealous.

“Hmm, that sounds familiar,” she says innocently.

“Anna,” he groans, rubbing over his face with his hand in frustration.

She giggles. “What, I was talking about Elsa,” she says, but her tone says otherwise.

“Thanks for the food, Anna. I’ll see you and Elsa next weekend,” he says, and she laughs knowingly before she hangs up.

He left his front door open, the screen door closed, letting in the beautiful breeze. It also lets in the noise of Emma and Henry as they walk up the sidewalk.

“Mom,” he whines, and Killian feels affection well up in his chest.

“Henry,” she whines back mockingly. Her son giggles. “Listen, kid,” she says. “You’re right. I’m a big jerk. We’re going to move on and I’ll be better in the future.”

Killian raises an eyebrow, standing up to head out to his porch.

He swings the door open, and Emma’s eyes widen for a split second before she schools her features to her normal guarded look.

“Hey,” she says easily, although there is tension in her tone.

Henry clears his throat. “See ya later, Killian!” he says before heading upstairs to their apartment. Emma glares after her son’s retreating figure before returning her attention to him.

“How are you today Swan?” he asks.

She leans against the front of his porch, looking him over quickly. “I’m okay. How are you?”

“Good,” he says. He eyes her carefully, considers her tight smile and distant eyes. “I heard you met Anna earlier.”

“Yep,” she says shortly. “She’s great.”

Killian bites back his smile as he watches her cold eyes avoid his. Oh. Oh. She is jealous, at least a little bit. He wants to let this go on, but decides to let her off the hook. “Yeah. She’s intense but she’s my sister-in-law so what can you do?”

He knows he’s not imagining the way her shoulder slump with relief.

“Sister-in-law?” she asks casually.

He nods, full on smirking now. “I’ve got two of them, actually. They’re incredibly overbearing but I love them anyways,” he says.

She crosses her arms over her chest, smiling slightly. “Oh.”

“Is it possible that you were feeling a bit jealous?”

He’s grinning playfully at her, and she rolls her eyes, sending him a glare. “I have nothing to be jealous of.”

He nods. “I don’t know, love. You seem quite green with envy to me.”

“You wish,” she mumbles, adjusting her messenger bag on her shoulder and glancing at her front door, likely plotting her escape.

“Sorry to upset you, Emma, but you’re something of an open book.”

She finally does look at him, really looks at him, and her eyes are exploring his, searching for something. Whatever she’s looking for, she must find it, because she softens slightly.

“I wasn’t jealous,” she says, but it’s teasing now. “See you later.”

She opens her front door and that smile she sends him gives him the courage to reach for her upper arm. She stops, turning to look at him.

“Are you and Henry doing anything for dinner tonight?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Nothing more than mac and cheese on the couch, why?”

He shrugs. “I’ve got all these groceries. Why don’t you guys come down for dinner? We can enjoy it on the porch. It’s going to start cooling down soon.”

She smiles slightly. “You don’t have to cook us dinner.”

He shakes his head. “I know, but I’d like to.”

She sighs, pursing her lips together as she thinks. “What time?”

He claps his hands together happily. “Ah! I knew I could tempt you! It will be ready by seven, my lady.”

She shoots him a look of amusement, shaking her head. “You’re so weird, Jones,” she mutters, but he only smiles wider at her. She turns away, but she glances back at him before heading upstairs, and her eyes are dancing.

---///---

Henry only asks Emma about twenty questions about her and Killian, why he’s making them dinner, he must like her, and does she like him, he’s so cool, before she gets him downstairs by seven.

“Just--kid--stop asking these questions,” she says in a hushed tone as they stand outside his front door on his porch. “He’s just being nice.”

“That’s because he likes you, mom,” Henry whines, but the door swings open to reveal a smiling Killian before she can respond.

And he’s beaming at the two of them. “Ah, Swan! Henry! Just in time!” he practically shouts, and Henry rushes right past him, exploring Killian’s apartment as if he’s searching for hidden treasure.

“Wow, cool!” Henry says, pointing at a ship in a bottle that’s sitting on Killian’s mantle. “It’s like a pirate lives here!”

Killian barks a laugh at that, and Emma shakes her head at her son.

“Yeah, we’ve got a regular Captain Hook on our hands,” Emma deadpans, taking a step further into the apartment. Blacks, greys, and whites surround her. Photos of him with friends or family are framed around his living room, along with nautical themed decor. The place screams Killian, and it makes Emma smile without even realizing it.

He creeps up behind her. “I hope you guys like pasta carbonara,” he says before brushing past her. She tries to ignore the way goosebumps rise along the back of her neck when she feels his breath on her.

“Do you want me to set the table?” she asks, watching as he whizzes around his kitchen with ease. He shakes his head at her.

“I’ve got dinner all set up on the porch, love. You and Henry go sit, I’ll be right out.”

Henry runs out to the table on his front porch, and Emma only lingers for a few seconds, watching as Killian grabs water bottles from his fridge.

Henry’s smile is as bright as the sun when she sits down beside him. “Yeah, mom, he doesn’t like you,” he says, pointing at the beautiful spread on the table. There’s pasta, salad, and bread on the table, and Emma laughs when she looks up to see Killian with three water bottles shoved under his arm, a bottle of wine and two glasses shoved under the other arm. She stands up, grabbing the wine and the glasses from him to ease his struggle.

He smirks at her, watching her closely as she carefully sets down the glasses.

“This is too much, Killian,” she says, and her voice is much softer than she had intended.

He seems to catch the change in her demeanor, head whipping toward her to study her face. She feels warm under his gaze, so she looks over at Henry, who is already piling pasta onto his plate, smiling knowingly down at the table.

The dinner is delicious, and the company is even better. Killian and Henry joke back and forth about stupid things, sometimes poking fun at David, sometimes at Emma. Killian tells them of his love for the sea, how he actually has a boat that has a home down at the docks, how he’d absolutely love to take them out on the water.

It’s overwhelming, for Emma to feel so much ease around a man that makes her feel so…

What?

Alive? Scared? Excited?

She’s not quite sure yet, but it’s too much of something, it sets her on edge.

Or at least, it should. But sitting down, watching him converse casually as he scoops more pasta onto Henry’s plate, it’s almost--easy?

Emma looks over at Henry and smiles, watching as he tries to sneakily grab another piece of bread. “Hey,” she says, and his hand meets his side quickly. Killian chuckles while Emma shakes her head. “It’s a school night. Head upstairs, kid,” she says.

He smiles, jumping up and giving Killian a hug. The action takes him surprise, if the shock on his face is anything to go off of, but his arms circle her son quickly.

“Thanks for dinner!” he says, pulling away and kissing Emma on the cheek. “Night, mom,” he says, and without another word or glance in her direction, he’s running up the stairs in the world’s most obvious attempt to leave them alone.

Killian smirks at Emma, clearly reading the room correctly.

“He’s such a little rascal,” Emma mutters and Killian shrugs.

“He’s a smart lad is all,” he says, standing up to clear the plates from the table.

“Smartass, maybe,” Emma concedes, jumping up and taking the plates from Killian’s hands. “Please, let me clean up.”

“What? No, I won’t hear of it. I invited you to dinner, love,” he says, but when he reaches for the plates again, she takes a step back, leveling him with her hard stare.

“No,” she says firmly. “I’ll clean. You can pour more wine into my glass and wait out here, got it?” her tone conveys that there is no room for argument, so he sighs, holding his hands up in defeat.

It takes her ten minutes longer than necessary to clean everything up. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t linger inside to collect her thoughts before heading back outside. She strolls through his apartment slowly on her way to the porch, taking it all in. Her eyes catch on a photo on the mantle. She stops and walks closer, her heart warming when she sees the frame photo of Killian and David standing in front of Madison Square Garden, smiling happily at the camera. She sighs, and when she gets outside, she finds Killian sitting on the porch swing, sipping slowly from his own wine glass.

He smiles when he sees her, bright and so genuine, before holding out her wine glass. “Ah, Swan, at last! Come sit,” he says, and she slowly approaches him, setting into the spot beside him on the porch swing, thankful for the arm rest between them.

She looks ahead at the street, cars bustling by, even at ten at night, and she tries not to focus on the fact that she can feel Killian staring at her profile.

“Thanks for dinner,” she says, finally turning to look at him. His eyes are too soft, too understanding. “Where’d you learn to cook like that?” she asks, if only to start a conversation and hopefully get him to stop looking at her like… that.

He smiles fondly, if not a little sadly, and looks out at the street as well.

“My brother taught me, actually,” he says, his voice distant.

“What’s his name?” Emma asks, taking in the sounds of the city.

She’s lived in small towns, the countryside, big cities, but none quite like New York City. There is always noise, always people walking around, and always lights. Somehow, though, it’s become more of a comfort to Emma. Now, she can’t imagine going to sleep without the sounds she’s become accustomed to relying on.

“His name was Liam,” Killian says after a beat. She stops, turning to look at him again. His eyes are set firmly on her yellow bug that’s parked in front of the house.

“Was?” she repeats, because she doesn’t know what else to say.

He nods. “He died, about six years ago now. He was in a car accident, hit by a drunk driver. He died instantly,” Killian says, and Emma can almost hear the horrid memory in his voice.

“Killian,” she says, drawing in a sharp breath. He doesn’t respond. She reaches out to him, placing her free hand on top of his. He looks down at the hand, then at her. He examines her face, and she keeps her eyes on his for once, trying to convey her emotions without speaking. Trying to show him that there is no pity in her eyes, just understanding and support.

He nods. “It was long ago now, the wound isn’t quite as fresh but…” he trails off, seemingly searching for the rest of his sentence, when she finishes it for him.

“It hurts just the same.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Aye.”

She squeezes his hand once before returning it to her lap.

“You can tell me about him, if you want.”

So he tells her about Liam. About how their mother passed away and how their father turned to alcohol to soothe his pain. How Liam stepped up and took care of Liam, raised him to be an upstanding man. How he was the moral compass that Killian needed in his darkest hours. How he taught Killian how to cook a great meal, but how Killian was never quite able to make lemon bars anywhere near as well Liam could.

In return, she tells him about her life in foster care. In homes where no one cared about her, where was neglected, abused, and forgotten. And about how David befriended her in high school, and when he learned of her home life, or lack thereof, he and Ruth took her in without question.

He smiles at her, and she feels the warmth trapped in her ribcage spread from her toes to her fingertips.

“I’m no stranger to loss,” she says quietly. And he doesn’t ask for more, doesn’t pry at all. Just watches her, waits for more. She takes a sip of her wine before continuing. “Henry’s father, Neal, passed away a few years ago,” she confides.

He winces. “Swan, I’m sorry. Were you guys married?” he asks.

She shakes her head, a little to vehemently, she thinks. “No, no. We fell in love when I was seventeen. We were just kids. He wasn’t much in the picture after I got pregnant. He had a gambling issue, and just a sticking around issue, it seemed. But, when Henry was six, he got his life together, and he really showed up for Henry. He did his best to make up for lost time, really, and I was really happy for him.”

Killian reaches forward this time, just letting his hand settle softly on her knee, and her entire body feels alight.

“He got lung cancer. It all happened fast. About six months from the time of his diagnosis to the time that he died. That’s all.”

“Gods, Emma,” Killian breathes.

She nods. “After he died, I think I lost it, a little. It’s just, well, I didn’t know how to cope. I lost so much in my life before David came around and brought family and love into my life. And I didn’t want Henry to hurt anymore, but I didn’t know how to make that happen. We moved a bunch, and I never felt quite settled anywhere.”

Killian’s quiet for a minute, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. He’s processing. “And New York is another in the long line?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “No.”

He smiles slightly. “I’m glad to hear that.”

She sets her empty wine glass down on the porch, sighing.

“I’m glad you’re my neighbor,” she tells him, because she doesn’t know what else to say, and she doesn’t know how to convey how grateful she is that he just listened to her ramble with kindness in his eyes, but she has to say something.

“Emma,” he says, a little breathless, and she looks over at him. His face is different. His heart is truly on his sleeve when he reaches forward and brushes her hair behind her ear.

“What’s happening?” she asks.

He laughs. “Well, not to be presumptuous, darling, but,” he trails off, running his fingers slowly over his lips and smiling at her mischievously.

She scoffs, green eyes locked on his blue ones. The smug action should not be so charming, but, dammit, it really is. She can’t even fight the smile playing on her lips. “Please,” she breathes. “You couldn’t handle it.”

He raises an eyebrow at her, and it’s ridiculous, the things he does with those eyebrows, and how it constantly affects her.

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it,” he practically purrs,

That’s all it takes for her to lean forward and catch his lips with her own. It’s awkward, at first, the wooden armrest between them lodged into her side as she leans forward, trying to get closer, one hand gripping at the collar of his shirt while the other finds its way to his hair. But when he groans with pleasure into her mouth, she forgets the pain in her side.

When she pulls his away, his eyes are open, free, and she sighs, resting her forehead against his for a minute.

“That was, uh--” his voice is hoarse, and she cuts him off before he finish.

“A one time thing,” she says sternly, backing away and standing up.

A look of hurt crosses his face as he processes her abrupt mood change. She can barely look at him, feeling like the coward she knows she is.

“It’s late, I should go,” she says, her voice shaking.

“Goodnight, Emma,” he says, his voice faraway, and she doesn’t spare him another look before she heads upstairs, where it’s safe and there is a considerable amount of space between them.

---///---

She spends the next two weeks guiltily rushing away from him every time they run into each other on the porch. He shoots her these knowing looks, and it gets under her skin, the fact that he clearly understands how scared she is. It would be better if he just looked mad or annoyed. But no, of course, Killian Jones is nothing but understanding and compassionate. And he really can read her, terrifying as that is.

When Henry tells Emma he’s going to a sleepover at a friend’s house, she makes it a point to call Mary Margaret and demand a girls night in. Because heaven forbid she spends the night alone above Killian Jones.

When she gets to Mary Margaret and David’s apartment, she lets herself in and calls out into the empty space. “I’m here, I’ve got wine, let’s start drinking… like, five minutes ago!”

She looks around, sighing, but smiles when she sees the door to her balcony cracked open. She heads out to see David, Killian and Mary Margaret all talking, sitting in the little chairs on the balcony. Emma stops short, fighting back a loud groan when Killian’s kind eyes reach hers.

“Hey, Swan,” he says easily, though he’s more reserved than usual.

“Hi,” she says, her voice scratchy to her own ears.

There’s a moment of silence, and neither David nor Mary Margaret feel the need to jump in and save them. The married couple just keep looking at each other knowingly, seemingly having an entire conversation without speaking a word.

“Okay,” David says finally, and Emma lets out an audible sigh of relief, much to Killian’s chagrin. “Killian, you ready to head out?” he asks, clapping his hands together awkwardly.

“Where are you guys going?” Emma asks as Killian stands.

“Poker night at Robin’s,” Killian says, and Emma nods.

“Have fun.”

David eyes Emma, and she looks away because no one knows her better than David, and she doesn’t want him to see right through her, like he always does.

They say their goodbye and move to leave the balcony, but David stops and places a kiss on Emma forehead. “You okay, Ems?” he asks quietly against her hair.

She nods, sending him a half-hearted smile before she pushes him toward the door lightly. He sighs and leaves with his friend. Emma groans, falling into the seat that Killian had just vacated, and glares over at Mary Margaret.

“They wouldn’t stop talking. They were supposed to leave a half hour ago, I swear,” Mary Margaret says. Emma just frowns, replaying the look in Killian’s eyes over and over in her head. “I’ll go get the glasses,” Mary Margaret says, and Emma nods, leaning back into her seat and closing her eyes.

Mary Margaret comes back with two glasses, and Emma wastes no time in popping open the wine bottle and pouring a generous amount into both glasses.

“I kissed him,” she mutters into her glass.

Mary Margaret smiles at Emma, the exact opposite reaction that Emma was hoping for. Also, the exact reaction she was expecting.

“Of course you did, Em,” she says softly. “You like him.”

Emma pouts, and Mary Margaret laughs. Emma stretches her legs out, glad she chose to wear jeans and sweatshirt, as fall was finally hitting full force and the temperature had dropped considerably.

“What’s so bad about kissing him? He���s a good guy, Emma. I know you can see that.”

“I just… don’t have time. And he’s my neighbor, I mean… when it all goes to hell, it’s going to be so awkward. Plus, Henry is really attached to him already, so I don’t want to ruin that either.”

“When it all goes to hell?” Mary Margaret repeats back, and then shakes her head in a way that can only be described as motherly.

“It always does.”

“Yeah, that’s how it works. Different relationships don’t last for varying reasons, until you’re in one that does work.”

Emma levels her sister-in-law with a look. “Says the girl that married her high school sweetheart.”

Mary Margaret laughs lightly at this, taking another sip of her wine. “My situation is very rare, and just a matter of dumb luck…” she trails off, considering her words. “And also, a matter of hard work. It wasn’t easy when we were in college, trying to figure out our paths, separately and together. We worked through it.”

Emma nods, remembering her years as Mary Margaret’s roommate, listening to the struggles of the couple navigating this new phase of life.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Okay, tell me this,” she urges, taking a new approach. “What do you like about Killian?”

Emma groans, and she feels heat rush to her cheeks. “I don’t know, Snow. He’s kind. And he’s so good with Henry. He makes me laugh… but also… it’s weird. He just… sometimes, when he looks at me, it’s like we’ve known each other our whole lives.”

She can hear how cheesy her own words are, but she doesn’t know how else to explain her attraction to all things Killian Jones.

Mary Margaret beams, nodding. “Sounds pretty nice to me,” she says.

Emma pours more wine into her glass, decidedly ignoring her sister-in-law for a moment.

She continues, though. “Emma, it’s pretty obvious he’s half in love with already.”

That’s all it takes for Emma to choke on the wine she’s in the process of swallowing. Emma frowns, looking down at the spots of red on her grey sweatshirt, but Mary Margaret only chuckles in response.

“I know Killian pretty well. He’s one of the most decent men I’ve gotten to know. He also wears his heart on his sleeve, when it comes to the people he loves. His eyes scream I love Emma Swan every time you’re in his vicinity, or even when David or I bring you up around him. I know you’re frightened, Emma, but you know, being scared is a good sign. Sometimes, when something scares you, that means you need to go for it.”

She considers her words. She’s gotten enough pep talks from Snow in her lifetime that she expected this lecture. However, she didn’t expect to find it so convincing.

“You need to have a little hope, Emma. Sometimes, just believing in even the possibility of a happy ending is a powerful thing. And no one deserve a happy ending more than you.”

“What if my happy ending really is just Henry and me,” Emma interjects, but the words lack the conviction she means for them to have.

“That’s fine, too. Just, don’t settle. Life is too short, and you know that to be true.”

---///---

Emma mulls over Mary Margaret’s words, but it’s still a week before she talks to Killian again. She actually has to ask David to send her Killian’s phone number, rolling her eyes when he follows up the text with no less than fifteen questions about why she needs his number.

The thing is, though, that Henry called Emma saying that he forgot his keys at home, and she knows that she won’t be home until nine due to a wedding that she’s catering. He’s on the bus home when he tells her this, and she panics, knowing it’s close to thirty degrees outside, and knowing that the kid most definitely ignored her when she told him to dress for the weather.

Mary Margaret and David are out of town for a romantic long weekend at a bed and breakfast in some sleepy down in Maine, and she doesn’t know who else to call.

“Hello?” his voice answers on the first ring.

“Hey, Killian,” she says, and she winces at the breathless sound of her voice.

There’s one second of silence that somehow stretches on for years before he responds. “Swan?” he asks, disbelief clear in his voice. “Are you alright?”

She smiles despite herself. “Yeah, yeah. I’m just stuck at work and Henry is going to be home any minute and he’s going to be locked out because he forgot his keys and I forgot to hide the spare so I was wondering, you know, if you’re home, and free, if you--”

He cuts off her run-on sentence. “I’m home. I’d be happy to entertain the lad in my home while you work, love,” he says.

She breathes out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Killian, really,” she says, hoping her tone conveys her gratitude.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says.

The line goes silent and she sighs. “I have to go back to work.”

“Of course,” he says, not unkindly. “See you later.”

She hangs up before she can say something stupid, like how much she misses him, and how much she needs to see him.

When Emma gets home, it’s nearing eleven o’clock at night, and she’s beyond exhausted. She knocks lightly on Killian’s door, trying to ignore the way her arm is shaking with nerves.

He opens the door after a moment, and it’s quiet inside. She looks past him to see Henry asleep on the couch, a red blanket tossed over him. Emma smiles at the sight, then looks at Killian, who is leaning against the doorframe looking criminally handsome in his flannel pajama pants and black t-shirt.

“Hi,” she finally says, and he smiles in response. “You’re my hero.”

He laughs, rolling his eyes as she moves to the side to allow her to enter his apartment. They walk quietly past the living room, back into the kitchen so they can talk freely. Her heart is pounding against her chest.

He turns to her, leaning against his counter. “What’s been going on, Swan?” he asks, his voice free of judgment.

She shakes her head, staring down at her shoes. “I’m terrified of you.”

She doesn’t need to look up at him to know that his gaze is intense and on her only.

“Am I frightening, love?” he asks, his voice a little teasing. She laughs, looking back up at him, and his face is kind. And lonely. “You know, I’ve missed your sass these past few weeks.”

She shakes her head. “I have more to offer than sass, Jones,” she mutters.

“Oh, believe me, I know,” he says.

She reaches into her messenger bag, pulling out the small tupperware. His brows knit together with confusion.

“I made you something… as a thank you, for watching Henry tonight.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Emma. It’s really no problem.”

She rolls her eyes. “They may not be as good as the ones your brother made, but Henry loves my lemon bars, so I thought I’d make you some.”

He stares at her like she just presented him with all the fortune and riches this world has to offer. He takes the box from her gingerly, staring down at it with wonder before setting his eyes back on her.

“This is very kind, Swan,” he says finally, his voice trembling slightly.

She shrugs, stepping into his space slightly. He doesn’t move closer, though, he lets her control the situation. “Killian, I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry,” she sighs, fighting the urge to break eye contact. “The answer to your question… you do frighten me. It’s not your fault, it’s me.”

She stops, and he nods. “I knew you were scared, Swan. I’ve been trying to give you space.”

“Yeah,” she says, reaching her hand forward to rest lightly on his forearm. “Yeah, I noticed. What was that about me being an open book?” she asks, and he laughs quietly. “I just… I didn’t expect this.”

“Neither did I,” he agrees.

She takes the tupperware from him with her other hand, placing it on the counter behind him. “So, what now?” she asks after a beat.

He shrugs. “What do you want, Swan?”

His body surrounds her now, she’s left very little space between them. She searches his eyes for an answer to his question, and then she takes the leap. “I’d like to try something new,” she says.

“Really? And what’s that, darling?” he asks.

Her heart leaps at the endearment, and she doesn’t even bother trying to fight the smile on her face. “Trust.”

He laughs, full and joyous, and she leans forward to press her lips to his.

His hands tangle in her hair quickly, and she’s so happy that she laughs lightly into the kiss, and he responds in kind. He pulls away, pressing soft kisses to her nose, her cheeks, her forehead.

She’s giggling the entire time, and it feels like an out of body experience. She doesn’t know this Emma, this brave, terrified, thrilled Emma.

It’s his phone that interrupts them, and she jumps a bit at the sound. He rolls his eyes, pulling it from his pocket to silence it. She leans forward, resting her forehead against his shoulder.

“I missed you, too, Killian,” she admits, and he laughs, running his hand down her side, settling it on her hip.

They stand like that for a moment, and she pulls back slightly to kiss him once more when they’re interrupted again.

“Mom?”

She jumps away quickly, and Emma looks up to see Killian’s face turning red. She turns around to see her sleepy son staring at them with awe.

“Hey, kid, did we wake you?”

He just raises his eyebrows in disbelief, shaking his head. “Are those lemon bars?” he asks, looking past her to the container on the counter.

She rolls her eyes, and he just shrugs. “Save me some. I’m going back to sleep.”

With that, he turns around and Emma is staring at Killian, who is chuckling at the entire scenario they’ve found themselves in.

It’s only three months more of them getting to know every single thing about each other that he tells her he loves her. He whispers it into her ear one evening on the couch. And for the first time in a long time, her instinct isn’t to run. It’s too press her lips to his shoulder and tell him that she’s so in love with him, that he’s changed her life.

Three months after that, they decide it makes more sense for Emma to move in with him, and Henry couldn’t be happier when the new neighbors move in, giving him a new friend, Violet, to spend time with. Emma doesn’t miss the way his cheeks redden when the young girl waves at him.

And it’s hard work, sometimes. Emma has to learn how to really open herself up, to be truly vulnerable, but it’s worth it. It's the happy ending she never could have imagined for herself, but it's the one that eventually, she realizes, she deserves.

[fiire-bcrn]

alias  - siege.

age   -  twenty-two

pronouns  -  she/her  .

timezone  -  est .

favorite  artist  -  solo - p!nk, sia; band - fall out boy, onerepublic, imagine dragons  . those are just the most frequent flyers, I listen to everything from electro-swing to german pop so.

favorite  movie  -  too many to list but basically anything superheroes or sci-fi/fantasy like the x-men, the mcu, star trek, stardust, willow, ladyhawke, knights tale, etc.

favorite  fairy  tale  -  twelve dancing princesses  was always one of my favourites but I obsessively devoured the andrew lang fairy books growing up. .

favorite  color  -  green  .

character(s)  you  play  -  sanderson mansnoozie, diaval corvus, chernabog caim, robin loxley .

got v long so the rest is under the cut !

about  the  characters  -  sandy : he’s sweet bubbly bean, communicates mostly through sign due to his own language having died out. unseelie of the autumn court but older than any of them by a longshot due to having been made a guardian. only wants to bring the best to the world. in a constant fight with his darker side, a side all of his brethren have. Pitch is his biggest regret. The way he turned on him, he really wishes he’d found a way to make him a part of the team, eternal osrizization was not part of what he’d thought would go down. robin : suave and almost childish at times, robin was raised in his youngest days amongst the poorest, without an inkling whom his father was, only with his mother as a friend and companion. however when she died at the moment he found himself alone. who should come sweeping in but his birth father a lord in need of his heir. the man thought to turn robin into the epitome of a noble by lavishing everything on him. unfortunately for him all the fancies and fripperies instead appalled robin and he left his father’s home to live with the lowest in the thieves forest where he started to help build a community of those spurned by society. currently he cares for the child of one of his fallen men while adjusting to an injury recently obtained during a failed rescue. diaval : born on bald mountain as a natural shapeshifter, diaval never knew his parents nor even if they had bothered to give him a name. in fact he might have perished an unwanted infant had some unknown man not decided for some reason to care for him, for a few years anyway. he also never cared enough to give him a name, referring to him as ‘boy’. however at the age of five the lad found himself alone once again, but this time with scared villagers fearing him for his abilities, which is how he got his name, a word that means ‘devil’. meant as an insult, he started to wear it instead as a badge. if he could not make them accept him he’d live off their fear. tales of crows bringing bad luck started but in fact it was all the work of the young shapeshifter who never was allowed to fit in. along the way he discovered one person who not only put up with him but found his skill to be useful and wonderful. maleficent. chernabog : once a daemon of comparatively benevolent nature, chernabog was spurned by his species and turned from hell for being too ‘soft’ upon the mortal inhabitants of the world. desperate to win his right back into his home, he now stops at nothing to prove himself a true bringer of evil, everything and everyone he sees as a way of furthering his own ends. the one and only acception being his two dogs, whose company he enjoys. not that he would ever let any soul know this.

wanted  connections  -  sandy : the guardians ! all of them ! we already know he adores jack ( we luff u ) and he’d get along well with toothiana’s cheerful demeanor, though he’d most likely dislike north and bunnymund a bit more. but not wholly. pitch ! he greatly regrets everything that happened with pitch black. i feel he’d have spent the past while lowkey trying to make it up, and barely holds a grudge for the whole arrow to the back thing. friends ! more unseelie, maybe some fae from the summer or spring courts for some strain. really anyone tbh, sandy loves people ! a love interest ! give mah boi a luffly boi to love ! must be able to speak in sign language or at least willing to learn ! unaffiliated or hero would work best, but a villain who has doubts about their alignment might work as well ! robin : maid marian ! totally open to this being a ship, or a broship, an exes plot, anything really ! just give him the spitfire that kept him sane through some trying times ! the merry men ! all those dedicated rascals we all love ! the big strong john little ( i have a plot with him specifically i’d love to talk about ! ), the irascable will scarlett ! the talented alan-a-dale ! maybe an oc merry man or merry woman ! enemies ! the sheriff of nottingham and/or guy of gisborne ! maybe a villain from another tale who has it out for robin ! estranged family who sees him as a threat of sorts could most certainly be fun ! diaval : the old man on the mountain ! this would be the an who took the time to care for a child who was not his, but never even gave him a name before disappearing once again, whether by his own choice or due to external forces ! could be of any allegiance, only necessities are old enough to have been thought of as a man by a five year old and have lived on bald mountain at some point ! so much potential for this connection ! friends ! lets face it, this boy could use some people who dont hate and fear him for a change, especially ones closer to his own age ! probably people who love mischief as much as he does ! enemies ! you don’t get to be maleficent’s right hand man by being nice to everyone and he is certainly on bad terms with at least a handful of people ! the biffle ! this would be none other than maleficent herself ! i see them as sort of platonic soulmates, of sorts ! always been close to each other and always have each  others backs ! chernabog : enemies ! obviously when plotting the downfall of a whole world you come across people who disagree with your views and want to see you destroyed as much as you want to see the same done to them ! the welcome annoyance ! someone who pushes all his buttons in an almost fearless way that he almost respects and secretly finds a refreshing change of pace ! just be careful not to push it too far…. a crush ( maybe ? ) ! someone who maybe is attracted to his power and dominance over the world ! or maybe they see the softer daemon he used to be even though he has long tried to quash that side ! i dunno exactly how this would go tbh, but it’d be fun to explore !

goals  for  your  character  -  for all of them i’d love to see how it affects their alliances and morality. robin, i could see how the effects war has on the lower class could push him to be slightly less heroic. or sandy may find his darker side pulling him to do unsavoury things despite his best efforts. perhaps diaval will meet someone from the hero side willing to accept him as much or seemingly more than maleficent, making him question loyalties. and chernabog may yet return to being the more benevolent version of himself he once was ( i doubt it but maybe ).

favorite  tasks  -  anything character development or worldbuilding, tbh !

favorite  events  -  got one word for you. m a s q u e r a  d e ! there was also one i did once where people were implanted with memories of others and something like that could be interesting !

any  ideas  - just keep doing what you're doing !  .

anything  else  - just v excited to be back ! .

[oftripps]

“ –– wow. ”  it’s not so much a critique as it is a g-rated expletive. tripp forces a smile mid-chew and blinks. “ my tastebuds are screaming. gah–– uh, singing. singing. ”  he avoids swallowing and as ring-decorated fingers snag a napkin, wide eyes drifting to the tabletop as a small jingle breezes past tensed lips. “ ~ allergic to mushrooms ~ ”

or, alternatively: this is somethin’ new! the caspar slide pt. 2 !! & this time, it’s ‘bout to get funky !!  so i’m linc and this is tripp and he’s........ a trip, honestly, so let’s just... yeet on into this ––

( joe keery + 22 + muse 12 ) isn’t that phillip joel “tripp” goodman over there? i heard he joined faction: one after they got back to west ham. it’s funny, ‘cause they were only on the service trip because HIS BANDMATES DUPED HIM INTO THINKING THE SIGN-UP WAS FOR A WOODS-THEMED OPEN MIC GIG. hopefully they fit in there – they’re JAUNTY but also OUTRÉ. oh, i’m sure they’ll be fine.

out the door !  ( tripp goodman: a roadmap )

look up townie family in the dictionary and you’ll find a portrait of the goodmans directly beside. these folks have a looooong flippin’ legacy here in lil’ ole west ham, kansas. it all started with montgomery goodman, a good man, who helped west ham’s founders break ground on this midwestern charmer several centuries ago. and now, the goodmans still live on the same property –– a refurbished farmhouse ( now closer to mcmansion ) surrounded by five acres of roooooollin’ hills. once upon a time, they were farming folk. now, theresa and joel goodman run the town’s one and only veterinary clinic. 

honestly, growing up? tripp was a problematic kid. he’d take in frogs from the woods and start his own frog hotels. he’d sneak pets from the clinic to school who “ needed help learning their numbers ”. in class, he’d flick sunflower seeds at the backs of his peers’ heads and, when threatened with discipline, claim he simply “ wanted to see if they’d grow  ” .  so no, to answer your question–– tripp never really saw the real wrath warranted by his rulebreaking.

in fourth grade, he chose the saxophone as his required instrument. he caused such a commotion in his house, that his parents asked his teachers to suggest something quieter. the viola. the flute. the clarinet. the piano. instruments came and went,;instruments were quickly mastered and abandoned. because dear lord, how many times could they listen to the spongebob theme song played on woodwind ?!  on strings ?!  once middle school rolled around, little phillip joel knew his way around a whopping total of six instruments, a tally that would only grow in the coming years. eventually, his parents caved and allowed him to keep playing, so long as he respected instrument curfews. they gave song requests to avoid hearing the same pieces on repeat: the goodman household was probably the only one blessed with an oboe-and-beatbox rendition of under the sea. young phillip joel’s take on the issue was simple: not all heroes wore capes.

( tw: domestic unrest, mentions of violence ) theresa and joel split when tripp was 9. just seven months later, tripp’s mother moved in with her girlfriend: tripp’s guitar teacher, ms. lillith. tripp didn’t mind ms. lillith. she was chill. he came to find out she could knock back a chocolate milk almost as fast as he could, and she liked her grilled cheeses with swiss only. his best friend became a thirty-six year old woman who happened to be his mother’s girlfriend. and that was fine. he could dig it. but joel goodman? oh no. his family name was tarnished. the scandal was too much to bear. joel sued for full custody and nearly made it, thanks to hometown politics and loyalties. but then he made one fatal mistake: he crossed his own son.

at 10 years old, fifth grade phillip joel returned home to his father’s after school with three fingernails painted effervescent blue. sidney frasier made me so cool, he gushed as he put his colored nails on proud display. dad, aren’t i so cool?  the next day, his dad enrolled him in the town’s peewee football program. he returned home from his first practice with a black eye and a split lip. from a ball, the coach insisted. hit the poor fella square in the face, real strong. phillip joel put up a fight against football; it wasn’t for him. it conflicted with music practice. couldn’t he just play music with ms. lillith instead?

the custody battle persisted. they settled on a parenting schedule. joel contested, consistently, months later. and so the cycle persisted up until phillip joel’s 12th year, when he was knocked out cold on the football field. the broken ribs came from hefty tackles. bruises from the fall. concussion from the impact. but theresa spun it to her advantage: joel had since started coaching the middle school team. this was an instance of parental neglect. and, when the courts didn’t comply, she instructed her son to jump down the stairs. one broken ankle later, and joel goodman was accused of child abuse. his word against his injured son’s. the maneuver won theresa full custody. phillip joel has yet to forgive himself.

after the custody battle’s conclusion, joel stayed in town: but phillip joel didn’t want a thing to do with sharing his name. his mother still scolds him as phillip joel, but to everyone else, he became tripp –– inspired by his knack for, you guessed it!, tumbling over his own two feet.

in high school, tripp was the class clown. always smirking, always grinning, always ready to catch someone off guard. he became a pivotal part of west ham high’s jazz band, and even formed a small group with a few buds: face. they played some school events: homecoming, pep rallies, prom. garage-baked young rock, their songs often preached meetings under bleachers and high school never ending. 

in senior year, the band saw a reboot: and after assuming a more indie, spacey sound and a nifty new name –– 1757. –– they saw a rise in local celebrity. coffee shops commissioned them for jam nights. they played on the local radio. so they collectively decided to stick around and see how far they could ride this west ham fame train. with tripp as their frontman, they always leave a memorable impression: he’s not exactly the most run-of-the-mill performer.

1757.’s sound is reminiscent of LANY: i’ve reblogged a few tunes onto tripp’s blog for reference. he’s v much a paul klein / matty healy vibe. big into music. big into losing himself in it.

so what was he up to before the service trip? playin’ tunes. working part-time as a waiter. and brainstorming ways to get out of going on this trip, as soon as he realized his stupid bandmates lied about the form he signed. an open mic in the woods ! pah !  he should have known. but the concept sounded pretty flippin’ cool.

wear our shades on our nose, 'cause we're cool like that ( tripp goodman: the man, the myth, the ledge )

oh god, he’s  w e i r d .  he believes in goblins and ghosts and aliens ( oh my )!

still VERY VERY close with his mother. v broken up about not being able to get through to her, because it was about to be his parents’ wedding anniversary and they were going to anti-celebrate it with big slices of oreo cheesecake and setting things on fire.

how he feels about coming home to west ham: post apocalyptic version.

uhhhh... can he please get a waffle? specifically a cinnamon raisin waffle with extra cinnamon and a shit ton of syrup? actually. syrup with a side of waffles?

why he was banned from his personal twitter.

“ do you even lift, bruv? ”  * proceeds to pick up a teacup & lift his pinkie like a true knock-off british monarch, shitty accent included *

listens to wham! and glam rock. unironically.bluetooth speaker mounted on his bike. no helmet! like an absolute boss. he knows!! wild!! shades on. it’s 2am. it’s dark. but true swag obeys no clock.

catch him biking everywhere stranger things style, actually. his bike’s name is milo because he can roll on for miles. mess with milo and he’ll fuck u up. aka find out if you’re lactose intolerant and slip heavy cream into your meal.

has a strong vendetta against blue doritos. which might take root in some horrific experiences involving cheez wiz, cool ranch, weed, and the new york subway system at 4am on a tuesday. spring break freshman year of college. oof.

he has a lil drawwwwl. tease him about it. he’ll probably blush.

stress-hums chili’s babyback ribs without realizing. catch him singin’ that about to be murdered.

weapon of choice: kindness.

actual weapon of choice: baseball bat.

he will write little jingles to keep morale up. “ so we’re trapped / cash us inside / how bou’ dat ? ”

has a passion for introspective literary quotes. but... has somehow managed to learn each and every one wrong.

friggin’ loves superheroes even though he can’t be bothered to watch the films? he just… always used to get made fun of for liking comic books even though he never read them? “ arachnid man is uh...  heh. he’s pretty dope, huh? ” he embraces the falsehood. someone call him on it.

9/10 times if he’s in the gym, it’s just to eat his donut and watch pay-per-view movies on the bike for free.

apple pie can absolutely be breakfast if you try hard enough. jeez. get with the times, man!

he had a legitimate pet rock before going on this service trip. but has no idea where that bugger’s gone. probably got fed up with tripp serenading him with “ we will rock you ” at all hours of the night.

lawful good. will wave other drivers on forever.

got into an accident on his bike once. bitch broke his arm and he just kept on smiling.  “ no you have a nice day! and uh.... hey. mind if we like... call an ambulance? ”

low key feels like he’s the reason his parents’ marriage crumbled. low key guilty about it. low key wonders if maybe he lived up to his father’s expectations, he might have saved them a lot of grief.

give benny goodman by saint motel a listen and tell me that’s not his soul in audio form.

known for slightly hyperbolic storytelling.

pansexual as heck. falls in love. hard. it’s a mess. he can’t hide it. hence the shades.

he has brilliant hair. and it’s immortalized in his high school yearbook.

is hellbent on being a source of positivity in this terrible situation. can he interest you in a meme in these trying times? how ‘bout a granola bar? maybe a good ole game of mash?

he’s convinced this is an elaborate prank. or a social experiment. maybe aliens. but let’s not question it too much, let’s just.... have a good time? hakuna matata? no worries? lol where the twizzlers at?!

leaves a voicemail for his mother every morning and every night. maybe he cries. maybe.

he has one ear pierced because like.......... senior year of high school, he wanted to feel more cool.

allergic to mushrooms, shellfish, eggs, and harbingers of doom.

he truly boggles minds. just.... v out there? v spacey. he closes his eyes and drifts about on stage, fingers dancing on the keys, body moving in eclectic ways. he says “groovy” and fuckin’ means it. he dresses in prints inspired by grandma’s carpet. lots of half-buttoned flowy shirts, boots, tailored statement pants, dangly necklaces. he’s got his hands full of rings –– they symbolize milestones. and some are just, like... pretty. and one’s his mother’s old wedding band.

where the hell are my friends !  ( wanted connectz. )

i was gonna do a whole section on this and got lazy but like.... anything. all the things. good, bad, ugly, beautiful. hurt him. make him suffer. but also support him a bit.

i imagine he’s got a solid squad goin’. he’s in faction one too, so... hmu for those.

i feel like he’d be pretty chill with the greeks? yeah bro, he parties. he’ll chill. he’ll crack open a cold one and pretend to understand what those letters on your jacket mean! pie-apple-fate-uh? cool stuff !

ride or dies. pls.

he needs someone to like....... melt his heart. maybe someone unexpected.

thisssss got long & disorganized but yes! let’s plot! let’s do this thang! #hype!!

[illegiblewords]

Critical Role Ep. 18 Spoilers [Mainly Caleb Theorizing/Analysis]

I’m gonna keep this under a cut, but will say that with theories flying I’m amused and kind of surprised no one has raised the one I’m gonna voice here.

CALEB IS 100% GONNA TRY AND RESURRECT HIS PARENTS IF NOT REVERSE TIME ALTOGETHER.

THE GATHERING MUD AND GORE AS INGREDIENTS. THE ATTENTION TO WINTERCREST.

MY GUYS BEAU IS LIKE OH YOU WANT REVENGE???? AND WHEN CALEB WAS LIKE I MAINLY REALLY WANT TO JUST FUCKING DOMINATE IN MAGIC IN A WAY NO ONE CAN FUCKING IMAGINE AND SHE WAS LIKE :/// TOO MUCH RESPONSIBILITY BRUH IDK Y U LIKE THAT.

HE WAS NOT BEING 100% STRAIGHT WITH HER IN THAT ONE SECOND.

See, I think there’s some fucking layers happening here man. First, there’s a little voice at the back of Caleb’s head being like you prob shouldn’t try and fuck with death and time and shit.

Second, I think there’s a really important point that prob Liam/Caleb get but that I don’t know if some fans get, and that I don’t know if Nott gets either. I think Beau might.

This is a responsibility thing.

When you mix mental illness and coercion together, things get real fucking messy. IMO, depending on exactly how those things get combined really plays a huge role in how much responsibility a person has in a given situation. There are fucktons of variables at play.

From where I stand, I don’t know that by the time Caleb and his friends murdered their parents they were coerced. They may have been previously, in which case being specifically conditioned in that way plays a massive fucking role in alleviating some responsibility. As it stands, it sounds like the motivation was blind loyalty.

And he will always bear some responsibility for that.

Caleb made terrible choices with irreparable consequences, not just to his family or his friends’ families but to their other victims too. Having that capacity for evil is something Caleb has to live with. Obviously it’s painful.

Trying to go back and undo those choices, or even a single choice with the murder of his parents, is impossible. He will always be stained by that decision, and even if he did somehow succeed in reversing time or bringing back the dead he would still know in his heart what he’d done. He’d also know that if he hadn’t had magic he’d be subject to the same rules of nature that bind everyone else. He’s not better than anyone for having magic so why should he be an exception?

He will not succeed in what he’s trying to do, or rather undo. And honestly it’s probably going to blow up in his face if he tries. I think on some level deep deep down Caleb is aware, but that is the most painful reality and he’s in denial. It’s the only way he knows how to cope and keep moving right now.

Caleb has to come to terms with his own capacity for evil, not just as a past-phenomenon but as something that is alive inside him and always will be. It doesn’t just apply to a single situation, to his blinding loyalty to the Empire. He has the capacity inside him to willingly sacrifice anything for a cause. I don’t actually know that that’s changed yet even if the cause has. If undoing his past meant sacrificing the lives of every one of the Mighty Nein, or of other innocent families, I don’t think I’d trust him to turn that down just yet.

And what’s more, this capacity for evil lurks inside everyone. He and his friends weren’t particularly unusual kids. They were bright. They had families who loved them. Trent’s evil was that he knew how to mentally crush and manipulate people to exploit this capacity, and he did. It takes tremendous strength and awareness to resist that and that isn’t the default for people in general.

There is no single choice or action that tips the balance for a character or even a real person to say they’ve been redeemed. It’s not a scale where you add some weight to one side for every bad deed then try to cancel it out with some good deeds. It’s a list. Every single thing on that list counts and it will never be erased. But Caleb can, if he chooses to, dedicate the rest of his life to doing good for the world as it lives on. He can retain enough awareness to stop himself when he sees he’s in danger of going down a dark road, and he can warn others. He can keep people from being put into situations where they’re likely to be brainwashed. He can make moral lines for himself that he can refuse to cross ever again.

He’s not there yet.

And I’m doing this analysis not just from a psych and personal morals standpoint, but from a literary one. Can you imagine what kind of story it would be if Caleb managed to wave a magic wand and suddenly erase all of his mistakes? Even if he somehow succeeded he would absolutely drive himself crazy knowing what he did originally. That knowledge is there forever, and I guarantee he would not be able to forgive himself even then. And it would make his character feel fake if he did forgive himself. The audience would still know.

I think Nott’s attempt to help Caleb ultimately showed that in some ways she does lack a level of inner wisdom. The act will be reprehensible and disgusting no matter what, and it will always be Caleb’s act to at least some degree. There were circumstances under which he was willing to murder his own parents. But Caleb has the power to commit heroic acts too, and those also count. He will always be morally gray, but he doesn’t have to be pitch black.

I might try to re-watch the ep at some point to analyze other details, I think there was interesting stuff about Beau and Yasha too. And tbh I wonder a tiny bit if the Traveller might have forged shit for Jester’s package, or if it was truly from her mom. I’m suspicious as hell.

[keepyourpantsongohan]

Ayesha Liveblogs Magi: Labyrinth of Magic

[Karen Smith voice] If your name is Alibaba why are you Japanese?

“Throwing me out like that is pretty mean,” he said, to someone whose house he had broken into in the night 

“Do you like money, mister?” “Yeah, I mean, since I need money” me too Alibaba

Ten minutes into this series and they’ve already introduced the concept of slavery in their society guess they’re not fucking around 

Alibaba are you seriously taking a baby to a brothel 

You know the girl in chains is a protagonist because of her Anime Hair

Is this some kind of Venus Wine Trap

Omg was Aladdin just waiting for Alibaba to exercise correct moral judgement before stepping in, those people were being digested

“All I ever did was lie, and not do anything” same my guy 

Now that he mentions it I would wonder why they didn’t bring any supplies to this Tower of Death

You know, I really thought Aladdin would be the one to bite the insect first

I hope that Alibaba continues to use that dagger no matter how magical his fights get like ‘guess u just brought magic to a knife fight’

“So I guess I better let him know why I entered this dungeon” I thought it was for gold and prostitutes 

“Labour is the duty of mankind” okay Lord Bourgeoisie 

This situation has really escalated we went from declarations of friendship to kidnapping and stabbing in like thirty seconds flat

This guy only has two reactions to people helping him which is tipping or stabbing Alibaba is truly living the customer service life

“Where’s Alibaba?” it appears that he has burst into flames

Can you really fault Morgiana for not responding to ‘Slave Lady’ immediately after you learned her name?

Morgiana: [Beautiful description of homeland delivered in monotone]

“But how?” “I’m immortal that’s how” Last episode you were being digested by a plant????

Morgiana displays the benefits of not skipping Leg Day

I guess if you’re immortal you’ve got endless time to master swordplay

Lord Jamil’s really got some issues what’s with this endless “kill him” chant

Divine Right seems like a very poor way to choose your leaders 

“I even messed up really bad one time” this is some kind of Reverse Foreshadowing it’s like Backshadowing

‘My Sinbad Dream’ sounds like the title of a bad fanfic

Where’s he gonna put all that gold does this ancient Arabian city have banks 

Update from ep. 11: Yes they do and they are corrupt

Amazing Alibaba used his treasure to abolish slavery truly the only honourable boy in this society

“The same blood runs through our veins” Baba implying they’re all inbred

“You’re Baba’s child now” should not be a comforting statement from someone you just met

Sure, when babies drink milk directly from the teat it’s healthy and a bonding experience but when Aladdin does it’s inappropriate

“Don’t worry Toya, I’ll protect you no matter what” Dude’s gonna die ain’t he

I don’t imagine that they’re going to get a peaceful submission to foreign rule from an independent and inbred nation 

I knew Ryosai would be a dick from the moment he opened his mouth

“Until I see the faces of my children’s great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren, I’ve got to make absolutely sure I live on with everyone” WHAT THE EVERLOVING FUCK

Princess Hakuei is such a good leader even if she is an imperialist  

What kinda Sailor Moon-esque transformations are these and when do I get to see Alibaba’s 

“I’ll keep you in those chains for the rest of your life” Poor Morgiana that Jamil really fucked her up 

“You have a sense of justice and value your friends” “I’m telling you that’s not true” lmao what an objection Leila 

I’d call this guy Lipstick Kakashi but I feel that’d be insulting to Kakashi

“Don’t lump me in with those ridiculous bandits,” said the slave trader

Yikes @ Morgiana explaining the concept of slavery to this tiny girl but I guess it doesn’t help to sugar coat it

YAS MORGIANA KICK THE ASS OF ALL THINGS END HIM 

This is a sidenote but I’ve gotta imagine that if Goltass was one of the Plainspeople they should’ve noticed him because he’s massive??

I’m guessing this handsome sleeping man is Sinbad

“My name is Sin” not only was I correct but also he calls himself Sin pls

What kind of a fucking outfit is Sinbad walking around in my goodness

Lmao at Sinbad this is the equivalent of telling your two Indian friends ‘hey maybe you guys know each other’

I thought the guy with the black hair was Jafar? Did I hallucinate or is this a plot point

“I’m gonna fight with you” “Yes ma’am” is it wrong 2 hope they get married

What an honourable ruler he wants everyone to have autonomy

Sinbad just wants to cuddle with Masrur

“He’s only wealthy from your taxes. If you don’t believe it’s worth paying, take back as much as you want. But, don’t take any lives.” I! Love! Him!

This has got to be an Alibaba and the forty thieves reference

Oh no Alibaba and Aladdin look so sad I don’t care for this 

“We can’t let them end up like Mariam” the Backshadowing continues!!

Fsfjhdskjhfksdhgl I want men to look at me like they look at Morgiana and by that I mean terrified 

SHE JUST PICKED UP A GROWN MAN I LOVE MORGIANA 

Aladdin sure knows how to diffuse tension in a room 

“She was a prostitute of the slums” this childhood memory got dark real quick

It’s weird that brown people exist in this universe but none of the people with Arabic names are brown 

!!!! Alibaba is the rightful ruler of Balbaad omg

Oh shit I guess all of Alibaba’s skills aren’t just down to immortality

“They’ve been driven out by the state... something about re-development” this magical society is a little too real

Things are about to go terribly awry I know it Cassim is about to ruin everything

WHY ARE YOU STILL HANGING OUT WITH THIS GUY ALIBABA HE’S RESPONSIBLE FOR ALL YOUR SUFFERING???

Dfsdkfdsjfhksdjhfsdglfg Sinbad “eavesdropping is in such bad taste” ur right Jafar

I mean I get Cassim’s plight but I also don’t trust him 

“Cassim and I had a special bond, he was my family and friend” he is responsible for your dad succumbing to illness??

I want Alibaba to rule Balbaad but that would really not fit into this narrative arc of travelling

“It’s Cassim” who could’ve predicted that Cassim would ruin everything

Sinbad joining the Fog Troupe is simultaneously exactly what I expected and not at all what I expected?

“What kind of a hardened and callous man are you?” poor Jafar lmao

“I choose not to interfere with domestic issues” he said, after asking two contenders for the throne to speak in a public forum

“You aren’t even fit to be king dammit” them’s treasonous words my friend

What a creepy old man my goodness

Oh it’s Judar not Jafar that explains it I guess???

Poor screamy Alibaba trying to protect his nation’s people 

Damn Sinbad’s so charismatic he gives other people a complex just by standing next to him

The Humble King trope is my favourite Alibaba pleading for his people’s lives or in Naruto when he pleads for Sasuke’s life like that’s some Good Shit™

Judar: Hi I don’t want anything I’m just here to be an asshole

It’s ironic that a character who shares a VA with Natsu is proficient in ice magic

“Why are you doing these things?” Because he’s a dick that’s why

There are only like 3 known magical people here so I’m guessing it’s someone we haven’t met yet 

“I’ll remain and finish off this little child” why is Sinbad the only moral adult in this universe

All these poor Balbaadans must be like ‘I didn’t sign up for this shit I just wanted to know how the negotiations went’ 

I can’t believe that Sinbad defeated them through the Power of Handsome

Sinbad: Capitalism is an obvious trap how could you fall for it

Every single one of Alibaba’s reactions to being thrust into leadership roles are me 

Amazing all Matthew Mercer characters get drunk and trash talk their homies 

“It was Alibaba who saved me” Lmao @ Morgiana’s shoujo reimagining of her being freed

Sinbad captured Judar’s dungeon and I’m sure there’s a sex joke in there somewhere 

Uh-oh Alibaba’s about to get an inspirational lecture 

“Why do you think I should go back to where Sinbad is?” why do you have such issues with Sinbad, Cassim

I kind of love this trope reversal from “there are some things worth dying for” to “there is nothing worth human lives”

“He’s still my friend” Alibaba’s still protecting Cassim when he’s basically done nothing good ever in his life what kind of fuck ass loyalty

I love battle training!!!!! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh

“I have a feeling that she’s a woman who’d lend me an ear” Sinbad’s gonna fuck her into changing her mind

Even though I’ve been questioning the logistics of Alibaba becoming king, Sinbad’s a king and he’s not in his kingdom so who am I to judge

“Could this be a case of the marriage blues?” Something old, something new

My boy and his new sword I’m so proud of him 

“I may not look like it but I’m a very powerful girl” “I know” actually I hope these two get married just so I can watch her toss him around forever

Lmao @ Morgiana partially destroying every building she comes into contact with

Real talk we know who got all the looks in the family like who was Ahbmad and Sahbmad’s mother yikes

Alibaba threw his brother’s sword away and then slapped him I love him

Props to Princess Kogyoku for taking the revelation that her fiance is gross in stride

“As of this moment, the country of Balbaad will be ending its monarchy!” OH MY GOD ALIBABA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Alibaba’s doing the nationwide equivalent of declaring bankruptcy

“Are we saved?” A legit question, royal guardsmen

I’m so in love with Alibaba creating a democracy in a world of empires my baby 

“Doesn’t it seem like it’s all a big scam?” Why is Cassim like this he’s the worst

I’m gonna guess that Ugo belonged to Aladdin’s dad 

For someone who doesn’t want to be king Alibaba sure is good at leading

“Sounds to me like all you wanted was to be king yourself?” that’s about the size of it 

Why. Are. You. Like. This. Cassim???? Chill the fuck out 

“Is that thing Cassim?” He’s literally a demon beast now killing all the citizens of your country I don’t think you have to feel bad about fighting it

Sinbad is just constantly joining in the fray to he’s like the older brother Alibaba needed instead of the two dinky ones he had

“Later I plan on making you mine too” gay but rude 

“It’s because you’re you, Alibaba” <3333333333333333333333 Baby boy and his baby bro ah!!!

“Halharl infigare” sounds like something you’d say when you could no longer form words

“You never lost that radiance did you?” so what ur saying is that u hated Alibaba bc you had a little gay crush on him 

Alibaba refuses to let Cassim get away with being a dick just because his father was one

SHIT THE MONTAGES OF DIFFERENT PATHS ALWAYS GET TO ME

I weep for Alibaba who weeps for his lost friend

Thought the villains would be like 4 or 5 people but it turns out it’s a whole cult

What a beautiful turn of events I’m upset in a good way I’m tearing up a bit

Sinbad @ Alibaba: I’m kidnapping you out of love 

These people look so happy to see a giant sea monster bless them

“His lunacy might rub off on you” I’m not sure if I want to see Alibaba become a high-impulse swordsman but tbh his impulse control isn’t that good anyway

Oh my god Morgiana and Alibaba are so cute and bashful 

“I’ve already got family, each and every person who lives in this country” that is adorable but that’s also what Ashoka said and look how the Mauryan empire turned out

I love Morgiana’s commitment to saving people from oppression

“You should do whatever you feel like doing, now and forever” ALIBABA AND ALADDIN JUST INSPIRED HER SO MUCH SHE BROKE INTO DANCE

I thought the Djinn transfer would be much more complicated but there you have it I guess 

The entire royal guard is about to slut-shame Sinbad 

Fdgkldgjlkdfgjldkfgj I know that Sinbad didn’t actually do anything but this is still so funny 

“By the way, I’m the culprit” Ka Kaboun is such a mess lmao 

“You’re an upstanding person Ka Kaboun” she said, after he tried to frame a man for a sexual assau/t 

So this is a scarred man with designs against his own family’s empire who will probably team up with the happy-go-lucky protagonist I’m not saying that this is Arabian Zuko but he’s Arabian Zuko

Those long chains seem a little impractical for battle and walking around

I love that Alibaba is so incorruptible that even with a literal demon inside him he refused to hurt Hakuryu 

Kind of harsh of Alibaba not to help the little girl but I guess he is poisoned and Hakuryu stepped up right away anyway

Well at least this time they tried to bring supplies 

My three children are so beautifully in-sync with their battle maneuvers

I really thought when they split up that Hakuryu and Alibaba would be a team

“It kind of seems like he’s always trying to take on everything by himself and it kind of irritates me I guess” Pot kettle Alibaba

“I’m doing the very best I can, you know?” ME TOO HAKURYU 

I LOVE HAKURYU AND HIS CRYING FIT HE’S ADORABLE

“I’m counting on you to be right there” Brotp: Crybaby Princes

I love Sinbad worrying about his teenage homies A+ adulting

What happened to these people that they are psychologically scarred at any mention of war

WHAT THE FUCK WHY IS MORGIANA HURT WHY WOULD U DO THAT

I guess even King’s Candidates aren’t immune to PTSD

Everything is escalating so quickly I’m very worried about Sinbad and Alibaba

“If you’re the enemy then act like it!” oh no this is sad

“Why does everyone do such things as if it were perfectly normal?” THAT’S MY QUESTION ALIBABA

NO THIS ISN’T WHAT I WANT AT ALL MY BOY WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO YOU 

I knew Zagan belonged to Hakuryu!!!! He wouldn’t have abandoned Morgiana if he hadn’t already healed her 

“You’re nothing more than a magician” “Sorry, you see I’m also a genius” I love Yam

“You’re Alibaba whom I love so much” I love grammatically correct declarations of friendship my nerd baby boys holding hands ah!!!!!

There’s so much I love about this episode Sinbad’s half-fallen reveal, the friendship between Alibaba and Aladdin, Hakuryu’s new power, Princess Kogyoku’s joining the Sindrians, everything is 10/10

“Just like Alma Toran, eh?” I guess we’re about to learn why everyone is so averse to war 

If Alibaba truly doesn’t want to be a nobleman he’s gotta stop acquiring so much money

“I’m looking forward to crossing swords with him” why does every challenge to Sinbad’s authority sound so homoerotic 

[collecting-stories]

Ollie + Kit - Alfie Solomons

Request: Can u do a part 2 for the kit-alfie solomons imagine just like ollie maybe babysitting or helping alfie with him since alfie doesnt trust anybody else with him. Thanks

Kit Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

A chair was pulled up beside the desk where Kit sat, eyes focused on his drawings. He was fashioning another picture of a ship, one he had seen this morning on his walk. Beside him Ollie had taken a seat, craning his neck to peek over the boy’s shoulder at his work.  

“That looks very nice Kit,” Ollie observed.  

In all honesty Ollie was feeling the smallest bit nervous. This was the first time he had been entrusted with his boss’ son. Sure, Ollie had watched Kit once or twice when Alfie needed to talk business with someone and didn’t want the small boy around. That was only for short periods of time, not a whole day. But you were out of town visiting a sister and Alfie had business so he’d stopped by Ollie’s one room flat early in the morning, a sleeping Kit in his arms and Peg at his side, and he had given Ollie both of them.  

It was well passed noon now and Kit had been occupying himself looking through the couple of books that Ollie kept around. Ollie had tried to keep as close to Kit’s usual routine as possible. A walk in the morning, then breakfast and practice reading, then another walk, lunch, and some drawing. You kept Kit on a schedule, feeling that was best for his moods to be structured. Alfie had gone through the schedule with Ollie, surprising the young man that he even knew what Kit did when he wasn’t around.  

Alfie had never struck Ollie as the type who worried about anyone but himself and then you came along. When Kit was born there was yet another shift in Alfie’s personality that Ollie noticed. Though he said nothing about it Ollie could see the overwhelming sense of loyalty that had developed in Alfie when his family grew.  

“Thank you, this is my dream ship.” Kit explained, pointing to the ship on the paper. “It’s got a bed right here on the top so I can look at the ocean as I sleep.”  

“I wouldn’t mind that myself.” Ollie mused, thinking how nice it would be to sail out to sea and have no worries.  

“I’ll make you a bunk on my boat, you can sleep on the port side okay?” Kit promised, picking up his pencil and beginning to draw another rectangle on the ship.  

“That sounds wonderful.” Ollie reasoned.  

“Mum says I’m a sea-monkey, that I love the water.” Kit stated, continuing to add details onto his ship.  

“I think your mum is right Kit.”  

“Mr. Ollie, do you have any kids?” Kit asked.  

“No sir.” Ollie shook his head.  

Kit seemed satisfied with the answer that Ollie had provided and turned back to his drawings, pulling another piece of paper over. Ollie took a blank piece of paper for himself and began sketching a rather intricate portrait of the small boy beside him.  

When Ollie was young he had dreamed of being a painter but there wasn’t much opportunity for painters in London, a city filled with artists, so he hung up his art and joined Alfie’s production. It was a lucrative business that paid him well and Alfie, though difficult at times, was a good boss. A man of questionable morals but steadfast tradition and faith. Ollie continued to paint in the quiet of his own home, never sharing his talents with anyone. Kit was only a child though so it didn’t matter if he should see Ollie’s art.  

“I’m making you a ship.” Kit announced. He dropped one hand off the desk to pet Peg, who had woken from his nap and come over to join his friend.  

“I thought I was bunking on yours.” Ollie laughed, glancing over at the new ship Kit was fashioning.

“You are but mum says sometimes people need separate space. So I made you separate space too.”  

“Well that’s very kind of you Mr. Kit.” Ollie smiled. “Could I give you a hug do you think?”  

“We could try it.” Kit reasoned.  

Ollie was slow in reaching over and gently guiding Kit into a hug. The small boy reached a hand up and patted Ollie’s back quickly before pulling away. Ollie complied, pulling away as well and letting Kit have a bit of extra distance.  

“There you go. Not terrible right?” Ollie smiled.

“It was okay.”

When Kit was upset sometimes you would take a blanket and wrap him up tightly, keeping him in your arms and rubbing his head. It was the only time he let you hug him or touch him in anyway that didn’t immediately make him upset. He wouldn’t let Alfie hug him that way because it got too warm in his arms. This was the first time he had given anyone a real hug.  

“What are you drawing?” Kit asked, looking at the paper that Ollie had in front of him.  

“I was drawing you.” Ollie admitted, turning the page a bit so that Kit could see.  

“Will you draw Peg?” Kit asked excitedly, grabbing a hold of the picture.

The next hour was spent with Kit laying over top of Peg to get the dog to stay still as Ollie attempted to draw him. Kit would hold Peg’s ears up and whisper into them as if he was telling some great secret. More often than not he was simply telling Peg how wonderful he would look in a drawing. Ollie took his time to sketch out Peg just right, adding Kit to the portrait as well.  

Eventually, at some point during the sitting Kit and Peg both fell asleep on the floor. Ollie cleaned up the mess on his desk and gathered Kit’s pictures together so he could take them with him. It was quarter past when Alfie finally knocked on the door, calling for Ollie and waking Kit in the process.  

“Daddy!” Kit shouted excitedly, running to the door.  

“I’ll get it Kit, it’s locked.” Ollie instructed.  

The door opened and Alfie came in, looking slightly more exhausted than he had this morning but happier than usual. Kit ran for the desk, grabbing his pictures along with the one Ollie had drawn of him and Peg. “Look daddy! Mr. Ollie drew us!”  

“Lets see that then.” Alfie took the piece of paper from Kit’s outstretched hand. Ollie kept his gaze on the floor, feeling suddenly embarrassed to have his employer looking over his art. He only looked up when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “This is excellent Ollie.”  

“Oh, thank you sir.”  

“Would you do one of the missus?” Alfie asked. “I’ll hang them in my office.”  

“Of course.” Ollie nodded.  

Alfie bid his friend goodbye, leading Kit and Peg out the door so they could be home by dinner. He knew it always took time for Kit to get from one place to another.  

“Can I be in mum’s picture as well?” Kit asked, following his father down the street.

“Your mum’ll be sharing the picture as it is.” Alfie joked though Kit didn’t catch on to the meaning.  

Bit of bonding between Ollie and Kit.