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sk1fanfiction · 4 years ago

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the many faces of tom riddle, part 4

-attachment, orphanages, and yet more child psych: time to add yet another voice to the void-

FULL DISCLAIMER THAT THIS IS JUST MY OPINION OF A CHARACTER WHO DOESN’T HAVE THE STRONGEST CANON CHARACTERIZATION, AND THUS ALL THIS IS BASED ON MY CONCEPTUALIZATION.

I'm going to be super biased, because my favorite portrayal of Tom Riddle is actually Hero Fiennes-Tiffin as eleven-year-old Tom Riddle, in HBP and I get to chat about child psych in this one, sooo here we go.

First of all, I’m just so impressed that a kid could bring that much depth to such a complex character.

This is the portrayal, I feel, that brings us closest to Tom’s character. Yes, Coulson’s brought us pretty close, but by fifth year, the mask was on.

We don't really get to see Tom looking afraid very often, but it's fear that rules his life, so it's really poignant in our first (chronologically) introduction, he looks absolutely terrified.

The void being the fandom's loud opinions on a certain headmaster. I wouldn't call myself pro-Dumbledore, but I'm certainly not anti-Dumbledore, either. (Agnostic-Dumbledore??)

Since I'm not of the anti-Dumbledore persuasion, I decided to poke around in the tags and see what the arguments were, so I don't make comments out of ignorance.

Most of the tag seems to be more directed towards his treatment of Harry and Sirius, but a few people mentioned that Dumbledore should have treated Tom with ‘exceptional kindness’ and tried to ‘rehabilitate’ him.

As I said in Parts 2 and 3, I am 100% in favor of helping a traumatized kid learn to cope, and I don’t think Tom Riddle was solidly on the Path to Evil (TM) at birth, or even at eleven. Not even at fifteen.

Could unconditional love and kindness have helped Tom Riddle enough for the rise of Lord Voldemort to never happen? Possibly, but...

Yes, I'm about to drag up that Carl Jung quote, again.

“I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.”

The problem with this is that if you’re going to blame Dumbledore for this, you also have to blame every other adult in Tom’s life: his headmaster, Dippet, his Head of House, Slughorn, his ‘caretakers’ at the orphanage, Mrs. Cole and Martha, and possibly more. In fact, if we're going to blame any adult, let's blame Merope for r*ping and abusing Tom Riddle Senior, and having a kid she wasn't intending to take care of.

Furthermore, you cannot possibly hold anyone but Tom accountable for the murders he committed. (I should not have to sit here and explain why cold-blooded murder is wrong.) And if you like Tom Riddle's character, insinuating that his actions are completely at the whim of others is just a bit condescending towards him. He's not an automaton or a marionette, he's a very intelligent human being with a functioning brain, and at sixteen is fully capable of moral reasoning and critical analysis.

I've heard the theories about Dumbledore setting the Potters up to die, and I'm not going to discuss their validity right now; but he didn't put a wand in Tom's hand and force him to kill anyone. Tom did it all of his own accord.

And while yes, I have enormous sympathy for what happened to Tom as a child, at some point, he decided to murder Myrtle Warren, and that is where I lose my sympathy. Experiencing trauma does not give you the right to inflict harm on others. Yes, Tom was failed, but then, he spectacularly failed himself.

We also have no idea how Dumbledore treated Tom as a student.

In the movies, it’s Dumbledore who tells Tom he has to go back to the orphanage, but in the books, it’s Dippet. We know that Slughorn spent a lot of time around Tom at Slug Club and such, yet I don’t really see people clamoring for his head.

I regard the sentiment that Dumbledore turned Tom Riddle into Lord Voldemort with a lot of skepticism.

But let's hear from the character himself -- his impression of eleven-year-old Tom Riddle.

“Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time?” said Dumbledore. “No, I had no idea that he was to grow up to be what he is. However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, something I should have done in any case, given that he was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt I ought to do for others’ sake as much as his."

Now, assuming that Dumbledore's telling the truth, I'm not seeing something glaringly wrong with this. No, he hasn't pigeonholed Tom as evil, yes, I'd be intrigued, too, and it's a very good idea to keep an eye on Tom, for his own sake.

“At Hogwarts,” Dumbledore went on, “we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have �� inadvertently, I am sure — been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school."

Again, it seems like he's at least somewhat sympathetic towards Tom, and is willing to at least give him a chance.

More evidence (again, assuming Dumbledore is a reliable narrator):

Harry: “Didn’t you tell them [the other professors], sir, what he’d been like when you met him at the orphanage?” Dumbledore: “No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible that he felt sorry for how he had behaved before and was resolved to turn over a fresh leaf. I chose to give him that chance.”

Now, I think Dumbledore is pretty awful with kids, but I don't think that's malicious. Yeah, it's a flaw, but perfect people don't exist, and perfect characters are dead boring. I am not saying that he definitely handled Tom's case well, I'm just saying that there's little evidence that Dumbledore, however shaken and scandalized, wrote him off as 'evil snake boy.'

It's also worth taking into account that it's 1938, and the attitudes towards mental health back then.

Why is Tom looking at Dumbledore like that, anyway? Why is he so scared? What has he possibly been threatened with or heard whispers of?

"'Professor'?" repeated Riddle. He looked wary. "Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?"

"I don't believe you," said Riddle. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"

"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of course -- well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!

Tom keeps insisting he's not mad until Dumbledore finally manages to calm him down.

I'm really upset this wasn't in the movie, because it's important context. Instead we got these throwaway cutscenes of some knick-knacks relating to the Cave he's got lying around, but I just would have preferred to see him freaking out like he does in the book.

There was extreme stigma and prejudice towards mental illness.

'Lunatic asylums,' as they were called in Tom's time, were terrible places. In the 1930s and 40s, he could look forward to being 'treated' with induced convulsions, via metrazol, insulin, electroshock, and malaria injections. And if he stuck around long enough, he could even look forward to a lobotomy!

So, if you think Dumbledore was judgmental towards Tom, imagine how flat-out prejudiced whatever doctors or 'experts' Mrs. Cole might have gotten in to 'look at him' must have been!

Moving on to the next few shots, he is sitting down and hunched over as if expecting punishment or at least some kind of bad news, Dumbledore is mostly out of the frame. He’s trapped visually, by Dumbledore on one side, and a wall on the other, because he’s still very much afraid. uncomfortable, as he tells Dumbledore a secret that he fears could get him committed to an asylum (which were fucking horrible places, as I said).

It brings to the scene that miserable sense of isolation and loneliness to that has defined Tom’s entire life up to that point (and, partially due to his own bad choices, continues to define it).

And, when Dumbledore accepts it, his posture changes. he becomes more confident and more at ease, as he describes the... utilities of his magical abilities.

"All sorts," breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

Riddle lifted his head. His face was transfigured: There was a wild happiness upon it, yet for some reason it did not make him better looking; on the contrary, his finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost bestial.

I do think Harry, our narrator, is being a tad bit judgmental here. Magic is probably the only thing that brings Tom happiness in his grey, lonely world, and when I was Tom's age and being bullied, if I had magic powers, you'd better believe that I'd (a) be bloody ecstatic about it (b) use them. And, like Tom, I can't honestly say that I can't imagine getting a bit carried-away with it. Unfortunately, we can't all be as inherently good and kindhearted as Harry.

Reading HBP again, as a 'mature' person, it almost seems like the reader is being prompted to see Tom as evil just because he's got 'weird' facial expressions.

So... uh...

Nope, let's judge Tom on his actions, not looks of 'wild happiness.'

To his great surprise, however, Dumbledore drew his wand from an inside pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner, and gave the wand a casual flick. The wardrobe burst into flames. Riddle jumped to his feet; Harry could hardly blame him for howling in shock and rage; all his worldly possessions must be in there. But even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged.

Okay, one thing I dislike is Tom's lack of emotional affect when Dumbledore burned the wardrobe, in the books, he jumped up and started screaming, instead of looking passively (in shock, perhaps?) at the fire. Incidentally, I can't really tell if he's impressed or in shock, to be honest. I think they really tried to make Tom 'creepier' in the movie.

This is one of the incidents where Dumbledore's inability to deal with children crops up.

I think he was trying to teach Tom that magic can be dangerous, and he wouldn't like it to be used against him, but burning the wardrobe that contains everything he owns was a terrible move on Dumbledore's part. Tom already has very limited trust in other people, and now, he's not going to trust Dumbledore at all -- now, he's put Tom on the defensive/offensive for the rest of their interaction, and perhaps for the rest of their teacher-student relationship.

Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. "Where can I get one of them?"

"Where do you buy spellbooks?" interrupted Riddle, who had taken the heavy money bag without thanking Dumbledore, and was now examining a fat gold Galleon.

But I'm not surprised Tom is 'greedy.' He's grown up in an environment where if he wants something, whether that's affection, food, money, toys, he's got to take it. There's no one looking after his needs specifically. I'm not surprised that he's a thief and a hoarder, and I don't think that counts as a moral failing necessarily, and more of a maladaptive way of seeking comfort. It would be bizarre if he came out of Wool's Orphanage a complete saint.

Additionally, I think given that the Gaunt family has a history of 'mental instability,' Tom is a sensitive child, and the trauma of growing up institutionalized and possibly being treated badly due to his magical abilities or personality disorder deeply affected him.

And there are points where it seems that Dumbledore is quick to judge Tom.

"He was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control."

"Yes, indeed; a rare ability, and one supposedly connected with the Dark Arts, although as we know, there are Parselmouths among the great and the good too. In fact, his ability to speak to serpents did not make me nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy, and domination."

"I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless?..."

And while this is all empirically true, these are (a) a product of Tom's harsh environment, and (b) do not necessarily make him evil. But the point remains that child psych didn't exist as a field of its own, and psychology as a proper science was in its infancy, so I'd be shocked if Dumbledore was insightful about Tom's situation.

But I've gone a ton of paragraphs without citing anything, so I've got to rectify that.

Let's talk about Harry Harlow's monkey experiments in the 1950-70s.

If you're not a fan of animal research, since I know some people are uncomfortable with it, feel free to scroll past.

Here's the TL;DR: Children need to be hugged and shown affection too, not just fed and clothed, please don't leave babies to 'cry out' and ignore their needs because it's backwards and fucking inhumane. HUG AND COMFORT AND CODDLE CHILDREN AND SPOIL THEM WITH AFFECTION!

I will put more red writing when the section is over.

This is still an interesting experiment to have in mind while we explore the whole 'no one taught Tom Riddle how to love' thing and whether or not it's actually a good argument.

Andddd let's go all the way back to the initial 1958 experiment, featured in Harlow's paper, the Nature of Love. (If you're familiar with Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, him and Harlow actually collaborated for a time).

To give you an idea of our starting point, until Harlow's experiment, which happened twenty years after Dumbledore meets Tom for the first time, no one in science had really been interested in studying love and affection.

"Psychologists, at least psychologists who write textbooks, not only show no interest in the origin and development of love or affection, but they seem to be unaware of its very existence."

I'm going to link some videos of Harry Harlow showing the actual experiment, which animal rights activists would probably consider 'horrifying.' It's nothing gory or anything, but if you are particularly soft-hearted (and I do not mean that as an insult), be warned. It's mostly just baby monkeys being very upset and Harlow discussing it in a callous manner. Yes, today it would be considered unethical, but it's still incredibly important work and if you think you can handle it, I would recommend watching at least the first one to get an idea of how dramatic this effect is.

Dependency when frightened

The full experiment

The TL;DW:

This experiment was conducted with rhesus macaques; they're still used in psychology/neuroscience research when you want very human-like subjects, because they are very intelligent (unnervingly so, actually). I'd say that adult ones remind me of a three-year old child.

Harlow separated newborn monkeys from their mothers, and cared for their physical needs. They had ample nutrition, bedding, warmth, et cetera. However, the researchers noticed that the monkeys:

(a) were absolutely miserable. And not just that, but although all their physical needs were taken care of, they weren't surviving well past the first few days of life. (This has also been documented in human babies, and it's called failure to thrive and I'll talk about it a bit later).

(b) showed a strong attachment to the gauze pads used to cover the floor, and decided to investigate.

So, they decided to provide a surrogate 'mother.' Two, actually. Mother #1 was basically a heated fuzzy doll that was nice for the monkeys to cuddle with. Mother #2 was the same, but not fuzzy and made of wire. Both provided milk. The result? The monkeys spent all their time cuddling and feeding from the fuzzy 'mother.' Perhaps not surprising.

What Harlow decided next, is that one of the hallmarks being attached to your caregiver is seeking hugs and reassurance from them when frightened. So, when the monkeys were presented with something scary, they'd go straight to the cloth mother and ignore the wire one. Not only that, but when placed in an unfamiliar environment, if the cloth mother was present, the monkeys would be much calmer.

In a follow-up experiment, Harlow decided to see if there was some sort of sensitive period by introducing both 'mothers' to monkeys who had been raised in isolation for 250 days. Guess what?

The initial reaction of the monkeys to the alterations was one of extreme disturbance. All the infants screamed violently and made repeated attempts to escape the cage whenever the door was opened. They kept a maximum distance from the mother surrogates and exhibited a considerable amount of rocking and crouching behavior, indicative of emotionality.

Yikes. So, at first Harlow thought that they'd passed some kind of sensitive period for socialization. But after a day or two they calmed down and started chilling out with the cloth mother like the other monkeys did. But here's a weird thing:

That the control monkeys develop affection or love for the cloth mother when she is introduced into the cage at 250 days of age cannot be questioned. There is every reason to believe, however, that this interval of delay depresses the intensity of the affectional response below that of the infant monkeys that were surrogate-mothered from birth onward

All these things... attachment, affection, love, seeking comfort ... are mostly learned behaviours.

Over.

Orphanages, institutionalized childcare, and why affection is a need, not an extra.

His face is lit the exact same was as Coulson’s was in COS (half-light, half-dark), and I said I was going to talk about this in Part 3. I think perhaps it's intended to make Fiennes-Tiffin look more evil or menacing, but I'm going to quite deliberately misinterpret it.

Now, for some context, Dumbledore has just (kind of) burned his wardrobe, ratted out his stealing habit, and (in the books only, they really took a pair of scissors to this scene) told him he needs to go apologize and return everything and Dumbledore will know if he doesn't, and, well, Tom's not exactly a happy bugger about it.

But interestingly, in the books, this is when we start to see Tom's 'persona,' aka his mask, start to come into play. Whereas before, he was screaming, howling, and generally freaking out, here, he starts to hide his emotions -- in essence, obscure his true self under a shadow. So this scene is really the reverse of Coulson's in COS.

And perhaps I'm reading wayyy too much into this, but I can't help but notice that Coulson's hair is parted opposite to Fiennes-Tiffin's, and the opposite sides of their faces are shadowed, too.

Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. "Yes, I suppose so, sir," he said finally, in an expressionless voice.

Riddle did not look remotely abashed; he was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last he said in a colorless voice, "Yes, sir."

Here's an article from The Atlantic on Romanian orphanages in the 1980s, when the dictator, Ceausescu, basically forced people to have as many children as possible and funnel them into institutionalized 'childcare', and it's absolutely heartbreaking.

There's not a whole lot of information out there on British orphanages in the 30s' and 40s', but given that people back then thought you just had to keep children on a strict schedule and feed them, it wouldn't have a whole lot better.

The only thing I've found is this, and it's not super promising.

The most important study informing the criteria for contemporary nosologies, was a study by Barbara Tizard and her colleagues of young children being raised in residential nurseries in London (Tizard, 1977). These nurseries had lower child to caregiver ratios than many previous studies of institutionalized children. Also, the children were raised in mixed aged groups and had adequate books and toys available. Nevertheless, caregivers were explicitly discouraged from forming attachments to the children in their care.

Here's a fairly recent paper that I think gives a good summary: Link

Here, they describe the responses to the Strange Situation test (which tests a child's attachment to their caregiver).

We found that 100% of the community sample received a score of “5,” indicating fully formed attachments, whereas only 3% of the infants living in institutions demonstrated fully formed attachments. The remaining 97% showed absent, incomplete, or odd and abnormal attachment behaviors.

Bowlby and Ainsworth, who did the initial study, thought that children would always attach to their caregivers, regardless of neglect or abuse. But some infants don't attach (discussed along with RAD in Part 2).

Here's a really good review paper on attachment disorders in currently or formerly institutionalized children : Link

Core features of RAD in young children include the absence of focused attachment behaviors directed towards a preferred caregiver, failure to seek and respond to comforting when distressed, reduced social and emotional reciprocity, and disturbances of emotion regulation, including reduced positive affect and unexplained fearfulness or irritability.

Which all sounds a lot like Tom in this scene. The paper also discusses neurological effects, like atypical EEG power distribution (aka brain waves), which can correlate with 'indiscriminate' behavior and poor inhibitory control; which makes sense for a kid who, oh, I don't know, hung another kid's rabbit because they were angry.

Furthermore...

...those children with more prolonged institutional rearing showed reduced amygdala discrimination and more indiscriminate behavior.

This again, makes a ton of sense for Tom's psychological profile, because the amygdala (which is part of the limbic system, which regulates emotions) plays a major role in fear, anger, anxiety, and aggression, especially with respect to learning, motivation and memory.

So, I agree completely that Tom needed a lot of help, especially given the fact that he spent eleven years in an orphanage (longer than the Bucharest study I was referring to), and Dumbledore wasn't exactly understanding of his situation, and probably didn't realise what a dramatic effect the orphanage had on Tom, and given the way he talks to Tom, probably treated him as if he were a kid who grew up in a healthy environment.

In case you are still unconvinced that hugging is that important, there's a famous 1944 study conducted on 40 newborn human infants to see what would happen if their physical needs (fed, bathed, diapers changed) were provided for with no affection. The study had to be stopped because half the babies died after four months. Affection leads to the production of hormones and boosts the immune system, which increases survival, and that is why we hug children and babies should not be in orphanages. They are supposed to be hugged, all the time. I can't find the citation right now, I'll add it later if I find it.

But I think it's vastly unrealistic to say that Dumbledore, who grew up during the Victorian Era, would have any grasp of this and I don't think he was actively malicious towards Tom.

Was Tom Riddle failed by institutional childcare? Absolutely.

Were the adults in his life oblivious to his situation? Probably.

Do the shitty things that happened to Tom excuse the murders he committed, and are they anyone's fault but his own? No. At the end of the day, Tom made all the wrong choices.

And, for what it's worth, I think (film) Dumbledore (although he expresses the same sentiment in more words in the books) wishes he could go back in time and have helped Tom.

"Draco. Years ago, I knew a boy, who made all the wrong choices. Please, let me help you."

#tom riddle #the many faces of #tom marvolo riddle #character analysis #character study #albus dumbledore

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phoebe-delia · 3 years ago

Note

Song number 79, please and thank you!

I'm really looking forward to reading all your stories because Taylor Swift is the best, as are song prompts!

Hey nonnie!! Thanks so much. Your song is "New Romantics" by Taylor Swift, of course. For this fic I have chosen to continue my little series called Androgynous, which features Draco, who generally uses he/him pronouns but has a nonbinary drag persona, named Tarasque, who uses they/them pronouns. Draco has a found family consisting of Pansy, Blaise, and a few drag queens (Claire, Cori and Silver), and they're all very close. Of course, he also has Harry, who is supportive and wonderful.

This will be a prequel, so Harry and Draco aren't together yet. This story--this series--is a love letter to the people who love us, support us and help us become who we are: our family. No matter where your family comes from or what it looks like, it isn't defined by blood, but by the ties you knot between you.

This series is, as always, dedicated to my own found family @moonstruckwytch @starlitsilvereyes and @apr1cots. Love you guys. <3

CW: homophobia

Generations ago, in ancient Galatia, there was born a dragon. Bred from Onachus and Leviathan, the creature lurked in treacherous waters, waiting for the right moment to leap out and strike, claiming men to feed its insatiable stomach. With sword-sharp teeth, poisonous breath, and a constellation of spikes across its back, this fearsome beast was the fright of man and the envy of demons.

They call it Tarasque.

Draco wiped the tears that spilled down his cheeks, his suitcase levitating behind him. The angry snarls from his father still rang in his ears, cruel and sharp.

"I'll not have a disgraceful poof for a son." Lucius hadn't looked at Draco when he spoke, the distinguished, aristocratic features facing the ancient walls of the Manor. "You have five minutes to collect your possessions and then you will leave this house."

So there Draco was, trudging through Knockturn Alley and avoiding the curious stares of those passing by him. It was getting dark, the western sun setting in the distance. He shivered against the biting, frigid air. He felt a rush of gratitude toward Pansy for letting him stay in her flat while he got back on his feet. He knew his mother, who'd come to her senses and left his father for a townhouse in France, would gladly take him in, but he knew if he left London he'd never gather the strength to return.

As he walked, he saw a neon sign out of the corner of his eye. "Deliquesce" shone in bright letters like a beacon in the darkening alleyway, beckoning Draco inside.

He sighed. He deserved a firewhiskey to calm his nerves.

He ended the levitation charm on his trunk and then shrunk it to fit into his pocket. He then walked along the cobblestone street and entered the bar.

A man wearing a tight red t-shirt and leather trousers looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"ID?"

Draco sputtered, searching his pockets until he found his identification card and handed it to the man for his scrutiny. The man pursed his lips as he looked over the card and then handed it to Draco with a grunt and a nod. Draco took that as permission and walked the rest of the way in.

The bar was dimly lit. A few tables surrounded a small dance floor and a stage. It was relatively quiet since the night was still young, but a few people were sitting and talking in hushed conversations. One person danced by himself to the upbeat song, uncaring of the world around him as he undulated his hips to the music.

Draco stood, stunned, until he felt someone bump his shoulder.

"Hey! Watch it--wait, you okay, hon?" Someone with long purple hair and a kind, open face looked at Draco in concern.

"I'm fine," Draco's voice was rough from crying, and he was sure his tear-stained cheeks and red eyes undermined his attempt at nonchalance.

The person's worried frown deepened. "Aren't you that Draco Malfoy kid?"

Draco flushed and turned away. "Not anymore," he croaked.

The person shook their head. "You're not who they wanted you to be, are you?"

Draco let out a shuddering breath. "No," he said, his voice tight. "I'm not who he wants me to be. I'm not his son."

Suddenly, he felt a warm hand gently take his own. "Come with me, kid, I think I can help."

They lead Draco into a back room. A row of mirrors and chairs lined the wall, as people chattered and sipped cocktails and ran around with wigs, half-done makeup, clothes, and heels. Draco blinked, stunned.

"What is this place?"

His guide smiled. "This is the dressing room. Not many people get a backstage pass like this but--well--you seem like you need some help."

Draco nodded dumbly and let himself be led to the person's station as a thought struck him.

"What's your name? Er, what do I call you?" He flushed at his own lack of manners.

The person smiled as they sat in their chair, patting the one next to them for Draco to sit. "My drag name is Nex Doughty, but my friends call me Cori."

Sitting down slowly, Draco nodded. "And um, I don't mean to be rude, but are you a man or a woman?"

The person chuckled a little. "Neither. I'm nonbinary. I use they/them pronouns."

"What does that mean?"

Cori shook their head with a small, amused smile. "I'll send you a few websites. For now, just use my pronouns right and we'll be fine."

Draco nodded dumbly. "O-okay."

"Don't be nervous, kid, you'll be fine. We're a family," they gestured to the other people in the room.

Draco's eyes widened. "This--this is your family?"

Cori laughed. "We're not related, but yes, they're all my family."

"But--aren't they your friends then?"

"Don't you have friends you'd consider to be your family? That you might even like better than your blood relatives?"

Draco let the thought linger for a moment. He considered Pansy and Blaise the siblings he never had, and it wasn't as if his Father had really raised him.

After a moment, he nodded. "Yeah, I do."

Cori smiled. "Then there you are." They leaned back in their chair and looked past Draco. "Silver! Claire! C'mere, I wanna introduce you to someone."

Two people came up to them, both with friendly smiles and expectant looks at Cori.

"Draco, this is Silver and Claire. Guys, this is Draco."

"Hi Draco, I'm Silver." said someone with red lipstick and short black hair cut in a bob that reminded him of Pansy.

The other person, who had short blonde hair and blue eyes smiled at him. "Good to meet you, I'm Claire."

Draco nodded. "Likewise. And are you no--nonbinary too?"

Silver smiled. "Cori's been a good teacher, I see. And I use any pronouns. Claire uses she/her."

"So--are you...what is this place?"

Cori smiled. "This is a drag bar. We're drag queens."

Draco's eyes widened in understanding. He'd only heard his father grumble about drag queens when he'd had to go to Knockturn on business ventures, and he'd been taught that they were "freaks."

With a pang, he remembered that, to his father, he was a freak too.

"Draco? Everything alright?"

He shook himself and looked back at Cori, whose face was set in concern again.

"I'm fine. Just..." he trailed off, taking in the sight of the three queens in front of him with more clarity. "Gods, you three are gorgeous," he breathed.

They all chucked. "Thank you, dear," Cori gave him a knowing look before tilting their head in thought. "You know," they said with pursed lips. "You'd look just darling in drag."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

Silver nodded. "Totally. You have the bone structure for it."

"I can definitely see it," Claire added with a smile.

Excitement bubbled up in Draco's chest. "Er, do you think you could help me?"

Cori looked at the other two queens, who grinned and nodded in agreement. Then they turned to Draco and gave him a soft smile. "Sure thing kid. Stick around after the show and we'll try it out."

Draco watched as the queens performed one by one over the course of the night, his leg bouncing in anticipation. He was mesmerized as they captured the crowd's attention, dancing and lipsynching to the songs with practiced ease.

When the show ended, Draco and Cori sat at their mirror while Cori applied powders and liquids he'd looked at with curiosity on his mother's vanity. While Cori didn't let him look in the mirror until they were finished, he loved the sensation of the brush against his skin and felt himself transform into something new, yet familiar. As if something had been living dormant in his skin, just waiting to be revealed.

Finally, Cori looked at him with a satisfied smile. "There. Are you ready?"

Draco nodded, no trusting himself to speak.

Cori nodded and turned him around in the chair toward the mirror. Draco gasped.

He hardly recognized himself. His gray eyes were enhanced by thick eyelashes and his face looked thinner, more feminine. A dark wig framed his face and brushed his shoulders. The red lipstick was bright and striking with his features. It felt like meeting a different part of himself he'd never known could exist.

Draco started to understand what Cori meant, earlier. The connection to masculinity had faded with the makeup and wig, and yet he didn't quite feel female, either.

Draco felt fierce, strong. They felt invincible.

Draco recalled Narcissa reading him bedtime stories of dashing knights and magical creatures, but his favorite had been of a powerful dragon that had defended against attackers with sharp teeth and poisonous breath. Saint Martha calmed the beast into submission, and then villagers had stoned the dragon to death.

He'd lie in bed after she'd gone, wondering if perhaps the dragon had reasons to attack. Maybe the villagers meant to kill it. Maybe it wanted to be left alone. Or maybe that's all it knew.

When Lucius had kicked Draco out, he'd felt helpless and terrified of his own shadow, much like he had during the war. Now, the fear still lingered in the back of his mind, but Draco knew there was more to the world than he'd once known.

And maybe Draco could learn to be fierce, too.

Suddenly, Cori put calming hands on Draco's shoulders. "So, what do you think?"

"I love it," Draco said breathily. "Thank you."

"Anytime," Cori said with a smile. "I can teach you how to do this yourself if you want."

Draco nodded quickly. "I'd like that, please, thank you."

"Well, you'll have to think of a name for your drag persona. Of course, you can use your real name if you want, some people do that."

"I've got a name."

"Oh? What is it?"

Draco looked in the mirror, gray eyes sharp with a newly ignited fire.

"Tarasque," Draco said, not glancing away. "Call me Tarasque."

Send me an ask about Harry Potter, broadway/musicals, The West Wing, and/or Taylor Swift! Or just about life in general :).

Also, I have a playlist of my 99 most listened-to songs of the year so far. Pick a number 1--99 and send me an ask and I'll write you a fic based on it!

#draco malfoy #harry potter #nonbinary draco malfoy #prequel #drag #draco in drag #lgbtq #lgbtqia #dedicated to my friends #song prompt #songfic #new romantics #taylor swift #harry potter x taylor swift #phoebedelia

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spockandawe · 4 years ago

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Hi.....if you don't mind me asking, what are your top 10 favorite books? And why? Sorry if you've answered this question before....

This is an interesting question, and a difficult one! Which is why I let it steep for a few days while I was in a bookbinding fugue, haha XD

I’m not sure I’ll be able to answer it, because my level of fondness is highly dependent on how recently I read a book/how many times I’ve reread it, with an optional nostalgia modifier if something made a huge impression in my youth. And when I’m picking favorites, as the number of potential [thing] expands, the more I end up dithering and fretting that I’m forgetting something HUGE as I choose. So rather than a selection of top ten, I’ll just run down through some of my favorites! I’ll split it as five cnovels (recent reads, current genre hyperfixation) and five more conventional english-language novel (realistically, probably more like series, unless a standalone book occurs to me), and I’m not going to rank the conventional novels.

SO. Regular novels first. There’s a heavy recently-read/frequently-reread element going on in here.

The Imperial Radch trilogy, by Ann Leckie. Okay, I am a sucker for a nonhuman protagonist, which is going to pop up in at least two other entries. And I’m also a sucker for themes of what can be perceived about a person externally versus their internal world, and Breq delivers like WHOA. She has SO MUCH going on in her head, and even though we’re in there with her, she still hides lots of her emotions from us. And characters like Seivarden hit me in character development buttons that I’m a sucker for, and the whole idea of consciousness being split across multiple bodies is DELICIOUS to me. Also... love me a sentient spaceship. ‘The Ship Who X’ series by Anne McCaffrey isn’t going to make this list, but I also love it a lot. (also, a universe of ‘she’s made me realized how STARVED i was for that degree of representation in certain genres that i love a lot, but don’t often see myself in as often as i might like)

The Murderbot series, by Martha Wells. Another nonhuman, sometimes-human-passing protagonist! Another one processing MASSIVE trauma of a sort that I, the human reader, have to slow down a lot and try to comprehend from an extremely different life experience! I like that a lot, it really forces me to LINGER on the nature of what a character is feeling. And oh my god, Murderbot’s voice is one of my favorite pov voices of all time. And watching it work (or go hogwild on its own asdfdgd) is absolutely delightful. I love literally everything about this series, except what happened with Miki. Other than that? Flawless.

The Books Of The Raksura, by Martha Wells. Martha Wells is a DELIGHT, y’all. Also! Another heavily-traumatized, nonhuman protagonist! And this time, like... It’s a fantasy world with huge amounts of sentient species, and the protagonist grew up away from his people, who are basically a bunch of feral homesteaders (LOVE THAT), and is trying to figure out how to reintegrate into their societal structures as an adult. That desperate desire to belong and feeling of discomfort and not-fitting-in, and the connections he makes and the way he DOES find a way to fit... like if u crey every time. Also, as far as we’re shown, it’s a cheerfully bisexual, polyamorous society, and *grabby hands*

Discworld, by Terry Pratchett. God, what do I even say about this series. It was a PARADIGM SHIFT. It’s bitingly funny, and also just plain biting, and full of huge varieties of interesting stories, set in a fascinating world, with a series of protagonists who I love too much for words. Vimes! The witches! Moist!!! They’re all so WONDERFUL. I still haven’t read the last book in the series yet, because then it will be Over Forever, and I can’t deal. This one is heavily nostalgia-tinted, but also, I stand by it.

The Belgariad/Mallorean, by David Eddings. Okay. Also very nostalgia, and the choice I can justify the least. But these books CLICKED with me. I’m afraid to reread them, because I’ve been wallowing in queer fiction for so long I’m worried about what the compulsory heterosexuality will feel like, and I know both series are very... episodic, in a way that isn’t necessarily great literature. But I dunno! Feels good, man. It’s high fantasy with a magical system I like, segmented worldbuilding of a sort that isn’t necessarily WELL-MADE, but it’s like... comfortable and easy. And something about the style and the character voices just clicks with me. I have no idea how well these hold up in the present day, but I do love them, and I’ve been planning to reread at least The Redemption Of Althalus by the same author as a standalone before I commit to a 12-book rereading of this universe, but.... I like em XD

Cnovels! I think I can rank these, so let’s go for it.

Fifth favorite: The Disabled Tyrant’s Pet Palm Fish :B Look, it’s ridiculous. It’s a transmigration story where the lead enters this fictional universe in the body of a fish, where he is adopted by a prince who eventually falls in love with him, and YES IT IS TAGGED MPREG, BUT HOLD ON A MOMENT-- I don’t know! I came here to point and laugh, but I’m honestly having such a good time right now. It’s really cute! And sweet! The main character is delightful, and the love interest is that particular flavor of semi-socialized upper-class young man, where like, can he do court politics? yes. can he politely express his affections for the main character? uh....... less so. It’s a really fun read, and I felt very sincere emotions about this prince who is passionately, deeply in love with his pet fish!

Fourth favorite: Mmmmmm, Mo Dao Zu Shi, I think. I struggle here, because it is NOT an easy book to read or show to watch, but having consumed the story, I love it to PIECES. I know a big draw for me is the protagonist, specifically, and his relationships to the people around him. And the more I cared about him, the more I wound up caring about the people around him, who I’d kind of neglected before, if that makes sense? It’s a story that really rewards some good old pondering. I didn’t care that much about Lan Xichen, but then I started thinking about how Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji relate to Lan Xichen, and then oh no, I care SO MUCH about his emotions, and now I’m thinking more deeply about how Lan Xichen relates to Jin Guangyao and Nie Mingjue-- It does lose points in this ranking because it IS hard to get into, and I would struggle to keep everyone straight even more if I didn’t have the show visuals to lean on, but it is still story I enjoyed VERY much.

Third favorite: Erha, but I feel REALLY, REALLY BAD that I can’t fit Yuwu on this list too, and I just want to loop them together. It’s time travel fixit fic, but it’s the book! Yes????? I love this. I love the striking character growth we get to see, and the changing perception of the world as the main character relives through events he already experienced and sees things in a new light, and I adore how Mo Ran’s growing guilt goes hand in hand with his growing love. And Meatbun in general... like, my god. I haven’t read another author who’s able to yank me through emotional whiplash so hard and fast. She makes me hoot with laughter one moment and then burst into tears the next. It’s absolutely wild. I love mxtx, and I think svsss/tgcf are gentler entry points into the genre and deal with lighter themes, but meatbun is seriously an UNBELIEVABLE writer if you can deal with the darker topics she covers.

Second favorite: The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System :V Look, I love it. I just love it. I love, again, characters dealing with the aftereffects of old trauma, plus I do also love seeing NEW trauma piled on top of it. I love having a main character with emotional dysregulation issues who doesn’t necessarily make good decisions, but doesn’t just leave me thinking ‘jfc what an asshole’, and I think that’s a really hard balance for an author to strike, especially without us getting direct pov. I love themes of being wanted and insecurity about being wanted, which is Luo Binghe’s major, major damage. And this is my first transmigration story I ever read, and the contrast between a main character who read the novel telling us about what’s totally going to happen versus the ground shifting under his feet is INCREDIBLY delightful to me. I’ve read other transmigration stories I enjoyed, but none that got my attention quite as much as this one.

First favorite: Tian Guan Ci Fu ;u; It’s so good. It’s so well-made! It’s so LONG, and it meanders, but also, I would scream if anyone tried to trim anything out of it. I am here a lot for the ship, honestly, but I also find the plot themes VERY interesting. I am very much here for reading about characters trying to process old trauma that’s been dredged up by new events, and also very here for the themes about how characters either pass their traumas along to the next generation, or try to shield the next generation from taking the same kind of damage (see: mdzs). And I’m also very much into tempering stories about pain with like... memories of kindness, and small acts of kindness repaid with an outpouring of devotion (see: svsss). But the craftsmanship in this book is just... DIVINE. I’m always reluctant to start rereading this one, because I have a terrible time stopping. There’s nothing about this book that I don’t like.

#spock replies #long post/#thanad-zid

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magpiefrankie · 3 years ago

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I was in Lidl today and suddenly thought of a new doctor who headcanon so now I'm gonna share it and also some others because why not?!

- The Doctor has become something like a cryptid in the UK. With various people over the centuries having written accounts of this mysterious character known only as 'The Doctor', a person who wherever they travel, chaos is sure to follow. It's known that they travel in 'The Blue Box', and is almost always seen alongside one or more people they call their 'companions'. People claim to have met the doctor, that they saw a man in a long coat appear from a box that wasn't there a second ago. I also like to imagine former companions(especially Jack)giving fake anecdotes about their time with the Doctor, just for fun. The Doctor sees them and sometimes can't even remember if it's true or not. People from America travel over in hopes of spotting this mysterious Doctor. People see a man in a trench coat and either run for their fucking lives because they know shits about to go down, or they try to follow and join in because?? Magic blue box and chaos?? Fun!! Oh hey, you remember that girl Rose who straight up disappeared from the flat below you? You always think you notice a blue box in the corner of your eye as you walked into the building, and there was always a strange whining sound that was too mechanical to be pipes but sounds like nothing you've ever heard before. Yeah, it's because she was taken by the Doctor, chosen to be their companion, destined to leave one day and never be seen again. The missing posters come down but the people never come back. Peoples opinions vary on this shape-changing being - Parents warn their young girls to stay away from the Doctor, lest they get abducted, stolen away in the night. Teenagers try to find them, desperate to get away from their boring lives and overbearing parents and have a little adventure. Grandparents tell the kids personal accounts - the time their sister was saved by the Doctor, the time they thought they saw a blue box on the corner of the street but when they tried to look for it they couldn't see it.

- Everyone is Very Aware of aliens, it's just one of those things that you don't talk about. It's always bothered me how nearly every time a human sees a Dalek in newer episodes they go 'oh wow, what could this be? I have ever seen this before in my life!' as if millions of Daleks didn't get released above London and then sucked back into Canary Wharf where they magically disappeared from? Or like how Daleks are in the streets...very often. Or when that huge stadium of people straight up disappeared during the London Olympics then came back a bit later and it was never explained? Or how they all lived with what they thought where ghosts for an amount of time I don't remember but it was long enough anyway, and then those 'ghosts' became metal men? And the metal men?? Appear a lot?? Like in that one with Missy and they're all on the streets?? You'd think someone would go 'oh hey look is that thing I thought was my dead great aunt carol a few years back, what the fuck?'. At this point, I'm sure every person in the UK should be related to someone who died of alien related causes. And hey, remember the huge spaceship above London that time? And that other time? And the time the spaceship broke Big Ben? Or the time the Christmas star of death zapped a load of people? I think I've made my point - people know about aliens. So I'm gonna say that everyone is fully aware of aliens, they just...don't talk about it. It's a Thing.

- The TARDIS can control who the perception filter works on. This isn't really a big thing, just a little continuity issue I noticed, and maybe there was an explanation but if there is then I missed it. Please correct me if I'm wrong! But if you remember when Ten created the perception filters using the TARDIS keys for him, Jack and Martha - Martha knew of the effects of a perception filter, but she still couldn't help its effects in her. Yet the companions suddenly gain the ability to always see the TARDIS once they join the Doctor. Even though, using the same logic, they should still have their perception shifted despite knowing it is there. The way Martha puts it, she says 'it's like I know you're there, but I don't wanna know' or something similar to that. So conclusion - the TARDIS can decide if it wants people to see her. We know that she/it is sentient and conscious, so I don't see why not!

- So we know that due to the nature of Timelords, they don't really have a concept of gender like we do. Their biological sex is changeable, and because of that they don't have the same social constructs as we do. So, the reason they refer to themselves as male or female to humans is because of our own perceptions of gender, and the TARDIS translates it to be what would seem natural to us. So a male presenting doctor would call himself he, and female presenting would call herself she, because that is how we as humans perceive them. I imagine in Gallifreyan they maybe don't have separate pronouns, only one. I also imagine that 'Timelord' is just a very literal translation of their actual title, just because...well for one it's in English, which makes no sense, and also it's such an obnoxious title ahshsjsj.

- Sometimes the Doctor checks in on Donna to make sure she's okay. They still feel guilty about wiping her memory, even though it saved her life, so maybe they help her out in whatever little ways they can anonymously. Yaz asks Thirteen who the seemingly unimportant woman she's so interested in is, and Thirteen just smiles sadly and says 'An old friend'.

- The timeless child didn't happen. Pretty self explanatory - I just hate it, so I pretend it doesn't exist! Yay!

- Oh also the way I see Thirteen and her companions in my head is so different to how they're actually written because...Chibnall bad. MY Thirteen would never hand someone over the the bloody N*z*s, no matter what they had done, let alone someone they'd known their (very long) life and had loved? MY Thirteen wouldn't brush of Graham's fear about his cancer returning, nor would she support the hugeass Amazon metaphor (also when she blows up that guy, after giving him like a seconds warning?? What?!?). It actually hurts listening to Twelves goodbye speech and then watching Thirteens portrayal. The basis of their character is that they're kind, they do they best they can and they always help those in need. Twelve wouldn't have gone 'Oh no, I don't know what to say, silly old me, I'm so socially awkward bye' if someone he cared about came to him with their fears, because he can be silly and awkward and 'why are you wearing heels, do you need to reach a shelf?', but not when it's something like that. Also why is she so awkward? The Doctor has always been weird, but the difference is that in the past they have always known that they're weird and literally put it in just to embarrass/confuse people. And yeah, sometimes the Doctor genuinely doesn't understand 'human things'. But they do know how to act normal? The Doctor is perfectly capable of appearing human if they really needed to, but they have no problem saying shit to confuse people. But when Thirteen is awkward, she's just...cringeworthy awkward.

Sorry if my wording is bad and some of my memories of episodes are a bit wrong! I didn't check sources or anything I'm really just rambling here. This got way longer than I intended so well done(!!!) if you bothered to read all of it.

(I know my pronouns are all over the place, but when talking about the Doctor I tend to use 'they' when speaking of not any specific Doctor, and then 'she' for Thirteen and 'he' for the others.)

#doctor who #bbc doctor who #the doctor #headcanons #doctor who headcanons #headcanon list #this is a very long post which consists of me rambling about a show I love #been watching this show for most of my life #no matter how bad it gets I don't think I'll ever stop #unfortunately I haven't been able to watch classic who but im planning on soon!!#ramblings

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hateswifi · 4 years ago

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No More Second Chances: Chapter 7

So yep, i think this is the third chapter this month. imma tired, I haven’t slept properly since Sunday. its almost three k words so yeah

The Master: Master List

No More Second Chances: Master List

----------------------------------

Apparently, school had to go on April break for her to get any sleep. Clark and Lois decided that the first half of the week would be spent in Smallville and she couldn’t remember the second place, it��s not even her fault though, people like to talk to her before she can drink coffee.

“Another grandchild! Is this one a clone like Connor?” Aunt Martha asks, pulling everyone into hugs.

“No, Ma, this is the exchange student that we’ve been taking in for the last month and a half, I told you about her,” Clark says, hugging his mom.

“Oh thank god, I don't know how I would react if someone cloned you again, because it was either she is a clone or another one of Bruce’s, but no matter, you’ll be staying Kara’s room,” Martha says, leading the bluenette inside the homey-farm house.

It was fifteen minutes later after she was done getting comfortable that Aunt Martha appears in the doorway. She smiles while saying, “I hope everything is good, I don't know if you want to, but there’s plenty of ingredients if you want to bake. Clark told me that you grew up in a bakery.”

“I would love to, I haven’t baked since before I left home,” Marinette smiles, putting down her sketchbook.

“What are you working on?” Martha asks, taking a seat on Marinette’s bed beside her.

“Oh, these are designs I had to put off because of the move and family issues. Uncle Jagged was understanding but because it’s spring break, I would love to be able to get them to him as soon as possible,” Marinette explains.

“That’s cool, do you want to be a designer when you’re older?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s what I get for growing up in the fashion center of the world,” Marinette shrugs.”

“Well, honey, if there’s anything that you need let me know, I’m going to get out of your hair,” Martha says.

“You’ll never be a bother,” Marinette giggles.

“Dinner will be at five,” Martha says, closing the door behind her. Marinette sighs and goes back to sketching. Uncle Jagged needed his outfits soon so if she designed everything the first half of the week, she can go to the closest fabric store wherever they’re staying the rest of the week. A couple of hours later, though it felt like minutes, she was being called down for dinner where she met Jon’s, Uncle Jonathan.

“Welcome to the family, Marinette,” he greets with a pleasant smile. “You’re not a clone, right?”

“See what I mean! You could definitely be a clone!” Martha points out.

“I guess I could be, but thankfully I’m not,” Marinette giggles.

“But she’s a hero,” Jon smiles, pulling her into a side hug.

“Seriously Jon, why are you calling me out?” Marinette asks, rubbing her temples.

“I’m not!” Jon says, feigning innocence. “She’s a Parisian hero!”

“Or as Dick put it, a magic girl,” Marinette sighs.

“Oh we know, we know everything,” Martha chuckles.

“But you didn’t know that I am not a clone?”

“It gets blurry when it comes to specific things,” Jonathan shrugs. “Jon, you ready to help me tomorrow?”

“Of course! I’ve missed working,” Jon responds with a smile.

“Can I help?”

“You can do whatever you want,” Jonathan says. The rest of the dinner was spent talking about plans and getting to know each other. After dinner, Marinette called Adrien and talked to him for a bit while sketching. They had to hang up not too long after the starting call because it was late for him.

The time flew by, she helped out in the field Uncle Jon, explored the town with Jon, designed for Uncle Jagged, and baked with Aunt Martha. She had a lot of fun and completely forgot about her Parisian problems. Aunt Martha and Marinette shared baking recipes and Aunt Martha sent a recipe to her baking buddy.

On Wednesday, Clark and Lois cam to pick Jon and Marinette up so they could bring them to the other place where they would be staying for the rest of the week. Marinette, again, didn’t hear nor did she care where they were going next. She put in her headphones and sketched the last outfit that Jagged had requested. Marinette asked Lois and Clark to stop on the way to their destination, which they did. She loved the fabric she picked out and couldn’t wait to start sewing. She barely registered when the car stopped, she grabbed her stuff and Jon led her wherever they were staying. People talked around her but she couldn’t hear them, she was focused on her music and studying her designs. She saw people moving out of the corner of her eye but she couldn’t care, she just wanted to sit down and started sewing.

The next thing she knows somebody, who she thinks is Jon, is leading her to a different, which she hopes is her room so she can start working.

“Here’s your room,” the person said, opening the door. She mutters a thank you before sitting down at the desk that was across the room from her. She starts laying out fabrics and separating them for each outfit. That was all she could get done by the time Clark and Lois walked in to say goodbye it was almost dinner time already. She was going to go downstairs when she was interrupted by a call by Adrien. She decided to forgo dinner and just continue working. She heard a quiet knock on the door and an older man walks in.

“Welcome to Wayne Manor, Miss Marinette, it would seem that you missed dinner, so I took the liberty to bring you some food,” he greets.

“Great thank you,” Marinette mutters, putting down her sewing actually taking a minute to look up. “Alfred? Where the heck am I?”

“You’re in the Wayne Manor, Miss” Alfred repeats, putting the plate down.

“Oh my apologies, I’ve been distracted with my work, I didn’t even realize where I was,” Marinette sighs, before realizing she was still on the phone. “Sorry Adrien, I’ll call you tomorrow, go to bed, it’s late.” She finishes, hanging up.

“I heard from Martha that you like to bake,” Alfred says.

“Yeah, that’s true, I grew up in a bakery,” Marinette shrugs, taking a piece of bread.

“The kitchen is open if you would like to use it,” Alfred says before leaving the room. Marinette nods to herself while eating her food while it’s still warm. After she finishes, she decides that she needs a stretch so she takes her plate to the kitchen and to grab a coffee.

When she gets to the kitchen she’s shocked to see a pot already brewing. There’s a guy half-passed out, or half-awake depending at how you look at things, practically sprawled out on the counter. “Are you ok?” Marinette asks, looking for a mug.

“Oh my gosh! Are you real?” he asks, startling awake.

“I would assume I’m real, you’re Tim, right? Where are the mugs?” Marinette asks, opening random cabinets. “Nevermind, I found them.”

“You’re the magic girl, you don’t need coffee,” he says, pouring himself a huge mug of coffee.

“Against popular belief, we do need sleep and basic human necessities,” She explains taking the pot from him.

“Why do you need coffee?”

“When I was in Smallville, I wasn’t able to go to the supply store. I asked Lois and Clark to take me they said yes, so we stopped on our way over,” Marinette says, sipping her coffee.

“What supplies?”

“Fabric, I’m behind on my Uncle’s orders, but he understands,” Marinette shrugs.

“Great what we need another coffee addict,” Another voice grumbles, entering the kitchen.

“Good to see you, Demon, what are you doing up?” Tim asks, unimpressed.

“I heard you shriek,” Damian deadpans.

“I didn’t shriek,” Tim says, offended.

“Well, I’m just going to go back to my room, you guys can work out whatever brotherly love is going on here,” Marinette says, brushing past Damian.

“Wait,” he says, grabbing her wrist.

“What?” she asks, turning towards him.

“I- umm..,” he starts catching himself. “Welcome to the manor, I hope you’ll find your stay enjoyable.” he finishes, letting go of her arm.

“Umm.. of course, thank you, Dami,” Marinette yawns, rubbing the back of her neck before rushing off to do her work.

Once she disappeared from view Tim snickers behind his mug. “I can tell you one thing you didn’t inherit from Bruce.” He chuckles.

“I like it better when you were unconscious,” Damian says, stomping off towards his room.

“Words can’t hurt me,” Tim yells at his back.

“But swords can,” Damian shouts over his shoulder.

“Must have gotten on his nerves, it’s been a while since he’s threatened us,” Dick says, entering the kitchen. “Aso what have we agreed on for coffee?”

“But Marinette had some,” Tim whines, rushing away from Dick before he can take his sustenance.

“She’s a magic girl, she gets a pass,” Dick yells at his back.

Marinette was back in her zone sewing what Jagged needed the soonest, he has a concert in Boston soon before going to New York and then coming over to Gotham. She was working on is concert wear first. She works through the night until a knock interrupts her thoughts once again, expecting it to be Alfred or Jon, she mindlessly says come in.

“Good morning, Marinette,” Damian says, entering the room.

“It’s morning?” She asks, looking up from her work.

“Yes, have you been working all night?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I guess I have,” she responds in a daze.

“What are you working on, if I may ask,” Damian asks, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

“Just a commission for my uncle.”

“Your uncle is going to wear a purple-glittery suit?”

“Uncle Jagged is over the top like that, but it suits him,” Marinette shrugs, inspecting her handy work.

“Jagged as in Jagged Stone, you’re his personal designer?”

“You didn’t realize that?”

“If I didn’t realize that, there’s no way my incompetent sibling realized it either,” Damian smirks.

“Why does it matter?” She asks, looking up from her work.

“They love Jagged Stone and they love your designs,” Damian explains.

“Well, Jagged will need to pick up his stuff, by the way, I should mention he’s also trying to adopt me,” Marinette says, continuing to work on the finishing touches to the piece. “Oh by the way, what made you stop by?”

“Oh.. um- I wanted to see if you wanted to come down for breakfast,” Damian responds.

“Sure, let me put this down,” she finished before standing up to follow Damian to the dining room. They enter the dining room together and all of the eyes are on them.

“Hey, Marinette, I thought you were dead,” Jon jokes, taking a bite of toast.

“Not dead, just exhausted. Also, thanks for having us, Bruce,” Marinette says, taking a seat in between Jon and Damian.

“It is my pleasure to,” Bruce says, looking over the newspaper.

“This won’t give you the advantage in the adoption war,” Jon snickers.

“I have a different way to get her in the family,” Bruce retorts.

“I should mention, can my uncle come over later this week to pick up his orders?” Marinette asks, pouring herself more coffee.

“What day?”

“Friday afternoon I would think,” Marinette says, stabbing the food in front of her.

“I was informed that he is also in the running adoption,” Damian says, sipping his water.

“I’m not thinking about adoption,” Bruce says, which brought some confused looks and some coughs.

“All I’m going to say is, my dad is freaking Superman so I think we’ll win this adoption war,” Jon shrugs.

“Jon!” Multiple people say, which caused everyone to look around.

“Wait you guys know?” Marinette asks, confused.

“Of course we know, how do you know?” Jason asks.

“Oh, after she was revealed as a magic girl, Mom was quite annoyed to be left out of the superhero club,” Jon says.

“That makes sense,” Damian shrugs and continues eating. They continue eating breakfast, with some light chatter, and some teases mostly aimed at Damian and Marinette, and there total not crushes on each other.

After breakfast, Marinette holes herself back up in her room to continue working on her commissions. That’s how she spends the rest of the day, she gets a phone call from Adrien and they talked for a while. After lunch, Damian came in and sat with her for a bit and they made light talk. He sat and read his book as she sews more, breaking every once in a while to talk. She was honestly very happy how she spent one of her last days of vacation.

She is even happier the next day Jagged and Penny arrived. The boys’ shocked faces are priceless.

“You’re trying to tell me your Uncle is, Jagged Stone, as in THE Jagged Stone,” Jason exclaims.

“I swear I mentioned this,” Marinette says, scratching her head before shugging.

“How’s my rockin’ ladybug!” Jagged says, pulling her into a hug.

“I’m doing good, I’m exhausted, though,” Marinette yawns before going to grab the bags that held her work from her room.

“Did you guys let her stay up way too late to finish them?” Jagged asks, in all seriousness.

“She lived off coffee for the past two days,” Tim says.

“If you’re ever around her when she’s like this, she has a curfew of one a.m.. At that time, you are allowed to gently take everything from her hands and just lewd her to her bed,” Jagged explains.

“Are you betraying me, Jagged?” Marinette asks arms crossed to the best of her ability because she was holding his outfits.

“All I’m saying Mari is that you lost enough sleep as a hero teen, you need to catch up on it now,” Jagged said, copying her posture.

“Hey you can’t even blame me, I remember having to fight a Fang because he was akumatized into freakin dragon around midnight,” Marinette deadpans. “I don’t hold it against you though, I got to fly, it was liberating.”

“I wrote you and Adrien a song because of it,” Jagged fires back.

“Conversation over, go try on the outfits,” Marinette says, shoving them into his arms.

“Fine, fine, so bossy,” Jagged sighs, before walking away.

“So you’re his personal designer? Which means you are Nettie!” Tim says.

“You’re Nettie and a magic girl! Bruce can we adopt her please!” Dick pleads.

There are three in sync no’s that follow, one from Jagged, one from Marinette, and lastly, on from Damian.

“Damian, why wouldn’t you want Marinette apart of your family? She rocking! If you can’t see this amazing girl, then you’re blind,” Jagged defends. “It doesn’t matter anyway, I got first dibs.”

“Tell that to Adrien’s aunt, she wants to adopt me as well,” Marinette responds.

“Don’t forget about my parents,” Jon adds.

“Joint custody?” Jagged shrugs. “Can we cut Adrien’s aunt out? She can have you when you visit him.”

“It doesn’t really matter to me, I’m just trying to make the most of what my life is right now,” Marinette shrugs.

“It’s decided, Clark and I have split custody,” Jagged shrugs.

“Woah, Woah, Woah, you can’t come into my house and cut me out of the adoption,” Bruce says, crossing his arms.

“You just wanted her in the family, we don’t need a triple custody for that,” Tim points out.

“Well this has been a great conversation, and I love being adopted and stuff, but I haven’t slept since Wednesday so I’m going to go to bed,” Marinette yawns. “Goodnight everyone.”

“I’ll walk you to your room so um you don’t get lost, it is a bit manor,” Damian says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Um… sure, let’s go,” Marinette says, letting him lead her down the hall. When they’re out of earshot Jagged says. “They’re totally into each other, I’m no the only one seeing, right?”

“You’d have to literally be blind or be one of them to not notice it,” Jason says.

“So were you happy to see your uncle?” Damian asks.

“Of course, I haven’t seen him since before my move,” Marinette smiles.

“I’m pleased that you’re staying for the rest of break with us,” Damian says as they approach her room. “Sleep well, Angel.” He says, kissing her hand.

“Damn, I really hope this isn’t a dream,” Marinette mutters out, her eyelids feeling heavy. He leads her to lay down and she drags him down with her. “Imma go to sleep now,” she says hugging him tightly.

“Let me go first,” Damian mutters out.

“No, you’ll help me sleep,” she mutters back into his chest.

“You better not remember this tomorrow,” Damian grumbles. He doesn’t get a response.

----------------------------------

Tag List:

@sturchling @maribat-is-lifeblood @sonif50 @thestressmademedoit @myazael @mochinek0 @messymessyml @amayakans @weird-pale-blonde-person @animalgirl05 @justafanwarrior @kalianoble @mewwitch @elmokingkong @noirdots @itsmeevie01 @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @tis-i-beanbandit @thetinymoonflower @whats-she-gonna-post-next @alwaysnumberonetruth @hauntedwintersweets @not-annoying @wargraymon0709 @tired-butterfly @heldtogetherbysafetypins @toodaloo-kangaroo @feliciakainzofspades @lozzybowe @imnotfluffy @moonlightstar64 @angelofmusickaterinapetrova @pirats-pizzacanninibles @sassakitty @gwennex @whats-she-gonna-post-next @dawnwave16 @ccwkm6967 @softlysobbingpostendgame @pale-lady-dreamer @a-star-with-human-name

Extended Tag List:

@sociallyanxious-1 @notmycupoftea26 @spyofthenightcourt @smolplantmum

#maribat #marinette dupain cheng #batfam #damian x marinette #marinette x damian #damian wayne #damimari #ml x dc

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thequibblah · 3 years ago

Note

⭐️ would love some commentary on that dancing scene (or really any commentary on the various parties thrown by the marauders) from the party happening next to the Potions Club party ⭐️

WELL WELL WELL

"This is...a lot of trouble to go to." "It's the Marauders. They love trouble."

i love writing party scenes (as i'm sure you all know lol) and one of the best/worst things w the marauders parties is striking a balance between their, uh, audacious plans, and what's realistically possible at hogwarts without getting caught. (aka literally why i made up the dodgy lodgings). i went back and forth so long on whether or not they could plausibly have managed that with slughorn's dinner next door, but then was like ah whatever the party has to happen for plot reasons so.... plot ex machina??

anyway, i love using parties to establish character — what a brilliant stage of teenage performance they provide. i love contrasting the hogwarts parties to, say, evan wronecki's — for instance, how lily and co. are more at ease in the former, as seventh years, with their classmates hosting, than they were at evan's nye bash

i also love that it gives me space to establish who is and isn't popular, so to speak, but also who acts or doesn't act the way we presume popular kids will act

doe, for instance, who is by all accounts a level-headed and non-wild person, has a more exciting time on net at marauders' parties than mary (drinking game, kissing remus), though she's not a big drinker and isn't really into parties. but she's comfortable in her own little social circle at a bigger event (like with michael at evan's) and so isn't bothered at all by the marauders' do, because...

She did, in fact, trust the Marauders. Her general belief in the inherent goodness of people notwithstanding, she didn't think they would do anything to harm their friends. Intentionally.

this bit always makes me laugh

as with many things, i feel very saddened that i didn't get to make more out of the fools' olympics (although one could argue that The Dance was a pro) — as in, i wish i'd been able to squeeze more of it into the story itself. i could probably come up with a list of tasks and who completed them LOL

WAIT OH MY GOD I TOTALLY FORGOT ABOUT THIS it just might be my favourite part of this chapter

"How did you do that?" Gillian said, glancing between the other two girls. "Just — drink it without a second thought?" "Practice," said Mary. "Scottish — constitution," David said hoarsely. "I once drank some of Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mass Remover," said Priya.

priya is all i aspire to be

can i say, too, it's hilarious to me how many people worried niamh would be a james love interest? i feel like you will not rest easy on that count until he and lily are together... but that is not where the danger lies babes

circling back to popularity/unpopularity, another fun outlier. gillian is first established, in 33, as someone with friends (we see her around sara and in the seventh-year ravenclaws' compartment) but she's not exactly at ease at the party either — recall how she hesitates when mary invites her. only later, in 38, do we realise that our opinion of her has been skewed by the narration (from doe, who naturally assumes any friendly, nice person must have a wealth of friends and be floating through life; and mary, who naturally assumes anyone she isn't bored by must have the social skills of a medieval noblewoman at court), and she's a bit of a pariah in her own house

david, on the other hand, is just flat-out not in his element. and not because of the drinking or the, er, general revelry (see: summer with mary!), even though he doesn't partake much in either. unlike doe, the company breaks rather than makes his enjoyment — he's acutely aware, the whole time, that his cooler, more liked brother is around:

"Not your scene?" "What gave it away?" said David drily. As one they looked at Chris...

...and mary has intuited as much too, even though she has a lot more in common, superficially speaking, with chris than david

so, i think while i was writing this chapter i made a post complaining about how, as much as i love juggling the constraints of historical fiction, i hate that music from the 70s limits me in terms of tracklists. i.e., when i say a certain record is playing i can't just hit shuffle and go somewhere entirely different to set the mood shortly thereafter

this problem was because i wanted, NAY, NEEDED, to have "martha my dear" playing in the aftermath of that mary and david interaction. of course, time passes in that section break, but since "come and get it," which they talk about it, is a sirius song (though it could be a mary song), and i feel too strongly about needle drops to let that conversation go without a soundtrack. germaine even correctly guesses the white album is on because of mary:

Apparently Mary got fonder of the White Album the drunker she was.

...and of course the song itself makes me squeal with how very mary it is — not that it is something she would listen to, necessarily, or identify with (it would hold up too close of a mirror, ha), but it sounds like it could've been written about her ("hold your head up, you silly girl/look what you've done/when you find yourself in the thick of it/help yourself to a bit of what is all around you," which really sums up the entirety of her portree holiday, lol)

BUT! if "martha my dear" is to play here, then i have some Serious Chronology Concerns. i knew germeline had to kiss and jily had to dance and ideally in that order. but what would those scenes be soundtracked by!!!! i was limited to side two of the white album!!!

so i did the healthy thing and panic-listened to the white album. "don't pass me by" was, right away, an easy lock for the dance, because it's danceable, but not in a way that would've scared lily off. lyrically, it feels GREAT for jily in this moment, on the cusp of lily's realisation ("waiting for your knock, dear [...] i don't hear it, does it mean you don't love me anymore?" vs OF COURSE "don't pass me by [...] 'cause you know darling, i love only you"). i feel about "don't pass me by" the same way as NYT critic nik cohn: it's "straight ahead and clumsy and greatly enjoyable, backed by a beautiful hurdy-gurdy organ," which, if that isn't everything i wanted to evoke with the dance itself!!!!!!

ok we'll circle back to this, but onward with the musical discussion

thus i had four songs to choose from, between "martha my dear" and "don't pass me by," for the germeline scene — "piggies," "blackbird," "i'm so tired," and "rocky raccoon." the latter is on my sirius playlist, so auto-no; "piggies" is, well, like that, so also a no. "blackbird" is a certified germaine classic that was written personally by paul mccartney for germaine, but it seemed too introspective for the moment. i don't think i'd ever listened to "i'm so tired" before this panicked searching, and honestly it must be some wild luck that it is. just SO RIGHT!!!! it's so lethargic and tortured and angsty and, well, a bit of a stoner song, so.... it's THERE

AND NOW for the dance! true story, i initially wanted jily to have a real conversation, after the party. i had the dance in there and then james would catch up with lily after to be like, "hey i was wrong actually, you should write to petunia." but then i realised i wanted james and sirius to have a conversation about the bike/money, and i wanted it to strike a different chord, tonally, than the jily conversation. then i realised it would be too much to have both and i'd need to condense that conversation into the dance. VERY nearly cut the dance in favour of the conversation but wow i am glad i didn't

The tinkling piano signalled the start of the next song; she extended a hand, very matter-of-factly, to James, "Come on, this is a good one."

not pictured: james having a fucking breakdown

obviously, i could have gone the route of a genuine dramatic dance, but as previously mentioned lily would have chickened out, and i wanted to have this be an experience she could look back on and pine about because of how fun it was and james totally doesn't like her back

Loath as she was to admit it, this most indelicate of waltzes suited the plodding chords of "Don't Pass Me By." And worst of all, once they had stopped stepping on each other's feet James started to sing, in the poorest possible Ringo imitation she had ever heard in her life.

by the way, attentive readers of blink three times will recall:

He finally starts to lead — thank goodness, because she’s not the one who was forced into formal dance lessons as a child...

so in 36, this is james being drunk, but it is also james being silly on purpose because not only is he JAMES and so he must take the mick, he also knows it will put lily at ease

okay, and this bit:

"Don't pass me by, don't make me cry, don't make me blue," they both shouted rather than sang, "'Cause you know darling—" Lily broke off, laughing, dimly aware that she had done so to avoid saying I love only you while staring right at him.

from the FIRST MOMENT i picked out "don't pass me by," i knew i knew I KNEW that lily would have thoughts about this line. at this point in the story if someone questioned her about it she would probably have a full-scale breakdown about her male friends vs her female friends ("but no... i suppose i wouldn't mind saying it to remus.... but that's different!" how is it different, lily? "it's different!")

anyway, the bottom line is she could NOT abide saying it. i enjoyed writing that because 1. same girl and 2. it felt like a nice bit of close foreshadowing for her realisation, which i knew was coming soon. so that's a really circular way of saying, i knew what it meant but ideally to readers it was just oh this will mean something far-off in the future!!! which is usually true for me but SURPRISE babey it was just two chapters away!!!

note btw that lily "falls for james"

Lily spun faster than she’d intended to. The room was a brief, kaleidoscope blur. Then there was James. “Jesus, Evans,” he said, steadying her as the next track began.

>:)

and after i thought tracklists would fuck me up, i turned them into my WEAPON!!

Huffing, she stepped out of his arms. (There were some songs you could sing along to with your mates, and “Why Don’t We Do It In The Road?” was not one of them.)

(so, you know, keep in mind that for the rest of this conversation, paul is in the background howling "no one will be watching us/why don't we do it in the road?")

also:

"...I’m not drinking tonight, but I’d better get the royal treatment after we win on Saturday."

and then what happened <3

wait jesus oh my god i really went hard on this huh

She only saw its result: the easy grin had given way to an expression so serious it was almost sweet.

LILY??????

and hey, remember when:

...because in chapter 26:

Dex’s measured opinions about the wizarding world seemed more the result of upbringing and inexperience than ill will, but Lily had not expected a radical change of heart.

...but then in 36:

He was right, damn it. And a part of her had known all along, had sought him out expressly so that he would say the opposite thing to her. He’d gone and proven her wrong. She broke the staring match first [...] “What brought on the change of heart?” “It’s a long story, and I expect it’ll have an unsatisfying end if I told it to you.” Lily scoffed, but James had on that maddening grin that meant he would not budge. “Oh, all right.” Softer, she added, “Thank you.” He began to back away, towards the bar. “It’s give and take, Evans.”

in conclusion, i never forget, besties

#i literally had to retype this entire fucking response #i hate tumblr #but anyway #be warned i talk about the beatles :/// in here #ask me #anon #director's cuts #36

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atamascolily · 4 years ago

Text

Unicorn Chronicles, Book 4: “The Last Hunt,” by Bruce Coville

The Last Hunt is even longer than Dark Whispers--the hardcover edition runs to a whopping 605 pages (not including a multi-page character list), so it's a great example of Sequel Creep. Scholastic never gave it a paperback run, so Coville ended up buying back the rights and re-releasing it as smaller volumes (bringing the series to seven in all) to balance it back out a little. But still. It's a lot.

Coville says in the acknowledgements:

If I hadn't been painfully aware so many people were waiting for this story, I might have given up at any number of points along the way.So thanks, dear fans, it's been a long journey, and I literally could not have done it without you.

1) Awwww. 2) #relatable.

The Last Hunt is divided into sections based on time: 'Blood Moon Night," 'Day One of the Invasion,' and so on. The entire book spans about six days in all (five days + the Blood Moon), although there are lots of flashbacks and the last chapter opens with a time skip of several weeks. Suffice to say, this is one hell of a week. Each section is also captioned with a quote--sometimes from one of the Unicorn Chronicles, sometimes from Sun Tzu's The Art of War, which is unexpectedly plot-relevant.

We left off with Beloved and her army of Hunters invading Luster by ripping a hole in the Axis Mundi, the World Tree, with the intent to kill all the unicorns. The unicorns, led by the newly crowned Amalia Flickerfoot, must decide what to do next.

What follows: so many subplots, an inevitable quest, dragons, humans gonna humans, baleful polymorphs, dramatic battles, and a literal deus ex machina.

WHAT HAPPENS:

Lightfoot is right by the Axis Mundi when the gate opens, so he watches in horror as the Hunters come through. He tries to escape to warn the Queen, only to be pursued. To escape, he runs through the Gate to Earth, which for some reason burns people the second time around if they don't wait long enough (for reasons that make zero sense to me). Lightfoot finds himself in Beloved's keep in the Himalayas, and finds Cara's mother Martha asleep and pulls her out of the Rainbow Prison.

Fortunately, Martha was able to make contact with Ian and company long enough to learn how to pull them out, so she does. Lightfoot is afraid to go through the gate because he doesn't want to get crisped, so they wait until Beloved sends her troops after him, and then sneak in behind them. It turns out Fallon created the unicorns and is basically a deity.

Beloved has adopted a bunch of orphans -- girls abandoned by their families--whose purpose is to be unicorn bait. We meet one of them, Feng Quan, who is a total badass and a Sun Tzu stan, who is horrified when she witnesses a unicorn being slaughtered and jumps ship. Feng Quan runs into Belle, who has been haunted by the Whisperer (who knows Belle wants to be Queen) and convinces the skeptical warrior to take her to Amalia Flickerfoot.

Meanwhile the Geomancer M'Gama has been captured by the delvers, and Rocky and his reunited cove search for his teacher, the wizard Namza, who is turned to stone and having a lot of flashbacks. They eventually join up and work to stabilize Luster, which is devastated by increasingly severe earthquakes as Beloved's gate is destroying the Axis Mundi and thus the entire world.

The queen sends Cara on another quest, this time to beg the dragon Grammaug for aid. (IDK while Amalia doesn't try to get all seven dragons, but okay, fine, whatever.) This time, it's only Cara and Medafil, because everyone else is busy. Cara encourages her grandmother to "think like a human" to outwit Beloved, which Feng Quan seconds when she arrives.

Grammaug turns out to be a dragon who turned into a human (it's complicated) and came to Luster because she was basically allergic to the world that all the other dragons went to when Bellemore opened THEIR gate. I thought that her story dragged on a little long, but it does eventually turn out to be relevant, since we are introduced to Transformational Magic, which can be moved around from person to person. Watch this space.

Hunters are looking for Cara, using special "blood trackers" that cannot be fooled, because Beloved wants her for unspecified reasons. Thomas the Tinker is also on his own quest to pick something up at the Queen's behest. The centaurs are having drama of their own as well. Ian tries to track Cara and gets captured by the delvers and taken to the king, who sends him to Beloved.

Grammaug agrees to help, but they are intercepted by the hunters on their journey back and Cara encounters Elihu, the mysterious "friend" Fallon has been searching for, who transforms her into a unicorn in order to lure the hunters off the scent.

Amalia and Feng Quan come up with a plan and send Grammaug to deliver a message, lying to the dragon about the details to mislead Beloved. Grimmwold summons the Queen's Players as part of the plan. Cara runs into Fallon, who reveals that Elihu created Luster, and was banished from the gods' realm because of it, and Fallon came down with him. Grammaug persuades Firethroat to join the battle; Firethroat is very pro eating humans, and agrees. The Whisperer uses Martha Hunter's anger about her mother to try and turn her against the unicorns.

Everyone converges on the Axis Mundi before the battle. We learn that a deity called Allura was responsible for sending the story of the Whisperer from the Chronicles and giving it to the centaurs and she made the Squijum. Like Fallon, she is searching for Elihu. Cara reveals her true identity, and reunites with her mother, who rejects the Whisperer.

Fallon summons the Whisperer and fights it to the death (Fallon's doesn't take). The group pieces together that the Dimblethum is Elihu--he returned to his true form when he betrayed Luster by helping Beloved with the Gate, only to revert back when he used his magic on Cara--and they must bring him back since he's the only one who can save Luster.

The Queen's Players stage a performance and Thomas produces a cockatrice who starts turning Hunters to stone. The dragons shoot flames, and the unicorns attack. Rajiv frees Ian in the chaos. Moonheart dies in the charge. Beloved is perplexed by the Whisperer's absence, and the centaurs and delvers arrive to join the fight. The Hunters flee back to Earth. The Axis Mundi splits in half and the dragons try to hold it together temporarily.

Cara attacks the delver king, who is trying to murder the Dimblethum, and the delver king falls into a conveniently opened hole in the ground and is swallowed up forever. Fallon uses transformational magic to swap places with Elihu so that Elihu can fix the tree. Elihu can't hold it alone, so Allura helps and both are swallowed up by the repaired tree. Graumag dies.

Beloved, believing Cara to be dead, takes Martha hostage and taunts Team Good. Cara reveals herself and Beloved begs for death. Cara tries to heal her and fails and Beloved dies.

Rajiv joins the Queen's Players. Cara is still a unicorn and no one can turn her back, but everyone's okay with it? The surviving Hunters are put to sleep and woken one by one and given the choice of staying in Luster or returning to earth; Feng Quan and Belle work with the maidens. The new Dimblethum and the Squijum visit the Axis Mundi every night to mourn their fellows and M'Gama and Namza are still in comas and we never learn their ultimate fate. Firethroat is in mourning and refuses to talk to anyone.

HOW I FEEL ABOUT IT:

"meh". So much happens and it's extremely epic, but I only care about half the characters, and the rest is just tedious. The whole deus ex machina thing could have been interesting, but wasn't--I could deal with ONE god running around but three was pushing it. The Dimblethum being Elihu was fine, but Fallon and Allura on top of that was too much. I would have preferred Grimmwold stepping in with a legend that allowed them to piece the answers together or something--not this.

It was hard to tease out what was relevant and what was a red herring (Felicity in the Rainbow prison, the Blind Man, etc). Lots of new characters, but I felt like the old characters were already underused - I wanted to see much more of Thomas and Grimmwold, for instance. Feng Quan, however, is absolutely awesome and I love her. She and Belle are perfect together.

Cara ends up staying a unicorn was something I definitely did not see that one coming. Which makes Cara/Lightfoot the strongly implied endgame ship, which is just NOT WHAT I WAS EXPECTING WHEN I STARTED THIS SERIES, THAT'S ALL. They barely have any time together at all in this, even at the end, which makes me sad. Likewise, all that Lightfoot/Belle stuff never gets addressed.

IDK why Jaques keeps giving speeches about how he doesn't care if he and Cara are related by blood - they seem to be more for Cara's benefit than any character development/change.

Lightfoot's first glimpse of Earth (which he has never seen before) is incredibly poignant. So is his wandering around the deserted castle and struggling without hands. I wish he and Cara were able to discuss this, but NOPE, there is no time for discussion in this entire book, sigh.

The whole business about only going through the portal once in a given time period makes zero sense to me, especially given the established worldbuilding. It feels so contrived. Likewise, Belle and Martha are tempted by the Whisperer, which doesn't really go anywhere for either of them?

I don't know why Elihu smashes the amulet to transform Cara if there's this whole transformational magic thing going on. I still don't really get how that works.

I am also annoyed that Fallon deals with the Whisperer instead of the unicorns. So much for the unicorns "embracing their own darkness" and coming to terms with the fact that they screwed up in their ambition to be perfect. What a wasted opportunity.

Also, it's book four, and we're only NOW finding out there's a prophecy that a scion of the hunters and the unicorns is the only one who can destroy Beloved?? Seems like we needed that earlier. We knew Beloved wanted Cara, we just didn't know WHY until the last possible minute. [Also, who told her that and why??] Without the Whisperer, Beloved is pretty helpless, which annoys me--I wanted her to be a villain in her own right.

Coville is very clear that Beloved tortures Ian, but like, only emotionally, because this is a kid's book, and that Elihu and Fallon are Definitely Not Gay For Each Other, which annoys me. (Coville is generally sympathetic towards queer folks; I really enjoyed his short story "Am I Blue?" which is about a literal fairy godparent and a working gaydar, so this was disappointing.)

The whole subplot with the Blind Man borrowing Ian's eyesight goes absolutely nowhere. I thought the Blind Man was going to play into the Luster drama somehow, but no, he's just some random magician who uses his deal with Ian to blind him at inopportune moments for reasons of his own that are never explained. WTF. This is one reason I hate Ian's subplot so much!!

Likewise, Martha seems cool, but her genuine beef with Ian, Beloved, and Ivy/Arabella get smoothed over and ignored because there's just zero time for anything in the midst of the chaos. Which is too bad!

The fact that the Squijum is the personal favorite creation/messenger of a god is just hilarious to me. Doesn't mean he isn't annoying af, though.

I WANTED ALL SEVEN DRAGONS AHHH.(though apparently there’s a secret eighth dragon no one talks about??WHAT???)

I think I'd be more okay with it if there was more time at the end to see the characters react and reflect--there's only one chapter, and it's not nearly enough. Is Lightfoot still Prince or is the Cara the heir now that she's a unicorn? How do THEY feel about that? That's another subplot from the previous books that just didn't go anywhere, and it bugs me.

(I was convinced Beloved was going to wake Martin Hunter from his sleep and have him lead the attack--like a reverse King Arthur--and I'm SO MAD THAT DIDN'T ACTUALLY HAPPEN...)

Also the fact that Cara has to mercy kill someone at the climax of not one but TWO BOOKS in this series... damn. I’d like to see some more reflection and thought about this after the fact.

Also, the whole thing with the delver-unicorn connection -- what kind of relationship are the two species going to have moving forward? RADIO SILENCE. What the hell did the other dragons think was happening during all this and why didn't they help/investigate? Are the Hunters going to stage a counterattack or disband now that they've lost their leader? Are the unicorns going to return to Earth or will it continue to be just the Guardian of Memory?? There are so many things that are just left hanging, and while MAYBE Coville will write another book to address these issues (it's happened before!) I am grumpy because I WANT TO KNOW, DAMN IT.

I had hoped on re-read I'd feel better about this, but I don't. I get to the end and I think "why?" which is not a great feeling to have. IDK what exactly I expected from this series--it definitely delivers in some ways, and in others, it totally falls short. I’m still impressed Coville managed to finish and it’s not entirely his fault that the results didn’t match up with my expectations, but it’s still sad that older!Me isn’t more excited about the end results.

*sigh* Maybe older!Me will buckle down and write a fix-it fic or two to make younger!Me happy. Currently, the only Unicorn Chronicles fic on A03 is a complicated crossover between LOTR and various other media featuring a human!Lightfoot, which I probably will never read, but it makes me happy to know it exists. FFN has more stories, but this was never a popular fandom, so the field is wide open for anything I want to do with it (more so than usual). Also, it seems I wasn't the only person of a certain age imagining self-insert fic in this universe, which is oddly reassuring.

#unicorn chronicles #bruce coville #book reviews #the last hunt #childhood influences #fic ideas

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cultofbeatles · 5 years ago

Text

beginners guide to the beatles

made one of these a long time ago but i'm surprised by how short it was. so here we go again. doing it right this time lol.

pov: you told a bad joke and now the beatles are judging you.

john winston lennon. later in his life known as john winston ono lennon.

born on october 9, 1940

i believe in astrology bc how does john just happen to be a libra

when john was four he started living with his aunt mimi who acted more as his mother figure

his mother, julia, remarried and would visit him quite a bit.

it was julia who taught john how to play banjo and piano. and she bought his first guitar.

they both had a deep love for music and rock n roll

he never really thought of her as his mother but more as a cool friend i suppose

aunt mimi was more rough on him and did the disciplining

his father was never really present growing up and his uncle passed away when he was young

he thought he was a curse for the men in his family

he had five half siblings. two of them, julia and jacqueline, he was pretty close to. the other three he barely knew.

fashion icon.

hated school but loved art

very early on he was insecure with himself

teachers always shit on him and said he would go nowhere in life

he met paul at a church fete on july 6, 1957

paul taught him how to play guitar properly.

once told paul that he didnt know how paul carried on after his mother died bc he just didn't think he could do it

john’s mother died from being hit by an off duty policemen. john was seventeen at the time.

he took her death really hard and became a bit of a recluse.

first serious relationship was with cynthia (we stan her)

once cynthia cut her hair short and he didn't talk to her for two days.

hate men. kill all men.

when he asked her to dance at a party she turned him down saying that she was engaged, and so he said “well i didn't ask you to fucking marry me, did i?”

slapped her once bc he was drunk and another boy was talking to her.

only time her hit her.

read cynthia’s books about john pls. i beg.

once a psychic told him that he would be shot in the states.

founder of the beatles and also came up with the name.

instruments he could play: guitar, harmonica, rhythm guitar, banjo, keyboard, piano, saxophone, bass guitar, and a little drums.

main songwriter in the beatles along with paul.

was more open minded to change in the beatles music.

was insecure in his relationship with paul after a while bc he thought he only needed him for songwriting.

would bitch about paul all day long but the second anyone else said something about him he’d be on their ass.

had a lot of issues and needed a good hug.

suffered from eating disorders, drug addictions, depression, insecurities, and questioned his sexuality bc of the time.

was super open minded and ahead of his time in many instances.

once he was called “the fat beatle” and after that he stopped eating as much.

truly loved his first son, julian lennon, and would buy him presents all the time bc he was excited to see him play with them.

“your famous ex husband”

he enjoyed playing monopoly.

he once claimed that he saw a ufo.

he had written three books but he always wanted to write a children's book.

the last song he ever performed in front of a live audience was “i saw her standing there.” with elton john.

he was afraid of the dark.

found out later in his life that he was dyslexic.

was also legally blind without glasses.

never could catch a break huh.

said that his best lyric ever was “all you need is love” i agree.

the first time yoko and john met was not at her art exhibit but actually when she approached him about giving away songs for free.

wanted to write a musical with paul.

once a friend dared him to masturbate ten times in one day and he managed to do it nine times.

would hold circle jerks with paul and a few other friends.

just dudes being dudes.

went on a holiday with brian epstein, who was gay, and told some people afterward that they did certain sexual things. but we will never know for sure.

yoko says that john was bisexual.

once in an interview he said that he would of married a rich man or woman if he wasn't in the beatles.

hated his voice on records. would always ask for effects on his voice for final recordings.

made a film with yoko where it was just his penis going from flaccid to erect for fifteen minutes in slow motion.

only beatle not to of become a vegetarian while he was alive.

murdered on december 8, 1980.

gave his autograph earlier in the day to the man who would murder him.

died at the age of 40.

“all my loving” was played while he was at the hospital.

and its spooky bc a lot of times in interviews he would say “when i'm 40..”

and it’s sad bc he was finally becoming who he truly wanted to be.

honorable john moments that i love:

“thanks for the purpler hearts” he says while receiving the silver heart

“you are the first person from liverpool that i've ever seen” “great”

eric lennon on my mind today

this come together performance where he messed up the lyrics lol

that interview where paul was sick and john keep checking on him

john lennon speaking nothing but facts

when he said that he could see the beatles going separate ways but that they'd always come back together.

SHUT UP

“shut up while he’s talking..”

this interview breaks my heart sometimes

and this interview is great as well

sir james paul mccartney

born on june 18, 1942

if you ever have spare time just check out this man’s natal chart.

idk how he’s still alive with his chart tbh.

he has a younger brother named mike and a step sister named ruth.

his dad thought he was the ugliest baby he’d ever seen when he was born.

when he was young paul would kill frogs in a way to prepare himself for the war if he ever was drafted.

the first instrument he ever learned to play was the trumpet.

I don't even want to list every instrument this man can play but trust me when I say it’s a lot.

but for the beatles he mainly did bass, vocals, and piano. sometimes playing the guitar and the drums.

the beatles was just paul moving really, really fast.

he lost his mother when he was 14 due to surgery for breast cancer.

never really learned how to cope well with loss of a loved one tbh.

had the cutest chubby cheeks as a kid tbh

met john and was accepted into his band

sometimes they'd ditch school together and either work on music or would visit art galleries.

went to paris with john and john bought him all the banana milkshakes that he wanted.

connected over their love and admiration for music, and bc they had both lost their mothers.

had a girlfriend’s mom who he would make comb his leg hairs.

was an ass to his first girlfriend.

kill all men again.

almost had to marry his girlfriend dot bc she was pregnant, but she ended up losing the baby.

was the one who introduced george harrison to john.

practically despised pete best and stuart stutcliffe bc they were bringing the group down.

got arrested along with pete best bc they lit a condom on fire in hamburg.

still felt awful and a little guilty when stuart died suddenly.

main force behind the beatles imo.

without him we’d have not as much beatles music as we do.

was dating jane asher throughout majority of the sixties.

when they first met they talked about syrup and paul fell in love.

they broke things off after she walked in on him sleeping with another woman though.

directed magical mystery tour and it was amazing and I don't care what anyone says ok?

when john divorced cynthia he was the only one not scared of john and went against his wishes of not speaking to cynthia.

was a little controlling at times.

has a good heart though.

mal evans had to drive him home once after a beatles sessions bc he was crying so hard.

was talking about getting the band back to touring when john said he was leaving the group.

everyone kind of turned against him when the beatles were breaking up and i hate it.

he just wanted what was best for the band.

married linda and had a nice little farm.

we love that story.

linda i'm free thursday if you want to hang out pls.

started up the whole “no meat monday” thing where you don't eat monday on mondays

food meat. not the other kind of meat.

children: james mccartney, stella mccartney, heather mccartney, mary mccartney, and beatrice mccartney.

rip martha.

WINGS!!

he lost linda in 1998 due to cancer.

cried for a whole year bc of it.

still has dreams about john and says they're nice.

wrote a sad song about john called “here today.”

really loved john. like..he truly, genuinely did.

want someone to love me like paul does john.

“think of me every now and then old friend.”

honorable paul moments:

his story about george’s dad

“john? he was beautiful. very beautiful.”

humpty dumpty rap

another story about him and george.

his google search video that I watch every week

this

george harrison

born: February 24, 1943

or at least we think

bc he use to say that his birthday was february 25, but later started saying it february 24.

why can't we change our birthdays its not like we picked it

he was the youngest child.

baby of the family and of the beatles awwww

two older brothers named harry and peter. one older sister named louise.

when george’s mom was pregnant with him she’d play sitar music.

his mom was super supportive of his career choice

when he was 16 he worked as an electricians apprentice.

his dad kind of hoped he would start a family business out of it.

george said nah

would ride the bus opposite way of his house just to spend time with paul

headbutted a kid bc he didn't think they were worthy of paul’s friendship

was brought into the band bc of paul insisting to john

would follow john around like a lost puppy when he first met him

once had an eight hour erection. don't ask me how idk he said it.

was 17 when he lost his virginity and the other band members were in the room watching and cheered him when he finished

most sex craved beatle tbh

once walked into a girls dressing room and asked if they could stand there so he could masturbate

he was the first beatle to go to america

got a black eye for defending ringo once

would make john and paul take turns sharing rooms with ringo when he first joined the band so that he felt more welcomed

when ringo left during the white album and then came back george decorated the studio with flowers for him

during the beatles first recording session he told george martin that he didn't like his tie

became a vegetarian at 22

favorite candy was jelly beans and purple was his favorite color

used the phrase “grotty” in the hard days night movie, hated it, but everyone else picked up on the slang

met his first wife, pattie boyd, on the set of a hard days night

was turned down by her at first

they married in 1966

wouldn't let her do modeling stuff and was kind of an ass

a stylish couple but not the best image for a healthy relationship

got into eastern religion around 1965

during the Hamburg days he would eat chicken on stage

had an affair with ringo’s first wife maureen

got a divorce from pattie in 1977

in 1978 he married olivia who he stayed with until his death and had one son with. dhani.

was the first beatle to hit a number one single and album.

was buddies with led zeppelin

inspired their “rain song”

smashed a piece of cake on john bonham’s head and then was thrown into the pool by him

he financed and produced films. had a production company.

tom petty said that george never shut up once you started talking to him

but he was often referred to as “the quiet beatle”

formed another band called the traveling wilburys

he’d answer questions online in the 2000′s and it’s the cutest thing ever and his answers break my heart too.

“what do you miss most about john lennon?” “john lennon.”

in 1999 a schizophrenic person broke into his house and stabbed him 40 times

thank god olivia was there bc she was the only braincell in the room

had to get a part of his lung taken out

died november 29, 2001 from lung cancer

ashes were scattered into the ganges river

honorable george moments:

this interview he did with ringo

“i'm sad bc i can't play guitars with john anymore. but i did that...i know we’ll meet again some day.”

when he invented reaction videos

“the wind was blowing.” “..blowing my girl?”

“what kind of girl do you like?” “john’s wife.”

sir richard starkey aka ringo starr

born on july 7, 1940

oldest member in the group

has no siblings

naturally was left handed but his grandma thought it was bad luck so he writes right handed, and plays drums with a right handed kit

but does everything else left handed

when he was 6 he fell into a two month coma

was a very sick child

when he was 13 he was in the hosiptal for tuberculosis and formed a hospital band

grew up poor

loves and looked up to his stepfather a lot

his step father bought him his first drum kit in 1957

wasn't that great in school bc he missed so much of it from being so sick

he worked for a britain railway for a while

also served drinks on a day boat for a job

loves dancing

Rory storm and the hurricanes

got his nickname from all the rings he would wear

replaced pete best as the beatles drummer

dealt with people hating him for a bit bc they liked pete more

had to style his hair in a bowl cut to be in the band and i'm still mad at them for making him do that shit

ringo i'm so sorry

george martin didn't really like his drumming and had a session drummer come in for the first album

in 1964 he had tonsillitis, pharyngitis, and high fever all at once and had to be in the hospital for a bit.

was worried the beatles would replace him for good

he’s a cancer don't worry

was the first beatle to try weed

drummers always go first huh

married his first wife, maureen, in 1965

she kissed paul, ringo, and george.

what a champ

honeymoon was ruined by reporters

was really insecure in his relationship and needed a lot of reassurance

had a great relationship with pretty much all the beatles

but a great one with john

john felt his most relaxed when he was with ringo

was once in a movie with roger daltrey

divorced maureen in 1975

his wife now is barbara bach who he married in 1981

had alcohol problems

once gotten so drunk that he beat barbara so badly that he thought he killed her

put himself into rehab after that

barbara lowkey looks like jan from the office

children: zak, lee, and jason

zak is the drummer for the band the who

peace and love

but don't send me fan mail anymore

peace and love

ringo starr and the allstar band (starting 1981)

was the narrator for thomas the tank engine

will play at paul’s concerts sometimes now for fun

mad bc he came on stage during paul’s last concert show and it was on my birthday and I couldn't go to it

honorable ringo moments:

“do you want me to come with you?”

stupid barbara walters

talking about paul

giving us a little dance

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years ago

Text

Field of Poppies Part 12

Summary: After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.

Part 12: With time passing so fast, Tommy and Amelia realize a few things that had slipped their minds.

“Baa-baa black sheep, have you any wool?”

Tommy heard Amelia singing as he trudged upstairs after a long day’s work. After, he heard Max giggling and baaing like a sheep.

“Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full. How many is three, Max? One…two…three!”

“Three!” Max echoed.

No matter how difficult the day was for Tommy, he couldn’t help but smile when he heard his little boy talking so sweetly with his mother. It was like magic sometimes. No one said having a family was easy, but seeing Max and Amelia smile always put Tommy in a good mood.

He nudged the door open to the nursery and Max leaped off Amelia’s lap to greet him. “Daddy!”

“Hello, hello.” Tommy picked him up and kissed his cheek. “There’s my boy.”

Amelia smiled and stood up to give him a quick kiss. “Hungry?”

“No, I ate. Thanks, love.” He set Max down. “What did you two get up to today, then, aye?”

“Martha came over with Abigail. Did you see your cousin, Max? Did you see Abby?”

The little boy beamed. “Daddy, Abby s’a baby.” The two-and-a-half-year-old tugged on his father’s pant leg.

“I know. She’s very little. Seems like yesterday you were that little.” He remarked, watching as Max wandered away from him and to a toy train left on the rug.

“Martha was a little worried.” Amelia kept her tone light as she didn’t want Max to pick up on her concern. “She said John came home last night a bit not well.”

Tommy’s eyes flicked to Max who didn’t seem to be paying attention. But that was the catch. He had made the mistake of assuming the little boy either wasn’t listening or couldn’t understand him. Because after talking to Arthur in Max’s presence, that same night, the toddler turned to his mother and as clear as day said, ‘fuck’.

And despite warnings and telling offs, Max enjoyed the shocked attention he got when he used the word, so during a visit to Polly’s he yelled it out.

Luckily, they’d managed to somewhat curb the behavior, but they all went out knowing they were running the risk of having a toddler cursing up a storm.

“Well, he knows what he did,” Tommy replied.

“I don’t know what he did.” Amelia widened her eyes at him, unable to raise her voice.

“It isn’t important.”

“Thomas…”

“It’s late, Mel. Time for bed, Max.” Tommy passed by her to scoop him up. “Say night to mumma.”

“Night, night, mummy!” Max blew her a kiss, one of his new tricks.

“Good night, my love.”

~~~~~~~~~

Tommy’s attempt to distract Amelia only worked until Max was fast asleep and they were both in bed.

As he draped an arm around her waist, she brought up the subject again. “You know what Martha asked me today?”

“What did she ask you?”

“If John should write up a will. A fucking will, Tommy. He came home and she saw so much blood, she thought he was half-dead.”

“He was fine, Mel, it was a cut. He wasn’t complaining about it at all. He knows that when you pick fights with people bigger than you, you get hurt.”

“So where were his brothers, aye? She shrugged his arm off and sat up to face him.

Tommy wearily ran a hand over his face. “So. Arthur and I are supposed to be babysitting him? Mel, you were the one who suggested he help us at the shop. It’s not our fault he’s got a fucking idea in his thick skull that he’s some fucking big shot now.”

“Then teach him!” She snapped, knowing the exact volume she could raise her voice before she risked waking up Max. “Tommy, I can live with this, I can tolerate it. I may be afraid but I trust you. But when you act like it’s not a big deal that your brother was cut.”

“It wasn’t a big deal, Mel.”

“He’s sixteen, Tommy!”

“And he’s gotten in plenty of fucking fights before. He’ll learn by getting pushed down. That’s how we all learned.” He said firmly. “You tell Martha that he’s not going to bloody die. She doesn’t need to be so fucking dramatic. Now can we just…” He huffed out a frustrated sigh. He didn’t think his brother’s wife to worry Amelia so much. “I’m fucking exhausted, Mel.”

Though unsatisfied with Tommy’s answer, he did look tired. She sighed. “Fine.” She mumbled and laid back down. “Fine…”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“House full of kids.” Polly sighed as Finn came screaming down the stairs with Max hot on his heels. Meanwhile, little Abigail was tottering around the kitchen going back and forth between the women who were having lunch together.

“It’s good fortune, Pol.” Martha, heavily pregnant again, had her feet up on a chair to ease the swelling.

“I think we’ve had enough good fortune for now, so perhaps we hold off on baby number three for a little while, aye?”

Martha and Amelia laughed as the woman sat down with an eye roll.

“Or at least let her have the next child.” Polly waved a hand to Amelia. “Trade off every other.”

“Hm, you’d have to consult Tommy about that one.” Amelia shook her head. “I’m lucky if I even get a kiss goodnight. I only ever see him in the morning, he works so late. The only way we’re having a child is through immaculate conception.”

Martha snickered but Polly looked uneasy. “Have you ever asked him to work less?”

“Pol, honestly, how do you think that would go down?”

“Work should never come first.” Polly insisted. “He’s put off your wedding this long, the least he can do is be there for dinner every night.”

“We both agreed to hold off on the wedding. Max is still too young, and we’re both so busy.” Amelia butted in. “There will be plenty of time for things.”

“I’ll watch Max tonight,” Polly said, not seeming to care for her litany of excuses. “You and Tommy have a nice evening to yourself.

Amelia opened her mouth to protest but Max passed by and appeared delighted in the idea. “Mummy, I stay here with Auntie Pol!?” He exclaimed.

She sighed, it seemed she had been bested. “Yeah, love. You get to have a little sleepover with Finn and Abby, won’t that be fun?” She had a little sliver of hope that he would balk at the idea of spending the night away from her and Tommy.

But that didn’t seem to be the case. The toddler jumped up and down excitedly. “Fun!”

“Very fun.” Polly looked a little smug.

~~~~~~~~~

“Mel?” The apartment was strangely quiet when Tommy came in that night. He’d left work earlier than before, not knowing that Arthur was set up by Polly to get his brother out of the shop as early as he could.

“I’m in the kitchen!” She called back.

He found it so strange that Max hadn’t come bounding in to launch himself at Tommy. “Where’s Max?” He asked as he came into the kitchen.

“He’s staying the night with Polly. She and Martha offered to watch him.” She answered, turning around with a hesitant smile.

“Oh…any reason why?”

“Just to give us a night off, I suspect.” Neither of them had realized they hadn’t been away from Max for a full night in his entire life. Three years of caring for him all day every day just seemed natural. Now the flat seemed so quiet and a bit empty without the rambunctious toddler running around until he wore himself out.

“That was nice of her.” Tommy nodded and went to take off his coat and cap. Now that it was just the two of them, they had the space to consider their relationship of a few years. Neither could deny that the majority of their relationship was centered around Max. It had to be, the little boy took up so much time and energy. They weren’t complaining, they devoted themselves to Max because they loved him.

But they were young and in love. It just took some finesse to have an intimate relationship in such small quarters. At least they weren’t in Six Watery where they first tried to have sex. Max was about eight months old and Amelia had gotten John to watch over the baby while she ‘took a nap’. But their little tryst was interrupted by Ada who wanted some money to go to the candy store with her friends.

Still even just the three of them in their flat, they were worried Max would get nosy. And neither of them wanted to explain what mummy and daddy were up to in bed in the middle of the night.

“Are you hungry?” Amelia asked.

“Let’s go out.” He said spontaneously.

“Are you sure?” Eating out had always been a luxury while growing up in Small Heath. Amelia started to get used to going out to restaurants and pubs when she lived in London, but upon returning to Birmingham she retreated back to her comfort of home cooking.

“Why not? Night to ourselves.” He smiled. “It’ll be fun.” She could see the boyish glint of excitement in his eyes. The prospect of being able to live as young adults for the night without any responsibility seemed enticing. Being the man of the house was nice and all, but everyone needed a little break.

“Okay.” Amelia smiled. “I’ll just get ready then. I’ll only be a mo’.” She promised before heading upstairs with a spring in her step.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Dinner and a couple of drinks felt like a wild night out on the town for the two parents. They enjoyed themselves very much, talking and laughing with one another like they were teenagers again.

“Pol was telling Martha she and John should slow down on having kids.” Amelia giggled. “It was funny.”

“Poor woman’s a saint for putting up with us for so long.” Tommy chuckled and finished his beer. “I’m surprised she hasn’t skipped town yet.”

“Well, she loves you all so much. Why would she?”

He shrugged. “Seems like what some people do.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

Shaking his head, he tried to brush off the conversation. “Nothing, it’s nothing.”

“Tom…” She reached over to touch his hand resting on the table.

He met her eyes for a brief moment before letting out a heavy sigh. “Just haven’t heard from me dad. S’been years, Mel. Max is growing, John’s already got a second child on the way.”

Amelia laced her fingers with his. “Exactly, you’ve all created such a wonderful family and you don’t need your father to solidify that. He doesn’t deserve to be a part of it. Not after what he’s done. I know why you’re sad. I think about my parents every day and wonder if…if maybe they met Max, if they met you, they might change their mind. But I can’t hold out hope for that. I can only focus on the good things that I know for certain. That we have a wonderful little boy and that I have you. That’s enough for me.”

Tommy lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“For what?” She smiled softly.

“For just…for understanding me when other people don’t.”

“Oh, Tom, I’ll always be here for you.” She murmured affectionately.

“I know.” He squeezed her hand gently.

“It was funny, Pol was wondering if we had any plans to have a baby any time soon.” She admitted sheepishly.

It might’ve crossed Tommy’s mind a couple of times. But he considered Max as his own that he didn’t really consider the fact that he and Amelia hadn’t conceived a child together. “Well, I guess it’s something to think about.” He agreed.

“Would you want another child?” She asked.

“Think it would be nice for Max to have a brother or sister.” He supposed. “But I can now see Polly’s reason for having him stay the night.” He tossed some money on the table for the bill and stood up. Reaching a hand out to Amelia he gave her a wink. “Ready to enjoy our night alone?”

“Of course, Mr. Shelby.”

~~~~~~~~~~

They hardly made it through the door. It seemed the intimacy they’d been neglecting for so long was no rearing its head, a force to be reckoned with.

At the foot of the stairs, they threw off their coats. Tommy kissed her so hard she stumbled back a bit before grabbing onto his shirt.

Halfway up the stairs, Amelia stopped a step above him, to kiss him again.

At the top of the stairs, she began to undo the buttons of Tommy’s shirt. She giggled softly when he began to undo the buttons of her dress, but cursed when his fingers kept slipping.

So, in love, he was so in love with her.

He captured her lips again and she pulled him into the bedroom.

As Tommy understood, love was something that was hard to find. But he figured that once he found it, it was his to keep and foster. And he knew that was what he would spend the rest of his waking days doing. Loving the woman who was unraveling in his arms as she moaned softly.

Nothing could keep them apart.

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moghedien · 5 years ago

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Could you recommend some adult sff? Love your blog btw!

Thank you!

And ok, I could give you better personalized recs if you give me some idea of what you’re looking for or what you like, but I’m gonna give you some general recommendations. Also I only really feel comfortable recommending books that I have personally read, and there are tons more out there than what I have read. If you want to find more, looking at recent Hugo nominations over the past few years might be helpful. Also one of the reasons why I know anything at all about the SFF world is that I’ve been listening to the Sword and Laser podcast for like, a decade. I never really mention that podcast, but its literally why I started reading at all and also they have a pretty active goodreads group as well.

So recommendations:

Ancillary Justice by Ann Leckie:

This is one of my favorite books period. This is a far future space opera about an artificial intelligence who used to be a spaceship and now is only one human body, and she is ANGRY ABOUT that. I don’t really want to say more than that, but if you like AI shenanigans and being sorta confused as to what is going on the entire time, then this is the book for you! It’s the first book in a completed trilogy.

The Eye of the World by Robert Jordan:

Obviously I’m gonna recommend the Wheel of Time. This is the first book in a 14 (actually 15) book series and if you need something to do with the next 1-5 years of your life *motions toward EoTW*.

So the Eye of the World, I think is uniquely good as a book if you kinda want to get into adult fantasy for a few reasons. For one thing, its kinda considered to be one of those “classics” of the genre but its not too old to be offputting to some readers. It’s a 30 year old book, so its not reflective of the genre now, but you can definitely see its influence all the place, even outside of just books. The Eye of the World specifically, also goes out of its way to make readers comfortable. It leans heavy on Tolkien references and tropes at first without being a straight up copy of Lord of the Rings like some classic fantasy books are. Its done very purposefully, in my opinion, to make the reader feel like they have some idea of what’s going on, and the series quickly drops the Tolkien references as soon as its established itself enough.

Also the Gandalf parallel for the series is a smol bi lady and there is 24 year old rage healer who wants to fight everyone with her own two fists.So many women to stan.

Leviathan Wakes by James S.A. Corey

This is the first book of the Expanse, which is a nearish future space opera that takes place in our solar system. Mars has long ago been colonized and is a completely separate government entity than Earth, and conflict between the two planets has been stirring. The Asteroid Belt has also been colonized and have long been little more than tools of corporations that run their colonies. A group of ice haulers working in the outer planets get in the middle of one of the biggest secrets in the solar system and find themselves in all kinds of trouble.

I don’t really want to say more than this, but this is probably the only SF series that I actively keep up on when a new book comes out. There are 8 books our currently, and the 9th and final book will be out sometime in the near future. There are also several short stories and novellas set in the world, and there’s a TV show that I really like though I need to catch up on it.

The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin

Hello, this book comes with content warnings for literally everything, but it is such a good book/trilogy. This is book about a woman trying to find her daughter again in the middle of the apocalypse. Definitely a heavy read but absolutely brilliant. The world has a magic system based on geology and the people that can use that magic....saying they’re discriminated against is an understatement. I don’t want to say much more about it, but if you have any kind of content you can’t read for whatever reason, I’d check before picking this up. This is the first book in a completed trilogy

Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel

So this isn’t really super SF heavy and is actually sold as a literary book, but it takes place after a flu pandemic has wiped out a large portion of the population...so maybe this is a bad time to read this book, OR its the best time to read it. Depends on how you’re dealing with *motions at the world*

The book flashes back to before and during the pandemic a lot, but is largely about art’s importance and is actually quite optimistic in its messaging, and this is another of my favorite books ever. But yeah, might be a bad time for you to read it of you can’t deal with the content now.

The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon

I just remembered that this book also has a plague, but its a subplot and not the major thing. So this is a big ol’ chonky standalone book that is high fantasy, deals with multiple cultures having to interact and work together, and has dragons. Also there’s a genunine slow burn f/f romance and *chef’s kiss*. I can’t really say much else, mostly because I struggle to explain this book, but its very good and probably my favorite book from last year.

The Calculating Stars by Mary Robinette Kowal

In this house we stan Mary Robinette Kowal, ok?

So this is a science fiction that is more an alternate history that poses the question, hey, what would have happened if an asteroid slammed into the east coast in 1952 and the world had to scramble to colonize Mars so that everyone didn’t die on earth when the climate got catastrophic, because that’s the inciting action of the book. The main character is a Jewish woman who was a WASP pilot in WW2 and is a computer for the space program when all this happens. The book deals with sexism, and racism, and xenophobia, and all the social issues that are gonna come up with it being set in 1952, but Mary Robinette doesn’t flinch away from addressing social issues in any of her books, even when it makes her main characters look bad. (Also if you like Pride and Prejudice, she has a series that is just Pride and Prejudice with magic and like, yeah, its good).

A Natural History of Dragons by Marie Brennan

This is a book which poses a question, what if dragons were like weird animals that were real and an eccentric woman spent her entire life traveling the world to study them and then told the stories of that in her memoirs when she was too old to care about the consequences of publishing all her scandals. That’s what the book is about. This one is probably actually the weakest in the series, just because it deals with so much set up. It’s a great series to get on audio because Kate Reading is a fantastic narrator, and the prose works so well as audio, because it’s just someone telling you her life story. There are five books in the series.

All Systems Red by Martha Wells

So this is a novella and is the first in the murderbot series. Basically a killer robot gets addicted to television shows and accidentally became sentient. I haven’t read the others in the series, but I really need to reread this one and get to the others.

Jade City by Fonda Lee

This is a fantasy set in world sorta inspired by the early 1900s but is in a fantasy world. It’s like a mafia movie and kung fu movie had a baby and it was this book. The sequel is out currently, but the third book is set to release next year.

An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon

This is another heavy read. This is a SF story set on a generation ship that has a society very heavily inspired by the antebellum south. There’s class issues, race issues, gender issues, mental health issues. All kinds of things intersecting here. Its fantastic, but a heavy read.

Assassin’s Apprentice by Robin Hobb

This is another fantasy classic, and is the first of the Farseer Trilogy. The title is sort of also a description of the book, so like. I’m not sure what else I can say. I haven’t read further into the series, but people I trust love it, and honestly I need to reread this and read more of the books.

Doomsday Book by Connie Willis

So if you think that Station Eleven might be a bad book to read at the time, then this is THE WORST POSSIBLE BOOK TO READ RIGHT NOW. Or, maybe the best. Depends on how you cope. This is a book about time travelers based in Oxford and the main character accidentally gets stranded in the past right as the Black Plague is about to hit. And it hits. The book is horrific. The second book in the series is much funnier. This one ain’t funny, but is good. Just, oof.

Mistborn or Warbreaker by Brandon Sanderson

So if you want to get into the Cosmere, which is a series of series that interconnect and will ruin your life, then then my personal opinion is to either start with Mistborn or Warbreaker. People might not agree with me, but that’s my personal opinion.

Warbreaker is currently a standalone (a sequel will come out eventually but its not set up for a sequel so you can 100% read it as a standalone). The magic in this world is based on colors, and the story revolves around two sisters. One of them is betrothed to the horrific God King of their neighboring kingdom. The other sister ends up being sent in her place because their dad hates her. I adore Warbreaker so much. It has it all. Two women discovering their true places on the prep/goth spectrum. Talking swords. Vivenna. Everything you can need right there.

Mistborn is a trilogy that is very emo and will ruin you. Its about people who swallow metal to get magic powers and live in world where the dark lord won already, so they’re all emo. And that was the worst description of Mistborn I ever could have written, but I find it too funny to change.

So if you’re interested in the Cosmere, but are afraid to commit long term, pick up Warbreaker. If you want to get into a series right away, pick up Mistborn.

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searchingwardrobes · 5 years ago

Text

The Early Leaf’s a Flower: 3/11

So this is where things really start to shift from the original, and this is probably one of my favorite chapters. I probably worked harder on it than any other! This is also where Neverland mythology begins to come into play. Right before starting the rewrite-a-thon, I re-read J.M. Barrie’s Peter Pan to my eight year old. The famous line “all children, except one, grow up” really hit me for the first time. Wait a second, all children except one? Every version of Neverland I had ever seen, from the cartoon, to Spielberg’s Hook, to Once, portray Neverland as a place where no one ages. But that’s not what the novel says!! Then, later on, the book casually mentions that the Lost Boys are constantly changing because some get killed in battle or - get this - Pan “thins them out” when they get too old. Umm . . . say WHAT? So here’s where my story gets dark with a super sadistic Pan . . . and I’m not sorry. At all. (mwhaha)

If you haven’t noticed, all chapter titles come from Peter Pan. They are either chapter titles in that book or phrases from the book. This one, mocking kisses, actually refers in the novel to Mrs. Darling who has a “mocking kiss conspicuously in the right hand corner of her mouth” which it says not even Mr. Darling or her children can get from her. There’s tons of interpretations for that, none of which have anything to do with how I’m using it here. Here, it has to do with growing up and awakening sexuality, and of course - you know - actual lip locks. So it’s not all dark in this chapter . . .

I’ll stop being an English Lit teacher and shut up now. Except to thank, once again, the incredible mods for the @captainswanbigbang and to my betas - @shippingtheswann , @optomisticgirl , and @distant-rose . This chapter especially deserves massive thanks to Ro for her pirate expertise! And be sure to follow the Captain Swan Rewrite-a-thon because ALL of the fics are incredible!

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

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

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

Words: A little over 7k in this chapter (all chapters will be rather lengthy from here on out)

** Complete and updated every Monday** Also on Ao3

Emma: Age 16

Emma lies in bed, wide awake, staring at the wardrobe across the room. It looks eerily familiar, though she tries to tell herself that’s crazy.

Her new foster family seems incredibly nice. Even the two boys who are the couple’s real children seem excited to have her here instead of jealous. The mother even seemed embarrassed when she showed Emma her room, explaining that it used to be an office, so it didn’t have a closet. She hoped Emma liked the wardrobe she had found at an antique store.

Emma stares at the wardrobe now and thinks of Martha. Another kind foster mother and another wardrobe, almost identical to the other? Happy coincidences like that don’t happen. At least not to Emma Swan.

She huffs and rolls over on her side, and tries not to think about the little boy with the soulful blue eyes. He was just an imaginary friend. A figment of her hurt soul and bruised heart. Her hand hovers over her cheek, and she inwardly berates herself. It was just a peck on the cheek, and she was ten for heaven’s sake! Correction, there was no peck on the cheek because it wasn’t real.

Because now that she’s 16, she knows better. Friends don’t just fall out of the sky – or wardrobes. And real kisses are an enormous disappointment. Like Tom Pierce when she was 13, her first kiss playing spin the bottle at a Halloween party. All she can say about that is that it was wet and sloppy, and he had bad breath. Then there was Robby Eddleston at the school dance last year. She thought he actually liked her when he asked to talk privately behind the bleachers. Then she was pinned against the wall while Robby shoved his tongue unceremoniously down her throat. But a quick knee to the groin had quickly taught Robby that she wasn’t an easy score.

Emma punches her pillow now in irritation. It’s ridiculous that an imaginary kiss to the cheek has been her best yet. Pathetic, Emma. She decides to push thoughts of the wardrobe and that pair of blue eyes from her head.

She’s just drifting off when a familiar creak reaches her ears. She ignores it, assuming she’s already dreaming. But then she hears footsteps padding softly across the hardwood floor. Emma squeezes her eyes shut tighter. Is someone standing over her, or is that her imagination? Then a hand softly touches her hair, and her eyes fly open as she sits up quickly. Her green orbs meet blue, and she gasps in shock. It startles her so much, her hand seems to act on its own and she slaps him across the cheek - hard.

“Bloody hell, Emma what was that for?”

“Killian?” She swallows hard. “I thought . . . I wasn’t sure . . . I mean, you’re real?”

He smiles, even as he rubs his red cheek, and it lights her up inside. “Liam didn’t think you were real either when I finally told him about you. But when I saw that wardrobe in the captain’s quarters, it looked so much like the one from when we were kids, I had to try.”

Emma winces. “Sorry I slapped you.”

Killian shrugs. “I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that.”

Emma stares at him unabashedly by the light of her bedside lamp, taking in how much he has changed. Gone is the scrawny little boy, though he is still of slender build. Just like last time, he’s wearing a nightshirt that hangs to his knees, but she can still see defined muscles in his arms and legs. His chest is broader, and his shoulders are squared back, stronger and more confident than when he was ten. His hair has gotten darker, and it’s longer, hanging down in his eyes so badly, Emma itches to push it back. It also hangs down so close to his shoulders, that he could pull it back in a low ponytail if he wanted to. His freckles are less noticeable, and his complexion is more tanned, making his azure eyes spark even more than she remembered.

“I hope the Captain doesn’t catch me. I could be whipped for being in his quarters. Though it will be worth it, now that I’ve seen you again.”

He ducks his head as he realizes that he’s been chattering on and on, and Emma feels bad for him because she knows she ought to quit staring and say something already. He pushes his hair back from his face, and when he does, Emma notices his ears. They are slightly pointed, almost elf-like. They’re adorable.

He’s adorable.

He’s also cold, she realizes as he rubs his arms and curls his toes into the hardwood floor. Emma lifts the edge of her blankets. “Come here, you’re freezing.”

Those adorable ears of his turn red at her offer and he gapes for a minute like a fish. “That would be bad form, lass. Liam says I should always be a gentleman.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “First off, if you’re that worried, you’ll definitely be nothing but a gentleman. Second, I can take care of myself. If you get handsy, I’ll just put you in your place like I did with Robby Eddleston.”

“Who’s he?” Killian asks as he slides under the blankets next to her.

“Just a jerk who shoved his tongue halfway down my throat without permission.”

Killian’s eyes darken to a stormy, steel tinted cobalt. “He did what?”

Emma shoves him in the shoulder, “Calm down, jeez. I told you, I can take care of myself.”

“What did you do?”

“Kneed him in the jewels,” she says with a shrug, trying to come off as nonchalant.

He grins at her with obvious pride, “That’s a tough lass.”

They fall silent for a moment, and then Emma finally whispers into the dark, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you came back.”

“No need, love,” he quickly assures her, “though I was worried what had happened to you.”

Emma picks at the comforter spread across their laps, “Martha died of a stroke, and I had to go someplace else.”

Killian reaches for her hand, and her movements still. “I’m sorry. I know you said she was a good woman.”

Emma nods, swallowing down the pain. She turns to him with a quirked eyebrow. “Did you get my bunny?”

“I did, thank you,” he nods, “though I regret to say that he ended up in Davy Jones’ locker. My master at the time called me a baby for having it and tossed it out to sea.”

Emma cringes at the word “master,” but Killian doesn’t miss a beat in the telling of his story. “Davy Jones locker?” she asks. “People really say that where you’re from?”

Killian looks confused. “Seamen do.”

“Oh . . . “ she trails off, her brow furrowed as she tries to make sense of the difference between his world and hers.

“Nevertheless,” he continues, “I can’t tell you how much that small gesture meant to me. It had been so long since I had a plaything. Anyway, how has this new home been?”

Emma looks around her at the still unfamiliar surroundings. “Well, I haven’t been here long, actually. I’ve been bounced around a lot of places since Martha, and most haven’t loved me as well as she did. Except Sarah, until I found out she was crazy.”

“Crazy? How so?”

Emma groans at the memory. “She thought I had magic!”

Killian narrows his eyes. “Why is that crazy?”

“You can’t be serious! I mean, she almost got me killed.”

Killian shrugs, then gestures with his hand at the wardrobe. “I travel to you through an enchanted wardrobe, Emma. And you think magic sounds crazy?”

She huffs out a breath. “Well, okay, yes, you and I . . . that’s hard to explain. But me being like Hermione Granger or something? No way.”

“Hermione who?”

Emma laughs as she cocks an eyebrow at him. “You know, Harry Potter.” He just blinks in confusion. “Books. About wizards and witches.”

“Oh,” he says with a nod, but she can tell he’s still a bit confused, and no wonder. When they were ten, he didn’t even know what a movie was. Emma finds his confusion surprisingly endearing.

Emma leans against Killian’s shoulder with a sigh. “Can we not talk about me and my pathetic life? What’s been going on with you?”

Killian secedes to her wishes and begins to speak. He tells her about discovering rum for the first time at thirteen, and then gambling with dice and cards at fourteen. “I’m pretty good,” he brags.

Emma tilts her head up and grins at him saucily, “I’m sure you are.”

He swipes his tongue along his lower lip in a way that is simply unfair, then continues telling her about letting Liam down at every turn. He weaves a story of a storm at sea where all hands are lost but he and Liam; a story that has her hanging on his every word. This leads to him and his brother joining the Navy at 15 and 17, respectively. Emma turns her head again, her eyes wide.

“Isn’t fifteen awfully young for that?”

Killian shrugs, “Some join as powder monkeys at 11 or 12,” he tells her, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. His words remind her once again that their wardrobe connects two very different worlds. She also still wonders if Killian travels through both space AND time. His world seems so old-fashioned compared to hers. “I’ve caught on fast, though. So has Liam. He’s a lieutenant already, and many of the sailors think he will be the youngest yet to make Captain. I’m still just a cabin boy, but my Captain says it’s only because he likes the fine job I do. He’s talking of promoting me soon. This time, I won’t let my brother down.”

They both fall silent for a moment. Emma’s not sure what to make of their bizarre situation. Emma doesn’t want to contemplate what it means if he’s actually 300 years old or something and no longer living in the 20th century, so she decides to change the subject. She turns her hand so their palms are touching and laces her fingers with his.

“What kinds of things have you had to learn? Like sailor’s knots and star charts and stuff?”

“Aye, and other things, too. I’ve had to learn cartography and geography. And languages, too. Greek was the hardest.”

“You know Greek? Like Zeus and Poseidon and all of that?”

The smile he gives her almost seems teasing, “Of course.”

Emma pokes him in the side and grins when a laugh spills from his lips. “Say something in Greek for me.”

His face turns suddenly earnest as he gazes into her eyes and says, “Omorfi kopella.”

“What does that mean?”

He blushes and ducks his head. His unfairly long lashes brush the top of his cheeks as he answers. “I said you were beautiful.”

Killian brushes her cheek lightly with his thumb and then leans towards her. Emma meets him halfway. His lips are soft and warm against hers, and their touch makes her heart soar in her chest. This is what she had always imagined a kiss should be. It’s nothing like kissing Tom Pierce or Robby Eddleston. Killian tilts his head to deepen the kiss as his fingers thread through her hair, and Emma sighs into it. When he pulls back, his eyes are a midnight blue as he rests his forehead against hers.

“The thoughts I’m having right now aren’t very gentlemanly,” he confesses huskily.

Emma chuckles. “Good,” she tells him, thumbing his lower lip, still moist from their kiss.

A bright shaft of light falls across her bed and Emma groans. Killian cups her face in both his hands. “I wish I could stay, but –“

“Your brother,” she finishes for him. She looks long into his eyes. “I get it. You’re all each other has.”

Killian nods and brushes one more brief kiss across her lips as he rises from the bed. He bows to her, taking her hand and brushing his lips across her knuckles. She giggles, and he gives her a slightly roguish smile.

The last thing she sees before he disappears inside the wardrobe is the look of longing in his blue eyes.

“They remind me of Martha’s forget-me-nots,” she thinks to herself, “but sad, too.”

Killian: Age 16

“Get up here, little brother!”

Killian grabs his naval jacket and dashes up the ladder to the deck, grumbling under his breath about it being “younger” brother not “little.” It especially bothers him when Liam is speaking as Lieutenant Jones and not just family. Yet it seems Liam isn’t the only one loose with naval order at the moment. When Killian climbs out of the hold, he finds the rest of the crew chattering excitedly, gazes tilted upward.

“Killian!” Liam calls, racing to his side. “You almost missed the excitement!”

“What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure, but the captain gave me a new sextant to plot our course, and it uses star charts I’ve never seen before.”

Killian’s eyes scan the ship’s deck, his eyes landing on the men wrestling to hoist an unusual sail. He blinks, thinking surely he must be seeing things, but as the sail rises, he finds it is, in fact, made of feathers. In the center of it is the symbol of a horse with wings.

“This sail,” Captain Roberts announces from his place on the quarter deck, “is made of feathers from the wings of the famous mythical horse Pegasus.”

“Captain!” the gunman shouts breathlessly. “Enemy ships off the port bow!”

The Captain ignores the announcement and turns to Liam Jones. “Lieutenant, plot our course!”

“Should we prep the canons, sir?” the gunman asks, confusion clear on his face.

“There will be no need,” Captain Roberts dismisses with a mysterious smile, “where we are headed, they can not follow.”

Killian glances at his brother, who heads for the ship’s wheel, but Liam looks just as confused as he. Killian rushes to the railing along with several other men of lower rank. They lean forward to watch the cannonballs from the enemy splash with a mighty roar into the water a safe distance away: warning shots.

Killian almost loses his balance as the Jewel of the Realm creaks and sways, his stomach dropping. His eyes widen as he sees the ocean fall away below. He and the rest of the men gasp as the reality sets in - the Jewel is airborne.

“Quit gaping and man your stations!” Captain Roberts shouts. “We’re heading to Neverland!”

There’s a quiet murmur after the announcement, even as the men scatter to their duties. Most have never heard of such a realm, while others whisper excitedly of a place they once visited in their dreams as children. The whispered tales seem far-fetched to Killian: a place where your dreams come true, where you can eat chocolate cake all day long, swim with mermaids, and even fly? Even at ten, he would never have believed it.

Of course, a magic wardrobe that takes you to the girl of your dreams seems far-fetched, he supposes. He grins as he remembers Emma’s lips on his, her soft cheeks beneath his calloused fingers, her silken hair tickling his jaw. He has to find a way to get back to her - hopefully tonight. He isn’t sure what this mysterious mission is all about, but surely the captain’s personal cabin boy won’t be needed for whatever it is. He only has to figure out a way to sneak into Captain Roberts’ quarters when the man isn’t there -

“Killian!”

He startles at the sound of his name, and Liam chuckles, clapping a hand to Killian’s shoulder. “Everyone else is mesmerized by our journey to the skies, yet here you are daydreaming.” Liam cocks his head as he regards his younger brother. “Oh no, it’s a lass, isn’t it?”

Killian blushes as he shrugs and returns to his work. “I’m just thinking.”

“If you say so,” Liam laughs as he tugs on Killian’s arm, “but don’t let your brooding cause you to miss this.”

Killian lets his brother drag him over to the railing. The ship cuts cleanly through the white, billowy clouds, with none of the swaying he’s become used to at sea. The air is crisp and a bit cold this high, and a particularly thick cloud suddenly envelopes them.

“Incredible,” Killian whispers.

“Brother, look,” Liam whispers back.

The clouds part, and the Jones brothers gasp as the world of blue and white becomes dark and gray. An island shimmers in the distance, surrounded by a blue-tinged glow. They lean further over the railing as the ship dips and begins its descent.

The Jewel of the Realm has arrived in Neverland.

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

In front of Killian, over his brother’s shoulder, is an inviting beach with palm trees that sway in the warm breeze. Behind him, the Jewel of the Realm is shrouded in an unnatural fog.

“Don’t worry, little brother, it’s a simple mission.”

Killian doesn’t even bother correcting him on the “little” part. “Aren’t you the least bit suspicious? A ship full of navy men, yet only two boys can fulfill this task?”

Liam narrows his eyes. “At eighteen I am hardly a boy.”

Killian chuckles. “You better hope you’re wrong if the superstitions of the rest of the crew are to be believed.”

Liam scoffs. “I think it has more to do with the simplicity of the task. We get the plant, row back to the ship, and we’re heroes.”

Killian hopes his brother is right. Captain Roberts had Killian in mind all along to retrieve the plant, but it was supposed to be twelve year old Jim Hawkins in the row boat, not Liam. Unfortunately, the lad had broken his leg and had to be left behind at the last port. Killian tries to tell himself that the captain is just being cautious, like Liam said, tries to agree with his older brother that the tales about this place are just stories nursemaids tell to their charges at bedtime. Shadows that take you away to the island in your dreams, pixies who blow their dust on children to make them fly, mermaids that drag lazy children to their deaths - it’s all surely nonsense.

They beach the row boat, and Liam slings his satchel over his shoulder. Inside is a sketch of the plant they are looking for. Killian narrows his eyes at the shadowy jungle before them. How are they ever to find one single plant in all this vegetation?

He and Liam hear the movement at the same exact moment and spin as they draw their swords. Standing before them on the beach is a lad about Killian’s age, dressed in a tunic made of green leaves and breeches crudely made of animal skins. The smile he gives them is full of mischief and something a bit more sinister. Killian’s spine crackles with suspicion. He glances at Liam, and it’s clear his brother doesn’t see the boy as a threat at all as the elder Jones casually lowers his sword.

“Is there a king on this island, boy?”

The lad smirks. “Just me.”

Killian narrows his eyes, and the boy glances his way with a knowing grin. Liam pulls the sketch out of his satchel.

“We’re looking for this plant, do you know it?”

The boy’s eyes widen. “Dreamshade? Of course I know it. Believe me, you don’t want to mess with it. It’s the deadliest poison.”

Liam scoffs. “It isn’t poison, it’s medicine.”

The boy crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head. “Who told you that?”

“My captain.”

“He lied. This captain must be quite the ruthless killer. Nothing causes suffering like dreamshade.”

“What’s your name?” Killian asks.

“Killian, don’t waste your time, he’s just a child.”

Killian’s jaw clenches. “I’m about his age. Am I just a child?”

“My name is Peter,” the boy tells them, a gleeful laugh spilling out of him, “and if you’re tired of them trying to turn you into men, you can come and play with me and my lost boys.”

“We don’t have time for games,” Liam mutters.

“Suit yourself,” Peter tells them with a shrug, “if it’s dreamshade you seek, then you’ll have no trouble finding it.”

Then, with a crowing laugh, and to the utter amazement of both Jones boys, Peter launches himself into the sky and speeds away upon the clouds back into the recesses of the forest.

“Okay,” Killian says slowly, “clearly that particular rumor was true.”

“Let’s just get this plant and get the bloody hell out of here.”

“I agree to the getting out of here part, but maybe we should proceed with caution about the plant.”

Liam’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. “Surely you don’t believe that boy over our own captain.”

Killian’s eyes narrow. “I’ve never trusted Captain Roberts completely, and besides, Peter is a native of this island. Perhaps we should -”

“Killian,” Liam cuts him off, “you don’t trust anyone.”

The smile his brother gives him softens the words, and Killian smiles back. “I trust you.”

“Then trust me in this,” Liam says with a slap to Killian’s shoulder. “Without order, without discipline to your superiors, this navy life won’t work.”

Killian wonders, not for the first time, if that’s the very reason this navy idea is a better fit for Liam than it is for him. Nevertheless, he sighs in resignation. “I’d follow you anywhere, brother, you know that.”

And with a nod of understanding and trust, the two of them plunge into the deep woods. The jungle is dark and damp, and Killian only has the trust in his brother’s navigational skills and his compass to find the way. Killian grips said compass in his sweaty hand, pushing aside the tendrils of fear that seek to grip his heart. There’s something ominous in this jungle, and he has the feeling they’re being watched.

Liam squints down at the sketch in his hand. “I thought the boy said this plant was abundant here.”

“Perhaps we’ve -”

Before Killian can finish his sentence, a crowing shout fills the air, and filthy boys drop from the branches above them and burst from the thick foliage on all sides. Some have arrows notched to the bows they carry, others have spears resting upon their shoulders, while still others grip daggers in their fists. All of them have smeared their faces with mud and are garbed in either bits and pieces of the nature around them or tattered remains of clothing. They snarl and gnash their teeth more like animals than humans. He and Liam pull out their swords, but they are completely surrounded. Some of the boys only reach as high as Killian’s hip, clearly only eight or nine at the most. The last thing he wants to do is kill children, even if they do appear savage. The circle of boys part to allow their leader through.

“May I introduce you to my lost boys,” Peter grins. “This island is ours with no grown ups to tell us what to do.”

Liam shakes his head. “All we want is the plant. We told you.”

Peter tilts his head as he steps closer. “You’ve already grown up.” He turns to Killian. “But you - you could join my crew. I can tell you like to play.”

For one, dreamlike moment, Killian wants to tell Peter yes. No expectations, no responsibilities - it sounds wonderful. Playing sounds nice, too. He hasn’t played since his mother passed, and when was that? How old was he? He can’t remember anymore. The parents who were supposed to be there for you and protect your innocence left, leaving you at the mercy of rough hands and sinister eyes. Grown ups were the people who stole your childhood, who tossed your plaything into the deep, dark sea. He thinks of the stuffed rabbit Emma gave him, pure white and soft, bobbing farther and farther away from him. His mind can almost see it, with that bright pink ribbon. His heart beats wildly, he sways where he stands, and -

Liam steps closer, his shoulder brushing up against Killian, and it’s that contact that snaps the sixteen year old out of it. Yes, his brother. He can’t let Liam down.

“Never.”

He expects Peter to scoff, get angry, or turn on him. Instead, his gaze takes him in and a slow, sinister smile plays across his face.

“We’ll see.”

Casually, Peter turns to one of his crew and takes the spear the lad holds. With a subtle gesture, he gives the boys a command, and they all relax their postures, holding their weapons loosely. Pan spins the spear playfully as he turns back to Lieutenant Jones.

“You still trust your captain, lieutenant?”

“Always,” Liam insists.

Peter lifts the spear and taps it gently against Liam’s chest. “Let’s test that, shall we? That plant you seek? The tip of this spear has been coated with its sap. Your captain says it is medicine, I say it’s poison. Who should you trust?”

“Liam,” Killian pleads.

Liam lifts his hand to still his brother. “I have no reason to trust you, boy.”

Peter’s eyes flash with a mixture of bloodlust and glee as he slashes the spear brutally across Liam’s chest. Liam cries out and stumbles to his knees, hand to his chest as blood stains his shirt. Killian shouts and falls to the ground beside his brother.

“Just a scratch,” Pan laughs, practically bouncing around them. The lost boys join in his revelry, spinning and giggling maniacally.

Liam groans and falls back, his body shaking. Killian catches him in his lap. Through the gash in his shirt, the wound on Liam’s chest is turning black around the edges and vines of black extend outward, spreading across his torso.

“What’s happening to him?” Killian shouts at Peter.

“Dreamshade poison. I told you. He’ll be dead in minutes.”

Killian goes pale as he looks at the boy in shock. It isn’t so much the casual way he spoke the words, but the spots of red in his eyes and the pleasure curling his lips.

“K-Killian,” Liam gasps, reaching towards his little brother with a trembling hand. Killian takes it and clasps it as tears stream down his face.

“Stay with me, brother,” Killian weeps, then he looks frantically at Peter. “Save him! Please!”

The boy shakes his head. “No one can be saved from dreamshade.”

“Killian,” Liam says again, wincing against the pain, “I’m sorry, little brother. I’m so sor-”

His voice cuts off and he goes limp in Killian’s arms, his hand slipping out of its hold and falling to the ground.

“No!” Killian screams. “No, no, no!”

He cradles Liam’s still form to his chest, rocking back and forth. Sobs wrack his body. He doesn’t know if the lost boys are still there or what they are doing. The whole world could fall apart and he wouldn’t notice.

“It’s a shame, really. I tried to warn him.”

Killian’s head snaps up at the sound of Pan’s voice. Anger fills his veins, but when he speaks, only despair colors his words. “He was all that I had.”

“I know,” Pan replies in a voice that almost sounds sympathetic. He crouches down next to where Killian still clutches his brother’s form. “And now that he’s gone, you finally have the look that all my lost boys share. The look of someone who is completely and utterly alone. An orphan.”

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

Killian watches Pan through the flickering flames of the campfire. The branch of a sapling rests in Killian’s lap, and his fingers twist a vine around each end to make a bow. Pan plays a song on his pipes, and several of the lost boys dance about to its melody. The song calls Killian, urging him to cast aside his pain and join the dance.

But he won’t let himself.

He squints up at the sun. He guesses it’s been about thirty three hours and . . . around twenty minutes since the lost boys tossed Liam’s body into the sea. Thirty three hours and twenty minutes without Liam. His entire life, Liam has been there, and now he’s gone.

Yesterday at dawn, he snuck down to the beach. The rowboat was still there, but the Jewel of the Realm was no longer a hulking form shrouded in the fog. He had taken the rowboat out - not for long and not far - and the ship was nowhere near shore. Surely they hadn’t flown away on the Pegasus sail. Surely they would wait longer than that before giving up on the Jones brothers. He guessed they had simply sailed out of sight or found a cove to hide in. Yet despite his hopes, it’s obvious that his captain cares little for mere boys. No search party has been sent, and Killian doubts it ever will.

Peter reminds him often that Liam’s death is the captain’s fault. The fault of every grown up on that ship, actually. They never cared about you. They never believed in you. Did you really think they would let you be a hero? There’s truth to Pan’s words, Killian knows this, and he’d be lying if he said hatred for his captain didn’t burn within his breast. But he’ll also never forget that it was Pan who sliced the spear laced with dreamshade across his brother’s chest. He’ll never forget Pan’s gleeful smile of satisfaction or the spots of red in his eyes as Liam’s blood seeped his naval shirt.

Killian eyes Pan across the fire now. The dance has reached a feverish pitch, and Killian already knows, in just thirty three hours as a lost boy, that the dance will soon fall apart into a wrestling match. Killian also knows that his only hope for survival is to play the part of a lost boy. Yet despite the naval blue ripped at the knees, despite the way he crowed when they set his naval jacket on fire, despite the mud smeared across his cheeks, Killian will never stop hating Peter Pan.

“Has Peter showed you how to lace that with dreamshade?”

Killian turns to the boy who has plopped down next to him. They all have names, but he can’t remember this one. His black hair is curled tightly against his head, his teeth seem white despite their filthiness against his dark skin. Freckles are barely visible across the bridge of his nose, and his brown eyes seem different somehow from the other boys.

“You forgot my name already didn’t, you?” he chuckles. “It’s Starkey.”

“Right,” Killian mutters, biting off the end of the vine that holds the arrowhead in place.

“There’s a trick to the dreamshade so you don’t nick yourself,” Starkey continues despite Killian’s unfriendliness. “Pan doesn’t always warn the boys. Thinks it’s funny.”

Killian casts a curious glance Starkey’s way. There’s definitely something in those mahogany eyes . . .

“He’s a bit sadistic, isn’t he?” Starkey asks, and Killian gets the impression he’s testing the waters somehow. The lad swallows, glancing nervously to where Peter is crowing over the inevitable wrestling match. “All boys but one grow up,” Starkey almost whispers.

Killian’s heart beats faster as he stares into the flames. “You mean,” he whispers back, not looking at his companion, “the others do?”

“I’m near thinning time,” Starkey replies, “so are Nibs and . Some are oblivious though. Ruffio, for example, he’ll no doubt stay faithful to the bitter end. I hate the look in their eyes when we turn on them.”

Killian turns his head in shock, but Starkey is slipping away into the jungle already. Starkey has obviously told him these things for a reason. But why?

As the next few weeks go by, he and Starkey have more whispered conversations, and Killian is surprised how quickly they become friends. Starkey’s tale is similar to his own, having spent time as a slave on a schooner. The only difference is that his parents were murdered and he was kidnapped, a trauma that Killian is sadly able to imagine now that Liam bled out in his arms.

Slowly, as the days go by, Starkey brings more boys into his confidence: Nibs, first, then Jooks, Noodler, Cecco, and Curly.

A hunting crew returns with a boar to roast, and that night there is a feast and a wild rumpus to follow. Though there is no alcohol, the whole thing reminds Killian of how he used to act when he’d drink too much rum. Killian feasts, he dances, even plasters a smile upon his face, but it’s all a show for Peter Pan. He can’t stop thinking of his brother for one, but there’s also Starkey’s cryptic words : thinning time.

Killian plops down, exhausted, and grabs a coconut to guzzle some of its milk. As he swipes the back of his hand over his mouth, he sees Pan at his side, leaning forward and scrutinizing his face. It takes all of Killian’s willpower not to startle back. For a long moment Peter studies him, and it causes a chill to run down Killian’s spine. When Pan finally speaks, his voice holds barely contained anger and a trace of shock.

“You have a mocking kiss in the corner of your mouth.”

Killian blinks. “Wh-what are you talking about?” His mind goes to Emma, of course, not that she is ever far from his thoughts. Especially now with Liam gone, he longs for the wardrobe in Captain Roberts’ cabin and fears he may never see it again.

“There,” Pan accuses, pointing with a dirty finger, “perfectly conspicuous in the right-hand corner. How did I not see it before?”

Killian glances around nervously as the party noises have gone silent. Several lost boys have drawn closer, concern furrowing their brows.

“He has a kiss, Peter?” one of the boys asks.

“Kisses are dangerous!” another one gasps.

“Yes,” Peter answers, his eyes narrowing with a faint glimmer of red, “a mocking kiss, and one he’s very fond of too.”

Killian swallows hard as he rises to his feet. The lost boys seem to be closing the noose around him, and he looks around frantically. There seems to be no choice but to fess up, hope for mercy, though Peter doesn’t seem the merciful type.

“So I’ve kissed lasses. So what? I’m 16!”

“No,” Pan hisses, “not lasses. One lass. A special lass.”

Killian clenches both fists, his face flushing at the way Pan spits out the words. Emma is special, and he won’t deny it. Ever.

“We don’t like girls,” Peter snarls, “they fancy themselves your mother, making you wash before meals and putting you to bed at a proper time.”

Killian narrows his eyes. “Um . . . I think you’re a bit confused.”

It was the wrong thing to say. He couldn’t help his sass, has rarely been able to help it.

“Your brother was obvious. He’d already chosen to grow up. But you, you tricked me. You can’t be a lost boy with that kiss always mocking me.”

Killian knows a heartbeat before it happens that the lost boys will fall upon him. What he doesn’t expect is to find his old naval sword in his hand or for Starkey, Nibs, and several others to fall in line just behind him. He glances at Starkey right before the two sides clash, and the other boy winks at him knowingly.

Those on Killian’s side are all older, but they are fewer in number. And Starkey was right, not all the other boys close to thinning time are willing to turn on their leader. Rufio is the oldest and fiercest fighter, his loyalty to Pan clear in his gaze and his willingness to die. Killian guesses he is seventeen, and he’s broader and taller than Killian. Nevertheless, Killian has naval training with a sword. He holds back, however, unwilling to slaughter little boys, no matter the situation. Yet when he finds himself face to face, blade to blade, with Rufio, something shifts. Pan may not want his boys to grow up, but Rufio fights like a man. Unrefined and a bit desperate, but with strength and muscle behind it.

All skirmishes cease as the sound of the blades clashing draws everyone’s attention. Ruffio fights dirty while Killian has been taught to fight like a gentleman. At first, Rufio’s style seems to be winning when he trips Killian then flings sand in his face. Yet Killian’s training has given him muscle memory, and even with his eyes burning, he acts instinctively.

Killian’s blade pierces Rufio’s heart. The boy’s eyes widen in shock before he hits the ground, blood spreading quickly across his chest. The lost boys are silent. Chest heaving, Killian turns towards Pan, lifting his blood-stained sword.

“I have a crew of my own now,” he tells the demon child, “and we’re leaving.”

Pan narrows his eyes, and before Killian can register what’s happening, he’s taken flight and making circles around him. Pan lands just behind Killian and startles him when he speaks.

“I’m afraid I can’t allow mutiny in my ranks.”

Killian turns to face Pan, ready for a fight, but is unprepared when Peter plunges his hand into his chest. Killian gasps and chokes as Pan squeezes. Then he tugs and with a sharp pain, yanks Killian’s heart out. Killian’s mouth hangs open in shock as he presses his hand to his chest. There’s no blood. How is there no blood?

Pan lifts a glowing red object and holds it in Killian’s face - his heart. It pulses, bright red, with tiny swirls of dark flitting through it.

“Look at this, Killian Jones, you have a touch of darkness in your heart.”

Killian doesn’t know what to do, he can scarcely comprehend what is happening. He’s heard rumors of witches and warlocks who could steal a man’s heart. He never expected it of this boy, however. Killian drops to his knees as Pan squeezes his heart.

“I could crush it right now and end you,” Pan mocks gleefully, “but since you attempted to steal my crew, I’m thinking of a more fitting punishment.”

Pan leans forward and slams Killian’s heart back into his chest. In the same moment, Peter’s other hand snatches Killian’s abandoned sword and he brings it down upon Killian’s wrist, slicing off his left hand. Killian screams in pain, holding his severed appendage to his chest as he falls backwards. Starkey catches him and helps him to his feet, Nibs supports him on the other side.

Pan kicks at the lifeless hand where it lies upon the ground. “They say a vein runs from the heart right down to the tip of your left hand. Fitting don’t you think?”

Pan and his loyal followers melt into the jungle, and Killian doubles over in pain. “Leave me,” he grits out to Starkey and Nibs.

But the two former lost boys in addition to the few others who had stood at Killian’s back refuse to leave him. They drag him through the jungle in the opposite direction of the rest of Pan’s crew.

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

Killian Jones stands at the top of the highest peak in Neverland. The last month has been a time of healing for him. Healing from losing his hand. Healing from the loss of his brother.

But the thirst for revenge? That hasn’t waned.

Killian looks down at the curve of metal at the end of his left arm. His jaw clenches as he gazes upon it, then back out to sea. His new crew had taken him to a couple of fairies - Tinker Bell and Tiger Lily. They had enough pixie dust between them to help him heal, though it was still a long, slow process. No amount of light magic, however, could give him back his hand.

“Hook?”

Killian turns to where Starkey stands further down the hill. That’s what his crew calls him now: Hook. His blue eyes gaze back out to sea at a familiar speck of white on the horizon.

“Get the crew together,” he tells his faithful friend. “We have ourselves a ship.”

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

For only the second time in his life, Killian Jones has bloodied his sword. Killing Rufio had been largely in self defense, and he had felt sick as he watched the boy’s life blood stain the ground. He doesn’t feel sick now as he strides amongst the naval crew he used to be a part of. He and his new crew had fought ruthlessly, and now their remaining enemies have been tied and gagged.

“If you don’t want to die today,” Killian announces, “you can pledge allegiance to me, Captain Hook.”

A choking laugh escapes the gagged mouth of the Jewel of the Realm’s captain. Killian’s eyes flash when he hears it, and he strides to Captain Roberts. He leans down and yanks the gag from the man’s mouth with his hook.

“Is something funny?” he snaps.

“You are still nothing but a boy.”

Killian leans close to the man’s ear and speaks to him in a whisper. “Really? Is that why you sent my brother and I like lambs to the slaughter? You sent mere boys to retrieve your poison?”

“You knew what you were signing up for when you joined the navy.” Roberts turns and spits in Killian’s face.

Behind Hook, his new crew of former lost boys gasp in shock. Their new leader stands erect, calmly wiping the spittle away with his handkerchief.

“What about loyalty, Roberts? When my brother and I didn’t promptly return, you sailed away and left us.” Killian clenches his jaw. “I see Hawkins is back on board. Were you returning to send him to this accursed island? Still a coward?”

Killian doesn’t need the man to answer; he knows it to be true. Hawkins stands behind him, shoulder to shoulder with Starkey, his arms crossed as he coldly assesses his captain. Killian catches the boy’s eye and Jim nods his approval before Killian hefts his sword and plunges it into Captain Robert’s shoulder. The man flings his head back and screams. Seeing the blood spill upon the deck as he pulls the sword back reminds Killian of Liam, and filled with rage, he stabs the man in the other shoulder. Whimpers color the man’s grunts of pain.

“What do you want?” he manages to choke out.

Killian raises his hook and plunges it into the man’s chest. “I want my brother back, you son of a bitch.” He twists his hook viciously before yanking it out, and the man’s lifeless body crumples to the deck.

Silence reigns on the deck as Captain Hook calmly straightens, wiping his bloody hook clean on his handkerchief. “Raise the black flag!” he shouts to Starkey. “This ship is now the Jolly Roger!”

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

#cs ff #csrt #captain swan rewrite a thon #cs neverland au #cs canon divergence #magic wardrobe #soul mates #childhood sweethearts #angst #slow burn

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syndianites · 4 years ago

Text

The After; The Athar: Chapter One

Chapter 1/?

Chapter 1 [Here] - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

AO3: This Chapter - Full Fic

Summary: Post Season 2, non-Mianitian Compliant. The crew finally land back into the world after the events of Ruxomar. That should be a good thing, right? But Wag is feeling the burden of everything that has happened to him, and he didn’t even get his magic back to boot.

It’s hard to be happy when life has been so shitty.

Relationships: Sparklington (end-game), Marthlington (temporarily), Sparkanite (Spark x Ianite) (past, mentioned), Motanite

Content Warnings: Death Mentions, Implied Depression, Implied PTSD, Self-Deprecation, Breaking up a Relationship (Marthlington)

AN: I’ve been working on this since September? of 2019! I have 5 chapters done and still going. I wanted to wait to post this until I was done with it, but my impatience has gotten the better of me.

@the-moon-pal I’m coming for your crown king >:)

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They’d made it home a couple weeks ago, to the land of Mianite. It’d been such a relief. They got to meet the rest of the alts, got to watch Dianite meet the other gods- and cringe at the tension that crackled between them- got to find all their homes again. For once, in the past-however-long, there was peace. They could relax.

So why did Wag feel like utter shit?

Right. Because he literally got the worst part of the deal.

He thought his powers would come back when they got home. And they did, for a few hours. Not the full range, but a lot of it. It felt good to be full of magic again. It felt like he was himself.

But then things started to fall apart. Martha grew distant. His powers fell away in fits and bursts. He realized that the rest of FyreUK had moved on after they made amends in Ruxomar. They found their way on. Without him.

Nothing was the same, he realized, as he spent more time around the place they had called ‘home.’

Spark had done what he did best: built a city. Well, more like a village. What had once been a place of buildings thrown about at random and mostly open plains was now sparsely populated. Neatly arranged shops and a few houses took up the space next to the beach. New people had even begun to show up.

Everything was changing around him, yet he was stuck holding onto the past. Holding onto his wizardhood, to his brotherhood, to a partner that was farther now than ever, and- worst of all- he was still holding onto the hope that everything would just… go back. To how it was.

To when he was important.

Well, like fuck is he was going to sit around and loathe his existence. He could at least try to do something. Swear to Athar, he wasn’t going to turn into a lump of depression just because he couldn’t handle change! He’d rather be a walking mass of depression! That way he could at least pretend he was being productive.

Potions or spellbooks? A question as old as time. Potions were a staple in his life. If there was one thing that would never leave him, it was his ability to make fucking potions. Like, fucking make potions. Not potions to help people fuck. On the other hand, the more he poured through spellbooks, the more likely he was to get closer to finding out how to get his powers back.

Maybe his powers left when FyreUK left, taking all the glory of Athar with it. But that was too terrible of a thought, so that got chucked in the ‘not-today-bitch’ bin. Which was a handy dandy mental bin that stored all of his worst problems.

He never could fit himself in it, though.

So potions it was.

Now that he was out of the business of magic, most of his money came from his potion making. He had made yet another little wizard- alchemist? Potion master?- tower. Plopped some advertisements in el Pueblo de Spark and took orders to pass the time. He had to fund his botany experiments somehow. Someone had to introduce weed into this world, that might as well be him.

If he was going down in history for something, that wasn’t ‘Word Renowned Wizard Extraordinaire’, then ‘The Guy who Made Weed’ would sure as hell work.

Wag pulled up his log of orders. Luck, luck, dexterity, healing, luck, love- yeah, those didn’t really work but he’d make it anyways-, strength, luck, yadda, yadda, yadda. Lots of luck. He could probably get away with making a batch or two of luck potions, then work through the rest.

He spared a glance outside. Spark’s little hut-square town was beginning to develop into a pleasant little fishing hole. Surprisingly- or not, given how deep the waters were nearby- the place was actually a fairly hot place for single fish to mingle. Warm waters, nice and deep, lots of cover, and not much human interference. Until now, anyway.

Either the fishermen were starting to get a fair amount of revenue going or they really needed help. Luck potions were among his most expensive. The ingredients were hard to acquire regardless of how you made it.

Rabbit’s foot? Morally and physically hard to get a hold of. Rainbow trout? Terribly rare. ‘Star-light Fruit’? Not even confirmed to exist.

His method was a little more straightforward. A butt load of four-leaf clovers, a tiny bit of alcohol, and a fuckton of glitter. Clovers for the magic, glitter for the look, and alcohol for the feeling of being lucky.

It was a very bullshit potion.

It took forever to find the clovers, let alone collect them.

Athar give him strength.

Giving one last look outside, he tucked his log book in his cloak. Then he went and rummaged through his chests.

Monotony here he comes.

~~~

Wag was halfway through his second batch of luck potions when a distant knock came from his door, followed by the sound of bells. If not for the bells he’d have ignored the knocking. With a stretch, he putzed down the stairs. The many flights of stairs.

He missed being able to make elevators.

Opening the door revealed one Mr. Sparklez, hair tousled but otherwise neatly groomed. He was relaxed, if not a little winded from his trek up the hill Wag claimed as his own.

Wag smiled. “Hey Sparklez, what brings you up to my tower of terror today? Here for a chat or a swanky danky potion?”

He gestured for Jordan to head inside and get comfortable, but the man waved him off. “Actually,” Jordan started, “I was wondering if you’d seen Martha? I needed to ask her something and I haven’t seen her all day. Figured she’d be with you.”

Ah, so Jordan wanted to find Martha.

Ouch.

Doing his best to ignore the squeeze in his chest, Wag kept his smile firmly in place. “No, I don’t think I have. She, uh.” He paused, going for a nonchalant shrug. “She doesn’t come around the tower all that often. I’d ask Spark instead. She tends to hang around him more. Her good ole pops and all, y’know. They do have a lot to catch up on.” Wag tried to ignore how weak his words sounded. He didn’t want it to sound weird that Martha wouldn’t come around, but instead he just sounded pathetic.

Great.

Jordan gave Wag an awkward smile, seemingly uncomfortable with the sad display. “Ah, alright. I’ll ask around for Spark.”

He turned to leave but caught himself before he was fully turned away. Jordan chewed on his words. “Are you-” His eyes swept over Wag. “How have you been? We don’t see you as much anymore. Other than Tom, I guess, but it's hard to get rid of Tom once he decides you’re friends, y’know?”

“I’ve been,” Wag wanted to laugh, but pushed through the sentence, “swell, thank you. I would get out more, but I’m always so busy potion making. Gotta pay the bills somehow.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue. It wasn’t the exact truth, but he did spend a lot of time on potions.

Letting his shoulders settle, Jordan gave a small laugh. “Who would press a wizard to pay bills? Someone who wants to catch on fire, I’m sure.” He opted for a friendly smile. “If you ever want to hang out or something, let me know. I’ve been getting kind of bored between Spark telling me how to be a better champion of Ianite and living in an actual, peaceful society.”

Wag waved after Jordan as he began his descent. Yeah, a wizard. A frown tugged at his face while he shut the door.

A real fucking wizard.

~~~

Making potions was rather methodical. Each step took a certain amount of time, each item had certain effects, meshed certain ways with other items. It was like following a recipe, but with bigger consequences for messing up. Cooler results, though.

Wag had just finished melting down the clovers he’d gathered and extracting the essence- which is to say he lit it on fire after sprinkling a generous amount of blaze powder on it- when Jordan had stopped by. Which was convenient, since he needed to wait for the weird half-liquid half-slime to cool off enough to move it. The awkward potions, glitter, and alcohol were already prepped. Now all he needed to do was mix shit together.

Oh joy.

At the very least, it was satisfying to roll the clover essence into little balls to plop into an awkward potion and then watch them dissolve. The clover gave the essence a natural, healthy green color while the blaze powder, which clung to even the most thoroughly washed slime, gave it something of a yellow highlight. Golden glitter gets dumped in to make it feel like you were about to drink something special. Yes, the glitter was edible. No, most people didn’t realize he put glitter in this shit. Then the alcohol was for that background buzz. It was meant to dull the senses just enough to trick people into believing, wholeheartedly, in whatever god-forsaken abomination he just made.

Sorry. What ever divinely crafted, totally safe potion he’d just made.

Sure, he didn’t test it himself, but it seemed to work well enough for the people he gave it to. So where was the harm?

It was fine.

The next part was perhaps the most boring. And he’d spent all day yesterday crawling on the ground looking for four-leaf clovers.

Tagging and packaging. Writing names on slips of paper, tying them to the potion, putting it in a small, padded box to prevent any breaks. Rinse, repeat. It was annoying, wasted money, all that jazz, but it helped the look. Who wants to be handed a regular old potion, by hand, when you can get it in some majestic looking box to really add some sparkle to your magic?

Maybe Ruxomar rubbed off on him in a bad way.

In any case, the look was important, and by Athar was he going to make it look fucking fantastic.

Unfortunately, this task was also terribly, horribly monotonous. Worse yet, it left room for thinking. And thinking was Wag’s least favorite pastime since floating in the Void. Especially since floating in the Void.

It lead to him thinking deeply about himself and Athar knows that most of his life problems could be traced right back to that. His mistakes, his fuck ups, his shortcomings, all of it came back to him thinking way too hard about himself.

Gross.

Instead, he tried to run over potion recipes in his mind. Or any recipe, really. All the different ways to make a fire resistance potion when you don’t have magma cream. Counting how many potions used lemongrass. Figuring out what potions would make it more likely to catch fish. Literally anything. As long as it was potions, it was fine.

Not about himself, not about Athar, not about wizards, and not about… Martha.

Yeah, that last one would be a one hit k-o.

But now that his mind had touched on the subject, it dug in. Sunk it's claws into the delicate stability of his mind. Dramatic, he knows, but that’s how it felt. It was like the more he tried to get the thought out of his mind, the further it burrowed into him. Awful, painful, and not even worth the effort.

Martha… clearly didn’t care about him anymore. Or, well. He winced at the thought. She didn’t love him like she used to. If she, uh. Did in the first place. But this was old news. This was something he pondered after she seemed to avoid him like the plague, seemed to grimace when she looked over and saw him and not him.

Steve.

The name sat heavy in his head. They hadn’t meshed well, ‘specially where Martha was concerned. But they managed, for her, because they loved her.

Wag felt guilty, looking back on it now. For stealing their time together, for messing with their relationship. They hadn’t gotten to be together enough, had lost too much time before-

Yeah, he didn’t like thinking about Steve more than he didn’t like thinking about Martha. Wag didn’t feel like he deserved to think the name, let alone put himself up against his image. Steve was a hero. He rebelled against Helgrind in a cunning, intelligent way, he was selfless in more aspects than any of the heroes that appeared in Ruxomar, and he was the one to sacrifice the most. To sacrifice it all.

Where did Wag stand against that?

Honestly, it was no wonder Martha couldn’t stand to look at him. He was just a reminder of Steve, a reminder that she didn’t have Steve. That she had him instead.

Had she ever loved him?

That wasn’t the point. The point was that Martha was hurting, trying to pick up the pieces of what she left behind in Ruxomar. What she had lost. And Wag wasn’t doing anything to help. He was stuck up in his tower, making potions, trying to forget about everything that he wasn’t.

He should try to look for her.

But the last time he did, he got turned away. She was “catching up with her father.” She was “busy settling into the new world.” She was “trying to get a grip on her new goddesshood.”

Wag was persistent, but even he could get the hint.

By Athar, he got the hint. “I don’t want to see you.” “Don’t come near me.” “You can’t help me.”

He wondered if Spark was doing anything to help her or if he was also caught up in everything that had happened. From what he had learned about the man in Ruxomar, he was devoted to his wife. No, he gave everything for his wife. Learning she was dead after working up everything to see her again?

He had played it well. When he heard the news, Spark kept strong, only letting his tears show. If he had gone home later after parting with Martha, who had her own grief and guilt, crumbling on the inside no one would know. And if he had locked himself away and let everything loose, let himself break, none would be the wiser. But they could guess, they could give him a passing glance, a thoughtful frown.

Wag wondered if he still carried that grief around with him.

Spark had taken to trying to discipline Jordan to be a better champion of Ianite. It had made the man uncomfortable with getting told he could be a better follower and all. Or rather, having it implied that he wasn’t the best follower. Spark was stubborn in ‘training’ the champion of Ianite to be a full fledged follower.

Still, Jordan didn’t appreciate the sentiment.

Wag understood. Having the husband of the very goddess you watched die get on your case about being a better follower? When the crushing weight of guilt hadn’t fully let off your shoulders? He wondered if Spark hadn’t taken to coaching Jordan to make himself feel better, to remind himself that he would have kept Ianite safe, that he would have fixed the world before it broke out from under them.

It sounded like torture.

But it helped settle Wag. Call him selfish, but he felt better knowing other people had real problems, real grief, to deal with. Sure, Wag had his hang up with Martha. Yeah, he had his issues with being-a-wizard-yet-not. But he wasn’t as close to neck deep as Spark was. Like Martha was.

He wished belittling his problems made them feel less suffocating.

Martha. Martha was still pushing him away. And he was letting her. What did that say about him? About their relationship?

A sigh heaved out of his chest. It was like someone stuck a large rock right in his rib cage, tucked neatly between his lungs. Hard, heavy, and an all around burden. Potions. He needed to think about potions.

His hands betrayed him with a subtle shake. How many names did he have left to write? How many boxes did he have left to pack? Fuck if he knew. He had to keep counting, to find a way to wrap up all his issues, his panic, his fear, into a nice little package and tuck it away like a forgotten gift.

Athar help me, Wag tried to control his thoughts, I might drive myself insane by the end of the year.

As if on cue, another knock at his door broke his thoughts. He tried not to feel relieved to rush away from his potion packaging. He was fine, cool as a cucumber.

Throwing open the door, he came face to face with his second visitor of the day. Tom.

Tom was standing in front of his door almost uncertainly, like he wasn’t quite sure why or how he got there. He took one sweep over Wag’s unhidden face and a determined, focus look set in on his own.

“We,” Tom looped his arm around Wag’s in a sudden movement, “are going out somewhere. No if’s, and’s, or but’s.”

Eyebrows shooting up, Wag let himself be dragged from his house with an aborted motion to close the door behind him. He mournfully watched his door stay ajar. Hopefully no one else ventured up the hill today, otherwise he might be down a few potions.

“Why?” Wag turned his attention back to Tom, who was resolute in his intention of pulling Wag away to Athar knows where.

A grin was shot in his direction. “You look like you need to get out of the house. Also, I’m real fuckin’ bored and you’re clearly in need of some company.”

A wry smile snuck on Wag’s face. “Oh lucky me. We should get some tea, live up to our trademark.”

Tom nodded. “Absolutely. Let’s hit town. Fuck it up. Flaunt our hero-ness and get shit faced.”

“Let’s not get shit faced, and especially not get kicked out of town for making a ruckus.” Wag fondly rolled his eyes. “I do quite like living here and it’d be a shame to have to follow you around to make sure you don’t die.”

Tom gave a mocked offended gasp, free hand coming up to his forehead as he leaned away. “How dare you! I’ll have you know I’d never die if I didn’t live in a community. I’m a rogue, don’t you know.” He sniffed. “I can easily hold my own in the dangerous wilds.”

“Without anyone to pester and annoy?”

“I can pester anything!”

Wag bit his lip to stop a laugh. Tom always brought such energy with him. It was refreshing. Maybe he was right, he just needed some company.

He wouldn’t say that to his face, though.

“I suppose so,” Wag continued, “You are rather persistent. I bet you could annoy the sun into setting early.”

“Nah, I’d blow that fucker up instead.” Tom winked, snuggled back up to Wag, effectively trapping his arm. “I still think we should get shit faced. Drink our sorrows into the drain, throw them up another day.”

Wag mock gagged. “I’d rather keep them down the drain, thank you. Besides, what a waste of alcohol. If I’m drinking, I’m drinking to keep it down. Not!” He quickly cut Tom off, “That I want to go out drinking.” He eyed the sky, giving a disapproving look to Tom when he saw that it was still early afternoon. “No one should be getting drunk before the sun touches the horizon.”

With a pout, Tom leaned into Wag’s side. “Lame. I suppose,” he drew out the word, “we could go get some good old fashioned tea. Call it a pre-game without the game.”

Wag rolled his eyes. He wasn’t looking to out game his issues. That wasn’t a solution. It’d just make him turn into a sad drunk and give him a headache in the morning.

This is why he needed weed back.

But also, he didn’t want to develop another problem. Gotta keep it clean. For now.

Tom still had his own plans, alcohol or no alcohol. “I find when I’m feeling down that doing something batshit stupid makes me feel better. We should go fishing with our bare hands- no, with only our teeth- and no shirt on. Attract ladies and gents to us alike. Are they looking at our finely chiseled chests or our daring courage? Who’s to say.”

“You are far from chiseled my friend. Try soft.” Wag poked Tom in the stomach jokingly. “And who said that I’m feeling down?”

“Hey!” Tom swatted his hand away. “I’ll have you know I’m more ripped than you’ll ever be!” He huffed, squeezing Wag’s arm. They walked in silence for a moment, now upon the town. After wandering the street for a second, Tom spoke again, quieter. “I had this feeling.” Wag eyes him. “It was weird. My gut was telling me to check in on you. And then when you opened the door it was written on your face. Even I’m not dumb enough to miss that.”

Wag heard the unspoken I was worried carried in Tom’s words. Talk about soft. He squeezed Tom’s arm back. “Oh wow, a gut feeling?” He teased lightly, “I think it was just you missing my magical presence. It is hard to go too long without seeing me.” If only that were true. “But I’m here now, and we can go do something absolutely stupid, just for you.”

They share a smile, a quiet thank you floating between them.

Tom gets a glint in his eyes. “Does this mean we can go catch fish with our bare hands?”

“I suppose so.” Wag drawled. “How else are we going to show off our toned figures?”

That got him a laugh, one concerningly maniacal, and he was dragged between houses.

Yeah, he might regret this.

Tom turned and gave him a smile that was all teeth and no common sense. He paused next to the shore, a little ways off from the docks. Shucking his clothes, one Tom Syndicate stood proudly in his underwear, unconcerned about the effect of sunlight on zombified skin. People gave them a look of distaste.

Oh, he was definitely going to regret this.

~~~

Soggy was one way to describe how Wag felt. Wet as shit was another. All in all, he was rather pleased with himself and the rather large, shiny fish sitting in his lap. The fish which so happened to be a fair amount larger than Tom’s.

“Oh fuck you.” Tom spluttered around a mouthful of fish, laying down an arm’s length away. He had gathered quite an amount of fish, a solid number for catching something with your mouth alone. None of them were that large. In fact, most were an average, if not slightly below, size.

Wag eyed the pile smugly. He may have only caught two, but damn if he didn’t go big.

“Well, it seems that I’ve caught myself a winner.” He tried not to look too pleased. The look on Tom’s face told him he failed.

Tom scoffed, letting the fish fall to the sandy floor with a wet fwop. “You got lucky! Clearly, quantity wins the game here. Sure, you caught one big, old, dumb motherfucker, but I caught a dozen other dumbass fish! I should get the win.”

“Wasn’t size the goal here?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do.”

Before Tom could fire back, a voice from behind interrupted him. “I think the two fools sitting in their underwear soaked to the bone are both losers.”

Wag tilted his head back to see Tucker standing with his hands in his pockets, back slouched, and an easy smile on his face, standing just where the sand turned to grass. Next to him was one lovely fox lady, Sonja herself, and one Sparkle butt, Jordan.

Nice to see the gang all here.

Tom sat up. “How dare you! I’ll have you know we are the best fishers on the island!”

Tucker raised a single eyebrow. “Really now? Are all the other fishers out at sea today?”

“Well excuse you, Mr. Boner. I’ll have you know we caught all of this,” Tom sweeps his arm across their score. “And I think that’s quite the haul.”

“How long did it take you?”

“Fuck you.”

Tucker snickered, moving closer to poke his foot into Tom’s side. “That’s what I thought.”

Wag, meanwhile, was carefully moving his prize to the side so he could stand up. Brushing the sand off himself, he exchanged a smile with Sonja and a nod with Jordan. Sonja gave him a good natured headshake. “And here I thought you were smarter than this.”

Jordan’s eyes trailed down Wag’s chest before flittering away. “Right down to your boxers? Tom must have gotten you good.”

“Well, I was fairly set on getting a nice cup of tea and walking across the beach, hand in hand like real lovers, but Tom was far more intent to go all macho and catch fish with his mouth alone.” Wag leaned in with a hand against his mouth to give a stage whisper. “Between you and me, I think he’s trying to step up his oral game.” He winked.

Jordan groaned, giving Wag what he thought to be a rather dramatic eye roll. That wasn’t even the worst he had to offer, and he’d given him such an easy setup! Sonja waggled her eyebrows and giggled when Tom butted in. “It’ll never be as good as yours dear.” He batted his eyelashes mock innocently.

The group burst into laughter. Tucker stepped closer, swinging an arm around his vaguely damp shoulders. “Hey, it’s nice to see you out and about man. It’s been a hot second. Almost thought you’d drank the wrong potion and kicked it or something.”

Wag nodded seriously. “Quite the real possibility. Why, just yesterday I almost drank real glitter! The kind you’re not supposed to eat.”

“Been there,” Sonja added, “I thought I was going to die when I did. Just gave me a very colorful trip to the bathroom.”

Tom grinned as he moved to elbow Jordan in the side. “I bet our good ole Captain here wouldn’t know the difference. How else did he get his namesake, right Mr. Sparkley Butt?”

“Hardy har,” Jordan gave Tom a fondly disgusted look. “The name’s Captain Sparklez, that ‘namesake’ came from you giving me a stupid nickname.”

They fell into more chatter, giving Tom and Wag the time to put their clothes back on, Tom not caring that he was still wet as he put his suit back on, while Wag just slung his cloak over himself. No point in putting pants on over wet underwear.

The group, all now clothed to some extent, began to wander back towards town. Wag was more than content to listen to Tom ramble on. He would get interrupted by Tucker when he said something ‘incredibly stupid’ and, more rarely, by Jordan, who would correct some technical thing that Tom clearly did not give a shit about.

Sonja drifted next to him, giving Wag a conspiratorial smile. “You’re looking mighty fine in just a robe and boxers. Is this the bedroom Wag special? Or is that sans boxers?”

“The bedroom Wag special is whatever you want it to be.” He winked. “It’s magic all around.”

They exchanged a laugh, falling silent again.

Wag knew that wasn’t what Sonja really wanted to talk about.

She looked back at him, a warm look in her eyes. “It’s nice. To see you out. Been a while, y’know?” Sonja stretched her arms out in front of her. “It really has been a bit since we’ve talked. And since you’ve left the house. But honestly?” Her tail swishes behind her. “I could have made a few more treks up that damn mountain myself.”

Shaking his head, Wag elbowed her side lightly. “It is a fairly tall hill, but I think mountain is a bit of an overstatement.” It was, in fact, a bitch of a climb, but Wag didn’t think it was that bad. He’d put the tower just on the other side of the Glowstone Forest, across from the Priest’s house. (What was it called again? Forest of the Void? Abyss Forest? Obsidian Trees? Yeah, he didn’t know or care).

Left unsaid was a ‘That’s okay, you don’t have to go out of your way’.

He received an eye roll. “Please, the only trek worse than that is up to where Tucker’s first house was. I was so happy when we moved it down the mountain. Well, into.”

It’s no trouble, her words left hanging, I don’t mind.

Wag huffed. How dare she be considerate. “You know what’s worse than a trek up a mountain? A trek up a mountain to get some rare flower, only to be spited by the universe and have not a single flower growing up there. Honestly, I could use some help from someone so used to climbing mountains.” A smirk pulled at his face. “Or maybe just send someone up there for me.”

We could always hang out when I’m playing master botanist. If you’d like.

Sonja smiled at him, but couldn’t resist getting a dig in. “Aw, did you skip leg day? Have some chicken legs over there? That’s alright, I’m sure someone,” she tilts her head, eyes sweeping past the buildings around them, “would be willing. Get a nice little lackey so you can rest your old bones at home and complain about how the cold makes your joints stiff.”

“How dare you,” Wag sniffed, hand held up to his heart. “I’ll have you know, my joints are just fine in the cold! Some of us just aren’t made of the cold, little miss fox.”

Sonja, ever so mature, stuck her tongue out at him.

They kept up some conversation, occasionally stopping to listen in to whatever Tom was saying. Wag, for a moment, realized that he had missed this. Missed them. That even though he wanted to avoid all the new things in this world, he’d always have his friends.

A quiet, hopeless voice asked if they’d leave him too.

~~~

There was nothing quite like hiking up a hill, in only your boxers, a little buzzed, during the night time. The pure amount of skeletons that had sniffed around looking for a cheap shot alone was bad enough, but the fact that his legs already hurt from struggling to fish with just his mouth without drowning? Yeah, it felt more like he was climbing up a mountain that was near vertical.

Fuck gravity.

A pit of warmth had settled in his chest a couple hours ago. Whether it was the alcohol that Tucker, of all people, had got the group into drinking or just the effect of being with friends for a while, Wag felt content. Not a common feeling in recent times. It was nice.

Really nice.

Upon reaching his door, his mind scrambled to figure out why it was left slightly open. He shrugged. As long as nothing was missing or stolen, he didn’t really care.

He made his way inside- making sure to actually close the door behind him- and wandered over to the stairs. Ah, his mortal enemy. Between being a wizard way back when and the magic rampant in Ruxomar, he had gotten way too used to avoiding stairs. Now it was a chore to move up and down the tower. But his bed was upstairs and he was not sleeping on the crappy couch he shoved into the lobby for guests or customers again.

So stairs it was.

By the time he got halfway up the stairs, he wanted to quit. Why, in Athar’s name, did he put his room on the third highest level? Stupidity, that’s why. The view was so not worth it.

When he actually made it up to the correct floor, he pushed the door to his room open, chucked his clothes to one side, and collapsed in bed. Now this, this was worth it. Soft, plush, warm, and very much without skeletons.

The less arrows being shot at him the better.

A soft chuckle caught his attention. Or rather, killed the peace he had wrapped around himself mere hours earlier.

He didn’t move. Not because he was scared. No, he knew who was in his room. He just wanted to pretend, for a moment, like this was something he was used to.

Like coming home to his lover being home wouldn’t surprise him.

The bed dipped beside him and his robed and boxer-ed glory. A hand ran through his hair. Wag tried not to tense.

“Seems like you had a good night out.” Her voice was like silk, soft and pleasant on his ears. “Hopefully they didn’t hassle you too much.”

Wag breathed. His chest was tight, emotion punching at his ribs. “Yeah,” he said, “It was nice to have some time with them again.”

All of this felt so forgein, now. To have her here. Was she here? Or did he drink more than he had originally thought. Shit.

Martha scratched his head. “I do have to say, I’m surprised that you actually left the tower. You’ve been holed up here for so long I thought I’d have to drag you out.” He could hear the smile in her voice. Or maybe he was imagining it. His head was a mess and he wasn’t quite sure what he was making up and what was real.

It was kind of pathetic.

He laughed. “Yeah, Tom showed up and dragged me out. Not complaining though, I had a lot of fun. It was nice to take off from work. Making potions gets boring.”

So did sitting in your own depressing thoughts, but that was more exhausting than boring.

“Oh,” Wag turned his head to face Martha, looking up at her. The darkness made her hair stand out. It looked like a halo around her face, bringing out her lovely lilac eyes. She was just as beautiful as the last time he’d seen her. But there was something heavy in her eyes that she tried to wipe away when his own reached her. “Jordan was looking for you earlier. Did he ever find you?”

Martha blinked and the heaviness was gone. Ish. He knew it was there. Somewhere.

“Ah, no.” She frowned. “I’ll have to see what he needs tomorrow.”

He nodded. To be honest, Wag wasn’t convinced Martha was actually sitting here with him. Which was kind of sad. Very sad.

“I can come with, if you’d like,” Wag rushed out, trying not to sound desperate. “We haven’t had much time together, which is understandable with your dad being around and all the stuff you need to do. And, y’know, it’d be nice to walk with you for a bit.”

Oh, he sounded so desperate.

Yikes.

A smile graced Martha’s lips. “Sure, I’d love that.” Wag let out a breath. “We’ll take a stroll, get a nice scenic view of the beach as we go, call it a date-” She cut off. The heaviness came back to her eyes. Wag knew what she was thinking. Who she was thinking about.

It hurt.

“I’m going to go take a shower before getting ready for bed. You can go ahead and sleep, if you’d like. I know you’ve had a long day and you’re probably tired. Don’t force yourself for me.” Martha stood as she said this, fingers trailing in his hair. Then she left.

Reluctantly, Wag got up to do just that. Changed his boxers and hung up his cloak. Buried himself back into bed, under the covers.

Yeah. It’d be a date.

~~~

Martha didn’t like to get up early. Neither did Wag. Normally, this lead to them sleepily cuddling until one felt so inspired as to get up. Normally.

Ever since the group returned to the land of Mianite, Martha didn’t sleep as well. Between nightmares, being a fledgling goddess, and the… absence of certain people, she found herself waking earlier and earlier.

Wag had his fair share of sleep troubles. Where sleep troubles stopped Martha from sleeping as much, it led to Wag sleeping more. The less he slept the more exhausted he was. The more exhausted he was the more he slept. It was a vicious cycle and actually the reason Wag didn’t leave the house as much.

Nonetheless, both found themselves getting ready to leave just after dawn. Martha moved like last night didn’t end awkward and uncomfortable. Bright, cheerful, and painfully affectionate with Wag. Like she hadn’t been avoiding him for the better part of their stay here.

The worst part was that this wasn’t the first time she came back like nothing was wrong. It was almost like she could tell when he was starting to doubt their relationship. Except, he was constantly doubting their relationship. Even when things had been going well. But this time, it was like she knew when he was thinking about how much of a relationship they didn’t have.

Which was concerning if she actually knew what he thought.

Wag, on the other hand, moved like a zombie. Tired, groggy, and barely awake. The picture of early morning beauty. It wasn’t far off from how he used to act, but now it was like someone had chained weights to his feet.

Damn, he was tired as shit.

Martha had set about making some breakfast from the little food he had. Some eggs, some- thankfully not spoiled- fruit, and milk. Wag was pretty sure he didn’t have milk, but he wasn’t going to question it. She was the more magical of the two, now, so it was within reason that she could get milk in the few minutes he’d lagged behind her in getting out of bed.

He, on the other hand, was on the task of making coffee. Coffee was something of a luxury here, since it was so new to the land. It wasn’t grown naturally on the island and Wag wasn’t sure if it was imported from some far off place or if it had been introduced by the earlier dimension hoppers that still hung around. Spark, for sure, seemed to run on the stuff.

That didn’t really matter to Wag, though. He had a plant of it in his garden, for ease of access, but more importantly to see if it could be used to help crossbreed weed into existence. No far off land had procured the plant yet, so he would still strive to be the maker of weed.

Not the best plan in the world, but that wouldn’t matter once he actually made the plant.

He really shouldn’t be encouraging substance abuse.

Surely, coffee would wake him up. Then he could go on a walk with Martha and do that thing they seemed to do where they avoided those topics and pretended like everything was fine. And maybe, just maybe, they’d enjoy the conversation. Maybe they’d feel something again, feel whole for the brief moment where they let themselves forget about the person who was missing, the person that clearly held more place in Martha’s heart for it to have torn so much when he-

Maybe Wag would get his shit together and let things die between them.

Maybe he’d decide that fighting an uphill battle wasn’t worth it.

For now, though, he was content to pretend things were the same. It was better than being entirely, wholly alone. And, deep in his heart, he still loved her. So, so much.

Enough that he knew it would hurt no matter what he did.

They chatted over the food Martha cooked. She complemented his coffee, the beans from the plant he owned, and he told her that the cooking is just as good as it’d always been.

Neither mentioned that it was usually Steve, not either of them, that did the cooking.

They tossed little affections at each other with ease. Like it was second nature. A brush of hands, a quick smile, a peck on the cheek. It was like a dance. As though they were trying to make a show of how much they still cared, how much nothing had changed despite the fact that everything had changed.

Hands loosely held together, they left the house as a unit, holding up a conversation with ease. If either of them tripped up in their speech as they avoided that topic or this word, neither called each other out for it. For all that everything was off and wrong, they made it work. They found a way to shove a cube into a round hole.

Whether it was because they wanted it to work so bad or because the hole was a giant chasm with space for miles was up to debate.

The beach was calm in the early morning. Fishers were stocking up their ships to start up on their daily trip, tightening a rope here, making space there. Few people walked about the town, the kids either asleep or getting hassled to eat breakfast. With so few people out, it felt like they were on the outskirts of life, just the two of them. Like viewing the world through a painting.

That illusion was helped by the sheer height of Jordan’s tree. It was still there, despite the damage it had received when Tom got to it. If he looked closely, Wag could see the remains of burn marks and grooves held in the thick bark. He had heard that, after the heroes had left, Ianite had nursed the tree back to life in honor of her lost champion.

He ignored the fact that Ianite had sent them into the void in the first place.

Wag himself had left before that, called on to help the heroes that he had watched over as a distant wizard. Even now, he wondered if it had been worth it. To lose everything because he was asked to. In his weakest moments, he wondered if it hadn’t been the gods’ way of throwing him out.

That thought hurt the most out of everything in his life and he never let it linger.

It wasn’t long before they made it to the base of the hill that Jordan’s tree- sorry, Jerry’s Tree- sat beside. They weren’t that close to getting inside yet, but it was a milestone.

As they climbed the hill, massive roots stretching out below them, Wag started up some conversation about the different species of trees. He never once mentioned apple trees. It was part of his botany, after all, and important to keep track of. The types of trees, not apple trees. Apple trees were just one of those topics and therefore something they made an unspoken agreement not to talk about.

He pondered, during his ramble, that Martha could have just flown up the tree. She could do that, after all. Wag couldn’t. Not anymore. The worst part was that he’d help build this tree, or, well, make it. Way back then. That was a sore spot to think about, but even still he was in awe of the tree. Not because of the fact that he's contributed to it- no, he had felt a sense of pride for that a long time ago. Rather, because of how it’d regrown.

Ianite’s gentle hand had turned it from merely a large, enchanting tree to a behemoth of divine wonder. Its branches had spread further, with more room between them and the tips reaching towards the heavens. The leaves had shaped up and gotten fuller, surely the size of a full-grown adult by now. Fireflies could be seen lazily hovering about clusters of leaves, giving the tree a pleasant, natural lighting.

Many more platforms and walkways had been built, new buildings having been added on top of that. They stretched from one end to the other. The most daring teased the edge of a branch, hung firmly along the length of it. The walkways were either long rope bridges made of braided vines that shimmered a faint purple or ramps made and reinforced by the same wood the tree was made of, the bottom featuring fancy swirls alongside the support beams.

Other vines, flora, and bushes lined the branches and platforms. Though they looked like they were leeching off the tree at first, a closer inspection- granted you were on the tree to get an inspection- showed they were delicately wrapped around the branches and sneakily planted in hidden pots for a more natural look. The flowers ranged from all sorts of purples- fitting. Buddleias enclosed doorways, Hyacinthus were wound along lanterns strung along pathways, and an abundance of Jacaranda could be found wherever space was made for flora.

The more he looked the more nature there was to see, the more connecting walkways there were strung along, the more everything there was. It felt like the whole world was home under the canopy.

The tree had gone from the house of a solitary man to a city of nature.

It didn’t feel like the same tree.

Wag pushed aside the nagging thought that it was better than anything he could have ever made. Ianite was a full fledged goddess, Wag was- had been- a mere wizard with the idea of godhood in his head. What he made had been incredible for mortal standards, and was still incredible for the standards he had held himself to. It would do no good to compare himself to Ianite, especially when all she had done was repair what was already there.

As they made their way up to the crest of the hill, following the path from the town to the tree as it curled around Jordan’s old home, Wag spared a glance at the birch and quartz house. It was simple, sleek and minimal. It suited Jordan. Of course, Jordan himself had made it, so why wouldn’t it?

Compared to Jerry’s Tree, though, it seemed rather dull and insignificant.

Actually.

Wag spared a closer look at the smaller home. It looked lived in. A frown pulled at his lips. Was someone living there? Who else, other than Jordan, would?

Martha had picked up the conversation now, adding in details about trees that she had seen in her travels long ago, ones he’d never have had the chance to see. There were many interesting species, some magical in the same sense as Silverwoods, some as plain as a simple oak tree, but all more than enough to satiate Wag’s desire to know more. His mind kept getting pulled back to the Casa de Sparklez, though.

A thought struck him, one he’d had just moments before.

Jerry’s Tree looked and felt so different, now that Ianite had tended to it. Like it was a different tree. Did Jordan think the same? Did it feel less like home, after being away for so long and having watched it burn?

Was Jordan living in his older house because the tree felt so forgein?

Martha was going on about a beautiful tree known for the lights its seeds shone, especially during the night hours. It really sounded like a sight to behold. More than that, the gentle, awed look on Martha’s face pulled at Wag’s heart.

Take care of her.

There was a sour taste in his mouth. Wag decided not to mention what he had just noticed. That was Jordan’s business, not his.

Martha was looking at him now, a small, shy smile on her lips. Wag felt like if he said the wrong thing it’d disappear in an instant. Like Martha was used to having her interests pushed aside, or used to pushing them aside herself when people didn’t seem to care about what she was saying.

Take care of her.

He offered a smile back, a genuine one. He really did love her. More than anything, he wanted to keep loving her. But something told him it wouldn’t work. That what they had had started to decay sometime around the end of Ruxomar, around when he left.

No, around when Martha almost became Mrs. a instead of a Ms.

Bitterness clutched at Wag’s heart. For all the love he held for her, he wondered, again and again, if she held the same. If she ever held the same, if she even held something close to the same.

Take care of her.

Looking up at Jerry’s Tree, Wag remembered what it used to be. He remembered watching it burn, the pain he had felt in seeing his hard work get tarnished, in seeing a friend’s home wither away.

Now, though, it was different. Not quite a home, anymore, but reborn. Alive. And maybe, in the future, it’d be a home again, or maybe not. Maybe it needed to burn for it to become what it was now. Jordan would have never built it up to this, but Ianite had.

Maybe that was the secret, Wag pondered. Maybe you had to let things burn to be able to build them up stronger.

He looked at Martha again, at the softness in her face and the hardness in her eyes. His heart pulled in so many directions. Love, anguish, love, despair, love, hurt, love love love.

Yeah, he was going to have to let this relationship burn.

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dannyphannypack · 5 years ago

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Crossover Fic Recs

Hey, saw your post for some fic recs! Unfortunately I can't continue the wonderful thread of reblogs because I wish to remain anonymous, but here have some cool crossovers that I didn't see get rec'd yet :D (you can either post this or add it to the reblogs, I don't mind either way)

Just Another Meteor Freak [500k words, complete] (and it's sequel, which is unfortunately incomplete) is a Smallville/DP crossover that's absolutely a fantastic read and I cannot recommend it enough, it's one of my faves! Brief synopsis: Danny goes to live with his aunt Martha Kent after his family dies (and for once Danny's family dying in a crossover fic doesn't have anything to do with TUE!), and misunderstandings of the good kind and mishaps ensue because of course Danny and Clark's hero complexes come into play. It's got hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, sibling-esque-bonding, and all sorts of cool stuff, including ghost king headcannons and new powers for Danny. It takes place mostly from a Smallville perspective, but Danny's woven in so seamlessly that you won't believe he wasn't in the original show to begin with. I read it for the first time after having not watched Smallville in years and I could still understand it though, so I think that if you haven't watched Smallville before you could still enjoy the fic a lot!

And like, honestly, I totally recommend other stuff by this author (jadedbluerose) too. She's got a Merlin/DP crossover that's pretty fantastic, but unfortunately she hasn't updated anything since 2014 :( still worth the read though!!

Spirited Away [70k, complete] is a Harry Potter/DP crossover, it's honestly THE MOST hilarious fic I've ever read. Synopsis: Danny is an unwilling student at Hogwarts, and the most chaotic Hufflepuff the world has ever seen. He claims he's been kidnapped but when no one listens to him, he raises all kinds of hell to try and get kicked out. And if that doesn't work, well, he can always sue them. 100% worth the read, it will definitely make you laugh.

Various Superphantom (Supernatural/DP) crossovers by sapphireswimming. Literally anything Superphantom found here? Totally the best. You can also check out Superphantom fics by surelysilly (whose fics are more on the darker end of the spectrum, and their prose style is kinda abstract rather than your traditional linear narrative) Vitaliciouscreations (they've got a oneshot collection that's pretty fun, as well as a oneshot that I wish they'd continue and a complete cute 13k-word penpal fic.)

How to befriend a ghost [80k, incomplete] is a HTTYD/DP crossover in which Danny gets stuck in the Viking era, and I originally started reading this for the Danny & Hiccup friendship because it's adorable and both of them see how similar they are to each other and find kinship in that. The dragon Danny gets (because this is a HTTYD crossover, this is inevitable!) really sneaks into your heart though, and I ABSOLUTELY adore Sparky as much as I adore Toothless. He's very lovable and complements Danny super well! Of course, it's not all friendship bonding and training dragons, the archipelago is Danny's home now (until he can find his way back to Amity Park/his own century) and he's going to protect it too when trouble arises, just like the dragons do. He even gets new powers along the way. This fic is pretty fun, there's a lot of switching perspectives and you really see the characters' voices come through in it, and you even get to see the dragons' POV, which is really interesting since you get to learn Sparky's backstory!

Den Mother [8k, ongoing] is a Young Justice/DP crossover that acknowledges the fact that Danny is by all rights a first-generation hero, and he's treated with the respect as such and gets to join the Justice League rather than the YJ team. Of course, he doesn't WANT to join the league at first, which is a different take than you'd expect, but he reluctantly agrees and is then given the same responsibilities as a Justice League member--that is, to teach the YJ something about teamwork or whatever. It's not very long right now, but the premise is so good! It has a lot of potential.

A Foreign Perspective [200k words, complete] is a DNAngel/DP crossover that I saw @scrollingdown call a fandom classic once and honestly agree, even though I don't think many people know/have read it. It's a cute friendship fic that focuses on Phantom (not Danny, but Phantom specifically) making his first friend, an older boy named Daisuke, who seems normal at first, but is slowly revealed to be a little more understanding of Danny's situation than he appears. Some comfort involved too since Danny deals with a little more with the idea of mourning/loss than in canon, seeing as Daisuke thinks he's a full ghost and therefore a teenager that died, and Danny learns to be a different kind of hero because of it. Really cool fic too since you don't need to know DNAngel at all to understand the fic, since it's told from DP's perspective, and you get to learn about Daisuke as Danny does. It's just super sweet and it's got some action here and there that makes it exciting, and it's really a fun read.

Other stuff by this author is worth the read too! They've got oneshots of a HP crossover and Ghost Whisperer crossover, and a sadly incomplete HTTYD crossover [100k words] that is still super super good and also deals with ideas about mourning and loss. Their non-crossover stuff is also pretty interesting (there's a Mute!Danny AU and Dash kinda-redemption oneshot I really liked).

Diversity [150k, ongoing] is another Ghost Whisperer/DP crossover, it's a found-family fic where Danny runs away from home after his family dies in the events post TUE. He ends up running into Melinda and she goes out of her way to help him. There's a couple underlying mysteries surrounding the ghosts that haunt this fic, and Melinda tries to understand Danny's past and ends up tangled in a conspiracy because Danny's hiding his ghostly alter-ego and also the GIW are involved at some point (and they are much more menacing here than in canon). It's totally a page-turner, and you can get as invested as Melinda in hoping Danny heals from his loss. Spellbound [150k, ongoing] is a HP/DP crossover by the same author! Danny accidentally gets trapped by Magical Britain and is bitter about it, but he's trying to make the best of it. The Wizards have no idea what to make of him, but he just wants to go home, and he makes a couple friends while he plots his escape. (It's actually been a while since I read that one, so I'm a bit fuzzy on the details, but I do remember feeling bad for Danny in this fic, poor boy's lonely and can't even interact with kids his own age because he's an unknown creature to the wizards. Good thing Danny's never been one to follow authority.)

A Visit to Paris [10k, complete] is a Miraculous Ladybug/DP crossover in which Danny is Akumatized... sort of. The results are hilarious: Danny's a troll, Hawkmoth is frustrated, the heroes aren't really sure what to make of it, and Danny and Adrien make a lot of puns. Oh, and Danny is the only one smart enough to fix Paris' villain problem (okay, so it might be slightly cracky). It reminds me very much of Spirited Away, which I mentioned earlier. It's got the same level of chaos that's for sure. All in all, it's a very, very fun read.

A Different Sort of House Call [50k, incomplete] is a House MD/DP crossover, it's been years since I read it but I've always considered it one of the fandom classics too? It was definitely one of the first things to pop to mind when I was trying to recall all the cool memorable crossovers to rec you, so this goes on the list too. It's Danny at the hospital with House, and the doctors are trying to diagnose him without knowing about his ghost half (and Danny's not exactly willing to tell them either). There's angst (especially since the author wrote this to follow Lab Rat by AnneriaWings), Vlad trying to be an ally (sorta?), and House being clever as usual. Sadly it's incomplete but it's still super good!!

Running Blind [20k, complete] is a CSI/DP crossover (it took me forever to find the link again since it wasn't listed as a crossover). It's super good, Danny runs away for reasons unknown (at the beginning of course) and gets caught up in a murder investigation and he suspects the culprit is supernatural so obviously he helps out. The CSI guys are both trying to protect him (thinking he was a target for the murderer) but also trying to uncover his past and the reasons he ran away. When you find out why he ran away, you might be awed like I was (especially when you realize how long it had been since he ran) or you might be unimpressed, but the aftermath and his family/friends finally catching up to him might make up for that. I kinda liked how Vlad was written here too.

Ghost Crimes and its sequels is a Criminal Minds/DP crossover. It's the first in a very long series (currently 500k+ words in total) that expands on the DP world and lore, and also involves a lot more murder, death, blood (and the other related gore-ish stuff), and overall realism. Like, Danny fights what is basically Jack the Ripper and its terrifying. It's kind of like a "dark and gritty" DP (but like, not unbearably or overwhelmingly dark and gritty), angst sprinkled here and there, along with darker themes and less light-hearted issues (mental health/trauma/depression/etc. and neglect/abuse and like, actual competent adults like social workers and stuff are a real thing in this fic). There's a lot going on but it's got its lighter nice moments too (Dani is there and gets to be a part of Danny's family, Val's in on the secret, among other things). Also some of the chapters are illustrated, it's great. Definitely check it out!

Okay that's a lot of fics so I'm gonna stop now. Have fun reading!!

#danny phantom #phanfic #crossover #submission #THIS IS SO GOOD !#THANK YOU OMG !

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