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hollyhomburg · 4 years ago

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Reasons Wretched and Divine (Pt. 7)

(Hybrid au) (YoonMinJoon x Reader) (Mafia au)

Summary: After years of abuse, you’ve all finally found each other. But for one of you- the fear still lingers, hidden in the shadows. Yoongi doesn’t want much, just a few more weeks, but he only has until the end of the summer.

Parings: Snake hybrid! Yoongi x Dog hybrid! Jimin x Dog hybrid! Namjoon x Pregnant! Reader, Platonic Vmin, allusions to 2seok,

Genre: Hybrid au, Polyamory au, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, Pregnancy, Mafia au

Tags: Domestic abuse, references to sexual abuse- and choosing to have sex even though you’ve been through sa, physical abuse, polyamory negotiations, Post-traumatic stress disorder, mute characters, brief gore at the end, pregnant m/c, frottage, marking kink, fingering, oral f. receiving, Voyeurism, exhibitionism, implied death but dont worry I do not write MCD!!!!

A/n: just for posterity's sake! i was drunk when i posted this! enjoy! full gangbang comes in (y/n) next chapter! (oh god im going to hell).

W/c: 10.5k

Song Rec: Like Real People do ~ Hozier

~ Series Masterlist ~

2 Years Earlier

- If Jeon Jungkook where so esoterically inclined, he would write a book on how he had become the most dangerous man in the underworld. It would be a short book though; because Jungkook had only 2 rules for himself. The first was to always get up after he’d been hit during a fight (even if it took him a second) and the second was to know when to mind his own business.

- Jungkook was always able to get up after being hit, Even when he’d been a street kid, with not a penny to his name and a whole lot of anger in his mouth. ready to spit vitriol at anyone who would pause and listen. He’d always been able to get up. The pain giving him a kind of sick clarity that he eventually sought out instead of tried to escape. Jungkook could never think as clearly as he did during a fight; or when he was in pain. And that was probably because of his father.

- But whatever. That man was 6 feet under, (his mother on the other hand- no- that bitch certainly had more than one dept to pay still). He didn’t have a lot of time or energy to put into dealing with that particular trauma (why he honestly felt like sometimes- he liked being hit). Most of his energy went into staying alive. Even now- when living and surviving teetered on the same edge. Jungkook had more pressing matters to tend to than dealing with his own fragile mind.

- The way he would get up and hop around for a second to soak in the clarity after being hit during a scuffle was one of the reasons why he’d been given his street name: The Playboy Bunny; further set in stone with his tattoo of the same moniker under his left eye. A cheekbone he’d tap and say “you want to hit me? why don’t you try your luck and see how well it turns out for you.”

- He was doing reconnaissance, Sneaking around the back alley with his hood up and his glasses on- disguising his black eye that was sure to get more than a few looks from passers-by. The ears of the playboy bunny tattoo peeking out over the top of his mask.

- He keeps his eyes on the crowd waiting for some sort of handoff- to see anything at all. But he’d lost his target through the crowd and has no drive to find them in the dizzying rush of people and umbrellas. Not yet. Not when the hum of addiction lurks in his veins.

- Jungkook pauses lighting a cigarette, when a commotion to the side hidden around a corner- blurs his concentration. The world snapping back into focus when he sinks his fingernails into his palm. Terse voices. A couple fighting in the alleyway perpendicular to his.

- Minding his own business was a particular skill of his- it took one kind of person to know when to step in, and another to know which problems weren't worth the headache. And unless it involved the acquisition money or some step therein, it wasn’t a problem worth getting into in Jungkook’s opinion.

- But Jungkook can’t stop his ears from hearing snippets of conversation, a low and angry male voice. The sound of a smack. “You just had to embarrass me like that, didn’t you? First, you come out dressed like a slob and then you act like a fucking whore- I swear if I see you give eyes to another man this week I'll beat you five ways to Sunday”

- The sound of a soft female voice, so quiet- almost indistinguishable from the pouring rain, “I wasn’t-” another smack.

- Jungkook has been hit so many times he knows the sound of it, the ragged gasp the woman lets out, also quite- like even the pain takes up too much space.

- His body starts to move before his mind thinks it through as he gives up position in favor of investigating the noise. There he sees it, ivy growing up the wall next to the back exit of some restaurant. A woman, small crouching in front of a grotesque man. A baggy coat buttoned tight around her small form. hair swept back in a tight bun. Red lipstick smudged. Though you check your hands and think its blood for a moment before you remember you’re wearing it.

- Jungkook waits for a moment before he watches you stand on shaky legs. you get up.

- The rest of the underworld might be old grudges and blood feuds but Jungkook was only here to be a businessman. He didn’t have time for ego and arrogance, let alone time for altruism...

- Usually.

- He looks on for a moment, too sluggish without nicotine, but Jungkook’s lingering stare almost seems to spur the man on. He’s wearing a jacket with a military patch, a badge; some sort of congratulation for service done no doubt. and Jungkook feels his distaste for the man deepen.

- “What you looking at punk?” he slurs. Stalking forward as if to shove Jungkook. He almost wants to tut- that would be an expensive action. Jungkook wonders if the man is maybe high or drunk or both. He’s has had his fair share of experience with junkies and he knows one when he sees one.

- “Nothing, just a pig beating his girlfriend.” The man settles for shoving Jungkook back. And Jungkook lets him. You don’t look up, don’t do anything but lean to the side, like the brick wall is the only thing keeping you up. Jungkook sees the back of your hand, black and blue, the other bruises on your neck. You only make eye contact with him once. Just slightly. Barely in passing.

- You look like Jungkook used to look. He remembers in the savage bite of an open-handed slap- the fear he sees in your eyes. He looks and looks. And it aches so viscerally as Jungkook watches you go, your hurt echoes through him. You look beaten down and broken like Jungkook used too; before he’d decided he was done taking punches from people who were supposed to love him- Were supposed to care.

- (Before he realized life wasn't supposed to hurt)

- He’s never been one to feel things for other people, the empathy sparing him through most of the suffering he’s seen. It’s not that he’s unfeeling; it’s just that Jungkook’s life has forced him to feel concerned only for himself and no one else. His own survival is his first priority; Not others.

- He watches you walk away, And you don’t look back at him. Rushing to keep up with your husband's steps. He waits until you disappear into the crowd before he lifts his phone to his ear and makes a call. “Hey, I need you to flag all of the cars that leave the parking lot, they’re just a couple, should be coming to you soon.”

- Jeon Jungkook had become the most powerful man in the underworld because of two reasons; by being able to take punches, and by knowing when to mind his own business.

- But For this, Jungkook thinks he can make an exception.

- (You won't remember meeting Jeon Jungkook, but Jungkook will always remember you).

~.~

Now

-It comes as no surprise that your little speech fades after a few days and the rest of the hybrids quick to return to treating Yoongi with a mix of disdain and fear. Though mostly- this seems to be caused by Minhyung's group and the other canine hybrids. Namjoon hears them whispering about ‘favoritism’ before they catch on that he’s listening in. And in the days following your impromptu departure from the farm, you find people quiet even further whenever Yoongi's brought up. Staring when Yoongi comes close, afraid to interact with him.

- Even Jimin is greeted mostly with silence from all but a few. The bunny hybrids don’t act so skittish anymore, and the cat hybrids could care less used to sticking to their own group. Taehyung seems to have encouraged the other bear hybrids to make an actual effort and they at least say hello now. It’s better than the derisive comments of the dog hybrids, or the snooty noses stuck high in the air of the dear hybrids and other exotic breeds.

- They know Jimin is close to Yoongi and Namjoon, and now he feels even more like an outsider that before (somehow it doesn't matter as much as before). The only ones who don’t act overtly different are the new hybrids; Hoseok and the small lion hybrid. but They were never around to learn how to hate Yoongi in the first place.

- it's a little cute- the way that Hoseok will always shout Yoongi's name in greeting (though you're unsure if that's just his personality now that he's started to grow into himself). Hoseok is unbothered by Yoongi's reaction; to shy away from anything that will draw more attention to himself. But Hoseok's smile is so bright and elastic that even he has a hard time ignoring the otter hybrid. You hope there will be a friendship there eventually, that yoongi will open up to more than just your group.

- The little lion kit is a new addition too, she's not the only young feline hybrid you have at the farm but she is the friendliest. She gets pretty close to the other cats that work in the kitchen almost instantly. Probably on account of her young age (she's barely 7) and the eldest cat hybrid seems to be particularly fond of the little one.

- She's curious and kind to Yoongi too- excitedly running up to him more than once to show him a little rock or some flower she found- and yoongi will marvel and nod, and if Jimin is near- he'll lean close and tell her how pretty it is.

- She doesn't seem at all deterred by Yoongi's lack of voice. one day she even sees Jimin, her ears perking up excitedly, tail swishing. "Hello Yoonies voice!" it's a little cute- even if it does make yoongi splutter a little. But she's not exactly wrong; Jimin does talk for yoongi more these days.

- She Always comes bounding up to you and giggling happily to be picked up. Her little legs stretching around your waist, small bottom sat atop your baby bump. Making you get the kind of look that makes Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin sigh and look impossibly fond. They can only imagine what you’re going to be like once your little one is born. Your due date is barely 2 months away.

- In truth- you’re starting to get a little bit big. You say it one morning with Namjoon. After he asks you why you’re looking into the mirror with such a displeased expression. The sound of your terse voices alerts Yoongi and he comes to the door to your bedroom to witness your spat. Making a flippant hand movement at Namjoon to back off. Namjoon could smell your distress on you when you looked in the mirror, his voice tense but breaking. “Baby just tell me, why you think you’re not beautiful like that? let me understand. Cuz to me- you look more irresistible every day.”

- It’s not that you exactly wanted him to agree with you that you were nearing the size of a whale- but this doesn’t help at all either. His unending insistence- doesn’t he see? when he looks in the mirror doesn’t he see what you do? His instance that everything is alright doesn't help when you’re feeling this self-conscious.

- Yoongi helps you, fiddling with Namjoon’s closet for a second before he pulls out an extra-large white shirt of his and helps you into it- tying it loosely over your baby bump so that it flatters your waist a little more. The attention that Yoongi shows you clearly making you flustered. Then he drags you to the mirror, tugging your hair out of its bun, the tension going out of your shoulders.

- Yoongi doesn’t know it, but Namjoon does. Your late husband used to always be so particular about your hair, yanking on it harshly if it was left down. and An easy way to avoid him yanking on it was to leave it up. And sometimes you still pull it up convinced it’s safer even though he’s dead and gone. It’s scary how simple it is- but the second your hair comes down your whole body relaxes.

- All the while Namjoon watches from your bed. And you take in yourself, the baby hairs free-floating against your forehead; Yoongi curls one gently around his finger and then lets it go. You take in the way that the fabric hangs now, making you look a little more proportional, Yoongi gives you a satisfied smile behind your back and you have to sigh and admit it. “Okay- okay- I’ll give you this- I’m not a whale”

- “And even if you where you’d be a pretty whale.” Yoongi has the good sense to hurl a pillow in Namjoon’s direction, but it makes you laugh all the same- the heaviness in your chest abated a little. Your sleeve brushing Yoongi’s as you head downstairs, Namjoon trailing behind.

- The beach trip was a nice distraction from chores but the real work comes crashing down on them the next few days. Your little group feels closer than ever, you rarely part from any of them for long and their intention, their little acts of care never fail to make you feel flustered and taken care of.

- Jimin always holds out a hand for you to take when you’re stepping over uneven ground, Yoongi makes a startled noise whenever you so much as get close to a hose that might trip you, always gesturing for you to pause and take a break whenever you’re working in the garden. Namjoon too, always running back and forth from whatever project he’s working on to check on you and make sure you have water or food.

- At night, Namjoon takes your stretch mark cream from you, rubbing down your baby bump and your hips, the little lines of lighter skin on your waist get little kisses from him.

- Even if you want just a snack, Namjoon and Yoongi will bring you a full meal- convinced that you need to be eating more than you are. At dinner Yoongi fills up your plate- piling it high with more food then you could fit in your already crowded tummy. And he always eyes you suspiciously when you can’t finish the full plate. Namjoon too will level you with a look- asking if you really are full.

- Since your pregnancy has progressed, you’ve become a little moodier, and a little hornier whenever way the wind blows. And Namjoon doesn’t help that much at all- and by that you mean, he makes it worse. When he comes out of the field with his shirt off and tucked into his shorts all of his thickness, his muscles that make you ravenous.

- During lunch one day he drags you away to a forgotten tool shed, though it would be easier just to go up the hill to your bedroom- you feel like teenagers sneaking around like this.

- Namjoon presses into you as he hits the latch on the door, muffling your giggles with kisses as you hide from the hybrids outside, voices that you can dimly hear, unable to pick out any one particular yet- but you know they're there.

- You and Namjoon might bicker like an old married couple. But you also act like teenagers gooey and giggly and so so so in love. “Do you think that they can hear you like this? Or smell you, my love?” Namjoon is always quick to tell you how delectable you smell when you’re horny. His more sensitive nose-picking it up the second you feel a slickening between your thighs.

- You’re shaky when you respond. “I don’t know, maybe?” Namjoon always has this passionate intense air about him. He’s slightly possessive- but you’d never fault him for that not when it’s all about protecting and providing for you. Not when he always puts your pleasure first (you feel like you may have turned into a slight pillow princess with him).

- Namjoon heaves you up onto the edge of a bench and then gets on his knees. Gently lifting your leg over his shoulder. He’s always mindful of how much you can move in your swollen state. He checks to make sure he’s not bending your hips in an uncomfortable way.

- You put your hands back on the dusty bench to stabilize yourself as you lie back, Namjoon wastes no time in pressing his face close to your cunt and inhaling, His nose prodding at the thin fabric of your underwear. One of his ears caught on the hem of your dress. His fingers digging into the plushness of your thighs- so full and healthy it makes him hard in his pants.

- He’s slow with the appreciation of your thighs and hips. Hands gripping and moving on to touch and feel like you have all the time in the world. But you hear voices outside the tool shed you’ve commandeered and you could just slip out and go back up to your house- but somehow you like this better. The thought of being discovered stirring an unsure heat in your stomach.

- You can hear Taehyung's voice, and then- like a shock through your core- you hear Jimin’s. Namjoon can feel your jolt. And you realize- his sensitive ears must have known who it was before your own human ones did. He chuckles- teasing his fingers along the hem of your underwear, almost daring to slip inside.

- You almost whine when you think about what you’re being denied- the harsh pull of his fingers that you’re so addicted too, how thick his fingers and knuckles feel (almost as nice as his cock) when they pull out and push in.

- Yoongi and Namjoon have always had the most lovely hands, it’s strange that when Namjoon touches you- you think about Yoongi’s hands. The way you clench around his fingers at that has Namjoon’s tail wagging. "you're thinking about them aren't you," The way you clench around his fingers at that has Namjoon’s tail wagging. Because yeah; Yoongi and Jimin are apart of Namjoon’s pack too, and bonding and group sex are kind of the same thing to hybrids. You’d found that out the hard way when you’d found a group of cat hybrids all tangled together in the grass the other day.

- Namjoon is always so gentle with you because of your condition, but you find your hips jerking with want. His fingers still when he feels the way your wetness has spilled out the sides. His thumb pressed over your clit teasingly. “smell so good when you're like this So wet my love, are you thinking about them finding you like this?”

- “Y-yes” you confess, and Namjoon growls, nipping at you through the fabric, the feel of his teeth brushing you, over the sensitive skin. The fabric cushioning the feeling, makes you almost gush, and you know you’ll be shakily legged by the time he lets you get down. And that he won’t let you get away from him until he’s taken care of you in this way, sated you in every sense of the word.

- But he can also tell how shy you are, the heat under your skin at the thought of being discovered. always unsure how much of your dirty talk is a real want and not just something you like in theory. Namjoon knows the idea of sharing you with the others might seem like the most natural and hottest thing; to love you alongside them. but to you- a human, hybrid sex and hybrid bedroom dynamics aren't as given.

- So he leans close, sliding your underwear down your legs slowly, letting you feel the heat of his palms on your skin. You're getting worked up a little too quickly, your heaving breaths needy. God damn pregnancy hormones you'd say if you could think beyond the plush feeling of his lips pressing a kiss to your clit. “Gotta clean you up for them, if they smelled you like this- then they’d know wouldn’t they?”

- You prove Namjoons initial assumption wrong. “What if I-” you whisper- gasping quietly as Namjoon drags the fabric to the side and glides a delicate lick over your folds. “What if I want them to know?” the pleasure thrumming through your body as Namjoon licks up your slit. Namjoon stills, ears perked, eyes flashing in the half-light. The snarl against your cunt loud and echoic.

- The voices outside fall silent and Namjoon doesn't stop his ravenous licking no matter if you have to bite your lip to keep your noises in. One of your hands scrambling to pull at his hair and find something to grip onto and anchor yourself against the onslaught of pleasure. Jimin is the first one to puncture the silence, “What was that?”

- Then comes Seokjin's voice “all of you- move along- whoever it is they probably don’t want the three of you listening in like a bunch of horn dogs” which is basically a confirmation that they were listening in, and that Yoongi was there too.

- When you finally exit the toolshed with weak legs, sure you’re going to have to at least got change your underwear. You find a bleary-eyed Seokjin a few dozen feet away, obviously upwind of the toolshed. he levels Namjoon with a tired expression. “You both have dirt on your knees” Namjoon has the good sense to look shy at that. You hastily brush off the spots on his, and he on yours.

- If Jimin and Yoongi smell anything on you later- they don’t say anything and the idea that they might make you feel hot all over whenever they lean in too close. You think you see a blush on Yoongi’s face more than once, and maybe see him adjust his pants out of the corner of your eye, but Jimin seems blissfully unaware.

- You have a check-up at the doctor’s office in the coming days. And although only Namjoon is allowed in the room with you (they have a two-person maximum because the ultrasound room is tiny), Yoongi and Jimin also accompany you. Namjoon comes bounding out after, waving the picture and smiling so so wide, both Yoongi and jimin leaning in close to get a better look- they’re so enamored with the little photo. And when you get home- Namjoon shows anyone that asks how the check-up went, eventually hanging it on one of the two fridges in the kitchen.

- Jimin is the only one who seems to notice the jealous looks- because you went out for ice-cream after and come home with them still partially melting (you’d had another craving- french-fries dunked in ice cream of all things). One of the other hybrids having heard Jimin talk to Tae about the beach trip too. They come to you at the end of the day, 2 bunnies, a cat, a fox and one of the bears- a mish moshed group of hybrids; petitioning you to start the beach trips for everyone.

- You can only fit so many people into the back of your truck so you pick a day and start a raffle for spots. Jimin throws his name into the hat just in case but to his surprise, Yoongi doesn’t. No matter how much Jimin bugs him too; He won’t agree to accompany Jimin to the beach again. Shaking his head with a roll of his eyes back tipped back against the grass, his sunhat crumpled. Offering up a few sweet tomatoes to soothe Jimin’s sour nerves.

- The peace lasts for a couple of days before they’re right back to treating Yoongi like shit and for some reason, it pisses Jimin off more. No matter how many times he’s heard Namjoon asks Yoongi to please tell him when anything happens. The snake hybrid seems unable to fight back.

- Jimin asks one of the hybrids why she won’t look at Yoongi (after the snake has already gone up the hill to retrieve another dish for dinner) and beyond a startled look, she just says “none of us can smell him” she throws a stack of paper towels down onto the table angrily. The deer hybrid across from them stumbling with their silver wear But she doesn’t need to re-iterate herself. Jimin understands- it’s hard to trust someone who can lie to your face- and in the world of hybrids where emotions can be decreed from a simple sniff, Jimin can’t say he doesn’t see where they’re coming from.

- Doesn’t excuse their behavior, however. After all- Jimin can smell Yoongi’s emotions through his scent and he didn't realize that was something strange until now. To Jimin, Yoongi’s scent is soft and sweet- something gummy and soft like a marshmallow. But that’s probably because he spends so much time with the hybrid. The others only spend so much time around him and are unused to his scent. And the fact that he never talks and never tries to socialize doesn’t help.

- Jimin can’t imagine not wanting to smell more of it- not leaning in whenever the other hybrid passes. Jimin wants to bury his face in Yoongi’s neck and rub his cheek all over it. The same way that Namjoon does to him in the morning if he shows up before he’s changed from his pajamas. And he knows he smells soft like sleep- an alluring smell to the older alpha when he comes down the stairs, ears straight up eyes wide as he takes in all of Jimin's vulnerability.

- and it might have to do with what Taehyung had said- that alphas eat up that sort of thing.

- Namjoon smells good too, his scent all soft mornings and sleepy walks, the older hybrid large and so pliant in his sleepiness, eyes swollen and face puffy as he hides in Jimin’s shoulder. Sending his pine scent all over so that it sticks to jimin no matter where he is. So that jimin will smell like Namjoon all day.

- One of the cat hybrids at the sink rolls her eyes. But when you come down the stairs smelling much the same. You touch his arm so softly in passing, like you can’t believe you’re allowed. And Jimin’s senses are a dizzying blur of cream, peaches, pine, and marshmallow.

- when he goes back to the barns, hazy at being scented by Namjoon so thoroughly. Taehyung levels him with a funny look and a chuckle. "you're more devious than anyone gives you credit for" thought Taehyung means it good-naturedly- it's good to have a friend to ask how to go about flirting with. the other hybrids gathered on the couch in front of the tv; some cartoon playing- pretend like they're not listening in.

- "How do you know so much when you don't have a pack of your own Tae?" he asks over breakfast, the two of them clutching breakfast burritos on their way to check Tae's bees. Tae doesn't meet Jimin's eyes "you're just lucky- most hybrids dont find a pack so easily Jimin" his words aren’t jealous- only a little patronizing. And Jimin accepts it because he knows he has a lot to learn.

- Taehyung is right- out of all of the hybrids at the farm, there are only a few who have paired up or even made stronger groups or multi-person packs. the bunnies and the cats don't form set generally- though there are a few pairs and more than a few throuples.

- Jimin as caught Yeonjun making out with a tabby more than once- has learned to avoid certain sections of the woods all together because everyone knows that's where the bunny hybrids like to go in the afternoons. The canine hybrids are the only ones who have packs, though there are more than half a dozen loners like jimin and namjoon.

- It's hard for Jimin to cohabitate with them even though there are other larger predators and more than a few prey hybrids living in Jimin's barn. he hadn’t really realized until taehyung pointed it out that each different pack occupied one corner of the punk room. More than once- the room in the barns has felt hostile if only for the packs that have claimed either corner of the bunkroom. it's usual to wake up and find more than one of the pups cuddling with another in one single bed.

- Having reciprocated love in his pack shouldn't feel like an impossibility to Jimin. But still, when Yoongi steps close- an inch too far away, his fingertips barely brushing- Jimin just- yearns. It’s a soft sort of yearning, the kind that has jimin jumping up whenever Yoongi needs something. Has him settling a think knit blanket over Yoongi’s nobly knees during movie nights, and sticking his own feet underneath the edge of the blanket. Feet Pressed to the clothed line of his calf. Maybe nothing will ever come of it, But Jimin yearns with everything he’s got regardless.

- In the late hours of the night, when Jimin lies awake thinking about the three of you. An instinct welling inside of him that says he should walk up the hill and fall asleep on your couch just to be closer to you three (the pack instinct- Taehyung calls it, looking a little bit sad himself when jimin asks him, the other hybrid moving away before jimin can ask exactly what that means) Jimin wonders if his feelings will ever be reciprocated.

- But love is a strange thing, it’s not just about saying it with kisses or touches- though Jimin wants them too. There is love in the small things, in building something together so that’s what Jimin tries to do. Every day- he takes to gardening with a new vigor. Shouting in joy when you harvest some of the tomatoes- filling up a whole gallon bucket with the amount that have ripened over the last week. Your peppers and cucumbers are beginning to produce more too.

- Jimin and Yoongi run to Namjoon just to give him a handful. The alpha gives each of them a sweet nuzzle in thanks, even if Yoongi chirps and moves back after a moment. A flush high on his cheek. Namjoon looking up at Yoongi from where he’s stopped- cheek on the elder's shoulder. The snake relaxing after a moment.

- You spend the rest of the day showing Jimin and Yoongi how to prepare the tomatoes to make a sauce, roasting them on low heat. Cutting garlic so so carefully, and whenever Jimin looks across the prep table- Yoongi’s gaze darts away. halfway through- yoongi stoops down, sticking his socked feet into jimin’s lap, and it feels so nice, to have their weight there.

- You go over to Yoongi at one point, and he tips his head back to look up at you. The back of his head is at the right height to lye up against your baby bump. And Jimin watches, as you slowly, so slowly, brush the hair out of his eyes and away from his forehead. Yoongi’s eyes flutter closed and he tips his face into your hand. Letting out a low happy grumble when you take his action as positive reinforcement, and drag your nails over his scalp. In Jimin’s lap, Yoongi’s toes curl.

- It feels strange- and Jimin can’t quite put his finger on it- but it almost feels like Yoongi is letting you all touch him more than ever. Suddenly okay with touches- as long as it’s in a more private setting. Jimin can’t say he’s unhappy about it. Maybe one-day yoongi will even let Jimin scent mark him.

- Jimin smiles at Yoongi’s happy little snake grumbles. And keeps chopping his garlic. Is happy to receive the same kind of scratch from you a few minutes later. Though he might abandon his chopping in favor of rubbing his face all over your stomach when the instinct strikes him. Jimin unintentionally lets out a growl when you start to move away. Slapping a hand over his mouth and apologizing, no matter how you and Yoongi laugh.

- Still, despite the happiness, you have in your kitchen, in your house, whenever you’re around each other. The rest of the world is not so kind.

- An adoption day comes at arguably the worst and best time. There is still a fair amount of friction between your group and the rest of the hybrids. And a few outsiders at the farm only make it worse. Though Yoongi, Jimin, and Namjoon aren’t the only hybrids who wear red stickers to indicate that they are not available for adoption.

- Hoseok surprisingly- grabs a yellow sticker. And the three of your hybrids watch- as Seokjin hovers around him- a red sticker on his own lapel- wary of all and anyone who interacts with the otter hybrid. His glares putting off all but the most attentive patrons. That's where it starts.

- Jimin is unfortunately caught in the middle when seokjin confronts hoseok. off to help the three of them bring down 3 trays of cut watermelon for the hybrids and the patrons. The dinner tables have been set out on the side of the field piled high with Hors d'oeuvre. You’re there with Namjoon greeting the humans. Games are set out too- for the hybrids and humans to play.

- it’s no secret that they’ve gotten close, and jimin had assumed they’d talked about it- but apparently not. Seokjin is so angry he’s nearly crying. “why- hoseok- why do you want to leave the farm?” Hoseok’s little otter ears are tight against his scalp. “I just- I didn’t want to assume?”

- “Oh- so you’d rather just- throw away everything that we’re trying- all of this- you don’t you dont want to stay do you-” Jimin has never seen seokjin looking so lost, and he knows enough to guess that Seokjin’s anger is at least in part to due to some trauma (later- Jimin will find out that Seokjin’s mother left him with his last owner- an abusive man- to save herself).

- Jimin knows enough to get in between them, telling them to calm down and spend a minute away from each other. Jimin ends up with Hoseok- “it’s hard Jimin- how do you, how do you have so much sureness with Y/n? with Namjoon and yoongi too? How do you look at them and trust that you should stay?” Hoseok's eyes remain on Jimin's red tag.

- Jimin sighs, thinking it through, “do you look at Seokjin and know he cares about you? like- do you know it in your bones?” Hoseok bites his lower lip, “yes- but-”

- “Then you should stay Hoseok,” Jimin walks Hoseok up to the main house where the stickers sit on the prep table. Changing out his yellow one for a red one. And when they head off back down the hill, Seokjin is waiting on the path with Yoongi, apologizing and dragging Hoseok away to the barns where Seokjin’s own private room is. Hoseok goes willingly, smiling up at the older hybrid. His narrow shoulders cuddled under one of Seokjin's wide ones.

- jimin has to admit, an otter and an alpaca are a weird combination for a hybrid pack (But no stranger than a pair of puppies and a snake). His thoughts drift towards Taehyung- and Jimin hopes that his friend won't end up alone. it must not be easy- to see all of you pair off like this.

- in some ways, that adoption day is full of just as much bullshit as they usually are. there are always people who dont understand the effort it takes to take care of a hybrid- they aren't just like any ordinary pet. it's easy to spot the ones that view them as pets- and less like people. You get a few rich people looking to adopt a companion as always.

- A substantial group of families also look to adopt similarly aged companions for their single children. And you agree to more than one possible test weekend. You’re always so particular about letting the children go, so wary and so careful in the way you let them interact with the families.

- Though they don’t have parents here- there are more than a few good role models and parental figures. More than one child chooses a red tag for themselves. And they always know have a right to it- no matter how young they are. You make it clear to the group of them; If they don’t want to be adopted they don’t have to be.

- You even get one couple- the woman withdrawn and sad, and a slightly jealous look at your own pregnant stomach says more than any words could. It’s pretty common for women who can’t have children to adopt hybrid children. and though some of it doesn't sit right with you, You aren’t one to judge.

- Jimin spends most of the adoption day helping you balance the need for food and for games. running back and forth to the house to help. Though there is a little work that needs to be done here and there just to keep the farm running as usual. grey storm clouds roll in halfway through the day, puncturing the blue sky- foretelling scattered showers and storms. and jimin hopes it will cut the adoption day short so that you can return to your routines.

- Jimin is just helping Yoongi putting away a broken badminton net When it happens- Jimin isn’t certain why it does. Only that he hears the words outside the shed after Yoongi's just excited to grab the broken rackets (Namjoon isn't the only clumsy hybrid you have at the farm).

- “oh sorry- ew gross,” a shrill female voice says, and then he rounds the corner and sees yoongi picking himself up from the dirt- a rich lady and her peacock hybrid looking down at him like he’s the dirt beneath his shoes. The peacock hybrid has Yoongi’s sun hat in his hands and there is another hybrid- a wolf hybrid from the farm with a green sticker on his shirt, who growls down at yoongi.

- His shoulders shake too the way they do when he’s been touched and he doesn’t want to be. Jimin has seen you brush your fingers over the back of Yoongi’s hand, has even felt the coolness of the snake hybrid through the fabric when the elder grabbed his sleeve. Has touched him even more intimately as of late. But he knows that Yoongi can’t tolerate being touched by people he doesn’t trust- doesn’t want to touch him. basically, anyone, that's, not you, Namjoon, or Jimin himself.

- “Hey- what the fuck!” Jimin spits, grabbing the sunhat out of the hybrid's hand with a growl, his ears flat against his head. If Jimin had elongated canines like Namjoon they would be barred in anger as he shoves the larger hybrid back. Yoongi shrinks impossibly smaller behind him.

- Jimin is hot and itchy from the heat and the humidity, and he really just wants to shower and cool off. He doesn’t have the energy to deal with entitled people today. And more importantly- no one touches Yoongi on Jimin’s watch.

- The hybrid looks surprised to be talked to in that way, he’s nearly a head taller than Jimin let alone the slightly taller feathers that poke out of the top of his head that give him the appearance of several more inches- but Jimin’s intimidating enough with his set expression to send the hybrid huffing away. Feathers fluffed.

- The peacock's iridescent feathers stand up on end as he grabs the hand of his human owner, her diamond tennis bracelet glittering in the sunlight. “This was getting boring anyway. Sorry” he tosses over his shoulder at the canine hybrid, who looks so disappointed his ears pinned back against his head. They only give him that- barely a look, before they’re heading off down the hill in the direction of the line of cars parked on the grass.

- The wolf hybrid deflates audibly- watching the woman and the other hybrid disappear down the hill. promises of home and family disappearing in a moment, but Jimin has to think- if they’d be discouraged so easily- were they really worth it? The wolf hybrid doesn't seem to think so- Turning his angry tear-filled eyes on Jimin.

- But Jimin can see the hate in his eyes and knows not to mistake the tears for only sadness. “You both ruin everything” he growls out- before they too run back towards the barns- no doubt to tell the others how Yoongi had sabotaged their adoption. Even though that was far from the truth. in all honestly- yoongi just bumped into the lady- or more probably- the lady bumped into him when he was on his way out of the shed.

- Jimin holds out his sunhat to Yoongi, who takes it from Jimin carefully, Jimin doesn’t linger on the fact that his hand still shakes. Jimin’s hand lingers somewhere close enough where Yoongi could touch it could reach out if he wants too. If he wants to get that kind of comfort from Jimin's touch- then Jimin will willingly give it.

- a faint flush coats the elder's cheeks. Oh no- he must be overheating then, Jimin feels a rush of concern. He knows what you would do, hover your hand close enough to Yoongi’s forehead, usher him upstairs for a break in the air conditioning, and a glass of icy lemonade.

- All they can hear is the shouts of laughter at the games the others play in the fields, “I understand why you don’t want to stay in the barns, why you don’t want to socialize with some of them, they’re so unkind to you it makes me crazy.” Jimin shakes his head, sour anger filling him like a rotten peach.

- Yoongi, looks more than pacified, looking up at Jimin with an indecipherable look. Most of the time, Jimin can get a good guess on how he’s feeling but not now- not that indecipherable heaviness he finds there. or the strangely heavy marshmallow scent that’s fluffed around them. Jimin lets go of Yoongi’s hat.

- After a moment Yoongi nods, and Jimin takes it as a thank you. They’re done for the day and dinner won’t be for another few hours or so. Jimin is ready to avoid some of the strangers and hopefully take advantage of the empty showers. The sky is grey with incumbent storm clouds when Jimin makes his way to the shower buildings which he finds blissfully empty; except for the bear hybrid Jackson that tosses a greeting at Jimin before exiting.

- Jimin doesn’t even bother to flick the lights on, instead of settling for the calm light that comes through the skylights, grey and hazy. the storm clouds have started to roll in properly. He hums as he disrobes, goes to grab his favorite strawberry body wash, and picks the last shower at the end, disrobing in relative comfort, glad for a moment of privacy.

- The blissfully Coldwater does wonders for his overheating muscles, relaxing his body deliciously from a day spent walking up and down the hill. he digests the chaos of the day- seokjin and hoseok fighting, yoongi getting shoved. you'd looked frazzled the last time he'd seen you, smile strained as you made small talk with most of the humans, Namjoon always close incase you needed someone to lean on.

- Jimin had been able to tell that your feet were sore just by looking at you. Namjoon will probably make you sit down before long, maybe he already has. You’ll probably cut off the adoption day because of the rain. Taking down names and information before you send them on their way. You rarely let a hybrid leave the farm after one adoption day, needing to have more private meetings and house calls to willingly part with one of them. You just want to make sure you dont release them back into another abusive household.

- He hums as he washes, lingering in the water and taking a longer shower than he usually would. He hums, testing the way his vocal cords wrap around the acoustics of the empty high ceilinged room.

Then he hears the scuffling of someone in the bathroom too and cuts off. A little abashed at being caught. The rustling getting closer and its a moment before he realizes that the rustling is coming from his own section of the bath. he smells him the second before he pulls the shower curtain gets pulled back.

- “Yoongi!” Jimin shouts, furiously grabbing at something to cover his nakedness. Jimin furiously tries to cover his crotch, grabbing one of the large bargain bottles of shampoo and hold it there even as cold water runs over his face. Getting into his wide eyes. “Yoongi what the fuck! You’re naked!”

- Jimin is glad that the rumors about snake hybrids having double the appendages as a normal hybrid are false but he can’t stop his blush or his wandering eyes as he sees the snake hybrid in full. Or the hot lick of arousal that shocks him through his core- especially when he recognizes the heaviness to Yoongi's scent as being arousal.

- there is a single moment, jimin can smell yoongi- can see the want in his eyes, can feel his own scent fluff out to meet his, yoongi sags under the weight of Jimin's scent as the surprise dissipates. "do you-" Jimin's face must be brighter than a tomato. He reaches out a tentative hand, "do you want to-"

- Before Jimin can do much more than that Yoongi’s lips are on his, tentative but firm and passionate, the fire leaking into him from Yoongi as jimin stumbles in surprise. The kiss tastes like thank you and Ive wanted to do this for longer than i care to admit and everything yoongi can't say, can't let slip past his lips. jimin drops the shampoo bottle which narrowly misses his foot as Yoongi’s hands come up to encircle his jaw so softly like Yoongi is holding the most important thing in his world. Jimin is so shocked that for a moment- he doesn’t kiss back and Yoongi retracts- not before Jimin chases his lips and the snake hybrid returns to him.

- It’s the first time Yoongi’s ever touched Jimin so bare, and the snake’s hands on the back of his neck feel cold and shivery but good. As Jimin’s back hit’s the wall and their fronts press together for a moment, just brushing. Then colliding with more force as they both realize how good it feels to be so close to someone you trust. It’s dizzying- intoxicating, and Jimin knows his mouth is moving sloppily even if he wants to kiss Yoongi with just as much intent.

- The snake hybrid bites- actually bites- down on Jimin’s tongue. And a strangled whine comes to live and die in his throat. A snarl in his ears from Yoongi's mouth as the snake hybrid keeps his biting, moves to Jimin's throat- bites hard Enough that Jimin knows he'll leave a bruise. "leave more- yoongi please mark me" jimin feels hot with the thought of it- the thought of all the other hybrids being able to smell yoongi on his scent gland.

- Jimin doesn’t know where to put his hands, he knows enough to know that Yoongi doesn’t like to be touched and unsure if it extends to right now. but it seems okay if he’s doing the touching. His hands sliding down Jimin's back to his waist. He’s a good kisser, the best that Jimin’s ever kissed (not that there have been many) and he tips his head forward to put as much scalding force as he can into it when yoongi leaves his neck in favor of his mouth, trying to match Yoongi’s intensity even if he can’t match his skill.

- Yoongi takes a step forward, and Jimin’s cock brushes his hipbone, and he can’t stop the way his hips jump at the contact, brushing into Yoongi further. Jimin’s blood boils with arousal. Yoongi is equally as hard compared to Jimin. And Jimin doesn't know if its water or precum that he feels on his skin. Can't look down to check.

- By the time Yoongi leans back and finishes running his fingers through Jimin’s hair and over his shoulders. Jimin’s so wound up he feels like he’s about the pass out. The cool water cascading over his back doing nothing to settle him. Yoongi moves his hips- testing the waters, as he grinds, works jimin’s hips into an unsteady rhythm. and jimin moans.

- Yoongi pulls back, looking at jimin, their noses brushing, like he can’t bear to have jimin farther away from him than this, want heavy in his eyes, and Jimin tastes the words on Yoongi’s lips as good as if he’d said them. “Yoongi” jimin breathes. Palms pressed carefully to the shower wall so that he won’t reach out and yank Yoongi closer. But he’s Weak against the wake of this of all this feeling.

- “fuck- kiss me again- can we- ” Jimin feels strung out, his body heavy with something like heat- maybe Jimin is actually having a heat and it’s not just in his imagination (he wouldn't really know what it felt like- never having had one before because of his malnutrition). But This kind of kissing is certainly enough to trigger one.

- Yoongi opens his mouth for a second, almost like he’s about to speak- or to try to, Jimin’s never been sure if he can- if it’s muteness or just Yoongi being selective. And then in the next moment, Yoongi’s gone, almost tripping on his way out of the showers with how fast he’s leaving jimin. A whine dies in his throat and jimin starts after him, But then Yoongi turns back. Gesturing with a hand for jimin to stay put. Yoongi looks angry, and it takes a moment for Jimin to realize that the anger wasn’t directed at jimin- only at Himself.

- Jimin stays in the shower, water thundering down around him as the sky overhead thunders too. Jimin listens to the faint sound of Yoongi dressing and then leaving the showers. Jimin lets him go. So sure that he has absolutely no idea what just happen- or even if he didn’t imagine the whole thing.

- jimin’s hand on himself doesn't feel nearly good as Yoongi’s did.

- Yoongi’s hands shake all the way back up the hill, and he hopes his wet hair won’t be too suspicious especially when a mixed group of hybrids crosses his path. Returning to the barns as most of the adoption day festivities have ended.

- Yoongi’s careful to keep his eyes averted. And like usual- the conversation comes to a halt when Yoongi passes them by. It no longer bugs him the way it might have once. They have a good reason not to want to associate with him. Yoongi’s body shakes with the weight of the things he’s done and the things he’s going to do.

- you gather with 3 families on your porch as you take down their names and contact information. You send yoongi a concerned look as he quickly heads inside the house. Pausing only for a moment before he decides to go to Namjoon first. Later- later he’ll ask you too.

- Stupid- he’s been so stupid recently. Touching you- indulging in these short sweet touches because he wants more so badly. Knows he can never have it doesn’t stop the wanting. If his owner ever found out what he’s done- if she ever found out what he’d almost done with jimin- she’d surely have Jimin’s hands for it.

- And as much as Yoongi wishes it were any other way- Jimin almost touching him does remind him of far worse times. Though he’d been the one to initiate it this time- the memories still linger.

- Times when foreign hands touched his skin as he’d thrashed and screamed trying to protest against the taunting words of his owner. “I’ve never been interested in snake dick but if you want him for tonight you can have him- just be careful- he bites” and he shakes with those memories. Though its been many years. like most kinds of torture- eventually, his owner had grown bored with using yoongi's body as a bargaining chip. Yoongi wonders if he’s ever going to be able to be touched that way without feeling the revulsion at his own body.

- Jimin had come close, but he'd known- known that yoongi didn't want him to touch him. Had seemed more than willing to be touched himself. the revulsion hadn't hit him until the end.

- The places he’s been touched without his consent feel black and decaying- or like ink, every time someone touches him- Yoongi’s surprised that ink doesn’t come away on your hands soft and delicate. But it didn’t change the fact that Yoongi wanted it- and wants it still.

- he wants to see you soft and sated the way you look sometimes in the morning when he can smell Namjoon on you- wants to cause it- maybe, someday in the future if you'll let him. He knows you’d be gentle with him. Wouldn’t put your hands anywhere he didn’t want. Would check in with him- going as slowly or as quickly as he wanted too. Namjoon would be able to be gentle too- Yoongi’s sure of it.

- He wants it, even though he knows that want only put you all in danger. He’s an incredibly selfish person. He hopes he never gets to have that intimacy with you, for your sake.

- yoongi should only let himself dream of something good before he goes- sinks back into that life. But the temptation for more is too strong sometimes, his want filling him up like sticky sweet syrup that pollutes every moment.

- Namjoon is on the second floor of your house and Yoongi takes the stairs two at a time. Folding laundry in what will one day be the nursery for your child. He’s taken the ultrasound up here now- hung it up so he can look at it. and Yoongi is reminded of A few days ago when he gushed about the development of your child to Yoongi in the kitchen comparing them to the size of a fruit. “a cute little cantaloupe- the cutest little cantaloupe”

- You and Namjoon have made the decision not to find out the gender, but the walls of the nursery are still pained blue, puffy clouds above and little flowers below, dandelions and daisies, a stalwart sunflower that curls over the arch of the door half-finished. Yoongi knows you work on the mural it whenever you can. But Namjoon gets a little paranoid about the fumes- you compromise and keep the windows open along with the door to your balcony to allow as much air circulation as possible.

- The crib, a fluffy white thing is already piled into the corner. And Yoongi remembers the first few weeks here when you and Namjoon had overzealously ordered it. He’d come downstairs after dinner one night and found both of you puzzling over the directions. And he’d shooed Namjoon away as he’d helped you put it together. The three of you ending up giggly and punch drunk tired by the time it was fully put together. And then had to carry it all the way up the stairs.

-A mobile of little felted flowers that Seokjin made you as a thank you present a hangs above the empty Crib- colorful and cute. And Namjoon has set the laundry on the unused changing table in neat stacks. All of the other furniture is piled into the center of the room so that you can paint the walls. He turns when he hears Yoongi, his tail swishing.

- “Hey Yoon- what you get caught in a rainstorm or something?” the rain splatters against the windows with a soft patter and Yoongi drips onto the floor. He never bothered to dry off after the unintentional shower with jimin. Yoongi makes a shrug that means ‘something like that’ and if the younger hybrid hovers on the way that Yoongi’s lips look a little kiss bitten and swollen he doesn’t say a thing. Namjoon knows better than anyone- what they talk about and what they don’t.

- He hands over the slip of paper; “jimin should move into the main house, you and I could clean out one of the storage rooms and move the stuff into the attic.”

- Yoongi watches Namjoon’s eyes rove over the words a few times. The hybrid purses his lips, “I’ve talked to Y/n about this- and she agrees- but I don’t know if he wants too? He seems pretty comfortable in the barns, he likes Taehyung and they’re friends. and we kind of want to leave it up to him if we can.”

- Yoongi snatches the paperback from him, annoyance flickering in his chest as he rolls his eye. Didn’t Namjoon see that nothing would change if they didn’t push him a little? Jimin is the type to take that kind of abuse again and again if it means not making a fuss. And Yoongi knows it’s only a matter of time before something happens again. He turns it over onto the other side and using the wall as a place to write.

- “He’s already being treated differently because of me” 'me' being double underlined- so that Namjoon really understands what he’s trying to say. Yoongi just wants to make sure Jimin is safe before he goes. Before he needs to leave and before it gets too dangerous and too near a time when his owner will physically retrieve him. Not that Namjoon knows that Yoongi’s presence has an expiration date. Namjoon searches Yoongi’s face for a source to his desperation and finds none.

- Yoongi has never felt worse for keeping secrets. Maybe in another world- Yoongi would have confessed and asked Namjoon, with all of his connections to the police, for help. Yoongi knows enough to put the whole crime system out of whack and yet. Years of negative reinforcement and beatings have taught him to keep his mouth shut and that isn’t going to change now; not when Yoongi’s life isn’t the only one at risk and he knows you’ll all live if he plays by the rules. He doesn't care about his own safety anymore.

- The second he sees Yoongi’s distraught expression Namjoon steps closer Taking off his flannel and tugging it around his shoulders. Namjoon might not make moves to scent mark Yoongi but dressing him in his clothes is as good as he gets. Namjoon’s comforting alpha scent fluffs around him.

- Yoongi wonders if jimin feels the pull the same way he does. Dynamics are more mobile in snake hybrids and downright non-existent in humans. but they’re more set in canines. Namjoon puts his hand on Yoongi’s clothed arm and Yoongi shuffles close after a second. His nose centimeters from Namjoon’s neck taking in deep breathes to try and steady himself. He didn’t realize he was shaking.

- “It will be alright Yoongi, I promise. He’s gonna be safe.” Namjoon adds quieter. And below them both- in the first floor of the house, he can hear your voice, echoing louder and laughing at some sort of joke, Namjoon’s tail starts wagging at the suggestion of you. “I want them to feel safe too.”

- Yoongi wants to write “he should take my room- I won’t be staying in it soon anyway.” but Yoongi needs to make sure- before he leaves. Jimin has to be included in your little pack. He doesn’t want to think- about what the three of you will go through when he eventually has to leave. The days are counting down to the end of the summer.

- He’s fucking selfish, so selfish, to kiss Jimin like that when he knows he won't be able to stay in the hybrids life. He’s selfish every time he begs affection off you, every day he keeps Namjoon Company when he’s cleaning up the other barns. Yoongi writing out words in the dust when Namjoon asks him questions. Eyes only searching when Namjoon turns his back. Looking for any sort of hidden compartment. Completing his task even if it’s the last thing he wants to do. Betraying you like this.

- Jimin spends the rest of the day wondering if the kiss with Yoongi was just a dream. But later at dinner, Yoongi won’t meet his eyes, and jimin knows he didn’t imagine the kiss. Guilt sticks to Yoongi, more distracting than honey stuck between your fingertips.

- Both of them go to sleep still thinking about the kiss. Jimin wondering if it will happen again and Yoongi thinking that he’d like it too. His fingers running over his lower and upper lips, mind awash with the memory of jimin’s mouth on his. And night falls heavy like a weighted blanket on the farm. The sky a big sheet with holes poked through for stars. A heavenly breeze tempting away the summer heat.

- All of the hybrids safe and snoring in their beds. Some even paired- if they’ve got it. Two furry bodies packed close on a single bed. Some even dream of homes they mind one day live in or of the people that one day they’ll get to love. The idea of being kept and treasured lulling them into a drowsy haze of anticipation and security.

- That night, Namjoon knocks on Yoongi’s door. the hybrid leaning up against the doorframe as he watches the snake get ready for bed. “you know... you could sleep in our room if you want, we have an air conditioner in there too.” yoongi has a notepad ready, he knows that Namjoon likes to open all the windows and even the door to your balcony to let the fresh air in so that it feels like you're sleeping outside. He steels himself to think of someone other than himself before he writes- “I’m okay- thanks though” Yoongi writes out.

- Namjoon lifts one of Yoongi’s blankets to his neck before he leaves, thoroughly scents marking it before he leaves it with Yoongi. And Yoongi sleeps easy that night with his nose pressed to the blanket. Safe and secure in his room. Nothing bad happens to yoongi that night even though he cuddles close to the blanket, and when he wakes in the morning. his heart beats a steady thumping rhythm- his whole body humming with anticipation.

- It’s different to feel excited about being in love, excited for a day spent close to the people he cares about. And he knows he won't take a single day for granted.

- The crickets and cicadas chirping in the field. And in a low tone on the tree outside, a morning dove gentle and unassuming. The sun rising over the hills. Tastes of idyllic and smells of Eden. Like lavender and honey.

- A hand outstretched, scrambling in the dirt before it goes still, fingers just a few inches from safety. Blood mixing in with the sand. The morning is not perfect for everyone.

- But even you would say the morning was peaceful, if not for the dead body dumped at the end of your driveway.

Kofi

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cutemeat · 3 years ago

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wait as a newish fan can you tell me how / why rob is misogynist? (like besides his weird things on the podcast lol idk if theres more) and also who is jordan lol

ok im gonna say first of all i was mostly just joking in those tags ur referring to KJNFGDKJ just as full disclosure before I dig into this any further. ..

that being said, me joking abt that stuff in regard to rob is bc it just seems like rob is insecure about how he's contributed to a shitty system and really screwed someone (jordan reid, aka the original Sweet Dee) over personally and after being made more aware of his place in contributing to said system he's overcompensating while he's working thru some of that.... and uh. in all honesty it's something that i find funny and make jokes about cuz i am also someone with an extremely fragile ego n it feels good to deflect and make fun of someone else for having a fragile ego LOL

so it seems like rob's talking on the podcast and in other interviews abt misogyny n trying to 'correct' himself or pulling out that fuckin button on the podcast for 'Solves the North Korea Situation'.... i think this ties into him reconnecting with Jordan (who, like i said, was the og sweet dee who got booted from the production at the last minute largely as result of her n rob breaking up n none of the other guys backing her up...) and basically writing the MQ ep A Dark Quiet Death about that whole situation and the falling out.. idk it just seems like. maybe having to reconcile the fact he has been A Part Of The Problem and an asshole has gotten to him n again it feels like he overcompensates for that in the pod n i like to exploit those insecurities im familiar with in my own ways for laughs LOL. but yknow... i am a 20 yr old unemployed HS drop out on tumblr dot com n hes got a nice mansion and successful career in the film industry so i dont feel like im gonna hurt any feelings here..

so with all that context out of the way: i dont think rob is Actually some raging misogynist ... and if he is I wouldn't know either way cuz I Dont Know The Guy! so def take what I say here with a grain of salt I am very often not being serious and bad at using tone indicators so I do apologize if any of it gets confusing kjndfgkjd. he def has been misogynistic in the ways a lot of men will be without rlly thinking much of it (think dennis' obliviousness to how insane some of his logic about women sounds on sunny, but maybe less predatory but again idk the guy lol) but as of now he seems like he's more aware of that n better late than never n all that!

(once again.. a lot of my opinions here are mostly based in my own experiences and emotions projected onto people and situations I have only heard accounts of in articles/blog posts/podcasts n interviews so def keep that in mind. don't take me as the authority on anything lol. google 'jordan reid' + 'always sunny' and read thru her old blog posts about the situation if u are so inclined and draw your own conclusions! but like i said it's a mostly interpersonal thing between two ppl i dont know and it doesnt seem like there's much bad blood on that interpersonal level anymore rather than anger with a system that failed her. that being said its def a part of the shows history that shouldn't just be forgotten or discarded as it is apart of a larger issue anyway. srry this is all so messy if it wasnt obvious by how badly i am at talking abt this stuff i feel weird talking about strangers lives even celebs but yknow. tbh if i wanna make jokes abt this shit i should be prepared to explain myself anyway. like god im so bad at talking abt any of it seriously but i always wanna know all the dirt cuz I'm so fuckin nosy I love drama n gossip and Backstory!!!)

+ this is an older article that sorta sums up the events n links to her blogpost about it!

#pretty sure The Gang Gets a New Member was a first attempt at addressing this situation #but the DQD episode is much more obvious with what its about n honestly done a little better cuz its clearer lol #in summary: parker has NO CLUE what the fuck theyre talking about and it SHOWS!

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toaheadcanons · 3 years ago

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General reaction time! Again, this will contain HEAVY SPOILERS FOR TALES OF ARCADIA AND RISE OF THE TITANS. SKIP THIS IF IT GOT THROUGH YOUR FILTER.

So, let's begin. Firstly, as beautifully visually executed as the movie was, I think we all could tell the full original team wasn't working on this part of the TOA project. Setting that aside for a moment though. Trust me on this.

I was SHOCKED at the animation quality this time around. TOA has almost always had pristine graphics, and a movie budget took things to a while new level. Well done, TOA animation team!! 🥰🥰🥰

The MagiScience Camelot. Can I live there? Also, do they live there?? It's sort of unclear, did everyone just decide after the end of Wizards to form their own little bubble or???

I'm curious as to whether the time loop could result in a sort of 'duplication glitch' for the Amulet. I'm putting my speculative stuff in yet another post, because WOW that ending gave my lil' brain a lot to work with

There were so many fantastic scenes intermixed with the not-so-great points. The Best Man scene. That whole sequence in which there's some Blaaarghy hinting sandwiched into the scene between the couples comforting each other. I just 🥺 I know there are a few dull points here, but that whole ten minute span is just so on point. I really wish that accuracy to the characterizations carried all the way through.

I really, REALLY need to know how much time passed between Wizards and ROTT. Really really. Like I know the kids were 15-16 at the start of season 1, and 16-17 by the end of season two, but from there time becomes quite nebulous. I'm speaking in age specifically for our human characters here, as we still have no idea about how the Akiridion, Wizard-Immortal and Trollish life cycles actually work. Like I get that now they're later teens to early adults in age, but considering some of the err, plot choices, I think it's important to know?

I'd love a series, a comic, hell a set of shorts even, where Steve gets some main character time. I really wasn't a fan of him being sidelined the whole time. Give me my Creepslayerz please, Mr. Netflix.

I've started to look at this less like a movie and more like Predacons Rising, a made-for-TV movie/special finale episode. Except, knowing DreamWorks, we also may be seeing the beginnig iteration of another "[name here] of Berk" style of different series, set in different points in time. ESPECIALLY with that ending.

Speaking of, I know a lot of folks were quite upset with the end. I was too for a while, but those braincells just keep on bouncing around, and I have an inkling that however they decide to show us the potential/alternate timeliness, we'll see them somehow.

I'm actually quite excited about the idea of Trollhunter!Toby. From the beginning, I always thought he'd turn out to unknowingly be half-Troll or a changeling or something. Boy has a natural inclination for stones and crystals, the teeth issues, his stature and body-shape, hell, he seems at home in the scenes in Trollmarket throughout the series.

Please, Mr. Netflix, show us what his armor looks like? 👉👈🥺

Okay, picking back up on this not being the original creative team. There were some significant missed opportunities here, not only to draw on previous character development [Steve is a knight, Toby could have used his hammer instead of the glowing sticky-magic, etc.] but also to draw on ideas from The Book that would have gone REALLY well here! Lol and here I was hoping for the "what counts as a bridge" scene. 🤡

For those who don't know, Trollhunters in its original form is a book that reads much like a movie. It features a much different Jim, a much different many characters in fact. There were actually a few references I did catch! If you haven't had a chance to read it and you'd like a palate cleanser, READ IT. Oh it's so good I so wish more people read the book-

Aaaaanyway, back to the topic. The reason I'm looking at this more like a special than a movie is because is feels like it should have been a special. Or a miniseries even, like Wizards. This was a bit much to pack into a <2h timeframe.

BUT, I also feel like they could have waited to spring a plot like this on us until they had a concrete "next steps" plan. If they had, say, separated the beginning of the loop from the film, and used it as the beginning of a Trollhunter!Toby [Insert media type here] teaser/trailer, I have a feeling I'd be more happy with it. Also, why replace Anton's voicework for the audition speech? That I am truly upset with. The loop itself is actually quite intriguing, though.

All in all, I'm honestly pretty satisfied with the film. It was brutal, don't get me wrong, and for future reference I'd like to know how much it cost Netflix to get it a Y7 rating. That said, the parts that were done well were done VERY well. Im interested to see, when the series crops back up, what the true plan is moving forward, but until then my name is my bond. I make TOA headcanons, and that's exactly what I'm going to do. Thank you all for getting on this roller coaster, it was one hell of a ride and I hope we get to do it again soon 😁

#rott #trollhunters #rise of the titans spoilers #rise of the titans #tales of arcadia spoilers #toa #tales of arcadia

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legends-live-in-memories · 4 years ago

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I Have Too Many Opinions. ep. 1

lmao. i got encouragement to post my opinions on fandom things and now i want to make a miniseries doing just that. so here i am. doing just that.

im putting it under the cut cuz this was 4 whole pages including the disclaimer. yes i put a disclaimer and i explain why.

Anyways, here is the first piece in what inevitably will become fandom info dump, this time on thomas astruc’s writing on miraculous ladybug. but only some of my opinions cuz we would be here all day otherwise.

So… a disclaimer before I begin…

I do not hate Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir (yes i'm using their government name). I am quite a fan of the show actually despite its faults. I am also older than the intended audience but was obviously younger when the show first aired which is how my interest was piqued (the fact that its been 6 years and only 3 seasons says more about the show than me being a fan for that amount of time but also i never want to rush content creators cuz they're doing their best) and due to my age, there will be inherent bias in my approach of what i'm about to say as there is in EVERY opinion. The fact that it is an opinion should imply the presence of bias but most people tend to lack the critical thinking skills required to draw that conclusion ANYWAYS…

If I did hate the show I would not have this blog nor would I be even writing this because i tend to not give more than 2 seconds of thought to things i actively dislike (some of yall should give this a try) and i'm allowed to like things that are designed for an audience that i was originally a part of but grew out of. (I don't suddenly stop liking things because I'm older despite what many younger fans seem to believe about older audiences. I also don't need to be ‘allowed’ to do anything cuz i wasn't asking for permission anyways.)

This will not be character bashing, astruc bashing nor fandom bashing cuz, again, that would imply i hate any of those elements and if i did, i would not dedicate brainpower to them. Analyses and criticisms of media are fun and engaging and required if you wish to produce good enjoyable content. Now most of this should be already assumed and self-explanatory but people on the internet like to play morality roulette roll dice on purity culture and I rather have documentation that I am in fact not bullying fictional 14 year olds or a grown man. But alas, people get trigger happy whenever someone has less than 1000000% positive opinions on something they like and will throw out words they can't define (gaslight, baiting, toxic, problematic, gatekeep etc) in an attempt to defend their blind devotion,

which is not needed, if you like something you never have to defend it, even if i don't like it. If you respond to anything I post saying you disagree with me, I will not argue with you. I won't debate back and forth and try to convince you that the things you like are wrong. Unless you are being absolutely tone deaf to what i'm saying, you wont get a negative reaction from me. So don't try to fish for a fight. Please. I got metaphorical hands for days and I'm mean, you don't want me hurting your feelings on the internet. Do yourself the favour. Difference of opinion is how we get diversification in media and is inherently a good thing. Now that that's out of the way, please don't ever let me have to say that again. I beg.

Now onto the fun stuff

I didn't know what I wanted as a first topic so my trusty internet friend @moonlitceleste suggested astruc’s writing…

AND BOI do i got some opinions on ole tommy boi. Again I don't hate the dude. In fact, he has worked on a few shows that had defined my childhood, including but not limited to W.I.T.C.H. (all eps available on youtube for those interested, 2 seasons, general fun time all around).

So I don't think he’s scum of the earth but I do think his approach to writing mlb specifically has more misses than hits.

The first big miss is that he has no idea how to write 14 year old girls. At all. Almost every girl he has ever written feels like some terrible archetype built entirely for marketability and childish projection and pubescent self-insert (kind of). He has never been a 14 year old girl. I have. In fact when the show first aired, I WAS around the (assumed) age of the mlb characters. The behaviour he passes off as quirky or awkward or just the character’s genuine personality tend to perpetuate harmful stereotypes of teen girls found in the media and are never actually addressed as harmful. they just get swept under the rug. Marinette’s exuberant collage of teen heart throb model boi Adrien Agreste and her very painful almost fan worship she has of him (which flip flops like a paper sandal in the rain) being portrayed as a cute school girl crush uwu, Chloe being the y7 Regina George, Alya being the token best friend of colour with her ‘sassy’ personality (i want y'all to imagine me eyerolling so hard i bust a vessel in my eye), Kagami being the very damaging Perfect Asian Child stereotype. And before y'all get on your dusty soap box and defend going on about “BUT IT'S FOR CHILDREN”,,,, know this.

i don’t give a solid fuck.

Not one.

Children arent stupid. Children are always going to remember the richy bitchy blonde who bullies the art kid, and the big kid, and the shy kid, and the non white kids, and was only nice to her equally rich white friend who she probably had a crush on or was only ever civil to her equally white lapdog. They're going to remember the half asian girl who was never allowed to actually be asian or the only black girl who existed solely as a soundboard for enabling bad habits or chastising the main character for the same habits she enables in the first place (boi aint THAT a topic for later). Like do i really need to explain that alya chastising marinette for taking max’s spot in gamer just to play with adrien rings absolutely hollow when she actively encourages her to sabotage the contest she’s in just so Kagami doesn't win?? Like I don't have to explain that right?? Again kids arent stupid and its quite something that Mari gets chastised for proving herself the best video game player regardless of her intentions just cuz it comes at the expense of max’s feelings/ego but is actively encouraged to sabotage not only kagami but herself by extension cuz kagami is ‘competition.’ Adrien is not a trophy to be won. And no I don't expect 14 yrs old to be perfect and to always make good decisions but these decisions are never addressed as being bad decisions. they get swept under the rug cuz those decisions were necessary for the ‘plot’ but astruc can barely keep characterization consistent and his characters suffer for it and it's the same children you preach are watching it that suffer as well. Cuz guess what? I KNOW 14 yr olds aren't like that cuz i've been there done that (this is the last time i'm saying that i promise) so I know astruc is just metaphorically throwing darts to figure out who says and does what without consideration for pre established personalities to drive the stalemate plot along. The same kids you say are watching this don't know that that's not how preteens work and will absorb and internalize those dynamics like baking soda and vinegar. Cata-fucking-strophically.

And I haven't even gotten to the boys yet. Which honestly doesn't require much explanation anyways cuz they suffer the same fate as the girls. Tired archetypes with nothing to give them life. Nino falls into Adrien’s person of colour token best friend who dates the female lead’s person of colour token best friend so they can have cute double dates uwu. Except the plot goes nowhere and we have no inclination of romantic development beyond moments that only act to actively convince me to anti ship the lovesquare (i don't want to do that so i self indulge in fanon that actually cares about the characters and plot. may i interest you in True Sight on AO3?). Max is the residential nerd but it doesn't matter (cuz he and everyone are dumbed down for the sake of ‘plot’), kim is the sports jock (which interestingly subverts the asian comedic relief stereotype but only barely) and luka is cute older guy ™ that wears black nail polish and is in a band. The point of all this is to say there is no depth in the characters. It's especially blatantly obvious with the characters astruc doesn't like (chloe). Again, it being a show for kids is not an excuse to be absolved of putting effort into the characters you make.

This is one of the biggest misses astruc has. I haven't even gone into all the nuances of this particular miss. And i havent gone into how that works against him in the plot either. Mostly because the plot itself hasn't gone anywhere and partially because I wanted to go into the plot (or lack thereof) separately as its own miss.

AND BOI is it a miss.

SO home boy astruc wanted to reap the benefits of a serial show with ‘engaging’ plot without putting in any of the work to make a linear storyline and relying on the episodic format for, again, marketability. You can't have the best of both worlds, you are not Avatar: The Last Airbender. Which btw has a lot less episodes and a desired end goal that didn't involve top dollar. Legend of Korra did but that's not the point and it had its failings with that too. I challenge you, tell me how many episodes actually contribute towards a plot point or introduce new thematic elements to the show? Can you name them? I can and I'm going to include the plot points that moved the story in some direction if only temporarily. Yes only temporarily for some of these and i will explain later. (if you're in the server you already saw this list *wink*)

25/26. Origins- self explanatory, the beginning of the story,

24. Volpina- introduction of the grimoire and Master Fu (kind of) and no, Lila is not a plot point,

28. The Collector- proper introduction of Master Fu,

37. Sapotis- introduction of Rena Rouge,

41. Syren- introduction of new aquatic power ups,

44. Anansi- introduction of Carapace,

47. Frozer- introduction of new ice power ups,

48/49. Style Queen- introduction of Queen Bee,

51/52. Heroes’ Day- introduction of Mayura and mass akumatization,

66. Startrain- introduction of Pegasus,

67. Kwami Buster- Marinette wears multiple miraculouses,

68. Feast- backstory as to how the miraculouses were lost,

69. Ikari Gozen- introduction of Ryuko,

70. Timetagger- introduction of Bunnyx,

71. Party Crasher- introduction of Roi Singe and Viperion,

73. Chat Blanc- alternate timeline that essentially means nothing but got a reaction out of fans anyways (myself included)

77/78. Love Eater/Battle of Miraculous- Marinette becomes guardian and other heroes lose their miraculous,

New York Special- other heroes exist and there is an American miraculous box,

That's 21 episodes. 21 out of a heaping 78 plus 2 specials. Everything else was just your typical akuma of the day episode and everything that happened outside that had no lasting consequences on the plot thanks to the miraculous status quo. Was it entertaining to watch Lila stir the plot of the class dynamic? Hell yeah. Too bad it meant nothing by the end of the episode cuz we were struck with miraculous status quo. She literally doesn't appear again until Heroes Day. that is from episodes 25 all the way to 51, she means nothing and yet she is treated with the severity of a b-villain/rival thing. She means nothing by the end of Volpina if I'm being honest. She is only relevant for 20 mins of episode time she’s in then it's back to magic status quo that undoes any shift in dynamics and relationships. It's like Spongebob who can't get his driver’s license. The worst part is I actually like Lila and I wish the story treated her with the seriousness we as an audience are expected to treat her with. Despite being painfully inconsequential by the end of each of the 3?? 4?? episodes she’s in, it's entertaining to watch a character create drama just because.

Too bad it means nothing.

Astruc is constantly building up suspense to something ‘important’ only for it to not deliver and fans are constantly having the rug pulled out from under us. Oblivio teased us with a reveal only that gets undone cuz memory akuma. Chat Blanc teased us with romantic development but that gets undone cuz time travel bullshit. Feast introduced more miraculous lore and the history of the guardians but that means nothing by the next episode or ever (i'm not including any reference to the season 4 trailer cuz i've been around the block a few times and im familiar with this lil dancy dance). Heroes Day teased us with a possible future team of heroes but that gets undone in Battle of Miraculous cuz ????? why?? (here's why; astruc was having a jolly ole time letting us know how irredeemable Chloe is at the expense of shooting his own stagnant plot in the foot. Again, discussion for later.)

Too bad anything that slightly swerves off course from the akuma of the day gets undone or ignored. Too bad nothing has any lasting consequence. I mean, if anything did, the episodes would have had a consistent order and release schedule so im not scrambling to watch the leaked ep in Portuguese or something while the french dub is two episodes behind while the english version hasnt even been dubbed. I really wonder how he plans to conclude the show when he’s so afraid to step out of the corner he painted himself in.

Again, not going into nuances. If you want you can ask for more specifics (i doubt anyone would) but this is really just a slightly detailed general overview of my opinions on astruc’s writing.

I was going to include another miss in his approach to this show but imma save that for another time.

How’s that for a ‘first’ post?

#mlb #opinions my guy opinions #i dont wanna tag this as salt #but mlb criticisms and analyses #IHTMO #the hashtag for this series #thomas astruc #miraculous fandom #miraculous ladybug #miraculous: tales of ladybug and cat noir #yes the government name again #come get yall juice #miraculous

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invitedeath · 4 years ago

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SEPHIROTH — relationship & plotter call.

hello lovely isolians! it’s been actually ages since i made my first one, or my second one, so i’m coming back with new vigour & hopefully some new ideas to tempt you all into friendship ( or...enemy...ship) with sephiroth!

so liking this post means that you are 100% down with interacting with me in some fashion! ways this might happen may be... → me sending you im’s / tumblr asks to plot or chat! i can be quite a talkative person as a forewarning, as i love discussing rp things as well as getting to know my rp partner! → if we are already friends on discord or twitter, i might message you that way to ask you about plots or ideas or to run things by you. → exchanging ask memes / meme day things that might be a bit more personal than a general sentence meme. → possible random starters or musings dedicated to your muse, sometimes i get sudden inspiration for these things! i will always check first that you’re okay with taking on a new thread, but yes this is for just... if i get inspired & want to put something up for you! → general tomfoolery and shenanigans in character ( and ooc if you like )

you can contact me via the im system here, by the /ask feature or you can ask for my discord/twitter if you prefer those. just let me know. discord is the most private however so we’d need to chat a bit more elsewhere first just for my comfort! i am in the isola discord sever however so we can totally talk in that server for a bit too!

FRIENDS.

↪ honestly friendships aren’t typically on the agenda for him. he is arrogant beyond belief and considers everyone to be weaker than him or to some degree unworthy of his time or energy. he really does not have any interest emotionally in anyone besides himself, instead he is far more likely to use and discard people when they are no longer needed. HOWEVER, in 2020 sephiroth underwent quite a big character development stage, essentially his long-term goal came to a head and it backfired pretty back when he got all his powers back, so while he’s super strong again now, he’s also semi-content (i guess) with living in isola for a while, if only so he can figure out how the multiverse works (meta, i know). he talks to people now (wow!) and engages in mostly philosophical conversations, about... life. death. etc.

↪ i am down to... vague villain-alliance type deals with fellow power players here. he wont consider your muse a friend, but rather a pawn or even a means to an end, that end being his goal of generally using this island for his means, apologies. preferably the intellectual, over-powered, edgy types will probably gravitate towards him more, but i’m willing to throw anything at the wall to see what sticks. he’s not a nice guy, by any means, but it would be interesting to see how he has to play the game here to his advantage until he regains powers. i especially would like to interact with other villains who are kind of just chilling, maybe they’re veterans in spirale also and they can share a glass of wine over watching all the citizens running around like ants. we could also do a murder if you are into that.

↪ there are some cases where he might engage in conversation with non-villain types and these would likely be far more dialogue-heavy threads including metaphorical topics or debates. the conversations of life, death, mortality, good vs evil, frailty of existence, legacy, power and corruption, calamities, birthright and betrayal are just some of the topics possible to arise in discussion. that being said, whilst these topics would be of interest to him, the character themselves must meet his standard of what he considers worthy of his time eg. those just willing to argue with him will bore him whereas someone curious to his nature might be treated to an actual conversation. over time this has opened up into most people being capable of talking to him. he has less patience for over-eager plucky types, but anyone with a respectable manner who likes talking a lot will probably find an interesting conversation partner in this... ONLY SLIGHTLY CHILLED sephiroth. he’s not totally chill, he’s just a lil chill.

↪ warriors, outcasts, villains, intellectuals, fellow puppet-master type villains especially, those he ‘befriended’ in past events, perhaps even neighbours to his castle would all be likely connections. friends of those he has worked alongside or met, or those wishing to seek great power and know of his existence might seek him out also, but yes... ““““friends”“““ is a very difficult term for him. he’s getting better.

→ his most recent developments see him as a far more casual version of his canon self, over a year of living as close to a “domestic life” as possible have meant that whilst he is aloof and cold, he is also far more likely to be out and about, buying wine at some creepy gas station at 4:30am for example. he chats when he’s in the mood and might even stick around to cause some chaos for the sake of boredom eating him alive. so whilst he is still very much a dangerous inhabitant here in spirale, sephiroth is currently Domesticated somewhat.

ENEMIES.

↪ heroes of all shapes and sizes might feel threatened by the ominous presence of a monster who seems inclined to side with chaos as opposed to peace. he’s not outright starting fires here but he is present in the more morbid moments of isolian discourse, an omen of death lingering on the sideline. he has his plans and he may just mock you with them, but in general since he does and WILL cut down npcs ( or players ) alike, he makes for the perfect villain. BE WARY he has all of his powers unlocked and knows the island well. fighting him would not guarantee your victory, especially if you are a freshly applied character.

in feb 2020 he almost brought chaos to spirale too so i’m sure anyone holding a grudge or wary of a potential threat like that would be very aggro towards him.

↪ he has traumas. plenty of them. some of them originate from labs and white coats, meaning he might just view you as an enemy if you’re a scientist or someone who dabbles in human experimentation. his reasons are his own, but let’s just say that if you consider him a good candidate for poking and prodding with scientific equipment, you may just lose an arm.

↪ i LOVE fight threads especially really gritty, bloody types. i would prefer to plot these out so we know what’s going on beforehand, but feel free to develop these with me honestly i love a good old classic villain hero showdown. he’s less likely to get into these without a good reason but if we do one, the winner is randomly determined via generator to make it fair if your character is also uncapped!

→ police/law enforcers/general crime stoppers might remember him for causing a bit of trouble in the past! insert how bad me be gif. try and ??? get him to apologise i guess. arresting sephiroth sounds like the plot of a funny movie.

LOVERS.

↪ this man has a bf now, can you believe it? 2021...isola gay rights.

MISC.

↪ pawns and such would be a fun dynamic later. his general presence is pretty terrifying, so it wouldn’t be a stretch if you have an appropriate muse for them to be fearful enough to carry out some little tasks for him. this might be more common later on, but i’m down to discussion for it currently!

↪ places you may find him can include: ↪ near his residence ( personal housing; castle in the mistwood ) ↪ fibonacci ward ( levels 3 and 4 especially due to the museums and things. but also the lowest levels, he tends to wander around there as if searching for something... feel free to try and figure out what it is ) ↪ golden ward ( the university if only to borrow books from the library, he can read there for days at a time without sleep or food. he reads all kinds of things, both fiction and non fiction. ) ↪ archimedes ward ( pretty much everywhere in this ward, it’s my favourite. he enjoys music and art sometimes. hit me with that biblical shit. ) ↪ the mistwood ( 100% down to be that cryptic creature that leads you from your path to your likely doom ) ↪ the city of yesteryear ( typically the underground areas, just investigating really. any strange occurrences would likely draw him there as would any presence of a strong power. ) ↪ atop skyscrapers, looming at the ‘edge’ of the world we can currently explore, typically more active at night, perhaps at the scene of a murder / attack ( plotted ), if he’s feeling extra ballsy he might be found in a bar but its very rare. very VERY rare, wandering broken buildings, invading scientific facilities or buildings. he’s not going to be found in busy, socially strained areas basically.

↪ i’m down for any ideas you might have too for plots so feel free to just message me if nothing here caters!

STATS PAGE | APPLICATION | PLOTTING PAGE

#isola relationship call #isola plotting call #cw // long post #AAAYYY

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kahenn · 3 years ago

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KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER. REPOST DO NOT REBLOG !!

NAME: Bunny

PRONOUNS: she/her

PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION: discord (most easily reached there), you can IM me but I’m slower because I don’t use the tumblr app.

NAME OF MUSE(s): Miki Fuyuno

RP EXPERIENCE/HOW LONG (MONTHS / YEARS?): Ugh, don’t make me think about it. (15 years probably, but that really is meaningless. 9 years on tumblr tho)

PLATFORMS YOU’VE USED: tumblr, deviantart, and way, way, way, back in the day, quizilla and gaia online lol.

BEST EXPERIENCE: I have literally made some lifelong friends and connections through this weird little hobby and honestly I think that’s pretty cool?

RP PET PEEVES/DEALBREAKERS: Unnavigable themes and too much aesthetic that your posts/blog is inaccessible. I’m not talking nice edits or a bit of small text. I’m talkin formatting that’s all over the place, links that are impossible to find, weird contrast or tiny tiny text that makes things hard to read. It doesn’t even look good and when I have a terrible time navigating your page, it really puts me off from wanting to write in the first place. Purple prose is bad.

A deal breaker is ignoring my OC’s lore. There’s no point in RPing with me if you’re not going to take into account her story. I try to make her meld pretty seamlessly in to the world, without overtly shoehorning her into any canon character’s story lines, so as to not directly step onto canon’s toes. The most you have to acknowledge is her existence, some characters will know her by association or as an acquaintance at most at a base level. Some don’t need to know her at all. Basically, if you’re going to RP with me, you ought to take all of her shit seriously otherwise why are you here?

MUSE PREFERENCES

FLUFF, ANGST OR SMUT: Definitely fluff or smut. Angst has its merits for sure, but I really dislike angst just for the sake of angst. You know, putting our characters through turmoil for no other point than to just make things terrible for them. I like a bit of angst if it’s plot driven and has some sort of resolution, but mainly, rp is an escape and a hobby that I do to unwind and enjoy myself. So I prefer to write things on the happier side! On the topic of smut, I like that to have some plot. I don’t write smut just for the sake of smut. It has to make sense for our character’s prior interactions. It has to be going that way, you know? There has to be some build up and development before it gets to that point.

PLOTS OR MEMES: I have the memory and foresight of a goldfish so even though there are things i think of that make me go “oh my god i really want to write that!!!” I will forget about it until I am randomly reminded of it again. That could be days or months in between lol. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good plotted thread and I love screaming about scenarios of our muses with my partners, but honestly, I really like when a good meme segues into a thread. Just feels natural. Please reply to my asks, lol.

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES: I’m somewhere in between. I like at least a few paragraphs for serious/involved threads. Dash comm, quick back and forths, or silly stuff I really don’t expect more than a few sentences. I can get long and wordy if the thread and mood is right (I am looking disrespectfully at Rowan).

BEST TIME TO WRITE: Time is meaningless, I type shit out when the whim strikes me. I honestly have no pattern of when I write best. Generally I write best when I am not tired and not in pain (I am often these things, haha). Sometimes that’s late morning, afternoon, or late night. Spin the wheel, see where it lands! Can’t sayI get any words out early morning though.

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S): Miki is my brain child so probably. I’m not a giant tsundere, nor am I 5′0″ tall and blonde but...I am also fond of plants/nature/gardening and the like. Certainly not to the extent Miki takes it. I kind of like domestic hobbies (baking/cooking, knitting, drawing) while Miki is less inclined to those. We like pink (but I take that one to the extreme).

I stole this, now you should steal it also. Stealing is ok.

#posting this late i will probably reblog in the morning too lol

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blacknovelist · 5 years ago

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Hi 👋 I love the ageswap AU it’s cute! So what’s the relationship between Mentor Shigaraki & Student All For One is like compare to canon? Sorry if this has been ask before but I’m curious to see your opinion? (Thank You For Reading.)🙏

Hi!! I’m so glad you’re enjoying Ageswap – content for the AU’s pretty inconsistent in coming around (the au itself is pretty inconsistent sometimes but shhhhh we’re just here to have a good time) but it always makes us happy, haha. This isn’t a question that’s come up, actually, tho I’m really glad u asked?? Because I only got caught back up to the manga recent-ish, so me n @guardianlioness got to hammer out a whole bunch of details on that end out while we were conferrin’ about this

hang on to ur seats folks bc im here to finish my school work and talk a lot

and i’ve just finished my school work

(also, as an aside: me and lioness always want to talk about ageswap. I don’t think i’ve deleted a single ageswap ask, they’re still here, waiting for me. they’ll happen eventually, probably, I guess, one way or another, and thank u to everyone for bein’ patient

Also also, spoilers abound bc of some names I’m dropping! If you haven’t made it through that one League of Villains arc with the Liberation Army and don’t want spoilers, this isn’t the post for you.

So in the much broader sense, we’ve at least discussed the history of One for All and All for One to some degree over here, but we’re gonna expand, add, and shift stuff around a smidge probably, in actual AU context. The important tl;dr is basically that the League is just a group that opposes the users of One for All after a vendetta when One for All first manifested, and All for One (who henceforth will be referred to as AfO, probably, because although Shigaraki’s his name it’d be confusing, I think, to just leap wholesale into that) was the child of Izuku’s as-of-yet unspoken of OfA mentor, who was assumed dead along with the rest of the mentor’s family but was instead taken in by Tomura (as we’ll be calling Mr. Shimura Tenko from here on out, to try and reduce confusion still and also bc in the beginning he didn’t have the name Shigaraki ) when Tomura lead the league to wreck OfA mentor’s shit bc he’s petty like that.

Now I don’t necessarily need to get into the big details – for the sake of brevity, I’ll make a separate post on AfO, his goals, the brother whomst he loves a lot that we’re giving him for canon parallels in spite of how much we’ve already bungled stuff up, and AfO’s relationship with Toshinori now that that’s all been hashed out – but I do want to point out that, for a time AfO was unaware that Tomura was the one who destroyed his home, only that Tomura was there and saved him and his little brother. OfA mentor hid/went underground/stopped using their family name of Shigaraki after the rest of the family died in grief, so Tomura used that to persuade AfO to not run back to his parent until AfO was swayed to his side, so to speak.

For the most part, Tomura and AfO’s relationship in Ageswap is something of a twist again on canon. See, and this is fun because we love drawing those lines between characters, Tomura (in both Ageswap and canon) is a fascinating emotional sort, both in relation to his mentor/student AfO, but ALSO to Izuku, who does studies on quirks and mumbles a lot and has incredible observational skills, whereas Toshinori is a beast of instinct and feeling, which again foils him to the far more calculating AfO and his logical student! That is to say, the parallels are criss-crossing: Toshinori could be attributed towards Tomura, where AfO could be towards Izuku. Now, obviously, it’s not a 1:1 ratio because nothing is, but it means that when we flip the dynamic we get something just as dysfunctional and unhealthy as in canon, but in a totally different way!

Tomura’s something of the Worst Mentor Slash Elder Sib Figure Ever in this world. He’s a hot mess to AfO’s young meticulousness, and through him AfO kind of. learns to live a little, so to speak. Or at least, relax and also take what he deserves w his quirk bc hey, he has the power, why not?

The general attitude we’re giving Tomura in this AU is kind of…. unnervingly touchy-feely or close physically, esp given what his quirk is. AfO isn’t quite so scared of it, because it’s Tomura, who’s a beloved teacher and friend, but it’s something of a (possibly unintentional, haven’t decided) way for Tomura to keep the League metaphorically close. Because he acts so relaxed and familial, it draws the League together and makes them less inclined to leave, later. And even if they wanted to, well… Tomura’s right there, and we all know what his quirk is. The relationships he’s fostering are just as unhealthy as in canon, just differently.

I think the dynamic might be that Tomura’s encouraging AfO to go apeshit, basically. Kind of like “you have this quirk you barely use/barely know about, and you can do all these things, so why don’t you?” ish, pushing him to overhaul a world/society that condemns his quirkless brother and keep his own power so tightly wrapped he suffers, you know? There’s a weird extra-close obviously openly familial aspect to the League, which is meant to parallel how awkward Izuku is with Toshinori and how they maintain a distance even though they also care and love each other a lot, and it has everything to do with the way Tomura acts and holds himself. Also, the League all refers to him as Tomura in private, to kind of…. sit on those close pseudofam vibes.

As for what AfO thinks of his mentor… well, AfO is the one who offered his family name “Shigaraki” for Tomura to use, a name that even Izuku hadn’t known because his own mentor never told him in their attempt to separate from their grief. So, you tell me what his thoughts might be.

#Boku no hero academia #BNHA #My Hero Academia #MHA #Ageswap AU #whiteroes1977 #BNHA Spoilers #Novelist Answers #BNHA AU #SUP FUCKERS WE'RE BACK #kind of #i only live here on weekends but my brain tends to interpret the time im at home in specific spaces as ''weekend'' so. there's the problem #anyway thank u for askin and also enjoying ageswap <3 it's such a weird indulgent au and by god it's the hill i'll die on #All for One #AfO #Shigaraki #hurgle #DON'T AT ME I KNOW I TALK ABOUT THE WEIRD EMOTION/LOGIC PARALLEL A LOT IN AGESWAP OK

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cptablovegood · 6 years ago

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Absolutely no one asked for this or probably even wants this but I’m less than a hundred pages in to Fool’s Errand and Fitz and Beloved are already ruining me so I’m literally just going to make a note of every time they’re being super in love (even if Fitz is constantly obtuse and refuses to admit it) just for my own (in)sanity..

———————part 1————————

Apparently only original posts show up in tumblr searches some imma just have to keep adding on to this rather than reblogging hope you’re ready for a shit so guys!

“I see a love that wends its way in and out of all your many years. That faithful heart has been absent for a time, but is soon to return to you again.” A witch reading his LOVE LINE! She also makes a direct comparison to Molly. Fitz foolishly thinks it’s about Starling but Beloved arrives soon after so we know its about them. HIS LOVE LINE GUYS!

“Your one true love is stitched in and out and through you life. Love will return to you.” You could interpret this as being about Molly as I think they end up getting back together after Burrich has died but I’m way more inclined to believe this is about the Fool. For one its the same witch says its right after the above. Fitz himself also dimises Molly. But mainly the phrasing. The White Prophet and his Catalyst are often described as being interwoven and bound together despite of any distance and time. Like the metaphors are parallel making me think this is about the Fool. Which means… Beloved is Fitz’s one true love! Guys can Robin Hobb just give me a fucking break please!

*a whole paragraph admiring a horse* “The rider was fully worthy of the horse.” He thinks his mans is fine ok!

“He smiled. Something turned over in my heart. I moistened my lips, but could find no words, no breath to utter them if i had. My heart told me one thing my eyes another.” Ummm how fucking in love is Fitz? He hasn’t seen the Fool in 15 years and he’s speechless and his heart is doing somersaults? His eyes are saying wait that’s not how i remember the fool but it doesn’t fucking matter he KNOWS its the fool HIS HEART KNOWS.

“I open my mouth, then helplessly spread wide my arms. At that gesture that said all I had no words for, an answering look lit his face.”Again he’s literally speechless but that doesn’t even matter the Fool can fully understand him. Soulmates don’t need such trivial things as language to communicate!

“He glowed as if a light had been kindled in him” Im sorry thats some romantic shit.

“He did not dismount but flung himself from his horse towards me.” Hi the Fool literally launched himself off a horses back into your arms!

“The horse shied away but none of us paid her any attention.” They’re so absorbed in each other.

“In one step i caught him up. I enfolded him in my arms as the wolf gambolled about us like a puppy.”

“‘Oh Fool,’ I choked. ‘It cannot be you, yet it is and I do not care how.’” Emotions are literally choke him he’s about to start crying, I-

“He flung his arms around my neck. He hugged me fiercely. … For a long time he clung to me like a woman.” Yeah we know Fitz has some old misconstrued ideas about love and gender so for him to even parallel that is a lot ok…

“Until the wolf insistently thrust himself between us.” Ok so not only would they have carried on clinging to each other if Nighteyes hadn’t have forced them apart but also the wolfs reaction is super fucking important as well. Like Nighteyes is Fitz’s Wit beast. He has never loved another person other than Fitz so loyally and without question. When he first meets the Fool he trusts him straight away and calls him pack long before anyone else. Fitz even gets jealous of their bond in the first trilogy until Nighteyes explains that why shouldn’t he trust and love someone so fiercely if Fitz already feels this way about them.

“…wiping away tears. I did not think less of him for them. My own ran unchecked down my face.” Urgh thank you Robin Hobb for letting men cry! But they are both so overcome with emotion and not ashamed or embarrassed to show the other person that they’ve been brought to tears by their reunion like wow they’re so in love.

“He flowed to his feet, every nuance of his grace as familiar to me as the drawing of breath.” He likens simply seeing the fool moving to something that is habitual and that sustains his life I-

“He cupped the back of my head and in his old way, pressed his brow to mine.” I would argue more tender than a chaste kiss.

“He stared at me, his eyes touching the white streak in my hair and running familiarly over the scares on my face. I stared just as avidly…” they’re drinking each other up after so many years apart committing each other to memory again.

“The wide grin that lit his face erased all years and distance between us.” something as simple as a smile can bring them right back together like they haven’t been separated for 15 years.

“I felt something from him; the thinnest knife-edge of of shared awareness. … ‘All down the years’ his voice going as golden as his skin ‘you have been with me, as close as the tips of my fingers, even when we were years and seas apart. Your being was like the hum of a plucked string at the edge of my hearing, or a scent carried on the breeze.’”Maybe I’m smoking crack but I think this might be the most romantic thing ever? ‘his voice going golden as his skin’ why does that warm my heart so??

“‘Had I possessed the Skill in truth you would have known I was there. At your fingertips, but mute.’ I felt an odd easing in my heart at his words, for no reason I could name” Fitz mate thats love. Love and the confirmation and realisation that you had never and would never truly be alone or lonely.

“It was a boys thing to do, this immediate offering to share a prized possession and my heart answered it, knowing that no matter how long or how far apart wed been nothing important had changed between us.” Like you might be men full grown now, having lived completely separate lives, not knowing each other for the last 15 years but your love is so pure it has not been marred by age or distance!

“I blinked my eyes and for a minute I was back in the Fool’s hut in the mountains, healing from my injury while he stood between me and the world” he remembers how the fool protected and shielded him and nursed him back to health.

“He created reality around himself, bringing order and peace to a small island of warm firelight.”

“Light ran up his cheekbones and dwindles as it merged with his hair.”

“‘In the space of a sundown, you show me the wide world from a horses back and the soul of the world within my own walls.’” Before the Fool came Fitz was feeling listless and suffocated by his own life. Is there a more beautiful thing than being renewed to vigor by someone you love? The Fool basically brings him all the possibilities and life that he had forgotten he could have. Also he calls the Fool ‘the soul of the world’ how fucking beautiful is that. and the fool is so fucking happy that he could do that for him.

“We are whole.” This said by Nighteyes which I again think is super important. He feels the same about the Fool as he does about Fitz. And although him and Fitz are Wit bonded and him and the Fool not he does not feel that they have been truly complete without him.

“Like sundered pieces of crockery that snick back together so precisely that the crack becomes invisible, the Fool joined us and completed us.”

“The Fool’s presence was in itself an answer and satisfaction.”

“That evening remains for me always a moment to cherish as golden and fragrant as brandy in crystal glasses.”

“I stayed away from you as long as i could. he offered the words like an apology.’ He literally cant keep himself from fitz. “Any time that you returned to visit me would not have been too soo” And Fitz doesn’t want to be left alone Beloved he wants your company!

“Nighteyes and I spoke as we did was not an effort to exclude him from our circle. It was that our circle made us one in a fundamental way we could not share. ‘Yet once we did and it was good.’” Even the wolf wants them to all be joined again and share their thoughts and feelings!

“He extended his hand to me as if he proffered an invisible gift on those outstretched fingertips. I closed my eyes to steady myself against the temptation. ‘I want it as i want breath itself Fool take it away please.’” He is having to ask the Fool to remove the temptation because he wants that wholeness, that one’s again so badly but he knows it’s a bad idea. It is taking all his will to decline it and I think of the Fool offered again he wouldn’t be able to resist a again. Also this is the 2nd time he has likened the Fool to something as fundamental as breathing.

“‘I dreamed of you once. You were sick or injured. A man leaned over you, I felt he wanted to hurt you so I-’ ‘It’s quite likely ou saved my life.’” Even when the Fool was Amber and Fitz did not know her his subconscious was looking out for her and protecting her. He fucking skill pushed someone to leave her alone without even realising it was her.

“‘Sometimes when I was most alone I mocked myself that I could cling to such a hope. That I could believe I was so important to anyone that he would travel in his dreams to protect me.’ ‘You should have known better than that.’ I said quietly.” Ok so this hurts my heart a little because Fitz always denies that he loves the Fool the way in which he wants to be loved by Fitz. I mean I don’t think that’s true at all because their love is way more intense and intimate than any woman that Fitz has ever been with Molly included the only boundary between him and the Fool is sex which arguable we know Fitz doesn’t always think is related to love cos he slept with Starling. And it fucking kills me that when Amber was in her darkest place she clung on to the hope that Fitz did truest love her but at the same time laughed at herself cos Fitz himself had told them otherwise previously. And here he has the audacity to contradict her. Like how could you ever doubt it? Cos you told them to doubt it mate! Why are you so fucking obtuse Fitz!

“‘Should I?’ He gave me the most direct look I have ever received from him. I did not understand the hurt I saw in his eyes nor the hope. He needed something from me but I wasn’t sure what it was.” Urgh again Fitz is so blind! You just need to hold him and admit to him how much you love him get over yourself and your whole ‘I can’t love you like a man loves a woman’ bullshit cos like the Fool rightfully said you didn’t love Molly cos of what was under her skirts!

“‘Were you expecting me to leave tomorrow?’ ‘I thought you might I didn’t hope it.’ ‘That's good then for you could have hoped in vain.’” They’ve finally been reunited after so long and neither one of them wants to leave the other.

“I suddenly realised the immensity of what i had asked him … like all direct questions I had ever asked the fool I both dreaded and longed for the answer.” This just feels very fucking intimate to me lads sorry to say

“‘Good night Beloved we have been apart for too long.’” Umm the Fool fucking gave Fitz his own name. His true name that he had never told anyone. His name that his own mother called him. They’re gunna ruined me these two.

This is literally only the first chapter that they have been reunited in and my heart already can’t take it!!

#rote #trote #realm of the elderlings #the realm of the elderling #robin hobb #the tawny man trilogy #the tawny man #beloved #the fool #fitzchivalry farseer #tom badgerlock #fools errand

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happyfunnycoolgirl96 · 5 years ago

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I was looking for the 2d post but i found this too i think its from a week ago-->

Ok i cant be the only one who does this so im raising the poll bc i must know. Am i the only one who gets easily obsessed with "things"? Like hobbies passions activities and pieces of media no matter the obscurity. But this is the thing- it only lasts for periods of time, like it seems to go in waves. I'll be so so obsessed with something for a short period of time and learn everything about it and read all the tv tropes pages on it and pirate it if its a game or movie and play/read/watch/whatever it over and over and draw art for it and froth at the mouth about it for a few weeks and then either totally abandon it, or "file it away" as something i find mildly interesting in the future. And these files are what I call my current interests, even if im not really into them as i once was. What this is about right now obviously is my big ass sonic phase that is completely obscuring every interest right now. Like my pokemon phase was last year and theres a wartortle figurine in my room that i recall being the shit but looking at it now i think... why is this even in my room? I dont even care about pokemon. And i find it hard to care about any media beside sonic bc thats what the thing is now. Its not a new thing either because i remember these waves since elementary school and its always the most embarrassing inane shit like... the 6teen stoked and tdi trifecta. Ren and stimpy. The simpsons was a big one i remember. my ssb brawl month in middle school!??? There are so many, like really there are a LOT. and I try hard to hide how hard these waves hit because its true, its just unusual when someone can flip so harshly from loving one thing to total apathy. Sometimes the waves will last from a week to almost a year, and then after i find myself not as media-crazy as i was before i’ll go into a remission phase and my interests will even out a little more. Then... maybe in a few weeks, maybe in a couple of months, or even longer, someway I’ll find either a new thing or go back to an old thing and the cycle will start again. Maybe its not at manic as it sounds and some waves hit much harder than others, but Im starting to think these periods of obsession aren’t as common as I thought there were. The constant is, though, is that I'll always seem to go back to some interest some time, so the interests "rotate" in a way. One week I'll be really obsessed with cooking and create 50 little buffets in a day then just stop cooking completely for a week. Sonic was really the shit in my second year of middle school and now its back, but so was animal jam in the first year and gorillaz in third and dancing in the fourth, but so was dancing in second of elementary and waynes world freshman year. I think sonic also came back for like a week that year that was weird. I really am leaving out a lot. Sometimes the obsession-less periods can get rlly long too...

I feel inclined to call these ‘special interests’ except they just seem to be the same amount of obsession in shorter, multiple spans of time and of varying topics which makes them less special i spose and also im not autistic

I just feel kind of crazy, like obsessive-crazy like this even if it makes me happy. But i wouldnt feel that way if everybody else did it like me so i guess that shows if i really should care or put a name to this whole thing anyway

#txt #long post

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imnotcameraready · 5 years ago

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chivalry is dead (7)

A/N: y’all ., ., .,,. . .. we’re finally getting to the Good Shit. my hand was literally Over the “post” button and then i remembered “oh shit this is supposed to be touchstarved roman”, so, uh, that’s not reflected in this chapter at ALL. but it’s still filled to the brim with angst. but like, hurt comfort angst. i think i can call this a hurt comfort, right? right

WARNINGS: cursing, arguments, yelling, like a lot of yelling, Complex Emotions, self-hatred (implied) — if I missed anything, please let me know!!! <3 <3

Words: 6575

Pairings: im proud to say that this has some Logicality. only 20,000 words into the story and we’re finally getting small tastes of ships. still DLAMP endgame but by god.

Part 1 (chivalry is dead) — Part 2 (i’m wishing) — Part 3 (the bells of notre dame) — Part 4 (honor to us all) — Part 5 (i’ve got no strings) — Part 6 (god help the outcasts) — Part 7 (go the distance)

AO3 link!

@starlightvirgil @forrestwyrm @daflangstlairde @marshmallow-the-panda@askthesnake @k9cat @patromlogil

i hope y’all like this one!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

______(tumblr’s not letting me put a line so ive manually created it)______

It seemed that, without Roman’s focus, the Imagination sustained a regular day/night cycle. Logan made a mental note about it as they watched the sun go down behind the forest hills, perfectly in tune with his internal clock’s knowledge of the real world’s time. The sky, however, was darkening more rapidly than it would normally. While walking through the forest, he hadn’t noticed any incline changes, so perhaps the forests were thicker than he’d originally thought. The map didn’t indicate that, anyway.

It was a fascinating place, the Imagination. It seemed semi-sentient — at least, based on how the Playwright described it and from what they’d seen so far. Logan regretted not asking to see more of it when Roman was….

No. He’d ask Roman to show him once Roman had returned. His chest hurt a tiny bit to think of it. Nothing was out of reach.

He faced forward again, marching silently. Patton was humming, had been for the whole trip, humming Disney songs.

The Child was staring at Logan still. It was unnerving, for many reasons (A child? Roman was a fucking child? Why was he staring so much? How much less formed were each of the Romans? How did they select what they looked like? Who was the Child based upon? What did he believe?) so he looked away.

“Stop,” the Child patted Patton’s back, “Stop here.”

“Ooookay,” Patton stopped, and Logan stopped behind him.

They’d been walking towards the castle this whole time, away from the sunset. It was clearly huge now, with multiple large spires with red and glittering gold flags. Patton thought it looked straight out of a medieval movie, almost too grand to just be based on Disney alone, though it did bear some resemblances to the castle in Disneyland. It was incredibly pretty.

Oh, sure, he’d seen the Imagination before. Patton and Roman had sat at the window in his room and Patton would listen to Roman as he talked about the various worlds he created. Sometimes it was a balcony with seats and a tea set, but he liked the window sofa more, since he and Roman could sit in each others’ laps and bundle up beneath a pile of blankets. Patton could recognize this castle from a distance. He’d seen this setting before, with the forest and large lake and glittering dual rivers that Roman’d named and then renamed and named again, though Patton couldn’t remember what names he finally chose.

Logan seemed surprised by it all, though, and Patton didn’t want to make it seem like he was rubbing his friendship with Roman in his face. Plus, he’d never been inside. Things were a lot bigger up close.

Yeah, he could see how Logan kept frowning around the world. How he’d been glaring at the Child for the whole walk. Patton’d made a pun — “This sure is a magic kingdom, eh?” — and he hadn’t even groaned!

Patton shifted his weight on his feet, casting Logan a worried look as the logical side inspected the building before them. Whatever was eating at him, he hoped it’d settle soon, because Patton knew they’d need Logan thinking properly to get Roman put together.

“We’ve gotta go in here,” the Child pointed to the building.

It was an unassuming door with two steps leading up to it, attached to a building that looked exactly the same as the others. Besides the door was a wooden sign, fixed to the stone wall, that read “Art Museum (Ages 3–6)”. It was a fairly unassuming building, similar to the other stone buildings to the left, right, and other side of the road.

“Okay,” Patton reached out and touched the door’s handle, just to be interrupted by the Child waving his arms up.

“No! No, no, not yet!” he put his hands out.

“Not yet? Well, what’re we waitin’ for?” Patton put his hands on his hips, watching the Child with a small smile.

“The sun is lowering. It will be night soon,” Logan added, giving the sky a quick glance again.

“But the Artist can’t know that you’re Dad and Mister Logic,” the Child said, mirroring Patton’s hands-on-hips position.

Logan, on the other hand, crossed his arms in thought. “Why can’t he know? Is he a danger?”

“Nah,” the Child shook his head and pointed a finger at Logan. “The Artist doesn’t like you most.”

Logan exhaled sharply. His brow furrowed, nose scrunched, as he processed THAT. Of course,the Playwright supporting him meant there was a counter. Of course Roman didn’t harbor only positive feelings towards him. Logan knew his and Roman’s opinions differed on a multitude of topics, often resulting in unpleasant quarrels. He knew. And, yet, it hurt. “Come again?”

“The Artist doesn’t like you. Don’t worry, he doesn’t like Mister Anxiety either. Or Mister Deceit. He kinda sorta likes Dad?” the Child made a so-so motion with his hands, before letting his shoulders drop with an exaggerated groan. “Not really. He doesn’t like Dad. It’s okay, he barely likes Thomas!”

Logan looked toward Patton with a frown, now thoroughly confused, and was greeted with a similar confused pout. There was a part of Roman who just didn’t like any of them. Not even Thomas. That upset Patton fairly well, but Logan….was almost relieved.

The Child waved his hands again, sticking them up in between the two adult Sides. “Hey! Like I said, that’s okay! We just gotta walk around him and he probably won’t notice you.”

“Do you think he won’t notice that three people have entered his house? Especially two adults. Two full Sides,” Logan couldn’t keep the disbelief from his voice.

If the Child noticed, he didn’t let on. “Yep! He barely looks up from the whatevers he’s working on, anyway,” he bounced on the balls of his feet, “Maybe….hm.”

He looked up at the sky and rubbed his hands together. Above them was a thick cloud. It would probably rain that night; they were still looking for him, anyway.

The Artist was probably getting worried. Right? Curfew was coming up soon and if Child got caught, Thief and Bard would be upset, and so Artist would be upset, too, right?

“We have to go in. If he asks, uh,” an idea popped into the Child’s head, and he snapped his fingers. “You can say you’re Dad guy and Teacher guy!”

Logan’s eye twitched. “Do you mean the characters from Thomas’ short videos?”

The last semblances of seriousness Logan held inside himself was shattered by the Child’s enthusiastic nodding. “Yeppers! They’re really nice! Teach is really good at making Dad laugh, and since this all happened, they’ve been—”

“The Shorts characters are alive inside the Imagination,” Logan wasn’t even trying to hide his disdain anymore.

He’d been half angry, half curious as they marched through the sleepy town. He could accept magic, sure, he could suspend his disbelief. It made sense that the Dominoes guy was in here. That was backed by science. But what in the name of Newton did the Shorts characters—

“Logan,” Patton held his hand and gave it a quick squeeze, “This is the Imagination.”

—okay, really, why the FUCK were the Shorts characters real in here?! — and the Child was now just rambling on about characters who were actually fictional. Characters who were characters. Scratch his curiosity from earlier, the Imagination followed no reason and he wanted out. Immediately.

Patton squeezed Logan’s hand again, in a rhythm, one two three four, tight, and raised his other hand toward the Child, who was still talking.

“Hey, kiddo,” the Child immediately quieted, looking up at Patton, “This all sounds fun, but can we talk more about it when we’re inside?”

Patton immediately regretted interrupting him. The Child’s lip curled inward, eyes growing wider as he nodded silently. He looked at Logan, who was scowling at the door, and wilted.

“Yeah. Not important. Okay,” the Child took the door handle and flung it open.

Before Patton could respond, he darted in. Logan looked at Patton, scowl replaced with a confused raised eyebrow, oblivious to the quiet tension he’d missed while internally monologuing.

Patton just slouched. The Child was more skittish than he’d anticipated.

The museum was dark and dusty, though not unintelligible. Patton entered first. There were drawings everywhere, some on actual pieces of paper, some on torn-out notebook pages, some on the wall itself. All of which were children’s drawings, of course, scribbles and splotches of paint. In the halls were also some sculptures on pedestals, most seemingly made of Playdough.

He stopped by a drawing of a house, two windows and a door, and read the placard beside it. Patton was pretty sure he had the same drawing in his room, tucked away in an old photo album.

“Thomas and Roman Sanders. House 41, 1994. Crayon on cardstock.”

Patton felt tears coming to his eyes. Thomas was only five, oh those were good times, learning about the world around him! Such a soft era. And Thomas’ grown so much since then, too.

This was an interesting place for someone to live, but considering his name was Artist, it made sense for him to live amongst his work. Patton turned around, a bright smile on his face, and motioned Logan to join him. “Logan! Come look at the art!”

Logan was standing just inside the door, which was closed behind him, eyes examining the exhibit. It was disorganized and clearly unkempt. Roman must not have visited in a while. Or maybe he didn’t have a curator for this museum. Before he could respond to Patton’s call, the Child’s voice echoed from down the hall.

“Are you coming?”

Logan and Patton shared a look, one disgruntled and one sheepish, and hurried down the hall lined with childish artwork. There were more houses, some family drawings, a fun looking self portrait with bright colors.

“Hurried” is an overstatement. Logan had to pull Patton away from a drawing on more than one occasion.

“Down here,” the Child’s whispers bounced along the walls.

They entered a room, still lined with drawings, and found the Child standing in front of one of the artworks. He held out a hand to them. “C’mon, we’re going in,” he said.

Logan squinted at the painting in question. Yes, painting, done in “Crayola Washable Paint on Cardboard,” according to the placard beside it. “Thomas and Roman Sanders. House 118.”

He looked at Patton for support that this was absolutely ridiculous, but was only met with another shrug. “It’s the Imagination,” he said, as though that explained everything, “Don’t think too hard, or you’ll get a headache.”

Too late for that, Logan thought, though he stopped himself from pondering. Instead, he grit his teeth and held Patton’s arm, determined to get to the bottom of this figurative rabbit hole. Patton himself took the Child’s hand.

The Child gripped Patton’s hand and leaned toward the painting. He pinched the painted door’s handle, tugged.

They all felt a pulling sensation, the Child pulling Patton who pulled Logan.

And then there was a door before them.

It was as though someone poured white paint all over their surroundings, from every angle, wiping away the museum they’d come from and leaving a blank emptiness behind them, all within less than a second.

Logan stared at the door. Then he turned, slow and steady, overlooking the blank white expanse. Like an empty page.

Something wasn’t computing. It’s the Imagination, he repeated in his mind, like Patton’d said earlier.

Directly behind them was the only piece of “world” they could see other than the door. It was another painting, of the museum, of the room that they’d just left, hanging in the middle of nothing.

Social realism, Logan thought. The painting’s placard read “Roman Sanders. The Art Museum repaint, 2019. Oil on canvas.” A reverse portal, created recently. Logan almost wanted to touch it and see how dry the paint was.

“C’mon, we gotta go inside,” the Child whispered, giving Patton’s hand a tug.

Patton, in turn, tugged Logan, who turned back around. “Sorry, this is just….” fascinating? Interesting? Enchanting? Something I would like to experiment with Roman on further? “Different.”

Patton watched the Child as he watched Logan. Roman was clearly still in there, Patton thought, and he didn’t want to be. And, to be frank, Patton understood that feeling. There were many days where he wanted to curl up into his hoodie and be young again, if only to hear a good joke once more. Those were the two-cookie kinds of days!

Maybe Logan couldn’t see what Patton was seeing? The Child’s big wide eyes, staring at Logan and Patton as though searching for approval. Or how he tried so hard to ignore Logan’s obvious contempt for the situation. It was obvious that the Child was actively trying to ignore it, but Patton didn’t miss how he flinched at Logan’s tone. The Child wasn’t naïve, not entirely — in certain turns of phrase and side-glances, the Child revealed his thirty years of life experiences.

But the Child also didn’t seem to notice that Logan wasn’t angry about the world. No, Patton thought as Logan turned back to the museum painting quickly, he was more upset at himself for not being able to understand it.

“Different,” Logan repeated, brow furrowed. It didn’t feel like the right word. He wasn’t usually one to have vocabulary troubles, but he couldn’t find a more adequate word.

It satiated the Child. Or, rather, the Child was thinking of something else. His hand was stiff on the doorknob. Patton leaned in, letting go of Logan finally to put both hands on the Child’s shoulders. “Go ahead,” he whispered. He hoped the Child could feel how much Patton loved him.

Perhaps he did, because the Child calmed down. Enough for him to open the door.

The most notable thing was the mess. There were a lot of things inside that door. Canvases, sketchbooks, pens, pencils, paint sets, notebooks, cups of water, all in piles or scattered about the floor. Some canvases were hung on the walls, too, and some were laid flat on the ground. Others were stacked atop each other or leaned in bunches against the walls. There was a clear path through the mess on the floor, that branched to the stairs on the left and then into the kitchen on the right. Logan could see a drawing tablet over there, too, propped against the wall. Where the laptop was, he couldn’t tell. Patton could see that most of the paintings were unfinished. Whether it be sketch lines still showing or just clearly half-painted, half-white canvases, not a single finished piece was in this clutter.

The second most notable thing was the person painting.

Another Roman — the Artist, most likely — was sitting on a stool in front of a painting on an easel. It was also only an assumption that he was another Roman, because he absolutely did not look it, clad in a white hoodie covered in paint splotches and red sweatpants, hood pulled up and covering his hair. The only thing that indicated his Roman status was the golden waves adorning his sleeves, the same as the waves on Roman’s crest.

He held a large painting palette in his right hand and a brush in his left, dabbing oil paint against the half-finished canvas in front of him. Another work in progress, it seemed.

The clutter and the painting didn’t bother the Child. He closed the door behind himself, being careful to not slam it, and cleared his throat.

The other Roman didn’t move nor speak. Just kept painting, dabbing his brush on the palette and swiping it along the canvas. The painting was unfinished, but it looked so far like an impressionist piece, Logan thought.

The Child coughed again, yet the other Roman didn’t flinch.

“I’m back, Arty,” he said.

“I heard you,” came the impatient reply, snappy and fast, the Artist not turning to speak to them, “Who’s with you?”

“Dad. And Teach. Dragon was mean today,” the Child was playing with the hem of his shirt

“Mhm.”

“It’s curfew. They couldn’t go back to their houses.”

“Mhm.”

“So they’re gonna sleep here. I’ll keep them in my room.”

“Mhm.”

The Child took Logan and Patton’s hands into his own again and pulled them toward the stairs. “Good luck with your painting,” his voice teetered off into silence as the Artist failed to turn again.

Patton opened his mouth, but the Child squeezed his hand and shook his head. Logan took a little more tugging, as he stood by the bottom of the stairs, trying to look at all the paintings. Some were paintings — oil impressionist, pop art, surrealism and cubism, even some De Stijl paintings — some were simple figure drawings on lightly-crumpled paper, some even….was that a painting of Virgil?

The Child tugged harder and Logan stumbled after him.

They made it to the top of the stairs. The Child let go of Patton and opened the door, ushering both of them in before slamming the door shut behind himself.

This was probably the most regular room they’d seen so far in the Imagination. A small twin bed sat in the corner, with a big canopy and fairy lights overtop. There were streamers and drawings and posters hanging all around the walls, even some stickers and some drawings done directly onto the wall. A wardrobe sat in the corner farthest from the bed, a desk and vanity mirror besides that, and five bean bags were arranged in a circle around a circle rug in the middle of the room.

There was an air of magic around the room, too. The fairy lights bobbed up and down slowly, despite being hung on wires, and the clouds painted onto the ceiling seemed to move. The ceiling was fairly low, too; Patton reached up, eyes stuck on a cloud in the shape of a heart, and found that he could actually touch them. The heart swirled around his hand, glowing light blue before dissipating entirely.

“Sorry about him,” Patton and Logan looked down at the Child — he’d gone to the wardrobe and was taking off his cloak, revealing a plain white shirt with the crest’s sun emblazoned across his back. “Artist’s, uh, not a people person.”

“So we saw. His work, however….it’s breathtaking,” Logan stepped aside as Patton went for one of the beanbags, “I didn’t realize Roman was that much of an artist.”

The Child snorted. He sat down on one of the other beanbags and started untying his shoes, chubby fingers unlacing them down a few notches. “Yeah, well. You never seemed interested. No one was. Arty doesn’t like leaving his art all alone, so ever since we formed he’s been in here with it.”

“Yeah, you said somethin’ like that.” Patton crossed his legs on the bean bag, leaning forward on his elbows toward the Child. “The Playwright also said something about everyone having different thoughts on what’s best for Roman.”

“Playwright!” the Child tossed his shoes into the corner behind the door and laid back in the bean bag, spread out with his arms open. “Oh my gosh, I haven’t seen him in a while, is he okay?”

Logan let his shoulders loosen and slouch. It….did feel good to unwind, after the events of the day. Maybe the adrenaline and shock were wearing off finally. He sat down on another bean bag, bending his knees as though he were in a normal chair. “Yes, he is fine. He is, ah, backstage, as he called it.”

“Yeah, I thought so. Artist doesn’t like Playwright at all,” Logan and Patton shared another confused glance at that, “Thief says it’s ‘cause he doesn’t like mister Logic, but I think he doesn’t like you ‘cause he doesn’t like Playwright.”

“Why doesn’t he like the Playwright? That seems counterintuitive, to not like yourself,” As soon as the words left Logan’s mouth, he realized how hypocritical it sounded. And how obvious the explanation was.

Patton seemed to notice as well, because he grimaced, putting a hand on top of Logan’s knee. The Child, however, just shrugged. “Well, I don’t like all of me, you know? I wanted to figure out what parts of me I could live without, but every part of me has an opinion about what part’s important.”

“I?” Logan asked, softer now.

The Child nodded. “Roman. I,” he made a gesture up at the air, and it reminded Patton a little of the hand flip Roman typically did when rising. “I’m Roman but I’m not Roman.”

“How does that work, kiddo?” Patton coaxed him.

“It’s like….” he trailed off, resting his hand on his chin as he thought. After a few quiet moments, he continued.

“Okay,” The Child sat up and patted his own chest. “Me. I’m the Child. AND I’m Roman. I’m all….”

He flopped backward again onto the bean bag, making vague gestures with his hands as he wrestled to find the words, only to find that there were none. No words truly.

The Child let his hands fall onto his stomach with a groan, staring upwards. Patton and Logan shared a nervous glance. It was clear something was bothering the Child, something integral to this Hunger Games of Romans situation.

“Take your time, kiddo,” Patton tried to comfort him, but his words seemed to fall on deaf ears.

The Child was just looking up at the sky ceiling. After another few seconds, he heaved a sigh.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The sky?” Logan and Patton both looked up as well.

“With all the clouds that look like pretty things. And even if they don’t look like things, they look soft and fluffy and wonderful. And then, when there aren’t clouds, it’s the most beautiful shade of blue or a dazzling red, like how a nice summer night makes you feel?” The ceiling had been full of fluffy white clouds, meandering across the painted blue expanse, but as soon as the Child mentioned “dazzling red” the clouds began to glow pink as the ceiling’s paint color changed to red. He clapped.

“Or, or! Even better, sometimes, when it’s really, really late, and there are stars out? And every star is like a gem on a glittering cloak that the world’s putting on you?” the ceiling changed once more, painted black as the clouds vanished. One by one, twinkling stars seemed to glow from nothing against the ceiling backdrop. In actual constellations, no less.

“It’s all so….” the Child exhaled, “Beautiful.”

Silence followed. All three of them were now laying on the bean bags, looking up at the twinkling stars and the occasional barely visible line that connected them. They just starred, Logan and Patton unsure of how to break the silence, until the Child continued himself.

“That’s what I want Roman to remember,” Patton looked at the Child, who was watching the stars. He spoke with a strong determination, voice set. “That’s what I want to see. The beauty.”

He faltered, closing his open mouth and gritting his teeth. Logan looked away from the sky now, too, and watched the Child as he closed his eyes. Wiser than he seemed. “But that makes me really childish, doesn’t it? If we just see the beauty, then that means we’re ignoring all the bad stuff. And if we’re too childish, we don’t get taken seriously, and we really need to be taken seriously. I mean….”

The Child glanced over at Patton, and he could have sworn that the Child had tears in his eyes. Oh, he hoped he wasn’t crying. Patton reached out, offering his hand to maybe comfort him, but the Child just shrugged, unwilling to look at him anymore.

“We see how you get treated, Dad,” Patton’s brow furrowed in confusion, hand retracting a little, as though the Child’s words hurt. “No one takes you serious and you always have to prove yourself. We don’t take you serious, either, a lot of the time. ‘Cause if you’re childish, then you don’t deserve to be taken seriously. That’s what Roman tells himself. Tells me. But it’s wrong.”

Now the silence was just awkward. Patton lowered his hand into his lap as the Child looked back up at the sky. There was no denying now, now that the Child’s quiet breathing hitched and stuttered, that he was crying.

“It has to be wrong,” he whispered between gasps.

Slowly, the Child pulled his hands up to his face, rubbing his eyes and sniffing into his hands. Patton was going to start crying himself, watching the Child cry. He turned to Logan with a bitten lip. He knew, deep down, that the others didn’t always take his opinion seriously. Heck, it was a running theme! Patton the childish, the inner child, the baby. But Jesus, that was point blank.

“You’re correct, Roman. I don’t always understand you both, but the things I don’t understand aren’t…they aren’t unimportant. Occasional immaturity does not equal insignificant. We….” Logan faltered and looked up at Patton, who was staring at him now, tears dotting his eyes.

They really did walk on him, didn’t they? Logan considered the times he had helped elevate Patton’s concerns, and the situations in which Patton’s concerns were elevated. No one took the puppet suggestion seriously, until it was proven successful, and Thomas himself had to step in to get them to even consider it as an option. Along with that, Deceit was able to mimic Patton by, what? Literally saying he was a fan of cartoons and was silly? It was so easy to character Patton into a caricature of immature glee that he, Roman, and Virgil barely noticed.

That was the insult, wasn’t it. Childish. Not to be taken seriously. Silly and immature. Was that what he thought of Patton?

Patton wiped his tears and looked away. “I….guess that’s true. But hey! That’s what comes with being Thomas’ inner child, isn’t it?” there he went, voice heightening in pitch as he tried to make it sound as though he weren’t so upset with Logan’s silence and the Child’s assessment. “Your dorky ol’ Dad can be a lil’ goofball a lot of the time.”

“Your goofball-ness is welcome, often appreciated. We….do have a lot to learn, about having fun and seeing things anew.”

Patton looked over at Logan, who was watching him with determination. The Child, too, was watching Logan with both eyebrows raised, having grabbed a pillow from his side to press his face into. His eyes were two large spotlights.

“I do not understand the Imagination. I cannot claim to. But there IS immense beauty in this world you’ve created, and I see that it would be a waste to focus on making logical sense of it rather than take in the world around as a work of art. It might be childish, but sometimes….a little childishness is what we need to maintain a healthy lifestyle and a healthy headspace. Your input is appreciated.”

If Roman was having these sorts of concerns, about being perceived as childish or not, then Logan knew it was likely Patton had similar concerns. He chided himself mentally for letting this self-consciousness fester but a direct approach was always the most efficient.

And it was all worth it to see Patton smile and remove his glasses, wiping the tears from his downcast eyes.

“Thank you for sharing your concerns with us, kiddo,” the Child smiled at the nickname and rubbed the back of his neck, turning away for a bit. Patton smiled at him, then at Logan, beaming like the sun. “Logan put it real well.”

Logan fixed his glasses, pleased with himself, and the Child patted his arm. “Thank you, Logan,” he said.

They sat in silence, eyes flicking with new brief understanding between each other, until there was banging from below the floor. Patton squeaked and Logan stiffened, but the Child just groaned into his pillow.

“WHAT’RE YOU TALKING ABOUT UP THERE?!” the Artist’s voice boomed from below.

“JUST TALKIN’ ABOUT THE OTHER SIDES WITH TEACH,” the Child shouted back, voice muffled by the pillow.

“WELL, SHUT UP ‘BOUT THEM! THE DRAGON BITCH’LL HEAR YOU!”

“YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!”

“YOU BRATTY LITTLE—DON’T MAKE ME COME UP THERE!”

The Child leaned his back, groaning loud and angrily. “FINE! SORRY!”

Logan and Patton exchanged worried glances. Had the Artist heard that whole conversation? They looked to the Child for any thoughts or input, but he just shook his head.

“He won’t come upstairs. Ugh, I was doing real good at not saying your names,” he rubbed his face, rubbing the tears into his skin to hide them, “It’s–It’s like the taboo system. Dragon, he put a curse on your names so all of us can hear it when someone says them. The others aren’t really scared of that, they–they….Artist doesn’t want anyone finding this house. He heard me say your name, mister Logic.”

Before either of the adults could respond, however, there was another crash from downstairs. The Child frowned and climbed off the bean bag, kneeling on the ground with an ear pressed to the rug.

“What—” Patton was cut off by the Child shushing him harshly.

They weren’t confused for long, though, as the voices grew more raised and angry.

“—TOLD YOU—FUCK OUT!” they heard the Artist shout.

“I WILL ONCE YOU STOP TALKING SHIT ABOUT THE OTHERS! THEY’RE IN OUR REALM NOW, THEY COULD HEAR YOU!”

Patton raised his eyebrows. He looked at Logan, who was frowning at nothing. When he noticed Patton, Logan mouthed “Playwright.” He didn’t seem like the type to be so….explosive.

“WELL TOUGH, PLAYWRONG. I DONT GIVE A FUCK IF THEY HEAR ME! I JUST DON’T WANT DRAGON SHOWING UP, THOSE UNGRATEFUL CRITICAL ASSHOLES—”

“THEY’RE MUCH MORE THAN THAT, THEY’RE BETTER THAN ALL OF US COMBINED, YOU STARVING STEREOTYPE—”

The Child stood up slowly, stepping carefully on the rug and sliding his feet along the wooden floor. He slid all the way to the door. As slow as he could, he clicked the lock in place, and let out a breath. The yelling died down immediately to a whisper, as though locking the door disconnected the room from the whole house.

“That’ll keep them out. They’re probably not gonna come up here, can’t get into my room now, but if they find you then we’re all fucked,” he mumbled.

“Language,” Patton mumbled, and the Child giggled at him. “No swear words when there’re children present, you know that!”

“Yeah, yeah—” the Child cut himself off with a yawn, shoulders hiking up slowly.

He shuffled back to the bean bags and collapsed into the one he’d been sitting in. He curled into a ball, huffing a small sigh. Patton yawned, too, and smacked his lips. Logan had to stifle a yawn himself. They were contagious.

It had been a long day. They were due for a sleep, especially after the arduous experiences they’d had throughout the day.

“Y’know, I didn’t think the Playwright’d let y’all in,” the Child’s words jumbled over each other, and he covered his mouth as he yawned again.

“What makes you say that?” Logan pressed.

Despite the tiredness, he knew there was something wrong with his initial read of the Playwright, and this situation didn’t leave space for those kinds of errors. The Child shrugged. “I….from what I know, he’s more….he likes things done his way. He really wants all of you approve of him. Mostly mister Logic, but all of you. And he really, really, really doesn’t like Princey. Him an’ Dragon an’—an’—” the Child yawned again, mumbling the rest of his sentence incoherently, but Logan didn’t process that.

There was another mention of this “Dragon” character. Logan rubbed his cheek, arms crossed on his knees as he ran the new information through his mind. The Playwright was volatile — he scoffed quietly, of COURSE Roman, with his boisterousness and exuberance, wouldn’t be able to contain his energetic nature into something reserved and quiet. He had his quiet moments, but he couldn’t maintain stoicism forever. They would have to assess him again, it seemed.

“I thought….” Patton whispered, and Logan looked up at him.

Patton’s eyes were downcast at the ground, brow furrowed in anguish. He’d thought they’d gotten at least one part of Roman, one bit to understand that they were accepted. That Roman was LOVED, damnit, because that’s what it was! He was loved, Roman was loved, and by God it felt like he’d failed if one of his friends doubted that so much that he couldn’t believe that.

“I’m gonna sleep. Just right here. Y’all can take the bed if y’all want,” the Child’s voice slurred together, halfway asleep already and cutting into both adults’ trains of thought.

Patton sighed. He slowly switched into Dad Mode as he pushed himself up and rolled his shoulders. “Nope. You’re a growing boy, kiddo, you’re goin’ in the bed.”

He stooped down and picked the Child up, chuckling quietly as he groaned in dramatic despair. Still, the Child wrapped his arms around Patton’s neck lazily, snuggling against him once more. Logan crossed his legs on the bean bag and watched as Patton sat on the bed, rubbing the Child’s back, and tried to pry him off.

“You need to get in bed, kiddo,” Patton whispered gently, “You’ve gotta sleep. A prince needs his beauty sleep, right?”

The Child giggled. “I’m not a–a–a,” he yawned again, “A prince! I’m a child!”

“But you’re gonna grow up to be one! You’re gonna grow up to be a great prince, ruling over all the Imagination,” Patton was whisper shouting, putting on a grandiose voice full of gusto.

He mimicked blowing a trumpet with one hand and the Child laughed, patting Patton’s hand down.

“Nuh uh!” he hummed between tired giggles.

Logan stood up behind Patton and gently took the Child’s hands. The Child looked up at him, squeezing Logan’s hands sleepily and giggling.

“You will be a valiant prince,” he lifted the Child’s hands away from Patton, and he took the cue to start tucking the Child into bed, “You will be a prince, lion-hearted and loved. But tonight, you must sleep.”

The Child squeezed his left hand, then his right, and laid down in the bed he’d been placed in. He looked so comforted as Patton pulled the blanket up higher around his face, big brown eyes questioning as he looked up at Logan from beneath the edge of the blanket.

“Will they listen to me?” his voice was thick as he teetered between unconsciousness and lucidity, “Will–Will they care, when I’m a prince?”

Logan nodded at him, and Patton nodded too. They were both sure, sure as the sky is blue. “Yes,” Patton whispered, “Everyone will hear you. And you’ll live happily ever after, my Prince.”

The Child giggled quietly. Slowly, he snuggled into the bed, and his hold on Logan’s hands relinquished, now gripping the blanket as he curled into a ball. Within mere seconds, he was snoring softly.

Patton stepped back and stretched. He looked up at Logan, who was removing his glasses in preparation for sleep.

“Wanna sleep on the floor?” Patton asked, “Or should we stack the beanbags in a square and use those as a bed?”

Logan considered the bean bags for a moment, actually, before deciding the morning back pain wouldn’t be worth it. “I think we can suffer the floor for a night,” he said, taking his coat off and spreading it out on the ground.

Patton followed suit, throwing his cat cloak down and spreading it out like a bed mat. They both slowly climbed to the ground beside each other, fitting themselves into the space that was to be their sleeping mat, grabbing some of the pillows and stuffed animals strewn about. At least the carpet was soft, adding extra padding. They both laid down, heads resting on some of the Child’s pillows, staring up at the stars on the ceiling.

Though they were both tired, Patton wanted to clear one thing up before letting himself drift off.

“....Lo,” Patton asked, voice soft. “Lo, are you awake?”

Logan sniffed. He was actually partway asleep already. “Yes, Pa—er. Patt.”

Patton giggled. It wasn’t always that he got to hear Logan call him by a nickname. He sobered up fast, though. “Did you mean what you said? About…about appreciating the childish things.”

Ah. Logan opened an eye. Patton smiled sheepishly at him.

He still had his glasses on. Logan turned to his side, facing Patton, reaching a hand out and taking his glasses off carefully. He slowly folded them and set them aside on the ground, with his.

“Of course I did. You provide important opinions and insight, often noticing details I….overlook,” Logan rested his hand on Patton’s shoulder, “You are appreciated.”

Patton beamed with a wobbly lip, more tears threatening to spill over. He slowly took Logan’s hand and pressed it to his lips. Not in a kiss, per se, but more to hold him close. To show that he was so thankful, so grateful for this acknowledgement. Plus, he was afraid that the tears would spill if he opened his mouth.

Logan didn’t seem to mind, though his face did turn a brighter shade of crimson, just barely visible in the starlight.

After a few seconds, Patton regained his stability. “Thanks,” he whispered. “We...we’re gonna get Roman back.”

Logan nodded, discombobulated. Patton’s breath on the back of his hand was comfortingly warm. There was that feeling in his chest. What was that?

He let go of Logan’s hand and rolled back onto his back, letting out a sign of contentedness. Their little prince was fast asleep and the next day would bring more trials. They had to find Virgil and Deceit and hopefully the Roman who’d been on the roof. They had to talk to the Artist. They had to confront the Playwright. They had to find the OTHERS and talk to THEM.

And Patton knew they’d be able to face it all head-on. He knew it in his heart. “Goodnight, Lo’. I love you.”

Logan exhaled beside him. Perhaps….things would be okay. He looked over at Patton, whose eyes were already closed, legs crossed and hands interlaced on his chest in a peaceful manner.

There was that feeling again. The data points — he was too tired to be thinking coherently, look at him, applying statistics knowledge to emotions of all things — indicated that he felt warm and fluttery near his lungs whenever he considered the other Sides. It felt as though his lungs were clenching, breathing constricting and carbon dioxide exhalation warming. That couldn’t be literal, though, or else he’d be ill. On this particular adventure, in this particular day, it’d happened a few times.

Perhaps he was just tired. It had been a long day, all of this just in one day. Logan would consider this issue more in the morning. However, he would indulge in the working hypothesis just once, whilst muddled in this warm-chested comforting confusion. “....I love you, too, Patt. Sleep well.”

It may have been a trick of the light or his mind, but Logan thought, just before he closed his eyes, that he’d seen Patton smile at him.

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searchingwardrobes · 5 years ago

Text

Of Earth and Sea: 8/9

My fic for the 2019 @cssns will drop this Friday, so to celebrate, I’m re-posting my fic from last year (and also because I was a tumblr newbie back then and didn’t post the chapters here, just the link to Ao3)

Gorgeous art by @shipsxahoy!

Also check out the additional art that @cocohook38 made for this chapter here. I flailed like crazy when I saw it the first time! Our Captain Swan family dressed in elvish clothing is brought perfectly to life in her drawing.

Summary: Five years after their wedding, Emma and Killian are ready to start a family. But Emma discovers that raising a family isn't that simple when your husband is a Dunedin (half-elf) and your mother-in-law is neither dead nor alive.

Rated T

Also on Ao3

Tagging:(let me know if you want to be added or removed from this list) @welllpthisishappening @kday426 @jennjenn615 @let-it-raines @snowbellewells @profdanglaisstuff @wellhellotragic @mythologicalmango @xhookswenchx @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @lovepurplepumpkins

Chapter Seven:

“Lend dreams nin mel

Glenn-nai i even lands

Lend songs bo i thul

Im tur-feel ha in i nen,

Im tur-feel in i coe,

Im tur-smel ha in i gwilith”

Tauriel ran her hands soothingly through her little boy’s dark brown hair as he drifted off to sleep in her lap. Every year his hair got a shade darker. When he became a man he would mostly likely have black hair like his father’s. His eyes were already that stunning shade of blue. He still had Tauriel’s freckles, but those seemed to fade as the years went by. She sighed as she watched the eight year old’s eyelashes flutter against his cheeks. Oh, how she hoped her son would choose a different path than that of his father!

It worried her that he had fallen asleep like this. He was so thin and hungry. Life as a slave boy on that ship was much too cruel. A tear slipped down her cheek as she stroked her precious boy’s face. This wasn’t the life she wanted for him. Her heart broke at how she couldn’t even care for her own child. She couldn’t even pass any of her elven strength on to him, since she wasn’t fully alive. She found berries in the forest for him to eat, but what he really needed was lambas bread. Hopefully he would dream deeply enough tonight to find himself in the elven lands, and her people could give him better nourishment. She waved her hand over him and muttered in elvish.

“I polod im-gar, im on-na cin.”

Tauriel let out a relieved breath when some color came back into her son’s cheeks. Using magic in her condition was always a guessing game. One thing was for sure; it wasn’t enough to change her son’s circumstances.

Tauriel heard course words and laughter coming from the clearing on the other side of the trees. She eased Killian gently and swiftly from her lap and into a pile of soft moss. She waved her hand over the child once again.

“Taur, coe; beri-hi hen. Lore, nin red, lore tovon a lor.”

The moss and earth obeyed her command, wrapping Killian like a blanket. The roots of the tree nearby rose up and arched over him. No passerby would guess that a child slept there. Tauriel turned and moved on her soft and soundless feet towards the voices. She almost gasped at what she saw through the cover of leaves.

A man, of dark hair and strong, slender build, had a petite, buxom maiden against a large tree. She was laughing merrily, her head tipped back as the man trailed passionate kisses along her neck. His hand cupped her bosom.

The man was Brennan Jones.

Memories assaulted Tauriel of that painful day when she had found him with another woman. His hands caressing another in the same way he had caressed Tauriel just the day before. His lips drinking in the taste of someone else. It was a jarring image that no one should have to endure. The woman Brennan was with now wasn’t the same one she had caught him with that fateful day. Seemed he was faithful to no one.

Brennan moved to loosen the woman’s laces as she buried her fingers in his hair. He began gasping out, “Loreena! Oh, Loreena!”

Tauriel rolled her eyes as she turned to slip back to get Killian. The last thing the boy needed was to see the wretched man again. Not after the year of misery the poor child had endured. All because Brennan Jones knew nothing of faithfulness and commitment. But before she could take even a step, Brennan’s female companion corrected him.

“My name is not Loreena.”

The coldness of the woman’s voice gave Tauriel pause.

“Sure it is,” Brennan chuckled, flashing the woman that charming smile of his. Only someone who knew him well, like Tauriel, would be able to see the slight nervousness in his eyes. Tauriel bit her lip to keep from chuckling. The man had known so many women, he was bound to have difficulty keeping them all straight.

“No. It is not.” Then the woman transformed right before his eyes. Gone was the head of light brown curls, gone were the petite curves, gone was the upturned, freckled nose. Instead stood a woman of regal bearing, tall, with long, straight raven tresses and milky white skin. Tauriel clapped a hand to her mouth to keep from gasping.

“Carabosse!” Brennan cried. It was the mistress he had taken when wed to Tauriel!

“Yes, it’s me,” the woman replied coldly. “I’m surprised you remembered my name. What was it . . . Margeurite? The blonde you left me for? And you were married to the redheaded elf when you took me as a lover.” She chuckled wryly. “You like a sampling, don’t you?”

Brennan sauntered close to the woman, reaching out to stroke her shiny ebony hair. “Yet none were as exotic as you, Carabosse.”

“Your flattery will get you nowhere, Brennan Jones,” the woman told him, taking a step back. “You should know better than to become entangled with a witch. Especially if you do not plan on being faithful. What is that expression? Ah yes, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

Brennan’s eyes widened and he went suddenly pale. “Come now, Carabosse, surely we can – “ His words were cut off suddenly as he clutched his throat and gasped for breath. He lifted a trembling hand towards the witch for a moment, but then collapsed to the ground.

Carabosse knelt beside him, brushing a lock of hair from his face. “Sleep well, my former lover. Sleep long and fitfully. For I do not think there are any upon this earth who feel any kind of love, much less true love for a despicable man like you.”

She leaned forward and brushed her blood red lips across Brennan’s forehead, then stood. Still looking at the still form at her feet, she called out, “I know you are there, elf.”

Tauriel startled, and quickly began to head back to where Killian lay.

“Show yourself,” Carabosse called after her. As if Tauriel had any intention of doing her bidding. Until the witch added, “I know your son is with you.”

Tauriel froze in her tracks. She shut her eyes tight and pressed her lips together. She couldn’t risk the witch hurting Killian, so she squared her shoulders and stepped out from the copse of trees. Carabosse smiled serenely at her.

“You can thank me,” she told Tauriel, gesturing at the man sprawled upon the forest floor.

“You knew I was here the whole time.”

Carabosse shrugged. “I could have put him down in the room at the tavern. But I sensed your magic in the woods, and I thought to myself, now that would be awfully poetic.”

“So you’re just going to leave him here.”

Carabosse’s eyes widened in surprise. “You worry for his well -being? After the pain he put you through?” The witch gestured at Tauriel’s body, which had begun to fade slightly. “This whole wasting away thing you elves do. Surely you hate him.”

Tauriel looked down at Brennan’s handsome face. He had a way of charming a woman, of making her believe she was the only one so beautiful, so desirable. Looking back, Tauriel realized his praise was always for her beauty: her hair, her eyes, her figure. He never really knew her heart, her soul, or her mind.

“I gave myself to one who was not deserving. I should have opened my eyes before it was too late. And now I pay the price.”

Carabosse spoke with surprising tenderness. “A grieving heart can make desperate decisions.”

Tauriel’s gaze snapped up to the woman’s face, so cold, so seemingly indifferent. Yet there was a tiny bit of softness in her eyes. “H-how did you know?”

Carabosse shrugged. “Word gets around. Especially when it’s an elf and a dwarf. Two races who are supposed to hate each other. Besides,” she inclined her head towards the trees, “you named your son after him.”

This wasn’t a topic Tauriel wished to discuss with a stranger, so she lowered her gaze back to Brennan. “We can’t just leave him here. Between the wild life and the elements, he’ll be killed.”

“You elves,” Carabosse scoffed as she turned to go, “always helping. Always caring too much.”

“It is against our nature to turn our backs on the weak and suffering.”

“You can’t undo my magic.”

Tauriel tilted her head, “I can change it.”

Carabosse rolled her eyes, “Fine, suit yourself. As long as he spends many long years in that red, burning room of torture, it will be enough for me.” And with that, the witch disappeared in a cloud of blood red smoke.

Tauriel worked quickly once the witch had disappeared. Killian’s presence helped her stay corporeal for much longer than normal, but her time, even with her son, was coming to a close. She didn’t have much time left, and she still wanted to see her child back to his ship. So she first erected a protective coffin of sorts from roots and moss. Then she put a protection spell around it, so at least Brennan wouldn’t be eaten by wolves or freeze to death. Then she spoke a spell over him.

“Lore tenna sanda mel hir cin, lore mal an i lumenns-o tindu, lore.”

Essentially, the spell allowed Brennan to awaken during the brief time between twilight and midnight. Most likely, he would only be partially awake, for Carabosse’s magic was powerful. To most, he would appear like a bedridden, sick man, but at least he would be freed from the torture of that horrible red burning room. Tauriel’s counter-spell also allowed the sleeping curse to be broken if Brennan could find a true love. Tauriel rested her hand upon the twisted branches of the make-shift coffin.

“May you find a woman with a heart so pure that she can make yours finally faithful.”

Then she turned to walk back to their son.

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

The journey from the land of the woodland elves to Rivendell was normally one of many long weeks, so Emma was thankful for the pouch of beans that Anton had given them. She was ready to go immediately, but Killian insisted they stay the night so she could rest.

“Killian, I can’t possibly sleep with Elien still so far away,” she argued.

Killian reached out his hand and cupped her cheek, his expression a mixture of tenderness and concern. “You died earlier, love.”

Emma chuckled wryly as she grasped his hand and kissed his palm. “Only with us is that a normal occurrence.”

“And you will sleep, I can promise you that,” Galadriel told her, “many have come here to be refreshed on their journeys. You will feed on lambas bread and drink of sweet, refreshing springs of water. And by the time you have finished, we will have a bower ready for you.”

Emma pressed her lips together. She had to admit, she was starving and her legs felt like rubber. “Okay,” she finally relented, “but we leave first thing in the morning.”

“With you, that may mean eleven o’clock,” Killian quipped.

Emma smacked him, “So wake me up, sailor!”

He laughed lightly as he pulled her close. “I won’t let you sleep the day away, Swan, I promise. But I will make sure you rest.”

The elven meal they were brought didn’t seem like much: two squares of lambas bread, a wedge of cheese, and a small bowl of wild berries. Yet it satisfied Emma’s hunger completely, and every bite of the lambas bread sent a pleasant warmth all through her. Then she and Killian were escorted up the winding staircase of one of the enormous trees. One of Galadriel’s maidservants opened a door made of birch branches and thick opaque glass. It lead into a room that reminded Emma of both a giant bird’s nest and a domed hut. The bed was sunken into the bowl shaped floor, padded with the softest moss Emma had ever felt and piled high with blankets of soft deer skin. There were also piles of down stuffed pillows woven of silk. Killian told her the elves harvested the silk from the husks of the cocoons that hung in the trees.

Even though they had complete privacy inside their woven bower, the songs of the elves still filtered through.

“Lend dreams nin mel

Glenn-nai i even lands

Lend songs bo i thul

Im tur-feel ha in i nen,

Im tur-feel in i coe,

Im tur-smel ha in i gwilith”

“It’s the same song you sing to Elien,” Emma said with a yawn as she curled up beneath the blankets.

“Aye, love,” Killian replied as he lay down behind her, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her close until she was tucked under his chin, “elvish lullabies. It’s why we know you will sleep long and deep.”

“You said we,” Emma said drowsily, her words beginning to slur, “I thought you didn’t like being called an elf.”

“Sometimes I don’t mind,” he answered, his own voice fading into sleep.

Emma turned in his arms to rest her cheek against his chest. Between his warmth, the rise and fall of his chest, and the song of the elves, fighting the pull of sleep was impossible. I feel almost like the bower is rocking gently, was her last thought before she drifted off, like sleeping on the Jolly Roger . . .

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

Elien Jones sat at the edge of the pool of water, gathering sticks and smooth, colorful pebbles. The mist from the waterfall that spilled into the pool dampened her strawberry blonde hair, curling the wisps that framed her face. She gnawed on her lower lip in concentration the way her mother often did.

“Is that a fairy house you’re building?” Elrond asked her kindly.

“No,” Elien answered simply, shaking her head. She picked up a waxy leaf and carefully stuck the largest stick through its center. Then she flipped over the sticks she had woven together and pushed the tall stick with the leaf through the center. “It’s a pirate ship,” she explained.

Tauriel pressed her fingers to her lips to suppress a smile as Elrond frowned. She schooled her features then turned to the eldest council member imploringly. “I beg of you to reconsider this plan. Elien is a special little girl. She doesn’t belong here.”

“Of course she’s special!” Elrond exclaimed. “The daughter of the savior, a product of true love, and a Dunedin? She is the perfect match for my grandson in every way. And one day, they will rule our people. United and strong once again.”

Tauriel shook her head wearily. “That’s not what I meant. Her magic is bigger than the elves, bigger even than her mother’s destiny. I have seen it. To keep her here would be like . . . trapping a majestic Eagle in a cage.”

Elrond gazed at her with furrowed brow, “They would rule more than just the elves then, a united kingdom of men and elves. A mighty force for good, for peace.”

Tauriel scowled openly. “Her destiny is more than preserving bloodlines. More than who she will wed.”

Tauriel turned away from the elf to go to her granddaughter. She watched as Elien pushed the little boat gently into the water. It promptly sank. She tilted her golden head for a moment, then lifted both hands towards the water. Her magic pulsed forth, the water bubbled, and the little boat popped back up on the surface. A shimmer swirled around it, and then it bobbed merrily along until it disappeared in the mist at the base of the waterfall.

“What a lovely ship,” Tauriel told the girl as she knelt next to her and wrapped an arm over her shoulder.

Elien smiled as she gazed into the mist, dimples appearing in both cheeks. Tauriel brushed the child’s hair back from her face, her heart aching at how much the child looked like Killian at times. He argued that she looked like her and Emma. But Tauriel often felt she was looking far into the past as she gazed into the little girl’s face.

“Effie,” Elien said, turning to her grandmother with a furrowed brow and a serious expression, “I knew you would come.”

Tauriel smiled as she cupped the child’s face in her hands. “Of course I did. And your mama and papa are coming too. We came to save you.”

Elien’s gaze drifted to the ground, the long lashes she had inherited from Killian brushing the tops of her cheeks. “No. You didn’t. I’m the one who will save you.”

Tauriel’s eyes widened in confusion. “Why do you say that, child?”

Elien’s mossy green eyes looked full of wisdom beyond her years as she held her grandmother’s gaze. “I have seen it in my dreams.”

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

Killian’s suggestive grin as he helped Emma up after they crashed through the portal was more irritating than attractive. Since she was more focused on dusting herself off and picking leaves out of her hair.

“What?” she snapped, then immediately sighed as she rubbed at a bruise on her elbow, “I’m sorry, babe. I’m just on edge and, you know, slightly battered.”

Killian’s gaze softened as he rubbed her arms gently. “I know, my love, no offense taken. I was merely admiring this look on you.” He then pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek.

Emma smiled and blushed even as she shrugged. “Guess I’d make a good elf, huh?”

Killian’s eyes took in the dress of rich burgundy velvet with gold trim. Emma’s fair skin was milky white in contrast, and the gold brought out the honey-colored hues in her hair. Lambas bread always made skin and hair brighter, but Emma’s seemed to positively radiate light. Her hair was held back from her face in the traditional elven way, braided in loose knots. Emma lifted her hand to pat the braids gingerly.

“These aren’t literally knots are they?” she asked hesitantly, “Cause that would be a pain in the ass to comb out.”

Killian blinked, not really sure what she was saying, more distracted at the shape of her arms as the wide sleeves of the dress slipped down to her elbow. The movement also gave him a peek of her cleavage against the scooped neckline. Emma just laughed and shook her head.

“You can take this dress off me later, pirate, let’s go get our little girl.”

The portal had deposited them only a half hour’s walk away from the borders of Rivendell, so they didn’t have far to go. Killian’s elven senses directed them, and they walked in silence for a few moments. Emma glanced his way, admiring the soft leather breeches he wore beneath the green tunic cinched at his waist. Over that he wore a cloak of lighter brown, edged in bright green thread. He had grumbled when the elves brought the garments to him, but in the end he had to admit that his jeans and leather jacket were not only worse for wear after the run in with the spiders, but weren’t warm enough for the woods they would be traveling through. Emma liked him in the outfit; she swore it made those ears she loved so much seem more pointed, made the flecks of green in his eyes more pronounced. Of course, she honestly liked him in just about anything. Captain Hook, “Prince Charles,” Killian Jones of Storybrooke, or Killian the Dunedin, he was all of those things to her. And she loved every part of him. He glanced her way and arched a brow.

“Admiring something, love?” he teased.

“Always,” she told him, grasping his hook in her hand. She didn’t let go as they made their way along, and finally worked up the courage to ask him something she had been wondering for quite some time. “Killian? Why did your mother stay away so long?”

He stopped abruptly. “What do you mean?”

Emma wet her lips nervously. “When she showed up right before our wedding, you said you hadn’t seen her since right before the curse was cast. That was a long time, and I thought she was cursed to wander after the one she loves most. So . . . “

Killian clenched his jaw, his eyes darting, landing anywhere but on Emma’s face. “I’m sure she was around, but . . . “ he finally met Emma’s eyes, releasing a long breath, “I told her I never wanted to see her again.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “But why? What did she do?”

Killian lowered his head as shame washed over his face. “She did nothing. It’s what I did. The last time I saw her . . . it was also . . . the last time I saw my father.”

Emma’s eyes widened as she put it all together. “Oh.”

Killian ran his hand wearily over his face. “I was leaving that hut, leaving my father there cold on the ground, and there she was. She looked so . . . distraught. She begged me not to leave my little brother alone. Said she knew it would haunt me.”

Emma stepped closer, cupping his face in her hands. “Hey. Look at me. I’ve heard this story, remember? It didn’t change how I felt about you then, and it still doesn’t now.”

Killian nodded, blinking away shameful tears, and turned his face to kiss her palm. Then he grasped one of her hands with his and laced their fingers together. “I responded to my mother in the only way I could at the time – with anger and rage. I already was ashamed of what I had done, but I wasn’t about to let her know that. So I told her I had finally done what she never had courage to – I made our father pay for all of his crimes. I never saw my mother weep like that. How could I ever look her in the eye again? After what I had done? After I had become so dark?”

“And that’s why you told her you never wanted to see her again.”

Killian nodded. “And she honored my request. But I’ve always wondered. If it was because she – stopped loving me. That I had become such a villain that even she couldn’t love me.”

Emma shook her head as she drew closer. “I have heard your mother talk about you enough to know that could never happen.”

“My father’s love had its limits. Why not hers?”

Emma kissed him softly, first on the lips then on his nose, then each cheek. She then wrapped her arms around him, pressing her lips to his collar bone. “Because she’s your mother,” Emma whispered against his skin, “nothing could ever make me stop loving Henry or Elien.” She pulled back to look into his eyes again. “And she’s so much like you. You could never stop loving any of us either. It just isn’t in your nature; and it isn’t in hers.”

Killian stroked her cheek, a peace settling over his features. “In my heart, I know you’re right. That’s why I just can’t believe that she would take the Arkenstone.”

Emma took a step back, tugging lightly on his hook. “When have we ever let fate determine our future? This family fights for each other, sees the best in each other. I really don’t give a shit what you’re grandmother’s pool says.”

Killian chuckled as he walked alongside his wife. “That’s the Emma I love.”

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

Emma had to admit that the towering waterfalls of Rivendell were a sight to behold. And she understood now what Killian meant about the air here. It strengthened her as she breathed it in, and the light seemed . . . not brighter, but more rich, making every color more vibrant.

Yet she cared little about her surroundings once a familiar voice cut through the air. “Mama! Papa!”

She and Killian’s elven escorts, though armed, were no match for their determination to go to their daughter. They both shoved the guards aside heedlessly as they dashed through the doorway into Elrond’s throne room. They then fell to their knees as they gathered Elien into their arms, peppering her with kisses. Killian had been right; the elves had taken good care of their little girl. She was well fed, and even seemed happy. And Emma had to admit she looked adorable in her tiny elven dress of lavender and silver.

“Can we go home?” Elien asked with a frown as she pulled away.

“Of course we can, cygnet,” Killian told her as he scooped her up.

“This should be her home,” Elrond spoke up, “with her people.”

Emma marched right up to the elf and without hesitation punched him in the jaw. “That’s for kidnapping my child. And for the record, her people are in Storybrooke.”

“But elven blood runs through her veins.”

“Well, so does human blood,” Emma snapped back.

“The fate of her people hang in the balance!” Elrond shouted. “We’re talking about the greater good!”

“And I’m talking about what’s best for Elien!” Emma was in the elf’s face now. “I know what it’s like to sacrifice having a family for the greater good. My daughter won’t suffer the same thing.”

“Then you and your husband can stay here,” Elrond argued, more calmly now.

“I don’t think your listening,” Emma seethed, “we’re taking her back to Storybrooke where she has grandparents and an uncle and godparents and friends.”

“I’m afraid it isn’t your decision.”

“Says who? I’m her mother.”

“Enough!” Tauriel shouted. It was the loudest Emma had ever heard her speak. “Elien is my granddaughter, not a pawn.”

“Besides,” Killian interjected, “it isn’t the elven way to keep a child against her will.”

Elrond’s brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed before he lifted his hand and snapped his fingers. His royal guard rushed into the room on their silent elven feet, their arrows making a soft, yet eerie swishing sound as they pulled them from their quivers in perfect synchronization and notched them to their bows.

“I stand corrected,” Killian muttered. He set Elien down gently. “Get behind me, little love.”

Emma inched her way over and she and Killian kept their daughter safely sandwiched between them.

“I don’t want to threaten you,” Elrond said.

“Could have fooled me,” Emma replied sarcastically.

“Elrond, you can’t seriously be considering forcibly removing a child from her parents,” Tauriel argued, “this isn’t the elven way!”

“Not the elven way?” Elrond snapped. “Soon the ways of our people will die out. More and more of our youth are leaving these lands, intermarrying with the race of men. Our magic is weakening, our lands dying.”

Tauriel laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Then perhaps it’s time we joined the race of men instead of keeping ourselves apart.”

Elrond’s face contorted with grief and sadness. “You sound like my daughter. My precious Arwen who will suffer your fate when her true love dies.”

“That’s what this is really about, isn’t it?” Tauriel asked gently. “Giving her a bloodline that will help her hold on as I have done.”

Killian exchanged a look with Emma, and then he stepped forward slowly, pulling the Arkenstone from the satchel at his hip. “If I may, my Lord, offer an alternative?”

“The Arkenstone!” Elrond breathed, reaching for it with a trembling hand.

Killian pulled it back against his chest. “Aye. The stone that will take away your daughter’s immortality. In exchange for my little girl, of course.”

Elrond’s eyes flashed. “Or my army takes it by force.”

“Or I take it!”

Every eye in the room turned in shock at the sound of the small voice. Elien Jones stood in the middle of the throne room, her green eyes flashing fire, magic tingling between her fingertips. She raised her hand towards her father, and the Arkenstone flew into her hand.

“What are you doing!” Elrond screamed, racing forward. Elien flung her hand, and Elrond was frozen in place.

Emma and Killian shouted their daughter’s name, but they found they were frozen in place as well. The stone pulsed an even brighter red in the little girl’s hand. Emma lifted frantic eyes to her husband, but he looked just as frightened as she did.

“Elien, honey,” Tauriel said gently, easing down on her knees in front of her granddaughter, “you need to put the stone down.”

“No, Effie,” Elien said in her little girl voice, “it’s meant for you.”

Elien placed the stone into Tauriel’s palm, then she placed her tiny hands over her grandmother’s. Magic sparked, and snaking red lines poured forth from the stone, enveloping Tauriel. When it cleared, she collapsed to the ground, and the stone rolled across the floor. It was no longer red, but a dull glassy color. Elien released her hold on the others, and Killian and Emma raced to Tauriel’s side.

“Mother,” Killian said gently, helping her up to a seated position.

She moaned and held her head, and Killian grasped her arms, half laughing in disbelief as he squeezed her shoulders, then her hands between his. She hadn’t felt so solid since he was a tiny lad.

“You’re . . . you’re . . . “

Tauriel put her chest to her heart. “I’m mortal.” She reached up and cupped Killian’s face in her hands, marveling at the stubble beneath her palms. Her little boy, all grown up, and she could finally really, truly feel him. “Oh my precious, precious boy.”

Killian embraced his mother then, holding her tightly as he hadn’t been able to in so many long centuries. Tears filled Emma’s eyes as she watched them. Elien flung her arms around both her papa and her Effie. Tauriel turned to her granddaughter and peppered her face with kisses. Then they yanked Emma in for a group hug.

“The stone chose you.”

The Jones family looked up to see Elrond standing over them. Emma smiled at Killian.

“Galadriel didn’t see your mother taking the stone, she saw Elien giving it to her.”

Tauriel shook her head. “But why? Why me?”

Elrond reached out and took Tauriel’s hand, helping her to her feet. “Because of the many long years of sacrifice for your son. You have earned your rest, Tauriel of the Woodland Elves.”

She turned to her son, her daughter-in-law, and her granddaughter. “And I know just where I’ll spend my final years.”

#cs ff #cssns #cssns 2018 #ouat/lotr crossover #killian as half elf #cs canon divergence

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