#they don't end up Together because mal is terrible but things sort of work out anyways

[nimblermortal]

I don't think I'm going to like this enough to post it... but I watched Shadow and Bone while traveling for work, and I had something to get out of my system, and Tea challenged me to break up canon couples for 2024, so:

Mal, Alina, and Jesper get together to be really, really bad at cooking.

"Saints, Alina, no one needs to hear how the Sun Summoner, beloved of all, doesn't get a personal caterer who is also in love with her!" Jesper exclaimed.

“I don’t require -“ Alina said defensively, before remembering who she was talking to and sighing. “I forgot. You’re never serious.”

“Hey,” said Mal, in a tone that Alina had heard end many fights, “He can be plenty serious.”

“I’m sorry, I -“ Alina’s eyes narrowed and she gestured indignantly at Jesper. “You’re rubbing off on him.”

“Every chance I get,” said Jesper cheerfully. Alina sighed.

“Can we just read this recipe?” she asked. “You’re the one who wanted to be able to cook for him. Preheat a cast iron skillet.” They looked dubiously at the frying pan. “I still don’t see why I had to throw it,” said Jesper.

“Because you’re the Dur -“

“I mean, why did it have to be thrown at all?”

“That’s what it says in the recipe,” Alina said doggedly. “Cast. Iron. Skillet.”

“Maybe the lard was supposed to go in before you cast it,” said Mal. “To spread it around.”

They contemplated this. Mal was, after all, the best cook of the three, even if his usual repertoire was confined to things you could spear on a stick and hold over a campfire.

“That would have made more sense,” said Jesper. “I could throw it again.”

“No, it says preheat an already cast iron skillet,” said Alina. She set the skillet on the hearth and, with a few movements and some concentration, focused light on it. “How hot did it say?”

“Four hundred… We should have brought Wylan,” said Jesper. “I don’t know how to measure heat.”

“You’re the Durast,” said Alina with exasperation. “Isn’t that what you do?”

“Not generally,” said Jesper. “I sort of, you know…” He slipped his gun out of its holster, spun it round a finger, and slotted it back in.

“Unhelpful,” said Mal unhelpfully. Alina looked at him pleadingly.

“Well, I think paper burns around that temperature, so if we just crumple some paper up, you could heat it until the paper catches fire.”

“Brilliant,” said Alina. “Pass me that map, I was going to scrap it anyway. All right, preheat skillet, we’re on to the next step.”

“Combine corn meal, flour, baking powder, salt… what are these, Alina’s boyfriends?” Jesper asked. Mal squinted over his shoulder.

“No,” he said. “Alina has more than four boyfriends. Which we fully support, men are great and Alina’s taste is terrible.”

“They’re not boyfriends,” said Alina. “They’re…” She searched for the word.

“Fuckboys,” said Jesper. “Which, as established, we fully support; men are great and Alina’s taste is terrible. Don’t argue, you’re the one who put yourself under a ban on long-term relationships.”

“I chose the literal Darkling and…” Alina gestured at Mal.

“Your weirdly co-dependent foster brother?”

“I thought it would be helpful to have some perspective before the next time I dived into something.”

“And I’m grateful that you did,” said Jesper.

“I keep saying you ought to get a Crown-sponsored courtesan,” Mal grumbled. “Just pay someone, you can afford it.” Alina ignored this with the ease of long practice.

“Says the man who put himself under a hundred year relationship ban,” she told Jesper.

“Three hundred,” Jesper corrected. “And, take it from me, not worthwhile.”

“I thought we were making corned bread,” said Mal. “Is anyone still making corned bread? What do we do after combining Alina’s boyfriends?”

“Combine her girlfriends,” said Jesper. “Milk, eggs, oil. The wet ones. In the same bowl.”

“That will be some party,” said Mal. “Who do you think is the e -“

“I’m right here,” said Alina, cracking the eggs into the bowl.

“And?” Jesper asked, drawing the syllable out.

“…and it’s Nadia,” said Alina.

Jesper burst out laughing and it was up to Mal and Alina to mix the batter and pour it into the hot pan. Mal burned himself twice and Alina stared at the bubbling mixture at the edges.

“Is it supposed to do that?” she asked, reaching out a finger to poke it and then remembering that Mal had just burnt himself. Mal shrugged. Jesper recovered himself and peered at it as the bubbling died away.

“I don’t know,” he said, “but I don’t think it was supposed to smoke.”

“It only smoked for a little bit!” Alina protested. She put her foot over the batter that had leapt back out of the pan and landed on the hearth. “And we have it in front of the chimney, so the smoke will probably go outside. Probably.”

“I don’t think it went outside,” said Jesper. Mal crossed the room.

“I can smell it from over here,” he called. Alina scowled.

“Okay, but are we done?” she asked. “This was supposed to be an easy recipe.”

“I don’t know, how hot is the pan?” asked Jesper.

“I thought we established that we don’t know,” Alina responded. She picked up a scrap of the burnt map and touched it to the side. “Colder than before.”

“Well get waving then, sun-lady, it’s supposed to be three hundred and seventy-five!” said Jesper. Alina sighed and put her hands together again.

“For how long?” she asked. Jesper peered back at the paper, his lips moving rapidly as he scanned.

“Twenty minutes,” he said.

“Twenty minutes?” Alina protested. “I’m supposed to stand here and keep this at a specific temperature that we don’t know for twenty minutes?”

“We’ll keep you entertained!” Jesper promised. “Why, did I ever tell you how we abducted you from the Little Palace?”

“You didn’t abduct me,” said Alina. “I climbed into your carriage.”

“Yes, but before that,” said Jesper. “Kaz came up with this great plan to…”

Mal eased over to Alina to whisper in her ear as Jesper performed. “You shouldn’t let him get such a run-up,” he said. “You’ll notice Inej and Kaz never do.”

“I don’t notice you stepping in,” said Alina.

“Well,” said Mal, shrugging, “I like it. And if he makes me corned bread, I’ll like that too.”

“Saints preserve me from boys in love,” Alina growled, her motions growing sharper.

“And don’t burn the bread,” Mal finished.

[belladxne]

words are knives and often leave scars | chapter 1

[see notes for Ao3 & ff.net links] pairing: Jay/Mal words: 3.4k description: The problem is, Jay has no idea what he’s doing or why he’s doing it. The problem is, Mal doesn’t ever want to push him away but she can’t disappoint her mother either and she’s never been any good at compromise. The problem is, in a fairytale the prince would kiss the princess and they’d live happily ever after, but on this island of sinners and thrown away things, a prince of thieves kisses a princess of darkness and all it gets him is spiteful words and all it gets her is heartache

    Jay’s stomach rumbles as he traces his way through the familiar shadows of all the forgotten alleys and and unwatched side streets that make up his well-worn path to the Bargain Castle, but he’s too busy mentally cataloguing his haul for the day to pay it much mind. The whole point of going to see Mal is to filch some of her food, anyways, so his hunger isn’t more pressing than making sure he has a decent enough score to dodge another shouting match with his dad.

    He counts his acquisitions by the sounds of their clinks in his pockets, by the weight and feel of them where they press against his skin in any place he’d found to tuck them, trying to gauge if they’re enough.

    A charm bracelet he’d snagged off of one of the step-granddaughters from school—with enough polishing and a gullible enough customer, they can probably pass the cheap metal off for real silver. A somewhat grimy tricorn hat he’d triumphantly snagged off of Harry Hook’s head before he even saw Jay coming, with a real, if somewhat battered, feather sticking to the brim—and Jafar can still be scary when he wants, so Harry will have no choice but to pay a decent price for it. (Unless someone else buys it before Harry can reclaim it, a concept Jay finds equally hilarious.) A chipped and battered teacup gilded with real gold leaf, the only gold Jay’s ever seen in his life, even if it’s almost entirely worn away—it’d be worth more in a set, or with at least half the gilding not rubbed and chipped off, but the only gold he knows of on the island has to be worth something, however little of it there is. About a dozen other almost-worthless trinkets and baubles.

    So, is that going to be enough for his dad? A vaguely shiny teacup isn’t exactly the nonexistent big score that his dad’s still looking for, but it’s his best find in a long, long time, so he guesses it’ll have to be enough.

    He’s so wrapped up in his appraisal of his day’s work that he doesn’t notice the shouting at first, not until he’s close enough to recognize the infuriated, venomous voice leaking through Mal’s cracked window on the balcony above as Maleficent’s. He stops in his tracks, a healthy dose of fear trickling through his veins before he slinks a little further into the shadows, even knowing that he’s already well out of the sight and awareness of the pissed off, malevolent fairy who rules the island. Anyone with even the smallest amount of self preservation skills would be eager to remain out of Maleficent’s focus when she’s fired up, and he’s been pretty damn good at keeping himself alive and unscathed for a pretty damn long time by now.

    Even straining his ears as hard as he can, he can’t make out any of what the tyrannical woman’s shouting, but he finds that he can just barely pick up on Mal’s voice as she tries to protest. Whatever’s going down between the mother and daughter just then, it sounds bad, and he’s always been more cautious than curious—this isn’t any of his business, and he doesn’t want any part in it. He can come back tomorrow morning to try to get her mind off of it, but before then? Count him out.

    Of course, no sooner does he decide that than the sound of Mal’s bedroom door slamming booms through the slightly opened window, and it’s not a moment later that Mal is suddenly shoving her window open and climbing out in a flurry of forceful, rough movements. Jay watches as her backlit silhouette half-stumbles to the parapet of her balcony in an apparent rush to put as much distance between herself and the argument as possible, slamming her hands down onto the stone and hanging her head.

    Jay worries his bottom lip between his teeth, weighing the odds that he’s missed his chance to bounce, and avoid this whole situation.

    But it’s not like Mal knows that he’s here, and he knows his skillset well enough to know that he can get just about anywhere without being spotted—anywhere including away from this highly awkward, messy scene. He edges a foot back the way he came, then starts another step away as he turns—

    The problem with his plan is, Jay wasn’t counting on how distracted seeing Mal like this—so completely opposite from cool and collected in a way that she doesn’t even get when she’s well and truly furious—would make him, and while he was counting on not being spotted, he wasn’t thinking hard enough about not being heard.

    All it takes is one movement that’s slightly too quick, and he finds himself wincing as the teacup in his pocket clinks against a tiny mint tin which clinks against a plastic brooch which clinks against the step-granddaughter’s charm bracelet—and when he freezes in place, they all take the opportunity to jangle together merrily.

    It’s a precise little chain reaction of fuck you, Jay, and he watches as Mal’s head snaps up and swivels to look towards the shadows in his direction. Well, shit. He’s officially in the awkward, messy scene now.

        “Jay?” she practically demands into the dark, and the choked, unsteady sound of her voice sends ice spiking into his veins—because Mal doesn’t sound like that, Mal never sounds like whatever the hell that is, so whatever just went down with her mom must have been bad. Really bad, and now she knows he’s here, so there’s no creeping back into the shadows to pretend he’d never seen or heard any of this. Unless she decides she was just hearing things—

    An impatient huff pierces the silence above him and cuts off his thought, and Mal’s voice is still uneven when she snaps, “Are you coming up or not?”

    Honestly, at this point, he doesn’t know why he ever expects to get away with anything when it comes to Mal; she knows him, and his habits, way too well. He reconsiders his option to slink back into the night and act like none of this ever happened—it’s not like she’d hold it against him; they’re rotten kids, the both of them, and she wouldn’t expect him to be invested in her situation right now any more than he’d expect her to be invested in a similar one of his.

    But he can’t keep the strain in her voice from echoing through his head, and an uncomfortable feeling tightens in his chest, and something about that feeling has him moving towards the Bargain Castle and, invested or not, reaching to scale the wall the same way he’s done at least a couple hundred times before, hunger completely forgotten. He’s already here and he’s already caught, he justifies, so this may as well happen.

    He’s swinging himself up over the parapet of her balcony with practiced ease in no time, and he tries his absolute hardest to not look as uncomfortable as he feels when he proceeds to lean back against the cool stone of the low wall. It’s quickly beginning to occur to him now that he’s up here that he has absolutely no idea what he’s doing here or what he thought he was going to do once he made his climb, and that he probably should have split when he had the chance.

    Mal’s facing away from him, her arms crossed as she looks out towards Auradon, and he can’t make out her expression in the dark as she takes noticeably unsteady breaths. Still though, he can tell she doesn’t have much intention of speaking first, which leaves this on him. He’s regretting a lot right now.

        “Sooo...” he tries lamely, hoping with some amount of desperation that he’ll find the rest of his sentence along the way. But as he opens his mouth to say who in the hell knows what, Mal turns to look at him, and the words die in his throat as the light from her window hits half of her face.

    She’s not exactly crying—he’s pretty sure if he caught Mal of all people actually crying it would be, like, The End Times or something—but her face is slightly blotchy and red, all the more noticeable for how pale she is, and her eyes are red-rimmed and so full it looks like it’s taking every single ounce of her willpower to keep tears from spilling over. Which, honestly, is, like, world-shakingly, pants-shittingly terrifying once it sinks in, because Mal is possibly the most infuriatingly, obstinately willful person he’s ever met, and if even her unending determination is barely enough to hold the tears back then he doesn’t even know what the world’s coming to.

    Forgetting in his shock that he’s supposed to be indifferent and detached right now, Jay gapes as he pushes off from the parapet and takes a step towards her. “Jeez, Mal, what the hell was all that with your mom about?” If it’s bad enough to turn the Mal he knows into this, he’s not sure he really even wants to know, but apparently the rest of him isn’t on the same page as his mind on this, because he can’t stop himself from asking.

        “The usual,” she tries to scoff as she turns away from the light again, but the sound is… off. Not right. And Jay can’t help the skeptical quirk to his eyebrow, because the usual absolutely does not result in this.

        “Yeah, so, I guess that’s why you’re—”

        “I mean,” Mal cuts him off, not even letting him finish expressing his doubt, “she’s always said I’m not evil enough to live up to her name, that’s not new, so, whatever.” (Her tone really doesn’t sound very convincing on the ‘whatever’ front.) “And it’s not like this is the first time she’s told me she thinks I’m turning out weak and soft, so, you know, I’m used to that.” (Except it’s never affected her like this before.) “And, I mean, I’ve always known she finds me a huge disappointment, because it’s not like she’s above reminding me at every turn that at my age she was out raging hell and the worst I’ve managed is graffiti and to fuck up the one right thing I ever did with an act of kindness, so I know that, I have known that, it’s fine.” (It absolutely does not sound fine.)

    Jay keeps his eyes trained on her face even though he can’t make it out in the darkness, working his jaw as he tries to piece together what exactly has Mal in this state and—well, why he even cares. Not that he does care. It’s not like villains do that sort of thing.

    Even villains who couldn’t bring themselves to steal from their friends when it mattered. Even villains whose friends did selfless things to save each other. Those were just flukes, or whatever.

    Mal uncrosses her arms and lays her palms against the parapet again, Jay watching her every movement as she does. “It’s just time to grow the fuck up, I guess. I thought—I told myself, I mean, despite everything she said, her curse couldn’t hurt me. So that meant—I’d proven myself, even if I didn’t bring the scepter back. I just had to wait for her to see that I had.”

    He hears her catch a sharp breath that shouldn’t feel like it makes something clamp around his heart but it does, before she leans her head back and turns her gaze skyward. Her voice gets quiet and it shakes and the whole thing makes him uneasy. “Fuck, I was so stupid. Mom’s never going to see past my dad and she’s never going to see past what I did to get the scepter and she’s never going to see me and it shouldn’t matter because I know what touching the scepter proved but I just—I just thought—if I didn’t give up and I gave it some time—”

    Her voice catches suddenly as she whirls on him—he doesn’t remember closing this much distance, when the hell did he get so close to her?—and when the light catches her face he sees her eyes are wide both in alarm and accusation. Like she’d forgotten he was here, almost, and she’s blaming him for the fact that she told him so much. And he’s… completely at a loss.

        “Mal,” he starts, because… because he can’t just say nothing. He doesn’t know what he can tell her, because Jay’s never been like Mal—he’s always been a realist and maybe a bit of a pessimist and he’s always known that they were never going to be enough for their delusional parents and he’s made his peace with it. He can’t tell her she just needs more time for her mom to come around, because, sure, villain kids lie through their teeth about a lot of things, but not to make someone feel better.

    He shakes his head. If lying will make her feel better right now, then he’ll just… have to tell the truth. “Whatever she said, it’s crap, and you know it.”

        “Yeah,” Mal scoffs doubtfully, her gaze tracking upwards and away from his face, and her eyes are less watery, if only barely. “Sure.”

        “I’m serious, Mal,” he insists, and if his tone is colored with annoyance, it’s only because he doesn’t think she’s above this, he knows it. Mal’s never given a shit what anyone else thinks. “You’re the scummiest person I know. And not by a little bit.”

    She opens her mouth like she’s going to argue, and he interrupts her with a pointed look. “You literally locked Evie in a closet full of live bear traps because of a grudge from when you were six. You would have beat the shit out of our principal if Evie hadn’t stopped you. You have people running scared at school and groveling at your feet on the streets, and if you told someone to jump off a cliff, they’d be too scared of you not to do it.” He barely feels like he’s exaggerating there. “You’re mean, Mal. You’re awful. You’re bad news, and everyone knows it. If your mom doesn’t think you’re every bit as vicious and evil as she is, it’s only because she’s never seen you in action. So fuck her, and fuck whatever she said to you.”

    And… that’s it. That’s his big speech. That’s all he’s got to say, it’s all he’s going to say, and now it’s up to Mal to take it or leave it.

    He watches as her brow furrows and her mouth falls open like she’s going to say something, but then she falters, and her mouth snaps shut again. She works her jaw for a moment, staring at him with her eyebrows drawn low, before she finally seems to find any words at all. “Why…” Her voice fails her, and it’s another couple moments of her averting her gaze before she seems to be able to meet his eyes and try again.

        “Why are you being so...” She gestures vaguely as she trails off, because she can’t exactly finish the sentence with ‘nice.’ That’d be about the worst thing to say to someone on this island, and aside from that, describing to someone in detail all the ways that they’re a shitty person isn’t exactly something you can describe as nice. Just another reason he never wants to live in Auradon, where the goal is to be nice to everyone.

    Her hand falls back down to her side after her gesture, and she looks away, towards her room, her mouth drawing into a frown, and Jay finds himself coming to the uncomfortable conclusion that he probably has to answer. Why is he doing any of this? Saying any of this?

        “Because...” His brow slowly furrows and he’s not sure where he’s going with this. He can’t say he cares, because he shouldn’t. Doesn’t, not really. Isle kids don’t care about each other. And she wouldn’t want to hear it if he did. But… he has to say something, and even if he’s not sure of the whole truth, he may as well not start lying now.

        “I mean, Mal, we’re still basically kids, and you’ve already got everyone our age and half the people older than us wrapped around your finger and scrambling to stay out of your way and doing whatever it takes to avoid having you pissed at them. It’s obvious you’re gonna be running this joint some day, just as ruthlessly as your mom does.” She’s still looking away from him, so he lifts a hand to her shoulder—just to make her look at him, that’s all—and a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he continues, “And I’m smart enough to know I should be on your good side when that happens.”

    Mal stares at him, her expression hard and her lips pressed together tightly, and he meets her gaze because he doesn’t really have that much choice; he’s already gotten himself into this mess. Her eyes trace over his face like she’s searching for something, but he has no idea what it is, and he has no idea why some part of him is actually kind of terrified she might find it, whatever it might be. It’s all he can do to hold onto his flippant, self-satisfied expression instead of squirming under her gaze.

    Finally, though, Mal’s shoulders slump and her expression softens before it crumples into something that just looks resigned and tired. She crosses her arms and lets her head drop forwards until her forehead hits his chest with a muffled thump, and Jay blinks, honestly thrown as his smirk finally fades and something more confused takes over his expression.

    It becomes apparent after a moment or two that Mal’s… not moving any time soon, and his hand is still resting on her shoulder, and he’s not really sure why he does it, but after a brief internal debate he decidedly feels like he lost, he hesitantly slides his hand around to her back.

    And when she doesn’t pull away or try to shrug him off, he wraps his other arm around her, too, trying to figure out why doing that feels more like wrapping his arms around a trenchcoat stuffed with venomous snakes than around his partner in crime. But vague terror or not, Mal barely moves, and she doesn’t seem to be particularly bothered by this, so… he tightens his arms around her with a fair amount of uncertainty, because this entire night has already been weird as hell, so this might as well happen, right?

    And he tries not to focus on the fact that them standing here like this with her forehead pressed to his chest and his hands resting on her back feels a lot like comforting her, because villain kids don’t comfort each other. Or on the fact that the uncomfortable tugging feeling in his chest as her hair tickles his chin feels a lot like empathizing, because villain kids don’t empathize with each other.

    The problem is, when he does force his focus away from those thoughts, there’s not a lot left to distract himself with. Just the fact that he can’t stop thinking about what it’d feel like if he pulled her even closer, and moved his hand up to thread through her hair, and tucked the side of his face against the top of her head, and—and he’s gotta stop.

    But that’s just his inner flirt thinking these things, right? It’s not like he actually wants to do any of that with Mal. He’s always gotten his kicks from stealing hearts, it’s practically a hobby, so really, he’d be thinking this kind of garbage with any girl if they were standing this close. It’s not because it’s Mal, and it’s not because he really wants to.

    Right?

[dangergrandpa]

I will happily enable your knowledge hoarding cuz it enables me to blab about my OCs :D (On account of dark topics and not being sure if I'm keeping this and Mer AU separate or squishing them together yet, certain things will just be referred to as [redacted])

Malthael, after being killed and taking his sweet time reforming, is imprisoned (in a proper jail cell with restraints and magical bullshit so he can't escape) on Sanctuary. At some point, Tyrael busts him out thanks to [redacted] happening.

Mal decides "screw this I'm going to go live off on my own and generally think about my life and how badly I fucked up". With his infant son, because he still makes terrible and impulsive choices. Disguises himself as a human sorcerer living in the woods, learns how to do mortal household things cuz it keeps his little cottage tidy (the previous owners don't need it any more) and keeps his mind busy and off the trauma and the whole 'Aspect of Death' business that he should really work through.

Spoilers: he's just as bad at working through it as ever and chooses not to.

Anyway, when his son gets to around 5 years of age Mal takes the plunge and somewhat? Integrates himself into society, sort of? He gets bored and realizes he needs to be able to feed his son better so he begrudgingly goes and socializes himself out of being a semi-feral reaper.

He meets Jin and Cu while selling stuff he's made at a market. He gets used to seeing them regularly and verbally sparring with them. They get used to his snarky nature and decide this mysterious sorcerer who has a lot of knowledge about ancient magic and extremely good warding spells is someone they want to get to know further. They also only know him by a nickname since of course he isn't going to give his name without being directly asked. (They call him "Kalen", which is both amusingly close to Kalan and ridiculously apt since it translates to "slim".)

Through ~traumatic shenanigans~, they end up escorting him home and maybe kind of just never leave after they get over the weirdness of Malthael, the Angel of Death, Reaper of Westmarch, offering them tea and apparently being a good, caring and attentive single parent. Both of them are thankfully good with children when they're not off adventuring or dealing with the Balance.

(Somewhere along the line, Itherael and Auriel show up.)

So...

AU!Mal's son :D

His name is Micah. He's similar to Mal in terms of build. Half angel, half Nephalem, with some... interesting quirks to his genetics because of it. Looks very mortal as a child, but starts developing proper angelic armour plates once he hits puberty age range. A very cute, rambunctious bundle of curiosity and precociousness who certainly teaches Malthael more about patience and communication than he learned in however many thousands/millions of years he's been alive. In his teenage years, he's at the top end of human height, simply thanks to Mal being so goddamn tall. (Seriously, Malthael, how fucking tall are you?!) Nearly forgot to add: he has purple eyes and keeps his white hair in a thick braid.

Micah is very fond of all of his family, and definitely inherits Malthael's aptitude for learning. He's a little grumpy as a teenager simply because angels have a metric ton of energy and he doesn't really get enough activity or training to properly burn it off, but he tries his best to not snap at his family. He ends up helping Tyrael and the Horadrim so he can explore the world and still be relatively safe.

His armour is in Malthael's dark colours, but looks more like Auriel's in terms of appearance, and he has a similar type of robe-like thing under the armour as Wrath!Mal - no hood tassels though. He has dark blue wings when he doesn't hide them (mostly at home where he and Mal can communicate purely by wing motions).

That's about as far as I've gotten :)

AU Mal deserves all of the husbands.

Yes!

AU Mal is distinctly not 'Not Broken Just Bent' Mal. He even looks different in mortal form. (Loooong hair, fancy braids, still v slim, can and does easily pass as a mage)

He has two hands and a husband for each! They came as a pair. They're Nephalem, but not The Nephalem; neither of them were old enough to deal with Westmarch when that happened.

Jin-ru is a wizard from the Taan Clan, born of a political marriage between one of their mages and one of the Zann Esu mages. He's short, overconfident, a little too powerful for his own good and utterly shameless.

Cu is a necromancer. He's an entire foot above Jin's height and more buff than you would expect since he comes from barbarian stock, but he's also Jin's impulse control and brain cell. Cu takes his work with the Balance very seriously, as a dedicated Priest of Rathma should, and thankfully his shorter beau is there to remind him he needs to relax and not be a workaholic.

(Yes, his name is shortened from 'Cu Chalainn'. Yes, his childhood name was Setanta. I wanted it to be different and he said no.)

And then there's AU Mal's son :3c

[eversopatiently-blog]

Please Don't Question Why (SL with @BeezerStP)

Rora: ^Mal wanted to spend no time in Wyoming after we got done dealing with my family. I didn’t blame him, though. I knew the truth was that we both wanted to go home. It wasn’t even that we needed to watch for Derrick. We needed to be home. We needed to decompress. I wanted to just celebrate being pregnant. It wasn’t something that was going to happen, though. Almost as soon as we got back to the hotel, Mal checked his phone and went pale. I didn’t know what was going on, but we were out the door and on our way back to the Treehouse. It was exactly where I wanted to be, but I wasn’t sure why Mal was freaking the fuck out about it. The only thing I could gather was something had happened. And if that was the case, I could understand the white as a sheet look he had. I had no idea what was going through his head. But he wasn’t entirely willing to talk about it, so I just let him live in his own head. I wasn’t going to pry. I had no reason to. I trusted him with my life, and was okay with knowing what I needed to know about things back home. There were very few things that made him nervous. I was one of those things. But I wasn’t sure if he was nervous because he felt like I needed protection, or if it was because of the baby. We hadn’t actually had time to sit and talk about it. I didn’t entirely know what his plan was. I did know that we were kind of fucked, though. I couldn’t exactly go to the doctor with this kind of pregnancy. I didn’t even know what to expect. I wasn’t sure if shifting in my condition was a good idea. The miles were melting under our tires as we grew closer to Louisiana. But there was something nagging me in the back of my mind. He was absolutely hiding something from me, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could take it. I just wanted everything to go back to normal.^ I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the baby until after everything in Casper. I just know you. I knew that there was no way I was going to be able to set foot on that compound if you knew. And I had to be there. Mal: -I’d been concentrating on the road since we left Wyoming. We had a long way to go before we hit Louisiana and Leah was going to be waiting when we got there. There was no way we were going to make it back before her, and I could only hope she liked the way I’d handled things since she left. It made me nervous, but I didn’t want to show Rora that. Judging from the sound of her voice and the look on her face, I was doing a terrible job. I needed to talk to her. I don’t think I’d mentioned Leah’s name more than once, and I hadn’t told her what the text message on my phone was about. I had no idea what was running through her head right now. I couldn’t blame her for any of it, whatever she was thinking- It’s ok. You’re right. I would have freaked out and shut down. I probably would have done something stupid like go and get myself killed. -trying to chuckle and lighten the mood since I just talked about dying. We’d been through alot in the past week or so, and now she was having a baby. My heart had been in my throat in the best damned way possible when I heard that. I didn’t even care that she hadn’t told me right away. Having a baby with Rora was just the icing on the cake. I already had my best friend with me every damned day, and now we were having a family. It was more than I ever hoped for, though I struggled to find the words to tell her that.- Do you have any idea how happy that news made me? Even in the middle of the hell we were going through. -grinning over at my wife as I studied her expression. I should have known it sooner, but I’d had other things on my mind- So speaking of apologies, I owe you one about something. -I glanced over at my wife, though I kept my focus on the road- Leah… I'm sorry I didn't mention her more, but she's been gone. She ran off and got married to some guy she met in Vegas… -I realized I was rambling and not starting at the beginning of the story so things made sense- Let me start over. I know you've heard the name Leah. She owns the Treehouse. She used to own the gym before she gave it all to me. I've known her for years. -I cleared my throat- I know you heard Colette say I saved her life. -Taking in a deep breath and letting it out in a long sigh was all I could manage for a moment. I didn’t want to go back to that moment, but I couldn’t help it. I need to explain- She was a member of my father’s pack back in New Orleans. She’d wandered there from Texas and Washington State before that. We were friends, pretty close. I crashed on her couch after my father kicked me out for awhile, but he and my brothers came after her for helping me out. One day while I was at work, they came and grabbed her. By the time I found her, my oldest brother had her tied across the top of a table in an abandoned house on the other side of Lake Pontchartrain. I barely got the two of us out alive. -my fingers tightened on the steering wheel as I returned my gaze to the road in front of me, a low half growl escaping my throat involuntarily at the memory. I could remember the smell of decay that had hung in the air and the way she struggled against the ropes. He knew what he was doing. He’d tied her just right so that if she even tried to shift, she’d break all of her legs in the process. And knowing Zeke… He’d had a lot worse planned for her than that. In the end, breaking all your limbs might have been a mercy. But I’d found her, and we’d gotten out- After that, she moved to Shreveport, took up with a group of wolves there, built the Treehouse and set it up to be protected. She said she’d been through enough, that she wasn’t ever going to put herself in a vulnerable place like that again. Eventually, she became Alpha of the group of shifters and wolves that sort of grew up around her. I went wandering. I can’t remember all the places that I went, but she called me up. I’d been making my living fighting other weres. -I wasn’t quite sure how much of this Rora wanted to know, but I wasn’t hiding anything from her. I knew I was babbling. All of this was dying to get out. It needed to be told- She needed a fighter for this club she worked at. This was before she was Alpha. I came, and I lost the fight. -laughs lowly as I lean back in the seat- But she let me stay at her place, nursed me back to health, and I decided to stay, to finally settle back down in one spot. My dad had no clue we were there, and there were enough protections around the house and the gym to make sure they didn’t find us. She gave me a job, gave me a roof. I kind of owe her a lot, even if I did save her life, but she wouldn’t ever admit it. -shrugs and looks back over to gauge Rora’s expression- I don’t know who this guy she married is. I’ve never met him, but I do know Leah well enough to know that if he even got her attention long enough to have a conversation, much less talk her into marrying him, he must be someone special. I got a text while we were in Wyoming. She’s on the way home, and he’s coming with her. They’re going to meet us at the Treehouse. -I shot her a smile, knowing I’d been monopolizing the conversation for far too long, but hoping she understood.- She’s going to freak out when she finds out about the baby. She loves kids, no matter what she tries to tell people. Rora: ^I could only listen as he described everything. I still wasn’t sure how the hell I fit into all of this. I knew that I owed Leah everything. Even if she didn’t think it. If she was anything like Mal, she wouldn’t listen to the thank yous. He hated when I thanked him. To him, it was completely unnecessary. Even if I didn’t turn into his wife, he would have protected me. I knew the man I had married. He was good, even when he didn’t see it. Before Colette bound his curse around me, I could tell when everything got to be too much. I knew when the voices got too loud. I could see the way his eyes darkened when he didn’t think he deserved me. All of it had been bullshit, though. It was something we both struggled with. His just happened to be a curse. Mine was because I hadn’t been enough for my father or brothers. I knew Derrick was something we were going to have to worry about sooner or later. I was just hoping it wasn’t sooner. I wasn’t entirely ready to put Mal in that position. Although, I knew that if I asked my Puppy, he’d take complete control and hide everything from him. It was a blessing I was thankful for. I didn’t want him to remember anything that happened in Wyoming. It was already a struggle to know that my mother had known his mother. But I needed to focus on what was going on right now. Sifting through Colette’s words, I was reminded that Leah was bringing someone that I needed. I guess her husband was a shifter. Or a doctor. I could make do with either one of them. I wasn’t sure how to wrap my head around everything. I felt my hands start to tremble with everything that was going on. Clearing my throat, I turned my attention back to the windows. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was supposed to say, but I knew we needed to figure some things out.^ We’re going to have to tell her the whole story, aren’t we? Why we’re married, how we got together, why we were gone. My entire life is going to be set out on the table for a couple of strangers. Especially if they’re going to help us with your father and my brother. Mal: -I reached over, grabbing Rora’s hand and threaded my fingers between hers, tugging her hand out of her lap and towards the center of the car, letting the warmth of her hand sink into my palm.- Hey, we don’t have to tell anyone anything you don’t want to. She trusts me. I’m not asking for any explanations about why she’s married this guy, and we don’t owe her anything the two of us aren’t willing to tell her. She’d help me even without it. She knows about my dad first hand. She’s met him face to fucking face. The rest of the story doesn’t matter. -giving her hand a squeeze, my fingers rough against her much smaller ones. I loved the way her hand felt in mine, like home, like everything was right with the world whether it was or not. It was meant to be there. I knew that more than anything else I’d ever known.- We can talk about anything you want, Rora. Anything. I know we have a lot to say, but we have as much time as you want. I’m yours; you’re mine. Nothing changes that. Not even death. -stroking my thumb lightly across the back of her hand as I waited for her to reply. I needed her. I wasn’t going to be able to do any of this without her. I didn’t even want to try. - Rora: ^I knew I didn’t have to say anything. I could keep my entire history locked to myself. But I didn’t know Leah from Eve. I could absolutely take Mal’s word for everything. I could imagine that Leah would be supportive because he was happy. I could imagine that she’d bite my head off the moment we walked into the Treehouse. I just wasn’t sure what was going to happen. I hated the unknown. And the worst part of this unknown was that we were about to approach it head on. I wanted to run again. I didn’t want to go there. I didn’t want to deal with the nerves. But I knew the truth. Malachi wouldn’t let me run. There was no way. He’d do everything in his power to protect me. Even if that meant shutting me into a hole. Right now, the best thing was for me to meet Leah. I knew, realistically, that this was the best thing. I needed to stop thinking about the what ifs and just roll with the punches.^ I’m pretty sure Colette made it so that we belonged to each other, Mal. But even if she hadn’t have tied us together, I’d still be yours. I was yours long before the spell. If given the choice, I’d always be yours. Life or death. Even my wolf likes you, and she can be picky about the people she likes. ^That was something I was always honest with Mal about. I always told him the truth about her. He knew how she felt about his wolf. He knew she begged to be with him. But I knew the fight for him. He didn’t always enjoy being a wolf. For him, it was something that came with his birth. There wasn’t as much freedom as I had. His wolf had been raised to be a weapon. Mine was raised to be a power move.^ She was happy she got to see him. Even if it was for about ten seconds. Mal: -I could hear the fear in her voice melt into happiness when she mentioned our wolves. I couldn’t remember anything that had happened after I shifted back in Casper. There was a huge blank in my memory, but I was used to that. Something told me it was a mercy. I knew what was planned, and if it went down anything like what we discussed then I was responsible for more than a few deaths. They weren’t my first, and they likely wouldn’t be my last. My wolf did me the favor of wiping most of that from my memory. He had a mind of his own, but much like me, Rora was the center of his attention. She and her wolf held him in the palm of their hand and paw. I didn’t like the feeling of losing control like that, especially when I couldn’t remember what he had done. I never worried for Rora’s safety around him. I knew he’d die before he let anything happen to her. But he was what he was, a weapon, specifically a weapon my father had created. It hadn’t always been like that. When I was young and first began shifting, things were normal, and then he began my training. That’s when I began blacking out what happened. I wasn’t sure if it was a coping mechanism or a calculated move on my father’s part. I never had the guts to ask.- He loves her. As much as he loves you, you know. We can let them out to play when we get home and get settled if you want, Baby Girl. -I knew how much she loved time with the two of them, and I hated not giving it to her. The forest around the Treehouse was safe, and she would keep him in check if anything happened, so there wasn’t anything to worry about. In fact, it was one of the few times in my life I felt like shifting wasn’t going to turn out badly. I couldn’t avoid it forever. I had to give in from time to time to keep him from taking control completely. It used to be the only thing that could quiet the voices, but now she was here. And now, everything was different. The miles were melting away, and we were growing closer to Louisiana. I’d been driving through the night, drinking coffee while Rora slept curled up in the passenger seat. I loved to watch her sleep, and I got to glut myself on the sight of her as she snuggled under my hoodie with her head resting against the back of the chair. I couldn’t help myself but run my hand over her stomach and marvel at the news she’d shared with me only a few hours ago. I’d never seen that for myself. Family had never been anything for me but pain after my mother died. She was the one person I’d thought cared about me as a kid, and then she was gone. I was left to the care of a father who wanted nothing more than to turn me into a tool he could use. I was going to be a better father than that. I knew that much without even thinking too hard about it. I didn’t know how, but I would have done anything in my power to keep this baby from the life I’d grown up in.- Rora: ^We weren’t far from the Treehouse when I woke up. But I wasn’t sure what I could do. I could feel myself start to panic, and that was never good. It wasn’t just me that was panicking, either. I could feel the wolf inside of me pacing. She was just as unsure as I was about everything. I guess the unease of trusting people was in both of us. She wanted to be set free before all of this. And I knew that if I asked Mal, I could get him to give me some time. I could ask him to run with me. I could just tell him I needed some time before we went back to the house. I wasn’t sure if it was the baby that was making me fidgety or just the nerves. I could keep telling myself to relax, but the truth was I didn’t know if I could. This wasn’t just about me or Mal. This was about the baby. I needed to keep him or her safe. Anything and everything I wanted was secondary at this point. No more drinking like a fish. No more raw fish. And if Mal had his way, I wouldn’t be moving an inch from the Treehouse. Not if there was any sort of risk out there. I had been running for so long that it felt nice to have a home, though. I enjoyed being in the Treehouse. It was so big that I never felt cooped up. I could go exploring and plan ideas for the eight thousand rooms there were. I could spend time down in the garage cleaning Mal’s car if that was something I felt like doing. I had every opportunity in the world there. I just needed to come to terms with the cards I had in my hand.^ Promise me she won’t bite my head off. Malachi: -I gave her hand a squeeze and refused to laugh. Rora didn’t know Leah like I did. People thought she was intimidating, they didn’t realize how small she was until she let them or how she was a hard-shell on the outside but soft on the inside.- Nah, there’s no way she’s going to bite your head off, Baby Girl. -grinning and bringing her hand to my lips to brush a kiss across the knuckles- I promise. -Taking a deep breath to concentrate on the road. The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon, and we were growing steadily closer to the Treehouse with every passing mile. We would be there before it was too dark, before the moon rose over the horizon. It felt like years since we’d left to go to Wyoming when in reality it had only been a couple of days. We were coming back home though, back to the place that we belonged. I didn’t have any clue what was waiting for us in the coming days or weeks, but I knew if Derrick or my family had anything to do with it, it was going to be eventful. It wasn’t anything I wasn’t going to be able to handle with Rora at my side though. There wasn’t anything I wasn’t going to do to protect her and the baby from all of them, and my wolf was even more determined. I could feel him pacing in the background, always on alert since I’d heard her admit to her mother that she was pregnant, even more so when we heard that her mother had known mine. I always knew I had her eyes. I remembered those eyes, and I saw them staring back at me from the bathroom mirror every morning. In every other way, I looked like my father. She was a tiny woman, surrounded by hulking sons and the rest of my father’s huge pack. All the men were large, tall, muscular. She was slight in comparison. I shrugged off the memory. There was more going on her than just meeting someone who was meant for me. There was more to it than just Colette making sure the two of us were destined for each other. Maybe she’d given fate a helping hand, but this had been in the works long before this. And I could only hope that everything that was going on was meant to happen and to happen for the better.- #PleaseDontQuestionWhy