#they're blood siblings in this au

[fistfuloflightning]

…and then there was one

the three brothers, before the Emperor came hunting for dragon cores

[jollmaster]

her shield, his pillar

[bonefall]

My birthday was a couple days ago, and I got to see my bio dad for the first time in a while. He surprised me with the fact that I have a little half-sister, whom I've never met and who was adopted about two years back. So, I wondered if any situations in BB mimic this or have a theme of "secret siblings" or "secret family"? Sorry if this is a weird ask; this blog is honestly just such a cool little place and I love the way you approach the subject matter and take the flawed misogynistic foundation of the WC books and make them so much better (JUSTICE FOR BUMBLE!!!). I've also learned a lot about healthy and unhealthy relationships here and am really glad for your deep dives on Squilf and Bramble. Thanks, Bones!

Not weird at all! I really like exploring all the little nooks and crannies of complicated familial dynamics. I think one of the untapped strengths of WC (that the writers seem to be unaware of) is how their MASSIVE cast allows them to present all sorts of unique dynamics. So I like to pick up on it, since they don't.

For secret siblings...

I'm pretty heavily leaning towards Ambermoon being adopted by Wildfur, as a surrogacy. Something feels correct about it. Especially since Icecloud is getting retooled into a post-Battle of the True Eclipse birth, and a major supporting character in AVoS-era stories as a friend of Alderheart.

Thinking about it, I should zoom in and expand this. Maybe have Icecloud, somehow, acquire forbidden knowledge that would invalidate the Queen’s Rights and he (transman) struggles with if he's going to use it to expose his parents as an excuse to help Ambermoon.

(Especially since Ambermoon and Icecloud are basically nothing alike. Amber is independent, bold, and vain. Ice is jessie pinkman big-hearted, disorganized, and deceptively meek if you look past his "chill" demeanor)

But that's wip-- there's also Breezepelt and the Three, who are going to have an actual friendship. In particular I can't unsee Breeze and Lion having a deep one. I know I commit the Cardinal Sin of borderline himbo-ifying Lionblaze in BB, but I can't help it.

Hollyleaf ended up nabbing a bunch of his most violent roles to make her villainous descent smoother narratively, so BB!Lionblaze's story ends up being more focused on Ashfur's abuse, comic relief with cats in other Clans (something that the very serious Jay and Holly have a hard time providing), and the emotional fallout of the big reveal and Bramblestar's turn on them. Breezepelt slots neatly into that.

They were friends. Lionblaze's whole life came down around the reveal, everyone looking at him and his siblings differently, like they're suddenly something terrible. Why can't we find a silver lining, Breezepelt? Why can't we call ourselves brothers if the whole world is going to do it anyway? So much is changing, but THIS doesn't have to, we will take their weapon and turn it to armor, my ally, my friend, my brother.

(and when Breezepelt is lashing out at the three because of the Dark Forest's influence, Lionblaze is there, taking the blows and trying not to give in to the impulse to send him flying with a single paw)

There's also Harespring and Kestrelflight of WindClan and Owlclaw of ShadowClan. All of them are from a single litter between Whitewater and Mudclaw. She was going to raise the three of them alone as ShadowClan cats, but when the sire was smote, Whitewater felt they were cursed.

She was able to give the oldest two to their bio-uncle, Torear, but the weather was so bad that day and the runt was so sickly and small that it surely would have killed him. I don't think Owlclaw ever finds out why his mother always treated him with suspicion, but it did mess him up horribly.

Over in BB!DOTC, Thunder Storm is getting more half-siblings earlier. Clear Sky and Falling Feather had two daughters-- Pale Sky and Tiger Sky.

I want to explore the way that the various stages of Clear Sky's life acted on his kids. How any little curiosity Thunder Storm had about the life he might have had if he wasn't abandoned is crushed by seeing kittens who weren't. How Clear's favoritism of his oldest child set the trio against each other from the start. How this idea of "love" is toxic yet intoxicating.

It feels good to be the golden child. The power it gives you over his sycophants is satisfying. To know you, and you alone, have what someone else craves. Problem is, that's conditional, and it's cruel.

What Thunder Storm learns from his time with his biodad is that Clear Sky is not his father at all. He's taught him exactly what he DOESN'T want to be. There may be similarities-- in temperament, in physical prowess (though BB!Thunder is three-legged, he's still ripped), in taste and senses. But Thunder Storm's father is Shaded Flower.

(BB!Gray Wing died in the first book, rescuing Shaded Flower from being trampled by a horse. Xey're a patron of wisdom, Shaded Moss is taking the role of fatherhood to Thunder)

His sister is Rainswept Flower. His mom is Bright Storm. If there was a bond he could have had with Tiger Sky and Pale Sky, it dies simply and cruelly on the knife they used to cut each other out.

Pale might have wanted to mend it, she was the gentler one. But she dies in the First Battle along with her mother. Tiger Sky is too stubborn to accept any help, should Thunderstar offer it, and Thunderstar isn't in the business of begging for others to like him.

Naturally I'm lowkey obsessed with them lmao. I need to make a BB!DOTC overviewww

[spacedace]

Here, have a snippet of the Jason & Steph sibling bonding portion of the DP x DC AU I wrote 10k words for since last night in a haze of post sickness/burnout creative burst, featuring some Anger Management because of course it does lol

(I call it a snippet but it’s like...3k words lol)

Trigger Warnings because most of this snippet focuses on them running around Crime Alley and shit that goes down in it: references to drugs, overdoses, domestic abuse, child endangerment (if I miss anything let me know and I’ll add it). Nothing expliciet or details but they are things mentioned as happening because, well, Crime Alley.

-

Spoiler shifts subtly from foot to foot on the rooftop, hands open and ready at her side as she split her attention from watching him and checking the street below for signs of trouble. Her gaze was sharp on the girls working the corner, tracking for any hint that the man talking them up was making any of them uncomfortable even as she made sure Jason didn’t suddenly dart across the ten feet between them to strike out at her.

“George Conrad.” He said, satisfied that his sudden breaking of the silence didn’t make her jump though did catch her attention fully, fingers twitching warningly towards her belt. He nodded his head down to the street and the large man rummaging through the bag he brought with him. More of the girls had huddled up around him. “Not a john. Not even from Gotham.” He explained, shifting to walk over to the edge of the roof, giving her his back as he did. “His son Kyle ran away from home while George was oversees and ended up working the streets. George tracked him down once he was back in the states a few years ago but by the time he made it here Kyle had been killed.”

She moved to join him at the ledge, still leaving space between them but not enough for his guns to be as effective. Smart, vigilant, but still with a soft enough heart to stop and listen to one of the many tragedies that played out in Gotham’s darkest streets.

“What happened?” She asked, eyes softening on the big man in question as he started handing out ziploc bags. Jason knew very well what they held, and wondered if Spoiler could make out the finer details from the distance they were at. Sandwiches, granola bars, water bottles, condoms, clean needles, wet-wipes, little travel sewing kits, over the counter pain meds. Anything and everything George had ever been told would be appreciated or useful by the sex workers he spoke to.

“Overdose.” Jason answered, grateful that the distorter built into his helmet disguised the tightness of his voice. Memories of a cold body on the floor, stiff and waxy with distant glassy eyes. “Got mixed up with the wrong person. Boyfriend. Not a big player but,” He shrugged and knew that Spoiler would understand. It was how a lot of people got mixed up in sex work when they wouldn’t have normally. Boyfriend that promised the world, the painful fall into being pressured to sleep with said boyfriend’s friend, then another, then another. “One of Daisy’s boys was a neighbor and figured out what was going on, Daisy helped get him out but it was too late by then.”

Below one of the girls, younger than the rest - an adult, because he wouldn’t allow anything else in his territory, but still new to the scene - surged forward to wrap her arms around the old man. George gave her a gentle pat on the back, pushing her back gentle to dig out a card from his pocket. A list of numbers for her to call, shelters and organizations that could help, his own number in case she ever needed anything. “They chipped in for a funeral for him. Gave George somewhere to go and mourn. He’s been here ever since, trying to look after them all. He works as a bouncer at Daisy’s these days but he always does the rounds when he isn’t working.”

“People never get this part.” Spoiler mused, voice going soft and distant. “They always think the Alley is just…” She waved a gloved hand, “Trash and monsters. They can’t seem to get that there’s more. Just…people. Some really good ones even.”

He smiled behind his mask. There was a reason she was the one of the whole Bat Clan he’d decided to trust with this.

“Come on.” He said, waving her after him as he began an easy run that’d let them both move easily from rooftop to rooftop. Spoiler hesitated a moment, but at length followed, quick and quiet as she darted from shadow to shadow in his wake.

They spent the following couple of hours meandering around Crime Alley at an easy clip. Squat roofs and rusted fire escapes, narrow streets and dark corners. Pausing to jump in and handle anything that popped up or at particular spots of interest where he’d point out places and people. The chop shop run by the ragged gang of teens and children some of the gangs had been angling towards that needed looking after. The homeless encampment nestled between the grimy apartment building Daisy O’Neil had taken over to run her business out of and the tiny, almost forgotten pauper’s cemetery. The usual roosting spots for the drug dealers, the gambling dens, the little family owned cafe that had the best Tantuni at midnight and even better Turkish coffee at the crack of dawn.

It was as they perched on top of this last one, tucked back in the shadows away from view as Spoiler devoured the freshly made Lokma that Mrs. Solak insisted on making fresh for them when they stopped by that the question finally came.

“So what exactly is all this?” Spoiler asked, popping another of the sugary, honey covered Lokma in her mouth. He’d shoved the container Mrs. Solak had given to him over to her after eating only a few, knowing she was going to try to steal them anyway if he didn’t. “When you said you needed my help with something in Crime Alley, I was expecting…I don’t know, drug runners or something.” She popped another golden dough ball in her mouth, cheeks round as a chipmunk and voice muffled as she said, “Not a tour of the place.”

Jason let his head fall back on the brick of the rooftop entrance behind them, eyes scanning the glittering horizon of the Gotham skyline, trying to sort out his answer. He had talked about how he was going to do this with Jazz, practicing what he was going to say, what he wanted to reveal, what outcomes he could expect from the whole thing. When he left he’d felt confident about it all, riding high on the warmth of Jazz’s kiss and the fluttering thumps of little legs kicking against his hand. Now that he was here though he felt lost as to how to begin.

“I’m hanging up the mask.” He finally said. It wasn’t quite like the first time he’d said it out loud, in the privacy of his apartment, curled in bed with Jazz, only brave enough to whisper it in the dark. There wasn’t that rush of anxiety and relief that had hit him at finally saying what had twisted over and over in his head for weeks leading up to that moment. Now there was just the settled feeling, the certainty, the surety of being on the path he wanted to be on. “I wanted to ask if you’d look after my territory me when I do.”

Spoiler gaped at him. “Wait, seriously?”

He almost laughed, he settled on giving her a lazy smile. “Seriously.”

With her masked pulled down so she could eat her treats he could see her wide eyed, disbelief on her face easily. “Why?”

He gave a shrug, aiming for nonchalant. “This used to be your territory for awhile, right? You’re from here, you know the Alley and the people and how it all works.” He felt his smile go softer, “I trust you to be able to keep it safe.”

Spoiler’s - Steph’s - expression softened at that. “That’s…thank you.” She glanced out the same way he had before, face caught in something bittersweet. “I…I hated this place growing up. I still do, kinda. I think everyone that lives here does. But I still missed it, it’s still…still home.”

“Yeah,” He agreed, mind turning over his childhood. The constant fear and hardship. Living rough even when he did have a roof over his head. His father’s heavy hands. His mother’s slow wasting. Crime Alley was a complete shit hole, one where the worst of the worst tended to gather. But it wasn’t all monsters. There were good people too, just trying to scrape by. Old George wandering the streets handing out necessities to working girls and boys. The Solak family and their little shop, giving out the left overs to the street kids and homeless. The Nightingales, crammed into their two bedroom apartment, just trying to get by. “I knew you’d get it.”

They sat in silence for awhile. Steph chewing over his request and her Lokma, Jason lost in memories of the past and wistful dreams of the future. At length the blond next to him bumped his shoulder with hers, head tilting at a questioning angle. “I…I really appreciate what you said, about why me.” She said, awkward and touched in equal measure. “But…I was actually wondering why you were stepping back.”

He was ready for that question, he was. He’d initially just wanted to leave it at none of your fucking business but Jazz had - wise as ever - pointed out that he was asking her a favor, and a big one at that. He might not be comfortable with the rest of his family knowing everything - or anything - but Steph at least deserved an explanation as to why he was asking her to take over his territory.

“You tell anyone this, and I will kill you.” He started and then cringed internally because that had not at any point been something that had come up in his practice conversations with Jazz. Oh well, any more ooie-gooey feelings talk and Steph probably would have thought he was replaced by a pod person or something. “I’m seeing someone.”

The faintly alarmed look the blond vigilante beside him had melted away in an instant, replaced by a sly, mischievous grin. Hellion. One whiff of gossip and that’s all it took. “Ooooh, Big Bad Red Hood has a heart after all.” She crooned, ignoring her earlier reticence to get too close and leaning dramatically against his side. “Who is it huh? Anyone I know? Ooh, is it someone in the Outlaws?”

He was reminded of before he died, suddenly. Of teasing Dick over his latest crush over a beautiful red head that could kick his ass like a proper annoying little brother. In an echo of that moment so many years ago, he shoved Spoiler off in the same way Dick had done to him, rolling his eyes at her dramatic squawking as she nearly dropped her treat to disguise the small smile that wanted to curl at his lip. He swiped at the container lazily, a feint at stealing it back that resulted in a brief scuffle that ended with him popped a few of the Lokma in his mouth as she tore the container - that he had given to her in the first place - away, holding it close to her chest like a precious treasure.

“No, no one you know.” He answered at last they finally settled down. He paused for a beat, gaze turning back to the city as he added. “She’s a civilian.”

Spoiler looked considering at that, chewing at one of the last of the Lokma thoughtfully. “So what’s going on then? You do a face reveal and she asked you to quit the vigilante business?”

“No.” He said, taking a small, steadying breath. Better to just rip off the bandaid. “She’s pregnant.”

Spoiler went still beside him, laughing eyes shuttering and face falling into a neutral mask as she stared at him. After a long, long moment she gave a small, unreadable little, “Oh.”

Jason fought the urge to fidget. Oh. It could mean so many things. Oh shit. Oh no. Oh how nice. Oh boy I can’t wait to tell Bruce about this. That last one, admittedly, was unlikely. Spoiler was on good terms with most of the Bats and Birds but she and Bruce had long had something of a rocky relationship. No where near as bad as what he and the old man had, but still enough that she was probably the very last person to willingly go hunt Bruce down to share all the details of Jason’s private life unless she thought it particularly necessary.

The silence stretched on. And Jason knows what silence does to a human brain. Four seconds of quiet during a conversation after saying something registers as rejection, caused feelings of anxiety and apprehension, even caused the same signals in the brain as physical pain. Prolonged silence and steady attention at the same time caused an urge to fill the quiet, to speak and keep speaking until the other person says something. It was something Bruce taught him, guiding him along in his Robin days on how to perform interrogation and get the person they were questioning to spill their guts.

He was taught too how to outlast that silence in situations where he was being questioned. Both by Bruce and by the League - though the interrogations that he was meant to resist under their teachings had far more than long awkward silences to contend with. He knew how to clamp down on that instinctive drive to keep talking when faced with stillness like this.

And yet, somehow he could stop himself.

“I just…I think about being a kid and my dad going to work,” He said the word with appropriate amount of vitrol, “And then never coming back. Him dying in jail and it just being me and my mom trying to scrape by. Or…or with Bruce. Knowing that I was always going to place second to the Rogues and the city. I just…” His head dropped back on the brick behind him, eyes closed and throat tight. “I can’t do that to my kid. I’m going to be there. I’m going to make sure they’re safe and happy and that they don’t ever have to worry about if their old man is coming home or not.”

It was a nightmare he’d been having, since the morning he and Jazz crowded over a couple of pregnancy tests and saw the results. Dying out in the gutter and shambling home as a ghost to see the grief he left behind. Jazz crying, a child who’s features he could never make out standing in the doorway the way he would stand at the entrance of the cave when he was too injured to go out with Batman. Waiting in painful silence and burning tears to find out that his father was dead.

“I’m not…I’m not cutting out of the life completely.” He said, trying to focus past the squeezing in his chest, trying to force the conversation back into a conversation rather than him just pouring his bleeding heart out to a blank wall. “I’m going to talk to Babs, see if she’d be alright with me helping with some of what she does, or get something similar setup solely for the Alley. I’m going to keep tabs with my guys on what’s going on and work with them that way. And if there’s anything big, obviously you guys can call me in, I’m not just going to sit back if there’s a city wide threat or worse, I just - “

There were arms around him, suddenly. Warm and strong as they wrapped around him, a face pressed into his shoulder, his nose tickled by blond hair.

He sat there, frozen for a long moment before slowly, lifting his own arms to return the hug. Steph gave him an encouraging squeeze. “I get it.” She said, voice whisper soft and almost lost as she spoke into the leather of his jacket. “I think…I think if I’d been older, if I was more able to keep her…I think I would have done the same thing.” There was a faint sniff as she finally pulled away. She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were bright with tears. “I’m happy for you.” She moved to gently head butt him, “And I’m honored to take over watching over this shithole of ours.”

Jason gave a watery laugh, not even caring that he was crying as he scrubbed away some of the tears that had burned down his cheek. “Thanks Blondie. Steph.”

She rocked back on her heels, arms crossed as her expression turned suddenly serious. “I do have one condition though.” At his look the seriousness melted away into an exuberant grin. “I want to meet this mystery woman of yours. Wait!” She brightened, “Two conditions! I want to be there when you finally tell B and the rest! I am not missing the look on their faces when you tell them!”

He rolled his eyes and shoved her, sending her tumbling into the container of Lokma and sending the remaining fried dough balls rolling across the grungy roof. Steph squawked, dropping to her knees before the thoroughly ruined sweets as dramatic as if it was her one true love laying dead before her. “They were so young, so innocent!” She wailed, throwing her head back as if to howl at the sky in mourning before snapping back to him, finger pointing at him accusatory. “You! This is your fault! I will have my vengeance!”

The rest of the night was spent darting from rooftop to rooftop in an echo of the game of tag he used to play with Dick and Babs years ago. Tackling each other and fighting without actually aiming to do real damage. Only pausing to jump down to the street or through a window here and there to knock some heads together.

By the time he was heading to the Dead Man’s Hand so he could walk Jazz home - or whisk her off to his safehouse, if he was lucky and she was able to duck her siblings for the day - he felt lighter. Steph would look after the Alley, the people he protected. He’d work with her over the next few months, get her integrated with his lieutenants and make sure she was familiar with the ins and outs of his little slice of Gotham, make sure she was as ready as she could be to take over for him.

[yonemurishiroku]

Mafia AU in which Nico’s famiglia is called the Angels and they’re the most merciless, ruthless, cold-blooded, terrifying of the underworld society, completely unlike their namesake. 

[artekai]

"Average Sobeck lives 431 years" factoid actually statistical error. Average Sobeck lives 53 years. Immortality Georg and Cryogenics Georgina, who survived the apocalypse and went on to live 998 years each, are outliers and should not have been counted

(Lindsey is @meep-m33p's OC! ^^)

[teakoodrawz]

my fav sibling dynamics to Mark and Seren is they don't get along like they're always on sibling rivalry

[mellowwillowy]

Imagine in a self-aware AU, the TWST boys telling their family that they're gonna bring a friend home and it turns out to be a fucking god, lol."

Riddle's mom either had a low or high expectation about the friend Riddle might bring home and Archon, she almost passed out the moment she saw the aura you emit unconsciously. Brightening and blinding! She tried to make a good impression and win your heart the whole time, Riddle had never seen her mom that nervous before to be honest.

Dylla's jaw fell on the floor when Deuce introduced you to her excitedly. Not only had his son changed for the better, he also managed to friend the God? What had happened during his first year of high school? She was nervous at first but soon relaxed when she knew you were a rather friendly soul even to your friend's Mother. Dylla was the type of mom to embarrass his son so expect some funny remarks of Deuce.

Leona's family had never been more surprised in an elated way than this. Their very troublesome son came back with the God next to him. And most of all, the God praised their son for being good?

Azul's grandmother was straight-up fascinated by you. The God radiated such a brilliant aura even when in the dark bottom of the sea. His parents were very elated to see Azul bringing his friend home for the first time (not the Leech brothers) and by God, they did not expect it to be the God. Azul was rather nervous when he introduced you to them, something you didn't see so often.

The Leech's father was amazed. How did his sons manage to convince the God to come home with them? There's no way they used those tricks he used to drag people right? Judging by how relaxed you looked, he could say for sure you were not a prisoner to them and the Leech's family.

Kalim's parents immediately threw a grand banquet and a thanksgiving the moment Kalim showed you to them. His siblings were beyond ecstatic and amazed seeing someone who could glow like the God!

Jamil's parents almost died from a heart attack while Najma was squealing for some reason.

Vil's father was surprised. He had never seen his son being so insistent in introducing his friend to him. He thought nothing much of it, just a fellow celebrity or actor, and definitely not a God.

Rook's family was... oddly unbudged. Of course, they were pleasantly surprised but it was as if they had expected it even though Rook didn't tell them anything. Did they know early on or were they just always ready for anything? One thing for sure was that blood runs thicker than water.

Idia's mother couldn't stop coddling all over you and was more of the friend here than Idia himself. Ortho had a hard time trying to separate you two just so that the brothers could have your attention again. The father on the other hand swallowed his heart out of shock.

Malleus' grandmother could feel your aura from miles away before you were brought to her. Instead of the usual curtsy she received, this time it was her who curtsied and it made you panic instantly. Lilia was there to ease you down and managed to tease her for it. He soon received an earful of him being so impolite to you and her at the same time. (Malleus dared not to step in)

[freelanceplatypus]

Dungeon Meshi modern au where both Laois and Falin are food vloggers. Laois is always travelling to remote areas and cultures to try the most "extreme" foods and bring them to light. He's known as the guy who will drink blood and slam a still wriggling bug just to comment on it's nutty flavor. Meanwhile Falin is visiting long-standing eateries and sharing the stories behind local cuisine.

Nobody actually puts together they're siblings (in part due to wildly different viewerbases) until Falin in one video mentions how she enjoys eating insects and the comment section is full of folks asking her to "collab with the bug guy". Her very next video is her and Laois smiling infront of a mukbang style platter of insects and she introduces him as her brother.

[jade-bright]

In another world of my au, where Sterek find out the other is supernatural before Stiles loses his spark, his mom is adamant that he should really start learning how to mend bones and other parts of the body incase something happens to him (especially now that he's spending time with a family of mostly were's).

And you know adhd and stuff, he keeps putting it off (plus he surprisingly rarely ever breaks any of his bones,) until one day some shit happens to Derek where one of his bones break (be it from a tussle with his siblings or something else) and suddenly Stiles is like, "hey I know you got like super werewolf healing, but could I try to fix it?" and Derek kinda just let's him, I mean, it's not like he could make things worse, and even if he does, they just got to break it again so it'll heal properly.

Just like that, the Hale's often overhear things like:

Stiles: Alright, so someone can be paralyzed from the legs down if the nerves or something are like messed with in the spine

Derek: You want me laying down or sitting?

Laura, in the kitchen listening in: wtf?

-

Stiles: Mom says I should work on mending shattered bones. You think you could break just one piece of your bone to start off easy?

Derek: Mmm, maybe

Peter, passing by: Try breaking it like breaking off pieces of spaghetti

-

Peter's the only one completely unfazed by what they're doing, all the other Hale's are just still reeling that there's someone just as weird as them (Peter seems to be the only one who remembers who Stiles' mother is, "Día, why do I smell blood?" "Oh that's from the bottles of menstrual blood me and Mama have" "...why" "Mama's witch friends say you never know").

Noah, after he found out (walked into Stiles' room to see Derek laying on the bed shirtless with Stiles straddling his hips on-top of him with his hands over his ribs and a look of concentration on his face. When asked what they were doing, they just answered magic/biology homework), asked Claudia if he couldn't just practice on animal bones like Heather ("But Noah, this way he gets to familiarize himself with the anatomy of the human body" "The kid's a werewolf Clauds" "Same bone structure").

*Realized midway through how very Addams family energy I put into this, whoops.*

[kamaluhkhan]

TIME TO PRETEND

pairing: luke castellan x gn!poseidon!reader word count: 5k chapter summary: you're the eldest child of poseidon and the hero of the last great prophecy. you left your demigod life behind after defeating kronos. now, years later, you find yourself back at camp half blood for the summer.....which means dealing with luke castellan, and all that history (tension?) left unresolved between you. warnings: some nicknames for reader are based on female characters (mermista, sailor neptune) but they're still written as gender neutral. reader has tattoos. mention of alcohol + death (post-titan war). spoilers for the entire pjo (book) series, mostly references to the last olympian. timeline is all over the place but set in the early 2000s for vibes. no betrayal (au where chris was the one who sided w kronos and led the titan army) so slightly ooc luke <3 author's note: welcome to another product of my pjo hyperfixation !!! i wanted to finish the nemesis!reader series first but it's summer and i felt like reworking my tsitp series in a camp half-blood setting with bb luke. so prepare for childhood friends to lovers drama! summertime vibes! nostalgia! angst! would love to know what y'all think about this and if you want a part 2 so feel free to scream at me in the comments. otherwise, enjoy and thanks 4 reading 💙

♪: time to pretend by mgmt

YOU’VE GOT MAIL!

1 new message 

from: LukeNotSkywalker

to: Mermista86

subject: you are GETTING that record deal

Hey,

Your demo CD just came in the mail — and, Connor as my witness, I’ve already listened to it five times!!! 

It’s amazing. You’re amazing. The label would totally lose out if they didn’t sign you. 

Things have been pretty chaotic around here, with the summer term happening soon. Speaking of which: are you coming back? Chiron gave me the list of returning campers and counsellors this morning and said he hadn’t heard from you, so I thought I’d ask. I know you’ll be busy with the band, but if you get the chance, it’d be really great to see you.

Anyways, I’m leading the next Shield & Sword session, so I’d better go. Talk soon ;)

- L

FOUR YEARS LATER

TURBULENT WATERS? ALT-ROCK BAND MIDNIGHT SIRENS HIT ROUGH PATCH AFTER LEAD GUITARIST GETS INTO VIOLENT ALTERCATION 

the cover is the nail in the coffin: a blurry picture of you, an electric blue guitar forgotten at your feet, lunging forward into a crowd, with your bandmates on stage behind you in shock. 

you’d gone all this time without any major incidents, and one stupid chimera managed to burn down everything you worked for in one fell swoop.

“that’d be $8.50,” the cashier informs. 

you tear your attention away from the magazine, instead fishing through your pocket for some change. meanwhile, the cashier furrows their brow, leans down slightly to get a better look at you underneath your sunglasses and baseball cap. 

“hey, do i know you?”

“nope,” you say instantly, slapping a $10 bill onto the counter. “keep the change.” you gather your pile of necessary roadtrip supplies (slushies, m&m’s, and goldfish) before rushing out the door, your half-brother trailing behind you.

you slide into the driver’s seat, set each slushie in a cup holder, and hand the rest to percy once he’s slipped into the passenger side. 

“seatbelt,” you remind him. you shake your hair out after removing your baseball cap disguise. “i promised your mom i’d be responsible.” 

percy does as he’s told, though not without mumbling about how he’s practically an adult and a demigod who’s been in much more dangerous situations than a car ride up to long island. you just tell him to put on some music, even though he has a point. he’ll be 18 in august and you’re only five years older, but the fact is that you gave sally jackson your word. 

plus — you’re his older sibling, so gods forbid you let him get hurt. a seatbelt seems like a band-aid solution for one of the most powerful demigods out there, but still.

percy flips through a few radio stations while he sips his blue raspberry slushie. when he doesn’t find anything good, he opens the glove compartment and surveys your music collection before sliding a cd into the stereo. 

instantly, the familiar sound of david bowie’s voice eases the tension in your shoulders.

“good choice?” 

you nod and percy smiles triumphantly. you reach over to steal a few goldfish from the bag he just opened and ruffle his hair playfully, for good measure. 

you’re perfectly happy, driving along a long island highway while getting lost in the glam rock world of ziggy stardust, but it isn’t long until percy interrupts: 

“are you finally gonna tell me what happened, or do i have to read it from some trashy gossip magazine like everyone else?”

“well, your dyslexic ass can barely read so….”

you look over at him briefly, and laugh when you see him stick his slightly-blue tongue out to you. 

“at least my dyslexic ass is actually decent at ancient greek. luke told me you failed the reading test, like, a million times.”

your heart twinges at the mention of your old friend. 

friend.

if you could still call him that. 

thankfully, percy doesn’t give you much room to dwell on the past, too focused on your drama-filled present.

“so, what is it? you got kicked out of the band? lost everything? have nowhere else to go?”

you roll your eyes at his dramatics. “i did not get kicked out.” 

“then, what happened?”

“just the usual.” you shrug. “monster attack, mortals who can’t see through the mist. i tried to explain it away after — something about how i saw someone in the crowd attack another person and i stepped in to help. most people bought it, but the media loves drama and the label’s worried i’m a flight risk now. apparently, everything will blow over if i just keep a low profile for the next few months. so….no. i didn’t lose everything.” you take a deep, like when anyone other than children of poseidon are about to go underwater and they’re not quite sure when they can come up for air. 

“i just don’t really have anywhere else to go,” you finish.

“damn.” percy offers you a blue shark gummy (or whale - you and percy had already debated the shape of the candy that sally packed for the trip, and the jury’s still out). you gratefully accept. “well, i know it’s not the best reason, but i’m excited to spend the summer together.”

despite everything, you find yourself smiling. 

“me too, kid.” 

“it’d give me a chance to kick your ass in sword-fighting.”

“you wish!” you nudge his shoulder, both of you giggling. once the laughter’s died down, you glance at percy once more. “hey – did you tell anyone i was coming?”

percy shakes his head. “why?”

you take a long swig of your drink until you’re on the brink of brain freeze. 

“no reason.”

it’s just after lunch when you arrive at camp half-blood. 

you weren’t sure what you were expecting — maybe not some futuristic technological developments that had been discovered within the years you were gone, but definitely not for camp to look pretty much exactly the same as when you left. 

instantly, you find comfort in the familiar scenes: a dragon, peleus, guarding the magical borders; dryads and satyrs picking strawberries in the fields next to the forest; chiron standing near the central guidepost, greeting and guiding every camper in the right direction.

chiron smiles down at percy and practically does a double take when his eyes land on you.

“mx. l/n! it has been a while. are you here to drop off your brother, or do you plan on staying for the summer?”

before you can answer, someone appears behind him. 

“perce! hey!” 

“hey, luke.”

luke gives him a side hug, and percy shoves him away with a laugh when he ruffles his hair. it’s then that luke acknowledges you, though he looks like that’s the last thing he wants to do.

“i thought i’d never see you again. what are you doing here? ”

chiron turns to you expectedly. “i believe you have yet to answer that question of mine as well.”

“staying for the summer…” you adjust the shoulder strap of your backpack, uneased by luke’s cold demeanor. “i hope that’s okay.”

“of course!” chiron’s smile grows wide, eyes crinkling. “you’ll resume your position as head counsellor of cabin 3.”

“so i’m dethroned? just like that?” percy guffaws.

you nudge percy’s shoulder. “fulfill the next great prophecy, and then we’ll talk.” 

percy rolls his eyes playfully. luke, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to appreciate your tongue-in-cheek remark. his jaw tightens, and he suddenly finds a deep interest in the clipboard he’s holding.

chiron clears his throat, likely sensing the tension. “yes, well, i’m sure you remember how things work around here. if not, mr. castellan has been keeping this ship afloat. he's always here to help.”

“always.” luke smiles, but it’s elastic, threatening to snap at any moment. someone calls his name, and he walks away to deal with whatever chaos is waiting for him.

summer — age 15

you weren’t exactly conscious when you first arrived at camp half-blood. 

apparently, coach hedge, a satyr and protector, found you just in time and had to practically drag you up half-blood hill after a particularly gruesome fury attack. 

when you woke up and saw luke sleeping next to you in a chair, his curls overgrown and falling onto his eyes, you thought you had died and gone to elysium. 

you took in your unfamiliar surroundings. some sort of infirmary, with only your best friend next to you, the one you hadn’t seen in almost a year since you’d parted ways. 

then, you remembered what was happening before you passed out; it was more likely that you were being tricked into a false sense of security by that fury, who definitely planned on devouring you later.

with a newfound sense of urgency, you decided it was time to get out of there before it was too late. you were reaching for your knife when you felt a hand grab your shoulder. without losing a second, you twisted your body around, weapon at the ready.

whoever it was watching over you sure looked like luke. he was wearing a bright orange shirt and leather cord necklace with one clay bead. another point of difference was the jagged scar that cut across his left cheek.

“it’s just me,” he said, gently. “you’re fine here. you’re safe.”

you weren’t convinced, kept your knife in front of you to keep distance. “prove it.” you narrowed your eyes. “tell me something only luke would know.”

“you’re left-handed.”

“that’s a great observation,” you scoff.

“storm is your favourite x-men character.”

“that’s a very popular opinion.”

“your aunt would make us mango lassi after swim camp when she got home from work,” luke tries for the third time. “and, my mom - she used to call you ‘starfish.’”

your heart skipped a beat.

that was the confirmation you needed. 

the knife dropped from your hand, clattered on the wooden floor, as you pulled luke in for a hug. you were greeted by a familiar scent, that pear shampoo luke loved because it made his hair so soft, mixed with the smell of fresh pine trees. 

“it’s really you,” you mumbled into his shoulder.

despite sleeping for gods know how long, you were exhausted. you rested your weight into luke, but he didn’t seem to care.

“it’s really you. i thought i’d never see you again.”

“where are we?” you asked, breaking away to face luke. you ignored the wooziness you felt throughout your body; luke seemed to sense it, his grip around you tightening. “are annabeth and thalia here, too? how’d you get here?” your thumb traced the unfamiliar scar on his face. “what happened? are you okay —”

“i-i’ll answer all your questions, but you lost a lot of blood.” luke guided you to lay back down in bed. “we’ll explain everything. just get some rest.”

a third scenario entered your mind: this was all a dream. you’d close your eyes and when you opened them again, luke would be gone. you’d be alone again.

you couldn’t let go of luke’s hand, even as he tucked you back into bed. you tugged his wrist, silently urging him to join you.

“will you stay with me?” you finally croaked when he continued standing. 

luke looked at you, and you nodded once as final confirmation. then, he removed his shoes and slipped into the bed next to you. it was luke, all sweet pear and soft curls and strong heartbeat, and you held on to him in fear that he might slip away.

“always,” he whispered.

during the orientation video you were later shown, you learned that camp half-blood’s motto is keeping young heroes safe (mostly) for over three millennia!  

luke had used that word, too. safe.

chiron told you this was to be your new home as he walked you to the poseidon cabin. he told you that you were safe now, though you noticed how the word almost got caught in his throat. he gave you a sad smile you didn’t quite understand.

you did wonder, at first, if those words were true: this place, a home for you and other children of gods. somewhere safe.

and, well.

you came to understand chiron’s general melancholy a few weeks later, and every week after that. he was used to training and sending heroes off to their potential death, and you would be no different. stolen lightning bolts, deadly quests, cryptic prophecies. a pending war between divine forces you had been entangled with long before you knew. heartache and betrayal and loss beyond measure. 

but, there were other things, too. 

annabeth, fitting in perfectly at the athena cabin, continued being her genius self, leading her team to victory every capture the flag game. she was extra patient in helping you with ancient greek, especially after chiron had given up.

chris rodriguez, luke’s half-brother, would tell you jokes from across the dining pavilion, knowing that you hated sitting alone at the poseidon table. michael yew, son of apollo, taught you how to play guitar at the bonfire one week; you’d ask for more and more lessons until you could start playing on your own. charles beckendorf made you a celestial bronze sword that shone like that burst of light when the sun hits the ocean at sunset. it transformed into a ring that you would never take off, unless in battle. you might not have gotten along with mr. d, but you spent free time picking fresh strawberries with his son, castor. you made matching friendship bracelets with silena beauregard, who was really the only person you confided in, about how you maybe possibly felt something other than friendship when it came to luke. she told you about her crush on clarisse larue, the daughter of ares whom you would always partner with during sparring practice. you taught ethan nakamura, who didn’t have his own cabin as the child of nemesis, how to properly hold a sword. thalia’s tree stood tall at the top of the hill where you almost bled to death, protecting you and everyone inside the magical borders. you, annabeth, and luke would share a picnic there every thursday.

you had been on the run for so long, always looking over your shoulder for monsters, sleeping with one eye open to be one step ahead of death, jumping from one place to the next so quickly to avoid danger.

so, yes. 

it was nice to stay in one place, where you knew you were as safe as demigods could be. it was nice to spend your time learning and training and laughing instead of just surviving. 

it was nice to have a place to call home. and people to call it home with.

now 

the first week passes in the blink of an eye, and it’s like you never left.

tie-dye, volleyball, strawberry picking, kitchen duty, and cabin inspection. 

luke has everyone on a tight schedule — one, you notice, conveniently places the two of you at opposite ends of camp at all times.

still, you catch up with clarisse and the stoll brothers, spend time with annabeth and percy, say hi to pollux and katie gardner and others you vaguely recognize as five years older than what you remember. there are also a lot of faces you don’t recognize at all.

of course, you try not to think about the faces you wished you could see: friends you grew up with and would never have a laugh with again, younger campers you had trained who would never grow up. all lost because of the gods and the titans and a prophecy you never asked to be a part of. 

it’s a side effect of being back here; their ghosts are harder to ignore.

again — trying not to think about it.

anyways.

climbing wall, armory, sword-fighting practice, archery field, and free time on the beach.

to conclude: capture-the-flag, a friday night camp-half blood tradition.

you’re praising annabeth for her latest strategy that led to blue team victory when you notice luke. he was also on the blue team, but instead of celebrating with the rest of you, he’s speaking to someone who’s wearing a red helmet. they seem to be in a heated discussion, one that luke is not wanting to continue. his tells are the same, after all these years: the impatient tapping of his foot, his eyes searching for an out.

you give it to him.

“sorry, i need to borrow this guy.” you say, grabbing luke’s wrist. “camp emergency.” 

if the person said anything, you didn’t hear it, because you were already dragging luke away from the crowd, towards the armory shed. 

“what’s the emergency?” luke wonders, brows furrowed in concern. he has deep shadows under his eyes, too. keeping the ship that is camp half-blood afloat has clearly taken a toll on him. 

“you wanting to get out of that conversation. you’re welcome.” you wink at him; luke flushes, and you’re not sure if it’s because he’s annoyed, or if he's just flustered. “so, are you gonna keep ignoring me the whole summer?”

you put your helmet on one of the shelves and turn back to luke. you expected him to start removing his armor as well, but he doesn’t. he just glares at you, arms crossed over his chest.

so, he’s annoyed, then. 

“what do you expect?” luke hisses. “you can’t come back here and pretend that everything can be like it was when we were kids. things are different now, especially between us.”

you decide to take him up on his challenge. 

“oh? tell me, luke, what exactly is different between us?”

luke shakes his head in disbelief. you remove your chest plate, and that’s when the tattoo on your waist becomes visible. it’s a magnolia, like one of the flowers that bloomed on the tree outside may castellan’s house. 

something in luke softens, then. he sighs. 

“you could have at least given me a warning.”

he storms off, and you’re left half-armored, wondering what he meant by that.

you figure it out once a few of you settle down for a late-night, underground poker game, and you’re trying not to stare at luke’s hands.

it starts with you telling yourself that you’re just trying to predict what cards he’s holding, figure out if he’s bluffing, and if he’s about to lose everything he’d so confidently bet on. 

but then you notice the silver thumb ring that thalia got him for his 17th birthday. you notice an array of hair ties and elastic bands he keeps just in case a camper needs them, and woven bracelets given to him by his admirers. you notice how the tattoo on his wrist is covered. (it’s hidden well, but you know it’s there — you’d gotten one of a wing, the kind that might be found on a pair of magical red converse, at the same time)

you also notice the forest green painted on luke’s nails, the same shade worn by the person beside him.

van, the new head counsellor of the hephaestus cabin. you’d seen them at staff meetings, but you somehow did not notice that they were dating luke. 

he moved on — is that why luke needed a warning? is that what's changed between you?

it’s fine. whatever. so what if luke has a new partner? it’s not like the two of you were anything, officially. 

luke has a new partner. they’re wearing matching nail polish. they’re one of those couples.

well, van is also wearing a nickleback shirt and luke hates nickleback, unless that fundamental part of his personality changed, too. 

“yo, sailor neptune. you in or not?” travis brings you out of your daze, by using a nickname luke once called you.

back before becoming heroes, when you and luke were just kids, you’d watch cartoons in his living room on saturday mornings — x-men, she-ra: princess of power, teenage mutant ninja turtles, sailor moon. a lifetime ago.

you look around the table and see that everyone has been waiting for you to take your turn. even luke raises an eyebrow at you.

“yeah.” you clear your throat and throw some chips into the centre. “i’m in.”

you have decent enough cards to keep you in the game, and you’re comfortable that you can play the odds in your favor. the stoll brothers are good liars, you know that, and so is luke. malcolm pace is good at strategy, but thankfully not as good as his half-sister annabeth. pollux, who had invited you to the game, already folded along with butch, the son of iris who has a rainbow tattoo on his bicep to prove it. beside you, lou ellen, daughter of the hecate, contemplates her next move. clovis has fallen asleep, true to their title as head counsellor of the hypnos cabin. you can’t get a read on van, but they keep raising the stakes so confidently, and you’ve always liked a good challenge.

soon enough, it’s only you and van in the bet. when it comes time to reveal your cards, you curse yourself for overplaying your hand.

“good game,” van says to you as they collect their winnings. “you really had me going there.” 

“yeah.” your smile is strained, but it’s there nonetheless. “tried my best.”

“guess the curse of achilles doesn’t help as much in poker as it does in capture the flag.” 

“excuse me?” you raise an eyebrow.

luke, who had one arm casually draped around van’s chair the entire game, pulls away. “van, maybe don’t —”

“it’s not like it’s a secret, luke. they’re the prophecy kid, everyone knows they bathed in the river styx to be able to fight kronos. it’s camp legend.”

other than you, luke, and van, everyone else is occupied with something else. connor busies himself shuffling the cards, while lou ellen, malcolm, and pollux get up for more drinks. it seems like butch and travis have their own bet going to see who can balance the most chips on clovis’ forehead without waking him up. 

van waits for an answer. you’re a little queasy, and it’s not from the wine pollux managed to snag from his dad’s office. you’re suddenly faced with the reality that your life is reduced to a legend. you try your best to swallow that feeling, of being made into a greek tragic hero while your heart is still beating, and your life is still a mess.

“that’s relevant, why?”

“just that some people might consider the invulnerability thing an unfair advantage in physical competitions like capture the flag,” van explains. “increased strength and all that.” 

“that would mean nothing without a good strategy,” you counter.

“that’s what i said,” luke grumbles. 

you recognize van now as the person luke was arguing with earlier. it must have been about this. 

about you. 

“okay, y’all were best friends, so luke is obviously going to take your side.”

you’re not sure what stings more: friends or were. 

“although, he never really talks about you, which is weird because you’re, like, famous in and outside camp.”

ouch. that definitely stings the most. luke winces slightly, almost like he feels it, too.

“alright, alright,” connor interjects, shuffling the cards in his hands. “another round?” 

you’re the only one who decides to call it a night. everyone says goodbye; even van, who’s blissfully unaware of the effect their words had on you. luke avoids your gaze. the game continues without you.

percy’s snoring provides enough cover as you sneak into your shared cabin. you try to sleep, but it doesn’t come easy. 

you feel the spot underneath your rib, the one spot you’re truly vulnerable, ache.

summer — age 17

for the first time in your life, you couldn’t breathe underwater. you were swimming in acid, and your skin was melting away.

at least, that’s what it felt like to bathe in the river styx. achilles could have mentioned that, but all he gave was a cryptic warning about anchoring yourself to what makes you mortal.

you really tried at first. you thought about your friends at camp. you thought about percy, about your aunt back when she was still around. you even thought about may castellan, burnt cookies and saturday mornings.

the pain was too much, though. 

you were forgetting where you were, who you were. with every passing second, you were dissolving into nothing.

“if you wanted to go for a swim, you should have told me. i would have worn my swimsuit.”

luke’s voice echoed across the waves. you tilted your head up to see him sitting on the dock above you, his feet dangling into the water. he had rolled up his jeans to just above his ankles so they didn’t get wet, but his shoes were still on, which was a bit strange. the sun made his eyes look like burnt amber, his teeth sparkling as he smiled at you. 

okay. cool.

you were at camp. it was mid-afternoon, free period. the two of you had been at the edge of the lake, until you became impatient and jumped in, fully clothed. behind him, you could see that annabeth, thalia, and percy were waiting for you on the shore. they were each wearing orange camp shirts, which was also strange; you couldn’t remember a time when you were all there together, as campers.

“we better go, sailor,” luke said, amusement laced throughout his words. “come on. those cabins aren’t gonna inspect themselves.”

luke extended his hand to you. when you hesitated, he added:

“i can’t do this without you. will you stay with me?”

you reached up and grabbed luke’s hand.

always.

you emerged from the water, catching your breath as you collapsed on the sand. 

“oh gods. are you okay?”

your cousin, nico diangelo, son of hades, knelt down next to you. he tried to check your pulse, but you waved him away. your eyes searched for luke, but he wasn’t there, despite feeling the ghost of his hand in your own. 

oh.

you weren’t at camp; you were in the underworld. it was nico’s idea for you to take on the curse of achilles so that you’d be strong enough to face kronos. 

“did it work?”

you got up, a bit uneasy on your feet at first. nico helped steady you, his hands cold on your skin.

you felt….stronger wasn’t the right word. you felt adrenaline coursing through your veins, like you could swim across the biggest ocean without pausing once. like you could defeat an entire army and not break a sweat. maybe even take down a titan or two while you're at it.

you needed to see luke again, to meet him and the others in manhattan before it was too late.

“let’s hope so.”

now

you always loved mornings at camp half-blood. the beach was particularly beautiful at sunrise, the water peaceful.

the morning after that impromptu poker game, you need that peacefulness to wash over you. you’re awake after a rather sleepless night, deciding to go for a quick run before breakfast. you get dressed and grab your mp3 player, as quietly as you can to avoid waking up percy (who, truthfully, could probably sleep through a hurricane anyways). 

you jog from one end of the beach to the other. you set a steady rhythm, somewhere between the beat of your music and the sound of waves gently washing over the shore. when you make your way back down to where you started, you notice someone sitting nearby.

luke doesn’t say anything when you first sit next to him. he’s wearing a dark blue hoodie over his usual orange shirt, a cigarette tucked behind his ear. you imagine that he confiscated it from a camper on the way here. 

“morning,” he finally whispers, eyes fixed towards the ocean. 

you shiver, and not just from the cool morning air. you’re reminded of the last time luke spoke to you so softly, the last time you’d caught an early morning sunrise together. such a contrast to where you are now.

“morning,” you finally reply. 

as the sound of waves fills the silence between you, luke surprises you by taking a lighter out of his pocket. he lights the cigarette and takes a puff. then, he hands it to you. 

it’s such an odd, though not unwelcomed, gesture. a peace offering, you figure, but it’s just so not luke that you can’t help yourself.

“is golden boy luke castellan, offering me contraband? what planet am i on?”

the hint of a smile creeps onto his face. “like i said: things are different now,” he echoes his words from the night before, but this time you don’t sense any hostility.

you take a drag of the cigarette. your fingers brush against his when you return it to him.

you decide to offer a peace offering as well, and present to him one of your earbuds — he accepts. you have to slide across the sand to move closer to him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

i’m feelin’ rough, i’m feeling raw / i’m in the prime of my life….

as the song plays, you glance to see luke nodding along, tapping a finger on his knee to the beat. he lets the cigarette smoulder in his other hand.

we’re fated to pretend / to pretend / yeah, yeah, yeah….

when the song is over, luke turns to you. 

“new group?” he brings the cigarette to his lips, then gives it back to you.

“kinda.” you inhale, letting the smoke warm your lungs before explaining. “this is considered they’re breakthrough album. they’re from connecticut, actually.”

“oh, yeah? guess that’s where all the talent is from.”

luke bumps his shoulder against yours knowingly. you feel your cheeks heat up at his praise, his witty sincerity.

this is familiar — you and luke, at the beach, sharing music. it’s familiar, and for a few moments, you can act like there isn’t a wall between you, of unresolved feelings and harsh words. you can pretend that nothing has changed.

“you know, nickleback are from connecticut, too. which means you just called them talented.”

luke coughs on some smoke as he exhales with a laugh. “what? no i didn’t!”

“in a roundabout way. i always knew you were an undercover fan,” you tease.

“i have better taste than that.”

“do you?”

“you’re fucking with me,” luke deadpans.

you crack a smile. “yeah, i’m fucking with you.”

“gods, you scared me for a second,” he laughs, and you can’t help but follow. luke glances at you and the sunshine highlights his smile, his dark brown curls, the ever-changing color of his eyes. golden, radiant. 

you shiver again, looking away. before you know it, you feel something draped across your shoulders.

“i’m not sure van would like it if i was wearing your hoodie.” you joke, but your words are laced with a bitterness you hope luke doesn’t catch. unlucky for you, luke still knows you too well, whether he likes it or not.

“you don’t get to do that.”

“do what?”

luke scoffs. “be jealous.” 

“well, you don’t get to tell me how to feel.”

“so, you are jealous?”

you exhale sharply; you can practically feel the wall between you two reappear.

“it’s too early, lu. and i’m too hungover to deal with this.”

there’s nothing more left to say. you get up, throw his hoodie on the sand, and walk back towards your cabin, the beach and luke further away with every step you take.

it makes sense that way: you were always the one to leave first.

[hello-eden]

 sub au for my Danny has Talia au

 Damian finds out he has siblings as in Elle and Dan because of time travel shenanigans. It's an accidental future time travel Damien has taken over as phantom, Ellie with the hero name Wrath and Dan as banshee.

The bat family is meeting the future bat family and Damian off-handedly mentioned Ellie and Dan. The family expects these two to be future adoptees when he drops the fact that they're on a mission with his mom. They start asking if Talia is now an ally and Damian says technically but they're on a mother-child bonding trip that they've Disguised as a mission. It's after this that Damian drops another bomb on the fact that both of them are his full-blooded biological siblings.

The bat family starts asking where the hell they are in their timeline. Older Damien looks his father dead in the eyes and shrugs. He has Danny's chaos.

I think it would be really funny for them just to find out how the three of his kids are doing in whatever timeline this is happening.

Damien is a hero named Phantom that the family later learns is taken from Talia's hero name that they didn't know she had and he uses Lazarus Magic( it's ghost Zone/ infinite realms Magic).

The daughter Bruce didn't know he had is a antihero named Wrath who he later finds out accidentally became a chaos God.( all of Talia and Bruce children have the potential to become gods but he does not know that)

A son using the code name banshee that Bruce was not expecting that nonchalantly talks about The Times They were evil And the fact they've probably ended the world multiple times.

[darkfluffydragon]

So uh, I ended up making a new...? AU with @amitiagailec and @blueshadowdad XD except it's not really a new AU.

Introducing, Decidit's Curse! A modern universe featuring Phantas/Knowledge (Phantasmagoria!Shadow Milk), Ternate Milk (fragment au! Shadow Milk), and Blueberry Milkshake (dad! Shadow Milk). Except they're now all brothers, with Phantas being the oldest, Ternate being the middle child, and Blueberry being the youngest.

There's a twist, Phantas and Ternate are both creatures! Ternate is a vampire and Phantas, uh, no one is quite sure what Phantas is. I'll focus on Phantas and Majesty here, and I'll leave the others to explain their side of the story >:3

I'll start from the very beginning. Originally, there were the five original virtues, baked by the witches themselves. Tasked to guide and help cookiekind prosper, they were sent down to earthbread. At first, they did as they were told. Being treated as divine beings, as heroes. Until, one by one, they began to corrupt. In an attempt to stop the creatures of their own creation, the witches shattered the souljams, fragmenting them and scattering them across the tree of life, where the shards would fall upon and settle within the blood and souls of unfortunate victims.

Each Virtue, each Beast, manifested into its own type of curse.

Sloth promotes corruption, within self and within others. Tempting those who will listen to fall into greed and cruelty.

Apathy becomes uncaring. They stop caring about what happens to people. Not exactly losing emotion, they have their own emotions. But they don't have sympathy or empathy. They only care about their own goals, not caring about what they have to do or the people they ruin to get to it. If that means the downfall of a country, so be it. It doesn't matter to them, not anymore.

Destruction grows impulsive, and more angry. They find it harder to hold back the violent urges, find it harder to care about the violent urges. Finds it easier to find it fun.

Silence is a void of mind. They become a shell of themselves, losing their voice, then their thoughts. Guided only by the hatred of the other curses, Silence only falls once the others have fallen too, as there is no one else left to keep them from slipping into complete solitude and isolation within their minds.

Deceit is a loss of identity. An inability to recall who they are, who they're supposed to be. Sometimes they never notice it at all.

Knowledge Phantasmagoria Decidit is the eldest brother of the Decidit family. After losing their parents, and gaining custody of his younger siblings, he would later gain a job at the government. Unknown to the general public, he works in the Creatures Department under the Director. After being tasked to research the confidential magic known as 'Dark Moon Magic', he suffers an unexplained death.

A month later, he reappears back at his home's doorsteps, looking as though he had dug his way out of his grave. Because he had. And he came back...off.

In this universe, there is an existence called the Angels. They have different names as well, such as Guardians, or Faeries. They are created by the witches and have one primary task: watch over the bearers of the curses and interfere if required.

Gods/elementals and other mythical creatures also exist, though are hidden away from normal society. The cookie suffix is no longer used, though curse bearers, angels and gods occasionally slip up when speaking.

Majesty (Phantasmagoria! Pure Vanilla) is Blueberry Milkshake's student. He was born with a frail body, so he grew up being in and out of hospitals. Due to this, he could not properly go to school and was tutored. One day, he didn't show up to class and Blueberry would later find out that Majesty was in critical condition.

Phantas, seeing his brother so distraught, decides to do some...tomfoolery, and cures Majesty.

Majesty is completely fine. Nothing is wrong at all. He still sees the eyes in his dreams, in his mind. His thoughts are not his own.

[the-kr8tor]

Other Side of Paradise

Pairing: Robin Hood! Hobie Brown x Princess! Reader

Word count: 7.3k

Summary: Being a princess is all fine and dandy until you're about to get married off like a brood mare. Will the handsome thief that stole your heart help get you out of a loveless marriage? Or perhaps you'll be the one stealing his heart?

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), robin hood au, royalty au, part 1 of part 2, talks of marriage, reader has unnamed siblings, a bit ooc Hobie at the start but it's for the plot, fluff.

A/N: This oneshot is so long I had to cut it in half lol enjoy! (Part 2 will be up in a few days)

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Octobie 🎸

Part one >>> Part two

Being a princess in one of the largest and most powerful countries in the world, you'd think that your family, the royal family would treat you like the finest jewel in their treasury. But no, they treat you like their doormat, a pretty little thing to put atop their mantle only to be forgotten until it's time to show you off.

You are a princess, draped in the finest silks and chiffon, jewels in your hair, golden rings around each of your fingers. But the one missing, the one that your family truly only cares about is a diamond on your ring finger that has remained empty ever since your debut out into society.

You're the thirteenth child of the thirteenth king and queen, an unlucky number perhaps, but you find it lucky since you're the youngest out of the thirteen, hence your empty ring finger. But after your last elder sister got married, all the attention went to you when you didn't want them in the first place. You went from just co-existing with your family, to you being the center of attention in the span of a few hours after they sent your dear sister off to her husband. From your brothers to your sisters, they've all been wed. Even if they had no say in who they were going to marry, they went with few little tears. Some married kings, princesses, and a few were shipped off to dukes and duchesses. Your parents were determined to fill every noble and royal household with their own blood. And unfortunately, you're not an exception.

With your corset poking you at your side, dress weighing heavy, and crown falling off your head every few minutes; you look like you're about to scream and shout in the middle of the throne room. You might as well when you roam your eyes at the marriage candidates staring at you like you're the last slice of pie at the tavern. Every eligible noble man around the world has come vying for your hand, or more like your dowry for that matter.

For once in your life, they didn't make you sit at the far back where you're free to whip out a book and read without interruption. But now, you sit front and center next to your royal parents, their heads held high, jewels shining in the sunlight that bathes the whole throne room in its kaleidoscope light coming from the colourful stained glass window that depicts your age-old family history. Some of its bits were conveniently taken out by your ancestors when they ‘took over’ the throne from their rightful heir and uncle. Maybe that's why they had to send off most of your siblings to faraway countries to prevent infighting amongst your family when the throne inevitably goes empty. You won't fight for it though, who would want to rule a country standing on the precipice of war and famine every year?

You claw at your wrist, the itchy lace turning your skin bumpy and agitated. Your mother clears her throat, head standing still while her eyes throw daggers at you.

“I think I'm allergic to this fabric, mother.” You whisper, but the vast throne room practically announces your uncomfortable self with an echo of your voice.

Swallowing thickly, you see the crowd of nobles standing to the sides turn their heads at you. Their golden suits and gowns just screams ‘I’m important!’ to everyone in the room. But when everyone thinks they're important, does that mean that everyone outside the room is insignificant? You don't think so, but everyone and their blue blooded self thinks the world revolves around them.

“Hush,” your mother speaks plainly, showing the nobles that you are obedient and raised well. Well, you were technically not raised by her or your father, they barely know you except for the one fact that you're their child. They practically tossed you to your wet nurse and governess the second you were launched out of the queen. “Sit still, we may find you a husband today.”

You inhale, fixing your posture. You miss your library. “But they look…” your eyes glance at the men waiting at the far end of the hall. Finding that none of them would suit you at all. Maybe your governess was right, reading romance novels would give you high and impossible expectations for a romantic partner. Some were too blond, wore too many ruby rings on their fingers, too much perfume that you could smell them from where you sat. Or that the feathers on their hats are too big, or they wear too much green, or their pants are too blue for your taste. Maybe it's not too late to run away and become a nun. “...too much.”

Your mother, the queen, pats the back of your hand. The most affection she has given you in your entire life. “They all come from respectable families,” in other words, rich. “And most importantly, noble.”

“Can I still take sister Thena’s offer and become a nun instead?” You ask wryly, still trying to whisper your words.

She smiles sweetly, or what you call, her restrained smile that she gives to her courtiers. “If you don't quiet down and find a husband instead, lord Melbourne is looking for a wife.”

You gasp, head turning to look at the said lord who looks like he could be your great grandfather. “No, you wouldn't.” He catches your eyes, winking at you through his wrinkles. You make a face, scrunching up your nose and looking away at the man.

“I would dare,” she raises an eyebrow. “It's either him, or you pick a handsome young man from the line up.”

Your father finally catches on, he leans back on his throne to look at you over your mother. “It's for your own good, darling. We don't want you to die a spinster.”

You've noticed that he has a habit of calling you ‘darling’ these days. Perhaps he finally forgot your name. That's probably it since he named three of your brothers Charles because he forgot he already used that name before. Or maybe the gout has gotten to his brain.

“Would it be so bad to die a spinster?” They both crane their heads at you, brows slightly furrowed and mouths faintly agape in surprise. “I mean, you don't have to send a letter to me every year since I'll be staying here with you.” Their expressions sours further. “or maybe I could find a ship and sail the seas under our banner—” they both shake their heads, even your father's advisor shakes his head at you. So you give up, for now at least. “Or maybe I could just go and be a jester for one of my siblings.” You manage to whisper this time. Your words carried through the wind with no one to hear it but you. Or so you thought.

With the sound of the trumpets, the courting begins. Grasping your chair, you huff in place when the first man struts his stuff on the red carpeted floor.

You notice that he bows perfectly. He wears a dark blue coat over a silver hue tunic, his shoes are shined to perfection, smile even brighter than his leather shoes. “Eugene, Viscount of Van Horn, my princess.”

“A pleasure,” you say, unamused.

“I bring gifts from my land,” his attendants bring out crates full of oysters and crabs still writhing within its metal confines. “There will be more once we are married.” Your parents seemed to like it when they smiled at the slimy crates. “And a portrait of myself to better help you choose a husband.” You raise a brow, and sure enough, his people bring out a large square shaped thing that is hidden behind a white cloth. Eugene clicks his fingers, prompting them to reveal the gaudiest painting of someone ever etched on parchment.

It's not a regular portrait per se, the size is questionable, yes, but the contents of it makes you and everyone in the throne room tilt their heads to the side to see it clearly. The frame is riddled with rubies, and the painting, well, Eugene hangs upside down from a sycamore tree branch, grinning like how he is right now, from ear to ear. He's wearing the same thing as in the portrait too, at least his features are accurate. You know your mother does not look remotely similar to her portrait that hangs in the great hall.

“Uh?” You blink and every time you do, you see more and more questionable details. Like how there's somehow a field of pink roses below him, and how the sun shines to the west even though the shadow doesn't line up accurately. Some paintings have secret meanings weaved into it. Maybe he's trying to say that he can defy the rules of the world?

“You see,” Eugene waves his hand around the portrait, explaining its contents when you still look confused. “This shows my physical prowess,” he points at himself hanging upside down by just his legs. “And the sycamore tree represents—”

“Thank you, Viscount.” Thankfully, your father stops him from further getting into the artistic meanings of his painting. “We shall take your offer into consideration.” He smiles, and with a wave of his hand, his men shoo the viscount away to the side. “Next suitor.”

No one steps forward, instead, you see the waiting men move about, looking like there's someone making their way out the front. You wait for him to come out. And who greets you has you pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Henry, duke of Plainsboro, my princess.” The seemingly six year old lord bows down to you.

“Him?” You gesture towards the child. “He's a baby.”

“Pardon me, princess. But I'm eight and a half.”

“Oh my apologies, my lord.” You clear your throat, head turning towards your parents. “He's a toddler!” Your mother hushes you down, giving you a pointed look of disapproval. “Mother, surely we're not considering him.”

“What is your offer, lord Henry?” The king asks, ignoring your protests.

The young lord grins toothily, you scoff when you see that he's still missing his front tooth. “I guess I'm the invisible princess now.” There's only been two suitors so far and you already feel like your soul is getting sucked right out of your miserable body.

“Two hundred livestock, including my prized stallion. And half a million coins for your royal coffers.” The toddler has money to burn. You gotta hand it to his governess or whoever taught him how to converse, he speaks better than your older brothers combined.

That seemed to get your parents attention. “Oh dear god no, not the baby, surely?”

“Hush,” your father waves you off. “We'll highly consider your generous offer, my lord.” He smiles at the child, and you don't even hide your displeasure anymore.

You fight the urge to groan loudly and throw a fit in front of all the nobles. Instead, you huff and silently cry in your plush golden seat.

The next man with a beard starts to walk towards the front, but another man pushes him away and gets to the front before the other noble could say something.

This one intrigues you, something from his walk, up to his confident smirk doesn't seem to scream ‘I'm important! And you must pay heed to me!’ kind of air around him. He seems genuine when he smiles at you, you find it contagious, bringing a smile to tug at your own lips. His hazel eyes appear to be piercing through you without the familiar uneasiness the rest of the courtiers give you. And there's something from his bow that almost makes you giggle in place. It's like he's mocking the way the previous nobles bowed to you and your parents.

“Hobart, lord of Doverhill.” His voice brings a heavy accent, it's smooth in your ears but weighs heavy on your chest. A comfortable heaviness that brings solace. He flicks his eyes at you, his pupils catch the light perfectly, making his multi-colored eyes glow from the stained glass windows. “My princess.” He acknowledges you, and for some reason, your heart leaps from your chest.

He wears a simple red and white suit with silver inlays stitched at the hem. He has a bird engraved on his cufflinks, and shoes that are scuffed but presentable. You look closely at him to read him better, and you spot that his suit doesn't seem to fit right on him, the length is too short, and his trousers look like it stops right above his ankles. Nonetheless, he looks good in it. *Incredibly good.

“What is your offer lord…” your father knits his brows, briefly looking at his adviser who is equally as confused, mumbling a ‘where in the world is Doverhill?’ “Hobart?”

“Nothin’. I offer you nothin.’” He says confidently, smirk staying on his lips. If you took your eyes off him for a second, you wouldn't have seen his quick wink thrown at you. You think the other suitors should just go home.

“Is this a jape?” Your mother scoffs, manicured nails pointing accusingly at him.

“No, but I do have somethin’ for her.” He glances at you, eyes staying on you. “My love, unconditional love that never wavers. I offer nothin’ but warmth to tide her over durin’ the winter, a full belly so she'll never starve nor hunger for food or affections. And I offer smiles and laughter that will echo around our manor.”

You just noticed that he's now standing in front of you with the light shining behind him, giving him a halo of sunlight. “And time, time to just live and be ourselves beyond our titles.” He reaches for your hand, thumb brushing along your wrist, eyes never leaving your own as he kisses the back of your hand gently. You're glad you hid your gloves from your handmaiden before leaving your apartments.

This is your romantic novel moment.

You're speechless. “I—”

“Ask me whatever you want and I shall grant it.” He whispers to you and only you.

“I choose him!” You say boisterously, heart thrumming in your chest. The crowd yells their various protests, murmurs from the court that you ignore. Without missing a beat, you look over to your bewildered parents. “Can I promenade with Lord Hobart?”

“B–but he offers nothing—”

You don't wait for their approval, instead, you grasp his hand tightly around yours and with a bow to your king and queen, you walk off hand in hand with the lord of Doverhill.

It's safe to say that everyone was left gawking at the door you left in. It was a full minute before anyone got wise and followed you towards the gardens.

—

By the time you make it towards the inner halls of the castle, every guard and noble are prowling for you and your new acquaintance. Gossip thrives at court, and your family's home is not an exception. You lead him side by side, you've let go of him after it quieted down in the throne room. Smiling, there's a pep in your step as you pass by your siblings’ former apartments.

“What are your hobbies, Lord Hobart?” Your hands are tucked behind you, hiding your twiddling thumbs from the handsome lord.

“Call me Hobie.” He glances at you, brilliant pools of hazels catching the sun's rays. “I play the lute.”

“How peculiar,” you grin wider. “It’s definitely interesting though.”

He raises a brow. “The name or the hobby?” Chuckling, he maneuvers around you, hands hidden in his pockets as he appears from behind you. He plays it off nonchalantly, grinning at you as he twirls back into his place next to you. You two now have switched places with him walking next to the rooms and with you right beside the tall windows that faces the glimmering sea outside.

“The latter. I like your nickname.”

“Thank you, love.” Your heart leaps in your chest, you hope he doesn't notice. “Better than hanging upside down on a bloody sycamore tree.”

Your laughter echoes further down the hall, “yes, that was incredibly odd. The portrait had me in stitches.”

“Ironic too,” he smirks, eyes glancing about the hallway. Perhaps he just likes the decor and the ancient oil paintings on the walls.

“How so?”

“Sycamore represents wisdom. I don't think that man had any, based on his taste in art.”

You giggle, and you see him smile softly at you. “I learned something new today.” You nudge his shoulder with your own, surprisingly, he does the same. “Do you read, my lord? I'm partial to it myself.”

“Whenever I can. But ‘m a bit busy these days.”

“Ah yes, a land to tend to and people to take care of.” You clasp your hands together as he leads you down the long hallway. Hobie nods with a gentle smile as if he's reminiscing about his home.

“How ‘bout you, d’you have people you take care of?”

A weird question to ask, but you answer it nonetheless. “I guess I did, my siblings, before they all left to marry. We took care of eachother. Made sure that everyone was heard, made sure to fight for eachother. But when it was time to marry, none of them could fight it even when we all dared to go against it.” You realize what you've said, back tracking. “I must apologize, that was… a lot.”

He shakes his head gently, the simple silver necklace around his neck shines brightly in the sun. “It's not a lot. It's good to have people that care for you, and for you to care for them. That's just family.”

You smile at his words, the pit in your stomach grows as you miss your siblings dearly.

A comfortable silence falls around the two of you, you're taking in his entire presence. He's a lot nicer and sweeter than you thought he would be when you thought he was just playing for your favour. He's so close to you that you can see every line, indent and mole on his chiseled face. And how he smells like freshly cut pine and like dandelions in the spring. You could only hope that he likes you back, he may save you from a lifetime of a loveless and cold marriage.

You two pass by the jewel apartments where your family’s most precious crown jewels are safely kept under lock and key. There's a couple of guards standing by the large metal doorway, but you don't seem to recognize them since you always kept to yourself most of the time and would always watch people during feasts and balls while everyone else were schmoozing. Somehow, their uniforms seem to not fit them well. One even had his shirt inside out.

You hear something jingling, but before you could follow the sound, Hobie tilts his head towards you with a lopsided smile while his hand ghosts over the small of your back. Guiding you away towards the sweet smelling gardens.

Hobie pushes the doors open, and the sun greets the two of you as birds chirp and fly overhead. The white puffy clouds provide shade, and the flowers are in full bloom, from the tulips down to the sunflowers that are as tall as him.

He whistles out, and you watch his awestruck face at the sheer beauty of the renowned garden. “You've got a fountain ‘ere?” he gestures with his head towards the bubbling marble fountain with two cherubs spitting water at the top of its spire.

You smile at his wonderment. “Yes, my great grandfather commissioned it for my great grandmother. It's a bit gaudy but the sentiment behind it is sweet.”

Hobie walks closer to it as leaves crunch underfoot and with the sun kissing his skin. He waves his hand over the falling water, letting the cool water drench his sleeve as it trickles down, not caring about it at all.

“Is this drinkable water?” He asks blatantly.

“I don't know, but it is clean.”

His eyes are downcast, looking like he's in deep thought while the water splashes his hand. “Did you know that down in the streets where your subjects live they survive everyday on dirty water?” His tone changes, brows creased. “And over ‘ere you're using it for a bloody fountain.”

You blink, inhaling deeply. “I–I didn't know. I'll make sure my father knows about this—”

“Don't worry, princess, he knows.” He spits out your title with malice.

“I'm sorry if I offended you,” you grasp tightly at your heavy skirt. “Forgive me.”

Hobie sighs, face softening, and eyes observing your expression as if he's trying to find a lie within your eyes. “You should tell him. He might actually do somethin' this time.”

“I will—”

You hear leaves crunch a few ways away, once you look over at where it came from, you see a bulbous skirt hiding behind a topiary of a rabbit.

“This place has eyes and ears.” He holds out his hand for you, waiting, not taking forcibly. “I know a place where we can hide.”

“You know? It's your first time here, is it not?”

“I heard there's a hedge maze ‘ere. One of the nobles couldn't stop talkin’ about it.”

Your apprehension fades, and you take his hand gingerly. Fingers sliding on his palm, feeling every calluses and scar on his skin. When he cups your hand gently, you swear you felt sparks fly in your vision.

Hobie's chest rises and falls slowly as he takes you in under the soft sunlight. “C’mon, love.”

With his hand upon yours, you let him guide you further and further into the emerald labyrinth. You watch him from behind, eyes trained on him and only him. Perhaps this is what your sisters and governess told you about when you know a person could be that person your heart yearns for. Or maybe this is your own romance novel riddled mind making up a delusion through rose coloured glass. Either way, you find him ethereal, like a sea captain, or perhaps a god walking amongst men.

He expertly dodges the nosey courtiers, twisting and turning around the hedges as if he had been there or have studied the labyrinth.

With you in tow, he stops when you both reach the middle of the maze where a statue of the minotaur lies defeated with Theseus standing above him with his sword embedded in the Minotaur's shoulder blade. The creature's face is contorted into pain and anguish as tears fall down on the grassy ground.

“This one is my favourite,” you say while he stares at the old statue. “It's been here for a long time, and it'll remain here even when I'm gone.” His hand still holds onto you as you turn towards him. “Why exactly did you join the courting?” He's taken aback. “Those men out there wanted my dowry, or my royal blood to be passed down to their children. But I don't see that want in you, Hobie. You're different from them. Like you've lived a thousand lifetimes.”

“‘m not a vampire or immortal if that's what you're askin'”

You grin, tamping down your laughter. “The way you walk, stand, and look at things. There's no sense of urgency nor you give insincere interest, it's all earnest. And you listened to me, no one ever listens to me.” You brush your hand across the scar on the back of his hand. “You seem to enjoy everything like it's your last day, you don't walk with haste like the rest of them. Time goes very quickly here but with you, it's at a snail’s pace. As if you have all the time in the world.” You breathe, eyes watching his unreadable expression. “I think I know who you are, Hobie.”

He laughs, grinning widely, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Our intel did say you're brilliant. The forgotten princess.”

Surprisingly, you grin back, standing toe to toe with him. “You’ve been the thorn on my father's side for years. The blue bloods hate you but the common people adore you. I never thought I'd look at the eyes of the man who wishes for my family's downfall.”

He brushes your cheek with his knuckles. “This the real you, princess?”

“I've been me the entire time, have you?” You lean forward, looking at him through your lashes. “Is this the real you, Hobie? Or shall I call you by your pseudonym?”

He chuckles deeply. Hands raising up in mock surrender. “You got me.”

The bells in the highest tower ring three times, signaling a thief within the walls of the castle. “And here I thought I was wrong.”

Hobie tilts his head, smirk tugging at his lips. “I have to take you with us now.”

“Oh woe is me.” You feign fear a bit too on the nose to be considered genuine. It's better to be taken in by a known generous thief than to marry a stranger who only wants you for your womb.

“Thought you'd be difficult.” He chuckles as he hears thunderous footsteps running towards the center of the maze. “May I?” He gestures for you, and you shrug, putting your hands behind your back. “Why are you cooperatin’?”

“Maybe I've got a proposition for you and your crew.”

He stands behind you, holding your wrists in one hand while he brandishes a dagger at your throat. He doesn't threaten you with it or poke and prod at your skin. He just points the dagger at one of the exits through the hedge maze where you surmise a dozen or so guards race through to get to you.

“What d’you want?” He whispers against the shell of your ear.

“Freedom.” You whisper back.

“What are you offerin’?”

You chortle, feeling his rough hands softly enclose around your wrists. Leaning back, you look at him upside down. “That depends on who shows up in front of us.”

With trepidation, Hobie points his dagger at the exit while he backs himself into the balcony that faces the sea. His back hits the warm stone of the bannister, and he tightens his hold on the dagger.

Footsteps rush in, and out comes the same guards you saw in front of the crown jewel room, together with a few more people dressed as staff and even a chef. They heave and pant, smiling once they see him. Hobie puts his dagger down to his side, mirroring their relieved smiles.

You notice the lack of crowns and jewels in their satchels. “No luck?” You ask nonchalantly.

“Holy shit, you actually got the princess to like you.” A girl who must've been no older than sixteen walks towards you, her blond hair is tied into a neat bun to mimic the look of the staff but her dagger strapped to her side says otherwise. “It's a pleasure, your highness.”

“Likewise—”

“What happened?” Hobie interrupts your friendly greeting.

“Two words, a lot of fucking guards.” The one with the dark hair and blue eyes says while he exhales like he tried to win a race against a horse.

“That's more than two words, moron.” A woman clad in black says, she winks when she meets with your eyes. “I guess we got something more precious.”

“Princess, meet the crew. Crew meet the princess.” Hobie says while he takes a rope from one of them. He tries your hands together, leaving enough wiggle room as to not hurt your wrists.

“No jewels but we got a princess. So plan C then?” A man wearing one of the guard uniforms says. He takes his hat off, revealing a priest’s halo under it.

“You've got a priest in your crew?” You ask, looking at Hobie. There's a lot more racing footsteps heading for the center of the maze, the guards are definitely the one marching towards you now. It's nice to be remembered sometimes.

“He lost a bet.” He just shrugs it off as if that answers your question. Looking at his crew, he addresses them, “there's nothin’ we can do now, we go to plan C.”

“Wait, what's plan C?” You ask, and your eyes widen when one by one, each member jumps off the balcony down to the cold depths. “W–wait, no, absolutely not!”

“This is plan C.” Hobie hobbles towards the edge of the balcony, arm holding you against him while you hear splashes from below.

“Alright, I change my mind! Put me down!” Now that you and Hobie are the only ones left on the balcony, he carries you as he lifts himself over the balcony edge. Standing up with you in his arms, you look down for a second and vertigo shifts your vision into a blurry mess. You don't even notice that you're clutching onto his chest and hiding your face into the fabric of his suit.

“Halt!” A guard yells above the rushing blood in your ears. You hear swords getting unsheathed, and angry words thrown at the man you're currently clutching onto.

With his hands holding you, Hobie laughs, “hold your breath, princess!” He jumps over the balcony backwards despite your screaming.

Your breath is stuck in your throat, soul leaving your body as you fall. Hobie's cackling echoes while the winds rush past your ears, heartbeat thudding, and face hidden on his chest, you fall into the cold depths, chill stinging your skin. And the last thing you see before the darkness envelopes you is his hand reaching for your own in the cold bitter blue of the sea.

—

You wake up with a groan and smell distinctively like fish and seaweed. Your vision sways, seeing the ground rock too, you surmise that you're on the move. It's either that or the carriage you're on smells weirdly like horse dung.

You're placed on a horse with your hands tied behind your back, stomach hurting from the saddle, sun bearing down on you, and dress weighing like a ton from it being drenched in the water. You're uncomfortable to say the least. They didn't have the foresight to bind your feet though, you may have a chance to run if you're lucky enough to have one.

“Is this how you treat a princess?” You groggily say, head turning to see your captor.

Hobie glances down at you with a smirk, he's no longer in his frilly court clothes. Now he's donning a simple green undershirt that he purposely let loose on the collar, showing off his skin as it glimmers in the blazing sun. There's a quiver of arrows at his back, and a bow strapped on the side of his saddle that pokes your leg. His sword is settled at his hip, pommel engraved with a spider, looking like it's crawling right on the scuffed metal.

“Only to the fit ones.” His gloved hands are placed atop your back casually, using you like his personal table while he reigns in his horse. “ain't that right, Roach?” He addresses his blue dappled horse. Roach huffs, nodding as if he actually understood his rider. “See?”

You scoff, “you trained him to say yes to everything you say.” But you can't deny the heat blossoming on your cheeks. There's trotting next to you and you look to your side to see who it is.

“You’re awfully calm about all of this, princess.” The raven haired asks with a lopsided smile.

You shrug the best you can while in your position. “Just a regular day for me I suppose.”

“Have you been kidnapped before?” Someone asks behind you, his voice familiar while dry leaves crunch under the hooves.

“A handful of times, usually I'm with one or two of my siblings so my parents always pay the ransom. I don't know if they'll pay if it's only me now.”

“That's really sad actually.” He says, now you remember him being the one with the priest's hair who supposedly lost a bet.

Hobie chuckles from above, and you look up at him with a glare. He raises a brow and moves your head with his palm atop your head, turning it towards the woman riding next to you. You could only huff at him.

“What's your name, priest?” You ask, voice strained from the position.

“Just call me Ned, princess.”

“It's nice to meet you, Ned. I'm sorry about your hair.”

“It's alright. It's quite breezy actually.” He rubs his hand above his bald spot.

“How about you? What's your name?” You ask the pretty woman.

She smiles, dark eyes shadowed by the canopy above. “It's Yuri for you, gorgeous.”

You smile back genuinely. “You have such a pretty name—”

“Oi, stop makin' friends with ‘em.” Hobie flicks the shell of your ear, earning a gasp from you.

“Ow!” You hear their guffaws echo around the forest. “It's called being nice.”

“It's a tactic to make us bring you back to the palace. And it ain't workin’, princess.” He tilts his head down, mocking you with his stare.

You try to bite him but he's too fast to catch as he moves away before you could. “So that was your brilliant plan then? To charm me and take me as your hostage?” You say while trying to wiggle out of your binds.

“Not originally no, I was just there to distract you and for you to bring me to the hallways leading to the garden so I could toss them the keys I nicked from your shitty guards.” He explains plainly with a teasing smirk.

You chortle, mocking him back. “But you didn't take into account that there would be guards inside, huh? For a mastermind that’s a bit stupid of you.”

“This daft mastermind got somethin' better than jewels.” Hobie bends down, now eye to eye with you, you see every green and grey speck in his hazel eyes that reminds you of a cloudy night sky or a field of wildflowers in the summer. He blinks at your unusual soft gaze, words trapped in his throat as he sees your eyes glance briefly down at his lips. He swallows down his sudden rush of feelings, “I've got you, princess.”

You inhale, and you smell fresh dandelions in the air combined with pine swirling in the wind. “Not to disappoint you but they won't pay that much for me.”

“We don't need that much anyway,” he says, and unbeknownst to him, there's a dozen pairs of eyes watching the two of you interact. “Just enough for us to get by, love. We don't hoard wealth like your greedy father.”

“I—” before you could retort, (one that you're sure would be so clever that it'll blow him away.) A sharp whistle sounds out around the thick mossy forest. It sounds like a bird singing for a second, then when you look at where the sound came from right in front of you, a thick curtain of vines unfurl, revealing a small bustling village hidden behind the undergrowth. “What?”

“Welcome to Doverhill, princess.” He says, tapping the top of your head with his finger.

The horses move towards the large space just passing the vines, and you now see the village in its fullest form. Straw and wooden huts are built around the clearing, its chimneys softly billow out smoke; you guess that they need to lessen the use of their chimneys to stay hidden lest they want to be found in the middle of the dense forest. You look up and you spot a pair of large trees on each side with a crow's nest built atop it where archers guard and watch over the only entrance and exit in the whole village. The place is protected by large looming trees that grow around the area, every tree has lush canopies that protect the village from the intense sun and hide them from above. But the leaves still leave enough sunlight to pass through its greenery, it bathes the whole area with dappled lights that dance in the breeze.

You take note of the complete amenities, there's a stable and a barn further up ahead. Rows and upon rows of farmland where fruits and vegetables grow bountifully. There's also a bigger building on the right where you guess it could be the town hall. There are also a handful of wells placed around so that enough people would get their water without walking too far to grab a bucket. A few of the notable buildings are a blacksmith with its relentless hammer pounding onto a smoldering sword. A bakery with pastries perfectly lined up at the front, and even a tailor and a cobbler sitting next to each other.

As you get closer, you see an even bigger tree sitting in the middle of the village. Its large trunk is thick, bigger than anything you've ever seen. The leaves are viridescent and healthy, it looks like it's centuries old. There, within its branches is a tree house covered in vines with violets growing among its walls. Despite the green and browns that surround it, the lone tree house is painted with a brighter shade of blue and accents of red. The door is even in the same shade, and the ladder leading up to it is painted in alternating colours of the rainbow. It's beautiful and enticing to the eyes.

You see movement in your peripheral, taking your attention away from the tree house, the sound of childish laughter echo and you spot children running around while adults tend to their homes and garden. Once they hear the trotting of horses, they stop by to wave at you, or to Hobie and his crew more like.

“What is this place?”

“I told you, it's Doverhill.” He smiles back at the people, face turning back into a smirk when he returns his attention towards you. “What did you expect us to live? A basement of a tavern? The bloody sewers?”

“No,” you scoff while taking a whiff of a freshly baked bread cooling on a nearby windowsill. “I just didn't expect it to be this lively.” You turn towards him despite the ache in your neck. “How many people live here?”

“Close to two hundred.” He smiles proudly, eyes trained up front. “All these years and none of you royals knew that we've been in ‘ere, instead you all looked under rocks and behind waterfalls for us.”

You blink at the sheer size of the canopy that provides a dome like roof above. “It's beautiful.” With awe and delight in your eyes, Hobie could only look at you with a ghost of a smile.

“Hobart Larry Brown!” A yell interrupts your awestruck gaze, craning your neck to the source, you see an old woman with a cane quickly making her way towards the group. “Who the hell is that?!”

“Auntie!” Hobie abruptly stops his horse, the second he does, his crew disperses subtly, leaving him behind to face the wrath of the old woman. “Oi!” He tries to call them back but they're already gone. Probably hiding behind the houses to save their own skins. “We were out on that heist we were plannin’ remember, aunt Janet?”

“Don't patronize me, boy!” She points at Hobie with the tip of her cane, poking his chest as he raises his hands up in surrender. “Is this how you treat a girl? Get her off of that bloody horse.”

“Alright, alright, calm down, yeah?” He gets off the horse swiftly, and then carries you carefully with his hands on your hips.

You swear you stopped breathing the entire time he had his hands on you. As much as you want to hate him, you can't deny how he makes your heart jump in place.

Once you're back on your feet, you stretch your back, hearing the crack of the corset. Or maybe that's your back making that god awful sound. He chuckles, hiding his amusement on his shoulder with the excuse of wiping his sweat on his tunic.

“So,” Janet steps in front of you, grey eyes soft and genuine. “Who are you? A lady? A duchess?”

“A princess actually.”

“Oh lord have mercy.” She says underneath her breath, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. “You kidnapped *the princess? You fool!” With her cane, she strikes him down like a child being chastised. Hobie shields himself with his arms above his head while you laugh at his misfortune. More and more people come out to watch the spectacle, giggles and chortling echoing around the clearing. “I bet you didn't get any of the royal jewels and you settled for an actual royal jewel!”

“Aww how sweet of you—”

“Hush, you monarchist!” She takes a 180 and jabs you with her cane. You take a step back, aghast at what she called you.

“As for you!” She turns back to Hobie, finding him grinning at what happened. “Stop playing, child! I heard the commotion from over here! What if you and the rest of the little shits got hurt?”

“We have a name, Janet—” he tries to explain, only to be met with her cane on his hip. “Ow.”

Janet puts her cane back down, ending her tirade. “Bringing her here only spells out trouble, Hobie.”

“It wasn't exactly part of the bloody plan, auntie.”

She sighs, “what are we gonna do with her?” She points at you like you're not in the same place as her.

“I'm right here.” You shrug, “and if you asked me, you'll find that I'm useful and not just some dirty monarchist.”

“You are?” Both Hobie and aunt Janet ask simultaneously.

You clench your jaw, sucking in your teeth. “I will explain, but first can we take these ropes off? My wrists hurt.” They narrow their eyes at you. “I'm not gonna run away, promise.”

Hobie takes a step towards you, but he's stopped by aunt Janet putting her cane on his chest. He huffs in place, arms crossed in protest. She walks towards you with her eyes narrowed, rightfully suspicious of you. Taking her cane, she twists the top and out she unsheathes a shiny dagger from her cane. Grabbing your hands, she swiftly cuts off your binds before you could even jump back when she brandished her weapon.

Aunt Janet backs away next to Hobie while everyone in the village has their eyes on you. Glancing around, you spot an opportunity where no one is there. A break within the circle of the crowd. You pretend to roll around the joints in your wrist, opening your mouth like you're about to speak, you suddenly point at the sky.

“What the hell is that?!” They surprisingly look up, and you immediately make a break for it. You don't hear footsteps running after you so you keep running. Just as when you're about to make it towards the vines, you trip, falling face first into the dirt and skidding a few feet away. With a groan, you lift yourself up, nose aching and bleeding, mouth full of grass and soil. You feel like you've been dragged by a horse.

A head of red appears in your blurred vision. She pokes the top of your head, teasing you. “Sorry, I had too.”

“Good on you, Mayday!” Hobie makes his way towards the two of you as you slump down on the ground, hiding your face from sheer embarrassment. “Thwarted by a ten year old.”

“I'm eleven, Hobie!” She says, and you thump your forehead against the grass.

You feel a palm sliding down between your head and the grass, preventing you from bashing. “Careful now, princess, wouldn't want to hurt you now, hm?”

You groan, surrendering yourself and letting your head fall on his palm while he praises the child who tripped you.

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[buddierecs]

near death experience buddie fics

all of these are general audience, teen and up or not rated (no smut) make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

still by: brewrosemilk "for the first time, buck longs for a bullet wound to treat. dirt to dig at. a door to break through. something. there’s nothing. “your guess was correct, diaz,” the bomb technician tells them, as he gestures to the orange circle. “you’re standing on a large sensor plate, wired to a detonator. It’s incredibly important that you don’t move. don’t shift. when you put your weight down, it was like cocking a gun - you take your weight off, this thing is powerful enough to take the entire house with it." word count: 9.3k important tags: angst, humor, love confessions, first kiss all that we intent is scrawled in sand (and slips right through our hands) by: withmeornotatall "buck and eddie get trapped together, time is running out, and eddie doesn't want to die alone" word count: 6.9k important tags: earthquakes, major character injury, whump, hurt!eddie diaz, love confessions, first kiss, getting together take this heart, put yourself in it by: smilingbuckley "on his way to eddie's, buck gets into a car accident. he asks ravi, who happens to be a responder to the scene, to call eddie so he can confess his love before it's too late." word count: 1.8k important tags: car accidents, getting together, angst, whump, blood and injury, hurt!evan buckley, worried!eddie diaz across the stars by: ummrys "nasa astronaut evan buckley is presumed dead and abandoned on mars. despite everything, he lives to tell the tale." word count: 75k important tags: space au, based on 'the martian', pre-relationship, hurt!evan buckley, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, grief, slow burn, love confessions if i should fall by: elvensorceress "a accident leaves the love of buck's life dying in a hospital, leading him to evaluate the life he has, the life he wants, and where his heart belongs" word count: 23k important tags: injury recovery, angst, hurt/comfort, feelings realisation, getting together, pining!eddie diaz, demisexual!eddie diaz when your world is on fire by: smilingbuckley "the 118 responds to what should be a normal house fire only to find out that one of their own is stuck inside and believed to be dead." word count: 6k important tags: major character injury, hurt!eddie diaz, burns, explosions, established relationship, presumed dead, grief, hurt/comfort i love you (it's ruining my life) by: smilingbuckley "thinking they're about to die, eddie confesses his feelings for buck to chimney... except they don't die, and now he has to deal with chimney's inability to keep secrets" word count: 6.2k important tags: love confessions, secrets, misunderstandings, light angst, getting together, team as family, emotional hurt/comfort, pining!eddie diaz when we grow up, our shadows grows up too by: dylaesthetics "buck and maddie find themselves on the brink of death, but only one of them can make it out alive." word count: 7.9k important tags: protective sibling, feelings realisation, maddie buckley ships buddie, worried!chimney han, worried!eddie diaz something about sacrifice by: rogerzsteven "buck and eddie are trapped in a call, both of them being injured. buck does everything he can to save eddie, even if that means risking his own life." word count: 5.7k important tags: hurt/comfort, whump, hurt!eddie diaz, injury, angst, major character injury cliffhanger by: pansys_goth_gf "buck and eddie get into a car crash and wait for help to arrive." word count: 3.4k important tags: car accidents, major character injury, love confessions, pet names take in all the colors before they fade to gray by: roisindubh86 "eddie confronts buck, has a realization in the middle of an argument, and just when he thinks it can't get worse, he gets a call from texas that pulls the ground from beneath his feet, figuratively spoken. (the universe is watching. if the two firefighters don't get their act together, the next collapse will be the literal kind.)" word count: 37k important tags: pining!eddie diaz, feelings realisation, friends to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, family feels, hurt!eddie diaz, getting together

[thicctails]

For the one where Scalene and Euclid adopt the Pines twins (I forgot the name already help I JUST went through the entire tag) does The Book of Bill still exist?

also what are Bill and Ford’s dynamic in this

It's the "Get Better Children" au!

The Book of Bill becomes Bill and Mabel's art project that she forced him to do with her. He writes bitchy, catty remarks about their exes and she draws Bill into all the family photos (they're pictures of Mabel and Dipper with Scalene and Euclid drawn in already.) He will never ever admit it but he enjoys it. It ends up looking like The Burn Book and a Lisa Frank colouring book had an unholy glitter baby. It has protective runes drawn in unicorn blood that they collected during a "sibling bonding trip'

Bill and Fords dynamic is kinda like bitterly divorced couple who's respective families are still really close so they can't murder each other and must cohabitate . Bill 100% teaches the kids dangerous, wacky shit and ancient secrets just to piss Ford off.