#yes i imprinted on the obscure side character what else is new

[perkeleen-lavellan]

Boku No Hero Academia is cursed because my favourite character Yoarashi Inasa was there for like 4 episodes and then he's never to be seen again even though he is literally the boyfriend of my other favourite character Todoroki Shouto and do you see my problem now?

[jello-in-my-bello]

It’s time that we had a real conversation about Aang...

For the main character of a television series, Aang somehow almost always finds himself under-rated and dismissed in fans’ posts. You see all these posts and, when they do reference him, it’s usually accompanied by the phrases “immature” and “12-year-old boy.” I mean honestly, in some ATLA fans posts, it seems as if Aang’s name is almost synonymous with the word immaturity--and it’s been that way for years. I’ve always wondered why people discredited him. Was it because they saw his age and immediately ruled him out? Is it an excuse for Katara and Aang to have never happened? Was calling him the most immature character a way to bring up their favorite characters? Or did they simply get conditioned to think Aang was immature because everyone just... said he was? Well, I think Aang’s the most mature character (from start to finish) on the show, and Imma tell you why. 

I think that Book 1 Aang is the Aang that everyone has stuck in their head. We get introduced to Aang in a strange way: he’s a boy frozen in an iceberg, and the first thing he asks is to go penguin sledding. Then he boldly explores a fire navy ship after being told it might not be a great idea. This kid’s kinda stupid, we think. Why does he care about penguin sledding? Why does he explore something he is told not to? Then he stops at Kyoshi Island to ride the Unagi, then he stops at Omashu to ride the delivery service, and then he lets the gang stop at other locations—having mini adventures—without worrying about learning waterbending on any sort of timeline. Why does he choose to explore all these different places at first rather than master the four elements? Doesn’t he even care about being the Avatar? Ah... that’s right. He’s only 12. 

Except surmising his entire maturity (or lack thereof) to the fact that he stops for these adventures means that you are ignoring one glaring detail of the show: Airbender and nomad culture. Aang asking Katara to go penguin sledding instead of what year it was and taking his friends to all those random stops in B1 so that he can explore can not be chalked up to immaturity. Because then you are ignoring an entire culture. We don’t get to see a lot of airbenders, and I think that plays into the problem, but from what we do know, we learn that a critical part of their culture is that they travel. A lot. And experience different cultures. A lot. Think about all the different places he’s referenced going to 100 years ago in the series. Then think about all the friends he’s talked about having in these obscure places—and it always sounded like he visited them more than once. Traveling, experiencing different cities, and meeting new people was a part of him and a part of his culture. He wasn’t being a 12-year-old when he stopped to ride the Unagi or the delivery shoots in Omashu, he was being an air nomad

On a similar note, one of Aang’s most notable traits is saying, “Hey, check this out,” excitedly while doing some air bending trick that seems juvenile--like spinning marbles around or doing an air scooter.  People look at him doing this and his previously mentioned traits and go, “Oh, what a kid.” But here’s the thing: we can’t roll our eyes at his persistent need to show people marbles floating in the air or his air scooter. In the episode “Southern Air Temple,” we see Monk Gyatso—an extremely old, wise air bender—throwing cakes on other monks’ heads, and then we’re told throughout the series that Airbenders were known for their playful nature. Airbenders didn’t use their bending the same way other benders do. For example, Waterbenders might show off their skills by creating a giant wave and being like, “Look how cool!” (See: Katara, like every time she learns a new move.) We know Airbenders have some pretty powerful moves--we’ve seen the tornado Aang created, the air body imprint of Aang that slammed Zuko back--but they don’t show off those moves because they’re so combative and not so fun. They show off the good-natured side of air bending (ex: Gyasto’s staff surfing when he was a child).  So those marble/air scooter tricks can’t be watered down to 12-year-old immaturity. Because he’s not being a kid when he does those things, he’s being an Airbender. People also tend to look over the fact that he is a survivor of a genocide. You need to keep in mind that he is a living relic and the only example left of what his race was. So even later in the series when he continues to show people those tricks, he’s showing them not just for fun, but to keep his culture alive. And what do you think he’s going to show them: a tornado with random objects flying around in it or two marbles flying in his hands? Which is a better representation of Airbender culture?

Also, do not forget that Aang earned his arrows. Airbenders are not just regular benders; they are known for being especially enlightened. You don’t just need to be a master at airbending to get your arrows—you also need to be a master at their culture. Aang was an enlightened boi. Look at all the speeches that he gave as the series continued. He didn’t just magically become wise in the course of a few months because he had to fight the Firelord, he just tapped into what was always there and never showed. The maturity was always there, and the receipts are in the arrows. 

So, I’ve gone over why he’s not as immature as everyone thinks, but why do I think he’s the most mature on the show? It’s because his emotional maturity is freaking through the roof. He’s part of a genocide, his culture is mocked, the few things—his clothing and glider—that he had left from his home were completely destroyed, and he had to do something that severely went against what he believes in. And he almost never loses his shit. In fact, we only ever see him get actually upset (we’re not counting the Avatar state cause that’s a whole different thing) 3 times in the series: when he was telling Katara about how the monks wanted to take him away from Gyatso, the episode when Appa was stolen, and when he was explaining that no one understands the position he is in (in terms of killing Ozai). Think about how much we saw everyone else freak out over the course of the show? About even smaller things.

Katara and Zuko are generally accepted as the two most mature characters of the series. But why? Zuko is continuously snapping at everyone, and, yes, he matured. But he is not completely there yet. He still somewhat believes in revenge (See: Southern Raiders), and it’s only at the last episode of the series that he understands violence is not the answer. And Katara? She acts very mature towards everyone else, but when it comes to her own emotions? She’s a whole basket full of mess. (See: Southern Raiders, again. Or anytime she uses anger as her way to show she’s “passionate.”) A good way to showcase the difference between Aang and these two is realizing that all of them lost a parent from the war and analyzing at how they handled it. (For Zuko let’s focus on the idea that he never really had a father) Katara lost her mother, Zuko his father, and Aang his father, Gyatso. Throughout the series, losing their parent was a huge topic point for both Katara and Zuko so much so that it was as if they thought no one else had ever suffered. (Katara, we see you telling Sokka that he didn’t love your mom the same). Aang, however, acknowledges his pain, tells stories of Gyatso and uses him as an example of what he wants to live up to— eventually coming full circle at the end wearing Gyatso’s beads and an identical outfit. I can’t imagine a more mature way to handle what happened than that.

Basically, what I’m trying to say is, maturity isn’t based on how you have fun, it’s based on how you react to hard situations. And nobody, nobody reacted better in those situations than Aang. So if you watched Avatar and thought it was a story about a young boy maturing, then you misjudged. It wasn’t a story about an immature boy growing up. It was a story of an Airbender becoming an avatar. 

[jacksjoke]

Title: someone here loves you Pairing: Mork and Pi, Mork and Mueang Nan Summary: Pre-series into episode 1 character speculation Ao3 link

     Mork likes to think that he’s got a skill in reading people. His talents prove handy in pretty much any situation Mork could find himself in, and after years of relationships avoided that Mork could tell would’ve ended on an unfortunate note (romantic or otherwise), he fancies his skills sharper than most others’. Thanks to him, his younger sister had turned down the date of a boy in her class who’d later ended up trying to steal goods from a local shop; and he’d successfully coached one of his old high school friends on how to end a friendship that he wasn’t happy in. So yes, Mork’s fairly confident.

     On the other side of that, whether it be metaphorical or literal, Mork doesn’t like to be under a spotlight. He prefers to be the guy on the sidelines cheering on his friend rather than having to be the poor sucker bombarded by obsessive fans. Mork, in his time as Mueang Nan’s closest friend, has come to see that this isn’t an exaggeration. Mork rarely uploads content on social media, Mueang Nan posts at least one update per day. Mork’s account is private and although he has a lot of followers, he hasn’t reciprocated in kind. Mueang Nan is public and his posts always receive at least 200 comments from strangers, while Mork will get 50 from people he’s spoken to in person.

     He doesn’t fault Mueang Nan at all; he grew up in a remote northern village where he hadn’t had a mobile, barely a television, so for Mueang Nan to enjoy social media to the extent he does is totally fair. Even if he hadn’t grown up the way he did, Mork wouldn’t fault Mueang Nan for something as small as liking Instagram or Facebook.

     It doesn’t matter, at the end of the day, because his well-honed talent has already told Mork that Mueang Nan is a genuinely good guy. Out of anyone, Ai’Nan actually deserves to be as well-liked as he is, and on Mork’s end he’s content to live on the blurred edges of relative obscurity than be made daily the center of a stampede. He’ll leave Mueang Nan to pseudo-celebrity life and remain virtually invisible by his side. That’s ideal, really.

     But a boy nudges his glasses further up his nose, tugging red-bitten lips between his bracketed teeth in a bout of nerves, and within a moment, the fellow first-year knows that if no one else ever knew who Mork was here or anywhere, he’d want this boy to know.

     It’s orientation, as cliché as that may be, where Mork first sees Pi. As a fellow first year, Mork hasn’t met Mueang Nan or really anyone that he’d feel inclined to befriend, and so catching sight of Pi in the crowd of anxious freshers lands a hit square into Mork’s chest. He can’t see his name-tag, blocked in as he is by other students, but to see him here in the sciences is proof enough that they’ll at least share one or two classes.

     And Mork is so happy to be correct. The dentistry student’s name is Pattawee, commonly Pi, and he’s nothing like any crush Mork’s ever had before. He often spots Pi in conversation with another boy, occasions which generally end in elbows thrown into each other’s chests or Pi dragged down into a headlock. Pi’s raucous laughter imprints upon Mork’s thoughts to prompt unbidden smiles from him, and Mork can’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed. The boys are obviously nothing more than friends, so Mork wants to hold onto the hope that Pi is single. He keeps a consistent eye on him both in class and out, and never has he seen Pi spend time with anyone else on campus. Whether or not Mork will ever stop being a loser and talk to him before he is taken by someone else remains to be seen.

     Well, they have spoken, per se, though not at any great length. Pi favours the back row in lectures, Mork always sits nearer to the front; and half the time, Pi packs his bag in record speed and is darting from the room before Mork has even closed his notebook. All this adds up to the unfortunate fact that opportunities for Mork to ‘coincidentally’ run into Pi are pretty much nill. The one time he’d managed to run into Pi had been unfortunately literal.

     Mork had been glancing at his phone for the time and it was enough of a distraction that he’d stepped out into the hallway and directly onto Pi’s ankles. To Mork’s credit, Pi had paused in front of the door to adjust a stubborn zipper on his backpack and directly blocked Mork’s path (a miracle if Mork’s ever seen one). Rather than the usual meet-cute a romantic might expect, Pi had spun on Mork with an affronted air and hissed, “You can’t see me here?”

     “You’re in the middle of the doorway!” Mork had pointed out, his mouth moving faster than his brain. Pi snorted and spun away with a glare as though Mork was the problem here, and there ended Mork’s first and thus far last conversation with his crush. That was four months ago in February.

     By the week following Valentine’s Day, Mork begins to suspect that Pi is plotting his murder, as everywhere Mork goes, Pi appears as well. Only at the beginning of this month, Pi’s behaviour would’ve thrilled Mork. But now he recognises Pi’s comments on Mueang Nan’s Instagram, and he can see that Pi’s giddy attention slides right past Mork to Mueang Nan. If he deigns Mork with a look, it’s one of disdain and annoyance, at best. Mork doesn’t have to be a genius people-reader to know that his crush… is crushing on his closest friend.

     Mueang Nan doesn’t know, of course. He assumes everyone is just incredibly friendly, so any special treatment he receives tends to go over his head. Pi’s also never spoken to Mueang Nan in real life, likely similar to Mork’s own inability due to general nerves. It’s sort of surprising to Mork, considering Pi doesn’t come across as someone afraid of anything or wont to give in to anyone’s demands. But for as much as he trails after Mueang Nan (and by extension, Mork), Pi hasn’t yet said a word, and neither has Mork about his true feelings.

     Hands shoved in his pockets, Mork is just entering the building for a morning class when he hears murmuring from a nearby hallway. He pauses in his steps to look and —

     “It doesn’t sound sincere,” Pi complains to himself. “Nan, I know you like choux cream desserts…” The dentistry student is stood there with a box in his hands and talking to the wall. Mork would say that’s the strangest thing he’s seen Pi do, but that’d be a lie.

     Their last spoken interaction hadn’t been the greatest and, since then, Pi’s only ever shot daggers via sneer Mork’s way, his certainty that Mork wants to ‘steal’ Mueang Nan of no help on that end. Maybe choosing to sit back silently isn’t helping either. If Pi already dislikes him so vehemently, what’s a little teasing going to hurt?

     “I know you like them,” he says near Pi’s ear, “so I stole some for you.”

     Mork comes to find within moments that it can go very badly, actually. He ends up alone in the hallway, his handkerchief covered in clotted dessert cream, and asking why luck has screwed him once again. (Probably his attempt at a joke is what screwed him, but he’s going to ignore that for now.)

     Pi is insistent that Mork is out to get him, so convinced as he is that Mork’s goal in life is to destroy Pi’s, but Mork knows he can’t let this go. Pi is already thoroughly blinded himself against Mork to the extent that there’s really no way Mork could tell him the truth and be taken with sincerity. Anything he says is seen as a dig, so how can Mork help if Pi doesn’t trust him? He isn’t about to out his best friend, but Mueang Nan isn’t interested in dating or anything of the sort. He’s always kind to Pi because that’s who he is, and he’s never one to decline a new friend, but… this won’t have the happy ending Pi has been hoping for.

     If Pi continues down this road, Mork knows he’s only going to be hurt and disappointed until the day he’s honest with Mueang Nan and met with the truth of why. And if Pi’s going to be hurt, which Mork would never want, maybe he can put in some effort to… redirect his affection? It’s sort of self-serving, but Mork will say instead that he’s baking two pies with one oven: make Pi like him and thereby willingly move on from Mueang Nan, never having to be hurt at all.

     He recalls Pi’s doe-eyed gaze behind his glasses that morning and thinks that maybe there’s a chance. Once he really knows Mork, maybe he’ll be swayed. Maybe.

     Mork has to give thanks to Mueang Nan’s obsession with posting status updates because tonight’s brings about another miracle: Pi comes to the club. Mork knows he’s there for Mueang Nan, but if he intercepts him on the way in, who’s going to call him on that?

     He hangs back for a moment as the bouncer gives Pi a quirked, disinterested eyebrow. He can’t blame him entirely when Pi’s wearing his shirt tucked in with worn-out sneakers, but as always, Mork finds Pi’s authentic personality charming. He throws an arm over Pi and revels in the feeling of his classmate brushing his waist, again when he pivots Pi away from an oncoming tray of drinks. And there again are Pi’s wide eyes on him, making Mork almost forget that they’re in a hallway that smells mostly of stale smoke and strangers.

     He takes pictures of Mueang Nan and Pi to be helpful and show the latter that he is in support of, not against, Pi’s crush, because that’s the truth even if it isn’t the whole truth. He stands beside Pi at the table; one, because he wants to and two, as further proof that he isn’t the one here with a crush on Mueang Nan. Mork thinks that it’s going perfectly fine until Pi shoots him a look full to the brim with something too close to dejected for Mork’s liking before fleeing the scene.

     He finds Pi in a pile of garbage beside the dumpster, and his heart jumps where it hides behind his ribs. How the hell had this happened in the two minutes Pi had been away from them? But when Mork tries to express his sincere sympathy, Pi just snaps, “You convinced Mueang Nan to take pictures with me because you want people to look down on me!” and Mork’s at a loss. That can’t be possible. Who in the world could look down on someone as unapologetically obstinate as Pi?

     “People look down on you? Who?” Mork asks, sure that if he had names he’d clear up this misunderstanding. If ‘clearing up’ entails his beating them into the concrete and/or possibly suing for slander, that’s his prerogative.

     But Pi just shoves him off and leaves in a cloud of anger, on his face the very hurt that Mork had planned to avoid. Instagram proves Pi’s point to a devastating degree. Pi is seen as pathetic, like he said. Pi. Loud, courageous Pi… who acts out to avoid being confronted as the timid loser everyone sees him as.

     Later that night, his washed handkerchief hanging between his fingers, it occurs to Mork that he might not be as good at reading people as he thought.

     “I’m sorry, Pi.”

[thewolfisawake]

{Home // Cavetown}

Kai held the letter in his hand. He read over the information over and over. It was correct but he still read it again and again. Across the top was printed ‘Request for Transfer.’ He walked the busy halls filled with hunters milling about. Getting new assignments, submitting paper work, and chatting. Stray eyes made him shrink into his jacket. They weren’t looking at you, he told himself. Seeing a group laugh as he walked passed still made him pick up his stride, bangs hiding his gaze.

Making it to the set of glass windows with cutouts, he walked up to one of the workers finishing some writing. The man looked up, expectant, and suddenly Kai felt sheepish as he slowly slid the paper through the opening at the bottom. The man took it as his hand held where the wrinkles on the sides were. He didn’t know where to look as the man reviewed the sheet and settled to the laminated notice on the counter.

“I...I’m thinking of transferring from the Asia branch,” he admitted into the phone. On the other side he could hear Daza kick up her feet, “About time.”

About time she said. Was it really that obvious? Or was it just Daza being Daza? 

“So where are you going?”

“Huh?”

Daza clarified, “Where are you transferring to? There’s a lot of branches. Back to Oceania?”

“Ah, no. I was thinking...well, you always said how you liked it out where you lived. So I...” I wondered if I could go that way. It sounded better in his head. And as the words fell out, he was realizing how silly it sounded. Going just because his mentor said it looked nice. 

“Then let’s do it. Let me know when you’re heading out so we can meet.”

He didn’t know if she was a mind reader or if she really meant that. But it still made a small smile reach him as he remarked, “Yeah, I’ll let you know.”

“It’ll be about two weeks,” the man brought his attention back as he took a stamp out, “and you’ll need to get a new license when you arrive to your new branch.”

“R-Right...” 

“Anything else?” 

“No, thank you,” Kai replied as he gave a small bow before turning to leave. Two weeks. Yeah, he could do that. 

--

A sigh escaped him as he started to pull the laundry from the clothesline. The breeze provided one last drying as he reached for the clips. From behind him a soft ‘ding’ reverberated His eyes fell onto the wind bell. Its bright color overshadowed by the parchment attached with Yukina’s calligraphy, “I probably should take you down, right?”

He reached his arm up, causing the the bell to ding. As if protesting being moved. Pulling back when the breeze brough his hair in his face, he wondered if it was okay. Who knew, Yukina could be back tomorrow and complain of how much of a pain it was to put it up the first time. A small smile reached his features. Kai folded his clothes into the basket and slid the door back into the apartment. Perched atop the pile was the wind bell, “I’ll put back up when she gets back.”

He promised this to no one in particular. He just really would hate if a torrent washed it away. It just one of many little preparations Kai worked on during his two weeks. He swept and dusted it from top to bottom, finding old wrappers that had fallen in obscure areas. He washed dishes and put them away. He tossed out all kinds of food. And every bit of him pained him.

When he finished, Kai flopped onto the futon. He looked at his phone. No messages. He went into his mail and started a new letter.

Are you tired of me yet?

He started it for a minute. It was a question he wondered some times but wasn’t what the content of his letter. He went on to write:

I don’t really know if these annoy you not and since you haven’t answered back, I’m just gonna think you love it  ♡ ～('▽^人)

But seriously, you don’t have to read them. I just feel I need to update you as I go. Which is why I’m telling you, I am leaving the Asia branch. I know we talked about doing that together some day--and we totally can when you come back--but I’m...I’m keeping our promise. It took a while to actually do that since I kept waiting. I still am waiting but you’d probably hit me on the head when you got back and say I’m a dummy for not going anywhere for at least a year. 

So I’m doing it. ╰(✧∇✧)╯ Just watch me. I’ll try and maybe--

Kai paused. He then deleted the last sentence.

I hope you come back soon. I miss you, Furu. 

He hit send and closed his phone. A sigh came to him as his eyes fell onto the duffel bag filled with his clothes and the few possessions he owned. Currently resing atop it was a small gravestone with crudely carved writing on it. Kai sat up to bundle dark locks into a messy , resolving to get dinner before the bento were all gone. 

--

“Transfer?” the word came out much louder than Kai hoped. He nodded, “Yes, this is my last assignment before going to the Europe branch.” 

“Why would ever do that? You barely complete missions as is. Much less suceed at them,” to that, Kai barely covered his grimace with his cup. Going out with other hunters was expected in the Asia branch, it reminded him of the salarymen that were probably heading out soon. And this time ended up with some hunters he graduated with. Another piped up, “There’s more dangerous beasts out that way. It’ll eat you alive, Adler.”

Kai remarked, “It’s true it’s different but maybe--”

“I give it a month.” 

“I thought more of two weeks.” 

It dissolved into another conversation. One that he didn’t care to hear the results of. He took another sip of his drink as he watched them chatter. Yeah, it was about what he expected. Not that he really blamed them. His track record was...abysmal at best. If not for how often he worked in the two years since licensing, his rank would’ve been just as terrible. Nevermind the senpai, seonbae, and tiền bối that would offer no guidance, still finding him a fluke. Nor pay mind to those his age or younger that would refuse cooperation or participation to add to an already ill reputation.

His fellow hunters were looking at the menu and gesturing to the server. They pointed out other things to get. Their attention momentarily on him to lead the server’s gaze to him as they explain it being his last night with them. So thus, they were celebrating. Translation to Kai, they would drink and eat as if no tomorrow and he would pay for it. As they made their orders, his gaze went to his phone as his free hand twirled a lock absently. How long would it be this time.

Kai ended up giving another deep bow in appreciation and apology as he finished dumping the last of the hunters to their accomodations. He apologized to the staff again as he exited. It was well into the night now and his apartment a good distance away. He started his trek back with streetlights and the neon signage as his light. It all felt too bright and made his head spin. Or maybe that was all the alcohol. Walking past characters of all sorts, Kai tread in the general direction of home. As he went, his thoughts wandered.

He’d heard about Europe branch. As the area serving as origin for many legendary beast, it had history. It was where the Bastion started and where those connected to it where likely to be. And living amidst some hotbeds of magical activities, hunting was often more fraught with physical danger than the incorporeal and spiritual as often the case over this way. The hunters from there sometimes thought to be cut from an entirely different cloth. Tougher, more cunning, and meaner. 

It would be hard. But what wasn’t in this body of his? It would mean learning an entirely different kind of tactics. Well, his journal could use the update. It could be like it was here. If it was, at least he’s used to it and there’s a few places he hasn’t been. He would be without anyone he knew. That was fine, since he could find someone that he can spend some time with on occasion. Tonight proved that. It might show what everyone had been telling him: that he wasn’t cut out to be a hunter.

Kai bit his lip, his hand brushing against his bracelet, “But still...”

--

He placed the last of his belongings within his bag. It felt weird looking back at the apartment. He could see the gaps from where his trinkets were taken. The collage of pictures held splotches of the wall. Some valuables left imprints of their former place. It almost look like something was missing but Kai brushed that off. It was Yukina’s place, he was just crashing there for a while.

Like a ghost. 

A quiet laugh left him with a smile without warmth. His eyes grew dark as he thought maybe he should stay. At least here he could pretend he was a hunter. A really crappy one but one nonetheless. He would have to live with being the liar, the failure, but at least he was alive. Instead of this living dead. Waiting in a limbo that hurt his heart as much his body. It might’ve served him right, the monster that got so many killed. And this existence...this hell was what he deserved, a sentence he should serve out.

 His head bowed as his frame trembled. Those words drifting around his head. Words that he’d thought so many times to himself. Variations of it spoken to his face and behind his back. The thoughts that made his eyes sting. The hatred that would always lead to something drastic. 

His heart seem to beat in his ears as he stumbled to his feet. He wandered to the bathroom, opening a few drawers. Then he found it. Kai looked at the mirror for a moment, drawing a breath.

SNIP snip snip snip snip

--

It might be hard. 

The hunter put down his bag onto the bed. It felt like it’s been forever since he’s had a bed to himself that wasn’t a bunk bed. Although it was merely a hotel room, he found himself wandering around the room. Looking into the bathroom, closet, and ‘kitchen’ before flopping onto his bed. Jet lag tried to creep on him when he shot back up, “Oh right.”

I could never move on and be waiting for a person that’ll never return. It might all be for nothing and it will be just like before. I could fail over and over and show just how much I don’t belong here. 

“You could’ve have done this before you got here?” the worker asked from behind the glass. She seemed more confused than annoyed. He sheepishly scratched his cheek, “It just sorta happened...I’m sorry for the trouble.”

The confusion turned to perplexion however she asked no further. Instead she finished typing into a computer and showed a screen to him, “Is the information on here correct?”

“Yep.”

“Alright, just give me a minute to finish this up. Now you’re going to need a new to take a new photo. So if you’ll head over to....”

Even though I’ve told myself ‘it wasn’t my fault,’ I’ve heard dozens of times over how much it was. And despite what I’ve said...I still believe it. Maybe I do deserve to live detested and miserable. And yet...

He arrived to the meet point a bit early. It was his first mission over here and the last thing he needed was to keep anyone waiting. The coordinates were a landmark at a park. He ended up hanging around, snacking as he waited for someone else that looked...’hunter-like.’

There’s this quiet yet stubborn thought...

“I thought I was getting here early but looks like you beat me to it,” came a voice from over to the side. His gaze fell onto a guy, probably only a little older than him. He had an interesting shade to his eyes, a blue he couldn’t quite place, and definitely tall. But if his words didn’t give the guy away, a few of the scars and build would’ve.

“Ah, well, maybe next time,” he said, immediately mentally cursing himself. This was supposed to be a good first step...The guy chuckled, “Hopefully, that doesn’t mean camping out.”

The newcomer offered his hand, “I’m Emil and you are...?”

A completely selfish wish...

“Aspis,” he replied, the beginnings of a smile, “Hope we can get along.”

I want to live. 

[justanotherwannabeclassic]

In Another World

While visiting Storybrooke, Alice struggles with seeing the life her father could have lived and wonders if he would have been happier without her.

Notes: So I've succumbed to the world of Knightrook and I REGRET NOTHING. So here's Knightrook with a dash of Captain Swan. In terms of timeline, I'm going to say that for Captain Swan, 3-4 years have passed since the left Henry, Regina, and Wish!Hook. Obviously, this is set post-curse. [AO3]   Alice pressed her face against window, watching as the world around her sped by. Maine was full of trees, and it reminded her a bit of where she came from, only this time she would have the ability to explore this place more. She’d done quite a bit exploring over the past few weeks. Not too long after the curse had broken and the villains defeated, she and Papa had decided to take a trip around the States to see all of the sights. They’d plotted over maps and researched the different places they’d like to visit, and – oh – how wonderful it had been.    

The Grand Canyon had been her favorite. It was so large and vast, and it appeared to be somewhere someone could go easily find himself or herself lost. And the scenery was so different! The colors were all reds and oranges and brown, and the flora was nothing like she’d seen before. She and Papa had gone hiking, and she’d reveled in how she could stretch her legs and climb to high places and end back up on the ground again. They’d taken so many picture, she and Papa, his arm draped around her shoulder with twin smiles on their faces.

It was fantastic.

And now she and Papa were on their way to Maine to visit Papa’s other self, the one in Henry’s book. No, the one who inspired the character in Henry’s book. It was so strange to imagine two versions of her father, but it wasn’t the maddest thing she’d seen by far. Regardless, she was eager to meet the man that shared Papa’s face and much of his history.

Alice was curious at how different Storybrooke would be from the other places she had visited. She’d learned from Regina and Henry that it was small. Not like a village, but nowhere near as large as Seattle or the other cities she and Papa had stopped at along the way. (New York City had been amazing with its bright lights and towering skyscrapers.) At the very least, she doubted that the town would be as odd as Wonderland.

“Ah, there it is,” her father commented.

Alice looked ahead to see a “Welcome to Storybrooke” sign come into view. She was practically vibrating in her seat now. Henry had given her a list of all the things they should do in town. Alice wanted to eat at Granny’s and see the harbor, and maybe explore the library. Papa had brought her many books growing up, and this world had many books more. She wondered if Storybrooke had different books that Seattle.

Alice wondered many things.

She wondered about other-Papa’s family. She’d read about Emma Swan in Henry’s book, and Papa had told her how the woman had saved his life with her magic. But people in real life were different that people in the stories. She should know. Alice, herself, was nothing like her counterpart in the other book, aside from her name and similar looks. Because of this, she was quite eager to meet the mysterious Emma Swan…and her daughter.

The daughter definitely piqued Alice’s interests. In a way, it was like she had a much, much younger sibling out there. She’d always wanted a little brother or sister, someone to keep her company during her lonely years trapped in the tower. And now she had one! Sort of. They shared similar to DNA, and the daughter belonged to the alternate version of her father, but still. It was a start.

What would be a better start was if she knew the girl’s name. Papa said his other self hadn’t mentioned it on the phone, and Henry hadn’t responded to her text asking. He, Ella, and Lucy had visited Storybrooke weeks ago. Alice had seen pictures on their Instagram accounts, happy and smiling and surrounded by a crowd of people. She’d seen Papa’s other self in one of those pictures, a small dark-haired girl in his arms.

“Do you think they’ll like me?” Alice asked aloud for the first time. It was something she’d been thinking on for quite awhile. “The other you and his family, that is.”

Papa glanced over to her, his expression bewildered. “Why wouldn’t they? You are, without a doubt, one of the most likable people I have ever met. And I’ve met many over the centuries.”

“I know that,” she replied, though it was a partial lie. The truth of the matter was that she was worried. Even though she belonged to different Killian Jones than the one she was going to visit, what if her presence made Emma uncomfortable? Alice knew how step mothers could be, not that Emma Swan was truly a step mother. But she’d seen how Ella had been treated, and she couldn’t help but think of all the possibilities. “But what if they don’t?”

“Then this realm is far more absurd than either you or I ever thought,” Papa replied.

Then the GPS chirped, letting them know they were almost to their destination. They had been directed down a series of streets, taking them to a residential part of town. The lawns were most immaculate and far more sizable than anything she’d ever seen in Hyper Heights. Thankfully, she did not see any toadstools. That simply wouldn’t do.

Papa eventually pulled the car to stop in front of large home. There was a sign on the mailbox that read “Swan-Jones” in curled letters. Alice studied the home. It was tall, not as tall as her tower, but there were many levels. Like the other homes, the lawn was pristine, and bushes lined the front walk.

She let out a low whistle.

“Nice place.”

“Aye,” her father agreed. He quirked his head to the side, “Shall we?”

“It’s be a pity if we didn’t go, considering we went all this way,” Alice answer, and go they went.

The air in Storybrooke was fresher than in Hyperion Heights. She appreciated that. Everything felt cleaner here, and far more peaceful. She wondered if one could see the stars at night. The light of the city obscured them back in Seattle, and if there was one thing she missed about the Enchanted Forest, it was seeing the stars. She’d seen plenty while traveling across the country with Papa, beautiful white lights speckling the sky. Papa had taught her all the constellations years ago. Did this other Killian Jones intend to do the same with his daughter?

Well, there was only one way to find out, so when they reached the front door she knocked.

It was few moments more for a woman to answer the door. Alice recognized her immediately. It was Emma Swan. She had gotten a haircut since the last picture of Henry’s she had seen. Her blonde hair was now shoulder-length, but she was still just as beautiful. Emma’s smile turned wide when she saw them. “You guys are here! Come in!” She opened the door wide, and Alice craned her head to see the inside of the house. It was spacious, with framed pictures on the wall and books stacked in shelves. She noticed stairs winding up to another floor. Yes, the house was certainly larger than her room in her tower or even the apartment she and Papa now shared in Hyperion Heights.

“Your home is lovely, Emma,” Papa said as they entered the Swan-Jones home. Alice stayed silent, instead choosing to walk over to the collage of frames on the wall. There were wedding photos, pictures of Henry in his teens, and plenty of a who she assumed was Emma’s daughter. Alice studied Papa’s other self in each of these photos and cemented his smile to memory. He looked quite happy in each of these photos surrounded by his family and friends. Alice didn’t remember Papa having many friends while she was growing up. He’d remained isolated, though unlike her, it was by choice.

“Where’s everyone else?” Alice asked suddenly, realizing that neither her Papa’s other self nor his daughter were her. She could hear voices upstairs, but she wasn’t sure it was them. The voices very well could have belonged to someone else.

“They’re upstairs. Alice just woke up from her nap, and Killian is wrangling her. They’ll be down any minute. Alice is very excited to meet you both.”

Alice startled at Emma’s words. “Alice? She has my name?” “Yeah, it seems like their devilishly handsome good looks aren’t the same thing the two Killian Jones have in common. They like the same baby names, too,” Emma replied with a laugh. Alice glanced over to Papa, who was scratching behind his ear. Alice supposed she shouldn’t be surprised that her father’s other version had named his daughter Alice. Papa had named her after his mother, and it only made sense that the other man’s mother was Alice, as well. Still, Alice couldn’t deny the knot that was beginning to form in her stomach. Before she could fully contemplate her feelings on the matter, she was distracted by a whoop from the stairs. A man who looked exactly like Papa was walking down the stairs carrying a small child who looked nothing like her. This other Alice’s dark hair was was braided into pigtails, and atop her hair sat a plastic-looking bejeweled crown.

“Hear ye, hear ye, Princess Alice is now awake and ready to greet her most esteemed guests,” the other Killian Jones announced. The girl in his arms waved excitedly with one hand while the other clutched a stuffed animal, and Alice was taken back to when Papa would play pretend with her. She never pretended to be a princess, though, as Papa had explained that royalty was never to be trusted. Alice could be a lady, of course, or sometimes a pirate queen -- but never a princess in a frilly gown and crown.

“I keep forgetting I’m royalty, and she somehow has it imprinted to memory,” Alice heard Emma murmur to Papa eliciting a chuckle. Oh right. Emma was a princess. She wondered if that made Papa's other self a prince. Was he happy as a prince? “I think you have your parents to thank for that, my love,” the other version of Papa replied to Emma. He angled his face toward his daughter, “Milady, how about we greet our new visitors.” The little girl waved excitedly, her words coming out in a jumble. “HiImAlice.”

“I’m Alice, too” Alice said, and the little girl. She felt awkward standing there is in the foyer with Papa and this alternate version of his family. Unwilling to let it show, she said, “It’s nice to meet you.” The other Alice thrust out the stuffed animal in her arms. Upon closer inspection, it seemed to be alligator. “This is Crocy. He’s my friend.” This caused Papa to laugh loudly, a joke that clearly Alice didn’t understand. His other self looked mildly amused at the exchange, and Alice wondered what information she was missing. She hated feeling out of the loop. It made her feel a little too crazy.

“It was a gift from her grandfather. He thought it’d be funny,” Papa’s other self explained, though not truly. The man then smiled wide at Papa. “It’s good to see you again. I’m glad you found one another.”

“Would you like to sit down? There’s no need to keep standing?” Papa’s other self asked, and he led them into the living den. He sat the small Alice down, and she walked over to a box of toys, upending the entire thing into the floor. Papa gratefully sat down, but Alice took that as an invitation to inspect the home. As Papa and his other self caught up in the background -- Alice heard him sharing the story of how they cured his poisoned heart -- she admired the array of photos and knick-knacks scattered about. It was clear this version of Papa liked to keep things orderly. There was hardly any dust, and every item seemed to have its place. She wondered how long it took for them to clean this house. Her room in the tower didn’t take long to clean. She recalled singing songs with Papa as they cleaned. Did his other self do the same with his Alice?

“She’s doing surprisingly well with the two of us,” Alice heard Papa comment. They were talking about the other Alice.

“We, ah, sort of explained that you were my twin. She has twin boys in her preschool, so it helped her understand,” the other Killian explained. Alice felt a stab of jealousy at that. She hadn’t been able to have friends as a small child. She wondered if this Alice knew how lucky she was. She lived in a large house that she could leave. She had friends. She had a mother.

“Smart, and the names didn’t give her pause?”

“Well, she knows has two Uncle Liams, I don’t think an ‘Uncle Killian’ was too much for her honestly,” Emma added. Alice knew of her two Uncles. Papa had told her their sad stories, but she was surprised a three-year-old knew. Papa was, as well.

“She knows about them both?”

“Uncle Liam brings me presents,” the younger Alice piped up. “He’s gon’ bring me a huge kraken.”

Papa appeared confused a the small girl’s exclamation. Alice wondered how a kraken would even fit into the house. “So he’s safe then?”

“We reunited a awhile back. He’s on a vessel titled the Nautilus now, and visits every now and then,” the other Killian Jones explained. Alice could tell he was choosing his words carefully. “Alice has taken a liking to him.”

“He’s forgiven me -- I mean, you?”

“Aye, after some time, at least.”

“That’s...that’s fantastic.” The awe was evident in Papa’s voice, but there was something else there too. Regret? Jealousy? Alice couldn’t quite place it, but she didn’t like what was lurking there beneath the surface. “So he’s okay? Truly?”

“Do you have any pets?” Alice asked, pulling the conversation from brothers and not-so-lost brothers. One of her earliest memories was Papa bringing home a small, white kitten for her to befriend. Alice had named her Dinah. She’d loved that cat. “I like cats. And rabbits.”

The small Alice perked up with that, and with an exaggerated frown announced, “No. No kitten for me.” “Maybe if you show you can be responsible, Santa will bring you one,” Emma said in a sing-song voice. Santa didn’t exist for her, or anyone in the Enchanted Forest for that matter. Alice knows that if she thought the man was real, she would have tried to meet him to befriend someone else.

“I’m ‘sponible, Mummy.” As if to prove her point, she closed her eyes tightly. Suddenly, the toys that she had earlier scattered about vanished from the floor, reappearing in the box she upended. “See?”

“You’ve got magic?” Alice asked, kneeling down to face the girl. Small Alice nodded excitedly.

“We’re not sure if it’s an inherited thing, or the ‘product of True Love’ thing,” Alice heard Emma explain. The other woman’s words shook her. Product of True Love. Inherited magic. Her heart began to pound in her chest. “Likely the True Love thing, I’d imagine,” she said.

As if sensing her discomfort, Papa changed the subject. “So, what’s there to do around this town? Henry mentioned Granny’s and her ‘must have’ onion rings.”

“Daddy takes me sailin’ on his ship. It’s big,” the other Alice said. She raised her hands above her head to indicate the height.

“Reminds me of the Jolly,” Papa said, smiling fondly. As much as he tried not to show it, Alice knew he missed his ship. Alice, herself, wish she could have seen it.

“It is the Jolly,” Papa’s other self said. Alice’s eyes widened. He had the ship too?

“Really? You have her?” Papa was astounded. “I haven’t seen her in ages.” “Would you like to? I can poof us there,” Emma suggested.

“I would love...Alice, would you like to see the Jolly Roger?” The longing in his voice was evident, and Alice tried to pretend it didn’t hurt. He gave it up to be with her.

“Sure,” she replied, though she felt as if she was lying through her teeth. Emma looked over at her strangely, and Alice tried not to shrink from her gaze. “Are we going? How does this poofing work, exactly?” Emma explained that they all needed to hold hands, and Papa took her hand into his. Alice squeezed it tightly, hoping that he would never let her go, and in that moment she was afraid. Not of the magic, no. She’d been around magic plenty, but of everything else. Of Storybrooke. Of Papa’s other self with his beautiful life of all the things Papa could ever want. And then a puff of smoke engulfed them, and Alice felt the familiar tugging sensation of being transported somewhere new and different. In no time at all, the slightly floral scent of the Swan-Jones home was replaced by the salty air of the harbor, and they were standing on the deck of a ship. Papa gasped beside her, and he released her hand. He turned to look at her, “I told you she was marvel, didn’t I, love?”

“Yeah, you did.” Papa had regaled her with tales of sailing on this ship, but he’d told he’d given it up long ago to be with her. Alice used to dream of sailing on the ship with Papa, sailing far, far away from her tower to lands unknown. But they never had the chance. She had been trapped, and even if he wasn’t, he no longer had the ship. But the Killian Jones of this world could still sail. He’d never lost it for good, it seemed. He could take his Alice sailing. It made a pretty picture in her head, a vision of Papa sailing the world with a little girl in his True Love -- something her Papa never had the opportunity to have. Because of her. The Killian Jones of this world had never been shackled to a life on the land, because he’d never had her. He’d fathered a different Alice of his own, the product of True Love , as in he’d fallen in love. He got married. He had his beloved ship, and even met his other brother Liam and rekindled their broken relationship. In short, in a world where she never existed, Papa’s life was infinitely better. “Alice, what’s wrong?”

It took her father’s question to make her realize that she’d been crying. She brushed away the tears, and walked away from him. “Nothing.”

“Sweetheart, you’re crying.”

She looked around to see Papa’s other self watching her with concern, his daughter in his arms. Emma held onto his hook, appearing equally worried. What a brilliant and beautiful family they made, perfect in every way. How much better his world was without her. Alice ran.

A small voice in her head told her she was being silly, but she pushed forward, ignoring Papa’s shout of her name. She wished desperately for a looking glass or for a portal to gobble her up and send her to Wonderland, Agrabah, or even her tower -- anywhere but where could see the evidence of just how happy Papa would be without her.

How stupid she’d been to believe this was something she’d actually wanted to see. Unsure of where to go, Alice all but collapsed onto a bench. It reminded her of one of her favorite spots in Hyperion Heights. She wished she could magic away there, to go back and hide, and to forget this day ever happened. Perhaps a curse could once again sweep her away. At least then she’d forget how she’d ruined Papa’s life.

She heard Papa’s familiar footfalls, but refused to turn around to acknowledge him. Instead she sat resolutely looking forward into the harbor, watching the seagulls fly around. When she had been trapped in her tower, she envied the way they could just fly away. Currently, she envied them still.

Papa sat down next to her. Alice could feel his concerned gaze, but she continued to not say anything more. “ You get your stubbornness from me, I’m afraid,” he’d told her ages ago.

“I shouldn’t have brought you here.” Whatever she had been expecting him to say, it wasn’t this. “I should have thought about what seeing their family could have done to you.”

Alice sniffed in an attempt to will away her tears. Finally turning to him, she asked, “Are you jealous?” “Jealous?” He studied her intently, and for once she couldn’t read his expression. “Are you?”

“I’ve been jealous of many different people for many different things,” she replied. She’d been jealous of him for his ability to leave. Jealous of Hatter for his hats. Jealous of Lucy for two loving parents. Jealous of Drizella of her relationship with Gothel, no matter how twisted. Jealous of Alice Swan-Jones for seemingly having it all. But that wasn’t the crux of the matter, was it? “But what about you? He has your ship. A wife. Even has his own Alice with her own magic.” “Aye, but she’s not you.” He was speaking in the tone he used to use when she’d cry about how she could never leave her room, the one that said he understood. This time, however, she wasn’t sure that he did. “Alice, there’s nothing in this world that--”

“Can you really say that? I’ve seen the pictures, seen how happy he is. Can you honestly tell me that you wouldn’t want his life?”

“Not without you,” Papa told her. “Never without you.” Alice bit back a sob, no longer sure if her father was just placating her or telling her the truth. She was terrified it was the latter. “He has his own Alice.”

“Who I’m sure is a lovely girl, but she’s much too young to play a good game of chess,” Papa replied, “and you know how I love a good game of chess.” He was trying to make her laugh, but she was still in foul enough of a mood that it wasn’t working. Besides, eventually the other girl would be grown, and she could play chess. Alice had spied a chess set in one of the rooms in their home. “Alice, talk to me. Would you like the leave? We can set sail as soon as you like.”

And what did she like? She could hardly decide it. She wished to leave and put this behind them, but she didn’t want to run away and hide. She’d done so much of that. More than anything, she just wanted to cry, so she told Papa, “I would like to be alone.”

“Alice…”

“Please, Papa,” she pleaded, and she knew he would acquiesce to her request. He always did. She was right. He sighed heavily and leaned over to kiss her on the head. “I love you, darling, and nothing could ever change that.” And then he was gone, walking away from her just as she asked. Alice felt a sort of emptiness, but she knew she couldn’t face him. Not now, anyway.  Not after she knowing all the pain she had caused him over the years.

“He’s right, you know.” Alice looked over her shoulder to see Emma standing behind her. She wasn’t sure how much the other woman had heard, but she wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. “I would like to be alone, thank you.”

Emma shook her head. “Want to know something about me? I have a superpower. I can tell when people are lying.” She walked over to where Alice was sitting, and took the spot where Papa had once been. “And you, Alice Jones, are lying.” Alice didn’t confirm Emma’s assessment. If what she was saying were true, and Alice had no reason to not believe the other woman, then she would see through whatever she said next. Instead Alice swung her legs, and did her best to distract herself. “I’ve been alone most my life. I think I’m pretty good at it by now.”

“I never spent my life trapped in a tower, so I can’t totally relate, but I do know what is it like to be alone,” Emma told her. Alice scoffed in disbelief, thinking back to the many lonely days and nights wishing for a friend, and the terror she felt when Papa left to search for supplies or more food. “Though they had good reasons, my parents gave me up. The put me in a wardrobe, and I ended up on the side of the street not too far from here.”

“They just left you as a baby?” Alice felt a pang in her chest at the thought of the woman who gave birth to her.

“No one wanted me. I had a family raise me for three years before they gave up. The mother was pregnant, and she didn’t want a kid that wasn’t hers by blood, I guess.” Emma twirled the rings on her fingers as she spoke. Alice wondered if it was a tic of hers.

“So what happened next? Did someone else take you in?”

Emma laughed, but it was a bitter thing. “No. Not long term at least. I was in and out of the system until I ran away. Eventually I met a guy, thought it was true love only for him to frame me for his crimes. I ended up in jail and pregnant.”

“That’s awful,” Alice said, because she didn’t know what else to say. Her heart hurt for Emma and the story she was weaving. Papa had always tried to make her feel wanted and cared for growing up. Emma, unfortunately, didn’t have that. Alice couldn’t imagine how much worse she would have felt if she didn’t have Papa at all.

“Yeah, my life was pretty much a certain kind of hell,” Emma agreed matter-of-factly, shocking Alice with her frankness. She then turned to better face Alice. “I’m telling you this because thanks to a wish, I saw what my life would have been if it had been perfect and I had been raised by my parents and never had to live that life. I grew up in a castle like a proper princess. I still had my son, and I was safe...and I hated it.”

“You did? Why?” “Because that life wasn’t mine. I wasn’t me. Henry wasn’t my Henry. My parents weren’t themselves. It was life, a beautiful, amazing life free of pain, and if I had been the one to live only it, I might not have wanted it to change. But I knew what I was missing, so I desperately wanted to be home where I belonged.” Emma tentatively reached out to take Alice’s hand, and Alice did not pull away. “ You may think your dad’s life is better here, but he doesn’t. Not even a little bit.”

Alice once again felt the sting of tears, and she brushed the sleeve of her shirt against her eyes. She wasn’t embarrassed to have Emma Swan see her cry, not like she would have been with other strangers. Instead she felt a kindred pull the woman her Papa might have loved. “You think so?”

“I know so. Superpower, remember?” Emma’s words made Alice smile a tiny bit. “And even if I didn’t have my superpower, I would still know. Call it a parent thing.”

“Not all parents,” she replied darkly. After all, not all parents cared for their children.

Emma’s face softened. “No, not all parents. But I know Killian Jones, and when he devotes his heart to someone, he devotes it one hundred percent, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.”

“He’s a good father,” Alice said. There were times she thought that no other girl could have a father quite like hers. She still did.

“It shows. His kid seems pretty great,” Emma nudged her. Alice thought she wasn’t acting great, nor did Emma know her well, but the other woman continued, “When Henry visited, he told us quite a bit about you. He said you traveled to many, many places all by yourself, which takes guts.”

“Did he mention Wonderland?” she asked, hoping her sarcastic tone hid her blush. “Everyone only mentions Wonderland.”

“It might have come up. But, hey, it’s someplace I’ve never been, so that’s pretty cool.”

“It was quite the curious place,” Alice replied. She’d yet to visit anywhere like it, which honestly was probably a good thing. “I’m sorry I went a little mad earlier. It wasn’t the best impression of me.”

Emma shrugged. “There’s no need to apologize. If I were you, I would have freaked out a bit too. Your reaction was perfectly normal.”

“Thank you for understanding,” Alice replied. “I’m not always good with other people.”

“It’s okay, not everyone is,” Emma assured her. Alice was beginning to understand why Papa’s other self loved her so much. “So, how about we ditch the ship and take a pit stop to Granny’s? It’s a Storybrooke staple.”

Alice nodded and smiled. “Do you think Granny can make marmalade sandwiches?”

Emma leaned closer and with a conspiratorial smile said, “We’re giving her two versions of Killian Jones. She’ll make whatever we want.” Emma stood, and reached out her hand. “Shall we?”

“We shall.” But Alice didn’t take Emma’s hand. Instead she raced to find Papa and pull him into a hug, to tell him she loved him, and that she loved her life with him.