thaliawashere · 2 years ago
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Waiting for the other 5 to show up.
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moociaoafterdark · 9 days ago
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Primarchs and the birds I think they would be able transform into (and why)
1) Lion - Golden Eagle. Just like lions are called "Kings of Jungle", golden eagles are sometimes called "Kings of Birds". Aside from the naming, I think Lion would love such a magnificent, pompous bird.
2) Fulgrim - Albino/White Peacock. Do I even need to say anything here? Lord Shen looking bastard. Flaunts his gorgeous tail feathers to everyone. Will start screaming at you very loudly if you don't pay him enough attention. That is especially the case if you are one of his brothers. Especially if you are Ferrus. Sorry Ferrus. Surprisingly, though, Fulgrim doesn't turn into a bird very often. Some speculate he regrets choosing the peacock as his transformation. Others believe he loves his human form way more.
3) Perturabo - Red Tailed Hawk. Just like the Heresy is named after Horus, despite Perturabo being the sole reason it got this bad for the Imperium in the first place, red tailed hawk's screech is attributed to a completely different bird. Perturabo will feel a spiritual connection with this bird species, which is why he is able to transform into it in the first place. He does wish the bird was bigger.
4) Jaghatai Khan - Peregrine. Peregrine falcons are the world's fastest birds, and one of the fastest animals on Earth. There's literally no better bird for Jaghatai than this falcon. Probably yells "falcon punch" when he dives in (The Emperor told him to do that to "intimidate his enemies")
5) Leman Russ - Pigeons. Now, fun fact - crows/ravens have a symbiotic relationship with wolves, as they often hunt together and share the spoils. As you probably guessed by now, the ravens/crows are kinda already taken by another primarch (in canon even), so I had to improvise. Enter pigeons. Just like wolves, pigeons got domesticated by humanity and have been our companions for many centuries. Pigeons, just like crows and ravens, are social birds, meaning they live in one big flock and help take care of each other. This is as close as one gets to a wolf pack dynamic in the bird world, so there we have it! Leman does use his transformation mostly for pranks or "party tricks". Never in battle. If you propose him to do that for a surprise attack, you can spot a little bit of a blush, before he angrily tells you off.
6) Rogal Dorn - Arctic Tern. I think Rogal would find the fact that those birds have the longest migration distance (48,700 km to 70,900 km) REALLY fascinating. He surprisingly takes this form very often and for a reason. Up above in the sky he gets a good look at both his own defences as well as those of the Imperium's enemies. Though he doesn't like admitting it, he simply just really likes flying and letting the wind carry him.
6) Konrad Curze - Bearded Vulture. Those fuckers EAT BONES and look like fucking dinosaurs. Konrad would LOVE to terrorize people as this bird. He'll take off the skin and meaty bits in his human form, then transform into a bird to finish the job. By the time he is done - NOTHING will be left of you... GOD I love bearded vultures. FUCKING LOOK AT THEM!!!
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7) Sanguinius - Swan. Graceful. Beautiful. A symbol of love. Will break human bones with a flap of the wings (or at the very least make you bleed). Nuff said, even if the choice is a little basic. If you can't find him anywhere, chances are, he is chilling in the garden, swimming in the pond. Make sure to bring bread with you, the good one. You know, the one that's all fresh and soft. If you're still unsure, just call Warmaster Horus, he knows what bread his brother likes.
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(Yes, this how swans are rescued. In Sanguinius' case, this is how he is restrained when he is being a tiny bit of a nuisance)
8) Ferrus Manus - Hummingbird. Similar to Rogal and the Arctic Tern, Ferrus would find hummingbirds fascinating by how strong and fast their wings are (and how they're the only birds able to fly backwards). Despite the birds being smaller than some insects, they have caught the attention of one of the biggest primarchs... Which is why it's hilarious when Ferrus, this gruff giant of a man, able to move mountains and wrestle wyrms, transforms into a tiiiiiny bird mid-fight. Well, it's hilarious until you are his opponent and realize you just completely lost sight of Ferrus, until he transforms back into his human form but, by then, it's too late. On the more lighter note, Ferrus loves resting while, in his bird form, nestled somewhere in Fulgrim's hair. Warm, soft AND he can be sure he wouldn't be bothered.
9) Angron - Roosters. Hoo boy. So, roosters kinda have a reputation for being aggressive, easily provoked AND also having a history of being used in bloodsports. However, roosters are very valuable if you intend to keep chickens, as they take care of the hens, protect them and, if raised properly, can actually be great pets. So, over all, we have a loving, protective and loyal bird, who is unfortunately often mistreated and misunderstood, as well as used in bloodsports even to this day, which often leaves the birds aggressive and traumatized... Sounds familiar?
God, I hate thinking about Angron, because the more I think about him, the more I want to cry. I'm actually kinda teary eyed as I'm typing this, haha.
Anyway, to lighten the mood, Angron, with nails or without them, is a local alarm clock. It doesn't matter where you are, you WILL hear his crowing and you WILL get your ass up.
10) Roboute Guilliman - Harpy Eagle. The only bird I don't have explanation for other than it looks cool. And I'm not even a huge Rowboat Girlyman fan. Would love to hear your opinion on why this does or doesn't work. And if it doesn't, I'm eager to hear your alternatives.
11) Mortarion - The Marabou Stork. If you know anything about those birds - you know they were handcrafted by Satan himself. Or, Nurgle, I guess. Morty would love them.
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(Above is an attached photo of a very private meeting of the Death Guard Legion. Lord Mortarion is on the white pedestal.)
12) Magnus The Red - The Scarlet Macaw. I swear, Magnus' daemon form is supposed to resemble the scarlet macaw. The resemblance is uncanny. Perhaps he was always meant to be the Emperor's "parrot on the shoulder", instead of, what, powering the Golden Throne instead of the Emperor? Yes, he sits on his dad's shoulder and makes snarky remarks to everyone. Malcador once threw a shoe at him for that.
13) Horus Lupercal - Bald Eagle. Actually NOT bald, just like Horus isn't actually naturally bald, because he SHAVES. The fandom lied to me, this whole time I thought Horus was jealous of his father's and some of his brothers' hair, when in reality he CHOSE to be bald!
... Anyway, high key Horus (before the heresy) is the Imperium's poster boy, so it's only logical to give him the bird that is essentialy a US mascot. He loves perching very high and enjoying the winds stroke his feathers. Also, if you kiss him on his forehead, while he is in the eagle form, he will get all giddy and happy. Horus also takes his bird form to play with Sanguinius, trying to race with him in the skies. Goofs.
14) Lorgar Aurelian - The Mourning Dove. In Christianity, the mourning dove is used to represent the Holy Spirit. It's generally a bird that is associated with spirituality, being a symbol of peace, love and faith. It would be a crime for me not to assign this bird to Lorgar. In the early hours of the morning, Lorgar would take this form to coo prayers in the language no one will ever understand, making it somewhat safe for him.
15) Vulkan - Crested Auklet. These birds are mostly found nesting on volcanic islands, such as Kuril Islands and Sakhalin island. They also live in huge colonies and can form strong bonds with each other. I think this bird would remind Vulkan less of himself and more of Nocturne... Which is exactly why he would choose this bird for transformation. He is very cuddly in the bird form and smells like tangerines too. Just... Don't hold him for too long. Vulkan, even as a bird, is still a living furnace.
16) Corvus Corax - Common Raven.
... Do I need to say anything?
17) Alpharius and Omegon - Emus. What better birds for the local "Just according to plan" guys than the ones that literally won a war against humans. Seriously, what the fuck, Australia?
And as a little bonus:
The Emperor of Mankind - Cassowary. You thought it would be another eagle? Or, perhaps, the emperor penguin with the "penguins of Madagascar" joke thrown somewhere in there? Nah. He gets the bird that is literally THE tired single father of the birds. On the other hand, though, the Emperor gets to harass people in the cassowary form. Imagine having the honor of being invited to the Imperial Palace itself and as you explore you get approached by a huge, dangerous looking cassowary. You manage to befriend it, even fed it some food you had on you, before you hear panicked Custodes running in your direction, screaming for the Emperor to stop harassing the guests. The cassowary then proceeds to book it, screaming back in the very human voice that he can do whatever he wants. And now you have an idea of what a normal Monday in the Imperial Palace looks like to the Custodes.
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fashionteahouse · 19 days ago
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ultimate masterlist
started: 10/12/2024
updated: 10/22/2024
~ heyy beautiful people, I have decided to create this master list to make my page more easier to navigate and enjoy :) i take request so feel free to drop whatever you want because I write everyday! the wolfpack is my preference but I will write for any other twilight characters as well :> however, I wont write about jacob black x renesmee and quil x claire xoxo *(plagiarism of my writing is NOT allowed)*
Twilight Saga
moodboards
bella swan
leah clearwater
paul lahote
jared cameron
jacob black
seth clearwater
sam uley
emily young
embry call
charlie swan
wolf pack imagines
paul lahote
the other woman
moving on
detonate
cybertwee
under the influence
feel good all over
circumambient
4 wings
fine whine
you'll miss me when I'm not around
dinner
beautiful people with beautiful problems
love's in need of love today
provider
ride the dragon
24 hours
rewind
rewind part 2
7 years
but daddy i love him
reaper
animals
happiness is a butterfly
skyline to
keep driving
who? what!
best interest
even if it hurts
homemade dynamite
babydoll
immaterial
radical
what you waiting for?
forever
fourfiveseconds
little freak
embry call
miss camaraderie
kerosene
claws
kiss it better
hot wind blows
velvet 4 sale
butterfly effect
belly of the beat
genesis
self control
it is what it is
best to you
honeymoon
jacob black
chosen
ray of light
dreams, fairytales, fantasies
sam uley
dance the night away
sour candy
jared cameron
is it cold in the water?
seth clearwater
venus fly
bad habit
human behavior
supernova
next level
quil ateara
xxxo
play destroy
time will tell
infinite love without fulfillment
paul x reader x embry
swim good
wolfpack smut
paul lahote x reader
nitrous
jacob black x reader
difficult
wolf pack series
paul lahote x reader
out of your league part 1
out of your league part 2
out of your league part 3
out of your league part 4
out of your league part 5
out of your league part 6
out of your league part 7
out of your league part 8
out of your league part 9
out of your league part 10
out of your league part 11
embry call x reader
black cat part 1
black cat part 2
don't let me be misunderstood part 1
dont let me be misunderstood part 2
crystal ball part 1
jared cameron x reader
thought i knew you part 1
thought i knew you part 2
vampire imagines
garrett x reader
snowchild
jasper hale
last time i saw you
volturi imagines
alec x reader
space and time
twilight imagines
charlie swan x reader
bouncin
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haveyouusedthispokemon · 7 months ago
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Safari Poll Stats
Going over the most and least used Pokemon from the April 1st polls!
The Least Used Pokemon
The pokemon who had the largest percentage of No, I haven’t used them
Djinn Entonic with 76.4%
The Most Used Single-Stage Pokemon
The pokemon who had the largest percentage of Yes, I have used them
Egg with 90.3%
The Most Used Evolution Line
The pokemon who had the largest percentage of Yes, I’ve used all evolutions
The Kasane Teto line with 51.7%
The Most Used Partial Evolution Line
The pokemon who had the largest percentage of Yes, I’ve used at least one evolution
The Jibanyan line with 34.3%
The Most Used Overall
The pokemon who had the largest percentage of combined Yes answers
Egg with a combined total of 90.3%
Honorable Mentions
The poll with the most votes was Mega Klinklang with 583 votes, while the least votes was 12 Drummers Drumming, 11 Pipers Piping, 10 Lords-a-Leaping, 9 Ladies Dancing, 8 Maids-a-Milking, 7 Swans-a-Swimming, 6 Geese-a-Laying, 5 Golden Rings, 4 Calling Birds, 3 French Hens, 2 Turtle Doves, and a Partridge in a Pear Tree with 180 votes.
The most used starter pokemon was Edelgard, while the least used was Claude.
The most used Legendary was Deodorant, while the least used was Gimmighoul.
The Pokemon closest to a tie between used and unused was Dimitri with a combined yes percentage of 50.1% and a no percentage of 49.9%.
Out of 39 polls, 18 have higher 'not used' percentages than combined yes percentages.
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nachosforfree · 10 months ago
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If my true love sent to me 12 drummers drumming 11 pipers piping 10 lords a leaping 9 ladies dancing 8 maids a milking 7 swans a swimming 6 geese a laying 5 golden rings 4 calling birds 3 French hens 2 turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree, they would no longer be my true love
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heresylog · 2 years ago
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12 Days of Christmas Symbolism Explained
1 Partridge in a Pear Tree = Jesus on the Cross
2 Turtle Doves = The Old and New Testaments
3 French Hens = Faith, Hope and Charity, the Theological Virtues
4 Calling Birds = the Four Gospels and/or the Four Evangelists
5 Golden Rings = The first Five Books of the Old Testament, the "Pentateuch", which gives the history of man's fall from grace.
6 Geese A-laying = the six days of creation
7 Swans A-swimming = the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, the seven sacraments
8 Maids A-milking = the eight beatitudes
9 Ladies Dancing = the nine Fruits of the Holy Spirit
10 Lords A-leaping = the ten commandments
11 Pipers Piping = the eleven faithful apostles
12 Drummers Drumming = the twelve points of doctrine in the Apostle's Creed
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charlewiss · 1 year ago
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The Honey Badger is back.
(1, 3, 5, 9, 11, 15, 17) Daniel Ricciardo on his F1 comeback, the moment he decided to race again and how he wants his career to end // (2) Tweet by F1 // (4) Daniel Ricciardo of Australia and Red Bull Racing prepares to drive in the garage during practice for the Monaco Formula One Grand Prix at Circuit de Monaco on May 24, 2018 in Monte-Carlo, Monaco. (Photo by Mark Thompson) // (6) Picture posted by Scuderia AlphaTauri on Instagram // (7) When Your Minds Made Up by The Swell Season // (8) Daniel Ricciardo of Australia and McLaren prepares to drive in the garage during final practice ahead of the F1 Grand Prix of Abu Dhabi at Yas Marina Circuit on November 19, 2022 in Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates. (Photo by Mark Thompson) // (10) Instagram story posted by Scuderia AlphaTauri // (12) F1 Hollywood Festival 2019 // (13) Begin Again by Taylor Swift // (14) Test driver Daniel Ricciardo of Australia is seen in the Toro Rosso garage during practice for the Belgian Formula One Grand Prix at the Circuit of Spa Francorchamps on August 27, 2010 in Spa Francorchamps, Belgium. (Photo by Peter Fox) // (16)  Daniel Ricciardo of Australia and Oracle Red Bull Racing walks in the garage during Formula 1 testing at Silverstone Circuit on July 11, 2023 in Northampton, England. (Photo by Mark Thompson) // (18) Race winner Daniel Ricciardo of Australia and Red Bull Racing celebrates with a swan dive into the swimming pool of the Red Bull Energy Station after the Monaco Formula One Grand Prix at Circuit de Monaco on May 27, 2018 in Monte-Carlo, Monaco. (Photo by Charles Coates)
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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 9 months ago
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Season 3 Rewatch Drabbles: 3x12 New York City Serenade (part 2)
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Summary:  A series of 100-500 word drabbles to accompany my    rewatch of season 3 of Once Upon a Time.  There will be a drabble–either a deleted scene, a “fix it” fic or a character musing for each episode of the season.  Focus will be on Emma, Henry, the Charmings and Killian–with an emphasis on Captain Swan’s epic love story.
Word Count: 831
Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28)
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Note: You can thank (or blame) @kmomof4 for this one. She's the one who sent me the prompt!
Mary Margaret slowly swam up from the depths of sleep.  It was when she opened her eyes that the alarm bells started going off in her mind.
She was in her bed in the loft.  What was she doing here?  How did she get here?  The last thing she remembered was being at the town line, the curse about to hit them as Emma and Henry drove away.  
And then she felt it, a very distinct sensation in her abdomen, almost like someone was rolling a ball inside of her.
Mary Margaret looked down and gasped.  Where only moments ago her stomach had been flat, now it resembled a beach ball..
She felt it again, and remembered the feeling from about thirty years before.  This is what it felt like to be pregnant, and not just pregnant, but just-about-to-give birth pregnant.
Her heart started racing.  How could she be pregnant?  How could she be this pregnant?  This wasn’t possible!  This wasn’t…oh gods, she’d had a drink with Emma just the other day, and she hadn’t had any prenatal vitamins or doctors visits.  She didn’t have any baby things!  How could you have a baby without preparing your house?!
This was a dream.  This had to be a dream!  She pinched herself. Hard. And then pinched herself again.  Nothing happened.
Mary Margaret started hyperventilating. “David,” she said her voice little more than a croak. Beside her he mumbled incoherently in his sleep.
What had happened?  Was this Pan’s curse?  Oh gods, was Emma okay?  Henry?  Were they here?
The hyperventilating intensified.  “David!” she said louder.  He stirred but didn’t wake.
This couldn’t be happening!  It couldn’t!  She felt another kick, as though the little being inside of her begged to differ.
“Charming!” She shouted it this time, and he woke with a start, sitting up so fast, his head must have been swimming.  
He looked around, uttering a soft curse in surprise.  “What are we doing here?”
“I don’t know,” Mary Margaret said, hearing the absolute panic in her voice.  “I don’t know.  David, we don’t even have a crib!”
He turned to look at her, eyebrows furrowed, just now becoming aware of both her tone and the very strange thing she’d just said.  Slowly his eyes drifted to her midsection and he cursed again.  “Snow, you’re…”
“I know!” She said,  “David, our family and now this and the town and the curse, and what’s going on?  Oh gods, what’s happening?”
David shook his head as if to clear it, and then gripped her shoulders gently.  “I don’t know, Mary Margaret, but you need to calm down.  You need to breathe.  This can’t be good for the–”
“How can I calm down?” Mary Margaret nearly shouted.  “I don’t know what’s–”
Suddenly his lips were on hers, the rest of her words fading away as he kissed her hard and deep.  Her mind suddenly went blank.  When he kissed her like that, it always made everything fade away.  There was nothing else but him and her and this feeling between them.
After a moment, he pulled back, hands still caressing her shoulders, as he looked into her eyes.  “Better?” he asked.
She took a deep breath and let it out.  “Yes, thank you.”  The panic had receded but the concern about their situation was still there at the forefront.  “David, what’s going on here?  Are we in another curse?”
He looked around their loft, seemingly listening for something–anything–that might give him some idea of what was going on.  “I don’t know,” he said finally, “but we seem to be alone here.  I think whatever this is, Emma and Henry managed to escape.”
“Well, that’s something, I guess.”
David slowly reached down, putting a hand on her distended belly.  The baby within gave another kick, strong enough that David could feel it.  He chuckled.  “I think this little guy just gave me a high five.”
Snow smiled, putting her hand over David’s.  She still had no idea what had happened or what they were facing, but the initial panic over, it started dawning on her.  Her wish from Echo Caves was coming true.  She and David were about to be parents again.
“Are you happy?” she asked.
His smile was brighter than she’d seen it in years.  “Of course I’m happy.  Snow, we get another chance.  We get to be a family!”
“But what about Emma and Henry?”
“We’ll find them,” David said confidently.  “We’ll defeat–whatever this latest crisis is and we’ll get our family back, and we will get our happily ever after.  How could we fail when we’re together?”
Mary Margaret leaned in and kissed him softly, so thankful for this man, she couldn’t even find words.  “David, there’s no one I’d rather have by my side for…whatever it is we’re facing.  I love you.”
“Not nearly as much as I love you,” he replied.
She very seriously doubted that, but rather than argue, she simply leaned in for one more kiss.
NEXT CHAPTER->
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masked-alien-lesbian · 10 months ago
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12 Days of Choices
On the 12th day of choices, pixelberry gave to me:
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12 drummers drumming
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11 pipers piping
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10 lords a-leaping
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9 ladies dancing
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8 maids a-milking
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7 swans a-swimming
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6 geese a-laying
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5 golden rings!!
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4 calling birds
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3 French hens
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2 turtledoves
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And a partridge in a pear treee!
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nooowestayandgetcaught · 10 months ago
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FLASH FICTION FRIDAY (MASTERPOST)
How exciting! I did every Friday for all of 2023!
@flashfictionfridayofficial
WEEK 1 -- Set The Stage (Will Byers/Mike Wheeler, Stranger Things (TV 2016), T-rating, 504 words)
There's only a couple more hours until opening night starts. And everything's ruined.
WEEK 2 -- Birth Of A Star (Sansa Stark/Ygritte, Game of Thrones & ASOIAF, G-rating, 365 words)
Ygritte longs to steal a maiden’s kiss.
WEEK 3 -- Fine By Me (Raul Cocolotl & Kat Elliot, Wendell & Wild (2022), No Rating, 417 words)
Raúl hears a terrified scream in Sister Helley's classroom and comes running.
WEEK 4 -- Pure Imagination (Artemis Crock/Dick Grayson/Wally West, Young Justice (Cartoon), T-rating, 459 words)
It's good to have their boyfriend-not-boyfriend finally home.
WEEK 5 -- Where Secrets Lie // First Light (Charlie Bradbury/Gilda, Supernatural (TV 2005), T-rating, 600 words)
Charlie abandons what remains of a normal life in search of the one she loves—a good fairy.
WEEK 6 -- Who Are You // Eclipse (Korra/Asami Sato, Avatar: Legend of Korra, M-rating, 700 words)
Asami loses Korra inside the Fog of Souls. She must get her back.
WEEK 7 -- Trapped In The Dark // Earthshine (Kim Possible/Shego, Kim Possible (Cartoon), T-rating, 700 words)
"Come on out, Kimmy… let's finish this."
WEEK 8 -- You're Not Alone // Nuclear Cluster (Faith Lehane/Buffy Summers, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), E-rating, 1000 words)
Faith accidentally gets sent to another version of Sunnydale. A really messed up Sunnydale.
WEEK 9 -- Sea & Sun (Valerie Frizzle & Ms. Frizzle's Class, Dorothy Ann & Wanda & Arnold & Ralphie & Carlos & Keesha & Tim, Magic School Bus, G-rating, 765 words)
It's a never a normal field trip with Ms. Frizzle. This time, and to everyone's excitement, they head to the beach!
WEEK 10 -- Celestial Bodies (Baelfire | Neal Cassidy/Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Once Upon a Time, No Rating, 603 words)
In their final moments, Neal decides to reconcile with an old friend.
WEEK 11 -- Tree Of Life (Eris | Discordia/Bia, Eris | Discordia/Hesperides, Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, M-rating, 300 words)
Eris steals a golden apple, intending to disrupt one of the weddings happening on Olympus. Someone disrupts her.
WEEK 12 -- Filled With Clarity (Derek/Odette, Swan Princess (1994), G-rating, 564 words)
While they're still young, Derek realizes Odette is not what she seems.
WEEK 13 -- Deep End (Damian Wayne & Colin Wilkes, Damian Wayne/Colin Wilkes, Batman Comics, T-rating, 256 words)
As much as Colin would like to think this was forever, he wasn’t dumb—Robin wouldn’t need him eventually.
WEEK 14 -- Cold Object  (Diedrich/Vincent Phantomhive, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler, M-rating, 1123 words)
"Mine at last. Just like I have always wanted."
WEEK 15 -- -Against The Flow (Matsuoka Gou/Mikoshiba Isuzu, Free!, G-rating, 324 words)
Muscles. Men. Meetings with the Iwatobi Swim Club. That's all Gou is supposed to care about.
WEEK 16 -- An Eternal Summer (Jane Bennet/Charles Bingley, Pride and Prejudice (2005), No Rating, 448 words)
Mr Bingley refuses to leave Jane's side long while she's ill.
WEEK 17 -- What Comes Next (Kaneda Shoutarou/Shima Tetsuo, Akira (Anime & Manga), M-rating, 793 words)
When their enemies get the jump on them, It's his turn to save Kaneda.
WEEK 18 -- Didn't Mean It (Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III & Toothless, How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), T-rating, 423 words)
Hiccup doesn't want Toothless to think Hiccup is mad at him. Even if the workshop nearly got set on fire.
WEEK 19 -- How Far We've Come (Søstre | Sisters/Prinsesse | Princess/Prins | Prince, Den lille Havfrue | The Little Mermaid - Hans Christian Andersen, E-rating, 576 words)
Because of the prince and his princess, her sister no longer lives. This cannot be.
WEEK 20 -- Comedian's Night (Dick Grayson | Robin/Red X, Teen Titans Animated Series, T-rating, 987 words)
Robin investigates trouble in Jump City's local performing arts center and gets the unlikeliest backup.
WEEK 21 -- The Devil You Forgot (Coraline Jones/Wybie Lovat, Coraline (2009), No Rating, 1489 words)
Eleven years later, Wybie and Coraline return to the Pink Palace Apartments, unlocking their memories.
WEEK 22 -- Yes, Sir!! (Starlight & Sweetheart & Melody & Bright Eyes & Patch & Clover & Bon Bon, My Little Pony Generation 1.5: Tales (Cartoon 1992), G-rating, 339 words)
Sweetheart never learned to roller skate. The other ponies teach her and encourage Sweetheart to overcome her fear.
WEEK 23 -- All The King's Horses And All The King's Men (Ygraine de Bois/Nimueh, BBC Merlin, M-rating, 472 words)
On the eve of King Uther's long-awaited marriage ceremony, Nimueh convinces her lover to flee.
WEEK 24 -- Where The Flowers Grow (Higa Hiromi | Shadow/Oka Shokichi, SK8 the Infinity (Anime), T-rating, 566 words)
In the middle of his break, Hiromi gets an unexpected visit from Manager Oka.
WEEK 25 -- Sink Or Swim (OceanGate Titan Submersible, RMS Titanic, Logitech F710 Wireless Gamepad, Mysterious Banging Noises Coming at 30 Minute Intervals, Angry Spirits of the Working Class Poor on the RMS Titanic, Yacht-Destroying Orcas, Ever Given Container Ship, Titanic 1997's Director James Cameron's Evil Twin, Metal-Eating Bacteria in the Atlantic Ocean, US Coast Guard, OceanGate - Fandom, No Rating, 589 words)
Alright… who did it? Who went ahead and broke it?"
WEEK 26 -- Can We Kiss? (Daisy Duck/Minnie Mouse, Mickey Mouse and Friends, G-rating, 241 words)
For 'What Makes You Happy! Day… Minnie would like to ask Daisy something.
WEEK 27 -- Reporting The Scoop (Kururugi Suzaku/Lelouch Lamperouge | Lelouch vi Britannia, Kururugi Suzaku & Lelouch Lamperouge | Lelouch vi Britannia, Code Geass, T-rating, 1631 words)
Lelouch exposes Suzaku's bullies to the entirety of Ashford Academy without Suzaku's knowledge. It doesn't go over well.
WEEK 28 -- On The Edge (Julie Grigio/R, Warm Bodies (2013), No Rating, 493 words)
While bleeding out, Julie asks R to do something unthinkable for R. But he will. For her.
WEEK 29 -- The Sand Ocean (Kiba/Tsuma/Cheza, Wolf's Rain (Anime), M-rating, 999 words)
After a narrow escape, Kiba lets his pack rest before their journey begins again.
WEEK 30 -- An Old Friend (Margot Robbie's Barbie/J. Robert Oppenheimer, Barbie (2023) & Oppenheimer (2023) Crossover, T-rating, 1037 words)
Oppenheimer remembers Toni's little doll when she was fifteen. But never how remarkable it was.
WEEK 31 -- Gotta Go Fast (Daria Morgendorffer, Jane Lane, Jodie Landon, Michael "Mack" Mackenzie & Brittany Taylor, Kevin Thompson, Angela L, Daria (Cartoon), No Rating, 390 words)
The reception hall for Lawndale High's senior prom has a 24 hour go-kart track across the street. Pandemonium starts.
WEEK 32 -- Ten Years Later (Rafe McCawley/Danny Walker, Pearl Harbor (2001), M-rating, 1544 words)
In the middle of the night, Danny comes to Rafe. Once when they're kids and once before Rafe leaves for England.
WEEK 33 -- Broken Mirror (Princess Bubblegum/Marceline, Adventure Time, G-rating, 458 words)
Marceline accidentally knocks over Bonnibel's newest invention while cooking spaghetti.
WEEK 34 -- Mall At Night (Gregory & Wirt, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics), No Rating, 1104 words)
Wirt and Greg end up accidentally locked inside after closing hours.
WEEK 35 -- Found Family (Ellie & Joel, The Last of Us (TV & Video Game), T-rating, 774 words)
"I can't believe you're in prison."
WEEK 36 -- Portal Fiction (Non-magical Fionna-world Marshall Lee/Gary Prince, Adventure Time: Fionna and Cake, (Cartoon 2023), E-rating, 1297 words)
Fionna goes missing. Marshall Lee and Gary finally meet and theorize about where she's gone… while in bed.
WEEK 37 -- How Do You Use 'It'? (Cornelius/Thumbelina, Thumbelina (1994), G-rating, 579 words)
During a journey in the nightfall, Cornelius encourages Thumbelina to inquire about their world and ride his pet bumblebee.
WEEK 38 -- Under The Night Sky (Chris Washington, Rod Williams, Get Out (2017), No Rating, 355 words)
"What the hell did I tell you, man?"
WEEK 39 -- Blood Is Thicker Than Water (D. J. Tanner & Stephanie Tanner, D. J. Tanner & Michelle Tanner, Kimmy Gibbler & D. J. Tanner, Full House (US TV), M-rating, 1151 words)
Stephanie ends up in the car accident with Gia when D. J. doesn't stop her from leaving. Nobody survives.
WEEK 40 -- Spine In A Twist (Cassia/Milo/Atticus, Pompeii (2014), No Rating, 944 words)
As everything ends, Milo finds comfort in the two living souls he belongs to.
WEEK 41 -- An Empty Grave (Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, The Witcher (TV), T-rating, 1016 words)
Geralt barely survives against Vilgefortz. Jaskier looks after his recovery in Brokilon, washing Geralt's wounds and despairing.
WEEK 42 -- By Candlelight (Jet Black & Ed & Ein & Spike Spiegel & Faye Valentine, Ed & Ein, Cowboy Bebop (Anime), No Rating, 1136 words)
A group of lousy ship-jackers end up on the Bebop. They're screwed.
WEEK 43 -- Torn Veil (Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Hannibal (TV), E-rating, 1074 words)
"Chasing shadows in the middle of the night, Will?"
WEEK 44 -- I Can't Tell (Dimitri/Anya | Anastasia Romanov, Anastasia (1997), G-rating, 821 words)
Anya slips on an icy patch of road on their way to Paris and hits her head. The dreams afterward feel familiar.
WEEK 45 -- By Any Other Name (Lottie Turner/Etheldreda Bloodworth, Harry Potter: Magic Awakened (Video Game), T-rating, 200 words)
A rose is a rose, and Etheldreda feels something blossoming once again in her heart… if she had as such.
WEEK 46 -- Sand Of Time (Obi-Wan Kenobi & Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Star Wars: Obi-Wan Kenobi (TV), No Rating, 814 words)
Out of the middle of the Jutland Wastes, on Tatooine, Leia and Luke happen to meet.
WEEK 47 -- A Form Of Distraction (Peeta Mellark/Finnick Odair, The Hunger Games, M-rating, 1640 words)
With tensions rising, Finnick decides to get Peeta alone for a little bit.
WEEK 48 -- Nebulous Roads (Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric, Edward Elric & Alfons Heiderich, Fullmetal Alchemist (2003), T-rating, 630 words)
Edward nearly runs over the man who holds a resemblance to his younger brother. Meanwhile, Alphonse wakes up.
WEEK 49 -- Fool Me Once (Asha/Star, Disney's Wish (2023), G-rating, 300 words)
Asha discovers the little star from the heavens she wished on… is actually a boy.
WEEK 50 -- A Promise To Break (Hakoda/Zuko, Avatar: the Last Airbender, E-rating, 1622 words)
Hakoda expects a diplomatic visit from the Firelord may mend some broken ties between their nations. Perhaps foolishly so.
WEEK 51 -- Among Any Option (Madeline Usher/Verna, The Fall of the House of Usher (TV 2023), T-rating, 100 words)
"What do you think, Madeline? Hmm? A kiss or a kill?"
WEEK 52 -- Imperfect Sign (Felix Catton/Oliver Quick, Saltburn (2023), M-rating, 587 words)
Instead of leaving when he poisons Felix, Oliver stays.
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donteattheappleshook · 1 year ago
Text
Not Broken At All Chapter 15/?
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Summary:
A season 1 Neverland AU. Emma is still trying to adjust to her new life as Sheriff of Storybrooke and mom to Henry, who still believes everyone in town is a fairytale creature. When she finds a badly beaten, one handed man while patrolling, she’s convinced he’s crazy. He is, after all, rambling about fairies and shadows and crocodiles. But when Henry is suddenly taken out the window of a house everyone believes is haunted, the madman in the hospital might be her only hope of getting her son back. Whether he likes it or not.
Rated E
Catch up on Ao3 (where my italics work) or on Tumblr 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14
CONTENT WARNING! This has the hunt which includes lost boys (kids) being killed and while it's brief, it's a dark scene. There's also some gore afterwards and violence (again against lost boys) referenced off-screen. If you're at all uncomfortable you can DM me and I can let you know which sections to avoid. I had a few people review it and tell me it's "dark but not too dark" but better safe than sorry. And hey, there’s also smut to make up for it. 
Thank you thank you thank you thank you always @the-darkdragonfly and @elizabeethan for your help with this feral fic 😘 and thank you @kmomof4 for being a fantastic beta for this chapter! 💕💕
*****
Part 15
She can still feel the burn of his kiss - her kiss - on her lips when the moon hangs high above the Jolly.  She’s been watching it, tracking its slow climb across the sky since she came out of the forest to find Will waiting on the shore - Wendy having taken the dinghy and leaving them stranded. Emma was almost relieved that she wasn’t there, that she didn’t have to explain why she was standing there alone, why Killian wasn’t with her. No matter how angry Wendy was at her Captain, she would have noticed. Will, on the other hand, was too fixated on the sea, on the ship rocking rhythmically against the waves to notice. But the way he watched it, as though it were miles away and not metres, betrayed what the longing in his eyes was really for. 
She’d suggested they swim, the ship not far and the water most likely clear of vindictive sirens. Mostly she’d just wanted to get that look off of his face, to stop feeling the guilt that accompanied it. They’re risking their lives for you, Swan, all of us are - for you and for your son. He didn’t put up an argument. Will only shrugged dismissively, looking back out to the ship and wading into the sea.
It’s been hours since then, hours of waiting and staring out at the dark water, searching for any movement in the dimly lit night. She can feel the cold breeze seeping through her thin shirt, chilling her skin and sending a tremor through her bones. But she can’t go below deck, can’t leave her spot by the railing. Not until she sees some sign, any sign that she didn’t just send him to his death to protect Henry. Henry, who's still out there, who’s waiting for her to come get him, who may already hear the Lost Boys’ cries. 
It’s late, the moon already growing dimmer against the lightening sky. Will had come up some time ago, only sparing her a passing look before finding a spot far enough away that they wouldn’t feel the need to speak. He’d gone straight below deck once they’d climbed out of the water, his small plea of ‘Wen, please’ carrying over to her in the silence. The nights are always so quiet here, the sea soundless against the ship, the wind not stirring in the trees. It’s wrong, and unnatural, this island not a place rooted in reality, the piercing wails of the children in the jungle starker against the silence, echoing over the sea. 
Emma casts a glance over at Will, leaning over the railing, looking out at the water rather than the beach, though she imagines he’s not really looking at anything at all, and wonders if he can hear them. He’s never said. Only that Wendy did. And now Killian is out there risking his life to make it up to her, to atone for the daughter he left behind by making sure she doesn’t lose the man who stayed by her side. Because of her. Because she begged Will to go, begged anyone to go and do what she couldn’t. 
Daylight begins its slow crawl over the night sky and still there’s no sign of Hook, no sign of Wendy since the forest. She doesn’t hear Will cross the deck until his arms fold over the railing beside hers, his shoulders tense as he leans heavily on them, his question leaving him in a heavy breath.
“He went, didn’t he?” 
Emma nods, fingers pressing into the soft wood beneath them. But he’s not looking at her so she lets out a small ‘yeah’ and watches his jaw clench, teeth pressed together as anger and relief war on his face. 
“Bastard.” 
“How far is the camp?” 
Will gives a small shrug. “It moves. But it can be found if you know what to look for.” When she doesn’t answer he finally turns his head, just a fraction and she feels his gaze from the corner of her eye as she goes back to watching the beach. “He’ll be back.” 
“How do you know?”
“The man’s bloody impossible to kill. Trust me,” he insists. “I’ve tried.” 
“That’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.” 
He sighs when she doesn’t answer. “Pan doesn’t want him dead. He never has. He enjoys torturing him too much.”
“What if he changes his mind?” Especially if he catches him trying to meddle in whatever plan he has for Henry. 
“He could,” Will acknowledges. “But he expects Hook to try and stop him. It’s all part of the game.” 
“This isn’t a game.”
“Everything is a game to him. Sometimes… I used to wonder if he even knew what was real and what wasn’t. I didn’t. Not until…” The little girl he brought to Wendy. “He’s a child. Everything, this whole island, his hunts and his raids and his conquests, it’s all make believe, one big, never ending game.”  
Emma doesn't know which is scarier, the thought that Pan is a monster that murders and maims and torments without remorse, or that his acts of cruelty can be carried out without care, without any true understanding of consequence - for fun. How many times as a child did she play cops and robbers? How many times did she and the other children in homes sword fight with sticks and cardboard tubes, laughing while they ‘killed’ one another. Because it was all just make believe. 
Her thoughts are cut off by a slow roar of something in the trees, the dull, faraway sound carrying over the water. Will looks out at the sky, suddenly alert and she follows his gaze, the sun just breaking over the horizon. “It’s starting.” 
It’s shouting, she realizes, a low rumble of a battle cry making its way towards the beach. “The hunt?” 
“Aye.” The voice comes from behind them, Wendy having finally emerged from her cabin, staring out towards the shore. There’s a moment where she takes in Will standing beside her, frown pulling at her brow before relief softens it. But her gaze snaps back to the beach, eyes wide, brow marred again. “Where’s Killian?” The question is sharp, an order. But neither answer. She knows. Wendy rushes to the rail, looking frantically out over the water as though she could see him through the jungle. “Bastard.” 
It takes her a moment to school her features, to regain control of herself, hands still clenched into fists against the edge of the Jolly. But once she does, she slips back into the role of the fierce pirate captain Emma met that first night - the one that ended a deathmatch with a single word. “Ready the crew” she tells Will. “Be sure they’re prepared to take on the wounded. And no one,” she adds, tone commanding and almost frightening, “no one is to leave the ship. Is that understood?” The question is directed at her. 
“I-”
“If you go on that beach, you’re signing your death warrant. You’re to stay below deck,” she orders. “Understood?” 
“I’m not staying below deck if Henry comes out of that jungle,” Emma argues. 
“Killian is taking care of Henry. If Pan sees you you’ll be putting both of them at risk. You’ll stay below deck, Emma,” she repeats. “That’s an order.” 
“Let me help. I can -”
Before she can finish, she’s being lifted off her feet, a small nod from Wendy to Will, some unspoken command and suddenly she’s tossed over his shoulder and letting out a cry of protest as she’s carried below deck. 
“What the- Put me down!” she snaps, but Will and his stupid, freakish strength holds her steady, the arm across the back of her thighs vice-like. 
“I swear to god, you better not lick me again while you’re back there,” he warns. 
She gives a hard elbow to his ribs in retaliation, the small grunt he lets out immensely satisfying before she’s being dropped on her ass, the damp room one she doesn’t recognize, and a lock clicks into place. It takes her a second to register where she is. 
“You’re throwing me in the fucking brig?” she demands, fingers wrapping around the solid iron bars. “You can’t be serious.” 
“You're part of this crew. You don't follow orders, this is what happens,” Wendy tells her before heading back towards the deck. “You’ll be let out when it’s over.” 
“Maybe,” Will adds with a mirthful smirk that makes her wish he was close enough to hit again. But the door slams shut between them and she’s left alone with her outrage. 
The shouting is getting louder now, the sun climbing quickly - too quickly - into the sky. She can distinguish words now, cries of ‘get them’ breaking through the hollering and the cheering… and the screams. The first one she hears- sudden and sharp and cut off in an instant- sends her heart dropping into her stomach. She hardly has time to let the dread take over before another takes its place, this one worse, drawn out, fading into a whimper, small and heartbreaking and horrible. It’s followed by cries of victory. 
Reaching for the bars on the small window of her cell she hoists herself up onto the small bench, just able to look out if she holds her weight up, standing on barely touching tiptoes. She wishes she hadn’t. The beach is a bloodbath, bodies strewn out across the sand, dead, or soon to be. They’re too far for her to recognize any, but they’re all so small, narrow shoulders and lanky limbs. Any one of those bodies could be Henry. Every single one is a child. 
Emma nearly falls off the bench, barely managing to land on her feet as she doubles over, emptying her stomach on the floor of her cell. It doesn’t stop, the chaos on the beach echoing in the small room, screams, cheers of triumph, the slice of metal and the batter of arrows falling over one another until they all fade into the endless din of battle.
She can’t bring herself to look again, sitting with her back to the horror, hands over her ears as she tries to drown it all out, stuck and helpless to do anything about it. It’s not Henry. Henry’s not there. She needs to believe that Killian got to him in time, that he stopped him from being a part of it. Those aren’t his cries of pain she’s hearing. That’s not him celebrating. Henry’s not there. She repeats it, again and again, curled on the floor, trying to block out the horror. They were right. She wouldn't have been able to stay below deck- either above or below. She wouldn’t have been able to stay off the beach. 
It goes on for ages, growing in volume, the Lost Boys riled up more with every fallen victim. She could almost believe they were playing, were it not for the crying, the pleas for mercy. Then, almost as quickly as it started, the sounds begin to quiet. She hears a flurry of footsteps thundering onto the deck above her head, hears the muffled shout of Wendy ordering her crew to aid the survivors.
The mayhem on the beach finally settles, the slashing of swords and the cries dropping one by one until there’s silence. And then there are only hoots and hollers echoing across the shore - a celebration. Someone is congratulating them. She doesn’t have to guess who it is. She’ll recognize that twisted, childlike voice for the rest of her life. 
It’s over. It has to be. Please let it be over. There’s no more clash of swords, no more wails of pain and death and she can almost breathe again until she hears it. A single, sobbing whimper from the shore, a cry of “mama” that burrows itself deep, echoing through her. There’s another. And another. And it’s the worst sound she’s ever heard, worse than the Lost Boys at night - children crying for their mothers.
She’s on her feet before she can think, yanking at the goddamn padlock on her door, clawing at it and shouting with rage when it doesn’t give. She doesn’t have anything to pick it with - no tools, no pins, not even a goddamn pen to break apart. Fucking pirates knowing better than to leave anything within reach that could help her break out. 
She pulls the heavy leather boot from her foot, the heel solid and adorned with metal. It’s flimsy and awkward but it’s all she’s got and she reaches, arm scrapped raw by the stripped bars as she tries to get any force behind the blow. Reaching for the padlock, the angle awkward, and hitting it again and again, she curses when she hits it hard enough to knock the boot out of her hand, fingers aching where they still connect with the iron.
But she doesn’t stop, not so long as she can hear the kids crying from the shore. She may not be their mother but she’s a mother and she’s getting to that fucking beach. She yanks off her other boot, trying again, hanging on so tightly this time that her knuckles go white. Emma’s not sure how long she tries, how many times she brings the heel down on the lock, her skin damp with sweat, her shirt bloodied where the bars scratched her. 
“Come on you stupid son of a bitch.” She’s tired, her arm aching, fingers bruised, but there’s a fury in her, a rage that builds until it feels like it will burst out of her. And then it does. She smashes the lock again, a spark of light flashing when it makes contact, bright enough that she has to shut her eyes. But when she opens them, the lock is on the ground, broken in two.
The cell swings open easily as she runs for the deck, yanking the door of the brig open only to crash into a figure on the other side. Fingers and metal wrap around her arms as she tries to push past him, shouting obscenities and shoving at him. But he doesn’t move, his grip tightening until she hisses, flinching, skin scratched raw beneath his hand and he lets go. 
“Swan.” The name is what snaps her out of her panic. Her name. The one only he calls her - the one he promised not to let her forget. She looks up at him, finally realizing that it’s him, that he’s there and alive. The blue of his eyes, sad and anxious, shines even in the dim light of the room. “It’s over.” 
She hears it then, the absence. There’s no more noise, no more screaming, no crying, the awfulness faded to nothing, the only sound the creaking of footsteps above them and her own ragged breathing. Her hands slide over his chest, pulling back enough to look for any sign he’s been hurt, that he didn’t come back in one piece. She searches his face, remembering the way she’d first found him, battered and bleeding, but those wounds are long healed, no new ones in their place and she sighs gratefully. 
“Henry?”
“He’s fine. He wasn’t there. He’s safe.”
She nearly gives into the sobs that are trying to spill out of her, too full of anguish and fear and relief to keep them from overflowing. But her hands find the sides of his face, rising on her toes to capture his mouth with hers. She’s cried enough today - cried enough every day since she got to this stupid island, since she lost Henry to it. She doesn’t want to cry anymore. Her tears serve no purpose. They won’t keep Henry safe - but Killian did. Killian kept him safe. 
He lets her kiss him, lets her slide her fingers into his hair, lets her seek his tongue with her own and keep him there with a death grip on his collar. But when she presses herself closer to him, seeking more of his heat to warm her frozen skin, more of him to fill the ache growing inside of her, he pulls back. He watches her carefully, searching for something, maybe remnants of the wine or that the events of the last hour haven’t completely destroyed her. 
But Emma sees it then, the same exhaustion she feels darkening his eyes, pulling at the lines of his brow. The mask of resilience and unflinching coolness in the face of everything that’s been thrown at them slips, and he lets her see the suffering she knows is reflected back at him. She doesn’t know how long he’s been on the ship, how much of the massacre he had to watch before he came to find her - how many times he’s had to watch it before, just as powerless as she’d been to stop it.
She opens her mouth to say something, to ask him those very questions, but his lips crash down over hers before she can get the words out. The force of it sends her stumbling back and he follows, kiss hard and demanding, the door slamming as he kicks it shut behind him, and he leads them both across the room until her back collides with the bars of the cell, knocking the wind out of her. He swallows the sound she makes, tongue sliding over her lip in apology before pushing its way into her mouth to taste whatever he can reach, whatever he can take. 
He kisses her with the same desperation she feels - for all of this to be finished, for the horrible feeling and memory that’s sunk its teeth in to be drowned out. She understands. She doesn’t want to talk either. This day - the last hour alone - all she wants is to forget it. Just for a little while she wants to forget every wretched thing about Neverland and lose herself in the one person who’s helped her survive it.
Emma shoves at the lapels of his coat, pushing it over his shoulders and he lets it fall to the floor with a heavy sound. His lips find her neck as she reaches for his vest, fingers fumbling on the buttons when he works a mark into her collarbone and tugs her hair loose from its messy knot. Far more adept, even with only one hand, her borrowed vest is opened and tossed unceremoniously aside before she’s managed to undo all his fastenings, Killian pulling her shirt over her head almost frantically. 
She cries out when his mouth closes over her breast, hot and wet, tongue rolling over the hardened peak while his hand finds the other and he turns her into a panting, whimpering mess just like he’d promised to in the fae woods. When she hisses out a warning ‘Killian’, his lips start a path down the length of her stomach, dropping to his knees, shucking his vest and shirt. 
The look he tosses up at her, checking before his hook tugs at the laces of her stupid, inconvenient pants, sends heat burning in her stomach and wetness pooling between her thighs as he yanks the heavy fabric down her hips. Desperate, wrecked, the blue of his eyes nearly eclipsed by the black, heavy-lidded and full of shameless want and dirty promises.
“Fuck.” Her hands find purchase in his hair, stumbling back, hardly stepped out of the leather before his mouth is on her, hooking a leg over his shoulder and pressing her against the bars once more. The rough iron scrapes at the bare skin of her back, but she doesn’t care, not with the way he’s sucking at her clit, tongue flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves and growling into her skin when she bucks into his mouth. 
He presses his brace across her hips, holding her still as he eats into her, fucking her with his tongue and nothing about today matters anymore. Nothing feels real apart from his mouth between her thighs, the scrape of his jaw rough against sensitive skin. She whines at the push of his fingers inside of her, pleasure tightening in her stomach, the anticipation building in every muscle, the promise of release and fucking ecstasy just out of reach. 
“Please.” The word escapes on a whimper, wanton and desperate, and then he’s moaning against her, teeth scraping sharply against her clit, making her cry out and her hands fist harshly in his hair when he pulls it into his mouth, fingers curling in time with the pulse of his tongue against her, his lips around her, and then she’s shattering. 
She barely manages to catch her cry of release between her teeth as her whole body shudders and it escapes as a muffled sob in the dark room. But Killian doesn’t relent, egged on by her coming apart on his tongue, working her frantically, drawing out the aftershocks until they start to build to a new height altogether. She’s about to fall again, so close to the edge, but she pushes at his shoulders.
“Wait.” He only resists for a second, eyes dark with hunger when he looks up at her, but it’s the small hint of desperation, the unbridled abandon emanating from him that makes her remember that he needs this just as much as she does. That he’s been through as much as she has. And it’s not the first time for him. She can’t imagine living through today again and again for centuries. It’s no wonder he found solace wherever he could and with whoever he could in this horrible place. She’s been living a nightmare for a week. He’s been living it for lifetimes. 
Emma joins him on her knees, not caring about the dirt and the damp as she pulls him to her, mouth finding his easily. The way their lips move against each other is familiar now, but no less heated as his arms come around her waist, pressing heated skin to heated skin, hand snaking up the length of her back to tangle in her hair, gathering it at the nape of her neck.
She explores the length of his arms with careful fingers, muscles hard under her hands from years at sea and endless fighting. She feels the rise and fall of scars across his skin before dragging her nails down his shoulders, leaving her own mark and feeling the bite of his teeth against her lip. Her fingers move to his chest, sliding through the coarse hair and finding the evidence of years spent in bloodshed. The gasp he lets out when she rakes them over the flat of his stomach to his hips is choked and she ducks her head, lips leaving his to trail the length of his jaw, tongue sliding over the spot below his ear he can’t seem to leave alone.
“Emma…” It’s a plea and a warning and a question all in one as she pulls at his laces. The feel of him straining hard and hot beneath her palm only urges her on as her mouth explores the taut line of his neck, leaving a mark on his collarbone to match the one he gave her. 
He hisses out a word that isn’t in English but she’s almost positive is a curse when she slides into his leathers, fingers wrapping around his cock and running her hand over the hard length in rough, purposeful strokes. She touches him the way he’d touched her, urgent and desperate and aware that they’re on stolen time, revelling in every sound and unconscious thrust of his hips she draws from him. 
His grip on her hair becomes vice-like, tugging her head back enough that he can taste her neck again, mouth and tongue sloppy between the small growls and sharp breaths he lets out hot against her skin. The drag of cool metal over her nipple makes her falter in her rhythm. He does it again, circling the hardened peak with the sharp tip of his hook and she releases him altogether, desire burning impatient as she pushes him back to sit on his discarded coat.
Killian takes hold of her hips as she climbs into his lap, settling a knee on either side of him before taking his cock in hand again and sinking down over the length of him. His muttered ‘bloody hell’ reverberates through her as he holds still, straining as he gives her a moment to adjust to the size of him, the burn and the fullness that turn to heat and want, and she needs more. 
When she rocks her hips over his, they both let out a groan at the drag of his cock- so fucking perfect inside of her. Emma braces her hands on his shoulders so she can move over him, desperate to find that toe-curling pleasure he gave her again. 
His fingers dig into the curve of her ass, rolling and guiding them into a rhythm, hips rising to meet her every time she takes him in again, refusing to be a passive participant as she rides him towards their release. His hook and mouth are everywhere, touching and tasting, finding the places that make her tremble, bearing down relentlessly when the curl of his tongue or the scrape of his hook causes her to cry out and soon she’s right on the edge again, lips pressed hard together against the moans of encouragement and of his name that want to fall from them.
His hand releases her, letting her keep their pace, change it how she wants, and his fingers trail over her hip, ghosting over the sensitive skin on the inside of her thigh. His thumb slides between them, finding where they’re joined with practiced ease and circling with every roll of her hips until she can’t keep quiet anymore, hands gripping madly at his back, teeth biting into his shoulder as she tries to muffle her cries. 
He presses harder, circling faster, murmuring filth and praise into her ear and holy fuck she doesn’t think she’s ever been fucked so properly in her life - every inuendo and brazen conquest on the island entirely justified. There are no thoughts left apart from how badly she needs to come, all senses muted, drowned out by the overwhelming build, the delicious drive of his cock inside of her, thrusting harder, deeper.
His mouth nips at her ear, begging her to let him see her fall apart again, telling her how good she feels, how he wants to feel her shuddering around him, how he wants to come inside her. And then there’s nothing but ecstasy, nothing but fire and release as she comes apart at his hands. 
She’s still shaking when he rolls her onto her back, braced on his hooked arm as the other slides under her knee, spreads her wider for him, fucking into her wildly, harder, deeper, chasing his release as fervently as she had hers. The grind of his hips, the scratch of his chest hair against her breasts sets off another wave of lust in her, begins another rapid climb as he takes her, using her however he wants, building on the high of her orgasm before it’s faded and sending her over the edge again. 
The sound he lets out when he feels her coming once more, feels the dig of her nails in his back, is almost feral. Her name is a curse and a plea as he pounds into her until he goes rigid under her hands, pulling out and spilling himself hot on her stomach with a moan muffled against the crook of her neck. 
There’s nothing but the sound of their breaths, heavy in the stillness of the room, the chaos of the deck far away above them as they lay still tangled in one another for a moment, drawing out the feeling of relief as long as they can, hiding from reality for just a little longer. Here in the dark with the weight of his body still over hers and the gentle hum of her skin, the heaviness of her limbs, it’s easy to pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist.
It's too soon when she feels him shift, the press of his lips to the hollow of her throat before he lifts his head, reaching for something in one of the many pockets of his coat they’ve sprawled out on. How he knows where anything is in the (she suspects) dozens of secret compartments that may or may not be magically hidden is beyond her, but he pulls out a handkerchief - dark like everything else he wears, but fine like everything else as well. 
Tracing it gingerly over her stomach, he begins to clean the mess he made of her, erasing every trace of him from her skin. Emma takes it from him when he’s finished, sitting up to take care of the rest when she feels the brush of his fingers over her shoulder, tracing lines down her back with a furrowed brow and leaving goosebumps in his wake. 
“What?” she asks, voice raw and rough from exhaustion. 
His knuckles ghost feather-light along her back again, her skin burning slightly under his touch. “You’re hurt.” 
There’s a bit of guilt in his expression as she turns to try and look over her shoulder, to see what he sees, the marks probably left on her skin from the iron bars. “I’m fine,” Emma promises, but he’s tracing the cuts on her arm now, ones that are definitely not his doing. “Those are technically Will’s fault,” she tells him casually, still pissed at her friend for tossing her in here, and he raises a brow at her blasé shrug. “Just if you were looking for an excuse, is all. I wouldn’t hold it against you if you wanted to defend my honour or something.” 
The corner of his mouth ticks up in amusement. “I think you’re plenty capable of defending your own honour, love,” he tells her, brushing a stray lock of hair back over her shoulder. She watches him fight a smirk out of the corner of her eye. “There’s a bottle in my coat,” he says then. “If you don’t mind.” 
Emma looks down at the heavy leather she’s still sitting on, the Mary Poppins bag of coats, and raises a brow at him. “You’re kidding right?” 
Shaking his head with an exasperated sigh - the one she’s come to consider her own - he reaches over her, digging into one of the infinite pockets and she tries not to let him see the way her breath catches, heat burning low and slow everywhere he’s nearly touching her. 
She could lean forward, just a fraction, and press her lips to the spot behind his ear, see if he’d say her name again in that shaky, pleading way he had before. If she kissed him now would he press her into the floor again, drag his tongue over her skin and make her fall apart with mouth and hand and cock? Would he let her do the same to him, let her bring him over that edge with her mouth on him, while she rode him? 
Get a grip, she scolds herself when he finds what he’s looking for, pulling back to face her. She hopes he can’t read where her thoughts had strayed, can’t see the evidence she’s sure is written all over her, you literally just came three times. It’s just Neverland, just like it had been when she’d kissed him in his cabin and had been ready to let him fuck her on his desk where anyone could walk in (and had). It has to be - because if it’s not and it’s just him, then this could become a problem really quickly. 
If Killian does notice though, he doesn’t say anything and her own spiralling thoughts are halted when she sees the bottle in his hand, the water swirling of its own volition, a pattern that has no ties to the world around it. 
“Is that water from the spring?” she asks hesitantly as she watches him pour some onto another bit of cloth, one that looks like the same kind of bandage she’d made for him.
“Aye.”
“You’ve just been carrying that stuff around? Might have been helpful when you were stuck in that hospital bed.” 
Another exasperated look. “I filled a bottle when we arrived - It doesn’t work in your realm. Thought it might come in handy. And look, it has.” She has to fight a laugh at his snark; he’s been spending too much time with her. “Now are you going to let me help you?” he asks, what was obviously originally a kind gesture now spoken with a familiar sigh that makes her catch her amusement between her teeth even as she nods and turns her back to him.
“How did you find out about this stuff?” she asks when his hook brushes her hair out of the way over her shoulder - mostly to distract herself from the feel of the metal against the nape of her neck, remembering it other places. 
His tone is solemn when he answers though, cloth not touching her skin as he hesitates. “When I first came here… my brother was poisoned - dreamshade.” Brother? The water is cool against her back, his touch careful. “Pan showed me the spring.” 
“The water saved him?” 
The length of his pause makes her wish she hadn’t asked. “For a time.”
“He drank it.” It’s not a question and he doesn’t answer and her heart breaks for him. “And Pan let you leave.” How many people has he lost - how much pain has he suffered at the hands of the cruel people who took them from him? “Why did you come back?” 
“Because I was a fool, looking for revenge against the Crocodile. Sometimes I wonder if he knew - if he showed me the dreamshade because he knew I’d return for it one day. He has a way of seeing people, finding the parts they don’t want seen, and using them to get what he wants.” She wants to tell him that he’s wrong, that whoever he thinks Pan saw in him isn’t who he is. But she can’t find the words, all of them sounding like platitudes. He misunderstands her silence. “Henry’s far stronger than I was, love. He won’t give in so easily.”
Killian presses the cloth to her back again, meticulous in his task and she wraps her arms around her knees, pulling them to her chest. “What did you say to him?” 
She can feel the tension radiating off of him, matching it immediately. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” 
“I couldn’t risk him seeing me and knowing you were here. For all he is, Henry’s still a child, and little boys can’t keep secrets.”
“So what did you do?” 
The way he clears his throat is almost indecipherable, his hand going over the same spot by her shoulder again and again, the scratch definitely gone by now. “Pan’s camp is always moving, but he also always sets it near a body of water, usually a stream.”
“Why?”
The cloth slides over her skin slowly, buying time, avoiding looking at her. “For the Lorelei.” 
Emma whirls on him. “What?”
“Calm down, love,” he says softly, trying to get her to turn back around. “The sirens are his messengers; they relay his desires and bring him news of any stirrings on the island.”
“Killian. Did you send fucking Ianeira to him?” The mermaid who’s apparently so fond of drowning and eating humans.
“No.” She breathes a sigh of relief, but it’s short lived. “...Ianeira has a daughter.”
“What?!” That’s not any better.
“Swan.” He gives up his task for a moment, finally looking at her. “Do you really believe I’d have sought their help if they posed any threat to Henry? The Lost Boys are off limits to the Lorelei, and they’re on our side, bound by a bargain you made.” Her shoulders relax a little, still not happy about it. “The girl is hardly older than Henry in appearance. I thought she would have a better chance at getting through to him. The Lorelei can be…”
“Fucking terrifying?”
“Aye,” he nods. “She drew him from the camp and passed on our warning - that he can’t trust Pan, no matter what he says, that the hunt tomorrow is real and Pan would try and make him hurt the other boys, that if he did… he would never be able to leave Neverland.” 
“Is that true?” Emma tries to keep the tremor out of her voice as she turns away, resting her chin on her knees. She doesn’t want to see his face when he answers. She'd rather be able to believe him if he lies. 
“I don’t know,” he admits, drawing the healing water over a mark by her spine. “But we won’t find out, aye?” 
She nods, halfheartedly. “And you’re sure he wasn’t there?”
“I watched the camp from the treeline all night and into the morning. Your boy resisted Pan’s manipulations. He’s stubborn, like his mother.” She shoots him a look over her shoulder, eyes narrowed and he smirks. “It’ll serve him well here. I kept watch until it would have been too late for him to join. I told you, love, he was far away from all of it.”
“But you weren’t.”
She feels his sigh hot against her skin. “I took a shortcut back to the ship. I couldn’t risk Pan wondering where I was when they reached the beach…”
Emma nods. “Today was -” She doesn’t have words for it.
“I know.” She feels the backs of his fingers ghost over the nape of her neck, brushing away hair that hasn’t fallen, thumb tracing along her nape. “I wish I could say it gets easier.”
She nods again - she wouldn’t believe him if he did - and tightens her arms around her knees, banishing the memories that try to creep in, wanting to stay here where they don’t exist for a little longer. 
“So Ianeira has a kid.” He doesn’t comment on her change of subject, only hums. “She doesn’t really seem the motherly type.” And then thought suddenly strikes her. “Is she…”
Killian laughs. “Mine?” It’s not that ridiculous. He might have accidentally boned all the mermaids in Neverland. He could have dozens of little merbabies swimming around. “No, Swan, sirens don’t reproduce. They’re born of chance and magic, and very rare.”
“What about all your ‘creative’ encounters?”
“Those are… recreational.” 
Emma rolls her eyes. “Of course they are.” She doesn’t have to see his smirk to know it’s there, hook looping around her arm, tugging it gently free from its death grip around her legs so he can tend to the skin she marked up in her attempt to escape. The water stings slightly, the cuts deeper there, the cloth no longer as cold. “I can’t believe she let you use her daughter,” she admits. “She was so protective of her sisters.”
Killian hums in agreement, “It took some convincing.” 
“Did it?” She doesn’t think she’s ever failed so spectacularly at sounding indifferent. 
He lets out a soft huff of laughter, lips pressing to the back of her shoulder before he rests his chin on it. “Jealous?”
Emma scoffs. “Yeah, right. You wish.” 
He’s quiet for a moment, her teasing not returned and he takes a slow breath in, lifting his head to look at her, the weight of his gaze enough that she twists to meet it. His exhale is warm against the curve of her neck, the sincerity in his eyes stripped bare, holding her captive with their intensity. “Perhaps I do.” 
She swallows, heart racing at his confession. Because that’s what it is, a confession of intentions, of feelings she’s not sure she can face - his or her own. He’s watching her, waiting, that openness, the little bit of hope she can see breaking through absolutely terrifying. It’s one thing to find comfort in each other after a tragedy. But this, what he’s so clearly asking, isn’t something she thinks she can give. 
Her tongue runs over her lips, mouth suddenly dry, the motion drawing his attention and breaking whatever that was that just passed between them. Her voice is tinged with gravel when she tells him, “I think you’ve got enough jealous creatures on this island for one man to handle.” 
Emma sees the barest hint of disappointment he lets slip and makes herself ignore it. “You make me sound like quite the scoundrel,” he smirks, reaching for his discarded shirt and draping it over her shoulders. “I assure you I can only devote myself to one woman at a time.”
She raises a brow at him, pulling the shirt closed around herself, feeling less vulnerable than she had a moment ago and she thinks maybe he’d known. “There were three fairies throwing themselves at you yesterday - four,” she corrects, having forgotten the handsome gold-hued man. She thinks she sees the slightest hint of a blush on his cheeks beneath the cocky shrug. 
“That was Solstice. It doesn’t count.” 
Emma rolls her eyes, pointing out for the second time, “How convenient.”
A thud from upstairs draws her attention, followed by a shout of pain, and she hears Will cursing. Stay bloody still, damnit. When she looks over at Killian, he’s watching the ceiling too, whatever lightness he may have held onto for a moment now gone. 
“We should get up there,” she says, not looking forward to whatever devastation awaits them on deck. There’s no lesser horror. Either many survived and there’ll be dozens of wounded and traumatised children awaiting them, forced to join a life of being hunted by Pan forever, or there won’t be - and the beach will be littered with bodies. 
“Aye,” he agrees, standing and finding his pants, tugging the leather over his hips as she does the same. She’s lacing them up when she notices his attention. 
“What?”
“You’ve got my shirt.” She looks down at the soft black fabric he’d wrapped her in, then at the bloodied white shirt in his hand. “Not that you don’t look quite fetching in it, love, but unless you want Wendy and Scarlet to know -” 
Emma snatches her shirt from him, shooting him a half-hearted glare. “Turn around.” The look he gives her tells her what she already knows, that she’s being absolutely ridiculous, but he just gives her an amused little smirk before doing as she asked. It’s not that she thinks Will and Wendy don’t already know, or that she’s oblivious to the fact that he’s already seen everything, but preparing to walk into a tragedy after they’ve been hiding down here, selfishly pretending it wasn’t happening, sends guilt churning in her stomach. 
When she’s dressed, hat tugged low over her head to try and hide her face from the new boys, she lets him turn back around, tossing him his shirt and waiting until he pulls the heavy leather coat back over his shoulders. “Ready?”
No. She nods. 
The scene is worse than she imagined. She’d been prepared for the blood, for the pain and the chaos as the crew do their best to tend to whatever injuries they can. There’s buckets of bloodied spring water, discarded bandages stained red, former Lost Boys shouting and struggling against the holds the pirates have on them as they try and heal them. They’re still the enemy, she realizes. They may have just been nearly murdered by their comrades but until this morning, the Jolly was enemy territory, and now they’re being held captive. 
What she hadn’t been prepared for were the ones who weren’t injured, who weren’t fighting, the ones sitting along the side of the ship, knees curled tight to their chests and hands over their ears as they stare at nothing with eyes that aren’t seeing. 
Killian moves quickly, hurrying over to where Will is trying to hold down a boy who looks about twelve while Wendy attempts to reset his leg, broken with an arrow pierced through the bone. He takes the boy’s shoulder and arm so Will can do the same, both pressing down on his torso until he can’t move - Emma looks away but she hears the crunch of bone and the scream nonetheless. 
“Hand me some bandages.” It’s not until Wendy shouts her name that she realizes she’s talking to her, the boy still fighting, though he’s growing weaker now. She scrambles to grab some from one of the buckets, bringing them to her. The captain begins wrapping the injury with soaked bandages, the arrow that had pierced him used as a brace, and the kid’s eyes fade in and out of focus, finally shutting as he passes out. 
“A little help!” one of the pirates calls, struggling under the weight of a boy only a few years younger than himself. A stain of dark red blood is blooming on his stomach, soaking through his leather vest and Emma doesn’t freeze this time, running over and looping the kid’s other arm over her shoulders. They set him down against the mainsail, Emma watching as the pirate, barely more than a teenager, pulls open the boy’s shirt. 
“What happened?” 
“Looks like a rapier,” he answers, inspecting the gash, blood flowing freely from it. “Gimme a hand,” he tells her and grabs the kid’s shoulder so they can turn him over. “Dammit. It’s gone right through him.” Emma doesn’t know much about medicine but she does know that without treatment, a stomach wound is basically a death sentence. 
“Can you do anything?”
“Nothing good,” he sighs under his breath. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a bottle like the one Killian carried and uncorking it. “Listen, mate, I can make this better okay?” The boy glares at him, face pale and clammy, distrusting. “If you drink this, you’ll live. If you don't, you're gonna die.” Emma’s thrown by his bluntness, by how calm he is despite being so young and she wonders how many hunts he’s already lived through. The boy continues to glare, looking away from him, rejecting the offer. “But if you do - hey,” he snaps, grabbing the kid’s chin and making him face him. “You’ll never get to leave, okay? You’ll be stuck here. Forever. And it fucking sucks here once you’re out. But you’ll be alive. And you’ll be one of us.” 
“Can’t you just give it to him?” Emma demands, a second away from snatching the bottle and forcing it down the dying teenager’s throat. 
The pirate shakes his head. “Captain’s rules.” She wonders which captain.
The boy still looks resistant, like he’d rather die than become a pirate than switch sides, regardless of what Pan’s just done to him. But then he starts to cough, a fit that takes over, the rough sound gurgling and wet as blood begins to drip from his lips and he turns panicked eyes on the pirate. The older boy nods, handing him the vial, but not letting go yet, waiting until the kid meets his gaze. “Never,” he reminds him. “You’ll never go home, okay?”
Emma watches him nod, bring the water to his bloodied mouth and drink, wincing and coughing as he tries to swallow, finally managing to get some down. They wait, a few long, drawn out moments, before the pirate looks at his wound again and Emma watches in amazement as it begins to close, blood flowing backwards along his torso in streams, pulled back into the tear in his skin. 
The older boy pats his shoulder. “Try and get some rest. That’ll still hurt like a bitch for a while.” And then he’s gone, moved on to the next injured Lost Boy, and the next. 
When everything is over, wounds bandaged, survivors counted, bodies laid carefully on the deck, a strange sort of silence settles over the ship. It’s not the silence of Neverland, that unending, eerie quiet, but the silence of dozens choosing not to speak, unable to speak in the wake of bloodshed. A crew member is cleaning the deck, the oldest here by far in his mid twenties, gaze somehow both unbothered and far away as he mops up the blood that ripples with the whim of the spring water spilled on the wood. Will is over by the side of the ship, talking to some of the boys who won’t speak, who don’t look at anything, voice falling low and gentle on deaf ears. 
Wendy and Killian are with the dead, placing coins over their eyes and wrapping their bodies in sails. She can count five, five who made it to safety only to die on the bow of the Jolly. Emma stares out at the beach. There are more than five out there. Almost a dozen Lost Boys left out under the hot sun. 
Sometime, this has been both the shortest and longest day of her life - the sun setting before it had managed to reach its highest point in the sky.
Killian had explained, as she’d helped to place a boy gently on a stretch of canvas and sew the fabric around him, that night always came quickly after a hunt. “There’s always a celebration for the victors.” Wendy had said the word with so much disgust it made Emma’s stomach turn. “They feast and fly and dance around the fire, bragging about their conquests.” 
“Did you ever-” she started, but stopped when the woman’s face darkened, regret and anger. “I’m sorry.” 
“They’re children,” is all Wendy gave in answer, casting a look towards Will, still trying to reach a boy, shaking and huddled by the helm. “So were we.”
Sleep doesn’t come easy, the sound of footsteps above her making her jerk awake - boys who’d refused to take a bunk below deck, still not willing to accept their new fate, their new role on this island. Voices set her heart racing, forgetting every time that the hunt is over. The crying tonight is louder than it’s been since she arrived, and the sounds of celebration carry over on the water.
She wants to go up there, wants to help them in a way she couldn’t this morning. But she saw the way they looked at her on deck, anger and hatred and fear. She’d be no comfort to them, not as a pirate. She could as herself, as a mother like ones they keep calling out for even now. Little boys can’t keep secrets. Emma’s shared her secret enough on this island. She can’t risk it without knowing they’re allies. 
Knowing that doesn’t make it any less horrible, doesn’t make the guilt any lighter or stop each wail from piercing through her chest. And it doesn’t bring sleep either. She hears the door to the room beside her open quietly and shut with a click, hears the muffled voices, one hissed anger and the other gentle compassion, back and forth until they both go silent, finding comfort amidst the chaos. 
It makes her want to cry, to let her own tears join those she only hears because she’s always been alone, because she’s always been abandoned - time and again. That may be the worse part, the small, selfish part of her that couldn’t help but understand their sorrow. She’s never lived through anything like they just have, but she knows that betrayal, the heartbreak of having trusted someone so completely, only to be cast aside. Alone again. Always alone. 
“Emma?” He’s not asleep when she sneaks into his cabin, pads across the small space to his bed. He’s half sat up, hand reaching instinctively for his sword at the first creak of the door opening, but his brace and hook are on the small table beside him, blunted arm and chest bare, sheets pooled in his lap. “What’s wrong?”
She tries to answer, all of her explanations feeling weak, and her words get caught on a shaky inhale. She doesn’t want to talk about it, so instead she closes the rest of the distance between them, climbing carefully into the bed beside him and sliding beneath the covers. He tenses for a moment when she curls herself against his side, head resting tentatively on his shoulder, but then he softens, letting out a breath and sinking back against the pillows. 
His arm hovers, hesitating before wrapping around her. She brings her own hand to his chest, focusing on the feel of the dark hair beneath her fingers rather than the way her hands still shake, listening to the rise and fall of his breaths rather than the sobs upstairs she can’t escape, and the steady beat of his heart as she tries to forget all the ones that won’t beat again. 
His lips press to her crown, not quite a kiss as he speaks against her hair. “Sleep, love. Neverland can’t find you here.”
******
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haveyouusedthispokemon · 7 months ago
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Sent in by anonymous request
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nerevar-quote-and-star · 2 years ago
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I Didn't Know You Were Keeping Count | Masterlist
fic on ao3
fic on FanFiction.Net
"Did you miss me?”
“Bishop,” she whispered as a storm of turmoil thundered through her veins.
He smirked at her.
She felt her brain grind to a halt. As the ranger enfolded a statuesque Leara in his arms, she felt unattached from her body. She couldn’t feel her hands or her feet. If Bishop hadn’t been holding her, Leara knew she would’ve crumpled like paper.
And when, the next moment, Bishop kissed her, one arm locked around her waist and the other hand tangled in her matted red hair, Leara didn’t fight him.
No, she kissed him back.
Leara Ormand, the Last Dragonborn, is trying to fulfill her destiny and stop Alduin while battling with her own feelings of self-doubt and anxiety. In walks Bishop, the ranger from the Skyrim Romance Mod, whose obsessioninfatuation only serves to make Leara worse. Along the way, she reencounters Ulfric Stormcloak, who she knew during the Great War — she prays he doesn’t remember her. Add in the Thalmor hunting her and Leara’s got a full plate. Naturally, there’s always a way to make it worse!
1: Rat | I smell a rat
2: Raven | The raven chides the blackness
3: Hawk | Get me away where the hawk is wheeling
4: Lark | Unhappy as a lark
— Lark, Continued
5: Moth | Like a moth to the flame
— Outtake: Arcanaeum, Midnight — Alternate
6: Salmon | The salmon of wisdom swims deep
7: Sparrow | A sparrow when she's broken
8: Steed | Like a hot steed that stumbles
9: Slaughterfish | Swimming in a sea of slaughterfish
10: Swan | Not all geese are swans
— Swan, continued | With the grace of a swan
11: Cat | In a bag full of cats, only one gets the cream
12: Owl | An owl to a mouse is a nightmare
13: Wasp (coming soon)
Misc.:
Azura's Ask Box (Ask Me Anything!)
About Content Warnings
Main Theme: Isolation by SYR
Rough Timeline of Leara and Delphine as Blades
Why doesn't Leara retaliate?
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catenaaurea · 2 years ago
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Everyone is familiar with the song The Twelve Days of Christmas, but very few know that it was originally a catechetical song for children. Most Catholics know that Christmas is 12 days and starts on December 25th, but almost nobody today makes the connection to the song.
The songs gifts are hidden meanings to the teachings of the faith. The "true love" mentioned in the song doesn't refer to an earthly suitor, it refers to God Himself. The "me" who receives the presents refers to every baptized person. The partridge in a pear tree is Jesus Christ, the Son of God. In the song, Christ is symbolically presented as a mother partridge which feigns injury to decoy predators from her helpless nestlings, much in memory of the expression of Christ's sadness over the fate of Jerusalem: "Jerusalem! Jerusalem! How often would I have sheltered thee under my wings, as a hen does her chicks, but thou wouldst not have it so..."
2 Turtle Doves = The Old and New Testaments
3 French Hens = Faith, Hope and Charity, the Theological Virtues
4 Calling Birds = the Four Gospels and/or the Four Evangelists
5 Golden Rings = The first Five Books of the Old Testament, the "Pentateuch", which gives the history of man's fall from grace
6 Geese A-laying = the six days of creation
7 Swans A-swimming = the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, the seven sacraments
8 Maids A-milking = the eight beatitudes
9 Ladies Dancing = the nine Fruits of the Holy Spirit
10 Lords A-leaping = the ten commandments
11 Pipers Piping = the eleven faithful apostles
12 Drummers Drumming = the twelve points of doctrine in the Apostle's Creed
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autie-j · 11 months ago
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pathfinderunlocked · 1 year ago
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Cygnal Agathion - CR6 Agathion
A humanoid celestial with the grace and appearance of a swan.
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Artwork by HEX_jjung on Twitter.  Apparently someone owns an NFT of this image, which kind of makes me feel like I should make the creature a fey trickster that scams people instead.
There aren’t many stat blocks for agathions.  I wonder how many people who play Pathfinder don’t even know what they are.  An agathion is a type of celestial that lives in the plane of Nirvana, and usually looks like a humanoid with some animal parts, although a few just look like fancy animals.  Each one is themed after a different animal.  There’s already a generic “bird” agathion, but I wanted to make a more specific swan-themed one.  Agathions often take the very goofy-looking combination of an animal’s head on a human’s body, which I tried to avoid with this one.
Cygnal agathions spend their time composing music and practicing dances on the ponds and rivers of Nirvana, trying to make their realm more beautiful even if no one is around to see it.  They memorize these pieces rather than writing them down.  Other agathions almost all see these endeavors as worthwhile, and perceive cygnal agathions as frail artists that must be protected.
This is very much a support and healing creature.  It has basically no way to deal damage on its own, so if it doesn’t have an ally to use Galdrar of Vigor on, it typically surrenders.  The Fey Performance feat lets it expend extra rounds of bardic performance to increase the range of its performances, and it uses this to stay as far from battle as possible.
Wave Shield grants it DR 4/—, which doesn’t stack with its natural DR 10/evil or silver.  Only the highest DR applies against any given attack, so Wave Shield is only useful against evil or silver attacks.  With its arcane sight, a cygnal agathion can attempt a Spellcraft check as a free action to identify whether an enemy’s weapon is magically evil-aligned, and it can attempt a DC 20 Appraise check as a free action to identify a silver weapon, so it usually knows which attacks to use its wave shield against.
Cygnal Agathion - CR 6
This graceful humanoid has large white feathered wings emerging from its shoulders and wrapping its body, and long pure white feathers in place of hair.  White markings, possibly paint, form symbols and patterns on its torso and legs.  The only clothing it wears is a pair of long flowing translucent sleeves.
XP 2,400 NG Medium outsider (agathion, extraplanar, good) Init +6 Senses arcane sight, appraising sight, aura sight, darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision; Perception +13 Aura fast healing aura (5 ft.)
DEFENSE
AC 18, touch 17, flat-footed 11 (+6 Dex, +1 dodge, +1 natural); +2 deflection vs. evil hp 52 (8d10+8); fast healing 2 Fort +3, Ref +12, Will +8; +4 vs. poison; +2 vs. evil DR 5/evil or silver Immune electricity, enchantment and possession vs. evil, petrification Resist cold 10, sonic 10
OFFENSE
Speed 30 ft., fly 100 ft. (average) Melee unarmed +6 (1d3-2) Special Attacks bardic performance (fascinate, inspire courage, inspire competence), galdrar of recovery, galdrar of vigor Spell-Like Abilities (CL 8th; concentration +15)     Constant—arcane sight, aura sight, protection from evil, water walk     At will—dancing lights, water walk, wave shield     3/day—glitterdust (DC 19), feather fall, fly, good hope     1/day—break enchantment, nixie’s lure (DC 20), sculpt sound (DC 21)
STATISTICS
Str 7, Dex 22, Con 12, Int 17, Wis 14, Cha 24 Base Atk +8; CMB +6; CMD 23 (+25 vs. evil) Feats Dodge, Fey Performance, Flyby Attack, Spell Focus (transmutation) Skills Acrobatics +14, Diplomacy +11, Appraise +14, Bluff +14, Fly +17, Knowledge (nature) +10, Perception +13, Perform (dance) +14, Perform (sing) +14, Spellcraft +11, Survival +6, Swim +9 Languages Celestial, Draconic, Infernal; speak with animals, truespeech SQ trackless step
SPECIAL ABILITIES
Appraising Sight (Ex) A cygnal agathion can appraise items by sight as a free action.
Bardic Performance (Su) A cygnal agathion has 11 rounds per day of bardic performance (based on its Charisma modifier).  It can begin a bardic performance as either a move or swift action, but maintaining it each round is a free action.  Changing a bardic performance from one effect to another requires the cygnal agathion to stop the previous performance and start a new one as a standard action.  A bardic performance cannot be disrupted, but it ends immediately if the cygnal agathion is prevented from taking a free action to maintain it each round.  A cygnal agathion cannot have more than one bardic performance in effect at one time.
A cygnal agathion can begin a bardic performance as a dance, requiring its allies to see it, or as a song, requiring its allies to hear it.  If blinded, it has a 50% chance to fail a dance, and if deafened, it has a 20% chance to fail a song.  The Fascinate bardic performance uses both a song and a dance, while Inspire Courage and Inspire Competence use either one or the other (the cygnal agathion’s choice).
A cygnal agathion has access to the following bardic performances, treating its bard level as 8 for these performances: Fascinate (DC 21), Inspire Courage (+3), and Inspire Competence (+3).
Create Feather Token (Su) Once per week, as a full-round action, a cygnal agathion can remove a feather from its head and transform it into a swan boat feather token.  This feather token becomes a non-magical feather if not used within one week.
Fast Healing Aura (Su) A cygnal agathion and all creatures adjacent to it (including enemies) gain fast healing 2.
Galdrar of Recovery (Su) While performing a bardic performance, a cygnal agathion can sacrifice 2 rounds of its bardic performance and immediately end its performance as a standard action to heal one willing ally within 60 feet that can perceive its bardic performance for 3d8+8 hit points.  This is a positive energy effect; undead are harmed instead of healed by it.
Galdrar of Vigor (Su) While performing a bardic performance, a cygnal agathion can sacrifice 2 rounds of its bardic performance and immediately end its performance as a standard action to immediately allow one ally within 60 feet that can perceive its performance to take a move or standard action.  If the target takes a move action and uses it to move, it gains a +6 dodge bonus against attacks of opportunity during its movement.
Trackless Step (Ex) A cygnal agathion leaves no trail in natural surroundings and cannot be tracked.  It may choose to leave a trail if so desired.
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