#I REFUSE to draw the mustache. no way in hell.

[charnelhouse]

This is so Lloyd in my humble 🫠

A/N: Lloyd Hansen x F!Reader. Mentions of Court Gentry x F!Reader. Mirror sex. Masturbation. Dirty Talk. Anal talk. This is crude as hell. Mentions of hair. Yeah I’m using this gif idc.

He’s so warm. Blood-hot. His chest hair tickles your bare back as he drags his jaw across your temple. He’s forced you in front of a mirror. Both of you on the hardwood of your bedroom floor. His thick thighs bracket your legs. Your knees over his knees as he keeps you spread open like something on a lab table.

You think of a frog to be dissected. Split and raw and beating with life. It’s not the sexiest image but this feels clinical. Your pussy naked and open for him, clenching on air

This is for him. Lloyd. He’d been gone for two weeks and came back with blue balls and a desperation that was splintering him in pieces. He was a needy son of a bitch.

He holds your chin. “How many times did Court fuck you while I was gone? Hmm?”

“Did he fill up that little pussy?”

“Did he eat you out?”

“Did he make you beg?”

He slides through your folds just to test it, when he lifts his hand, you can see your arousal twined between his damn forefinger and middle. He slips them into your mouth. 

It’s a tad salty. All skin and sweat. Real. Organic.

“Tastes good, yeah?” 

You can feel the hard bulge of his clock against your ass. His heart is throbbing into your shoulder blade. He slides his hands over your tits, cupping them, tweaking your nipples.

“Touch yourself,” he orders hoarsely. “Finger that pretty cunt.”

You do - pushing your hand between your legs. You stroke your sex, rubbing the pads of your fingers against your clit. It’s swollen, pillowy and so obviously wet. 

Lloyd presses his lips to the side of your neck, his tongue blatant as he drags it beneath your ear before he mumbles: “Did you miss me?”

“Yes,” you reply instantly. Your chest hitches, your back arches as pleasure begins to coil deep in the cradle of your pelvis.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “Let’s discuss what I should do to you.”

“Sounds-sounds fair.”

“We have all night.”

“All night,” you echo - he grasps the meat of your thigh, digging with his thumb until it hurts. He’s still in his briefs, but you can feel him - imagine him. Balls drawing up tight. That lovely blush-red cock straining up against his pale flat stomach.

“First,” he starts. “After you’ve made yourself come twice, I’m going to pin you beneath me and slide all the way to the hilt.” His other hand tangles in your hair and he fists it, jerking your head back. “I’ll do it slow. Just grind into you. Hey-hey don’t stop touching yourself, honey.”

His tone is throaty, thick with arousal. It’s also mildly taunting, which is just Lloyd’s flavor. His mouth stretches into a disarmingly gorgeous grin. His teeth large and white against the scrape of his dark beard. Thank god you got him to shave that mustache. 

“Did you miss daddy’s cock?”

“Yeah,” Your lashes flutter, lips parting. Jesus fuck. You’re not usually into the daddy thing but you’re so horny, you do not care. You want him to destroy you.

He slithers his hand over your belly until it falls on top of your own that is getting you off. He squeezes it a brush cruelly until there’s a sharp ache in the fragile bones. Together, he guides your movements, tracing the seam of your cunt, spreading you open, flicking your clit. “Look how ready you are…that tiny hole just fluttering around nothing…desperate for my dick.”

Your head falls back against his shoulder and he smears his full, pouty lips against your cheek, the corner of your mouth. It’s so erotic - this desire for you - this compulsion to rub his scent and spit and come all over your skin.

Sometimes he will fuck you for hours, painting you in his own spunk and refusing to let you shower it off until morning.

You have a feeling it will be one of those nights. 

“Fucking Christ,” he hisses, the muscle in his jaw popping. He’s so tense - so full of it. “I can smell your pussy.”

Ugh.

Lloyd tortures humans for a living. He loves watching how pain contorts the body. What does it take for you to crack? To turn to a puddle? To drip all over the floor?

“I fisted my cock to thoughts of you every night I was gone.” He nips your ear. “C’mon, baby…a little faster…let’s get you to come.”

The pleasure is mounting. It feels so good - so sensitive. Your core contracting. A moan right behind your tongue that you swallow back. Your legs shiver. Your hips chasing your hand as your orgasm swells and twists until it makes contact. It’s insistent heat - tingling and frayed sensations sparking underneath your surface. Stars burst. You let out a high-pitched noise that makes Lloyd momentarily shut his eyes in bliss. 

“Just like that…just like that…look at you.”

He’s so smooth. The muscles in his chest and stomach flexing against your back. The rocky grit of his voice. His jaw line digging into the side of your head.

It’s too much. Your orgasm somersaults into a shorter one - the lingering pulses that make you whimper and lurch in his arms.

He doesn’t waste it.

He grips under your thighs and lifts them higher, opening you up and spreading you. “Let’s see what you did, bunny,” he croons. It’s so lewd. The way your pussy is dark from your ministrations. It’s visibly contracting in the mirror  - demanding him to fill it. “Fuck,” he groans. “It’s so pretty.” Without warning, he shoves two of his fingers in his mouth and then buries them into your cunt. You startle - hand flying to his forearm. Your nails embed into the hard flesh.

“Lloyd,” you squeak.

“Yeah, duchess,” he urges, timbre like a fever. “Yeah - ride my fingers. Will you take my cock like a good little girl? Can I cover you in my come?”

“What do you think?” You hiss and, quick as a flash, he jerks his fingers out of you and slaps your pussy. Before you can comprehend it, he pumps them back into you, gliding deep and scissoring you open. 

The pain is brief. The shock of it. The flesh between your legs is so sensitive that any small touch bulldozes through your nervous system. You feel tightly coiled. You feel like a solid beating heart. 

“Jesus,” you grunt, but hold your legs open anyway.

“Such a pouty baby,” he drawls. “Next time you give me lip, I’m stuffing my cock down your throat.”

You bite your tongue, trying to swallow down every ugly remark you have for him. He smiles indulgently at you.

“How much can I take tonight?” How much will you give me?”

“Anything,” you reply, both humoring him and also kind of curious. “Take what you want.”

Lloyd’s pink tongue darts along his lips. “You sure? You trust me?”

You stare at the mirror - at the two of you. Lloyd’s cheek is glued to yours, his lake blue eyes holding your gaze in the reflection. 

Trust.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I trust you to take care of me.”

His expression softens minutely. You know this is what he wanted. His own insecurity at what he is to you. Both of you are people who can’t necessarily be pinned down. But together? He gives you his and you give him yours and then it’s all square. 

You and me, baby? We’re golden. 

Feather-light, he traces his fingers along the scar that bisects your belly. It’s faint, but still present. The shrapnel had nearly torn you in two and Lloyd had hovered at your bedside. When your hand slips over his in an attempt to comfort him. He draws away. Startled. A shade of  panic.

He was relentlessly cool and severe with anyone else. He could lose three fingers and laugh it off. But with you? That veneer could not be as guarded as he intended. He couldn’t fake it for you.

So you let him change course. Let the wind take him back to reciting all the dirty things he wants to do to you. That is not as intimate as holding hands and revealing scars.  

“No,” he hums. “‘No - I want to really brand you. I want to leave a mark, fuck you open until you feel me for weeks.”

“I want that,” you assure him. “Give it to me.”

His mouth whispers against your skin. His eyes unyielding as they stay trained on yours. “Would you let me fuck your ass?”

You hesitate. You’re not prepped. It’s a whole thing. Not like you don’t believe it wouldn’t be good, but it definitely requires work. 

Then again, Lloyd is a master at working a body until it takes what he wants it to. Finally, you say. “If you can fit?”

“Aw baby,” His tone is soft and concerned. “I’d take it nice and slow. I’d be so careful.” He turns your head to kiss you hard, his tongue sliding over yours before he pulls away. “I’ll use lube - stretch you with one finger until we get up to three. You’ve done it before,” he reminds you. “You’ve taken us both.” He leans forward, his breath warm on your mouth, the tip of your nose. “I’ll lick that cute little hole open. Get my entire tongue inside you before I put anything else in there.”

You swallow, your expression no doubt giving you away. “God,” he murmurs. “You’re so fucking well behaved when I want you to be.”

Something warm percolates in your chest. You press into him - nuzzling your face against his flushed cheeks. “So sweet,” he coos. “All mine.”

[giggly-squiggily]

Hi so anon from the spy x family request, I would love to see a tic on them just as they are! Thx for considering my request tho!

I've gotcha, anon! :D One Lee!Damien, Ler!Anya fic coming right up!

“I already told you, I don’t want to be your friend! Go away!”

“The old man with the mustache told us we had to work together, Sy-Son.”

“That’s Master- Oh forget it!” Damien looked away with a glare, and Anya carried on with her coloring. The two were in the school library- assigned the task of finding a historical artifact from their textbooks and presenting it to Master Henderson via a drawing.

Really- they were being punished for arguing once more during class. Tontrious Bolts- Master Henderson decided- would do nothing in teaching them cooperation. Not to mention it would be inelegant to give out such a harsh punishment without some attempt at reforming them.

So here they were, Damien looking for things to draw while Anya colored in her current creation. “Well- at least don’t sit so close! Why are you next to me anyway? Can’t you sit across from me?”

“I can’t see the book from that far.” She told him, little lips pursed as she colored in Yor’s hair. Papa’s scribbled in form stood abnormally tall beside her, his crayoned face grumpy compared to Momma’s smiling one.

“Can’t see the book- you’re not even drawing anything from it yet!” Damien glared, snatching it up before Anya could react. “And what exactly is this? They look like aliens or something!”

“That’s Momma and Papa- give it back! I need to make Bond!” She reached around him, trying to get her paper. Damien only held it up higher from her reach, cheeks flushing at how close she was. “N-No way! I’m not done looking at it!” He turned his attention back to the drawing, trying to make sense of it all. “Why is she covered in blood?”

“That’s Momma’s swe-her! And she’s a-” Anya paused momentarily, eyes widening. “She’s a bad cook.”

“Okay…and the tall skinny man?”

“Papa! He’s the feelings doctor!” She declared proudly.

“He looks like a scarecrow.” Damien noted, stretching out his arms further as she tried to grab the drawing again. “You’re not that great of an artist.”

“Give it!” She whined, pushing on him as she reached for her creation. “I don’t have my family Fo-toe- Becky took it!” She never did get back. Papa got a replacement, but Anya wasn’t allowed to take it to school anymore. “Give me my drawing!”

“Make me!” Damien decided, looking smug as Anya failed to grab it again and again. He was clearly enjoying this, Anya fumed. What was she supposed to do?

A memory from the other day came back to her then.

“Delete it, now!” Momma was sitting on Papa, one hand reaching for his phone while the other tickled him. “It’s too embarrassing for the world!”

“Nehehehehhehever!” Papa declared, his face red and his smile big. Papa was a stubborn one. “I’ihihiihhll dehehehehehleehehehehte it lahahahahter!”

“Later isn’t good enough! Delete it now!” Momma was laughing just as much, finally getting the phone back when she poked his side a few times.

Hm…

“Sy-Son. Give it back, now.” Anya tried to make herself sound as tough as Momma, raising her chin and glaring at the other. Damien startled, surprised by the sudden mood change. Then he smirked, raising his own chin. “Why should I? What are you gonna do?”

Anya narrowed her eyes.

“What are you-Eh!” Damien jerked as little hands grabbed his sides, wiggling gently against his uniform shirt. Squirming, he shot his elbows down in an attempt to block her. “Whahat the hell are you doing?”

“Give me my drawing!” Anya told him again, delighted by the reaction she was getting. He was just like papa! “Or I’ll tickle you!”

“Yohoure already tihihickling me!” Damien yelped, soft giggles pushing up his throat as he tried to wriggle away. One hand pushed at hers while the other held the drawing out farther, refusing to give it up. “Iihihihihm nehehehehver gihihihiving it bahahahck!”

Anya growled, standing up and squishing further into his back, her hands coming around his torso to get at his belly. “I want my drawing back! Give it! I won’t stop until you do!”

Damien wanted to snap back something rude, but he was lost in giggles, doubling over and nearly falling out of his chair. “Ahehahahahha! Nohohoohoho! Stahahhahap ihihihihit yoohoohu ahahahahhass!”

“Never, shithead!” Anya cried back, tilting her head curiously at rare laughter coming from him. ‘Sy-Son’s got a nice laugh’.

Alot of things happened at once. Anya had managed to grab a corner of the drawing, her other hand still tickling like there was no tomorrow. Damien instinctively squeezed his hand shut around said drawing, determined to hang on to it. That’s when the chair lost balance, and the boy fell to the ground.

A loud tear filled the air between them.

“Heh..hehe…yo-you’re teheerible!” He groaned, pausing when he saw her face fall. Following her gaze, Damien’s eyes widened upon seeing the now torn drawing in hand. It had split up the middle, ripping her scribbled parents and dog in two. “Oh shit…”

Anya whimpered, green eyes filling with tears. “Momma…papa…”

Panicked, Damien scrambled to his feet, looking around the table for tape to fix it. “H-Hang on! I’ll put them back together! I can do this, I can fix it…” Realizing he had nothing of the sort, he felt himself on the verge of tears. “I can fix it! I can-”

“Sy-Son?” Anya was taken aback. She hadn’t expected for him to cry. Distracted from her tears, she scooted over and patted his head, startling the other. “It’s okay. Don’t cry.”

Damien bowed his head, sniffling. “I’m sorry. I ruined your drawing.”

“Yeah, and you’re a shit for it, Sy-Son.” She told him, earning a shocked laugh.

“At least the blood on her makes sense now.” He nodded at the paper, earning a poke to the belly. “A-Ai!”

“It’s not blood! It’s…” Anya gave up, pouting at the paper.

Damien wiped his eyes, taking a breath as he considered what to do. “Erm…I-I’ll help you. Make another one.” He looked away, cheeks heating up. Anya gaped.

And then she smiled.

~~~

Master Henderson had come back to the library expecting to find a drawing from the book he assigned them. Instead, he found Damien and Anya hovered over a paper, crayons in hand as Anya directed the boy on her mother’s hair. “You gotta make the loopy parts! It’s part of her head!”

“Loopy parts? You mean her hair?” He rolled his eyes, but did as she asked, scribbling in the lines.

They weren’t working on their assignment, but they were working together.

“A truly elegant display, Master Damien, Lady Anya.” He nodded in satisfaction, leaving them to carry on their drawing.

I hope this was good!

Cloud 9 (Taglist)

@thatbigbisexual29 , @dirtpie39, @duckymcdoorknob @baby-tickles2022

[isagisyoichi]

how do u think the boy would be in a party😈😈

NEW RULES!

SYNOPSIS: blue lock at a party

CHARACTERS INCLUDED: isagi, bachira, nagi, reo, rin, chigiri, naruhaya, niko, nanase, gagamaru, kunigami

WARNINGS: mentions of underage drinking and weed (but no one actually takes anything), swearing, mentions of throwing up and food, again pretend they're all friends and go to the same school because it's more fun to think that way. ooc rin maybe? idk i like pretending he's not as miserable as the manga makes him out to be 🤗 he deserves to have fun i think

A/N: no cause this was soooo fun to write tysm anon, i got through this in a flash cause i loved this suggestion sm :') literally one of the most fun requests i've ever gotten eeee!!!!! also this made me miss my irls bye corona can suck my balls fr

ISAGI YOICHI:

i feel like this would be his first big party aw lol, so he’s kind of nervous LMAO.

gets handed a beer by someone, has his first sip of it ever, and immediately spits it out. mutters “how the hell can anyone drink this?” and “discreetly” pours the rest into a bush.

mainly stays with nagi, chigiri, kunigami, and bachira and they just talk throughout the night

(bachira only sits down and talks after his energy dies down. i'll elaborate on this below the cut).

keeps asking nagi “what song is this?” throughout the night LOL. makes a mental note of what songs to add to his playlists.

slightly nods his head to the music, aw cute. goes a little harder and lip syncs/raps along when he really likes the song, though (i stand by my word when i said he loves “neon guts”)

does accidentally bump into someone, but isagi starts a convo with them after he apologizes, and they hit it off right away 🥰

but, the person left early and isagi, ever the dummy, forgets to ask for their number.

and he's actually so disappointed in himself when he realizes, too 😭

BACHIRA MEGURU:

not drunk or anything at all, but boy, the way he’s acting makes it seem like he is.

the self proclaimed “life of the party.”

can be found “dancing,” though i use that word generously because to classify whatever he’s doing as “dancing,” is a stretch, to every song, even if he doesn’t know the words LOL

really likes when throwbacks come on!!!! he does dance to the lyrics and not the beat sometimes, though 😭

but, bachira looks like he’s having so much fun, it’s so cute, he’s definitely been waiting for this moment his whole life 🥰

if you were dancing with him, bachira would 100% take you by the hand and spin you around

also forces gets isagi to dance with him but isagi’s so awkward 😭

bachira also ends up jumping in the pool sometime later that night. yells “cannonball!” and everything, like, okay michael phelps 😭

he doesn’t have extra clothes so reo has to give him some and they're so fucking big on him LOLLL

texts the groupchat “i was sooo crazy last night😂” in the morning LMAOO, okay babe calm down

KUNIGAMI RENSUKE:

takes it upon himself to make sure none of his friends die LOL

only drinks water and diet coke 👍

his mom calls in the middle of the party to ask how he's doing and bachira and nagi are doing stupid shit like yelling “pass the weed” and fake moaning 😭

isagi and chigiri tell him to tell her they say hi LOL

really likes when the dj puts on 90s/2000's r&b/hiphop songs (i'll die by my hc that kunigami's an oldies fan)

mostly sways side to side to the music, but he did also dance a little, per request of bachira, and ended up talking to a cute person a for little, too 🤗

offers to help clean up in the morning

CHIGIRI HYOUMA:

at least two drunk girls have mistaken him for their friend, and another four have asked to touch his hair.

tried to use one of reo’s many bathrooms, found a couple making out, outwardly said “gross,” and then left to find another one 😭

nods his head and taps his foot to the music, not much of a dancer.

also a people-watcher, and he points out things he sees are happening to his friends.

“guys, i think misa and her boyfriend are breaking up, look.” leave that poor girl alone bro 😭

finds himself laughing a lot that night because damn! his friends are funny, whether they try to be or not.

not really a party person, but chigiri actually had a lot of fun 🥰

NARUHAYA ASAHI:

also on the dancefloor! doesn’t really dance, per say, but he jumps up and down and does the fist pump thing 😭 he has the spirit, let's give him that.

drank a lot of soda, so he’s filled with energy. also pees in at least three of reo's bathrooms.

talks to his friends, but also makes new ones! also i feel like he takes a lot of pictures LOL. he needs the finsta content 😭

plays truth or dare, or something like that. ends up having to do some stupid shit like smack raichi’s ass and run away, but naruhaya did make out with the girl next to him, so fair trade, he thinks.

also ends up in the pool, but he’s playing chicken with gagamaru and some other people. does not win a single round, but he had fun 😇

leaves with like four plates of food and one of reo’s decorative towels for some reason???

GAGAMARU GIN:

goes through a bunch of reo's shit 😭 he's not taking anything, but he's just curious LOL

strikes up very, random conversations with a bunch of people out of nowhere, good for him!

weirdly good at darts, very good aim.

although one round, naruhaya accidentally distracted gagamaru and one of darts ended up in reo's wall 💔

“it's fine, he has the money to fix it,” naruhaya shrugs as he walks away from reo's now punctured, wall. so true bestie!

gagamaru somehow ends up giving some drunk stranger some “life-changing” advice. (whether it's good or not is debatable)

they thank gagamaru for changing their life and he never sees them again

NAGI SEISHIRO:

irritates the fuck out the dj because nagi keeps asking him to play one specific song over and over again.

it was good the first time, don't wear it out for the rest of us bae 😭

doesn't really dance, just nods his head, maybe raps along a little, too

when he talks to the girls that come up to him, nagi says stuff like “yeah, the host and i go way back, we’re best friends.”

“way back,” my ass, but whatever nagi 🤨

knocks out in one of reo’s guest rooms. someone finds him when they’re trying to look for the bathroom and they draw a mustache and a bunch of other stupid shit on him 😭

tries to leave before reo makes him help clean up in the morning. does not work 👍

dumbass also ended up losing his phone (reo bought him a new one so nagi doesn't really care)

RAICHI JINGO:

gasses himself up sooo much when he’s trying to hit on girls.

“yeah, i'm about to go D1 after high school, just wait on it,” yeah, okay raichi 🙄

also tries to show them his highlights, bye. babe, i mean this in the nicest possible way but, i do not care, can we just kiss 🙏

i feel like he’s one of those boys who likes to take his shirt off for no reason, so raichi most definitely ends up shirtless at some point of the night 😭

takes pictures with reo’s fancy cars in his garage to flex 💀 gets annoyed when reo says raichi can’t drive them. raichi doesn't even have his license 😑

plays pool and is actually not that bad. does almost accidentally blind isagi with his cue, though.

IMAMURA YUUDAI:

he's with some girls but, he’s a dummy and he didn’t know his other hoes would be there, so imamura had quite a few drinks spilled on him here and there.

still somehow leaves with like three new girls snaps, four numbers, and a bunch of lipstick stains. not even gonna lie, i respect his game.

actually a really good dancer, and he knows he looks good, too. knows the words to every drake song that comes on, argue with your mom.

lip-syncs the words to you when you dance together and it makes you more flustered than you would think 🙄

the type to pull you close and wraps his arms around your waist or around your neck

actually really fun to talk to. always in the loop with drama and stuff, so he's always got some interesting conversation topics. and he's funny 😭

MIKAGE REO:

obviously, the party’s at his house. what’s the point of having a rich teammate if you can’t exploit them for their possessions?

jokes, but reo did offer to throw it at his mansion house in the first place.

actually really likes throwing parties lmao, so he jumped at the opportunity.

posted on his snap, “party at my place su for address‼️” LOL

natural charm + raised with good manners = reo being an amazing host

but, reo does have a little group of girls following him around the entire night 👎

and it irritates the hell out of whoever reo’s trying to talk to because they’re all up on him, making it hard for reo to pay attention 😑

also doesn’t help that he entertains them and flirts back and dances with a couple of them, too

and looks good when he dances, too UGH!!!! he's the type to run his hands up and down your body while he dances with you 😣

i hate this man 👎 /j

ITOSHI RIN:

practicing. he didn’t come. sike! rin has a social life, too, come on now, y'all 🙄

talked a big game about how he wouldn’t show up then he still came anyways, like rin, what 😭??

super good at cup pong and he knows it. he keeps beating ryusei and if you look closely, rin has something reminiscent of a smirk on his face.

a foot-tapper, not a dancer, which sucks because he’s not even bad at dancing, either 👎

a couple of girls come up to rin to flirt, but rin doesn’t give them the time of day. no response or anything just a little side eye 😭

rin just talks to his friends and that’s it, really.

actually internally glad for the chance to kickback and relax for once, tbh.

but, he refuses to admit he had any semblance of fun. (he did, rin’s just a weenie 😒)

NIKO IKKI:

the team forced him to come 😭

niko’s already a homebody and he doesn’t like loud noises or large social scenes, so he wasn’t too jazzed about going somewhere where the both of those things combine.

also he's picky with music so LOL. does like that one remix to the pursuit of happiness, though

he’s a wall-stander, i hate to break it to y’all. just watched everything from a distance and didn't talk to anyone except for isagi and his friends.

bye, if you don’t get off the damn wall and dance (he'd dance with me i'm different 🥰🤗)

keeps opening and closing his phone so he looks busy but that mf is literally just going through the settings app 😭

called his mom to bring him home an hour and a half in 👎

NANASE NIJIROU:

i hate to admit it, but he’s the annoying first year that documents everything on snap bye

he’s just excited to be there but like, there is no reason for his story to be half an hour long.

i'm not watching all of that! sorry that happened to you or good for you 🤗

probably playing games like spin the bottle or seven minutes in heaven. is very proud of himself for kissing four people in one night #bigmoves 🥳

stays with his group of friends and they're sooo loud and rowdy LMAOO. #firstyearthings

you can literally hear them laughing over the music, but they're having fun, so it's fine (at least of those kids hits people when they laugh too)

also dances, too! has super good energy and a natural sense of rhythm surprisingly 🥰 also a good hypeman!!!!! honestly, he's just really fun to be around tbh

overall, has a lot of fun, as you can tell by his story 😇

[ejzah]

A/N: A tiny drabble based on the second Densi sneak peek for Work and Family. I’ve added in some drama just in case the episode is light on that component.

***

Distraction

“Well, this is definitely not how I imagined today going,” Deeks murmured, tilting his head towards Kensi. He could only see the side of her face, but her back was warm against his. “I was imagining more pizza and beer than being held hostage by a bunch of low tier terrorists.”

“Deeks, don’t joke about this,” Kensi whispered back. “They might not be the most intelligent, but these guys are still dangerous.” Deeks glanced across the barn where three men and a woman stood in a loose circle, automatic rifles propped against their legs.

He sent a malevolent look in the woman’s direction. She’d pretended to be a victim, giving the rest of the group to surround Kensi and Deeks. From what Deeks could gather, she and a guy with short brown hair and a mustache were together.

There were two more men inside, William Baker and another with a ball cap bulled lower over his head, obscuring most of his features. Baker had shoulder length hair and a beard that looked like something out of Duck Dynasty

“Yeah, and we have to think of some way of keeping them busy until reinforcements arrive.” His voice was barely audible, less than a whisper. Fortunately they had their comms in and were in contact with Fatima when they were captured. Keeping these idiots from exploding anything else long enough for Sam and Callen to arrive was his main objective. Not dying was a close second.

“I wonder if we can separate her from the rest and convince her this is a terrible idea,” Kensi mused. She twisted a little closer. “She seems like she’s just going along with this because of her boyfriend.”

“I don’t know. She kind of enjoyed tying us up a little too much,” Deeks said dryly.

“What are you talking about?” William Baker demanded, suddenly turning away from the group. He regarded them suspiciously, stalking towards Kensi. “You making some kind of plan?”

Deeks saw a glint of something cruel and dark in his eyes.

“Actually, I was just talking to my Lady Bird. You know how it is,” Deeks interceded quickly, needing to divert his attention from Kensi. He tilted his head consideringly. “Or maybe not. I bet you wouldn’t be here if you could actually get a date.”

“Deeks,” Kensi whispered as Baker’s eyes tightened with anger. He turned around and bent closer, his breath sour. Deeks resisted the urge to react despite his disgust.

“What the hell did you say to me?”

“I mean, not every one can be this handsome. But I’m sure we could—”

Baker’s foot connected with ribs before he could finish, the steel toe of his boot pushing all the air from Deeks’ lungs. He felt Kensi stiffen against his back, bound hands twitching rapidly, yet she stayed silent.

Drawing his foot back again, Baker struck again. His was aim off-center, but hard hard enough to leave bruises. He stepped back, lips drawn back in an ugly snarl and jabbed his finger at them.

“You keep your smart ass mouth to yourself or I’ll gag you,” he threatened. Turning, he headed for the door, growling that he needed a smoke.

“Deeks, are you alright?” Kensi asked once he was out of sight, her voice tight with concern.

“Yeah. I’m good.” Or he would be with some ibuprofen and an ice pack.

“You shouldn’t have provoked him like that.”

“He was coming for you,” he replied, refusing to be sorry for what he’d done. “It was either me or you and you know I’ll always choose me. Besides, now he’s completely distracted.”

“Baby…” He could easily imagine Kensi shaking her head in dismay. “Don’t you ever do anything like that again,” she finished, letting out a soft sigh as she leant her head against his.

“Yeah, probably can’t make that promise,” he told her, eyeing the armed men again.

[sunnyoldbear]

Luca Headcanons Part 3!

I can’t fucking stop please someone help me

Luca:

All seamonsters have a lot of fish qualities and different sea monsters take on different fish qualities, even within a family.

While Luca isn’t as equipped to handle the deep as his uncle is, his father does have some traits that would help him out. Luca doesn’t know this, but he can survive deeper pressure than most others can. Like, significantly deeper, but not to the point of the Deep. He’s have to get accustomed to it and he might not have even survived.

His species can also echolocate! He also doesn’t know he can do this even though it’s from his mom’s side. He just thinks he clicks and squeaks when he’s happy, he doesn’t know he can also echolocate. Since, again, he hasn’t been to the Deep, the ability is very diluted and he can’t locate things very far but… he can, if he tries hard enough. He won’t, though, cause he just thinks his clicks and squeaks are just that.

He loses his shit when he finds out about dinosaurs. He loves them.

If you even mention a museum he will practically beg to go and he will be in there from opening to closing and still come back for more. He takes in every bit of information he possibly can

He doesn’t flip people off, he just sticks his tongue out

Cloud watches! He thinks it’s cute :)

Is cold blooded. They found this out when he passed out in the middle of class one day during the winter. Winter months are very hard for him at school because of it, so he treasures the break and stays under a bunch of warm blankets.

Talks with his hands a lot

One day when he was swimming to the surface after seeing his family, a fisherman who wasn’t too approving of sea monsters tossed their harpoon at him. It grazed his arm and it hurt like hell, but he still tried to hide it. Of course, since he was clutching his arm and there was blood between his fingers, the Marcovaldos panicked and healed him tot he best of their ability, but Luca simply smiled, turned to Alberto, and said “look, we match now!” (If you see Alberto standing beside Luca so that their scarred arms touch since they’re on opposite arms, no you didn’t)

He finds out about bubble wands and thinks they’re the coolest thing!

Avoids every kid named “Bruno” at school like the plague because he doesn’t want them to think he hates them

Whenever something cool happens he instinctively turns to tell Alberto and his face drops when he doesn’t see him

Definitely the kid to accidentally say “mom” (and)or “I love you” to a teacher and then stare in horror

Grabs Alberto’s arm, wrist, or hand when they’re doing something together if he’s not grabbed first just so they don’t lose each other. It’s just instinct.

Once sobbed for an hour because he saw a dead frog in a pool

Falls asleep if his hair is played with

Still gets made fun of for smelling like fish but due to being a fish he can’t really bathe so Giulia and her mom just spray him with perfume. It makes him feel better.

Forgives Guido and Ciccio with no hesitation, will never forgive Ercole. In fact, he’s terrified of Ercole.

Technically canon, but he is the biggest mama’s boy. She learns from her mistakes and fixes her relationship with him and he becomes super close to her

Only lets those close to him call him “Bubble” like his grandma does

Loses his mind when he sees fireflies

He keeps his hair pretty short

Refuses to eat fish

Is more of a prey fish

That being said, he develops a few survival markings, such as a spot on one of his fins to look like eyes

For some reason I feel like he’d be like clownfish and be able to swim through anemone without getting zapped

Was never good at making friends. The Branzino kid often tried to befriend him but he was too scared of disappointing his parents since Daniela and Mrs. Branzino don’t get along

Wears a seashell anklet

His grandma taught him to read secretly when he was little

Never stops talking. Never.

In class, he’s always the kid raising his hand, even if he doesn’t know the answers, just because of his eagerness

Calls Alberto all the time, more than he calls his family

Carries Alberto’s drawing with him everywhere. Used to be in his pockets and then transferred to his wallet.

Is definitely more of a writer than an artist! With his vivid imagination he can write for days, and Alberto is more than happy to draw them out for him

Lets his hair grow out a bit towards the end of his final school year. The stress of school means he doesn’t quite care for his appearance

Can’t sit still. When he’s at school he’s always fiddling with something but when he’s in Portorosso he just grabs Alberto’s hand and plays with his fingers

Definitely a teacher’s pet

Gets bullied a lot. You can’t expect the world to just be okay with sea monsters overnight. A lot of the world will never accept him. There are kids that make his life a living hell at school.

As much as he loves school, he aches to be free sometimes

Gets super flustered super fast

Sits at Alberto’s side and talks about anything and everything and Alberto will sketch it

His scales are more like a duck’s water-resistant feathers. Water rolls right off.

Loves taking Nerone for walks

Definitely wears skirts and dresses in secret! He just thinks they’re neat :)

Loves romance movies but will never admit it

Literally bites his tongue to hold back from rambling. Giulia and Alberto constantly have to tell him it’s okay and he can talk all he wants, but he’s bullied so often for talking too much that he still holds back if he catches himself

Alberto:

Similar to a Betta Fish! His kind of sea monster aren’t known for bonding well and tend to fight.

When healthy, his scales are long and gorgeous just like a Betta’s! (Giulia is mesmerized by them)

You know how dolphins get high with puffer fish? It’s not just dolphins.

His teeth are a little sharper than most other sea monsters. Yes, he bares them at Ercole every time they see each other. No, he won’t stop

Definitely the “he ask for no pickles” friend

No one knows what he’s talking about half the time except for Luca, Giulia, and (sometimes) Massimo. They just kinda go with it.

Has his own words for everything. Only Luca and Giulia know what he means.

He’s actually super, duper close to Giulia, but they do fight pretty often. They’re siblings.

Likes to put his hat on Luca

Everyone thinks he’d be a bad flirt/get flustered super easily but the opposite is true! He’s a big flirt! He just knows what to say to make others fluster around him! Even if he’s not into you, if your his age or he’s trying to charm you, he’ll flirt up a storm. Living on your own from such a young age means you need to pick up survival tactics, and charm and streetsmarts were the ones he picked up.

Sometimes he faces small boats he sees just for the fun of it

He also sometimes grabs a rope or a net from Massimo’s boat when they’re fishing and just zooms to land to get them there quicker

Loves playing games with the kids when he’s on lifeguard duty, even if it can get him in trouble with his boss

You better bet he makes fun of those school uniforms. He laughs his ass off. He thinks they’re the funniest things.

If he sees or hears even a hint of danger, he is shoving his loved ones behind him and will protect them with his life.

Prefers to be barefoot

Heals surprisingly fast. Something about them fish genes.

When he’s fifteen he jokingly tells Luca he should become a teacher and then Luca’s eyes get all big and excited and Alberto regrets opening his mouth. But he still supports him every step of the way.

Whenever he hears Luca click or chirp, he calls out for him if he’s a distance away or grabs his hand since he recognizes it as echolocation before Luca does

More of a predator fish

Keeps his hair long and growing

I think he’d probably grow a mustache. Giulia hates it so much which is why he keeps it. Okay, he kept it to annoy her, but then he actually started to like it. But when Luca said he liked it, that solidified it

He’s so strong it’s kinda scary. Definitely stronger than the average fisherman, but was stronger even beforehand.

Sometimes just eats fish live and terrifies those around him

He’s super fast! Since he’s based on a tuna or swordfish, he’s pretty quick

Unlike Luca, he’s warm blooded. So when he heard Luca has to keep really warm during winters, he offers most of his clothes

His father abandoning him may seem cruel, but for his kind of sea monsters, it was what had to happen. Still, Alberto is a child and it shouldn’t happen.

Mainly a night eater

Can see further than most of his fishy friends

Good night vision too!

Was taught to read and write as a kid by his father but it’s not perfect so he asks Massimo to do it

Loves playing cards

Fins are sharper than average

Squishes Luca’s cheeks

Sword fights with Giulia except they’re sticks

Whenever Luca falls asleep on him (often), he just stays still and refuses to move

Scoops Luca up sometimes

Grabs Luca’s face and blows raspberries instead of kissing it. (Can be interpreted as platonic or romantic!! Italians kiss on cheeks as greetings)

Protectively wraps his tail around those he loves

Water clings to him a bit more since his built-for-speed scales are less water repellent

Every year he gets scared Luca won’t return

Paints the Hideout to look like Luca’s dream fish-stars after he’s told about it. The ceiling, anyway. Don’t ask how he did it, no one knows.

Changes his last name to Marcovaldo

Thinks pet fish and aquariums are hilarious and will poke fun at the fish (“haha, losers! No freedom!” “Alberto!” “What?!”)

LOVES DINOSAURS

He and Luca share a bed when Luca comes over!

The Vespa poster hangs in his room on his door

Calls Luca’s nightlights “light fish” as a nod to stars

Has Giulia and Luca’s names tattooed onto him because they’re his best friends

Tried to take Caligola and Machiavelli on walks… yeah that goes as well as you think

Giulia:

Is a fast reader

Isn’t a massive poetry fan but does have a few favorites

Also keeps a few drawings from Alberto in her folders

Also scoops Luca up randomly

Can and will bite you

Wears dresses as much as she does shorts

Ties her hair up when serious

Rubs her nose against her family’s as a sign of love. It’s just something she did as a kid, so sometimes she’ll just rub her nose against Alberto’s and he gets really confused

Is low key a little jealous of her brother and best friend being sea monsters

Is a bit of a builder! She makes a bridge from her room to the treehouse

Rarely starts fights with Alberto, but she’ll sure finish them

Half regrets teaching Alberto to swear

Though she seems pretty calm, she’s gotten into her fair share of fights at school. Mainly punches kids who bully her and/or Luca. Also sexists.

Although this is 1950/60s Italy, I imagine she’d be very accepting of homosexuality and not hide it, even if rumors of her being one start spreading and she gets hurt. She has a strong sense of justice and she doesn’t care about consequences.

She’s the only person allowed to make fun of Alberto. No one else is. She’ll quite literally attack anyone who dares.

Her parents were surprised she didn’t take after them in fishing or painting

Honestly I can see her mentoring the kids for the race every summer! Once she hits 18 and is no longer able to compete, she holds practice sessions and loves seeing the kids have fun

She definitely runs the race when she’s older. She moves to Portorosso since her marine biology career is helped by her sea monster brother and the town’s closeness to water

Teaches the boys to make sandcastles

Holds such strong resentment for Alberto’s father and Daniela. Lorenzo and Luca’s grandmother she’s fine with, but Alberto’s biological father abandoning him pisses her off more than she can put into words, and Daniela manipulating her son and sending him away makes her want to break something.

Her “santa (cheese)!” comments slowly change into “Santa (fish)!” exclamations. Like, “Santa Goby!” for example. 

Is more close to Alberto than he wants to let people know. She can read him like a book. He’s honestly her best friend. She tells him everything, they go to each other after nightmares, they share everything, all the fun cute stuff that Alberto would rather die than admit.

Still has no idea what “Silenzio Bruno” and “Piacere, girolamo trombetta” mean and at this point she’s too afraid to ask

Though she loves the Portorosso kids, she’d rather die than be a mother. Her parents understand, but secretly hope she changes her mind so they can spoil a grandbaby. 

Begs Massimo to coverup his sea monster tattoo, which he does

Also a “he ask no pickles” friend!

Is super patient with Luca and Alberto’s adaption to the human world (though she doesn’t like it when Alberto shoves his feet on her-which he loves to do because it pisses her off)

Secretly saves money up for the boys to get a Vespa

While she isn’t the best cook, her pasta meals are pretty damn good! 

Has the trophy from the Cup in her room next to a picture of the three of them on the Vespa

[trashyswitch]

Day 2: The Anticipation

Roman and Remus are having a tickle fight. Janus joins, and Roman gets completely ruined.

Tickletober #2 baby! Let's keep it going!

Remus was tickling Roman on the couch, going at his little weak points to prove a specific point:

“You have a weakness!” Remus told him. “And any bad guy and dragonwitch can see it from a mile away~”

“DOHOHOHO NAHAHAHAT!” Roman yelled back.

“Ooooh reeeally?” Remus reacted, seeing right through his bullshit.

Remus grabbed onto Roman’s hips and….waited.

Roman giggled and looked down, looking to see what he was doing.

“Iiii’m gonna getcha!” Remus teased.

“No you won’t!” Roman spat. “BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Roman immediately bursted out laughing and kicked his feet all over the place.

“Yes I will! And I will tickle you till you pee!” Remus told him.

Remus grabbed onto Roman’s hips, and PUSHED in. This made Roman’s laughter raise and raise in volume and pitch!

“STAHAHAHAHAP IHIHIHIT’S SOHOHOHOOOO BAHAHAHAHAD!” Roman begged.

Remus then stopped the tickles and lifted Roman’s arm up. “Iiiii’m gonna getcha! Iiiiii’m gonna getcha!” Remus teased.

“Nohohoho!” Roman begged.

“All you gotta tell me is that yooouuuu…” Remus’s fingers got closer and closer. “...have a weakness.”

Roman shook his head. “Nohoho wahahahay!”

Remus sighed and brought his fingers inches closer to the armpits. “When will you ever learn?”

Remus finally skittered his fingers into Roman’s armpit. But the tickles only lasted a few seconds before stopping and moving his fingers back to inches from Roman’s armpit. They were still wiggling. “How about now? Ready to tell me now?” Remus asked.

Roman shook his head, and another bout of laughter filled the room for a few seconds before the laughter turned into giggles of anticipation.

“Neheheheveheheher!” Roman ordered.

Another fit of laughter filled the room as Remus tickled Roman’s armpit yet again.

“We can keep this up aaaallll day if you want to. Is that what you really want?” Remus warned.

“YOHOHOU ARE SOHOHO GOHOHONNA GEHEHEHET IHIHIT!” Roman shouted to him.

“Ooooh! I should be the one saying those words! You are so gonna get all the tickles coming your way!” Remus teased, tickling the armpit hairs to tease him further.

Roman whined and tried to hide his face in his raised arm. But the moment Remus noticed that, he tickled his armpit. Roman’s strong laughter filled the room yet again.

“Now: Do you have a weakness?” Remus asked before stopping.

“NOHohohoho!” Roman replied.

“Looks like this is gonna last a while then!” Remus started tickling him again, making Roman’s laughter fill the room for the millionth time that hour.

“STAHAHAHAHAP!”

“I’ll only stop if you tell me you have a weakness. You have to beat your ego in order to stop the torture!” Remus teased.

Janus showed up beside Remus and smiled with an apple in his hand. “Not bad Remus...not bad.”

“Thank you Jay!” Remus replied.

“Now: How about I hold the arms up while you tickle both?” Janus offered.

AW HELL NAW!

“NOHOHOHO DON’TYOUFUCKING DAHAHAHAHAHARE!” Roman shouted.

Remus stopped tickling and nodded. “Okay!”

Janus took his place above Roman and lifted up both of Roman’s arms. He held them down for Remus, while Remus summoned two electric toothbrushes and brought them closer to Roman’s armpits. But they weren’t quite touching...only inches away…

Roman shrieked like a 2 year old and shook his head and body around. “DON’T YOU FUHUCKING DAHAHAHARE!”

“Ohohoho, I dare! I dare dare dare to get closer! So that all you’re feeling is the vibrations of the brushes reeeaaaally close to your armpits~” Remus teased.

Remus really did just that: He brought the toothbrushes so close to his armpits that the armpit hairs were being tickled with the bristles. Roman squeaked and squealed, able to feel the tickles a little bit on his armpits.

“Iiiii’m gonna get closer~” Remus teased a little more, just to further drive him up the wall.

Roman was a big mess of giggles. He couldn’t stop himself from doing anything! “Stahahahahahahap thihihihis ihihihihis sohohohoho mehehehehehean!”

“Ohoho, I know, dear brother.” Remus teased. “But I’m just getting started! Just wait till I bring in the brushes! And the feathers! And the raspberries!”

Roman squealed. NO RASPBERRIES! ANYTHING BUT THE RASPBERRIES!

Remus leaned into Roman’s ab muscles and blew a raspberry.

“HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHAHAHAP!” Roman begged.

“Okay!” Remus leaned in and…

Didn’t blow a raspberry.

Roman looked down at his belly and quickly squeezed his eyes shut. He wasn’t able to look!

Remus smirked and breathed in. Roman gasped and giggled, smiling brightly. But Remus didn’t raspberry. He pressed his lips to Roman’s abs and STILL didn’t raspberry! He even blew some air onto Roman’s abs and refused to raspberry yet.

Roman was dying of anticipation at this point. When the heck was he gonna-

“PBBBBBFFFFBBBFBBFBBFBFBF!”

“YEAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Roman pretty much DIED in that moment of laughter. It was like the world finally hit its peak of ultimate tickles! And Roman was experiencing ALL of it!

“Tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle! Kitchy kitchy kitchy kitchy kitchy kitchy koo!” Remus teased nonstop.

“NAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! EHEHEHEVIHIHIHIL!”

Remus leaned in for another raspberry and waited. “Yes...that’s exactly what I’m supposed to be! Always evil! Always the bad one!”

Roman cackled loudly as Remus tickled his super sensitive ab muscles. Then, Remus started showing off his finger. “Hmmm...What’s the phone number again?”

Roman squealed and covered his face while Remus was stroking his mustache. “I think it was 185-” Remus poked the ab muscles in the right spot, and tickled him in the process. “4...9...5? No 3!” Remus reacted. “Damn...I gotta start all over again!” Remus restarted typing the numbers into the abdomen telephone grid.

“185, 495- Damn! It’s 493!” Remus reacted, ‘typing’ it wrong. “I have to start all over again!”

“REHEHEHEHEHE!” Roman was laughing and jumping at each and every poke. “STAHAHAHAHAP IHIHIHIHIT!”

“The safe word is tickle!” Remus told him.

TICKLE?! OF ALL THE WORDS TO MAKE THE SAFE WORD- His ego was not gonna survive this! No way his ego would survive anything like this!

Remus smiled and clicked the numbers on the abdomen keyboard. “185-493-1692.” Remus ‘picked up’ the phone. “Hellooooo?” Remus said eagerly. Remus poked his finger into Roman’s belly button and kept it there. “Uh huh~…”

Roman tried to move as little as possible as to not tickle himself with his own movements.

“No, I’m afraid Roman is NOT here at the moment. Want me to take a message?” Remus teased.

‘Um, EXCUSE ME?! YES I’M HERE!’ Roman thought out loud. Roman was about to speak up, but was stopped by Janus’s hand over his mouth. “He’s on the phone…” Janus mouthed to him.

Remus smiled and started wiggling his finger that was stuck inside the belly button. Roman widened his eyes and wiggled around a bit, desperate to get his belly button away from the finger. But Remus’s finger kept following the belly.

Roman giggled a little more under Janus’s gloved hand, and shook his head to try and get his hand off. BUt that was a big fat no go.

Remus smiled at this and grabbed a brush. “Now let’s put some makeup onto this belly of yours.” Remus decided.

Remus summoned some paint with his hands and squirted blobs of multicolored paints pretty much everywhere he could reach. Then, Remus readied his big fat wall brush, and started painting and blending all the paint together on his belly.

Roman squealed and giggled at how cold it was at first, and cackled the moment he felt the brush reach the sides of his belly. The sides of his belly was SUPER PLUS ULTRA SENSITIVE (yes, I really brought MHA into this), and couldn’t handle even the lightest touch most of the time. But now there were MILLIONS OF LITTLE BRISTLES tickling all over Roman’s poor belly.

Janus was totally not enjoying this...not one bit...No...He wasn’t enjoying this...He swears…

It would be at this moment that Logan would usually yell “FALSEHOOD” on the top of his lungs.

But Logan was kinda too busy to yell that at the moment.

Janus watched as Remus started booping his belly with yellow on the brush. He was trying to make stars on Roman’s belly. Every single few seconds of Remus thinking of where he wanted a star to be...was painful for Roman. Cause every little break was a different amount of seconds! It was too unpredictable to properly predict anything! And it drove Roman BONKERS.

“There! Now the moon!” Remus grabbed the white paint, and dabbed it on...to the belly button.

Then, he started drawing circles on the spot to spread the paint out a little more so it dried better. Roman cackled and wiggled around as the bruh tickled his belly button, making the moon look jagged and wobbly. “You’re ruining my moon!” Remus told him.

Roman giggled at this. “Yohohohohou’re ehehehevil!” Roman shot back.

“You told me that already!” Remus mentioned. “Now, if you really want this to stop, you’re gonna have to say the magic word~”

Roman growled through his laughter. “Tehehehehehe- tihihihihi- IHIHI CAHAHAHAN’T!” Roman whined.

“Yes you can! It’s just a word! It won’t kill ya!” Remus reminded him.

Roman struggled to say the word for another 10 minutes before finally getting farther in.

“Tihihick-tihihihihickle! Tihihihihicklehehehe! NOHOHOHOW STAHAHAHAHAP!”

Remus giggled. “Sorry bro! I need to hear it without laughing!” Remus told him as he lessened the tickles significantly.

“Whahahahahat?!” Roman reacted. “Buhuhuhuhut-”

“No butts~! Say the word, uninterrupted. Then, I’ll stop.” Remus told him.

“Fihihihihine!” Roman looked around and made sure only Janus and Remus were listening. When he was sure it was just the three of them there, Roman tried. “Tihihi- Tihickle! Tickle! I sahihaid ihihihit!” Roman told him.

“Ooooh! Not bad Ro-ro!” Remus stopped tickling just as he promised, and rubbed away the phantom tickles that were probably there. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Hahard on the ego, though…” Roman muttered, the butterflies in his stomach getting worse and worse.

Remus smiled and poked his belly one more time. “I gotta say: I like this painting! It’s a masterpiece!” Remus reacted.

Roman looked down and widened his eyes. There was a galaxy of many different colors on his belly! Blues, purples, and blacks with stars and a moon on his belly! It was gorgeous! “Wow!”

“I know, right?!” Remus reacted.

“I’m gonna keep this on my belly for the rest of the day.” Roman decided. “I have a galaxy tummy!” Roman declared.

“Galaxy tummy!” Remus declared as well.

Roman counted the stars, and even noticed that the big dipper was on his belly. He loved the painting and decided that maybe...just maybe...he did have a small weakness. But, it was a good weakness. Tickling isn’t really so bad of a weakness.

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

Bogotá Kiss

Prologue: There Was a Boy

Summary/Author’s Note: Javier Peña had finally gotten his life together. He was a newlywed, back in the states with his bride, and starting his new life free of Escobar and the world of the cartels. That is until he found his wife in bed with another man. On a path of self destruction, he goes back to Bogota, reclaims his job with the DEA, his partner Steve Murphy, and throws himself into his work, cheap whiskey, and the company of his...informants. 

You are a singer in the hottest burlesque club in Columbia. Pulling yourself out of poverty and into a world where men throw money at your feet, buy you diamonds, and pay untold amounts for your services. You don’t mind that the club’s biggest source of income is smuggling diamonds from the necks, wrists, and ears of its prostitutes and into the pockets of their buyers, until a handsome DEA agent gets too close and figures out the scheme. 

**IMPORTANT: For those familiar with Moulin Rouge--The reader will NOT die at the end. Fuck that. Let Javi be happy god dammit. 

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (Moulin Rouge/French Kiss AU) Word Count: 1.6k (its just a prologue, the next chapter will be better) Warnings (for entire fic): NC-17/18+ - Language, sex, prostitution, mentions/implied R*pe (nothing will ever be described in detail or used as a plot device), typical canon violence for NARCOS, shooting, attempted murder, drug use, blackmail, hurt/comfort, lies and betrayal, happy ending

[MASTERLIST]

"It's not what it looks like."

People didn't actually say that line, did they? And worse yet, no one actually would possibly believe it. Right? The words fell from her lips and suddenly Javier Peña felt like he was watching a movie about someone else's life. A cliché of a film in which the idiot of a husband walked in on his wife bouncing on the dick of another man. He was that idiot, and as she scrambled off the lap of the stranger and called his name, he slammed the door behind him, not bothering to wait for an explanation. Queue the laugh track or cut to the scene of him walking in the rain to somber music. 

Only this wasn't a movie. There would be no comedic relief, just a lot of heartache, wasted time and money. He had always had a bad habit of falling for the wrong girl. He would see himself mirrored in the eyes of the broken, the depressed, the ones who, much like him, just seemed unable to catch a break in life. But instead of getting a kindred spirit to share his world with, he usually just got a lot of baggage and a quick lay.  

He packed a bag, not giving a shit about any of his worldly possessions, and found himself at the Dallas airport, sitting at the bar and waiting for his gate number to be called. 

He raised two fingers, letting the bartender know he wanted a fucking double, as he held his cellphone to his ear and listened to it ring. The boxy phone didn't fit comfortably against his shoulder and he dropped it just as the other end picked up and Steve's voice came through.

"Murphy."

"Fuck. Shit." Javier fumbled the phone and held it back against his face.

"Javi?"

"Yeah, it's me." Javier sighed as he picked up his whiskey and tossed it back with a mild wince. "I'm on my way back."

"I heard." Steve paused. "Carolyn called. I told her I didn't know where you were."

"Thanks, 'appreciate it."

"I talked to Noonan. She said your job's still open. You can have it and the keys to your apartment." 

They both paused for an extended period of time. Javier ordered another shot of whiskey and Steve breathed quietly on the other end of the phone. Neither one of them had to say out loud what they both already knew. Javier had fallen for the wrong girl, again. His heart was broken and he wanted to drown out the ache he was feeling in cheap booze, a carton of Marlboro, and expensive pussy. 

"I'll pick you up from the airport. Safe trip, Jav."

"Thanks, Murph."

Javier pressed the button on the phone and rubbed his forehead with a heavy sigh. It was all smooth sailing from here. He was on his way back to normalcy, back to doing what he did best, hunting Narcos and not having any emotional ties to anything that mattered. 

--

The car ride from the airport had been quiet for the most part but Javier could tell that Steve was just dying to ask. So, when they parked in front of the apartment and neither one of them moved, he dug his smokes out of his jacket pocket and rolled down the window. He flicked his silver lighter to life and inhaled deeply as Steve shut off the engine. 

"Go ahead. Ask."

Steve sighed and looked at his friend. "What happened, man?"

"I let it go too far, like an idiot. And she couldn't even wait until the honeymoon was over before she tripped and landed on some other man's dick." He inhaled deeply and ran his thumb along his mustache. 

"Shit. I'm sorry--"

"Don't," Javier cut him off and shook his head. "Okay? Don't."

"You file for divorce?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Lawyer is drawing everything up now so we can sign it." 

"I know you don't want to hear it, but I'm sorry, Javi. You seemed happy." Steve looked at him and Javier flicked his cigarette out of the window. 

"Yeah, I know." He took another long drag of his cigarette before tossing the butt out onto the sidewalk. “Tell Connie I said ‘hi’, okay?” 

With a mumbled thanks for the ride and a couple of quick 'see you tomorrows', he opened the car door and grabbed his suitcase out of the back seat and walked up the stairs and into the apartment building. He went through the motions of coming back to this place that he knew quite well, as he went downstairs and stuck his keys in the door without needing to turn on a light. 

He tossed his keys on the side table and kicked the door shut gently as he dropped his shoulder bag and looked around. The only furniture that the place had was the old embassy supplied leather couch, scuffed up coffee table, and bar stools against the kitchen counter. Fuck. That settled what he would be doing tomorrow, getting all his furniture out of storage and having the embassy replace what he didn’t have. 

Before tossing his leather jacket on the back of the couch, he got out another cigarette and let it bob between his lips as he mumbled to himself. He inhaled deeply and tossed his lighter next to his keys before making his way to the kitchen. When he opened the fridge, he didn’t know if he wanted to run upstairs and kiss her, or if he wanted to clutch his chest and cry. 

The entire appliance was completely bare and wiped out, the light making the white shelves look entirely too bright, but sitting in the middle of the top shelf was a covered casserole of some kind and a bottle of whiskey. A note was taped to the tin foil that read: 

“Bake at 350 for 30 minutes. Please eat something while you drink this. -- love, Connie.”

At least Steve knew how to pick a woman, because that’s exactly what Connie was, one hell of a woman. Javier grabbed the bottle of liquor and mentally promised Connie that he would eat later. He wasn’t hungry. He really hadn’t been hungry for the last few days, and as he looked at the whiskey and cracked the seal on the lid, he didn’t mourn that the kitchen didn’t have any glasses. He was well beyond the need for a glass. 

He took the bottle to the couch, kicked off his boots and plopped down heavily. The whiskey was a familiar burn down his throat and he felt it all the way to his belly. Warm, inviting, and just what he needed. Another drink was followed by a long drag of his cigarette before he kick backed and muttered, “Home, sweet, home,” to a cold, empty house.

--

The banging on the door permeated his skull in a way that he didn’t think was possible. But then again it had been a long time since he had been this hungover. He rolled over on the leather couch and shoved his face into the cushions and prayed that whoever wanted him would just go away. There was no one on this green earth that he wanted to speak to.

He must have fallen back asleep briefly because the next thing he knew, his partner had let himself into his apartment with his spare key and was nudging his leg that was hanging off the side of the couch. 

“Javi,” Steve said as he plucked the empty liquor bottle from under his friend’s arm. “Javi!” 

“Is too early,” Javier mumbled into the leather of the sofa.

“It’s 4 in the afternoon.” Steve said, setting the bottle on the coffee table. “I told Noonan you were taking the weekend to unpack--” Steve looked around the apartment and then back to the horizontal man. “Looks like you’re done.”

“Fuck you.”

Steve shook his head and put his hands on his hips. “Come on. You need a shower. I’d offer to buy you a drink but you smell like you’ve got that taken care of. So, how about a lap dance? There’s this new place on the other side of town--got your name written all over it.”

“Go away.”

Steve, rubbed his hand down his face and glared at the shell of the man that he had gotten to know over the last couple of years. The day Javier Peña turned down a lap dance, it would have been a cold day in hell and yet the evidence was right there in front of him. Someone needed to tell the devil to go check his thermostat.

“Mmkay.” Steve said sharply and took the empty bottle over to the sink and filled it about half way with tap water. When he dumped it on top of Javier’s head, the way the dark-haired man sputtered and sat straight up brought him more joy than it probably should have. “Good morning!”

“F-fucking hillbilly,” Javier cursed as he pulled the hem of his shirt up to wipe his face.

“Get your ass in the shower and I won’t tell Con that you didn’t eat her food she left you.” When his friend paused long enough to lower his shirt and glare at him, Steve continued. “I’m not fuckin’ around, Javi.”

The two men stood at odds of one another, but the blond refused to relent. Javier shoved his now soaking wet hair back from where it was plastered to his face and nodded. He stood with a groan and gave Steve his middle finger as he trudged to the bathroom at the end of the hall.

“Missed you, too, bud!” Steve cupped his hands around his mouth in a mock yell after the other man’s retreating form. It was going to be a long road to getting his partner back to his usual self, but the natural place to start was with some no-strings-attached pussy.

--

PERM TAG LIST:

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[oneletteredwondered]

Insulted

Sum: Virgil works at a coffee shop and Remus is annoying. Annoyingly pretty.

Pair: Virgil/Remus, Dukexiety

Written for @dukexietyweek! Day 4: Coffee (Shop)

Warnings: Lots of swearing, mentions of the word pedophile in reference to Remus’ mustache, insulting remarks towards customers, some awkwardy mild panic feels, mostly stupid interactions.

--

Roasted is a fairly popular coffee shop. If only for the tourist attraction aspect of it that the employees are allowed to be as mean as they want to you and insult you with every order. They’re snarky and rude, and unless they actually get your order wrong, which they don’t, they don’t apologize for shit. They’re delighted when new-comers enter the shop unaware of the rules.

And whatever deity believed in above help the poor soul who asks for the manager because they are worse than the employees with a wicked wit and sharper tongue. 

The rest of the employees would be scared of the manager because of this, but they have seen the man have a panic attack over potentially not having enough straws for the day even after three separate employees offered to go to the store and buy some. They’ve also seen the manager cry because they saw a video of a spider that was too cute for words which renders him pretty unintimidating. Besides, the manager has always been on their side of an argument anyway.

It’s a slow day and Virgil knows Missy hasn’t been sleeping right, or eating right, or feeling like she’s been doing anything right. So he packs her a muffin and a hot chocolate, and tells her to fuck off on home for the day. She doesn’t say thank you but the relief is clear in her shoulders so he knows it was the right thing to do. Besides it’s dead right now and he can handle a few customers for the time being until another employee shows up.

He serves a few people, some very eager to be insulted, some coming in with gaudy outfits for the sole purpose of being insulted, he has fun with those.

“What do you want?” He asks the next person in line, not even looking up from the register.

“I’ll have a large cup of whatever you are.” The person says and Virgil narrows his eyes and looks up. He stares at the stranger for all of three seconds.

“You have a pedo mustache.” Is what he says. The stranger breaks into a wide grin.

“Why thank you!” They sound far too delighted by that. Virgil continues to glare at them while writing the word ‘pedo stache’ on a large cup.

“What do you want?” He asks again more forcefully. The stranger hums in thought and Virgil would snap at them for taking too long but they are the only one in line right now.

“Hello?? Hurry up?” Screw it. He snaps his fingers in their face. Stranger man gives him a wicked smile and Virgil hates the little lurch in his chest because holy fuck and wait stranger is actually kind of pretty. Even with a fucking thin line mustache. Their eyes are bright green and streaks of white are layered in their hair. And Virgil always was a sucker for people with piercings and this dude sure has some to spare.

“Well if you’re not on the menu, I’ll have the raspberry lime tea. Hot as you please,” They say. Virgil writes cold on the cup.

“Anything else you fucking weirdo?” Virgil asks cause seriously it is kind of rude to be flirting with employees while they’re working but in the worst way Virgil kind of likes it cause it means he can say shit like that.

“Oh shit uhm, fuck.” Stranger man says and Virgil glares at them. Both for not being ready and also he kind of likes the way they say fuck which is not what he was expecting to deal with today.

“Jesus Christ dude were you not ready to order like why are you wasting my time?” Virgil demands. A few patrons of the place snicker into their cups and stranger just smirks at him.

“Sorry I don’t have a brain to mouth filter and it gets worse when I see a pretty person,” They wink and Virgil glares harder to will away the attempt at a blush on his cheeks.

“What else do you waaaaant.” He whines at them. Stranger laughs and pulls out a piece of paper. Virgil can already see the long list of items on it and groans.

“Relax it’s all one order,” Stranger says and Virgil scoffs.

“That’s so much worse!” He says. Stranger laughs hard at that.

“Well it’s not mine, princess back at the office is a picky bitch.” Stranger says with comically wide eyes and Virgil hates himself for it but he snorts. He schools his face back to neutrally angry and refuses to give the stranger the satisfaction of seeing him smile just yet.

So stranger man rattles off a long winded order that Virgil groans at with every new direction. He can easily make the drink of course that won’t be hard but he can complain about it so he will. He writes ‘princess’ on this cup.

Stranger man pays and Virgil sets about making the drinks very aware of the other watching him from the waiting counter.

“You just gunna keep staring at me like a stalker or what?” Virgil snips at them, pausing for dramatic effect. Mustache dude grins at him and leans on the counter with his head in his hands.

“I like the view,” He says. Virgil makes a retching sound and keeps making the drinks in question. He does his damn best with them and hands them off.

“Get the fuck out of my establishment,” He says and turns away. Stranger laughs and takes his drinks.

“Thanks for the buzz baby!” He calls out as he exits. Virgil flips him off.

As soon as the dude is out of sight, Virgil collapses on the counter in a heap of nerves and embarrassment. The only reason he was able to keep his cool was because he could hide it behind a massive amount of snark and spite. But stranger man was super pretty and wild and Virgil almost wishes he did something about it.

“You okay?” Parker asks when they show up for their shift.

“Do I fucking look okay?” Virgil asks them desperately. Parker just laughs and that’s good enough of answer for him.

--

“Hello gorgeous!” Virgil snaps his head up from the counter he’s cleaning.

“Oh hell no,” He says and walks away from the front to the back office, leaving his employees to handle Mr Mustache in his stead. He can’t handle it right now. Not when they’re wearing a fucking leather jacket and wild smile. He just can’t do it. So he hides in the back for as long as he can. Which ends up being about a whole ten minutes.

“Uh boss man?” Virgil groans cause that’s him. He’s boss man. Fuck. He drags his hands down his face and looks over at Todd. Todd shifts from foot to foot.

“There’s uhm. I just. Can you-” They don’t have to finish. Mom friend override has been activated and Virgil is heading to the front no questions asked. It’s not a rush right now thank goodness, but they lady at the counter is giving her all in 'entitled customer'.

“This is an outrage, I want to speak to the manager.”

“The fuck you want bitch?” Virgil says without thinking. The lady gapes at him openly.

“This is the worst shop I have ever been in.” She says as if that’s supposed to hurt. Virgil shrugs at her.

“You’re the worst customer that’s ever been in, did you want coffee or not?” He asks her and she gapes again and walks out. 

“Put another ten in the draw for walk outs.” Virgil tells Todd who beams and takes the money from the register to put in a jar near the back. Once it’s full they have a party of some kind.

“That was beautiful,” A voice says and Virgil whips around and comes face to face with Stranger Man over the counter. They’re smiling at him crookedly and Virgil's mouth drops because he was not prepared to see them here still or this close to him or so damn pretty.

“Fuck you,” Is his reflex response.

“When and where darling?” Stranger angles over the counter to leer at him and Virgil squeaks. Full on, flat out, squeaks in embarrassment. The entire room seems to pause and watch. Virgil is frozen in shock and stranger looks like he just saw light for the first time which is absolutely unfair.

Virgil dips, and dips hard. He spins on his heel to lock himself in the office. He makes it there only to realize he can’t handle being in such a small space with his anxiety overriding him. He snatches his jacket off the back wall and catches Todd’s eye before he slips out the back door and into open air. 

Once outside he leans against the wall, puts his head in his hands, and lets out a very pitiful whine as he sinks to the ground. That has to be one of the softest things he’s ever done in regards to a customer in his life and it will haunt him for years to come he knows it.

He spends a few minutes running through his breathing exercises which goes directly to shit when he hears footsteps approaching.

“I’m fine Todd go back to work,” He snaps.

“The name’s Remus actually.” Virgil jolts and looks at the stranger standing over him. Stranger, or well, Remus, gives him a small sheepish smile and pulls at a random strand of his hair. Virgil sinks lower in on himself.

“You’re a lot different in and out of shop.” Remus says after a sufficiently awkward silence. Virgil grumbles and hides his face in his arms. His entire body tenses when he feels Remus slide to sit beside him.

“I am uh. Like, legit sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” Remus mutters. Virgil groans.

“I was not ready to deal with your stupid pretty face today.” He whines. Remus laughs at that.

“You think I’m pretty?” He asks and Virgil realizes his mistake in word choice. He glances up to Remus in panic cause now that he's admitted it, Remus looks even more pretty.

“Well I just- you know it’s- I don’t- Whatever!” Virgil word vomits all over the place. Remus continues to smile at him infuriatingly.

“Even with the pedo stache?” Remus continues to tease. Virgil decides he’s had enough and elbows Remus hard as he can. Remus lurches a little but he’s laughing. They lapse into an easier silence.

“Silver tongue ain’t so shiny out of work is it?” Remus asks him then but not meanly. Virgil snorts and covers his mouth with his hand to hide his smile.

“I have to get passed the awkward first,” He says. Remus hums in thought and snatches Virgil’s hand away from his face. Virgil lets out a dignified noise and snaps his jaw shut so hard it clicks when Remus places a kiss on his palm... then licks him.

“Gross what the fuck!” Virgil yanks his hand back and wipes off the slobber and decidedly not looks at Remus’s blinding grin.

“There! Now it’s not so awkward!” Instead of an answer, Virgil stands up and heads back inside the shop, leaving Remus cackling in the back. Virgil leans up against the door to hear him walk away and finds himself smiling at the interaction.

--

“Welcome to Roasted, or not welcome because we close soon I don’t actually care, what do you want?” Virgil is looking through receipts, making sure the till is all correct for the money they made today.

“I want your number.” Virgil freezes. He blinks dumbly at the papers in his hands and then up to Remus standing casually at the counter. His hands are in his pockets and he looks for the world unbothered but more subdued than Virgil has seen him before.

“Numbers not on the menu,” Virgil says dumbly in attempt to cover his frantic feelings. Remus shrugs and looks around the empty shop.

“Yeah but it’s what I want.” He says it so plainly. Virgil glares at him.

“Order something or get out.” That causes Remus to smirk. He orders a small tea and Virgil makes it silently, adding the receipt to the pile to check on. He pauses before handing the drink over, looking over his shoulder at Remus who is preoccupied with some of the decorative things on the walls. Virgil writes his number on the cup.

“Get your shit and get out,” He says and puts the cup on the counter, going back to his papers and ignoring the way his heart pounds in his chest at what he just did. Remus gives him a sad sort of look and leaves with his drink leaving Virgil wondering if he did the right thing.

Only for his stomach to swoop pleasantly when Remus swoops back into the shop 3 minutes later with a wild smile on his face and refuses to leave until they work out the plans for a dinner date.

--

“Go away.” Virgil greets.

“Never.” Remus smirks back at him.

[tothemeadow]

Serendipity [Chapter 1]

When the kingdom of Ainamoryp falls, a motley crew of unlikely allies must come together to save the country. 

warnings: swearing, mentions of death, mentions of blood

words: 3.8k

(a/n): All characters range from 19-20. Reader insert, reverse harem.

Dinton Keep, Ainamoryp, May 3rd, 492, 00:43

“The king! The king is dead!”

As soon as the declaration is shouted, there’s a growl of pain, then the unceremonious thump as a body hits the ground.

All around, flames lick at the stone walls, set the sky ablaze. The inky hue of the night is abruptly ruined by a brilliant orange, the smell of burning wood and bodies drifting along with the night’s breeze. The clamoring of swords crashing against each other rings throughout the air, seemingly traveling for miles. Horrified screams and blood-thirsty growls make for a gruesome, twisted melody, one that imprints itself on the brain and promises itself its unholy stay.

Heavy pants, cloudy eyes, a desire for murder.

This is what keeps Prince Shouto pressing forward.

Flanked by two guards, the three scramble through the narrow halls – the hidden passageways hidden behind the castle walls. A mere torch is their only source of light, a pitiful flame compared to the hellstorm raging through the city’s streets. Their movements are rushed, silent; there’s no time to be discussing the finer details of the invasion when the only thing playing on their minds it escaping. Gods be damned if more royal blood be spilt on the stone, seeping through and leaving a burgundy scar.

Despite the silence cloaking them, Shouto grits his teeth, the urge to turn back and fight ever present and growing. That’s his kingdom who’s suffering, hundreds of innocent people dying, suffering. And for what? Power? Wealth? If it were up to him, he’d go back and slaughter those intruding the lands, planting their flags and proclaiming their victory.

This isn’t how things were supposed to go.

“Please, my prince, we must keep moving,” the guard in front throws over his shoulder, as if sensing Shouto’s inner turmoil. “We have to get you away immediately.”

Funny how this works, how simple guards think they can control their prince, a member of the royal family. He could easily rip them a new one, put them in their place and insist they stand their ground, but he knows they’re right. There are too many enemies, even by Shouto’s standards. Even if he stayed around and fought, there isn’t a doubt in his mind that he would be slain right there on the spot.

Up ahead, a rickety wooden door comes into view, a heavy bolt holding it shut. The metal creaks as the frontmost guard slides it loose and opens the door. Heavy smoke hangs in the air, slowly spreading towards the surrounding woods and farmlands. Shouto’s heart clenches at the sight, at the putrid odor of death, the sounds of petrified screams. Closing his eyes, he tries to calm his rapidly beating heart, the anger boiling in his blood twinging the outlines of his vision red.

He’s a complete and utter fool for abandoning those who need him most.

Still, he allows the guards to lead him to an awaiting horse, a brilliant beast the color of ivory. Swinging up and onto the saddle with graceful ease, his cloak flutters behind him.

“Go! Now!” the guard with the torch bellows, eyes latching onto a group of enemy soldiers scaling a wall. “Get out of here!”

“You’ll be killed, dammit!” Shouto proclaims, his anger finally boiling over. “I refuse to have anybody else shed their blood!”

“You’re the prince, your highness,” the guard shoots back, both he and the other one drawing their swords. “There’s a watchpoint south of here, hidden away in the woods. Get there, seek for help. The soldiers there will lead you to safety.”

“Bastards, the lot of them,” Shouto hisses, “I can stay and fight.”

“No! You must go!” Before Shouto is given a chance to say anything in return, the guard strikes the horses rear. Letting out a shrill whinny, the horse rears up, landing back down heavily and taking off at a breakneck speed.

Cursing under his breath, Shouto watches over his shoulder as the two guards confront the enemy soldiers. They soon disappear from sight, leaving only the smoldering haze and raging fires encompassing the silhouette of Shouto’s childhood home. As the castle and surrounding city grow smaller and smaller with each impounding trollop of the horse, he can’t tear his eyes away, even long after it disappears from the horizon.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Levalon, Ainamoryp, May 3rd, 492, 10:14

Easy does it now, easy does it… Don’t get too close… And… Gotcha!

Snatching his hand away, Zenitsu quickly stashes the pigskin coin purse underneath his cloak. Heh, suckers, the lot of them. Most of them couldn’t tell the difference between their right hand and a horse’s ass, much less when someone steals their coinage. Briskly turning on his heel, he walks away, whistling casually.

It’s so easy.

On the market streets of the town, a large sea of people roam from stall to stall, buying smoked meats, freshly baked breads, the farmers’ latest pickings. It’s a jolly scene, the constant chatter of patrons and high-pitched yelps of young boys trying to direct potential customers to their father’s stalls. Zenitsu grew up on these streets, raised right alongside other peasant boys with no home or family to call their own. Perhaps it’s a sad story, one meant for lonely nights and listening ears, but it’s Zenitsu’s lineage. It’s what made him into what he is today, a thief with deft fingers and a pair of legs that could challenge a horse in a race.

An easy smile comes to his face. He’s long since grown used to the smell of piss and sweat clinging to the cobbled street, the hollow-eyed children staring long after the people carrying baskets and sacks of food. Everything is so horribly imperfect, but this is home. Hell, although he’s making his living in a dishonest way, it’s enough to keep a roof over his head and food in his tummy. And maybe, if he saves up enough coin, roll around in a bed of hay with a large breasted whore.

Sidestepping the crowd, he makes way towards the local tavern (Ye Olde Wife, can you believe that?), breakfast and busty barmaids on the mind. If possible, the patrons inside the tavern are nearly as loud as the ones outside. Kicking the door shut, Zenitsu heads for his usual spot at the bar, sliding onto the wobbly stool and shucking his hood down. Ale and body odor permeate his nose, the smell foul yet welcoming. Nothing is more greeting than sweaty men and alcohol.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” the owner’s crackly voice says.  A stout old man with wild hair and a bushy mustache, he’s about as rough as they come, but to Zenitsu, he’s probably the closest thing to family that he’s ever had.

“Oh, come on, Gramps,” Zenitsu says, tapping the bar top with his fingertips. “You love seeing me, eh? I bring you plenty of service-“

“You flirt with the girls in here more than you order anything,” Gramps spits. Even so, he starts to step away, already heading to the kitchen to fetch Zenitsu something to eat. “Ungrateful bastard – it’s a wonder you’re not a father yet.”

“Yet!” Zenitsu calls after him. “Don’t jinx me, Gramps!” Easing back, he turns around, resting his elbows on top of the bar. Now that he’s closer to the kitchens, the smell of succulent meat turning on a spit makes his mouth water and his stomach growl. Gods, he is hungry. While he could easily steal something from the stalls lining the market street, he normally comes to Gramps’ tavern for a proper meal. And yeah, maybe he ogles the barmaids while he’s at it, but it’s merely a dinner and a show for him.

“Oh, shit,” some random man sitting at a nearby table says. “You mean you haven’t heard about the capital?” Along with him sits another man – they’re most likely miners, if their builds and dirty fingernails say anything. Knocking back his cup, the other merely shakes his head. “Them bastards from the north – Nialliv – they stormed it. Took Dinton Keep as their own.”

Now, it’s usually polite to not listen in on others’ conversations, but this is Zenitsu here. For as long as he can remember, his sense of hearing is astronomically better than the average human’s, and it’s actually quite a useful tool when it comes to his particular jobs. But this… The capital city being taken over? How come he hasn’t heard anything before?

“You’re telling me that Dinton Keep isn’t ours? Watch the shite spilling from your mouth,” the other man grumbles.

“Aye, it’s true. Took in the wee hours of this morning, I tell you. Apparently, the king is dead.”

At that, Zenitsu stiffens. The king? Dead?

“Fuck,” the companion curses. “And they haven’t said anything yet?”

The first one shakes his meaty head. “Only a few know, I guess. The messengers probably all got their throats slit. Gods bless their souls. It’d be a miracle if we’re all not dead by the end of the month.”

“How many are dead?”

“Hundreds, I take it. Mostly guards and members of the royal court, probably. No point in killing civilians if you don’t want to clean up the mess.”

“And the prince?”

“Disappeared. Haven’t heard if they found his body or not.”

“Oi,” Gramps barks, slamming a plate down on the bar before Zenitsu.

With a jolt, Zenitsu yelps. Whipping back around, he flashes Gramps with wide eyes. “Gramps,” he whisper-yells, “is it true?”

Cocking a bushy brow, Gramps leans forward, arms crossed over his chest. “Is what true?”

“That the king is dead,” Zenitsu says, slowly. He can hardly believe the words are coming out of his own mouth.

Pointing a thick finger at him, Gramps flashes him a warning look. “It’s not your damn business spreading the news around. People are gonna be in a panic when it goes public.”

Zenitsu pales. “No way…”

“I had a carrier pigeon come in this morning,” Gramps continues, voice tight. “Unless they kick them bastards out of Dinton Keep, Ainamoryp can kiss its ass goodbye.”

Glancing down at the steaming meat and eggs in front of him, Zenitsu’s body immediately says that his appetite is gone.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Roman Sea, off the coast of Ainamoryp, May 3rd, 492, 12:39

“Captain! Land clear up ahead!”

“Well, what the fuck you waiting for? This ship isn’t going to dock itself!” you screech.

The sky above is a limitless blue, not a hint of a cloud in the sky. The sun itself seems in a good mood, as does the waters. Your ship heads towards your homeland gracefully, the waves slapping against the sides in a hello, welcome back. As much as you love sailing and exploring new lands, home forever beckons for you, calls you back with welcoming arms. There’s nothing as relieving as setting foot on familiar land.

Although you’re young, you’re powerful. Already a captain of your own crew, the proud owner of The Pearl Lady, you’re meant to go places and the gods are surely smiling down at you. Granted, the overexposure of sun and salt water may have left your skin permanently freckled and mind scrambled, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re a force to be trifled with, and all be damned if they dare challenge you.

Hands settled on the wooden railing, you watch as the rest of your crew scrambles to prepare for docking, lowering the sails and readying the anchor. The coast of Ainanomyrp glimmers under the afternoon sun, truly a sight to behold, but something feels… off. Normally, other boats come to and from the mouth of inland, the capital city of Endeavor being a major port. However, there’s not another boat on the water, not even the small dingeys for fishing.

Your ship glides in smoothly, coming to a gradual stop by an open dock. Your crew pushes the anchor overboard, the salty water giving a final splash as your boat jolts to a stop. Hell, even the docks are unnaturally silent, not even a single ship hand or merchant in sight. All other vessels are docked, their decks bare of any people. Your crew shifts uneasily, clearly noticing the strange lack of other human beings.

“Uh, Captain?” the quartermaster asks you, hand instinctively landing on the butt of his pistol as he glances around, “Should we lift anchor and sail to another port?”

“Like hell we are,” you grunt, narrowing your eyes. Something’s coming. You can feel it.

Stepping away from the railing, you saunter down to the main deck, heading to the side where your crew set the bridge down. The clunk of wood striking wood echoes into the air; instead of it being a relieving sound – a sign that you’re truly home – it’s ominous. It’s only a matter of time before disaster hits.

“Keep your eyes peeled,” you tell your crew, “Something isn’t right.”

“Halt!” an unknown voice calls. Straining your neck forward, you catch sight of a small patrol of guards in dark gray armor clamber down the cobblestone steps leading from the streets to docks. While it’s somewhat of a relief to see actual human beings, you’re immediately on edge, body stiffening. Those are not the given uniforms of Ainamorypan soldiers.

“Fuck,” you grumble, biting the inside of your cheek.

Metal clanking against wooden boards fills the tense atmosphere as the patrol comes up to your ship. The group stands ramrod-straight, faces stoic, eyes sharp. The leader steps forward, neck craning as he looks up at you. “Who goes there?” he barks.

Clicking your tongue, you lean over the side of the ship, elbows resting on the weathered wood. “A bunch of merchants returning home. Everybody’s got to make a living somehow, eh? Now, if you’d kindly fuck off, I��d like to step on some actual dirt for once.”

The guard sneers, expression turning ugly as he flashes yellow teeth. “All incoming and outgoing ships are to be registered. And, as far as I’m concerned, your shitty dingey isn’t on the list.” With a metallic snap of his fingers, one of his followers hands him a clipboard and a hunk of charcoal. “Ship name, captain’s name, date of arrival and planned dismissal.”

At that, you bark out an incredulous laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me? When was this instilled?”

“Just this morning, actually,” the guard snips. “Since I’m feeling merciful, I’ll let you off with a warning just this once. Follow these orders or we’ll have no other option than to imprison you.”

Prison? Seriously? Just who did this dickhead think he’s talking to?

Scoffing, you draw yourself to a full stand, placing your hands on your hips. You could easily pull out your pistol and try to shoot one of the damned guards, but lead balls aren’t going to do much against a full suit of armor. “And I’m pretty sure I told you to fuck off.”

The same guard who gave the leader the clipboard and charcoal steps close and leans in, whispering something into the leader’s ear. The leader spares you a single glance, his eyebrow cocking in interest. With a wave of his hand, the rest of the patrol storm the ship, drawing their blades. Your crew readies their own blades and brandishes their pistols, murmuring unsure words.

“Captain (l/n) of The Pearl Lady,” the lead guard says, scribbling it onto his parchment. “Such a pleasure to meet a wanted criminal.”

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Dinton Keep’s dungeons, Ainamoryp, 492, May 3rd, 13:00

“Oi, oi! Keep your grubby hands off of me!” you bark, shoving yourself against the guards holding you by the biceps.

“Shut your damn trap, you filthy pirate,” the guard on your right seethes, his putrid breath clogging your nostrils. “Thinking you can just waltz right into Endeavor? What are you, an idiot?”

“Far as I was concerned, Endeavor used to be leagues more friendly than this horse shit.”

“I told you to shut up,” the guard barks. Lifting a hand, he cracks up alongside the back of your skull, leaving a thrumming ache. The other guard merely stays silent as he shoves you into the other’s arms, fishing a set of keys from his side and opening the door to a cell. “Fucking rot for all I care,” the guard spits, pushing you into the dingy space.

You sputter as you crash onto the jagged rock, your palms scraping against the surface. You hiss in pain as the guards slam the gate shut and lock it. The one who mocked you takes off with a bark of laughter as the other simply follows behind. “Bloody bastards,” you grunt as they disappear from sight. “I oughta wring their necks and hang them from the bow.”

“Are you alright?” a new voice speaks.

With a screech, you fling yourself to the side, your hip screaming in pain as a sharp rock digs into the flesh. You instinctively reach for your sword, only to be left blubbering curse after curse after remembering that the guards confiscated all of your weapons. Perched on the windowsill sits a boy no older than you, head topped with messy green curls and a face adorned with a sea of freckles.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!” the stranger proclaims, waving his hands frantically before him. Hopping down from the wall, he holds his hands in front of him, much like he’s encountering a vicious wild beast. Which isn’t totally wrong, but still.

“Bullshit you didn’t! I’ll kick your ass, mate!” Scrambling onto your feet, your press your back against the cold stone wall, bloody hand clutching your bruised hip.

“I swear it! It’s just… Well…. Look, your hands are bleeding,” the stranger says, turning his hands so his palms are facing upwards. “Let me treat them.”

Your face curls into a snarl. “And why would I do that?”

“I’m a healer,” he continues, stepping forward and snatching your wrist. You yelp at the sudden contact and try to rip your hand away, but his grip is strong. Now that he’s up close and personal, you can’t deny the fact that he’s tall and muscular, the sleeves of his tunic rolled up and exposing the veins and scars riddling his forearms.  

Holding your wrist with one hand, the other hovers above your scraped, bloody palm. A golden light emits from his hand, casting a warm glow over your own. Ah, so this guy is a magic wielder. While it isn’t uncommon for people to practice magic, you yourself have never taken an interest in it. Magic can be a finnicky force to deal with, and one who cannot rein in its power may be subjected to a world full of hurt.

With a sigh, you keep your emotions under control and allow this stranger to continue his treatment. For one, this guy is healing you for free, and secondly, he appears as though he can easily throw you through the stone wall with little effort.

“There,” he says once he’s finished, gingerly retracting his hands and flashing you a tiny smile. “It’s all better now, see?”

Staring down at your hands, you flex them into fists, noticing how whatever tension that was in them had disappeared along with the scrapes. Magic can truly be a wonderous thing, but in the wrong hands… Well, things don’t turn out as pretty.

“I don’t get it,” you say, sidestepping the stranger and planting yourself on the pile of dirty hay strewn about the floor, “why is a healer in a dungeon, of all places?”

At your question, the stranger visibly perks up. He follows your movements, getting onto the floor and sitting across from you. “I guess a proper introduction is needed, huh?” he says, scratching his cheek in embarrassment. “My name is Izuku. Izuku Midoriya. It’s a pleasure!”

“I didn’t ask for your name,” you snap. “I asked you why you’re here, not who you are.”

At that, Izuku huffs and physically deflates. “You remind me a lot of Kacchan…”

“By the gods, do you know how to answer a simple question? You know what, don’t even answer that-“

“The king is dead,” Izuku says, cutting you off. His large eyes don’t hold their friendly glow anymore, but rather one of determination and anger. “He was killed last night.”

You blink rapidly at him, your mind throwing itself in for a loop. Wait, wait, the king is dead? How is that even possible? The king isn’t a weakling, and you’ve heard stories of him being a powerful fire sorcerer. But now that you think about it, it would explain the change in guards, the lack of people filling the once busy docks and streets…

You inhale sharply. “How?” you ask, voice small.

“Forces from Nialliv intruded the country last night and took Dinton Keep by force. People were…” Izuku stops, wets his lips. “People are gone,” he finally forces out. “The king is dead, the prince is nowhere to be seen, and all of Ainamoryp is going to lose hope.” Wringing his hands, his gaze drops. “I was here when the intrusion happened. I was fighting off enemy soldiers with all my might, but I couldn’t save the city. People are dead because I didn’t work hard enough.”

“And then you were captured,” you say. “But why not killed?”

“They found out I was a healer – well, I specialize in herbology, but the point still stands. They had men and women on their side who needed medical attention, and I was simply another pair of hands to them,” Izuku answers dryly. “They threw me in here once everybody was treated.”

“Then why’d you help them? They’re the enemy, you fool. You wanna know what I would’ve done? Slit every single last one of their throats.” Shaking your head, you lean back against the wall and laugh, but there’s no humor to it. “When you have the opportunity to fuck your opponent over, you take it.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Izuku snaps, clenching his fists in his lap. “I can’t stand seeing others hurt. I’m a healer, for gods’ sakes. Not everyone is some filthy, selfish pirate like you.”

Snapping your attention back to him, you send him a steely glare.

“Wait, wait,” Izuku hastily says, reaching up and smacking himself on the forehead, “I didn’t mean that-“

“You said what you said,” you interject. “And you know what? You’re right. I’m so fucking filthy and selfish that I’m the captain of The Pearl Lady. I bathe in blood and gold, you pathetic little twat. And I like it. So, do us both a favor, shut your damn trap, and leave me the hell alone.”

Izuku audibly gulps, his hands falling limp in his lap. You almost want to laugh at him; whenever somebody hears of your infamous title, their reactions are all the same. Despite the stigma towards pirates, you’re still pretty damn powerful, and your crew voted you as captain for a reason. Turning away from Izuku, you settle onto your side, willing for either sleep to take over or for Izuku to magically disappear.

Your quartermaster was right – you should’ve lifted anchor and docked somewhere else.

Anywhere else.

[wyofabdoms]

Ten Days- Day Three

Characters: Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: Javier is shot and refuses to take his antibiotic while recuperating. You get creative and make him a deal that ensures he will take his medicine everyday: one kiss for one pill. It's gonna be a long 10 days.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Major character injury, slow burn, mutually unrequited, medical inaccuracies, swearing, soft Javi

Word Count: 1917

Note: Javi gets himself into a bit of a situation.  

Read the full series on Ao3

Late Sunday afternoon you find yourself glancing at the clock for what feels like the ten thousandth time.  You haven't heard a peep from your partner since you left his apartment mid morning yesterday.  He knows where you live and has your number...if he needed something surely he would have called you.  He’d changed his own bandages yesterday (albeit badly), and could obviously move around his apartment if he needed to.  For the better part of your day, you had bandied about the idea of just not showing up at his apartment at all.  Why should you serve him up the opportunity to continue this stupid power game; this one pill, one kiss arrangement?  

You had expected to make him the deal the first night, then figured he would see reason and be an adult and take the antibiotic on his own to prevent infection like any other normal human healing from a gunshot wound. You had assumed it would just be that first kiss; using his attraction to you to get him to do what you wanted.   But, you’d been stupid.  You’d let him alter the terms. Now you knew he would never let you hear the end of it if you reneged on your part of the deal.  His little stunt yesterday with the chair and his tongue made it clear that he not only enjoyed the prospect of 8 more opportunities to kiss you, but that he would most likely turn up the intensity each day.  That particular thought made something deep within you spark and unfurl, tightening in your lower belly and sending a shiver up your spine.

Truthfully, you hadn’t exactly hated those two kisses.  You had found yourself wandering aimlessly around your apartment several times today, having started with a destination and goal in mind, but finding your thoughts wandering back to Javier and completely forgetting where you were headed or why by the time you got there.  Yesterday you had stormed back into your apartment and taken the longest cold shower of your life.  Your body seemed to think for itself as it reacted to the memories of Javi’s tongue, the feel of his mustache, his dark eyes peering at you, the feel of his toned muscles beneath your hand.  

If you went back to his apartment and he insisted on continuing with this, you weren’t entirely sure your resolve would be able to convince your body not to give in to more with this maddening man.  That absolutely infuriated you....and excited you a little, too.

Finally, you looked at the clock; it read a quarter past 8.  You’d just go down quickly and make sure he had at least eaten something.  You’d keep your distance from him; there was no way in hell you’d let him catch you off guard today.

As soon as you enter his apartment, you know something isn’t right when you immediately notice his sidearm on the kitchen counter.  The apartment is dark; no muted flickers from the television, no lamps or lights streaming from the living room or kitchen.  You glance in his bedroom and small office and find them both dark and empty as well.  A chill run through you and you feel a small kernel of panic seed its cold shell in the pit of your stomach.  He knew better than to not have his weapon on his person or near him.  What the fuck, Peña?  Where the hell did you go?  You are about to race to your own apartment and alert the embassy when you notice the bathroom door ajar at the end of the hall.  You carefully nudge it open with your foot, one hand hovering over your own weapon at your hip.  

“Jesus, Peña!”  Your eyes widen as you take in your shirtless partner sprawled on the tile floor, his back propped against the side of the bathtub and legs stretched haphazardly in front of him, head tilted back against the porcelain and eyes closed.  Around him bits and pieces of torn and bloodied bandage and tape littered the floor, along with his shirt, the pill bottle of antibiotics, and what appeared to be the remaining contents of a first aid kit.  All of this is barely visible in the dark of the bathroom, the only source of light from the street light shining through the small window illuminating Javier’s face, making him look jaundiced. You quickly paw the wall for the light switch and your cold panic rises as you snap on the overhead light and take in your partner in full light.  

His face is grey and covered with a thin sheen of sweat.  His eyes come open for a moment and look towards you but then quickly close again against the harsh light and he lets his head thump back against the tub.  With the light on you are better able to see that the bandage at his side is merely held in place by his arm clenching against his stomach.  He must have been in the middle of changing it out when…

“What happened?!” You kneel next to him, grateful that he’s awake, but trying to piece together what exactly had led him to his present situation.  You gingerly move his arm out of the way, removing the untaped gauze and looking closely at his wound.  Though his stitches looked fine, the skin around the injury was bright red and swollen. “Why the hell are you trying to change your bandage in the dark?” 

“Wasn’t dark when I started.”  He bites out.  The sun had gone down several hours ago.  Your eyes flash up to his drawn face as realization hits you: he’s been here on the bathroom floor for more than three hours.  A pang of guilt shoots through your chest and you swallow hard.

You place the back of your hand on his forehead for a moment, then along the side of his face.  He sighs, eyes still closed, and leans into your touch like it’s a balm.  He doesn’t seem to be running a fever which is a good thing; the sweat must be from the exertion of trying to change the bandage. The doctors had warned that his injury might swell.  Assuring him you would be right back and ordering him not to move, you hurry to the kitchen to grab ice.  Sweeping the objects on the floor around him out of your way, you sit next to him and gently place the ice against his side.  He hisses in a sharp breath at the cold and jolts away, causing another stab of pain to his side and ripping a small groan of pain from his throat.  He knocks his head back against the tub three times (a little harder than you were completely comfortable with) and releases a long, growling sigh before stilling once more and taking a deep breath through his nose.

The two of you sit that way in silence for a long while, serenaded by the occasional sound of a passing car on the street, the slow drip of water coming from somewhere, and the sound of each other’s breathing echoing off of the tiles.  Silences between the two of you aren’t really new.  You have spent hours sometimes sitting in each other’s presence, not speaking but not really needing to as you pored over reports or studied files, content with the long stretches of affable silence.  You usually found silences with your partner reassuring.  Now, though, the silence that stretched between you was tarnished with your own guilt at having not checked on him sooner.  

You check your watch, confirming that enough time has passed to remove the ice.  The swelling seems to have gone down slightly, which is a good sign, but it was still more red than you would like.  You’d need to be sure he iced it again before the night was over.  Making sure the area is dry, you carefully collect the gauze and tape and set to work rebandaging his side.  Despite your worry for his well-being, you try not to notice the way the skin of his taut torso feels beneath your fingers or the trail of dark hair that adorns his lower stomach and disappears beneath the waistband of his jeans.  You smooth the last piece of tape down and glance up, only to find that his head is no longer tilted back and he’s watching your face, his eyes soft.  Those brown eyes seem to seize your own and you can’t bring yourself to look away.  

“I’m sorry,” you say softly.  His eyes flash with a question.

“What for?”  You look down at your hands, folding them on your lap.  

“For not coming to check on you sooner.”  You force yourself to look back up at him.  “ I was...I dunno.  I was embarrassed, I guess.  Well, maybe not embarrassed...I was just…”  You take a deep breath.  “I was anxious after….after yesterday…” you let that trail off.  He knows what you mean.   He looks at you for a few moments longer, his face unreadable.  Then he breaks your gaze and reaches for the pill bottle on the floor next to him.  Your stomach drops as he spills a pill into his hand quickly and swallows it.  Without looking at you, he replaces the lid on the bottle, then reaches to take one of your hands with one of his.  He turns your hand palm up and draws it up to place it against his cheek, mirroring your earlier touch to his face.  Once again, he leans into your touch and closes his eyes, letting the seconds stretch and widen as he reveles in the feel of your skin against his, then he turns his face and places a soft kiss on the palm of your hand, holding his lips against your skin for several moments.  His eyes slip open and meet yours over the edge of your hand.  Your breath hitches softly when you see the longing and desire there.

As though in slow motion, he releases and returns your hand to its original spot on your lap, his eyes never leaving yours.  You sit stunned for a moment, unsure of what to do next.  

“Guess it’s a good thing I was motivated to take my meds, huh?  This all could have been a lot worse.” He gestures around at the mess of bandages and paraphernalia around you.  He sighs and slowly sits up straighter.  “I think I’m probably gonna need some help getting up and to the couch, though.”  You know your face shows the confusion you’re feeling.  Was that it?  He gets one kiss per pill and THAT’S what he uses today’s to do?  A tiny voice in the back of your head grumbles in disappointment, but you quickly smash that voice, snapping out of your thoughts and standing up, offering both hands down to help him get to his feet.  

When he’s standing in front of you, he grips your hands for a moment, keeping you closer than you know you should be.  Your guard goes up, ready to call him out for having already used his daily dose should he try to go in for another kiss.  He lifts your hands in his up in a gesture to bring your eyes up to meet his own. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he says in response to your earlier apology.  “I knew you’d find me eventually.  You always do.”

Day One

Day Two

Day Four

[thejollyroger-writer]

Where Your Heart Will Fly on Wings - 1/2

Part One: A Ship, A Map, and A Secret

A Neverland arc (season 3A) rewrite where the gang doesn't meet Captain Hook until they get to Neverland to rescue Henry. Most of the end of s2 ("Second Star to the Right..." "... and Straight on' Till Morning," the last two episodes of the season) are the same: Greg and Tamara kidnap Henry. With Killian not present, I imagine that David succeeds in wrestling a bean away from Greg. They go to Rumple for help, and though he refused before, Blue's potion worked in giving Belle her memories back and he changes his mind. Somewhere in his shop, there is a ship in a bottle, and he removes this ship, docks it in the harbor, and leads Emma, Regina, Mary Margaret, and David through a portal that takes them to the waters surrounding Pan's island.

Also on AO3

Special thanks to @shireness-says my forever beta who only makes my life (and my stories) better, and all the ladies on discord who answered all the little questions I struggled with while writing this. Thanks, ladies. ( @kmomof4 @hollyethecurious @donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @stahlop ) Written for @neverlandnewyear. Some other interested pals: @thisonesatellite @darkcolinodonorgasm @scientificapricot @carpedzem @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @regi-writes-stuff @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @winterbaby89 

The ship touches down on the waters, the portal disappearing from around them — but what they find is no better. Fat, cold rain drops pelt them from above, and below them, the waves begin to toss the dilapidated ship in every direction.

“Great job, Gold!” Regina yells, wrapping one of the ropes around her wrist. “You landed us right in the middle of a storm!” 

“Believe it or not, dearie, my powers do not include the ability to control the weather, and certainly not in this realm!” 

"We don't have time for this!" David chimes in, helping Mary Margaret keep her footing on the quickly-dampening deck. "If we're even going to make it onto the island, we have to get through this storm together!" 

"And how do you expect we do that?" Regina chides. "This ship is barely more than a pile of old boards, it's not going to survive this storm." 

"Then maybe we should work together to try to make it through this!" Mary Margaret yells. 

"What do you expect us to do?” 

"Well, we can start by trusting each other!" 

Regina scoffs. "You think trust is going to get us through this storm? Is your trust going to keep us from taking on water?" 

"No," Emma mumbles, looking down to her feet, and the water that she finds there makes her realize just how much trouble they're in. 

And that's when something rams into the side of the ship. And again. And again. 

"What the hell was that?" 

"Sharks?" 

"Afraid not," Rumple mumbles, trying to plant his feet on the slippery deck to keep control of the helm. 

Regina looks over the railing, conjuring a fireball in her hand. "Mermaids." 

"Mermaids?" Emma repeats. "They're real, too?" 

"Does that really surprise you anymore?" Regina asks. 

"We have to do something!" Mary Margaret yells over the wind. 

"I am not being capsized by a fish!" David sloshes across the deck to a small cannon, which he loads a length of chain into before firing it into the water.

Mary Margaret picks a large net up off the helm, tossing half of it to Emma. “Help me get this into the water!”

“What are you going to do, catch one of them?” Regina tosses a fireball towards the surface of the water — which, surprisingly, works, and a mermaids around them back off the ship. 

“Yes!" Mary Margaret stops for a moment to glance at Regina before tossing the net into the waves. "And ask her to help us.” 

“Mermaids aren’t going to help you, dearies!”

“Obviously you’re also not going to help us, either!” Regina crosses the deck and throws out another fireball, clearing the starboard side just as she did the port. “There.” She wipes her hands on her soaked slacks and smiles at the fact that the storm also seems to have left with the mermaids. “They’re gone.” 

“Not all of them!” Mary Margaret says, grunting as she and Emma struggle to pull their fishing net back onto the deck. “What about this one?” 

With a flick of Regina's hand, the creature is out of their net and sprawled on the boards of the deck, her hands bound in front of her and her shining tail flopping into the inches of water that have settled onto the boards of the deck. 

But her presence on the deck only causes an argument to break out between them, each offering their own way to deal with her — to ask for help, to kill her, to let her go. With every question they ask her, she offers them a vague but threatening answer, and the storm that Regina thought was over slowly begins to reform around them. Even after Regina turns her to wood with a whoosh of her magic, they continue to argue amongst themselves, the storm surging around them — all except Emma, who realizes the mermaid’s plan was to set them against each other to be destroyed by the storm. With no other option, she tries to get their attention, screaming across the small ship towards them, but nothing works — and she dives into the sea. 

Quickly followed by a piece of metal rigging, pulled off by the winds into the water behind her and making hard contact with her head, immediately knocking her unconscious.

Without a second thought, David moves to dive in behind her, but Mary Margaret’s hand tight around his arm stops him. “No! You could get pulled under, too!” 

“Not to worry!” A voice cuts through the rushing wind and water, another ship appearing out of the darkness of the storm. Within moments, it is close enough for the man to follow Emma into the water, a rope tied around his waist. 

For a few long, terrifying moments, nothing happens. The storm still surging around them makes it impossible for them to see into the water, and they can only hope that the mysterious man can save her before it's too late.

After what feels like forever, a head breaks the surface of the water, Emma's bright hair a strong contrast to the dark waves, and the other man follows. 

"Pull me up, Scarlett!" he calls, facing away from their small ship, and the man just visible on the deck of the nearby ship does as asked, pulling the man with Emma in tow. David wants to oppose, beg the man to bring Emma back to their ship, but just the feeling of Mary Margaret's hand on his arm keeps his mouth closed.

"Can you get us over there?" Mary Margaret asks, turning towards Rumplestiltskin. He rolls his eyes, but twirls his hand in front of him anyway, taking them all onto the other ship's deck in a wisp of smoke.

"Is she okay?" David asks as soon as he finds his footing, kneeling beside where Emma is laying on the deck — just as she spits out a mouthful of seawater and rolls onto her side. Mary Margaret drops to her knees on the deck beside her daughter, wrapping her arms around Emma's shoulders.

"Perhaps we should give the lass a moment? A bit of space?" the man who rescued her says, leaning against the bannister behind him, his arms crossed behind his back.

"Oh, come on !" Regina cuts him off, raising her hand towards the wave, moving ever-closer to their ship. "We don't have time for all this." 

"Alas, she's right. I'm afraid we'll have to save the pleasantries until after the dashing rescue," he says, striding to what can only be his rightful place behind the helm and leading them quickly away from the waves, away from the storm. David helps Emma to her feet and they all watch as their old ship crumbles beneath the waves, after which the storm around them seems to disappear at an alarming rate; within mere minutes, the sun shines down from a cloudless sky and the soft wind blows lightly on the sails.

The man locks the helm into place and holds his hand out in a welcoming gesture. "This seems a much more appropriate time for introductions. Welcome aboard the Jolly Roger. "

"Okay,” David says, crossing his arms across his chest. "Who are you?"

"Captain Jones," he says, mimicking David's position -- which only draws attention to his left arm, which is blunted just shy of the elbow, replaced with a shining, metal hook. "But most people have taken to calling me by my more colorful moniker—"

Rumple laughs, cutting him off mid-sentence. "You've really owned up to your ailment, haven't you, Captain Hook ?" he says, spitting the last two words between his teeth. 

The man turns around, noticing Rumple standing behind him for the first time. "Oh, now that's just my bloody luck, innit?" He pushes his dark, wet bangs off his forehead with his wrist and lets out a small laugh. "All I was expecting was a few damsels in distress," he says, turning towards Emma for a moment and waggling his eyebrows at her before returning his attention to Gold. "Yet it appears I've caught myself a crocodile." 

"Like, Captain Hook Captain Hook? Waxed mustache and perm and Peter Pan?" 

"Well, love, I must admit I'm uncertain about the first two, but I'm glad to hear that you know who we're going up against."

"Up against? I just want to save my son." 

"Why do you think they brought him here, dearies?" Rumple asks, flourishing his hands to conjure a whisp of purple smoke, revealing a new outfit of dark pants and a black, reptilian-scaled vest. "Pan is the one behind it all, I have no doubts about that. And he is a far more powerful foe than any of you are able to go up against." 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Regina bites back, but Rumple is gone in another wisp of smoke before the question even leaves her lips. 

"It appears that even after all these years, he is still as helpful as he's always been," Hook says, his jaw obviously tight with tension.

Emma's head is spinning. She's spent months trying to wrap her head around everything about Storybrooke and her life, around the idea of true love and fairy tales and everyone's stories intertwining — but this, running into handsome, one-handed pirates in Neverland that have a history with Gold, goes beyond all else.

"Wait, you know Mr. Gold?" Mary Margaret asks, voicing the question they all seem to be thinking.

"Aye, " he says, wrapping his hook around one of the spokes of the helm, where his attention is also focused. "though he was not known by that name. Before he became the Dark One as well, if the rumors are to be true."

For once, Regina seems interested in what he has to say." But he's been the Dark one for —"

"Lifetimes, aye," he says, cutting her off, but turning his eyes down to where she is standing on the lower deck.

No one knows how to respond to him, so the deck stays silent. For the first time, Emma looks around, taking in the small crew that stands around them. There are five that she can see, not including the captain: another tall, dark-haired man standing against the railing, arms crossed over his chest; a stout man with a red beard and an even redder hat; a fierce-looking woman with a mess of dark hair piled high on the top of her head, her dark orange tunic and black pants having seen better days; and two dark, brooding young men, no more than twenty, on the far end of the deck.

"What brings you all to Neverland?" the woman asks. Emma is not surprised that she is the one who tries to make conversation, though she vaguely remembers something about women being bad luck on ships. 

"They took my son," Emma and Regina say simultaneously, and none of the ship's crew are able to keep their immediate reactions off their face.

The dark haired man leaning against the railing behind David barks out a laugh, but when Regina turns her glare in his direction, he snaps his mouth shut.

"What could Pan want with your son?" Hook asks. 

"Does it matter?" Emma spits back. "We need to get him back."

Hook holds up his hands in a gesture of reluctant surrender. "Of course, of course, you're right." He turns to the man still leaning against the railing, who pushes off to his feet when he sees the look on the captain's face. "Prepare for a return to open waters, I would like to dock at Pirate's Cove before dinner time, Mister Scarlett."

Emma expects a salute, given the rest of the captain's countenance, but the man — Scarlett — just nods and walks away.

"Dinner?" Regina asks, her voice dripping with anger. "What part of ' we don't have time for this' don't you understand, pirate?" she spits.

"Can I ask you how many times you've visited this island, your Majesty?" he asks, the same fire in his voice.

She's taken aback for a moment, but answers nonetheless: "Never."

"That's what I thought. I, however, have been here for longer than any of you can even imagine, which gives me the kind of knowledge you could use on this type of quest. Are you really going to turn that down?"

To this, Regina has no response.

"Now, the beaches at Pirate's Cove will prove much more useful to your mission here, and by sailing around the island, it will rid you of the necessity of walking either through or around the Dark Jungle, which I can assure you is something you do not want to do. So, yes, we are going to chance the few hours it will take to sail around the island to hopefully cut days off of what it would have taken you on foot, and then we will be closer to Pan's camp and it will hopefully prove easier to find your boy."

This time, it's David who is angered by his response: " We ? What do you mean 'we'?"

Captain Hook practically rolls his eyes at this, which almost pulls a laugh out of Emma. “Do you expect to navigate the island yourselves?"

Emma intervenes, trying to calm the tension while also ensuring they stay focused on rescuing Henry: "He's right, David, we could use his assistance."

He winks at Emma. "I had a feeling I was going to like you." 

  Though she knows she should be resting, bunking with Regina, David, and Mary Margaret belowdecks, Emma instead finds herself drawn to the crew of the Jolly Roger , and spends the next few hours chatting quietly with them as the ship makes its way across the surprisingly quiet waters surrounding Neverland.

Especially the woman — Tiger Lily, Emma learns. Something about her keeps Emma interested in their whispered conversation, and it does not take her long to learn that, like her own, the woman's background is full of sadness and sacrifice.  She tells Emma how she sacrificed herself to try to stop someone from turning evil and spending the rest of her magic to get to this island after exiling herself; tells her about being found by Pan and working for him in return, only to learn how evil and twisted his ways are, stealing boys from their families and never allowing them to leave. (" And there's something deeper and darker behind it all, something that he only mutters about with his second in command, a Dark Magic that keeps the island alive — I believe with the sacrifice of the boys who decide they want to leave." ) And Captain Hook, saving her as she tried to escape Pan, though she knew it was impossible — or, well, improbable. 

"And I've been in his service ever since. He was working with Pan for a while, too, and able to leave this realm. He asked every time we docked somewhere if I wanted to leave, to live a better life, but I've enjoyed the time I've spent with him as my captain. I've never known a better man." 

"Oh, is that so, Lily?" the very man appears behind them, a smile covering his dark features — except his eyes, Emma realizes. His eyes are the brightest blue she has ever seen, the same color as the soft waves moving in the sunlight. 

"Now, come on, Captain," she laughs, and the way she sets her hand on the captain's arm sends an unwanted shiver down Emma's back. "You and I both know you're nothing if not a man of honor." 

"Yes, but you're not supposed to divulge that knowledge to our new guests just yet." 

"And why not?" Emma asks, knowing that her crossing her arms over her chest is a defense mechanism, but that only makes her pull them closer to her. 

He wags his eyebrows across his forehead, then winks at her once more. "Can't go around telling everyone that Captain Hook is a big softie. I have a reputation to uphold." 

Emma rolls her eyes and walks away, if only to save herself from any more unwanted shivers or repressed feelings. 

Their mission is to save Henry. Henry comes first and everything else has to wait.  

  "Well, what are we going to do once we're ashore?" David asks, hunched over the Neverland map spread across the desk in the Captain's cabin. 

"Pan's camp is only a short distance from the Cove, remember?" Mary Margaret adds, the focused planner and adventurer that Emma has only seen glimpses of. "We can sneak up on him and—"

"Nope," Hook says from where he has planted himself in the corner, one boot crossed over the other and his arms crossed over his chest. "There's no way to sneak up on Pan." 

Regina's eye roll is practically audible. "You keep saying that but offering no helpful advice." 

"And you keep saying that but not actually listening to what I have to say." 

"Hook is the one with the knowledge of the island, Regina," Emma reminds her. 

"And I'm the one with the knowledge of magic, maybe we should just give that a try!" 

"What are you suggesting?" Mary Margaret scoffs. " Poof ing yourself into the middle of a camp on a magic island you've never visited before?" 

"What do you suggest, Hook?" David asks, if only to keep Mary Margaret and Regina from fighting. It's obvious that the last thing he wants to do is take advice from a pirate, but even David realizes that they are left with very few other options. 

"There is no way to plan what is going to happen once we reach those shores. Everything we do, everywhere we go, Pan will know about it and will always be steps ahead of us." 

"How have you spent all this time in this realm and not learned even a few tricks that could help us?" 

"Most of my years here have been spent on this ship, provided with rations by the very demon himself. Before that, he and I had an agreement that made us more comrades than foes, and all the time I spent on the island was for his own doing." 

"Oh, that's helpful," Regina mutters, leaving the cabin without another word. 

"So, let me see if I understand this," Emma asks, knowing that neither David nor Mary Margaret will be able to be civil about this. "Your plan… is to not have a plan at all?" 

Hook nods. "There is no other option in Neverland. It's Pan's game there, and he makes all the rules. Best we can do is be ready for whatever he throws at us." 

"I don't like this," Mary Margaret mumbles, and David wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to press a kiss against the top of her head. 

"It's what we have to do to get Henry back, and that's all that matters," he says, a princely tone of finality in his voice, and the room falls silent.

  "Can I ask you something, love?" Hook asks, his eyes leaving the horizon for just a moment to look at her (again, though she has only noticed a few of them) where she is sitting against the railing on the starboard side of the ship. 

"I'm not your love," she bites, looking up from one of Hook's maps that she's borrowed from his quarters. 

"I've had my share of run-ins with the Crocodile, and I've even crossed paths with the Evil Queen once or twice. The other two, that's Snow White, the princess, right? And her husband?" 

"And how do you know that?" 

He pauses, trying to chose his words carefully. He knows that if he says the wrong thing, he'll lose the small amount of ground he's made with them trusting him. "I've been… through an agreement with Pan, I can leave these waters every once in a while, as long as I fulfill some of the things he asks of me." 

"You work with him," she says, but her face fails to give away any of what is going through her head. 

"In a way, aye. But I've been to the Enchanted Forest, and I know what happened to it. How is it that you got here?" 

"Well, there was a curse." 

"Aye." 

"And I — I broke the curse." 

" You broke the curse?" 

"Yeah, I — I'm the Savior , apparently, because I — I'm their daughter." 

"Snow White's?" He's not nearly taken aback enough. "And the Prince." 

She nods. So does he. Somehow he is wrapping his head around all of this much easier than she did. Maybe once you're alive for a few lifetimes, things like this are a lot less surprising than they were for Emma. 

"How is it that you and the Evil Queen share the same son?" 

Emma can't help but laugh. Where does she even start? "No offense, Hook, but it's a very long story that we don't really have time for." 

"Aye, that I can understand." He lifts his hand off the helm to scratch his beard before moving his hand behind his ear and to the base of his neck. "But do you — you know — live together?" 

"No, no, it's more like… joint custody." 

"Come again?" 

Right. "Joint custody," she says again, even though the centuries-old pirate knows nothing about the ins and outs of child custody. "We, uh… share him, I guess. Take turns." 

"And what about the boy's father? Is he a part of this taking turns ?" 

His question turns her blood to ice. Neal. Where does she even begin? For a moment, she's angry — at Neal, at herself. "No." How dare he. How dare Hook to even ask about Neal, he has no right — 

He has no idea. It was an innocent enough question, there's no way he knew the still-gaping wound that a question about Neal would inflame. 

"He's — dead." 

"Apologies, love, I didn't mean to stir up any unwanted emotions." 

"Stop calling me that." 

"I'm afraid it's more of a habit than anything." 

She has no response to this and turns her attention back towards the map.

    "Bloody hell," Hook mumbles, though Emma and Smee, his first mate, are the only ones close enough to hear him. At first, they don't see whatever the problem may be, but as the ship continues to approach the shore, Emma sees him leaning against one of the trees just on the other side of the shore.

Pan. Emma can sense it somehow — her motherly instincts, maybe, or something like that, but she can feel that the man on the shore is Peter Pan. 

No. No, not man. Boy , with a pudgy teenaged face and dark hair that falls down to his eyebrows. 

"That's him," Emma says. She means for it to be a question, but it does not come out that way.

"Aye." She turns to him just in time to watch the edge of his jaw tick as he grinds his back teeth together. "That's the demon Pan." 

For a moment, Emma is unsure how she feels about all this. Hook's plan to take them around the island has already taken hours of their precious time, and all under the guise to keep them from Pan — only to have him waiting for them right where Hook brought them to shore. What if Hook had been playing with them the whole time? Giving Pan time to plan ahead while he wasted time sailing them all around the island?

But then she looks at him again, sees the rage obvious on his face, and she almost feels bad for questioning his motive even though she has every right to. 

"Bested us again," he mutters, but then straightens his back and looks out over the ship. "Prepare for docking!"

Pan watches, unmoving, from the shore as Hook and his crew lead the Jolly Roger to the dock — and, still unmoving, as they come ashore. Finally, he speaks. "Thank you for bringing our special guests ashore, Captain," the boy leers. "Good to see you're still good for something."

"You know I can't pass up the opportunity to give assistance to a damsel in distress, nonetheless three. And Dave." There's a joking tone in his voice, but it's not present anywhere else in his body. 

"Ah, yes," Pan says, pushing himself away from the tree. "Welcome, your highnesses. I hope you find Neverland as welcoming as you have spent all those years hoping your Enchanted Forest would be. And you, Regina, you and I have more in common than you may want to believe." 

Regina rolls her eyes, conjuring a fireball in her left hand. "Oh, please," she spits. "Let's do this the easy way: give me my son back and I won't burn your whole island down." 

Pan just laughs. "No, I’m afraid that's not going to happen. You're on my island now, and you're going to play by my rules." 

"Do you think this is a game?" 

"Oh, your majesty , that's exactly what this is. So, Emma, I'm going to give you a map." He pulls a folded piece of parchment out from under his tunic. "A map that will lead you straight to your son." 

"If this is some kind of trap," she starts, taking a step towards him with her hand on the sword on her hip. 

But Pan's soft laugh stops her. "I may not be the most well-behaved boy on the island, but I always keep my promises. The path to finding Henry is on this parchment."

"Why are you giving it to me?"

He chuckles again. "See, it's not about finding Henry. It's about how you find him. And, Emma," he says, placing his hand on her wrist as she reaches out to take the parchment. "You're the only one who can."

She takes it from him, then unfolds it — only to find it blank, save a pattern around the outside. "It's blank." 

"You sound surprised," Regina bites, but no one pays attention to her. All eyes are on Pan. 

"You'll only be able to read that map when you stop denying who you really are." 

Emma looks down at the map once more. Everyone around her looks at it. 

And when they look up, Pan is gone. 

  As they follow Hook's lead through the jungle, Emma's focus is on the map. She thinks of all she can: her background, everything she's learned since coming to Storybrooke. She even attempts to admit that she's the savior during a short break, but nothing works. 

Regina, angry and impatient and nothing if not motivated, takes it from her, insisting on magic, despite the arguments from the rest of the group. It works — to a point, leading them not to Pan's camp, but to an ambush by a group of Lost Boys. It does not last long, the heroes quickly overpowering the boys, but David gets nicked with a Dreamshade-tipped arrow — a secret he tries to keep from the rest of the camp.  

Hook sees it, though, the one in the group that really knows how deadly the poison can be, but he, too, keeps it to himself. 

He leads them away from the ambush, towards a cliff that looks out over most of the island. From there, he insists, they can plan a route through the jungle and maybe even scout out Pan's camp. But by the time they get there, the sun has set, and all they can see is shadow. "Now that you've seen what Pan can do in just a few short hours, we need our strength. I suggest we make camp."

Regina, unsurprisingly, is against his idea. "You want to sleep while my son is out there suffering?"

"If you want to live long enough to save the boy, yes," he argues, and no one has a comeback for this. Regina is first to walk away, huffing knowing that Hook is right. Hook is second, closely followed by David, who barks an order about finding firewood, leaving Emma and Mary Margaret looking out over the jungle.

They are silent for a moment, Emma obviously worrying about something, but Mary Margaret has learned not to push. And after a few moments, Emma does say what's on her mind:

"Regina's right, Henry's out there somewhere."

But Mary Margaret is ready with her positive comeback. "And Hook is right. We have to survive if we're going to get him."

"I know. I just hope we're not too late."

Mary Margaret leaves her there, knowing that sometimes, her daughter just needs her space to think. She stands there as the others build their camp, her attention turned once more towards the blank parchment — the map , removed from her pocket.

Though he does not mean to, Hook startles her with his approach. "I opted for first watch so you and the others could get your rest." 

Emma just shakes her head, starting towards the campfire, needing the monotony of the crackling fire to slow her mind down. "There's no way I can sleep here without solving this map."

"Then it appears you and I will be not sleeping together, love," he jokes, waggling his eyebrows at her with a smirk on his face.

Emma just rolls her eyes. "Listen, Hook. I am here to save my son. The very last thing I'm going to do is get distracted." 

His smirk is gone, not even a trace of a smile left on his features. "Of course, Swan. I meant no insult."

They sit in relative silence, the rest of them falling asleep quickly — or, at least, staying quiet. The sounds of the Jungle seem to grow louder in the darkness, almost deafening. But Emma's attention is still on the map.

"Nothing I can think of is working," she groans, dropping the map to the ground beneath her feet.

"None of those are what Pan is looking for. What have you been avoiding? What have you been hiding from, love?" 

She is already on edge, and his endearment only makes her angrier. "I am not your love, Hook. Why are you helping me, anyway?" 

He's been wondering the same, so he's quick to answer. "I've been searching for a glimmer of hope when it comes to defeating this demon for as long as I can remember. If finding your lad and ruining his plans takes his power from him, then helping you is the very least I can do." 

"But why? What did Pan ever do to you?" 

He's silent for a moment, trying to decide how much he wants to divulge to her, and he maks a quick decision. "It wasn't me personally," he lies. "But it's the principle of the thing. He preys on boys who think he's taking them to a better life, but all he's doing is taking them from their families. Growing up alone is the worst thing that could happen to a boy, and Pan thrives on separating families." 

"Sounds like something you know a lot about." She doesn't mean to be so forward, but once it's out, there's No taking it back.

"Pardon?" 

"Only someone who grew up alone would talk like that." 

Now it's his turn to get defensive. "And how would you know that? You're the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. What can a princess know about growing up alone?" 

She knows that there is no way for him to know otherwise, to know the truth about her childhood, but his assumptions about her still make her a little angry. "You have no idea what you're talking about," she grits, trying not to let her anger get the best of her. "My parents sent me through a portal when I was only a few hours old. I grew up alone , spent my whole life alone . I was an orphan, too, Hook. Or, at least, I grew up believing I was." 

"I'm — I'm sorry, Swan, I shouldn't have assumed—" 

"No, you shouldn't have." 

"You're right though, love. I, too, spent much of my life alone. My mum was sick and passed when I was a boy, and my father took my brother and I on a ship to a far-off land. Until one day, we woke up and he was gone. He left us there to settle a debt and we never saw him again." 

Silence settles between them for a moment, and then he smiles. "It seems you and I have quite a lot in common, then, love," he chides, but Emma barely hears him. She's too distracted by the parchment in her hand, which has revealed a map at some point in their conversation. 

"Hook—" she tries, but he cuts her off.

"Apologies, I know, you're not my love ." 

"No, Hook, that's not it." 

Finally he looks at her, trying to find what she is talking about on her face, following her eyes down to the parchment in her hands. But there is something else that has changed, too, something about her . He can't quite put his finger on it, but he thinks he maybe sees a glimmer of hope in her eyes. 

[neon-junkie]

Loyalty

Summary: Is someone here to steal your chickens again? Or is it a long lost lover who accidentally comes across you and your homestead?

Pairing: Javier Escuella x gn!Reader

Word Count: 1444

Rating: SFW 

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Happy ending, Pre-RDR1, Crying, Reunion.

Notes: Tumblr ate this anon’s ask sooo I’m posting this as a fic instead. Will be doing more of these :) 

It's been so long since the events of Beaver Hollow, since the Pinkertons tracked the gang down for the last time, since the standoff that tore the gang apart. The obvious choice was to stand beside Arthur and John, which is what you did, leaving your former sweetheart on Dutch's side.

That was the last time you saw them. Their broken heart visible in their eyes, tears refusing to fall since they just couldn't believe you were turning your back on them. You weren't, you never thought you were; you were just siding with the right side, the side they should have been on, the side they clearly wanted to be on.

You moved on. You had to. You had to escape the surrounding area and push as far as your horse would take you, over the river to West Elizabeth, down past the Great Plains, heading over to New Austin. You'd started a new life here, working on a ranch until you could afford a small one-person shack with a few chickens and your horse.

Season's changed. The leaves fell from the trees time and time again. Your former horse passed and you eventually got a new one. Your former lover never left your mind, despite how much you tried to shake them off. You'd tried to love again, tried to move on. You'd spend countless nights at the saloon trying to pick up anyone, trying to enjoy one night stands, trying to fall in love again, but nothing ever worked.

And here you are, currently feeding the chickens on a warm summers eve, the suns rays peeking from the mountains. You gaze at the sky, the red reminding you of all the blood that fell to the ground those many years ago. Most of the time, you ignored those thoughts. You were used to them by now, those feelings of grief and despair now turning numb and hollow. But tonight was different, tonight your heart ached for the first time in a while. Something felt off, despite everything seeming normal.

You retire for the evening after shooing the chickens into their expensive coop, locking the pen behind you as you left. You enter your cabin, locking the door and putting your coat on the rack whilst you kick off your boots. Dinner doesn't take long to prepare, re-heating leftovers from the night before, taking your time to eat whilst you write in your diary. You push the plate to the corner of the desk, giving you more space to write.

Something's telling you to go back through your memories, so you do, turning back through your diary, pulling your old one out from the set of draws built into your desk. There are pages and pages of camp stories, photos of the gang, small wrinkled bits of paper from where your tears had fallen as you'd written in the book when the gang was falling apart.

As you go over the pages, your ears perk up at the sound of your horse nickering, whining uncomfortably from their small sheltered pen. You get up to your feet, peering from behind the curtain that overlooks your horse's stable. They seem fine, nothing's there, they must have just gotten spooked from their own shadow. No surprise.

You go to sit back down but you hear the sound of your chicken coop gate opening, that distinct little clicking of metal from the lock on the gate. Somebody's definitely out there, probably attempting to steal your chickens. Unfortunately, you'd had strangers attempt to do this before.

You follow protocol, picking up your already-loaded shotgun, despite it not being fired in a while. After turning the safety lock off, you unlock your door, quickly slamming it open, cocking the gun as you raise it to your shoulder, ready to fire.

"What the hell do you think you're doin'?!" You bark, startling the stranger who's stood in the chicken pen, their hands about to reach down and grab one of the poor birds.

"No need for that," they reply, quickly standing upright and raising their hands. "I can leave," they tell you.

"I think that'd be wise, and don't bother coming back," You tell them, eye peering down the barrel of the gun. Something about them felt... familiar.

They shuffle backward out the pen, kicking the gate shut with their foot. They go to reach down to lock the gate but you cut them off. "Leave it," you order. Their hand returns to the air, continuing to slowly back away from your home.

Damn that large tree you had, despite it being perfect shade for your chickens, it's blocking the light from the moon, barely showing their figure, let alone their face. It isn't until they finally move back into the light that you feel your heart sink.

The beautiful shade of tanned skin, the shoulder-length black hair, the distinct facial hair. Either your former lover had an identical twin that he never told you about, or he's stood right in front of you, attempting to steal your chickens.

"Javier?" You softly ask, lowering your gun ever so slightly so he can finally see your face.

Javier's heart drops as fast as yours did, his mouth parting slightly as he realizes who he just tried to steal from.

"Amor?" He asks, his hands lowering from head height.

"It's you?" you question.

"It's me," Javier shrugs.

You're quick to prop your gun against the inside of the cabin, rushing over to him. Javier rushes over to you, in sync, removing his sombrero as chucking it to the ground so he can hug you properly. You've not felt a hug this tight in a long time, and you can't help the flood of tears falling from your eyes. Javier does the same, not holding back, allowing himself to whimper into your shoulder as he grips tightly onto you.

"I thought you were gone," you tell him through sobs, dampening the ends of his shortened hair as they brush against your cheek.

"I had to flee. And you..." Javier breaks the hug so he can cup your face, both hands on your cheeks. "...I thought you had moved away. Gotten married. Started a new life," he tells you.

You shake your head, your hands coming to rest on top of his. "I couldn't," you tell him.

"You've aged like fine wine," he smiles, tilting your head down so he can kiss your forehead.

"You..." you pause, finally taking a proper look at him through your tears. "...you look tired, Javi'. You look rough," you honestly tell him, noticing the bags under his eyes, the jagged way his hairs been cut, the weight he's lost.

"I am," he shrugs. "Too many sleepless nights without you," Javier tells you, moving his hands down to your waist so he can pull you back into a hug. Your arms wrap back around his shoulders.

The two of you hold each other for a few moments, enjoying the long-awaited contact, the touches you thought you'd never feel again. You move away, one hand coming up to cup his jawline, gazing into his eyes. He's really here. Your former love, your other half, the man you swore you'd spend your life with, is finally standing in front of you, his hands around your waist as he gazes at you with love-struck eyes.

"Come here," Javier whispers, moving his hands back up to your jawline, finally pulling your mouth against his. The kiss is gentle at first, shy yet so familiar. He feels different, but he still feels like he's yours. His mustache lightly tickles your upper lip, just how you remember. His nose slightly bumps against yours, just how you remember. His kisses are gentle and passionate, just how you remember.

You feel one of his tears run along your cheek, and all that does it make you cry more. "Javier, please, come inside," you break the kiss to tell him. It's not a question because you know he'll say yes. You know he'd walk to the other side of the earth just to see you smile, and you know he could never deny you of anything.

You take his hand, walking him back into your cabin, soon to be our cabin. He's quick to pick up his hat from the dusty ground, placing it on your coat hanger as he enters. You shut the door behind you, locking it, ready to spend the night crying and going over the years apart.

Javier's ready to stay by your side, this time promising to never leave, to never run, to stay loyal to what truly matters, and that's you.

[from-seas-to-skies]

Bakugou vs. Super Mario Sunshine ♕︎

This piece is inspired by my interesting rants I’ve had while playing Super Mario Sunshine, sooooo..... - 3 -

warnings: Bakugou’s potty mouth, may be offensive towards Italians

words: 821

-

“Fucking goddamn bullshit, fuck!” Bakugou bellows, the veins in his neck popping. “Mario, you stupid Italian bitch! Just do the fucking thing already!”

Sitting around one of the various tables in the common area, Kaminari and Kirishima watch on, a mixture of fear and amusement displayed on their faces. They refuse to get any closer to their friend when he’s in such a state; Super Mario Sunshine has been a frequent visitor in his downtime, and, well…

It’s not going so well.

“Holy shit, dude,” Kaminari says, dragging a hand down his face. “Do you think he’s finally gonna do it? You know, break the Switch?”

“Man, I hope not! How else I am gonna play Splatoon?” Kirirshima exclaims. “Hey, Bakugou!” he calls out, “Why don’t you take a break and come hang out with your buds for a bit?”

“Shut the hell up, shitty hair!” Bakugou screeches. “I am trying to focus because this stupid F.L.U.D.D. fuck isn’t with me and these stupid ass platforms- What the HELL?! Are you shitting me?!”

Just then, the front door opens and in walks Midoriya; upon seeing Bakugou seething over the Switch, he immediately hightails it to where the others sit. “Uh, guys…? What’s Kacchan doing?”

“Playing Super Mario Sunshine,” both of the other boys respond simultaneously.

“He’s been going at it for the past two hours,” Kaminari says, a slight giggle following afterwards. “If you ask me, this is primetime entertainment.”

“What?” Midoriya squeaks, his face filling with dread. “But Kacchan and video games don’t go well together! We played Just Dance as kids and he used to beat me with the Wii remote!”

“I am the alpha gamer!” Bakugou yells. “I’m not some stupid beta cuck! Suck my ass, Mario, you mustached motherfucker! God, it’s no wonder Peach decides to get kidnapped so often!”

Kirishima turns to Midoriya, his signature smile on his face. “You don’t say? Though I gotta say, his passion is pretty manly! Even though he keeps getting his ass kicked, he’s still pushing through!”

“I heard that!” Bakugou growls. “Kirishima – I will fuck you up, just you watch me!”

“Kirishima… I don’t think Kacchan’s lying…”

“And you, Deku! You’re like Toad – nobody wants you around and your voice is so damn annoying! I swear I’ll kick all of your asses if you keep commentating- AHHHHHH!!!!!” Suddenly, Bakugou slams the Switch down on the coffee table and draws himself to a stand. Writhing in his spot, he whips out every single curse word he can think of; skin turning a dark red, he throws his head back and howls. “God fucking dammit! I’m done! I am fucking done! This is bullshit! Mario, you stupid fat Italian rat bastard! The only pipe you’re laying is the literal kind because your incapable ass can’t save Peach!”

“Oh my god,” Kaminari squeaks. “PFFFFTTTT-“ Quickly hiding his face in his arms, he tries to conceal his laughter.

“Who designed this game? Who?” Bakugou continues. “I just want to have a nice, friendly chat, and maybe fuck their mother! Am I blind? Am I dumb? Getting a tooth pulled at the dentist is leagues better than this fuckery! Stupid little spaghetti-sucking son of a bitch can’t land on these fucknuts worth a shit! OOOOOO! I am not okay!” Slumping back down onto the couch, Bakugou promptly buries his face in his hands.

“Annnnd he’s broken,” Kirishima sighs. “Damage control, incoming! Let’s get to work!” Standing up, he smooths down his clothes and nods his head at Midoriya. “You coming or what?”

“Huh?” Midoriya yelps. “Are you serious? Kacchan will rip our heads off!”

“Yeah, so? He could be crying, for all we know! Angry tears are still tears, dude.”

To the side, Kaminari snickers. “Hey, if you two want to plan your own funerals, go for it! At least get the Switch out of the way so we can play Smash or something!”

“We… could do that…” Midoriya trails off, wringing his hands.

With a thoughtful hum, Kirishima taps his chin. “Alright! But only if I get to be Cloud! We have a lot in common, you know?”

“Shitty hair!” Bakugou calls out. The other three turn to him, only to be taken aback by the crestfallen expression playing on his features. “Can I… Can I have a juice box?”

At that, Kirishima releases a noise that sounds suspiciously more like a dying animal. Clutching his chest, he nods his head. “See, guys?” he says to the others, tone low. “Bakugou is just a broken boy.”

“Oooo, but a Capri Sun sounds really tasty right now!” Kaminari chirps. “Why don’t we all get some snacks and watch a Hallmark movie or something? I know for a fact that those are Bakugou’s secret pleasures!”

“Shut the fuck up, buzz buzz boy! Lacey Chabert is a national treasure!” Bakugou snaps.

Well, as long as it gets his mind off of Super Mario Sunshine, right?

Right?

[lannister-slings-and-arrows]

Hey you! Ok how about Pedro’s characters and the first time they wink at you. ILY and thank you 🙈

Hey babes! I simultaneously love and hate you for this ask because jfc winking irl is so fucking skeezy but, as with a lot of things I previously thought I despised, when Pedro does it I get a little weak in the knees lol. So now I have an excuse to comb through every gif of him winking. You know. For research. For SCIENCE. (Under the cut, cause fucking HELL. This got loooooong.)

(Gif made by @djjarindin )

Whiskey- On your very first day as a Statesman you make the dubious acquaintance of Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels. You’re standing at the window of your new office, flipping one of your knives in the air idly, when a handsome man in tight blue jeans and a black Stetson saunters in without so much as a by your leave. His grin is lazy, charming, and you acknowledge, in the deepest recesses of your hind brain, incredibly enticing.

“Well howdy there, darling,” he greets, thumbs hooked in the front of his belt, drawing your gaze to- is that a flask on his belt buckle? His mustache twitches up on one side as he notices that your eyes landed exactly where he had intended.

“Now what’s a pretty little thing like you doing playing with those pig stickers? You could hurt yourself with knives like that.” He steps closer to you, one hand leaving his belt to brace against the window next to your head so he can lean further into your space.

“Probably the same thing you’re doing playing with those pistols you’ve got under your jacket or that lasso at your hip,” you reply coolly, not backing away from his intrusion into your space. His raises his and he huffs a laugh through his nose.

“Well touché, kitten.” He bends a little at his knees to catch your eyes better and suggests softly in a voice that 90% of you demands you to listen to, “How’s about you and I get outta here and I can give you a tour of the place? Maybe, show you the ropes?” And he then winks at you.

That last 10% of your willpower has something to say to his blatant attempt at getting into your pants.

You slap him.

Javier Peña- You had been warned by more than one person that feminism hadn’t really made its way to Columbia yet when you accepted the portion to field agent and transferred down to the DEA office in Bogota. It was 1990 however, and you kind of expected the Americans you worked with to at least be a little more on board with the times.

That was on you, men were men it seemed, American or Columbian.

The tall blond who introduced himself as Murphy seemed nice enough, he was friendly and a little distracted, and he sounded almost apologetic as he led you further into the office to meet the other member of your team.

“Well hello there, sugar,” a man a couple of inches shorter than Steve greeted you from where he had been leaning on a desk by the door. He stood up straight and sauntered- there was really no other word for how pants that tight made a man walk- closer to the two of you, a wide smile stretched his mustache over his handsome face and showed off the dimples in his cheeks.

Oh lord. One of those men.

“Javi this is-“ Murphy started, clearly trying to diffuse a potential situation but the man interrupted him, and his hand reached for yours, holding it a little longer than necessary.

“A girl too pretty for your married ass to be talking to, Steve.” He still had your hand in between his two large warm ones and you filed that information away for use at a later, much more solitary time. He had the audacity to wink at you and you sighed and rolled your eyes. Ah well.

“I’m your new partner.” Guess feminism still has some strides to make no matter what the nationality of idiot male.

Ezra- You had been stuck on this interminably brown moon for a week and you were going stir crazy. You and your still new partner had landed in a manner that was less than gentle or correct on this nameless rock, and not only was your landing gear bent at an angle a university mathematician would have trouble describing, Ezra couldn’t get the damn thing to start again. 

You weren’t any sort of mechanic by nature, that was one of the things he brought to the table, so until Ezra managed to repair whatever was wrong with this hunk of junk the two of you were still paying off, you were stuck sitting on your hands doing nothing. You had no particular desire to go traipsing around this rock by yourself, protection was one of the other things the man added to your partnership, as you had learned early in your mining career that that generally did not end well for people like you.

So there you sat, bored, listening to the click and clank of Ezra’s tools as he did whatever it was that you needed to do to get an impulse engine working enough to take off and dock to an FTL vessel. And listening to Ezra’s constant talking.

He was currently telling you a rather long winded, even for him and that was saying something, story about how an old partner of his woke up every morning and sanitized the floor of their pod with antibac spray before he would let any of the other four men set foot on it.

“The gentleman in question was a rather odd duck, badger,” he called out to you from half way inside the pod. “Why, in all my years and in all my travels in the black, I must avow never having seen someone so resolved on keeping the extremities of his associates so unsullied. I never cognized if his time running the stars had finally fractured his wits and this was the inevitable concomitant of a life lived as we do, or if it was a tic peculiar to him for all of his life. Still and all, one advantage I did discover at the conclusion of that particular venture: the bottoms of my socks never have been cleaner.” 

An unexpectedly loud guffaw punched its way out of your mouth and you dropped the flat rock you had been attempting to balance on a piece of the aforementioned broken landing equipment. Unfortunately, Ezra decided at that exact time to shimmy his way out from under your craft and instead of falling harmlessly back to the ground where you had found it, it bounced off of his rather distracting ass on its way down. 

He stopped moving and you were about to apologize, you really hadn’t meant to basically throw a rock at him, no matter how much he annoyed you at times, when you heard his voice float up to you again, a little amused, and a little something else that you had had occasion to notice a few times before but had never thought to classify.

“Badger, did you just take your hand to my ass?” You felt your face flush and wondered if this planet’s atmosphere wasn’t as hospitable to humans as you had thought. 

“What?!” You squeaked, voice cracking when it hit a pitch normally very much out of your range.”No! I just dropped a rock!” You heard him chuckle from your feet and refused to look at him as he shuffled all the way out from under to pod and stood to his full height in front of you. He chucked you under the chin and finally you looked up into his eyes. 

“Because darling, I strongly advocate any physical contact that you might desire to have with any part of my body you so wish, at any time of your choosing,” he told you with a wink.

Catfish- You had moved to Texas to take up residence on the ranch your grandfather had left you, not out of any real desire to take up the cowboy life. You hated how hot it was, you hated how slowly everyone talked, you hated how big the entire goddamned state was, and if one more goddamned truck managed to take up three goddamned parking spaces at the grocery store one more time you were going to throw a temper tantrum that would make all their southern asses wish they had managed to secede. 

That was how you had met Catfish (”No that isn’t my real name; no one but my mama calls me Francisco”). He had been the next asshole in a truck to take up more than what your space conscious Yankee ass had deemed his due. 

“Listen ma’am-”

“Don’t you “ma’am” me, how old are you implying I look?!”

“Sorry, miss, if you’re gonna holler at me, could we step a little further away from the truck? I just got that baby to sleep, and if she wakes up starts cryin’ again, I think I’m gonna start too.”

After a meet cute like that, it was inevitable that the two of you would hit it off as well as you did, and so a year later saw you still in a state that you were convinced was trying to kill you (hurricanes, tornadoes, floods, Republicans, and rattlesnakes???), stretched out on Catfish’s beat up couch, more than a little drunk, and a lot happier than when you had left New York to come here. 

Catfish set both new bottles of beer down on the coffee table in front of you and smiled down at you with that big grin that summoned both the dimples in his cheeks and made you feel like your heart was growing four sizes larger inside your chest. He took off his ever present beat up baseball cap and tossed it on your lap. His hair was simultaneously flattened and a mess and you were sure he couldn’t look more handsome in this moment if he had an army of Hollywood stylists attack him. 

He reached down to he hem of his grey Henley and started to pull it up. 

“Whoa there cowboy!” You exclaimed with a grin, sitting up and plopping his hat onto your head for safe keeping. “I didn’t realize I was getting a show when I came over here!” He stopped with his shirt half way off his torso and looked down at you with an eyebrow cocked. 

“It’s hot as goddamned balls in here, baby, and I’m wearin’ two of these things. One of ‘em at least is comin’ off.” He pulled it off the rest of the way and straightened his first layer that had attempted to escape with its compatriot before reaching down and grabbing his hat off of your head and flopping onto the couch next to you. 

“Hey Fish, how long do you think we have before the baby wakes up?” He shrugged, his head rolling on the back of the couch o face you. 

“I dunno, darlin’, why do you ask?” You bit your lip and smiled up at him, playing with the fingers of the hand he had settled on your thigh. 

“Oh, well, you know how watching you nearly get stuck in your shirts really does it for me.” He groaned and slapped your leg lightly as you laughed. 

“I think we’ve got time for whatever you want baby. Helicopter pilots can go straight up pretty fast you know.” He told you with a wink that you were sure was supposed to be alluring. 

Oberyn Martell- The first thing you consciously noticed about Dorne was that it was hot. This was a kind of inescapable heat that permeated your entire body and made you feel like you were cooking from the inside out. You had never before given much thought to what it would feel like to be put into an oven and roasted alive, but without a doubt this is was that feeling. When you went back home to White Harbor you weren’t ever going to complain about the cold ever again.

The second thing you noticed when you put into port in Sunspear- a city quite a bit smaller than most of the cities of the upper six kingdoms the Manderlys sent your father to trade with- was that no one seemed to be wearing a lot of clothes. Which you supposed made sense because you were positively dying in yours.

You quickly changed into a pair of your brother’s breeches and a loose shirt before practically running off the ship and into the dusty warrens of the Shadow City below the walls of the Martell’s castle, eager to stretch your legs after weeks at sea and eat something other than hard tac and salted meat and fish. You figured you had at least a few hours before you would be expected to accompany your father to the castle to haggle about prices for wood and iron and silks and citrus.

The air only got hotter the further from the sea breeze you walked, and as you meandered the twisting and winding bazaars all you could smell were foreign spices and perfumes. Your head was on a swivel trying to take in the sights and sounds of a market radically different from any you had seen before when you walked into a silk covered shoulder. The shoulder belonged to a man nearly a foot taller than you and you wouldn’t have stood a chance at remaining on your feet if two strong arms hadn’t shot out and wrapped around your waist, dragging you back from your rather embarrassing descent to the dusty street and into a warm solid chest.

“I normally have to put in at least some effort in order to sweep someone off their feet, it must be my lucky day that you seem to have decided to do all the hard work for me,” an amused, accented voice said from above you. You felt every word from where your ear was plastered to the bare skin of his chest, his yellow and orange robes belted loosely enough to leave most of his golden skin exposed. You felt your face flush as you shuffled your feet, trying to get them back under you in a way that would allow you to stand and not fall on your face. The man set you back from him gently and you finally looked up

Your savior was beautiful. There wasn’t any other word to describe a face with deep set, smiling eyes that were so deep a brown you really had to look to distinguish his pupils. His nose was curved and prominent, his jaw covered with the same black hair that was cropped closer to his head than you were used to seeing in the North. And his lips were too pretty for a man. They spread into a smile as his eyes met yours, dimples appearing in his cheeks and you were smiling back before you realized it.

“Now,” he said, eyes still laughing. “You are either the worst pick pocket I’ve ever encountered or clearly too taken with the sights around you to be trusted to walk unescorted.” You hoped he never stopped speaking. His voice was deep and rich and at the same time soft and musical and no one in the woods and wilds where you had grown up spoke like he did.

“Uh, yes,” you stuttered and felt your ears burn as he smiled wider, eyebrows in danger of disappearing into his hair. “I mean, no, I’m not a pick pocket! I just, sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going, my apologies.” You stuttered stepping further back from him, hoping maybe some more distance would restore your ability to not make an ass out of yourself in front of this handsome stranger. “Thanks for you know,” you featured vaguely at the ground.

“Oh, you’re very welcome for ‘you know’,” the man replied, somehow injecting a completely different meaning to your innocuous words than you had intended. Your face could have been used to light a campfire by now. You needed to get back and get changed before you did something truly stupid.

“Okay, well, um, sorry, again, for walking into you,” you said, backing away. “But uh, I’ve got to, uh, go...” You sort of waved and took off back the way you came, taking care not to run into any more handsome strangers.

You made it back to the ship in time for your father to lecture you about how dangerous it was to just run off in a “city full of wild Dornishmen! Don’t think that because you’re dressed like a man you’d be safe! That ‘sort of thing’ is common here, daughter!” while you dressed in clothes more suitable to both your station and a meeting with the ruling house of the kingdom.

It was somehow cooler within the sandstone walls of the castle, and you amused yourself on the walk up to the raised dais by listening to the different sounds your company’s boots made on the marble floor.

There was a woman sitting on a carved wooden seat and a tall dark haired man standing behind her, leaning indolently against her chair at the top of the steps you and your father stopped at. You listened to your father make the appropriate greetings, hoping that they could come to favorable terms of trade for items and goods they all wanted. And you felt someone staring at you. You looked up at the young woman in the chair as your father introduced you and you smiled and curtsied less gracefully than your mother would have liked. Your father turned his face to the man behind the chair and began to repeat the introduction when a familiar laughing voice interurrupted,

“Oh, I believe we’ve met already, haven’t we, little pick pocket?” Your eyes snapped up from the marble floor to lock onto those dancing brown eyes from earlier this morning. You felt your jaw drop and your face turn what you were sure was a very unattractive shade of crimson as Oberyn Martell, Prince of Dorne grinned and winked at you.

Din- You had been flying with the Mandalorian and his tiny green baby for about a month when you decided that hyperspace was boring and if you wanted any amusement you would have to take a page out of the little man’s book and make your own fun. You knew that stealing pieces of the ship and hiding them would not be as cute as when the baby did it, so that was out. You weren’t a tall person, but you were still bigger than the green terror so playing hide and seek was pretty close to useless. You were grasping at straws until suddenly it hit you like one of the utensils that the tiny monster liked to levitate around the cabin.

You were going to get Mando to laugh.

You had absolutely no idea how you were going to accomplish this, or even any idea at all what a near silent warrior monk that you were still not a hundred percent convinced wasn’t a droid would find funny, so you decided to just do what you did best; you opened your mouth and let the word vomit out. 

You didn’t shut up. If you were awake and not actively hunting someone, you were talking. The baby seemed to enjoy the new amount of noise and animation, but thus far you had only gotten a few sighs and what you thought were exasperated glares from your adult companion. At least, you figured they were glares. His helmet turned to face you and frankly, you were beginning to even get on your own nerves, so he was almost definitely glaring at you under that beskar. 

This went on for four days straight until one day the three of you were sitting in the cockpit, watching the stars zip by, and you decided to narrate yourself drinking a glass of water. You had just gotten to the swallowing part and were attempting to put into words what that felt like when he turned around to face you. 

“If one more word comes out of your mouth I will cut into into small enough pieces that the baby won’t notice it’s a human that he is eating for dinner tonight.”

You choked. And you definitely spat water all over the visor of his helmet. 

You coughed and stared at him, terrified, not sure if these were going to be your last few seconds as a breathing creature, but sure that if they were you at least had the image of the Mandalorian with water and spit sliding down the front of his helmet to console you. 

All three of you sat in silence for at least a minute before he leaned forward very slowly. You leaned as far back as your seat would allow. 

“That was a joke,” he told you, voice warm despite the crackle of his modulator. “You can’t see it, but I just winked.”

Screw making him mad. You were going to kill the Mandalorian. 

Tovar- This was officially one of the worst ways that you could think of to die. You sure that if you were given a few more minutes, and a few less spears pointed in your face to distract you, you could surely come up with at least five different ways that were, in fact, worse, but right now, this seemed pretty awful and didn’t seem likely to get any better. 

“I need you to trust me,” your companion murmured in your ear, his hand on your wrist, stopping you from drawing one of your long knives. You cut your eyes quickly to his normally laughing brown eyes and then back to the soldiers in front of you. 

“That never works out well for me, Tovar,” you remind him in a quiet hiss. He moves his arm from his side to around your shoulders and draws you close and tight against his much taller body. 

“Good day, gentlemen!” He calls jovially to the five armored men blocking their way on the road. You can hear the wide grin that must be plastered on his stupidly handsome face and you send up a fast prayer to God that he doesn’t manage to get you into worse trouble than you were in already. Or that at least William can manage to get you out of it again. 

“Halt,” the spear man in the middle orders, and Tovar stops walking, forcing you to as well, still tucked into his side. His left hand strokes your arm casually (you note its not his preferred sword hand which gives you some hope that he might actually have a plan), and he leans a bit more of his weight on you than you think is really called for. Is he pretending-

“Why whatever are you fine men doing in the middle of the road? Don’t you know there’s a war on! Shouldn’t you be off fighting that fierce some mercenary army?” You want to stab him. His entire left side is open and unguarded mere inches away from your favorite knife, you could slide the blade in right there between his ribs, you could have the pleasure of puncturing his lung and watching him slowly suffocate. Maybe he would finally stop talking. 

“No one is allowed past this point,” the spear man informed you, still glaring. “Who are you and what is your business here?” The other four soldiers inched closer and you stiffen. 

“Don’t,” Tovar ordered you through his clenched teeth, smile still in place. “I can get us out of this, I just need you to play along.”

“If we get out of this I am going to personally castrate you,” you inform him, a clenched tooth smile of your own on your face.

“Anything to get your hands on my cock, eh?” You elbowed him in that unprotected side you had been eyeing before he tried to bargain with the guardians of the road.

“Oh but surely sir, you wouldn’t hinder a poor man trying to get home to his farm?”The soldier looked extremely skeptical.

“If you’re a farmer, I’m the King of England.” Tovar shrugged.

“Alright, so I’m not a farmer. This rather attractive filly is, however, only paid for for another hour, and I had meant to have my way with her at least twice before my time was up. Surely you can understand my need to make all haste now?”

Nope, not castration. Castration and then you were going to make him watch as you fed his balls to goats.

“Don’t bite me please,” was all the warning you received before Tovar looked down at you, winked, and kissed you, lips surprisingly soft, and incredibly distracting. Maybe the castration could wait for a few hours.

Max Phillips- When the higher ups bring in a handsome new manager to boost sales and productivity you aren’t entirely surprised that every employee gets called one by one into his office for a “chat”. He’s new, it tracks that he’d want to get to know everybody.

You are both anticipating and dreading your own 2:30 appointment with the new boss man, you’re positive that out of all your coworkers your performance has been the most consistently decent since you were hired two years ago, but who knows. This was a new unknown element. His goal might be to shake things up to keep people on their toes.

You hear a ‘come in’ after you knock firmly on his closed door three minutes earlier than your scheduled time, and you find him working at his computer, jacket off, a pout on his lips that were frankly too pretty to be on such a distinctively masculine face, and his shirt sleeves artfully rolled up.

He doesn’t glance at you as he waves at a chair in front of his desk. You sit as instructed, and try as you might, are unable to help staring at him as he finishes whatever it is that requires such attention. You take in the tiny tattoo on his left hand with a little surprise. And you try very hard to ignore the shift and play of the muscles of his forearms under his lightly tanned skin. This is your new boss get a grip, you scold yourself, tearing your gaze away to rest on the shelves behind his head.

He sits back with a sigh and his palms hit his desk.

“I am sorry about that. I honestly hate computers, they’re just so impersonal, don’t you think?” He asks with a winning smile, eyes and attention totally on you now. You return his grin with a small, polite twitch of your own lips and raise your eyebrows questioningly at him.

“Anyways, I just wanted to get to know everybody here, you know? Know the real person behind your employee file! Find out what makes you tick, what gets you excited!” You’re only half paying attention to his spiel, but he garners your full and complete concentration when as he utters the word “excited” and he grins salaciously and winks at you.

You’re a little taken aback. You know you should call HR. At the very least that was thoughtless and at the worst, utterly inappropriate.

You are unfortunately intrigued. You know you won’t be calling anyone about this.

Maxwell Lord- You’d been working for Lord Enterprises for about a year before you were moved up to the top floor. You liked to think you were good at your job, you were a quick typist and resourceful, and you were excited about the bump in pay that accompanied your new position.

After a week of following one of the other girls around and learning the ins and out of the executive offices, you were turned loose and given your own duties and assignments. The very first of those were to take a pile of files from the desk of the most senior of the secretaries and make sure it ended up in the possession of Maxwell Lord himself. You hadn’t heard much about the the big boss one way or another, so you squared your shoulders and after knocking firmly, opened the door and entered his office.

Lord was seated behind a dark wood desk that you thought was probably a bit bigger than strictly necessary. He was in his shirt sleeves, waistcoat stretched over a bit of middle aged spread that he nonetheless wore well. His hair was thick, blond, and immaculately styled, and he was talking animatedly on the phone, gesturing with his free hand and you could see his body vibrating slightly as he bounced his leg up and down quickly.

He was a handsome man, and a lot younger than you had expected him to be. And when he looked up at you as you walked further into his office and smiled brightly at you his attractiveness only increased. His eyes were a deep, dark brown and they shone when two dimples appeared in his cheeks with his grin.

You held up the stack of folders in your hand and raised your eyebrows in a question. He gestured to the desk in front of him and you moved closer to set them gently down in front of the man. You observed him check you out from your hair down to you shoes as you walked closer and were a little surprised when no chauvinistic comment popped out of his mouth. This might have been the 80’s, but you were a secretary and knew that women’s rights only meant that you could earn your own paycheck now.

You nodded at him as you set them down and he mouthed ‘thank you’ as he continued to listen to the droning voice you could now hear over the telephone.

And then he winked at you.

Maybe this job would turn up some opportunities for you after all.

[thecrenellations]

Return of the Thief Notes, Part One: The Book of Pheris, Volume I

Notes from my first read, October 2020. (Part Two | Part Three | TaT)

Contents:  "So, so, so” watch, Costis watch, swearing, trashing the king’s attendants, being objectively wrong, boundless enthusiasm and love 

I promise I’ve had more developed thoughts since these often incoherent ones, but I’ve enjoyed having these notes to refer to - for sentimental reasons and for  entertainment, so here they are, for others who enjoy liveblogs and/or being whisked back in time to their first read of this wonderful book.

Format: Page number. My thoughts (Context?)

Dedication, Table of Contents, Exordium:

There it is – to Sounis

Exordium – vocab #1

Interregnum?!? Alyta?

Pheris!!!

Yeah I love him from the first page

MOIRA

MOCKING COMMENTS HELP! Gen lives!

A new level of unreliable narrator

Moira, messages of Gods, Pheris, messages of __

Wtf is going on in this study? A zoo?

high king vs great king vs annux?

okie dokie dude

Chapter 1

1. Susa – Costis

2. Infirmity – who gets to be hero/tell story (I started reading right after the book launch, in which mwt spent some time talking about her writing influences and decisions connect to this question - Pheris isn’t her first disabled protagonist and storyteller, of course, but it was lovely to meet him properly directly after hearing her talk about it. Book launch foreshadowing part 1...)

Melisande?

Is this why he wasn’t taught to read?

3. Always the summer

Bees!

4. Hunting cat… hm…

Ok … shrine … 😬

5. Once again we start with a disaster or having to flee

Which Eugenides precipitated

Bite!

Little monster :(

6. Falling…

:(

7. :( :( :(

His purpose? D:

8. YIKES

Chapter 2

9. Hello there! (Gen!)

Massive chair?

10. CRACKED WATER JUG (amphora motif???)

11. Triangle from seal!

Gen that’s rude to Pheris :( (“He will fit in very well with my attendants”)

Wait. This must have happened before ACoK! (nope)

12. :(

Xikander … never made an impression before

How old is Pheris? (lol)

13. Philologos come thru!

Royal closet reappears!

14. Hello weird secondhand scene!

He is Eugenides

Marina…

15. Petrus? GALEN? OH SHIT! 

Is this why Galen was called? (nope)

16. Hell yea Petrus

Miras’ golden balls oh no

All these previously unnamed sucky attendants!

17. Ula – goddess of hearth and healing

Ok … Galen … or a god? Eugenides????? (why did these options occur to me before Mr. Shows Up At Your Bedside At Night himself)

18. Finally the attendant floor plans I crave + hunting scenes!

19. EXCUSE ME he slept through Sounis + Eddis wedding!!!

Again – high king!

20. So Ion is beautiful … hmm.

Yeah … Sejanus has facets. I like it.

21. Clearly no one would know what king would do … lol

Don’t mind me just sorting the attendants on a spectrum of awfulness!!!

22. SO SO SO – ION!!!!!

How many fucking attendants are there and how many are on my hit list!

Is “the necessaries” bathrooms or like … him stealing? (just the bathrooms ... the Gen-Pheris parallels were really getting to me at this point)

:(

23. OH MY GOD THE UNIFIED CREST

Also … frogs. Frogs.

24. Big day for Gen huh

Definitely an aura of Something as he writes about Gen

25. HELLO EVERYONE

26. Sorry Kamet, Pheris does the physical descriptions better. They’re beautiful

I’m blacking out at Eddis and Sounis

27. Jesus Christ. The bear.

Cousin time!

Under the table is the new up on the roof!

Uh… twin imagery ….

Gen’s feet!

Jesus. The matching

28. Cleon … wtf? A cousin?

A trial for Sophos?

Show! Us! Sophos’s! Shoes!

29. If u throw things out the air shaft you might hit the king

Was it a chicken?

Lol nvm the guy at night is Gen. That is … very sweet

- Showing up at night

- Accent

- Complaining about Petrus

- Swearing

- One hand

I am judging Costis and Sophos for not describing the paneling in Gen’s room!

Chapter 3

30. Was it a chicken?

An earring huh, good hand huh

31. Literally screaming “NO!” at Gen. Don’t joke about dying! I am killed by Gen on annux day. This is. My boy. Yes he is perfect. Yes he will refuse to get up. I love him. I died on page 31

Philologos is still the best of them

32. Dancing bear indeed

Always the powdered gold

Ruby!!!!! <3

Aww a smile!!! <3

Pheris he likes you!

33. They both love invisibility and lost it … I cry

Erupt like the sacred mountain excuse me!

OR WORSE return to bed! Lol

34. He’s Eugenides when he’s talking to Attolia

Ouch hero talk

! from Irene!

My queen!

Hey Phresine!

They way we do <3 he’s hating it but he’s so comfortable with her

Sister and bro mention! C’mon!

I love them

EYEBROW

35. Honestly that’s a yes (“I have no idea what you mean, my queen”)

It’s so cute they hang out in the morning … like how long was it even since they’ve seen each other lol

:( tough walk for Pheris

Is it prophecy time?

Lol how long does this construction take?!

Also … she’s pregnant, huh? but no one knows (nope)

Is befriending someone weaponized as a prank count for Gen’s enemies to friends list?

Also SHOW ME the magus. I know he’s here!

36. Pheris excuse me, why not recreate this!

Lol cast off language of history indeed

Feel the thrum of the goddess!

EXCUSE ME… a minor goddess? Mystery goddess? Or Philia?

Oh Gen

37. Well, Gen, someone is having a worse day than you.

Damn, how far we come.

Aww Sounis, babe, I love you and so does Gen

[drawing of the four of them sitting in a row]

38. Artadorus???? Pomegranate?

39. HEIRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A friend! Also lol. Two smiles, for Pheris and Heiro..

40. Yesss Melheret joke in action.

Costis has left tho right?

Jesus, Melheret

SHE GAVE HIM A HORSE (I COULD NOT DEAL with this entire conversation, but then again I could not deal with this whole book.)

41. I love them all so much

“on that horse, you will look like a king” I can’t with her sense of humor

He sure did say that

I feel like I’m missing something with the fight on foot thing … remembering battles?

Helen called him Gen!

Sophos stop talking about yourself and bringing apricots into everything lol

Lol these bystanders don’t know how lucky they are. Nor does Pheris, yet

42. She’s protecting him

Also … Gen … you didn’t want to be a soldier.

43. Guards have capes

2 startled men … hm …

Oh Gen. The fucking brutal echoes…

44. :( :( :(

Gen tell your wife you’re sick!

The attendants are so dumb

45. So, so, so :(

Tell who? Petrus?

Wink!

Yes?

46. Bleeding! Salt! Lemon! Heck no! What is he, a piece of meat?

Oranges?

47. “savoring each bite as if it were my last” ... Same … but with this book

Hmm… Alyta! Goddess of the gentle rain! (despite this “hmm,” I did not put the pieces together)

48. Oh no Teleus! And someone?

Aw he realized <3 lemon water

49. Gen eat your broth lol

50. I love them.

Ion’s really trying to make up for what he did that one time

51. Without the approval of the great goddess HAHAHA

I love them. Cousin time! Growl?

Idk whether or not to be reassured, Gen.

Wow Cleon I do not like that. Also didn’t he die? (...)

Comma (“I am not, Eddis”)

Go smack him!

52. Gen I love you.

Helen I love you.

He’s so bad at self care but I love him

Chapter 4

55. love that our narrator just disappears and reappears

56. Attolia’s brother’s bedroom? Yikes. Ominous. A detail in a story we’ve already gotten, different every time <3

57. fucking attendants. 3 good ones. Medander you were beneath Costis’s notice before but I hate you. Costis didn’t have time for you or Xikos or Xikander and nor do I

58. interesting pawn talk!!!

59. <3 Pheris :(

The Gen comparisons though

:( :( :( :(

60. flamboyance <3

Cemphora bush

Bees

61. I love him

62. I love them

Also lol “Your majesty?”

63. Name … hm … (“I have deliberately omitted [my tutor’s] name here”)

64. more twin imagery I swear

WAIT … it was his birthday! Not just Annux day?!! Gen was born in late summer???

Attendant list thank you

65. laying it all out there, huh … (that one Gen quote)

Lol they’re the same but Pheris likes horses

66. Insellia! Hello nice to meet you

67. Gen that’s mean. (“He is hardly even half of one.”)

68. Coleus leves???

“I am Eugenides.” <3

Gen why

69. Gold cups???? Hmmmmm. Also lioness. Def invoking Costis. (they’re probably not the cups, but STILL)

Earth….

70. Moira! Hi!!! Rainbow shawl!

Like a rabbit!

Pester!

I’m … very sad he uses his Attolian accent with Helen

71. Aaah so good

Mortals

Moira knows another messenger?

Does he think he can’t die in battle?

72. hmm are they WRANGLING?! (Galen and Petrus and my Fire and Hemlock word association)

Kill that pastry Irene I love you

morning training with his … guard? (Is that the whole guard or a guard? Costis senses tingling once again.)

73. Oh gen.

Ouch! (“to send people to their deaths and not risk my own is contemptible”)

Is she implying he’s paying Therespides?

74. Interesting Cleon plan. So many doubles

OUCH. (“Only if he comes back from the dead.” I assumed Lader had died in the war; it’s a different ouch now. I love that they both accidentally say things to each other that poke old wounds, and it’s not a big deal but it’s also not dismissed! Their relationship has come so far, and I love them so much.)

75. Verimius – Lavia – Celia??? Somebody is queer in there!

A GUARD

This scene confuses me. Xortix? Layteres? Aris! but dice thing is less political … so maybe? (just wait....)

76. So many reasons to hate Medander

Hey Costis! You exist! KoA happened!

Gen is just … still so uncomfortable and miserable. He chose, he has people, but still.

RIP Clopius also WHAT

77. Lol Hilarion’s grand statements

78. Yorn Fordad Hello!

Luxurious mustache

The mighty Pents?

Besin Quedue – she’s coming 4 you watch out

79. RIP Baron Hippias

Chapter 5

80. Spring! Plays! Cenna!

81. Oh dear

Oh dear

At least they said he was pretty

83. ?!? :( wine

Uh oh. Stockpiling

85. What even.

AAAAAAAAAH COSTIS

86. Omg Irene. Hissing. I love her.

Also … Gen’s the viper

Also this scene was written by Pheris.

Damn.

87. oh no.

What better man

She fucking quoted Howl. I love them.

Also, bees (this scene killed me)

90. Falling?

Oh shit

Also … Juridius and Pheris, Susa and Costis (comparing demands for information)

93. oh my god (IT’S THE WINDOW SCENE)

Oh my god

Uh

94. She! Called! Him! Gen!

I love this and it scares me

Lol Chloe

Irene you learned from her though

95. D:

96. :(

97. water stuff

98. what the heck

OH NO (Quedue scene)

Hm

100. yikes

Omg

Wow.

102. yikes yikes YIKES

103. a blade has protruded from his chest (tbt to The Thief)

jesus

106. shit

Did Gen hit him?

108. lol Phresine

109. lol

I want genuinely every character’s reaction to this shit

Chapter 6

111. what the heck Gen.

112. like a god [crown doodle]

114. Perma?

116. Gen. Gen. Gen. Do not.

117. AAAA (god intervention)

122. Juridius to Dite

124. bye Iolanthe and Ileia! Tell us about Caeta and Silla.

125. did not expect so much Ion

Chapter 7

127. Fryst god of winter

She laughed!

They’re so married

128. OH SHIT (Costis ship is sighted and I remember what’s about to happen next)

Interesting timing

He rode the horse home?

131. Beauty and good, beauty and kind

134. The gods’ goodwill

Keep them safe <3

135. Is that his MOM?!! Wtf (it was!)

Pheris steal those earrings!!!

RING! SMASH BOX!

137. AMPHORA EARRINGS (and flowers)

138. I love Phresine

139. Why do I feel like all the game birds are pigeons

140. meanwhile Gen’s been hanging out with Kamet. Shit. I cannot.

WELCOME HOME BOYS!

HELL YEAH KAMET ATTEND THOSE MEETINGS!

RELIUS COME THRU

141. lethium soup! The reversal

Safe for you

142. of course he knew <3

143. Kamet time! I love him. We get to see Kamet!!!

Also … echo of Gen’s notes on Mede

145. very handsome. … gaycostis vindication (referring to @costis’s url at the time and this post. Little did I know what else was to come in the next chapter and then a few months later with the adaptation news...)

Do you know who I am?

Chapter 8

147. Of course he’s a cartographer

A favorite huh

148. of course she didn’t tell us his age!

149. the angsty window staring I crave

Music!

151. adventure, huh

I do have a soft spot for Melheret

152. concerned about amphora gift

153. Glad they can be well and united in spite!! (Gen and Melheret)

154. Pheris loves math and I love him

155. Hello Teleus. Hello olives

Lol Relius is not into math

156. pigeons. Inkpot!

157. yeah honestly. He tortures people. He was NOT tortured by the king

159. lol (“I have noted the elective nature of certain behaviors” ... I love Relius and Pheris.)

160. The Invitation! I <3 it

161. EXCUSE ME WHO

Legarus!

FOLKS HERE WE ARE (I cannot overstate how wonderful it was to read this page. I did not know who the poem was from, and “Someone loves me very much, even with all my faults” is even sweeter to reread, but it’s just ... his confidence is so different from the tentative consideration of a new philosophy of trust and love we see in KoA. And there is subtextual queerness in the books before this one, some more apparent and some more subtle (and what is obvious to one reader may be subtle or invisible to another, in these books especially), and there is the attendant love triangle a few chapters back, but HERE - here, Pheris acknowledges the real feeling and love in Legarus’s disastrous relationship and tells us directly that his lover was a man, here he seamlessly makes it clear how bi and poly Relius is, and he quietly ties these relationships and realities to his growing understanding of the world. It’s not subtext. And there’s a lot more to come, but this page really hit me, and sort of promised the “more to come” while assuring me that what had come before, more subtly, was there. I used to have heteronormative readings of both these books and myself, and when Thick as Thieves brought them crashing back into my heart after years away, I knew better about myself, and I saw that - or the possibility of that reading -  reflected in the new book, and it was such a good surprise. It meant a lot, and this page meant a lot, and that is why I’m writing a small essay to accompany this note.) 

Lol wow

162. Where are you traveling, man (this question remains)

163. Fuck you, Orutus

164. Stole an inkpot!

165. the map!!! (Kamet’s)

166. I love them!

167. The Math Master hmm

Am I an oracle (Nope! :) )

[heyimtavia]

THE POST FINALE HENRY DANGER OPINIONS TAG:

Hey party people! Sorry I’ve been a bit out of the loop. Due to what’s going on in the world, adulting sorta got in the way and I have to DVR the final episode. No one tagged me, but I just wanted to add my two cents since this is officially the end and this is a really cute tag.

1. Who was your overall favorite member of Team Danger and why?

Charlotte hands down. She was brilliant, sassy and just a great friend to Henry no matter what. She’s one of the main reasons why I decided to tune into the show. I saw a lot of myself in her. I was once that little smart black girl that no one listened too. But it’s okay though, but that GLOW UP is real! I know from experience lol.

2. Who was your favorite non-team danger character and why?

Y'all know I love Fran the security guard. She should’ve gotten more air time. I just think she’s hilarious! I’d loved to see her try to wrestle a dolphin any day!

3. Who was your favorite villain and why?

Dr. Minyak & Nurse Cohort. I just gotta respect his hustle. Other than Rex and Rick Twitler, I feel like he’s the only everyday villain who always came close to defeating Captain Man & Kid Danger. He always had unique plans; from capturing and brain-altering Charlotte to taking Piper and the man fan hostage, he was always creative. Plus I love his little temper tantrums he sometimes throws. 

4. What were your top five favorite Henry Danger episodes of all time and why?

1) All time Fav would go to The Great Cactus Con. From the dopeyness of how everyone can do a backflip instead of Ray. How Charlotte gets to show off her fashion design skills. How Piper unofficially works with Team Danger. Plus I love the cute romantic bit between Jasper and Patina. 2) Rumblr- That whole episode was just comedy gold for me. They should’ve brought Kyle back for the finale and had him show up at kid danger’s funeral  3) I dream of Danger - Its Char’s episode. I like how it alluded to Charlotte’s dream might come true but it doesn’t. However, I don’t like how they just moved on like the episode never happened even when Jasper thinks that char likes him. 4) Flabber Gassed- I love that char got to show off her fighting skills and how happy Jasper was to be a superhero. 5) Holey Moley- I straight up die for laughter every time I see that episode. I love how Henry kept saying, “oh look, a downside.” I feel like that episode would have been a sketch on All That or the Amanda Show. It just felt like good ole Nickelodeon comedy.

5. What were your top five least favorite Henry Danger episodes of all time and why?

1) Henry’s Birthday- Call me a diva, but if anyone treated me like that on my birthday, the party is OVER! 2) Captain Makini (I think that's what it’s called). Sorry, I'm not really a fan of Frankie Grande and though he was great for the musical, I really don’t think he needed a second episode. 3) Meet Cute Crush- I’m sorry, anything involving Piper is just physical and emotionally draining. All that girl does is yell. Thank u, next. 4) Sick & Wired- Because I got sick and tired of Ray’s shenanigans. 5) JAM Session- Now Piper isn’t my favorite character, but how that girl was manipulated all over a bet was just stupid and disrespectful.

6. What was your favorite running gag and why?

1) Fran’s line, “There’s only one in the whole world, and we got it!” Swellview must be a fun, mysterious place that always gets amazing things lol. 2) When everyone says “Click” before hanging up their phone. I find it funny because I’m pretty sure the kids had never owned a flip phone in their lives.

7. What was your favorite one-off throw away gag and why?

When shwoz referenced his song from the musical when he said, “Science, science, science, I’ve said this already.” I think he said this in Theranos boot. And also the grammar fights and how grammar rules don’t apply to Charlotte lol.

8. What episode, which character and which duo made you laugh the most?

I think Holey Moley & Rumblr both made me laugh the most. Those were great episodes. Jasper would have to be the funniest. That boy says the darndest things lol. Hensper. Because of how Henry loved Jasper’s mustache and wanted to get one too. And when Jasper and Henry were both “Dude. Bro. Dude. Bro. DUDE!” Over the Patina situation and Charlotte had to break them up.

9. What episode, which character and which duo made you the most emotional?

I think it was Second episode of the finale episodes, when Henry was freaking out at the end because he was alone and Rex had sent Ray A Million and one years into the past. The fact that he literally had to think like all of his friends because obviously that’s what he was used to, everyone being there to help figure out a plan and keep swellview safe. And the fact that for that moment he was kid danger and all alone was really scary for him.

10. How would you rank each season from 1 to 5, one being the best and five being the worst?

I would rank season 5 as 1. It overall had great episodes and delved into different genres and fun tv and movie tropes. It made it a joy to watch, though some episodes leading towards the end didn’t quite catch me. Season 4 would be like a high 4 but not exactly a 5. Season 3 was sorta Meh to me. So maybe a #.  Season 2 would be a 4 and season 1 would be like a 4 because it was a the beginning to a great show and was still working out the kinks a bit.

11. Who was your favorite duo in the show (romantic or non-romantic)?

Chenry 100%. The friendship that those two have is great! Now I must say, I hate that Nick was still posting about them on their youtube page for clout knowing that it wasn’t gonna happen. I felt like they did that just so people would watch the final episodes. I was gonna watch regardless, but really Nick? Really?

12. What was your favorite Henry and Ray moment/episode?

The bro song! Plus I love that it kept getting referenced after the musical as well.

13. What was your favorite Chenry moment/episode?

 When Char was controlling  Henry in flabber gassed, she made him jump up and down while clapping! I love that even shwoz joined in too lol. And when Henry was concerned about her after she ate bad meat from the auto snacker.

14. What was your favorite Hensper moment/episode?

The mustache scene from Grand Theft Otto, “dude if I had one, I’d be Man Danger!”

15. What was your favorite Chensper moment/episode?

This also kinda includes Ray but when they were all stealing Joss Ross’s gift from her birthday party and they were just casually leaving. And how Jasper kept saying, “It’s not stealing if it’s from a criminal.” Plus I like the episode when Hen and Char have to pretend to date just to see if Jasper would keep their secret. The boy poured a whole bowl of pees down his shirt lmaoooo!!

16. If you could go back and change one element of the show, what would it be?

 Have Ray grow up and stop fawning over Henry’s mom. It was just plain creepy! Oh and put some respect on my girl Charlotte’s name.

17. If you could say one thing to each main character in the pilot, what would it be?

Life isn’t always about one day getting a statue, (I’m looking at YOU Captain Man). Crime-fighting is fun and being a sidekick could literally every kid’s dream. But don’t forget to be a kid. Hangout with your friends, go to school, go on dates. Do the whole growing up thing. But at the end of the day, you have to do what’s best for you.

18. If you could say one thing to each main character in the finale, what would it be?

Thank you for sharing your lives with me and I am so so sooo proud of you all! 

19. Were you satisfied with the finale? What part was your favorite and what part was your least favorite?

 Honestly, I think it was okay for what it was. My fav part was when Jasper literally had to carry Char out of the mancave because she refused to leave Henry behind. I love that they decided to stick together. They did leave a lot of storylines open. I thought Joss Moss would be revealed as the real Mob boss. I thought Rick Twitler would regain his memory. Where the heck is Gooch? Caitlin? Chenry (for obvious reasons). I'm just spitballing here. Was it good? Yes. could it have been better? Hell yes.

20. What would your ideal Henry danger spin off look like?

 Charlotte and Henry have powers and Jasper can fight! Dystopia. That was the spin-off that I wanted! I don’t really care about the new kids as much. They’re college-aged too? Just imagine the shenanigans they would get into! But we need to kick the Charlotte hating writer off the staff though. Can The CW pick this show up?

21. Where do you personally see the characters 10 years from now? What are they doing, who are they with, where are they in their lives - what do you think happened to them? Most importantly, are they happy?

 I honestly haven’t thought about it. But I believe no matter what they do or where they may end up, they will be happy. They’ll probably always be a team.

22. What was your favorite part of the show and why did it initially draw you in?

It became an escape from my normal adult life. (I’m saying like I’m old. I’m only 23.) I randomly flipped it on one day, I can't remember what episode it was, but from then on, I was hooked. I used to watch it a while back, but I fell off, but at that moment on time, it was easy for me to fall right back into it.

23. What was your favourite part of the fandom and why did it initially draw you in?

The friends I’ve made, the people have met! They are the best out of all the fandoms I’m a part of. I’ve been on tumblr for years and never had I have a group of people be so nice, supportive and just incorporate me into things. I love you guys so much!

24. Describe your overall emotions/feelings regarding the show being over and the show in general, looking back on it as a whole, with one quote from the show.

It’s a bittersweet feeling. I hate to see it go. But all good things must come to an end. But I guess there’s nothing better to say than, “Feels Good.”

25. If you were able to add one scene in the finale, what would you add?

 I don’t know honestly. Maybe we could have seen him reunite with his friends and family. Especially Charlotte and Jasper, Afterall, they probably thought that their best friend was dead for all they knew.

26. Favorite outfit/hair style?

 Charlotte’s Date outfit with Jack Swagger. Sis was rockin that romper. Also when Jasper and Charlotte were helper bunnies! Those outfits were hilarious and cute.

27.Least favorite character?

I'm sorry but Piper. She was worse than the whole annoying little sister trope. I swear all ash did was yell through most of the seasons and then they gave this chick a driver’s license, I mean what?? Plus i think her reaction to finding out Henry was kid danger was better in Broken Armed and Dangerous, than in twisted sister. 

28. What is question you would like to ask the writers/ producers?

Im tagging @adorkable-blackgirl @chenoahchantel