#ace is like “we must tell father he will be so proud!” and then runs off to call crocodile

[golgolfruit]

One of my fav little headcanons for my Crocodile raising ASL is that he has to explain that the Bananawani are friends, not food.

Ace ends up befriending one that follows him when he sets sail.

The first time the Whitebeard Pirates met Ember, Ace’s Bananawani, it was because a sea king got a little too close to the Moby. Marco nearly got eaten when Ember jumped from the water as Marco was flying to attack the sea king.

[sanjisblackasswife]

Any dad headcanons for the monster trio? (+ Law if you don’t mind)

(also love your writing btw!!)

A/N: I just seen a edit a while ago of Sanji being so good w kids n so I must— thank u btw!:) Imma add Cora because omg we need more writing with him:(

One Piece Men as Daddies (Fluff)

Black Fem Reader in Mind

CW: None! Except the mommy (the reader) is kinda a menace.

Ft. Zoro, Luffy, Law, Sanji, Corazon

Sanji

Top 2 Best Dads and he ain’t number 2 fr

He spoils his kids more than you now I’m sorry :(

He doesn’t realize this and swears he loves you both equally

I can most definitely see him having a daughter as his first child and yes you and her are his Queen and Princess

His daughter is a simp just like his daddy

His daughter stresses him out so much because she loves drooling over every guy she sees omg

“STOP IT, SAMMIE!”

“Sweetheart she’s a baby she doesnt e—“

“ARE YOU STARING AT MY CHILD?!”

Sanji needs to throw all kinds of kicks when he is with his babygirl

God help him when she’s a teenager

He loves cuddling you both while watching Disney movies

He teaches his sweet girl the importance of how a man should treat her if she somehow gets one

“You can’t get married until you’re 25.”

“Sanji she’s just 3 right now.”

“Okay make it 30.”

Okay ngl when you were having the baby he made the mistake of looking down between your legs and the baby’s head was just barely peaking and he passed out.

He still has a bit of subtle nose bleeds when you were breast feeding too

He keeps mementos of every single thing his child has; drawings, fallen teeth, etc he keeps it in a box in his side of the closet

Due to his childhood he tends to worry he will turn into his biological father. He confided to you about this issue while you were pregnant and you nipped it in the bud and told him that he was and will never be like him and Zeff would be proud of the kinda man and future father he turned out to be

Both cried that night.

Also he is completely aware what happens to a woman’s body after pregnancy and will always remind you no matter how much your body changes he will still see you so beautiful.

He will be just like Zeff to his son. Teaching him the same way and all.

Zeff is the granddaddy btw. Sanji takes his kids to visit him often.

He usually takes the kid(s) off your hands for a day if he sees you feel stressed

100000000/10 daddy and yes he will be pumping more into you again if you’re up for it🤍

Luffy

Two Luffy’s running around in your home

Make it 3 because I can see him having twins

They stress you out sm.

“STOP PUTTING THE BABIES UP ON TOP OF THE SHELF ONE DAY THEY GONE SAY FUCK IT AND BUST THEY HEAD—“

“I GOT THEM Y/N!”

Man didn’t have a clue in the world how to be a daddy. So he went to Rayleigh panicking KSSHSJJSS

He’s a very chill parent so you have to be the stern one and it sucks sometimes

Yes the kids like daddy more than you

Almost every night when Luffy is home he puts the twins to bed with telling them of all the stories he had with you when he was young

“And I met your mommy on a different island! She didn’t like me at first but now she’s in love with me! Heheheeh!”

Kids have the same shishishi laugh as him cracks you up each time they do it in sync

You made the mistake of leaving the three of them at home as you went to go shopping and came back to a wrecked home and the three of them eating meat on the floor

He tells them about Ace a lot.

He actually named one of the twins after him

Encourages them to be what they want in life even if they want to be a pirate

Sabo is ofc the nice uncle that comes barring gifts

Sanji and Zoro are the Goddfathers

9/10 daddy that still is learning to be a daddy

Zoro

It’s canon this man is amazing with kids so off bat he’s top 3.

Since he has so much experience he was really good with handling the baby when he was first born

At least 17 times during the time yall son was a baby he tried nursing from Zoro and he hated it sm he couldn’t even take a nap shirtless with him

“STOP LAUGHING!”

“He Just Like me for real.”

“ENOUGH.”

The second the baby was able to walk he already wanted to train him into being a swordsman

“HES A BABY!”

“HE IS A GROWN MAN—!”

He will most definitely kill for you both

You annoyed him so much during your pregnancy because you wanted to leave the house but he didn’t want you getting hurt

You’ve caught him training with your baby son swaddled on his chest (like that one filler episode of him babysitting) and you nearly choked him out because wtf is he swinging around a sword so close to y’all baby.

He did gain some weight too during your pregnancy but immediately shredded off after you poked his belly

He loves his son but as he got older he started to have beef KSSHSHSISK

His son is a mamas boy and so whenever Zoro wants to have alone time with you it’s like he had a 6th sense and barged in ruining the moment

It’s so funny seeing them argue over who gets to cuddle you for the night

He plans to give your son one of his old swords when he gets older if he decides to be a swordsman

Luffy is the Goddfather and Sanji is ofc the cool uncle that comes to visit

100000/10 Zoro is a wonderful daddy

Law

He is the strict dad

You both had a daughter and she annoys him a lot just like you did when you both were dating

“Imma get tatted like you daddy.”

“You’re 13.”

“So?”

“NO—!”

He was the one to deliver y’all baby

The doctor side of him popped out when you were pregnant he never let u leave the bedroom. He even bathed you a lot which in turn have had him have sex with you in the tub

“Orgasms can help soothe you as you’re pregnant, y/n.”

“…the hell you read that at.”

He talks about Cora to you and your baby while you both were were sleep after pregnancy.

When your daughter turned 21 you and her convinced Law to get the same matching tattoo as him on her hand and even though he acted like he was against it he was ecstatic

He has scared off so many of your daughter’s boyfriends pls

He took off the head of one because he kept staring at YOUR boobs

Law likes to study with his baby girl on his lap.

You’ve walked in on him sleep on his chair with the baby cuddled on top

120/10 Law is an outstanding responsible daddy

Corazon (Rosinante)

TOP BEST DADDY SHUT UP HEAR ME OUT

Matching clothes

He’d have a daughter :( lil Rosie Aksbsjdksk

Yes he’s clumsy but he’d rather die than have you or his baby hurt

He didn’t stop smoking but he does only do it outside

You catch him doing stupid faces and stunts to make you’re daughter laugh when she’s sad and she eats it right tf up

Yes she is a daddy’s girl

He carries you both around with ease

If he notices you feeling insecure about your body post birth he’ll feel a tinge of guilt but smother you in kisses and appreciation about how he doesn’t care about how you look he still loves u sm

And if that doesn’t work he’ll just show you…naked…in the bed….

Sex he’ll show u with sex

Law is like the older brother and he may not act like it but he loves seeing Cora so happy with you and the baby

Scares tf outta you when he is outside throwing your 4 months old baby in the air tho

He uses some of his methods when he was raising Law to raise your baby

Gets so emotional when your daughter reaches out for him

“BABY LOOK AT OUR BABY SHE LOVES ME!”

“You’re her daddy, Cora of course she loves you.”

Just like Sanji saves every core memory he can of your baby daughter

Let’s her put on his makeup . It came out horribly but he proudly wore it the whole day

He needs to kiss you both before leaving or else he will have a terrible day

One time you and the baby surprised him with a cake just as a thank you for everything he has done for you and he fell off the chair crying

He cries a lot

Wants to have like 3 more babies with you

102$)43920292772200/10 best mf Daddy

[twstarchives]

Hello! There used to be a list about which characters have mentioned to have siblings/be only childs but I can't find it anymore ;; do you still have it or was I imagining it? If so, do you know what is there so far about each student's family life?

Riddle

Parents

Riddle lives with his mom, the status of his father is unknown. He has implied that his parents don’t get along.¹ Both parents are magic doctors, but his mother seems to be more well-known. To Riddle, she is extremely overbearing and planned out nearly every second of his life: controlled his education, his schedule, his diet, his clothing, the supplies he used, and which friends he could have. She put a heavy emphasis on studying and always being the best.²

1. Riddle Ghost Marriage voice lines 2. Main Story 1-19

Ace

Parents

Older brother

Grandmother

His brother is 7 years older than him and a Heartslabyul alumni.¹ He seems to have often messed around with Ace & make him angry on purpose, but it was all in good nature; they are very close. Apparently his brother was even more excited than their parents when they found out Ace got into NRC.² Ace has also mentioned his grandma a few times; she taught him about the Ghost Camera³ and warned him about magic blotting.⁴

1. Ace School Uniform PS 2. Ace Ceremony Robes voice lines 3. Main Story 0-19 4. Main Story 2-4

Deuce

Mother

Grandmother

He is an only child¹ and loves his mom very much. The entire reason he’s trying so hard to be an honors student is so that he can become a son she can be proud of. He once cried when she called him to tell him just that.²

The only time his grandma was mentioned was when he told a story of his mom crying to her on the phone, thinking she’d failed as a parent (during Deuce’s delinquent days).³

1. Jack Dorm Uniform PS 2. Wish Upon A Star 12 3. Main Story 1-13

Trey

Parents

Younger brother

Younger sister

His family runs a bakery. As the oldest child, he often had to take care of his little siblings (ie. ensuring they all brushed their teeth at night)¹. They all would pester him to bake them desserts,² but he cared for them a lot—one time his little brother really wanted to go to a live magift game so Trey spent his whole allowance to get him a ticket.³

1. Trey School Uniform PS 2. Ace School Uniform PS 3. Trey Wish Upon A Star voice lines

Cater

Parents

Two older sisters

Because of his dad’s work as a banker, their family had to move about once every two years, all over the world.¹ Cater hadn’t had any long-lasting friends because of this.

He has described his sisters as “unreasonable,” his dislikes in his profile are listed as “having to suck up to his sisters,” and when everyone was going home for winter holiday, he said he’d rather stay with Trey’s family.² In his voice lines, he mentioned that he can’t relate to Yuu feeling homesick because his sisters would just be waiting for him at home. His sisters rated everything by how cute it was, and if something “wasn’t cute” to them then Cater would have to redo it.³

They would get more excited about his birthday than he would, and buy him all kinds of presents he didn’t particularly like (such as stuffed animals, dolls, perfumes, soaps, etc). But they weren’t trying to be intentionally mean, and recently have started paying attention to what he really wants.⁴

When he was about 10 years old, his mom and sisters were always baking sweets. Cater was excited about this at first because it meant he could get lots of treats, but his sisters would make him eat everything. If he refused, they’d look so disheartened, and Cater couldn’t say no to that, so he kept forcing himself to eat. Because of this, he now hates sweets.⁴

1. Cater Scary Dress PS 2. Main Story 4-3 3. Cater Lab Coat PS 4. Cater Birthday PS

Leona

Falena (older brother)

Cheka (nephew)

Sister-in-law

Leona is a member of Afterglow Savannah’s royal family. His brother and his sister-in-law are the current rulers, and Cheka is next in line to the throne. Leona has constantly felt inferior and bitter that he and Falena are treated so differently based off nothing but birth order.¹ But he greatly respects his sister-in-law; she’s one of the only people he would never talk back to.² Cheka is very affectionate and clingy towards him.

1. Main Story 2-27 2. Ruggie’s Chat w/ Jack

Jack

Parents

Younger brother

Younger sister

Grandparents

Jack is the oldest in his family with an 11yo brother and a 7yo sister. He and his siblings are all very athletic; they used to play tag with each other for 6 hours on end.¹ Jack has said that wolf beastmen pick one soulmate to spend their whole life with, and his parents + grandparents are always at each others’ side, when they wake up, go on walks, eat, and go to sleep.²

1. Jack Happy Beans Day PS 2. Ace Ghost Marriage PS

Ruggie

Mother (deceased)

Father (unknown)

Grandmother

Ruggie's mother "became a star up in the sky" shortly after giving birth to him. His father went away for work and never came back, and to this day Ruggie doesn't know what happened to him.¹

He lives with his grandma in the slums of Afterglow Savannah. They were poor and struggled to find food to eat, but his grandma could make delicious food out of any ingredients they could find. Ruggie learned to cook from her.² He described her as very kind but also tough.

Ruggie seemed to have taken care of the other kids in the neighborhood too-- when everyone went home over winter break, he brought home leftovers from the cafeteria to feed his grandma and the kids.³

1. Ruggie Birthday PS 2. Ruggie School Uniform PS 3. Main Story 4-3

Azul

Mother

Stepfather

Grandmother

His mom fell in love with her divorce lawyer while separating from Azul’s biological father. She’s also the owner of the Ashengrottoes’ famous ristorante in the Coral Sea.¹ Because of their business, Azul grew up a foodie and was exposed to a lot of different foods from a young age.²

His stepfather is kind and honest, and very clever when it comes to his work. Azul respects him and they seem to have a good relationship. He taught him about law and contracts.¹

Everyone in the Ashengrotto family is a mage, but Azul’s grandmother is said to be especially powerful. She was known for helping those in need, and very “merciful,” just like Azul.¹

1. Azul Birthday PS 2. Azul Dorm Uniform PS

Jade & Floyd

Parents

Their parents started teaching them self-defense since they were little.¹ We don’t know many details of their childhood, but there was an interesting exchange between them—Jade once said “he made the right choice choosing Floyd as his partner,” and Floyd replied that “he’s glad Jade is the one that survived with him, too.”²

In Floyd’s Wish story, he brought up how their father told him to buy a nice pair of shoes when he went on land because “men who don’t pay attention to the small details get patronized” so your appearance is very important. Hearing this gave Idia and Ortho an uneasy feeling about Mr. Leech.

1. Jade PE Uniform voice lines 2. Floyd Dorm Uniform PS

Kalim

Parents

30-40 younger siblings

Kalim’s father comes from a long line of merchants and is supposedly the greatest one in the family. But despite how busy he is, he’s always wearing a smile. Kalim’s mother is the only one in the family who can use magic. She’s described as very kind, is always praising Kalim, and almost never gets angry.¹

Kalim doesn’t know the exact number of siblings he has, but he can put names to faces for all of them, and he often plays hide and seek with them in their house. He doesn’t come from a royal family (they’re just extremely rich), but some of his distant relatives are actual royalty.² One of his distant cousins apparently owns a tiger.³ His family has about 100 servants along with specialists like a personal doctor⁴ and a beast tamer.

1. Kalim Birthday PS 2. Main Story 4-8 3. Silver Lab Coat PS 4. Main Story 4-17

Jamil

Parents

Najma (younger sister)

His family has served the Asims for generations. His parents knew Jamil was a very bright child, but they insisted that he must always let Kalim be better than him, and would reprimand him for talking too casually to his young master.¹ Jamil seems to share a typical sibling relationship with his sister Najma. They often bicker with each other, but they’re on good terms. Najma used to bake him cookies for his birthday² and they would also get into fights because she’d tell him his cooking looked too plain.³ Jamil gave his VDC plus-one ticket to her during Episode 5.

Najma made her first in-game appearance during the Aleab Naria event. Their father had sent her to deliver a message in-person to Jamil, since he isn’t versed in technology likes PCs and phones and didn’t trust that a text would suffice.⁴

Najma claims that she and Jamil look nothing alike, but they tend to make near-identical expressions. She was relieved to see that he has a few friends at NRC because he never talks about them whenever he comes home.⁴ In one scene, Jamil reminds her to wipe her hands before eating and gives her a wet wipe, and she huffs at him to not treat her like a child. Trey notes how well Jamil looks after her, but Cater thinks he is a little bit overprotective.

1. Main Story 4-36 2. Jamil Birthday PS 3. Jamil Dorm Uniform PS 4. Aleab Naria 3-4, 3-5, 3-7

Vil

Eric (father)

Vil’s father is an extremely famous actor and goes by the stage name Eric Venue. Even the Leeches’ father is a fan of some of his movies.¹ Vil has mentioned that his dad would come home dressed in special effects makeup & costumes every Halloween,² and also used to read him stories about the Beautiful Queen.³

1. Vil Scary Dress PS 2. Vil Scary Dress voice lines 3. Scary Monsters 3-2

Epel

Parents

Grandparents

Aunt & Uncle (uncle is biological)

Male Cousin

Epel’s family lives on an apple farm that’s been around for generations. They all live in the same house. His village is also made up of farmers, and they often help each other out during the busy season and have big barbecues together. It feels like they’re one big family.¹

His relatives often send him apples from home since they have such an abundance of them. They seem to have some business struggles; Epel taught himself how to beautifully carve apples when he was young because many were blemished and wouldn’t otherwise sell.² He has also mentioned wanting to make a potion that strengthens weak apple trees to make his grandpa happy.³

Besides Epel, his grandma and great-grandma are the only ones in the family who can use magic.⁴ They ride brooms to pick apples that are too high to reach on foot. Epel wanted to help them when he was little so everyday he would get on a broom and try hopping up and down, and then one day it worked! Ever since then he’s helped with that task as well.

1. Epel Birthday PS 2. Epel School Uniform PS 3. Epel Lab Coat voice lines 4. Epel Ceremony Robes voice lines / Birthday PS

Idia & Ortho

???

The Shrouds are a noble family and famous for some reason, but Idia has said that being from a noble family isn’t all that great.¹ When he was worrying about being seen at the entrance ceremony, he expected people might gossip about how he’s from “the cursed Shroud family,” and that he’ll “spread misfortune to them.”² At another time, he mentioned that the audience would be apprehensive about what kind of “weird research” he did if he had to present his research on stage.³

1. Idia PE Uniform PS 2. Idia Ceremony Robes PS 3. Main Story 5-3

Lilia, Malleus, Silver

Malleus’ grandmother

Lilia was one of the Queen of the Valley of Thorns’ most trusted soldiers when he used to fight for the royal family.¹ In Cater’s Lab Coat story, they created mandrakes that reflected parts of themselves, and Lilia’s was said to “carry the cry of a tragic hero.”

He has watched over Malleus “ever since he had an eggshell over his head.” An infant Malleus once singed Lilia’s bangs by breathing fire and Lilia was so proud that he raised a glass of tomato juice to him.²

Malleus is the heir to the Valley of Thorns, a descendant of the king “who rules over all creatures of the night,” and his only living relative is his grandmother, the current Queen of the Valley. He spent much of his childhood alone in the castle. He used this time to learn how to play all kinds of stringed instruments. His grandmother is so busy that she shouldn’t even have spare time to write him letters, but every year on his birthday, she sends him one without fail, along with rose seeds from the garden by their castle.³

Long after Malleus had grown up, both he and Lilia took in baby Silver for an unknown reason. Silver thought he was his biological dad when he was little, and continues to refer to him as “Father.” They lived deep in the forest in the Valley of Thorns before coming to NRC. Apparently Silver was very easy to take care of; he would fall right to sleep after eating Lilia’s homemade food.⁴

At one point, Sebek also became one of Lilia’s pupils. He and Silver are the only two from their generation living in the Valley.⁵ When they were little, Lilia would have them undergo training like soldiers, but then he realized he should raise them more like kids, and started making their training more fun. He had them play tag in forests crawling with beasts, hide and seek in vast deserts, and “the floor is lava” in the mountains of needles.⁶

1. Silver Ceremony Robes 2. Lilia PE Uniform PS 3. Malleus Birthday PS 4. Lilia Lab Coat voice lines 5. Sebek School Uniform voice lines 6. Lilia Birthday PS

Sebek

Parents

Older brother

Older sister

Grandfather

Sebek’s mother is a nocturnal faerie and his father is a human who works as a dentist. They met when his mother had an appointment at his clinic. She was immediately charmed and courted him despite her surroundings being against her marrying a human. Now, she works at the clinic as his assistant.¹

Sebek greatly respects his mother and raves about how she’s extremely gifted with magic and has a strong sense of justice. His opinion of his dad, on the other hand, is much different—his dad seems very loving and often showers his children in praises, sweets, and gifts, but it drives Sebek crazy. He doesn’t understand how his mother saw any appeal in him.¹

Since his parents were often busy with their clinic, Sebek spent his childhood running off to visit his grandpa, or fishing and playing in the water with his siblings. Based on the fact that Sebek and Silver were said to be the only ones in their generation living in the Valley,² his siblings are most likely considerably older than him.

All we know about his grandpa is that Malleus also knew him, and mentioned that Sebek shares his hot-blooded temper.³

1. Sebek Birthday PS 2. Sebek School Uniform voice lines 3. Scary Monsters event story

No current info: Rook

Last updated: July 27, 2021

[topazy]

The Fierce And Broken

2.06

Masterlist

You stepped back and stared at Raven speechless, even in the darkness you could tell she was blushing. Did she regret kissing you? You hoped not.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I shouldn’t have done that. Now I’ve made things weird between us-”

Now it was your turn to cut her off. You pressed your lips against hers, she kissed you back and you remained like that until you pulled away to catch your breath.

“Um...I suppose we should go to bed,” Raven said in a soft chuckle.

“Yeah it’s late, and I imagine you need to rest that brain of yours.”

Raven flopped down onto the bed, “you have no idea.”

—

Tracking a person down in a small camp was surprisingly hard. You were about to give up when you heard Abby’s voice. “And where's Marcus now? Imprisoned still? You're just going to leave him there? Like the kids in Mount Weather? If we run, who's going to rescue them?”

“You weren’t there, Abby. I saw them. Warriors trained since childhood to fight and die for their cause. As we speak, they are marching on this camp. And trust me when I tell you, the right choice is to live, so that we can come back and fight another day.”

“Inspirational words from a man who sent children to their deaths,” you ignored the look on Jaha’s face and looked directly at Abby. “Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to tell you I’m accepting your offer. I’ll train with you.”

A smile spread across the doctors face, “good. I’m so glad you are taking this opportunity, your father would be so proud.”

You frowned at her comment and left the room not interested in the deceit of it all. None of the adults who came from the ark cared about anybody else expect from themselves or their children, you could understand that but not the acting like one happy family.

—

“Hey,” you whispered entering the tent.

Raven let out a groan before sitting up, “what time is it?”

“Early, very early.” You crawled onto the bed and laid down face first. “Nothing new has happened since last night.”

“Can I ask you something?” Raven sounded nervous. You turned to face her and nodded. “Last night...that kiss... I didn’t weird you out did I?”

“No, that’s why I kissed you back.”

She smiled at your comment. You knew it must be hard for Raven to try and avoid any awkwardness around the situation. “Good, because I was afraid you wouldn’t have kissed me back.” Her confession took you by surprise. “I think you are amazing Alba, I really do-” she paused for a moment trying to find the right words. “Me and Finn are over, but a part of me is still hurting and I don’t want to use you as a rebound. I’ve already made that mistake with Bellamy and you are to import for me to risk it.”

“I’m happy being friends if you are?” Truthfully you were a little disappointed, but you admired her honesty.

The brunette let out a frustrated sigh, “I do want to be more with you Al but-I’m scared to rush things in case I get hurt again, or even worse I hurt you.”

“Did you just ask me to go steady with you Reyes?”

“I did,” she laughed before leaning back next you on the bed. “So what do you say?”

You linked your fingers with hers, “I suppose so.”

Raven shoved you playfully. You filled her in on the conversation you overheard between Abby and Jaha. She still couldn’t believe that you confronted Abby on behalf of her. Your unusual moment of calmness was interrupted by Clarke barging into the tent, the blonde was in her usual frustrated state and was oblivious to you and Raven holding hands. “Y/N we have a meeting with the commander right now.”

You sat up fast, “we?”

“The commander won’t listen to me on my own, you still have the bruising from what the mountain men did.”

Rolling your eyes you stood up with a groan. “Yeah, I can show them it as proof I get it. Can you give me a minute?” Clarke stared at you blankly. “Jesus Griffin, I’m wanting to change okay.”

“Fine, but we need to leave in a couple of minutes.”

Quickly you changed your top into a more appropriate one. Running in a thin vest top wasn’t a good idea. Once your jacket was on you made sure to have Anya’s hair in your pocket. “You don’t need to go, If you don't want to.”

You gave Raven a sad smile before making sure not to forget anything important. “If there’s a chance to get our people back I need to try,” you squeezed her hand. “Stay safe Reyes, I’ll be back soon.”

—

“If you so much as look at her the wrong way, I will slit your throat.”

You gulped down at Gustus’s threat. You fully believed he would kill you and Clarke without a second thought. Another grounder stepped forward and introduced the commander.

“You're the one who burned three hundred of my warriors alive,” the commander's words were laced with venom as she spoke.

Clarke stepped forward, “you're the one who sent them there to kill us.”

“Do you have an answer for me, Clarke of the sky people?”

Answer? You frowned at the blonde standing next you. She has failed to mention any kind of deal, or questions had been discussed prior to this meeting. Clarke had an answer for her, “I’ve come to make you and offer.”

The commander's expression remained the same and emotionless, Clarke had really pissed her off. “This is not a negotiation.”

Another grounder spoke to the commander in trig. You didn’t know many words but you did pick up on ‘kill her’, You looked at Clarke confused. Was she trying to get you both killed?

“I can help you beat the mountain men.”

“Go on.”

As the commander spoke you noticed the other grounder eyeing you suspiciously. “Hundreds of your people are trapped inside mount weather, kept in cages. Their blood is used as medicine.”

“How do you know this?” The commander wasn’t believing her story.

“Because I saw them,” she stepped closer again. “My people are prisoners, too. I was one of them. We both were.”

“Lies!” The angry grounder stepped forward. “No one escapes the mountain.”

“We did. With Anya. We fought our way out together.”

“Another lie. Anya died in the fire. You killed her!”

“She’s not lying,” you said. “The mountain men are taking blood and bone marrow from both our people.”

The commander still looked unconvinced. Sighing you pulled your jeans down low enough to reveal your large bruise that has still yet to heal. “They took my bone marrow. I found Clarke inside mount weather, and while trying to escape we found Anya. We only had time to save her, but I intend on keeping my promise to return and free the others.” You reached into your pocket and pulled out the braid of hair. “Anya told me you were her second, I’m sure she’d want you to have this.”

“We don’t even know it’s hers”

“Anya was my mentor before I was called to lead my people,” the commander turned to face you and Clarke. “Did she die well?”

“Yes. By my side, trying to get a message to you.”

You couldn’t decide if Clarke’s memory of what happened was fuzzy, or if she was a really good liar. The commander held her hand up to Indra, “what message?”

“The only way to save both our people is if we join together.”

“Those who are about to die will say anything,” Indra spat. “The one you call Alba doesn’t seem conceived by Clarke of the sky people.”

Oh shit. Suddenly all eyes were on you. “Anya called me Heda gon bàsmhorachd, and heda gon mathanas and said one is a gift and the other is a weakness. “

The commander glanced from you to Clarke, “I’m still waiting for an offer.”

“The mountain men are turning your people into reapers. I can turn them back.”

Indra began ranting and yelling in trig.

“I’ve done it with Lincoln.”

You glared at Clarke as she said his name. Lincoln had always been good to your people. He’d saved Octavia, you, and Finn multiple times. Last time he tried to make peace it cost him his own people and Clarke had just given his location away.

—

Soon as you arrived back at camp Jackson said he needed your help. You excused yourself much to the dismay of Indra but the commander didn’t seem to care. After countless attempts of bringing the patient's temperature down Jackson eventually managed. He explained with such little resources it was becoming harder to help people.

“Hey doctor.” Turning to face the doorway you smiled seeing Raven gave you a confused look. “What are you doing?”

“We are short of blood so I’m doing what I can to help,” you shrugged. It was also a good reason to avoid any grounders that where still in camp. The interaction from before had left a sour taste in your mouth, although a part of that was because of Clarke.

“We should start calling you saint Alba,” Raven leaned against an empty table. “How did it go?”

“Truthfully I have no idea, Clarke told them she can turn reapers back into normal people.”

“Can she?”

“I’ve no idea you,” you pouted. “She’s not one for sharing what’s going on. I was completely blind sighted by some things that were said. I guess we can’t do anything but wait and see.”

“Do you trust them?”

You thought about it before answering, the grounders had no reason to trust the ‘sky people’ so they probably didn’t. “I think they will still have a ace up their sleeves. How did your day go?”

Raven shrugged, “still no change.”

Jackson entered the room just as the bag had filled with enough blood. He thanked you and removed the needle from your arm. Technically it wasn’t a good idea for you to be given blood after everything your body had been through recently but it was desperate times. You stumbled slightly when you stood up but Raven caught hold of you. “Al? You should sit back down.”

You gave her a lopsided grin, before gently kissing her. Raven smiled into the kiss before leaning back, “if you need anymore blood I can always donate.”

“Glad to hear, I’ll be back in a moment.”

You shared a look with Raven, “is he everywhere?”

Shaking your head you got out of the chair and let Raven sit in it. “I’m going to get changed, do you want anything from the tent?” Raven shook her head. “I’ll see you soon Reyes.”

—

Lifting up a cleanish top you changed into, and threw the previous one that was now covered in your blood to the side along with the rest of your dirty clothes. You had accidentally pulled the needle out when Jackson first put it in resulting a good top being stained.

You stepped out of the tent and saw Clarke walking back from the gates, she noticed you and walked over. “We saved Lincoln.”

“That’s great,” you were glad to hear Lincoln hadn’t died. He deserved better than to die as a reaper.

“Commander Lexa-”

“I need to stop you there Clarke,” you pointed towards the gates the grounders had just left though. “I’m not interested in any of that.”

“Your not interested in saving our people?”

The accusation that you didn’t care about your people after everything you’d been through together stung. “No, I want to save our people and the grounders who have been taken. But I don’t trust Lexa.”

“She is our best chance of helping.”

“Is she?” You saw the furious look on her face. “I’m just saying we don’t know enough about them, and she’s not going to just give us a alliance we will need to work for it.” Clarke’s silence confirmed your fear. “What has the commander offered you?”

“She will fight with us to get all of our people back.”

“What does she want in return?”

“Finn.”

[modern-vellichor]

In Her Blood; One

Pairing: Dads Best Friend!Bucky x reader

Warnings: Age gap (reader is 24 ish, bucky is like 100 yk), daddy issues, uncomfortable home life, mentions of abortion/unwanted pregnancy, implied smut, steve being a shitty dad, smoking.

Bucky stood, leaning against the kitchen island in his best friends house. Steve is standing opposite him, Sam sitting at the kitchen table, their daughter, Sarah, next to him.

He hears the door open and close, the sound of wheels on hardwood floor. Then he hears a voice, sweet and song like, calling out

"hello?"

Sarah's face lights up, she jumps from her chair and just as another girl appears in the door, she leaps into her arms. The other girl chuckles, throwing her arms around Sarah and cooing. "Hey, chicken, I missed you"

The girl dislodges herself from Sarah, smile plastered on her face, beaming. She wraps an arm loosely around Sam's shoulder, "Hiya, dad", she places a soft kiss on his head.

She simply nods at Steve, a look almost chastising him was thrown. "Steven".

And then she turns to Bucky, and sticks out a hand. Her tone changes to something familiar and sweet.

"And you must be Bucky", he takes her hand, "I'm Y/N"

Bucky is confused, he doesn't remember Steve ever talking about a Y/N in his life. Apparently his confusion was evident, because she bursts into offended laughter, scoffing at Steve.

"Oh, he didn't tell you about me? that's rich", she stated, rolling her eyes. She turned her attention back to Bucky.

"Hi, I'm their eldest daughter", Bucky couldn't hide his surprise.

Steve never told him he had two daughters, he only ever spoke about Sarah. Sarah who aced her SATS, Sarah who started law school in September, Sarah who was his proud and joy. And now here was this new girl, who couldn't have been older than 25, standing tall and stoic before him.

Sarah and Sam observed the scene from the table, they watched with a sadness in their eyes.

Instead of questioning further, he simply introduced himself, smiling at the girl and shaking her hand. Doing anything to diffuse the suffocating tension.

"Yeah, I'm Bucky. It's nice to meet you"

"You too, you live close?"

"just down the road, what about you?"

"Art school in Paris, home for the summer"

She had a twinkle in her eyes as soon as she mentioned Paris, Bucky's smile grew wider, as did hers.

"Paris?"

"Paris", she nodded, excited.

"That must be nice"

"Its beautiful, much nicer than this shithole. Its heaven on earth over there" They spoke as Sam dragged Steve out of the kitchen into the hall, and as Sarah disappeared to her bedroom.

Sam pulled Steve out by the arm, dragging him away from the kitchen, away from Y/N.

"what the hell, Steve? you don't even talk about her? Shes your daughter!", he whispered as loudly as he could, scalding his partner.

Steve sighed, running a hand over her face. "She doesn't want anything to do with me"

"That's your fault, you gave up on her before her life had even started. You told her you didn't want her. Did you even know she was coming home? Did you care enough to remember?"

"I remember her telling Sarah something about it, Sarah passed on the message, wasn't paying attention"

"Christ's Sake, Steve"

-

Sarah ran to her room. Away from the looks her father gave her sister, away from the tension, away from her dad's tears, away from the memories flooding back to her.

She hated Steve for ruining Y/N the way he did, and he hated him even more for never apologising. She doesn't blame Y/N for running away to Paris either, she seems happier there.

She still loves her father though, that would never change.

Bucky sat with Sam at the table, beer in hand. Steve had long retired to bed, the two girls were giggling in Sarah's bedroom. The two men were silent, and in Buck's need for conversation, he let his curiosity get the better of him.

"What's the deal with Y/N?"

Sam paused, for a second and then sighed.

"She's Steve's bio daughter, had her with some woman a few years back, before we got together, before Sarah. When Sarah came around their relationship went to shit, Steve didn't like it. She ran away to Paris for school, stopped talking to Steve, dont blame her"

"sounds tough. How old was she when she left?"

"22, poor Sarah was only 16, broke her heart to see Y/N leave"

Bucky was used to being around all the time, but now summer had rolled around, he was here all the time.

practically living in their house. Sarah was used to his presence, but Y/N was wary. She rarely spoke, especially when Steve was around. She grasped at any chance to get out of the house, or to lock herself in her room.

It was either 'bonding time with her sister', or 'making up for lost time', and if not that it was 'school work', or 'extra curriculars'.

Bucky woke in a sweat, he had slept in the guest bedroom. Nightmares followed him though. He silently made his way down the stairs, padding softly on the carpet. The backdoor was ajar slightly, the familiar smell of smoke wafting through the crack.

He pushed it open to find you, blanketwrapped around your shoulders, cheeks wet from old cheeks, a cigarette smouldering between dainty fingers.

He said nothing as he sat next to you, mimicking your position, crossing his legs. He brought the cigarette to his lips, taking in a long drag, before handing it back to you. You laughed, "I didn't think you smoked"

You brought the smoke to your lips, tasting him on the butt, infused in the filter.

"I used to, back in the war"

"everyone smoked back in the war" Bucky nodded along, smiling with you. You rested your head on his shoulder, he smelled familiar and soft.

"What's the deal with you and your dad"

In a moment of exhaustion fueled vulnerability, you didnt think about your answer, instead just spewing out the truth.

"I dont think he actually wanted me, I think he just couldn't let my mom get an abortion"

You sat together, in silence for a while, before you sat up, and turned your body to face him. You studied him. You traced his statuesque features, steely eyes, plump lips, your eyes played at his carved abdomen, dancing over his arms, one shining in early morning light.

He studied you in turn, tired and sad eyes, smoke spilling softly over perfect lips. Beautiful body curling in on itself in the cold.

You leaned forward, lost in your subconscious, desperate for a close look, you wanted to see the cracks and pores and scars littering his tan skin. "why are you awake?", you whispered.

"nightmare"

Your eyes fell to your legs as you giggled softly, "so that makes two of us"

"well maybe I can make you feel better"He gripped your chin, forcing your gaze to his. It was strangely intimate, that's what hurt the most. He pressed his lips to yours. You returned the kiss of course. Desperate and vulnerable, your arms snaked around his neck, his hands pawing at your hips and thighs.

This was wrong, you knew it was. You had already decided that this was a bad idea, you didn't care. Not with his fingers playing at the hem of your shirt, or carded in your hair, tugging lightly to pull the sweetest of moans from the depths of your chest.

Oh, you'd regret this later. But now, you were lost in the feeling of his lips on your neck, and his hands down your shorts. The soft silk of your bed sheets were a welcome contrast to hard metal and hot flesh. A welcomed distraction from the pure filth he whispered against your skin, leaving colourful bruises in his wake.

"please", you mewled over and over as he chuckled darkly. You knew this was wrong, but those thoughts weren't at the forefront of your mind as cool fingers expertly invaded your body and his tongue was licking hot stripes up your bare thighs.

Then, as you were slowly coming down from a lust drunk state of mind, he had the guts to pull you close against his chest. You knew who Bucky Barnes was. You knew he was best friends with Steve and Sam. You knew his past, you knew his present. Here you were, curled against him like he cared.

You weren't stupid. You knew he had objectified you to gods end. You knew that he thought you were less of Steve's daughter than Sarah. He had completely dissociated you from Steve and Sam, Sarah too.

So you waited, until his breathing had slowed and his heart rate was near nonexistent. And you pulled him off of you, and you sat yourself up, swinging your legs onto your carpeted floor. Back bone straight. He didn't care so much now, he definetly didnt act it-

He moved, rolling towards you, snaking his arms around your waist and humming.

"hey"

You froze.

"hey", you stared down at the man in your bed, strands of dark hair framing his herculean face. Blue eyes boring into yours.

"I'm sorry"

"for what?"

"about you and Steve, it must be tough"

You pulled the hair tie from his hair, snapping it around your wrist, running slender fingers through knotted locks.

"don't you worry about it"

"I suppose i'll see you to it, then", he untangled himself from you and picked his belongings up from the floor, pulling his clothes back on.

"see you around, soldier", you smiled.

He stopped in your doorway, throwing a smile back at you. "you too, kotenok"

[sheep33hallow]

SuperBat:Kiki Delivery Service AU. Kiki!Bruce, Underaged, Older!Clark

The title has the tags. Mind them if this isn’t your cup of tea.  

AO3 Link

Bruce has been off on his own for the past six months. As a young warlock, at the age of 13, one must go off onto their own adventure for at least a year. He writes to his parents weekly. He tells them about the friends he has made, the cities he has visited and about Ace meeting another dog to have babies with.

 He also tells them of the nice couple who runs a farm and allows him a place to stay for his duration. He does not tell them of the stipulation for this free room and board. He has the freedom to do as he pleases, but twice a week he has to comfort their son Clark.

 His magic isn’t that strong yet in transformation, so whenever he transforms into his deceased wife, he looks like a thirteen year old version of her. It’s been a year since his wife’s death. He used to live in the city, but moved back home after the incident.

 He met the Kents after meeting their dog Krypto in the rain and talking to him. He had just entered the city and saw a white dog under a bench. He was drenched as well. His dog Ace huddles under his sweatshirt. He used an extra shirt he had to scoop Krypto up and flew him in the directions he was told.

 The couple was so grateful to Bruce. They offer him the use of their bathroom and feed him as his clothes are being washed. He told them of his journey and they loved hearing it, they never met a warlock before. Smallville isn’t one for magic. During their meal, their son, Clark, came down stairs. He didn’t acknowledge his family, but he did smile upon seeing Krypto. He petted the dog’s head, got food and walked back upstairs.

 His parents looked sad and Bruce asked why. They explain about the death, about their son’s depression and how he barely leaves the house unless someone is with him. His wife made him feel like a superhero and he has felt like a failure from not seeing the signs for her own depression. He found her dead in their bathtub. No note left to explain. Nothing.

 Bruce felt for him. He was hoping to get into healing medicine like his mother, but even she said depression does not have a one size fits all cure.

 It was the morning after when the couple asked him if he knew how to transform.

 “Some.” Said Bruce. He was back in the kitchen.

 They showed him a picture of a beautiful woman. “Can you change into her?” Said Martha.

 He stared at the picture and slowly felt his hair grow long, his features shift, but his penis was still in place. His father was more advanced. He could even change into a bat.

 His height was the same. His legs dangled over the chair at the kitchen table.

 “Very close. You’re like a baby version of her. So cute.” Said Jonathan. The older man was kind. He handed him a mirror. They were right. He touched his face. Very proud of himself. He smiled.

 “Do you have a place to stay?” Said Martha.

 Bruce shook his head. His shoulders slouched.

 “Would you like to stay here? We could use some help around the farm, and we have spare space in the barn. Clark upgraded a lot there since being home.”

 Bruce’s eyes widened. His heart rapidly beating. “Really?”

 Jonathan laughed. “Of course. You seem to be very helpful and maybe even a good luck charm.” Gesturing to Krypto.

 His transformation relaxed. Hair shortening again. His dog Ace came over and told him it was a good idea. They needed a place. Bruce agreed and was happy to have Ace’s reassurance.

 Bruce agreed.

 The Kents smiled, then Martha spoke up. “We have one request though?”

 Bruce stared at the couple waiting for them to continue.

 “Can you comfort our son? We would like for you to use your transformation and hang out with Clark.”

 “Comfort?” He was confused. “Like cuddling?”

 Jonathan spoke up next. “That would be needed as well. It would be up to Clark on what to do with you.”

 “Um..” He doesn’t touch people often that he doesn’t know well enough, but the couple was really nice to him. “And transform into this wife?”

 “Yes. We think it’ll help with his depression. Ease him slowly out of it.” Said Jonathan.

 Bruce still wasn’t convinced this was smart.

 “It wouldn’t be every night. Just twice a week. We already talk to Clark about it and you can do whatever you want otherwise. Make friends, be a teenager and all that.” Said Martha. Her warm smile reminded him of his own Mother.

 “If Clark knows. I guess.” He muttered. Petting Ace’s head. Ace wasn’t saying anything to him, so it was probably a good decision.

 “Excellent.” Said Jonathan. Clapping his hands together. “We can try tonight. For now, let's go shopping. We need groceries and we need to get you some items for your bedroom.” He stood up from his chair.

 “Thank you sweetheart.” Martha got up from her chair as well. Walking to Bruce to place a kiss on his head.

 He was happy to feel useful. This family seems like it’s been through a lot and it would only be for a year. After that I could decide what else to do.

 The first night with Clark was gentle. They cuddled. He liked how Bruce fit in his arms. He said Bruce made his wife look more beautiful than she was when she was alive. He didn’t know how to take that compliment, but Clark made him feel safe.

 The second time, they kissed. Bruce only kissed two other girls before this. He felt dominated by Clark. His strong body covering Bruce’s. They were in Bruce’s room. Where they continued these acts together.

 The third time, Clark raised Bruce’s nightgown up. Kissing his penis through his panties. Licking the fabric, letting his saliva settle through unto Bruce’s cock.

 The fourth time, Clark had Bruce suck his cock. He kept saying Lois’s name while Bruce’s inexperienced mouth was fucked. Teeth scraping the large cock in his mouth. Clark’s fingered tightening in his long hair every time he made a mistake. He learned very quickly how Clark liked his cock sucked.

 The fifth time, he fingered Bruce. Making him come multiple times, he tiredly pushed Clark away a few times. Body to exhausted to function.

 The sixth time, they had sex. Bruce knew that was coming soon. His young hole being rammed. Lube dripping down his leg. His nightgown bunched up to his chest, as Clark pinched his nipples. His first sexual experiences with a man 15 years older. Clark’s cock stretched him in ways he didn’t know existed. Clark flipped him onto his stomach. Gripping his unblemished hips and pushing hard into him. His bed was bugging against the barn walls. He was worried about waking the animals below up.

 After that, two times a week, they had sex. True to their words, they never tried to control Bruce. He went into town and made friends with a track prodigy named Barry, a half fairy named Diana, and the kids of the lighthouse engineer named Hal and his adopted brother, John.

 He loved this town he lived in. It was so different from Gotham.

 Outside of their sex lives, Clark treated him like a little brother. He taught him to ride a horse, gave Bruce gifts and had taken care of him after he had gotten sick from getting lost in a rainstorm.

 Clark was someone he enjoyed being around and he did notice the man come out of his shell. He started to go outside more, he even left town for two weeks to visit his cousin Kara. Bruce had gotten so used to sex with Clark on a regular at that point. Those two weeks without him felt odd, he didn’t know how to properly explain it.

 Clark must have felt it two because he took Bruce out of town for a week. They had a cabin alone together. They fucked everyday there. Because Clark had caught him off guard a few times to have sex, he didn’t have time to concentrate on transforming himself.

 Clark fucked his 13 year old face, came on his young asshole, sucked his underdeveloped cock.

 Clark was healing and maybe this was a new form of healing that could be his career.

 Travel from home to home, giving sex to those in need. A delivery service of sorts.

[thewidowsghost]

The Unknown Muggleborn - Chapter 2

3rd Person POV

By the age of nine, Jean and Tom Granger found that their adopted daughter (Y/n) was quite a peculiar child. It wasn't just the strange hourglass scar on her neck, but she was incredibly smart, picking things up that most kids in high school wouldn't understand.

By Year Five of school, (Y/n) (L/n)-Granger had aced all of her classes on top of taking Year Nine level classes - Geometry and AP Biology.

And by the age of ten, (Y/n) was fluent in Russian, French, and Spanish.

The eldest Grangers also learned that their adopted daughter was extremely athletic. (Y/n) had played football - what Americans called soccer - and was top of her class in her Karate and JiuJitzu classes.

(Y/n) was also an inventor. She could come up with solutions to problems that Jean Granger had told her that most adults couldn't solve. She had built her first circuit board at the age of five and her first engine at the age of eight.

The Grangers' had put a shed in their backyard where their adopted daughter was always tinkering with things she would buy or was gifted from neighbors.

It wasn't to say that Jean and Tom's other daughter wasn't smart, for Hermione Granger was very intelligent. But all three - including Hermione - knew that (Y/n) was on a whole different level of intelligence.

Hermione Jean Granger wakes on July 26th of 1991 to her sister standing over her, a wide smile on her face.

The two sisters - even considering that (Y/n) was adopted - looked nothing alike. Hermione had frizzy brown hair and chocolate brown eyes, whereas (Y/n) had sleek (H/C) hair and brilliant green eyes. There was a strange thing about (Y/n)'s appearance though, she had an hourglass shaped scar on the side of her neck. (Y/n) liked the scar, but it reminded her of black widows, which wasn't great because (Y/n) didn't like spiders.

Hermione sit up in her bed, pushing her covers off her.

After the two use the bathroom - (Y/n) taking a quick shower and leaving her hair damp - they make their way downstairs to find their parents already in the kitchen.

"Morning girls," Mrs. Granger greets her daughters as she places breakfast on the table.

"Morning Mum," (Y/n) and Hermione say in unison.

Both Mr. and Mrs. Granger were dressed for work - they were dentists at the local dentists' office a few miles away.

After the four finish breakfast, there is a knock on the door.

Looking slightly confused, Mr. Granger stands up from the table and walks towards the door.

He opens it to see a very stern looking woman with black hair and blue eyes.

"Good morning," Mr. Granger greets the woman.

"Good morning, sir," the black haired woman says. "Are your daughters home? I'm here about a scholarship, per say, for a new school."

(Y/n) and Hermione exchange excited looks.

"Yes, they are here," Mr. Granger answers the woman. "Would you like to come in?"

The woman nods and steps inside the neat house.

"Hermione! (Y/n)!" Tom Granger calls and the two girls rise from their chairs simultaneously and walk out into the living room.

(Y/n) waves shyly at the woman, surprising the other Grangers. (Y/n) was never shy.

A small smile spreads across the woman's face at the slight of (Y/n) and catches sight of the hourglass scar on her neck.

"Hermione and (Y/n), was it?" the woman asks and the two nod.

"I'm Professor McGonagall. I'm here about a school for gifted people like yourselves," the woman says.

(Y/n) and Hermione exchange gazes, like a clashing forest, brown on green.

"It might be hard to believe, but the two of you, you're witches," McGonagall says and (Y/n)'s gaze flashes a silver, almost too quickly for McGonagall to see, but the woman does.

This sends a flash of curiosity though McGonagall, but she holds out two letters.

(Y/n) and Hermione step forward and take the letters from the Professor.

Miss (Y/n) (L/n)-Granger 100 Crestent View Ln. The Third Largest Bedroom Hampstead, London

"That's so very incredibly specific," (Y/n) murmurs. Opening the letter, she quickly reads:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss (Y/n) (L/n)-Granger, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress

(Y/n) looks suspiciously at the letter for a moment before looking up. "Are you sure?" (Y/n) asks. "I'm not anyone special. I can't be a witch."

At the comment about (Y/n) being no one special, the other three Grangers exchange looks that McGonagall presumed to mean that they though that the statement wasn't true.

"Has nothing ever happened when you were afraid or nervous?" McGonagall asks and a flash of realization flashes behind (Y/n)'s eyes. "If you two have to go to work," McGonagall turns to Jean and Tom, "I can take the girls to find their school things."

(Y/n) looks excitedly over at her mother and father, "Mum, Dad, can we?"

Jean looks at McGonagall and nods.

Hermione and (Y/n) grin at each other.

"Go get dressed and then you can go," McGonagall says, smiling softly at the girls' excitement.

(Y/n) and Hermione run up the stairs.

(Y/n) goes to her bedroom and opens her closet door. She pulls out a black AC DC t-shirt and a pair of jean shorts from her dresser.

Thinking for a moment, she grabs a zip up hoodie and throws it on, placing her wallet inside one of the pockets.

(Y/n) stops at her sister's room and a moment later, Hermione pops out, dressed in a pair of jeans and a short sleeved t-shirt.

"So, what do you think about this?"  (Y/n) asks as the two make their way down the stairs.

"I think it's interesting, us being witches and all," Hermione answers as the two enter the living room where they find their mother asking McGonagall to keep her daughters safe.

McGonagall, (Y/n), and Hermione walk outside and McGonagall tells the two girls to take her hand.

They do, and they're suddenly somewhere else. (Y/n) and Hermione look up to see a sign, which reads, The Leaky Cauldron.

They walk inside.

It was a small, tiny, grubby-looking pub. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. All of a sudden, the low buzz of chatter stopped when two people walked in. One of them was a very tall man, he almost looked to big to be allowed. He had long black hair and a black beard. The other was a small boy with jet-black hair, bottle green eyes, and light skin. The bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said the man who must have Hagrid, clapping his great hand on boy's shoulder and making his knees buckle.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at the black haired boy, "is this — can this be — ?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent. "Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter ... what an honor."

(Y/n) studies the boy for a moment, then he looks over at her, as though sensing her eyes on him.

The old bartender hurries out from behind the bar, rushes towards Harry and seizes his hand, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back." The boy didn't seem know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry was shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand — I'm all of a flutter."

"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

"I've seen you before!" said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop."

"He remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle.

(Y/n)'s POV

I look up at Professor McGonagall who looks at me with a question evident in her eyes, though I couldn't tell what it was.

McGonagall follows Harry and Hagrid out of the pub, Hermione and I following.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh — mind you, he's usually tremblin'." Hagrid was saying.

"Is he always that nervous?" Harry asks.

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience. ... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag — never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject — now, where's me umbrella?" Hagrid responds. "Three up ... two across ..." he muttered. "Right, stand back, Harry." He taps the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered — it wriggled — in the middle, a small hole appeared — it grew wider and wider — a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight. Hagrid and Harry proceed to walk through the archway.

McGonagall follows the two and Hermione and I follow close behind.

"The first stop for us is the wizarding bank, Gringotts," McGonagall says leading Hermione and I towards a large, grand, white building that looked over the rest of Diagon Alley.

The doors open and we walk in, the doors closing behind us. We walk over to what looks like a Santa Clause elf - pointy ears and relatively short.

"Good morning," McGonagall says, pulling out a golden key, "we need to visit Miss (L/n)'s vault."

"And does Miss (L/n) have her key?" the goblin asks.

McGonagall hands the goblin the key in her hand. "Very well," he says, handing the key back to McGonagall, who, in turn, hands it to me.

"I'll have someone take you down to the vault. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Hermione, Professor McGonagall, and I follow Griphook towards one of the doors leading off the hall.

Griphook holds the door open for us.

We walk into a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It slopes steeply downwards and there are little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart comes hurtling up the tracks towards us. We climb in and are then off.

When the cart finally stops, the four of us get out stopped in front vault 714.

"Key please," Griphook says and I hand him my key.

I was confused though, because Vault 714 had no keyhole.

Griphook simply examines the key closely, and then hands it back to me. I guessed that they key must just be confidential.

"Stand back," says Griphook importantly. He strokes the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melts away. "If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," says Griphook.

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Hermione asks curiously.

"About once every ten years," Griphook answers with a rather nasty grin.

3rd Person POV

Griphook steps aside and (Y/n) and Hermione's eyes go wide at the sheer amount of gold, silver, and bronze coins inside.

"This is mine?" (Y/n) asks Professor McGonagall, who smiles softly, holding out a drawstring bag.

"Your mother was very addiment on leaving most of her gold to you," McGonagall says and (Y/n) nods dumbly as she takes the bag.

Hermione helps (Y/n) scoop some of the coins into the bag. Though they had taken quite a bit of coins, it didn't even seem to make a dent in the large piles.

"The gold ones are Galleons," Professor McGonagall explains as (Y/n) studies a wooden box in front of the truckloads of gold coins. "There are seventeen silver Sickles to a galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle."

(Y/n) nods absently as she opens the box, Hermione next to her.

Inside, she sees a stack of letters and a few pictures.

Hermione holds out her bag, and (Y/n) closes the box, placing it inside the bag.

(Y/n) smiles gratefully at her sister as Hermione pulls her backpack back onto her back.

One wild cart ride later, the three stand blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts.

Hermione pulls out her letter, and (Y/n) reads over her sister's shoulder:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Uniform

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black) 2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear 3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar) 4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

Course books:

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)by Miranda Goshawk A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungiby Phyllida Spore Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them by Newt Scamander The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

Other Equipment:

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) I set glass or crystal phials 1 telescope 1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

"Where do we even start?" Hermione asks in amazement.

"If we get are cauldrons first, we can put our other supplies in it," (Y/n) thinks quickly.

Hermione nods and then both look up to Professor McGonagall, who smiles softly and leads the two to the Apothecary where they pick up two cauldrons and two supplies of basic potions ingredients for Hermione and (Y/n).

"Books now, 'Mione?" (Y/n) asks with a grin as they are about to pass a large bookshop.

Hermione shoots her sister a grin and the two girls walk into the bookshop, McGonagall waiting outside with their cauldrons and potions ingredients.

(Y/n)'s POV

Hermione grabs two of each of our course books while I look around at some of the other books. I grab: Hogwarts: A History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Modern Magical History, Great Wizarding Events of teh Twentieth Century, and a book that looked like it was for kids titled, The Tales of Beedle the Bard.

The next place we went was called Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Inside were two boys one was the Raven haired boy from the Leaky Cauldron; the other was a short boy with blond hair that was greased back; he had a mean attitude about him.

Harry's POV (A couple minutes before)

Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so I entered Madam Malkin's shop.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when I started to speak. "Got the lot here – another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood me a on stool slipped a long robe over my head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yeah," I said, not really liking him very much.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to took at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," I say.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"Nope," I respond.

"I do – Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," I say. I really don't like this boy, I thought.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," I say, wishing I could say something a bit more interesting.

"I say, look at that man!" says the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at me and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," I tell him, pleased to know something the boy didn't. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," says the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," I say. I was liking this boy less and less every second.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage – lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant," I say coldly.

"Do you?" says the boy, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," I say shorty. He seemed not to want to talk to this boy any more than he needed to.

"Oh, sorry," says the other boy, not sounding sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean." I respond.

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways."

A tinkling of a bell interrupts the boy. I look over to see two girls walk in.

"Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

But before I could answer, Madam Malkin says, "That's you done, my dear," and I, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hop down from the footstool.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," says the drawling boy.

3rd Person POV

A few minutes later, (Y/n) and Hermione walk into the bright sunlit alley, their robes folded neatly in a bag.

(Y/n) smiles at Professor McGonagall and places her robes into the cauldron, then (Y/n) lifts up the heavy cauldron, Hermione doing the same with her own.

"What next?" Hermione asks Professor McGonagall.

"You two still need wands," answers McGonagall, pointing towards a store.

As we walk closer, I read the sign, Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

The three of walk inside. A tinkling bell ring somewhere in the depths of the shop as they step inside, and an old man walks to the desk from teh deep recesses of the shop.

"Hello, good afternoon," the man says. "I am Mr. Ollivander. You two are here for wands I presume?" he asks and Hermione and (Y/n) nod.

"(Y/n) (L/n)," Mr. Ollivander says, "I was wondering if I was going to be seeing you soon." he pauses, looking carefully into (Y/n)'s eyes. "Your mother's eyes." At the statement, (Y/n)'s eyes seem to light up with curiosity. "It seems that only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Twelve inches, ash wood with a unicorn hair core. Good for stubborn and courageous witches and wizards."

Even at this small amount of information, (Y/n) had perked up. Hermione glances over at her adopted sister and feels a rush of pity for her. She can't imagine not knowing who her parents were.

It wasn't that (Y/n) didn't remember, because she did have very vivid nighmares about a car slamming on the brakes, a flash of green light, then red, then everything would go dark. It always ended the same way however, with Mrs. Granger carrying a two year old (Y/n), who was clutching her black and white stuffed cat, back to her home.

(Y/n) wrenches herself out of her thoughts as Ollivander approaches her. He had come so close that he and (Y/n) were almost nose to nose.

"And that's where . . ."

Mr. Ollivander touches the hourglass shaped car on the side of (Y/n)'s neck with a long white finger.

"I'm sorry to say that I sold the wand that did it," he says softly and (Y/n) looks back up into the wand maker's misty silver eyes. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands . . . well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do . . ."

He stops, and (Y/n) continues to watch the wand maker, her green eyes flashing silver for the second time that day.

Ollivander, as though sensing (Y/n)'s desire to know more, moves onto Hermione, and she quickly revives her "Vine wood, Dragon heart-string, 10 1/4 inches, unyielding" wand.

(Y/n)'s POV

Again, the same process commences with me, but I end up trying more wands then Hermione. Finally, I get my wand, and strangely my, "Alder wood with a Phoenix Feather core, 12 1/4 inches. Alder is an unyielding wood, yet I have discovered that its ideal owner is not stubborn or obstinate, but often helpful, considerate and most likeable. Whereas most wand woods seek similarity in the characters of those they will best serve, alder is unusual in that it seems to desire a nature that is, if not precisely opposite to its own, then certainly of a markedly different type. When an alder wand is happily placed, it becomes a magnificent, loyal helpmate. Alder is also excellent for protection against outside forces, and, when combined with phoenix feather, is a suitable match for a wizard who will "make their mark on this world.'" Mr. Ollivander says, and I look up at him in shock. Hermione hadn't gotten such a lengthy explanation of her wand.

Mr. Ollivander fixes me with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Miss (L/n). Every single wand. It so happens that that phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave two other feathers - just two. It is curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother - why, one of it's brothers gave you that scar."

I swallow thickly.

"Your other wand's brother, however, I sold just a mere thirty minutes ago," Ollivander continues, "to a young Harry Potter. Curious how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember . . . I think that we must expect great things from you, Miss (L/n) . . . After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things - terrible yes, but great."

Hermione and I return home a few hours later with Professor McGonagall, me clutching a woven basket that housed my new black and white cat Marvel inside.

3rd Person POV

Before they enter the house McGonagall stops (Y/n) before she can enter.

(Y/n) turns to looks quizzically at the professor.

"Good luck," the Professor says simply, then holds out to train tickets. "These are you and your sister's ticket's for Hogwarts." (Y/n) nods, taking the tickets. "I'll see you on September 1st," McGonagall says. Then the Professor turns around and walks away.

Word Count: 4,100 words

So yeah, here's Chapter 2.

I wonder if any of you know who (Y/n)'s dad is yet. I tried dropping some hints at the very beginning.

So yeah

I'll see y'all soon!

Love y'all!

              Kaitlynn 😍❤️

[divagonzo]

Like a Muggle

A/N: This is inspired (and a roughly written one-shot in my side-verse) by @headcanonsandmore aka Dadcanons and their musing of Ron being an awesome father to his kids.

Rated T for innuendo and some snogging but also veiled references to physical violence and social mortification. 98% Ace Safe. This will eventually end up on Ao3 and maybe FF.net

For now, though, it’s all for the Tumblr crowds.

Edit: Now on Ao3.

Give me my demarcation line damn it!

Ron opened the window to admit the unexpected owl. He was working in the Wheeze's office, trying to balance the books and was instead accosted by a nondescript brown owl. "Letter from Neville?" Ron unwrapped the twine from the owl's leg. "Need a rasher or a kip?" The owl hooted what sounded like a No. "It's from Neville. Does he need a reply?" Yet another hooting no.

"Wanna run on back then since Neville doesn't need anything else?" Ron reached out and let the owl come to him, stroking his head feathers gently before the owl took off again. He unrolled the length of parchment, using the readers on top of his head to scan the letter. Disappointment welled in his heart at first before pride shined. He had to go tell Hermione this straightaway, sod the books for an hour. He grabbed his dark blue cloak for the short walk to the Ministry. Taking the floo was too much hassle for a brisk fall morning. "George, I gotta run to the ministry. Back in a few." "Bring me back those shipping contract papers that Percy has for us, wouldya? Save a plonker the trip." Ron threw up a rude gesture while taking the twenty minute walk to the front of the Ministry. He needed the break anyway from the numbers swirling around his head this morning.

Through the toilets and through security, even with the bailiff who knew who he was and still checked him, in the lift down six floors to the Magical Law Enforcement offices, through the rows of desks for the bureaucracy known as the Ministry to Hermione's personal secretary Miranda Blunt. "Ah, Mr. Weasley. You're not on her agenda today so I assume it's important for her to see you immediately? Well she's using the Floo with her Italian counterpart on business so it will be a few." Ron smiled, knowing how important Miranda actually was to Hermione. Everyone thought she was just her secretary but only a chosen few - Harry, Hermione, Hemera, and Ron knew that Miranda was also her personal bodyguard at the office, after the few times anyone tried to breach the security of the department to get to her. "Tea, Mr. Weasley?" "Please." "Three sugars, spot of milk?" "I'd almost think you're related to Hermione with that mind of yours." "Nah, it's only for the important stuff. Husband's tea is important knowledge. And it's also a way for you to know it's really me." Ron gave her a lopsided smile while Miranda slipped into the secure office, returning a couple of minutes later with a small tray of tea and a couple packets of biscuits. "Your wife didn't know if you were peckish or not." "You spoil a bloke, you know that?" Ron tore the packet open and inhaled the contents. He'd missed breakfast this morning on account of other pleasant activities then fell back asleep, only waking fifteen minutes before he was due at the shop. Miranda went back to her seat and used the contraption Hermione got her last year, called a typewriter. They'd explained it to Ron that it was like writing on parchment but easier to read for those who had trouble reading so many varied scrips from people. Hermione had even gifted one to Arthur and he spent countless hours using it writing to his kids and grandkids. The door opened up a couple of minutes later and Hermione stood there, making a motion for Ron to come into her office. Ron followed her in and then he kicked the door shut and gave her a enthusiastic greeting, one that she never complained about before pulling back from his lips, her cheeks flushed and her eyes closed. "You rarely come to the office on a Wednesday so what gives?" "I got a letter from Neville this morning and thought you probably should hear it from me than from him if he sent you a letter, too." "Letter?" Hermione pulled her glasses up to the bridge of her nose, a faint imitation of McGonagall and scanned the parchment twice. "Detention! Two weeks! Rose Lavender Weasley, of all the people! Hexing two another students!" She looked at Ron and saw him smirking slightly. "You prat. There's a page two, isn't there?" "Of course there is," Ron handed it over and watched her frown turn to a grimace and eventually into a smile. "She takes after you, she does." Hermione looked up from the parchment and smiled. "You were always so good on speaking up for me and occasionally fighting my battles when I didn't realize there was one going on." Hermione went back to her desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a cup, pointed her wand at it and re-heated the black coffee, and took a long sip. "You must have zero nerves in your mouth," Ron muttered from his seat across the desk. "You get used to it," Hermione pulled out a length of parchment along with her eagle owl quill and inkpot. "Anything you want to add into the letter I will send off straightaway?" "Nah, she should hear from you first anyway," Ron knew he'd write a letter later today and send it off tomorrow morning so Rose would know how proud her dad was for her standing up for others. Hermione went to work writing and in short order, finished it and cleaned up the parchment with her quill. "I considered a howler but I refuse to do that to our child for any reason. I hated getting them when people thought I was toying around with guys during the Tri-wizard tournament. Besides, Neville has everything under control so I'm not upset too much over it." Ron recalled punching a certain git in the nose and smiled. "Who'd have thought that what started as bullying would turn into a trip for three of the bullies to the hospital ward with Hannah and two weeks detention for Rosie for hexing two students bullying Hugo and his friends, and blackening the eyes of the other two when they disarmed her. I don't think her having a broken hand for punching the boy in the nose was too far for her." "And Neville did say the boys pulled their wands first and she was disarmed." "I'm glad I taught her there's no shame in fighting unfairly when it's overwhelming odds." "I do hope there's no ongoing reprisals." Hermione looked at Ron and saw him shaking his head. "Nah, if I know any better, I'm sure the sods in question were told off privately to leave Hugo alone if they knew what was best for them." Hermione let out a stifled laugh. "What kind of idiot takes on a Rose when almost all of her cousins are present these terms? The only one who isn't' there is Teddy, Right?" Ron nodded. Hermione smiled slightly. "Sixth years and she's a third year, Ron." "She's as tall as many of the boys there, Hermione. It doesn't surprise me in the least. And if there are any further problems, Victorie would probably step in and put them in their rightful place, I reckon." Hermione picked up the parchment and scanned it one last time. "I think we do need to send a howler tomorrow." "Really? Why?" "One of the gits is Zacharias Smith's son and he said that “the only reason you weren’t expelled for this is because of your parents.”

Ron's eyes lit up. "Thinking what I'm thinking?" "I am."

Yet another demarcation line!

Rose tromped into breakfast, exhausted. She's been in detention with Professor Sinestra until one in the morning helping her sort maps and other useless rubbish. Hugo was the one who loved Astronomy and the stars. Only thing she wanted was to race around the Quidditch pitch and now she was banned for a fortnight, for standing up for those who needed protecting. It was so bloody unfair! James and Fred said she was brilliant for what she did and so did Molly and Scorpius. Al, being Al, laughed quietly when she said why she'd gotten detention. She looked up from her seat at the table, her friends with her in commiseration, and saw Zeb sitting across the way, scowling at her with two black eyes and a brace around his left wrist. Madame Abbot Longbottom said it was a small price for him to pay for being a bully on first years - that everyone in the school would know his shame. Owls swooped in, each dropping parcels for those who were present in the Great Hall. She glanced up and saw a tawny brown owl carrying a red envelope in it's talons. She felt the utter dread in the pit of her stomach.

Her parents sent her a howler. She knew she'd stepped in dragon dung if they were mad enough to send a howler. She felt the shame on her face and neck, a reminder to her that her Dad was the same way. She saw Professor Longbottom surreptitiously pull his wand from his robes, ready to silence it into oblivion if it got out of hand.

One last glance across the way and she saw Zeb Smith smirking, knowing how much trouble she was about to get into.

She took it in a shaking hand and tore the top off, hearing her Mum's tsking loudly. "Fuck," she said under her breath.

"Rose Lavender Granger, detention? Of all the things to get in trouble for, and you chose this," Hermione's voice droned loudly. She was shocked. Mom wasn’t yelling, well, no more than seemed usual. "We are so proud of you for standing up for the younger students. Who picks on first years minding their own business? What prat thinks so poorly of themselves that they'd berate first years for playing in the hallways between classes? " "Who tries to hex firsties?" Ron's voice interrupted. "Rude!" 

“Yes, it was very rude and you were right to intervene.” Hermione’s voice carried across the hall.

"We spoke with your head of house," Ron's voice bellowed, "and agree that the punishment fits the circumstances. Two weeks detention is adequate to us." "Sometimes the consequences are a fair price to pay." Hermione said.  "Serve your detentions knowing that we are proud of you for standing up for others who need protecting from bullies." "Love, Dad - " - and Mum." Rose released the breath she'd been holding entirely too long and looked across the way. Zeb was no longer at the table and neither were his three friends she'd put in the hospital wing fighting them like a Muggle.

[hufflepuffhollander]

fire and gasoline (mob!tom series) ch. 1: new vendetta

a/n | wooo buckle in this is a wild ride 😼 and pls share w the world! i’m proud of this one!

synopsis | Your family runs a sect of the british mafia. Tom Holland is the son of the mob leader in your rival gang. You’ve been groomed to be at each other’s throats for as long as you can remember, and a chance run-in after over a decade of feuding and secrecy has you questioning everything you thought you knew.

cw | mob!tom au. enemies to lovers. language, angst, death threats, objectification, sexual tension, and lots of spit. 3.1k words.

read the prologue, join the taglist :)

Roxy’s was your spot- it always had been. The dark alleyway entrance, the smoky air inside that concealed who you truly were, the faceless regulars that just knew to leave you be- it was everything you could want in a local bar. So, instead of somewhere a little cheerier, you chose here; instead of a glimmering club with strobe effects to blind you and music loud enough to burst your eardrums, you decided to spend your birthday where you knew you could melt into the blackness of the night and live mess-free, even if it was just for a few hours.

You had just gotten your second round of drinks with a few friends, your heels clicking from across the room as you wandered over to your table with freshly topped off shot glasses. A brand new, skin-tight black dress paired with electric blue heels adorned you, and the birthday glow radiating across your skin had you looking and feeling like absolutely nothing could bring you down. You were celebrating, you had just landed a major deal with a supplier to your casino; and better yet, you hadn’t heard from the Hollands in weeks. Since their failed attempt at taking out your father during a high-profile event, they had been lying low, full of shame. A recent victory for your family in the never-ending turf war with the Hollands? Not a single mention of Dom or Nikki thwarting your plans in days? Well, that was the best birthday present a girl could ask for. 

You barely had time to feel the gin roll down your throat before the bar door was shoved open, bells tied in a knot overhead chiming ominously as it felt like a tornado had blown in. The room fell quiet, the punkish music on repeat seeming to mute itself. Even the smoke moving through the air was put on pause. Everyone was eyeballing the doorway, where two heavily armed young men stood rigidly; right behind them, a pale, muscular boy with the scent of his own ego radiating off him, a slick smile painted across his face. Every part of your body suddenly felt ice cold.

The boy took off his glasses, the sheer notion that he was wearing wayfarers at night making you groan, and coated the room with his gaze until it landed—and stayed—on you. You tried to avert your attention but couldn’t, as a wave of realization fell over you when he made eye contact. You knew this fuckwad. It was Tom Holland- the son of your rival mob, the boy your father always told you to imagine a target was when learning to sharpshoot...the one who had orchestrated the failed assassination of your dad. Your belly filled with a white-hot fire at the audacity he had to show his face here. Who did he think he was? What the hell was he doing on the East side? And did he know he had just walked into his own execution?

You would’ve seen it through, too, had he not been about to strike you square in the face with a curveball.

“We’re closed.” you heard Roxy spit out, not even bothering to look at the boys as she dried a glass.

“Doesn’t seem like it, babe,” Tom sneered, flashing her an insincere smile and focusing his attention back on you. “And anyway, we aren’t staying; I just came here with a message for the birthday girl.”

You fantasized about a knife appearing on the table in front of you so you could slice the little bitch to shreds for even daring to acknowledge you. But no such luck.

Tom whisked past the bar front, taking his time to saunter over towards your booth. You had bribed your security guard to let you take the night off- he was only there because of your dad’s doing, so he could breathe easier when you were out of his sight. But you hated feeling like a little kid needing to be babysat, especially tonight, when you were turning a year older, and paid him off to get doped up with a friend instead of coming with you. You were kicking yourself for that decision now, watching Tom come up to you without a hint of fear in his dark, shimmering eyes. 

You hadn’t seen him since you were kids, when you had told everyone you were getting married to the cute boy you played with and exchanged candy rings with him in your backyard.

“My my, what an impressive array of barbies,” Tom laughed as he stopped in front of your table, swiping his tongue across his teeth. “any of you pretty things looking to blow this joint?” 

Your few friends looked simultaneously revolted and terrified, and you knew they lived their lives too sugarcoated to witness the interaction you were about to have. 

“Girls, you should leave,” you said, giving them a concerned stare, and it took them less than a second to get up and bolt. Some real friends you had.

You tried to remain composed as you turned your attention to Tom, syllables seething through your gritted teeth. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” 

“Aww, baby, that’s no way to greet an old friend, is it? ‘Coulda least let me wish you a happy birthday,” he sat down on the bench across from you, making you recoil into your seat. “I even have a candle you can blow, if you like.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, asshole.”

“Well someone just isn’t feeling very sentimental, hmm? You remember all those years ago, playing hide and go seek in your mansion, holding hands under the dinner table...I think I remember you having it pretty bad for me back then-”

“You must have a death wish, huh?” you cut him off, standing up and advancing towards him, but taking a step back as he stood up to meet you and towered over you menacingly. He smelled like cigar smoke and cherry aftershave and it clouded your thoughts. You’d always said you’d kill him if he ever got this close to you. Why were you faltering now when it mattered most? Your heart couldn’t keep up with your head.

“No, doll. Not tonight, and definitely not in a place like this. But I gotta admit, I was not expecting you to look so fucking good after all these years. Pop had me believing you were some kind of ugly recluse. Makes it extra difficult for me to tell you to give daddy a call before your birthday is over,” his eyes hungrily flicked over you in your dress, making your blood boil. “y’know, tell him you love him.”

“The hell are you talking about?” you reached for your purse where your pistol was lodged, but felt a cold piece of metal touch the back of your head, halting your movements.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” said minion #1, standing behind you with the barrel of his gun nestled into your curled hair. You swallowed nervously and felt your heart rate skyrocket. The bar seemed to have emptied out; it was just you, Tom, and the promise of death caressing your scalp, and you had nowhere to go.

“Hey, now, Harrison, there’s no need for that! y/n and I go way back,” Tom said, motioning for his friend to lower the weapon. Deeply buried flashbacks of child you linked arm in arm with child Tom flicked through your mind, memories you had suppressed long ago.

“Love,” Tom started, advancing towards you again, leaving you nowhere to go if you didn’t want gun grease staining your head. “I’m simply hinting that you may want to get out any last sentiments before we bleed him out on his crisp white sheets tonight.”

Your eyes widened in panic, and your words came out stuttered. “Y-you’re bluffing-”

“You so sure of that, baby?” He clicked his tongue against his teeth, leaning his head in so his face was only inches from yours. “You tellin’ me you know he’s safe and sound right now? Or does an itty, bitty part of you think that maybe, when his baby girl and best insurance policy went out for drinks, it left his ass dangling out in the open, just begging to get capped?”

Your nostrils flared and your teeth were clenched so hard together that you were sure they’d break, but you couldn’t move, couldn’t fight. You were stuck in the space of Tom as his cool breath violated your cheeks, suddenly picturing violent images of your family in a pool of blood.

Your eyebrows raised with each syllable you spoke, trying your best to conceal the incredible stress eating at you from the inside. “Get...the fuck...out of my face.”

Tom did something that almost made you combust then, swiping his thumb across the bottom of your chin, grinning, and blowing a smooch at you before finally drawing back. The sound of his lips smacking together lingered in your ears, like he not only had total control of you, but of all the soundwaves in the air.

“Look, I thought I was doing you a favor, giving you the heads up and all...I definitely didn’t have to. So if you wanna be an ungrateful little bitch about it, fine,” he stepped back, sitting down in the booth again and casually propping his feet up on the seat opposite. “don’t call him. I don’t fucking care.”

With a path to the door finally freed, you began to calculate your next move in your head, but Tom seemed to have violated your thoughts, too.

“Nuh-uh,” he tsked, looking off to the door and giving a nod as minion #2 locked it into place and stood with his arms crossed in front of it like the world’s least intimidating bouncer. “You really think we’d come all this way to tell you we’re about to kill daddy and then just let you, what, leave? Run home to his rescue?” he scoffed at the mere thought, and his worker bees in black laughed along with him. Tom gave you an infinitely objectifying once-over. “Like you’d make it that far in those heels.”

“I’d like to see them off,” one of his men said, prompting Tom to violently curse at him.

“Don’t you fucking dare talk about her like that, Harry. She’s not yours.” He was acting like some protective owner of you, which only made you angrier as you felt a dull electricity appear in your stomach.

The alcohol already in your system mixed with the adrenaline coursing through your veins made you feel fiery, out of control, erratic. You weren’t sure if you wanted to lunge at him or cry, the sting of worry pinpricking your eyelids as Tom’s smirk stayed put.

“What do you want?” you resigned, looking down and away from him, leaning against the wall behind you for support. You didn’t want to cave, but you couldn’t help it- you were paralyzed, fight or flight response warring with itself.

Tom shrugged, remaining nonchalant. “Just bragging rights, really,” he picked up an arm and ran his fingers through his tousled hair, his oversized platinum watch catching the light as he did it.

You were able to regain some composure as you responded, remembering who you were, knowing that your family could hold its own. You took a few paces forward in an attempt reclaim your pride. “Slim chance. You’d never be able kill him anyway, you pathetic excuse of a television criminal,” you spat out, seeing Tom’s expression falter just enough to spur you on. “You’re not the only one who knows things, y’know, I’ve learned all about you, too. All bark and no bite. A puppy who acts tough until he gets a paper cut and cowers under the bed.” you could feel your confidence refueling your words, and narrowed your eyes. “Maybe you were intimidating as a kid, but you don’t fucking scare me now, Holland.”

Upon the callout, Tom bolted up from his seat, swiftly pulling a handheld gun out of his belt and backing you up against the wall, barrel aimed at the perfect angle to blaze a clean hole through your head. “You little-”

Thankfully, you had friends on this side of town, and Roxy always had your back.

She tore out of the back with an assault rifle twice the size of her, firing a round of warning shots into the rickety ceiling. It shook Tom’s focus enough for you to make a break for it, running and ducking behind the safety of the bar.

“You better get to leaving before I have to mop you greasy motherfuckers off my floor,” Roxy said in her thick cockney accent, looking as intimidating as you’d ever seen her. Tom sniggered and stayed put.

“You think I’m joking?” she said, aiming at the wooden boards and landing a shot barely an inch from one of his friends’ feet. 

“Jesus-!” they yelped, forcing you to stifle a laugh as you watched the scene unfold.

Three very oversized men walked out from the back of the room with their own weapons of choice to back Roxy up. Seeing they’d been outnumbered, Tom retracted his gun and looked warily at his friends, grouping up to leave the bar. He saw you backed in the corner and took an extra moment to let that cocky sneer find its way back to his face, making sure to remind you why you ran in the first place.

The group walked out unscathed, leaving behind a deafening silence until Roxy looked back at you and shook you from your trance.

“Go home, babes, and make sure your family is okay.”

As you ran outside against your better judgement, eyes locked on your car parked in the alley, an abraisive pair of hands grabbed you from behind and pushed you up against the side of the building. You recognized the sickly sweet smell of cherries and knew Tom wasn’t finished with you.

He had his arm up over your head and the other on your shoulder, evidently taking in all of your features for the first time in years.

“Time did you well, didn’t it? My god, can’t believe my little kid wife grew up to be so pretty,” his eyes sparkled with a twisted, deep desire. “We’d look good together in different circumstances, hm?” His words prompted you to spit in his face.

“In your fucking dreams.”

“Ooh, a feisty little thing. I’d watch that temper of yours, y/n, you’ll make a lot of enemies talking like that,” he said in a low voice, collecting your spit from his cheek and sucking it off of his finger.

“We’re friends forever, darling. I’ll find my way back to you.” he winked at you and sauntered away into the dark. “Say hi to daddy for me.”

Your foot on the gas pedal made an indentation on the floor of the car as you sped home, tears almost blinding you from the road, making every streetlight overhead look like an abstract explosion of color. You left the ignition on as you careened into the gated entrance of your house, kicking your blue heels into the grass and sprinting inside, yelling. “Dad? Mum? Hello???”

You almost ran head first into your parents as they rushed out of the den after hearing your exasperated calls.

“y/n? What the bloody hell is going on?” your mother saw you standing shell-shocked, taking in the fact that they weren’t chopped into pieces, and pulled you into a hug as you broke out into uncontrollable sobs.

“T-they locked me in and told me they were- that you’d be dead when I got home-” you choked out in between tears, unable to calm your breathing. 

Your dad gripped his tumbler of scotch with so much sudden anger that it shattered into his hand. You could see fire in his eyes. “Who? Who told you that?”

You looked up at him and said exactly what he was expecting. “The Hollands. Tom. He- he came into Roxy’s.”

“I’m going to hang that chav from his wimpy little fucking-”

“Hon, please.” your mom said sternly while motioning to you in your sorry state, making your dad’s face a little less violently red. He took a deep, ragged breath.

“Hey, sweet pea, look,” he said, tucking away a strand of hair that had fallen in your face and was clinging to your tear-streaked cheeks. “We’re okay, alright? Tonight is an ordinary night, and our security detail is the best in the city. You stop worrying and go get yourself cleaned up, mum and I have something special we want to give you.” He smiled only to steam off and slam the door to his office, most likely to make a call to get someone, anyone, that may have had a hand in tonight’s events drawn and quartered by dawn.

You came downstairs after a long, boiling hot shower that only made you seethe more at the fact that Tom had been bluffing the whole time. It had clearly just been a fear tactic, probably done for no other reason than to fuck with you on your birthday and ruin your night. He loved crafting little games like that, this being the first time he’d come to play in person—and what made you angriest is that it had worked.

“Honey, we have a gift for you,” your mom said, handing you a silver box that was much heavier than it looked. She and your dad sat on the big sofa in the den, looking at you expectantly.

“Well, open it!” she smiled.

You undid the box, hands still shaking from earlier, and found a shiny, pitch black glock with a silver inscription in its body reading “sweet pea”, the nickname your dad had given you forever ago.

“Uh, wow, I don't know what to say...” you trailed off, picking it up and turning it over in your hand. It became surprisingly weightless, feeling like it was made to fit in your palm.

“It was mine, back in the day,” your dad spoke, seeming wistful. “Had it rebuilt and shined up for my baby girl.”

“Thank you, daddy, I love it,” you said, leaning over to hug your parents. You smiled blankly as they talked to you about the gift and how special it was, nodding at their comments...but you weren’t really listening.

All you could think about was a pair of flushed lips inches from your own, an intoxicating smell lingering in your brain; and just how amazing this gun would feel in your hand right after it had burned a bullet-sized cavity into Tom Holland’s chest.

[callmefitz]

HomeBound, a TTP Fic

PSA- I don’t know how to do the “read more” thing and this is a long fic so, apolgies in advance for this long post. Also I wrote this at midnight in my notes app with absolutely no editing so, read at your own risk.

Summary: It’s been weeks since the Crown Prince of the Heartlands, Prince Wensclaus ran away from home. During his absence, he’s taken a spunky aspiring knight under his wing to distract from the pain of his disapproving parents. Although, anyone can tell it’s more than that. He genuinely cares for the kid. As for his own family, however, they are not content to lose him. Featuring aro/ace future Wensclaus, a non-binary TTP OC I made named Law, and an older, wiser, but generally unchanged Joan.

————-

Although it’s been years since Wensclaus has been to the Hinterlands, there’s something familiar about the way the wind whips at his hair, heavy with the promise of rain. There’s something familiar about the dull, incessant roar of leaves in the breeze, and there’s something familiar about the dry crunch of dirt beneath his heels as he bites his lower lip, drawing blood as he parries and ripostes a rather impressive attack to his left side.

This place definitely had never held the warm glow of home to him, but the landscape tugged at Polaroid memories all the same.

His assailant, far more used to the northernmost elements than Wensclaus, circled at a wide radius, letting limp their wrist in exertion and dragging the point of their sword in the dirt. Their face was leveled in an annoyed glare (it was rather early). Beneath their tunic, their chest rose and fell in quick succession.

“Careful,” Wensclaus muttered, “We just had the blacksmith sharpen that.”

His adversary lept back into action, once again assuming a rather bold offensive strategy, yet left their form with much to be desired. At any moment, really, he could send them toppling on their back, but this skirmish wasn’t staged for the purpose of an expedient victory.

Although they only employed a handful of successful attacks on Wensclaus, he couldn’t help but to find himself surpised by their skill level. That, or the fact that without the rigid background of swordsman training, they were afforded the ability to combine techniques in a fluid manner without so much as a second thought. It was a skill that he himself envied.

The sparring match between the pair often drawn a crowd of onlookers, as entertainment in the Hinterlands dwindled after Barrabas returned to the Midlands. However, the mist on the plains had yet to evaporate and the cock had yet to crow, so they were alone in their back and forth dance.

Or so they thought.

Through the mist, an imposing horseback figure drew closer and closer, regarding the fight with vague curiosity. She watched the epic climax, and subsequent end, as the younger swordsperson unexpectedly threw Wensclaus off balance and tumbling to the ground.

“Do you yield,” Law said with a false air of suave.

“Ah, I’ve been bested,” Wensclaus replied in a similar play of false airs, “I yield, I yield! Spare me, lest I suffer a worser fate.”

Law laughed and held out a hand to Wensclaus and pulled him up.

“Good work with your offense,” Wensclaus praised, “Your footwork has improved greatly.”

“While yours has only grown sloppier since you’ve been gone.” The mystery spectator cut in. Her horse drew closer in the mist, and with horrifying realization Wensclaus realized it was his Aunt Joan. She dismounted and strode towards the pair.

Wensclaus gripped his sword, unsure if he wanted a fight or a reunion.

The head knight in question stood with an innate intimidating posture that made Wensclaus feel like a child again. However, that clearly wasn’t the case; Wensclaus had grown into his gangly limbs and assumed a self-assured posturer, and the constant eroding factor of time had etched wrinkles into Joan’s face and dusted Grey into her hair.

“Look, It’s the no-fun police,” Law scowled, crossing their arms, yet hiding slightly behind Wensclaus. He only sighed.

“Your fathers have been worried sick for you, Wensclaus,” Joan said softly, “they miss you terribly.”

Wensclaus kicked a stone, “Thats very inconvenient for them. I hope they feel better.”

“Wen-“

“No.” Wensclaus shouted. He wanted to continue, but he then became hyper-aware of Law, himself over seven years their senior, ducking behind the heavy mass of his cloak and gripping it slightly. He sighed. Not here.

“Can we continue this somewhere else?”

——

After a whispered argument that warmed Wensclaus’s heart but ultimately convinced him of Law’s protective yet stubborn nature, he found himself seated across the table from Joan in the only tavern in town and Law sulking outside as they waited for the adults to finish up. A daunting mug of root beer sat in front of him, which was much more interesting than the steely grey eyes of his pseudo-aunt.

“I can’t believe they sent my babysitter to come pick me up,” Wensclaus began, deciding to skip the small talk and poke the sleeping elephant with a stick. Or whatever the idiom is about.

“Wensclaus,” Joan began.

“Like, ok, they have a kingdom to run, but I’ve seen my Dad pull holidays out of his ass so we could have a vacation. They could have come themselves-“

“Your fathers did not send for me, Wensclaus.” Joan cut Wensclaus off with an impressive gulp of definetly-not-root beer. “I doubt they even know where you are. Not that they haven’t been searching, of course. As far as they’re concerned, I’m farther up North to check up on a dwarf problem your Uncle Darling is having.”

Wensclaus’s face drew up as he straightened in his booth. “Wait, then how did you-“

“It just made sense,” Joan replied, “You experienced perceived rejection and to cope you returned back to the place where you first received rejection. The little knight you found, however, was a nice touch. They’re coming along quite nicely. I’m proud.”

The explicit praise did not fly over Wensclaus’s head, “I’m that predictable, huh?”

“You’re not predictable, just human,” Joan shrugged, then at Wensclaus’s face, continued, “That’s just what Cecily has been telling me. And for the record, I’m not telling them you’re here until you’re ready to be found.”

Wensclaus leaned back in his chair and stared down at the frothy mess of his root-beer.

“They all miss-“

“It’s just hard.” Wensclaus said, without emotion. Joan remained quiet this time.

“It’s hard when, you know, everyone is talking about you, like, oh look at Prince Wensclaus! He’s like, I don’t know, in his mid-twenties, and tied down to no one,” Wensclaus laughed dryly, “His parents, they were married by age eighteen. Basically invented love and all that shit. How massive of a failure do you have to be to not love anyone when those are your role models?”

“You must be pretty fucked up.” He wiped a tear from his eye. “God it’s just... it’s so hard. I’m nothing like them and... it’s so hard.”

“You love me, don’t you?” Joan said, “And what about your Aunt Cecily?”

Wensclaus regraded Joan strangely, “Well, yeah, but not like-“

“What about your Uncles up North, Darling and Percy?” Joan continued, “Or your little knight?”

“Joan, it’s not like-“

“Your fathers?” Joan pressed, “Do you not love them?”

“I do, Joan, but that doesn’t count!” Wensclaus snapped. A few patrons across the bar glanced over. Face flushing, Wensclaus lowered his voice and relaxed his clenched fists, “That’s not the point, it-“

“You’re right,” Joan said, “The point is that you feel angry because of the high expectations inadvertently placed on your shoulders by your fathers because you’re different. But to say you love no one is so... far from the truth. Love takes many forms, and they can all be fulfilling.”

Wensclaus gave no response, instead favoring the mug in his hands than making eye contact with Joan. He was holding himself back from lashing out again.

“When I came out to my father, as both gay and a knight,” Joan began, “He tried to fix me.”

This caught Wensclaus’s attention.

“He set me up with all kinds of guys,” Joan laughed, “even a pig farmer. Enrolled me in all these classes for lady-etiquette and had me fitted for a ball gown corset. I was so angry, I ran away.”

“But you and your dad get along great,” Wensclaus said, “He’s over at your and Aunt Cecily’s cottage almost every weekend.”

“Now we get along great,” Joan corrected, “But this was all when you were very young.”

This satisfied Wensclaus’s confusion.

“I guess in the end he was afraid for me and afraid for himself,” Joan said, “Everything I was doing he had never seen done before, and that was scary. When people are scared, they do dumb things, like threaten to estrange their children.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Wensclaus asked slowly.

“When Cecily found out about what my father had threatened, she marched her little sequined self down to the pub he was hiding out in and gave him a piece of her mind,” Joan continued, “After you left, that’s exactly what I did to your fathers.”

“What?” Wensclaus finally cracked a smile, “You yelled at my dads?”

Joan shrugged, “It’s not the first time. I love them, Wensclaus, I really do, but they can be incredibly thick sometimes.”

That sobered him up, “Yeah.”

“They reacted the way they did not because they didn’t love you anymore, Wens,” Joan reaches across the table and grabbed his hand, “They reacted that way because what you were describing was something they had never seen done before, and they were scared for what that meant for you.”

“That still doesn’t make it right,” he replied.

“You’re right. It was wrong, which is exactly why Rupert has written and rewritten his formal apology to you several dozen times, so you know that in fourteen different languages that he loves you no matter what,” Joan replied, “And Amir is currently drafting legislation to nationally recognize aromanticism as a romantic identity and provide funding to revise public service announcements to include it. It was wrong of them to react the way they did, and they only thing they want in the world is to take it back.”

“Wow, I-“ Wensclaus suddenly found himself speaking through tears, “I don’t-“

“I’m not going to force you to come home before you’re ready,” Joan said steadily, “But I want you to know that when you are, there’s a place for you.”

It was embarrassing, the way that Wensclaus began sobbing in the tavern like that. The eyes of half a dozen hitherlandians landed on his shaking frame as the head knight of the heartlands held him to her chest. She ran her fingers through his hair, just like she used to when he had nightmares about the Despair. But this was so much worse, because this was not about an enemy he could defeat; rather, it was the floodgates of relief mixing with the festering hurt that had been building in him ever since he stepped foot out of the palace gates. Dimly, he was aware of the soft reassurances his aunt whispered into his ear, but in his determination to speak through his tears it all was mush.

“I want to go home,” he said hoarsely, and he felt the same relief within Joan.

—-

As the door to the tavern opened, Law jumped up from the ground and ran up to Wensclaus. However, after they took in his tear-stained face and Joan’s arm on his shoulder, they stumbled back, as if flinching in pain and disbelief.

“So you’re going back?” Law seethed, “Just like that?”

Wensclaus made brief eye contact with Joan, who released her arm from his shoulder and walked off with a nod. He returned his attention to Law and wiped his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said, “I’m going back. I can’t hide here forever.”

“But they said-“

“And they realized they were wrong,” Wensclaus finished, “I want to give them another chance before I cut them off entirely. If Joan can do it... then I guess I can too.”

His rationalization only caused his mentee to spiral further, “A-And what are you going to do, huh? Just.... leave me here?”

Wensclaus’s face drew up as an emotional knife stabbed cleanly through his heart. This scene felt all too familiar, except never from this perspective.

“No, no, of course not. No. Never. You’re going to come with me and Joan,” he said, placing his arms in Law’s shoulders in an attempt to ground them, “I mean, only if that’s what you want.”

“I won’t fit in,” Law said quietly, “It will be... weird.”

Wensclaus laughed, “I didn’t fit in either. It’s not that weird.”

In a conspiratorial tone, he added, “Plus, everyone there is weird. Just wait until you meet my Uncle Darling.”

That caused Law to smile as they held their hands on top of Wensclaus’s on their shoulders.

“Wensclaus,” Joan called out from her horse, “Little Knight.”

The pair glanced up from their conversation as Joan trotted closer.

“You coming?”

Wensclaus straightened up, leaving a hand in Law’s shoulder.

“Yeah. Let’s go home.”

[teenslib]

IT’S FINALLY DONE! Every year, the Rainbow Book List Committee has more books to review, because literature is slowing getting queerer, and children’s and YA lit are at the forefront of that change. This year, our committee of 13 people had to review nearly 500 eligible titles, and 130 (well, 129) were good enough and queer enough to make the list. There were so many terrific books that we got a special dispensation to create TWO Top Ten lists--the first time the committee has done so! The Top Tens are below, and please visit the link above for the full list.

I’m proud of our committee’s focus on diversity--along lines of race, ethnicity, queer identity, and even genre. At least half of the Top Ten Books for Young Readers and seven of the Top Ten for Teen Readers are about characters of color, and most of those were written by authors of color. We also tried to feature as many different letters of the alphabet soup as possible. I’ve noted the racial and LGBTQIA+ rep for the books that I’ve read.

Here are the Top Ten Books for Young Readers:

Ana on the Edge by Sass, A.J. Ages 8 to 12. Sports Fiction/Figure Skating. MC is nonbinary and Jewish-Chinese-American. Ana is a champion figure-skater. She hates her new princess-themed program, but how can she tell her mother that, when it cost so much money? And why does it bother her so much, anyway? When she finds the word ‘nonbinary,’ she realizes why the program doesn’t fit, but she still has a lot of work to do repairing relationships that have suffered in the meantime.

The Deep & Dark Blue by Smith, Niki. Ages 8 to 12. Fantasy. One of 2 MCs is a trans girl, all characters appear to be Southeast Asian. A pair of twins flee after a political coup that puts their lives at risk. They decide to disguise themselves as Hanna and Grayce, two girls living in the Communion of the Blue, an order of weaving women who spin magic like wool. What one twin doesn’t know is that, for the other, being Grayce isn’t a disguise. This is a beautiful story about self-discovery, acceptance, and affirmation.

Drawing on Walls: A Story of Keith Haring by Burgess, Matthew and Josh Cochran (Illustrator). Ages 6 to 14. Biography. MC is a white gay man. This colorful picture-book biography traces the life and art of Keith Haring.

The Every Body Book: LGBTQ+ Inclusive Guide for Kids about Sex, Gender, Bodies, and Families by Simon, Rachel E. and Noah Grigni (Illustrator). Ages 8 to 12. Nonfiction/Health. Various identities and races included. Filled with self-affirming information, The Every Body Book uses inclusive language, illustrations, and facts to cover a number of important topics for young people including consent, relationships, gender, sex, puberty, and hormones.

King and the Dragonflies by Callender, Kacen. Ages 8 to 12. Realistic Fiction. MC is a gay black boy, his best friend is a gay white boy. King’s family–especially his father–have strong opinions about what it means to be a Black man, and they don’t allow for being gay. But King admires his friend Sandy for escaping an abusive home and living his truth no matter what. If King comes out, too, can his father learn to change?

Magic Fish by Nguyen, Trung Le. Ages 12 and up. Realistic Fiction/Fantasy. MC is a gay Vietnamese-American boy. A young Vietnamese-American boy literally can’t find the words to tell his parents that he’s gay, but cross-cultural fairytales help bridge the language barrier in this beautifully-illustrated graphic novel. 

My Maddy by Pitman, Gayle E. and Violet Tobacco (Illustrator). Ages 4-8. Realistic Fiction. MC’s parent is nonbinary, MC and her parent are white. My Maddy is a heartwarming story about a young girl and her parent. Readers learn that not all parents are boys or girls; some parents are just themselves. In this young girl’s case, that parent is her Maddy, a loving, caring parent who lives outside the gender binary.

My Rainbow by Neal, DeShanna, Trinity Neal, and Art Twink (Illustrator). Ages 4-8. Realistic Fiction. MC is an autistic black trans girl. Autistic trans girl Trinity wants to have long hair, but growing it out is too itchy! None of the wigs in the store are quite right, so Mom makes Trinity a special rainbow wig.

Our Subway Baby by Mercurio, Peter and Leo Espinosa (Illustrator). Ages 4 to 8. Adoption Non-fiction. MCs are white gay men, the baby they adopt is Black. Loving illustrations help tell the story of how an infant abandoned in a NYC subway station was adopted by the man who found him and his partner.

Snapdragon by Leyh, Kat. Snapdragon. Ages 10 to 14. Fantasy. Haven’t read this one yet, so I can’t comment on its representation. Snap gets to know the town witch and discovers that she may in fact have real magic and a secret connection to Snap’s family’s past.

And here are the Top Ten Books for Teen Readers:

All Boys Aren’t Blue: A Memoir-Manifesto by Johnson, George M. Ages 14 to 18. Memoir. Author/MC is a gay Black man. “Memoir-manifesto” is a well-chosen label for this book, which relates stories from the author’s childhood and young adulthood and contextualizes them within a queer Black experience. Although the author’s family is loving and supportive, pervasive heteronormativity, queerphobia, and anti-Black racism threaten his mental, emotional, and physical safety.

Camp by Rosen, L.C. Ages 14 and up. Realistic Fiction. MC and his love interest are gay Jewish boys. For Randy, going away to Camp Outland is a breath of fresh air, a time to be exactly who Randy can’t always be at school. But this year will be different. This year, Randy won’t be the flamboyant theater kid, this year Randy will be exactly the type of bro Hudson would want to date. Changing a thing or too will be necessary for Randy to succeed, even if that means leaving some friends behind.

Cemetery Boys by Thomas, Aiden. Ages 13 and up. Paranormal/Romance. MC is a trans Latino, his love interest is a gay Latino. Yadriel accidentally summons the wrong ghost in an attempt to prove himself a real brujo to his family who struggle to accept his gender identity. Though he thinks he is summoning the ghost of his cousin, he actually summons the ghost of Julian Diaz, and finds himself with not one, but two, mysterious deaths to investigate.

Circus Rose by Cornwell, Betsy. Ages 12 and up. Fantasy. One MC is white and one is mixed-race, one is a lesbian and one is questioning. Ivory and Rosie are twins and half-sisters, born to a bearded woman who refused to choose between her lovers, and raised in their mother’s circus. After a long foreign tour, they come home to find themselves under attack by religious zealots. As tragedy follows tragedy, will Ivory be able to save her circus family?

Elatsoe by Little Badger, Darcie  and Rovina Cai (Illustrator). Ages 12 and up. Mystery. MC is an aro/ace Lipan Apache girl. In this OwnVoices novel, Elatsoe is on a mission to discover who killed her beloved cousin, and why. If not for her cousin, then she is doing this for her people, the Indigenous Lipan Apache tribe. Elatsoe has the ability to raise ghosts from the dead, a tradition that has been passed down through generations. On this journey it will take vulnerability, wit, and the legends of her people for Elatsoe to understand all that is hidden in the small town of Willowbee.

I’ll Be the One by Lee, Lyla. Ages 13 and up. Realistic Fiction. MC is a bi Korean-American girl, her love interest is a bi Korean boy. Skye Shin dreams of becoming the world’s first plus-sized K-pop star, and a reality TV competition may just be her chance. To win, she’ll have to deal with fatphobic beauty standards, fierce competition, and intense media scrutiny–as well as unexpected attraction to one of her competitors.

Miss Meteor by Mejia, Tehlor Kay and Anna-Marie McLemore. Ages 14 and up. Magical Realism. (I haven’t read this one, but I think both MCs are WLW Latinas.) Lita is a star – literally. After falling to earth several years ago, she’s now living life as a teenage girl. When the annual Miss Meteor pageant rolls around, Lita decides to enter – but will her ex-best friend Chicky be willing to help her? Will the pageant help her forget about the past and imagine a new future? Lita learns that winning isn’t about being perfect, it’s about showing your true self to the world – even the parts that no one else understands.

You Should See Me in a Crown by Johnson, Leah. Ages 12 and up. Realistic Fiction. MC is a black WLW (woman-loving-woman). In this affectionate rom-com, Liz Lighty finds herself an unlikely candidate for prom queen at her affluent suburban school. Shy, awkward, Black, and low-income, Liz has never felt like she belonged, and she can’t wait to leave for her dream college. But when her scholarship falls through, it seems her last resort is to win prom queen, and the scholarship money that comes with it. Liz’s plan is complicated when new girl Mack decides to run for prom queen also…and ends up running away with Liz’s heart.

War Girls by Onyebuchi, Tochi.  Ages 12 and up. Science Fiction/Afro-Futurism. Both MCs are Nigerian, one is a WLW. In a not-so-distant future, climate change and nuclear disasters have made much of the earth unlivable. In the midst of war in Nigeria, two sisters, Onyii and Ify, are torn apart and face two very different futures. As their lives progress through years of untold violence and political unrest, battles with deadly mechs and cyborg soldiers outfitted with artificial limbs and organs, they are brought together again and again and must come to terms with how the war has impacted their lives.

When We Were Magic by Gailey, Sarah. Ages 14 and up. Contemporary Fantasy. MC is a white bi/questioning girl with gay dads, her friends are racially, ethnically, and queerily diverse. This firecracker of a novel follows a group of friends who attempt to correct the accidental murder of a classmate. When We Were Magic combines magic, friendship, and awkward moments to create a captivating story. Each character brings their own uniqueness to the strong group of friends, but despite their differences, their loyalty remains. Author Sarah Gailey has written another page turning novel, with the quirky strange content to boot.

[tsukikoayanosuke]

7, 8, 9, 10, 13, 14, 16, 27, 35 & 39

[It’s a lot again 😅 hope you don’t mind :D]

I might be going way too far with these answers, so please bear with me ^^’

Sorry for the long rambles but these are my answers!

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Oof. This is hard. There’s actually a lot of paragraphs that I like throughout the writing process. I can re-read and just pick which is my favorite, it’ll be different every time.

But, I think the thing currently going on with TW:OPT can be summed up in this Once Upon a Time… (I was being dumb and I thought prose is just poetry without rhyme)

So, this drabble is written on the run. There’s not really deep thought and I can’t even remember why I wrote it in the first place. From the date I posted it on Tumblr it was in the middle of Octavinelle Arc.

But, in this small crappy prose-poetry, it has one of the themes in TW:OPT: happy vs sad ending. This is something that I want to build since in the early stage. The theme of TW:OPT is second chances for the reincarnated villains, giving them a happy ending, something way better than the original ones.

So, if you look for example the two lines about the Queen of Heart:  

The Queen of Heart was forgotten by Alice like it was just a bad dream

The Queen of Heart will always be remembered by Alice as his dear friend and the greatest queen

The first line is what happens to the original Disney Alice’s Queen of Hearts, while the second line is what happens to Riddle, the current reincarnation of the Queen of Hearts. It’s a good change for Riddle’s life.

However, like everything, there has to be something to balance it. 

After all, good endings cannot exist without bad endings.

Can the good guys really live with the bad guys in harmony? After all, all Disney movie always has “good wins, evil lose” theme. If the “evil side” wins, wouldn’t that mean the “good side” loses? Is that even a good thing or even possible?

After all, the One-Eyed Captain found his happy ending to sail away once again. What will happen to him in his next life?

This line becomes the question. What will happen to the already-set happy endings? Would they just disappear to change into bad endings to keep the balance?

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8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

I’m debating between many dialogues, but I think the one piece I’m most proud of is in Chapter 97. I'm cutting a lot of the narration and just focus on the dialogues because it becomes too long.

Riddle: What happens that day? The day when everything went downhill. Azul: Didn't anyone tell you already? Riddle: I want to hear it from your or Jonah's mouth. What happened that you must curse him? Azul: Pretty simple, really. I told him not to come here that day, and he did To make it worse, that boy was stupid enough to go back against our agreement. Riddle: Just that? Azul: Oh, please, dear Crimson Ruler. I don't want to hear that from you. Have you forgotten about your reign before? Riddle: I know what I did was tyrannical, but I want to be better. Azul: Because of the captain told you too? Riddle: No. This is my choice to change. Just like it was your choice to curse him. He trusts you, you know? He knows that you wouldn't go back against your own words, which was why he was willing to sign another contract with you. Azul: If he trusts me that much, why is he against me? If he trusts me, why did he choose to save his stupid friends than agreeing with me? Tell me, Riddle Rosehearts...Why does he choose you instead of me?

We all know what happened during Octavinelle Arc and I don't deny that this sounds cheesy or slightly ooc. And let me just say this, there's no intention of this become a love triangle or whatsoever.

There are two things I want to highlight in this exchange: Riddle's growth and Azul's decline.

Riddle, after everything happened in Heartslabyul and Savanclaw arc, finally putting his foot down on where he wants to stand. He wants to be a better person, more than just the feared Crimson Tyrant. That's why he's helping them. Not because the boys are breaking the rules, not because someone tells him to, but Riddle is willing to risk it all, even his unique magic (as we see at the end of this chapter and the next) to save his friends. Again, this might sound ooc and I apologize, but from my perspective, this is a logical step of development for Riddle.

Meanwhile, Azul is showing more and more decline from this until the end of Octavinelle Arc even Scarabia Arc. For Azul who knows how easy people can leave and mock when you have nothing, seeing Jonah leave him and siding with the anemones is basically a betrayal. He can't think rationally when it comes to the betrayal and we see how brash he can be with anything related to Jonah throughout the arc where all of their interaction nearly kills Jonah.

If Riddle-Jonah is a coming-of-age story, Azul-Jonah is a broken friendship story.

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9. Which fic has been the hardest to write?

This is a hard one to write. You might think I’ll just answer with TW:OPT, but honestly, all multi chapters fanfic has their own difficulties, so I can’t choose which is the hardest.

For Twisted-Wonderland: Our Precious Treasure, where I do treat this as a novel-writing practice, keeping the consistency with the theme, plot points, and characterization.

For Private Tutor, Angel of Death, Philza Minecraft, actually coming up with new ideas is hard because I don’t based this on anything, and just write anything once a week. In addition that I’m still new in Dream SMP fandom so characterization won’t be the strongest thing.

For both TWST MC Hybrid AU and Magical Girl AU, giving the massive cast equal spotlight and actually not getting lost is quite a challenge. Both AU has seven main characters and I need to give them the same amount to screen time.

And don’t get me started with those smut. I won’t be talking about it because I’m keeping it family friendly. Those has their own problems XD

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10. Which fic has been the easiest to write?

As I said, every fic has their own problems, even one shot. So, I’m looking through my works and trying to figure out which fic I wrote the fastest but had the most fun.

I think I’ll go with A Wish for a Proposal because the comfort in this fic with Ace going heads over heels for Deuce and being doki-doki all the time. And the kiss under a shooting star, AH! Poetic cinema~

I do enjoy when I wrote how Ace thought keeping a toy ring as childish but he ended up using it to confess to Deuce and thinking that it’s not as childish as he thought.

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13. What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

There are good writing advice that I had head, one of them came from On Writing: Great Character Descriptions! by Hello Future Me. He has so many good advices in writing and I highly recommend him.

He said that “when describing characters it’s good to focus on their movements that can tell the readers of who the characters are”. As someone who has many troubles in writing physical description, this is actually a great alternative, especially when you want to go thought the “show don’t tell”.

After watching the video I tried to write something. I ended up writing Jonah’s father, Benjamin, in Chapter 137

The owner of the inn was an old man who, coincidentally, also shared the 'Argentum' surname. Benjamin Argentum was a man with slouched back from the burden of the world, white strands on his reddish-brown hair and tired, but kind, black eyes. He walked slowly with his walking stick, claiming that his knees were never that strong since a cart accident during his younger days. The way he speaks was gentle like everyone's favorite uncle/grandfather, along with the delicious appetizer that he had prepared a few minutes ago on the reception table. The spices he used reminiscent of the spices Jonah used in his Ramshackle Kitchen. There was no way all of these were coincidences. Crowley wouldn't doubt if Jonah Argentum ever grew old, he would be looking exactly like the warm innkeeper.

I want to highlight how Benjamin is a kind old man ("He walked slowly with his walking stick, claiming that his knees were never that strong since a cart accident during his younger days”, ”The way he speaks was gentle like everyone's favorite uncle/grandfather”) but has his own problems (”a man with slouched back from the burden of the world”), and very similar to Jonah (”The owner of the inn was an old man who, coincidentally, also shared the 'Argentum' surname”, ”The spices he used reminiscent of the spices Jonah used in his Ramshackle Kitchen”, “Crowley wouldn't doubt if Jonah Argentum ever grew old, he would be looking exactly like the warm innkeeper.”)

It’s not the best descriptions, because most of the example used highlight only one most recognizable feature while my description highlight nearly everything. I still need some practice.

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14. What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

“Write what’s mainstream”.

Here’s my problem with it: sometimes anything that’s mainstream is not my thing. I like to challenge what we are given and give it a spin. 

I mentioned before that growing up with Indonesian TV Series that only centers around love, riches, and cheating, I grew tired of it. That was why I once tried to make a script for a group of friends creating a classical music band and mental problems. 

I’m not the first one to make an adaptation of TWST, but I think I’m one of the first, at least in AO3, that make an adaptation with Male MC. Among the Female MC or Female Readers story with a hint (or too much) of Romance, I want to give something for the small group who wants Male MC or something more platonic to read.

I always want to push slightly further, trying something that I haven’t seen at first glance, giving varieties. I will admit that would always doubt whether me writing something different is even worth it or not. But when I saw that yes, this is worth it, I gain more confidence and become bolder in my twist.

Going against the mainstream is risky, but we'll see whether it's worth it or not.

.. 

16. If you only could write one pairing for the rest of your life, which pairing would it be?

Oh no... Does it have to be a romantic pairing?

Okay. I don't really have an OTP. I mean, I like ROnah and JonAzul, but I don't think I can't live with writing only about them.

So, romantically, I don’t know. But, this doesn’t help with platonically either because I find enjoyment in writing all relationship. Just pushing the limit of my writing, you know?

So, I don’t think I can answer this because I’m a coward XD

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27. How do you feel about collaborations?

A mixed bag.

So currently I'm in at least 2 collab projects: TWST MC Hybrid AU and Arisu in Alternate Wonderland. In the former, I'm the group leader, while in the latter, I'm just a writer.

Both sidea are different experiences. With AiAW, it's definitely lighter because this is basically retelling TWST but with seven Yuus. However because of this freedom and the possibilities of anything, I cannot predict whether my oc action will affects in the future or how they would interact with other ocs in the project.

With Hybrid AU, since this is a fantasy au, anything can happen. Plus as the main writer, I can see and plan clearly which event will be important and setting the characters' arc. It's definitely harder to organize because of the various idea that we want to write.

So, yeah. Collaboration can be two things for me: a scripted roleplay or a freestyle roleplay

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35. Would you ever kill off a canon character?

*looking at draft for TW:OPT Book 2*

Maybe...?

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39. Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

I remember when I was a kid, I wrote a fanfiction where it only features OCs, and someone gave a review, ranting about the lack of canon characters. I, of course, sulked a bit but then just keep writing.

However, what I usually do when it comes to comments is take them into considerations. During Scarabia Arc I got a comment that the Jonah-Azul therapy moment is kinda weak, and rereading it, I can see that. Which was why the next part of the therapy Arc I tried to connect them further. So compare the JonAzul scene in the last part of Chapter 124 with the first part of Chapter 126. At least for me, I prefer the latter because there's more intimacy.

[onepiecereactions]

One piece Halloween 2020 scenario: Marco, Ace, Thatch, Whitebeard and Garp.

ENGLISH VERSION

Title: Five minutes before midnight

Notes: Family / Friendship / Drama / Funny. Around 3 000 words. SFW.  

(Sorry for the mistakes my main language is French)

Five minutes before midnight

 Three knocks echoed against the door of the sleeping pirate. He growled as he snapped out of his sleep and put on his glasses. Then he rubbed his head as he looked at his clock: five minutes before midnight. He huffed, tired but unfortunately used to being disturbed in the middle of the night. Three knocks sounded again and this time the pirate could hear tiny claws slash through his door. Surprised, he used his haki: two men and a cat were waiting behind his door. But that wasn't what surprised Marco the most: all his brothers were sleeping. Absolutely none were awake, even the man on guard. Which meant that the two men behind his door were not from his crew. His blood stopped for a second. He kept his cool, however, and opened the door, ready to fight if necessary. Behind the door, Marco could see a calm, extremely calm sea. Thick black clouds had taken over the sky and prevented almost all of the moon's rays from passing through. He didn't hear a single sound, not even the sound of waves crashing gently against the Moby Dick. He could only hear the cat purring in front of him. Marco came face to face with the two men his haki had identified. The men, barely taller than a 10-year-olds child, were quite calm. One of them, the one who didn't have the cat on his shoulder, was eating a pumpkin. Marco remained on his guard. They stayed several seconds to look at each other straight in the eyes. The two dwarfs didn't look hostile, but something was wrong.

- Number 8834MF77? Asked the one with the cat in a deep voice that didn't quite match his height ...

Marco was stunned, completely lost. He could not sense any power from the two men, and to tell the truth, he felt no hint of life emanating from them. Yet they stood well in front of him… and his brothers were still sleeping.

- 8834MF77, hurry, we have more people planned. Said the dwarf while consulting a long parchment filled with scribbles. He pointed to the west end of the ship.

Marco tilted his head and was amazed: a small mansion was floating a few yards from the Moby Dick. A few lights made it possible to detect the foundations of the house which must have been three floors and barely three hundred square meters. At the entrance, an elderly woman was leaning against a table where Marco could see pumpkins for sale. No sail, oar, or flotation mechanism seemed to allow the mansion to move. Yet the house was proudly in the middle of the ocean and was moving slowly, without a sound.

The second dwarf put his foot on the ground to show his impatience. Marco refocused on him.

-The new world ... he mumbled to himself. That was the only explanation he could find for understanding all of  these.

-Number 8834MF77, are you coming? Insisted the dwarf. The black cat on his shoulder was staring at Marco with his beautiful green eyes.

-No thank you… The pirate replied simply, not really sure of the answer to give.

The two dwarves shrugged their shoulders and walked back along the Moby Dick to the mansion. Marco came out of his room lightly, to make sure the two men got off the ship. For safety, he used his haki one last time throughout the Moby Dick. No other intruder was present.

The two men jumped over the ramp of the pirate ship and quickly landed on the mansion's terrace. One of them stole a small pumpkin from the old woman who had fallen asleep and the two rushed into the mansion. Immediately, Marco could see the mansion rotate on itself and move slowly. The strange building then passed in front of his eyes. Never, in so many years of piracy, had he seen such a thing. He moved closer to the edge to better see the "ship". The wood creaked in some places and a few rooms were lit, letting shadows be seen. Marco used his haki again: no signs of life emanated from the building. He was about to return to his room as the mansion began to pass the Moby Dick when his blood froze again. Beyond one of the windows, Marco recognized a shadow. He hesitated for a moment. It was not possible ... But yet he had seen it ... This shadow looked like his captain, who died just a few weeks ago in Marine Ford. He remained stoic for a few seconds and began to run down the halls of the Moby Dick in an attempt to reach the mansion, which was moving further and further away. As the "ship" began to face him back, he saw through a second window two other figures. His heart knotted; a wave of sadness washed over him. He easily recognized the bodies of his two deceased brothers: Ace and Thatch. Time seemed to freeze around him. He didn't even try to figure out how, why? He just saw the three most missed beings in the world in front of him, chatting as if the past few months were just bad memories. But still behind him was the grieving Moby Dick and his few brothers who survived the war.

Marco was not an impulsive man. He was thoughtful, mature, master of himself. But when the possibility of reuniting with his family presented itself in front of him, he didn't even hesitate for a second. Even if it means going into a trap, even if it means losing his life, these last minutes will have allowed him to feel alive again.

Blue flames swept over the deck of the Moby Dick, and the magnificent phoenix soared gracefully towards the mansion. With a few flaps of his wings, Marco found himself at the front door. The old woman woke up slowly when she felt the pirate but immediately fell asleep again next to her pumpkins. Marco knocked on the door. No answer. He could hear noises behind the door. He knocked a second time, and at the lack of response, he gently opened the door. He came face to face with a receptionist.

The room was tiny. Only a desk sat in the middle of the room. Behind him was a woman, in her fifties, scribbling on parchment. A huge chandelier swayed above the blond's head, to the rhythm of the sea. Through the window, Marco could see the Moby Dick slowly pulling away. He hold a sigh. He had sworn to protect this ship and its occupants, but the possibility of finding his father, Ace and Thatch had made him lose his mind.

He stood there in front of the receptionist for a few minutes, waiting for her to note his presence. Which she did after a few minutes.

-Number 8834MF77 is that right? She asked in her voice damaged by years of heavy drinking.

-I guess… Marco replied simply.

The woman sighed, grabbed a huge book from the counter, and hurried through the pages.

-Marco the phoenix. Captain of the Moby Dick. You were scheduled for five minutes before midnight, you are late... The woman muttered, looking at him over her glasses.

Marco turned to the huge owl-shaped clock stuck in the wall: five minutes before midnight.

-I'll need your social security number. She said, picking up a pen.

-My number of…? I don’t have one. Marco replied, scratching his head. But where had he fallen? Does this mansion belonged to the world government ?

-You have no social security at all? The woman repeated, clearly showing her impatience.

-No

-Well, little boy, that is very dangerous. You shouldn’t play with your health, you know.

-I'm a phoenix… I heal myself… Marco replied simply, completely surprised by the conversation.

-Yeah, you were less proud during MarineFord... The receptionist whispered as she drew a long line in front of number 8334MF77.

Marco waited a little longer. He was looking around for his brothers, but the hall only led to a room on the left and behind the receptionist were rails.

“Next stop, Vice-Admiral Monkey D Garp's ship, five minutes before midnight,” screamed the escargophone on the wall.

Marco turned around, surprised. By his calculations, the vice-admiral's ship was at least a three-hour drive from Moby Dick and was heading south. How could they have already arrived, when they had left less than ten minutes ago. And why was it still five minutes before midnight when it had been twenty minutes or more after five minutes before midnight?

-Well, you're not going to look like a plant, are you? We have other clients arriving. Hurry to get dressed in the storage room and take the train. We don't have all night. The woman vociferated as she left her desk.

A dwarf suddenly rushed past Marco. It wasn't one of the two he'd seen on the Moby Dick, but this one was at least as small and as big. He rushed into Marco's legs and took him by the waist to take him to the storage room. The pirate found himself thrown into the completely black room. He barely had time to feel the dwarf's hands all over his body when he felt a tissue around his right leg. A red scarf. A few seconds later, the dwarf guided him without delicacy towards the mini train. It was plain, black, but no conductor was visible. Marco sat in the front row of the locomotive, which started off just as hard. The blond was thrown against his seat and immediately filled with darkness as the train passed.

Within seconds, the train slipped out of the tunnel and tumbled into a tiny city. The buildings must have been barely twice Marco's size and were covered with red bricks. Tiny businesses lined up and a few dwarves, women this time, were walking on the streets with their children. Marco felt himself faint. Absolutely none of this situation was normal, logical. How could such a small mansion have an entire city? The train continued through the streets and headed at full speed towards a hill dotted with small hiking trails.

Marco was pulled out of his contemplation by a pat on the shoulder. Behind him was a child, red hair, barely three feet tall. She was smiling at him.

-Good night 8334MF77, who did you come to see? She asked gently.

Marco, still surprised, listed the names of his two brothers and his father.

-Oïïïï driver, stop at door 230B! She yelled at the back of the train. The machine took a sharp turn which pushed Marco against the window. When he saw again, the girl was gone.

Snow began to fall gently from the sky, which he couldn’t see the end. He was sure it wasn't the sky he was seeing from the Moby Dick, and this mansion was supposed to have a roof. The train stopped abruptly. Marco lost his balance again but remained seated. He heard a door slam at the back of the train and a figure, small and fat, ran towards him. Seconds later, the train conductor grabbed his shirt collar and pushed him out of the train. Marco fell heavily on the snow-covered lawn and saw the train leave at high speed. He stood up quickly and scanned the horizon. He was facing a wooden wall lined with numbered doors.

-230C right? He said to himself, trying to remember the little girl's words that had been partially covered by the sound of the train.

He made his way to gate 230C but was quickly stopped by a skeleton bursting from inside the wall.

-Keep off your shoes please, I just washed the floor. He said, his huge glasses pointed at Marco. The pirate didn't dare to ask him why a skeleton needed glass, he just dropped his shoes off at the entrance.

He opened the door and rushed into the room. It was bathed in a comforting golden light. He could see in the corner a young woman sitting on a red sofa, a book in her hands. She was so absorbed in reading that she didn't even notice the pirate's presence. Marco barely had time to examine the features of the woman's face - she was vaguely telling him something - when he heard the train stop again a few feet behind the door he had just passed. Seconds later, the door slammed open, letting someone rush into the room. It only took a few seconds for him to recognize Vice-Admiral Garp's massive body. The vice-admiral stared at him, surprised to see him, but said nothing. Marco realized he wasn’t supposed to be here and left the room, letting the Marine fal into the woman's arms.

He gently closed the door behind him and walked back to the skeleton grumbling at Garp who hadn't taken his shoes off before entering.

- Hurry up, chicken, it's 230B not 230C, it will soon be midnight. The skeleton vociferated while washing the floor.

Marco did so immediately and walked without knocking into room 230B.

He was first blinded by the light. It took him several seconds before he could open his eyes. His heart seemed to come out of his chest.

-Oï? he said in a barely perceptible voice.

The other three men in the room turned to him. They all stared at each other for a few seconds, before the dark-haired man rushed over the blond and hugged him as strong as he could. Tears rolled down Marco's cheeks as he felt the softness of Ace's hair tickling his skin, when he felt his peculiar scent, when he heard his brother laugh in his ear. Ace finally released him and Marco could see his father at the end of the room, sitting at the table, Thatch at his side cutting a turkey with surgical precision. They both gave a warm smile to Marco, completely confused, who joined them directly at the table. He sat down, felt father's hand place a napkin next to the plate Thatch was rushing to fill. Marco couldn't speak anymore, he just admired them. Never in his life had he seen a more beautiful scene. Ace sat down next to Marco, a huge smile on his face before he was took over by a narcolepsy attack and collapsed head first in his plate. Thatch grumbled when he caught turkey splashes in the face but handed his plate to Marco.

- Enjoy it! Said the cook before sitting down and drink his glass of wine.

Marco was about to ask his father the why and how of this surreal situation when the huge owl-shaped clock hanging on the wall rang with a loud melody sweeping through the room. The three awakened men looked at the clock: it was exactly midnight. Edward Newgate turned to the blond and in an almost imperceptible whisper told him, "I love you my son. "

Marco didn’t have the time to answer as the escargophone hanging on the wall screamed again:

“Midnight, midnight, get ready for the fall! ".

Marco's heart raced, something was wrong. All his senses were awake and he look out the window. He then saw, a few meters in front of the manor, an enormous waterfall and the manor which was heading straight for it at high speed. Barely a minute later, Marco couldn’t felt the ground under his feet: the mansion began to fall, carried along by the speed of the waterfall. He was the only one in the room to panic: Ace still slept like a child, Whitebeard continued to eat his turkey and Thatch put his glass of wine back on the table, as Marco was thrown against the wall, dragged down by the fall of the mansion. He turned to Thatch, whom he thought he heard talking. "Don't be in too much in a hurry to join us, pineapple, everything happen at the right time..." Marco could not have said if it was a hallucination or if his brother had actually spoken to him. A second later, Marco closed his eyes, ready to take the shock of the fall.

He jumped up, sweat dripping from his forehead. Reflexively, he tried to swallow deep breaths of air, as if he were battling drowning. He recovered quickly when he realized that he was not at the bottom of the ocean but in his bed, in the cabin of the Moby Dick. He wiped his face and noticed that someone was knocking on the door. He preferred to use his haki and recognized his brother Vista. He sighed. He tried to reassure himself by telling himself that it had all been a bad dream, even though it had seemed very realistic to him. He hurried to get rid of his soaked blankets and quickly got up to open the door to his brother. When he walked over to the door and opened it automatically, he froze, his hands shaking. His gaze scanned his right leg: the red scarf was still around his leg.

 End.

[sorathemasterofmasters]

Have any of the Foretellers or Luxu ever called MoM 'dad' or anything close to it? You've referred to them as your kids in the past, so is their relationship with him a father-children one (adopted/father figure/etc) or a mentor one that sometimes blurs into being a parent figure?

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Master Report – Adopting Ava It seems my mother was right in her sentiment of my ability to take in strays or rather my inability to not take in strays. Since arriving in this world, I have spent the time researching for a way to return to my own timeline, reading multiple libraries worth of content as well as anything the Moggles can be convinced to lend me. Indeed I’ve formed quite a fine working relationship with the Moggles though that may be my decision to share advanced potion recipes from the future. Anyway back to my ability to take in strays which only Riku with his infinite patience and cold hard logic could ever dissuade, It was not a particularly conscious decision on my part, I had just celebrated another birthday by using the kitchen of the local bakery to make a rather nice cake. I headed to the bridge overlooking the river to eat it in peace. I did not react as fast as I could have to what happened next mainly because I had never been a victim of such an audacious daylight robbery before. I gave chase and soon cornered the ambitious thief only to be surprised by the culprit, Clad in scruffy clothes and more than a little undernourished, the thief in question was a small child. She was a tiny little thing and I could tell not proud of her theft despite the fact that she had clearly not been eating right and consistently in a long time, she clearly begrudged the act though not the necessity. Coaxing her out to the nearest park bench we began to talk. The child, emboldened by the cake or more likely the sugar in it told me about her life. Of her life as an orphan and the near squalid conditions of Daybreak Towns orphanage and the uncaring matron to her eventually wandering on the streets. Now had Riku been here he would have likely tried to stop me from my next course of action, had Kairi been here she.. would likely be cheering me on the entire time. Nevertheless, I maintain walking up to that orphanages doors and walking out with the adoption papers for my little Ava was the most righteous act I have performed in my entire life. I expected the actual process to be much harder but I am known in this town as a respected figure in good standing with the Moggles Guild and a skilled warrior both so that very likely sped up the process.

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Master Report – Adopting Ira, Gula and Invi In my own time, they talk about The Age of Fairytales like the entire era was a utopian ideal, it was not, I cannot stress that fact enough. Thankfully neither Ira, Gula or Invi remember their families and perhaps that is for the best, at most they know that their traveling convoy was ambushed by monsters on the roads between settlements, not an uncommon tale, unfortunately. That is enough, I see no need to put them through more senseless trauma in explaining the whys and hows. For the first time in a while, I used my Keyblade to travel between the settlements looking for any living relations who could take them in, I was unsuccessful. I already knew the deplorable state of Daybreak Town’s orphanage, my daughter Ava still wakes with nightmares, and knew they would not get the care and support they desperately needed there, at least this way I don't have to bother with the paperwork though and Ava will be pleased to have some playmates.

--------------------

Master Report – Adopting Aced and Luxu I get the feeling that at this point even Kairi would be agreeing with Riku on the issue of picking up strays. Two boys both recent arrivals in Daybreak Town, were left behind when one of the trading caravans left without them, thinking it an accident I used the Keyblade to catch up with the group and left them more than a little infuriated by what I found. The boys had been left behind intentionally, Luxu’s parents who had been members of the caravan had perished recently leaving him as an extra mouth to feed with no one who cared for him. They called him an extra expense, I call them scum. Now, while leaving Luxu behind in an established settlement safe from monsters is preferable to abandoning him in the wilderness their next action with Aced was reprehensible. Aced was left behind because he was loud. He is a six-year-old child. Rambunctious and happy as can be child and they left him behind because they wanted to save money on monster repellent. ‘They’ being his father, grandparents and older sisters. I don't even have the words for how furious I was then I heard that. I told them to leave Daybreak Town and never return, else I would deal with them. As far as Aced and Luxu know the entire caravan left them behind by mistake and was set upon by monsters leaving no survivors. They are mine now.

--------------------

The Master of Masters sighed exaggeratedly placing his hands on his hips “I seem to have lost something” He announced loudly, quiet giggling alerted him to the location of one hider. “Oh Ava, Invi, Ira, Aced, Gula, Luxu” The Master of Masters called “Where have you all gone?” More giggling “Sshh, quiet Gula! Papa’s gonna find us!” The Master of Masters grinned and dramatically swooned in place with faux woe “Its so sad, without my children I fear allll those warm chocolate cookies I baked might just go to waste” The Master of Masters paused for dramatic effect “I suppose I’ll just eat them all myself then” Aced barrelled into his legs from behind with a warcry of protest to the dismay of the other hiders, The Master of Master reached around as he stumbled and fell and grabbed the squealing child mercilessly tickling him into gales of laughter. “Oh Lookie Lookie I found a ticklish little bear cub, Looks like I’m not going to be eating the cookies alone after all” The Master of Masters stood up putting the pouting Aced under one arm like a bag and noogieing him gently “Let us go cub, for chocolate awaits!” The Master of Masters paused and looked closely at the couch cushions reaching a hand in to pull out “Ohhh look cub, a snake hatchling, how adorable!” The Masters cooed Invi blushed as she was also picked up. The Master of Masters yelped as Gula sprinted out of cover from under a table and leapt onto his back scaling his way up until he sat on the Master of Masters shoulders gripping his hair like reigns to keep his balance “I gotcha papa!” Gula announced triumphantly “Yes, you did little my little sky leopard” Gula pouted The Master of Master paused then had a idea “I'm so very short, can you see any unicorns or foxes running about from up there, Little Sky leopard?” Indignant cries of “Papa!” and “That's Cheating!” rang around the room and two missiles collided with both his legs Ava staring up from his left with a pout and Ira looking up reproachfully from the right the Master of Masters laughed “Oh dear, I must have forgotten the rules, there's only one thing for it” The children looked confused before their expressions brightened to glee as the Master of Masters announced seriously “Cookies and milk for all and a bedtime story!” the children cheered loudly “Wait? Where's Luxu” asked Ava confused The Master of Master paused thoughtfully then gasped as though stunned “It seems Luxu won at hide and seek that means he gets to choose the bedtime story this time” The five children groaned as the Master of Masters chuckled and lowered the children carefully to the ground “Now if I go get the cookies and milk ready will you find Luxu and tell him to pick a story?” Five sets of eyes shone happily “Yes Papa!” Chorused the group before they scattered around the room looking for Luxu, The Master of Masters chuckled warmly and went to the kitchen wondering what story Luxu would pick this time.

This was way before MoM!Sora started to get visions of the future, at this point in time the Foretellers and Luxu are teeny tiny tots and toddlers (I am leaving the ages ambiguous) This is my headcanon territory in this AU and Nomura can rip it from my cold dead fingers. As far as MoM!Sora is concerned they're his babies and he’ll happily murder anyone who suggests otherwise which make what's about to happen in the future all the more heartbreaking.

Suffice to say I was in a big mood when I wrote this.

[hilarioushilarity]

(not) lost in translation pt. 2

{I am a lying liar who lies, 2-3 days my ass. You can read Part 1 here.}

The second time Alexei meets Kent Parson is at the All Star weekend that season.

When Mama and Papa had flown back to Russia, Alexei had rapidly realised that he was effectively a thousand miles away from everything he had ever known, and that:

1) Nobody around him spoke Russian; and 2) He couldn't speak English.

Alexei hates English. With a passion. He's not stupid enough to tell anyone this particular fact, but he thinks it every time he sits down for his English classes and wrestles with prepositions and adverbs, or heaven forbid, attempts to conjugate a verb. Every rule had a million exceptions, so what was even the point of the rule? English as a language was just unfair, he had decided, and he tells Mama this over the phone one month in.

She is sympathetic, in her typical Spartan manner. "You'll learn," she tells him. "Practise for at least three hours every day."

Alexei is appalled. "Mama, when am I meant to get three hours of practice each day?"

"There is always time."

He honestly doesn't know what else he expected. "Okay Mama," he says, and then turns the conversation to how stupidly big portion sizes were in America. Criticising the diets of North Americans was always guaranteed to catch her attention.

To his dismay, his father just laughs at him.

"Papa." Alexei may or may not be whining.

"Your Mama told you to just find time, didn't she," he says, when he's finally stopped cackling for long enough to take a breath.

Alexei hangs up on him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Papa says, when he calls back a minute later. The wheezing laughs have stopped, which is a relief.

"Okay," Alexei says warily.

"I mean it." His father is abruptly serious. "I'm sorry for laughing, you're in a tough situation right now. English is not an easy language to learn." They both know that his father never truly gained fluency in it - never had the chance to need it.

"It's really hard, Papa." He doesn't think he's just talking about English anymore.

"Things worth doing usually are, Alyosha," his father says gently.

Alexei chews his lip. "I don't know if I'm doing anything right."

"Are you playing good hockey?" Papa asks.

"Yes, Papa."

"You aren't bullying anyone on the ice?"

"No -"

"Working hard? Doing your English lessons? Going to all your practices on time, practising anything your coach says you need to work on?"

"Yes -"

"Then you are doing it right. And I am proud of you."

His father's voice is warm, and it curls around Alexei. He suddenly, desperately, wishes he could hug his father tightly. "Okay Papa."

"Now go and practice your English," Papa says, and Alexei does.

So hockey is the only thing he has besides torturous English lessons, and he devotes himself to it. He racks up goals and assists every game, plays a clean defensive game, and keeps his stats glowing. English smalltalk remains his nemesis but he's getting there, one pleasantry at a time. Before he knows it, he's being invited to the All Stars Weekend. He dithers over the invite for a few days, until the head of Capitals PR eventually corners him on his way out of the locker rooms.

"You should go," LaRue tells him. "It's good for building up your fanbase." He continues to go on at depth about social media presences and ticket sales. Alexei dutifully nods his way through the lecture, and ends up promising to go just to escape.

For some unknown sin in this life or a past one, he is roomed with a D-man from the Aeros who talks loudly and snores louder than a chainsaw. Alexei realises this on the first night when he lays in bed, staring at the ceiling as the red digits on the bedside clock tick over from 11 to 12, then 1. There's a snore once every three seconds, accompanied by whistling through some gap between teeth. Alexei kills half an hour searching up English sayings to describe snoring and deciding that his roommate "snores like a foghorn" before he finally gives up and rolls out of bed.

The hotel they've been put up in has an indoor gym and swimming pool. Alexei slings on a towel, sneaking out of the room before taking the lift down. On first glance, the gym is deserted, because any sane person is currently asleep. Alexei, running on no sleep, does not qualify.

Except, when he's halfway through his reps on the elliptical, a quiet voice behind him says: "Um. Hi, Alexei?"

Alexei turns around and comes face to face with Kent Parson.

What they are is nebulous at best. More than acquaintances - Kent Parson had talked to his Mama and Papa and his Mama had said Kent was a Very Nice Person. But less than friends, certainly. After the draft, Kent had gone west to the Aces and Alexei had gone east to the Capitals. He hasn't really kept track of Kent's career, but he would have to be under an actual rock to not know Kent is the only other rookie at the All Stars weekend and the NHL's current leading scorer.

"Hello," Alexei replies. There's a drop of sweat slowly rolling down his face and he's painfully aware that he probably stinks a little.  Meanwhile Kent Parson looks fresh as a daisy at one in the morning. The limits of his smalltalking abilities in English remain breathtakingly small despite the benefit of six months of English tutoring, so he kind of hopes Kent takes pity on his poor, sweaty form.

Kent does not. "It's been a while. Good to see you."

Goddamnit, they're smalltalking. "Good to see you, too."

Kent looks unbothered at the lack of scintillating conversation. He rolls onto the balls of his feet, fiddling with the strap of the duffel slung over his shoulder. "So uh. How's your mum?" he says, then immediately blanches. "Shit. I didn't mean - I just -"

"Good," Alexei says, mostly to put him out of his misery. "She good."

Kent looks earnest. "Oh, that's really good to hear." And then he seems to waver a bit.

"How is family?" Alexei says, when the silence stretches on. "They come visit after draft?"

"Ah yeah." Kent visibly brightens up. "They did! It was great, we had dinner and hung out a bit, and I gave my sister your mum's autograph - she's so cool by the way, but I bet you already knew that - I'd love to thank her again."

There are just - so many words. Alexei takes a few seconds to work through the sentence. "Glad to hear sister like. Maybe you see Mama again at game with Aces?"

"Definitely," Kent says, and Alexei's heard so many people say that over the past six months, but he thinks this time he could believe it. "So, uh. What's keeping you up?"

Only the loudest snorer on the entire American continent. "Roomie." Alexei searches for the words. "Snoring like foghorn."

Kent winces. "Jeez, I know what you mean. Did you try poking him to get him to roll over?"

"To scared to poke," Alexei admits. "Big guy."

"Who are you rooming with?"

"Winkler?"

"Fuck, yeah, he's a big dude. Better not poke him."

Alexei sighs. "Snore so loud - and whistle too. Like train." At Kent's blank look, he tries: "Choo choo?"

"Choo - oh god, you mean like a steam engine?"

Alexei pulls out his phone in answer. "How spell that? Steam engine?" He dutifully plugs in the letters Kent rattles off, and hits translate. "Oh. Yes. He steam engine."

"Heh," Kent says. "I double dog dare you to say that to him." He must catch the look of utter incomprehension on Alexei's face, because he quickly backtracks. "Not up with the slang yet? Sorry. I meant, you should tell him that."

"But why?" Alexei doesn't want to get punched.

"As a joke," Kent adds hastily. "It's funny, because we know it's stupid so we wouldn't do it."

English was just ridiculous. "Okay," Alexei tries. "Double dog dare you cycle on elliptical, see who faster."

"That's not..." Kent trails off. He smiles, then shakes his head. "That's not how it works. But we'll work on it," he assures Alexei, with a firm pat on his shoulder.

It's worlds away from the way the Caps' coach tends to roll his eyes heavenward when Alexei goes left when he should go right, or his English tutor, who is nice enough but is prone to banging her head against the table a little when Alexei fumbles the conjugation on a verb. "Not now," Alexei says. "Later?"

Kent checks his watch and he actually looks surprised, like the complete lack of other people didn't clue him in. "Wow, it's pretty late, isn't it?"

Unbelievable. "Why you up?"

"Got caught up practising."

Alexei sideeyes him. "Practising?"

Kent flushes a little. "Practising my stick handling. Shooting accuracy."

Alexei can't help but boggle at him. "You practising? At 1AM?"

"I couldn't sleep," Kent says, a little defensively.

"You crazy," Alexei decides, but there's a lot of fondness that must be apparent to even Kent, who looks less offended than he does a mildly grumpy, like the family cat when he accidentally stepped on her tail as a child. "But you wipe ice with everyone, so you champion crazy."

"Damn straight I'm the champion crazy," Kent says, planting his hands on his hips like a dork. "Yeah, laugh it up, I'll definitely be wiping the ice with you."

Alexei pretends to cower. "Okay, Kent Parson, I try best not cry on ice then."

"You will be bawling your eyes out," Kent says with promise, and then looks so affronted when Alexei just doubles over, breathless with laughter.

"I believe you," Alexei says to the ground, from where he's still bent over trying to catch his breath. "Cry many tears."

"You better," Kent says, but then he's laughing helplessly too, dropping his duffel. "Oh god, I really am champion crazy."

Alexei reaches over to pat him on the back. "Is okay, still like, even if Kent Parson practice hockey at one in morning."

"You don't think I'm too crazy?" Perhaps it's meant to be joking, but Alexei can't help but look up sharply.

"Never. You think Crosby best because he slack off?"

"I don't think he's ever stayed up until 1 because he was nervous about All Stars," Kent says, then bites his lip.

"You nervous?" Alexei asks. Kent hesitates. "Why you nervous?"

"I just - it's been a lot," Kent finally says. He's looking to the side, staring at the elliptical. Alexei waits, and Kent says in a rush: "I feel like I have to be the best, or - or else -"

"Not have to say what," Alexei says gently. "Not make you say."

Kent scowls. "It's stupid. Everyone's thinking it, they just don't say it. That I'm the second choice."

At the Draft, Alexei had known vaguely that Kent Parson and another boy called Jack Zimmermann had widely been slated to go first and second - in either order. It was true that every analyst had put the latter in first place, and that when Aces called Kent Parson's name there had been a slight pause in the audience's murmuring. Kent's smile had been strained as he left their table.

Alexei's stood across from Kent on the ice before. He's watched countless hours of tape of the Aces' play and by proxy, of Kent. Kent Parson on the ice is a force of nature, skating circles around defence and sinking pucks into the net as easy as breathing. And in his heart of hearts, he thinks the margin between first and second had been far smaller than most people thought.

But now, under the harsh gym lights that highlight the remaining softness of his jaw and the dark patches beneath his eyes, Alexei realises that Kent's still just a kid. Alexei's just a kid. They're both just teenagers. And there's very little of the player who had breezed past Alexei at the last Caps game with the Aces, or of the player who had mercilessly crushed their four game winning streak without batting an eye. Under the padding and past all the hype, Kent was far from the figure he cut on ice and as vulnerable as any other human.

"Even if people say second choice, what matter?" Alexei says. "You first. You here now. Play well. Maybe bit annoy on ice but not bully. And seem nice, polite to Mama. Thinking of sister even at draft. Get autograph for her. That matter. Not other people."

He hopes he hasn't overdone it - perhaps Kent wasn't looking for a heart-to-heart in the hotel gym at 1AM. But instead of taken aback Kent looks - a little watery.

"Why you cry?" Alexei is horrified.

"I'm not crying," Kent sniffs. "I'm not."

Alexei bites his tongue. "Uh okay." He politely looks away as Kent wipes his eyes.

"I'm not saying I can't cry," Kent begins, which Alexei takes as his cue that it's safe to look back at him. His eyes are just slightest bit red, and even that's only if you know what to look for.  “I just try not to cry in front of others.”

"Okay," Alexei says cautiously.

Kent takes a deep breath. "Thank you."

"Welcome," Alexei replies automatically, then says: "But. For what?"

Kent stares at him. "For - listening? For not being an asshole about the fact I'm still some nervy rookie?"

Christ. People thanked each other for things like that in America? "No need thank," Alexei says. Then, desperate to change the subject, he adds: "So we agree! No need for nervous! You real KVP."

"The what?"

"KVP." Alexei gestures. "I see on Twitter - they calling you 'the Real KVP'".

"That's not - " Kent splutters. "That's my name, Alexei."

Alexei tries not wince. "Oh. Oops, sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" Kent brings out his phone, thumbing at something on the screen. He eventually holds out his phone, open to a websearch. "See? It's a joke on MVP. That's 'Most Valuable Player'."

"Oh," Alexei says again. "Make sense. Sometimes miss reference - thank you for explaining."

Kent stows away his phone, corners of his mouth twitching upwards again. "You've only been in the US for what, six months? Your English is great. If you put me in Russia I would probably just turn around and go back to the US."

"You miss good food then," Alexei tuts. "Russian food is best food."

"Hell no, I've seen what you guys count as soup. I'm not touching borscht with a ten-foot pole."

"Borscht is best soup!" Alexei tries to sound outraged.

"Look man, all I'm saying is that anything that pink should not be eaten."

Blasphemy. "You try pirozhki then? Small, baked -" He gropes around for the word, then gives up and calls up the translator app on his phone. "Dumpling."

"I've never had that," Kent says, but he at least looks intrigued. "What did you call it? Pay-roz-kay?"

His accent is actually appalling. "Pirozhki," Alexei corrects.

Kent frowns. "Poe-roz-ki?"

"Pirozhki"

"Poh-rosh-ki?"

Alexei nods in approval. "Good, sounds good."

"I like the sound of baked dumplings," Kent says. "Mm. Pirozkhi. I might go see if there's any places that do it in Vegas."

"Let me know if yes." Alexei nudges him. "I come try when Caps play Aces."

"You got it."

Alexei cuts off any further conversation with the embarrassingly loud yawn that escapes him then.

"Shit, it's like 1:30AM." Kent winces. "We have to get up at like 7 tomorrow - today? Holy crap we better go to sleep."

Alexei levers himself up, gathering his towel and bottle. "Hope not fall asleep on skates tomorrow."

"How about I check you if I see you dropping off," Kent suggests, then snickers at Alexei's raised eyebrow. "Bad idea?"

"Sure can check me?" Alexei makes a show of looking Kent up and down. He holds his index finger and thumb about ten centimetres apart. "So small."

"You asshole," Kent says, but he's laughing. "I'm not short, you're just a giant."

"If say so," Alexei shrugs. They start towards the elevator banks. "If help sleep at night."

"Fuck you, I sleep really well at night," Kent says petulantly. Alexei eyes the shadows beneath his eyes.

"I believe, I believe," he says instead with his best shit-eating grin. They get in the lift. "Okay, floor?"

Kent reaches over and pushes the button for 15. "You?"

"Twelve. Thank you." Kent nods, and they start moving up.

"So see you tomorrow, yes?"

"Yeah." Kent shoulders his duffel a little more firmly. "Be prepared to cry like a baby."

Alexei flaps his hands, just as the lift doors open on his floor. "Yeah, yeah, I cry so much."

The smile Kent gives him is small, but very real. "Good night Alexei."

"Good night," Alexei says, stepping out and turning to wave goodbye. The doors shut on Kent's smile, and Alexei stands there for a second, the airconditioning cool against his slightly sweaty neck.

"Hopefully not cry too much," he says to himself, before heading back to his room.

[evaxsombra]

Once Upon a December

Kadeu, Club Territory, Abandoned House

30 December 2020, 2200

Snow was falling gently, making the usually dilapidated buildings and streets seem more like a wondrous dream than the rough and tumble faction that Club was. Eva was huddled deep in her Spade-issued winter set, a dark wool coat keeping the frost at bay. Her hand moved the cane to and fro across the path in front of her, pushing freshly piled snow to either side. Her boots made soft crunches with each step, a pleasant sound in the rare silence. Her hair was tucked under a cap, but her bat ears were free, slightly chilled from the cold. Eva could here the soft murmurs of families and friends in their homes and smiled to herself. She loved that sound—the sound of lives being lived.

Eighteen years. That’s not long for most citizens in Kadeu, but for Eva, at this very moment in her life, it felt like lifetimes. She could feel the snow kiss her cheeks as if in greeting, hear the creak of old wood, and the special howl of wind reserved for places long forgotten.

“Mama, Papa…I’m home.”

She greeted the her old home and the ghosts that dwelled within with a soft murmur. Anybody who’d ever seen Eva knew she was always blessing them with a smile made of sun, passion in even the tiniest of movements and words. If they saw her now, would they recognize her? The young woman standing in front of an abandoned, half-felled wooden house, shoulders hunched in sorrow and loneliness, mind as unfocused as her eyes, and cane looking like it’s the only thing holding her up rather than guiding her? Would they know it was still Eva who stood here?

The shifter took tentative steps forward, feet pulling her forward as if they remember exactly how many steps it takes to reach the door (five). Her hand gently rests against the door knob as if it knows how old the house itself is (forty-five years old) and fears it will collapse with a single breath. And when Eva finally enters, her body both tenses and relaxes as if it half-expects to find the two people Eva herself knows will never be there. Like it’s uncertain whether that would be cause for elation or crushing heartbreak.

Eva clicks her tongue against her teeth, the sound bouncing off the borders around her, reaching her ears once more and painting a picture both nostalgic and lonesome. She moved further in, wooden floors creaking and groaning from disuse. It’s clear nobody has lived her in a long time, but Eva knew that already. Every year it’s the same—no one’s ever home save for her.

With a sigh, she lowers herself slowly to the floor, the cold almost immediately fighting to reach her through the layers of clothing. Eva doesn’t mind, though. She likes it, the way it makes her body shiver and remind her that this time there’s no threat of death looming over her head. She’s not the five year old girl from eighteen winters ago, dressed in rags and waiting for her parents to come home like they promised.

She remembers telling Shu-Ling months ago how she was never one to sit still, never enjoy silence—and that was true. But this place was special, like it demanded a certain amount of reverence from the young woman that the rest of the world didn’t. Eva pulled out a small, hand-made lantern from a satchel that hung from her shoulder. It was poorly shaped, she knew simply from running her fingers over it, and she was positive it didn’t look nearly as beautiful as the lanterns sent off into the sky at the beginning of Yeon Nen. Still, Eva made it especially for this occasion and she was proud of it. She placed it on the floor, whipped out a match and carefully guided her hands and the flame to the wick inside. After a moment, Eva could feel the small burst of warmth fill air around her and she smiled.

“Well,” Eva huffed out as she sat back on her palms, “another year without you guys. Are you well?” A pause. Eva continued, a smile in her voice. “I know you guys don’t care much one way or another, but I didn’t tell anybody I came here…again. I didn’t wanna make Prospero feel bad. Don’t get me wrong! He’s an amazing dad and he’s only ever wanted the best for me…but I don’t know if he’d feel great if he knew I was still waiting for you.”

The darkness that was as familiar as her own breath, usually so oppressive, was now comforting, like her favorite blanket. It felt like it was keeping the pain at bay. Her fingers tapped a rhythm against the floorboards. “You won’t believe it. I got promoted to a Four! Look!” She showed off the wrist she knew to have her rank, though she’d never seen it herself. “Does it look as cool as it feels? …I bet it does.” Horse hooves could be heard through the walls. Eva waited until they disappeared. “You know how I’ve been trying to convince Hilo to come to Spade? Well, he finally agreed! But only if I become Ace.” She grinned widely. “That should be easy with how fast I’m moving up. Only twenty-three and I’m a Four. How many Spades can say that? Don’t answer that.”

The silence continued. Eva felt the grin on her face slowly fall. She whispered, “I’m keeping my promise. I’ll become Ace. But I made a promise to you guys to stay here….Does that make me a liar? But you didn’t keep your promise either. You didn’t come back.” A tear slid down the young woman’s cheek. “When are you coming home? You said you’d be home. I’m here. I’m waiting. I’m being a good girl just like you told me to.”

Just like that a wave of sadness and loneliness flooded Eva’s chest, but before she could let it overwhelm her, she sang. It was a lullaby so old, her father had told her he’d long forgotten where it came from.

“Do you want to sing it with me, Evangeline?” Her father asked after putting the toddler on his lap, rubbing her belly in a futile attempt to soothe the hunger pangs his daughter felt. Tear tracks trailed down chubby cheeks, but at the mention of her father’s favorite song, Eva lit up and smiled, revealing gummy backs between small teeth. She clapped and her father chuckled. “Alright. Ready?” Eva nodded. They both took a deep breath.

Dancing bears, painted wings

Things I almost remember

And a song someone sings

Once upon a December

On and on the father and daughter sang, one of deep timber, the other sonorous and high. They sang until little Eva could do it no more. Her eyes drifted close, but reopened at the sound of the front door opening. All the little girl’s energy came rushing back, hunger momentarily forgotten as she smelled the smoky fires and metals that she associated with her mother. “Mama!” Eva crawled off her father’s lap and waddled to her mother, using the sound of stomping shoes as her guide.

“Singing won’t put food on the table Koldo, or in Evangeline’s stomach.”

“It’s the only thing that calms her.”

“You haven’t gotten anymore jobs?”

“None. At this rate we might have to start looking at—”

“No.”

“Altagracia, my love, there’s nothing for us here.”

“Eva would never make it.”

“What if we scouted ahead? I heard from a friend it only takes a few weeks to reach the borders. After that, there’s land and countries that take care of their own. No curse, no fighting, no starvation. Eva could survive.”

Eva sat at her mother’s feet, understanding nothing, but smiling and laughing in a simple, innocent joy reserved only for children. Their eyes watched her with a fondness she could not see, but their voices were warm and concerned as they spoke.

“We can’t bring her. It’s too dangerous.”

“It’s dangerous here.”

“We have friends. Trusted ones. We can ask them to watch her until we return.”

“And if we don’t?”

“At least she’ll be in a world that we know has certainties and people who will help.”

It continued on and on for months on end. Winter approached. Eva could feel in the air the tension her parents carried, though she couldn’t understand why. The day came that they sat the five-year-old down, wrapped in ragged blankets and torn clothes. Eva could only make out their shadowy silhouettes, but their scents filled her nose and brought her comfort.

“You must promise us, Evangeline, you will stay here until we come back.”

“I pwapmis.”

“That’s a good girl.”

“You pwamise to come back?”

“We promise. A kiss to seal the deal, our little light.”

And so they did. But they didn’t come back and Eva found herself succumbing to the frost that invaded her empty home and only the appearance of the family friend saved her from death and solitude that day.

“But I never stopped waiting. I never will. I’ll move as fast as I can through the rest of my life, but you’re the only thing I’ll ever stop for.” The room was slightly warmer now thanks to the candle’s heat, but only just. It was enough, though, lulling Eva into memories too blurry to really recall, voices too faded to make out their meaning. Only the melodies and scents and touches remained.

In the distance, beyond the small walls that contained her pain and confusion, Eva could hear the cheers as Kadeu’s citizens brought in the New Year. Eighteen years since her Mama and Papa left, but at least there was something happy left of them. Eva smiled softly, knowing somewhere in her memories, there were feelings of love and family and a song that stayed with her—their gift to her.

Far away, long ago,

Glowing dim as an ember,

Things my heart used to know,

Things it yearns to remember

And a song

Someone sings…

Once upon a December