#and adults unable to stop being massive disappointments

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [2]

Danyal returns to league, he was sent to the Fentons for a mission and after gathering all that they know about lazarus/ecto he figured he was in an unique position. Either he revealed himself and was accepted and after that would have to do what he could to keep the league off his back. Or he'd be rejected and he could simply finish his mission and return to the league. Sadly for Danny. The second option ended up happening, and with crushing disappointment and new hardened resolve he made his way back to Nanda Parbat.

At first he's surprisingly at peace with the situation, he misses his friends and Jazz but this is sadly how it's meant to be.

Damian isn't there, he has been sent to train under their biological father. Or at least what mother says. Perhaps now that he's successfully finished his deep undercover mission he'll be allowed to know the truth and go as well.

Ra's doesn't want that, for body snatching reasons. But he doesn't know that Danny is half dead. Nobody at the league does.

It's basically the only secret Danny keeps. After having to stay quiet about it and the explosive aftermath with the Fentons it just doesn't occur to him to speak up about it anymore. After all, here he has everything to lose.

And he feels vindicated when he finds Respawn. Tied up, hanging, looking so much like him and Dami, but wounded, with damning white hair and when he opens his eyes and notices Danny it's only the green green green he sees.

In Danny's mind the league must know, they are bidding their time or... or Danny was always meant to end up like he did or this is yet another damn clone someone made of him.

None of Danny's thoughts about this are good, and it figures, he's aware of what this place is. Jazz did a good job deprogramming him. So perhaps the thought that things would be better here was laughable. But somehow, for some reason he thought blood relation meant something.

So far all parental figures are bad, the Fentons. Vlad, now Ra's and Talia. So what does that mean for his twin, what does this mean for Damian?

Well, at the very least finding out who his biological father is and where he lives isn't hard with ghost powers. Neither is freeing Respawn.

And after that all that's left to do is making sure Damian is safe.

And by the ancients, may the gods help Batman if it turns out he's not.

[animefic143]

~Kinks of Jojo Men Headcanons~

Warnings: Smut, voyeurism, menstrual blood play… bunch of stuff going on here. 😉

‼️Minors/ageless blogs dni!!‼️

🖤❤️ 🖤❤️ 🖤❤️ 🖤❤️ 🖤❤️ 🖤❤️ 🖤❤️ 🖤

Jotaro

Jotaro loves rough sex. He loves you being helpless and dazed as he thrusts into you, claiming your body. He might even degrade you but in a praising way, like calling you a “good slut.” He’s not one for foreplay, he just wants to fuck you silly, but when you’re done he’ll kiss you on the head and tell you how good you are for him, and make sure he helps you recover.

Rohan

Rohan loves your body, every part of it. He worships it, and always wants to sketch you during sex. He draws picture perfect images of your naked body and your most private parts (his favorite is a sketch of your dripping pussy) and he often stops in the middle of the act to capture your expression or how you look in a certain position. He keeps them all for his eyes only, and usually masturbates to them when you’re not around.

Kakyoin

Noriaki Kakyoin loves two things most of all: voyeurism and your tits. He gets off on just watching you pleasure yourself, even more so if he’s hiding somewhere, like peeking from a doorway or inside a closet. When he’s not roleplaying being a pervert, he loves giving your breasts attention. He’ll lick them, suck them, bury his face in them… he can’t get enough. He could cum just looking at them.

Kira

Kira loves your hands, of course. You’re the lucky woman he didn’t want to kill for her hands because you’re just so pretty and good at using them. He loves handjobs; just start touching his cock and he’s putty. He loves it when you jack him off with one hand, while the other stays in his mouth, him sucking on your soft fingers as he moans pathetically. He prefers handjobs over fucking, but he will occasionally make love to you as long as your hands are running all over him the whole time. Other than that, he typically just watches, getting hard, as you finger yourself.

Dio

Dio is a vampire, so he obviously loves blood. If you’re not into him gently slicing your skin to get a taste, he will be disappointed, but he will remain patient and wait for your time of the month, and when that time comes, he simply cannot pull himself away from between your legs. No matter how disgusted or self conscious you feel, he will lap up your menstrual blood like it’s nectar, making you cum over and over. He usually concludes his feast by rubbing some of the blood on himself, particularly on his cock, and finishing all over you. The only thing he likes almost as much as your blood is threesomes; expect lots of wild nights sharing him with Mariah or Vanilla Ice.

Johnathan

Johnathan is a perfect gentleman… in public. In private he loves ravaging you with kisses all over your body and rips your clothes away, unable to contain himself. He loves doing it in every position, and he adores when you let him push his massive cock all the way in. But his favorite thing is hearing how vocal you are as he fucks you. Your sweet, pathetic cries and moans of pleasure are music to his ears. He secretly wants the whole household to hear how good he’s making you feel.

Kars

Kars loves how pathetic you are. The way you beg for his cock, such a puny, silly human. He never understands why you ask for it, then complain the entire time about how big he is and how it kind of hurts, but he loves it. He especially loves taking you from behind, pounding your tight hole as he watches your ass bounce. He often buries his face in your crack, licking and moaning. He will request that you sit on his face, and you do so without question, grinding against him.

Joseph

Joseph loves semi-public activities. If you’re in a location with all adults, like a bar or a late night party, he’ll sneak a hand up your skirt to rub your clit or put a hand up your blouse to fondle your breasts. After some of this foreplay, he takes you to a more secluded area like an empty room and fucks you quickly. It’s always fun, but it’s even more fun when someone sees you. You never stop, you just keep at it, feeling more turned on. Occasionally someone will ask to join in, and you’ll both usually say yes. Joseph also loves sharing you with Caeser, so get ready for long nights of three way fun.

[chronicbatfictioner]

Exchanges and Compromises - Chapter 20

The dinner was just as Jason expected, bland, dull, a lot of formalities in which Bane was visibly struggling with and did not even bother to pretend to know the difference between steak or salad forks. Jason, Dick, and Tim managed to keep the conversation alive and light, somehow without offending the formality of the dinner. Good thing, Jason thought, that The League had taught him of formal dinner etiquette and whatnot, otherwise he would have been slurping the baiwang with the soup spoon instead of the Chinese soup spoon provided by Alfred - like Bane.

Dick, for all of his lack of etiquette education, won in the manners division - regardless of the fact that Tim was helping him by pointing out which cutlery should be used for what. At the very least, he was not beneath asking what he wasn't sure of. 

The day after was a little duller. Alfred merely informed them that the police were there along with the District Attorney, Harvey Dent, to arrest Bane on several counts of murder. Bane was arrested nearly without a fight - he had been purged of his venom strength and knew that he had no chance against some of the cops who were ready to taser him.

Jason was... frankly, a little disappointed.

"Would've been nice if there was a brawl or something," Dick voiced Jason's thought out loud just as he walked outside.

"Oh, goodness, I'm just glad this is over," Bruce commented, glaring apprehensively at Dick's back as the latter walked away with Damian. There was a good long silence before he added, "I presume now that Bane is out of this house, Damian will no longer need you two? I mean, he has me now - and his grandparents." he pointed out.

"I have vowed to guard Damian until he is an adult," Jason replied simply. Ignoring Bruce's sudden change of expression. "it is my order."

"Well, Talia... no offense. But Talia won't-- is no longer around to hold you accountable." Bruce argued.

"No, she's not. But Damian is." Jason looked at the child, sitting under one of the Manor's massive trees with a thick sketchbook before him. Dick, Jason knew, was on the tree. Even with Bane arrested, Oracle had warned that as long as he's not fully incarcerated in a maximum-security facility, he could still either get out and hurt the Waynes - including Damian. Therefore Jason asked Dick to remain with them for a little while longer. Thankfully, Dick didn't mind.

"He's a child. Children adapt well with changes of environments," Bruce said. "and if you're afraid that Bane would come back, I can hire some bodyguards for him."

Jason managed to hold back his smirk. People always thought that he was there to protect Damian; not realizing that he was protecting others from Damian's temper. Instead, he smarted, "like you protected your parents by sending them overseas."

"Oh, now, that's not fair." Bruce protested. "It was... we all thought that... at least mother and I..." he didn't finish his sentence as he exhaled exasperatedly. "His DNA check is back," he continued after a few moments of silence.

"Obviously, he hasn't a drop of Wayne blood in him," Jason suggested, a little dryly. "Something anyone with knowledge of the molecular structure of DNA would have known right away. You accepted Damian right away because you saw he has your mother's ears, in spite of his green eyes. Yet you doubted your father's denial in spite of the fact that there is nothing on Bane that resembled any of you - including about all of the portraits of your ancestors.

"And then there's something else I realized. Bane came with nothing; whereas Damian came with the Al Ghul wealth. You were more accepting because Damian would not equal splitting the Wayne wealth..."

"That is not true!" Bruce growled. "I would not have turned Damian away even if he was not Talia's child. He is my child, and I know that he is!"

"Then we're back to my initial point: You were unable to defend your parents because you did not have 100% faith in their virtues. The Al Ghuls are known leaders of the League of Assassins, to which the leadership shall now be Damian's. What will be your argument, when he decides to take over the League fully? 'Oh, I can't be associated with criminals, even if said crimes were just allegation and not a video recording of someone snapping off another person's neck'?" Jason sneered. "Now, Mister Wayne. I also would like to remind you, that I have Damian's legal custody. If you insist I should leave, I shall bring him along."

"You can't do that," Bruce scowled. "He's my biological child..."

"You have studied your country's laws, Mister Wayne. But you forgot the one crucial thing: Damian is not your country's boy by any means other than your claim." Jason mentally realized that he has placed one of his ace cards onto the table. But he honestly prefers this kind of conversation not to be had when Damian is present. And from the looks of it, he has packed his sketching materials and was making his way back indoors. "Do not try to deny Damian's access to me, or the League, Mr Wayne. He is not yours to manipulate," he added softly while Damian was still out of range.

"Hey guys, Damian and I are hungry," Dick announced as they went past the door. "Think Alfred would let us have cookies?"

"He's the one who is hungry, Todd," Damian told Jason. "I shall wait until tea time for the cookies. It is only a mere hour away."

"Why don't you scrub up a little? Tea should be ready by the time you're done." Bruce suggested.

Damian's scowl could have killed a cobra. "While I am planning on refreshing myself, father, it would be kind of you to cease directing me as if I am an imbecile," he stated, and for the second time in less than 10 minutes, Jason bit the inside of his cheek to stop a snicker.

Bruce, however, was not amused at Damian. "Well! That is not what a child should say to his father!" he admonished.

"Todd," Damian glared at Jason. "Did you not inform Mr Wayne here that I merely referred to him as 'father' due to common societal practices?" he asked with air quotes around the word 'father'.

"I have informed him that, Damian," Jason assured him.

"Do remind him on a daily basis that I am not obliged to remain here beyond what is demanded by his country's societal norms." Damian continued.

"I shall, Damian," Jason replied.

"Very well, I shall be in my quarters until tea time. You might consider feeding Grayson here, Todd," Damian said dismissively.

"I actually have some matters to discuss with you, Damian, if you don't mind. I think Grayson can fend for himself just fine," Jason told him.

"I don't mind. Let us, then." Damian said, leading the way back to his room.

Jason nodded politely to Bruce and motioned Dick to join him. "Mr Wayne, Grayson."

As they left Bruce, still standing in confusion - probably - Dick remarked, "ouch," softly.

"Go on and get your own cookies, Grayson," Jason remarked.

"I need to discuss something with you, too. You two, actually, somewhere safe." Dick said. Both Jason and Damian paused their steps. "Yeah, and we might need to call upon a certain bird for backup," Dick added, almost nonchalantly. It was not until then that Jason noticed the tenseness on his shoulders. He remembered that Dick, too, was trained to keep an eye out for danger.

"You go on ahead with Damian, I'll ask Alfred if he may have tea in his quarters." Jason decided. Damian nodded, realizing the urgency in Dick's posture, and stepped a little closer to Dick as Jason turned the other way.

Whatever it is Dick has to say, Jason could be certain now that besides himself, Dick would protect Damian fiercely. And/or protect other, possibly innocent people, from Damian's tempers.

He was just wondering why did it seem that Bruce Wayne was so intent on removing him.

And why Dr and Mrs Wayne would suddenly take a trip to Europe right after they were proverbially and literally freed from Bane.

Alfred, as usual, was in the kitchen preparing for tea time. In spite of being Americans, the Waynes seemed to like the habit of afternoon tea time.

Jason told Alfred of Damian's request, and Alfred nodded slowly. "Is Master Bruce still in the sun-room, then?" he asked.

"Last time I saw him, yeah."

"Ah, then... young Jason, may an old man request something from you and your vast knowledge of herbs?" Alfred's face was as impassive as ever when he said that, just a shade before he returned to his task of preparing some small sandwiches. But Jason was a little confused. Why would Alfred ask him for herbs? As far as Jason could tell, he was as healthy as... well, someone Jason's age, which has got to be at least a third of Alfred's; half at most. Jason didn't think that Alfred was any older than mid- to late-40s.

"Sure, how can I help?" he answered, anyway.

"Oh, I was wondering if there is any method you may suggest to... how do I put it... Chafe off surgical remains within oneself? I have had work done for my nose, you see, on a whim as a young lad; and I do not believe it looks becoming on me as I age. I feel as if it makes me look like another person is inhabiting my body, as Master Bruce was wont to say."

Jason blinked, and partially wished Dick was there to confirm his thoughts. In spite of being the exact same height as Jason, Alfred was bowing his head a little as he spoke; and Jason knew that there was a surveillance camera that would be able to record their conversation in the kitchen. His shoulders were tenser than the task of cutting bread would have required.

"Well, wow... okay. I'll need to actually search my books. You know some of the ladies back then would apply something to their skin for scars or bruises. But I'm not sure if it'll work on surgical stuff. I'll let you know?" Jason replied carefully.

"Thank you, Jason, for considering. While it shames me for being vain, it is... rather crucial." Alfred smiled at him.

"No problem, Alf," Jason patted him on the shoulder and made his way back to Damian's room - where each and every surveillance device has been disabled and/or misdirected by the combination of Tim, Barbara, and Damian's own skills.

Once Jason walked in and closed the doors of Damian's room behind him, he was greeted by both Damian and Dick's voices.

"That man is not my father, Todd! I believe my grandparents may still be in danger!" Damian exclaimed as Dick stormed over and announced 'There was an increase of drone activities outside, that's why I brought Damian in!' - followed by Damian and Dick glaring at each other, and Damian said, "Todd, we might need to acquire some new exit strategy!" at the same time as Dick saying, 'I've sent a text to Tim, but he hasn't answered. I've texted Babs, though!'

Jason cringed at them. "Whoa! Hold up! If this is how you two kids report, nobody would need surveillance equipment to hear you from Gotham Harbor!" he snarled. The two promptly stopped and glared at each other again, as if they both were hoping to have Superman's laser vision or something. "Okay, I've heard you both, and I'm upping the ante. Alfred just asked me practically for a method to dissolve foreign objects inside someone's body and allude that someone in the house is not who they seemed. And said someone might be Bruce."

Damian threw his fist to the air, stating, "I knew it!"

Dick's eyes were wide as saucers. "Okay... I would... I've wanted to say the same thing since we got in. But I was kinda scared I might be wrong. What makes you sure?"

"Alfred referred to Bruce in the past tense when talking to me," Jason said. "You? --wait, no, Damian first."

"He looked and behaved differently than the videos mother had shown me," Damian replied.

"I second Damian on this. Well, dude... we need to communicate better, don't we?" Dick said, telling the last bit toward Damian. "I've only met him once, way back when-- when my parents were... you know. But like I've told you, I remember everything from that day as if it has just happened. I remember Bruce Wayne was there with a blonde girl wearing chinchilla fur, a 50s hairdo, and an actual pearl pin. But when my parents... right after, I saw him directing traffic of people out of the tent calmly. His presence then was literally calming, like, everyone was looking at him for direction. This Bruce... generally, looked too nervous on everything; if that makes sense."

Jason thought a moment. Dick was really good at reading people's body language - even the most stoic Alfred. Before Bane was removed, Dick's assessment of Alfred was that he was uncomfortable with Bane, yet very welcoming of Damian. Thus his immediate trust in Alfred. However, since Bane was arrested and proven to not have been a Wayne; Jason hasn't got the chance to ask Dick to re-assess Alfred.

"Okay, I'll retrieve the video footage of your dad from 10 years ago from the League's servers. We'll cross-check. We'll tell the Birds once we're sure, yeah?" Jason suggested.

"Agreed," Damian nodded slowly.

"I'll have Tim keeping an eye on the Doc and Missus while we're at it, though. I mean, you know, precautions and all." Dick suggested.

"Okay, call Tim. If he doesn't answer, call Babs or his mom. I'd like this whole thing settled quickly before Bruce can do anything to harm Damian." Jason huffed a breath slowly, wondering what the hell is it with the Waynes that seemed to run on endless conspiracy theories, anyway.

[yamithediaperdork]

Crime and Punishment: Jail Bird Diaries (MHA)

Crime and Punishment: Jail bird diaries

*The following is the entries from a diary recovered from the cell of one Katsuki Bakugo after serving his time in the regression jail. certain entry's have been removed as the writing was unable to be made out.*

Week 2, Day 1

So after a fucking week in this stupid fucking hell hole they dare to call a good idea, It's been suggested to me by the stupid AI I have to refer as daddy that I might calm myself down and stop adding time to my stupid fucking sentence if I vent in this stupid fucking book. I pointed out I can barley hold this stupid fucking crayon with the mittens i have to wear but a hand just came out of the wall and patted my head, telling me I'm a clever boy and I'll figure it out. I would of added anther two months onto my sentence right then and there if it wasn't for these fucking glove, even if Maybe kinda sorta..the head pat felt nice. ANYWAYS! to any assholes reading this, expect lots of fucking cursing because daddy said I can swear all i want in here and I have a back flow I need to get out. I mean with all the stupid fucking bull shit I have to put up wi- And fuck me, shitting myself again. fuck this place sucks.

Week 2, Day 2

You just know it's gonna be a shit fucking day Diary when you wake up to the feeling of having a uber load in the seat of your pants patted and rubbed and being praised for being a super good pooper. I'm already not a fan of the super bulky diapers these bastard keep me in but 'daddy' has apparently registered me as a super pooper and states anything thing less wouldn't hold up to my boom booms. refer to my statement about earning more time in here from the last entry for my feelings on THAT! I had figured with the massive bulk of these things at least I wouldn't have to worry about any cutesy outfits save for some t-shirt but since apparently I pissed off god, guess fucking what? No really, Guess. If you guessed they went and adjusted some of the sleepers that all the other big babies in here sleep in to fit over my massive diaper ass then ding ding ding! winner winner chicken dinner. Picture me, a man known as a murder god..and in a blue full body fuzzy care bear style with a white tummy and 'har har' the grumpy bear symbol on the belly. Fucking thing even has a hood! I swear if it wasn't for the fact the thing was soooo soft and kinda comfy, I would of found a way to rip it off. and I don't care WHAT daddy claims, I only dropped right off to sleep in it because he drugged my milk, not because I felt warm and safe. Fuck this place!! I never thought I'd be semi ok with the stupid paw patrol t-shirt and my giga diapers on display.. anyways wrapping this up, apparently I'm having more fucking visitors today. fucking yay..

Week 2, Day 3

Oh my fucking god. yesterday would just NOT fucking stop. apparently it was some sort of official visitors day or some bull shit like that. 4 fucking visitors and three of them not fucking Deku who's trying to make it a point to show up every day as support. first up was mister shock and awe himself Denki. He just couldn't get that stupid grin off his face and kept gushing about how cute I was and how much he wished he could of came in and given me butt pats. I was about ready to snarl that he couldn't when a couple of daddies arms came and took a firm hold on me to keep me from bolting and then the cell door opened up. "Come on in! Katsuki can use all the butt pats he can get. I know he'll act like he hates them but all little guys like him love them." Daddy said. Like, WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK! So in from that stupid blond and the door shuts and daddy tells me to turn around and present my rump for pats. Like I was gonna fucking listen to THAT and turned around to tell the speaker box his voice comes from as much and well.. Ok You see my mistake? I swear I was turning to tell daddy off but according to him and Denki I turned around like a good little boy eager for my bum pats and before I could get a god damn word out that's what was happening. talk about major fucking blushing going on and gah, not proud to say this but without a second thought i spread my legs a little so that he could get a better pat going on and it MIGHTA of sorta felt nice for all of 0.0000001 seconds! Daddy and Denki are lying sacks of shit when they say i coo'ed! Basically spent the rest of Denki's visit after that over his lap, getting butt pats and back rubs and being told just how cute I am and how much he prefers me like this. if it wasn't for the fact punching a visitor would of netted me a extra year I woulda slugged him. that the only reason i went along with it..

after a hour he left and Daddy was praising me for being a super good boy and rewarded me with chocolate milk in a bottle instead of the normal formula and put some power rangers instead of paw patrol on TV.  I mighta zoned out holding my bottle with both hands cuz of the mittens and chugging and watching that I didn't notice my next guest till I heard the giggle. whipping my head around and giving me one hell of a neck ache thats still kinda here, I saw what looked like a school girls outfit standing up on it's own and knew it was Tooru. "oh my gosh don't stop because of me! that was sooo cute! I wish they hadn't of taken away my cell phone i would of taken the cutest video!" she gushed and clapped. I held up both hands and because of the mittens she thought I was showing I wanted uppies but I think you know what i was really doing Diary. Of course daddy let her in too and she kept giving me heads and patting my head and asking daddy all sorts of questions about my treatment and like.. ugh. I felt like a toddler getting hugs and attention but ignored while the adults talked. she tugged me onto her lap and kept rocking me and tickling my tummy and it took me awhile to figure out what she was trying to do, she was trying to make me crap myself during her visiting time! well she left half disappointed because even though i was cramping, all i did was wet my diapers so I'll count it as a win. ...that said about 10 seconds after she left I was squatting and totally loading these stupid diapers to the brim.

Thankfully for what tiny bit of pride I've managed to hold onto, while my diaper change took what fucking seemed like forever, I was re-diapered and daddy was in the process of tossing the stinky one when my next guest arrive. because I'm Mr. fucking popular. It was Deku of course and because he's been here so often he's got a special pass that just lets him come in. He was in the middle of saying hi when his nose wrinkled and then he covered it and coughed a little . "oh, somebody just had a diapie change I uh..smell." he said sheepishly. "Oh yeah, little guy is living up to his label as a super pooper." Daddy said. "oh my god freaking stop calling me that!" I whined and uh..Maybe didn't help with trying to give off a big boy image because I was still on the changing table and grabbed a stuffed bear and put it over my face. "oh my gosh, CUTE!" Deku squealed and daddy was laughing. Like..fuck. it's bad enough when the shit they're making me do gets that reaction..then i fucking set myself up for it. getting off of the changing Table me and Deku did our normal catch up and I once again begged him to try and get the other kids in 1-a to stop coming here, telling him about Denki and Tooru. the green haired bastard just told me everyone missed me and wanted to make sure I was doing ok and not to be such a grumpy Gus. I swear I almost took the extra year right then and there. Instead I switched the convo to talking about what was going on at school and what I had missed and yeah.. it was kinda nice catching up a little bit. I hadn't dared asked till now worried it might just trigger a fit that was going to add time on you know? and Deku was nice, not rubbing it in or at least trying not to that they were going on bigger and more exciting field trips and shadowing full on heroes this week. I think it helped that while we talked I started to color in one of the coloring books Daddy provided and Deku joined in, though his picture was colored in a lot better then mine cuz well he has full use of his hands. As his time ran out and it was time for him to go, Deku made me blush like crazy when he asked if he could have the picture I colored to hang up on his wall and asked if I'd color more pretty pictures for him. being at a lost of words, I just nodded my head.

After Deku left daddy said it was time for a quick lunch and then a nap, I was clearly worn out and had one more person to go. I just sighed and went along with it because it's not like I would of really had a say in it anyways. again apparently my behavior for the day was having a effect on my dining choice because while I was put in the same high chair I normally was, instead of yucky baby food I got some cut up chicken nuggets and fries. I wonder how good I'll have to be to score a medium rare steak? anyways, after lunch and a burping I was put down for a nap and woke up to the sound of the door to my nursery prison. I was still groggy and stuff so when I rolled over and looked up to see the face of my mother, i just thought I was dreaming for a second and gave a tiny giggle and ugghhh.. say "hi Mommy." it wasn't till she broke out laughing I realized she was really there. She was..very amused to say the least and told me she had canceled the cruise she was on and flew back home as soon as she could when she'd found out the news. she mentioned that she had been made aware that there WAS a option to give me a form of parole in that I could go and move back in with her for the term of my sentence and she could let me get away with just pull ups and she had been thinking about exercising it..Until she fucking saw me in here and saw how 'natural' I looked like a big baby! I'm...I'm not proud to say I mighta of broken down bawling and begging her to let me come home with her, and ugh.. as I got more hysterical I ended up promising to be the bestest little boy ever. Mom just hushed me and picked me out of the crib I'd been in and hugged me to her chest, patting my squishy bottom (Hey, all the milk i had before going night night, you'd of wet yourself too!) I realize i never covered this before but i had been put down for my nap in just my diapers so there's THAT fun mental picture of me in my booties and mitts and soggy huggies and Mom cuddling me and trying to calm me down. I was bawling and hiccuping when she popped a paci in my mouth and sat down on a rocking chair that daddy provided and with me curled up in her lap rocked back and forth talking about how I had just proven this place was doing wonders for me and then started to ask daddy questions about where to get supplies. curled up close to mommy and hearing her heartbeat.. I..Fell back asleep.

Thankfully no ones coming today, not even Deku since he's busy..I just don't know if I could handle it after yesterday. and yeah, the rest of the day after I fell asleep in mom's lap was just a blur. fuck.. I need to get out of here.

Week 2, Day 6

Know I ignored you for a bit there kinda Diary, I went to write in you but just came out all mixed up and crossed it out. I've mostly docile since Mom's visit and uh..kinda sorta.. I dunno. Kinda wish Deku would come by. I know he's got that big shadowing All might thing going on but..Fuck. I dunno. Daddy keeps going on about me almost hitting a critical point in the program and I don't know about that..I just..I almost wish mom HADN'T of told me about how i could of been at home you know? I was struggling with this before finding that out. I'm spending the day in my sleeper t'day, I just wanna feel all..I don't fucking know.. small and safe? and that helps with it and daddy was more then understanding when I asked to. It just has to come off when I'm eating and stuff and well, semi gone back to the baby food but still getting milk milk. and the baby food is a yummy flavor at least. I dunno Diary, I think thats it for today. Katsuki out.

Week 3, Day 5

Man, looking back on the past couple of entries I did between here and last week and even I can't make out what the heck I wrote. guess a semi recap is in order. Midoriya ended up visiting me during supper on day six of last week and asked if I had any more pretty pictures for him. I hadn't thought I'd actually done any but I guess in the semi daze I'd been in I had and daddy brought them out for him. I told him about mommy visiting and he was really sympathetic and agrees that she shouldn't of told me about the possible parole if I wasn't gonna get it, He had known but well.. knowing my mom like he does had already figured out what she'd picked. He just didn't wanna get my hopes up. Daddy let him take over feeding me and I dunno..it was kinda nice and stuff. we watched a bit of TV after till I started farting lots and Midoriya tactfully left before I ended up going poopies in front of him saying he knew I was in a fragile place and promised to visit the next day. Day 7 was basically the normal same old same old, got out of my sleeper, breakfast and a diaper change then playing with my toys and watching tv till Midoriya showed up. He joined in on a awesome game of Teddies VS Building blocks and I was uh.. kinda giggling like a real little guy and sooo relaxed that I didn't notice something till he brought it up, wrinkling his nose. "Katsuki, did you go poo poo?" He asked. Well, of course I said no because I hadn't felt myself go but then I got a whiff of myself and god, that was sooo embarrassing!! Midoriya ended his visit early as he knows I hate being watched during a change, but told me how much of a good boy I was and that made me blush and smile. After he left and I was all nice and clean from the poopie diaper daddy didn't dress me though, it was time for a bath and a section of the wall opened up and I was led to a fair sized tub and allowed to get in myself. Daddy got me all washed up as the tub filled up and even trusted me without my booties and mittens, though with the wall having sealed up behind me there wasn't really anywhere I could run to. with me all squeaky clean he let me play in the tub for a while as there were some toy boats and a few sea monsters and it was wayyy more relaxing then the quick showers I'm used to. finally when i was all pruney daddy drained the tub and dried me off with a nice fluffy towel and got me redressed though I was mayyybe a little more relaxed then I thought from the tub cuz I took my nap early, and ended up missing a visit from Ojiro. (Daddy said the only reason he'd interrupted my other nap was cuz well, Mom is my real mom.) Is it weird I felt bad he came ALL the way here to see me and couldn't because I was a sleepy little guy? I dunno. Man.. this place is getting to me ya know? basically lather rinse repeat for the next couple of days, being fed, playing with toys, watching cartoons, and filling my diapers. getting to see Midoriya and hand out and yeahh. Yesterday Ojiro tried again and this time I was awake and heh.. he was really nice about it and told me he forgave me already when i whined out a sorry for being asleep the last time. in his own words he really should of called ahead since little guys like me are prone to impromptu naps. After that we played blocks for a little while and he just kept smiling so much and squirming about till daddy asked if he needed to use the potty. Ojiro blushed uber bad which in turn made me giggle like crazy and said no, but took off shortly after. I wonder what was up with him? I tried to ask daddy but he just patted my head and told me to color a picture for Midoriya, so I guess I'll ask him when he comes over today.

Week 3 Day 7

Midoriya just laughed when i asked him my question  and still won't answer it, even after i threatened NOT to make him any more pretty pictures. Daddy and him both found my threat to be funny and cute though so I guess that's good. Denki came to see me again and was all about patting my butt again and playing peek a boo with me.. which Ok. was fun for like a little bit buttt he reallly carried it on for too long but when i said I was getting bored we swapped over to playing with stuffies till his time was up. Well ok, I played with them and told him what was going on and he just smiled and told me how creative I was and made me grin like a dork. I asked HIM about Ojiro's odd behavior before he left and he got a BIG grin on his face and said he'd be back for more details and then daddy scolded me about not sticking in other peoples affairs. I'm so confused. The next day Midoriya was here and something reallly 'brassing happened.. I had gone boom boom once again and He was going to leave..but daddy asked him if he wanted to help change me!!! I don't know who was blushing more, me or him! In any case, after Midoriya helped cleaned my butt up and daddy re-diapered me, He took off all squirmy and blushing and daddy joked about me having a effect on all the boys.. whatever THAT'S suppose to mean. Mommy is coming by later today and I hope I don't spend her whole visit sobbing again like a crybaby.. though daddy said it's ok if I do cuz it's a big part of my rehab.

Week 4 Day 1

Sooo..who's got two thumbs and ended up crying himself to a early bedtime in mommies arms yesterday? THIS guy. she came in as I was having supper and technically it was too late for her to be there but they made a exception. I was already kinda.. whinny.. when it looked like she wasn't going to show but then daddy said she could only be there for half a hour. Mommy explained that she got stuck waiting on a delivery of things she's going to need for me in the future and took over feeding me the rest of my supper while I whined and huffed that I had waited allll day on her. It wasn't till after she had given me my ba-ba in her lap and burped me I thought to ask what she had ordered. She just smiled and told me not to worry about it and to be a good little boy and kissed my forehead and I.. I totally fudged my huggies, in mommies lap. Cue meltdown and I don't even really know why..it's not like I haven't been pooping my pants for awhile now right? I don't know whether it was because I was being held, or who was holding me, or just her reaction as i did it that got to me. "Oh! Somebodies making mommy a present!" with utter delight in her voice and patting my bottom as i kept filling my pampers to the brim. I just..I just started to bawl and sob and buried my face in her shoulder and no matter how much Mommy and daddy told me it was all ok, I couldn't stop. I don't even remember going to sleep or getting a diapie change..I just woke up this morning in my crib in a soggy diaper (Yeah I've become a bed wetter, so what!) and yeahhh.. Daddy says he'll tell me who changed me, him or her when he thinks I can hear it without bawling.

Week 5 Day 5

After holding up for journal for daddy to read, he told me I need to start taking time to calm down and focus before writing, my last couple of entries were all scribbles again. he told it was very cute and brave of me to wanna share it with him though and gave me lots of awesome head pats. I guess since i didn't make sense when i originally gushed about it, i should go back over it. Just shortly after the thing with pooping my pampers in mommies lap, i just started to really like head pats and daddy took notice and has been showering me with them. just makes me all giddy and I've started to lean into them. Midoriya noticed the love of 'em took and started to give'em out! Jirou came by with Asui and it was while I was watching some Micky mouse club house and singing along. I had just went "OH TOODLES!" and heard giggles and clapping and well blushed a bit..but daddies been trying to help me embrace what a little guy I am so I forced a smile then blew a raspberry at them. told'em if they wanted to come in and visit they could, but they had to join in and help Micky out. they giggled but agreed and well for a couple of stinky girls they weren't half bad to hang out with.

They weren't as fun to hang out as Mommy when she came and visited, though I said sorry a BUNCH of times for my fit she just gave me head and butt pats and told me it was all ok. She's been twice since the stinky break down and I've managed NOT to bawl both times for the most part. I mean..i get a little teary when she has to go buttt i get it. wish she could visit more but between work and setting my room up she's been a busy bee. I asked about why she'd hafa set my room up since I always figured after this I'll be going right back to school but she just chuckled and took out the action figures she'd brought from home for me and her to play hero's and villains with. (I mean, don't get me wrong, LOVE the stuffies I have in here, and Midoriya, Denki, Kouda and Tenya have gotten me others..but action figures are sooo much easier to have do cool stuff.) Oh guess i forgot to mention a bunch of boys showed up, Kouda, Tenya, Satou, Eijirou, and ughhh.. Mineta. They showed up as a group with some presents and while 4 of them were all cool and nice.. well, one guess who was a little butt? he actually got me so worked up with his teasing I swore for the first time in ages and daddy had to wash my mouth out but he also banned him from coming back. Back to playing with mommy, it was super fun, she was the evil baddies trying to attack the peaceful stuffie village and I was the heroes saying the day and giggling as i was in just a t-shirt and my uber diapies.  there was slight almost crying moment though while playing with mommy.. I went to lean forward to grab a action figure and just with like.. NO control blorted. It was loud and stinky and I guess I had the cutest look on my face. Maybe asked if I wasn't to stop playing while i finished or keep going and well..I didn't want her to be bored just sitting there watching me go blort. (Blort is a nick name for going poopie I picked up from Ojiro when he visited again, though his butt looked all puffed out and he seemed wayyy more into hugging stuffies then me. eh, go figure) Anyways, we finished up the game and I have having so much fun I MIGHTA pretended I was still blorting even after it was all out so we didn't have to pause again. I know I know, that meant sitting in my own poopie for awhile when I didn't hafa but I'm not really worried about a diaper rash or anything, they use like the best creams and powders here, and well I maybe kinda sorta like the squishy feeling.. though when i told daddy he said that's just because I haven't been able to make a big boy mess in awhile. I'm shocked my hair didn't ignite i was blushing so bad when he said that. Before you even ask diary, I waited till it was just me and daddy ta mention that.. though he hinted mommy had known I was done. He said maybe tomorrow if I'm super duper good today I can get a milking which confused me at first since I don't have boobies.  thennn he explained it out and um yeah.. lots of blushies and gonna try and be on my bestest behavior.

Week 9, Day 3

Sowwy been 'noring you. dis too busy hasing fun wiff everyone. daddy said it's otay though and told me to make at least one last entry in ya. Ummm otay. Sooo Turns out dat Ojiro and Denki are now all dating and kissy face and and Denki was a wanna be daddy dom and the reason Ojiro got all squirmy and silly? he was all jelly of me and my kick butt nursery! Apparently he was gonna -GIGGLE- try and git locked up in here so he could be babied and Denki just spanked his butt RED and pampered him. He's a super good at going blort too, and when they visit we have blort offs. (Score 4-3 in mah favor) Let's see...what else....Oh! Midoriya went and got a part time job as a daycare worker and 'ppently it's at a speical daycare where big babies like Ojiro n me can go, once I get out. kinda silly since i'm gonna be a uber big boy n stuff when i git out butttt daddy is always telling me to be polite sooo i nodded. He's been helping out wiff my diapie changes when he's here and even put in a few volunteer hours here to help out. (Such a good guy!) Mommies been by A LOT more latly too and can't stop gushing bout the appent change in my attuide. she's been bringing in and taking home my action figures cuz her and daddy agreed those are toys for use only under special supervision and I kinda ended up admitting to her I like sitting in my poopies now, at least for like.. umm.. 10 minutes. She just laughed and said noted and that it worked out with one of the additions she put on my room.. whatever dat means. She still wont tell me what she's done or why I'll be going wiff her when I get out, but eh, asking too many questions is a good way to lose a milking and the way daddy does'em.. dun what dat. Ummm I fink dat's everything Diary..fanks fer helping me get though the first bit of life here n being a friend! Daddy asked me to leave you here wiff him when I get out, but he'll print a copy for me and mommy.

After half a year in baby Jail, It was a fair different Katsuki who stepped out then had gone in. and that wasn't just referring to his change in attire. His quirk had more or less been nullified over the course of his treatment via special drugs in his drinks and food though it would return if he weaned himself off of said drug. Katsuki for his part didn't seem to mind since it got him out of his baby mitts and let him use his fingers for fun stuff like finger painting. (though even the daddy AI had learned it was best to strip him to just a diaper when he was painting, the little guy liked to draw on himself and had a massive fit when daddy had washed a turtle he'd drawn on his tummy off before he could show Midoriya.) He didn't even seem to mind that he'd been released in his now familiar bulky diaper and one of his many baby tops, wearing a pair of Winnie pooh socks and sneakers and holding onto his mom's hand as he was checked out. The warden smiled and waved bye bye to him as he was signed out and Katsuki semi hide behind his mom but waved bye back and then they were heading home.

"so Um..Mommmmmy?" Katsuki asked, sitting in the back seat of mommy's car, buckled into a customized car seat just for his puffy diaper butt. "whatttty?" She asked, looking back at him via the rear view mirror and smirking. "Can you tell's me now why we're going back home and not ta school? Like..is it so I can get's my big boy clothes on?" he asked, kicking his legs ideally. "welll you've missed most of the school year as is, there's no way you'll be able to catch up. so it's been agreed that you'll just take the rest of the year off and stay with me. and Besides, you need to re-potty train buddy." his mom pointed out. "...no i don't. I can hold it." Katsuki huffed, blushing and hugging one of the stuffies he'd been able to take with him and holding it to his chest. "Katsuki..what don't good little boys do?" She asked him. "...Lie." he huffed and looked down. "and what was that you just did?" "..Lied Mommy..I sowwy.." Katsuki said and he just looked SO sad and had tears welling up. "It's ok sweetie. Mommy isn't mad. but you need to tell the truth so you can have lots and lots of head pats ok?" she said quickly. "O-Ok..I..I guess..Maybe i kinda don't have pee control anymore..but I mostly know when i hasa blort." Katsuki said. "Mhhhmmm..well we'll be keeping you in your diapies for awhile and working you back up to be kid undies for the fall unless you decide you like being mommies little guy." "pffft, wike I'll PICK ta stay like this.." he huffed and squirmed. "Well if you do..a lot of what mommies been doing while you've been in there is baby proofing the apartment and turning your room into a nursery like the one you've been in, just no daddy though." "I..wait..wut?" Katsuki asked, and squirmed. "Yup, a changing table, a crib..I got you a high chair and got a baby bouncer for you because daddy told me it's your favorite way to make big boy messes after you've blorted." She giggled. Katsuki was squirming BIG time now in the back seat, and ended up popping his paci into his mouth and sucking on it big time and hugging his stuffie to his face. "oh it's ok sweetie. Mommy knows a growing boy like you has your needs. Just make sure to get mommies help if you wanna go bouncy bouncy ok?" She asked. The poor red faced boy couldn't speak, just suckled and nodded lots. the old Katsuki would of had a bitching fit and blown his way out of the car and stormed off..but Baby Katsuki just realized maybe just because he was out of baby jail..didn't mean he wasn't still a baby. 'I'm not a jail bird anymore..this is gonna be a longggggg summer..' He thought and then sucking on his paci and the noise of the car and vibration of it, drifted off to sleep like the big baby he was.

The end

[milf-lover42]

Bellatrix and Azula are the same character, change my mind

As most people can tell, Bellatrix Lestrange is my all time favorite character. I might get new favorites every time I watch a new show, and they all share a general similarity (let’s face it… I have a type, and if you’re reading this here on tumblr dot com… you do too, don’t lie). However, no character has ever come close to beating Bellatrix for top spot. And then I watched A:TLA for the first time a few weeks ago. I didn’t watch it as a kid, I was just young enough (2003 babeyy) that I wasn’t watching tv when it was on. Azula is obviously my favorite from this show, and is also the only character to ever come close to Bellatrix’ spot in my heart. But thinking about this and all the headcanons that people have made for the Black family dynamic… it seems like a pretty straightforward connection. Azula is essentially just a young Bellatrix.

Almost all of these Black family headcanons have been taken from fanfictions I have read over the years, and so the credit goes to their respective authors. Many overlap so I cannot pinpoint each author to each one, and it has been a while since reading some of them. Most notable of these would be Glass Silence by Zarrene Moss. There are many more fantastic stories I have drawn from but I couldn’t remember every fanfiction I’ve read to pick out each detail. For all the Azula stuff, I am drawing from Hello Future Me’s video on Youtube “The Psychology of Azula | Avatar: The Last Airbender”. If you want to spend an hour watching that I highly recommend it. Basically none of this is mine, I’m just using the headcanons and research of others to tie Bellatrix to Azula.

Let’s start with their family dynamics. Bellatrix is the oldest of the Black sisters, and has no brother. Although not stated in canon, (because apparently she’s too minor a character to deserve a backstory) it is presumed that all the duties of a male heir fell to her in a way. Marry young and marry a rich pureblood, carry on the family name and power, and secure a high social standing. Pureblood society is extremely archaic, if the treatment of muggle-borns is anything to go by, so we can safely assume that they are a very patriarchal society. Cygnus and Druella Black almost certainly wanted a son to carry on their name, especially given Walburga and Orion had both Sirius and Regulus. We can also assume that they weren’t exactly the kindest parents. At best, Druella was a silent wife subjected to abuse from her husband and ultimately was unable to keep her children safe; at worst she actively joined Cygnus in abusing their children. Each of the sisters have a unique way of dealing with this. 

Andromeda handled it by running away, completely rebelling. She fell in love with Ted Tonks, a muggle-born. I doubt this in itself was an act of rebellion, I think she simply realized how stupid blood supremacy was after speaking to him. Once she fell in love it’s clear she wanted to break away from her family so that she could marry him. Clearly her parents knew, and it’s likely she told them herself. Given Ted was a muggleborn I can’t imagine her parents reacting with a simple, “No he is beneath you, we forbid it.” They probably acted harshly in an attempt to make it stick in her head that the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black would not associate with m*dbloods. Either she ran away or was kicked out, but either way she stayed with Ted and didn’t listen to her parents.

Narcissa shut off and blocked all her emotions. Obviously as an adult she actively practices the same beliefs her parents did, but as a teenager I don’t see this as being who she was. As an adult she is very cold and unemotional. The only person she truly cares about is her son, Draco. She cares about Bella still, she just doesn’t show it because she wasn’t allowed to as a child. As for her feelings toward Lucius... it is unclear. Depending on where you stand, she either could have been forced into a marriage with him, or they were in love as teenagers and got lucky enough that their parents arranged for them to marry each other. My personal opinion is they were forced. I think Lucius was supposed to be married to Andy but when she ran away, the Blacks had to hold up their end of the deal with the Malfoy’s and so Narcissa was married off to him. She embodies the whole “Ice Queen” personality. In order to cope with the trauma and her unwanted marriage, she just blocked all emotion to keep herself sane, only showing it for Draco.

And then we come to Bellatrix. Bellatrix, who had too many expectations to live up to, so many roles to fill, and no positive reinforcement from parents who just abused her if she messed up. She felt everything. She was the oldest and cared greatly for her younger sisters, and probably did her best to take any of the abuse that was going to be given to Narcissa or Andromeda. She used herself as their shield because they were the most important thing to her. Even after joining Voldemort and going insane she makes it very clear how she feels about Narcissa. Bellatrix would follow Voldemort's orders to the ends of the Earth, but the second she is asked to trust Snape, she says that Voldemort has made an error in judgement. Cissa wants to go to him and ask him to keep Draco safe, but Bellatrix advises against this. Only when her sister is in potential danger does Bellatrix doubt her master. Even at the height of her insanity her sister is the most important thing to her. We can assume as a child she felt the same for Andy. In fact in my opinion she never really stopped caring about her until Azkaban, I think she pretended to hate her when she came out about Ted Tonks, but only did so so that Andy would run away and live her life with the man she loved. She was safer away from their parents anyway. It didn’t matter if Bellatrix thought negatively about muggle-borns; she just wanted her sister to be safe. After going insane however, she truly seems to hate Ted for being a muggle-born, and she kills their half-blood daughter Nymphadora. 

In order to cope with the trauma of her childhood Bellatrix used all of those emotions as fuel for her magic. She is an incredibly powerful witch and is massively intelligent (although why she didn’t just use Legilimens on the Golden Trio will baffle me forever… it would have been so simple…). However because of this coping mechanism, she is driven insane. It’s not instant, in fact it probably took years (probably that stint in Azkaban, lads) for the insanity to fully develop and take hold. All of that exposure to Dementors would have forced her to relive the trauma of her childhood over and over, while taking away the happy memories of her sisters. 

Bellatrix was given a support system to break away from her family. Now it’s not a good or healthy one, but it is one nonetheless. After being treated so poorly by her parents, and forced into a marriage with Rodolphus, she needed freedom. When Tom Riddle comes along and praises her skill and offers her a spot as his best lieutenant? Of course she’s going to take that. Finally some recognition, and a good amount of safety. Not to mention missions and tasks given to her and others to her husband that mean she doesn’t have to be around him. Bellatrix was mistreated by her father and mother, but probably always wanted her father’s recognition. Her mother probably preferred Narcissa because she could be groomed into the perfect pureblood wife. Bellatrix latched onto Voldemort to gain recognition, praise, and power. But I can imagine as a teenager, having a complete breakdown at least once, especially after being told she’d be married off to Rodolphus. Demolishing her room with magic, windows breaking, personal items being thrown either by hand or by magic, and screaming and crying at the end. Very similar to Azula’s breakdown in her final scene.

Now we come to Princess Azula. She has an older brother, Zuko, but is always given the limelight. She receives a ceremonial headpiece that she is always seen wearing, but Zuko does not. He might be the boy, but he isn’t expected to take the crown. Azula is even named after her grandfather Azulon, who was Firelord. She was always expected to be the next Firelord over Zuko. Her future was never her own. She is a firebending prodigy, always showing off her skills, whereas Zuko falls behind. She is favored by her father Ozai for sure, but she is never truly praised. She is simply a means to an end to him. She was always expected to be the best. Although it isn’t shown in the TV series, in the A:TLA comics Ursa and Ozia’s relationship is depicted as abusive. He cuts her off from her family saying that he is all she will need. 

 There are theories as to whether or not Azula has a Machievellian personality type, or ASPD or NPD that could have been a root cause of her diminishing sanity, and after looking into those they seem very plausible. She lacks empathy, she emotionally manipulates everyone, and she has a messed up sense of right and wrong. Altruism just doesn’t make sense to her, and emotions are not genuine, simply stories made to get your way. Ursa rewards empathy, love and trust, which is why she clearly favors Zuko. But Ozai rewards power, cunning, and loyalty. They are complete opposites so it is not possible to please both of them. If she has any of these mental disorders it would be impossible to please her mother, so she focused on making her father proud. But Ozai never really shows any level of praise towards her, so she constantly tries to better herself. If she isn’t perfect, she’s failed. 

At the end of A:TLA, Ozai forces her to stay behind in the Fire Nation. He says it’s because they need a Firelord because he will be leaving. Azula is disappointed to not partake in the final battle, but it’s what her father wants, so she obeys. However, he only leaves her so that he can become the supreme leader of everyone, or “Phoenix King”.  Azula doesn’t really get a promotion, just a fancy name. In the finale, she is shown as her mental state quickly deteriorates. Her perfect image is gone, her hair is not up, her makeup undone, and she is paranoid that everyone is out to get her. This is the beginning of her breakdown. When she is unable to put her hair up by herself, she cuts her bangs. Her hair is all of a sudden asymmetrical, which is unheard of. She then starts to hallucinate. By the time she fights Zuko and Katara she is extremely unstable, and the fact that she can actually still bend is incredible, because it requires control of your emotions. She instead manages to use her emotions to fuel her bending. At the end when she is defeated, she finally breaks. Her bending is out of control, and she is left screaming and crying. 

Azula never had anyone  take her under their wing and give her the recognition she craved. Zuko had Iroh. Bellatrix had Voldemort. If Azula had been introduced to someone like Voldemort she would have gone down the same path as Bellatrix. Likewise, if Bellatrix hadn’t been introduced to Voldemort she would have ended up broken just like Azula. Their stories aren’t identical obviously, but there are some strong parallels that place them together, so I can see them as the same person with different outcomes to their story.

Does this stupidly long character analysis have any significant purpose? Nah, not at all. But like… I’m clearly right so… yeah.

[grandmother-goblin]

Hangman’s Mercy

Chapter 1

Summary: After the war, Levi remembers how he fell in love with the executioner.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Canon-typical Violence, Decapitation, Suggestive Themes, Language, Period-typical Sexism.

On a summer morning, outside an oceanfront cafe, Levi longed for the executioner's embrace. Seagulls cawed on the distant beach and the gentle ocean breeze blew salty air over his steaming cup of tea. Chamomile; the executioner's favorite. Especially with a little honey after a stressful day. They spent countless nights together, sitting across a candlelit table when neither of them could sleep or in each other’s arms, with a hot pot of chamomile tea between them. God, he missed those days. 

The chamomile tea at the Marelean cafe did not taste as sweet, even with honey. Maybe that was just because of the company. Not that Levi minded the overzealous journalist scribbling in his journal across from him. After all, he paid well, and it wasn’t like Levi had much to do after the war. Despite the massive loss of life, humanity trudged towards a new sense of normalcy only weeks later. Businesses had to continue, people needed a new sense of purpose or just a moment of peace, and society was never one to stay still. Levi still had to make a living in a world without titans, so when a fast-talking kid with a fire in his eyes offered to pay him for interviews he took the opportunity.

The young man, Marty Chase, tapped his pen against a pile of notes with a nervous energy. Levi took a few days to get to know Marty’s work before he agreed to a biography, and the kid checked out. Marty co-authored three bestsellers before the age of thirty, all biographies of Marelean warriors. Levi did not know any of the subjects, but he felt like he did after a few chapters into his works. How he wove together someone’s life with just interviews and notes, Levi did not know. Some sort of creative witchcraft he would never understand. 

Marty flipped to a fresh page in his notebook and clicked his pen. “When I was listening back to our last session, you mentioned an executioner a couple of times. Tell me about that.”

“What about her?”

“Her?” Marty made a note and underlined the fact the executioner was a woman several times. He flipped back through his notes, finding some highlighted passages in the ink. “How did you know her?”

Steam rose from his teacup, and Levi watched as it disappeared into the wind. He hadn’t realized he mentioned the executioner enough during his interviews for Marty to take notice. In fact, he tried to leave the executioner out of it as much as he could. Those who read his biography wouldn’t give a damn about that. Why would they? They wanted to know about his military experience, his title of Humanity’s Strongest, about Eren Jaeger, the military coup, what he saw, and what he experienced. They wanted to know what his comrades could no longer share. Without bringing her into it, they could know all of that. Would she even want them to know? 

Levi tasted the chamomile on his tongue and closed his eyes, wishing it was as sweet as he remembered on her lips. He could not ask her permission to share her part of the story. It was impossible. Levi turned the warm teacup in his hands and sighed.

“I almost asked her to marry me.”

The incessant pen clicking stopped. Marty stared at him, eyes wide and mouth agape like a fish out of water. Marty dove into the fat briefcase he lugged around and retrieved that stupid little recording device. It was slightly bigger than a deck of cards with black casing and a roll of tape inside. “And you thought you could just leave out that teensy-weensy, tiny, detail?”

Levi shrugged. “Didn’t think you’d care about that.”

Marty rolled his eyes, as if Levi said something ridiculous, like cats could be herded or the moon didn’t exist. “This stuff is the heart of a good story, no pun intended,” he said. “You’re pretty extraordinary, Mr. Ackerman, no two ways about that. But, people like you seem so far out of reach to an average guy like me. What we need is something to reel you back in. Something to tell our audience, ‘hey, this guy is as human as he is amazing’, and what’s more human than romantic love?”

“Taking a shit?” 

Marty set his pen on the table and eyed him like a disappointed teacher looking at the class clown. “If you really don’t think she’s important, you don’t have to tell me about her.”

“Don’t give me the guilt trip shit, Marty.” Levi finished his tea and set the empty cup at the edge of the iron bistro table. “You have plans today?”

“Not if you have a story to tell me.”

“Then get me another cup of tea. Lavender and bergamot, no sweetener.”

Marty beamed like Levi had offered a pot of gold instead of a day's worth of work. Though to Marty, those two were likely one and the same. His book about Reiner’s time in Paradis sold out in some of the biggest shops Marley offered. Well, Levi hoped the paycheck would be worth both of their time. 

After Marty returned with the tea and a heart-attack inducing amount of coffee, he pressed the little red button on the side of his recording device. He leaned in close to the speaker and rattled off his typical prelude to the recording. “Levi Ackerman. Tape thirty-two. Who is the executioner?”

Levi sipped his fresh cup of tea, thankful for the bit of caffeine because he knew he’d be needing it. “Don’t turn my biography into a romance novel.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Ackerman,” Marty answered without missing a beat. He clicked his pen and tapped it against the first line in his notebook. “Now, tell me how you first met the executioner.”

Levi held his cup of tea just above the table, not sure if he was going to set it down or take another sip. He guessed he had nothing to lose by sharing their story. “Twenty-five years ago, I saw my first beheading. I was still just a kid scraping by in the Underground…”

Levi, a tiny, twelve-year-old piece of garbage, had only been on his own for a few weeks. Kenny taught him just enough to take care of himself and drop-kicked him from the relative safety of the nest to the dogs. With Kenny, awful as he was, Levi at least felt a sense of safety with an adult around. Once that was ripped from under him, it took him a while to regain his bearings. 

The Sunday market was the perfect place to pick pockets and swipe valuables, whether they were from a vendor or a customer. The place was so crowded, a small kid like him could disappear in an instant. He just needed to find the right target. Ideally, someone who looked like they didn’t belong Underground. Someone who would be unused to the dim lighting, the stale air thick with the smell of smoke, and the echoing chatter of thousands of people crammed into one place. Few people from above ground went to the Sunday market, but there were enough to make them easy pickings. 

On the outskirts of the market, right outside a general store where Kenny used to buy his liquor, sat a young girl atop some supply crates. One look at her, and Levi knew she was the perfect target. Clean clothes? Check. Shiny hair? Check. Dirt-free face? Check? Alone? Also check. The pretty, sun-kissed face was also a dead giveaway. The brown leather satchel on her lap, scratch-free with shiny copper buckles, would be a great steal. He just had to get a hold of it.

Levi smoothed his ratty, moth-bitten coat and checked his hair in a dusty shop window. Well, he did not look so bad that the girl would run away from him screaming. At least he hoped he didn’t. Not that he cared. Normally, he would go for a more covert approach, one where his target would never know he was there, but there was no way he could take the bag right off of her lap. He’d have to get her to put it down. 

With his heart beating faster than a bat's wings, he approached the girl. When she smiled at him, his breath caught in his throat. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea. He focused on the bag. Even if there was nothing good in there, the bag itself would be worth something, whether it be money or for his own use. 

Unable to keep eye contact, he swallowed and looked at his shoes, restless fingers pulling at a loose thread in his pocket. “Hey,” he said, his voice breaking in a way that it hadn’t before. He cleared his throat and willed the heat from his face. What was wrong with him?

The girl leaned on her bag. “Hi,” she said with a pretty, white smile. “I like your haircut.”

His eyes widened at the unexpected compliment and the blush he swallowed before heat rushed right back to his face. Thank the walls the Underground was dark, because he was certain she would have laughed if she saw the color on his face. “Thanks, uhh—” he toyed with the thread in his pocket. “I, uh, like your face.” Stupid. Idiot. Maybe if he ran away right now, she would forget about the whole thing.

She covered her mouth when she giggled. It was the cutest thing he had ever heard. What the hell? Was this what Kenny meant when told Levi that girls would stop being gross one day? What a joke. A terrible, awful joke.

He needed to act fast. Plan A: get the girl to stand. Maybe she would put the bag down for a second, long enough for him to grab it and run. He scratched the back of his neck and eyed the crate she was sitting on. “I need to get to that box.” 

“Oh.” The girl straightened, one hand still on her bag. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get in the way,” she said and pushed herself off the crates, her long green skirt billowing behind her. Unfortunately, she looped the handle around her forearm, keeping it close.

Well, that did not work. Time for Plan B. Levi looked over the crate and found a serial number. He pretended to examine it for a second before he turned back to the girl. “Can you help me move this?” he asked. “I think I need the one below it.”

Still smiling, the girl set her bag down and dusted her hands off on her skirt. “Sure. What should I do?”

Perfect. “Grab that side.” He pointed to the side of the crate furthest away from her bag. Without question, she tucked her fingers under one side of the crate while Levi lifted the other. Sure, he could have just snatched the bag while she had her back turned, but that was too risky. He wanted a little more of a head start before she followed him. 

Levi lifted the top crate well off of the bottom one, and the little girl followed, shuffling her feet against the cobblestone. Her skinny arms strained and her cheeks colored with exertion. There was his chance. 

His fingers released, and Levi’s end of the crate crashed into the ground. The girl faltered and Levi acted before the girl could even let go of her half of the crate. His deft hands swiped the bag as he darted past. Too easy. Way too easy. Levi couldn’t help but smile to himself as he swung the bag over his shoulder and the girl shouted after him. Levi circled around the edge of the market to put some distance between him and the girl before he ducked into the thick of the crowd. 

In the bustling marketplace, Levi swung the bag onto his shoulder and blended in among the other patrons. No one gave him a second look, like he was just there for a bit of shopping, like everyone else. Easy, he thought to himself. Even if the bag had little in it, the bag itself was nice. Sturdy, with lots of pockets and a comfortable strap. Maybe he’d even keep it for himself instead of pawning it off. 

When Levi ducked through a small crowd near a pastry stand, he felt a sudden tug at the back of his jacket. His collar caught his throat as he was yanked back, and a hand the size of his head gripped his shoulder like a vice. 

“Say, my daughter has a bag just like that,” said a deep, gravelly voice as the grip on his shoulder tightened. 

Levi felt like his heart had stopped. No. What were the fucking chances. The surrounding people started to take notice of the altercation and backed away. People in the Underground knew Levi through reputation alone, and he had taken on men twice his size more times than he could count. Too late not to cause a scene. 

Levi grasped his knife and struck behind him, the blade making contact with the man’s flesh. The man groaned and Levi felt another hand on him as he was spun around. Levi’s heart jumped to his throat. This man wasn’t twice his size, he was even bigger. If he hadn’t known better, he might have thought a titan had made it Underground. 

Under a bushy red beard that surrounded his face like a lion’s mane, he smiled, a gold tooth front and center of his grin. Levi briefly wondered how much the tooth was worth before he felt his knife plucked from his hand. 

“Get him, Ivor!” yelled someone in the crowd. 

Another man shouted. “Teach that shit a lesson, hangman!”

The hangman. The fucking hangman. Levi felt his blood run cold as he stared up at the monstrous man. So he was the man Kenny would talk about when he got drunk. The one man that Kenny actually seemed to fear. Not because he thought Ivor would hunt him down, but because Ivor would be the one to carry out his sentence if he was ever tried for his crimes. Remembering the way Kenny described how the hangman would torture his victims before the execution made Levi’s stomach turn.

“I’m not going to fight a child,” Ivor called back to the crowd. “Piss off. You’re not getting a damn show, you buzzards.”

The crowd did not disperse as more insults and jeers were thrown the hangman’s way. 

Ivor ignored the taunts. Instead, the hangman focused his pale blue eyes into Levi’s gray ones. “I made that bag for my daughter,” he said. “All it has in it is tea and bad handwritten poetry. I’d tell you to see for yourself, but she’d kill me if I let a stranger read her poems,” he added with a light chuckle. 

“Let go of me.”

One hand tightened its grip while the other let go, giving Levi what was supposed to be a friendly pat. “Aye, can’t do that until I get that bag back, son.” 

Levi tossed the bag on the ground. Whatever. He knew when to cut his losses. “Take it.” 

Still not letting go of him, Ivor placed a boot on the bag strap, keeping it secure. “Thank you, my boy,” he boomed and ruffled Levi’s hair. Ivor knelt as close to Levi’s level as he could, his trench coat made of thick hide bunching up at his feet. He smelled of bergamot and lemon, like he had doused himself in perfumes. Something about Ivor contradicted all of Levi’s expectations: respected and ridiculed, fearsome and jovial, a killer with kind eyes. Despite the iron grip on his shoulder, the hangman seemed… almost nice? Much more tolerant than most of the folks Levi came across, and definitely more so than the ones who felt they were wronged. Blood soaked through Ivor’s pant leg where Levi had slashed his knife, but Ivor did not acknowledge it.

“Take this, boy,” he said in a rough voice barely above a whisper. Ivor reached into his pocket and pressed a small, yet heavy, bag of coins into Levi’s hands, doing his best to shield the transaction from the crowd. “Stay out of trouble. If you don’t, you’ll be seeing me again, boy. And next time, I won’t be so nice.” 

Ivor picked up his daughter’s bag and finally released his hold on Levi, patting him on his certainly bruised shoulder. Levi stumbled back, reaching for the knife that was no longer there. Right. The hangman had tossed it aside. Levi pocketed the coins and stood his ground, waiting for an opening to grab his knife again. 

Around them, the crowd booed. They hurled words not even Kenny would have used the hangman’s way, and he stood tall and proud, stoic as a statue. When a piece of rotten vegetable pelted Ivor’s coat, he brushed off with a laugh as people in the crowd continued to taunt and jeer. The hangman turned to look at Levi once more, before giving a subtle nod towards a break in the crowd. Levi swore he saw the man mouth the word ‘go’ from behind his massive beard.

“Thought you were going to give us a show, hangman!” a shrill woman shouted.

Ivor tossed the bag over his shoulder. “You’ll be getting a show tomorrow.” He spread his arms with all the showmanship of a magician. “Now stop gawking and do something with your miserable lives, you scabs!”

With a slight limp, Ivor turned into the crowd. Not really thinking, Levi picked his knife off the ground and ran the opposite direction. He did not know where he was going, just that he needed to get out of the marketplace and away from anyone who saw Ivor give him money. Maybe that was the man’s true intention: to put a target on Levi’s back with the cash rather than true altruism. Why else would he give a kid who just stabbed him a satchel full of coins?

The woman’s voice rang in his head. Give us a show, hangman! He was the fucking hangman, and Levi had robbed the hangman’s kid. Levi never felt so stupid in his life. The human embodiment of Death had Levi in his grip, at his mercy, and let him live. 

With that gift, Levi ran and did not stop until he reached his lodgings. Levi locked the door behind him and slid to the floor to catch his breath. 

When his breathing settled, he pulled the bag of coins out and counted them. More than he expected. A lot more. Enough to get him food for an entire month, or even longer if he planned right. Levi closed his eyes and let his head rest against the wooden door behind him. What the hell kind of person gave a piece of shit like him such a gift? Maybe Ivor had something wrong with him.

Despite how Levi never wanted to see the executioner again, Levi found himself drawn to the town square the following afternoon. He never watched an execution before, but he knew where they took place. The crowd made for good pickings, as those who came to watch were distracted by the morbid spectacle and alcohol. Levi always took his pickings and left before the cart with the condemned even made it to the podium.

There were no gallows for hanging, just a raised platform with a block of wood at the center. People gathered a healthy distance away from the platform. Out of the splash zone, as one man said. Levi did not want to think about how that distance was determined, and stood behind two larger men as a human shield. He could see the podium well enough between them, so long as they stood relatively still. It would have been so easy to swipe something right out of their pockets, but he resisted. It was a day for observation, and observation only. He didn’t know why, but he needed to see the executioner in action. He needed to know it was, in fact, the same man he met the day before. 

Nothing he knew of the man, the little he did know, made any sense. Obviously respected, yet despised. A brute who didn’t flinch at a knife slicing his thigh and laughed off a jeering crowd. A man who made bags for his daughter, gave coins to a kid who stabbed him, and went off to kill a person the next day.

One man in front of him, with a stocky build and a mustache that looked like a push broom, puffed at his cigarette. “Any idea what this one did?”

His friend, a taller man with a ponytail, replied, “I heard she killed a few of her customers from the whore house. Poor bastards. Thought they were paying for a good time, then they’d get home and drop dead. Took them ages to find out why.”

“How many did she get?” 

“At least twelve, from what I’ve heard.”

“Shit.” The mustached man tossed his cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his boots. “Executioner will let us know.” 

The man with a ponytail cocked his chin towards the main road. “Speak of the devil and he will come,” he said. 

Far down the end of the main road, a draft horse pulled a rickety wagon fixed with a rusty iron cage. The giant, red-haired hangman sat at the front of the cart, his boxy gloved hands gripping the reins as he shouted at people to get out of the way. Beside him was the little girl from yesterday, hugging her precious bag.

“Can’t believe he’s training her,” Mustache Man muttered.

Ponytail shrugged. “Not like she has many other prospects,” he said. “Being the hangman’s kid, it’s not like men will be lining up for her. Hell, I don’t know if a whore house would take her.”

Mustache Man hummed thoughtfully and lit up another cigarette. “Poor kid.” 

The wagon reached the podium and Ivor hauled himself down from the rider seat, the wagon creaking with the sudden loss of weight. Levi would not have been surprised if the ground shook when those massive boots hit the pavement like a fallen powder keg. Ivor turned back to the cart and gingerly lifted his daughter and set her down beside him. Without a word, the girl dug into her bag and passed a vial to her father before she went to the edge of the podium.

A man in a Military Police uniform lingered nearby. Probably acting as some sort of bailiff, Levi figured, judging by the official-looking documents clutched between his fingers. He ascended to the podium and shouted something to Ivor, who went to the back of the wagon. 

A desperate wail echoed over the crowd when Ivor swung open the metal bars. A frail woman with her hands tied behind her back scrambled to the back of the wagon, sobbing and pleading. Her hair had been cut short, but Levi recognized her from the brothel as a woman his mother would sometimes talk to. Her name was Ada, if he remembered correctly, and she was almost unrecognizable between the haphazardly chopped hair and tear-stained face. Kicking at his meaty hands, squirming away from his vice-like grip, Ivor pulled her from the cart despite her best efforts. 

Turning her away from the crowd, Ivor pinched her jaw and dumped the vial down her throat. He held her mouth shut until she swallowed as he whispered something in her ear. Sobbing, tears leaving salty streaks on her face and snot dripping from her nose, she stopped fighting him. Her shoulders slumped and her head hung like a rag doll, as if she had finally accepted what was coming to her. Guiding her by the back of the neck, Ivor led Ada up four wooden steps to the chopping block, his blocky hand grasping her arm when she tripped. 

The crowd booed and jeered as Ivor pushed Ada to her knees in front of the block. She stared ahead, her eyes already dead and her body slumping to the side. Ivor righted her long enough to tie a blindfold over her eyes before she slumped over again. The man from the Military Police rang a bell to quiet the crowd. When the chatter and yelling subsided, he read the charges brought before Ada. Like the gentlemen in front of him had said, she had confessed to poisoning at least a dozen men, all of whom were prior customers of the brothel. 

Once the charges had been read, Ivor pushed the woman down. With one massive hand on the back of her skull, he guided her neck, so it rested across the chopping block. The moment he let go, her head lolled to the side.

Releasing Ada to pick up the ax, Ivor watched as she slipped off the block completely. Her body curled up into itself like a frightened child, wetness seeping through her blindfold. He set the ax down on its head, holding it upright with one hand and motioning for his daughter with the other. The crowd grew quiet as the little girl joined him on the podium.

“Shit,” Ponytail drawled with more pity than Levi ever thought could fit into a curse word. 

“Yeah,” Mustache Man agreed, forgetting the cigarette that burned between his finger tips.

Levi could not hear what Ivor said, but the girl nodded and knelt in front of Ada. Her small hands lifted Ada from beneath her jaw and pulled her back onto the chopping block. With Ada’s neck in place, the girl walked back on her knees as far away from the block as she could manage without letting go of Ada’s hair.

Ivor wrapped his bulking hands around the long handle of the ax and poised himself beside the block, waiting.

When the man from the Military Police gave the signal, Ivor hoisted the ax into the air and brought it down. Once, then once again, each strike accompanied by the thud of metal against flesh, wet plops of blood, and gasps of horror and cheers from the crowd. At least two people vomited at the sight and one man in the front row fainted. 

Pale in the face and speckled with blood, the little girl detangled her fingers from Ada’s hair. Ada’s head rolled a few inches from where the girl had dropped it, blood staining the wooden podium in its path. The girl did not move until Ivor yanked her to her feet. Deaf to the audience, the little girl walked back to the cart as though she were drawn by a string and not of her own accord. 

The man from the Military Police pronounced Ada dead as Ivor held up the still dripping head to the crowd. Levi’s stomach turned. For a moment, he thought he might join the people who lost their lunch at the sight, but he swallowed thickly and turned away. If he never saw either of them again, it would be too soon. 

Twenty-five years later, and he still remembered that afternoon more clearly than he would have liked. It was not the most brutal death Levi had witnessed. Titans were plenty worse. Something else stood out about that one in particular, but Levi did not really know what. Even as he recounted the story to Marty, he could not say why the memory stuck with him so strongly. 

Marty poured creamer into his coffee and paused the recording device. Quietly, he wrote a few notes while Levi finished his cup of tea. Even though Marty had listened to the very worst of Levi’s stories, it seemed the story about a little girl holding a severed head and struck him differently. The change in disposition only lasted long enough for Marty to finish writing his notes, the gears in his brain seemed to turn as he did so. Marty checked his recording device and looked up at Levi, intrigue written across his face.

Levi picked up one of the cranberry scones Marty ordered almost twenty minutes ago. “You’ve got questions.”

Marty tapped his pen. “I do,” he said. “But first, I want to hear what happened next.”

[jincherie]

moon magic | jhs

✩ — pairing: hoseok x reader ✩ — genre: mermaid au, pirate au, magic au, fluff ✩ — words: 33.8k+ (a part of me died. this is a horcrux now) ✩ — rating: sfw ✩ — warnings: uh minor dismemberment (a hand, belonging to a bad guy), otherwise its kind of just soft and gooey and magical... lord help me ✩ — notes: very very very VERY VERY LATE birthday fic for miss @readyplayerhobi !!! i’m so sorry it’s so late tali !!! and so sorry it’s such a monster, this was meant to be around 20k max and here i am completely out of control and barely sane kjfnldkffljdb i hope its not too disappointing!! (also fair warning; i didnt get to completely finish skimming this so some typos may be present dnjhbg)

You've never paid much mind to the moon, but you quickly learn that even though you've never really thought of the her, she has always watched over you. What better to heal an grieving heart, than the luminous, rippling magic of the moon? And maybe a merman, or two. You know, for good measure.

— posted; 13.07.2019

In all honesty, you’ve never really paid much mind to the moon.

It is something that is ever-present— yet also something that can wax, illuminating the earth beneath its majesty, and wane, robbing the skies of the orb that bathes the landscape in a silver glow. To the normal civilian, the moon is likely a symbol of beauty and the unknown, or perhaps just something the odd commoner didn’t spare even a second thought. You don’t normally pay much mind to the moon, except to admire it. You don’t think you’ve ever held the silver sun in any sort of contempt, until now, that is. The moon is decidedly bright tonight, which under other circumstances might normally make you smile, but actually serves to be more of an inconvenience on this eve in particular than anything.

It’s awfully hard to slink through the night and assassinate someone when the moon eliminates the security and comfort that the usual deep shadows the night-time hours provide, after all.

You admit that as far as assassination attempts go, this one is pretty poorly timed. You’re not entirely to blame though—this wasn’t your first choice by far. You like to think you’re a bit more conniving than that. No, your carefully plotted and thought-out schemes were suddenly pushed way ahead of schedule only yesterday when, to your complete and utter alarm, the subject of those plots and schemes was reported to be only a town away down the coastline. You’re quick on your feet, and you knew immediately upon hearing it that this meant the despicable Pirate Lord you’ve been tracking for the better half of your adult life would be passing the town you’re residing in within the next day. You were right, as expected, and had proven yourself unable to resist the opportunity that had presented itself so easily and readily to you. You expected to spend many months more tracking the elusive pirate, but he’s gone and sailed right into your waiting arms! It’s as though the universe is giving you the go-ahead, and you can’t even think of resisting the temptation of this golden opportunity when the thing you’ve wanted most since you were a mere seventeen years old is so close, so near your greedy clutches.

So, you decided after minimal deliberation that come nightfall the next day, you were going to head out and embark on your long-awaited goal to kill the Pirate Lord Ezra. Hence, here you are, currently trying to sleuth through the night and fulfil a desire for revenge that has had years to simmer, bubble and brew into something ugly and all-consuming to its core. You aren’t proud of the way the anger and hate has clung so firmly to the root of your being all these years, but at this point… you don’t really have anything else to live for. If you weren’t living your life planning this act of vengeance, then what would you be doing?

The reason you spent years plotting and perfecting the best way to fulfil this burning need for revenge, was because the initial act that incurred your wrath cost you your family. You have no one, and if you don’t cling to this and let it bind your being together, then what is stopping you from crumbling to dust and floating to the abyss? You don’t want to ponder it and don’t often entertain the thought, because the answer…

The answer is nothing, and that is exactly why you are here—scaling the side of the large, looming ship that belonged to the pirate that had wronged you so.

Pirate Lord Ezra. He isn’t what one would call haphazard, or aimlessly bloodthirsty. He kills, pillages and steals, like any respectable pirate, but each and every act he performs is done so with the utmost care and cold, ruthless calculation. He isn’t the most intelligent being you’ve ever encountered, but he is conniving, and crafty, and more than capable of getting himself out of sticky situations no matter how dire. It was how he’d managed to live so long even as a wanted criminal, after all.

But, you suppose in his old age he has begun to grow… careless.

You met no resistance or obstacle earlier as you rowed to the location where he was reported to be—you’d taken the time to paint your small craft so that it matched the night and sea—and you meet no obstacle now, as you grip the thick, coarse ropes that sling over the top of the bulwarks and hang heavily down the sides of the ship. You have to admit, it is a beautiful ship—you almost feel sorry for the plans you have in store for it.

The weight of the daggers fastened to your sides ground you in a sense, the cool of their metal permeating through your worn pants to keep your thoughts rooted in the present moment. This is happening, you’re finally doing this, the moment you’ve waited so long for is finally here. You can hardly believe it, yet you’re already so far into the execution of your plans that you don’t have time to stop and process it.

Were you not wearing the leather gloves you’d slipped on earlier, your hands would probably be throbbing and grazed from the coarse, sea-salt ridden ropes by now. You never really realised just how massive these ships were until you got up close and personal with them, and now as you’re scaling up the side of one it seems endless in its looming height. Even so, it isn’t long before you near the top of the ship’s side, having long since passed the closed windows where canons peaked through in the midst of battle. The sea is calm and the gentle rocking of the ship is easy to get accustomed to—soon your body moves in harmony with rolling of the waves. You think perhaps you’re a little too good at this ‘sneaking onto a pirate ship in the middle of the night’ thing.

You freeze barely a metre from the top, the sound of rough voices and hoarse, deep chuckles stilling your blood in your veins. A few of the crewmen moving past, likely on their rounds. You take the moment to think things through—you were hoping that most of the crew would be asleep and you’d be able to slip on board with no problem, but now that you think about it… you might have been a bit naïve to think that there wouldn’t be many pirates skulking across the deck. Glancing down, you get an idea of how to proceed. To the side, at a slightly different level to the line of canon openings, is a set of windows at varying heights. You absolutely despise the man, but you had to give the Pirate Lord some credit—the ship was impressive in its absolute size and majesty.

Thinking quick, you decide the best way in from now would be to slip in through one of those windows. From what you can see, the one closest to you is somewhat ajar, no doubt to let the cool sea breeze in. Moving as fast as you can while still remaining unnoticed, you shift to the window and peak in. It seems to be a restroom of sorts, small in size and containing several buckets and a jug. In all honesty, this room is dusty and grimy and doesn’t seem like it’s received much attention in the past few, well… years. Considering that they’re pirates though, you’re not really all that surprised at the discovery of their lax hygiene habits.

After watching for a moment to be sure no one is wondering into the room anytime soon, you ease the window open, wary of any rusty hinges, before shifting your body and using muscles you didn’t even know you had to slip in through the opening. Your feet touch the floor with a soft thud and a creak, the wood clearly unused to having any weight on it. You remain stock still for a moment, doubting that that soft noise was enough to wake a bunch of drunken pirates, but still cautious nonetheless. When it becomes clear that you’re not about to be discovered any time soon, you ease your way with careful steps to the door of the room and embark on the second phase of your mission.

Find the Pirate Lord.

You’re not sure how many rooms you slip into and search in the quiet of night as you attempt to locate the heinous man so worthy of your despise, but you’re quick to find out that it’s a lot. This ship is even bigger than you anticipated on the inside, and built like a maze beneath the deck. You know from stories that the captain doesn’t sleep in the usual quarters above the deck, but haven’t been able to discern through rumours or otherwise where exactly it was that he did sleep.

Silent as the night, you slip through hall after hall, peering into each room you’re able. You meld to the walls and sink into the shadows whenever voices grow too near, and the one time a pirate stumbles drunkenly past you in the hall he doesn’t even see you—in fact, you’re pretty sure he’s walking with his eyes closed. Fortunate for you, but unfortunate for him if he ends up walking into something. He disappears around the corner a moment later and you barely have time to let out your breath before there’s a loud thunk and grunt of pain from that direction, followed by a long string of grumbled, slurred curses. Well, it seems he did run into something after all. You wait until you hear his footsteps fade completely before you move once more.

With each new room you search that yields no results, you grow a little more frustrated. It’s as though the Pirate Lord isn’t even here, on his own ship. Where could he be? You feel like you’ve mapped out every single room possible beneath the creaking wood of the deck. Somewhat on edge and increasingly frustrated, you have to consciously soften your steps from their instinctive stomp as you turn down another hall. You barely get three feet down before a sound crosses your ears that gives you pause. Was that… splashing?

Of course it seems ridiculous that you’d be confused about the sound of water when you’re on a pirate ship in the ocean, but at this point you’ve delved so deep into the bowels of the ship that you shouldn’t be able to hear anything like splashing or waves. Confused, you sneak closer to the origins of the sound—a single door at the end of the hall. Strangely enough, there aren’t any other doors on either side as you shift quietly down. Definitely strange, but not your biggest concern at the moment.

You’re scarcely a few feet from the door when the splashing sounds again, and this time it rings distinctly like water sloshing against the edge of a container, like a tub. You pause, fighting the embarrassed heat that tries to colour your cheeks. You don’t know whether to be more surprised that one of the pirates is likely bathing behind these doors or at the fact you’d managed to happen upon them while they were.

You’re ready to dismiss it and flee, return to your original objective, when another sound leaks through the cracks in the door and your heart skips a beat in surprise. A whimper, like someone is in pain. A fresh barrage of thoughts flood your mind suddenly as you stand in place, conflicted. What if it’s a prisoner? What if it is someone innocent behind those doors, hurt and maybe even dying? You know you won’t be able to live with yourself if you leave without checking, the guilt will eat you alive.

With a resigned sigh, you approach the door and place your hand over the rusty handle, attempting to turn it slowly. It creaks ever so slightly, but doesn’t move far. Locked. Grumbling softly to yourself and checking behind you to make sure no one snuck up on you in your momentary lapse of concentration, you pull out the little kit you made for such an occasion and get to work picking the lock with the tiny instruments.

You’re pretty good at what you do, and so it isn’t long before you hear the soft, tell-tale click that lets you know the door is now unlocked and free to open. You check the coast is clear behind you once more before placing your hand on the handle again and twisting softly. It creaks as it did last time, but there is no resistance as you manage to open the door successfully. You hear your heart beat loudly against your eardrum for a moment as the wood swings open and you step inside.

You don’t make it past two steps before you freeze in place, the breath whooshing out of your lungs and your eyes shooting wide.

The room is lit dimly by an oil lantern hanging from the ceiling, yet the soft glow it offers is more than enough for you to see the entirety of what the room holds.

Gold. Piles and piles of gold. Coins and trinkets, goblets, jewellery—there is so much gold that glimmers in the low light you almost don’t know how to process it. The room is full of it, the piles reaching the ceiling in some places. Other precious items litter the floor, buried in the mounds of coins and treasures. Some statues, jewel-encrusted boxes, the like. Briefly, you are reminded of a dragon’s hoard. This… you’ve stumbled into the treasure room of the great Pirate Lord Ezra.

And right smack bang in the middle of it is something you never thought you would ever see with your own two eyes.

A tub, as you suspected, full of water sits in the midst of the treasure. And inside the tub lays a man, head lolling in unconsciousness as his body sways with the water and the rocking of the ship, chained to the wall, the iron links thick and heavy where they wind around his wrists and forearms. His upper body is human where it enters the water, but where it leaves there is a long, glimmering tail in place of where there should be legs. A merman. You can hardly catch your breath, the shock almost enough to knock you off your feet. You came here to assassinate a pirate and instead stumbled upon his captive merman. This mission has gone so awry you don’t know if you can even recover it.

But as you take a moment to peer at the creature, registering his appearance, you realise the answer. You can’t return to your original goal in this venture. The merman before you is beautiful; his face and torso are an ideal sculptors can only dream of achieving in their creations, and his tail is completely and utterly mesmerising with the way the scales shift and glimmer different colours despite an inky undertone, not unlike an oil slick. Yet despite this, his cheeks are gaunt and skin pallid and sallow, littered with bruises and patches of rawness. He’s thin, and you can see deep maroon blood trickling from where the chains bite into his wrists and have rubbed them raw.

You don’t have words for the roiling combination of horror, shock, and complete and utter sadness that sinks deep within you at the realisation that what you’ve just discovered is real and you’re standing here, facing it. The poor creature, chained and left to perish as nothing more than a trophy.

This, the sight before you and the feelings now running rampant within you, is why you cannot turn away and resume your original goal.

A part of you is disappointed and upset that you won’t get to kill the man who killed your family like you intended, but right now you want nothing more than to free this creature. You’ll get another chance, you reassure yourself. Even if it takes another eleven years to track him down you’ll find him eventually, and you’ll be able to sleep better knowing you freed this merman along the way.

Once you’re firm in your resolve, you take the steps necessary to bridge the gap between you and the creature, gaze sweeping over his form. The end of his tail is exposed to the air, and you notice it appears incredibly dehydrated—the long, wispy fins that trail along the sides and flare from the bottom are pinched and shrivelled, twitching every so often. You wonder for a moment why he hasn’t splashed water over his tail to keep it hydrated but quickly realise that with the way his hands and arms are bound that he can’t, and the tub is too tiny to fit the long, draping expanse of his tail in.

You decide that first thing’s first, you need to get him in a better state than what he is currently. You reach into the water, cupping a generous amount in your hands, and begin to pour it over the parts of his tail and anatomy that aren’t currently submerged. The result is instantaneous—the wispy fins that had pinched and curled up unfurled the second they touched the water, his skin and scales appearing to soak up the fluid greedily. You distantly register the way his breath stutters, picking up slightly in an uneven manner, and figure that he’s probably going to wake soon. You continue wetting the rest of his form until you’re satisfied, at which point you turn back to face him.

And promptly nearly scream in fright because when you look to him, he is already looking at you.

Your fight or flight response doesn’t remain in gear, however, because the poor creature looks absolutely terrified as he watches you, eyes already glistening. You don’t know if mercreatures can cry and you don’t want to find out—you hurry to soothe him, feeling terrible that he’s experienced such horror that this is the first reaction he gives upon seeing you.

“Woah, hey I’m sorry! It’s okay! I’m not going to hurt you.” Your hands are up and you speak softly if a little quickly. You don’t need him to scream or anything and you don’t want to be loud enough yourself to catch anyone’s attention. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. I’m…”

You swallow, disarmed for a moment at the way his large, dark eyes are holding yours. “I’m going to help get you out of here.”

You’re unsure if he understands what you say, but something in his gaze shifts nonetheless. Acceptance, you realise, as some of the tension in his shoulders leaves and he sags back against the wall of the tub, visibly exhausted. You realise upon gazing at his face that you’ve wet everywhere else but there—his lips, shapely with a natural downturned pout, are cracked and dry, the skin of his face appearing rough and slightly raw near his hairline and under his jaw.

Nervous now that he’s awake while you’re doing this, you cup some more water in your hands. He watches the movement like a hawk, shifting slightly.

“Close your eyes, please,” you tell him softly, despite the fact the salty water probably won’t hurt his eyes as it does yours. He blinks at you, yet despite the oddity of your request he does so anyway.

You lift your hands and part them over his head, allowing the water to flow down his face and over the rest of his skull. The inky curls atop his scalp soak up the water greedily, twirling strands sticking to his forehead as the water plasters them to his skin. The second the cool fluid touches him he takes in a shaky, sharp inhale, lashes fluttering as droplets tickle them. You repeat the motion a few more times, cupping water in your hands separately and releasing it over the tender-looking areas over the sides of his face. You wet your hand and retrieve more water to brush over the raw patches near his hairline and under his jaw, and can’t help but gasp when the second they’re soaked in the fluid little scales shimmy to the surface, embedded in the skin. Another glance to the rest of his body reveals the same thing has happened in some areas on his human parts, the dark scales appearing in a patch at the outer corners of his eyes and making them appear dramatic and elongated. A glance to the floor where similar scales litter the wood near your feet and you realise they must have dried and shed, falling off when they weren’t kept wet.

You don’t realise you’re cupping his face in your palm still as you ponder until you feel soft lashes brush your thumb. You look up in surprise to catch him peering at you once more. Cheeks hot, you retract your hand and clear your throat nervously.

“Right,” you say, more for your benefit than his. “Now you look a little less like you’re dying, lets get you out of those chains, huh?”

He doesn’t say anything, but an eager glint slips into his deep brown eyes and he wriggles, shifting anxiously. You rise from where you were crouched, thighs and knees protesting greatly, and let out a slight pained grunt as you peer over at the chains.

They’re not wrapped that complicatedly, you realise, it’s just that they’re thick and heavy and there’s a few of them there. You reach forward, catching the end of one in your hand, and pull it out of a loop it was threaded through, the links brushing his arm as you do so. A hiss from below you startles you mid-motion—you glance down to see an expression of pain on the merman’s face, and return your eyes to his arm as realisation washes over you along with immediate guilt. Where the iron links brushed his skin there are now red welts, as thought it burned him upon contact. Oddly enough, the idea isn’t that foreign to you—iron is meant to ward off faeries in legends, isn’t it? You’re not surprised that another kind of ‘magical’ creature is repelled by it as well.

“Sorry,” you whisper, and you mean it. From then on you unwind the chains with the utmost care, making sure you don’t touch him with them more than necessary.

It takes a bit longer than you would like, but eventually you get his arms and wrists free of the wretched chains. The male is sagged against the side of the tub, his arms and wrists submerged in the water. You watch, fascinated, as the fluid seems to kickstart their healing—the open wounds begin to stitch back together and the red welts begin to lessen in their intensity. You allow him a few moments more to recover before you speak.

“I’m going to get you out,” you say to him, meeting his gaze as his eyes flutter open. “But we need to go now. The longer we’re here, the riskier it is and the harder it will be to get away. Are you ready?”

The male seems a little conflicted, somewhat at a loss, and you realise it’s probably because from the looks of it he’d been here long enough that he’d probably come to terms with dying here. Nonetheless, a resolved expression filters across his features and he nods in response. You offer him a smile.

“Alright. I’ll have to lift you and carry you, but first…”

If you’re going to be tracking the pirate for even more years to come after this, you’re going to need resources. You grab a big handful of gold coins and slip them into a small, secure pouch at your waist. That ought to do you for a while.

The merman seems somewhat amused as you turn back to him, and you have the presence of mind to be a little sheepish. “What? I’m going to find a better use for it than he will.”

The merman has the nerve to roll his eyes and you sputter for a moment before the creaking of the ceiling splits the air and the two of you freeze. A detached sort of panic sinks into your abdomen, a sense of renewed urgency filling your bones, and you turn to the merman once more. “Alright, time to go.”

Getting him out of the tub isn’t a struggle, but finding the optimal position to hold him in is. He’s not all that heavy in his current state but he is slippery, so you need to utilise his grip in combination with your own. He ends up with his arms looped around your neck in an abridged sort of piggy-back. He doesn’t have legs to put either side of your waist so it’s just his tail that ducks under one arm and winds around your waist like a coil. You had no idea that the limb had that kind of flexibility and now that you know you have no idea what to do with the information.

Surprisingly, navigating out of the hallway you’re in is easier than the time you had finding it (by accident, that is). Hall by hall, corner by corner, your hands are full both figuratively and literally with the merman and both making sure he’s not drying out too quickly and you’re not running into any unwelcome characters. You realise soon into your departure that the only way you will be able to free the merman properly is from the deck—trying to find a room with windows like the one you came in from will take too long and run a greater risk. No, better to run upstairs and leap overboard before they can think twice.

The heavens appear to be smiling upon you, as it doesn’t take long at all before you stumble across the main staircase that leads to the top of the deck. You freeze at the base, taking a moment to steel yourself. This night has taken a turn you didn’t expect in the least but now you just… you just have to go with it. Another shaky inhale, you become aware of the merman’s soft pants against your neck, the sound somewhat laboured. Right. You don’t have time to spare dillydallying, you don’t want the merman to arrive at death’s door for the second time in one night. You shift, making sure the dagger against your thigh is ready and accessible before you bite the bullet and dart up the stairs as quickly and quietly as possible.

It is eerily silent, and you should have been more suspicious but you couldn’t focus on anything but getting out of here. It proves to be a slight downfall for you.

The second you breach the deck, you’re made aware of the fact that you aren’t alone—pirates are scattered around, some drinking others performing typical seafaring tasks, and you have all of about two seconds before they see you and register your presence. The second you turn to dash to the side of the ship, you’re spotted.

“What? Oi! Who the hell are you?! Stop right there!”

Instantly, you’re in the open and a clear target. There are a few shocked shouts at the sight of what you’re carrying, but you tune it all out as you dart for the side, legs burning from the effort.

“Oi, that’s the captain’s treasure—STOP HER!”

You swing the merman around your body, setting him on the railing, and offer him an apologetic look as you bid him good bye. His eyes are wide and scared as you speak in a rush, “It was nice meeting you. Get as far away as you can, alright?”

You don’t wait for him to nod. You place your hands on his chest and hip and with a great heave you push him off the railing, over the side of the ship. His tail and fins whip in the air after him before disappearing from view. Barely a second later does the loud splash of his body entering the water greet you and you almost let out a sigh of relief—

Except there’s suddenly a loud, deafening BANG from behind you and the wood near your hand is splintering, shards flying into the air from the impact of the bullet. You jerk back instantly, remembering where you are just in time to dodge the swing aimed at you by a pirate with a nasty beard and a hanging gut. He lets out an angry growl and lunges for you again with the large, curved sword clenched in his meaty fist. Your eyes dart around, looking for a quick escape.

You spy a bottle to the side, a haphazard plan forming in your mind as you see a torch hanging not too far from your head. You have barely seconds to think this through and act as more pirate lurch forward and you dodge, leg kicking out and knocking the bottle to the deck. It smashes upon impact, rum spilling and soaking into the boards, and a sick sense of glee tickles your ribs as you rip your dagger from your thigh and leap up, just barely managing to dislodge the torch and send it tumbling down.

The pirates roar in rage and panic as the second the open flame touches the ground it sparks and flares, barely a split-second passing before larger flames begin to lick and devour the wood of the deck.

“You wench!”

“You’re going to get it, girlie!”

You bite back a scream as another pirate lunges for you, tall and skinny but somewhat uncoordinated. The tip of his sword grazes your arm and at the sting you can’t help but yelp. You’re surrounded by furious pirates, all of which much more experienced and stronger than you. Cutthroats. You refuse to let this be how you die, not when you have unresolved business here.

You’re not good at combat, so when the pirates come at you one by one you dodge like hell. Your scrambling knocks several more bottles to the ground and fortuitously, they feed the ravenous flames that begin to spread along the deck and lick at the base of the main mast. Your little dagger is doing nothing to help you here, meant for stealth and assassination rather than hands on combat. Your eyes rake the scene for something, anything you can grab to defend yourself better.

There. To the other side of the deck, a barrel resting against the railings. You can see steel and fabric-wrapped handles peaking from within, and without thinking the second you see an opening you dart for it.

“Someone get the cap’n!”

“No need. Insolent girl.”

You’re intercepted right before the barrel as the sound of the baritone freezes your blood in your veins, terror curdling your insides. You can’t breathe for a moment but a moment is all that’s needed for a large hand to grab you by the collar and haul you into the air.

The deck of his ship is steadily going up in flames behind him, something that should overjoy you, yet it only serves to feed the absolute fear and horror crashing around in your abdomen. Pirate Lord Ezra, a hulking giant of a man, holds you in the air, a few feet from the ground, as easily as if he were holding a kitten by the scruff of its neck. The material of your collar cuts into your throat, breath becoming short and panicked as you’re suddenly faced with the man of your nightmares.

You’d come here to kill him, to slit his throat without mercy, but now, confronted with the furious snarl curling his lips and the promise of a gruesome death in his beady eyes—you’re suddenly forced to the realisation of how completely and utterly unprepared you are. Gold glints at you as he flashes his teeth, coarse beard threaded with beads and silver, as is the wild, inky mane that flares from his broad skull. His breath reeks of an indiscernible alcohol and the thick hand gripping your collar is covered in rings and jewels. His presence is overwhelming and you will always be enraged by his existence but right now, more than anything, you’re terrified.

The Pirate Lord absolutely bellows his laughter when you attempt to struggle, legs kicking. “Don’t try it, girlie. You’re not going anywhere. You think the punishment is going to be light for stealing from me, from my personal treasure room, and setting my ship on fire? How foolish of you.”

You try and calm your panicked breaths enough to just think, very aware that if you’re going to get away you have to do something in the next few seconds. The deck is beginning to disappear beneath smoke and flames, the fire about to spread too far to be stopped, and the grip on your collar tightens. Some of his crew scramble to put out the flames and the rest remain surrounding you. The only side not barred by leering pirates is your right, where the railing and the inky expanse of the ocean await you.

“You bastard,” you spit, seething despite your terror, and attempt to lash and kick him. The pirate seems a cross between enraged and humoured as he dodges with ease.

“Oh the heavens have blessed us today, ‘ave they? The ones with some fight‘re always the most fun to break,” the pirate leers, pulling you closer. You panic for a second before you remember the item in your hold and, at a loss for how else to escape this situation, decide to pull a hail Mary and just fucking go for it.

“Fuck you!” you curse him with all the venom you can muster, and then you whip your arm up. The dagger in your hold embeds itself in his forearm and with a roar his hand releases its grip, dropping you to the ground. You’re dazed for the split-second you hit the ground, but lurch to your feet immediately.

He roars and spits in rage; you hear the sound of the dagger clattering to the ground as you turn to the barrel. You can tell, can feel he’s going to reach for you with his good hand, and in a fit of adrenaline-fuelled terror you grasp the handle sticking out the most and pull it out in one smooth movement.

The next few things happen very quickly. The pirate curses at you as you turn on your heel, reaching for you as expected. His hand grows closer than you anticipate and you panic, your arm raising as you complete your turn then swinging down with all the strength you can muster. You watch, eyes wide, as the curved blade comes down in a perfect arc right where the base of the pirate’s hand melts into his forearm. The steel sinks into his wrist so easily you’re almost nauseated, the blade catching only barely on the bone before continuing through the flesh and severing it completely. There’s a half-beat of stillness in the air before his dismembered hand drops to the wooden deck  with a heavy thud and then the pirate lord is releasing a deep, strangled scream of pain, voice abrasive and coarse against your eardrums. The crew surrounding you exclaim and shout in shock, and you realise that if you’re going to flee it’s got to be now or never. You throw the sword away, turning as you do so, and scramble onto the thick railing.

You rake in a big breath and then you’re leaping forward, bringing your arms together above you as you dive down to the inky depths. Moonlight chases your form as you break the surface, the water washing over you like liquid ice. When you resurface, gasping for air, it’s to a world aglow with silver moonlight and blazing flames. The fire spread much more than you anticipated, and you watch as various items are thrown overboard in the chaos atop the deck. You keep low, only your head bobbing just above water in case they’re looking for you. Your limbs begin to tire quickly from treading water though, and you ache to let them rest. You look around, but the small boat you’d taken here is nowhere to be found. As the ship turns in its path, sailing in a blaze away from where you are, you allow yourself to swim away while seeking something to cling onto.

Perhaps the heavens are smiling upon you, you think as you catch sight of a large crate and barrel floating none too far from where you are. There is a length of rope tied around the barrel that is floating along the surface of the water, and in a momentary stroke of genius you use it to fasten the two items together.

There you go. A makeshift raft and your only floatation device for the time being.

After hauling yourself out of the water and onto the two items as well as you can considering their unstable floating nature, you take a moment to look around more than you did before. A sense of horror begins to sink into your bones as you realise, belatedly that you don’t recognise where you are and you don’t see any land nearby. You feel like an idiot—they must have pulled the anchor and left while you were on board. You have no idea which direction they went from the coastline, and therefore no idea where to go from here—not that you’d be making much headway with only your legs and arms for propulsion. Well… at least you freed that merman.

You flop back against the makeshift raft, glaring at the sky and pretending the wetness dripping down your cheeks is seawater and not tears. The chattering of your teeth and harsh nip of the air against your soaked form is another thing you ignore. You have such a mixture of emotions inside you that you have no idea how to even begin to unpack. It’s an acidic cocktail that climbs your oesophagus, burning your nose and behind your eyes. You don’t regret freeing the merman at all, but as the knowledge that you’ve lost the trail of the pirate king again and won’t have another opportunity like tonight for god knows how long sinks in, you feel a pit of hopelessness and despair opening up inside you. And deep within the pit, anger begins to bubble—at yourself, and the pirate king, hell even the moon. What did you ever do to her? You feel like she’s mocking you from where she sits, perched full and plump amongst the stars. Well, at least she isn’t alone.

Wiping the wetness from your face, you pull your legs from the water and curl up on the crate, trying not to tip it in the process. It’s cold, soaked to the bone as you were, and you feel regret despite not knowing which part of the night spawned it. Floating alone on the ocean in the aftermath of your assassination attempt gone awry, you’re left to your thoughts with only the moon and the inky depths of the ocean for company.

x     +     x     +     x     +     x

 One might think that chopping off the hand of your greatest nemesis would alleviate some of the rage you’ve held for them since childhood. One would be wrong, however. You don’t feel better at all.

You’ve been adrift for two days now. Objectively, not that long. But realistically, you’ve felt every second of it. You have enough loose clothing that you can cover your exposed skin from the sun, but you’re so hungry and so thirsty that you’re beginning to think maybe you should just let the elements claim you so you’re not suffering anymore. You’ve even considered drowning yourself, or praying to the heavens for a sea storm, a few times.

You’re being dramatic. You know this, and you’re annoyed at yourself. You can’t die, you won’t die—you refuse to accept death as an possibility in this scenario. Not when you still haven’t exacted the revenge you’ve been planning and plotting for so long. Instead of accepting your loss the other night, the day’s you’ve spent left to your own thoughts have done nothing but stoke the rage and regret inside you. You hate that man, and you wish you’d aimed for his throat that night instead of his stupid hand. You hadn’t killed him, hadn’t risked his life—you’d just managed to make him more of a pirate. Next time you see him, he’ll probably have a hook. If you see him, that is. The reason you’re so annoyed at yourself is because this feels like it was your one opportunity to carry out your plan and you fucked it up. Realistically, you probably won’t get another chance as perfect as that.

This kind of inner monologue was what plagues you in your waking hours. A part of you realises that it’s a defence mechanism, focusing on your anger so you don’t feel quite feel the hunger or the thirst as much. If you’re too busy thinking to be feeling how much your body is crying out for help, then perhaps it will increase your chances of survival. And you have to survive, because you have unfinished business here still.

As your second day melts into night, however, you realise that perhaps there’s another reason you’re feeding into the anger. Perhaps, an alarming part of you fears that you might not have a choice but to accept the direction your fate is currently headed. With each hour that ticks over and each pang of hunger and burn of thirst that torments your senses, you become a little more resigned to your fate.

x     +     x     +     x

It’s kind of miraculous you’ve been alive this long, in all honesty.

You can practically feel yourself melting into a delirium of sorts as the sun moves through the sky, warming you before the cool embrace of night. You think it’s been three days that you’ve been drifting. Again, not that long, but when you’re without drinkable water and have no method of getting any… well, let’s say you’re feeling it.

Your mouth and throat feel so dry and constricted that a part of you wonders if you’ll even be able to talk again, should you happen to survive this experience. You almost roll your eyes at yourself—why, on the brink of death, are you so dramatic? You don’t remember being like this, or maybe you have always been like this and are only noticing now because it’s the first time you’ve literally only had yourself for company for so long. Gods, you’re unbearable. Why had you attempted to kill the pirate lord when you could have just locked yourself in the room with him and tortured him that way.

The thought makes you let out a delirious little giggle, unfocused gaze directed to the stars. It’s your fourth night and you feel oddly at peace. At some point over the day the anger you felt bled away and now you’re just… existing. You’ve reached a point that you could probably call acceptance. Even now there’s a part of you that resists that notion, but it’s…. significantly quieter. Much easier to block out. In the absence of that particularly loud voice, you find your mind wandering. When the sunset bled into dusk you’d been thinking about whether anyone had ever counted how many stars there are in the sky. That was a few hours ago, and now you’re onto better, more evolved topics of mental conversation.

Like what would it look like, if the moon had oceans on it too?

It would probably have splotches of blue. Or, what if it was a different colour? Personally, you’re partial to purple. The idea of a purple-spotted moon makes you smile. Ah, if only.

Registering the familiar ache in your back that comes when you lay on it for too long, the odd angles and edges of your ‘raft’ most unkind to your squishy human body, you roll weakly onto your stomach with a sigh, resting your face on your forearm. Against your better judgement, you let your toes dip just barely into the water. The fact you’ve barely seen any sea life apart from a few fish this entire time alarms you more than it comforts you. You’d rather keep being safe than sorry, but it’s too taxing to hold your legs up constantly so you begrudgingly let them lower and hope its not your downfall.

You’re drifting off, dissociating a little as you stare at the moonlight glimmering along the water’s surface. The rocking of your crate and barrel structure is almost comforting at this point, a source of consistency and security. Your gaze is a little unfocused, and that is probably why it takes a while for you to register the sudden strange glimmer that the inky water before you adopts. You squint, staring a little harder. It’s like something is glowing, deep beneath the surface, luminescent greens and blues shining through the murky filter of the ocean to greet your eyes.

Great, now you’re hallucinating.

Except, it doesn’t stop and fade as you expect a hallucination would. Your apathy is replaced by a healthy dose of shock and alarm as the glowing object seems to grow closer, nearing the surface and brightening as it does. To your sudden horror, the closer it gets the more you are able to make out the shape, and it begins to resemble something big, moving quickly through the depths.

You don’t even have the energy to scramble back when whatever it is breaks the surface, merely pinching your eyes shut and hoping for a quick death if your time really has come. Tiny droplets sprinkle against your skin and apart from the soft sloshing of water, there is silence. Surprised and slightly unnerved, you peek your eyes open cautiously. The sight they take in you robs the breath from your lungs.

It's the merman.

You can barely take in your next breath from the shock and the way your heart stutters in your chest; you'd thought so before, but especially now in this moment, he is beautiful. His face is fuller, body healed and features less gaunt than when you last saw him. Inky hair curls across his forehead, droplets slipping in glimmering trails of moonlight down his face. Now that you're no longer at risk of being skinned alive by pirates, you can take your time and appreciate the pert slope of his nose, the strong set of his jaw and the high arch of his cheekbones. Raven, iridescent scales speckle his skin on the outskirts of his face and the outer edge of his eyes, which glimmer deep cocoa as they bore into your own. His shapely lips are held in a neutral line, parting slightly as he regards you.

It's easy to forget that the last time you saw him, you pushed him from the railing of a pirate ship.

There is something completely different about him from then, though. The glow that you'd glimpsed through the water earlier is in fact coming from a series of tattoo-like patterns that curl and sprawl over his skin, reacting to the moonlight and fading to obscurity in the shadows and valleys of his form.

For a moment, the two of you do nothing but sit and watch the other. His eyes sweep over you, taking in the tired and beaten nature of your crummy raft and limp body sprawled over it. It is ridiculous, considering you have spent the past however-many days refusing to accept death as your fate, but now you find your eyes stinging and your chin wobbling. How kind of the universe to provide you company in these moments that you realise suddenly really might be your last.

The merman is more than alarmed at the sudden reversal of your roles. He panics slightly, eyes widening and hands flying from the water, flinging droplets over your skin once more. His fingers twitch, hands moving towards your face before halting, hesitant.

You stare at him a moment longer, watching as his features shift ever so slightly with each thought that runs through his head. You're a little delirious, maybe, but also absolutely mesmerised. You can't stop marvelling, can't tear your gaze from his face-- gods, he's beautiful.

He opens his mouth, lips parting, and to your surprise you catch movement from the corner of your eyes-- gills, you realise quickly, that sit on either side of his neck underneath his jaw and flare before sealing closed as he attempts to take in oxygen. You watch his throat bob, as though he is trying to speak to you, but nothing comes out but a rasp and soft, wet, gurgle. He snaps his mouth shut, eyes sweeping over your sad body once more before a frown tugs his lips. He bobs lower in the water, the fluid lapping softly over glowing, marked shoulders.

This time, when he reaches forward with his hands, he no longer hesitates. His skin is surprisingly smooth, the pads of his fingers like silk as they brush over your cheekbones. They come away wetter than before and you realise belatedly that your eyes still sting and you are crying.

How embarrassing, you think distantly, yet you can't seem to stop.

He holds your gaze a moment longer, eyes darting over your face, before he leans back, putting a little bit of distance between you. He reaches out one hand, the other slipping into the water, and pats the top of your knuckles softly. In a way, it reminds you of the way pet owners tell their dogs to sit and stay. He lingers for another brief moment, and then before you can blink he suddenly drops back beneath the surface with a plop. The glow of his markings remain visible for only a moment before they, too, disappear from your sight.

It takes a second before alarm registers in you, and even longer for you to decipher the cause of the sudden gaping fissure of loss that splits your insides. You thought you were going to have company in the last moments of your life, you were relieved you weren’t going to die alone—but the merman just left as quickly as he came and you’ve never felt quite as gutted as you do now. You saved his life and for what? So he could leave you alone when you actually needed him? You realise distantly how irrational and overemotional you’re being, no doubt fuelled by delirium and all the other lovely things your days floating at sea have brought about, but you can’t help it. It’s a ridiculous thing to feel betrayed over—by a mythical creature you didn’t even know really existed until a few days ago, of all things—but still, it stings.

You don’t know how long you stare into the water miserably, but eventually your eyes begin to burn and, regrettably, you allow them to close. It’s not quite a proper sleep that you slip into, your body exhausted but still incredibly on edge, but something in between rest and waking. Hence, when the familiar sound of water rippling and parting as something breaks the surface greets your ears once more, you’re quick to rouse in alarm.

Eyes shooting open, your vision remains blurry for a moment before you blink it away and a gasp catches in your throat, your chest warming.

The merman came back.

He seems to realise that you thought he’d left for good, an apologetic expression filtering across his features. You sniffle, mouth and throat too dry to say anything, but your attention is drawn when he pulls his hands from the water. To your surprise, he is cupping something in his hold, a small treasure box of sorts that looks like it’s spent most of its life at the bottom of the ocean but would have gleamed gold in its prime. Perplexed and curious, you watch as he lifts the lid and retrieves something wrapped in green and an old, barnacle-decorated flask from within. Mindful of where your weight is distributed on the raft, he sets it next to you, waiting a moment to make sure it won’t fall. As soon as he sees it’s stable, he sets the wrapped item next to it, taking the flask into both hands.

With nimble fingers, he undoes the top and cleans around the neck and mouth of the bottle, revealing gleaming silver where the layers of sea grime have been wiped clear. He seems a little sheepish about its less than ideal state as you watch him, but is sure to wipe it as spotless as possible before he holds it out to you.

For a moment, you simply stare at it and wonder, does he know that you can’t drink seawater? Is it even water that is inside? Sniffling a bit, you shift just barely so you’re leaning on your elbow and sniff the mouth of the bottle where its offered to you. The indescribable but distinct, slightly-metallic smell of fresh water greets your nostrils and you blink in surprise, mouth falling open as you look to the merman in shock. He’s watching your reaction curiously, waiting patiently, and when he sees you’re not going to resist he carefully brings the container to your lips. You’re too shocked and excited at the prospect of finally having some water to ease the sticky desert in your mouth and throat to protest, allowing him to feed it to you with ease.

The second the water touches your tongue and slides down your throat like a liquid cure, you feel as though you could cry. You try and be as conservative with the water as possible, desperately trying not to let any escape your mouth as you gulp it down. All too soon though the flow of water comes to an end, the flask empty before you can completely sate your thirst. It almost makes you cry again, running out, but you focus on how grateful you are to have had any at all instead of moping further.

You sniffle, eyes stinging as an overwhelming wave of gratitude surges through you for the creature bobbing in the water before you.

“Thank you,” you manage to croak, throat and vocal chords aching slightly after days of remaining unused. You sniffle again, letting your face drop to your arm so you can wipe away the snot. “Thank you…”

When you manage to lift your head back up, the merman is smiling at you softly, a fond curve to his eyes. He screws the lid back on the flask, swapping it with the wrapped item he’d put down earlier. Feeling somewhat rejuvenated now you’re a little less dehydrated than you had been, you watch him a little more actively as he gingerly pinches the green material—which you realise now is seaweed—between his fingers and, with careful hands, unravels it from the item held within. Instantly, a salty, warm aroma wafts up to your nose and your mouth is salivating before it even registers in your head that you’re currently looking at food.

In his palms, cupped together to hold it better, is a neat line of fish that, upon closer inspection, appears to have been boiled. Curious as to how the merman had brought you cooked food but unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth, you send him a wide-eyed look. “For… for me?”

When he nods, you almost cry again. God, days at sea and you turn into the biggest crybaby to ever exist.

He waits as you gratefully and eagerly begin eating what he brought for you, retrieving chunks of fish and feeding you carefully. The flavour is bland but in this scenario it’s definitely not a deal-breaker. You’re so thankful that something edible is even touching your tongue, you don’t care that its boiled, unseasoned fish in the least. In all honesty, after days of eating nothing you think this might be the best meal you’ve ever had.

When you’re done devouring the fish, the merman folds the seaweed and tucks it back into the treasure box with the flask, closing the lid. He smiles as you thank him again, and holds up a hand as though telling you to wait. He ducks back beneath the water, but this time you’re hopeful that he’ll return.

And he does, not long after he disappears. Definitely a quicker trip than last time, although you suppose that is to be expected since he was gathering food and freshwater for you to drink. You have no idea how or where he got it from, but you’re eternally thankful either way.

He smiles at you as soon as he resurfaces, water dripping down his face and plastering inky strands to his forehead before he shakes his head and they fling up, curling away from his scalp wildly. Once more, you're mesmerised by the way the moonlight makes him literally glow-- from his luminescent marks to the way the iridescent scales glittering across his skin catch the light. If you peer further into the inky depths, you can just barely catch sight of the oil-slick tail curling and winding to tread the water and keep him afloat, wispy finds trailing behind it and glowing in a similar manner to the marks across his skin.

Tenderly, the merman reaches to brush some of the salt-crusted hair from your forehead, offering a small smile. You've only just finished munching and feel much more energised as a result of some actual food and water entering your body, but the second his fingers drag across your skin like silk it is as though all the exhaustion your body held in the past few days comes crashing down on you at once. Your eyes droop, and you struggle to keep them open because he's still here and you want to look at him while you can. You don't know if this was it, if this was what he was doing to repay you and you wouldn't see him after this. If that was the case, you wanted to remember everything about the way he looks and makes you feel in this moment.

The merman's lips curl slightly at the edges, apparently endeared by your struggle to remain awake, and he lifts his hands partly from the water to place them flat against the crate before they search for a groove in the wood that allows his fingers to find a proper grip. His body tilts and you don't notice it at first, as exhausted as you are, but soon catch on that he's turning your raft. Once he seems appeased by the direction it's 'facing', he adjusts his grip and leans back slightly. It takes you another moment to realise that he's actually pulling you in a certain direction, propelling the two of you steadily with his tail beneath the surface. What a sight you must be to anything that passes, you think. A girl lying draped across a barrel and a crate, being pulled by a glowing mercreature.

You wish to stay up, to watch the merman a little more. A part of you wants to talk to him, but you're also very aware that he can't respond and so it isn't much of a pressing matter to you. Gradually, the sound of the ocean and the gentle knocking of the water against your craft as it's dragged through the waves is enough to lull you to sleep. For the first time in a few days you welcome it, allowing yourself to go easily. The last thing you see before your eyes close fully is the merman's beautiful features tugged into a fond smile, illuminated by a halo of moonlight and a crown of stars.

x x x x x x x

Each night after that, the merman returns to keep you company. He always brings the same small treasure chest and a flask of fresh water, but to your pleasant surprise also tries to change up the food that he wraps in seaweed. So far you've been treated to a few different kinds of fish, some crab and other seafood that you admittedly don't know the name of. Some of them tasted better than others, but no matter what he brings you're grateful. He's the only reason you haven't perished out here.

There is a routine that the two of you have fallen into. Every time he comes, he will feed you and then return the items to wherever he retrieved them from. When he pops back up he grasps your 'raft' and does the same as he did the first night, pulling you through the ocean towards a destination that you don't know and have no way of inquiring about. You've since outgrown your hesitance to talk, and now chatter away aimlessly at him whenever he seems willing to listen. Some days he surfaces in a better mood than others, but always by the end of his visit you manage to have him smiling again. You only ever see him once the sun has fallen past the horizon and the moon has risen in her wake, but you swear that every time he flashes a soft smile at you the sun peaks back out for a moment to bask you in her warmth.

Call it sad or pathetic, but you're starting to develop a bit of a crush on this creature.

How can you not? When he has done nothing but go out of his way to help you and ensure you survive, feeding you and guiding you and keeping you company in the hours where you would otherwise be most prone to going insane bit by bit? You make sure to thank him every day, after every kind act he does for you, and even though he can't communicate as you do above the water it's clear he is aware of your gratitude.

The routine holds true for a few nights, although you lost count at some point you know a fair few have passed. One night, however, the merman doesn't show at the usual time; he's made a habit of popping up in the hour after dusk settles and when time ticks over and it becomes several hours past the time he usually arrives, you grow a little concerned. Well, concerned and a little sad. A part of you worries if he has finally decided to stop coming, and another, smaller part wonders if this whole ordeal was just an elaborate hallucination that resulted from your parched, starved state before you 'met him'.

Thankfully, the merman shows up; he rises from the depths with his telltale glow just before you're about to doze off, drooping eyes shooting wide open at the sight of him. You almost ask him where he was before biting your tongue on the matter, realising he wouldn't be able to answer you anyway. Instead, you allow your eyes to sweep over him for any clues that might suggest why he took longer than usual today.

You've accepted the fact that your mercreature friend quite literally glows in the moonlight, but tonight he appears especially radiant. It takes you a moment to realise that it's because the entire time since he broke the surface, the grin hasn't left his face. You're not sure what has happened in his world that he's so pleased about, but his happiness is apparently contagious. It completely washes away your earlier mood and you find yourself smiling as you chat to him in between bites of seaweed and fish.

Contrary to what you expect, when he finishes feeding you tonight (something he insists on doing even though you've long since regained the strength needed to feed yourself) he doesn't immediately dart off beneath the waves to return the treasure box. Instead, he places the box on the raft with the materials inside, then dips his hands beneath the water to reach for his waist. When they return above the surface they're clutching a small, woven pouch in their grasp. The merman seems almost giddy as he opens it up, nimble fingers tugging the twisted string loose enough to fit his hand inside.

You feel your mouth drop at the items he withdraws, presenting them in his damp hand for you to gaze upon. In his palm are three pearls; one white like a drop of pure moonlight, one shimmering, iridescent black like his scales, and one that gleamed pretty and nacreous with a soft undertone that, oddly enough, resembles the colour of your eyes. You're unable to help the way you stare at them in awe for a moment, before looking up to catch his gaze on you. Your head tilts as you send him a questioning look, unsure exactly what he wants from you.

He smiles, endeared by your mannerisms. He places his pouch beside you, using his now free hand to place his fingers on his lips. He then points them to the pearls in his palm, before moving them slightly closer to you. Your cheeks heat as you catch onto what he is trying to tell you.

"You... want me to kiss them?" you attempt to clarify, blush intensifying when he nods. "Why?"

His smile simply grows and adopts a somewhat cheeky edge, eyes curving with glee. His markings cast a soft glow on the pearls in his palm, but it's less strong now that he is holding them closer to you and further from his body.

You're a little embarrassed and bashful, but you suppose what is the worst that can happen? With warm cheeks you allow your head to dip and your lips to brush the pearls, careful not to kiss his palm on accident. For some reason that feels as though it would be a little too intimate, and you're already trying not to combust as it is.

To your surprise, when you pull your head back up the merman is positively beaming at you, something neither you nor your heart are really ready for. He grabs the pouch, quickly depositing them back inside before plopping it back in the water and fastening it around his waist; the only reason you can see what he is doing is because of the moonlight making him glow. He pats your hand with his own, the action he usually does to reassure you that he'll be right back, and then he's grabbing the treasure box and ducking beneath the surface as usual.

It feels like it takes a little longer for him to return this time, but you have no way of knowing for sure. He breaks the surface, still grinning, and goes about gripping the raft and beginning to tug it along as he usually does. You're a little ashamed to say that somewhere along the way, in between your one-sided chatter and admiration of his beauty, you fall asleep earlier than you usually do. It's probably due to the fact he appeared later than normal, but you digress. If you stayed up even a little longer, you'd probably have a little more of an idea about the scene that greets you when you crack your eyes open the next morning.

You wake up to the feeling of sand.

Admittedly, it is an alarming thing to wake up to when you've gotten used to sleeping with the feeling of rough, unforgiving wood beneath you and the rocking lull of the ocean. In the few seconds after you rejoin the world of the living to the familiar feeling of the sun beating down on you, there is a sense of acceptance that settles within your being. Then you move and grains of sand move with you and you're darting into a sitting position with wide eyes, blinking rapidly so your vision clears and you can see where the hell you are.

It doesn't take you long to figure out you're on a beach.

You scramble to a stand, legs incredibly wobbly and so unsteady you almost tumble several times before you manage to right yourself properly. Subconsciously your eyes sweep the strip of sand for the items that kept you afloat all this time, and you're strangely relieved to see them not too far from the indent in the sand where you must have washed up. God, you must have been knocked the hell out to wash up on a beach and stay asleep through the whole thing.

It's right about now that it really sinks in-- you washed up, you're on land right now. The realisation has your legs wobbling from shock and tears of happiness stinging your eyes, elation filling your chest. God, you didn't think you'd ever see land again! The urge rises within you to drop and kiss the ground and it takes all of your willpower to fight it. As happy as you are to feel sand beneath your feet, you're not exactly keen to have it anywhere near your mouth.

The sun is especially potent today, almost harsh against your skin even though it can't be any later than mid morning. You're relieved to have the option of shade, finally, and whip around to face the treeline behind you giddily. From here you can catch glimpses of hills and a small mountain, the island nothing massive but definitely no small matter. You can't help but envision it ripe with fresh water and foods of all kinds, incredibly optimistic now that you're no longer stranded at sea.

It hits you about three steps towards the treeline that the reason you were able to get here at all is  because of the merman. You feel a mixture of emotions swirling inside you at the sudden realisation, warmth blooming in your abdomen and climbing up your spine to bud and blossom behind your ribs. You owe that merman your life.

Despite knowing that you wouldn’t see him, you still can’t help but peer over your shoulder and let your eyes sweep across the horizon, searching for a small glimmer or even a bit of glow amongst the waves and the horizon. Nothing greets you, of course, but for some reason… for some reason you feel as though wherever he is, he isn’t all that far away. It soothes you, that feeling, and you turn to the treeline with renewed optimism and excitement.

Food other than fish and seafood, here you come!

x     +     x     +     x     +     x

The first night you spend on the island, the merman doesn’t come.

You don’t know why, but for some reason you’d just taken it for granted that come the setting of the sun and the rising of the moon, you’d see his cheery, glowing visage popping up amongst the waves as you usually do. In your scavenging of the forest near where you washed up, you manage to find a few fruits—some of which you recognise, thankfully—and you gather them in your shirt to bring back to the beach at nightfall, where you plop onto the sand and await the arrival of your fishy friend. You think that if you weren’t so exhausted you probably would have stayed up the whole night waiting for him. You crash, though, a few hours into the night, and it wouldn’t matter even if you try and push yourself and stay up. The merman doesn’t come.

On your second day occupying the island, you venture further inland and manage to find a cute little cave next to a crystalline lagoon of sorts, the bottom of which is so deep and blue you can’t even see where it ends. The cave on the other hand appears shallow from the outside, but has a considerable amount of room on the inside. You’re already planning to gather some wood and materials to block it off and make it a bit more habitable—after you clear out all the spiders and weird little lizards you see in there, though. You get some more fruit and food and begin a stockpile of sorts. When day bleeds into night and the moon’s rays kiss your skin once more, you head back to the beach and settle down, waiting once more. The merman doesn’t come.

The following days, the routine varies but always ends the same. When each day draws to a close, you finish what you’re doing and head to the beach where you washed up, settling down and waiting. With each day that passes and the merman doesn’t show, you begin to lose a little hope. Each time you fall asleep on the sand and wake to the warmth of the sun and an empty beach, the part of you that wonders if you’re just crazy and imagined the whole thing grows a little louder.

You miss him.

It doesn’t take you long to realise that in the short time you spent with him, you grew to like him, a lot. You also realise part of it is probably just that without him, your days at sea would have been incredibly lonely and no doubt would have driven you insane eventually. Perhaps you’ve grown a bit attached to him, but aside from that… you’ve grown to like him. Hell, he hasn’t ever uttered a word to you and he’s currently missing, but you miss the solace you found in his bright smile, his warm eyes and his… his glow, as stupid as that sounds.

It’s perhaps a week after you arrived on the island—something that you’re keeping track of with a little rock and tally in your cave— that the little routine you’ve settled into is disrupted. Contrary to how the rest of your days were spent, last night you curled up alongside the lagoon, the sand there a little softer than the beach, and admired the brightness of the stars against the deep ink of the sky—it was a fresh, waxing moon, and from that information you guess that you’ve been missing from civilisation for probably… around or a little more than three weeks. But the main point is that you fell asleep next to the lagoon instead of next to the ocean.

Which is why the sight you wake up to the next morning gives you such a heart attack.

These past few days you’ve woken up on your own, your body clock set to rouse you a few hours after sunrise. Today, however, it’s a persistent prodding that brings you from the clutches of sleep. Mumbling to yourself softly, you crack your eyes open and blink blearily; when your vision clears, it reveals a shockingly familiar face barely inches from your own. You scream.

The merman jerks back, eyes wide as you scramble away in fright, heart pounding against your chest and breathing uneven.

“What.” Your voice is sharp and strangled until you clear your throat and try again, managing to calm down a little. “What on… where did you go?!”

The merman seems amused that it’s the first time you see him in over a week, and that’s the first thing to come out of your mouth. You’re too shocked to see him the second you wake up—at daytime nonetheless!— to keep your tongue in check. You’re halfway to wondering how long he’s been there when you realise another important factor; you fell asleep next to the lagoon last night. Your eyes immediately dart down, and to your surprise you see that he’s leaning over the edge of the lagoon on his elbows, his body from hips-down immersed in the crystalline waters. You catch movement from the corner of your eye and when you direct your gaze to it, your jaw drops. His tail swirls behind him, long and graceful and so pretty with the fins trailing behind it like ribbons and glimmering, opalescent gossamer, and his scales gleam brilliantly in the sunlight. His markings aren’t activated, but the iridescent shimmer of his scales makes up for it you think. You sputter as he lays there watching you, amused. Just as you go to speak again, he opens his mouth and does the last thing you expect him to do.

“Miss me, did you?”

You balk, mouth dropping open at the deep and husky, velvety tone that brushes your ears; it appears to come from the merman, and it takes several long moments for the observation to settle in. When it does, you let out a belated noise of shock and scramble back over to the merman.

“What! Since when can you talk! Have you been able to talk this whole time?!” the words tumble out of your mouth so fast it’s a wonder he can keep up. He’s grinning at your current state of shock, incredibly amused and staring with a fond look in his gaze.

“No, I could not talk before,” he says, still speaking softly—it takes you a moment to realise it’s probably so he doesn’t strain this new voice. “My speech organs were not adapted to speaking above the water.”

“Wh—then why can you—how can you talk to me now?” you continue looking at him with wide eyes, still reeling from the barrage of shocking things you’ve been faced with this morning. The merman looks kind of dazed even as you fire more questions at him, chin resting in his palm as he stares at you somewhat dreamily. It has your cheeks warming and heart skipping a beat.

“I asked a sea witch for help,” he answers simply after a few moments, blinking once lazily before a slow, fond smile stretches his lips further. “She wasn’t very agreeable at first, I had to bribe her. Then, once she performed the spell, I had to wait a few days for it to take effect and for me to heal. That is why I was gone. I am sorry if I worried you, human.”

“You don’t have to apologise,” you say immediately, averting your eyes and scratching the back of your neck. “I’m… I’m sure you have a life, too. You know, one that doesn’t revolve around keeping some dumb human alive.”

The merman fights a smile at your words, a faux stern expression filtering across his features. “I wouldn’t spend my time keeping just any dumb human alive, you know. Only the ones I owe my life to.”

You can’t help the smile that slips onto your lips at that. “Sweet of you,” you note, head tilting as something occurs to you suddenly. “Wait—you had to bribe a sea witch? Is that why you brought those pearls?”

The merman shrugs, tail twisting and arching from the water for a moment. He slaps it back down and grins when you let out a gasp at the cool droplets of water that spray on you as a result. “Yes, and no. I bribed her with some precious things from my home, but the pearls I needed for the spell.”

You let out a noise to indicate that you understand, even though you don’t really. “Huh. Well, uh… I’m… I’m glad you came back. I was getting lonely. And thank you, you know… for keeping me alive and bringing me here, wherever here is.”

The merman sways slightly, leaning closer as he beams. Some of his raven locks fall across his forehead from the movement, just shy of his lashes that are still wet and clinging together.  “It’s no problem, pretty pearl. The least I could do, really.”

Now that he can talk to you he seems to be filled with a new sort of zest and confidence, his hand leaving where it was rested against his bicep to reach and brush a lock of your hair that hangs loose by your face. You flush, and he hums. “And this isn’t just anywhere. It’s my home, the centre of my kingdom.”

You must appear as confused as you feel because he lets out a low chuckle, eyes pinching shut in mirth. You’re disarmed to note that he’s just as beautiful and radiant in the sunlight as he is beneath the glow of the moon, honey skin glowing gold and oil-slick scales shimmering through a rainbow of colours as they catch the light.

“Beneath the water, pretty pearl,” he enlightens you, a fond note entering his tone. “This island sits atop a massive network of underwater cave systems that span for miles. It’s the centrepiece, the capital city in the Kingdom of Sand. This island is part of the highest collection of caves, where the royal family live.”

He lets out an amused snicker, “You’re essentially living on the roof of the palace.”

Your mouth drops open, your mind doing a double-take at the load of information it has just received. Your eyes sweep over him as your thoughts attempt to order, taking in the string of pearls and shells around his throat you hadn’t noticed before, along with the silver metal slipped over his fingers. The only reason you see them now is because they glint in the light as he moves.  

“The palace?” you squeak, thinking about how just yesterday you took a quick dip in one of the other deep lagoons on the island to clean yourself off a bit. “Oh no… will I be in trouble? Will you be in trouble? You’re in the water right now, are you allowed to be here?!”

The merman grins brightly, laughing loudly at your fluster and panic. “I don’t think someone would get in trouble for roaming their own home, pretty pearl.”

He only has to wait a moment for his words to sink in and an alarmed noise to tear from your throat. “Wh—you--?!”

The merman pushed off from the bank, bobbing in the middle of the lagoon; he bends his upper half in an attempt at a bow, one hand extending to the side as the tips of his hair brush the water. “Third prince of the Sand Kingdom and third in line for the throne, Jung Hoseok, at your service.”

When he returns from the position it’s to the sight of you gaping like a fish and he can’t help the loud laugh that tears from him once more.

Well. This is certainly something to think about.

x     +     x     +     x     +     x

 It admittedly takes you a while to recover from the abrupt discovery that the merman you saved from a pirate’s ship, and who then went on to save you in return, is the prince of an underwater kingdom.

One of seven princes, actually.

That was another little tidbit that left you reeling when you heard it. After you woke up to the merman, Hoseok, poking you awake that day, you spent a long time afterwards talking. Making up for lost time, you suppose. He filled you in on a lot of things, like where he went and even how he prepared some of the food you ate, when you asked (they use underwater geysers to cook the meat). With an almost alarming amount of ease, you sink back into a comfortable routine with him—it doesn’t matter to you that he’s a prince, because he still acts the same as before and hence you still treat him the same. It probably should alarm you, you might get in trouble, but you’re too busy enjoying his return to care in all honesty.

Upon your arrival on the island, Hoseok’s visitation schedule flipped from night to day. Well, you say that because he makes sure to wake you somehow each morning—he is an obnoxiously early riser—but really, most of the time he ends up keeping you company into the night-time hours anyway. On the days he can, that is. You learn quickly that the only reason one of the oldest princes can spend so much time away from his kingdom and with you is because every time he visits he is, in actuality, shirking his duties.

You find this out thanks to a new character that pops up in one of the lagoons as you’re bickering with Hoseok about fish one day (perhaps a dumb argument to be having with a merman, but you digress). The male has stuck to you the whole morning thus far, ducking into the water and popping up in the next lagoon or water hole wherever you venture next. The lagoons and water holes are all connected by caves beneath, something he truly enjoys taking advantage of. You’re in a quaint little nook of the island near the base of the mountain, a little alcove with a water hole and tall palms draping over to offer generous shade. There are a few large rocks lining the edge of the water, and you use these to lay your primitive tools down on. Being stranded on an island has brought out your inner survivalist, it seems. You wish to say you’re thriving but you don’t think you can stretch it that far.

Hoseok is floating on his back, propelling himself in circles around the small body of water with lazy rolls of his tail, his fingers tapping against the water surface to disrupt the tension. He’s particularly stunning today, the sun bathing him in gold and making him glimmer in more ways than one. You don’t think you’ll ever stop being amazed at his beauty, really. You do find yourself growing tired of his sass, though. You should have known from that first eyeroll on the pirate ship that he had a lot of attitude and no intention of containing it.

“You can’t argue that boiled fish is better than smoked fish when you’ve only ever tried one of them,” you tell him as you attempt to crack into a coconut with a large, jagged rock you found. You’re making progress, but it’s slower than you’d like. “That’s biased.”

The merman snorts, closing his eyes and splashing some water over his face and chest to keep himself cool. “It’s not biased, it’s called being right.”

You have to take a moment so you don’t clutch the rock too tight, consciously loosening your grip. God, he’s annoying—you like him a little too much.

“Well, you’re wrong so you’re not very good at being right,” you shoot back, before a sudden thought occurs to you and you turn to him accusingly. “On the topic of fish, if you’re a prince and third in line for the throne then why did all the fish you brought me taste so bland? Don’t you have chefs?”

At this, Hoseok lets out an offended noise and splashes into an upright position. His voice is indignant as it pierces your ears, and when you look up his cheeks have warmed to a bright pink, his ears suffering a similar fate. “Excuse me? I made that myself, it was not bland.”

For a moment you feel a little guilty for calling his cooking bland, then it hits you that he cooked for you to keep you alive and you can feel your cheeks flush with heat barely a split second later. To distract from the embarrassment, you open your mouth to fire something back. You don’t get to say anything though, because another voice cuts through the space that is neither Hoseok’s nor yours.

“So this is where you’ve been zipping off to all secretive every day, hyung.”

Hoseok jerks in alarm, water splashing about as he whips around to face a figure that you just now notice has popped up to the edge of the water hole. It’s another merman, you gather from the shimmer of scales you glimpse beneath the surface of the water, with big brown eyes and a messy mop of dripping black hair. His wide eyes flick between your shocked self and Hoseok, who is only just recovering from the fright, and a small smile of mischief curls his lips.

“Jungkookie,” Hoseok’s voice sounds in a warning, but you can tell there’s no bite behind it. From the fond set of his eyes as he regards the other male and the affectionate twinge hidden deep in his tone, you hedge a bet that this must be one of his brothers. “Shouldn’t you know better than to sneak up on people—namely, on me? And what are you doing here?!”

“I followed you when you left this morning,” the male says without a shred of fear for any repercussions, voice smooth and clear as his gaze fixes on you. He wades over, close enough for you to catch the fiery glimmer of cherry scales embedded in his skin that gleam sunset in the light, curious eyes never leaving you as he continues to talk. “I wanted to pop up earlier but Taehyung needed my help with something, so I left then came back. This is where you’ve been coming, huh?”

He turns to Hoseok now, a teasing grin tugging his lips despite the somewhat nervous way his fingers come to play with the gold pearls around his neck. “The others are going to tease you if they find out you’ve been keeping a pretty human girl all to yourself.”

Hoseok flushes deeply, attempting to hide it behind a glare he directs to the other. “They won’t find out if you keep your mouth shut, Jungkookie.”

The merman giggles, the nature of the sound letting you know he most definitely isn’t going to keep his mouth shut, and turns back to you. “Of course, hyung. It’s nice to meet you, by the way. I’m Jungkook, seventh prince of the Sand Kingdom and the one stuck with picking up all the duties Hoseok-hyung has been shirking when he comes to visit you, at your service.”

You direct an amused look to Hoseok, the merman in question looking a little more than mortified. “I’m y/n. I found your brother on a pirate ship and pushed him overboard. It’s nice to meet you.”

At your words, the doe-eyed male lights up. He lurches forward, upper half propelling from the water enough that he’s able to snatch your hands in his grasp. You nearly get pulled in before he stabilises himself, but still end up bending slightly.

“That was you! You’re the one that saved him?” He seems to be in awe, looking upon you in open admiration. “Hoseok was missing for so long, we—we feared the worst. Then he suddenly came home all beat up and told us what happened. He was kind of grounded but he kept leaving without telling us where he was going and escaping the guards anyway.”

Hoseok huffs at this, preening slightly. You snort.

“Was he sneaking out to see you this whole time?” Jungkook asks, hands still cupping yours tightly. Even if you wanted to, you realise that you can’t even think of lying to him when he looks up at you with those big starry eyes like that.

“Uh, yeah,” you answer, kind of sheepish and slightly guilty for getting Hoseok in a little trouble. “I was kind of stranded at sea and he kept me alive by bringing me food and water and uh… bringing me here.”

The young merman looks up in awe for a moment, blinking as your words sink in, before he’s dropping your hands and lurching away with a gasp. He propels himself over to his brother and latches on in a flurry of cherry scales and chaotic splashes.

“Aww, Hoseok-hyung!” he coos, the older grimacing and attempting to peel him off. The familiarity of brotherly antics makes you grin uncontrollably, a warm feeling settling in your chest and tickling the bottom of your ribs. “That’s so kind of you! Who knew you were so soft? Wait until the others—”

“Jungkook if you spill a single word—” Hoseok’s protests are met by a splash and he sputters incredulously. You get the feeling Jungkook is a bit of an unstoppable force.

“—they’re going to be so impressed!” the younger male releases his brother, but only to zip back to you and clutch one of your hands again. “Will you meet them? They’ll want to meet you for sure!”

"Uhh," you drag the sound out, eyes flicking between the two for help. Hoseok appears somewhat panicked and in the spirit of winning in some way after the argument you were in, you decide on an answer. "...sure."

Jungkook positively beams at you, alarming you with the sight of bunny teeth and, right next to them, sharp incisors. You suddenly wonder if Hoseok has a mouth of sharper than usual teeth as well and you just haven't noticed or if it's a Jungkook-only thing.

"Excellent!" he shakes your hand in his grasp, almost tugging you into the water on accident from the slightest bit too much strength he has in the motion. "They're a bit busy with their duties so I'm not sure when, but definitely—"

"Jungkook," Hoseok's voice breaks the bright-eyed male from his thoughts, levelling him with a glare as he turns over his shoulder in question. "You have ten seconds to leave before I seal your mouth shut myself."

In all honesty, you doubt Hoseok would actually follow through with the motion but the promise in his voice makes you shiver for Jungkook— who, to your minimal surprise, seems to be largely unaffected by it. He does grin however, his eyes adopting a mischievous glint, and he releases your hand to wade away, body shifting into a prepared stance.

"You won't do it," he teases obnoxiously, and it's such a little brother thing to do that for a moment you're overtaken by a wave of fondness and sadness that mix together in a peculiar cocktail inside you.

“Would you like to stay and find out?” Hoseok’s brows shoot up, water sloshing as he straightens and advances slightly. “I’ll start counting now—one… two….”

Jungkook wriggles in the water, squinting like he is trying to suss out whether his brother is going to follow through or not.

“three… four… five… six…”

Jungkook has the biggest grin on his face, incredibly amused, and you catch the moment that Hoseok realises that his brother is calling his bluff. Annoyed, he changes tactics and lurches forward to dive for the cheeky merman who is testing his patience so.

“—seven-eight-nine-ten!”

Jungkook lets out an alarmed yelp that melts into a laugh before he is spinning and diving into the water, just barely managing to dodge Hoseok’s arms as they swipe through the air where he was. The older male spears his hands into the water in a half-hearted attempt to catch his tail but it seems the younger is too quick. You watch, barely restraining a laugh, as glimmering cherry and inky hair disappear into the deep blue depths of the lagoon. A moment passes and then it’s just you and Hoseok alone once more.

In the few seconds that filter past in the aftermath of the visit, you realise something suddenly that has you turning to Hoseok immediately for an answer. “Wait… if your anatomy isn’t suited to speech above water, and you had to bribe a sea witch, how was he…?”

Hoseok, significantly less agitated now his younger brother is gone and out of his hair, turns to face you, rolling onto his back in the process. The water embraces him tenderly as he does so, tail beginning to resume the lazy propulsions from earlier.

“Ah, Jungkook did the same thing as me—although, much earlier. He is how I knew what to do.” It’s an explanation, but you’re still a little curious and from the amused curve to the merman’s lips, it’s obvious. “He is the youngest and has always had the most freedom—of us, he is probably the most curious about humans too. He went to a sea witch long ago so that he could have a voice that worked above water and he could communicate with them.”

A fond smile slips over his features now. “But contrary to what you just saw, Jungkookie is a little shy… if I weren’t here, I doubt he would have revealed himself to you. He’s always been too shy to reveal himself to any humans and actually use the voice he got. The most he’s done is sing to pirates and make them fall overboard, I believe.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you at that, and it widens the smile on Hoseok’s face in turn. When you catch the fond way he regards you for a moment, your whole face heats in a blush.

“Well, at least he got to use it just then,” you muse. Hoseok lets out a laugh and agrees, taking a moment to dip himself into the water completely and refresh before resurfacing with a bright smile.

“By the way, where were we? I believe I was telling you how wrong you were?”

You roll your eyes so heavily you almost see stars and the merman erupts into laughter once more. Here you go again—is he really a better alternative to being alone on the island? You suppose you’ll find out.

x     x     x     x     x     x

 In due time, you actually get to meet all of Hoseok’s brothers. You thought you had a lot to deal with, when your siblings were still around, but you realise it was nothing compared to the chaos of six siblings—brothers, no less—all in a similar age range.

Next after Jungkook, you meet the other two youngest in the family. The twins who, while aren't identical in appearance, are definitely identical in their inclination to trouble and mischief and make sure you know it. You've heard the phrase double trouble thrown around every so often regarding twins in your town, but it wasn't until you encountered Jimin and Taehyung that you really understood the implications of it.

Your very first meeting with them, they choose to wake you up in Hoseok's stead with sprinkles of salty water and by prodding you with a soggy stick. Needless to say, rousing from sleep to the sight of two unfamiliar faces crowding close to yours, lower bodies immersed in the water of the lagoon you'd mistakenly fallen asleep next to again, gives you the absolute fright of your life. They let out melodious peals of laughter at the borderline screech you emit, one a low baritone and the other a complimentary airy, lilting tenor. Hoseok pops up with a menacing glare not long after and proceeds to smack the both of them for frightening the life out of you, but nonetheless their first impression is made and you're now all the wiser to the cheeky, playful antics of Hoseok's youngest siblings.

"But it's boring down there!" the merman with the low voice and dark brown hair that curls endearingly at the nape of his neck— Taehyung, you learn quickly— whines to his older brother. Hoseok has just told them to go away and annoy one of their other brothers, but to no success thus far. "Everyone else is busy doing their duties. I really thought Yoongi was going to kill me when I swam near him earlier."

Hoseok remains steadfast, arms crossed over his chest as he stares with narrowed eyes at the twins. Jimin, with his inky hair and pink-toned tail, is grinning unabashedly at him. Hoseok retorts, "You have duties too, you know. Do you want me to tell our parents you're shirking them again?"

At the panicked protests that follow, you presume Hoseok has found his leverage. Begrudgingly, the two mermen slink back into the water, but not without sparing you longing, curious gazes that tell you they’re most definitely going to be back to bother you soon. When they finally disappear beneath the surface, Hoseok lets out a huff and you have to laugh.  When you question him as to how those two brothers managed to speak above water, he informs you somewhat sheepishly that all of his brothers went about getting the ability to speak since they learnt of you from Jungkook. You’re quite a popular topic of conversation beneath the water, it seems.

You don't even get a whole day to recover from that particular meeting when you run into another of his siblings. The rest of the morning you spent with Hoseok, him giving you tips on catching fish—which you found incredibly funny by the way. Eventually he had to dip back beneath the surface as well and you needed to gather some things from the island—you’re in the process of making a little hut-slash-some-walls for that ideal cave you found, and need more materials.

In your venturing, you stumble upon another little water hole you’ve not been to yet and immediately halt in your steps, eyes wide as you take in the sight before you. Yet another merman greets your eyes, with soft black hair gleaming like silk in the sun and his deep blue tail shimmering like a glittery extension of the water. He’s sprawled over a large rock lazily, soaking in the sun, and it takes you a moment upon glancing to his face to realise that he is asleep.

Well, was asleep. Not long after you look to his face one of his eyes cracks open and you let out an alarmed squeak at being caught staring and intruding upon whatever private moment he was having.

The merman huffs, letting out a great, deep breath and then a yawn before he rolls onto his stomach on the rock and rests his face in his palm, gaze on you.

“You’re Hoseok’s human, right?”

You fluster for a number of reasons at his words, but namely because you realise he must be one of Hoseok’s brothers if he’s talking to you, and because he’d called you Hoseok’s human. The butterflies that erupted in your stomach at that are something you’re not quite ready to delve into yet, so you push them to the backburner and decide to move forward and talk instead.

“If you mean the one he met on the pirate ship, then yes.”

The merman lets out a hum, gaze burning with curiosity as it sweeps over you. You come to a stop by the edge of the water hole and plop down, crossing your legs. The merman watches the movement, absolutely fascinated.

“Ah yes, you are the one.” He simply stares at you for a moment before continuing, “I’m Yoongi, second in line.”

You note already from this interaction that he is very to-the-point and can’t help but wonder at the stark contrast some of the brothers’ personalities are to one another. He lets his free hand drop to the surface of the water and his fingers to wriggle and make ripples. A cool breeze filters through the air and you can’t help but wonder if he gets cold like he is, with half of his body in the water and the rest exposed to the elements.

“y/n,” you return the sentiment, smiling. “Nice to meet you.”

So far you’ve enjoyed meeting all of Hoseok’s brothers— yes, even the twins from this morning— and Yoongi proves to be no exception. He’s very calm, easy to talk to, and as you find out he is also very upfront and blunt. He tells you not long into your meeting that he isn’t actually meant to be up here napping, but that he is avoiding one of the princely duties he has that he finds to be most laborious. He even goes so far as to tell you that you’ll probably meet another brother soon, because they usually get sent to retrieve him.

He’s not far from the truth, it seems, as the two of you can’t have been there more than ten minutes before another unfamiliar head is popping from the water, and then another barely a split second later.

“Yoongi,” the first merman that popped up says this flatly, looking unimpressed. “I swear, if you don’t stop running away from your dance lessons I’m going to chain you to the palace walls. If I have to suffer and dance, then so do you.”

Perplexed if not incredibly amused, you simply sit and watch the interaction for a bit. Yoongi groans, exaggerated and full-bodied, slipping from the rock and back into the water with a sulky splash.

“You’re such a buzz kill, Seokjin. I can’t believe they sent you after me.”

“Well, technically they sent both of us,” chimes the other merman that had popped up, the only one of the two that had actually noticed your presence. He seems a cross between curious and alarmed, but appears to be leaning more towards the former. As he observes how at-ease Yoongi is in your vicinity, he seems to connect the dots and realise who you are.

“They’re so persistent these days,” Yoongi grumbles, yawning and splashing his face with a cupped handful of water. “I can barely catch a break.”

“You do nothing but catch breaks,” the first merman, Seokjin as you gather, speaks again, seeming a cross between amused and annoyed. His brother, the one who had already noticed you, bumps him with his elbow after he’s done speaking and nods his head in your direction; it takes all you have not to laugh when the Seokjin’s mouth drops open the second he catches sight of you.

“Wh— Yoongi, you’re skipping your duties to consort with humans?!” he chokes on his words almost, they come out so rapidly. “What are you, Hoseok?”

At that, you let out a snort, and Yoongi looks like he’s trying desperately not to crack his smooth-faced façade and laugh. He gives his brother the moment that is needed for him to have the realisation that lingers on the horizon, imminent; none of you have to wait long before Seokjin spins around suddenly, whipping to face you and splashing water everywhere in the process.

“You’re Hoseok’s human!” he proclaims, pointing a finger your way. The sandy locks atop his head drip water onto his cheekbones, wet lashes fluttering in his incredulity. “I was wondering where you were hiding! I thought for sure we would have met you before now. Hoseok is better at keeping you to himself than I thought, it seems.”

You’re unsure what to say, but you’re a little flustered, your cheeks warming slightly. You settle for a simple introduction. “Ah, yeah… I’m y/n. It’s nice to meet you.”

At once, the sandy-haired merman (who you’ve gathered is quite the flamboyant character by this point) dips into a bow. You still don’t understand how they can do that when they’re bobbing like buoys in the water, but he does it with perfect form.

“Seokjin, crown prince, at your service.” His voice is significantly more honeyed than earlier, and you don’t doubt he’s playing it up a little bit for show. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet the human everyone has been raving about beneath the surface.”

You feel your cheeks heat even more at that comment, but don’t get too long to dwell on it before the third merman currently before you wades closer, offering you a kind, dimpled smile. His hair is a similar sandy colour to Seokjin’s, although in a different style that definitely works well to flatter his features.

“I’m Namjoon, fourth in line,” he introduces, offering a hand for you to shake. Surprised that he knew of the human custom, you shake it and grin at him. He continues after releasing your hand. “It really is nice to be able to put a face to the name.”

This time you really can’t fight the blush that colours your cheeks. “Gosh, is everyone really talking about me that much down there? How embarrassing…”

At this, Yoongi lets out a chuckle and Namjoon appears sheepish. Seokjin merely grins. “You’re a hot topic of conversation among the royal family, it seems. Lucky you!”

While part of you is strangely flattered, the rest of you feels anything but lucky. How are you supposed to know what kind of things they’re saying down there when you can’t even breathe underwater, let alone listen?

You decide you’ll just have to let it go—you can’t control what they’re saying, and can only hope its good things. After all, none of Hoseok’s brothers seemed to dislike you at all, as far as you’re aware.

Contrary to what Seokjin and Namjoon said they’d come to do—that being retrieve Yoongi and drag him back to whatever duty he was shirking—they end up staying above the surface with you a little longer. You’ve noticed they’re very curious, these mermen, and completely and utterly eager to know everything they can about the world above their own. They’re willing to pull every single detail they can from you, particularly about different types of foods and their tastes, in Seokjin’s case.

You end up talking well into the afternoon, until Hoseok eventually surfaces and sends them a grumpy look for hogging your time (“I looked everywhere for you!” he’d exclaimed the second he broke the surface). But really, you don’t mind how long you spent simply chatting with them. Hoseok, and his brothers, are somehow all the loveliest, kindest beings you’ve ever met. You don’t regret a single second you spend in their presence. Plus, being around them and bearing witness to their playful bickering and sibling antics is… nice. It makes you feel like you’re part of something, even as a spectator of sorts. It’s the closest you’ve felt to having a family in a long time.

It’s nice, and you can’t help but notice that the part of you that longs to stay and continue existing here, in this bubble of happiness and simplicity you’ve found yourself in, seems to grow larger and larger by the day.

x     x     x     x     x  

You’ve made a lot of fond memories on this island, in the little time you’ve been here, but even as bright as your days have been and as peaceful as your nights spent bathing in moonlight, happiness would mean nothing without the lows to balance it out.

It is one such low that you find yourself in tonight.

You’re not quite sure where Hoseok is, or what really spun you into this peculiar mood in the first place, but you’re actually a little grateful that you have this moment to yourself.

It seems that tonight, as the moon gleams across the surface of the ocean and casts the sand in a cool blue glow, it is the time to fall into a brief moment of introspection. You’ve been nothing short of content lately, really, and that shouldn’t be something to give you pause. But the reason you’d ended up here, on this island with all these new friends, in the first place… was because your life prior was anything but full of content.

The only reason you’d pushed on, really, had been your drive for exacting revenge upon Ezra, the Pirate Lord who had cost you everything. It had been your sole reason for living, at times— the only reason you ate, slept, did what you needed to keep yourself in a state of survival. Objectively, it’s very pitiful—possibly the worst way you could have possibly handled the grief thrust upon you so suddenly. But when you’ve been relying on a reason such as that for so long, used it as a crutch and clutched to it as tightly as you have, what are you supposed to do when the cause you’ve shaped your life around begins to lose meaning to you?

That is kind of what you’re dealing with now.

The only reason you’d have to leave this island, would be to chase down the Pirate Lord and continue where you left off in exacting your revenge before the whole merman hitch in your plans. Your life, as it is in this moment, currently has nothing else to offer as motivation or drive. Your life outside of this island existed around tracking that pirate and counting down the days until you could pay him back for what he did to you. So if you left, what would you have to return to except a life that you could barely say you were really living?

You’re coming to realise and accept that, really, you don’t want to leave. Somehow, at some point, following the plans you’d spend years forming and killing Ezra began to mean less to you than staying here on this island with a bunch of royal mermen and yourself for company. That’s how it is now, you’re realising. The blazing inferno of rage and hatred inside of you that drove you for so long has begun to fade and you don’t quite know what to do with yourself in the absence of its scorching, all-encompassing heat and the light, airy contentment and happiness that has replaced it.

You’re not sure how long you spend ruminating on this, turning it over again and again and again in your head, but it is probably a few hours. You’re a little scared of this development, unsure and apprehensive. A part of you knows the right path to take, knows what you will have to let go off, but for now… You don’t think you’re ready quite yet to face it.

“Got a lot on your mind, pretty pearl?”

You jump almost a foot in the air, nearly slipping from the large rock you’re perched so precariously on. At the sound of Hoseok’s voice, you wonder how the hell you’re hearing it—before you remember a split second later that instead of the beach, you’d chosen to spend this night thinking on the strip of rocks that extends into the shallows of the ocean. The rock you’re sitting on is massive and in the water where it’s deep enough for Hoseok to swim, evidently. You wonder how he found you when usually you’re by one of the water holes further inland of the island.

When you turn to face him, it’s hard not to let all the air your lungs hold escape in a stunned whoosh. As always, the merman is beautiful, and beneath the moon’s rays his markings glow and he’s positively radiant.

His dark hair is still dripping from his time beneath the surface, curling cutely across his forehead. His scales glimmer in the moonlight and his eyes are large and hold something indecipherable in their depths as they regard you. He has draped his upper half over the rock beside you and is resting his chin on his hand as he stares your way. It makes your stomach flutter and dip.

“You could say that,” you say, still trying to calm your heart from the fright he gave you. Hoseok blinks up at you, waiting patiently in case you want to disclose more. You let out a sigh, figuring that you may as well.

“I was thinking… about the Pirate Lord, the one that held you hostage.”

You might have expected Hoseok’s features to contort into a look of distaste, and you do see the barest traces of a frown around his lips, but to your surprise his expression overall remains somewhat neutral. If anything, he seems curious as to where you’re going with this.

“That oaf?” the merman questions, eliciting the barest smile from you. “What did he do to have the privilege of occupying your thoughts?”

The soft smile on your lips turns to a grimace before you can stop it, and Hoseok seems to sense his folly. He retracts slightly, before moving forward and reaching to brush your hand. You welcome the touch, turning your palm up, and he wastes no time grasping your hand and intertwining your fingers, playing with your fingertips.

“When I was much younger, barely a teenager, my younger siblings and I accompanied my parents on a trip to an island about a day’s sail away.” A heavy, unsteady breath leaves you as you try to order your thoughts and keep yourself in check. It has been long enough since the incident that you no longer cry when thinking about it, usually, but still… you are feeling especially vulnerable tonight. “My parents had two different professions, but shared a common ground. My mother cooked for high-end restaurants and my father was a healer. They were going to the island for ingredients, since it was meant to have an abundance.”

You can almost feel Hoseok’s eyes sweeping over your features as you continue. “They didn’t want to leave us alone, and thought it would be a nice few days to spend together, so they took us along. It went well, for the most part. It was on the trip back that things went sour.”

Biting your lip, you sniffled slightly before pushing on. “The small ship we’d paid to ferry us had the misfortune of crossing the path of a pirate ship on the way back. It was Ezra’s ship, and when they boarded they were ruthless. They took everything, all the wealth and supplies…. He took everything, including my family.”

“The only reason I wasn’t killed that day,” you sniffle once more, eyes stinging. “Was because my mother pushed me overboard. She didn’t get to push my siblings after me before the pirates got them. And I… I watched as bodies fell into the water around me, and the pirates stripped that ship bare. I watched as they sailed away, leaving nothing but destruction and despair in their wake. I…”

“I somehow managed to get back onto the ship, because I knew I’d probably get eaten by sharks if I stayed in the water—or I’d drown. I was found a few days later by chance, but… I’ll never forgive that pirate for what he did. I can’t. That’s why I was on the ship that night,” you say, your voice choking only slightly in your throat as you turn to face Hoseok. “I went to kill him.”

To your surprise, Hoseok’s eyes are glistening as he stares at you, lips pressed together but chin wobbling slightly. “I’m sorry, y/n…”

His voice is huskier, rougher than usual in his upset as it greets your ears—you hurry and smack his hand gently, reprimanding. He jerks in surprise, eyes shooting wide. “It’s not your fault, silly boy. I’m glad I ended up finding you, and pushing you overboard. I was going to set the whole ship on fire, you know. I don’t think that would have fared well for you.”

Hoseok musters a laugh. “No, probably not,” he agrees.

You chuckle a little as well, allowing a small blanket of silence to fall between you for a moment. A part of you wants to continue, to spill the rest of your thoughts to the sweet merman currently tracing patterns over the back of your hand with his thumb, but you don’t even know how to begin processing them yourself. A lot of the mess in your mind and heart aren’t even thoughts yet, still in the rudimentary stages where they exist as nothing but pure feelings and energies, and have yet to be dissected by your rational mind. You think that tonight you’re a bit too tired to begin that process.

Distantly, you register the sound of shuffling beside you, indicating that Hoseok is shifting, and think nothing of it. That is, until his hand tightens around yours just moments before he hauls back and gives a firm tug to your arm that pulls you completely off balance.

“HOSEOK—!” you shriek, flying from the rock with how hard he yanked you. You tumble into the water, deep enough that you can’t touch, with only Hoseok’s grip on your hand tethering you to anything solid. Your entire form is immediately drenched in cool water, salt gracing your tastebuds and burning your nose a little.

When your head breaches the surface you direct your glare to the merman that seems entirely too happy with himself.

“What the hell, Hoseok?!” you cry, shaking your head slightly and blinking away the salty water. Your legs do their best to keep you above the water, and you let out an ‘eep!’ as something smooth and cool brushes your ankle, followed by something wispy. Hoseok’s tail, you realise belatedly.

Seeing that you’re struggling to tread water with one of your hands bound in his, the merman takes the liberty of pulling you closer to him; the sea is calm today, and only the gentlest rocking of waves lap against your skin as you draw closer. The second you’re within reach and his hand comes to clutch your waist, you grip his arm with your free hand.

The merman laughs at how you cling to him, freeing your hand so that he can slip both arms around your waist and entwine his hands at your lower back. You can feel your cheeks warm, face overwhelmingly hot, and your heart pattering against your chest overexcitedly.

“I’m about to cheer you up,” he says sweetly, confidently, with the brightest smile. You can’t stop the way any annoyance you feel instantly flees your body, form going slack in his grasp. He’s more than strong enough to hold you up, his powerful tail treading below you and pushing the two of you a little further out to sea, presumably so he has more room to move.

“I’m not that sad,” you argue weakly, unable to help the fond twitch of your own lips. Hoseok laughs, adjusting his hold on you and making your heartrate spike.

“No sadness is better than a little sadness!” he says, finally coming to a halt a little further out than the rocks. You know for sure you can’t touch here, and wonder what exactly he’s up to that requires pulling you into the water with him. “In my experience, something that always cheers me up is dancing. So…”

Your brows shoot up, an undertone of panic seeping into your voice, “Wait, you remember I can’t breathe underwater right?”

Hoseok rolls his eyes, drumming his fingers against your lower back and getting them caught in the floating material of your shirt. “Yes. Merfolk dance underwater but that doesn’t mean you have to, sweet pearl.”

You keep your suspicious gaze on him for a moment, but decide to go with it when he begins to clutch you closer and use his tail to spin the two of you around. The water sloshes and laps at you as you move through it, a giddy feeling entering your stomach.

“That’s good,” you smile, meeting his eyes and feeling yourself grow trapped in their glimmering depths. “I don’t feel like drowning tonight, you know?”

Hoseok lets out a tinkling laugh, head tilting back from the force of it. When he returns his gaze to yours, he doesn’t say anything. He simply smiles, and begins to spin the two of you faster.

Fluidly, with grace you’re not surprised that he possesses, Hoseok spins and twirls the two of you. When it seems you grow comfortable with the movement he’s set up, he begins to branch out and twirl you a little differently. He begins humming his own little tune and grips your waist to lift you into the air slightly—it pulls a flustered shriek from you and it takes all he has not to break his tune to laugh.

Spin you in, spin you out—every time he pulls you back to him he leans in and brushes his nose against yours, nuzzling against your cheek just barely. You can barely keep up with the overexcited beating of your heart, stomach a maelstrom of butterflies, and can’t contain the soft laughter that bubbles up from the depths of your being at his cute antics.

He said that he would cheer you up, and that’s exactly what he does—it has to be the early hours of the morning but you’re wide awake and all you can focus on is the warmth where his body meets yours and the gentle caress of his fins, his hands, his nose against your own. It feels like your heart is about to burst.

Dancing in the waves with him, it’s as though your heart has never before known pain, heartbreak, or grief. He lights the darkest parts of your world with his moonkissed glow and his beaming smile, and you never want it to end. Just for tonight, you allow yourself to bask in the realisation that has been haunting you so persistently lately, allow the magic of the moon and its light to wash over you.

You want to stay. And here in Hoseok’s arms, you can’t imagine feeling any other way.

x     x     x     x     x     x

“I still stand by what I said—I think this cave is a little too risky for you to be adventuring in…”

Brow raised, you send Hoseok a probing look over your shoulder. It’s been almost a week since that night spent dancing beneath the moon, and Hoseok has hardly split from your side since.

“I’ve been in this cave before? We’ve both been in this cave before?” You pat one of the rocks jutting from the wall, as though to emphasise its sturdiness and reliability. “What makes you say this now? Every time I’ve come in to get those berries you’ve accompanied me and never said anything before.”

Hoseok shifts, tip of his tail lashing near the surface of the water and leaving ripples in its wake. He seems uncertain, yet somehow also determined. It’s an interesting combination and you wonder how it is that he has it.

“I don’t know,” he says, voice trailing off. “Something just feels… off, today.”

You tilt your head, surveying him for a moment. The merman appears a little conflicted, having this sensation within him but not knowing the cause. He continues to follow you deeper into the cave, however, eyes sweeping over the rocks and water as he bickers with a little less zest than usual. Luminescent algae are what illuminate your path, glowing from beneath the water and scattered in patches across the cave wall. The channel of water he’s swimming in alongside your narrow rock path isn’t consistent, and before long he’s popping in and out of small water pools to keep up. He disappears for a while, a long stretch of rock between the pool he was just in and the next one, and when he resurfaces he still seems a little on edge. You’re curious as to what has him so uneasy, but don’t want to give him the excuse to drag you out by humouring him. You want those berries, damn it!

You get far enough into the cave and close enough to the berries you’re eagerly searching for that you all but dismiss Hoseok’s worries completely from your mind. That is, until something happens that proves they were warranted. It’s no one’s fault, of course. It couldn’t have occurred if the cave wasn’t structurally compromised in the first place.

When you next step, your hand rests a little too hard on a rock that is a little too unstable in the structure. It comes loose, falling into the water with a pronounced plop, and both Hoseok and yourself are still in silence for a moment. Then there is a great, grinding creak and the wall the rock came from begins to crumble and tumble. One harsh sound of rock smacking into rock greets your ears before it duplicates, again and again in barely milliseconds so that you’re left with an abrasive cacophony against your ears. Hoseok just barely manages to snag your wrist in time to yank you into the water and out of the way.

Your vision is obscured by water and bubbles of air rushing to the surface, something you don’t get to do until a few moments later when Hoseok’s grip shifts and he hauls you up instead of holding you down, out of the way of rocks that pelt and sink into the water.

The second your head breaches the surface you’re gasping in air greedily, eyes clenched shut until you can finally crack them open without making them sting. Your vision is slightly blurry but after a few blinks it clears, revealing a panicked-looking Hoseok who is brushing his hands all over your face and body, checking for injuries. Heat graces your cheeks despite the poor timing and you smack his arm as you attempt to hastily tread water. You didn’t realise it just before, momentarily distracted by Hoseok as you so often found yourself to be, but that cave-in had, well, literally caved you in. You felt the slightest tendrils of panic begin to scratch at the bottom of your lungs as it sank in that all the air you’re breathing from is coming from the little pocket your head is in, the water at your shoulders and rock hovering barely a foot above your head.

“y/n,” Hoseok’s hands move to cup your cheeks, refocusing your attention on him. “y/n, are you alright? Did you get hurt anywhere?”

Somewhat flustered despite the situation at his care and concern, you can only manage to shake your head. Hoseok releases a great huff of relief at that, pulling closer and wrapping his arms around your waist while using his powerful tail to keep the two of you afloat. You shoot him a grateful look—you’re not a poor swimmer at all, but even you grow tired after treading water for some time.

“I knew I had a bad feeling for a reason,” he fusses, moving as though he’s pacing in the water, with you attached to him. It would be a funny sight, were this any other situation. “We need to get you out of here before it collapses any more. Alright, on the count of three—”

He stops suddenly, eyes staring into the wall as grim realisation washes over him. “No, no… that won’t work.”

You think you know where his thoughts have gone, but ask just in case. “What won’t work?”

Hoseok turns his gaze to you, looking incredibly conflicted and slightly remorseful.

“I was going to ask you to hold your breath, and then I would duck us under and take us out of this pocket but… the nearest water opening is too far—you won’t be able to hold your breath that long.”

You try not to let it show on your face, but it feels as though a pit of dread has opened up in your stomach at his words. Even with your stellar acting, he seems to sense your inner reaction. His fingers tighten in their hold on you, his teeth coming to sink into his bottom lip.

“- -- -- --” he says suddenly, the words unfamiliar to your ears but said with enough heat that you’re able to gather they’re probably curses, in whatever language makes up his mother tongue. “Gods, okay, what do I do, what do I do—”

His breath is coming shorter with each word and it doesn’t take much for you to realise he’s panicking.

“Hoseok,” you cut his frantic gibberish off and bring your hands to cup his cheeks, forcing him to face you. “Calm down, it’s okay. There’s a way out of this.”

The merman shoots you a look that seems to be a cross between exasperated and incredulous, before he decides to heed your advice and takes a deep breath, eyes fluttering closed. You brush your thumb over his cheekbone, watching as a stray droplet of water slides down from his hairline and over the sculpted planes of his face.

“Okay, there’s a way,” Hoseok breathes in through his nose and then out through his mouth. “I just have to…”

There is the briefest moment of silence, in which your own panic begins to return a little, before Hoseok is jumping in the water and taking you with him as his tail propels the two of you upwards. You yelp, head narrowly missing the rock barely a foot above your head, and Hoseok shoots you an apologetic look. It doesn’t last long, soon making way for relief.

He frees an arm to reach down into the water, and you’re sure the algae would be light enough for you to see what he is doing, but you don’t really want to look down into the bottomless water pit right now. Hoseok doesn’t leave you wondering for long, hand coming back up with something in his grasp.

His fist uncurls, revealing an oddly shaped violet pearl sitting in the centre of his palm. He brings it to his face, closing his eyes and taking a breath.

“Namjoon,” he says, “I need your help.”

Then, surprising you less than you might have expected, he brings the pearl to his lips before turning his hand upside down and dropping it into the water. You do look down this time, watching as it sinks quickly down, down, down—until it disappears deep into the inky blackness that even the glowing algae can’t penetrate with its light.

As soon as the pearl leaves his grasp, Hoseok is quick to return his arm to where it had been around your waist. His touch elicits an inappropriate round of butterflies, and in the interest of not making a fool of yourself in such close quarters, you do your best to ignore it.

“What will the pearl do?” you ask, voice mostly level aside from a tremble at the end. Hoseok notices it immediately and leans his head forward, brushing his nose with yours and offering a reassuring smile. You’re glad to see he’s stopped panicking for the time being.

“It will find Namjoon,” he informs you, voice a soft murmur as he allows his eyes to close and he presses your foreheads together. It makes your stomach dip and your heart leap. “And, hopefully, Namjoon will come to help us.”

“Why Namjoon?” you inquire, more than a little curious.

“Because he’s an apprentice to the sea witch.”

To your surprise, it’s not Hoseok’s voice that answers you, but that of the merman in question. You turn in shock, ripping your face away from Hoseok’s as heat blooms across your cheeks; you hadn’t even heard him surface. The dimpled male merely smiles cheekily at the two of you, before turning his gaze to the tiny pocket of air the three of you are now occupying.

“Well, how did this happen?” he asks, eyes flicking between the two of you as he waits for answers.

“The cave, well… caved us in.” Hoseok huffs, giving the rock above and around you the stink eye. He turns back to his brother. “I need your help because, well… we’re stuck and the next closest pocket of air or water hole… they’re too far away.”

He doesn’t need to spell out the fact that you’re just human, and can’t hold your breath that long, because Namjoon seems to grasp the issue at hand the second Hoseok informs him of the situation. His teeth sink into his lip as he falls into deep thought, eyes flicking between you, Hoseok, and then the rocks and cave remnants around you.

“You’re right,” he murmurs softly in response to Hoseok, so quiet you’d almost think he is mumbling to himself. He hums shortly, once, and then he’s looking up with something gleaming behind his eyes.

“I—”

Just as Namjoon goes to speak and enlighten you on the solution he’s come up with, there is a dreadful creak and groan as the rocks shift above you, some dust sprinkling down to the water from where they press and grind against each other. A brief surge of fear bolts through you, your breath catching. You barely take note of it yourself, but Hoseok is so utterly attuned to you and your mannerisms that he catches it immediately. He alters his grip, hugging your closer and bringing a hand to brush along the nape of your neck, fingers playing and attempting to card through the tangled, wet locks there, with minimal success. The movement wrenches an instinctive shiver from you though, and you turn your gaze from the rocks to him, successfully distracted from your brief spell of worry.

Namjoon surveys the ceiling carefully for a moment, before he returns his eyes to the two of you and resumes where he’d been cut off. “I think I have an idea, but… I don’t know if it will work. I’ve never tried it before. Sunmi refused to tell me about it, and Hyolyn hasn’t really taught me much about it yet…”

There’s a little bit of a nervous undercurrent to his voice, but you’re not really in a position to be doubting him. If you can’t get out of this pocket, then, well…

You gulp. You have to get out of this pocket.

“Anything, Joon,” Hoseok says, a pleading note in his tone. “If you have an idea, I trust you.”

Namjoon stares at his brother for a moment, biting his lip as he thinks it through, before finally he nods. “Alright. I’ll be right back.”

And then he’s dipping back into the water and disappearing down, down, down into the depths of the hole you were currently afloat in. Well, you say afloat, but really it’s just Hoseok keeping the two of you with your heads above the surface. You have to credit his tail, the powerful limb treading water effortlessly below you. Every so often one of his wispy fins will brush your leg, and you can’t help but let out a short giggle. Every time, without fail, the noise brings a bright smile to Hoseok’s lips, and subsequent heat to your cheeks as you realise he has been watching you the whole time.  

Trying to distract yourself from the possible undesirable outcome of the situation, you choose to voice the question that floated to the top of your mind when Namjoon was here.

“Who are Sunmi and Hyolyn?” you ask, tilting your head minutely. Unbeknownst to you, Hoseok has to bite his lip so he doesn’t coo in adoration.

“They’re sea witches,” he says, getting straight to the point. “Hyolyn isn’t affiliated with the court, she lives on the outer reaches of the kingdom and prefers her solitude. Sunmi studied under her, much like Namjoon is, and chose to pledge her services to the court. Namjoon was meant to become apprentice to only Sunmi, but he has ended up bouncing between both in his thirst for knowledge.”

You nod as he finishes telling you, soaking up the information. You hadn’t known before that Namjoon was a witch’s apprentice, and now that you do know… well, you don’t really know what to do with the information. With every little tidbit Hoseok tells you, you fall a little more in love with his world, and… its occupants, evidently. It’s as though you’ve stumbled into the prettiest of spiderwebs, and each new thing you learn has you wrapped more and more in sticky silk. You’re in so deep now, can you bare to depart this world that you’re coming to recognise as your own?

An alarming series of thoughts, you realise. You decide to leave unpacking them for another day.

The two of you talk softly to pass time, a nervous undercurrent growing more tangible in the air the longer Namjoon is away. It’s as Hoseok tells you about some of the other members of the court that there is a soft splash and Namjoon resurfaces next to you, water cascading down his face from the abruptness of the motion. He shakes his head, showering you and Hoseok in a generous amount of droplets, before grinning at the two of you.

“Okay, I have what I need.” He reaches down, pulling something from a satchel at his side. When his hand rises and parts the water surface, there is a flower sitting in the centre of his palm. It’s deep purple and marine, with thin, fluorescent patterns curling across the petals. It’s coated in a shimmering sheen that reflects blue as it shifts in the light. “We should hurry—Hyolyn warned that the caves won’t last much longer before they continue crumbling.”

His words elicit a funny sensation in your abdomen, a mixture between dread and anticipation with a sprinkling of inappropriate excitement.

“Do what?” Hoseok asks, eyeing the flower dubiously. “What is the Trench Bloom for?”

Namjoon, despite seeming as though he’d anticipated the question, still appears somewhat exasperated. “It’s easier if I show you.”

Somewhat confused but also much, much more curious, you focus on Namjoon as he faces you. “Okay, y/n. I am going to do something in a moment, but after that I need you to put this flower in your mouth, and then I need you to dip under the water. When you’re under there, move the flower to the back of your throat—you don’t have to swallow it but it’s okay if you do. What I’m trying to do will still work.”

When you nod, he mirrors the motion, giving you the flower to hold. He reaches down again, pulling a small sealed shell from the satchel around his waist. Once it is out of the water, he uses one of his nails to crack it open, revealing a small pile of dark powder sitting within its pearlescent walls—it takes a moment before the grains catch in the light and you realise it’s actually finely crushed pearls. Namjoon wets his thumb, getting Hoseok to face you towards him before he dabs his thumb in the powder and swipes it in three lines across either side of your neck, and then in a line down your sternum. He remains focused, but you can’t help but blush at the action—a sneaky glance to the side reveals a certain tick in Hoseok’s jaw as he observes what is happening, still confused but thankful for the help.

“Alright,” Namjoon mumbles, and once more you wonder whether its for your benefit or his own. “Okay, time for your part. You might see some white or blue light—don’t worry, it’s just moon magic.”

“Moon magic?” you can’t help but question, brows raising. “Isn’t it daytime still?”

Namjoon chuckles softly, closing the shell and placing it away. “The moon is one with the ocean and the tides, and just as we are one with the ocean we are connected to the moon. The magic that runs through our veins, is moon magic.”

“Oh,” you say in understanding, mind racing. It takes a little strength to refocus and bring your mind back to the present, where there are somehow certainly more pressing matters than magic. “That’s fair. Okay, I’ll… I’ll do that thing now.”

Namjoon nods encouragingly at you, and you feel Hoseok’s hands stroke reassuringly down your back. You shoot him a thankful smile, before returning your attention to the task at hand. Swallowing your pride, you open your mouth and deposit the small flower inside, brows raising as it instantly begins to dissolve on your tongue and a salty, sweet flavour melts across your tastebuds. You take in a breath through your nose, before you feel Hoseok’s grip loosen and you let yourself drop a few feet beneath the surface, water cold as it splashes and caresses your exposed skin.

As soon as you’re under, you do as you were instructed and move the flower to the back of your mouth—still with no idea as to what it’s actually going to do. You can’t think of any possible way that a flower is going to be the solution to your limited human capabilities, but then again… this is magic, you suppose.

Just as you manage to fight the urge to swallow, Hoseok and Namjoon join you beneath the surface. Hoseok hovers, tail lashing and fins flaring, the twitch of his fingers conveying a barely restrained urge to reach out for you. You don’t know when exactly the merman started being so outright protective and caring towards you, but even now as your lungs begin to weigh the slightest bit heavier in your chest, it makes your heart skip a beat.

Namjoon opens his mouth, speaking things that you can barely manage to catch a hint of through the water in your ears. He reaches forward, light hair floating in the water like a halo, and presses his hand firmly against your sternum where he’d painted a line with crushed pearl earlier. Hoseok’s teeth gnash together as he watches, taking note of the bubbles of air escaping you and growing anxious.

Before you even begin to doubt Namjoon and whatever his idea is, you start to feel it. It’s like a tingle, a live current beneath your skin. It runs up your spine and circles around the crown of your head, before coursing back down and stimulating the nerves in your arms, and legs, with a soft prickle. The current runs an exhilarating loop of your body before it changes course, growing centred around your throat, chest and shoulders. A large gasp escapes you as the sensation intensifies, the large bubble of air obscured by a glow that begins to make itself known around your body. Alright, you seemed fine with the knowledge of magic earlier but seeing it in action actually makes it sink in, and you’re a little alarmed.

The buzzing beneath your skin grows louder until you can hear it ringing, a low tone in your ears. Your chest burns and just when your arms flail and your lungs ache too much to bear, it all stops. It’s over, and relief courses through you. You let out the remaining air in your mouth in a huff, flower having already dissolved on your tongue, and greedily breathe in the oxygen you were deprived of now that the spell is done.

Wait a minute—breathe in?

Your eyes shoot open from where you hadn’t even realised they were closed, arms whipping through the water in shock as you realise that yes, you just took a breath underwater and didn’t drown, and yes you just did it again and you’re still not drowning!

Unable to stop the knee-jerk reaction, you let out a laugh, slapping a hand over your mouth as no bubbles escape and looking, wide-eyed, between the two mermen. Namjoon is grinning brightly, clearly ecstatic that the spell has worked, and Hoseok seems a cross between discombobulated, shocked, and cautiously excited.

“I can breathe!” you burst, expecting a muffled noise but receiving a crisp rendition of your voice instead. You slap a hand to your cheeks, eyes still wide. “I can talk?!”

Namjoon bursts into laughter, and you hear every note of it clear as day, as though you’re above the surface again. Hoseok’s concerned expression has now bled into one of excitement, and the second the shock wears off he’s darting forward. His fingers run all over you, toughing your face, cheeks, lips, throat, neck—all in wonderment.

“Y-you can breathe!” he bursts, in a similar fashion to the way you did just a minute prior. His fingers catch on something that feels odd at your throat, and your own fingers rise to investigate. They brush upon slits in the flesh, clean and without pain.

Were they…?

You shoot Hoseok a questioning look, and he nods. “Gills.”

You don’t know how to feel about that, but it has saved your life so you’ll take it.

“Oh my gosh,” you say, tone light in disbelief. “I’m breathing underwater? How long will I be able to…?”

Namjoon picks up on the question currently occupying your mind, and offers you a kind smile. His tail whips as he adjusts his position, long, thin fins trailing through the water like ribbon.

“The spell should last around three hours—so you can spend some time sightseeing before you have to return to the surface,” he informs you, dimples appearing in his cheeks. “Just make sure that you return when your lungs begin to burn again—that will mean the spell is about to end. Alright?”

You nod hastily, excitement beginning to bubble in your abdomen. You don’t even get to voice your thanks before Hoseok is grabbing you by the wrists and spinning you to face him, a smile brighter than the sun almost blinding you for a moment. God, he’s beautiful.

“y/n, sightseeing!” he bursts, unable to contain himself now that the danger of the situation is mostly behind you. He’s almost vibrating with excitement as he spins you with him, just narrowly avoiding the close rock walls of the pool. “I can show you everything I’ve told you about! And more! There’s so much I haven’t even had a chance to tell you yet!”

Namjoon laughs, reaching out to halt Hoseok before he makes you too dizzy—you might be able to breathe now but the spell didn’t alter your sense of equilibrium all that much. You really don’t want to find out how it would go down if you vomited underwater.

Thankfully, Hoseok quickly takes the hint and simply adjusts so he’s holding you around the waist, saving you the trouble of treading water. It’s thoughtful yet subtle, and so very Hoseok that your heart warms in your chest and feels as though it’s glowing as luminous as the algae lighting the cave. Still, even though he has stopped spinning you, Hoseok just can’t take the grin off his face.

“I have to return to my duties—you called me in the middle of a lesson—but show her the sights, hyung,” Namjoon smiles, light hair floating endearingly across his forehead. “Take her around—oh, you should show her the palace, too. I’m sure the others would love to see her as well.”

Hoseok huffs at the last part, but otherwise seems to completely agree with his brother’s sentiment. “I will.”

Namjoon nods, bidding you farewell with another smile before he’s turning in the water and shooting down into the depths of the pool, propelled with a single powerful stroke of his tail. You watch him disappear with wide eyes, in awe at his speed. You can’t imagine being able to move that fast on land, let alone in the water!

“Come on, y/n, let’s get out of here.” The bright tone of Hoseok’s voice returns your attention to the merman before you. When you look at him again, you’re momentarily taken aback—sure, he’s always stunning, but sometimes it really takes you out. Like now. Inky hair and oil-slick scales glimmering in the low glow of the algae, his eyes bright and wide as he stares at you with something indecipherable that makes your heart dip and race. “We have so many places to go before your time is up!”

His words are somewhat ominous, despite the fact you know what he means, and you can’t help but think he’s lucky that he’s so cute and you’re in love with him, or else he’d get a smack for frightening you.

Wait, back up. You’re what now?

You don’t even have time to dwell on the very abrupt and unwarranted thought that just blared its way through your mind like a foghorn, because Hoseok is looping your arms and entwining your fingers with his. Usually, Hoseok is cool to the touch, thanks to the fact his body runs at a lower temperature than yours, but now that you’re deep in water that is much cooler, his skin offers a pleasant warmth where it brushes your own. It’s addictive, and you have to fight to stop yourself from initiating more contact than you can get away with.

Beginning to chatter excitedly about where he’s going to take you, Hoseok turns in the water, and begins to pull you down. Your heart begins to race for a different reason, the further down you venture—with each moment that passes it gets darker, denser. The water feels thicker, heavier, but you’re still able to breathe and it’s salty on your tongue yet uncharacteristically refreshing and crisp against your throat. The darkness and confined walls of the tunnel are what have your pulse thudding a little louder in your ears, a fear of the unknown combining with the exhilarating anticipation of a new adventure to synthesise a titillating cocktail of sensations within you.

It does scare you a little, yes, but you trust Hoseok—and even if he were to lead you to certain doom at the end of this tunnel, you’d accept it with a smile because the whole way there he held your hand like it is the most precious thing he’ll ever touch.

God, you’re so whipped. How did you never notice this before?!

You spend enough time in the tunnel that you’re painfully aware of it. It isn’t long though, before, to your surprise, it begins to curve and bend, each one taking you in a new direction. Hoseok handles the turns with ease, pulling your body with his easily and fluidly. You round one last corner, zooming  down another tunnel and suddenly there is light, glaring at you in the rapidly-approaching distance— Hoseok speeds up, pulling you effortlessly beside him, and soon you’re breaking out into an open space, the sudden brightness blinding you for a moment.

When your eyes adjust, a loud gasp leaves you. The sight before you, in a word, is magnificent. All your turning and winding in the tunnels has lead you here; to a massive, open space—the ceiling is littered with holes of various sizes, short tunnels that cast sunlight into the area from above, illuminating the floor and walls that blend from pale brown rock to soft sandstone, patterns refracted from the surface of the water dancing across in pools of light.

Scattered over the wall are the occasional crack and fissure, long wefts of kelp and pretty flowers you’d never seen before but are instantly in love with sprouting from inside and drifting with the minimal current.  It’s breathtaking, the glimpses of blue sky and greenery above with the warm tones of the rock around you. Splotches of colour sit along the bottom corners of the room, different types of coral twining around each other like intricate blooms. Your admiration of your current surroundings is cut off when Hoseok suddenly jumps in front of you, recapturing your attention with a bright grin and excited lash of his tail.

“This isn’t the palace yet! This is just a little area above it, the tunnels lead to most of the waterholes on the island—I sometimes come here to think or dance. I think Yoongi used to come here to nap too before he discovered that above the surface is a better hiding spot.” Hoseok is babbling now, words coming out so fast you can feel his excitement and enthusiasm, and you don’t have the heart to tell him to slow down. His hands grasp yours, swinging them around like a child.

“There are so many things to show you, what should we see first? The palace? The gardens? The city centre?” Hoseok begins to pull you towards one of the bigger holes, the opening of a tunnel that seems to lead downwards and is lit from within. A gasp escapes him suddenly, and he shoots you a wide-eyed look. “Oh! I know! Hold on, I know where to take you!”

And all you can do is hold on, really, because in the next second he’s diving down the tunnel at breakneck speed and dragging you like a doll behind him. Admittedly, with a little more care than that phrase implies. But still, you’re quite taken aback. This whole time Hoseok has had such boundless energy, and you never knew? Being completely submerged in the water, his natural element, his home— it really makes him into another person. It sets him free.

It’s beautiful to witness.

Hoseok is sure to make the most of your limited time underwater, packing the few hours as full of experiences as he can. You do, as a human breathing underwater, garner a few odd looks here and there from the occasional merfolk you pass on your ventures, but it doesn’t dampen your mood in the slightest. And even if it did, you have a very distinct feeling Hoseok wouldn’t let that be the case for very long.

He’s almost glowing with happiness as he shows you the underwater city that is his home. First, he takes you to the very outskirts of the civilisation, showing you the large, impossibly deep fissure that stretches for miles and appears like a moat around half of the city. It’s stunning, the very bottom pitch black and broken only by the glimmer of bubbles as they make their way to the surface, released from geysers and cracks in the sea floor. When you see it, you immediately want to get closer, but Hoseok halts you with a cheerful warning—apparently the fissure is prone at any moment to releasing massive gusts of scorching water and steam, forming a makeshift wall around the kingdom edges. He informs you that it’s actually usually always alive, and that you’ve actually just managed to catch one of the times that the geysers cool down.

Right as he finishes informing you of that, the aforementioned trenches grumble and groan, and the wall of heated water and air he mentioned shoots up with magnificent force. Awe-inspiring as it is, you nearly scare half to death as a result, and your reaction is something Hoseok isn’t keen on letting go of anytime soon. He needs fodder for future arguments should he begin to lose, after all.

Not a minute of your time is wasted. Hoseok shows you the sights from the outer parts of the city, and makes his way inwards bit by bit. He shows you the markets district, where merfolk set up their stalls and trade goods for lost treasures and the like. Beautiful silken material is sold at a stall closest to the town centre, fabric rippling and flowing like tendrils of coloured ink in the water. Hoseok tells you what they’re made of, a long list of ingredient names that mean nothing to you and yet the bright smile on his face keeps you hooked on every word. You visit almost every stall there, the vendors cheering and greeting Hoseok enthusiastically the second they see him. He gifts you two things – a necklace with mother of pearl and obsidian beads, and a large blanket spun from the finest materials the kingdom has to offer, so you can ‘keep warm on land as the cooler months approach’—both of which he pays the vendors handsomely for with several golden and silver human trinkets from his pouch. You have no idea where they came from or whether he has been carrying them this whole time, but you’re not about to stop him. He’s generous, so kind, and he’s so loved. You can see it in the eyes of those you pass as they fall upon him, how they light up and smile. They love their prince, and when you mention this to Hoseok he laughs and tells you that, actually, it’s probably the youngest three princes that are most beloved by all.

You refuse to believe it.

He takes you deeper into the kingdom, stopping by parks and stone playgrounds and getting unwittingly side-tracked by all the spritely little merchildren who haven’t grown into their fins yet. They zip about, weaving in and out and all around the stones so speedily and with such utter joy you’re half a beat away from offering to join them as well. With Hoseok, they seem to have even more fun, if possible. He plays with them, gives them his all, but even then he is conscious of the time he has with you down here and he sadly bids them farewell before long. It kind of hurts to say goodbye (somehow the little underwater cherubs managed to worm their way into your heart in the less than ten minutes  you were with them), but not a moment is spared dwelling on the feeling because Hoseok has already entwined your hands together and is leading you to the next destination.

It’s a vast field of underwater flora that he shows you next, and it’s just as breathtaking as everything else you’ve seen so far. High, looming arches of sandstone litter the area, vines with long, gossamer leaves and large-petaled flowers winding around them and floating, dancing with the current. Along the floor is a sea of vibrant anemone, all of them waving at you as you grow closer, tendrils entangling with their neighbours. There are other plants, more than you can name or take in, but it all adds together for probably some of the most beautiful scenery you’ve ever seen. It’s wild, left to nature, and so, so mesmerising. You can feel your heart ache at the beauty. Hoseok lets you linger here a little longer, admiring you when you’re not looking as you tickle some of the plants and giggle at their response.

The monuments, the landmarks, the palace—Hoseok shows you it all. By the time you arrive and see the palace properly, you don’t have much longer of the spell left to enjoy. Still, Hoseok tries to do as much as possible in the time you have left.

Miraculously yet almost unsurprisingly, you manage to run into Hoseok’s brothers one by one, and end up collecting them in your ‘tour group’ as you go along. Eventually, you have them all, and Hoseok decides it’s the perfect setting to spend the last of your time doing something fun. It becomes clear what that is when they lead you to a room with something you recognise in the corner, melding to the wall.

They decide to put on a show for you.

Being mermen, you shouldn’t be as surprised as you are that they’re all incredibly gifted with music, singing and instruments. Some of them play things you’ve never seen before in your life, Yoongi having found an organ somewhere over the years and dragged it home. He plays it with unexpected finesse, and sets the baseline for a melody you don’t think you’ll ever forget.

All of them can sing, but you note that Jimin, Jungkook, Seokjin and Taehyung throw themselves into it the most. Namjoon switches between instruments and harmonising, smiling brightly the whole time. Seokjin sings, belting notes and hitting dulcet tones you’re grateful to be able to hear as they are, and sometimes he tinkers with a metallic little instrument, a soft melody resulting from his nimble fingerwork. Hoseok dances, twirling, dipping and weaving with such grace that it’s all you can do not to become completely mesmerised and bewitched by this, his most earnest form. Before long, Jimin and Jungkook join him, the former dragging along Taehyung. The dance is odd from then on out, shifting between goofy and endearing and heart-wrenchingly hypnotic. You watch happily, sometimes joining in and sometimes retreating; throughout the whole time, Hoseok keeps his gaze on you, and tries to ignore the way his heart throbs as he realises just how perfectly you fit into his world, and just how much he doesn’t want to see it without you again.

By the time their show is over and you begin to feel the weight of your lungs in your chest once more, you’ve decidedly had the best day of your life, even if it did start with a near-death experience. Having shirked his duties to spend time with you, Hoseok can only escort you to the surface, and makes it known with a potent pout how upset he is that he can’t spend anymore time with you afterwards. A cheeky pinch of his cheeks brings the smile back, however, and his mood is somewhat lifted for the rest of the trip up.

The first lungful of air you take after breaching the surface is odd, almost alien, but quickly becomes familiar again when you pull yourself out of the lagoon and onto the sand by your home. A strange shift, but you don’t think you’ll ever forget what it was like to breathe underwater.

Hoseok appears torn, clearly wanting to stay but being obligated to go, and with a quick peck to your forehead (which he had to pull himself halfway out of the water to achieve, mind you) and a longing look, he bids you farewell and dips back beneath the surface.

You sit there for a while after, gazing at the water.

All the thoughts you procrastinated throughout the day come rushing back at once and you’re forced to confront them at last. As your feet sink familiarly into fine sand, the edge of the lagoon lapping at your toes, you’re stunned with the realisation that yes, in such a short time you’ve fallen in love with Hoseok’s world.

And as you climb to your feet and make your way back to your home a while later, it’s with the startling knowledge that even that pales in comparison to your affection for the merman himself.

x     x     x     x     x     x

“Do you want her to stay, hyung?”

“I… I haven’t even…”

“You like her, don’t you, hyung?”

“…”

“We know, Hobi. We see it when you look at her. It’s easy to see what you want—but do you, yourself, know what that is?”

x     x     x     x     x     x

 If someone had told you before you climbed into your boat and rowed out to Pirate Lord Ezra’s ship to assassinate him, that this was what you had to expect in the months following that decision, you’d have sent them to the local doctor for fear they’d come down with something serious.

You don’t think you could have ever guessed your future would become so intricately intertwined with that of mythical beings hiding deep in the oceans. Months, you’ve spent here on this island that has become a home to you, and every day has been a new adventure, a new story to retell in time and a new memory to look back upon fondly. In the absence of the family you’ve grieved over for so long, you’ve managed to find another. Your parents and siblings are never forgotten—but you’ve opened your heart to let others in.

In your time on the island, you’ve begun to do something that you never would have imagined before.

You’ve begun to heal.

The wounds that festered inside you for years on end, the pits of grief and sores of hatred that oozed magma over your insides and set them alight—you can barely feel them anymore.  Each day on the island, with Hoseok and his mischievous brothers, smoothed a balm over them, soothing the ache and making the weight over your chest a little more bearable.

Of course, you’re definitely not upset at the prospect; but you are a little scared. Anxious that despite how far you feel you’ve come, how much you’ve let go, the second you catch wind of the pirate again it will all be shot to hell. You’re terrified of relapsing and going straight back to square one. Because you hadn’t realised it completely before now, but at square one, you were miserable. You don’t ever want to go back to that.

You have a feeling, though, that as long as you’re around Hoseok, you won’t lose all the progress you’ve made. You’ve had a lot of time so far to come to terms with what Hoseok is to you, how you feel about him. When you first saw him, sick and dying on Ezra’s ship, you didn’t expect that eventually you’d fall in love with him. It feels like something an idiot would do, with the gap between your worlds being so large, but… Hoseok makes you happy. He brings you joy and makes you feel treasured, appreciated. You can’t bring yourself to try and stomp out the feelings, and even if you did try you wouldn’t be able to—they’ve had months to bud and bloom and now they’ve matured into something magnificent, something beautiful and irrevocably rooted in your very being.

You doubt you would have even been able to stop yourself from crushing on him in the first place, really. Hoseok is the sweetest summer bloom, with the brightest petals and the most luminous glow beneath the sun. And it was kind of inevitable that you were drawn to him. You’re just a wee little bumblebee, and in each other you find the perfect solution to needs and longings you hadn’t even realised before now. Almost all of Hoseok’s brothers have confessed to you at some point, that they’ve never seen their brother shine as brightly as he has since he met you.

It flustered you to hear that, but you can’t deny the giddy butterflies it set free in your tummy.

It’s as though there are always butterflies of some sort in your tummy, these days. Even as you sit here now, basking in the afternoon sun by your lagoon with Hoseok and Jungkook playing about in the water, shielded from the sun by the trees overhanging the sides, you feel them. It’s from the way every so often Hoseok will look over and check if you’re still watching, if you’re comfortable, if you need anything. Hoseok has a lot of caring little actions he does that never fail to make your heart skip.

It’s peaceful this afternoon, a soothing air washing over you. The breeze, the faint smell of the ocean it carries. You’re very content where you are. The peaceful energy isn’t reciprocated by the other two occupants of the space, though.

“y/n! Hoseok-hyung won’t let me throw him in the air!”

Jungkook’s brief wail is accompanied by a smack of his hands into the water, cold droplets flying and making you jump at the contrast as they hit your heated skin.

Hoseok sends his youngest brother a dubious look. “For good reason—you’re going to end up hurting me or yourself or both of us. I’m saving us both the trouble.”

“He’s being mean, y/n!” Jungkook bolts across the lagoon, sidling up to the rock you’re perched on with eyes already assuming their usual starry-eyed look. “y/n, we’re friends right? Tell him to let me throw him in the air. I want to see how high he will go!”

Hoseok, for some reason, seems slightly panicked. “y/n, don’t you dare think of siding with him—”

Well, you weren’t going to. But if he insists….

“I mean, I was gonna tell him no,” you say, smiling. “But since you don’t want me to—”

Unfortunately, you don’t get to finish teasing Hoseok like you want to. Your words are cut off by the sudden appearance of Jimin and Taehyung, their arrival bringing a generous splash of water that almost drenches you.

“y/n!” Jimin gasps, making a beeline for you with Taehyung hot on his tail. You don’t even get to breathe before they’re grabbing your hands, almost frantic. “y/n! There’s—there’s a—”

“There’s a ship! On the horizon!” Taehyung is unable to contain himself, the words bursting forth as his brother attempts to get across the same message. The words don’t even register as he continues, eyes wide and mouth running a mile a minute. “This is the first time a ship has come so close in almost fifty years, usually they’re turned away by the wards!”

You feel as though you’ve frozen in place. Jimin reclaims your attention as he continues where his brother leaves off, “They’re close enough that if you make enough commotion they’ll see you, y/n. They can take you home!”

A few beats pass in suspense before their words hit you all at once—there’s a ship?! The entire time you’ve been on this island, you haven’t seen hide nor hair of any other humans. It’s as though you’ve been existing in a pocket of the universe that is only for your eyes and those of the mercreatures you share it with. In all honesty, some days you forget completely that this world isn’t your own, that there’s another one waiting for you just across the ocean.

“There’s—there’s a ship?” you can’t help but request confirmation, eyes wide in shock. You’re taken aback by its presence, not because you thought that you would always be stranded here, but because it is like a bucket of icy water has been poured over you and you have been thrust into the sudden and stark realisation that being rescued from this island was something you probably should have been longing for this whole time.

But you hadn’t.

The two twins nod, still vibrating with the excitement and fuss of the whole situation. You want to look at the other two mermen in the lagoon, but can’t seem to make your head move. A pit threatens to open in your stomach at the thought of looking at Hoseok right now. Your mouth opens and closes for a moment, realisation hitting you that you should probably get up and look. It’s the normal thing to do. You force yourself to shift on the rock where you sit, preparing to stand.

“Which beach?” you barely manage to whisper. The twins point behind you, towards the beach you’d spent a lot of time on when you first arrived. The beach where Hoseok dragged you into the water and made you dance with him.

You nod, standing, and this time your gaze moves of its own accord—to Jungkook, who is looking at you with a surprising amount of distress, brows pinched and expression fallen. The youngest’s sadness makes your heart cinch, so you turn your gaze to Hoseok. A mistake.

The only word that comes to mind to describe how Hoseok looks, is gutted. It’s as though you’ve taken something he holds dear and crushed it to pieces right in front of him. He’s still as stone in the water, stunned and frozen as something indecipherable crosses his features.

“y/n…” Jungkook says suddenly, voice thick. When you look again, its as though he’s pleading with his eyes.

“I’ll… I’ll go have a look,” you say, turning and trying not to look at anyone as you do. Even so, you still manage to catch a glimpse of Hoseok’s face as you leave.

And the hurt in his eyes nearly breaks your stride.

You leave the lagoon, heading to the beach hastily. Your mind is a mess—why are you going? But why wouldn’t you go? There’s something deep within you, something you want more desperately than anything ever before, but you can’t figure out what it is. In your daze, you walk into a few bushes on your path and end up with a few scrapes. You don’t even feel it, too preoccupied with the plethora of confusion and distress in your mind.

A ship is here. You should be happy. You don’t belong here, the ship will take you home.

But… that doesn’t feel quite right.

Still, you continue walking the well-worn path you’ve made through the trees to the beach. Gazing upon the lush greenery you pass with a strange sensation building in your chest. As soon as you approach the edge of the forest, you’re able to see it. There, just on the horizon, is a ship. It doesn’t seem to be a pirate ship, appearing more like a cargo carrier. The perfect opportunity. If you want to go home, all you need to do is make a commotion, and catch their attention.

But… do you want to go home?

No, that’s not the right question, because out there doesn’t feel like your home anymore. Your home, is here. Do you want to leave it? Do you want to return to a world where your existence is shaped around tracking down and killing a man who has likely already forgotten you even exist? The old you might have, the one who had only found purpose in avenging the family she lost. But this you… she doesn’t want that.

You take a moment to delve into your thoughts, staring absently at the ship as you do so. You’re sure anyone normal would want to leave a ‘deserted island’ the first chance they got, but you… you want to stay. Why is that? Is it the peace you’ve found here? The way you’ve begun to heal? To experience life in a way you haven’t in years? Maybe. But it’s also something else. Your thoughts keep coming back to the realisation you had when you were underwater, with Hoseok.

Yes, you want to stay for all of those reasons, but most of all, you want to stay because you don’t want to go back to a world without Hoseok.

Love has really pulled a fast one on you with this, you think. You couldn’t have ever accounted for falling in love with the merman that saved your life and brought you to this island. But, it happened, and now… well, you’re in love with the merman that saved your life and brought you to this island.

And you want to stay here. With him.  

You blink back into the present moment, eyes focusing from where they were resting on the ship in the distance. Without even realising, you’ve already come to a decision—perhaps a while ago, before today. You’re not going to flag down the ship, and you’re not going to try and leave. You want to stay here, with Hoseok, and his brothers, and his magical world, and that’s exactly what you’re going to do.  

The future you want is here, and you’re not going to run away from it.

The affirmation brings a certain sense of peace to the anxious roiling of your stomach, nerves finally calming from where they were crackling under your skin. Basking in this new sense of… ease, you simply stand, and watch as the ship continues across the horizon. Bit by bit, minute by minute, it grows smaller and smaller until eventually dusk tickles the sky where it meets the sea and the ship is nowhere to be seen.

It’s gone, and you don’t feel a single ounce of regret.

All at once, you come back to the present moment and realise that you just kind of up and left everyone in suspense. You wonder, do they think you attempted to call to the ship? A part of you is saddened by the thought that maybe that was what they wanted, but then you remember the crestfallen look on Jungkook’s face, and Hoseok’s— oh.

You wonder if Hoseok realised you weren’t going to leave.

Briefly, there is a moment of insecurity that flashes through you—what if he wanted you to leave, too? What if he never entertained the idea of you staying? It takes a bit of effort, but you manage to dismiss those worries. No… the way Hoseok looked at you as you walked away—he looked like you’d reached into his chest and carved out his heart with your bare hands. You have a feeling that he didn’t want you to go. A part of you hopes, secretly, for something else, a little more, but… you don’t dare entertain such things just yet.

With the side of the island beginning to darken as the sun drops behind the great hills and peaks, late afternoon bleeding into dusk, you decide to go back. It doesn’t take long, feeling as though you merely blinked before you were back at the lagoon. A part of you expected all four mermen to be in the waters still, but to your surprise it is only three of the four that greet you. The twins brighten up at your appearance, Jungkook lurching up and gasping.

“y/n!” He swims over to the edge of the lagoon, where it is still deep enough for him and his tail to fit. “You didn’t go?”

You’re touched that he seems to be so relieved that you stayed, but you can’t help but notice the one particular absence that is glaring you in the face. “Yeah, I… I don’t want to leave. I’m happy here, you know?”

All three males seem delighted at the words you offer them, sharing a look that you don’t quite catch. You can’t help but ask the question pressing against your lips, stomach dropping anxiously. “Where… where’s Hoseok?”

At that, they share another look, this one a little more knowing. For once Jungkook is quiet, biting his lip, but the twins are more than happy to expose their brother.

“He thought you were going to leave,” Jimin admits seriously, looking at you for once without an ounce of mirth. “He didn’t say it, but he was really upset and swam away after you left. Do you want to see him?”

The question he tacks on has an oddly hopeful note, and you can’t help but smile softly. “Yes, if that’s okay. Do you know where he went?”

“To his favourite place,” Taehyung informs you, smiling brightly. “The one above ground, not the one below.”

At his words, you feel nothing but complete and utter confusion. His favourite place? You thought it was the underwater cavern where he went to think… Before you can open your mouth and ask for some clarification, the twins return to their usual cheeky selves and take a hold of each of Jungkook’s arms; the youngest is understandably alarmed.

“Go find him, tell him why you decided to stay,” Jimin instructs you, a knowing look in his eyes that makes you feel as though he sees right through any pretences you might have. “He’ll be happier than you can believe.”

With that, the twins let out a hasty farewell, and Jungkook looks between them in worry. Just as he goes to protest, the other two grip him firmly and with a strong flourish of their tails, they dive back into the lagoon—dragging Jungkook with them. The splash of water that results is massive, mostly due to Jungkook’s flailing, and if you weren’t currently trying to figure out where on earth Hoseok is, you might have laughed.

In the silence that follows their departure, broken only by the soft, peaceful sounds of nature around you, you fall into your own thoughts. Hoseok has shown you many places around the island and even underwater, but you don’t think you’ve ever heard him explicitly say that they’re his favourite. To be honest, he is the type of guy where everything is his favourite. So, understandably, you’re a little stumped. Your insides are torn between a sense of urgency and a conflicting sense of ease. You’re in a bit of an emotional limbo, but you can’t really do anything about it until you find Hoseok.

Where do you even begin to search…

You try thinking about it logically; if it’s his favourite place, then it must be somewhere that has meaning to him? You blink. Even now, you’re stumped. He’s never confessed anything like that either, and as much of an open book as he is, beneath that he is incredibly hard to read.

Those damn twins… couldn’t they have just told you where he is?!

With a sigh, you decide to think as you go. You may as well begin to look, before daylight runs out and you have to run and grab a glowing rock that Hoseok gifted you one day a while ago. You’ve been using it to illuminate your cave, but it will help if you need to illuminate where you’re walking in the trees.

A few places come to mind as you walk, but none of them really spark as you think of them, and none of them turn up fruitful. He isn’t by the citrus tree, or the large rock-man you made in his honour. It gets darker bit by bit as you go along, still no closer to finding the strangely elusive merman and growing a little frantic. You try some of the places that mean a lot to you, wondering if they might be something you share in common. They all turn out unsuccessful, barren of the handsome merman you’re attempting to track down, and you have to fight to prevent yourself from getting too bummed. He’s here somewhere, you just have to pinpoint the right place.

It’s very almost near dark by the time you think you’ve exhausted every possible option, having searched almost the entire portion of the island by now. The sun has long since disappeared, and now it is rays of moonlight that begin to drip to the earth between gaps in the foliage, shifting as the breeze rustles the leaves above. You pause at that observation, something niggling in the back of your mind. The moonlight… oh.

With a renewed sense of energy and determination, you turn on your heel and begin in the direction of the beach on the opposite side of the island to where you’d been earlier. It isn’t as clear as the other side, littered with more rocks and pools, boulders that extend into the water creating little alcoves and pockets of privacy. That side of the island also tends to gather more pretty shells and bits and pieces. You return with quite an armful every time you venture there.

You think you know where he might have gone.

You can’t remember when exactly, but it hadn’t been too long ago that you’d spent the night with Hoseok beneath the moon, gazing up at the stars and revelling in their beauty, as you so often did. What made this particular evening stand out, however, was that at the end of the night, right before the merman left and returned to his home, you gave him a gift.

A blush heats your cheeks as you remember; it wasn’t anything special, just a dumb little necklace made of shells and some pretty sea glass that you found. It had taken you almost a week to pull together in a way that made it sturdy and presentable. It really wasn’t much, very crude compared to some of the jewellery you’d seen adorning his golden skin. But when you pulled it from behind your back and gave it to him, Hoseok had looked at it like it was an item that fell directly from the heavens and into his hold.

He’d stared at it a few moments, allowing it to run over his fingers like he was playing with water, shells and glass tinkling against each other, until he finally snapped out of it and gave you a look that was so open and full of elation that in combination with his marks and pretty features, it really almost blinded you. With the necklace carefully clutched in his hand, he’d then proceeded to launch himself at you and drag you into a hug that had your face steaming from how long it went on (not that you were complaining).

You still don’t know why the necklace seemed to be such a precious item to him, but the hunch the memory gave you seems to be right as the second you step onto the sand in the little alcove where you gave it to him, you see the telltale glow of his markings soaking in the moonlight and the glimmer of his oil slick tail as the end flicks lazily in the water.

He’s beached himself a little, laying on his back with his arms spread out and the tide lapping at his hips where skin blends into iridescent scales. His eyes are on the inky expanse of the sky, reflecting the sea of stars that gaze down upon the two of you. For a moment, you simply stand and observe him. At first glance he is as mesmerising as ever, but upon closer inspection his hair is a little wilder than usual, salt-crusted waves curling without order and shifting in the breeze. The sand from his shoulders down is a little damper than the rest above him, and you wonder if he’s been here, laying in the same position uncaringly while the tide slowly recedes. Your next look reveals his red-rimmed eyes and your ears pick up soft, almost indiscernible sniffles and you realise that yes, he’s been laying in the same spot probably the entire afternoon.

For a moment, you’re completely stumped as to how to approach him. From what you know, he’s upset either because you left or because you tried to leave, or because you want to leave. None of those are true, but either way he’s not really expecting to see you come down the shore and sit next to him—he’s a little jumpy, and you don’t want to frighten him half to death. In a bid to find something that will spark an idea, you let your gaze wonder around you. Fortuitously, you see a small shrub with tiny white flowers in bunches a little to your left and have something to go with. As quietly as possible, you pick a few and begin to descend silently down the sand, separating the tiny buds from their stems so that you have a handful of many tiny flowers.

The only sound that filters into your ears is that of the waves crashing softly against the rocks and sand, and the soft rustle of the trees in the breeze—you hope it’s the same for Hoseok. You feel a little nervous for some reason, but the familiar scent of salt and sea in the air helps to mollify those nerves. The sand is soft against your bare feet, embracing them like a lost friend and keeping your presence secret for the moment.

By the time you arrive almost a foot from the raven-haired merman, he has closed his eyes and is simply laying, basking in the moonlight. There are trails down his cheeks, but you can’t tell how fresh they are even with the helpful glow of his moon marks.

Silently as you can, you ease into a sitting position on the sand by his shoulders. The soft material of the clothes Hoseok’s brothers gave you grows a little damp as you sink down, the tide only recently having kissed this portion of sand. He still hasn’t noticed you, and you take a slow breath before holding up your two hands with the flowers cupped inside, and letting them fall over his face.

They’re so tiny that the most they do is tickle him, but evidently, he seems to be very ticklish; his face twists and contorts, brows and eyes twitching at the sensations. It isn’t long before his eyes flutter open, searching for the source of the sensation. They flit about in alarm, before they finally fall on you and the merman freezes. Two beats pass and then he’s lurching up, small clumps of wet sand sticking to him before falling off, along with all the flowers that you sprinkled over him—save for a few that cling to some of his curls. There are grains stuck to the hair at the back of his head, and his arms are covered completely on the sides—it makes for a look that seems a little wild, but still… he looks good. It isn’t fair.

His incredible good looks aside, he’s looking at you like he saw a ghost. You simply sit for a moment, making sure he isn’t about to topple over before you speak.

“Taehyung told me you might be here,” you say, a soft smile on your lips. “Or, well—he said ‘your favourite place’ above ground. It took me a while.”

“What are you doing here?” Hoseok asks before he can process your words, disbelief colouring his tone. He lifts one of his hands as though to touch you, but it hesitates midway between your bodies. “Didn’t the ship go already? You missed it?”

Reaching out for the hand that is still hanging mid-air, you take the opportunity to intertwine your fingers and bring your clasped hands close to your chest. Hoseok’s eyes shoot wide at the motion, appearing very much still bewildered by the current situation. His cheeks are flushed slightly behind his marks, and you’re not sure whether its from lying out of the water all afternoon or something else.

“Why? You want me to leave?” you joke, unable to help your laugh at the merman’s immediate aghast expression. Before he can belt out a protest, you soothe him, “I’m kidding. The ship is gone. I didn’t flag it down.”

Hoseok looks at you, perplexed, his eyes flicking over every one of your features as though searching for something that will inform him of the meaning behind your words.

“Wh—I mean, I know we have never really talked about it but… why? You… You are technically stranded here. Don’t you want to leave?”

Your eyes sweep his face as he speaks, picking up the saddened turn of his brows and crease of his eyes. You swear you catch his chin wobbling slightly, but can’t be sure. Something rises within you, pressing against your chest in effort to burst free. Now. You’re going to tell him now.

“Hoseok… I want to stay.” You reach out, tenderly brushing some of the sand from his cheek with your thumb. “I want to stay on this island, and I want to stay with you.”

He’s frozen, staring at you with wide eyes, and you continue, giving a voice to the simple wants and desires that reside deep within you.

“I’m happy here, and you… you make me happy, so, so happy.” Deep breath in, deep breath out. “Hobi, you mean more to me than some stupid, ancient grudge, than a world that I turned my back on years ago. You’re what I treasure most and I don’t… I don’t want to let that go.”

In the moments that follow your sudden, somewhat premeditated confession, there is silence. One beat, two beats. You scan his face for any indication of his response, and you swear his eyes begin to mist. You don’t get to analyse it though, because in the next second the merman makes a choked noise and lurches forward, arms wrapping around you as the weight of his body sends the two of you crashing back against the sand. Having fallen at an odd angle, the two of you proceed to roll down into the surf.

You don’t notice though, because Hoseok has his lips pressed firmly to your own and it’s like your heart is about to burst clean out of your chest.

Only when the two of you splash into the water, does he release you—and even then you’re still tight in his hold as he peppers soft, featherlight kisses across everywhere he can reach on your face. Your forehead, eyelids, nose, cheek—nowhere is safe. You can’t help but squeal at the ticklish sensations, making him erupt into a sudden, deep laugh that fills your bones with happiness.

He sits up, bringing you with him, and pulls back with his arms around your waist. He’s grinning so wide his eyes are almost disappearing, his moon marks glowing brighter than ever,

“I love you too, precious pearl,” he confesses, with such vulnerability and sincerity that it actually makes you embarrassed, heat washing almost violently over your face and neck.

You can’t help but sputter, squirming on his lap and ignoring the water you’re sitting in, “I n-never said that!”

Hoseok leans in and brushes the tip of his elfish nose against your own. “But you meant it.”

He has you there. Blushing madly, you let out a huff and he coos. “Don’t get cocky, Mr. Fish, or I’ll take it back.”

Another laugh tumbles from his throat, eyes gleaming with mirth and mischief. “You can’t take it back. You technically proposed to me here, you know.”

At that, you balk, running through the events of the past few minutes and trying to figure out whether he is messing with you or not. “I—I did not!”

“You did,” he hums, pressing surprise kisses to the apples of your cheeks that make you squeak. “Not just now, but that other time we were here. That’s why this is my favourite place.”

At your lost look, he decides to have mercy and let you in with an amused smirk. “For merpeople, when there is someone that they want to spend the rest of their lives with, they go out and gather precious items and fashion them into a piece of jewellery. They then give it to them under the light of the moon, as a proposal and a sign of undying love and commitment.”

The merman blushes now, smiling sheepishly. “I knew you had no idea, and that you didn’t really mean it that way but… it made me happy.”

Learning this, your face feels as though it is on fire, and you wouldn’t be surprised if there was steam coming from your cheeks. Even more embarrassing, are the words coming out of your mouth next. “Oh… Well, I mean… I didn’t know, but… Now that I do, I’d do it again.”

Your words make Hoseok’s breath hitch, and he stares at you intensely for a moment before he lets out a sharp noise and suddenly you’re being attacked with another shower of kisses and affection.

“I’m holding you to that!” He exclaims, rolling the two of you back against the sand as he continues his onslaught between words. “That’s a promise!”

You’re torn between laughing and squealing, instead using your hands to still him so you can press a kiss of your own to his lips. This halts him for only a moment before he’s wriggling giddily and letting out a happy yell once more, wrapping you into a big bear hug.

“And now you can never, ever, ever leave!” he says, before amending in a smaller tone, “Please don’t leave.”

“I won’t,” you tell him, grinning. “Never, ever, ever.”

And under the light of the bodies in the sky, your words entwine into a promise made to last, sealed with the kiss of the sea and the glow of the merman beneath you.

x     x     x     x     x     x

[four months later; full moon]

The crash of the waves and the soft rustle of the tree line behind you blend into a soothing white noise, lifting your heart high in euphoria. Salt brushes your tastebuds and nostrils, breeze playing with hair that you’ve taken the liberty of attempting to style a little, just for today. You’re standing waist-deep in water, clothing floating around you in a silky halo, vibrating with nerves and excitement, and Hoseok is before you, hands clasped in your own.

A beautiful vine you remember seeing grow along the sea floor in Hoseok’s kingdom beneath the waves is wrapped around both of your wrists, t3ravelling down his arm to climb your own. The flowers are soft against your skin, sweet-smelling and glowing slightly in the night. Hoseok sways your hands slightly, grinning in such a way you can feel every inch of his happiness, and you can’t help but smile back. Off to the side, deeper in the surf, are five of Hoseok’s brothers, identified by the way their markings light beneath the moon. The sixth, Namjoon, is beside you and Hoseok, resting in the middle. A small crab clings onto a choker around his neck, simply hanging in content.

Another crash of the waves, and Namjoon continues where he left off, speaking with a clear voice that seems to reach the heavens themselves. One of his hands is grasping where yours is entwined with Hoseok’s, and the skin there glows with warmth.

“And the moon, who has given her blessing for this union and happily bound your souls, has bestowed a gift upon the two children born beneath her rays. As she waxes, so shall her human child live beneath the sea with her companion. And as she wanes, so shall her merchild live on land with his companion.”

Hoseok is almost vibrating in place before you, hands clutching yours tightly. Namjoon smiles, exuding happiness for his brother.

“She has guided you across oceans and lands to be with each other, and now she allows you to remain so. Feel her love and magic wash over you and course through your veins. With her blessing, you may now meet, and seal this ceremony.”

Almost before Namjoon has even finished speaking, there is a slight burn along your arms and Hoseok is letting go of your hands to lurch towards you, holding you close as you both fall into the water once more. Your surprised, elated squeal is cut off as you are submerged, but he simply stops you with an eager kiss of your lips. Instantly, you melt against him, feeling your hair float and tickle your cheeks as you kiss him back, butterflies running amok inside you. As you rise back to the surface, now completely drenched, it’s to the sound of loud cheering and whooping from Hoseok’s family. Delighted and amused, you send them a bright grin that they happily return.

When you turn to him, he seems a little sheepish, somewhat embarrassed, but you quickly and successfully distract him with a quick kiss.

“Now you know for sure I’m not gonna leave, never, ever, ever,” you tease softly, enjoying the way he flushes instantly at the reference to his moment of weakness four months ago. “I love you, Hobi.”

“Love you too, precious pearl,” he returns, almost shyly, before he’s pressing his forehead against yours and his brothers are making teasing noises in the background.

Your heart leaps, soars, and it will never feel any more content as it does now. You’re in awe, reflecting for a moment where you’ve come from to be here now. You have many things to thank, you suppose, but most of all, you thank the moon. For it was her, and her magic, that brought you to Hoseok, and let you into his world.

It was the moon, and her magic, that brought you home.

masterlist | ko-fi

||: please let me know what you think and if you liked it, please consider supporting me & letting me know thru a lil heart <3 thank you for reading!

[kimmimaru]

Yet more remake randoms.

One thing I really did enjoy about the remake was that at least two (or maybe it was the same guy, can’t be sure) infantry/security soldiers recognised Cloud. That’s one thing in the OG I got confused over, HOW did no one recognise Cloud when he would’ve been known to at least a few people. He obviously went through training, he would’ve worked with some of them, surely? I’m glad we got those moments. Also Kunsel got mentioned! I assumed they were trashing most of Crisis Core, obviously not. Judging by the posters for Banora we can assume that it exists/existed. Hojo’s mention of project G suggests the existence of Genesis at least...I’m not sure how I feel about that since I was never a massive fan of Genesis. His part in Sephiroth’s descent into madness annoyed me, he’s a big boy and can go mad perfectly well on his own lol. Hints of a possible deepground is also interesting, I mean if they have a secret base under sector 7 then maybe deepground does exist too? There’s no solid evidence of it but logically it makes sense. Although DoC has it’s issues, obviously I didn’t mind the reveal of secret bases, ShinRa is a dodgy company I don’t see why they wouldn’t have underground places full of nasty monsters. Also, the main reason I cling to DoC is because of the Vincent content tbh, Vincent is one of the main three characters I used in the OG (Cid being the other) and he’s amazing.  I get people’s issues with the remake, I really do. It DOES lack the grittyness the OG had. It feels...more fantastical which is kind of annoying. If the characters didn’t swear so much I’d have thought it was a game aimed at younger audiences. As an adult playing it that grates on me. I love the characters, Cloud especially is better than I had hoped, I was worried they’d make him all soft and woobyish, I’m glad they kept his hard edges. And the fact that Cloud knows how security stuff works, like the emergency locks and how to access the computers etc is yet more hints that he’s not all he thinks he is. Pretty sure SOLDIER’s wouldn’t know half the stuff he does, they wouldn’t have any reason to. I was...disappointed to see that Sephiroth didn’t cause anywhere near as much chaos as he did in the OG. I don’t understand why they didn’t do that. That moment in the OG when you realise the doors to your cell have been opened and then you have to follow a trail of blood and you see scars on the wall from Masamune. It was...so powerful. And eerie. The dead bodies along the way and then the president lying across his desk was like; :O It was scary and intense. That scene in the remake was lame. No blood. No corpses. Just a trail of purple bubbly stuff. Yeah no I didn’t like that. Sephiroth shouldn’t give a fuck WHO he kills in his quest for power. He should have stormed through ShinRa with his sword swinging but all he did was stab the president only after Cloud got there. That scene should have been handled much better. I love the fight with Rufus though. That was actually fun, although i’m not one for dodging or blocking so I took a beating lol. And that trick with the coins just...suits him? Wasting money like it’s nothing to him. His possessiveness and all the quips he makes while fighting. Just perfect Rufus. Honestly, out of everyone (for me), they got Rufus, Reno and Cloud perfect. I do like Tseng too and Rude...i thought Rude would be somewhat more callous but it’s cute that he feeds birds from his hand. I love Reno’s anger. Don’t know why he’s so angry but it’s fun and his foul language. The fact that Rude actively saves Tifa was a bit of a surprise for me, I know in the OG Rude likes Tifa (she could break his neck if she wanted, as I’ve always thought Rude is into that, the kinky bastard) but was very shocked to see him actively interfere and save her. I need to replay it but I always thought in the OG when you fight Rude and have Tifa on your team he never actually attacks her...or maybe that was just my game? I don’t know if that was deliberate. So it is faithful to the OG if I didn’t just imagine that. Also, on the subject of Rude, did I imagine it or did he hit the button to drop the plate because Reno couldn’t do it? I know Cloud attacks Reno before he can do it but his hand hesitates. Again, may have imagined it but it looked like he hesitated so Rude did it for him. (that rockstar slide under Cloud’s sword WAS cool. Not something I would have expected of Rude but I LOVED that). Also not sure why they didn’t have Tseng slap Aerith. He does it in the OG. Maybe they were worried about the reception of a move like that? Violence against women etc. I personally didn’t mind it, it was a shocking moment and the Turks ARE supposed to be bad guys. I did notice he does raise his hand to her, looking like he’s about to back hand her but the security guard seems to pull her away before he can. In the OG I believe that Tseng’s supposed to be putting on a front? Like, it’s hinted that he didn’t do it for any other reason than the fact that he thinks Aerith SHOULD be afraid of the Turks and maybe to stop himself from getting too close to her? Either way, they could’ve and probably should’ve left that bit in. It also doesn’t give me hope for later  on when they do the temple of the ancients bit and Cloud loses his mind and beats the crap out of Aerith. Somehow I don’t think they’ll put that in anymore, which is a damn shame.  Honestly, I like all the tiny gestures and body language they put in. It really goes a long way to make the characters much more human. All the little smiles, the hand gestures and everything. Like having Reno restless, unable to keep still. Short, sharp, angry gestures. Constant cursing. Rude’s calmer motions, the little moments of fear they both have when one of them is injured or possibly dead (when Rude’s helicopter crashes and Reno picks up his glasses). It shows how close they are and yeah they are bad guys but I have always been against making a bad guy ‘pure evil’ and inhuman (only exception is Sephiroth in this case because he IS part alien monster). Even the Turks are human, they should feel fear, they should care about something and have motivations beyond the simple; we are bad so we will try to defeat the good guys. I don’t want pure good guys either, I want them to have flaws and failings which is why I loved the OG so much. They were all just...human. And obviously we didn’t get QUITE as much Turk actions as I would have preferred but now that we are getting it I’m pretty happy with what we have. Edit to add; my issue with the remake’s version of the plate drop is it lacked that sense of helplessness. And a lot more people seemed to have survived. Maybe if they’d added a mission to go through and help look for more survivors, have people trapped, people you can’t save etc. I wanted to feel that despair when I played it, the same feeling I got when I played Zack’s final battle in CC. You know he doesn’t survive, you fight over and over again and that feeling of knowing that no matter what you do he’s going to die anyway. I loved that. It’s so real. It shows that even a hero can’t save everyone and it’s a hard fact of life. It definitely lacked the sheer horror and evil of the act. I mean I did cry when I played it...but the end ruined it for me. Having it turn out that people are alive who should have died, kind of destroys the whole emotional aspect. There’s no real consequences to anything in the remake. And, judging by all the hints at changing fate and stuff, there won’t be in the coming parts either. Makes me really quite angry. Everyone lives and nobody dies, totally unrealistic and pointless for a game like final fantasy 7. I am silently begging square to reconsider their direction if what they’re hinting at is true and they’re going to keep Aerith alive. Please, please don’t do that. It will totally ruin the game and it’ll lose all meaning. I love Aerith but her death is a poignant, emotional tragedy and Cloud’s (or the players) helplessness is a key factor in that. If this ends with ‘and everything was fine and everyone was happy’ I’m going to puke.  Anyways, will stop here. This got LONG.

[noonachronicles]

Everlong Pt. 2

Kwon Jiyong/ G Dragon X Reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Mildly vulgar language.  

Genre: Hades/Jiyong. Greek God AU. Fantasy.

A/N: Thanks everyone for your patience, while I was off galavanting with GOT7 this weekend. Update Tag: @kathrynwynterbourne

Moodboard by bae, @memoiresofaneternaldreamer

It wasn’t very hard for you to admit that you didn’t like a lot of people. The bar you had set as far as your expectations of others, you thought, was low. Yet people always found a way to disappoint you. It was because of this that you didn’t really keep a lot of friends and you didn’t waste time with acquaintances. You’d remember the names of your regulars and maybe a key point or two about their lives to ask about, but that was really only because it made for better tips. You never shared information about yourself in return, nothing much beyond your name anyway. Even your coworkers knew very little about you.

So it came as a bit of a shock to you that when Jiyong continued to show up at the cafe you weren’t entirely annoyed by his presence. In fact, you began to look forward to it. Most of the guys that would come around all the time were creeps that wanted to make a pass at either you or your coworkers and they were always less than subtle about it. Jiyong was different, he didn’t actually seem to want to make a pass at you or anyone else at all. You’d started to notice he never even made conversation with anyone.

He’d come in, usually in a tailor fitted suit or some other outfit that he’d likely paid too much for. He would order his big mug of just espresso shots and a different dessert than he’d gotten the time before. Then he would sit at either a table or the coffee bar, cross one leg over the other, and open his little leather notebook. Sometimes he’d just sit there for hours, mug after mug of espresso shots, flipping through his notebook or watching the other customers curiously. Never saying anything to anyone unless they spoke to him first.  

The first night he’d come in he had tried talking to you for sometime. You gave him your name. Told him how long you’d worked at the shop and what your favorite drink was to make. Though he suspected that was a lie. He could tell easily that you didn’t want to reveal too much about yourself. That you weren’t immediately as interested in him as much as he was in you. In response he decided early on that he’d have to change his approach with you. 

Instead of pressing you into communicating with him he left you to yourself. He didn’t ever say much to you after the first night. At most a kind greeting and a thank you when you gave him his drink. Your coworkers found him especially charming and would often come by to where he was sitting and ask him how his day was or what his plans were for the weekend and he’d happily tell them. On more than one occasion he caught you watching those conversations with the slightest hints of longing and jealousy on your face but when you saw him looking at you they were quick to disappear.

At one point, nearly a month after he’d started coming into the cafe, you couldn’t stand it anymore. You were itching with anxiety, wondering why he didn’t seem to want to talk to you but apparently loved talking to everyone else. On a very slow night he was sitting at one of the tables with his leg crossed over the other flipping through his notebook, which you would swear you’d never once seen him write anything in, and you decided it was time. 

Casually leaning against the other chair at the table he was at you asked him what he was up to and if he needed anything. He politely said declined and then went back to his notebook. Unable to stop the urge you stomped your foot on the ground like an ignored child and asked him why he didn’t want to talk to you. With pure amusement glistening in his eyes he looked back up at you and said he’d wanted to talk to no one else this whole time. Then asked you to take a seat.

Before you knew what was even happening you were telling him your entire life story. Little did you know, as you started your story, that he’d already learned all about you.

Growing up you had a father that you’d never met and a mother who was somehow around just as much even though she was technically considered your legal guardian. Which left you to be raised by your grandmother who you thought was actually pretty wonderful. She made sure you were always healthy, always worked hard at your studies, and that you knew the difference between good and bad. Or how she crudely put it between puffs from her cigarette, “how not to be a piece of shit.”

Unfortunately, she died when you were still fairly young, just ten years old. The only consistent and positive influence in your life, gone. Despite the massive change to your life your mother refused to change hers. Instead of spending any time with you she had set you up with caretaker in the form of your pedofile neighbor, who of course had offered to watch you free of charge. Growing up your grandmother had warned you enough about him for you to know you never wanted to be alone with him. Instead of going home after school you would spend your nights tucked away in libraries until they closed and then wandering around the city until you thought it was safe enough to sneak back into the apartment without being bothered.

Among many things she had wanted for you, your grandmother had always told you she didn’t want you to let the cards you’d been dealt make you hard. She didn’t want your absentee mother to be your only example of love and affection. You had tried, when you were young you tried often to open up to others and were often left discouraged by the people you placed your trust in. That was why as an adult it had become very rare for you to get close to people despite your grandmother’s wishes.

The only person who’d been successful at keeping you, as a friend or otherwise, was your boyfriend. You’d known him for years. He’d been the cousin of a girl you met in high school. Though he had only graduated a year before you were set to he had already moved out of his parents house the second he hit eighteen. It was something you admired as it was what you’d been planning on doing for years. He would always let the two of you stay the night at his place when you got too drunk to go home after those friday night parties. Then after high school you stayed hanging around his place, even when his cousin stopped coming around.

Finally one day he had asked you flat out if you were homeless. When you told him no, that you were just comfortable there he had given you a key and offered you your own space, letting you call it home. After you’d collected the last of your things you never went back to that old apartment. Your mother never reached out to you and you weren’t keen on keeping in touch with her either.

One rainy afternoon you had sat perched on the counter in the kitchen watching him make sandwiches for lunch. You’d been telling him about your latest dating mishap when he looked up at you and very simply said, “You’re really fucked up.”

“Jeez, aren’t you astute.” you’d replied swinging your foot hard into his leg.

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” he asked as casually as if he’d just asked if you wanted mustard on your sandwich.

“Sure.” you answered with about the same enthusiasm.

He handed you a finished sandwich and smiled, “Cool.”

~

“You know,” Jiyong said one night after another one of your long complaint sessions about the boyfriend that you’d loved so much. “Yours may just be the most romantic love story I’ve ever heard in my life.”

You rolled your eyes hard at his sarcasm, “Maybe we’re not Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, nobody is perfect.”

“Who?”

“You don’t know...what is wrong with you?” you asked genuinely and then shook your head, “Fine, who do you consider a good love story?”

He hummed thoughtfully and after a quiet minute he said, “Orpheus and Eurydice. I think they were a nice couple.”

“Wasn’t that a tragedy?” You asked trying to recall the details of the tale from when you’d learned about it in school.

“It had the potential to be a wonderful love story with a happy ending.” He shrugged, “There’s the double love story if you consider that Hades even agreed to let Eurydice go at the behest of Persephone in the first place because he cared so much for her.. even if she never really cared for him... but he’s probably over it. Old news.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. Sometimes I forget how desperately whipped for her he was.” You missed the look Jiyong gave you as you started to really remember the story, “Sucks Hades had to be a dick though and take Eurydice back.”

“It’s not Hades fault that Orpheus broke their deal!” he argued.

“Please.” You scoffed, “would you really have trusted Hades enough to not look back?”

“Yes, of course. Hades is, if nothing else, a god of his word.” Jiyong said so defensively you found it amusing.

“Bullshit, Hades is manipulative. He probably has some backdoor loophole out of every deal he makes with everyone just so he can get out of them without feeling guilty.”

“That’s just not true. If you think it is, you don’t know anything about him.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing as he pouted into his nearly empty cup. Feeling bad that you seemed to have turned his mood so sour you stood up from the table and moved around to the espresso machine. You called over the counter “I guess you’re right. The mythological, Greek god of the underworld? I don’t know much about him. Only what I’ve read in books.”

“You’re mocking me.” It was hard not to think Jiyong was cute, even if he was being a grump. Maybe especially when he was being a grump.

“Lighten up, Ji,  it’s not like I was talking about you. Hades doesn’t even exist. If he did he wouldn’t care what a nobody like me had to say about him.” You shrugged as he sat down at the counter and handed him fresh mug of espresso and a biscotti as an apology.

“Yours would likely be the only opinion that mattered to him.” he muttered to himself as he dipped the biscotti into the fresh espresso.

“What was that?” you asked turning back around from the sink, but he shook his head, “Would it make you feel better to make fun of my boyfriend some more?”

“Yes, actually, I think I might like that.” he said, finally with a smile.

“Oh, give him a break. Give me a break. He was the only one that was there for me during some of the hardest parts of my life. He knows how messed up I am and still sticks around.” you said trying to credit him with something.

“Or he found you in your most vulnerable state. When your expectations of love and respect were at their lowest level, and showed you the bare minimum amount of respect a person deserves. Which for you then placed him on a god tier level pedestal. Gaining him your undying, and quite frankly, undeserved loyalty.”  

“Ouch.” you said placing a hand on your chest to indicate exactly where his words had hit you. He thought for a moment that he had gone too far, finally said too much, but you just smiled, “You don’t seem to like him very much.”

“The only things I know about him are what you’ve told me,” And his entire life’s history… Jiyong thought to himself, drumming his fingers on top of his notebook. “It’s not as if you share his most redeeming qualities with me.”

“That’s not what friends do.” you said matter of factly, “Friends vent to each other. We don’t gush about how perfect our lives are. That would be so boring.”

“Well, do it now. Tell me something good about him.”

“He…” you hesitated, suddenly unsure of any of his more positive qualities and blaming it on being put on the spot. “He makes me happy.”

“Does he?” Jiyong asked with a surprised expression.

“Yes!” you confirmed, landing a backhanded smack against his arm. “That’s all I need.”

He squinted at you curiously, “You’re saying that his only redeeming quality is that he supposedly makes you happy?”

You shrugged, and leaned against the counter. “I think that’s enough. Being with someone who makes you happy. Don’t you?”

“Maybe if I thought he was actually any good at it.” Jiyong said taking a sip from his cup.

You raised an eyebrow at him and tried not to laugh, “Savage, Ji.”

“No, I’m just being honest.”

With a sigh you stood up and stretched out your sore back, “What am I supposed to do? What would you suggest? I just leave him?”

He gave a half shrug. “To start with, yes.”

“And start this whole process over again? Trying to find someone who is patient and understanding enough to tolerate me?” you groaned at even the idea of being single. You had female coworkers, you’d heard about the struggle.

“You’re not as fucked up as you think you are, as he’s made you believe. Trust me.”

For a moment you fell quiet. Processing his words made you feel uncomfortable so you shook your head as if to clear the thoughts and looked back up at him with a small, ingenuine smile, “I don’t really want to talk about me anymore, tell me more about you.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Do you have a family? A girlfriend? What do you do for work? You know all this shit about me and never tell me anything about yourself.”

He took a long, deep breath trying to think of what to tell you and how to tell you. The delicate art of telling someone you were the god of the underworld wasn’t something he’d ever had to know before. Luckily for him a roar of hunger from deep in your belly, saved him from having to answer. You realized that you’d gone nearly all day without a bite to eat. A blush rose in your cheeks as you realized from the small, amused smirk on his lips that Jiyong had heard it too.

“I’m not supposed to, while there’s customers,” You began, “but would you mind if I ate something?”

“Sounds like Cerberus in there....” He leaned back on the stool casual as always, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

With a sense of relief you opened the back of the small display case. Instead of one of the predominantly displayed treats that you’d offered him earlier that evening you pulled out large pink box that was typically reserved for people who purchased several baked goods to go. A smile spread across your face as you dropped it on the counter and grabbed a fork.

“I’ve been waiting all day for you.” You whispered as you opened the top and dug your fork into your treat.

Jiyong watched, incredibly entertained, as you devoured each bite with a sense of euphoria. Finally he asked what had been eating at him, “I have to know what's in the box?”

You blushed slightly, embarrassed to admit it, “Persephone’s Kiss.”

“Excuse me?” He choked out in surprise.

“It’s a new recipe I’ve been working on, and I think I finally got it. It’s a pomegranate cake.“

“You’re joking?” You shook your head. Jiyong chuckled, which suddenly turned into a genuine laugh. The action took you by surprise. He typically kept a straight face or would muster a grin or smug smirk at most, which meant that you never really noticed that he had such a beautiful smile. It was gummy and big, almost childlike. He patted his bulbous cheeks with the back of his hand as he calmed himself.

Once composed, Jiyong went back to sipping his coffee humming with laughter every once in awhile. After you’d devoured a significant amount of the cake you looked down at it and pursed your lips thoughtfully. “Would you like to try it? I think it’s my new favorite, but maybe you could try it and let me know if it’s good enough to share with the boss. Good enough for the menu.”

“Would I like to try Persephone’s Kiss?” You could see the laughter in his eyes again as he asked. “You’d share your favorite treat with me? I’m practically a stranger.”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, “I meant it earlier when I said we were friends. I thought we were acquaintances at the very least.”

“You really consider me a friend?” He asked raising his perfectly shaped eyebrow.

“Sure, why not? I see you like everyday. I talk to you more than I’ve talked to my own boyfriend in the last week. You know more about what’s going on in my life than my other friends.” You pushed the box towards him and offered him the fork by its handle. “Have some cake, friend.”

You watched him as he pulled a small piece onto the fork and brought the cake to his lips. A dozen things went through his head as he pulled the prongs of the fork from his mouth. One of them being the realization that the fork he’d just used was the one that you’d been using and that part of the magnificent flavor that lingered on his tongue was your essence. The same essence he would experience if he were to kiss you. And he absolutely wanted to kiss you. He could have choked when he looked up to see you watching him diligently.

“Well? What do you think?”

He blushed lightly, “Better than the real thing, if you ask me.”

Your forehead creased as his words sunk in and then you just laughed, “Jiyong, you say the weirdest shit sometimes.”

[liliah39]

Crazy Little Game of Love, Chapter 2

A/n: Thanks for reading! Send me some asks about the story, or who you want y/n to end up with! There will be an aesthetic board for this chapter in the next couple days to feature all the amazing clothing pieces in this chapter! As usual, lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist, this can also be Borhap!Queen x reader, and sorry for any typos :)

From the concept I posted: here

Liliah39 Masterlist

Word Count: 7.8K+

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Freddie made you be yourself. Your first year of school was a whirlwind of crazy new adventures that he forced you to take, but you wouldn’t change any of it for the world. Of course there was some rule breaking, but as Freddie says, “Following all of societies rules makes life dreadfully boring.” In the beginning, he slept on your couch a lot because not only would the two of you be up until the early hours of the morning studying, gossiping, joking, or doing just about anything with each other, but also Freddie’s roommate was absolutely dreadful. He commonly picked on him for being Indian and was downright awful to him, so about 3 months into your amazing friendship he was practically living in your room anyways, so the two of you bought a pull out couch and set your room up as a dual dorm. Closet space became a serious problem, since you each had a lot of clothes, so you both resulted to keeping your clothes that weren’t in season in tubs, keeping pants folded in tubs, and splitting the closet down the middle. For the coming school year, Freddie just lied that he’d be living off campus, and instead stayed in your room again. You made him a copy of all the keys he’d need to get in, and although you were nervous about getting caught, Freddie assured you wouldn’t, and you ended up just being happy you’d have someone to live with. 

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You hadn’t spoken to your parents in quite some time. When Christmas came, you called them two weeks before and explained your situation, and to say the least, they were absolutely furious. They demanded you come home instantly and even tried calling the school, but as you said to John all those months ago, there was nothing they could do. You were a legal adult who was entirely paying for her own college. Freddie said they were trying to push some “tough love” on you when they told you that you wouldn’t be seeing them on Christmas or any breaks unless you came home, thinking that would break you, but instead you put on a strong façade and told your mother that if that was how she was going to treat her daughter, than you wanted nothing to do with them and hung up, immediately flinging into Freddie’s arms and crying hysterically. In that moment, Fred scooped you up and carried you to your shared room and held you in his lap as you cried until you fell asleep that night. He’d never seen you so depressed. You barely spoke to him and didn’t leave the room for a week. One day, when Freddie came home from his class, he walked in to find you laying on your side facing the wall, unsure if you were asleep, so he decided to tell you the good news anyways. 

“Hello darling. I know you haven’t wanted to talk, and that’s perfectly fine, but I just hope you’re as okay as you can be. I think about you all day. I’m dreadfully worried about you. Well, I’m not sure if you noticed, but I left quite early this morning and instead went to see my mum and dad. I told them about what happened and they feel awful. Even though we’re from India, ever since we came here we’ve always celebrated Christmas to be more a part of British culture. They said no one should be alone on Christmas, and you’re more than welcome to come stay with us? Mum and I went out shopping, and we already have presents for you, love. All you have to do is say you’ll come with me.” You’d never heard Freddie speak so quietly and sad, and didn’t move a muscle for a couple minutes. Freddie thought he was speaking to a wall until he saw the small shake of your shoulders as you croaked out, 

“Really?” You rolled over to see your friend with a big smile on his face. 

“Well of course, darling! You’re like the twin I never had; you’re my better half and I love you with all my heart. Anywhere I go, you’re always welcome to accompany me.”

Freddie didn’t need a verbal confirmation that you’d be joining him. Instead, you stepped out of your bed for the first time in days, ran over to him and engulfed him in a massive hug, quietly sobbing into his shoulder as you whispered, “Thank you” over and over again. 

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Freddie’s family became your own, and you felt as if they were the parents you never had. They loved to hear the two of you play your instruments together in their family room, and felt as though you really had a special connection. One night after Christmas you and Freddie decided to go out to see a band play at a local college club, and before you stepped out of the door in your favorite clubbing disco dress with a thin, yet cute coat over it, Bomi, Freddie’s dad stopped you both. 

“Hold on. No daughter of mine is going out in this weather without a proper coat.” He smiled. 

“Daughter?” You replied, unable to control the smile growing on your face. 

“Daughter. Now here dear, you can borrow mums fur coat. Don’t lose it!” He said with a finger in your face. 

“I won’t, not in a million years. Thanks Mr. Bulsara.”

“You can call me dad, y/n, if you want to. We don’t mind. Everyone deserves to have supportive parents, and we’d love to fill that gap.”

You immediately teared up from your happiness at the situation you were in. You finally had a home. “Thank you, dad.” You enveloped him in a tight hug, and after a little while he patted your back and said,

“Now go have fun! But not too much fun! Don’t let anything happen to her Farrokh!” He called after you as he pushed you out the door. 

You both turned to see him at the door and blew him a kiss simultaneously as you walked hand in hand to the car. 

“I’m mad at you, y/n.” Freddie pouted. 

“What could I have possibly done now?” You laughed, exasperated of his daily dramatics. 

“Dad let you borrow mum's fur coat. I never get to borrow mum’s fur coat!” He sighed flamboyantly. 

“Oh, hush. Poor Farrokh.” You dragged, eager to mock him. 

“If you keep calling me that, I’ll actually be mad!”

“But it’s so cute!”

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You arrived at the club, and noticed all of the posters for the band strategically placed around the room. The band was called Smile, and Freddie said he’d been following them for quite some time now. 

“So, you think they’re good then, Fred?”

“Well, they have great potential.” He strategically replied. 

“So, they’re only half good?” You sighed. 

“Just wait and see, I can’t explain it.” Freddie quickly brushed the subject away. “Come on love! We’ve got 25 minutes before they come on. Let’s dance!” And just as quickly as he brushed away the subject, he’d grabbed your hand and whisked you off to the front of the dance floor. 

You recognized the song immediately: Le Freak, by Chic. “Seriously Fred?! Front of the floor where everyone can see us?!” You screamed over the loud music, laughing as Freddie spinned you. 

“Of course darling! You’re a marvelous dancer. Show it and have fun!”

Freddie was right; you were an excellent dancer. You naturally had great rhythm from playing violin for so long, and your dancing to disco was the perfect mix between popular disco dancing and more sultry, sexier moves. Next, Brick House by the Commodores came on, and the crowd cheered, and so did you and Fred. The two of you had come up with some sort of routine to this in your dorm when you were bored. “Freddie! Did you put this on?” You squealed.

“Maybe. Maybe not. Now show everyone our marvelous routine. Since we’re not the act, we must put on our own show!” He declared. 

You started your choreography, immediately getting nervous, because this dance you’d made up required a lot of hip movement, and you were kind of embarrassed to do it in public. When you got to the place where you were standing right in front of Freddie for the chorus, he whispered in your ear, “Let loose darling, just pretend we’re back home.” 

And that was all you needed to let loose and really get into the moment. Freddie carefully pulled his mother’s coat from your shoulders and threw it on the edge of the stage in front of you. Little did you know, there were two pairs of eyes watching you intently. 

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“Brian! Brian hurry! You’ve got to see this girl dancing!” Roger yelled back to the small room they were using a dressing room. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming! She can’t be anyone I haven’t seen before, Rog, we hardly ever get new audience members.” Brian said as he walked to the curtain his friend was peering behind. “I’m sure she’s pretty, but she can’t be that p-” and for the first time in his life, Brian had set eyes on the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. “Holy shit.” 

“I told you!!” Roger smirked, and continued gawking at you. 

“She’s gorgeous.” Brian stated, still in awe of the dancing he was witnessing. 

“She’s a goddess.” Roger replied in the same tone. 

“How the hell does she move her hips like that mate?” 

“I don’t know Bri, but I’d like to find out. Say, that bloke she’s with, he’s a regular of ours, right?”

Roger asked. 

“Yup. Lucky Bastard.” Brian said as they watched you press your back up against Freddie. 

The song ended, much to Brian and Roger’s demise, and with an angelic smile on your face you grabbed mum’s fur coat and draped it over your shoulders. 

“She wears fur coats too? I don’t even know her name and she’s gonna be the bloody death of me Brian. Bloody hell.” Roger sighed. 

“Guys! We’re going on in 10! Get back here!” Tim yelled to his band mates, and much to their disappointment, Brian and Roger returned to the dressing room. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the band prepared to go on, Freddie grabbed you a water to cool down, and you noticed the blonde drummer. Not bad looking, not in the slightest bit. The guitarist was cute too, but once they started playing, you broke from your trance and could see why Fred wouldn’t give you his honest opinion. When he returned, you said, “I see what you mean Fred. They all have potential, but just don’t work great together. The drummer and guitarist are doing pretty okay though.” 

“And that’s why I’m going to be their new singer.” Freddie said nonchalantly. 

You almost spit out your water. “What? How?” 

“Oh I don’t know yet, darling. But I always get my way.” Freddie watched them intently until the end of their show, and you left soon after. You weren’t crazy about Smile, so you hardly ever went to their performances with Freddie. But hey, at least it’s members were cute. 

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About One year later, October 1970:

It was the next school year, your sophomore year and Freddie’s senior year, and Freddie was still living in your dorm. The two of you couldn’t have been happier to do everything with each other. You were truly the definition of best friends. 

“Y/n hurry up! You look fine, darling! Your dress looks great, you look great, your hair is fine, now let’s go!” Freddie sassed, hands on his hips while he absentmindedly paced around the room. 

“Oh would you look at that? The Queen of making me fashionably late to everything is sassing me for making him late! Oh how the tables have turned.” You smirked, turning back to the mirror to complete your makeup. You could see his face in the background of the mirror. He was evidently pissed off, yet also laughing at your quirks at the same time. 

“I’m glad someone finally noticed I’m the queen around here.” He quickly snapped back as your tried to hold in your laughter. You’d just finished your eye shadow and went to grab your eyeliner, when Freddie quickly snatched it out of your hand. 

“What the hell was that for!” You fumed, face turning red.

“Oh hush darling, we both know you’re dreadful at doing eyeliner. Now close your eyes so we can get out of here.” You obeyed his command and closed your eyes, and Freddie quickly gave you the perfect eyeliner. 

As you admired his work while you put on mascara, you quietly muttered, “I really don’t know how you do it. My hands always shake. Takes me-“

“Ten tries to do your eyeliner! We know! Now let’s go, y/n!” Freddie grabbed your hand and yanked you out the door just as you finished your last stroke of mascara and grabbed mum’s coat, leaving you laughing like a mad man at your friends’ impulsiveness. 

“Freddie Mercury! You’ll be the death of me!” you screeched. Freddie had just legally changed his last name to Mercury right as the new, still untitled band had formed, not wanting his mates to know him as anything else. Since Freddie’s parents let you bring Jer’s coat back to school, you and Freddie shared it frequently. Although more often than not you fought over who would wear it, since you went everywhere together. 

The two of you walked close side by side down the busy London streets toward Imperial College where Freddie’s new band mates, Brian and Roger, go to school and had secured the four of them a large practice space in the music building. The trees were filled with leaves around you, and it was a rare, yet beautifully sunny day in London. You were just happy to spend it with your best friend. 

“Say, Fred. Brian and Roger. Are they the same blokes of the same name from that awful band you took me to in December?” You quipped, knowing your choice of words would irritate him. 

“For the millionth time, the band wasn’t bad, they just weren’t right. I told you all they needed was me, and they got me.” Freddie proudly stated, puffing his chest out as he walked. His confidence overwhelmed you at times. Not in a bad way. Just… interesting, to say the least. 

“And, how are they? Do you like them?” You interrogated. You and Fred had both come quite protective of one another, so naturally, you had to make sure he wouldn’t get hurt. 

“I love them. We’ve become good friends. We held auditions for a bassist, found a guy named John. He fit with our style the best. I want to get to know him more. He’s quite talented, just awfully quiet. But we’ll be friends soon; I’m not worried about it. I’m quite easy to become friends with. Some girl I’m close with told me so.” he winked, and started fast walking ahead of you. 

“Hey, wait up!” You said as you jogged to him. Once you reached him, you took his hand in yours, not romantically in any way, but just as close friends do when discussing something serious. “Is that so, that some girl told you that you were easy to become friends with? Quite a compliment huh?” 

“Oh, one of the very best compliments I’ve ever gotten, darling. I’m quite close with her actually. She’s rather great.”  He smugly said as the two of you continued your little game. 

“Is she now? What’s she like? You still friends with her?” You laughed. 

“Oh yes. And of course we’re still friends! I’d never let someone like her slip away! Not in a million years. I’d even say she’s the best friend I’ve ever had. No one could ever take her place. She’s sweet, kind, caring, hilarious; the list goes on and on, darling.”

The two of you just smiled at each other after that.  Sometimes, no words had to be said. A look said one thousand words. “You’re my eternal best friend too.” 

“I like that! Eternal best friends. What a title! You’re a genius. This is exactly why we’re friends darling, we think so alike.” Once again the two of you had nothing to say.

 A couple minutes later you said. “Love ya Fred.” 

And he looked down at you with a smile and said “Love ya too.”  

As the two of you entered the college and followed the hand drawn map one of Freddie's friends must have drawn for him, you remembered about the new bassist Freddie was speaking of. John. John the bassist. Could it be? Could it actually be your friend John Deacon from High School? Though you knew it was silly of you to assume it was your childhood friend, for John was just about the most common name of the century, and you were sure multiple John’s played the bass, a little part of you wanted it to be your friend. You wanted to make things right. 

“Hey Fred, that bassist you mentioned. You know his last name?” 

“Why?”

“Oh just wondering is all. Might know him.” You tried not to let on you were thinking about your childhood friend John. Anytime you brought him up to Freddie, you always ended up crying and he’d end up worrying about you, so you figured at this point it was better to just say nothing. 

“I mean I do, and I don’t. I’ve heard it before, I just forgot it.” He quickly spat out, opening the door to the music building for you both. 

You walked in silence, encompassed by your thoughts until Freddie opened another door into a large rehearsal space. Freddie said hello to his mates, tapped your arm to say he’d be leaving you, and went to warm up on the piano in the corner. You took off your coat and placed it on the large chair to the right of the door. The other three members were there faced away from you tending to their instruments. You immediately recognized Roger, the blonde from that band Smile. His hair could make him stand out miles away. You then noticed the other, dark, curly haired man picking up a guitar, whom you also recognized from the band, and assumed he was Brian. That left the newly appointed bassist who was still facing away from you. He nearly took your breath away. From behind, he looked just like your John. Was it possible? His long, wavy, light brown hair stopped just below his shoulders, and you watched him intently. 

“Darling,” Freddie called to you, “This is Roger, that’s Brian, and over there is John. Everyone, this is y/n.” 

At the mention of your name, the bassist whipped his head around to look at you. It was him. It was John Deacon. John Deacon, your friend all throughout grade school. Your friend that you ditched, and then felt bad about it for the entire year following your mistake. 

“Lovely?” He asked face full of surprise and happiness. 

“Deaky?” You replied back, just as surprised and happy as your old friend. 

You ran to him and jumped into his arms, and he tightly held you as he picked you up and spun you around. 

“You’re here?! What are you doing here love! It's been a year! You look amazing! How’s school and-” John was speaking a mile a minute. He probably had millions of questions for you, though that was understandable considering the way you left things. His arms were still around you as you two stood pressed against each other. 

You cut him off, laughing. “John, John! I can only answer so many questions love! Why of course I’m here! I met Freddie at school! He’s been my saving grace over the last year. You look wonderful too! School’s just fine. You know, school.” You laughed, nervously. Hoping to avoid the topic of your parents. Your parents. You’d just realized you hadn’t spoken to them or seen them in over a year. What a dreadful thought. 

Brian and Roger only saw you from behind as you and John stood intertwined. Roger sat on his bass drum, dumbfounded at the interaction happening in front of him, while Brian started to put two and two together, realizing you were the girl he entitled “the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen” in December. 

You turned around to say hello to Brian and Roger and formally introduce yourself, but as you turned around Brian loudly gasped, confusing you. Brian nudged Roger as he still sat there clueless, just happy to see a pretty girl in front of him. “What was that for, mate?” Roger whined as Brian quickly flashed his eyes between you, Freddie, and your fur coat. You saw a lightbulb go off in Rogers’ brain as he remarked, “Oh. My. God.” and shook Brian’s arm with a huge smile. 

You stood in front of John, completely confused at the situation unfurling in front of you. Both men quickly stood up and rushed toward you. 

“Hi, I’m Roger. Roger Taylor.”

“Hello love, I’m Brian.”

They said simultaneously, Roger with a cocky smirk and Brian with an endearing smile. Then, both realizing they spoke at the same time, quickly turned their heads at each other, flashed a look of disbelief and anger, and started quietly bickering. You found their actions quite adorable, and let out an airy laugh which immediately stopped their feud, making them look at you intently. 

“Hi dears,” you said, still chuckling, “I’m y/n. Pleasure to finally meet you! I came to one of your Smile concerts with Freddie.” you smiled. 

To your amuse, both men stuttered, unable to form a sentence. John looked on, trying to piece together what was happening, yet also getting jealous at his two new band mates for flirting with you. Though he hadn’t seen you in a year, and planned to ask you out two August’s ago, he still hadn’t gotten over you. Now that you were back in his life, he was going to make sure you stayed. 

“Oh I know. Couldn’t forget you love.” Roger finally managed to say, while Brian stuttered, 

“Y-you’re absolutely gorgeous.” And immediately hitting himself in the head. 

You laughed again, “Well thank you both! Especially you Brian.” You placed a hand on his chest as you walked toward the other side of the room toward Freddie who was sitting on the piano bench, laughing hysterically at the situation in front of him. As soon as you got close to him, he grabbed your arm and yanked you down next to him. 

“You know John?!” He whisper screamed. 

“Freddie! That’s John.” You responded back in the same tone. The three boys watched your whisper-argument with curiosity. 

“Well I know that darling! But how do you know him!” 

“Fred. It’s. J o h n. John my best friend who’s heart I broke right before I came to college!” 

Freddie let out a loud gasp and covered his mouth, leaving you two laughing hysterically for a moment, and then you turned back to your important discussion. 

“And your friends, Brian and Roger, are completely gawking over me!” 

“Oh I know darling! It’s quite hilarious! John likes you too, you know. I can tell by the way he looks at you” Freddie whispered, nudging your shoulder. 

“Oh hush, he does not!”

“So does, darling. This is going to be quite interesting.” He smirked. 

Brian cleared his throat, catching yours and Freddie’s attention. “So, um, how exactly do you two know each other?”

“Oh!” you perkily responded. “We live together!” You said, grabbing Fred’s hand and smiling at him. 

“Fuck.” Roger muttered under his breath, yet audible enough for the room to hear. 

“Oh! No! It’s not like that!” You said, letting go of Freddie’s hand, both of you laughing. 

“No darlings, not like that at all.” Freddie added. 

“Freddie’s my best friend. He helped me through some really rough patches, and I him, so he ended up moving into my dorm, and now we’re entirely inseparable.” You assured. 

“That used to be me.” John said, sadly. 

“Oh Deaky,” You said, walking to his side. “We’ll get there again, I promise.” 

“Yes dear, very well. Say you also need to talk to him and explain things soon!” Freddie chipped in. 

“Freddie!” You said, turning to him. Eyes wide and fuming with an, ‘are you kidding me?’ Look. 

“Hold on love, hold on.” Roger interjected. “Deaky? You call him Deaky?” Roger smiled. 

The other three members laughed at your nickname, and Freddie shouted “We’re so taking that! What an amazing nickname! I’m so glad I dragged you with me today! This is like watching a sit-com from over here in my nice cozy piano corner.” Brian, Roger, and Freddie were still in a bout of hysterics when John interjected,

“Well, I always found it quite endearing.”  He said, quiet as a mouse. His body language said he was dreadfully nervous. Was it from the situation, or from you?

The other three stopped instantly. “What do you mean, always John?” Brian asked. 

“Well y/n’s always called me Deaky, and I always called her Lovely. You know why? Remember that song, Isn’t She Lovely? Well, the description in that song is just her.” John smiled at you. “She’s an amazing violinist, that’s actually what she’s going to school for, right?” John asked you. 

“Yes! Oh I couldn’t change my major for the world. Violin performance. I hope to be in a symphony or something one day. It’s truly my passion.” You explained to Brian and Roger. 

“And if I may interject,” Freddie began.

“Well you’re going to anyways, so get on with it.” You said sarcastically, earning a laugh from your admirers. 

“Man, cats and dogs you two, eh?” Roger said. 

“Yes darling but I’m the cat.” Freddie proclaimed, sitting up as straight as possible, extremely proud of his friends analogy, and clinging to it as some sort of defense from the earful he was sure to get when the two of you got home. 

“Get on with it Fred!” You said, clearly annoyed. 

“Oh! Right! Well, Roger, you were saying it annoys you when Brian plays his guitar in your apartment sometimes, and Brian, I’m almost positive you said the same about Roger and his drums. But with y/n? It���s not like that one bit. I’ve never heard anyone play like that. It’s mesmerizing. Absolutely angelic. Sometimes I ask her to play just so I can fall asleep. She’s really a true talent.” His compliments cleared away your annoyance, and filled your heart with smiles. Though he got on your nerves, Freddie truly was the angel in your life. 

“Well, I’d love to hear you play one time, y/n. That is, only if you’re up to it.” Brian said, and you nodded in approval of his proposal. “But say, John, you never did really get into how you two knew each other?”

“Y/n and I went to primary school all the way through high school together. We lived quite close together too, always were good friends.” You noticed his emphasis on the word were, and it made your stomach drop. His tone then turned more pushy. It showed how hurt he was. “We grew up in the small, cute town of Leicester. I love it. Though I guess it’s not big enough for some.” John said, glaring your way. 

“John, please stop.” You whispered, only loud enough for him to hear as a tear fell down your face. 

He ignored your request. “Well, we were the closest of friends, until our last day. Was actually my birthday, in fact, and her last day before college too. And well, let’s just say out of respect we haven’t seen each other, talked to each other, or written to each other since.” He said angrily, pushing his point through each sentence. He was trying to prove how hurt he was. 

At this point you were completely silently crying, yet the tears fell down your face profusely. Freddie stood protectively, and slowly walked toward the four of you, but was unsure of how to handle the situation. “John please. You know it’s not like that.” You said, voice full of disbelief at the things he was saying to you, and crossing your arms for some sort of protection. But he wasn’t done. 

“I visit Leicester frequently. Love to see everyone I grew up with. Say y/n, how are your parents? They doing alright? Handling everything swell? Where’d you go for your annual summer trip.” John smiled, knowing he got his message through to you, and probably everyone in the room, yet everyone saw through him to how hurt he really was. Although, his last four questions were your breaking point. 

You threw him a look of disbelief and hurt, and you saw his smirk fade and eyes soften, yet wide in realization of what he just said. You stared at him for a moment more, let out a breath of disgust and turned, storming for your coat to flee out the door. You saw Freddie instantly step to follow you. “Don’t follow me right now, Freddie.” You warned. 

As you reached your coat, Freddie put his hand on your shoulder. Which you immediately brushed off. “Fred, leave me alone.” You spat out through your tears, which were flowing uncontrollably. You put on your jacket, and stormed to the door. Yet Freddie, being the devoted eternal best friend he was, followed quickly in your footsteps and reached to open the door for you, which made you absolutely livid. 

“Farrokh Bulsara! Stop! Leave me alone! I don’t want to see you right now!” You screamed through your tears, which left Freddie motionless as you turned around and slammed the door in his face. 

Freddie turned back toward the boys, and saw John sitting in the window crying. Though he was furious with him, he understood why he did what he did. He was extremely hurt by the actions you pulled months prior, and had probably spoken to your parents in one of his visits home, and could see how they were hurting too. Brian and Roger just sat there clueless, yet Roger had a fire in his eye that gave Freddie the impression he was going to punch John. He broke the silence. 

“I know all about this situation. Heard about it more than I’d like to admit, but I want you two to know that our Johnny boy is not at fault here. We’re his actions wrong? Yes. Darling, you were a little harsh, but considering the situation, she had it coming. I just don’t think she realized how hurt you are, and when it all came out she perceived it as hatred. It was too much for her to handle all at once. This is why I said you two need to talk.” Freddie said, his last sentence filled with anger. 

“Right now though John, I’d appreciate it if you’d come sit here across from me. I need to fill you in.” Freddie's protectiveness was coming out. John humbly got up from his recluse location and slowly meandered to the seat he was instructed to sit in. 

“Darlings?” he addressed Brian and Roger. “Could one of you go find her?” His eyes pleaded how worried he was, and Brian pulled Roger to the side.  

“Rog, I’ll go find her, but you’ve gotta stay here.” He warned. 

“Why do you get to go after the pretty girl Brian. Not fair to me, ya know. I haven’t had a girl in weeks!” 

“And I haven’t had one for months! But this is beside the point right now Rog. If they get in a fight, you can break it up better than I can. And one of us should stay so that way we can judge John’s character and see if it’s actually not his fault, as Freddie says. I vote you to stay back.”

Roger paused for a moment, taking in what Brian said. “Alright fine.” He resigned. 

“But pay attention. I’d like to know the situation at hand.” He said, putting on his coat and walking out the door. 

Roger walked back over to the two seated men, and leaned on the wall in between them. “Brian went to get ‘er. She’ll be alright Fred.” 

“Alright then let’s get started. I already know the whole situation, so tell me how you’ve been feeling, Deacon, and then I’ll fill you in on y/n’s point of view.” He said, with a renewed tone of voice in his normal, calming tone. 

“Wait, wait I’m sorry, before you start. Y/n called you Farrokh?” Roger asked. 

“Oh shut up.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brian walked the entire premise, dumbfounded as to where you could be, and then thought to check the biology garden which was behind the music school. He originally didn’t see you, and thought he would be going back to the band, until he heard a sniffle, and saw it coming from a white furry blob sitting among the pumpkins, and headed your way. 

“Hey Cinderella, didn’t make it home from the ball in time?” He joked, and you looked up at him, and chuckled through your tears. He sat down next to you, both of your backs leaning on the large pumpkin behind you, and he put an arm around your shoulders, with you immediately burying your head in his chest, and continued crying. Brian rubbed his hand on your back, whispering “Shh” in an attempt to calm you down. 

A couple minutes later after you had finished crying, you looked up at him and said, 

“I don’t wanna talk about it right now.” 

“I know. That’s fine. I’m just here to be with you. Ensure you’re not alone.”

A couple more minutes of silence. 

“Once you find out you’ll think less of me. You’re destined to find out.” You sighed. 

Brian chuckled. “Love, that’s not possible.”

“What do you mean?”

He laughed again, nervous to tell you. “Y/n, you’re even perfect when you cry. Not many people can say that.” 

“That’s impossible, Bri. I-”

“Love, you know what I said when I first saw you?”

“Yes, you said, ‘Hello love, I’m Brian.’” You laughed in that airy, angelic laugh of yours.

God, that laugh. Brian thought. That laugh could stop my heart and I’d be okay with it. “Not today dear, way back in December, Roger noticed you dancing before our show and called me over,” 

“Called you over for what?”

“Oh, well- uh” he let out a nervous laugh “that’s beside the fact. You know what I thought when I first saw you?” 

The October wind blew your hair out of your face, and you shook your head no. 

“I thought, ‘that’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen’. Swear to god. I’m an awful liar. I’m not joking with you love, and even though ten months have passed, I still stand by my statement. No one else has ever taken my breath away like that.” He smiled at you, and laughed because of how nervous he was. 

You smiled at him in disbelief of the words he was saying, and a single tear streamed down your face, though not a tear of sadness, a tear of happiness. 

“Oh no no no love don’t cry again! I’m so sorry what did I do?” he said frantically, reaching a hand up to brush away your tear. 

You chuckled again, and grabbed his wrist and pulled it down from your face, taking his hand in yours. “Oh nothing at all Brian, in fact you did everything right. What you said…made me so happy. It’s just- no one has ever said ever said that about me before. It was so sweet.” You looked up at him, smiling. 

“You’re joking, no one’s told you how gorgeous you are before?” 

You shook your head. 

“Well maybe you’ve just been in the wrong place your whole life.” he smiled. 

“Tell me about it. I’ve been saying that for a while now.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Brian re entered the room to find the three guys laughing like old friends. 

“It must have gone well” Brian bent down and whispered in your year, causing you to giggle. At the sound of a new noise in the room, John, Freddie, and Roger looked at you and Brian intently, and the room quieted. 

Freddie hesitantly walked up toward you like a scared puppy that was afraid to be scolded, and stopped about 3 feet away from you, warily looking at you to see if you’d push him away again. 

“Come here Freddie.” You smiled with open arms and he engulfed you in a large hug. 

“It’s all going to be just fine. I’ve made sure of it.” He said. 

“I’m gonna go Fred.” You bashfully admitted. 

“Nonsense! You shouldn’t walk alone and you must hear us! Give me your opinion! Help think of a band name! After all, what are eternal best friends for!”

“Okay, okay.” You resigned.

As you broke your hug, you declared, “Now, after an hour and a half of drama, why don’t you do what we all came her for, and what I came to hear! Play me things! I want to hear what you’ve got.” You smiled, sitting on the ground right in front of Freddie’s mic stand to ensure you got an absolute front row seat. 

They played an old Smile song called Doing Alright, and about 4 covers of artists like The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, and Elvis Presley, and you paid attention to each of them, with all of their skills shining through. You understood what Fred meant now. All of them are amazing players, Tim just wasn’t the right person to unify Roger and Brian. But together, the four of them produced an amazing sound. It was something you knew was just perfect. As they finished, you stood from your sitting position and clapped. 

“Bravo! You play wonderfully together! I’m so glad I came for this!” You said, hugging them each. Besides Freddie, whose hugs you were used to, Roger’s was the most passionate, though John’s was very nervous, short, and shy, although that made sense with the situation at hand. 

You chatted with Freddie as they packed up, though he had the least to do and you were ready to leave quickly. You said your goodbyes to everyone, and headed out the door. 

John left about 10 minutes after you and Freddie, leaving Brian and Roger to close up the room. 

“She obviously likes you more right now mate, ‘cause you were her knight in shining armor. It’s not fair Brian. Though watch out, I’m gonna get ‘er soon. ‘ve got a plan.” Roger said jokingly, although he was entirely serious. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Freddie had been walking hand-in-hand on your way back home, though neither of you said a word. About 10 minutes into your journey you broke the silence.

“I’m sorry, Freddie. For the way I acted earlier. I was hurt, and just wanted to be left alone and didn’t express it correctly. You know how much you mean to me, and it’s just how I am sometimes. I know that’s no justification, but it’s the truth. I’m so sorry.” 

“Don’t you worry bout a thing, darling. We’re just fine. I’ve lived with you for over a year, and you don’t think I know your crazy antics?” he chuckled. “You’re absolutely fine. John was being a Class A dick, how else were you supposed to act? Do I think there was the right place? Absolutely not. But it happened, and I hate to not take your side, but you know you had it coming.”

“I know.” you guiltily admitted 

Freddie stopped walking. “Come here love.” 

You buried your head in his chest, and wrapped you in a tight hug. 

“I could never be mad at you. We’re eternal best friends.” He quietly admitted. 

“Eternal best friends forever.” You responded, smiling into his multicolored coat. 

“You know, you smell like my mom in this coat. It’s quite odd.” Freddie admitted, which broke your hug, ruined the moment, and left the two of you hysterically laughing. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About two hours after you got home, you and Freddie were both doing school work on your bed. You were adding some markings to a violin solo while he drew a new design, when you heard a knock on the door. You looked at Freddie, hoping to coax him into getting it with a look, but he just smiled as if he had a sixth sense as to who was behind that door. Seeing as he wasn’t budging, you opened the door, and the sight nearly took your breath away. It was John, holding a bouquet of flowers with a little plastic thing in the middle of them that read “I’m sorry”. 

“Oh John!” Freddie said. “So good to see you! Come right on in, I was actually just going to the coffee shop to work on my drawing further. I’ll bring you back our normal, love.” And with that he quickly put his drawing and pencils in his messenger bag, threw his jacket on, and just before he closed the door behind himself he winked at you.  Of course Freddie had something to do with this. How would John have gotten to your exact dorm without him. His people skills were astounding. 

“John! Thank you for the flowers, you’re too sweet.” You took them from him, and pulled him in for a hug. “Please, come sit!” You motioned him over to your bed. 

“I truly am sorry, Lovely. You were my best friend, and then to just have you out of my life like that was a complete shock to say the least. All the hurt I was feeling just came out, and not nearly in any logical fashion. I was hurtful, and I’m so sorry. I know it was a funny way of showing it, but I am. Freddie told me your point of view, and I guess I understand now. He told me how this was your dream, and of how well you were doing in school, and even how unsupportive your parents were even before you game here, and especially how they were when you called them at Christmas. I didn’t realize how stressful things were. I’m sorry for bringing them up. I understand why you did things the way you did now, but I’m just hoping you don’t still want me out of your life. Freddie said how you’d been crying about not talking to me, and just as much as you’ve been crying, I’ve been crying more. I’ve been wanting to reach out to you, but I was afraid I’d anger you. I didn’t know what to do. I just want you back in my life, Lovely. I need you. Life is hard without your best friend. I know Freddie took my-”

You were softly crying at his words, not in a bad or hurt way, just overwhelmed with emotion. “Deaky, Freddie could never take your place. I’ve known him for a year, I’ve known you since primary school. We’re a different kind of friendship. I realized I messed up with you in my first 2 weeks of school, and was crying my eyes out on the daily, wanting to call you, yet I thought you’d be furious with me, so I made myself hold off. I know it was a bitchy move. I’m just hoping you’ll forgive me?”

John laughed through his tears. “I forgave you as soon as you left me y/n. Was I hurt? Yeah. What you saw today was all my hurt coming out. But I couldn’t stay mad at you. Not then, not now, not ever.” he smiled. 

You hurriedly wrapped him in a huge hug, both of you softly crying on contact, just so happy to have your friend back. 

“I want my Deaky back. I’m not pushing you away again. God, I don’t think I could handle it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John stayed 2 hours longer until Freddie returned home with a white chai latte for you both, and said his goodbyes. You were so happy to have had that time to catch up over the last year with your John, that you were practically dancing around the dorm, which made Freddie smile. 

“I know you helped with that, Fred. Gave him our address I mean. I don’t mind in the slightest bit. It made me so happy to see him. So I guess this is a thank you.” You smiled, taking a sip of your latte. 

“You didn’t fuck him while I was gone, did you? Well if you did, good job love. But I’m just wondering because it’d explain your giddiness.” 

You almost spat out your coffee. “Freddie! No I did not have sex with John and I could not! Well, I- no!” You laughed, and he joined in with you. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two nights later, a Wednesday, you were both settled down and had turned on the TV Freddie’s parents gave you two, and at about 8:45 heard a rustling under the door. There was a folded piece of paper on the floor with something written on it. Freddie saw how much the occurrence freaked you out, and got up to grab the paper, and looked through the peephole, but no one was there. 

“It’s addressed to you, darling.” He said, handing it over to you, as he sat back next to you and put his head on your shoulder to read the note with you. 

It read “y/n y/l/n” on the front in chicken scratch, and you unfolded it to find the following note. 

“Dear y/n, 

I’ve made plans for us to go to my dads beach house west in South Cornwall right on the cliff overlooking Porthcurno beach. There’s a heat wave coming, so weather will actually be summer warm, especially there. I just wanted to get to know ya’ better. Compared to the rest, I feel like I’m missing out. Only get my number from Fred and call if you have unmovable plans that you can’t miss, and can’t go, and by unmovable plans I don’t mean homework. :) 

I’ll drive. Pick you up Friday at 3 (Freddie said you didn’t have any classes)

 It’s a date. 

Your favourite band member, 

R. Taylor ”

You gasped and held the letter to your chest after you read it a second time to make sure you weren’t dreaming, while Freddie was giggling in your ear. 

“You knew about this?!” You exclaimed, smiling. 

“Of course! I had to! Poor Roggie-boy was just so endearing, I couldn’t resist! You’re clearly not mad, are you?”

“No!” You laughed. “I’m excited! He’s attractive!” you admitted, and thought about the last line of the note. 

“It’s a date.”

Well, you surely hoped it was. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: I hope you all enjoyed!! Are you as torn on who you like best as I am? Shoot me an ask and lmk. As always, just reach out if you wanna be added to the taglist. I CANT WAIT FOR THE AESTHETIC BOARD also... next chapter is beach w/ roger :)))))))))))))))

Taglist: @yourlocalmusicalprostitute , @idontbelievethiss , @deakysmisfire , @bismillahnah , @queer-heart-attack , @everything-you-dont-wanna-be

[supergraphicultramoderngirl]

when i watch the world burn

a chaptered fic, inspired by the album “doom days” by bastille

summary: The world is ending in six hours, how do the GHC and friends manage and cope?

word count of chapter: 1,650

next chapter

—————————

chapter 1: quarter past midnight

“before it falls apart, help me piece it all together”

The alert came out at 12:15am, or at least it did in Shadyside.

Out of the Good Hair Crew and friends, Buffy was the first to see it. She was unable to sleep, a usual occurrence for her lately, up late thinking about a million things at once, when she heard a notification go off on her phone. She didn’t think much of it, she usually only got notifications in the middle of the night if it was a GHC emergency, so she picked it up and turned it on. That’s when everyone’s life changed.

Scientists have alerted the public of a large asteroid heading directly for Earth, caught too late to try to prevent any detrimental circumstances. It is expected to hit at 6:47am EST. This is the end of the world, prepare yourselves as best you can. -Alert received 12:15am

Buffy’s hand covered her mouth as she gasped in surprise. She immediately went to the group chat to text them, “Let me know when you’ve heard the news.” She then ran to her parents’ room and hugged them as tight as possible, sobbing.

“Whoa, honey, what’s wrong?” her mother asked, brushing Buffy’s hair out of her face.

“The world is ending,” she replied through broken sobs.

“Buff, whatever it is that’s bothering you, I’m sure it’s not that bad,” her dad responded.

“Check your phones. Turn on the TV, I’m sure it’s on there too,” Buffy retorted, still crying.

They both turn to look at their phones, reading the message, then turn back to their daughter in one of the biggest hugs they’ve had.

“This is it.”

•••

Andi was the next to find out.

She woke up about two minutes after the alert was issued, a restless itch in her bones that she couldn’t manage. She picked up her phone to see Buffy’s text.

News? What n— oh.

She scrolled down a bit to see the alert. After she read it, she dropped the phone as if it would burn her with just a small touch. Of course, tonight was the one night Bex and Bowie went out to have a night to themselves, at the music festival they’d been looking forward to all month. It should be over by now, right? Andi thought as she picked the phone back up to call them, hoping that they would answer.

Oh, thank god. “Hey, what’s up, honey? We’re driving back right now,” Bowie’s voice rang through the phone.

“Have you gotten the alert?” Andi replied, panicked.

“What alert?”

“Just turn off your aux and put on the radio, I’m sure it’s announcing it on there,” Andi sighed.

She counted the seconds while waiting for her parents to respond, getting to thirteen until Bex cut in, “We’re almost there, okay? We’re here for you, Andi.”

That’s what made her break into sobs.

•••

Soon after Andi was Jonah.

He was outside, wandering about, trying to get his mind off things, off certain people, ready to start skateboarding, when he got the alert on his phone. He scanned it over, and immediately grew panicked. He didn’t want to go home, couldn’t go home, not while his parents were still mad at him, not while they didn’t know about his panic attacks as he was almost definitely about to have one. He tried to take in his surroundings, seeing if he was near any of his friends’ houses so they could help, and luckily enough, he spotted Buffy’s house just down the street. Had he really been wandering that far? Whatever, it doesn’t matter now. He shakily made his way over to her house, knocking on the door.

A tear-stained Buffy opened the door with, “Jonah, how are—“

“Buffy, help,” he pleaded through his gritted teeth.

Buffy straightened. “Oh my god, you’re having a panic attack, okay, um, come sit down,” she said, guiding him to a kitchen chair, “just remember to breathe. This will end, okay?”

Jonah nodded frantically, while Buffy’s parents were hurrying down the stairs. “Is everything alright?” her mom called.

“Can you grab a glass of water? Jonah’s having a panic attack,” Buffy responded.

Great, more people who know.

It took a few minutes, but he was able to calm down eventually. He took the glass from Buffy gratefully and leaned back into the chair.

Buffy squatted beside him. “I’m assuming you got the alert, then?”

“Yeah,” he whispered in reply. “I can’t believe it.”

“Me either.”

•••

Cyrus was the last to find out of the four of them.

He’d been asleep, actually, drained from being upset the entire day. He had to deal with seeing Kira drag TJ around everywhere, feeling simultaneously disappointed and crushed. TJ’d apologized already, sure, but it wasn’t exactly in depth. It wasn’t the explanation Cyrus had been looking for. But, hey, they were on speaking terms at least, which was better than radio silence. Maybe.

Anyway, he’d been having a nightmare, so he was honestly grateful for being shaken awake, that is, until he found out why.

“Cyrus, your dad and stepmom are on their way. Everyone’s just gotten a notification that the world is ending, get up. We’re spending the last few hours together.”

It was as if his brain went on overload. The world was ending? Impossible. He’d never even gotten to experience his adult life, he’d never made up entirely with his friends, hell, he never even had a boyfriend. He hadn’t lived. And now he’d never get the chance.

He broke into sobs in his mother’s arms, but in all honestly, the only thing he felt was an overwhelming sense of numbness. He felt grief for himself. No, not just himself, for him and all of his friends who never got to finish their stories, either.

“Mom, can I just text my friends? See if they’re alright?” He asked, pulling away a bit.

“Of course. I’ll go wait downstairs. And if you want to see them, that’s not an issue. I know how important they are to you,” she replied, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before making her way downstairs.

First, he replied to the group chat, but after he pulled up a contact he hadn’t sent anything to in weeks.

“Hey, TJ, are you holding up alright? Have you seen it?”

•••

TJ and Amber found out at the same time.

TJ had been having a nightmare for the fourth night in a row, over the same thing again and again. It was of him trying to thoroughly explain Costume Day to Cyrus, but the boy would just get disgusted and angry at him and never speak to him again. Amber had woken him up and calmed him down each time, and this time she was fed up with it, she needed to know what was bothering her brother.

“I know something’s up, just tell me what’s going on, Teej. You can trust me.”

He twiddled his thumbs in his lap, looking down at them. “I know I can trust you, but I don’t know if you’ll hate me.”

“Impossible.”

He took a deep, shaky breath, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m gay.”

“Okay? Me too,” she replied simply.

TJ’s bloodshot eyes widened. “What?”

“I am a massive lesbian, is this surprising to you?” Amber joked.

“Um, kind of?” TJ replied, exasperated. “So I could’ve been talking to you about this whole situation the entire time. Great.”

“What situation?” Amber asked, leaning forward to pay attention.

“Basically, this girl noticed how I acted around Cyrus and then implied she would out me if I didn’t do a costume with her instead of him. She probably just wanted to get on the basketball team or something since Buffy kicked her off the girls’ one,” TJ explained.

“I’m gonna kill her,” Amber deadpanned.

“What? You don’t even know her na—“ TJ was cut off from a notification on his phone.

“Who’s texting you this late?” Amber asked as TJ read the alert.

“Not a text,” he replied slowly as he passed her the phone to read it.

After doing so, she nearly drops it on the bed. “Oh my god.”

“That’s it, it’s just over? We don’t get to live the rest of our lives? What the hell?” TJ began yelling, getting up to pace around the room.

“Teej, there’s nothing we can do about it, we might as well just face it, right?” Amber asked, trying to calm him down for the second time that night.

“You don’t get it, Amber, I’m going to die while Cyrus isn’t talking to me. I’m gonna die with him mad at me. The only person I’ve felt real feelings for is going to die without me,” TJ ranted.

“We still have a little over six hours, right? You can still talk to him. And if he gets mad at you over it, we’re all gonna be dead in six hours anyway,” she reasoned.

“You’re right. You’re totally right.” TJ stopped pacing.

“You’re not gonna talk to him, are you?”

“What am I even supposed to say? I—“

His phone went off with another notification sound.

“—am gonna kill my phone if it keeps interrupting me. Pass it over.”

He quickly scanned it over, then looked up at Amber. “It’s Cyrus.”

“Well, what are you doing? Answer him!” Amber exclaimed.

“Yeah, I’ve seen it. I’ve got Amber with me, at least, but I’d at least like to see everyone one last time, yanno?”

•••

The six kids decided to meet up then, for one last hurrah, in the downtown area near the Spoon.

They all ran towards each other in a massive group hug, all holding each other tightly, sobs falling from each of them.

“I’m gonna miss you all so much,” Andi whispered.

“Hey, we still have six hours,” Buffy replied softly. “Let’s make them count.”

—————————

song for the chapter:

[growingpaynes-art]

Far From Home Initial Review: What I Liked and What I Didn’t (Spoilers)

I saw Far From Home yesterday and jotted down some of my immediate responses, and then took some time to think on those points. I do intend to see the film again in the next few days and I may be adding to or amending this list.

Major spoilers below.

(CW: sexual harassment, victim blaming)

What I Liked:

That scene in the jet where Happy stitches Peter up was A+. Not just regarding the expert acting, but how the filmmakers decided to handle the scene. Peter’s fear, stress, and self doubt briefly shifts to anger, and he snaps at Happy for telling him to “relax.” He immediately apologizes, saying “i’m sorry, I shouldn't shout.” Happy in return responds by choosing his words more carefully. Happy then gives him a gentle and encouraging pep talk in which he recognizes Peter’s emotions, encourages him, and explains that he doesn’t need to live up to the legacy of Iron Man and that he only needs to do his best. He remains on task and pragmatic, but never rushes Peter or forces him to do anything he’s not comfortable doing, offering support all the while. 

Peter is allowed to cry at several points throughout the film in front of other male characters, including Nick Fury and Happy. He is never judged for this and he is never made to feel like his emotions are unreasonable or invalid. Continuing this from the previous films even as Peter gets older and takes on more responsibilities further normalizes male emotion in action films. 

Peter consistently voices his concerns and asks for help instead of overwhelming himself and internalizing.

Peter was noticeably shorter than MJ in most of their scenes together, including where they kiss or hold hands. Peter’s height is never made into the butt of a joke, which I had feared might happen. No one even mentions it. Marvel did have Tom wear shoes that made him a little taller than he actually is, but I do appreciate that they didn’t drastically increase his height like they always did to RDJ. 

JK Simmons returning as J Jonah Jameson was a great surprise, and it gives me hope that we may yet see Peter as a photographer

Peter walking out from behind that car carrying a sign and a light as a reference to Steve wielding the shield and mjolnir.

Peter calling his dick his “webshooter”

MJ stepping in and providing some real help several times throughout the movie 

The movies on the flight to Venice “Heart of Iron: The Tony Stark Story,” “Chasing Hydra” etc

The terribly edited movie maker tribute set to “I Will Always Love You” with “in memoriam” in comic sans was the funniest possible way to open the film

Bucky being included in the Thank You Avengers collage in the Midtown Tech news video

Mr. Harrington and Mr. Dell were definitely dating and i’m here for it. 

Seeing Peter fight without a suit was cool. I’ve always thought there was a kind of disconnect when characters like spiderman or black panther fight with their masks on, like they feel separate from the actors. But seeing Peter fight in his civilian clothing made it feel more real to me that this kid really has these powers and can do all these amazing flips and feats of strength. It also let us see more of his creativity and quick thinking.

I’m impressed that they were able to make Mysterio’s mo-cap suit look cool instead of completely ridiculous like they do in real life.

Peter closing his eyes and fighting the drones with his spidey-sense to avoid the illusions was so badass. 

The violence felt real. Every time Peter got hit, the audience felt it. Several times he was unable to stand up, he limped and winced and cried. It felt like the consequences of such heavy action were realistically considered when Peter couldn’t just pop back up and shake it off. 

"If you were better, maybe Tony would still be alive” “You’re just a scared little kid in a sweatsuit” 

“You got me?” “I got you.”

“lets get a drink” “i’m- i’m not 21.”

Peter going to a parent figure wearing an oversized shirt and crying while confessing his self-doubts was an oddly specific parallel that i didn’t expect to get again but i’m certainly not complaining

What I Didn’t:

The “rest stop hookup” scene was deeply inappropriate. Peter, a child, is commanded to undress in front of an adult female agent. He initially resists but is intimidated into compliance when she repeats the order. One of Peter’s classmates, Brad, walks into the room and Peter is literally caught with his pants around his ankles with an adult stranger. Brad makes the assumption that Peter is hooking up with her, and takes a photo for evidence with the intention of showing it to MJ in order to ruin Peter’s “chance” with her. Peter is blamed for a situation in which he is the victim, and the audience is meant to find this entire scene funny. Instead of what could have been a really cool scene in which this agent presents the new suit she’s made for Peter, we are given this very uncomfortable scene of sexual harassment played for laughs.

Peter and Brad competing for MJ’s affection and actively sabotaging each other is unnecessary. 

The use of old footage from previous films was lazy, especially when Marvel could have easily recreated those scenes from the perspectives of the new antagonists. I’ve always found this distracting, especially when the quality noticeably drops between two clips, though this is more of a personal peeve than anything I see as a legitimate problem.

The list of characters who become villains because they feel personally or indirectly slighted by Tony and Howard is getting too big. Honestly I think it’s lazy to keep using that as backstory/motivation for new villains after over 10 years, especially now that Tony isn’t even alive.

The multiverse being made up by Beck was disappointing.

The monsters being the Elementals instead of Sandman or Hydroman was also disappointing.

I wish that the spidey-sense was represented by some creative audio or visual cue, like the goosebumps in iw or the ringing noise in spiderverse

There were several lgbt characters/actors on the class trip but they weren’t very visible. You really don’t notice them at all unless you were aware of who was cast beforehand and were watching closely for them. I’m not asking for Peter to swing through new york with a rainbow flag screaming “trans rights” but I would have liked to have seen a queer couple holding hands or a student with a trans patch on their backpack or something. I had been hoping for Peter to actually interact with one of them, to refer to them by name. Obviously having such a diverse cast with queer characters being played by actual queer actors is a huge step up from Joe Russo’s “grieving man” but like that shouldn’t be where the bar is at this point. 

Tbh the headstone and zombie iron man were cliche, and i think it would have been much more impactful if Mysterio had made an allusion of Tony himself instead.

Why would Dr Strange not be available to fight massive elemental monsters from another dimension bent on consuming the earth like dude make yourself available??

I wish the new suit included Karen so that we could see how she and Peter’s interactions have changed now that he is expertly familiar with the functions of the suits. Additionally, the spider-drone would have been cool to see again.

The illusion to Uncle Ben with the “BFP” initials on Peter’s suitcase was great but I do wish we could get some actual information about him. We don’t need to see his death or the “with great power comes great responsibility” speech- we’ve already seen that enough times- but a little clarification on what officially happened to him in the mcu would be interesting. 

Honestly I thought it was too convenient that May, Happy, and all of Peter’s closest friends also dusted. I had wanted to see how interactions between Peter and May or friends such as Ned would be tested emotionally due to the five-year gap.

The BARF tech being invented by Beck and stolen by Tony detracts from it being used in Civil War to establish Tony’s feelings about Howard and Maria’s murders. If it isn’t Tony’s invention, that takes the heart out of it. 

I had really hoped that the glasses were going to end up revealing Tony as an AI, or at least some kind of message from him, and i thought was weird that Tony would give Peter access to a system that allows him to order drone strikes on his classmates.

Also...  so the drone strike on peter’s bus was faked by Mysterio’s team because they needed to get the EDITH glasses from Peter? Because the EDITH glasses give them access to the satellite that deploys the drones? But they already have the same drones? and use one them to fake the bus attack? so why do they need EDITH? Maybe i missed something but that makes no sense to me. 

[themachiavellianpig]

Prodigal Son, Episode 12: Psychiatrist, Analyse Thyself

Episode 12 of Prodigal Son, and Malcolm actually deals with some consequences. And also saves someone from a cult, because he's good at multi-tasking like that.

Full review and spoilers below.

This episode begins with a little flashback to "Last Night", involving some sort of argument between Gil and Malcolm, resulting in Malcolm locking himself in a room at the precinct and firing up some sort of threatening technology, while a worried Dani bangs on the door. Malcolm's little science project either causes or is interrupted by a blackout - and then we jump ahead to the next morning, when Malcolm is, to my endless joy, going to have to talk to a psychiatrist! About his feelings! And his trauma!

The rest of the episode unfolds as a mixture of flashbacks, Malcolm and Dr Coppenrath speaking about the case, and the rest of the Malcolm's team giving their sides of the story. I have a massive weakness for set-ups like this, particularly when used to comic effect, and they did it very well here. More characters giving sarcastic commentary on Malcolm's actions, please!  

JT, also, is clearly enjoying the opportunity to tell someone just what he thinks of Malcolm's mental state: "If Bright was an actual state, he'd be Florida."

The murder of the week involves a young man called Tristan, who was electrocuted and strangled, then literally dumped in a pauper's grave. We only know this, of course, because Malcolm refuses to take any time off after being kidnapped and tortured by a serial killer and gleefully followed Dani to a crime scene.

At least Edrisa was pleased to see him - almost as pleased as I was to see her. Oh, Edrisa, you adorable dorkiness almost makes up for the creepiness of reading Malcolm's medical records behind his back. Her inviting him to the autopsy because, a), he's very good at his job, and, b), she missed him is just straight up adorable.

Tristan leads the team to the Vosler Institute, a self-help/therapy group allegedly specialising in trauma who is already on the FBI's cult index. The leader, Quentin Vosler, comes across as wonderfully smarmy in his first appearance, then gives the NYPD the time of day, claiming that he cannot help them in their inquiries because of all the "propriety knowledge" his group has.

So while Gil and the others are trying to find a subpoena, Malcolm goes and signs up as a new member. The Vosler Institute apparently screens their potential members for trauma and Malcolm manages to set off all sorts of bells and whistles - enough to get the personal attention of Quentin Vosler. Malcolm maintains later that he cheated the test - I wonder which way? Did he tilt his trauma up for effect, or down for believability?

And then we discover that the Vosler Institute is using electroshock therapy to suppress trauma.  

(To be honest, this was the moment when I actually started to like Dr Coppenroth a little bit, because he was so wonderfully mad that Vosler was using ECT in such a way.)

Malcolm, being Malcolm and also being haunted by hallucinations of his younger self, allows Vosler to shock him. When he wakes up, he convinces one of the Vosler members - Andi - to leave with him to give evidence against Vosler who, between the control he exhibits over his members and his fondness for ECT, seems like a likely bet for "who electrocuted and murdered Tristan?"

Unfortunately, Andi is kidnapped by an imposing gentleman in a black van before Malcolm can get her to safety - and his accusations against Vosler lose a little of their impact when Vosler himself turns up at the police station to report Andi's disappearance as a kidnapping - not by him, but by a deprogrammer, who either 'liberates' people or 're-traumatises' them, depending on your feelings about Vosler and other such groups.  

Gil and Malcolm use Jessica to stand-in as a wealthy women looking to hire a deprogrammer to save a family member, letting Malcolm profile all the deprogrammers they can find until he spots Curtis, a huge and imposing man with stains on his boots that match the soil at Tristan's ignoble resting place.

Curtis seems like a sure-fit for the murder, a man hired to save Andi from the cult and who snatched a fellow member to get information - but lost control before completing the job. While the rest of the team is satisfied, Malcolm can't accept it - Curtis lacks the skills necessary to do anything other than extract a cult victim. He couldn't deprogram them.

Gil's less convinced and, in the way that these disagreements so often do, the matter escalates until Malcolm blames Gil for bringing all the murderers back into his life. That takes us neatly back to where we started, with Malcolm reaching for the ECT machine and Dani trying to stop him.

Back in the present, talking through the case with Dr Coppenrath, Malcolm finally tells someone what's been bothering him. He tells Dr Coppenrath about Martin Whitly apparently being prepared to kill his own son and admits that, while as an adult he understands his father's pathology, the child in him just wants his dad to love him. He even admits that he's been hallucinating and that he wanted to shock himself to make them stop - because Vosler had been able to make them stop. Understandably, Coppenroth is unwilling to allow someone in such a state to continue to consult for the NYPD and encourages Malcolm to get proper, professional help.

And then Dr Coppenroth makes a glorious mistake; when asked about what will happen to Andi, he replies that he's sure that the NYPD will find her.

But Malcolm never told him that Andi was female.

Turns out that Malcolm's not really being evaluated for a return to work, he's laying a trap for the real deprogrammer, who became obsessed with saving Andi after he was unable to save his own daughter from a similar bad situation. The confrontation between Malcolm and Coppenroth escalates to the point of Malcolm having a gun in his face, but it honestly felt more tense before that, in the moments before they revealed that Malcolm was running this sting operation with his team, not alone, because really, who would have believed Malcolm if he suddenly turned around and accused the man who blacklisted him from consulting of being the mastermind behind his last case? I mean, really?

Fortunately, we don't have to see Malcolm being gaslit for any period of time, and Coppenroth gets shocked by the ECT machine he hated so much, which does at least get him to put the gun down. A little psychological profiling and they find Andi in the place when Coppenroth and his daughter had spent their last family holiday.

I'm a little torn about how this plotline was resolved, to be honest. I knew from the trailers that Malcolm was going to be evaluated and I was intrigued by the idea of Malcolm trying to process his experiences in such a setting, so I'm a little disappointed that potentially Malcolm has been vindicated in his poor life choices because the man who told him that he had to deal with this stuff properly turned out to be the bad guy. Dr Coppenroth was, admittedly, unstable and unhelpful and was happy to label Malcolm as incompetent to save his own interests, but he wasn't wrong. A man who's currently and persistently hallucinating probably shouldn't be at crime scenes.

Fortunately, it looks like I'm not the only one to think this. A tired but victorious Malcolm tells Gil that, actually, no, he's not okay - and Gil, ever the optimist, says that the fact that he knows that will be enough to make it okay.

I mean, admitting you need help is a good start and all, but also I would really like Malcolm to get some help which isn't from a cult deprogrammer trying to cover up his own crimes, if that would be alright?

Left alone in his apartment, with two weeks of leave stretching out in front of him, Malcolm tries talking to the hallucination of his younger self, who offers a new perspective on the issue. Yes, Martin Whitly may have tried to kill them, but he didn't succeed.

I don't know if that will be enough to carry Malcolm through the next dark period of his life, but it's certainly a starting point.

Previous Prodigal Son reviews are available here. 

[howtohero]

#252 Superhero Gift Registry

If you’re a superhero you’ve undoubtably made your way onto a lot of people’s nice lists. You’ve saved countless days, a great many lives, a handful of worlds. (Plus that one worldful of hands. The fine, disembodied, sentient hands of Manibus 5 thank you from the bottom of their palms.) There are probably a lot of people who would like to do something to return the favor for you after all you’ve done for them. And while of course, you didn’t get into the superhero game for all the free stuff... you don’t not want the free stuff. But asking for things can be awkward, and ever since we lifted that curse, we are no longer fueled exclusively by the awkward interactions of others. So we’ve done you the massive solid of compiling a list of great gifts for superheroes, so next time a thankful civilian asks you how they can thank you, you can just direct them here!

Hello civilians, welcome to my blog! If you’ve come here in search of the perfect gift for that wonderful superhero in your life you’re in the right place. Without further ado we present...

How To Hero’s Ultimate Superhero Gift Guide 

Collapsible Capes: Cape’s a great for photo-opportunities and dramatic poses, but for little else. Our new How To Hero brand collapsible cape can be folded up into the size of a dime and stored away during battles or trips through revolving doors. A must have for any superhero who loves to pose on windy days, but hates getting killed after their cape gets caught somewhere.

Reusable Water Bottle: Superheroes spend a lot of time fighting crimes. They’ll often fight up to 50 crimes over the course of a single night. That’s gonna make them thirsty. Especially when there are (at last count) 8 different villains with some form of the word “dehydrate” in their name. With these new How To Hero reusable water bottles, superheroes can drink on the go without harming the environment. Plus, for a nominal fee of $80, we’ll do our best to paint their insignia onto the bottle! (We’re not good at painting but we promise to give it the old college try!)

Super Vehicle Dent and Nick Remover: Superheroes are notoriously bad drivers. They drive straight into ravines, mine fields, and the gaping maws of eldritch horrors. So it should come as no surprise that their vehicles are constantly getting damaged and their insurance premiums are through the roof. Thanks to our patented Interdimensional Warpgate technology, the How To Hero Super Vehicle Dent and Nick Remover can take care of all that nasty vehicle damage by scouring the mutliverse for identical or similar vehicles, and stealing mass from them! Got a dent? Not anymore, thanks to stolen metal from some other shmuck’s car! Paint chipping? Not your problem anymore because we’ve stolen flecks of paint from another dimensions. It’s the perfect gift for that reckless superheroic stunt drive in your life.

Magic Goblets: Ever wanted a magic goblet that instantly fills up with anything your heart could ever desire? Ever not really cared about owning one yourself but have a burning desire to gift one to someone else? Well do we have the How To Hero product for you! These magical goblets can fill up with anything your hero could ever need. Emergency blood transfusion? Fill that sucker up with your blood type! Impromptu Scrabble game? Fill it up with Scrabble pieces! Hot sauce! Lemonade! Human eyes! These magic goblets can do it all! If the $3 million price tag has got you antsy, don’t worry we’ve got cheaper options....

Cheaper Magic Goblets: These creepy looking ancient cups can magically fill up with any cursed objects you could ever want. We’re practically giving them away! We do not want them in our warehouse! Please order now! [Disclaimer: These objects are deeply cursed and will ruin your life and the lives of your loved ones. Do not purchase these.]

Pocket Cloner: Ever had a lot to do but not enough time (or desire!) to do it all? Simply use this How To Hero pocket cloner to clone yourself! Pocket cloner clones are obedient, able-bodied and have a relatively low chance of turning evil when you try to reabsorb them back into your being! (If your pocket cloner clone turns evil simply bludgeon it over the head with the pocket cloner and call the police.) 

A time travel vacation: Things a bit hectic in your timeline? Sick of the young adult dystopian hellscape your life has become? Nostalgic for the good old days? Purchase a round trip time travel vacation through our new How To Hero Time Travel Agency. Go anywhere, anywhen, and live it up for up to seven days! Meet historical figures! Witness world-changing events! Free continental breakfast included! Literally the perfect vacation! [Fine print: How To Hero does not guarantee the safety of you or your possessions and is not responsible for any butterfly effects, reality wipes, or instances of “I’m-My-Own-Grandpa” syndrome that may occur. Paralox™ sold separately.]

A Horse That is On Fire: Ok picture a horse. It’s pretty cool. I mean it’s like fine. It’s a horse. Not much to say about it. It eats apples and will kick you given the opportunity. All right. Now, imagine if that horse was perpetually (and harmlessly {to the horse}) on fire! That would be lit. We’ve taken the time to wrangle several flaming horses out of Hell and now, you can buy one! For money! (Be on the lookout for How To Hero: Hell Cowboy: The True Story of How Some Guys Stole Some Horses From Hell to Make a Quick Buck But Along the Way Learned the True Value of Friendship. Coming to theaters this December and coming to the Oscars whenever the next Oscars are!) 

Identity Concealing Glasses: Tired of people discovering your identity because your arrogance prevents you from wearing a mask while you fight crime? Try putting on some totally regular glasses! We guarantee that nobody will ever discover your identity again. [Disclaimer: How To Hero Identity Concealing Glasses may cause your loved ones to be unable to recognize you. People who don’t wear glasses can’t just start suddenly wearing glasses and think that everybody will still know who they are. That’s crazy.]

Size-Changing Ergonomic Office Chairs: Superheroes have to spend a lot of time on their feet, fighting ne’er-do-wells and Psyclops, the psychic cyclops. (He’s got one eye... and it sees... your thoughts!!!!) Our new How To Hero size-changing ergonomic office chairs can be shrunk down, kept in your utility belt, and then whipped out and sized up during idle moments so you can rest your weary soul and aching (and melting, yikes, you should really get that checked out) body. The size-changing chair can change to any size! So it’s perfect for all of the giants, dwarves, dinosaurs, sentient fleas, and regular-sized folks in your life!

Get Out of Hell Free card: We have one left over after we decided to leave Parentheses Guy down there when we were stealing those horses. (BUT I ESCAPED HAHAHAHAHAHA) Chill. {Chill.} [Chill.] (Chill. Wait!) So yeah, it’s basically exactly what it sounds like. If you ever find yourself in Hell just present this to whoever’s in charge that day and they’re mystically required to send you back. Perfect if you want to bugger off to somewhere nice and warm during this holiday season. 

Smoke Bombs: Superheroes can never have enough smoke bombs! They’re great for making hasty escapes, causing diversions, and taking car of asthmatic supervillains in record time! This holiday season, don’t just settle for any smoke bombs. Only How To Hero Smoke Bombs produce smoke that resists any and all attempts to disperse of it. Our smoke won’t budge in the face of fans, wind, or persistent shouting. And then there’s the odor. The odor will never leave. It will permeate the place where you used the bombs and never, ever leave. There will be no escape from How To Hero smoke! It will haunt your dreams!

Cash: What do you get for the man who has everything? They’ve got power, fame, lasers that come from their eyes. How can you ever get them something that they can truly cherish and love forever? Ya give them cash! But not just any cash, How To Hero cash! How To Hero cash is like regular cash except it has no buying power! It’s a unique gift that they can never give away! They’ll be forced to keep it forever and they’ll always remember the wonderful holiday they spent with you! So what are you waiting for! Buy some of our How To Hero cash! It’s ludicrously expensive, but the memories you’ll create it with it are priceless!

Vengeance: I’ll preface this by saying that this isn’t for every hero, but many superheroes out there are fueled by a righteous desire for vengeance! Get the superhero in your life some classic sweet sweet vengeance by hiring us to kick their enemies butts! That’s right folks! For this holiday season the How To Hero staff are becoming butt-kickers for hire! [Disclaimer: No refunds, even if we are not successful in kicking butt or if your superhero is terribly disappointed in you for think that this is what they wanted for the holidays.]

An Ugly Holiday Sweater Version of Their Iconic Costume: They’ve already got the ugly down, all we need to do is sweaterize it! Send us a pic of their costume and we’ll do our very best to knit a sweater based off of it! [Disclaimer: None of us has any knitting skills. And we have all been banned from any thread distributor in a 100 mile radius for one reason or another.]

Any one of these 15 wonderful How To Hero gifts is sure to put a smile on any superhero’s face, but why stop there! What good is one measly smile! You now have the power to put 15 separate smiles on your hero’s face! Buy all of these gifts! And hurry! Our prices will probably only go up! 

[wolfie-dragon-rider]

Grey Stains, a new story

Hey everyone! Those of you who follow me on Ao3 or FFN might have noticed this already, but last week I posted the first chapter of a new story of mine, called Grey Stains. It’s a HTTYD Hogwarts AU, taking place several years after the end of Harry Potter. 

Summary: Post-Deathly Hallows Hogwarts AU. When Harry Potter escaped Gringotts on the back of a dragon and flew off towards the battle of Hogwarts, most of the wizarding world saw a hero. For a young Hiccup whose mother died in the Gringotts escape, it is much more complicated to grow up in a post-war world that still bears scars no one wants to talk about, especially when you're bad at magic, your father is overprotective and paranoid of dragons, and there is a rising fear of neo-Death Eaters threatening the fragile peace. An original story (i.e. not Harry Potter retold) about trauma of all kinds, but also about overcoming your fears with the help of others. Eventual Hiccstrid.

I have been planning this story literally for years, so I’m very excited to finally share it with you all! I hope you like it! If you have any comments, thoughts, reviews, or questions, please let me know! 

Enough talk, here’s the first chapter. I’ll be updating weekly, on Sundays. If you’d rather read on FFN or AO3 you can find it there as well, under the usernames wolfie-dragon and wolfie_dragon respectively. 

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

Hiccup broke out into coughs the moment he hit the ground. The world span around him, unfocused and blurred, as he tried not to suffocate.

"Oh, come on, son. Apparating is not that bad," Stoick said, roughly pulling him up by his armpits from the dusty courtyard tiles.

"You-" Hiccup couldn't finish his retort at first, too busy getting air back into his lungs. The dust, the tight suffocating space he had just been in, it brought back flashes. Screams. Crumbling masonry.

"Easy for you to say. You're not... allergic to dust and tight spaces," he eventually managed to spit out. Stoick scoffed for a second, but didn't start a rant at least. Hiccup was grateful for that. Whenever he'd panic at a small room or dust cloud Stoick would normally complain that he should 'man up' already since he was not "actually allergic to dust".

Maybe he was right, but that didn't mean Hiccup didn't get physically sick every time he had to face it.

"Look, you're okay, so let's get your stuff. You have your list, right?" Stoick asked, grabbing his wand and tapping several stones on the wall next to him. Hiccup reached into his pocket to grab the parchment he received last week.

His acceptance letter to Hogwarts.

"Great! Now, first of all we should go to Gringotts. All these books aren't cheap, and it's time you get your own account as well. That way you can collect interest on your allowance, and use it for Hogsmeade trips and things like that," his father said, as the wall opened up to reveal Diagon Alley. It was filled with people.

The last time Hiccup had been there it had been nearly deserted.

"I don't want to go to Gringotts. That's where-" he started, unable to finish the sentence when his throat closed up. Just like with the apparition he couldn't breathe at the memory.

Stoick sighed loudly, the disappointment clear, but then he knelt so he was closer to Hiccup's eye level.

"That was seven years ago. Nothing will happen now. It's all safe. You're growing up! You're going to Hogwarts, and take your place in our world. And for that, you need a Gringotts account. Plus, it'll look bad if the son of the Head of the Department of Magical Creatures didn't get an account at the bank run by our biggest allies!" he said.

At that moment Hiccup couldn't care less about relations with goblins, but he still nodded slowly.

"Okay. I'll try," he whispered.

"Attaboy! Now let's go, we don't have all day!" Stoick shouted, getting up and turning to Diagon Alley, his long cloak flapping with the motion. Hiccup almost had to run to keep up with his huge steps. People parted at the sight of the 7-feet tall man wearing gilded ministry robes, so they got through the crowd easily.

The goblin guards at the enormous bank doors recognized Stoick, so they greeted him warmly, and he returned the greeting before briskly walking inside. Hiccup followed, unsure if the goblins had even noticed him at half his father's height.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light inside, with the white marble and shining gold all over the place.

"Wait here for a second," Stoick told him before walking right past the queue of wizards and witches and talking to the goblin teller. The people waiting in line shot him dirty looks, but the ministry robes stopped them from protesting.

"But…" Hiccup whispered, not wanting to be alone. Not here. The tiles were too clean and white. They had been stained red with blood. A mother and her young son pushed past him to join the queue. The boy was licking ice cream. Hiccup got a whiff of the scent of vanilla cream, and all of a sudden he was outside in Diagon Alley again, but it was much emptier.

Abandoned shops and boarded-up windows lined the street, but 4-year old Hiccup didn't care, because Mama just bought him ice cream from the new parlour. As they waited in line Hiccup heard adults talking about the old ice cream vendor having vanished, but he hadn't understood it, and it hadn't mattered. He got his vanilla ice cream, and then they all walked to the bank together, him between his parents. They had explained that they just had to check on something there real quick, and then they'd go back home.

The building had been chaotic when they entered. Dozens of goblin guards ran around, and a barricade was being set up at the gate to the tunnels. Stoick was pulled away by an anxious-looking goblin with grey hair, leaving Hiccup alone with his mom.

"Mama, what's happening?" he asked between licks of his ice cream.

"Nothing, it's fine. There's just something your father and I have to… make sure doesn't get out of hand," she said, before ruffling his hair. The sudden move made him smear some ice cream on the collar of his shirt. "Oh, you're so clumsy. Let's clean that up."

She had just taken her wand out of her pocket when the world turned upside down.

A massive shockwave knocked them off their feet. Hiccup saw the wand fly out of her hand as they fell. A roar echoed through the room, answered by screams and shouts.

His head pounded where it hit the marble floor, and when he turned to look at the source of the noise it felt like he was dreaming.

Large parts of the floor were missing, and more tiles crumbled into the dark hole that had been white marble moments ago. A desk covered with documents and coins slid over the edge, despite a goblin trying to hold onto it. Hiccup couldn't look away from the screaming creature falling in and disappearing from sight. But then his mama grabbed him and pulled him back, and he looked up.

There was an enormous dragon towering over them. It was thin and white, and its huge eyes were milky. On its back were three people, but they were too far away for him to make out.

"Hiccup, get back," Mama shouted, pulling him behind an overturned desk. His hands were shaking, and he realized there was ice cream all over them. The dragon roared, the sound making Hiccup's ears hurt. It was followed with a cacophony of shouts and screams, and he covered his ears with his sticky hands.

A burst of flame shot over their heads, hitting a group of people near the door who screamed in agony.

"Stay here," his mom said, making him look away from the man whose robes were on fire. She stood up and slowly walked towards the dragon, hands in the air.

"Mama!" he shouted, the word lost in the noise as the dragon's tail smashed through a pillar. It shattered into a hundred pieces that rained down on the people around it.

"It's okay. Just calm down. You're a good dragon. It's alright. No one will hurt you." Somehow Hiccup could hear his mother's soft words among the chaos. The dragon turned to her, growling aggressively despite the people on its back pulling at its horns. A puff of smoke escaped its nostrils.

"Mama! Mama no!" Hiccup screamed, climbing on top of the desk as the dragon put its nose right next to his mother, who looked so tiny compared to the enormous creature. It sniffed and growled more. Mama's arm trembled as she slowly raised it.

One of the people on the dragon's back, a man with red hair, cast some kind of spell at the creature, making it groan. Its jaws opened, revealing rows of enormous fangs. Despite the black soot covering them they looked razor-sharp, and Hiccup had never felt so scared in his life.

BANG!

A flash of light and a loud bang shook the hall. The goblins cowered as the dragon roared in pain and fury.

"No, no, it's okay, just calm down, NOOOO!"

Hiccup was frozen as the dragon charged forward blindly. It felt like time slowed down as Mama put her hands in front of her face in a futile attempt to block.

Her scream ended with a horrific crushing sound as the dragon's front paw came down on her.

Suddenly there were more flashes of all colors, more shouts, more magic, but none of it existed. The dragon screamed, thrashing around wildly as spells hit it. More pillars crumbled and collapsed, and parts of the ceiling fell around him. None of it was real. None of this could be real.

"Mama! Mama! MAMA!" Hiccup screamed, frozen in place on top of the overturned desk.

"Hiccup, get away from there!" someone shouted, but he couldn't understand it. Why wasn't Mama getting up?

The dragon charged forward, straight into the wall of the building, opening it up to bright beams of sunlight that reflected on blue gems and white debris and pools of blood. With a final roar, it opened its wings and took flight with a single flap that drove a cloud of dust through the hall. It made Hiccup cough, and he didn't see the ceiling above him crack.

"Hiccup!" his father's voice shouted. It seemed so far away. The ceiling came down, on his Mama, on the goblins, on him. Brutal pain raced through his arm and back.

"Hiccup! Hiccup!" He blinked, and suddenly he was back in a clean and calm room. There was a ceiling and four walls and no screaming. His father was kneeling in front of him.

"Are you there? Come on, stop daydreaming. It's time to visit the vaults. I'm sure you'll like the cart ride!" he said, and Hiccup shook his head. His arm ached, despite the fracture having healed seven years ago. He didn't remember much of it. Being trapped under the stone, unable to breathe, for a minute until his father and other wizards could dig him out. A hospital bed. Left alone as his dad suddenly had to do a million things.

The next day the war was over. Ended by the three people he had seen riding the dragon.

"I… I'm fine," he whispered, trying to look strong in front of the old goblin standing next to Stoick.

"That's my boy! You see, Gringotts ain't so bad. You know what, if you're good during the cart ride, I'll get you an owl!"

Hiccup managed not to throw up during the cart ride. In fact it was quite exhilarating, like flying his broomstick back at the mansion. He rarely got the opportunity to do that, since his father was always nervous about dragons hiding in the clouds, waiting to strike.

The ride was over far too quickly, and then it was just a matter of moving coins around. Hiccup received a key to an empty vault, with promises it would fill up while he was at Hogwarts.

The ride back to the surface was even faster than the first cart, though Hiccup found it harder to enjoy, his stomach sinking when he caught a glimpse of the large doors leading back to the main hall. His dad seemed to sense his mood, and simply ushered them through the room quickly without stopping to speak to passersby like he normally did.

It wasn't until they stood outside in the bright midday sun that Hiccup felt like he could breathe again.

"Alright, let's get your school supplies first, it'll be much easier if we don't have to carry an owl around all day. What do you wanna get first? How about the books, you're always buried in those," Stoick asked. Hiccup resisted the urge to snark about how there was nothing else to do at the mansion but read, and instead focused on happier things.

"Can we get my wand?" he asked, already walking towards the shops and away from the bank.

A minute later they entered a tiny shop called Ollivander's, and the oldest man Hiccup had ever seen greeted them. He was almost completely bald, the few strands of hair that remained were wispy and white. His face and neck bore many scars, and his eyes felt like they looked straight into Hiccup's soul.

"Oh, Mr. Haddock! It feels like yesterday that I sold you your wand. 11 and a quarter inches, holly wood, with a dragon heartstring core, is that correct? I hope it's still working well for you," the man said with a croaky voice.

"Yes, it is," Stoick said, frowning at the mention of the dragon heartstring core. "But we're not here for me. My son is going to Hogwarts and he needs a wand."

Hiccup tried to smile, despite feeling very uncomfortable around the old man he assumed was Ollivander. The wand would be worth it. He'd be able to do magic!

"Ah, of course. Let's see… How about 9 and three quarter inches, yew, unicorn hair? Nice and straightforward," Ollivander said, opening a narrow box on the counter and handing it to Hiccup. "Go on, give it a swing!"

His hand trembled slightly when he took the wand. This would allow him to do magic! He'd only have to swing it! So he took a deep breath and gently swung the wand.

Nothing happened.

Ollivander ignored his surprise at the lack of sparks, snatching the wand from his hand and giving him another. "Pear, 10 and a half inches, dragon heartstring!"

"Wait a minute, you still use dragon heartstring? I banned all dragon products years ago," Stoick said as Hiccup swung a few times, still with no result.

"Eh, that just banned me from buying more. I have a huge stock of heartstring, Mr. Haddock. And there's absolutely nothing evil about it, no matter what you might believe. Now, try this one: Blackthorn, 12 inches, unicorn hair," the old man said, giving Hiccup another wand and grabbing more boxes from a shelf.

Stoick scoffed at that, but didn't push further. Instead he sat down in the small chair in the corner. The wood creaked under his weight. Hiccup tried to cast a hovering spell with the long wand, copying the movement he saw Mrs. Beakley, their housekeeper, use whenever she used Wingardium Leviosa.

Absolutely nothing happened. Of course he hadn't said the words, but still, it felt like he was failing at this.

"There's nothing to worry about. This happens to a lot of people. Your mother tried 23 wands before one chose her. Your father needed a dozen tries too," Ollivander said, piling up boxes on the counter and handing another one over. "Rosewood, 11 inches, phoenix feather, great for charms."

"Shouldn't something be coming out anyway? I remember producing fire and smoke with all the wands I tried," Stoick said, shifting in the chair.

"Indeed, wizards can produce intuitive magic even with wands that haven't chosen them, but it's much harder. There's degrees in this, some wands make it harder, some easier. In fact, let's try… Larch, 10 and a quarter inch, unicorn hair," Ollivander said as another wand was pushed into Hiccup's hands.

Another swing, and still nothing.

"Oh, that's a little strange. Still, I'm sure there's a wand for you. I do love a difficult customer!" Ollivander exclaimed, flicking his own wand to make entire stacks of boxes float towards the counter.

Hiccup had tried 51 wands with no result when his father stood up, the chair squeaking loudly in relief.

"Well, this looks like it's going to… take a while. How about I buy the rest of your supplies while you keep trying," he said, wrapping his cloak tighter around himself. Hiccup sighed, giving him the list.

Ollivander wasn't deterred by the ever growing pile of tried wands, marking their boxes with a small H and putting them back on the shelves while grabbing new ones. Meanwhile Hiccup swung and swung and swung some more.

A while later, long after Hiccup lost count, the door opened again. A blonde girl ran in, followed by a blond man with a long beard and auror robes.

"Astrid, no need to run. We have plenty of time," the man said as the girl ran right next to Hiccup, stopping him mid-swing. She was pretty, despite her scowl and narrowed eyes.

"Ah, Mr. Finn Hofferson! Is that blackthorn wand still working for you? And who is this? I didn't know you had children," Ollivander said, dumping another armful of wands on Hiccup's end of the counter. Hiccup took one, swung it, and slid it to the other end when it didn't work. As he pushed it, he noticed the girl looking at him and the pile of wands strangely.

"This is Astrid, my niece on my brother's side. I took her in after…" the auror said, putting his hand on Astrid's shoulder when her head dropped.

"Ah, of course. It's very nice to meet you, young witch. I sold your brother and sister their wands, you know. Though that was over a decade ago. They must have left Hogwarts around the… oh, right," Ollivander said, Astrid immediately snapping her head up to look at him with piercing eyes.

"Can we just get her wand? She's feisty, maybe a blackthorn one like mine?" Finn said, obviously eager to change the subject that Hiccup didn't really understand.

"Of course, of course. How about you try this one. Just swing it, like Hiccup over here does," Ollivander said. Hiccup, startled by her bright blue eyes, dropped the wand he was swinging, making it clatter loudly.

"Try not to drop it, though. Blackthorn, 11 inches, dragon heartstring," Ollivander said, grabbing a wand from the used pile and handing it to the girl. Frowning, she swung it once, and immediately sparks exploded from the tip. Her frown turned into a smile instantly.

"Not quite right. How about holly, 12 and a quarter inch, phoenix feather," Ollivander said as Hiccup swung another wand, trying not to look too disappointed when nothing happened.

Astrid swung the wand, and a moment later a vase exploded.

"Ooh, a little too temperamental. Ah, I know. Red oak, dragon heartstring, 9 and a half inches. A perfect wand for dueling and combat!" The wandmaker dug in the pile, finding a thin reddish wand and handing it over.

The moment Astrid touched it, her jaw dropped. With a firm hand, she swung it, and a soft glow emitted from the wand. She smiled brightly, and Hiccup couldn't help but smile as well.

"Perfect, perfect! It has chosen you! Congratulations, Ms. Hofferson. I'm sure you'll overcome great foes with this wand. Perhaps your biggest challenge will be deciding who those foes shall be," Ollivander told a brightly smiling Astrid. But then she glanced at Hiccup swinging another unresponsive wand and her smile dropped a bit. He couldn't help but wonder if she considered him a potential foe.

After another round of congratulations from Finn, payment was exchanged and the Hoffersons left the store, leaving behind an empty silence with no crackling sparks or exploding chinaware.

"Is that what's supposed to happen? What happens to everybody else?" he eventually asked, tossing another wand on the counter a little harder than he needed to.

Ollivander sighed deeply.

"Usually, yes. Untrained witches and wizards tend to send uncontrolled magic through every object they touch, and wands react to that magic, even if they didn't choose the wizard. It's almost like you're already trained. Did your father get you private tutoring?" the old man asked, sorting out the wands Astrid had tried and marking more boxes with an H.

"Yes, but not for this. I haven't learned any magic or spells. They just teach me history or Latin," Hiccup said, swinging again. He could feel something whenever he swung, a brief spark of burning heat in his fingertips like he grasped a candle flame. But it wasn't a good feeling like he always imagined magic would feel.

"Strange. But that just makes it more interesting! Come on, keep trying!" Ollivander said, and Hiccup did. His arm ached from the motion by the time his father returned with a bag full of books and potion supplies.

"You're still going?! Come on, Hiccup! I have more things to do today, you know," Stoick said, putting the bag down and gesturing at the piles of wands.

"I can't help it. They won't work!" Hiccup said, grabbing another one, swinging it with no effect, and tossing it on the used pile.

"You just have to do some magic! I know you can do it, you're not a damn squib!" his father shouted, sitting down heavily in the chair. Hiccup saw a crack run down one of its legs.

"I'm trying! Do you think I don't want this to work?" he said, grabbing a random wand from the pile.

"Well, try harder! You've been in here for hours! People are gonna notice," Stoick said, glancing out the window, and all the frustration Hiccup had been building up exploded.

"Is that all you care about? That random people will notice I'm having trouble finding a wand!" he screamed, raising the wand to point at his father.

Heat raced down his arms, burning his veins. The wand trembled in his shaking hand, and then the heat focused in his fingertips. It became too much, the fire scorching him from within.

But then suddenly the heat disappeared, replaced with a red flame bursting from the wand's tip. Hiccup yelped, dropping it from his tingling fingers. As quick as it had appeared, the fire vanished.

The only sound in the room was the wand clattering on the floorboards.

"See, you can do magic! That wand worked, right? Mr. Ollivander! What do you think?" Stoick said, smiling brightly despite soot darkening his beard.

"Accidental magic, yes, but still magic. No doubt. So there must be a wand for you. That one wasn't it, though. Let's keep going. There's still plenty of wands left," the old man slowly said.

No one seemed to care about Hiccup's pained sigh as he picked up another wand and gave it a swing. It did nothing. Just the same flash of painful heat in his fingertips as before. Nothing like the burst of actual magic he had just felt.

An hour later, after a boy by the name of Hiro came in and got his wand on the first try, Stoick stood up and grabbed the bag of supplies.

"That's enough. This is going nowhere. Clearly there's something very wrong with these wands. We'll go see better wandmakers tomorrow. I hear there's a good one in New York. One who doesn't use dragon products either," he said, putting his hand on Hiccup's shoulder and pulling him away from the counter.

"Very well. Every wandmaker will tell you there's nothing wrong with dragon heartstring cores, but clearly you've made up your mind based on a completely unrelated event, Department Head Haddock," Ollivander said in an icy tone. Stoick huffed, but didn't respond. He just stomped out the shop dragging Hiccup along with him.

He gave Mr. Ollivander an apologetic smile as his father slammed the door shut.

"That impudent- No matter. There's plenty of other wandmakers," Stoick said, moving towards the Leaky Cauldron.

"But Dad… You said I was gonna get an owl," Hiccup asked, not as excited as he had been before they went into the wand shop.

"Ugh… Fine. We'll get that owl, then we go home," Stoick said, turning around with heavy footsteps. The street was much emptier now that the sun was setting.

The cacophony of roars and meows and squawks in the pet store was the complete opposite of the silence of Ollivander's. And yet Hiccup felt much more at ease around the animals. There were no other customers inside.

"Hey, you! I'm looking for an owl for my son," Stoick shouted at a young woman standing behind the counter. Hiccup walked to a wall filled with bird cages. The owls were fairly quiet compared to the other creatures. He reached out his finger to a yellow-blueish owl with bright blue eyes.

Hiccup gently scratched the bird, and it opened its beak wide. A puff of smoke came out.

"Of course! What kind of personality would you like? We have several: playful, obedient, intel-"

The clerk's words were cut off by Hiccup's scream when the bird breathed fire. It was just a tiny flame, hardly bigger than a torch, but it conjured images of crumbling masonry and blood. The scream emptied his lungs, and he couldn't breathe to fill them again. He stumbled and fell, coughing at the musky air.

"What in Merlin's name is that! I demand answers!" Stoick shouted as he drew his wand, pointing it at the bird.

"It's a magical fusion! An owl with the magical abilities of a Blast-ended Skrewt! We got it from a wizard who experiments with transferring abilities between creatures!" she said quickly, running over and petting the fire-breathing bird.

"How do I know it's not some dragon monstrosity? Do you know who I am? I am Stoick Haddock, head of the Department of Magical Creatures. I introduced the laws against draconic experimentation, and if I suspect any violation of that law I could shut this place down right now!"

Hiccup finally managed to catch his breath, raising his head to see all the blood drain from the clerk's face.

"No, I swear it's nothing draconic! Please, sir! Have a free owl, any one you want!" she said, hands trembling.

"I don't trust anything you sell!" Stoick said, tone icy as he kept his wand raised. The woman's eyes flickered between the wand and the ministry badge on his robes.

"Then let me compensate you. For the… emotional damages!," she shouted, before running to the till. "Here, this is more than enough to buy an owl at any other pet store!" she said, holding up several gold coins. Stoick was silent for a few seconds, until he slowly lowered his wand.

"Fine, I'll take that. And you better hope I never hear of any kind of creature experimentation again."

It wasn't until they were standing outside again that Hiccup had calmed down enough to speak.

"I wanted an owl. Not that one, but a normal one," he said, glaring at his fuming father.

"Maybe we'll get one in New York tomorrow. At least in America they protect well against these… abominations. I'm trying to get those laws here as well, but no one wants to cooperate!" Stoick said as they made it back to the courtyard of the Leaky Cauldron.

"Now grab on. We're going home," he said, gesturing at his arm. Hiccup shook his head violently.

"No, I can't do apparition again! Please, Dad!" he begged, breath speeding up at the very thought of that narrow tube. The anger he had felt over the owl vanished, frozen by the memory.

"Come on, Hiccup! It's better than floo powder. You can't handle that at all! Just swallow your fears already so we can go home," Stoick said, shaking his head in disappointment. Hiccup just jumped back.

"I can't!" he shouted, tears pricking at his eyes.

Stoick was quiet for a long time, staring at him with furrowed brow, until his face softened.

"Fine. We'll take the Knight's Bus, even if it is dreadfully uncomfortable. And we can take a portkey to New York tomorrow, you're okay with those, right?" he said, leading them through the Leaky Cauldron to the muggle street outside. An old witch tried to talk to Stoick, but he waved her away. The other people in the bar just looked at him darkly.

"Yeah, I guess. Thanks, Dad," Hiccup whispered, thinking back to the girl at Ollivander's and wondering if she was scared of anything.

[citadelsushi]

Trust Tomorrow: Ch. 3

Third part of Avory Shepard’s origin story.

Art by antivancorvo

Also on AO3 and FF.net

Nothing excites a crowd as much as spilled blood. 

Nick assumes human kind has always been this way. He remembers reading once about an ancient civilization who held massive events in which people would fight to the death for entertainment. They had even built an arena, called it the Colosseum, specifically to house the dozens of thousands of spectators who arrived from miles around to watch the gruesome fights. Competitors were called gladiators, granted the title as if it were something to be valued. As if they weren't simply unwanted cuts of meat thrown into a grinder, chewed up and spat out in a mangled mess of muscle and blood. 

Chicago's underbelly had adopted the same sport somewhere along the line, though it wasn't nearly as extravagant. There was no rich emperor sponsoring the fights, no luxury involved even for the highest ranks. In Rome, Nick had read, the majority of the Colosseum’s victims were slaves or captives of war, beaten and whipped until the driving force behind them was painful enough they were willing to enter the ring to escape, despite knowing they faced certain death. 

No one in the pit was forced to participate. At least, not explicitly. 

No, the Reds - Konnor - was a master of manipulation. Threats were beneath him, peasant’s work, the reason he kept Mikki around. Konnor was more subtle; if he wanted a person to do his bidding, he found a way to push his own desires onto them, to make his wants their wants, to turn his needs into their needs until little more remained of his victim than the relentless search for his approval.

Not that Konnor’s aversion to employing violence meant he enjoyed the pit any less than his subjects. In fact, Nick was inclined to believe he enjoyed the fights more than anyone else. A puppeteer watching his marionettes perform on stage, obeying his every command despite never uttering a word. The exhibit was as much to prove his control over his own gang as it was to prove the Reds as a group not to be fucked with.

Though, to everyone but Nick, it seemed none of that mattered. Hell, most of the time Nick doubted anyone else saw what he saw. He knew Avory didn't. As far as the rest of the Reds were concerned, there was no deeper meaning to any of it. To them, the monthly engagement was just a bunch of people gathering to beat the ever living shit out of one another. 

And Nick had to admit, going to the pit was a really fucking good time. Bringing together five groups of people who swore to oppose each other until death, but were able to put aside that hate long enough to watch a grisly fist fight, created a unique energy. The air crackled with it, a fuse of youthful rebellion ignited by alcohol, a powder keg of red sand exploding into enthusiastic violence. For a short time each month, every member could relax, get a little fucked up, and pretend they were kids. For a short time, they could forget to pretend they were adults.

Unfortunately for them, everything good is also short lived.

As much as everyone loves seeing a victor pummel their opponent into a bloody pulp, no one wants to lose a member, a friend, a sibling. Death in the pits is expected, but it never fails to kill the mood. For Nick, the mood had been ruined as soon as the serpent pulled a knife; watching his sister getting sliced up is a sure way to kill a buzz. Now, watching as Avory silently came to terms with what she had just done, all Nick can feel is sober relief.

An eerie silence falls over the crowd as Avory stands over her victim, the blade in her hand still dripping with blood. Steam rises from her crimson stained skin. Her chest heaves as she gazes down at the lifeless body beneath her. Backlit by hazy orange streetlight glow, she looks otherworldly. Like an ancient gladiator, cloaked in neon and death.

Mikki enters the circle, hips swaying in her usual exaggerated fashion, but she keeps her distance from Avory. She knows better than to approach a fighter stiff with adrenaline. As she approaches the center, she shouts, “And the knife hiding bitch makes four!” 

Some of the crowd cheers, some grumble in disdain. Accepting the outcome, most of the group begins to exchange credit chits and their meager, yet prized, possessions, passing over lost bets begrudgingly. But Nick's attention is drawn elsewhere, beyond Avory, over Mikki's shoulder where Sixth Street clumps together. 

Not a single face looks surprised, though maybe a bit disappointed. No sadness either. Instead, a cool, determined veil had fallen over all their faces, their eyes locked on Avory in identical fashion as if they were a singular being. Nissa doesn’t look fazed in the least by her gladiator's defeat. A chill creeps down Nick's spine, giving rise to the hairs on the back of his neck. He quickly glances to Konnor, statuesque as ever, to find his stare locked on Nissa. A grin stretches tight across his lips but his smile never reaches his eyes, the expression so unnatural on his gaunt face that it looks painful.

Nausea takes root in Nick’s stomach and blossoms upward, pushes gin flavored bile into his throat. 

As Mikki begins taunting the Broncs, Nick spots movement and his attention snaps back to the Serpents. Two bodies right of Nissa, a brute of a man with white pants and no shirt unfolds his arms and cracks his knuckles, his actions slow and deliberate. Nick had never seen a krogan in person, but he imagines this man is as close to krogan size as humans can get without genetic modification. The man's legs are thick as cement pillars, but they carry him efficiently enough that he bursts into the ring and makes it to the center before anyone in the crowd can react. 

Nick, however, is already watching.

Panic makes his voice hoarse when he yells, “Avory!”

Under less threatening circumstances, Nick would have been proud of Avory for knowing to look up in the direction opposite of where he stands, over her shoulder to the blind spot of which he has a perfect view. She looks just in time to dart forward, narrowly avoiding the juggernaut charging directly at her. The man’s momentum continues to carry him forward into Mikki, whose reflexes aren’t nearly as quick, and she takes the full force of his attack.

Mikki doesn’t have time to scream. The force of the man crashing into her sends her flying to the edge of the ring, limbs flailing as she spirals through the air. She lands with a thud, rolls to a stop at the feet of the Broncs. Blood trickles from her scalp down her hairline, her only movement comes from the unsteady rise and fall of her chest. No one bothers to check on her. The man growls, doesn’t bother casting Mikki a second look before he whirls around to find his target. 

Avory is a deer caught in headlights, and for the first time, Nick is afraid. He’s never seen her look quite as she does now, crouched and ready to run or rip out a throat. She clings desperately to the knife in her hand, keeps it tight against her body, ready for defense. Compared to the giant standing off against her, she looks so small, so young. The stone cold killer she had just proven herself to be vanished and left in the ring was a scared, scrawny teenage girl. 

Again, the brute charges, the ground shakes with each step. Blood rushes in Nick's ears, his body paralyzed with fear, unable to so much as holler with the rest of the crowd as the giant closes in on Avory. She stands directly in his path, every muscle in her body taut with anticipation. He wants to yell at her to move, to run, to charge back, to do anything but fucking stand still and let herself be trampled. 

Seconds later, Nick realizes he was stupid to worry. The giant is only a foot from collision when Avory ducks and darts forward, immediately turning to focus on the man who stumbles to a halt, his open arms still grasping for a body that was no longer there. He turns, growls, and charges again. Just as before, Avory waits until his fingertips are nearly on her before she jumps to the side, whirls around behind him before he can halt his momentum. This time, she delivers a swift kick to the back of the man's knee. It's almost as high as she can effectively reach. 

Coupled with his unstoppable momentum, the blow causes him to fall forward, forces him to throw his hands on the pavement, stops just short of smashing his forehead on the pavement. Avory looks pleased, almost allows herself a self-satisfied smirk. An axe chipping away at a giant Sequoia, every splinter of wood counts. 

Enthralled, the crowd grows louder each time Avory narrowly escapes the man's grasp. They dance around each other like a matador fighting a bull, Avory almost taunting the man, landing cheap shots wherever she can manage. Each jab only enrages the brute further, to the point that Nick swears he sees the man start to paw the ground before each charge. He almost laughs imagining steam coming from his ears and a giant ring piercing is septum. Avory, too, seems to be mildly amused by the fight. Nick is surprised to see her so keen after the last match, but she flutters about surprisingly light on her feet, never staying in one spot more than a few seconds. Her eyes never leave the giant in the ring, even as he throws his weight about like a wrecking ball.

Several minutes in and Nick is too focused on the fight to light another cigarette. When adrenaline was fresh and the threat new, Avory had been exhilarated enough to keep up with the challenge. She had grinned as she circled the man, dangling herself in front of him like bait only to disappear into thin air, leaving him empty handed and embarrassed each time. But now, Nick can see the signs of fatigue. Her blood pressure has been too high for the bleeding from her last battle to stop, blood ebbs from her wounds and with it, so does her energy. She no longer seems to float above the ground, each step becomes sluggish and her posture hunched, desperate for more oxygen her body can’t provide. 

The crowd can see it too. With each charge, the bull gets closer to goring her. He runs at Avory again and she evades him, but only just. She stumbles as she jumps to safety, her left hand clutches the laceration on her side while her right sticks straight out, seeking balance. Panic rises in Nick once again as she stays there, hunched over and gasping for breath, as the bull paws at the ground, thirsty for another attack. 

The man starts at her.

“Avory!” Nick shrieks, “God damnit, fucking move!”

Avory doesn’t lift her head, but she nods. Four, three, two, one stride out and Avory drops to the ground, rolls out of harm’s way at the last possible second. Nick breathes a sigh of relief. But now that she’s down, she struggles to get up. Her arms tremble with effort as she pushes her way to her knees. She’s slow, too fucking slow. She’s barely to all fours when the bull turns back on her, his eyes widened with murderous frenzy. Nick watches in slow motion as he approaches her, his stride slow for the first time since entering the ring, savoring each second as he approaches his victim. Avory doesn’t look up, but she must sense his presence because she starts to crawl as quickly as she can toward the edge of the ring. The bull walks behind her, no longer in a hurry now that she’s so slow, so weak.

Yet, the crowd is thirsty for more bloodshed, rooting for the giant underdog to finally wipe out the girl who stood champion for so long. Saliva sprays from savage mouths as they call for her head. The unfolding events chill Nick to his bones. They’re just kids. Him. Avory. Each person in the crowd, all children begging for the death of another child. He looks to Konnor, arms still crossed, his skeleton features blank. There’s not a single bone in his body that feels any of this. 

Nick’s own anger erupts from depths so deep he didn’t know he could tap. He turns to Konnor, shoves him as hard as he can. It’s just enough to make Konnor unfold his arms, to level his dead stare at Nick. 

“Fucking stop this!” Nick screams, his voice breaking.

Expressionless as ever, Konnor simply straightens, folds his arms once more, and turns back to the pit. “No.”

He’s about to shove him again, to punch him, kick him in the shin, beat the ever living shit out of him until the rest of the Reds pull him off, but the crowd bursts into cheers and Nick turns back to Avory. She’s lying on her side now, a foot away from the opposite end of the ring, curled in on herself. The bull stands over her, his arms held above his head as if absorbing the energy from the crowd. And with that energy, he drives his foot into Avory’s stomach.

Her mouth splits open in a silent scream and she rolls away from the source of the pain, arms wrapped around her abdomen. She lifts her chin and her tear filled eyes scan the crowd. She glances briefly at Nick before passing over him to Konnor, a desperate plea in her eyes.  She’s running on empty, too weak to fight, unable to take much more yet powerless to end her suffering. Konnor could stop this at any moment. Nick looks to him too, his heart already heavy with despair. 

One word and Konnor could put an end to the fight, he could save Avory’s life. But Nick knows the cost is too high. Stepping in to save her would set a dangerous precedent that Konnor’s subjects didn’t have to die for him. Protecting her would make Konnor look weak, would make her look valuable. Letting her die, however, cost him nothing but a night at the pit. Another bet, another gladiator, another child, lost.

Nick can’t afford a loss like that. 

Avory is all he has, all he’s ever had. From the first day he met her, when she had been welcomed into the foster home with open arms by the guardians who promised devotion yet disappeared just as quickly as the state officials, she had stuck her neck out for him. At nine years old, her knobby knees poking out every which way and her knotted hair equally as wild, Avory had more fight in her than he did at thirteen. When dinner time rolled around that night and the pirate-like hierarchy of unsupervised children reared its ugly head, Nick had already retreated to his makeshift bed of tattered towels in the corner. Being low on the totem pole and resources scarce, he would be having sleep for dinner once again. 

As the new kid, Avory’s right to food didn’t exist. Until she insisted. Until that wild haired, wide eyed little kid screamed, and stole, and kicked until no one, not even the oldest, wanted to waste energy on the crazy new girl. Nick had watched her then, admired her ferocity, her ability to charge head on into the unknown and take what she needed. He admired her more when she didn’t hoard her newfound treasures, when she handed out meager scraps to other kids who were too afraid, too weak, too beaten down to take anything for themselves. Himself included.

 The relationship that blossomed turned into something Nick had never experienced. Something kind, something crafted with care, something comfortable. Nick wasn’t accustomed to anything of the sort. No, the types of relationships he knew were violent, only existing because he was told there was no other option, because fear kept him from hoping for better. If there wasn’t anger, there was nothing, an empty hole void of attention, of love, of connection. What he and Avory found with each other made him feel the way old tv shows made him feel, like he was safe, protected, loved. Like he had a family.

Family is too rare a thing to lose without a fight.