#hungry faced gil

[brainrotdotorg]

is someone going to get mad at me for saying this

[milkcricket]

Is this Jean Vicquemare

I think this might be Jean Vicquemare

[strawberrychampayne]

Hi, could you make an enemies to lovers evie x fem reader fic where reader is gaston’s daughter, so she’s very vain and basically acts just like gaston but the more girlypop version

End Game

Evie x Fem!reader

Enemies to Lovers

Word Count: 3321

Edited: No

A/N: AHHH this is my first request so PLEASE bear with me! I'm still pretty new to writing fanfic so there is always room for improvement. Thank you for the request Anon, I hope it's to your taste!!

She can remember the first time she decided she hated Evie. She had stolen a piece of bread from a couple of men on the road. She was hungry and bored and they looked preoccupied with yelling at each other. What she hadn’t accounted for was the fact that they would notice and were fast. They chased after her but she managed a little distance between them. Darting around a corner she bent over trying to catch her breath. She watched as blue heels made their way into her vision. 

“You truly never know who you’re going to run into, do you?”

She knew that voice. One that haunted her dreams like a siren of the night. Evie and her never had fought or even interacted besides looks when they passed by each other. Mal and Uma hated each other so she was supposed to hate Mal and her friends by association. She only knew Uma because her brother, Gil, was a part of her “crew.” Though she always thought it was because he wanted to prove something to their father. She picked her head up and leaned against the wall behind her. 

“You really don’t. Is there something you need?”

Evie glanced down at her. Her heels making her slightly taller. Her face held an emotion the other girl couldn't understand. Evie nodded slowly, glancing around the corner. A wicked smirk began to make its way onto her face.

“Excuse me,” she yelled, “I think I have who you’re looking for here.”

The girl's heart stopped. Not understanding why the blue haired girl would out her. She’d never done Evie wrong. She stood dumbfounded and watched as the brown eyed girl turned gracefully on her heels and walked away with a bounce in her step. That’s the day she realized that she hated Evie. The scar on her cheek from the fight that occurred served as a reminder. It would stay that way from then on, she’d throw insult after insult. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t mad when Evie, Mal, Carlos, and Jay got to leave the Isle. She held a grudge, wondering what made them so much more entitled to it. Though she wasn’t expecting them to be returning so soon. 

She was wandering around the Isle. Uma had wanted her to retrieve something she couldn’t remember. She honestly didn’t care, Uma could have someone else do it. Walking up to a stand she smiled at the man working there. She slowly made her way over, making sure to act innocent and interested in him. She trailed her hand on the baskets and stopped at his arm. She talked to him about how his day was going and kept his eyes on hers as she slipped bread into her pockets. Though she lost focus when she heard a familiar voice in the distance. Her heart dropped and she abruptly left the man hanging. She slowly crept around the corner and her question was answered. There they stood, there she stood. The girl who still haunted her dreams, the girl she hated most. She acted like she was just walking and “accidently” bumped into a man. A king. 

“Oh hey, do I know you?”

She watched with a small smirk as Ben fumbled on his words. The other 3 crowded behind him. 

“Um no, don’t think you do.”

She laughed and then looked up. Posters of the man in front of her were taped on the wall. She glanced at them and back at him. 

“King Ben. That’s where I know you from. You don’t know who I am?”

Ben’s eyes widened and he glanced back at Evie. 

“No I don’t.”

The girl's eyes lit up and she realized the man truly had no idea. Truly an opportunity to mess with him. 

“You should know my father, I’ll give you a hint. Quick, slick, and his neck,” she pointed at her neck, “is thick.”

She watched as the boy's face realized who she was referencing. The 4 teens scrambled away from her. 

“It was wonderful seeing you. Oh and Evie,” the girl yelled after them.

Evie stopped in her tracks and turned around slowly. A frown on her face.

“You truly never know who you’re going to run into, do you Belle?”

She watched with glee as the girls face dropped and she stared before running after her friends. 

“I’m loving this, Uma is going to love this.”

The girl said aloud to no one. 

The girl walked with Harry down the alley. They had captured Ben when he was trailing behind the group. Now it was her and his job to find everyone else. She watched as they all turned around and watched as they both walked down the path. 

“Ben?” Evie questioned into the dark. “Ben, don't scare us like that.” She said with a huff and her hands on her hips. 

“Don’t scare you?” Harry mocked

“We wouldn’t want that, now would we?” the girl added.

She watched as the 3 faces of Evie, Jay, and Carlos drained color. 

“What did you guys do with Ben?” she questioned. 

“Him? Yeah we nicked him from you and if you want to see him again, Mal will come to the chip shop tonight.” the girl replied, slight malice in her voice. 

“Yes, Uma wants a little visit,” Harry added, looking at the group. 

“Aww Jay, looks like you’ve lost your touch” the girl said with fake pity.

She laughed as the boy lunged at her, only to be held back by Evie. 

“Well, this has been fun but we must be going.”

She turned on her boot and began to walk away. Harry followed closely behind her. 

“See you later!” she yelled behind her. 

She had been tasked with keeping Ben in his place and not letting him escape. She walked slowly around him, like a predator stalking its prey. She was in her own head, Evie and the others being back brought up feelings she’d want to let out for so long. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” she heard from beside her

She turned to look at him. A small smile playing on her lips. 

“And why is that? You don’t know what I need to do.”

He looked like he was deep in thought. 

“I’ve heard the story, you know. About your father, conniving, misogynistic, rude. I can only imagine what he was like to his daughter.”

Rage filled her body and she took her sword to his neck. Putting pressure on it, not enough to slice him but enough to scare him. 

“You don’t know anything about my father. You live in a pretty little castle above everyone else. You’ve heard stories, that’s all they are.”

“I could help you, I could get you off this island. I understand how you feel.”

She backed off slightly. Getting off was all she wanted for as long as she could remember. She almost wanted to ask him how before Harry approached. She watched as he got all in Ben’s face. 

“Just think about it.” Ben said, staring at her. 

She shook her head and walked to the side of the ship. Watching the water crash against the wood. Before she could get lost in her thoughts again she heard commotion behind her. Turning she saw Mal standing there, her friends behind her. 

“Well let’s get this started” she thought aloud.

Grabbing her sword she began to advance. She was stopped by the Gilsf hand on her stomach. 

“Hold on, we have to wait for Uma.”

She sighed annoyed and began to pace around the ship, sword swinging around. Her heart began racing with anticipation as Uma and the rest of the crew drew their swords. She glanced over at Ben and Harry. He was playing with him, pretending that he was going to push him in. She felt conflicted after what he had said. She walked up behind Uma and Harry. Watching as her and Mal went back and forth. Glancing behind Mal she saw Evie giving a slight wave, to egg them on. Bringing her hand up she blew a kiss and a wave back at the girl. To hopefully throw her off. It did and she watched as the girl lowered her hand and eyes. 

“Hey! We don’t have to choose. There has to be a better way. Uma I’ll give you a chance, you’ll have your say,” Ben moved his focus onto her, “and you I’ll get her somewhere better, I promise.” 

She watched as Uma stood her ground and she didn’t make a move either. She couldn’t trust him. With her breath held she watched Mal begin to hand Uma the wand.

“Too easy, why don’t you give it a test drive? I want to see it work, we all do.”

Mal scoffed and turned to a dog that had walked onto the port. The girl watched as Mal casted a spell that would make the dog talk. 

“Does this vest make me look fat” 

She laughed with the rest of the crew at the words. Surprised that the wand was even real. She moved to the side as Harry drugged Ben along with him. Giving him back to Mal. Gil walked up to them. 

“And, before you go, tell your mom that our dad says hi. And also let your dad know that my dad wishes he finished off yours when he had the chance.”

Shaking her head she watched as Mal and Uma got ready to make the trade. She was concerned as to why they’d give up the wand so easily. When Uma finally had the wand in her hands the crew began to cheer loudly. She held her breath as Uma tried to cast a spell and let out an angry huff when the wand didn’t work. Uma snapped the wand in half and yelled out. The girl grabbed her sword and advanced towards the group. It was almost like fate that Evie was the person she had to battle. She swung her sword towards the girl and their swords clashed into each other. 

“You know, I knew it was so weird that you’d give up a want that easily”

Her and Evie struggled against each other to get the upper hand. 

“Yeah? And yet, Ben is in our hands and you all have nothing.” The girl replied with a laugh. Rage once again filled the latters body and she pushed heavily. Knocking Evie to the ground she wrapped her legs around her. 

“This almost feels like you’re trying to kiss me.” Evie said, trying to distract the girl. The other decided to play along.

“And if I was? Would you let me belle?” she whispered back with a smirk. Evie's face turned a dusted pinkBefore a reply could be said a cloud of blue smoke made the girl panic and tumble back. Her head hitting the wood below her. Her vision went blurry and the sounds around her were drowned out by a ringing in her head. She could just make out Evies figure running away from her. When she finally was able to stand again she watched as Mal kicked out the bridge that led to a tunnel. With her chest heaving she walked away. Her head pounding and her thoughts going a mile a minute. What just happened. 

As she walked away from the port she glanced to the ground and saw a familiar book. With a curious glance she picked it up and ran back to Uma. 

“You’ll never believe what I just found.”

Uma looked at her with anger in her eyes. 

“What.” she said 

“A spell book. Mal's spell book to be exact.”

She watched as Uma’s eyes brightened and a smile began to grace her face.

“Well I know just what to do now. Follow me, we have a boat to catch.”

The girl was spelled into a red dress. It clung to her body and shimmered in the light. She was on the boat. Hidden downstairs in a random room. Uma had left to go and find Ben. She said he was important to her plan. She was pacing around wondering what exactly she was doing. The words Ben had said to her were swarming her brain. Would he truly help her? She didn’t have time to think before she heard the sounds of trumpets. She heard an older man introduce Mal. She couldn’t hear what the people were saying until trumpets were heard again. Now the man was introducing Ben. This time she heard louder cheering as he made his way. She decided to move up to get a better view and was peeking around the corner so she could see everyone. Her eyes were locked on Evie. Ever since the boat fight she couldn’t get what happened out of her head. Ben slowly walked towards Mal and bowed to her. The girl watched curiously. 

“Mal, I wish I had time to explain.”

The girl watched as Uma walked in front of the stairs. So that was her plan, to steal Ben? Ben leaned down and kissed his ring that rested on Uma’s hand. She almost felt bad for Mal. Though pride wanted to get in the way. She watched as Ben tried to explain the connection him and Uma had. Uma claimed it was love. Mal was trying to get his attention. Asking if he had gone back for her. 

“He didn’t have too. I dove through the barrier before it closed.” Uma said to him. Uma grabbed Mal's hand and thanked her, giving her a hug. Slow music began to play and Ben and Uma began to dance. Twirling around the dance floor. Jane ran up the stairs and yelled for the man to reveal Ben's gift. It was a beautiful stained glass piece of him and Mal. She now really felt bad for the girl. It was stunning. Ben looked as though the spell was going to wash away. Uma yelled for them to cover it back up. 

“Why don't you tell everyone the present you have for me, Ben”

“I have an announcement. Uma will being joining the court tonight,” Ben said

His father tried to reason with him. “Not now, Dad!” Ben yelled at him. 

“So as my gift to her, I’m bringing down the barrier, once and for all.” Ben finished. She wasn’t expecting all that. People around the boat gasped. Ben told the fairy godmother to take down the barrier and she told him no. The girl watched as Mal advanced on Ben and Uma. Begging him to see that he really loved her. Mal finally confessed that she loved Ben and leaned in to kiss him. Uma began to rage and tried to grab the wand from the Fairy Godmother. She held her breath as Uma jumped into the ocean, her shell necklace glowing. Swirls of gold began to circle in the water and Uma rose up out of it with an octopus tentacle. She hadn’t known that she could do that. Water splashed onto the deck and drenched people with the smell of salt. Uma began arguing with the people on the boat. Her tail whipping around and launching at people. Mal walked away from the crowd and her head began to twitch. A swirl of purple gas filled the space around her and she rose up as a dragon. Soaring into the sky she let out a breath of fire onto the water. Her and Uma begin to fight. The boat was swaying back and forth. The girl was losing her footing. Ben let out a roar and dove into the water. He pleaded for the girls to stop fighting. Ben held his hand out for Uma. Hoping she would take it, instead she gave him his ring back and swam away. As Ben climbed the rope, Mal landed back on the ship. When she turned back into a human, gone was the blue and gold dress. It was not replaced but a purple dress that complemented her hair. Walking towards Ben, he and Mal kissed. The hidden girl thought this would be a good time to make herself known. She stopped in her tracks when she heard what Evie said.

“Actually. Ben there’s a lot of kids who would really love it here in Auradon,” her voice trailed off as she looked up and made eye contact with the no exposed girl. “People like her.” she said and pointed behind them. This made the girl tense up with all eyes now on her. Ben looked at her funny and the other teens stared at her. She cleared her throat and began to speak. 

“I completely understand if you want to send me back to the Isle, but I was hidden away on this ship thinking about what you said, and I was hoping I could get a second chance? I’m sorry for the chaos I helped cause but I didn’t have a choice. If you’ll let me, I’d love to help make a difference here, at Auradon.” she finished, her eyes glancing down at her feet. Ben was silent for a while, seemingly in thought. Before he could say anything Evie spoke up. 

“She is truly a quick learner, Ben, and I really think she could do some good, if she’s given the chance.” She finished and smiled at the girl, who then smiled back. 

Ben nodded his head and started to smile. 

“You’ll be our fifth kid out of many that will come to Auradon.” he said. 

The girl wanted to cry and thanked him a million times. She smiled at all the VK’s and mouthed a thank you to Evie. As the night progressed, there was singing and dancing happening all around her. She had the time of her life, until the party ended and everyone made their way back to the school. Ben set up a room for her to stay in for the night and she was able to sleep on a bed that felt like it was made for a queen. 

When she woke up the next morning a box was awaiting her on a desk in her room. It was tied with a blue ribbon but had no name. Inside was clothes for her to wear, almost exactly like the clothes she wore on the Isle, though these were clean. Under everything was a note. Nothing was written except for an E. That's when the girl knew who it was from. She got dressed quickly and set out to find Evie. After an hour of searching she noticed the girl in the courtyard. She was sitting under a tree sketching what seemed to be a dress. She took a deep breath and walked up to her. 

“Thank you for the dress, and thank you for what you did last night”

Evie jumped and looked up, startled by the girl. 

“It was truly nothing, us VK’s have to stick together.” she replied with a smile. 

A silence filled the air as the 2 girls stared at each other. 

“Can I ask you something?” Evie questioned

“Anything,” the girl replied, leaning down to listen better. 

Evie began to blush again, her words caught in her throat. 

“This almost feels like you’re trying to kiss me again.” Evie said breathlessly. 

“And if I was? Would you let me belle?” the girl replied with her eyes on the blue haired girl's lips. Evie gleaned between her eyes and leaned in more.

“Well I’d have to let you” she said before closing the distance and smashing her lips onto the other girls. Grasping the blue hair and pulling her in more. 

“I KNEW IT!” Both girls jumped away from each other and turned their heads to see Jay, Carlos, and Mal making their way towards them. Both girls laughed at said peoples reaction.

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

🤔🏥 What is a healing coma?

Gallifreyans have an exceptional level of control over their bodily functions, allowing them to manipulate everything from hearts rate to hormone production. When faced with severe but non-fatal injuries or illnesses, a Gallifreyan can voluntarily enter a full or partial healing coma to accelerate their healing process.

Here's how to recognise a Gallifreyan in a full healing coma:

Heart Rate: Under 10 beats per minute.*

Blood Pressure: Around 10/5.

Body Temperature: Under 5°C (41°F).

Respiratory Rate: Under 3 breaths per minute.

Pupil Response: Pupils will not dilate in response to light.

Reactions: In most circumstances**, they won't react to verbal prompts, touch, or minor pain stimuli.

*Partial healing comas may not alter heartsrate. **Partial healing comas allow the Gallifreyan to react more readily to stimuli.

A Gallifreyan in a healing coma might seem dead to the untrained eye (or human medical equipment). However, this state is extremely effective, boosting the healing process by up to 3.5x, depending on the injury's severity and how deep their coma is. During this time, they won't have conscious thoughts but can perceive sensory inputs. Once they wake up, expect them to be quite hungry and thirsty, as their body has burned through their energy reserves.

⚠️Warning: Suddenly pulling a Gallifreyan out of this state can lead to severe consequences, such as hearts failure or brain damage.

A healing coma is the ultimate power nap. If you do happen to stumble upon a Gallifreyan in this state, make sure the environment is safe and let them be, and maybe leave a snack nearby for when they wake up.

Gallifreyan Biology for Tuesday by GIL

Any purple text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →😆Jokes |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[wyvernquill]

Another Dreamling Anastasia AU Snippet

So, this AU somehow gained some new traction over the past few days, and I remembered I still had this in my drafts! It's a direct continuation from the last post - the first time their paths cross, though I think I'll save their actual first conversation (already written!) for the next part. Mostly a lot of background and exposition, but I hope it'll be enjoyable nonetheless! Thanks everyone for your enthusiasm for this AU!!!

(Masterpost here!)

(Tag list, let me know if you want to be added or taken off: @10moonymhrivertam @martybaker @globglobglobglobob @anonymoustitans @sunshines-fabulous-legs @dreamsofapiratelife @malice-royaume @kcsandmanfan @acedragontype @okilokiwithpurpose @tharkuun @silver-dream89 @i-write-stories-not-sins-bitch)

(I don't know why it just won't let me do the proper tag sometimes... I hope the people Tumblr refuses to let me tag will see the post anyway, I'm very sorry...)

---

There is a fight just about to break loose at the White Horse Inn.

It will happen because of a man; a pale, stick-thin skinny thing of a man, barely more than an ashen, grimy face under a mop of coal hair balanced on top of a ragged black coat, loitering close to the fireplace and trying not to be too obvious about soaking up its warmth. At his feet, half hidden beneath the torn hem-line of his coat, there is a bird, some sort of corvid, following the other guests - and their purses in particular - with its beady little eyes.

The bird’s master is watching, too, watching the inn’s staff collect coins and shove them into their pockets, watching the plates and bowls of food being carried about, hungry, starving-

And then he’s noticed watching, a barmaid muttering a word or two to the innkeep over by the beer caskets - and the moment the man’s eyes find the stranger, they narrow.

And in turn, the moment the stranger notices the hostile eyes on him, he seems to brace himself, something feral in the way his lips draw back from his teeth as the innkeep makes a beeline for him through the crowded pub.

Words are exchanged.

Words are exchanged, loudly.

An arm is grabbed - and the bird jumps up with an angry caw, beating its wings at the innkeep’s face, and the scullery boy runs over to help, as does the burliest of the barmaids.

(There’s that fight now.)

The stranger shouts and scratches and twists as he is dragged through the common room, towards the door, growling profanities in a hoarse, dark voice, while his bird squawks, wrapped in the scullery boy’s apron.

It’s a right mess, but perhaps not an unusual one - the White Horse makes quick work of unruly drunkards (and those who are here to pilfer money rather than spend it), and even as some guests are following the fight in fascination and with half a mind to join in just for the pleasure of throwing a punch, most of their clientele barely spares them a look. Soon, the stranger will be cast out into the cold and the night again, far away from the warmth of a fireplace, or the smell of food, or opportunities for thievery. Nothing special. Soon, it will be just a quiet evening, like any other…

If it weren’t for the fact that, over in the far corner, a familiar man, and a familiar something-altogether-else still managing a rather sound impression of one, have been nursing their drinks for a good hour already, trying to drown their failures in ale.

(The humans have robbed Destiny of his powers, torn his realm from him, burned his book - but destiny still shapes the lives of mortals and immortals alike; and it is that power, which makes Robert Gadling look up from the sad remains of his beer, and, for just a fraction of a second, lock eyes with the vagabond currently in the process of being removed from the premises.

That is enough.

With just one look, the wheels of fate are already set in motion, and our story can begin in earnest.)

"Hey, Gil." Hob nudges Gilbert's arm, not taking his eyes off the struggling, furious stranger. "Over there. Look."

"Hm?" Gilbert blinks owlishly, following Hob's nod to the commotion behind him. "Oh, yes, yes. Ghastly, isn't it? Disgraceful, that some hoodlums cannot conduct themselves in public houses with the appropriate decorum - in my days, I tell you, when the Endless were still-"

"No, look!" Hob cuts him off. "The hoodlum. Look at him, really look."

"Hrmmm," Gilbert makes a sound of polite displeasure, and fiddles with his circular little glasses, peering through them and across the room, where the haggard stranger is spitting abuse at the innkeep even as he is in the process of being shoved out of the door.

And then, "oh, good lord!" Gilbert gasps, and drops his glasses.

"You see it too, then?"

"I… yes. Gracious, yes. Like a ghostly apparition." Gilbert gropes for his glasses with one hand, eyes never leaving the stranger. "The physical resemblance - most uncanny. A good deal more malnourished and, ah… rather grimy, it seems… and yet, overall…"

"A dead ringer for Dream of the Endless, isn't he?" Hob finishes, nodding. “Better than any of the men that auditioned for us, certainly.”

“Heaven help,” Gilbert’s voice is weak with emotion, “even knowing it isn’t him, I feel like… ah, Robert, if he were only given a bath, some better garb… it would be as if His Lordship walked again!”

“Would be?” Hob’s grin is bright and hungry, like a hunting dog smelling his prey, as he pushes himself up from his seat. “Will be!”

“-and if I see either you or yer blasted bird thievin’ in here again," the innkeep snarls, tossing first the haggard stranger, and then a squawking bundle of black feathers, out into the snow. “I’m callin’ the coppers! Y’hear?”

The word the stranger spits back, gathering all his limbs and his dark coat around himself as he staggers to his feet and off into the night, is so filthy even Hob would blush upon saying it. A bit rough around the edges, this man, not exactly the model of a fairytale king - but such things can be taught, can’t they. Hob’s seen a production of Shaw’s Pygmalion, years ago, and if Higgins can make a fine lady out of a flower girl, then Hob and Gil can make a Dream Lord out of some vagabond.

“Begging your pardon, good man.” Hob leans against the doorframe, watching the stranger’s dark shape angrily stomp off through the snow, bird hopping along at his side. “Howsabout this, a shilling for anything you can tell me about the man you just tossed out of your establishment.”

“Whot, Murphy!?” The innkeep blinks. 

Holds out his hand.

Hob dutifully deposits one of his last few shillings in it.

“Thank you kindly, sir, much obliged.” A tip of the hat, and the coin disappearing in the innkeep’s pocket. “Murphy’s one of the local beggars. A filthy thief, too, and no mistake. He’s trained that raven of his into it - heard the city even pays him some little pittance to control the birds in the area! They wouldn’t do it if they knew what he was doing with ‘em. I don’t like seein’ him around the Horse, not with the trouble he’s causing. Stealing leftover scraps from tables I can forgive, might even give him a full meal now and then in the name of charity - but if he goes for the pockets of my regulars, the regulars don’t come back, understand? Can’t have that.”

“Course not.” Hob agrees readily. “Bad for business, a pickpocket.”

“Just so, sir. He’s been in the London area for… oh, eight, nine, maybe ten years? Hasn’t got a trade, not very willing to do an honest day’s work in any case, can’t hold down a job for the life of him as a result. Still thinks himself better than the rest o’ us, anyway. I’d leave him alone, if I were you - he’s vicious as all Hell, bit the kitchen boy once and the lad needed to get his arm stitched up afterwards. And that raven - the thing’s a demon, swear to God. A familiar, like witches have. If we were livin’ in a less civilised age, they’d’ve strung old Murphy up for witchcraft and devilry years ago!”

Hob hums thoughtfully. “Do you know if he has fallen in with that crowd? Not idle hearsay, mind, but facts. There’s still some men in London who practise the Old Arts, does he meet with them?”

(Hob has heard that the old Magus of Wych Cross died perhaps a year or two after his greatest accomplishment; for all his powers that tore Endless spectres from their lofty thrones, in the end he couldn’t defend himself against his own son finally snapping, smothering him in his sleep, and running off with the gardener. Good riddance to the old goat, in Hob’s opinion - but he had a good handful of supporters in every major city, and they can’t all have died with him.)

The innkeep takes his time answering, staring out into the softly-falling snow.

“...not that I know of, sir.” He finally says, cautiously. “He doesn’t meet with anyone, really, ‘xcept the birds. Solitary type, is our Murphy, with no family, and no-one to miss him if he freezes himself to death some night. But.”

A pause.

“There’s something wrong about that man, if you ask me. He has a look in his eyes… whatever it is, it’s not natural. Might be magic. Might be madness. I really couldn’t say.”

“I see.” Gears are turning in Hob’s head, puzzle pieces slotting into place, plans unfolding.

A man sleeping rough, with nobody to miss him or know much of him, fierce and angry and constantly on the brink of starvation, looking just like Dream. A diamond in the rough, and quite possibly desperate enough to actually agree to their mad plan just for a few weeks of guaranteed food and a roof over his head.

Dear God. He’s perfect.

“One more question, about Murphy.” Hob beams, half-giddy. “Where do you think I could find him, say… tomorrow?”

The innkeep’s eyebrows rise up into his hair.

“Can’t see why you’d ever want to,” he mutters into his beard. “But very well. On your head be it.”

He names a nearby small park, where Murphy often goes to feed his birds, and is rewarded for it with another tuppence; and then Hob saunters back to his and Gil’s table, already feeling like he can almost taste the promise of eternal life on the tip of his tongue.

(“We cannot know for certain that he will agree, Robert. He sounds like a most prideful young man - he is much like His Lordship in that regard as well, I suppose.”

“Oh, he’ll agree. I’ve been where he is, Gil, and there were times I would’ve sold my own mother to the devil for a warm meal and a bed to sleep in. Not that the devil would’ve taken the old bat even if I’d paid him, of course, but it’s the principle of the thing.”

“That hardly makes it much better. We’d be taking advantage of the poor man’s unfortunate situation!”

“Everyone’s situation is unfortunate these days. And we’d be improving his, on the whole, along with ours.”

“Let it be noted, dear fellow, that I am voicing my ethical and moral quandaries.”

“I really don’t think our plan to scam the Endless is very ethical in the first place, Gil.”

“...now that I cannot possibly argue with.”

“There we are then.”

“However! You will have to be the one to suggest it. I will help you instruct him and present him to the Endless if you do convince him - but for now, I wash my hands of the matter.”

“Fair enough.”)

[drabblesandimagines]

Fearless

Based on this request. Clive Rosfield x fem reader Established relationship, fluff 1,220 words

You’ve always been good at putting on a facade, holding your nerve in life or death situations – part of everyday life, really, since joining the Cursebreakers – but as you grow closer to your destination, it’s getting harder to make your legs comply. “Are you sure, Clive?” You slow in your walk, your voice soft, but he still hears.

Clive stops in his stride then, steps in front of you and places one hand on your shoulder and his other warm palm cups your face with a sympathetic smile. “I promise it’ll be fine. Have I ever led you astray before, my darling?”

“No, you haven’t… but I must confess I’m still nervous.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead in his reassuring way – he’s all about soft, sweet touches. “I’ll be with you the whole time, all right?”

You nod, though you know it’s not coming across as a confident one. He smiles, encouragingly, and moves his hand down from your cheek to tilt your chin upwards so he can kiss you chastely on the lips. It’s all too brief, a distraction perhaps, as he then wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you tight to his side and continues to lead you down the path into the clearing he’d scouted out for this particular excursion – free of fiends and blight. It would be a nice spot for a romantic picnic, you think… or literally anything else than what Clive has planned.

Once you’ve reached the centre, he slips his arm away and takes a step back, facing you with a look on his face that reminds you of how excited Torgal gets for one of his treats. “Ready, my lady?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

He holds his fingers up to his lips and lets out a long whistle. It’s almost like magic, really, with how quickly the silver white chocobo appears out of nowhere. She charges into the clearing with impressive speed and you quickly sidestep to stand behind Clive’s stature. The chocobo’s head is bowed down low, squawking, until she comes to an abrupt stop a few metres away from you both.

“Hello, Ambrosia.” Clive greets, rubbing her head softly as she bows it to him, now letting out soft, sweet kwehs. “How have you been, girl?”

For the majority of your life, you’ve been terrified of chocobos. It’s an understandable fear – as Clive had repeatedly reassured you upon discovery – considering your past.

You’d made it to your seventh Name Day before being discovered as a Bearer, quickly Branded and sold off to a noble in the countryside who made his gil through agriculture. The days were spent toiling in the fields - turning over the soil, planting seeds, harvesting - and the nights were spent sleeping in the chocobo stables. Unfortunately, your former master treated both his Branded and chocobos with the same amount of affection – forced to share the same dirty water trough and the same buckets full of food scraps.

There was some sort of unspoken bond between you and your fellow Bearers to share everything equally – favours repaid to one another in the field, throwing a couple more vegetables in their basket at the tally count to avoid a lashing. But chocobos have awful sharp claws to go along with their hungry stomachs.

You’re torn from your daydreaming by Clive saying your name, catching the tail-end of him introducing you. There was always a certain glint in his eye when he told you tales of growing up in Rosaria, especially involving Ambrosia. The young Rosfield had raised her from a chick, for Founder’s sake. She’d saved his life at Phoenix Gate, lost her eye in the process… so if there’s a chocobo to like, she’s definitely the one to like.

She draws up to her full height then, flapping her wings and your heart pounds – a flashback to a night where you very nearly lost your fingers to a sharp beak.

“Can you lie down for me?” Clive asks the bird, softly. Ambrosia folds her wings back to her sides, immediately lying down, tilting her head quizzically at her master. “Good girl.”

You remain standing behind the Fire Dominant, using him as a shield, but you know it won’t last much longer as he turns to you.

“Will you say hello?”

You take a breath – you’ve faced far scarier things, you know you have – a morbal, a couerl… Tarja’s wrath when you returned to the Hideaway exhausted and wounded.

“H-hello, Ambrosia.”

The chocobo kwehs loudly, thankfully staying settled on the ground. Clive slips an arm around your waist, squeezing your side.

“She likes you already, you know? I’ve told her a lot about you. She’s a very good listener.”

“Mm.”

“Would you like to touch her?”

“I…” Your hands are trembling at the thought.

“I would never force you, you know that, but you’re doing so well.” Clive grabs your hand, squeezing it. “We could do it together.”

“All right.” You’ve come this far after all, but there is a definite waiver in your voice.

“Ambrosia won’t peck you,” he laces his fingers through yours then. “But we’ll do it like this, so she’d only get me if she did. But you have my solemn vow that she won’t.”

You trust Clive with your very life after all, so you swallow – your throat incredibly dry – and nod. Clive grins, stepping behind you then, wrapping one arm around your stomach to pull you back into his chest. He begins to guide your intertwined hands up to the bird’s side, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand in reassurance the whole time as your fingers brush against her feathers.

She’s incredibly soft, is the first thing you notice. Different from the sharpness you’ve always associated with chocobos. Ambrosia swivels her head to watch, softly kwehing away.

“She’s beautiful, Clive.” Your fingers relax a little into a gentle stroke.

“As are you, my darling.” He murmurs in your ear, pressing a kiss against your temple as he does.

The two of you stand there a little while longer, continuing to stroke Clive’s loyal steed. Ambrosia tucks her head against her chest, seeming to nestle down for a nap. It’s incredibly sweet.

You don’t even notice when Clive moves his hand away, slyly – only realising when you feel his other arm wrap around your waist.

“I’m so proud. You truly continue to astonish me every day with how remarkable you are, and how lucky I am to bear witness to it.”

“No,” you pull your hand away cautiously, but continue to look at Ambrosia. “I’m not-“

He spins you round in his arms then – Ambrosia doesn’t even move, content in her slumber – and puts on a pout. “Beautiful and brave and I will not hear otherwise.”

You can’t refuse that particular face, even when he’s not being entirely serious, and caress his cheek, and stare into his stormy blue eyes. “I wouldn’t be able to do it without you - truly. I love you so much, Clive.”

He sinks into your touch. “I love you too, my darling.” He pulls you even closer, if it was possible, and embraces your lips passionately – your reward – teasing your bottom lip with his teeth. His kisses still leave you almost dizzy and he knows it.

“Now, how about a ride?”

--

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-f

[piratecore-art]

Fanfic- pairing Ben/harry/Uma

Rating: explicit

King Benjamin Florin Beast held his head high.

It was what he’d been taught.

The pirates jeered as Harry Hook and Gil Gaston led him up the ship’s gangway and onto deck.

He’d been striped of his jacket, hat and shoes already, leaving him in a thin blue shirt and studded pants- with bright aradon-yellow socks.

Ben was still cursing himself for being caught, for being recognized by Gil in the first place. He should never have shown up on the isle looking and acting like a target.

Harry snickered as he purposely tripped ben and ben fought a growl.

Making enemies won’t do you any good, he reminded himself.

He glared at the objectivly attractive first mate, taking in the other boy’s ocean azure eyes painted with black khol, his strong musceles and lean frame, his…

He glanced away, blushing.

He lifted his chin again, determined to keep his demeanor.

And then he saw… her.

Uma.

The captain of the pirates, the queen of the Isle.

She was standing at the prow of the small ship, her long, heavy braids flowing in the wind, small shells and strands of teal caught among them. Her chin was strong and proud, lifted, just like his, head high like royalty.

She was stunning.

A smirk painted her lips as she beheld him, the captive king, flanked by her loyal first and second mates.

Harry snarled. “Keep yer eyes to yerself, beast.”

Ben glanced down, flushing yet again.

Uma swayed as she walked twords them. “Bring him below deck.”

“You don’t want to do this,” ben protested, trying one last desperate bid for freedom. “Whatever it is you want, we can negotiate-”

Uma spun around and grabbed the young king’s chin harshly. “I don’t negotiate with tyrants.”

The words spun in his ears as gill grabbed his arms and dragged him harshly beneath the deck, harry following after with a crazed giggle.

I don’t negotiate with tyrants.

Is that how she saw him? How all of the Isle saw him?

He’d never even considered the possibility before.

In the eyes of auradon, he was either just and merciful, or too soft-hearted. No one would consider him… tyrannical.

But to the people his father had imprisoned, to the children he’d failed to rescue…

He had thought, at first, that uma must be working for her mother. But slowly, he was beginning to realize they respected her as a leader in her own right, in a way Mal had never been.

The split up at the stairs, gil leaving to attend to his other duties while harry dragged ben down into the dark depths of the ship. When they reached the bottom of the creaking wooden staircase, he shoved ben roughly to his knees.

Ben let out an oof as his body made impact with the hard wood boards, feeling a splinter worm its way trough his jeans and into his knee, but unable to touch it with his hands bound behind his back.

Harry circled his captive slowly.

As his eyes adjusted to the dark, ben could finally get a good look at harry. The other boy was tall- taller than him- and lean, muscled and hungry-looking. His eyes held a gleam of insanity, and his face was split in a manic grin.

Ben shivered slightly as he felt the force of that intense gaze directed at him.

The dark kohl around harry’s eyes gave him the appearance of almost a skeletal presence, something dark and dastardly come from the king’s nightmares to taunt him.

He forced himself to meet harry’s eyes, but insted of being intimidated, the first mate’s grin merely grew.

“I bet-” he chuckled, low and dirty- “I bed i get to hook ye. I bet uma lets me-” he licked his lips and leaned down, pushing the tip of his hook under ben’s chin- “i bet uma lets me do all kinds of-”

“You don’t have to obey her!”

The words were out of ben’s mouth before he could think them through.

Harry froze. “What’s that supposed to mean, benny?”

Ben’s tongue flicked nervously over his lips. “I just meant… you don’t need to do what she says. You don’t have to hurt people. If she, or your father, are making you do stuff-”

“My father is dead!” harry snapped his teeth in ben’s face. “Uma killed him. So no, he’s not making me do stuff.”

Ben felt ice flood through his veins. Uma had killed hook?

“She- but if she hurt someone you love, why would you follow her? Are you scared of her, or…” ben trailed off when harry let out a loud, high pitched screech of laughter.

“Loved? You think I loved him? Oh, that’s funny.”

His face turned suddenly serious, and he leaned in to whisper in ben’s ear. “All the old man ever did was fucking hurt me. So no, I didn’t love him. And I follow Uma because she saved me.”

Ben closed his eyes, feeling the sharp tip of harry’s hook slide over te skin of his neck in a blatant tease, feeling harry’s warm breath against is ear, feeling-

“Harry. Leave it.”

Ben’s eyes snapped open at Uma’s voice.

She stood in the doorway, her leather teal and black skirt swishing around her hips. She spoke firmly, but a small smile still painted her lips as she gave harry a fond, exhasperated look.

He grinned unapolageticaly back at her. “Just getting him ready for you, darling.”

The endeerment through ben for a loop.

Mal had told him there was n0 ‘dating’ on the isle, discribing it as more gang activity. So to have harry call Uma darling, in front of a proiosoner no less, was strange.

Something pullsed in ben’s heart, an almost ache.

He’d always thought mal’s cold and withdrawn mannerisims were just part of her isle upbringing, always been so convinsed that what they had was true love, even when she pushed him away.

But if Uma and Harry could be openly affectionate… maybe he was wrong.

Maybe he was the problem.

He looked up to find Uma staring at him with a cutrious look on her face. He tried to rally himself.

Im trapped in the bowels of a pirate ship surrounded by Vk’s, he thought. Now is not the time.

“Harry,” Uma drawled, “I think the king is wearing a little too much to be comfortable. After all, it’s quite warm today.”

Harry and ben both froze in confusion.

What?

Uma gestured to the bound and helpless king. “Well, harry? You heard your captian. Get to work.”

Harry hesitated a second longer, then a smile slowly crawled across his face, getting more manic by the second. “Well well well, benny-boo. Let’s see what’s under those fancy auradon rags.”

Ben swollowed hard.

Harry stalked twords him slowly.

He slipped the tip of his hook under the thin material of ben’s navy shirt, and with a distinct rippp, it gave way.

Be nshiverd in the cold air.

Harry ripped the shirt in half, then shoved it down, letting it slide to a stop at harry’s bound hands.

“Pants next,” uma hummed from where she watched. She had taken up residence in a sturdy-looking chair encrusted with seashells that ben hadn’t previously noticed in the gloom, and sat with one leg neatly crossed over the other.

Ben shivered under her penetrating gaze.

Harry yanked ben roughly to his feet and stripped him, leaving him in nothing but boxers and socks.

Harry and Uma both stared.

Ben blushed, glancing down at his blue underwhere covered in little yellow crowns.

He was humiliated.

And then it got so much worse.

Because under their stares, he began to feel himself growing hard. His cock strained agianst his boxers, the tip leaking slightly.

Harry gave a low whistle.

“So he likes humiliation.” He smirked, speaking to uma as though Ben wasn’t even in the room. Uma smiled, a low, predatory thing.

“Perfect.”

Ben shuddered, his eyes wide with fear.

Harry moved tword him again. He grabbed Ben's hands and reached up, hooking his bound wrists to a chain dangling from the ceiling. Ben felt his body stretch, his toes just touching the ground. He felt utterly helpless.

And it was making him so desprate.

He wanted Harry to touch him.

Wait.

He meant- he wanted Uma to touch him, surely? Uma was the one who was getting him worked up, the one making him hard.

Because… Harry was a man.

And Ben wasn’t gay.

He couldn’t be.

King Adem had made sure of that.

He’d screamed at ben enough about being a fag, about how the futer king could never be in love with a boy. It was bad enough that ben linked being dominated by women, he shouldn’t- couldn’t- like men.

And yet, he’d never wanted Audrey or even Mal the way he wanted Harry right now.

And Harry obliged him.

He slid his hand slowly over ben’s torso, lightly muscled from tourney, squeezed at his pecs, ran a hand over his delicate throat- all under Uma’s watchfull eye.

“Pretty,” she cooed. “Two pretty boys.”

Ben glanced at Harry, who was inches away from his face with his hands on ben’s biceps, expecting him to protest at being called pretty. But instead, a gentle blush stained the son of Hook's face.

“Thank ye, Uma,” he murmured.

A beat passed.

“Well?” Uma said. “Aren’t you going to thank me, Ben?”

Ben debated, but te end of Harry’s hook prodding the underside of his chin made the decision for him. “Thank you, Uma,” he growled.

“Now, harry, why don’t you show our guest a good time?” Uma leaned back in her chair with a smirk.

Harry growled with pleasure, leaning forward and licking and sucking at one of ben’s dusky nipples. Ben arched into his mouth with a cry.

Harry bit down, and Ben squirmed, letting out a high-picthced noise of pleasure and pain. Harry grinned against ben’s pale skin. Next, he used is mouth to lick at the young king’s coller bone, laving with his tongue over each freckle, twisting it like he wanted to savore the taste.

And then he dropped to his knees.

Cupping Ben’s length, he swallowed it whole.

Uma and Ben groaned in unison, and ben looked up to see te pirate queen with her gorgeous strong thighs spread, a hand tucked beneath her leggings pleasuring herself to the sight of harry sucking Ben off.

And suck Harry did.

He lavished Ben’s rock-hard length with tongue and lips and even teeth, gently nibbling the end, making Ben moan and squirm, trying depratly to thrust into te warm heat of Harry’s mouth.

“Harry- Uma- please-”

Ben lost himself in incoherent moans, not even realizeing he’d been redused to begging for release.

And yet, Harry held off just enough, teasing and edging the king, till he was wild wit pleasure and desperation.

And then Uma spoke again.

“Let him use you, Harry,” she mo0aned.

Harry stood, released the king’s hands fro mthe chains, and dropped back to his knees.

Ben didn’t even try to escape.

Instead, he looped his hands through harry’s pretty brown curls, thrusting wildly into his open, wet mouth with a moan. He fucked the other man’s face thouroughly, making the pirate gag with each thrust, all while Uma’s moans filled the air.

He barely even noticed Harry tucking a hand into his own pants to pleasure himself, too busy chasing the orgasm, the height of intensity-

And then he came, hard, Harry swallowing down every drop, milking his length.

Ben Collapsed to the floor, thoroughly spent.

“Good boy,” Uma cooed.

She and her first mate had both orgasmed as well.

She staliked over to Ben, who barely protested as she yanked him to his feet.

“Get dressed. It’s neary time to give you back to Mal.”

Ben froze. “What?”

Uma glanced over her shoulder and laughed. “You didn’t really think we’d keep you? No, Benny-boo, we’re trading you. The king for the wand, to bring down the barrier.”

Ben felt so foolish.

All this.. It meant nothing to them.

He glanced at Harry, but the first mate didn’t make eye contact as he stalked away, leaving Ben bound on the floor.

It was over.

[summersunsetball]

Summer Sunset Festival Ask Meme

Feel free to adjust as needed. Contains a variety of starters ranging from the streets of the festival to the night of the ball, and a few that could apply to either!

General sentences

“Are you local?” / “Where are you traveling from?”

“They don't have ___ where I come from.”

“Ready? Say cheese!”

“You see the statues they've got all around the city?”

“I love your outfit! Where did you get it?”

“My outfit? It’s vintage.”

“I’m so hungry I could eat a whole chocobo!”

“Have you tried the [food]? It's to die for.”

“Hey [muse’s name], do you want to go somewhere, just us?”

“Maybe we could go outside?”

“Waltz? I can barely even walk in a straight line.”

“Ouch! You stepped on my foot!”

“I’m going to dip you now. Ready?”

“I could have sworn they played this song already.”

“Close your eyes. Count to three. Relax. It’ll be a breeze.”

“I don’t want this night/festival to end.”

Festival Streets

“I remember coming to this festival when I was younger.”

“They say / the travel brochure says the souls of old kings are in those statues.”

“I ought to give my thanks to the Astrals.”

“Can you pass those this way? I need something to eat.”

“One thousand yen…uh, how much is that in [gil / muse's currency]?”

“I bought the most delicious cookies at the farmer’s market! Would you like to try one?”

“Are you watching the chocobo races? Who are you betting on?”

“I have GOT to try riding a chocobo.”

“Race? I think I'll just watch…”

“Yes! Pay up!”

“I can’t believe my chocobo lost…”

“Is that face paint?”

“Ooh! Where did you get that painting?”

“They're teaching the dances over by the Citadel. I could use a partner to practice with.”

“I couldn't learn this dance if my life depended on it.”

Night of the Ball

“May I have this dance?”

“You look absolutely ravishing.”

“Doesn’t he/she/they look stunning?”

“I wonder if the Prince will be social tonight?”

“I want to make a request for the music. Something better than this stuff that they’re playing.”

“Shall we go through a walk through the garden?”

“I wouldn’t dare pick a flower, but maybe…”

“These flowers are lovely.”

“Are you going to go on one of the tours?”

“It's not every day the Citadel is open to the public like this.”

“Waiter! Another, if you please?”

“I might have had one too many to drink.”

“Another round? Sure!”

“It’s the last dance. I saved it for you.”

[toastedwrittenthoughts]

A Race, A Challenge and Some Bonding.

These guys need more scenes where the gangs are together.

Shy guy stepping forward with HEAT at the fact that Buddy swung first. I gotta say for him as a former boxer, he would be the guy to point that out. And the shyest guy spoke up first.

Susan.. keeping the peace.? I will try not to hold judgment for her since she literally was trying to throw Richie under the bus to the principle..

The grin that spreads on Gil's face at the mention of a race.

The Soc's knowing of Gil's ability's to race. "No World where you beat Gil Rizzo." I don't know about you guys but now I GOTTA see this guy behind the wheel racing for real. Like.. Even when his car was missing parts he was THAT good!

The Huddle!

"I'm Hungry." Me too, Potato. Me too...

"Pancakes would be nice." "Should we get a table?"

They aren't even worried or talking strategy. Well, they are but a different kind of strategy. Breakfast Strategy.

When Gil steps forward to shake on it, I was like 'there is the co-leader of the T-Birds.' He is confident and in a way, profesional about this. Though I love Richie, I gotta say... Gil looks pretty good here. It may be the fact that he is confident as he steps up to the plate as Richie's second. It also shows that he still thinks of Richie as the leader and hasn't given up on his boy.

Buddy having to take a second before he shakes after hearing 'May the best man win.' Just makes me think of when he talks to his dad and states that he doesn't wanna 'win be default'.

Rizzo and Frenchy getting hyped up seeing 'older kids' doing cool stuff.

Rizzo and Frenchy starting to show that they want to be Pink Ladies and ask to join.

Gil and Rizzo ribbing eachother as siblings do when they are just talking.

And I love the way they are starting to build a repoort with Gil and Jane when they step aside to talk to Frenchy and Rizzo.

The shared look they have hits on several levels.

From being older (responsible) siblings, leaders of gangs and just being in highschool in general, they react in classic sibling denial laugh at the idea of them joining.

"Absolutely not."

"There's a height requirement." Now this one made me roll my eyes when I first heard it and its not until Gil steps up behind them that you CAN SEE THE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE! Im sure there are a few of us on here that would turn into Frenchy if Gil put his arm around their shoulder and said he'd give em a ride.

Jane's "Never gonna happen." It may be to discourage Frenchy from mooning over Gil, but I think she is also a supporter of #Oil.

More Interactions between these guys please...

[red-sneakers]

Pairing: Midoriya Izuku/Bakugou Katsuki

Rating: G

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Eri, Bakugou Katsuki

Summary: Katsuki helps Izuku babysit an unruly Eri who has opinions about how Katsuki should treat the person he likes.

Genres: comfort, humor, romance

Word count: 1,020

For @gil-shalossssss as a thank you for the adorable fan art of my fanfic, Go Get Your Man, Young Bakugou!

Check out their cute art here!

_______

Usually, babysitting Eri was a piece of cake. She was such a good kid. In some ways, she reminded Izuku of his younger self: always on his best behavior for fear of being a burden. In his heart of hearts, Izuku was glad Eri’d been acting up today, because it probably meant she was getting more comfortable with him. That said, he was exhausted.

“No, you’re saying it wrong!” Eri stomped a socked foot on the carpet of the common room for the 100th time that evening.

Izuku sighed from under a mountain of pillows, making sure his irritation wasn’t loud enough for the little girl to hear. “What do you want me to say, Eri?”

“It’s not fun if you’re not scared!” 

Izuku buried his face in a cushion. He’d never been a very good actor. When he was a kid, it was different, because the make believe games felt real, especially the ones he played with Kacchan. Right now, however, he was having trouble “getting into character.” It’d been a long day.

“Come oooon!” Eri whined.

Izuku drew a bolstering breath. “Save me, Healing Hero: Uni!” He cringed at his own voice. Eri was right; he didn’t sound scared at all. “My legs are stuck under this pillow.” Izuku realized his mistake too late. “I-I-I mean rubble! Under this rubble!”

“Noooo!!” Eri’s yell flipped into a piercing whistle register.

“What’s with the damn racket, hah?!”

Izuku poked his head from the pillow pile at the sound of Kacchan’s voice. Despite the angry eyebrows and tense grip on his wooden spoon, Kacchan looked soft in his black pajama shirt and sweats, stirring a pot of what smelled like his signature spicy curry.

“He won’t . . . s-say it right . . .” Eri murmured, her face almost as red as her dress. She must’ve been embarrassed to be caught in a meltdown.

“Heh. That’s ‘cause Izuku can’t say anything right.” Kacchan grinned. Izuku’s face burned with a mixture of embarrassment and indignation. He opened his mouth to make a retort, but then Kacchan’s face melted into something softer. Awkward, even. “But he, uh . . . He always does his best. So give ‘im a break, eh?”

Eri’s lower lip quivered. Oh no, oh no, it was starting. Izuku’d known Eri for about a year, and he’d only seen her cry about four times. She held it in, because she didn’t want people to know they’d upset her. Izuku could tell. Eri only ever cried when she thought she’d hurt someone else. But she wasn’t to blame! Izuku should’ve been able to keep her happy. Why couldn’t he have just been a better ‘helpless civilian’?

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m okay.” Izuku stumbled free of the pillow pile. “See? No tears!” He squatted in front of Eri and pointed to his own dry eyes. Somehow that only made more tears pool in Eri’s until they spilled over. “Oh, gosh, please don’t be sad, Eri! I’m not sad. Really! I’m just a little tired, that’s all! Three hours is kind of a long time to play hero, and—“

“Three hours?” Kacchan interrupted. “No wonder the kid’s pissy. She’s fucking hungry, idiot.”

A few minutes later, Izuku, Kacchan, and Eri sat around the circular kitchen table, each with a large, steaming bowl of Kacchan’s famous spicy curry (Izuku with an extra side of rice, because he was a ‘wimp’ according to Kacchan). 

Kacchan’d been right about Eri. She seemed much happier with a belly full of a delicious, home cooked meal. Izuku often forgot his own meals, but forgetting Eri’s dinner was basically a crime. He’d have to do better next time. Maybe he’d start getting healthy, pocket-sized snacks to keep in case Eri got hungry randomly during the day. The grocery store sold veggie snacks, but she’d need something with protein so—

“Quit muttering, nerd.”

“S-sorry, Kacchan.” Izuku stuffed his cheeks with rice to stifle any unconscious muttering.

“Why do you call Deku names?” Eri asked with curry stuffed in her own chipmunk cheeks. She could handle spice almost as well as Kacchan.                       

“‘Cause he’s a nerd.” Kacchan answered flippantly, adding even more hot sauce to his own bowl.

“But don’t you like him?”

Izuku inhaled a chilli flake and choked. 

Kacchan slapped him hard between the shoulder blades, and the flake dislodged. “Yeah, so?”

Izuku wheezed. Kacchan was admitting to liking him? Of course, he didn’t mean romantically. There was no way. But still, Izuku never thought he’d hear Kacchan admit to more than tolerating him.

“You’re ‘spose to call him something nice,” Eri insisted. Izuku held his napkin to his mouth, more to hide his flushed face than clean the sauce on his chin.

Kacchan leaned across the table, grinning like the cheshire cat. “Oh yeah? Wadda you suggest, Eri?” He addressed Eri, but he looked right at Izuku, and the hairs on the back of Izuku’s neck stood on end.

“Hmmm . . .” Eri scrunched up her face in serious thought, as if she’d just been given the task of choosing the number one hero’s official hero name. This was dangerous. Lately, Eri’d been getting more and more interested in the kind of stories where princes and princesses fall in love at the end. There was a non-zero chance she was about to suggest a super lovey-dovey nickname.

“It’s okay, Eri,” Izuku tried to redirect the conversation, “I really don’t mind when Kacchan calls me a—“

“I’ve got it!” Eri lit up. “Honey Bunny!”

Izuku froze. 

Kacchan’s shoulders quivered and he covered his mouth with a broad hand, presumably hiding his laughter.

Eri bounced in her seat, clearly proud of herself. “‘cause of the ears on his hero costume!”

Izuku was at a loss. Surely, Kacchan would shut down that nickname (err, pet name), and it’d probably hurt Eri’s feelings since she was so proud of it, but how could Izuku console her without admitting that Kacchan calling him a pet name would be a dream come true that could never in a million years actually—

“Alright.” Kacchan leaned back in his chair, smugly crossing his arms. “Honey Bunny it is.”

_______________

If anyone is inspired to continue the story, PLEASE DO! I’d love to read it. (Just please don’t useChatGPT.)

[adarkrainbow]

So... I was checking some free stuff given away and among a bunch of old VHS there was this tape:

I did not take it, because A) I do not have a working VHS player at home and B) The movie is actually fully disponible on the Internet for free. But it got me intrigued and so I decided to talk briefly about this Donkey Skin movie - which is obviously not the great 1970 classic by Jacques Demy, but rather a 1997 French animated movie...

The VHS above was for the movie's "solo" release, but it got a different release under the label "Mes plus beaux contes", a whole series of fairytale VHS apparently:

Let's begin with a bit of context...

This movie was apparently the result of a collaboration between Claude Allix and Vladimir Gontcharov. The scenario was written by Sébastien Viaud, the music composed by Gil Slavin, and the producers included Eric Bayle, Roch Lener and Victor Slepstove. The production companies involved included Polygram Video, Mathares and Borsifen.

And... that's it. That's all I could find. Nothing more, nothing less.

Well, except for one detail: while this movie is presented as... well as a movie, some websites list it as a two-episodes mini-series, each episode being 26 minutes long. I watched it for free on Youtube, where it is presented as a 50 minutes long movie.

Let me start by saying: Gosh this movie looks horrible!

As in... the animation is very rough. But especially the designs... By the devil, the designs are awful! Just look at the Lilac Fairy - they tried to shape her hair like a lilac flower, okay... But it doesn't work AT ALL. The worst offenders however are the dresses. The three magical dresses, meant to be the pinnacle of beauty in the tale... LOOK AT HOW GOSH AWFUL AND IDIOTIC they are! We said "Color of the moon", not "Shaped like the moon". We said "Color of the sun", not "with spikes coming out everywhere to imitate sun-rays". And the villainess' collar just keeps getting bigger and bigger until it becomes so ridiculous... Oh yes, and the guards ALL HAVE THE SAME FACE. They literaly reused the same model for all the knights and guards throughout the movie...

I know that after Jacques Demy's Peau d'âne, every adaptation of Donkeyskin in France will have a hard time challenging the classic... But I don't know if these people didn't put enough effort, or actually tried way too hard.

Now, in term of story, the interesting thing is that they decided to expand upon the original tale. Most notably, they introduce a new villain character, with a concept a tad similar to the one of queen Elspeth from The Fairest of them All.

The entire first segment of the movie is about the "background" of the tale. We begin with the wedding of the king of the realm of Azurie to his wife (Peau d'âne's mother - the princess is named here Ariadne, because "Arianne" rhyme with "âne" in French). We also have a brief introductory song which recaps the entire story... There's quie a missed opportunity because a whole segment of the song is asking "Why are you hiding, Donkey-skin? Why are you disguising yourself Donkey-skin? Who are you, Donkey-skin?" which could have been a strong idea of plot-angle, exploring the identity of Donkeyskin as a mystery to be solved... Except the verses right before this part of the song explicitely detail who she is and why she fled.

As the wedding unfolds, we have a very clever scene introducing the magical donkey - a present sent by mysterious friends of the king, and which stands out like a sore thumb among the treasures and jewels the fher frelieves it is a grave insult - before his queent believes it is a grave insult - before his queen calms him down and convinces him to trust their friend (for good reason, since they later discover the donkey's magical properties). The villain added to the story is the king's cousin, a power-hungry duchess named Malicia, and who is quite pissed off at seeing the new queen - because she herself wanted to and attempt to be the new queen of Azurie. As she leaves the castle, a mysterious sorcerer named Balthazar the Necromancer appears and briefly turns her carriage into stone to prove his powers. He says he came here to answer Malicia's wishes and desires - and he offers her to learn witchcraft, so that she can overtake Azurie... And in exchange, the price to pay will be that she abandons all her belongings and exile herself from Azurie to undergo a long journey fo fifteen years.

What will she do during this journey? We don't know! It is a mysterious "initiation journey" But she returns fifteen years later to the kingdom to enact her devious plan. As for Balthazar the Necromancer... Every time Malicia uses her crystal ball to cast a spell, Balthazar's face appears to give her various compliments or warnings. And that's it... a sort of manifestation of the recurring habit of having the Magic Mirror of Snow-White act as a semi-companion/warning-deliverer to the Evil Queen. I compared Malicia to Elspeth but I could also compare her relationship to Balthazar to the evil queen's relationship to her mirror in the "Mirror, mirror" movie. In fact, Malicia seems very obviously inspired by Disney's Evil Queen... It makes you wonder why Balthazar was introduced as his own character before being reduced to an info-dropping disembodied face... Anyway.

Malicia is presented as the supernatural cause of the events that start the story - which is a quite interesting and solid move when you need to tackle Donkey-skin for children. The death of the queen is due to Malicia's hatred of the happiness and wealth of the royal family, and her ambition. She casts a curse that causes the deadly sickness, and then tries to convince the king to marry her. But when the king refuses by blatantly saying he promised his wife to marry a woman more virtuous and more beautiful than her, and that Malicia is not more virtuous nor more beautiful than the late queen... Let's just say Malicia is quite pissed off, and she decides to have him be dethroned by causing a second curse - the one that will create an incestuous desire of the father for the daughter. Balthazar warns her that such a curse will break if the princess ever ends up knowing true love - to which Malicia replies she will just have to make sure the princess will be forced to marry her father and never escape him...

I have to say, while the animation is garbage, the ideas and concept of the story are very interesting. The scene of Malicia casting the curse onto the queen is truly chilling, as you see the blue mist she conjures up slowly wither the flowers of the garden before crawling up to the queen's bedroom and entering her body... And I like how Malicia's incantations use elemental motifs matching her curses: she invokes the "spirits of the air" to cause a "deadly breath", a cursed wind that will "dry up" the queen ; while to "inflame" the king's passion for his daughter she calls upon the "spirits of fire" to cause an incestuous desire that nothing "shall extinguish". There is also a whole warning in the beginning about black magic needing the user to have an absolute control over their emotions - foreshadowing Malicia's downfall. At the end of the movie, when Donkey-skin/Ariadne is happily married and her true love break the curses, Malicia is so enraged she tries to cast a curse on her, despite Balthazar's warnings that she need to stay calm, and that she cannot fight true love which is the most powerful magic of them all... However she does not listen and the curse backfires on her, making her disappear forever... Again, this is all very Snow White's Evil Queen-inspired.

I'm not going to make a full breakdown of the movie - the rest of the story is pretty much the same as the original tale but with the characters slightly exaggerated and more prominent (such as the peasant woman and her son who use - and frankly abuse - Donkey skin when she stays around ; there's also the comical character of the prince's personal assistant who is always finding an occassion to "taste wine" whenever he has something to do). There's a lot of visual nods to classic illustrations - for example the goat-pulled chariot the princess use to visit her godmother, while seeming straight out of Norse mythology, is actually a reference to the illustrations of Gustave Doré where the princess use a similar chariot ; and the king's chambellan is made to look like Riquet with the tuft.

So yeah... In conclusion I would say it has good intentions, some good ideas and some moments that do work - but it stays a very rough, very dated product that needs one to take some effort to get into it... and is definitively NOT a masterpiece. But a valuable effort, it must be recognized.

[lordgrimwing]

Food #03

‘No people-food for Gilly’ was the byword for the Marillion family as of late.

Gilly (short for ‘High King Gil-galad, Uniter of Peoples, Ender of Wars’) was the family cat. Solid grey, with short whiskers and a long tail, the diminutive cat quickly wound her way into their home and hearts when Celebrían bought her from the city animal shelter. She was well into middle age now, and at their last check-up, the veterinarian strongly recommended getting her to lose weight.

They got a prescription for special food to help with that and the whole family sat down one evening to draw out a feeding plan. Everyone promised to follow the plan and check the feeding chart taped above her food dish to make sure she wasn’t overfed because multiple people thought she still needed dinner. 

Gilly was, needless to say, not happy with the new world order. She meowed at the dinner table. She meowed in the middle of the kitchen. She meowed at the kids when they came home from school. She meowed whenever she thought she could get little morsels of taste food from her people’s hands. She’d always been good at getting handouts, tricking them with pitiful, hungry cries, or doing something cute, and her efforts doubled now that she couldn’t get more kibble.

The family stood resolute against her lies, petting and playing with her but never offering her food outside of her meals. Well, most of them did, anyway. It didn’t take long for everyone to realize who was slipping up.

**

Elrond was in the kitchen, putting together a plate of leftovers to eat because he’d gotten home late and missed dinner. He'd been struggling with a bout of insomnia again, and tired circles were forming under his eyes.

 Arwen sat at the table, working on a multiplication sheet while her brothers played with action figures on the stairs (by the sound of it, they were in the midst of a dramatic battle). Celebrían was sitting next to her daughter, penciling in options on a sudoku puzzle and helping Arwen when she got stuck. 

Gilly, previously lounging in the living room, walked into the dining room. She inspected the stairs, ears pointed toward the noise before ultimately deciding whatever was happening was of no interest to her. She took a winding way between the chair legs and under the table, coming out next to Arwen. With a mew, she jumped up onto the pre-teen’s lap.

Arwen ran a hand down her head and back as she inspected the table's contents. Finding them lacking, Gilly rubbed her chin against Arwen’s arm and jumped back to the floor, wandering away.

Rather tired of the times tables, Arwen looked away from her homework to watch the cat. If she hadn’t, they might never have worked out that someone wasn’t following the agreed-upon feeding plan, which made few allowances for treats and completely prohibited letting Gilly ‘steal’ food that ‘fell’ on the floor.

Gilly trotted into the kitchen and sat between the counter and the refrigerator.

“Mew?” She asked, looking up at Elrond, and began to purr.

Elrond looked down at her, plate ready to go into the microwave to warm up rice, kidney beans, sautéed vegetables, and a few pieces of chicken. 

Gilly purred louder, expectant.

Elrond pulled apart a bit of chicken with his fingers. 

“Dad!” Arwen exclaimed.

His hand jerked away from the cat but not before she took the treat from his fingers. A guilty look crept onto his face as Gilly happily gulped down the offering and then rubbed against his pant legs. 

“Dad,” Arwen complained, “we promised! You can't do that.”

Now everyone was looking at the pleased cat and guilty father. Celebrían hid a smile behind her hand. Elrond looked at her for help but she just shook her head.

Elladan and Elrohir slid down the stairs. “Did Dad just give Gilly something?” They asked their sister.

“He gave her chicken,” she said, incensed that their dad, of all people, would cave to Gilly's demands so easily like it was a habit. 

“Can we give her chicken?” Elrohir asked. He was having a harder time teaching Gilly tricks now that he couldn't use as many treats as he wanted.

“No,” Celebrían said, shaking her head. “We're still following the plan, Dad just messed up a little—like everyone does.”

That smoothed the drama over. The children went back to what they were doing, Elrond warmed up his food and came to the table, happy cat trailing behind him.

**

“How long has that been going on?” Celebrían asked that night when she and Elrond were in bed.

“What?” 

“You, feeding Gilly from the counter?”

“Oh,” he sighed and put a hand over his eyes. He groaned. “Off and on. Usually when I can’t sleep, and she follows me around.”

“Even when she was still brand new?”

“Yeah.”

Celebrían coughed around a laugh.

“What?” Elrond asked, lowering his arm and turning his head to look at her. “Why’s that funny?”

“It’s just, you were so hesitant about getting a cat and you looked so awkward when you had to move her from where you wanted to sit or any time you had to interact.” He hadn’t grown up around any pets. While he was competent with horses thanks to his family’s insistence that everyone be able to ride and go camping on horseback (odd, for people who outwardly seemed as though they would be out of their depth if they ever set foot anywhere less developed than a suburb), the only other animals he’d interacted with were his uncle’s hunting dogs. An experience he admitted often wasn’t very pleasant. “Is that why she warmed up to you so well? You fed her in the middle of the night?”

A pause. 

“Probably.”

She turned, resting her head on his pillow, and kissed him lightly. “You’re cute.”

He kissed her back.

She pressed a finger to the tip of his nose. “Though, try not to do it again in front of the kids or we could have a riot of incensed Gilly-lovers.”

He hummed acknowledgment.  “Wouldn’t want that happening.”

“But Gilly would and she clearly has you under her paw.”

“Hmm, possibly.”

**

Out in the hallway, Gilly stalked an imaginary mouse. 

[bigasswritingmagnet]

Gilgamesh, Son of Zantabraxus (Ch 1 of probably 3)

Summary: Twenty years ago, Queen Zantabraxus gave birth to twins. Twenty years ago, the queen's consort, Chump, took one of their children and vanished. Zantabraxus chose to let him go, to spare her second child. In one universe, Zantabraxus raised her daughter. In this one, she raised her son. Agatha joins the circus and meets Gil, who has almost as many secrets as Agatha does. They help each other get stronger, in unexpected ways. And maybe fall in love a little bit but they don't really have time to deal with all that right now.

Sequel to Zeetha, Daughter of Klaus; another very brief look a Wulfenbach twin trying to fill the other's shoes.

AO3 Link | Ch 2>

“Escaped from Castle Wulfenbach, huh? That’s pretty impressive.”

The speaker was a man about Agatha’s age, seated on a log next to a small fire, stirring a pot of something that smelled extremely appetizing. He had brown hair and bright eyes and filled a bowl from the pot before passing it to Agatha.

The motion made Agatha notice that he was wearing a sleeveless vest, which meant she got a good view of the muscles in his arms as he held the bowl out to her. He really was quite handsome, actually.

“Not hungry?” he asked, making Agatha start. She blushed and took the bowl, feeling the strangest sense of deja vu. Something about his smile felt so familiar, but she couldn’t figure out why.

“Thanks,” she said, taking it and sitting down beside him. His eyes flicked away and then back to her face, too quickly for her to tell what he’d been looking at.

“How’d you do it? From what I can tell, the Baron isn’t an easy man to get away from.”

“I had help,” Agatha said, stirring the contents of the bowl, which turned out to be some kind of stew. She took a bite, and was surprised to taste rabbit, instead of the undefineable mystery meat she had expected to be abundant in the wastelands.

“We have a saying back home: a friend is a good sword.”

“And where’s home?”

He waved a hand vaguely.

“A backwater, middle-of-nowhere that isn’t even near to anyplace you’ve heard of. My name’s Gil.”

“Agatha.”

Again his eyes flicked away and back, but this time Agatha figured out he was looking at her death ray. She managed to look a few inches to the left of the smile and see two swords in their scabbards strapped to his back. Oh dear. If he was supposed to protect the caravan and he decided she was a threat...

“What do you do here?” she asked, trying to sound innocuous.

“Forward scouting, protection. Sometimes I do sword tricks to warm up the crowd before a show. Your gun,” he blurted out, abruptly. “Did you build it yourself?”

“Oh, yes!” Agatha said, before she could catch herself. “Um, I mean—”

But Gil lit up in a way that made Agatha utterly incapable of thinking of a cover story.

Or much of anything, really.

“How does it work?” he asked, leaning in. “The orb at the end is the power source, obviously, but what about the rings here? And why one up at the top, too?”

“It holds the charge,” Agatha explained, her mouth moving without asking her brain, which was too preoccupied with drowning in Gil’s eyes. “The battery can only produce so much power at a time, so I have the three rings to store up the excess, which triples the output.”

“That’s brilliant!” Gil exclaimed. “But that gives a delay between pulling the trigger and firing, doesn’t it?”

Agatha began to feel slightly breathless. She’d never had a boy complement her death ray before.

“Yes,” Agatha said,“but that’s what the ring by the muzzle is for—”

“Oh, of course! A specialized conduit, to pull the energy towards the firing mechanism! That must take at least a second off—”

Gil’s mouth slammed shut, the color not so much draining from his face as fleeing it. He shot to his feet so abruptly it nearly bowled Agatha over.

“I have to go,” he said, and was gone so fast he left a dust cloud behind him.

His abrupt departure had caught the attention of a few people nearby; Agatha turned to a woman with masses of dark, curly hair and asked

“Did I say something?”

“No, it’s not you. He gets a little overwhelmed sometimes when he gets too excited. He’ll be fine in a few minutes—just do him a favor and pretend it didn’t happen. He gets embarrassed, y’know?”

Agatha felt a sharp pang in her heart and a sinking in her stomach.

“Yes,” she said, quietly. “I do know.”

It took four days of traveling with the circus for Agatha to get her courage up to approach Gil, and another two to find the right opportunity. It wasn’t that he was intimidating—indeed, he was quite approachable, perhaps too approachable—but this was a delicate conversation.

Agatha knew she wasn’t really qualified to be the one to have this conversation with Gil; even discounting her inexperience, this was something a mentor, a teacher, even a parent should be doing. But Agatha was sure that no one had ever sat Gil down and had this talk with him, maybe because there wasn’t anyone in his life to give it—and Agatha knew how much she would have appreciated anyone talking to her about it instead of leaving her to find out on her own.

At last she managed to find a moment where no one had given her a chore to do, and Gil was hidden away in his wagon, doing “Gil stuff”, as Lars had sardonically put it.

She didn’t have time to waste dithering, so she made herself walk straight up to the door and knock hard. It opened just enough for Gilgamesh to poke his head out.

“Agatha!” he said, with a smile.

“I was hoping to have a quick word. Well, maybe not so quick. A word, anyway.”

“Oh, sure. About what?”

Agatha hesitated.

“Can I come in?”

Panic, just a little, flashed in Gil’s eyes; he tried to hide it behind a frantic grin.

“Oh, psh, no, you don’t want to come in here, it’s a mess—”

“It’s sort of...private.”

Gil froze. His cheeks began to turn pink. He straightened up, pulling the door open slightly wider.

“Um. Wh—Uh. Private? That, uh, what um, kind of…of private? I mean, sure, bu—uh, but.”

Agatha pushed past him gently, into the dimly lit wagon.

“The door?” Agatha said.

“Yeah. The door,” Gil said, vaguely, shutting the door.

The flame in the lantern on the table was low; Agatha turned the knob to brighten it. Gil, immobilized by his shock, suddenly snapped out of it . He lurched forward, hand outstretched.

“No, wait—!”

The wagon was full of books. Every available inch of wall space was a shelf crammed with books of all sizes. There were books under the bed, books on the table—the curtain to the closet where Gil kept his clothes was half-open, and Agatha could see that there, too, were books.

On the table before her was a cuckoo clock, the back open to expose the inner workings. A set of mismatched tools lay beside it.

“Oh, wow,” Agatha said. “This is—”

Gil had shut his eyes and turned his head away. His expression was one of shame, his whole body tensed for—what? For her to attack him? Shout at him?

“Gil…?” she said.

“It’s just a hobby!” he burst out, desperately. “It doesn’t mean anything! I, I have a lot of spare time when we’re on the road! I don’t neglect my duties, I’m still a warrior, this doesn’t mean anything!”

“Gil, Gil, it’s okay! I’m not mad or anything.”

“Just disappointed, right?” he said, bitterly. Agatha blinked at him.

“Uh. No, not that either. I’m actually kind of impressed you managed fit all these books in here in the first place.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” Gil snapped, bristling.

“I’m not making fun of you!” she said, bewildered by his anger. “Lots of people like books and clockwork. I like books, and clocks are about the only thing I used to be able to build that didn’t blow up.”

Gil folded his arms across his chest and looked away again, not ashamed this time, but still very tense. Agatha hesitated, and then reached out, touching his arm gently. He flinched, but did not pull away.

“Gil…This is what I wanted to talk to you about. When we first met, and we were talking about the gun—”

Gil flushed and turned away from her.

“It was nothing,” he said, angrily. “I just remembered I had something I needed to do, that’s all.”

“Olga says you get overwhelmed when you get excited—”

His face turned even redder and he shot her a glare.

“I think maybe you should go,” he said, icily.

“I know how it feels.”

“How what feels?” Gil asked, warily.

Agatha’s hand went to her throat, and once more some part of her brain was surprised to touch bare skin instead of the smooth metal of her locket.

“For as long as I can remember, I had these headaches. Any time I got really angry, or too excited, or thought too hard, the pain would come. Sometimes I’d even get them in my sleep. And it—it hurt,” she whispered. To her surprise, her eyes began to burn. “It hurt so much...”

And Uncle Barry had let it happen. Made it happen. She blinked hard, and drew herself up.

“So I understand what it’s like. When it would happen to me in front of people, I wanted to run away, too. Once it happened to me while I was asking a professor a question in the middle of a lecture hall in front of about five million people and I nearly threw myself out a window.”

Agatha gave him a reassuring smile, but Gil looked sad.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That sounds awful. But it’s not the same as what happens to me.”

“Not exactly,” Agatha agreed. “Yours doesn’t look like it hurts, but I still know how it feels to have your own brain humiliate you in front of people.”

A shy smile touched Gil’s lips.

“I guess you do. And I guess it’s still nice to know I’m not the only one in the world who knows it. I almost wish it was headaches,” Gil admitted, sitting down on his bed. Agatha shuffled a few books around and sat down on the window seat across from him.

“What happens?”

“I go insane,” Gil said, simply.

Agatha tried to remain still, even as her brain hollered I KNEW IT .

“If I don’t remove myself from the situation as soon as it starts, I get...I get dangerous. I forget about everything around me except what’s right in front of me. There’s this sort of burning feeling in my brain, except it doesn’t hurt. That’s the worst part,” he said to Agatha, his own eyes overbright. “I like it. It’s why I have to leave as soon as it happens; once it gets going, I don’t want to stop. It’s some kind of mania, it’s—”

“It’s the spark,” Agatha said, softly. Gil stared at her and then snorted.

“I am not a Spark,” he scoffed. “I’ve seen Sparks in action, they don’t act like I do. They come up with really crazy ideas, but they’re still aware of what’s going on around them. They don’t get lost in their own heads; they just get dangerously enthusiastic.”

“Some Sparks are like that,” Agatha acknowledged. “What you described is a fugue state. I’ve met a lot of Sparks, and I know that how a Spark acts in that state can vary. There are a variety of factors—personality, self-control, but mostly it’s how strong the Spark is. The stronger the Spark, the more overwhelming it can be.”

Gil shot to his feet.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I do. I know exactly what I’m talking about. It happened to me when I built my death ray.”

Gil looked sharply at Agatha, but he only seemed angrier.

“I am not a Spark. I am a warrior. My mother is a warrior. My grandmother. My great-grandmother. I am a warrior, from a house of warriors; it is in my blood and my bones, it is everything I was born for and I! Am not! A Spark!”

“You can be both,” Agatha said, and she could see the words hit Gil like a fist.

The anger vanished, his face dropped, and in his eyes was a look so lost Agatha could have cried.

“I don’t know a lot about fighting,” Agatha said, “but even I can tell that you’re the greatest warrior I’ve ever seen. You’re a warrior and a Spark. You don’t have to choose, and acknowledging that you’re a Spark won’t change anything about you, because it’s already a part of you.”

S he took his hands in hers and squeezed gently.

“I’m sorry that anyone ever made you feel otherwise.”

She had no way of knowing, but that was the moment Gil fell in love with her. The lantern light seemed to make her hair glow, as if she was more real than anything else in the world. Her eyes were so wide and so gentle; her voice so kind as she said all the things he never knew he wanted—needed—someone to say to him. That it was alright. That he was alright.

“Agatha…”

A fist pounded on the door.

“Hey, Gil! You in there?”

They both jumped.

“Uh...Yeah, I’m here.”

“You seen Lars anywhere?”

“Not...not recently, no.”

“If you do, tell him I’m looking for him, would you?”

“Sure.”

They waited a few moments until Abner had left, hearts pounding, reeling slightly from the emotional whiplash. Agatha realized she was still holding Gil’s hands and dropped them, taking a step back and blushing.

“Um. Anyway, so. I hope that uh. Helps.”

Gil cleared his throat, folded his arms, unfolded them, put his hands on his hips, folded his arms again.

“Yeah. Yes.”

“Maybe we could build something together,” Agatha suggested, and blushed. “Y’know. So we can both get used to this Spark thing.”

“Get used to it?”

“I broke through when my headaches stopped—or maybe my headaches stopped because I broke through. It was just a couple weeks ago, so I’m still—”

Gil burst out laughing. Agatha took a step back in shock as Gil nearly bent double.

“A couple of weeks?” he exclaimed. “Seriously?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I thought you must have been a Spark for years! You made it sound like you were an expert and it turns out you barely know what you’re talking about!”

Agatha’s jaw dropped.

“Excuse me?”

Gil’s humor vanished, replaced by panic.

“N-No, I just meant that you don’t know a lot more than me but you’re really good at sounding like you think you’re an authority—No, wait, that’s, wait—”

“Sorry if I misled you,” she said, her voice so cold it had icicles.

“Wait, I didn’t—I wasn’t trying to—!”

“I hope my ignorance doesn’t make our conversation less helpful to you,” she interrupted. “Good day, Gil.”

Gil winced when she slammed the door, and sank back down onto the bed, burying his face in his hands.

“Me and my big mouth,” he moaned.

[viatagrinner]

Gilbert's Premium Story #1: Finger bite marks are a sign of good friendship.

Gilbert is surprised. He didn't expect Miss Bunny to come to see him at this late hour.

Gilbert: Maybe you're a night crawler?

MC: No.

She can smell the soap... maybe he just got out of the bathroom.

Her black hair, shiny as obsidian, was slightly damp, and the skin peeking out from under her shirt glowed.

All in all, he was charming.

The heroine asks for a little of his time.

Gilbert: Not a little, but as much as you want.

He opens the door wide, but the girl refuses. Instead, she wastes the food cart.

Gilbert... surprised.

Some incredible amount of cookies and sweets were in the cart.

MC: ....Maybe you don't like sweets?

(He ate an incredible amount for breakfast, so I thought he liked to eat...)

Gilbert: What is this?

MC: ....This is my gratitude.

But if he doesn't need it, she'll take it.

The cane blocked her way.

She must be brave to come and then take the gift, that's what the prince thinks.

MC: Do you accept gratitude?

Gilbert: Of course. I'm just hungry.

MC thanks him for saving her, but doesn't finish. Gil invites her to tea.

She is uncomfortable, but Gil talks her down.

He pulls the cart with one hand and the heroine with the other. Then the prince goes off somewhere. This gives her time to look around the room.

The girl notices a book with a black cover.

This book, which is also on the bookstore shelf, was once given to her by her almost adoptive father...

It is a book by a promising author who realistically described the judgment and darkness of human hearts.

But re-reading this novel doesn't feel like it.

(Although the hero who stays true to his virtuous convictions, no matter what machinations he encounters, was amazing).

Even in the face of great evil, he stood with a pure heart.

But it turns out that this book is a sequel.

Gilbert blows in her ear. He's going to let the heroine read this book.

It is a popular book in Obsidian. Only now does she realize where this book came from. But what is it doing in Rhodolite?

The Prince explains that Rhodolite forbids imports from Obsidian, but even so, the books are not subject to regulation.

Gil makes her tea, and the girl wants to help him, but he refuses, citing that he didn't put poison in it.

That's not the problem. The prince doesn't have to make his own tea, there are servants for that.

Gilbert: Oh, I hate it when other people take care of me.

Here it turns out that he has no delegation, he came alone.

He expertly prepares tea, Miss, to help in some way, arranging cookies on plates.

Gil sat down on the couch and patted down beside him.

She sat down as far away from him as possible.

The tea was delicious.

Gilbert: I drink, too, so there's no way I'm serving something that doesn't taste good, right?

Gilbert: What's the change of heart? When we broke up, you looked at me with contempt.

MC: ...I just don't want to be the person who can't even say "thank you."

MC: Even if the other side is a prince of an enemy country, even if he doesn't think people are human...

Gilbert: Beasts don't have feelings/manners, do they?

They were silent. The girl thought that, she was wrong. Even if it is a prince of an enemy country, etiquette must be observed.

(I won't lose my guard, but that's why I want to stop being afraid of everything.)

MC: This is gratitude above all for me. Now I'll be able to sleep in peace.

Gilbert: It feels good, too.

Gilbert: I think I'll protect you as long as I'm in this castle.

He moved closer to the girl.

Gilbert: Hey, how come we haven't seen eye-to-eye all night?

The cup trembled in her hand.

Gilbert: I wonder if I'm guilty of anything.

MC: Oh...no.

Gilbert: Then look at me?

MC: .....

Gilbert: Hmmm?

MC: ......

The girl can't look at the prince because he's out of the tub, and his pale skin peeking out of his shirt mesmerizes her.

Gilbert's cold palm wrapped around her face.

The red eyes came close to the girl's eyes, and she caught her breath.

MC: Stop it.

Gilbert: Ahaha, who are you talking to?

It's rude not to make eye contact with an important guest, Gilbert said.

The girl suppressed all emotion and continued to look into his eyes.

She had always thought his eyes were the color of blood, but it turned out not to be.

MC: Prince Gilbert's eyes... I just realized that they look more like jewels than the color of blood.

Gilbert: Are you... flirting with me?

MC: No... I'm not.

Gilbert: I can't believe Miss Bunny is hitting on me.

MC: I'm not hitting on you!

Gilbert: I'm flattered.... Hit on me some more, will you?

MC denies it. Gil is pleased.

Gilbert: Are you less afraid of me now?

Gilbert: In spite of that, I still want to get along with you.

He lifted her hand and bit her finger.

MC: Prince Gilbert!?

Gilbert: Because I was happy, I returned my thanks.

MC: Why did you bite me?

Gilbert: It's my expression of affection.

She was hurt, but not as scared as last time.

Gilbert: By the way... My prediction came true, didn't it?

Just now the heroine remembered what he said about how she would thank him by the end of the day.

(Wait a minute...)

Gilbert: You're a good kid/you're a young girl. I thought you would definitely feel guilty.

Gilbert: The cookies were really unexpected...but not only that.

Chevalier and Gilbert's foresight is very similar.

Gilbert: If I had known you were coming to my room...

Gilbert: You think I set this situation up for you, don't you?

She wanted to conquer her fear, but she became uncomfortable.

Gilbert: I want to get along with you, Miss Bunny, that's why...

Gilbert: I'm not letting you out of my room tonight.

Gilbert's Masterlist

[descendantofthesparrow]

POYW Rewrite V2 - Harry Hook x reader - P4

outfits;

=

“Someone turn the sun off,” Harry groaned as the alarm in the dorm went off-snatching Harry right out of his sleep. It had been hard to fall asleep on the cloud known as a bed-so Harry had taken all the blankets and moved to the floor-Gil joining him soon after.

“Good morning,” Gil said from above-having already woken up thanks to his body's alarm clock demanding he be up when the sun was. Harry glared up at Gil, who just smiled down at him. “it’s too damn early for yer sunshine ass.” Harry grumbled, taking a pillow and smacking Gil in the legs-burying his face in another pillow and hiking his leg up to go back to sleep.

“C’mon Harry, breakfast is about to be called and I wanna see what kinda eggs they have!” Gil whined, tugging at Harry’s limp arm. Harry just lay there-not caring for breakfast, fake snoring as Gil pulled his upper body up and shook him. “Harrryyyy,” Gil gave up after a few moments, sighing as he looked around the room.

10 minutes to breakfast, and Gil really really wanted to go eat, he was starving- running and sneaking around always made him hungry. Harry was nearly asleep when he felt himself get picked up and was suddenly blasted with cold water-that quickly turned heavenly warm.

“Gil tha’ fuck?!” Harry yelped, his boxers and tank top soaked as he sat under the showerhead-glaring up at Gil who just smiled, happy he had woken Harry up. “Shower-get dressed! The body wash smells like Uma!” Gil said, the last thing mentioned as an afterthought but it very much caught Harry’s attention. He groaned, standing and stripping his soaked sleep clothes, tossing them to the bathroom floor, and quickly showering.

The body wash didn’t smell exactly like Uma-but it was very much the same stuff she used. (though by the time it got to the isle-it was nearly empty) It made Harry feel just a bit less homesick.

A knock at the door made Gil get up to answer it after pausing the same cartoon he had been watching the day before. Gil greeted you with a cheer and you told him it was about to be breakfast, nodding when Gil said Harry was just getting a shower and they would be there in a few.

“Cool-see you there!” With that, the door closed and Harry shut off the shower, sighing as the hot water left him. Hot water-another thing these Auradon prats kept to themselves-for the isle to even get a warm shower-it took several barrels of boiling water.

Harry towel dried his hair, walking through the dorm naked as Gil stared at the cartoon, not caring for Harry’s nudity-having seen it more than once. Harry had long lost his shame-for more than one reason but he was also just comfortable with Gil. Harry shoved on a new pair of boxers and a ripped pair of black jeans.

He settled for something comfortable and casual, putting on a long-sleeved black shirt and a red flannel over it, attaching a silver chain to his belt loops, and putting on his multitude of rings. “Ye ready?” Harry asked Gil, fluffing up his hair and putting his eyeliner on as Gil nodded, already out the door by the time Harry tied his boots off.

“C’mon man wait up” Harry groaned, locking the door after him and jogging after gil, yawning as they made their way to the cafeteria. He could feel eyes on him, all ogling him, he peered at one girl with auburn hair-and she flushed as she locked eyes, and Harry couldn’t help but notice the wings that stuck out her back. He rose his brow at her and she squeaked, rushing off with a girl with long violet-black hair that was tied into a braid-she also had wings.

He never would’ve guessed fairies went to Auradon prep-he assumed they all stayed in neverland. Harry paused as he and Gil stepped into the cafeteria, mouths watering at the smell wafting through the air. “oh what is that?” Harry muttered, grabbing Gil’s sleeve as he went on his toes to get a better look-because being six foot one didn’t help seeing over the crowd of students who were rushing to get in line before the bell rang.

“I dunno, but it smells amazing-“ Gil muttered back, getting in line with Harry-smiling as you stepped in behind them. “Hey-what’s that smell?” Gil asked, and you peered around the line-beaming when you realized what it was. “French toast~” you hummed, rubbing your hands together as Harry admired your jet-black hoodie with designs on it that would make Frollo choke. “it’s one of my favorite breakfasts, it seems they pulled out all the stops too-I can see the cinnamon rolls from here~!”

Whatever cinnamon rolls were-they smelled fucking awesome.

Harry was practically drooling by the time they got to the front of the line-Gil’s jaw dropping as he took in the eggs lined up behind the staff in the kitchen-ready to be cooked to any students liking. “How you want your eggs darling?” a woman with a thick southern accent asked, her bright green eyes amused as Gil just gaped like a fish, looking over the menu full of egg possibilities. Harry snicked, planting his hand on Gil’s shoulder to peer at the menu.

How in the hell did this staff have time to make this many different types of eggs for-hundreds of students? “Just get the over-easy Gil, it’s what ye usually ‘ave at the chip shop in the mornin’” Harry muttered, and Gil let out an odd sound that Harry guessed meant thanks, Harry got the same thing-like Gil-the options were overwhelming and he needed something familiar.

Even if the eggs were fresher than hell and nothing looked more than five minutes old.

Gil got something called pancakes, and Harry got French toast; admiring the powder-covered slices of bread that smelled like heaven. They kept going down the line-picking out whatever they liked from the buffet. Hashbrowns, apple slices, grapes(Gil found a new favorite fruit, raisins be damned(they learned raisins were grapes just dehydrated)), bacon(one of the best things in the world Harry later decided), and one more thing that Harry would soon realize was heaven on earth.

Cinnamon rolls.

“Simanim rolls-“ Harry muttered, watching as Mrs. Potts slid a still steaming pan full of freshly iced rolls into the line and dishing one out each for him and Gil. Harry couldn’t help but notice the extra icing on his roll, but didn’t mention it, smirking as Mrs. Potts winked at him.

“Cin-na-mon-“ you corrected from behind, not in a condescending way-simply correcting his pronunciation. “Simanim-“ Harry tried again, unable to get his mouth around the words, and you laughed gently- sending a flush to Harry’s cheeks. “Don’t worry about it-I said nightbares until I was like-twelve, and I still say renember to this day,” You patted his back as you reached around him to grab a brown carton-the words on it catching Harry’s eye.

Chocolate milk.

He liked chocolate so far-and milk….milk had to be good here right? It wouldn’t be curdled or rotten like on the isle, because like hell bore-adon brats would drink that shit. Harry grabbed one of the cartons along with a bottle of apple juice and followed you to a table, once again sitting with Lonnie and another girl with a short bob and a big-ass ugly bow in her hair.

Bow girl squeaked-going pale as he and Gil sat down. “Jane,” you sighed, reaching out to stop her from leaving. “they’re fine-they won't hurt you-I promise.” Jane just stared, looking as if just a blink from Harry would kill her. Harry drew his gaze away-she reminded him of the pup(Carlos)-terrified of the smallest thing and looking as if a strong gust of wind would send her for the hills.

“You’re really pretty!” Harry heard instead of your encouraging words, and Harry snapped his head to look at Gil, pinching his exposed arm as Jane stared at Gil in shock. “Gil-“ Harry hissed, turning to Jane with a forced smile. “Sorry-he has no filter, no idea when ta’ shut up.” Gil just frowned, tilting his head.

“What’s wrong with what I said? She’s really pretty, ain't she?” Harry sighed, covering his eyes with this hand. He guessed all the smarts Gil had yesterday had left-and now only one brain cell remained. One brain cell Gil refused to filter his thoughts and always just blurted out the first thing that flew through his brain.

This time-it was saying Jane was pretty-so it wasn’t world-ending but still. Harry peered through his fingers at Jane-who was staring at Gil with her cheeks bright red, one of her hands reaching up to touch her face. “You-you really think so?” Jane asked, her voice quiet and-almost in awe. As if a boy had never thought or told her she was pretty.

“Trust me lassie,” Harry spoke up instead of Gil, who had his mouth full of eggs but was nodding anyway. “he’s got no filter between this” Harry pointed at Gil’s brain and then his mouth. “and this, ye heard Gil’s hundred percent truth.” Jane just stared at Gil, finally looking away after a few moments as he smiled at her-squeaking out something that sounded like ‘thank you’.

Harry huffed in amusement, cutting up his toast after spreading some butter and syrup on it(per your suggestion) and taking a bite. He paused, reaching out with his free hand to grab Gil’s shoulder. Gil turned to look at him, laughing at the star-struck look on Harry’s face. “Damn dude-that good? Want us to give you a moment with your breakfast?” Gil teased, laughing as Harry let out a quiet groan and then continued to devour his French toast.

You giggled, shaking your carton of milk and gesturing for Harry to do the same-which he did-following your lead in opening the carton and taking a sip.

This breakfast just had one miracle after the other-chocolate milk was almost as amazing as root beer. Harry licked his lips as he practically chugged the carton, not a chunk or sourness to be seen in his milk-only silky-smooth amazingness. You watched him amused as he tried the other bits of his breakfast-his eyes locking onto his still warm cinnamon roll.

“Go on~” you sang, using your fork to pull open your roll and show him the inside-wonderful gooey cinnamon paste mixing with the thick icing. “The middle’s the best part.”

Harry stabbed his cinnamon roll, making Gil snort through his egg, watching as Harry pulled apart the roll and speared the middle bit, shoving the very warm cinnamon bread into his mouth.

And Harry now knew what heaven was like-it was cinnamon, whatever the hell it was mixed with, icing, and warm sugar bread. A shiver actually went up his spine and he grabbed your hand; staring at the heaven-made dessert with wide eyes. You laughed, tears in your eyes as Harry stared at you with stars for eyes. “Gil, I think we’ve lost him,” you teased as Harry quickly went back to the blessing known as a cinnamon roll, tearing it apart with a ferocity only a boy deprived of sugar his whole life could have.

“We’ll see him in two to three business days when he comes down from-whatever this is,” Gil joked, waving his hand over Harry, who was completely enveloped in his breakfast, his arms crowding the tray-daring anyone to take his food.

“A sugar rush, that’s what this is.” you supplied, covering your smile with your hand as you watched Harry devour his breakfast, and soon there was nothing left and Harry was looking back at the line-swallowing as he found the section where the cinnamon rolls were. He knew he was allowed seconds, but he wasn’t sure if that counted for the cinnamon rolls-they might’ve only made enough for one per student.

Before he could think further, you were standing and skipping over to the line-holding up two fingers to Mrs. Potts who beamed and handed you a plate with fresh cinnamon rolls. Harry balked as you walked back over and slid one on his pate-spitting the other with Jane who had finally relaxed after seeing Harry experience a cinnamon roll for the first time.

All too soon-the bell rang-alerting students that breakfast had ended and it was time to get ready for class-which was in 10 minutes for Harry. Harry sighed, downing the rest of his chocolate milk and licking the icing from his fingers

You stepped in line with Harry and Gil to grab your book bags from your rooms, leading them across the courtyard to Auradon prep itself and showing them their lockers, handing them two slips of paper with their locker codes. Harry glared down at his code; he was horrid at remembering numbers-he would have to tattoo this shit on his wrist to make sure he remembered the damn thing.

But he opened his locker anyway-stashing the slip away in his pocket as he got out his 1st-period class books. First up-English. Fun. Harry sighed again, pausing in the middle of the hall as he watched you walk the other way. “Where are ye going?” Harry called, dodging a few students who were rushing to get to their class. You turned to face him, smiling a bit. “Attached already?” Harry sputtered and couldn’t help the flush on his cheeks as you laughed, shaking your head. “I’m pullin’ your leg-I have math, I’ll see you in chemistry!” with that-you were gone, off to your first class of the day.

Harry huffed, turning on his heel to catch up to Gil, pausing at the door of their classroom, most of the class had already arrived, leaving few seats for the two new kids. All those students turned to stare at them-whispering amongst each other as they did.

Harry forced himself to look down seeing a red-haired kid wearing forest green. No-no way-there was no damn way, of course, his first fucking class was with Pan’s kid.

“Ah-Mr. Hook and Mr. Legume-happy to have you with us.” Harry glanced up at his new teacher-who was a tall lanky man with soft brown eyes and a pointed nose, wearing deep greens and browns. “How about you take a seat right there.” He pointed at the set of seats on the opposite side of the room-far away from the Pan kid.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, daring to glance back at Pan-who was staring hard at him. Harry smacked the back of his head as he turned away-feeling a dangerously familiar itch there. ‘gods please, not here,’ Harry thought to himself, begging whatever gods were listening to let himself keep a hold of his mind.

“Is it flaring up?” Gil asked quietly-it being the curse Harry’s father had passed down to him upon birth, a curse born of Neverland and madness; whenever Harry got particularly angry or stressed-his eyes would go red and he would lose touch with reality and himself, losing himself into violence and blood.

Only once did he fully lose control, and it didn’t end well for the person who had tried to take his little sister.

Harry nodded, biting his cheek to bring himself back down to earth-doing his best to ignore the Pan kid-if he looked at them, he was sure he would lose control and Gil would have to knock him out to keep him from hurting anyone.

And then he would surely be sent back to the isle, he wasn’t ready to face his father again-not after feeling freedom for the first time-it had only been a day. So Harry took several deep breaths, messing with the point of his hook(honestly how had he been allowed to keep it so far?) until that pressure at the back of his head went away.

Deep breaths until the whispers went away.

Harry jolted back to attention as the teacher, professor. Thatch the blackboard said, clapped his hands-pushing up his glasses as he welcomed his 1st-period class. “Good morning guys, welcome back, and welcome to” he nodded to Harry and Gil then-turning back to address the whole class afterward. “History of Auradon, now as I mentioned-we will be learning beyond Auradon-as I do believe learning the history of other nations and kingdoms give benefit to a growing mind-so! Today, we’ll start with the history before Auradon, before Fairy godmother and the other grand fairies of the land cast the spell to converge our many lands together to create the USA.”

Now, this was news to Harry, Auradon didn’t use to all be one kingdom? They were separate at one point? Harry could tell many other students in the room were coming to the same realization-gasping slightly at Professor Thatch; which he beamed at, happy to teach something new. “yes-you heard me correctly, Auradon used to be hundreds of separate kingdoms, all separated by sea, land, mountains, forests-everything was hundreds of miles apart until twenty years ago when our king Adam and the grand fairies made a deal to unite the kingdoms and create a strong singular kingdom to protect its people from Evil. At the same time-the isle was created, built from the ground up from an island that had long sunk to the bottom of the sea-the isle of the lost was actually originally known as; the Isla de muerta, or when roughly translated into English; the Island of Death.”

Harry perked up again-Isla de muerta, or more correctly known as Isla de la Muerte, was a legendary island from pirate lore-said to be cursed by Aztec treasure that had been cursed by the gods after Hernán Cortés angered them- the isle only to be found by those who already knew where it was.

Many of those cursed by the treasure-were now on the isle again without even knowing it-one being Hector Barbossa himself.

Harry-for the first time-was entranced in a history lesson, his eyes glued to the professor as he spoke energetically of how and when FG and King beast had created the deal and spelled the separate kingdoms into one. By the time the bell rang-Harry was actually disappointed-wanting to hear more from Professor Thatch.

The professor seemed to feel the same way, sighing as he clapped his hands. “Well-that’s it for today, by the end of this week we will have a quiz on this topic! Study hard and have a good rest of your day! And remember your homework!” Harry and Gil waited until the rest of the class had left to make their way out-wanting to avoid the chaos of the halls as they went their separate ways, Harry to math class(joy) and Gil to safety rules for the internet.

Harry felt a deep pit of dread collect in his gut as he traveled to his next class, swallowing hard as he stared up at the class number that hung above the doors. He hated math-he had always been horrid with numbers-but thankfully he never really needed it on the isle and skipping class was something ‘smiled’ upon at serpent prep.

He was sure if he skipped here, he would get in a lot of trouble. So Harry sighed, straightened his back, and stepped into the class-pressing his lips together as he looked around the room.

This class was set up differently than the last-history was almost theater like-with rows and rows of seats sitting higher up on each lever-this class had separate desks spread across the room. Harry was somehow the first there, and he stepped further in-swallowing as he made eye contact with the teacher. She was tall and thin, with long curly black hair and deep brown skin-her eyes golden brown-wearing soft yellows and pinks.

She almost reminded him of Uma.

She smiled, and Harry frowned back, feeling uneasy. “Harry right?” she asked, and Harry nodded, crossing his arms as she gestured into the room. “Welcome to math class sweetheart-take a seat-I don’t do assigned seating. I’m Jennifer Honey.”  Harry nodded again, muttering his full name-realizing she already knew it-and quickly took a seat at the back as more students moved into the room behind him.

Lonnie sat next to him with a beaming smile and Harry relaxed a bit-even if she was an Auradon brat-at least he had someone familiar in this class. “Hi Harry,” she whispered and he hummed back, his leg bouncing as Ms. Honey welcomed each student into the room, that warm smile still on her lips.

The teacher was nice-but as class started-Harry realized he was in for an infuriating time. Time and time again, his father, sister, Uma, and his uncle Smee had tried to teach him any sort of math-and time and time again, he just-couldn’t grasp the concept, he understood the absolute basics, but anything bigger than that? And he would fizzle out like a wet candle, burned down to frustrated tears and a pit in his chest.

Every once in a while-he would finally grasp a concept-like when Uma was attempting to teach him basic algebra when they were 13-and Harry practically jumped for joy for finally understanding-and yet the next day-it was gone, slipping through his fingers as he desperately tried to understand the question in front of him.

He gave up around 14, done with it all and done with how he just couldn’t get anything to stay in his brain. And as Ms. Honey started to write on her blackboard, Harry knew it would only end the same way it did years before, with Harry cursing himself out and tearing the math book to pieces.

Even now-the numbers and equations Ms. Honey wrote down were blurring in front of Harry’s eyes, turning to a mess of switched numbers and a headache at the back of Harry’s head. Harry sighed, looking down at his notebook and staring to doodle-knowing there was no point if he couldn’t even read the questions.

Harry noticed the small screen that sat under his math book on the desk, showing the blackboard Ms. Honey was writing on. Harry shoved his notebook over it, doodling until Uma showed up on the pages, her braids flowing over her shoulders and back as she rolled her eyes at his math class.

He missed her.

Soon a paper was shoved in his face by the student in front of him-and Harry’s blood went cold as he took it. A fucking test.

Great-just great-maybe he should’ve paid attention.

He felt that itch and pressure at the back of his head again as he stared down at the test-years of stress and frustration over math coming back in a single moment and Harry considered ripping the test up and telling Auradon math to fuck off. But he had to be on his best behavior if he didn’t want to make anyone suspicious and picked up a pencil, his hand buried in his hair as he glared down at his paper.

He couldn’t even understand the first fucking question-all the odd symbols and letters refusing to make sense. He tried to do something-get some numbers on the paper but he didn’t even know where to start-didn’t know what anything meant. He could barely recognize the words on the paper asking him the questions.

Eventually, he just gave up, he dropped his pencil and sighed; covering his face with his hands and just sat there-feeling Lonnie and Ms. Honey’s eyes on him as his leg continued to bounce, his hook that was attached to his hip bouncing with it. When Ms. Honey’s timer went off-everyone handed their tests back up to the front, Harry glaring off into a corner, shame burning in his chest.

“Remember, this test has nothing to do with your grade-I just wanted to see where you all stood so I can teach you all in the best way possible for you, now move along! I’ll see you all tomorrow!” and just like that-the bell rang and Harry was the first up, grabbing his bag and running out of the room-ignoring the burning eyes on his back as he rushed to his next class; life without magic.

He nearly slammed into Mal on his way down the hall, glaring down at her as she stumbled to regain her balance. She turned to glare at him but paused when she saw his eyes, her brows furrowing into heavily concealed concern. “Your eyes are red.” She whispered, his curse was something well known on the isle-some didn’t believe it-like Mal’s mother-but Mal had seen it time and time again when they were all younger, and Uma had been Mal’s friend and Harry hung around them to be with Uma.

Mal knew how dangerous it was-and how dangerous it could be not partially blocked by the barrier. “And?” Harry snarled, just wanting to get away from the school already-but again, first day. Wouldn’t do well to disappear only 2 hours into the day. Mal just stared, then shook her head, passing him up to go into the classroom.

Harry took a moment to force himself to calm down-which didn’t really work-and slid into the room, huffing as he noticed the only open seat without a name was the one next to Mal. And it was at the front of the class-great.

Harry stomped over next to Mal and plopped down-grumpily resting his chin in his palm as he glared off into a corner, ignoring Mal’s sigh as she got out her books. Harry realized the class looked like a kitchen, with a sink between him and Mal and the desks were practically cutting board counters.

“huh,” Harry muttered-snorting as he saw the teacher fly in-it was a short woman dressed in blue with small wings, jet black hair, and a round face. Mal groaned and slammed her face into the desk.

The teacher was fucking Merryweather-one of the three good fairies Mal’s mom detested. Oh how fucking hilarious-okay-all thoughts of horrid math were gone-now he got to enjoy Mal’s suffering.

10/10 day.

And they were cooking! Not only that-baking!!! Fuck yes best day. It was a well-guarded secret that Harry liked to cook, only Uma, Gil, and his sisters got the privilege to eat what he made-and even on the isle-he was a damn good cook. More than once he took over for Cook back at the chip shop when she was unable to make it, he never minded it-able to hang out with Uma and help her out at the same time.

Harry snickered as Mal hid behind her book-not wanting to be seen by the blue fairy, glaring at him as he laughed quietly. Her glare softened as she watched the red disappear from his eyes and she rolled her eyes-ignoring the fact that the tightness in her chest went away at the sight of it. She would never admit she was worried for him; they were enemies after all, and she would applaud for the day he got his ass kicked.

Never-no way would she ever admit to being relieved to see Harry relaxing, especially if it meant her suffering.

“Good morning students!” Merryweather said with a clap of hands and then smoothing down the apron she wore. “And welcome to Life without magic, today-bread! A staple in any home life, plus it’s delicious. Today we make the dough and tomorrow-we bake! Let’s get started.”

Harry decided he liked this class so far, getting his hands messy, flour in his hair, and watching Mal struggle to get her dough to pull together, everything was actually pretty fun. And by the end of the class-he and everyone else were putting their rounds of dough into the riser at the back of the class and they would bake their bread the next day as Merryweather said.

Harry cleaned up, snickering at Mal’s mess, she was covered in flour and was glaring at the mess of dough on her fingers-sticking to the rings she hadn’t taken off like Harry had. Harry grabbed his notes and slid them into his bag, looking up as Merryweather clapped her hands and gestured around the room to her students. “great job guys, for this week-your homework, is finding recipes you want to make and by the end of the week-you’ll make them for me during class-see you tomorrow!”

And once again, the bell rang and everyone filed out, Mal still picking flour and dough from her hair, grumbling as she followed Harry-using the wide berth everyone gave him and Mal to keep from getting pushed into the crowd. “And yer followin’ me why?” Harry asked, just wanting to get to lunch already and not be around her till remedial goodness.

Mal just rolled her eyes, skipping around and ahead-colliding with Evie who gasped at Mal’s appearance-tugging her off to a bathroom to fix her up. Harry felt a now familiar presence step next to him and he looked to his side to see you, giving him a small smirk. “How was your morning?” you asked and Harry blew his bangs out of his eyes-glaring at nothing as you pouted at his response. “oh, that bad?”

Harry shrugged, tilting his hook back and forth. “Not really, just math class sucked, I hate it-can’t understand it.” You nodded in agreement, waving to Gil as he ran up to walk on Harry’s other side. “History and life skills was pretty fun though, I got to make bread.”

You clapped; happy he had found something fun to do today. “Awesome! Bread is so fucking good, especially homemade bread, speaking of bread-lunch!” with that-you were off to the cafeteria-Gil and Harry close behind-Gil looking very excited for Lunch, he had been starving since Chemistry.

Today's lunch was every sandwich under the sun, from the bread to vegetables, everything was customizable, and several lunch ladies made every sandwich from the base up for the students. Harry blanked out for a moment at all the options then settled on a turkey sandwich with bacon~.

He grabbed a bag of chips, apple slices, and a root beer before sitting down with you and Gil at a nearly empty table; Jane and Lonnie once again joining them. “hi Gil,” Jane whispered, smiling shyly as he beamed back. “hi Jane!” he said with his mouth full, mayo and crumbs on the corners of his mouth. But Jane didn’t seem deterred at the sight, only giggling a bit.

Harry smirked behind his fist-knowing exactly what that giggle meant-he had heard it time and time again from the many girls of the isle who had crushes on him and Gil-the little bluebird had a crush on Gil-and he was oblivious as ever.

He shared a look with you and Lonnie, who both held the smirk as him, all laughing quietly as Jane continued to stare at Gil with pink cheeks and a shy smile.

Harry perked up as you suddenly gasped, taking out a box from your bag and setting it in front of Harry. “For you-leftovers from this morning~” you sang, laughing as Harry popped open the box and stabbed the cinnamon roll with a fork-grinning manically as he tore out the middle and stuck it in his mouth-his eyes closing as he savored the amazingness of the cinnamon roll.

“Thank you,” Harry said and absolutely meant it. Gil look surprised to hear that coming from Harry-but just laughed it off and went back to his food, asking Jane about what she liked about the school and her favorite way to eat eggs.

Jane seemed surprised to hear him actually talk to her but answered anyway-the pink in her cheeks getting darker as she twirled a short strand of hair around her finger-a small frown forming as she noticed her ‘ugly’ bob.

As Gil and Jane talked-Harry listened to you and Lonnie, well-not really listen-mostly zone out while he ate his sandwich and cinnamon roll. He took an apple slice, dipped it in the caramel provided(another thing he proclaimed was from heaven), and took a bite-hearing the crisp crunch of the apple as he bit it in half. Damn-who knew apples could be crisp? All they got on the isle were squishy ones they used to make cider.

Gross cider-but cider nonetheless.

All too soon lunch was over-it was only an hour long-and Harry realized they had remedial goodness right after it. Harry groaned, rubbing his face as he and Gil made their way to the class-the other vks behind them. All six of them were not excited about this-a solid hour with FG? With her-bubbliness and sickly smile? And baby talk!? Gods Harry would rather be in the isle stocks for three days again than do this-anything would be better than this.

The six vks filed into the room-way too many desks in there for just the six of them-Mal and her gang sat in the direct middle-spread out between the two inside desks. Harry and Gil sat at the back-nearest to the exit.

FG beamed at the sight of them-holding a wooden dowel and pointing it at the backboard behind her, where the words ‘welcome to remedial goodness’ were written. “welcome to remedial goodness 101~ as you know, im fairy godmother-and I hope through these classes; you will be able to make the correct choices and be your best while in Auradon.”

Mal and Harry let out quiet groans, Harry sliding down his chair and closing his eyes as Mal got out several pieces of scratch paper to draw on as FG began to write on the board. Things like ‘mouths are for smiling not biting’ and ‘sharing is caring’ were the first things to go on, and Gil made a small noise-wondering who had bitten someone already.

Probably Mal. She had the fangs for it.

“Let’s begin, shall we?” FG asked, now standing before two sets of questions, using her wooden dowel to point at the first one. “you see something you like at the market; do you A? steal it? B? buy it? C? break it? Or D; set the stand on fire?”

Harry audibly snorted at the last ‘answer-coughing as he laughed. Because oh my gods, that escalated so quickly! FG raised her brows at him, as if waiting for something and Harry shook his head, waving her eyes off. “I’m good-I’m good.” Harry giggled, patting his chest since he had inhaled spit thanks to his snort. Gil laughed quietly with him-getting the joke a bit late but laughing all the same.

Ja raised his hand, smirking as he did and FG happily pointed at him. “A, steal it.” Jay said-so sure that was the correct answer, and FG shook her head. “Incorrect.” Jay frowned-but-that’s-what? huh? Mal let her head drop-sighing a bit as she looked up from her drawing. She raised her hand and FG pointed at her. “B, buy it.” Mal grumbled and went back to her art as FG beamed and nodded.

“Correct~! Next question, you find a wallet with two hundred dollars in it, do you A? turn it over to the proper authorities? B? look for its owner? C? steal it? Or D; buy some new shoes with it?”

Evie’s hand popped up and FG nodded. “D, buy new shoes~” Evie sighed dreamily, imagining the shoes she could buy with 200 bucks. FG clicked her tongue and shook her head-and Evie frowned, but-new shoes? Mal once again sighed and raised her hand-answering with the ‘correct’ answer, which really was both A and B-which Mal did say. “A and B, look for its owner and turn it in to the proper authorities.” Mal muttered, ignoring the beaming pride on FG’s face.

Carlos let out an impressed huff, wondering how Mal was getting all these questions correct so easily?

“Wonderful, next one! You’re sailing the ocean and find treasure on an unmarked island, do you A? take it for yourself? B? leave it there? C? report your findings? Or D; mark it on your map and come back later for it with a permit?”

Gil and Carlos’ hands popped up, and FG pointed back at Gil. “B, leave it there?” Gil said-phrasing it like a question since he wasn’t sure that’s what he should do. Harry groaned, reminding himself never to let Gil go treasure hunting. FG smiled a bit and nodded. “Yes-that’s one of the things you could do, but the best thing to do is C or D, that way you could legally keep the treasure for yourself~!”

Gil let out a small gasp of awe, clapping his hands a bit as Harry sighed and let his head tip back-closing his eyes and wishing for the hour to be up already.

“If someone hands you a crying baby-do you A? curse it? B? lock it in a tower? C? give it a bottle? Or D; carve out its heart?”

Harry snapped up to stare at FG with wide eyes-both in ‘dear god that is the stupidest question in the world’ and ‘oh my god that got so dark so quickly

Evie raised her hand-and FG beamed, gesturing for her to speak. “Evie~” FG sang, her smile dropping as Evie just asked what was the 2nd answer again. “oh-okay, anyone else?” the vks were silent-unsure of the answer as Mal continued to doodle, her eyes drawn up as FG called her name gently.

“C, give it a bottle.” Mal muttered, dropping her eyes again as FG cooed at her. “correct, again~” Carlos let out an impressed whistle, turning to Mal as she rolled her eyes. “you are on fire girl?” he said as Mal scrunched her face up-wondering how they were failing to understand the questions. “just pick the one that doesn’t sound like any fun?” Mal said as if it was obvious, and it was-since everyone let out a small gasp and Evie muttered that it made so much sense.

Mal mocked them with a gasp of her own and went back to her art.

Gil perked up as he saw Jane walk past him and Harry-she smiled at him and squeaked in fear as she squirreled past the main four, Mal quickly noticed the resemblance between her and FG as Jane quickly shoved a clipboard into her hands-knocking Evie with her elbow to get her attention.

Harry opened his eyes as he heard a now familiar snort, smirking as he saw you walk by, looking down at him amused with several files in your hand. “That boring?” you mouthed to him and he mimicked shooting himself in the mouth, smiling as you slapped your hand over your mouth to keep yourself from laughing.

Gil smirked, glancing between the two of you as Harry kept staring at you, watching as you handed FG the files while FG introduced her daughter to the vks. “Everyone here remembers my daughter, Jane?” Jane nearly panicked at her mother's words, turning to her with a begging plea. “Mom, no!” Jane gasped, clenching her jaw as FG turned her to face the vks-the only one she didn’t feel a stabbing fear for was Harry and Gil-who just stared back. “It's okay. Jane, this is everyone~”

Gil looked a bit concerned, which sent her heart racing for reasons other than fear. “hi-“ she whispered to the main four, who were just staring at her, Mal practically staring into her soul. “that’s okay-don’t mind me, as you were!”

Jane quickly sped past them with a squeal, her cheeks turning pink as Gil said bye to her with that big grin of his.

FG went to put the files you had given her on the lectern when you grabbed her attention-signaling for her to lean down so you could talk. “Yes?” she asked quietly, nodding as you spoke. “They’re teenagers, not toddlers-don’t treat them like kindergarteners who can’t stop themselves from eating paste.” FG hummed; nodding-she hadn’t tried that! Maybe she would get more of a response from Harry and Mal if she did. “Good idea,” FG whispered back, sending you off with a wave.

You winked at the vks, mouthing ‘you’re welcome’ to them as you walked past, Harry’s eyes zoning onto the cookies you pulled from your jacket pocket as you walked out.

Harry caught the pack of cookies you tossed back at them-sharing a devilish grin with Gil who laughed quietly, you always seemed to have some sort of snack on you-most of which you shared with Harry.

“let's continue,” FG said, turning back to the blackboard. “you find a vial of poison;” Thank god she stopped with the baby talk. “Do you A? put it in the king's wine.” Oh, Harry would very much love to do that. His damn fault he was on the isle in the first place. “B? paint it on an apple?” Evie and Mal shared a giggle at that. “or c? turn it over to the proper authorities?”

With Mal’s advice-everyone was now sure of the answer and eagerly raised their hands, including Gil. Harry just let out a slow sigh from his nose, hiking his feet up on the chair in front of him and letting his eyes close, hearing Jay and Carlos rough around as Jay answered the question. “C, you turn it over to the proper authorities? Jay said all smugly, grinning as Carlos shoved him a bit. “I was gonna say that!” Carlos wined, yelping as Jay tugged him onto the desk and stuck his wet finger in Carlos’ ear. “oh but who said it first-who said it first?!”

Harry didn’t even open his eyes as the two tumbled about on their desk-FG hitting her dowel on the lectern to gain their attention. “boys, boys!” They stopped, staring at FG with wide eyes. “im going to encourage you to use that energy, on the tourney field.” FG said, gesturing out towards the field that was sitting just next to the school.

“oh no, that’s okay.“ Carlos said with a dismissive laugh, ushing Jay off him. “whatever that is-we’ll pass.” Jay just looked confused, wondering what the hell tourney was-Gil asked Harry the same question and Harry shrugged; not caring about it.

He had heard you mention it once or twice with Lonnie, but he was more interested in whatever Roar was, because he heard the word ‘swords’ once and his attention was officially drawn.

“I’ll be letting coach Jenkins know of your arrival at tryouts-which are right after school lets out. Okay?” Jay and Carlos sighed, nodding. “okay, let’s continue.”

-

Finally, the hour was up and the vks were getting ready to head to their next class, Evie and Harry had chemistry while Jay, Gil, and Mal went to math, and Carlos had history.

“Harry, Gil? if I could speak to you for a moment?” Harry let out a long sigh as he paused in leaving, turning to walk back over to FG as she waited for him and Gil to stand in front of her. “aye?” Harry asked, already tired of today. “I wanted you both to be involved in our sports as well, and I think Gil; you would like tourney, and Harry; you would like Roar-which is a fencing team.” Harry kept his reaction to a minimum-but he knew his eyes lit up at those words.

Fencing? Aka swords?! Sign him the fuck up. FG seemed to sense his enthusiasm and beamed. “wonderful, tryouts for Roar are tomorrow after school, in the amphitheater connected to the gym. Coach Jenkins is also in charge of it but the captain decides their team-so good luck to you, Harry. You may go.”

With that-the boys ran off-leaving FG alone with the files she had been given. She took the top one and opened it, the name at the top reading ‘Harry James Hook’

-

Harry James Hook; son of Captain James Hook. Age; 16, male, born April 21st, 1999. Siblings; Harriet and Calista Jane Hook. Classes; History of woodsmen and pirates, history of Auradon, internet safety, remedial goodness 101, math, English, chemistry, life skills without magic, and chivalry. Electives; N/A notes; Attached to Gil, does not seem to like the other vks much(especially Mal and Jay-seems to have less of a problem with Carlos and Evie), seems to have trouble with math’s/numbers, possible dyscalculia; please inform staff of this and have it dealt with accordingly. Permit given for hook, do not take-possibly emotionally attached. Reactive, fight before flight.

Warning; possible curse, Ms. Honey reported his eyes going red during math’s-due to the stress involved, Merryweather reported feeling intense magical pressure coming from his head, and Professor Thatch noticed a reaction to Tara Pan, red eyes, twitching in his left arm, heavy breathing, and tightness in the body(potential panic attack); suggested temporary solution-switch Harry out of that shared period for history of Auradon to prevent any potential fights.(keep eye on Pan and the lost kids, they might pick a fight and set him off) Research suggests this may be the madness curse, or the curse of the blood god, given to Captain Hook back when he lived on neverland from the fairies of Neverland, irreversible, violent, and dangerous. Stress and anger are possible triggers for episodes.

Harry is otherwise fine-but will need special care to keep him safe.

-

FG sighed, setting down the paper, oh that poor boy. “this is going to be harder than I thought,” she whispered, hoping she could keep a handle on these kids, hoping she wouldn’t have to do anything drastic.

She was just glad Harry seemed to like you already-you had a good head on your shoulders. FG looked up as her next class arrived, she had forgotten she had magical history after remedial goodness, she smiled and wiped the board clean-welcoming her new students.

-end of p4-

Whoooo boi-long one, hoped yall liked seeing Harry go to class~ and see more of my lil blood god curse(yes inspired by technoblade/ that one fic from 2017) up next-chemistry and tourney try outs~

taglist~!

@queer-cosette @sephiralorange @lunanight2012

@daughter-of-the-stars11 @musicarose @rintheemolion

@random-thoughts-004 @anythingbutmar @imtryingthisout

@dai-tsukki-desu @remembered-license @thecaptainsgingersnap

@thetrueghostqueen @littlewierdalien

POYW R!V2 taglist~!

@reallysparklychaos @tzurue

[that-angry-noldo]

Finarfin knows three things. One, he is disoriented, which is not a good state to find oneself in. Two, he is chained and being dragged somewhere, which is even a worse state to find oneself in. Three, he's got less than three minutes to hatch a plan with no prospect of silence and peace in the... forseeable future.

Giant, sinister iron doors open before him and the beings dragging him forward. Finarfin had no time to look, but he has no doubt he is in Angband - they didn't leave much more evil fortresses standing. Ending up in Angband, as a captive, was not on his list of summer plans; we thought we'd march through it victoriously by the end of summer, he thinks, bitter and frustrated.

The hall around them erupts in cacophony of sounds - screaming, wheezing, laughing; Finarfin can hear his own name, barked with mockery. He looks forward, and his eyes fix on the throne in the other end of the hall, surrounded by twisted beings of all kinds.

He remembered Morgoth from the Years of Trees - he had the misfortune of meeting him a few times, though Finarfin was never of Morgoth's particular interest. He was fair, then - dark and cold, but still undeniably fair; now he was terrible, terrifying even, with two eyes gleaming from the darkness of his face and two Gems shining from his crown (only two now - Finarfin folds that under the "not sure how, but going to use this information later" folder in his mind). A wide, cruel grin sits on Morgoth's self-satisfied face - too sharp, too wide; Finarfin lets out a tired hiss, unheard in the general mayhem, and stumbles when one of the chains is pulled too hard.

Think, he orders himself, you've got less than a minute to think about your situation. Judging by the number of beings flooding the hall, his capture is being made into a show, which hardly means anything good for him. Finarfin ponders the prospect of public execution, but quickly dismisses it - he's too useful of a captive to be wasted in such way; public humiliation it is, then, he decides, and silently curses his luck.

The hall is full of twisted beings of all kinds - orcs, goblins, vampires; trolls, even; Finarfin spots a few humans, though they are standing silently, and their eyes look with reluctant pity. Finarfin shakes his head, letting part of his hair fall to the side and hide a part of his face.

Suddenly, Morgoth raises his fist, and the procession stops. There's still a considerable amount of distance from Finarfin and the throne, which is good. Or bad. Finarfin has no idea. With the screaming ceased, he's uncomfortably aware of his state - he's cold and naked, safe for a piece of ragged cloth that serves as some kind of shorts; the chains bite into the skin of his wrists and ankles, leaving it red and itchy; he's thirsty, and, now that he thinks about it, pretty hungry - he hasn't eaten for two days at least (no matter how frustrated it made Ingwion, Finarfin couldn't force a bite before the battle, with how nauseos the anxiety (well-proven, as it turned out - take that, Ingwion!) made him feel). He bites down a groan and forces himself to focus on Morgoth.

The Dark Foe rises from his throne and grins at him mockingly. His voice, cold and satisfied, echoes from the walls of the Hall.

"What an honor, to welcome the King of the Noldor in our humble abode!"

King of the Amanyar, technically, Finarfin thinks absently, but makes no sound as the residents of the room erupt with laughter. Gil-Galad is the king of Beleriandrim. So not a win, not really. What about "Brother of Fëanor"? Or maybe of Fingolfin? I don't envy him, choosing in what way to adress me must've been a headache.

"And to think we could have foregone an entire war without meeting each other! A shame, truly - a shame like nothing else!"

Finarfin bites his tongue, stopping the response that was about to fall from his lips. He'd hardly be given more than one line. He should waste it on something more witty than "this whole war is all about meeting you, actually".

... he can make it sound like flirting, though. Has anyone flirted with Morgoth before?... Ah yes, the three great kings of Noldor: Feanor, who shut the doors in Morgoth's face; Fingolfin, who wounded him seven times; and Finarfin, who flirted with the Dark Enemy in front of his entire court. Focus, you idiot. You'll have plenty of opportunities to flirt with him should you be in a mood.

"What a gift, what a prize," Morgoth says, and his gaze - curious, prideful, lustful, - turns into deep, dreadful fear in Finarfin's stomach. Morgoth steps forward, dark and looming. "Arafinwë Ingoldo Finarfin, son of Finwë, brother of Fëanor and Fingolfin, father of Finrod Felagund himself! Thirty-eight years had he spent on this continent, serving the will of my divine brothers and sisters; thirty-eight years have I spent, sending my messengers to him with offers to talk and to come to a compromise. Alas! What a shame it is, that we have to meet in such a manner!"

Finarfin tenses as the Enemy draws closer. A cold, claw-like hand lies on his shoulder, and Finarfin shudders; the light of two Silmarills shine in the darkness of Morgoth's face, and his eyes gleam with cruel curiosity. A pretty little thing, he murmurs quietly, and Finarfin doesn't know if it was ósanwë Morgoth used, or if it was meant for the whole court to hear; either way, he can't help taking a sharp breath when Morgoth releases him, moving a few steps back. "How do you find our welcome, oh Noldoran? Are your bounds comfortable? Is your host suitable enough for a man of your rank?"

Finarfin is startled by silence.

All of the eyes in the room are on him, and it is practically brimming with excitement and adrenaline. One line, he reminds himself, you are being granted a one line.

He licks his lips. He can feel Morgoth's mocking gaze on him. He reaches for rage burried deep inside his being, reaches for years of war and anger and wrath; he looks the Enemy in the eyes.

"In all honesty," he deadpans, "you are even more of a bitch than I remembered, Morgoth Bauglir."

Morgoth's eyes spark. There is a moment of silence, and then, the hall explodes.

Finarfin feels blinding pain in his ribs as he's being wrestled to the ground. The hall roars around him, and he tries to struggle as dirty hands grab him and force fim down; someone hits his face, and he can feel blood trickling down his chin from where they split his lip; someone else grabs his hair and tugs it back - Finarfin growls as they force a muzzle on him; it bites into his flesh and burns his tongue, and they yell triumphantly when they succeed. Finarfin doesn't have time to adjust, as he's finally on the ground, on his knees, and someone jerks his head to meet with the Enemy's dark gaze; he stills like this, held by many, pain still burning in his body.

"Behold," Morgoth laughs, "the hospitality of Angband, Noldoran, for here you will pay great cost for your bold words! And you, my faithful servants - behold what happens with those who dare to question my authority; for they will be marked as such, and submitted to my wrath, and I will decide their life and their deaths." His eyes gleam dangereously, piercing through Finarfin, as he continues.

"Bring forth the brands. Let's see how long the pride of a King lasts in face of pain of Angband."