#mod tink

[dailyvriskas]

i thought it was high time to revisit this idea, so enjoy a redraw while i queue up the next three!

[burakku-jakku]

Osamu Tezuka world entertainment square Princess Knight Christmas postcard (2003)

[listenupcupcakes]

https://youtu.be/ys6efgjsROs?si=2vynpPDJh0k1NhUb

Here's the cursed vid :)

(Also stardew valleyyy!! I need to play that again oml)

(Ooc) Omg that was amazing-

At least Demo is self aware enough to know something bad’ll happen lol

[ithinkimauggie]

My friends and i were playing modded lethal company and my pal kerubel (zafkiel) jumped off the map with Maxwell in his arms so i made this video as tribute

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: The Law of Surprise (3/3)

Summary: The Law of Surprise: a custom as old as humanity itself. The Law dictates that a man saved by another is expected to offer to his savior a boon whose nature is unknown to one or both parties. In most cases, the boon takes the form of the saved man's firstborn child, conceived or born without the father's knowledge.

A/N: This is NOT a Witcher AU. The idea for this fic WAS inspired by the show, however. I’m not sure if the Law of Surprise was a show/game creation or if it existed before. Regardless, this fic is my spin on the concept and will be posted in three parts.

Much love and thanks to the @cssns mods for keeping this event going year after year! A HUGE shout out to my artist @eastwesthomeisbest for the AMAZING pieces she made to accompany my fic. Go give her ALL the flails! Finally, all the hot chocolate, rum, and grilled cheese sandwiches for my amazing betas @ultraluckycatnd and @kmomof4. LOVE YOU LADIES TO BITS!

Rated T / Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!  

Part One | Part Two

Part Three

The castle was brimming with life and gaiety. Orchestral sounds spilled over the balconies and light seeped from every window, illuminating the stone walls and bathing the gardens in an exuberant glow. If he’d had to guess, Hook would estimate the overflow from the ballroom to be in the hundreds as he made his way through the crush of courtiers, adorned in their finery as they eagerly awaited to be announced.

Dukes and earls. Ambassadors and emissaries. Military leaders and loyal sycophants. The creme de la creme of Misthaven and her allied kingdoms were all in attendance - all who had received a royal summons, that is. Hook had witnessed a number of people being turned away at the gate when they had failed to produce the invitation. The exquisitely designed edict with its filigree and gilded letters announcing the event of the century:

The Formal Betrothal Ceremony and Ball between Her Royal Highness Princess Emma of Misthaven and His Royal Highness Prince Neal, Son and Heir of the Dark One.

Not that Hook had received one himself, of course; their Majesties had learned their lesson the last time they’d attempted to share blessed news and an invitation with him. Pan had been serious when he’d meant no interference, though they had underestimated what the evil bastard considered as such until he’d enticed most of the Misthaven male youths away from their beds and nearly to their deaths over one of the kingdom’s cliffs, because the sovereigns had dared to have an envoy deliver him news of the arrival of their second child - a son. When David and Hook had confronted Pan before he could lure the boys to their deaths, the demon brat had made it clear that any communication, any interaction, any attempts to maintain or strengthen relationships between Misthaven and “his pirate” would be seen as a breach of contract and met with severe penalties. After that, Hook had once again kept his distance from Misthaven, and Misthaven had kept its distance from him. So, naturally, Hook did not fault them for failing to send him an invite to tonight’s festivities. They could not possibly have known that circumstances were different now.

A fact Tink kept nagging on about these past few months.

Months they had spent attempting to set things right in the wake of Neverland’s liberation. Months they had spent establishing authority and restoring order while dealing with uprisings from those still loyal to Pan. Months Hook had spent ferrying those who had wished to return to their homes, not knowing if one even still existed for them, as he warred with himself over the prospect of returning to his own.

It had been the news of Emma’s betrothal that had started the quarrel with Tink up again. Enjoying a pint in a dark corner of anonymity whilst patroning a tavern in Glowerhaven, they’d heard the toasts and cheers go up wishing the princess and “her prince” well. The Dark One’s son wasn’t truly royalty, of course, but none were fool enough to challenge the title.

While the other patrons had reveled in the news of the betrothal, their spirits high from the glee of gossip and tankards of toasts, Hook had sat with a weighty stone of despondency in his belly even as he’d tried to muster up some semblance of jubilation over the news.

“You must go to Misthaven,” Tink urged. “You have to tell them. Tell her. You can’t let her enter a betrothal or get married without--”

“Do you think I would interfere in her life now?” Hook replied through grit teeth. “Burden her with this… with me, when she has finally found happiness?”

“How do you know it is true happiness she has found? The Law of Surprise entrusted her to you. Gave you the responsibility and privilege of her destiny. You cannot sit by and allow her to--”

“To what?” Hook snapped. “To decide for herself? To pursue a destiny she has chosen? To fall in love and follow her heart while making alliances that will strengthen her kingdom and secure her reign? I am not her lord and master, nor am I her overseer.”

“No. You are not,” Tink said softly. “But you are fated to her. Bonded to her through the Law. Connected in a way she isn’t even aware of, because you haven’t allowed her to know. You owe her the truth before she establishes new bonds with another.”

Hook scoffed, but tapped the ring on his thumb against his tankard as he considered her words.

“At the very least,” Tink continued, “go see her. Before she is whisked off to the Dark Realm to prepare for her new life as Neal’s wife and future Queen of the Dark One’s subjects, go meet her. Make sure it is for love that she has chosen this path, and not out of a sense of duty or obligation. Slake your curiosity of who she has become and give yourself the peace of knowing that in spite of everything, she turned out well.” Hardening her gaze, she added, “And for the sake of all the gods, stop being a coward and go face your brother.”

He hated when the infernal fairy was right.

It was cowardice that had kept him from returning. Fear of having to divulge all he’d done in order to achieve his freedom, the lengths he’d had to go to and the ways in which he’d made Pan believe he’d broken him before finally being able to…

Afraid that there was no longer a place for him among society. Terrified over the prospect that, despite Neverland’s magic and the way it had kept him youthful, his life had already passed him by. Petrified to face the girl he’d been meant to watch over, daunted by the uncertainty of how she might react if he ever managed to work up the nerve to tell her the truth about him, about the Law of Surprise, about the fate’s design that had bonded them to one another before she was even born.

Tink had been right, though. He could not give in to cowardice, so he’d commissioned a new waistcoat and duster, one befitting a gentleman pirate paying court, and made port in Misthaven the evening of his princess’ betrothal ball. His lack of an invitation was no issue with the guards at the gate, he’d merely flashed them his hook and they’d allowed him entry, certifying that the king’s pardon of Hook’s crimes and promises of sanctuary within Misthaven still stood. Though Hook did feel it prudent to tuck his left arm behind his back, beneath his quilted, leather coat whilst in the receiving line, lest one of the guests glimpse it and start a fuss.

He wasn’t sure if it was the maddening wait, the stifling corridor, or the crowd of plumed and perfumed guests that began to grate on his nerves, spiking his anxiety and forcing him to withdraw from the ballroom hall. All he knew was that he’d suddenly found himself in a dark and isolated alcove around the corner from the crush, attempting to steady his breathing while muttering curses at himself for falling apart over something as simple as queuing for a ball.

“Is everything alright, good sir?”

Hook spun around, once more tucking his hook behind his back while his hand swept through his hair in an attempt to straighten his appearance. He stood in stupified silence for several skips of his heartbeat, too stunned by the gorgeous woman before him, until he finally cleared his throat and found his voice.

“Aye, lass,” he replied, unable to keep some of the awe out of his tone. “No need to concern yourself with me.”

The woman, young, blonde, with a slender form that did not fail to fill out the curves of her gown while demonstrating the strength he could detect beneath her proper posture, cocked her head to one side, her seaglass eyes narrowing at him even as a smile slightly tugged at the corners of her exquisite lips, rebutted, “A man hiding away in the shadows is a bit concerning, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I suppose so,” Hook conceded with a slight chuckle. Taking a step forward so she could get a better look at him, his smile broadened when her eyes widened and swept over his form with similar interest. “Truth be told,” he continued in a low timbre, “I am rather out of practice in the rules of court. It has been many years since I’ve attended a royal ball.”

Eyes snapping back up to his, she schooled her features and lifted her chin. “Have you not escorted someone to attend with you? Have you no one whose company you can rely on?”

Hook sighed wistfully. “My brother is here,” he said, attempting to keep all sense of melancholy or apprehension from his tone, “but I have not seen him in many years. My presence may come as something of a shock, and I do not wish to cast a pall on the evening. I would never wish to tarnish the memory of it for the princess.”

“The princess?” she parroted, her brows arching and achieving heights that nearly matched her voice. “You hold her in high regard then?”

“Aye. Very much.” Thoughts of his Emma, and the maelstrom of emotions they brought with them, made his voice constrict in his throat, making his next words a bit strained. “Though, I have not had the pleasure of her acquaintance since she was a child.”

The woman’s expression shifted, becoming pensive, almost far away, but as quickly as they had taken hold of her features, she shook off whatever thoughts she’d been contemplating. “Well, I highly doubt anything you do could tarnish this night for her.”

“I appreciate that vote of confidence, love.” Killian scratched behind his ear, his hips swinging with another swaggering step forward as he pressed a little too closely for decorum’s liking into her personal space. “I don’t suppose, once I’ve mustered up the courage to make my way into the ballroom, you would consider bestowing me the pleasure of a waltz?”

The corners of the woman’s lips tipped up again, and Hook wondered what it would take to encourage a full smile from her. Not that it mattered. He’d already accepted the challenge.

“Would such a consideration give you the necessary encouragement to face your brother and the court?” she asked.

Boldly, he took her hand and ran his thumb over the backs of her knuckles, murmuring, “Such consideration would give me the encouragement to do a great many things, Miss…”

Her lips parted, the response of her name on the tip of her tongue, when an attendant rounded the corner and jolted them apart with her exclamations. “Your Highness! I have been looking everywhere for you!”

Hook whipped his head from the attendant back to the woman who had snatched her hand from his and taken several steps back.

“Your Highness?” he said incredulously. “As in Her Royal Highness? Princess Emma?”

“I… I,” she stuttered. “I’m sorry, I must…”

“Excuse us, my lord,” the attendant said, encouraging her charge away from the alcove and towards the hallways that led to the royal entrance at the back of the ballroom.

Hook watched her depart, stunned by the realization that the woman with whom he’d been conversing - and was now rather taken with - was none other than the princess. His princess. His Emma. His Child of Surprise who was no longer a child.

He’d known that already of course, that she was no longer a child. More than ten years had passed since he’d last seen her, but as she was escorted down the hallway, briefly taking the opportunity to glance at him over her shoulder with an apologetic smile and a glimmer of attraction in her eyes, the reality of those years hit him full force. His princess was no longer a child, and once the betrothal ceremony was complete, she would no longer be his.

Forgoing the queue, Hook forced his way into the ballroom without being announced and found himself a vantage point where he could observe without taking on much notice. A resurgence of duty and responsibility filled him. He wanted to - no, needed to - weigh the measure of the man his princess was about to bind herself to in betrothal. Needed to know he was worthy of her.

Although, he was quite certain no man ever would be.

As the ballroom began to fill, his vantage point proved to be less than ideal. Unable to clearly see the dais, he started to shuffle his way through the throng as the prince and his father were announced, followed swiftly by Their Majesties and Princess Emma.

He was halfway across the room when the ceremony began, and the heavy weight of regret, knowing he was too late to do anything, pressed down upon him, keeping him rooted to his spot. His heart twisted painfully in his chest. He was about to lose her forever without having the chance to truly know her. He was a fool for wasting these past few months. A damned fool. All he could do now was watch as the prince and princess recited their vows while a fairy wove the betrothal bonds around them with her wand.

His heartache was quickly forgotten, however, when the final binding spell failed, leaving the betrothal void and eliciting a collective gasp from those assembled.

“I… I don’t understand,” the fairy stammered. “The magic should have worked. I… I don’t know what--”

“Clearly, you did something wrong, dearie,” the Dark One accused as he took a threatening step towards the young fairy.

“No,” Emma stated, stepping between her would-be father-in-law and the scared-out-of-her-wits fairy. “She didn’t. The magic failed to bind us, because…” Turning her attention back towards her would-be groom, Emma declared, “as I have told you numerous times, I have no intentions of marrying you. I don’t care about the deal our fathers made in order to end the war. My heart will never be yours, therefore no vows I make to love you will ever be true.”

Chaotic murmurs erupted throughout the ballroom, but Hook kept his focus on the dais.

“That matters not!” the Dark One shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Emma which made Hook’s hand itch for the hilt of his sword, unfortunately left behind on his ship. “Your feelings have no bearing and are not enough to void the betrothal spell.” Casting his ire upon King David and Queen Snow, he demanded, “Explain yourselves! We made a deal! You agreed to this betrothal on your daughter’s behalf. It is your word and your authority over her that binds that agreement, so why did it fail?”

Hook sucked in a startled breath. He knew why.

“I think I can answer that, and settle this matter,” he called out, causing all eyes to fall on him.

“And who might you be?” Prince Neal demanded.

“Captain Killian Jones,” he proclaimed, stepping forward as the crowd parted. “Though some have taken to calling me by my more colorful moniker.” Raising his left arm, he displayed his hook and a hysteria of murmurs further erupted amongst the crowd that was now cowering away from him.

David and Snow’s mouths dropped open and Liam, who had been standing by off to the side of the dais, rushed forward and took his place next to his sovereigns, a look of complete elation and shock coloring his aged face. The fairy fled, leaving Emma, Prince Neal, and the Dark One alone at the center of the raised platform, each of them staring at him with a variety of expressions.

“Hook!” Prince Neal exclaimed, before catching the eye of the many guards stationed along the walls. “Seize him!”

When none of the guards acquiesced to the command, an incensed and clearly alarmed Prince Neal sputtered, “W-Why are you all just s-standing there! Arrest him!”

“Oh, you must not be aware,” Hook said, swaggering his way towards the dais and stopping short of its steps. “You see, I have pardon in this land.”

Turning his incredulity and ire towards the King, Prince Neal opened his mouth, but was silenced by the quiet yet dangerous tone of the Dark One’s question.

“How, pray tell, do you plan to settle this matter, Captain?”

“By claiming that which was owed me the day I saved King David’s life and he vowed to honor me with a boon, dictated by the Law of Surprise.”

“A boon? What boon?” Emma demanded.

With confident, measured steps Hook made his way up to the top of the platform and stood in front of his princess, his body strategically placed between her and his new adversaries. His eyes captured hers and he knew they were crinkling in the corners as he smiled down at her.

“Don’t you know, Emma?” he murmured softly. “It’s you.”

Confusion and outrage flashed within her seaglass eyes and displayed themselves through each feature of her exquisite face. Though her reaction, not being what he’d hoped for, sliced through him, he could do nothing about that now, not when a fresh round of threats was being issued by the Dark One and his spawn.

“We had a deal!” the Dark One bellowed. “Your daughter’s hand in marriage to my son in exchange for me ending your war with George! You made a deal--”

“Which they have kept in good faith!” Hook roared, rounding on the imp and causing his son to stumble backwards. “They have prepared and presented the princess for betrothal, and Emma herself recited the vows, even as it went against everything she wished for herself. It is not their fault the fates did not bind the agreement. If you wish to lay declarations of war at anyone’s feet, then let it be mine, but I warn you…” Stepping closer, Hook loomed over the Dark One and in a timbre of hushed menace, he advised, “do so at your own peril.”

The Dark One’s eyes narrowed, perhaps sensing something about the man who stood before him that he had not registered before. Beside him, Prince Neal scoffed.

“Are we to be threatened by the likes of you? You are nothing but a filthy pirate.”

Hook grinned darkly and rocked back on his heels, tucking his thumb in his belt. “A few months ago I was nothing but a filthy pirate, but today,” hardening his expression, he declared, “I am Neverland’s King, and you do not want Neverland as your enemy.”

The Dark One visibly started, but the Prince merely snorted. “Neverland has no king.”

Keeping a calculating eye on the Dark One, Hook shrugged and addressed Neal with a casual air. “True. I never understood, with all his theatrics, why Pan had never outright declared himself king, but make no mistake…” The hard edge returned to his tone and countenance, “Pan ruled that island as a dictator king with an iron scepter and a crown of cruelty not even George could have dreamed of matching. Now that Pan’s dead,” the Dark One’s head snapped towards him, seemingly pulled from his thoughts with a number of questions swirling behind his dark gaze, “Neverland is under my rule. The island, its inhabitants, and…” Hook flicked his wrist and the entirety of the ballroom gasped when a jar of glittering dust appeared in his hand, “its magic. They all serve me now, so I say again. You do not want me as an enemy.”

Shrewdly, the Dark One scrutinized the jar in Hook’s hand, then inquired, “What, then, do you propose we do? The terms of the deal have not been met. I ended the war with King George. A debt is still owed.”

“Indeed,” Hook replied, holding out the jar towards the Dark One. “And I believe this canister of pixie dust is more than sufficient in settling that debt.” Hook pulled the jar back when the prince made an attempt to take it. “So long as you promise that accepting it means no further repercussions. Misthaven is safe from any further threats or acts of retaliation from you, and Emma is free to find love and happiness with whomever she chooses. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“Papa, no!” Prince Neal protested. “You can’t just--”

“I can, and I have,” the Dark One clipped in a tone of censure before snatching the jar from Hook’s hand. Addressing the King and Queen, he confirmed, “Our deal has been satisfied. My son and I will now take our leave, but heed this… do not call upon me for aid ever again.”

“We won’t,” King David assured him. His eyes cut to Hook’s, relief and gratitude swimming within their depths, but before he could make any further statements another round of gasps rippled through the ballroom as the Dark One and Prince Neal were enveloped in a plume of dark smoke and vanished.

A heavy exhale fell over Hook’s lips and he stood, frozen, in the gazes of his friends, his sovereigns, his brother, and… his Emma.

“It’s you,” she said, her expression and voice void of any inflection he could identify as her eyes seemed to look past him to that far off place he’d seen her subconscious go when they were alone before. “You’re… him. We’ve… we’ve met before.”

“Aye, Your Highness,” he hedged. Her demeanor and lack of response to all that had just transpired made him hesitant to push her too far, too fast. “Moments ago in the corridor--”

“No… no, that’s not. I mean…” Her eyes refocused on him with a mixture of awe, disbelief, and something that hadn’t quite made its way to the surface yet swirling through their verdant beauty as she whispered, “It’s you, isn’t it? The man from my… you’re him.”

“Him… who?”

“My pirate,” she exhaled, stunning Hook to his core as she lifted a chain that had been concealed beneath the high neck of her white gown. Dangling from the delicate links was a familiar looking pendant. The seashell he had gifted her - after she’d plucked it from his desk, the little thief - he realized. The far off look returned as she murmured, “Not a day has gone by that I have not thought of you.”

His heart swelling, Hook elated, “Good,” and took a step towards her. The action, like all his actions since he’d revealed himself, was not met with the response he’d been hoping for.

Taking several steps back from him, Emma rounded on her parents and shouted, “You lied to me! You made me think it was all in my head! You knew! You knew why I felt so… wrong, so deficient. So… broken. My entire life I’ve… You knew about him all this time and you never--”

“You mustn’t blame them, love,” Hook insisted. “It’s not their fault. I made your mother promise never to tell--”

“Perhaps we should take this discussion elsewhere,” Snow said, making them all acutely aware of their audience. The societal vultures practically circling in anticipation of the feast such morsels of scandal might provide.

“That won’t be necessary,” Emma seethed. “There won’t be any more discussion, because I’m not interested in anything any of you have to say!”

Hook gaped when she raised her hand, calling forth magic to transport her from the ballroom in a plume of white smoke.

“She has magic?”

“She’s the product of True Love. Of course she has magic,” the Blue Fairy replied with a terse and exasperated tone, having made her way onto the dais to address her sovereigns and offer her assistance. “Your Majesties, perhaps it would be best for you to withdraw with the… captain, whilst the other fairies and I tend to your guests?”

“Yes,” Snow agreed. “Thank you, Blue.”

Hook followed his sovereigns and brother to an adjoining room where they could converse and continue their reunion in private, though none of them seemed to know where to begin.

“I think I ought to go and check on Em--”

“No,” Hook said, cutting off Snow. “Leave her be. She’s had a terrible shock and no doubt needs some time to work out all that’s…”

They stood there awkwardly for a moment more until reality set in. They were here, together, reunited at last, and in a synchronized heartbeat they suddenly found themselves in a united embrace, laughing and crying tears of joy and relief at finally having the nightmare of separation behind them.

“Admit it,” Hook demanded of David, wiping the vestiges of his emotional release from his eyes. “You were hedging your bets when you made that deal with the Dark One. You suspected The Law of Surprise would void it when the time came, didn’t you?” Turning towards his brother, Hook surmised, “That’s why you wouldn’t let me relinquish my claim and bestow it upon you.”

Sheepishly, Snow admitted, “Blue was the one who suggested the idea. We could not be sure, though, given your… uncertain future under Pan’s rule.”

“Speaking of,” Liam chimed in. “However did you manage to defeat the little bastard?”

“It’s a bit of a sordid tale,” Hook told them. “And one I do not wish to relive in detail. Suffice it to say, I managed to gain a certain amount of trust with Pan, which allowed me close access to him. Revealing some of his weaknesses. One of them being… squid ink.”

Liam led them over to the settees and they all sat down as he remarked, “Squid ink is no easy substance to obtain.”

“Aye,” Hook affirmed. “Fortunately, whilst on one of my missions for Pan, I ran into a mermaid who wished to leave her life in the sea behind. In exchange for safe passage, and because she felt bad for nearly crashing my ship upon rocky shoals when she enchanted me with her siren song, she gave me the squid ink she’d stolen from her father’s vault. Tink and I used the ink to subdue Pan.” Fiddling with his hook, he cast his eyes towards the floor as he confessed, “My hook did the rest.”

“And Pan’s death gave you… magic?”

“Not exactly.” Hook pulled back the sleeve of his right arm, exposing the cuff secured to his wrist. “This does,” he said, tapping it with the side of his hook. “It was Pan’s. He was never without it. I learned that it tethered the Shadow to him, acting as a conduit to the island’s power which he could then bend to his will. At first, I had no desire for it, but its use became necessary in order for me to begin to set things right.”

Hook told them how he and Tink had spent the past few months: squashing rebellions from those on the island still loyal to Pan, learning about the island’s magic while working with the Shadow to restore balance to her shores, and returning those he’d brought there under Pan’s order against their will.

“There is still much to be done, but when I heard about Emma’s betrothal, I…” Not wishing to tell anymore half-truths, or admit that the news of her betrothal had not been enough without Tink’s prompting, he let his words trail off. He hadn’t shared with them his misgivings in returning, allowing them to believe these other distractions had been the reason for his delay, causing guilt to churn in his gut as he sat amongst them.

“Where is Tinkerbell?” Snow asked, perhaps sensing the shift in his demeanor.

“She remained behind in Neverland,” Hook replied. “Awaiting further orders.”

“Further orders?” David parroted. “What more could you ask of her?”

“Not from me,” Hook assured. “From Blue.” Glancing down at the cuff on his wrist, he imparted, “The island should go to the fairies. They are the only ones who can truly wield and balance its power. I have no wish to be its sovereign forever, but...”

“But?”

Hook sighed. “All magic comes with a price, and the price of using this cuff is that it cannot be removed unless both the wearer and the island agree to its removal.” A wry smile pulled at the corner of his mouth and he cheekily added, “or unless the wearer is dead and no longer has a say in the matter.”

“I don’t…” Liam floundered. “I don’t understand what you--”

“The island won’t let me relinquish my connection with its magic,” Hook said. “After Pan, I believe it finds me preferable and won’t risk falling into the wrong sort of hands again. My hope is that the fairies might be able to convince the island to free me of the obligation, which is one of the reasons Tink remained there. To continue working towards that end until reinforcements arrive.”

“Well,” Snow said, standing and causing the men to follow suit. “That is something we can certainly discuss in greater detail tomorrow. For now,” she turned to her husband and with a firm, yet regal, look, declared, “we really must return to our guests and assure them that all is well.”

“Of course,” David agreed. “You’re right. The gossip mill is no doubt having a field day and our allies deserve whatever reassurances we can give them.”

“My apologies for creating a spectacle.” Hook gave his sovereigns a chagrined and contrite look, but they quickly waved off his self-condemnation.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Snow assured him.

“Snow is right,” David asserted. “Without you, we’d likely be preparing for war with the Dark One. You saved us… again.”

Hook grinned and nonchalantly scratched behind his ear. “I imagine another boon might be in order then?”

David shot him a less than amused look. “I’m not granting you another Law of Surprise, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Though we do not plan to have any more children, I agree with Charming,” Snow said, a hint of amusement coloring her words. “Once was more than enough.”

Hook sobered at the reminder of his Emma, and the mess he’d made of things between them.

“You owe me nothing,” he said. “It isn’t as though I’ve lived up to the last--”

“Enough of that,” Snow admonished. “I know things may not have gone as you’d hoped with Emma, but tomorrow is a new day. Let me have a room made up for you, and tomorrow we can all--”

“Thank you, Snow, but I think I’d rather return to my ship.” When Liam opened his mouth to protest, Hook assured him. “I’ll remain in port. I won’t leave without discussing the matter with you first, I just… I need…”

“Much has changed for you, too, little brother,” Liam acknowledged.

“Aye,” Hook admitted. “Freedom is not something I’ve had much practice with, and I’m still getting my bearings. Still trying to decide what I want to do with my life.”

“You know you always have a home here, right?” David said, placing a heavy hand upon his shoulder. “A place to belong.”

“I appreciate that, Your Majesty,” Hook said, hoping his eyes reflected just how much that fact meant to him. “But do you honestly think things can go back to how they would have been if you’d never sent us to Neverland? Or if we’d all managed to return from the accursed mission?”

David flinched and his features twisted into an expression of guilt and regret.

“Don’t misunderstand,” Hook said, now placing his own hand on his sovereign's shoulder. “I do not blame you. I have never blamed you, but let’s not pretend I can just take my place within your navy and serve as captain of one of your ships. For one, I am no longer a man who takes orders from others willingly, and two… what crew would wish to serve under the likes of me? A pirate. A blackguard.”

“No one is suggesting we pretend the past twenty years did not happen,” Liam said. “There is much to work out, much to resolve and decide upon. For you… and for Emma.”

David’s expression shifted and he now regarded Hook in a way the pirate had never experienced before. Not as his sovereign, nor as his friend, but as a father. A rather protective father. A protective father who might have just registered the charged interactions the pirate and his daughter had shared in the ballroom.

“Indeed,” the man said with a slightly hardened edge on his words. “Perhaps we should have a talk about your intentions with my daughter.”

“Charming,” Snow scolded, saving Hook from having to respond. “Now is not the time.” Squaring her shoulders and taking up her regal posture, the queen declared, “While these matters are all important and worthy of our time and thoughtful consideration, the more pressing issue awaits us in the ballroom.” Fixing her eyes on Liam, she continued, “David and I will need your diplomacy in dealing with our allies. You and the fairies are our ambassadors for the duration of the event.” Shifting her attention to Hook, she offered, “You are welcome to stay, however, it may be best if--”

“If it is all the same to you, Your Majesty,” Hook interrupted, “I think I’d prefer to take my leave for the evening and return to my ship.”

Giving him an acquiescing nod, Snow replied, “Very well. Let us all get through this evening and get ourselves as restful of a night’s sleep as we can. We will then reconvene tomorrow.”

“And Emma?” Hook inquired.

Snow and David shared a quick look of solidarity, then confirmed with a glance towards Liam before affirming, “We will leave her be, for now. As you requested.”

Their silent recognition and acceptance of his sovereignty in Emma’s life both relieved and disquieted him. He’d meant what he’d said to Tink about not being her lord and master, but he would not hesitate to advocate for her if he felt those around her were not acting in her best interest. She needed time. They both did.

“Then I shall bid you all a good night,” Hook said, not waiting for them to reciprocate before transporting himself back to the Jolly Roger in a swirl of crimson, in dire need of a refuge where he himself could process all that had come to pass this evening.

~/~

Hook’s jaw cracked from the wide yawn he released early the next morning, his body stiff and feeling its true age as he went about his normal routine, shuffling through his cabin in naught but his skin. He’d managed to pull on his leather pants, leaving them loosely tied around his waist, when he heard a voice drifting towards him from the dock.

“Ahoy! Captain, are you there?” a woman’s voice softly called out. From the tentative tone and reserved volume, he could tell she was trying to draw as little attention to herself as possible. It mattered not, though. He’d know that voice anywhere.

Hastily, Hook pulled on his shirt, a few of the buttons he kept fastened in the front slipped free from their closures, leaving his chest completely exposed. Forgoing his boots or even bothering to check the state of his hair, he rushed from his quarters and onto the deck, stopping short at the sight of his Emma standing atop the gangplank, just shy of the deck. The morning sun bathed her in an ethereal glow, silhouetting her form, which was adorned in her riding apparel, hugging her curves and highlighting her shapely legs in a way that had Hook glad he’d left his trousers loose.

Shaking those thoughts from his mind, Hook continued to approach her, only now taking in her observations of him. Rather wide-eyed and pinked cheeked observations, he noted with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Princess?” he said, pulling her from her own thoughts, his breath catching at the way she wet her lips before clearing her throat.

“I apologize for arriving so early and unannounced,” she said, straightening her posture before inquiring, “Permission to come aboard, Captain?”

Hook grinned and closed the space between them with swaggering steps, holding out his hand to assist her. “Permission granted, Your Highness.”

When her feet hit the boards of the deck they stood there for a long moment, her hand still tucked in his as she took in the sight of his ship. When her gaze lifted to the mainsail a shudder ran down her spine. Though he was unsure how much she remembered from that night long ago when she last stood there, Hook was certain he knew what had caused her response.

“I sent him back,” he assured her, his voice low and soft.

“Who?”

“The Shadow. He’s the reason the sail is typically black, but I won’t need him until it is time for me to return to…”

Sensing this topic made her uneasy, his words trailed off and she pulled her hand from his. Noises from further up the dock grabbed their attention momentarily and Hook caught sight of her horse hitched at one of the posts, alone.

“Did you come here unaccompanied?”

“Yes,” she replied, uneasiness once again taking hold of her tone and demeanor. “I hadn’t planned it. I was out for my morning ride, clearing my head when…” Looking about she asked, “Is there somewhere we could go? Somewhere more private where we might converse?”

“Of course,” he said, not faulting her for not wanting to be seen fraternizing with him. “Follow me, Your Highness.”

He led her to his quarters and stopped at the threshold, allowing her entrance as he hung back. A soft gasp fell from her lips.

“It’s… it’s just as I remembered,” she whispered under her breath, taking in every detail of his cabin. “I thought you were a dream,” she confessed, though he wasn’t certain she was actually talking to him, her gaze far away and her words almost murmured to herself.

“I thought the whole thing was a nightmare.” Her hands skimmed over the top of his desk, pausing at his hook which he’d failed to secure in his brace before going on deck. “The shadow that kidnapped me, the dark island, the glass cage, the boy…” Her eyes flicked up, meeting his as she continued in a whisper, “The pirate.” Wetting her lips, her gaze never wavered even if his did briefly drop down to her mouth. “You’re real. You were real all this time.”

“Aye.”

Picking up his hook, she turned it over in her hands. “This is the hook you used to attach yourself to the barrel? The one my mother later gifted you?”

“How did you know--”

Setting it down she leaned back against his desk and let out a heavy breath. “I talked with them last night,” she told him. “My parents. After the ball, I demanded they tell me everything.” Her gaze dropped for a moment, then her eyes snapped up to his, determination shining from their depths. His princess was on a mission for the truth. “Did you really not know of my existence until Pan had…”

“No,” he confirmed. “I had no idea the King and Queen had a child, nor that the child was the fulfillment of the Surprise your father had granted me until Pan kidnapped you.”

Nodding her head in acceptance of his word her demeanor shifted slightly, her shoulders relaxing and her gaze softening.

“I want to apologize for the way I behaved last night,” she said. “How I reacted when you…” Her contrite expression gave way to one tinged with anger as she continued. “The morning after Neverland, when I woke up, everyone acted as though it hadn’t happened. My being kidnapped. My parents insisted I had dreamt the whole thing, even Blue made me think I’d…” Her hands gripped the edge of his desk, her knuckles turning white as she continued to lean against it for support, and it took everything within him to not go to her and offer himself as an anchor for her feelings of hurt and betrayal. “My whole life I have been sheltered, not allowed to make decisions for myself, feeling as though something… vital was missing from my life, yet unable to seek it out. Made to feel as though I were mad, because of this dream that would not leave me.”

Swallowing hard, she glanced around his cabin once more before her eyes fell shut. A deep breath filled her chest, followed by a cleansing exhale. When she opened her eyes the anger was gone, but a sadness lingered. Hook would do anything to alleviate it, but he knew she was not finished. There was still so much she needed to work through, to process, to accept, and he would give her the space to do all of it.

“Last night,” she carried on, “when the betrothal bond failed, I truly thought it was because my vows had been a lie. I thought I was standing up to Neal and his father, taking control of my destiny for the first time in my life, only to discover my future was never my own to control, because of another agreement my father made before I was even born.”

Hook winced. “I am sorry, Princess. Truly.” Pushing off from the doorway where he’d been leaning against the jamb, Hook took a few steps into the cabin, stopping at the corner of his bunk. “It was never my intention to leave you feeling powerless or alone. If I could go back, I’d--”

“You don’t have to apologize,” she said, her voice sincere and her eyes full of forgiveness. “You had no way of knowing what the Surprise would be, and with what George did to my mother, who would have ever guessed? I don’t blame you for how my life--”

“You shouldn’t blame your father either, Your Highness,” Hook said in defense of his sovereign. “He had no way of knowing either, otherwise you would never have become my Surprise.”

“True.” She crossed her hands over her chest, a hardened expression once more tightening her features. “The blame belongs to Blue and my mother.”

“What?” Hook balked.

Meeting his gaze, she informed him, “Blue knew about the barrel. She saw it listed on the inventory that was taken when the Jewel made it back with the survivors. They must have put it in the hold when they fished it and you from the sea. Blue could not be sure it had not been corrupted, so she gave the water to my mother without her knowing. It wasn’t until weeks later, when my mother came to Blue worried that something was terribly wrong with her, that Blue confessed what she’d done. She told my mother it was still too early to know for certain and that she should wait to tell my father until she was further along, then later that very same day…”

“He granted me the Law of Surprise.”

“My mother knew he intended to reward you for your bravery and sacrifice, but said she had no idea it would be… Father said it hadn’t even occurred to him to grant it to you until the moment before he declared it. So, no. I do not blame my father.”

Stepping forward, Hook closed the gap between them and took her hand in his. “I will not tell you how you ought to feel, Princess. I just urge you to not let anger and blame linger in your heart for too long. I know what it is like to let such emotions fester, letting darkness creep in and take root in your spirit, giving it a foothold in your soul. Learn from my mistakes, love. Resist it.”

“Why couldn’t you?”

Running his thumb over the back of her knuckles, he softly imparted, “For many years during my first deal with Pan, I didn’t think I had anything to live for. The demon made me a pirate and I became a villain, unworthy of association with people like your parents or my brother. I had resigned myself to a life of exile and wasn’t certain I’d even return to Misthaven, until…”

“Until… what?”

“Until I met you.” How he wished he still had his other hand so he could take both of hers in his grasp, instead, he settled for threading their fingers together. “I wanted to be a better man for you, Princess. I knew Pan would still require a villain, but I was determined to defeat him by any means necessary so that I could take back my own power and control my own destiny.”

“So… what now?” she asked, a soft tremble quaking through her words.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” she wet her lips, trying her best to hide her trepidations. “Your expectations. You said you returned in order to claim that which--”

“I said all that in an attempt to stop a war from brewing, and so you might be freed from a deal you never wished to be a part of,” he quickly assured her. “I know all too well the perils of making deals with demons, and it is a fate I would not wish upon anyone, least of all you.” Hook lifted their hands and cradled hers against his chest. “I have no expectations of you, love. I only wish to… to try and make up for lost time. To get to know you and have you get to know me. Fate may very well have its own plan, but as far as I’m concerned, whatever we become to one another is as much up to you as it is to me.”

A smile curled at the corners of her lips. “I’d hoped I hadn’t made that up about you,” she said. “I am glad to know you are, indeed, a man of honor and good form… just as I remembered you to be.”

Hook cocked his head to one side, his brows furrowed as he asked, “If you’ve always remembered the kidnapping, then why did you not recognize me in the alcove last night?”

“My memories weren’t… detailed,” she told him. “More like fragments. Impressions.” Looking past him, she began to call forth some of those memories. “I remembered you were a pirate. I remembered the silver fastenings of your waistcoat and the fact that you had dark hair, and I remembered… your eyes. They were probably the most vivid thing about you that I remembered.” Flicking her gaze up to his, she went on to say, “The truth of a person can always be found in their eyes.” Dipping her head, she demurred, “I’ve always been pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to me. It’s always in the eyes. I knew, from the moment I looked into yours, that I could trust you. That you were telling the truth about taking me home. Your eyes told me I’d be safe with you.” Locking her eyes with his, she wistfully admitted, “I’ve thought about your eyes so many times over the years.”

Her cheeks reddened and she suddenly could not meet his gaze. Hook wondered what other thoughts she might have had about her dream pirate as she grew older, but held back from making a saucy quip, allowing her to move past him towards his bookcase. Truth be told, he could do with a bit of space between them as well.

“My parents tell me that though you are finally free of Pan, there are still loose ends for you to tie up in Neverland.” Distracting herself she focused her attention on the contents of his shelves, picking through the books and lifting the lids on a few of the boxes. “Once that is done, what do you intend to do with your newfound freedom?”

“Honestly?” Hook exhaled heavily. “I’m not sure.” A tinkling melody filled the room when she lifted the top of what turned out to be a music box, hastily letting it fall shut before turning apologetic eyes towards him.

“Sorry,” she muttered, running her hands down the front of her riding jacket before clasping them in front of herself. “You were saying?”

Hook chuckled, then sobered a bit when he remembered what he was about to reveal. “I was saying, I’m not sure what I’ll do once my duty to Neverland is complete. I would like to return to Misthaven, I just… I’m not certain I have a place here any longer.” Fiddling with a few of the items on his desk, he added, “Of course, there are people here whom I wish to build relationships with.”

“Like your brother?”

“Aye,” he replied, lifting his gaze towards her. “Among others.” He paused, hoping she knew she was at the top of those considerations. “I have missed so much, and while I realize he is now old enough to be mistaken as my father, Liam is the only family I have left.” They both shared a quick laugh over that observation before he declared, “I do not want to miss any more of his life, or anyone else’s of importance to me.

Emma hummed, her eyes cast down towards her feet, perhaps unable to meet his gaze because of the intensity of it. “I’d imagine you’d want the chance to get to know his wife and your nephews as well.”

Her words rocked Hook to his core. “What?”

Emma’s head snapped up, her eyes widening and her jaw dropping from the realization. “I’m so sorry! I thought… I thought you knew!”

Hook slumped down on the edge of his bed, a new sense of melancholy and injustice washing over him as he ran his hand through his hair and pulled at the strands in the back. “How long has he… how old are his… why did he not…”

“They’ve been married almost ten years, and have two sons. Her name is Belle and she’s…”

Emma paused when Hook buried his face in his hand. So much time wasted. The toll of the years Pan had stolen from him never seemed to cease in its increase.

The sound of the music box filled his cabin once more, prompting Hook to look up from his sorrows. Tentatively, Emma approached.

“I wish there was something I could do about the time that was taken from you and your brother. I wish I had words of wisdom or answers that might guide you towards what’s next, but I don’t. All I can do in this moment is… make good on a promise I gave you last night.”

Confused, Hook could only stare at her, until she clarified, “I believe I owe you a waltz?”

Hook huffed out an amused breath. Reaching up he pawed at the patch of skin behind his ear and confessed, “I know I instigated that, but truth be told… I haven’t danced a waltz in over twenty years.”

“Well,” she replied, clearly not letting him off the proverbial hook. “Good thing for you there is only one rule.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet before wrapping his braced arm around her waist. Taking his hand in hers she flicked up her gaze and murmured, “Pick a partner who knows what they’re doing.”

She took the lead until muscle memory returned, then Hook glided them around his cabin, holding her close and marveling at how she’d been able to pull him from his sulliness with such a simple act of kindness.

His Emma was a marvel, to be sure.

“Do you, Princess?” he asked, causing her brows to pinch together as her head tilted to one side. “Do you know what you’re doing?” he clarified, his voice low and hushed, wanting to keep the moment tender despite the question burning at the back of his throat. “What you are going to do now that the threat of Pan and your obligation to marry Prince Neal has been lifted?”

Chewing her lip, she gave the inquiry her considerations before drawing closer to him. Moving her hand from his shoulder to toy with the back of his neck, she sent a cascade of shivers down his spine as she addressed his question with one of her own.

“Did you know that other than the night I was taken to Neverland, this is the furthest I have even been from the castle?”

That piece of information shocked him, though he knew it should not have. Her existence had been kept a secret for the first half of her life because of George, and the threat of Pan had kept her parents cautious for the past decade. Fear had made his sovereigns hypervigilant with their greatest treasure, so no, it should not have surprised him that they’d kept her close to home, safe behind the castle walls, never straying from the grounds.

“I have never left these shores. Never seen the beauty or experienced the culture of other realms, or met anyone who wasn’t thoroughly vetted by my parents.” Wetting her lips, her eyes fell to the charms hanging around his neck, but Hook knew her gaze was far away once again. “I know I have a duty and obligation to my kingdom, my people, and my parents, but…”

“But?”

Glancing back up with a slight expression of guilt pulling at her features, she murmured, “I can't help but wonder if my brother, Leo, was the fates way of allowing me to… That is… I know I should not wish to burden him unnecessarily, it’s just that--”

“Where would you go first?” Hook asked, still swirling them around his cabin, maneuvering their bodies with the same ease in which he attempted to change the course of their conversation. “If you had the means to go anywhere, where would you go first?”

“Neverland.”

Her quick and unexpected reply had him stopping them in their tracks. “Neverland? Why?”

Once again, she worried her lip, her breath hitching shallowly in her chest. “As much as I long to see the world, the memory of the one time I left Misthaven still haunts me,” she said, her voice a tad unsure at first, though it gained a sense of certainty and resolve as she continued on. “I want to go back so I can face it. So I can put the fear it has held over my life behind me, once and for all.”

When she flicked her gaze up to his, something new stirred within those seaglass depths and the effect of it seemed to hum between them, electrifying the atmosphere of his cabin.

“I want to see what sort of place it is now. With Pan gone. I want to know how it has fared under your rule. How it’s changed due to your influence and direction.” Swaying closer to one another, she was practically a hair’s breadth away when she murmured, “I want to see it for myself in the hopes that…”

“That what?”

Her eyes fell to his mouth and his pulse quickened.

“That it proves that I am… not wrong about you.”

It took his mind several skips of his heartbeat to register the feel of her lips against his, but once it did, instinct took over. His braced arm pressed into the small of her back, bringing her even closer to him, their chests nearly touching with the only obstacle between them being her hand. Her fingers curled through his chest hair, pulling a groan from the back of his throat that vibrated against her lips as his own slanted across them. Threading his fingers through her hair, he wrapped his hand around the base of her skull so he could position her head to his liking, deepening the kiss and coaxing her lips apart with his tongue.

The taste of her was captivating. He could spend the rest of his life drinking her in yet never be satisfied, always wanting more, always needing more… of her. Just her. His Emma.

However, now was not the time for more, and from the gentle, yet insistent, press of her hand against his chest, it was evident that his princess was not ready for what could come next if they continued down this path of passion.

“That was…” he whispered against her lips, chasing them without thought.

“Destiny?” She giggled, her nerves and inexperience quivering through her laugh.

Brushing his nose against hers, he loosened his hold, creating some space between them while assuring her, “As I said before, I have no expectations of you, no expectations for what might happen between us or what we might come to mean to one another. Only… only hope and a promise.”

“What promise would that be?”

“I promise to do whatever it takes to win your heart, Princess. I promise, that for as long as it pleases you, I’ll be here, at your service.” Taking her hand in his, Hook vowed, “I will take you to Neverland, and any other realm you wish to see. I will remain by your side, even if, one day, it is only to stand in support of my future queen.”

“What about Liam?” she said, clearly overjoyed by the prospects he’d laid out whilst harbouring some guilt that their fulfillment would take him away from his brother.

“My brother will be here whenever we choose to return,” he comforted. “Besides… he has his own life to live, and whether he chooses to acknowledge it or not, he’s been shouldering a duty and responsibility he was never meant to carry.”

“Are you suggesting I’ve been burdensome to your brother?” Her tone was laced with offense, but it was betrayed by the teasing expression she could not keep from her features.

“Oh, yes,” he cheeked back, winding his arms around her waist. “Quite the burden you are. How will I ever bear being bonded by the fates to Your Highness?”

“Hmmm,” she hummed, running her palms up his chest then wrapping her arms around his neck. “Perhaps, you could start by calling me by my name, Captain.”

“As you wish… Emma,” he obliged on an exhale.

She graced him with a smile, then asked, “And you? How may I address you? Or do you prefer Captain?”

He wouldn’t deny the pleasure it gave him, hearing her call him Captain, and he was about to make a tawdry statement attesting to that fact when his eye caught a glimpse of his hook, still sitting atop his desk.

“Call me…” he said, his voice choked and barely able to utter the name he’d long abandoned. “Killian. Please, Emma. Call me Killian.”

“Killian.”

The sound of his name on her breath shot a thrill of wonder up his spine. His lips crashed against hers and they both surrendered to the destiny fate had planned for them long ago.

Which, honestly, should not have come as a… surprise.

Thank you all for going on this journey with me! I hope you enjoyed the ride!

Tagging the Curious Crew: (add to tag list)

(Please be advised that I only keep one tag list for all fic updates and new works. If at any time you wish to be removed, just shoot me an ask or a DM. No worries.)

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[esse-lunam]

an introduction to: my 90s fame dr!

please read this god please there's art in here also ive put 5+ months of work into this dr at this point so i swear that there's interesting shit in here yall I SWEAR I AM NICHE.

reblogs greatly appreciated! this took me forever teehee

ohhh my god this is a long time in the making, ive put this off for so, so long and i really couldn't tell you why. this can act as a script me into ur dr post if you like as well!

for starters, you can find my pinterest board for this dr here :3 just in case u want some cool visuals i guess :3

-

so lets get the basics outta the way shall we?

full name: marley jo veitch

nicknames: mar, marley barley, mars bars, tink (reserved for s/o), living poet (public figure nickname type deal? yknow how stevie nicks gets called the white witch? yeah that)

pronouns: they/she

DOB: june 1st, 1970 (which makes me a gemini btw!)

occupation: musician (piano, violin, guitar n bass, some drums, and saxophone), poet, author (fiction and nonfiction), actor on occasion, also a comedian that one time

skills: all things music + writing basically, film analysis, pop culture analysis i guess, home decor, drawing, fashion?, and being the most autistic person in the multiverse

appearance stats: 5'3", 145ish lbs, long brownish-reddish hair with some light brown highlights in there, sorta wavy but barely

body mods: COVERED in tats (theres a tattoo section on the pinterest board but i also drew some so), septum piercing, snake bites, and a fair few ear piercings. and also i have glasses but thats not a body mod thats just a thing on my body.

"workin and workin't? you have a job?" more on that later!

-

relationships and such! with photos!

s/o: robert sean leonard

"hey, do i recognise this guy?" you might! he played notable roles such as neil perry in dead poet's society, claudio in much ado about nothing, and james wilson in house md!

best friends: dylan kussman, allelon ruggiero, alexandra powers, and kimya dawson

"do i recognise more of these people?" again, probably! dylan, al, and alex were all in dead poets society, and kimya is a musician best known for her indie songs, some featured in the movie juno!

-

my career! (oh good lord)

writing based - undedicated musings

(1986-1993)

alright so this is a bit hard to explain, bear with me. undedicated musings is an anonymous newsletter-based poetry... publication? run by me, under the pen name 'chartreuse', and the whole shtick is that i write poetry, love letters, and whatever else to the person i'll end up spending my life with, but the recipient of said writings is completely unknown, even to me, so im kinda just writing to nobody. until! i actually set my eyes on someone (obviously rsl) and then the writings start to get a bit more specific and yearn-y and personal. since the recipient is anonymous, all the writings are written for a 'vermillion'. both chartreuse and vermillion's identities are revealed when we get married in 1993. and no, rsl doesn't know that i'm chartreuse, nobody does until i reveal myself. i think its kinda cool :3

film based - dead poet's society

(1988-1989)

so for starters, i was part of the crew that worked on the set of dead poets society, now all my friends (except kimya, her and i become friends in the late 90s) make sense! my actual job on set is kind of a vague be-here-and-do-a-bit-of-everything type deal, so there's no set title beyond "assistant to lead" even tho it's essentially government assigned 'friendship' LMAO. but! me and the cast get on like a house on fire, so i kinda just get to tag along on their wacky teenage-ish boy adventures. this totally does not stem from a desire to be part of a teenage boy friend group, and i am, in fact, totally cisgender. i am also lying. anyway, without going into too much detail, me and my s/o-not-yet-s/o (will be referring to him as rsl from this point on) sorta have a painstakingly long will they wont they type deal, because i guess i like torturing myself. we meet a day before all the actual film stuff starts just as a sort of preliminary get to know eachother because you'll be in close proximity VERY often for months. thats some time in march - june-ish? of 1988 (i shift to my dr the day before!) and we don't actually get together until june of 1989. so.

also! some changes to the movie because i can make those: knox overstreet is now played by matthew lillard instead of josh charles, because josh charles is a fucking zionist and i dont want to associate with him in any reality! knox also isnt a b plot to the movie at all, instead focusing on meeks and pitts because i find them much more interesting! and also knox's b plot is creepy as hell! also, the racism against natives (read this!) is completely gone! no thanks!

music based - MAURZI

(1988-2004 technically)

strap in boys because this is the main event of this dr and the lore is VAST. MAURZI (must be spelled in all caps, like MF DOOM) is a sort of musical person/character i've made to tell the story of via a series of albums. i release my first single in october of 1988 titled "lunarian", which is a fun little song about a being from the moon arriving on earth and having some inter-planetary culture shock. and thats the only song i've actually planned! i release 6 total albums that map out the MAURZI storyline kinda

- MAURZI (1989)

- GONE TO SHIT! (1991)

- Charmed (1992)

- I found Him in Santa Barbara (1995)

- Waterworks (1998)

- also bibliography (2004) but those are released as songs By Me and not MAURZI, just released under the same artist. MAURZI storyline ends with Waterworks.

now here's where you get the very extensive MAURZI lore. MAURZI is a sort of alternate-universe representation of me, where in i'm much more famous than i actually am in my dr, and i am absolutely RUINED by my fame in a fuck ton of ways. each album is a different section of her life so i'll explain it album by album. also for reference, in my dr capitalism/ currency isnt a thing, but in the MAURZI... verse? it is. because i like anti capitalist art! same goes for most other media im in/ participate in, actually. MAURZI uses she/her pronouns btw, i dont.

MAURZI - my self-titled album is about as close and personal to my life as i'll get, which an average amount because i still throw in some songs about shit that i have not at all done/ experienced. (ex. songs about cheating, toxic relationships, and things along those lines. thankfully ive had a mostly healthy relationship with relationships! except that one time!) MAURZI is new to the music scene but she's here to make some lovely tunes to help process some stuff! artists im taking inspiration from include (but are not limited to): sarah kinsley, dodie, jeff buckley, tv girl, mitski, and peach pit.

GONE TO SHIT! - MAURZI's first album blew the fuck up! now she's thrown into the midst of dealing with an incomprehensible amount of attention on her at all times, which she was absolutely not prepared for. what does she do to cope? sex drugs and rock n roll, baby! she also gets addicted to 2 outta those 3 things! can you guess which ones?? now, obviously, this album is entirely fictional and is only tangentially inspired by some life events, heavy emphasis on the tangentially. artists im taking inspiration from include (but are not limited to): the nonstick pans, panic! at the disco, forest, david bowie, chappel roan, and king gizzard & the lizard wizard.

Charmed - the love song album! this is basically comprised of songs i sorta wrote about rsl, but changed up a fuck ton because i wrote them while i was pining and did Not want him to knkw who they were about. in terms of MAURZI stuff, she meets someone just after deciding that she's gotta clean up her act if she wants to exist healthily. recovering alongside a loved one and them being a motivator for recovery! now i should specify here that MAURZI's s/o is not the same as mine, and is entirely gender neutral/ doesn't even have a canon(?) human appearance at all. they're named Vermillion because we love a callback! artists im taking inspiration from include (but are not limited to): the smiths, siouxsie and the banshees, james blake, queen, laufey, and her's.

I found Him in Santa Barbara - yknow how when a banana ripens too much and it starts to tuen brown? yeah imagine that logic but applied to recovery, i guess. NOW IS A GOOD TIME TO REITERATE THAT MAURZI AND I ARE TWO DIFFERENT PEOPLE AND MAURZI IS JUST A CHARACTER. essentially MAURZI had a spiritual awakening and "found god." but what that ACTUALLY means is that she started viewing vermillion as a sort of god? but she's keeping it on the down low (making an album about it) because she doesn't want vermillion to thing she's CRINGE. themes of loving a god, being IN love with a god, being in lust with a god, temporarily thinking youre a god? stuff along those lines. its a bit intense, VERY experimental and.. heavy? both in themes and in musical style for some portions. this is my fav album out of all of them if you couldnt tell. artists im taking inspiration from include (but are not limited to): sleep token, WILLOW, type o negative, slipknot, lemon demon (specifically songs off spirit phone), hozier, violent vira, pierce the veil, gorillaz kinda, bjork, kate bush, deftones, destroy boys, and rammstein probably.

Waterworks - so yknow how MAURZI was having a whole trouble with god moment? yeah well thats gone now, no i haven't figured out how that'll work narratively, thats for me to figure out in like 10 years from now (now being 1988, naturally.) we've returned to our self-titled roots in terms of musical style! now we've just got some fun themes of trauma and such! and then that's the and of MAURZI as a character story wise, as i said earlier the album after this one is just a Me album. same artist inspo as self titled!

and guess what! music lore isnt even fuckin done! my music in this dr is a multiverse in itself goddamn. so basically the album covers for each album tell a completely seperate story about a completely seperate alter ego/ character/ whatever named Moonzi. name given by my audience (which is my excuse for coming up with such a shitty name and then keeping it.) the story of moonzi, without going into too much detail because i dont wanna type it all out, is a sci-fi type story about a being from the moon (lunarian callback!) on a quest to bring this space artifact back to its original place, basically. a bit more on it later, emphasis on a bit. also! each album cover is drawn by a different artist, and each album artist animates one official music video off their respective album, just cuz i like art and stuff! those music videos kinda follow the moonzi storyline loosely, but incorporate MAURZI elements. is this confusing? hope not. drawings!

writing based - novels

can you believe im still not done? like not even close? certified yapper. anyway! my 3 fiction novels (Manchester, NH - 1991, Curator Rye, 1997, Sand Dollars + Pearls - 2008) are about my ocs basically! thats it really, i dont feel the need to share the plots of those tbh.

writing based - autobiographies

two? yep! one is a fictional autobiography about MAURZI (MAURZI - 1999) and one is a non fictional autobiography about me (Radio Free Marley - 2012.) take a shot every time i say MAURZI and you will need to get your stomach pumped. she just. she means a lot to me :3

film based - doctor who

(1994-1999)*

*these dates are when im on the show btw, not its total runtime, same applies to other cr existing shows.

big disclaimer: never seen doctor who. dont know the plot, dont know which doctor i'm gonna be, i just wanna be in it.

so! my version of the doctor is kinda weird. its one doctor, but played by two people, but theyre one person. we're both the doctor. and by we i mean both me and rsl, obviously. the viewer sees the doctor as two different people, but NOBODY ELSE IN THE DAMN SHOW besides our little companion buddy guy (played by my cr friend fish!) SEES, ACKNOWLEDGES, OR IS ABLE TO VIEW THE DOCTOR AS TWO PEOPLE. its really complicated and i really did not have to make it that way, but its cool to me so i really dont care. also we're breakjng the doctor who cycle of boring suit and tie (this is NOT about you 15 <3) and going steampunk-esque. again, cuz i wanna.

film based - house md

(2005 - 2010)

marley veitch be in a show without rsl challenge (failed.) i play a character i made up named Nanette Amesbury who is essentially wilson's first ex wife. does he have a canon first ex wife? think so (i actually havent finished house oops.) do i care? you can take a guess. nanette (nicknamed ninny - which im well aware means dumb) is the director of the pediatrics department at princeton plainsboro and she kinda has a fwb type deal with wilson before figuring out shes a lesbian, having a crush on cuddy, being besties with kutner, then leaving the show in season 6. (zeth if ur reading this yes i made her show up for more than 2 seconds she just. means so much to me. also i want cudbury content.) im also a writer for the show so im there for its entire run time :3 i really like this show :3

film based - moonzi

(2016)

YEAHHHHH BABY SHES BACK!!! moonzi's storyline gets adapted into an adult swim animated tv show! i do screenwriting, stiryboarding, and voice acting! style wise, think teen titans mixed with bojack horseman mixed with archer. sick space visuals also!

comedy based - dying art

(2020)

idk i wanted to do a standup special! dunno what it's about. ill leave that up to future me to decide because this isn't happening for 32 damn years and i really just dont wanna come up with a standup special rn.

film based - radio free marley

(whenever)

i wanted a biopic, but i wanted it to be both about me and MAURZI, and how points in my life influenced or inspire songwriting. so the episode structure is like

ep 1: about me, point in my life

ep 2: about MAURZI, point in her life thats sorta related but not entirely to the events in ep 1

ep 3: about me, point in my life

ep 4: about MAURZI, point in her life thats sorta related but not entirely to the events in ep 3

ep 5: you get the idea

and then this goes on for 12 episodes and ends with the MAURZI story wrapping up and with me sorta retiring kinda. dont know when it'll be made, probably at some point in my 60s or whatever. im permashifting if you couldnt tell btw.

and thats it! after all this im just kinda existing and living life and whatever else. so with that outta the way i'll list some fun facts and i'll FINALLY BE DONE JESUS CHRIST IVE BEEN WRITING THIS FOR LIKE 3 HOURS.

- i live in new york city! manhattan to be specific

- i also have a lake house in new hampshire because i Need to be in a rural area at some points

- my house's interior design is very 70s themed and its WHIMSICAL AND FUN! maximalism, whimsigoth, nooks and crannys to be in, fun and varied seating options, conversation pit, loft bedroom, whole 9 yards. ive also got a gazebo on my roof!

- i have 2 siblings in my dr (not here im an only child in my cr womp womp) named lia and monty, theyre my best friends in my cr!

- ive also got a cat! she's a ragdoll kitty named yvonne, shes a sweetheart!

- i scripted out light pollution so the sky is all pretty at night, highly recommend you do the same

- im in STOMP at one point, dont know or care when, i just wanna be in it

- robin williams........... he is a father figure to me................ sniff sob

- yes i scripted out his death i simply cannot deal with that

- PUBLIC TRANSPORT AND WALKABLE SOCIETY!!!!! NO MORE CAR BASED US SOCIEY WOOOO!!!

- i cant fucking believe i havent mentioned this yet but im scottish?? im not scottish in my cr i was just thinking about david tennant when i was forming the dr idea back in january and it stuck. MAURZI is american tho

- hilson is canon in my dr LMAOAOOA

- thats all i got

sweet lord in heaven above if you've read this whole thing im giving u a big kiss. this is so long and i really dont wanna proofread it so im not gonna, excuse any spelling or grammar mistakes.

[servedbythedevil]

HELLO, SWEETIES~

Mod here (Julie/Jay/Jules)

Has been... A while. Almost a year. No, actually a year. Yeah.

I've been busy with a lot of things. Artblock, burnout, maybe depression(?) I don't know yet and of course the source of all this things: College.

But now I'm back! Yet I'll review this whole thing.

At first I started this in a urge with no plan made. But now there will be plot, though I'll still need to tink a few things.

Until then, this blog will be in hiatus (official this time). I don't know when I'll come back, but I'll keep updating you about the changes.

Either way, for the people who staid: Thank you.

And for the new ones: Welcome to the House of Mouse!

Our sillies will come back soon or later. But they'll come back, that's for sure.

[gallifrey1sburning]

Waifs and Strays

For @tink-wondering for the @drarrymicrofic 1/2023 Wheel of Drarry exchange. Many thanks to the mods, to @savvyspark86 for the Brit pick and help on early childhood developmental norms, and @shigacajun for the beta!

Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy Word count: 5K Rating: G Also on AO3

Summary:

When Draco Malfoy was seven years old, he got lost in Diagon Alley and met a cousin he’d never heard of. When Harry Potter was seven years old, he ran away from home and met a friend he never knew he had.

A story of how chance encounters can change everything.

—

When Draco Malfoy was seven years old, he got separated from his mother on a trip to Diagon Alley. A peddler near the entrance to Gambol and Japes had been showing off a toy dragon that was breathing fire—real fire!—as it darted around his head, and Draco, mesmerized, had stopped. By the time he looked up, his mother was lost in the crowd.

“Mother!” he called, feeling rather huffy that she hadn’t waited for him. When she didn’t appear, however, nervousness quickly overtook his annoyance. “Mother?!” he called again, more loudly this time, but still, she didn’t respond. He couldn’t see her distinctive blonde hair anywhere. 

Draco began to panic. He spun in a circle, tears beginning to prick at the corners of his eyes and face scrunching up in a way that his father would have told him was unbecoming of a Malfoy and lacked decorum. His next call came out somewhat wobbly and rather quieter than he would have liked. “Mummy?”

“Hey there. You lost?” The voice came from behind Draco, and he whipped around, startled, to find an older girl he’d never seen before crouching near him. He sniffled and nodded, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers, he knew, but something about this girl made him feel safe. She looked quite grown up to Draco—she might have even been a teenager—with warm, dark eyes and a friendly smile, and he thought she seemed like just the right sort of person to help him (and not be angry at him for being a crybaby out in public, like his father would have been).

“I can’t find my mummy,” He mumbled. “I was looking at the dragon and…” a tear rolled down his cheek, and the girl reached out and wiped it away with her thumb like it was the most natural thing in the world. She glanced up at where Draco pointed and smiled. 

“Don’t blame you, mate; that’s pretty wicked.” She looked back down at him. “I’m Dora, what’s your name?”

“Draco. Draco Malfoy.” 

Dora’s eyebrows shot up. “Malfoy, huh?” 

Draco nodded.

“Does your mum happen to be called Narcissa?” she asked. When Draco nodded again, Dora grinned. “Guess what?” she asked him.

“What?”

“That means we’re cousins!”

Draco’s anxiety began to abate as his curiosity and confusion rose. “I don’t have a cousin called Dora.”

Dora grinned. “Oh they wouldn’t have told you about me. Your mum and my mum don’t get on very well.”

“Why not?” Draco asked. 

“Ahh, it’s a long story. Maybe I’ll tell you some other time, yeah? For now, let’s go find your mum.”

Somewhat reluctantly, Draco nodded. He wanted to know more about this mysterious cousin, but he also really wanted his mother. Dora held her hand out for him to take, and he took it, even though Father said he was too old for such things. Draco didn’t want to get lost again, and father never had to know. 

They had only walked a block in the direction Draco and his mother had been headed when he heard a familiar, panicked voice calling for him. Lighting up inside, Draco began to tug Dora toward it, but Dora held him back gently.

“Listen, Draco. It was really nice to meet you, but your mum probably shouldn’t see you with me, because of what I said before. Alright?”

Draco’s lip wobbled. “You can’t stay with me until we see her?”

“I can,” she reassured him, “but I don’t want her to recognize me. Want to see something cool?”

After making sure he could still hear his mother’s voice, Draco nodded quickly. Smiling at him, Dora began to change her face. Draco’s eyes went wide with shock as her hair darkened and her eyes lightened, her lips thinning and her cheeks rounding out. “How did you do that?”

“I’m a metamorphmagus. It’s a secret—just like us meeting is. I can tell you’re pretty mature, though, so I know I can trust you with it.” She smiled and winked at him. 

Draco nodded solemnly, feeling grown up and important. “I’m very good at keeping secrets,” he told her.

“I thought so. Alright, let’s go!” When Dora began to move forward, however, Draco pulled her to a stop again and bit his lip. He was feeling less scared now that he knew his mother was nearby, and he had just realized something.

“Will I not be able to talk to you again, then, if it’s a secret that I met you?”

Dora looked a bit sad for a moment, but then she eyed him consideringly. “Are you old enough to know how to write?”

“Of course I am!” he answered, offended. He’d been able to write in sentences for several months now.

Clearly trying not to laugh, Dora apologized. “Sorry, I don’t have any younger siblings, and I don’t know your age. I was asking because I thought maybe we could be pen pals… if you can get or send letters without your parents knowing, that is. I don’t want to get you into trouble.”

“I’m seven,” Draco announced, still feeling mildly put out. Then he thought about the rest of what she’d said. He liked the idea of a secret pen pal. “A house elf might help me?”

“Clever,” Dora said approvingly, eyebrows rising. “Alright, I’ll write to you soon, then, okay?”

Draco smiled and nodded, affront immediately forgotten in his pleasure at both the compliment and the promise of receiving a letter from his fascinating new cousin.

With that settled, they followed the sound of Narcissa Malfoy’s voice until they were close enough that Draco could sprint to her. After hugging his mother, Draco turned and waved to Dora. She returned his wave before blending back into the crowd. 

“Who was that, darling?” Narcissa asked.

“I don’t know,” Draco answered with what he hoped was a convincing shrug. “Just some girl who said she would help me find you. She was nice.”

Narcissa gave a moue of disapproval. “You know you shouldn’t talk to strangers, Draco.” He blushed and looked down, and she sighed. “But I suppose there’s been no real harm done, and the circumstances were unusual. Come along, just one more shop to visit and then we can return home.”

“Yes, mother.”

—

Draco thought about his mysterious metamorphmagus cousin for the rest of the day. Despite his excitement and impatience, he managed to wait until after he heard his parents go to bed to try to call an elf. He’d never done so by himself before, but he was pretty sure he knew what to do.

“Dobby!” he hissed once he was reasonably sure all was clear, and to his pride, the elf popped into existence almost instantly.

“Master Draco is needing something?” the elf asked, rather more loudly than was necessary in Draco’s opinion. Draco glanced nervously at his closed door, but he didn’t hear anyone coming to investigate the sounds.

“Yes.” He tried to make his voice cool and commanding like his father’s. “Now that I’m seven, any post addressed to me should be given to me, not my parents. You will deliver it to me here. You will also keep anything sent to me, or that I send, secret. Do you understand?”

Dobby’s already gigantic eyes went even wider. “Master Draco, Dobby is not being able to lie to Master Lucius and Mistress Narcissa! House elves is not allowed to lie to their masters!”

“I know that,” Draco said, rolling his eyes. “But keeping a secret isn’t lying. Not unless they ask you about it.”

Dobby nodded, though he looked doubtful. “I suppose you is right, sir.”

Draco tried not to let his relief show. “Of course I am. So you’ll do it?”

“Yes, sir.”

Draco didn’t have much experience dealing with elves himself—it was always his mother or father giving them orders—and he couldn’t remember what he was supposed to do now. 

“Err, thank you. Goodnight.”

Dobby’s mouth dropped open in shock before he promptly burst into tears. 

Draco stared in stunned silence as the creature wailed, “No one is ever thanking Dobby or wishing Dobby a good night before! Master Draco is a kind and generous Master!” He seemed ready to go on, but Draco, snapping out of his shock, shushed him loudly. 

“If my parents hear you, we’ll both be in trouble!”

Immediately, Dobby clapped a hand over his mouth, cringing. “Dobby is sorry, sir,” he whispered through his fingers. “How should Dobby be punishing himself, Sir?”

Draco had heard his father direct the house elves to punish themselves in various more or less creative ways over the years, but he had never thought much about it. Now, though, as he stood with Dobby before him, the idea of telling him to hurt himself made Draco feel a little queasy. “I don’t want you to,” he said, feeling even worse as the elf looked—if possible—more awed than before. “In fact… I order you not to punish yourself. Just be quiet and don’t wake my parents.” He paused. “Er… you can go now.”

After a moment, during which he opened and closed his mouth several times but did not make a sound, Dobby nodded and popped away.

—

When Harry Potter was seven years old, he ran away from home. His Aunt and Uncle had told him that he had to walk to and from school all week (“And be grateful it isn’t for longer, boy!”) as punishment for wrecking Dudley’s tricycle, even though Harry was pretty sure they’d seen their son do it himself. Harry didn’t argue very hard to defend himself, however. By now, he was used to being blamed for Dudley’s behavior, and he hated riding with Dudley, anyway—most days, his cousin just picked on him for the whole ride. Still, the school was not particularly nearby, and by the time Harry arrived, he was late and his feet were aching and covered in burning, stinging patches of raw skin where his too-large secondhand shoes rubbed against his skin through the holes in his socks. The teacher made him write his name on the board for his lateness, and Dudley and his friends snickered at him as he made his way to his seat while trying not to limp.

When school ended, Harry contemplated taking the local bus home despite what his aunt and uncle said and just getting off a stop or two early so that they would think he’d walked, but he quickly ruled the possibility out—Dudley would tell on him for sure if he tried it. No, he was stuck trudging the whole way home, where he would probably be punished for being late for the second time that day. He hoped they would at least give him something to eat before locking him in his cupboard.

They didn’t.

Harry lay on his cot that night, watching the spiders and dreading repeating the full experience again the next day. And the next. And the next. Tears pricked at his eyes. Harry didn’t cry often—he’d learned a long time ago that it never helped anything—but he couldn’t help it. He was hungry, and his feet and legs hurt, and his Aunt and Uncle hated him and didn’t want him here. He didn’t want to be here, either, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He could try running away, but he wasn’t really sure how. He’d thought about it many times, but he’d always gotten stuck on that part. Everyone in their neighborhood would just march him straight back to the Dursleys if they found him wandering around, and now, with his blistered feet, he wouldn’t be able to get very far even if they didn’t.

Sighing dejectedly, Harry turned on his side, trying to think of happier things so that he might have nice dreams for once. He was nearly asleep when the idea came to him. 

—

The next morning, Harry announced that he was leaving for school well before Uncle Vernon departed for work, rightfully assuming that no one would care enough to ask him why he was going so early as long as he did the dishes first.

But he didn’t go to school. Instead, he used the spare key he’d secretly taken from his Aunt’s handbag (along with a few pounds, which he’d tucked carefully into the inner pocket of his worn old rucksack) to unlock Uncle Vernon’s car. After climbing in and shutting and locking the door behind him, he left the key on the floor by the steering wheel to make it look as though it had just been dropped there by accident. He then clambered into the back, feeling around until he found the latch that folded one of the seats down and provided access to the car’s boot. Finally, he slithered through the opening, pulled the seat back up behind himself, and settled in between Uncle Vernon’s golf clubs and some musty-smelling blankets. 

A bit more than an hour later, once he was sure his uncle was safely in his office, Harry reversed his trip, moving from the boot to the backseat and then out of the car entirely. Brushing the dust off of himself, he swung his rucksack over his shoulder and made his way out of the quiet concrete car park and onto the loud, bustling streets of London.

After the shock and excitement of realizing that his plan had worked had worn off, however, Harry was faced with the fact that he had no idea what to do next. He walked slowly, his feet still burning with pain, and did his best to stay invisible—he’d had a lot of practice at it with the Dursleys, so it wasn’t too hard—but he wasn’t sure where he should go now. He thought he wouldn’t have too much trouble sleeping on the sidewalk or a bench, somewhere; he had seen grown ups doing it when he’d been out with the Dursleys and heard Aunt Petunia complain about how “unsightly” it was, but he didn’t think it would be much worse than his cupboard. And he had the money he’d nicked, which he could use for food, but he’d been afraid to take too much in case Aunt Petunia noticed it was gone and called the police, so he knew it probably wouldn’t last him very long. 

Harry wandered aimlessly for a while, and his feet grew increasingly sore. He was starting to feel like he might have made a big mistake running away, even though it was terrible at the Dursleys’, when he saw a sign for a library. He stared up at the huge building, not quite able to believe his luck. Harry loved libraries. They were quiet, and the librarians were always kind to him and never told him off for asking questions, and he could read about all sorts of things. Harry was pretty good at reading, because Dudley never noticed if his books were gone as long as Harry hid them well and put them back later. Carefully, he made his way up the wide stone steps, slipped through the open door as a man let himself out, and glanced around. There was a long, tall desk at the front with a dark-skinned lady sitting behind it, and he approached her cautiously.

“Excuse me.” Harry had to stand on his tiptoes a bit to get the lady’s attention, as the top of his head didn’t quite clear the desk’s surface. “Could you tell me where the children’s books are?”

The lady looked down at him in surprise, smiling when she caught his eyes. “Well! Hello there. The children’s section is just that way—” she pointed to her right, “—past that big archway. Do you see it?”

“Yes, thank you!” Harry grinned at her and turned in the direction she’d indicated.

“Shouldn’t you wait for your parents?” the lady asked before he made it more than two steps away. “It’s a big building; I wouldn’t want you to get lost.”

“Oh, my parents aren’t with me; they’re finishing up their shopping.” The lie slipped surprisingly easily from Harry’s lips. “They said I could come and wait here because I got tired.”

The lady eyed him for a moment, seeming to take in his worn, overlarge clothes and messy hair, a hint of worry showing on her face. “Is everything alright? Do you need me to call someone for you, perhaps? My name is Priscilla, by the way.” 

Harry tried to make his smile reassuring. “I’m Harry. And I’m fine, but thank you!” He trotted off a bit faster than was comfortable, not wanting to give Priscilla a chance to ask more questions. 

He spent a pleasant afternoon curled up looking at comic books. Dudley never let Harry near his comics—he liked them much better than books, since they had explosions and things—so they’d been the first thing Harry had looked for. There was a big pit full of plush pillows in the middle of the children’s room, and no one bothered him after he’d settled in there. 

Although it was hours later, it felt like almost no time had passed when a woman announced to the room that the library would be closing in half an hour, bursting the happy bubble in which Harry had spent the day as he remembered why he was here. Reluctantly, he put the plastic-protected comic back on the shelf where he’d found it and made his way to the door, checking to make sure that Priscilla wasn’t watching. He was afraid that she might ask about his parents again if he left alone, and he didn’t know what he would do if she insisted he wait for them. 

As he peeked around the corner, Harry’s eyes caught on a very thin man standing close by in a jumper almost as shabby as Harry’s own, who was looking down at a book in his hands. He found himself staring. The man had scars on his face, just like Harry did. Harry had never seen anyone else with scars on their face, and his aunt and uncle always made him cover his with his fringe as much as possible because they said they made him look like a freak. But this man wasn’t covering his, and no one seemed to be looking at him. 

Well, except for Harry.

Just as Harry realized that he was probably being very rude, the man looked over and his eyes caught Harry’s. They went wide with shock, and he dropped his book, which hit the carpeted floor with a whump. “Harry?” he whispered. “Harry Potter?”

Harry shrank back, nervous. Strangers came up to him on the street sometimes, acting like they knew him, and while it was odd, they always seemed cheerful and excited, at least until his aunt or uncle chased them off. But this man didn’t look cheerful—he looked like he’d seen a ghost. The man lifted a hand, reaching out toward Harry, but dropped it immediately at Harry’s expression. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He was no longer whispering, but his voice was quiet and hoarse, as though he didn’t talk all that much. He held Harry’s gaze, but kept himself carefully still, like Harry did when he was trying to get a bunny or a stray cat to come near him in the garden. 

Harry relaxed a tiny bit when it became clear that the man wasn’t going to try to grab him. Warily, he asked, “Who are you?” 

“My name is Remus,” the man told him. “Your parents were friends of mine. That’s why I was so surprised; you look very much like your father did when we were young.”

Harry’s eyes went wide. “You knew my parents?”

“I did. Quite well, in fact.”

“Could you tell me about them?” Harry asked eagerly, his unease dissipating entirely. “My aunt and uncle won’t… er.” He stopped himself. If he told this man—Remus—that he wasn’t allowed to ask the Dursleys about his parents, he might decide to follow their rules. “They don’t talk about them much,” Harry said instead.

Remus frowned, and then he glanced around behind Harry. “Is Petunia here somewhere?”

“Er.” It wasn’t as easy to lie to Remus as to Priscilla, Harry found. Although the fact that Remus knew Aunt Petunia’s name seemed to prove that he was telling the truth, which was reassuring. Still, Harry shrugged and looked down.

“You’re on your own?”

Harry shrugged again. He could feel Remus’s eyes on him, and he knew he was seeing the shabby clothes and ratty bag, just like Priscilla had. Suddenly, Harry felt like crying, and he wasn’t really sure why.

“Where are you supposed to meet her? Or are you meeting your uncle?” Remus asked, and his voice sounded almost angry, making Harry wince. “Why don’t I wait with you?”

Harry’s head shot up. “No!”

Remus looked angry now, and a bit dangerous, and Harry stepped backward, clutching at the strap of his rucksack. “Harry, where are your aunt and uncle?” 

“I— they’re—” he stared at Remus helplessly, and then the tears he’d been trying to hold back began to fall. “Please don’t make me go back.”

Immediately, Remus’s expression changed to one of worry and he knelt down on one knee next to Harry, putting his hands on his shoulders. Harry flinched, but Remus made no move to do anything else—to push him or pull him or squeeze his arm like Uncle Vernon sometimes would to make him be quiet in front of other people—so he didn’t pull away. 

“Harry. Oh, Harry. What happened?”

And for some reason that he didn’t quite understand himself, Harry told him. 

Harry felt like he was babbling for ages, with Remus just patiently listening, but when he got to the part about his painful feet, Remus hissed out a breath and, after a few moments where he seemed to be fighting with himself, he offered to take Harry back to his flat to look at them. “Usually, I would tell you not to go anywhere with a stranger, but I’m not really sure what else to do right now,” he admitted to Harry. 

Harry, sniffling, nodded in agreement. “Okay.”

“Would it be okay if I carried you?” Remus asked him softly. “I don’t want to make you walk anymore if you don’t have to.” Harry nodded again, and Remus scooped him up easily. Harry couldn’t remember the last time someone had picked him up. It felt strange, but nice. “Alright,” Remus said, settling Harry against his hip. “Let’s find someplace quiet for me to Apparate from, shall we?”

“What’s Apparate?” Harry asked, rubbing at his damp eyes.

Remus looked taken aback for a moment before shaking his head. “I suppose you wouldn’t know, would you? Living with Muggles all this time. Right. Why don’t I show you?”

He’d been walking them to an empty row of big, intimidating-looking books with matching covers as he talked, and after looking back and forth to make sure no one was around, he turned on the spot. Harry’s stomach felt funny and everything went dark and weird and Harry wanted to yell, but he couldn’t, and then it all stopped and they were suddenly standing in a tiny, shabby but clean flat.

And that was how Harry Potter first learned about magic.

He learned quite a bit more over the following days, as Remus spent a good deal of time with his head in his fireplace or arguing with people whose faces appeared in the fire. Remus tried to keep his conversations quiet enough that Harry wouldn’t hear. He also gave Harry some magical books to look at, which Harry knew was probably just to distract him, but he didn’t mind very much. The pictures in some of them moved about like the pages were little tellies, much to Harry’s shock and delight, and some of them even read themselves to him out loud. Still, he overheard enough of the fire calls (as Remus called them) to gather that there were people who very much wanted to send Harry back to the Dursleys and others that were working very hard to make sure that that didn’t happen—including Remus himself.

After two days, during which Harry slept on Remus’s ancient sofa (that Harry assured Remus was a thousand times more comfortable than his cupboard, which made Remus’s face do something funny before he immediately threw some of the weird powder that turned the flames green into his fireplace, put his head in, and began to yell at someone), Remus told him, with an exhausted smile, that—if he wanted to—Harry could stay and live with him for the time being. “It might not be forever,” he cautioned. “There are some people who think that you would do better with a family or someone who has a bigger space and more resources, but we can see if we can make it work.”

“I can stay?” Harry asked, not quite able to believe his own ears. “Really?” He liked it here with Remus more than anywhere he’d ever been. Remus was kind to him and fed him at every meal and would sometimes put a hand on his shoulder or back or ruffle his hair in a way that no one ever had before. Harry, for once, felt safe and welcome.

“Really,” Remus promised. Harry, grinning so wide his face hurt, hugged him.

—

Draco found writing letters with Dora both exciting and confusing. She seemed very smart and impressive to Draco, and she talked to him like he wasn’t a stupid child. She was in her 4th year at Hogwarts, he found out, and wanted to be an Auror when she grew up, which Draco thought was very cool. But some of the things she said made him feel strange and uncomfortable. For instance, when she finally explained why their mothers didn’t get on, he found out it was because her father was a Muggle, which meant she was a half-blood. His father always told Draco that half-bloods—mudbloods, he called them, but Dora had told Draco that wasn’t a nice word to use—weren’t real wizards and that Muggles were dangerous. But Dora’s father sounded kind and funny when she told stories about him, and Dora was brilliant. She even sent Draco some Muggle comic books, which Draco thought were even better than Martin Miggs, and which he hid carefully under his mattress for safekeeping.

The more Draco and Dora wrote, the more he wondered about all the things his father told him. Some of it just seemed… wrong. Draco had always believed that his father knew everything, but the things he said didn’t seem to fit with the things he was learning from his cousin. He decided that he needed to know more. When he tentatively asked Dora if there were other Muggle things that he could read, she sent him books from when she was younger that her parents had kept—one at a time, so that he could read them and send them back and not have to worry about finding places to hide them. They were fascinating and forbidden, and Draco soon found himself wanting quite badly to go see some of the things he read about himself. 

Eventually, shortly after Draco turned eight, he asked Dora if she could take him out into the Muggle world for a visit. She was clearly pleased that he’d asked, but said that she didn’t know how they could do it without his parents finding out. Draco, however, was not a future Slytherin (or so he presumed) for nothing. The next time he was invited to Pansy Parkinson’s house, he told his mother that Pansy’s parents would bring him back to the Manor after. Then, he told Pansy’s mother that one of his tutors was going to pick him up. After that, all Dora had to do was make herself look like a dour, drab, nondescript “tutor” and collect him from the Parkinson’s home several hours before his own parents would expect him to be back.

Dora decided that an easy first trip for Draco would be to take him to Muggle London (“there’s tons of people around, so no one will notice if we don’t quite fit in”). They could walk around for a while, have a bite to eat, and then spend some time at a library so that Draco could choose a few books of his own to borrow.

—

Once Harry had been enrolled in the local primary school, he and Remus settled into a routine fairly quickly. Remus worked in a Muggle shop, and he generally had to work several hours past when Harry’s school let out, so Harry became a regular at the library where they had met. There was an after-school program on some days where Harry could do crafts and things with other kids, but many days, he just curled up in the big pit of cushions he’d discovered on his first visit here to read.

He was doing just that one Tuesday almost a year after his grand escape, a plastic-bound comic book resting against his bent legs, when he heard a posh but hesitant voice above him say, “Excuse me, are you reading Batman?”

Looking up, Harry saw a tall, rather pointy looking boy with very blond hair and very pale skin looking down at him. The boy glanced over at an older girl standing nearby, and Harry, following his gaze, saw the girl give him a wide smile and a big thumbs up. Harry looked back at the boy, whose cheeks were now a bit pink. “Er, yeah,” Harry finally answered. The boy stood awkwardly for a moment, and Harry, unsure how to proceed, asked him, somewhat uncertainly, “Do you want to see?”

The boy looked relieved. “Yes, please.” He sat down next to Harry, folding his legs neatly and keeping his back very straight, but smiling shyly when he met Harry’s eyes. He held out his hand. “I’m Draco.”

Harry took his hand and, feeling very grown up, shook it. “Hello, Draco. I’m Harry. Harry Potter.”

Draco’s eyes went wide. “I’ve heard of you! You’re a wizard!” He sounded almost accusing.

“Er, yeah, but I only found out last year,” Harry said, feeling oddly embarrassed. “I always lived with normal— er, with Muggles before that.” Then he thought of something. “Wait, are you a wizard?”

“Yes.” Draco bit his lip. “But I like Muggle things a lot. I… don’t think it matters much, really, do you?” He looked a bit scared, like he was afraid he would get in trouble for saying so, but Harry just shrugged.

“Not so much. I think magic is brilliant, but I still like Muggle things, too. I like Batman because he doesn’t have any parents, just like me. And he fights crime and does all sorts of cool hero things, and he doesn’t even need magic.”

“I think it would be fun to be a hero,” Draco told him, whispering like it was a secret.

“Me too.” Harry smiled at him. “I’m at a really good bit. Do you want to share?”

Draco nodded, and Harry scooted the book over so that he could see it better. “Look, he’s just about to jump off this building and catch the bad guy!”

“Wicked,” Draco breathed, leaning in. Tilting their heads together, sleek blond hair against messy black, the two boys began to read.

The end.

[zaharadessert]

Canticum Sanguinis Lux - Cinis (7/8)

Summary: Once, all Emma Nolan wanted was a normal life, but when she had a run in with a vampire as a teenager she realised that she couldn’t escape the life of a hunter. Now all she wants to do is prove herself, and she’s going to end up going above and beyond to be the hunter the world needs her to be.

Rating: Explicit. Mostly for graphic descriptions of violence, and some smut, but not until later chapters.

Warnings: There are now more than just hints at the non con nature of the control vampires can have over humans. And the fact that they’re strong af

Notes: Okay! The penultimate chapter! I promise I'll try not to take too long to post the epilogue, and thank you so much for sticking with me through this frankly diabolical (basically non-existent) posting schedule.

Thanks to the @cssns mods for running this event, thank you to @clockadile for the gorgeous banner. Lastly, thank you to @kmomof4, who not only is an amazing beta, but volunteered to deal with my panics and the amount of hitting my head against a wall that this has made me do. Thank you so much, I could not have done this without you.

Tagging: @kmomof4 @teamhook @winterbaby89 @jonesfandonfanatic @undercaffinatednightmare @anmylica @elfiola @booksteaandtoomuchtv @tiganasummertree @motherkatereloyshipper @xarandomdreamx @myfearless-love @xhookswenchx @wefoundloveunderthelight @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @onceratheart18 @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @itsfabianadocarmo @ouatpost @ultraluckycatnd @thepirateandhisson @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @captainswan21 @spaceconveyor @pirateprincessofpizza @sparlecorn93 @hollyethecurious @ammelia @pawshapedheart

I’m rebooting my taglist at the end of this fic, so if you’d like to keep getting tagged, please DM me. Thanks

Full fic on AO3

- - - - -

The night was quiet as the trio of ladies walked into the abandoned building.

Too quiet.

The information had been leaked subtly about the goblin infestation in the warehouse. The goblins themselves had been promised immunity for their part in the ruse, as long as they agreed to a term of tenancy that the Nolans drew up with their Chief, aided by Tink as a neutral fae party. But the three women were going to ‘clear out’ the warehouse after much research about the size of the clan.

Emma would rather have been clearing the warehouse for real, but they needed an element of surprise beyond what they’d initially planned. The goblins understood the delicate balance of their world more than most gave them credit for. They were still mischievous tricksters, but they could be bargained with and tended to turn against evil more than they turned on the good. It was a risk, but one they’d had to take. They’d just had to prove that they were good and that Gold and Regina were evil.

All three women were armed to the teeth, but their ambushers would expect that considering what they were supposedly walking into. Goblins were known to turn on those they had smiled upon at a moment's notice for a perceived slight. But even so, they were still no match for two whole covens, plus whoever they’d managed to coerce, by themselves.

The factory was old, abandoned for decades, having passed through several hands that had done nothing with it as whatever industry it had been built for had died, or moved on to areas with cheaper real estate. The air was dank and musty, with a metallic hint of rust in it. The roof was broken in several places, and the drip of persistent leaks echoed around them amid their footfalls on the metal walkway that crossed this section of the factory.

The sunken level below them was a shallow stagnant pool of decaying leaves and rotting wood that had once been connected to the bits of machinery whose jagged edges stuck up out of the rusty ooze. Each drip from the roof disturbed the surface of the water, and Emma’s nose wrinkled in disgust at the smell.

The smell alone was enough to keep most people out, but goblin’s noses weren’t particularly well developed. They relied on keen vision, even in the dark and their sense of touch was wildly superior to even many supernaturals. They could feel vibrations in the earth around them, which was why they preferred abandoned places and tended to decide how bad people were by how much unnecessary noise they made.

But, Emma was not here for the goblins, and they knew that. Her and her mother’s footfalls were a warning of their entrance, but even if the goblins hadn’t known they were coming, Emma would have expected a flit of movement beneath the metal walkway, an indication of some kind that their sentries had seen them enter and were reporting back to their chief about the intruders. But they’d agreed to be transparent about their movements and there was none of that.

They were supposed to be here, to let them in… and let their ambushers in behind them.

There was something lurking in the darkness, her magic could feel it. But she couldn’t feel the goblins like she’d been able to when they’d met before. What she could feel was darker, more sinister, but in some weird way more familiar than the goblins.

- - - - -

Continues on AO3

[sosoawayrpg]

mods, eu tava aqui pensando... não sei se faz sentido ou se vocês aprovam, mas eu tava pensando em fazer uma das fadas do skeleton da bela adormecida e, de cara, me veio a vidia, de tinkerbell, na cabeça. eu sei que já tem um skeleton de peter pan e que a tink existe lá, mas, eu queria saber se vocês permitiriam trazer um personagem "canon" em uma vaga mais "aberta", como as das fadas.

a gente adoraria!

as vagas de fadas que tem no skeleton do peter pan são para vocês poderem trazer chars assim como a vidia, a rosetta, silvermist, ministro da primavera, ministra do inverno, todos eles.

E a Rainha Clarion é um dos nossos npcs.

[armoroadpasaran]

( ´ ▿ ` ) Hullo friends. I was defeatarized by Cthulhu again. Dat’s my fault dou. I forgotted to bring items. Like a silly fluff. But den I needed a break, so I haff been playing Don’t Starfe. Well. Don’t Starfe Togetter, but alone. An modded cuz it’s fun. An suddenly... seferal days had passeded.....

ヽ(*・ω・)ﾉ Oh! But aldou I did die many times. I nefer did starfe! So I tink. Dat still counts as winning. I wonned.

[dailyvriskas]

#3 of the 8fold series! clock is definitely my favorite of this round but tic tac toe is a close second

[burakku-jakku]

Vintage Princess Knight special edition poster (1960s)

(x)

[caregiver-twylas-daycare]

I DIDNT KNO THAT I CULD B LITTLE IN FICTIV MODE

this is revlation! i can be little girl!!!!! :D myb thas y i felt weird cuz iv only been lil boy an iv nevr been partial fictiv an lil at same time , an im rarly girl a t all bc im only grl wen in fictive mode an iv been avoding it for som reson :< myb bc im not usd to having a mama an i do hab a second mama if im fictiv

i lik wen partial ficive bc bc i feel les awkward tan wen im not an i tink im nicer ? myb tats y i gotted tis mode insted of jus chaos an whwole mode bc thos ons are strssful :(

aso is less tiring :D so wen is combind wit bein lil i mite be sooper less tird? dat wuld be cool

aslo i hab two mommas now :0 on i my dadas gf an te otters anoter ficive . my da didn kno he likd girls until he met moma

im supr happi dat te older hedmates are intracting wit te fictivs more btw :> w used to be seprated a bit from dem bu i tink tats changin an w can be frends esier! i wondr if anyon els in here has multipl modes other than actor/full mode (actor mod is bery common bc dada wantd to make sur we didn hurt anyon wile writing an we writ a lot) isa mystry y tere's so mny fictivs tho, but theyr cool folks :>

btw im watchin a horsie video wit a horse an i tink is gon be a good video :D bc thres a horse an animals good bu i was watchin a horor video befor an it had not so good anmals :(

do u lik horses ? i lik oter anmals mor but horses are pretti

Wow, that is so cool to hear! I love horses! I have rode one a few times when I was younger!

[hazyaltcare]

Im not sure if you’re fictionkin, but if you are, may I ask a question? Do you also get memories as your kin? Like I’ll sometimes get memories of doing something that my kin would do or being with people they know, or feeling at home where I rarely go to

(ex: i kin a character who ice skates and even though i am absolute trash ant ice skating and have only gone once, i have memories of me ice skating and doing amazing jumps, and i feel like im at home when im at an ice tink even though i rarely go to those)

Yes! That is completely normal to experience as fictionkin. Many people have kin memories and many also don't, and both are just as valid as fictionkin. Like me! Im coffret from heartcatch precure and i dont really remember much of anything from it, i just gots my kin feelings about it. But then as the lime crewmate from among us, i have some partial memories! Other members here have kins with no memories n' kins with extensive memories too! You are valid!!! 😺😺😺

Mod Haze (🎤Lumi)

[fandomshatepeopleofcolor]

i find it very disingenuous to say that the only people who are complaining about the peter pan and wendy movie are white, or that there's anything suspicious about it. sure, i cant prove it (on anon), but my sister and i (both black) have been fans of the peter pan story for years and think that the disney+ version is bad for a variety of reasons, nothing to do with diversity (as i'm assuming that other anon was implying). plenty of peter pan adaptations are diverse (hook, the syfy neverland miniseries, fox's peter pan and the pirates), a couple portraying peter as black (wendy, come away- both movies from 2020). it's a shame that people are pointing at yara playing tink as the problem (or alexander playing peter), when the whole cast could be white and it would still be a lackluster film. not liking a movie doesnt suddenly make fans of color "white"

in that same vein, i'll be out to support the lice action little mermaid, but the cgi of the backgrounds and animals, as well as the coloring and lighting, looks bad. so i'm there to support halle, but if it's a bad movie i'm not gonna pretend it's not (like with peter pan and wendy)

you're entitled to your opinion ofc. I never said poc all had to agree with me. but as someone who watched the original cartoon on repeat and watched peter pan 2003 about a dozen times when the movie came out on dvd peter pan and wendy really had lots of nostalgia for me. like I owned hook since it came out on vhs and I was obsessed with it because Rufio was filipino and my grandfather was filipino. like yeah it was more diverse than what had come before but it still didn't give us a legacy character from the original jm barrie works that were racebent. And like yes you say you didn't like this adaptation but you don't mention those reasons. Like I was thinking of making a video on this adaptation and I hope you don't mind but I'm using this as an example of ppl holding diverse adaptations to higher standards than the original *white* versions.

Like at this point I'm not even gonna guess at what your complaints are because I will literally get more out of views on youtube for a video. so come back later when I've written, shot, edited a review on why this is legitimately a great step forward in peter pan adaptations and I enjoyed it quite a lot.

mod ali

PS I've also seen the syfy peter pan adaptation with the amazing Q'orianka kilcher (who btw not nearly enough ppl used to fancast her as Katniss everdeen but I digress). It was ok but it felt a bit like Battlestar Galactica where a miniseries was done with the intent to launch a show and then the show never happened. Whereas with Peter Pan and Wendy you can totally see a franchise coming about from this and it would be LOADS better than say OAUTs Peter pan.