#so he sets his personal desires aside to support Roger the way he's supposed to

[muselexum]

At what point do you think Rayleigh realized that Roger would never be just his and decided to hang up his desire for that forever?

[walviemort]

hidden blessing (7/?)

Summary: Killian thought the only thing he was left with after Milah’s death was a broken heart and a thirst for vengeance. It’s not until he gets to Storybrooke, after so many years spent in stasis, that he discovers something else: he’s carrying her child. How does this new, tiny blessing change his path? (Canon-divergent from 2x12.)

rated T | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | AO3 | 3.4k

a/n: Sorry for the long gap between chapters! Life and all that. But hopefully there will be less gap between this and the next ones, and hope it was worth the wait!

To Killian’s surprise, part of Emma’s plan of preparation was rest; she was pointedly looking at him when she made the suggestion, and honestly, he’d been too relieved at the idea to say anything against it. Even more shockingly, Regina agreed, and for the first time since they’d set foot in this accursed land, Killian finally felt rested; even the nausea had abated, though he was sure it wouldn’t last long.

What did concern him, however, was the sound of David struggling once they finally set off toward Pan’s camp. Snow teased him, but Killian was worried that his brush with the Lost One’s arrow had been far too close.

And then, of course, Pan moved the camp—in the opposite direction that they’d been moving. As usual, Regina was quick to blame him and call for the use of magic. Which was a terrible idea, and he told her so, but did give him another.

“How are we going to find it?” she sniped.

“By using someone he trusts,” he replied, patience waning.

“Who?” David challenged. “Because I guess he certainly doesn't trust you.”

He’d never gain ground with David, would he? “A fairy who lived here when I was about,” he explained, ignoring the jab. “She might still be on the island. She'd be an inside source, knows all about the camp, can get us in. She might even have some pixie dust left. Perhaps we could fly in.”

In the continuation of their hot-and-cold relationship, David supported the idea—and Emma apparently discovered another person she knew to be fictional was real. If he ended up raising this child in Storybrooke, he’d have to be sure to keep such tales far away from them.

They redirected, but David was flagging. And Killian hated that he knew why.

It took some prodding, but David eventually was convinced to show Killian his injury, lifting his shirt just enough to expose his lower abdomen. The more hormonal part of Killian was slightly jealous of the man’s not only flat, but incredibly well toned stomach, briefly mourning the loss of his own, but it gave way to dread: there was a long, shallow slice along David’s side, and black veins were already spreading from the cut.

And yet, David still tried to argue that “The arrow only nicked me.”

But Killian had seen enough brushes with the vile poison to know what lay ahead. The sight turned his stomach, dredging up painful memories. But the stubborn prince wouldn’t heed his advice to tell his family.

“Pixie dust,” David insisted was the answer. “You believe in this Tinker Bell's power? In her pixie dust?”

“Indeed, I do.” Tink had never given him reason not to. (Though, to be fair, most of their interactions were a bit more physical than verbal, and with the way the slightest thing had him aroused right now, he didn’t dare wander down that path of memory.)

“Then let's get her and that dust.”

It was hard to argue with that.

Her treehouse was still in the same spot; given his familiarity, he headed up first, only to find it empty. (Although still far too familiar; memories of one particular night spent in that hammock definitely stirred some things he hadn’t wanted stirred. Bloody hormones.)

Thankfully his pants were still loose enough to hide anything he didn’t want shown as the rest of the crew joined him in the treehouse, although their search came up empty.

Well, not entirely—while Emma and Snow were reminiscing on the hovel’s resemblance to some places they’d lived, David uncovered a handkerchief. Of Regina’s.

He should have known Tink would be steps ahead of them; she usually was.

Thankfully, she hadn’t caused Regina any harm—and Emma managed to convince her to join them. He wasn’t really surprised—Emma clearly had that way with lost souls such as themselves—though he had assumed his own rapport with the fairy would be required. 

(He was pleased, however, that Tink was not averse to his flirtations, even if she was no longer the main object of them.)

Their shared history meant she could read him too well, though. On the trek back to their campsite, she sidled up to him. “So who knocked you up?” she bluntly whispered.

How the hell could she tell? Not that it really mattered, he supposed. “First time you’ve seen me in 30 years and that’s your first question?”

“Well, you weren’t the last time I saw you. Oh god—it wasn’t me, was it?”

He chuckled. “No, lass, it was not.” He had a keen memory for these things and he and Tink, despite the numerous positions they explored, never managed the specific one required for conception. “And actually, I was when you last saw me; I just didn’t know it yet.”

The moment of realization was visible on her face. “Oh my goodness. Then let me say congratulations.”

“Thanks, love.”

She then punched him in the shoulder. “You better be damn careful.”

“Bloody hell; that doesn’t exactly help.”

She helped them gather up some coconuts to share before settling in for the night (or whatever part of day it was; his circadian rhythm was definitely off, and his random bouts of fatigue didn’t help). After they’d passed them around, he sat down and was starting to notch a hole in one with his hook when Emma took a seat next to him.

“Hey, are you doing okay?” she asked quietly. “Stomach feeling alright and everything?”

He was speechless for a moment; despite her previous admission, he was surprised she cared. But her green eyes were staring him down, demanding an answer. “Aye; nothing too bad today; thank you for asking.” He broke through to the hollow core of the coconut and handed it to Emma. She took a sip and smiled.

“Damn, that’s good. I didn’t just take yours, did I?” He replied by grabbing another one and holding it aloft. “Good. You need to stay hydrated.”

“I’m aware, doctor.”

She snorted at that and took another sip, but then her smile drifted away as she swallowed. “So, uh, you seemed to know Tink pretty well.”

“Aye, you could say that; we go back quite far.”

“Were you two—is she—?” Emma stammered, then nodded toward his midsection. He had to bite back a laugh.

“Yes and no,” he answered. “We did know each other intimately, but not that intimately.”

She adorably scrunched her face in confusion, then shrugged. “Okay, I was just curious. You still need to explain all that to me, but not tonight.”

“No, not tonight; you better rest up.”

“You too, okay?”

“Aye, captain.”

She rolled her eyes, but stood and headed back toward where her parents sat. The longer he spent in her presence, the more he felt it when she left. This was definitely not the time or place to be warring with those feelings, but he couldn’t seem to help it. He was mature enough to set them aside and focus on the bigger picture—saving Henry and escaping this cursed realm—but bloody hell was it difficult.

The near-constant flutters within began their tiny dance again; he hoped the way his hand rested on his belly was perceived as casual. Feeling that was yet another reminder of his goals here: to make it out alive for the sake of the babe, and let no harm come to them. 

He was allowed to have some fun along the way, though—right?

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

Of course, those moments were few and far between. The next day brought Tink’s uncomfortable reminder that they’d yet to figure out a way out of Neverland, and led them chasing ghosts across the island as he brought them to Bae’s old hideaway.

He had never let the lad know that he was aware of its location. Or that he’d been keeping an eye on him ever since he left the Roger. That was still his greatest regret, and he hoped no one noticed the tears brimming at his eyes as he moved to uncover the entrance to Bae’s cave.

Deflection usually helped; he did find a brief moment to engage Emma, but David stepped in before she could reply. It was hard to tell if it was fatherly protection or pure stubbornness against his own fate that was the motivation. Of course, David didn’t want to hear another lecture about his situation as they opened the cave, but he got one anyway; perhaps this pregnancy was elevating Killian’s already intense protective instincts, but the man’s insistence on hiding his condition was infuriating and heartbreaking.

Honestly, the only thing that kept him back from really tearing into David was Emma calling out for him from the cave. His heart gave a leap at that, one that was clearly distinguishable from the rolling of his stomach that typically accompanied nausea, and he headed in with one last glance at David. He could deal with him later, but he’d not leave a lady waiting.

“What is this place? What are we doing here?” she demanded impatiently, trying to make out anything in the dark of the cave. Ever one for the dramatic reveal, Killian headed straight to a waiting torch on the back wall and quickly made to light it with his flint against his hook. At least, he had hoped it would be quickly, but the ever present humidity made that difficult; and then David was again pushing him aside with some firestarter from his realm. Bloody hell, was that man stubborn. But it had the desired effect, and Emma quickly realized where they were. “Neal,” she said on a breath, studying the chalk drawings that covered nearly every surface. “This is where he lived.” 

“Aye,” he confirmed. “Baelfire spent some time in Neverland as a boy. This was his home.” His eyes were immediately drawn to a reproduction of the port and starboard coordinates that were still etched into the Jolly Roger’s helm, sending a wave of guilt and sadness through him.

The group wasted no time in beginning to search for a clue as to how Bae had left; clearly, it had been in a rush. And if Killian used it as an excuse to hover around Emma...well, that was his business. 

“Anything important?” he asked as she inspected the wall.

“I can't tell yet. I didn't know he liked drawing.” 

“He got it from his mother,” Killian found himself blurting out; it was also easy to see Milah’s influence in Bae’s style, and his hand immediately fluttered to his belly on instinct. Emma gave him a sympathetic half smile, but then turned her attention back to the task at hand—and in the process, discovered the way off...partly. 

It was a rather ingenious device, he had to admit: a star map hidden in a coconut. Practical and creative; he couldn’t help the rush of pride he felt when he explained it to the group.

“Then you can read it,” Regina stated, uncharacteristically hopeful. Which made the next part all the harder. 

“Sadly, no.” Because of course, Bae had made sure to encode the coordinates in a manner that only he could read.

“Which means the only person who can read it is dead,” Emma summarized, clearly upset. She tossed the map aside and hurried out of the cave in a fluster. Her parents tried to follow, but didn’t get far before she told them she needed space.

Kililan only waited a minute before following.

She was only a few yards outside the cave entrance, forearm pressed against a tree as she stared at the ground and, most likely, was trying not to express any undesired emotion.

“You alright, love?” he said quietly, not wanting to startle her. 

She huffed. “No, not really. Just one step forward and three back, every fucking day.”

She continued to rant without any input from him—about the jungle, about Pan, about missing Henry, and her mixed feelings toward Bae. And it became abundantly clear to Killian that she needed a respite (he certainly could use one, too).

He knew just the place, too. “Swan, can I show you something?”

“Is it another way off the island?”

“Afraid not, but I think it’s what you need right now.”

She sighed, mildly defeated (which was still as much as he’d ever seen from her), but nodded.

It was a short walk to their destination—still within earshot of the Charmings if needed—but far enough to give them both some needed room to breathe. He brushed back a swag of foliage (after checking for dreamshade) and gestured for Emma to step through. 

Years ago, he’d discovered the small spring here; one of the few parts of the island not bent on murdering its inhabitants. The water was fresh and cool, and various fruits and edible plants grew around the edge. Back then, he’d made a point to keep access to it open for Bae; he was relieved to see nothing had changed, save for the few vines grown over the entrance. 

“It’s beautiful,” Emma sighed—a heavy thing of both awe and relief. 

“Aye. Only a few places like it on the island.”

“Let me guess: the water is acid or something?”

He chuckled. “Blessedly, no. It’s one of the safest places here, actually. Bae would come here often—for water, and to bathe.”

She sighed. “Yeah, one of those sounds great right about now.”

“Go right ahead,” he said, gesturing to the spring. “I’ll keep a lookout for you.”

She arched an eyebrow and smirked. “How do I know this isn’t just a ploy to get me out of my clothes? Don’t forget: I know what pregnancy hormones are like.”

She wasn’t wrong, and he couldn’t help the rush of thrill when she flirted with him like that, sarcastic as it was—or the slight southern rush of blood. “Well, I had planned to do the same, if you’d offer me the same courtesy once you’re done.”

“Okay. But turn around,” she directed. He couldn’t say no to that.

He also wasn’t about to divulge the places his imagination wandered as he heard the gentle splashes of water as she cleaned herself.

She didn’t take long—he could tell she was used to being efficient when it came to hygiene, like he was—and was fully dressed by the time he turned around, though her wet hair was still dripping. And he was more relieved than he planned on that she was already facing away when it came time to remove his tunic; he was by no means ashamed of the curve of his belly, but showing off something that was apparently unnatural to the woman he fancied was suddenly a mortifying endeavor.

He was quick, too, in washing up, and in getting redressed—at least his tunic; he let his vest hang unbuttoned for a bit. It had also been a minor bit of relief to undo it, and he’d need a moment to subtly loosen the laces in order to make it both more comfortable and better disguise his slight bump.

He’d given Emma the all clear to turn around before he did that, though, lest she get suspicious. Although—she seemed mildly disappointed when she did.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“Nothing, just...you didn’t have to hide your bump, if that’s what you were doing,” she said, avoiding his gaze.

“Bummed you couldn’t see me shirtless?” he quipped.

That drew a wry, side-eyed grin from her, before she sat down on a stone near the edge of the spring and took a long sip from her freshly filled jug. There was enough space on it next to her for another person to join, but he didn’t want to impose...at least, not until she called out, “Are you gonna join me or not?”

He picked up his vest and coat from where he’d left them in the sand of the small beach and made his way over, then settled next to her. She passed over the canteen; the water was cool and refreshing—and he nearly dropped it when the babe gave a strong kick. “I guess this one likes it too,” he said after he passed it back, and let his hand rest over his belly. It wasn’t often he felt strong movements like that, but each one was reassuring—that his babe was safe from all the dangers of this murderous island.

“Have they been doing that a lot?” Emma asked.

“Here and there; that’s one of the stronger ones I’ve felt.”

“I remember when Henry first did that,” she started. “I dropped my lunch tray, I was so startled. And they wouldn’t give me any more food. But it was...kind of incredible.”

He only understood half those words, but understood the sentiment. “I was still locked up in Tamara’s apartment when I felt the first one.”

“What a coincidence; I was in prison.”

He was growing to hate the number of parallels in their lives.

“Anyways—how’s everything else? Any nausea, cravings, anything?”

It was touching that she was so concerned, but he didn’t dare complain about anything other than the intermittent nausea. As she’d said, she knew about the hormones. “Although, my boots have been annoying tight,” he did add, “and I need to loosen my vest a bit.”

Her eyes had drifted to his midsection, but quickly glanced up. He couldn’t fault her for being curious, so he tugged the edge of his tunic up to reveal his stomach.

“Aww, that’s a cute bump,” she gushed; it was an odd thing to say, he thought, but she clearly meant it as a compliment. “You said sixteen weeks, right?”

“Aye,” he answered, impressed she remembered.

“Yeah, I think that’s where I was with Henry around then. I carried it all in front, apparently.” She quickly grew quiet, and he could tell that wasn’t the sort of thing she shared with too many people. But then her expression grew quizzical. “Can I ask...how, or where, exactly are you carrying?”

“I clearly have a womb,” he said, trying to make light of what was clearly going to be an awkward anatomical conversation.

“Well, yeah, but…you’re a guy. Also clearly,” she responded, eyes glancing at his groin.

“Yes; I have both, then, if that’s what you’re asking, but my womb is...I suppose less functional than yours.”

“So...what, you don’t get periods or something? How does this all work?”

He chuckled at her bluntness and explained—how his womb was something of a secondary characteristic, menstruation only occurred once a year or so, and conception was also only possible at a specific time and when the female partner was on top (a fact that made her blush). “Milah and I...our last joining before she died, it would have been the right circumstances, but given how slim the chances of conception were, it wasn’t something we were concerned with.”

“It only takes once,” she said knowingly.

“That it does,” he agreed.

They settled into an easy silence, and the baby started kicking again, even more once he put his palm over it.

“Do you...want to feel it?” he asked; no one but the doctor had thus far, but he knew women and their partners and friends usually shared those moments. They counted as friends, right?

He was worried she might think he was crossing a line, but she grinned. “Yeah!”

Gently, he took her hand and placed it over the spot just to the side of his navel where the babe was pressing. Hopefully, she didn’t notice his quick intake of breath at the feel of her warm palm on his skin.

If she did, it was quickly forgotten when the little one was kicking at her hand; her eyes lit up. “Hey there, kid,” she said softly. “Look at you, growing big and strong.”

She looked up at him, smiling—and very close to him, a fact she too seemed to suddenly realize, and she quickly moved away. 

They lingered at the pond a while longer, enjoying the respite from the craziness of their journey. 

But Killian couldn’t stop his heart from racing, and he wasn’t sure if it was from Emma’s proximity, or her interest in his babe, or both.

(Emma, she was surprised to find, was facing a similar predicament. She couldn’t linger on it, she knew, but maybe when they were done, she could try to figure out what that meant.)

But for one minute, they were just two friends enjoying a quiet moment.

————————————————–

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[foeseekerwriter]

VLD Cast, Sorting Hat Chats Style

So if you aren’t aware, the Sorting Hat Chats are an absolutely incredible method of character analysis (and it’s lots of fun for real people too!) and I use it all. The. Time. So, since I’m working on a VLD project, I decided to do a breakdown. Cliffnotes version of the SHC sorting method: everyone has a “primary” house - why you do something - and a “secondary” house” - how you do something. Here’s a really oversimplified breakdown of both sets.

Primaries Gryffindor - gut instinct, “this is the right thing to do” Ravenclaw - analysis, a morality system, “this is truth” Hufflepuff - community-oriented, loyal to groups, what is best for everyone Slytherin - loyal to their people, take care of them above all else

Secondaries Gryffindor - charge, take things head-on Ravenclaw - contingency plans, mix and match premade methods to adapt Hufflepuff - toil, steady work, often lean on other people to help get things done Slytherin - adaptability in the moment, a tendency to swap masks

All the houses, both primary and secondary, can be “burned”. In the case of a primary this means losing faith in your natural primary (e.g. a Gryffindor who no longer trusts their gut instinct). For a secondary, this means you’re just slogging through trying to get things done any way possible. Primaries and secondaries can also be modeled. Slytherin primaries, for example, often model other primaries in situations where what they’re dealing with doesn’t touch upon “their people”, but everyone can model to some degree for another (for both healthy and unhealthy reasons). A less strong version of modeling is performing, where someone takes on the appearance of another house but it doesn’t feel natural to them.

For a variety of reasons, unless otherwise indicated, I am only using material up through season 6, just so you’re aware.

Anyway, here goes.

MAIN CAST

Shiro—Gryffindor/Hufflepuff

This boi is an overwhelmingly Gryffindor primary. He is willing to throw himself into any and every situation, no matter how hopeless or deadly, if he thinks that is the right thing to do. Witness his determination to find Ulaz and the Blades despite Allura's outspoken protests and the fact that he was going off hazy memories and a gut feeling. It is worth noting, though, that if Allura had really put her foot down on that matter I do think Shiro would have obeyed—reluctantly, but he would have. And although he willingly allows other people, people he cares about, to go into danger—or even sends them there—if that's the right thing to do, whenever possible he does the dangerous thing himself or leads the others into the danger. He's not actively looking to get killed, contrary to all the "guess I'll die" Shiro jokes, but doing the right thing is definitely higher on his priority list than keeping himself safe.

Shiro is a Hufflepuff secondary. He is steady, dependable, works hard, makes people feel safe, is quietly caring, and chips steadily and persistently away at problems ranging from convincing his friends get some sleep to saving the universe. It is this trustworthy, community-focused secondary that gives his primary its great warmth. It also lends to his tendency to “feel” his way through things instead of “think” through them—not that he doesn’t think at all, but he is willing almost more than anyone else in the cast to make decisions off gut feeling instead of careful logic.

(Incidentally, this Gryffindor/Hufflepuff combo may be where the writer criticisms of “Shiro is boring” come from. Healthy, passionate Gryffindors, especially those with the warm and loving Hufflepuff secondary, have a totally undeserved reputation for being uninteresting because they tend to be uninclined to moral angst - which a lot of people seem to think is the only thing that makes characters interesting - and typically don’t spend huge amounts of time thinking through problems. What makes them interesting is not how much they beat themselves up or agonize over their decisions but the depth and passion of their convictions in the face of all odds, and their ability to inspire others toward something better. They are strongest in a group, and they often wind up the leader not from any desire for power but because they engender trust in others. Steve Rogers and Clark Kent, two other fantastic characters who are often unjustly labeled as boring or shallow, share this sorting, by the way. Steve’s sorting you can find on the Sorting Hat Chats. Clark is my own analysis, mostly based in the Young Justice cartoon.)

The overall resilience of this Gryffinpuff sorting can truly be astounding, especially considering that it tends to be a highly idealistic, optimistic combination—ideals and optimism that at best the world often laughs at and at worst spits on and crushes underfoot. In the short term this can be horribly debilitating, which we see most clearly in Shiro after Allura is captured near the end of S1. When he steps out of that escape pod to face the rest of the team is perhaps the lowest we see him in the entire show. But the paradoxical resilience of this combination also allows him to bounce back quite quickly, the strength and passion of his ingrained beliefs and convictions buoying him up in the longer term as he plunges back in to right the wrongs. This is likely how he survived Galra captivity without burning either his primary or his secondary. Most of the others would likely have burned at least one of these, emerging broken or angry and with a much grimmer outlook on the world. Shiro makes it through with his optimistic approach to life largely intact based on what we see of him pre-Kerberos—acknowledging that the world can be gritty and cruel and painful but determined to do everything he can to make it better, determined that it is possible for it to be better, and trying (without much effort) to see the best in every person and situation.

This is how Shiro leads, and this is how he best fights: with people he has brought together at his side to watch his back, to trust and to be trusted, to point the way and inspire others with his convictions and then to lead a motley but effective team toward a chosen goal with the noblest of desires and intentions at the fore. He is certainly willing to fight alone, but whenever he does his fights have a desperate, last-ditch feel—taking Matt’s place in the arena, defending Lance and the Castle against Sendak, facing Haggar on the Galra ship. He is much more comfortable—and much more effective—when he has a team around him on whom he relies and who rely on him. As the leader of Voltron, Shiro regularly leans on the improvisational secondaries of Keith and Lance to come at a problem, and on the foundational secondaries of Pidge and Hunk to figure out how to come at the problem in the first place. It is this natural tendency to encourage and foster teamwork, combined with Shiro’s determined Gryffindor moral compass, that makes team Voltron under Shiro so effective and unified.

Interestingly, it is this trustworthiness and tendency toward reliance on gut instinct that get everyone in trouble with Kuron. Because they’re used to Shiro’s “I can’t necessarily explain this but I have a feeling” MO, and because he’s simply a dependable person who engenders trust in those around him, the rest of the team doesn’t question (much) Kuron’s insistence that they support Lotor until it’s far too late.

 Keith—Slytherin/Gryffindor

Keith's Achilles heel is his friends—first, last, and always. He is willing to throw aside the fate of the universe to save one person, and he wouldn't even bat an eye about it. He breaks into a Garrison facility to rescue Shiro, he jeopardizes their mission to the Blades' base because he hopes to find out more about his family, he fights Zarkon alone to save Shiro, his desperation to help his friends allows him to join with astral-Shiro to unlock the Black Lion’s teleporting ability... His friends and family are his whole world, Shiro more than anyone else.

He tries really hard to model Shiro’s Gryffindor primary, but the poor boy is so bad at it that it really is only a performance, and a half-baked one at that. Almost every single attempt to use this performance gets him into trouble, even with Shiro, whom he’s trying to emulate in the first place. A couple examples of this are when he proposes leaving Allura in Zarkon’s captivity and his kamikaze attack on the Galra cruiser. Neither of these choices feel natural to him; he is trying and failing to do what he thinks he is supposed to do, not what he feels is right or what he wants. He does pull it off successfully a couple times, most notably in the first episode when he advocates for staying on Arus instead of running away, but this is definitely the exception versus the rule and likely had some of his Slytherin primary loyalty behind it (“if these people knew what was happening they’d be counting on me, I can’t let them down”).

I think Keith is actually a burned Slytherin and has kicked himself out of his loyalty circle. He remains devoted to his friends, especially Shiro, but he shows little to no concern for himself. Shiro’s return loyalty and devotion helps keep this burning in check, at the very least by watching out for Keith when Keith won’t watch out for himself, but when Shiro disappears and Keith is forced into a leadership role the burning spirals out of control. It reaches its climax with his kamikaze attack in S4. This burned state gives a desperate edge to his Gryffindor secondary.

Keith’s Gryffindor secondary is loud and brash and is basically summarized by his go-to strategy in almost every circumstance, that being, “I run in and I stab it.” This makes him prone to open-mouth-insert-foot moments, as well as jumping into hot water and needing his friends to bail him out, but it can also make him highly effective when this charging tendency is properly applied. For example, when he and Lance were infiltrating the hangar on the balmera Lance got them there using his come-at-things-sideways Slytherin secondary, but once in the control room he kept looking for a complicated solution to getting the doors open. Keith saved them a lot of time and effort by just putting his hand on the handprint.

This overall Slytherdor combination is what makes leadership so difficult for Keith. Without a reliable primary model to fall back on when something doesn’t land within the bounds of his Slytherin primary, and not having developed a way to keep his charging tendencies in enough check to prevent him and his friends from getting killed, he is not prepared to have team Voltron dropped on his shoulders. He already doesn’t have much confidence in his own ability to handle things or his own instincts about what he should or shouldn’t do, a confidence that Shiro was only just able to keep afloat. Sans Shiro, Keith falls into further loss of self-loyalty and trust in his own ability to manage a given situation (greatly exacerbated by the epic failure of his first mission as Black’s pilot, where Lotor spent the better part of a day running circles around them). In an attempt to cling to something, anything, to give him a foundation as a leader, Keith winds up leaning heavily on a combination of Lance’s Ravenclaw/Slytherin personality and his own very contrived Gryffindor performance. This doesn’t work very well and is one of the reasons team Voltron under Keith feels a lot shakier than it does under Shiro.

In addition, when Kuron takes over Black and Keith leaves for the Blades, the team still feels unbalanced without Keith’s Slytherin primary to help them stay focused on nearest people and priorities first and his Gryffindor secondary to help them charge at the problems that can be charged at. Just because Keith has loose cannon tendencies on his own doesn’t mean he’s not an effective and necessary part of the team makeup. (And by the way, leaving for the Blades is about the only healthily selfish choice we see him make in the whole show, and even that was largely motivated by his Gryffindor performance of “this is the right thing to do so I should do it”; whatever idiot on the writing crew decided that the whole team would jump on his case for this decision needs to step on a Lego.)

In Keith’s (and Shiro’s) defense, given enough time to grow and mature his true primary; develop a healthy, workable Gryffindor (or really any) primary model; and get a bit more control over his Gryffindor secondary tendency to charge, Keith really does have the potential to be a downright incredible leader. A couple great examples of Slytherdor characters are Han Solo, who winds up an excellent and effective leader in the resistance by the end of Episode VI, and Zuko, whose leadership potential gets most fully explored in the truly epic and renowned fanfic Embers by Vathara in which he… well, it’s awesome. (The Sorting Hat Chats folks narrow Zuko down to either Hufflepuff or Slytherin primary. Based on Embers, I think he’s modeling burned Hufflepuff primary at first and eventually loses it in favor of his natural Slytherin primary.) This sorting combo in potential leaders means they tend to take a long time to get to the point where they can be reliably trusted with the lives of others, and even when they do get there they’re often fighting for the cause of “this affects my people so I need to do something”. That doesn’t make them any less effective at what they do, however, and Keith has the potential to reach this place given time, nurturing, and proper motivation. He’s just pushed into a leadership role way too early and not given the sort of support system that would actually allow him to grow and mature while in this position.

Krolia especially has the potential to really help him with this growth, because that woman is an amazing and unapologetic Slytherin primary and her entire life and work is built around it. This both baffles and awes Keith, who assumes Krolia left him and his father for “the mission”—a Gryffindor-esque reason that Keith thinks he should have and tries so hard to believe in, and fails. Krolia without a moment’s hesitation replies, “I did it to protect the person I love most in the world—you.” Given time and the chance to see her in action I think Keith could really grow and mature his own primary based on what he sees in his mother. Add in the return of Shiro to regain his basis and guide for a Gryffindor primary model, plus learning to rely on other people to get things done when he can’t, and down the road I do think Keith could be a leadership force to be reckoned with.

 Lance—Ravenclaw/Slytherin

This guy was hard to pin down, as not only is the Ravenclaw primary typically the most adaptable primary (and has the potential to resemble any of the others) but also Lance starts out with the least mature primary of the whole cast, and he changes quite a bit over the story. He's definitely got a feel for right and wrong, which is assisted in its maturation by the confident and outspoken Gryffindor primaries of both Shiro and Allura, but more than either of them Lance approaches situations acknowledging his gut feeling and then asking "why". See 1x04 when he and Coran are leaving the bridge and Lance senses something’s wrong. Instead of immediately bolting he goes, “Wait, where’s Pidge?” and tries to figure out what’s going on.

Unlike some Ravenclaws he doesn't entirely dismiss his intuition, but he's much more laid-back about his approach to a situation then his Gryffindor leaders, interested in looking at all the angles of a problem before finding a middle ground that best fits the facts of the scenario. With said Gryffindor leaders he usually gets along fine, and he plays an important role as Shiro’s lancer by poking at the black paladin’s gut instincts to see the logic behind them, as well as by utilizing his spur-of-the-moment Slytherin secondary to get things done. He does tend to get frustrated with charge-in-half-cocked Keith, however, since an approach like that for Lance means risking the possibility of jumping to conclusions before an accurate picture has been obtained.

Lance's Slytherin secondary is what makes him the yin to Keith's yang, at least when it comes to combat, as this secondary’s highly adaptable strategic abilities makes him excellent at handling himself and other people in the heat of battle. The red and blue paladins work best together when Lance comes up with a plan and then lets Keith charge it headlong. It's worth noting that Lance is not involved in pre-combat strategy all that much. It is in the middle of combat where he shines, taking situational awareness to a whole new level and quickly formulating battle plans on the spot to adapt to changing circumstances and take advantage of unexpected opportunities.

This Ravenclaw/Slytherin combo makes Lance a quiet information gatherer—not the “knowledge for the sake of it” type like Pidge, or even actively seeking knowledge at all, but more someone who quietly files away facts and tidbits gathered through passive observation for when they might be useful. No one realizes he does this until he casually spits out a perfect conversion of minutes to doboshes or points out an alternate route nobody else noticed. This means he doesn’t always come across as intelligent, but when everything hits the fan he’s probably got a supremely practical collection of data that will be hugely useful in getting everyone out of whatever scrape they find themselves in this time.

When push comes to shove Lance has the potential to be an immovable rock—a Ravenclaw primary certain in his truth and a Slytherin secondary who knows where he stands. We haven’t really had the opportunity to see this in the show, however, both because Lance hasn’t been put into a situation where it’s called for and because he struggles with insecurity. Unlike Keith, whose insecurity comes from a belief that his instinctual priorities are screwed up and he can’t trust himself, Lance’s insecurity stems from the fact that, especially as a Slytherin secondary, he swaps masks moment to moment and so struggles with a two-fold problem of longing to “be real” and fear of being “found out”. He very rarely drops the masks to enter the Slytherin secondary “neutral state”, something that takes confidence and trust in the people around him; we really have only seen him do it for more than a few seconds when he’s talking to the mice in S5. (For an example of a confident Slytherin secondary who actually spend most of her time in the neutral state, look no further than Toph Bei Fong.) This exacerbates the insecurity problem because Lance is so desperately attached to his masks that he hasn’t looked beneath them much, so he struggles with self-understanding.

Lance has additionally been further crippled by the fact that Keith, as team leader, latched on to him as both a moral compass and strategist. The net result was that Lance effectively led the team by proxy, figuring out what they should do in a given situation and even if they should do it at all. It also locked Lance into the role of Keith’s right-hand man when Lance actually operates at his best shifting to fit whatever position is necessary at the time. He is most naturally a jack-of-all-trades (further exacerbating his feelings of isolation and uselessness, as he doesn’t have a “thing”), but being forced to act as Keith’s steering wheel and leash didn’t leave him much opportunity to do anything else. With Kuron as black paladin Lance still is stuck in this position to a degree, since he has to take over the role of charger that Keith left vacant (which leaves some of the adaptability to Allura, who is able to pull it off thanks to her Ravenclaw secondary but isn’t as natural as Lance when doing it). This situation, especially taking on the charger role, is threatening to burn Lance’s secondary. I get the impression that this has already started to occur, as our favorite blue boy is starting to seem more and more worn down as the story goes on.

What Lance needs is for someone to help him see that having masks isn’t a bad thing, and also that taking them off is okay. He actually could learn a lot from Shiro, who was quietly supporting him through S1 and 2, and from Keith, whose brash honesty about who he is (even if he doesn’t like it) is a great opportunity for Lance to gain some confidence. He needs to grasp firmly at truth so that truth can set him free, and then that freedom will give him the solid foundation to plant his feet when the need arises and tell the world, “No, you move.”

 Pidge—Slytherin/Ravenclaw

At first gloss Pidge looks like a straight Ravenclaw, nerdy and obsessed with knowledge. And she definitely has a strong love of truth for truth’s sake and seeks out knowledge like a squirrel does acorns. However, once you start poking under the surface, this Ravenclaw primary-ness is in fact a very robust model bolstered by her Ravenclaw secondary. Her true primary is Slytherin, made evident by the fact that she is willing to throw everything out the window, go to any and all lengths, in order to help her family and friends. She even tells us this in 1x04 when she says to Allura, “My first priority is finding my family.”

This Slytherin primary is healthier and more mature than Keith’s, and it’s clearly been Pidge’s driving force her whole life. She’s got that healthy Slytherin self-interest, always pushing herself to be the best (at least when it comes to science, tech, and engineering). This drive is fueled by her honest love of knowledge, certainly, but also by her desire to be the best, not because she has any interest in rubbing it in people’s faces but because it’s something she wants. (What pride we do see in her usually stems from a job well done versus being smug about her intellectual superiority as such. One thing that’s fantastic about her journey as green paladin is her coming to realize and appreciate how much she doesn’t and can never know.)

She is fiercely devoted to her people above and beyond any semblance of logic. Witness her decision to leave team Voltron to go find Matt and Sam, despite the fact that (as the team and circumstances eventually convince her) she is best served in that endeavor by remaining with the team. When Zarkon uses Sam as a hostage to bargain for Lotor Pidge is beside herself at even the slightest suggestion that they won’t do everything possible to get her father back. Even Matt, who is definitely upset, doesn’t show nearly the same amount of wild desperation. And it is her devotion to her team that enables her to unlock the Green Lion’s vine cannon. She can and often does channel her Ravenclaw secondary when going about her commitment to her people—for example, creating an entire new identity for herself in order to infiltrate the Garrison and find her family, as well as building technology capable of scanning alien radio chatter. But that application of knowledge serves the larger purpose of finding and helping those she loves the most.

With her Ravenclaw secondary Pidge hoards knowledge of all kinds, though she tends to focus on science—specifically physics, engineering, and computers. She is all about contingency plans, tinkering with things to see what new stuff she can get it to do, breaking things into their component parts and mixing them up. She’s not an on-the-spot improviser like Lance; instead, she has a vast array of systems and methods that she switches between and sometimes smashes together in order to tackle a problem. On Olkarion she takes her understanding of binary and puts it into a new environment, enabling her to use their plant-based tech. She reverse engineers the maze walls to develop her own cloaking tech. Like her “Galra tracker” she puts the world through a filter of logic and data and breaks things apart to find patterns and methodologies. This gives her an impressive amount of adaptability within the wide limits of these operational methods, as she is able to take plans and processes and apply them or rearrange them to fit her purposes.

 Hunk—Hufflepuff/Hufflepuff

I don't think there's any doubt in anyone's mind that Hunk is a Hufflepuff primary. He loves people and community and has a deep, iron streak of justice that is terrifying when it comes out. A gentle soul, he still is willing to do whatever it takes to help the most in need, even if that means laying down on the wire or borderline bullying people into getting things done. This desire for justice overrides even his strong sense of self-preservation, which does tend to come across as cowardliness when contrasted with bold Gryffindor primaries like Shiro and Allura or everything-for-my-tribe Slytherin primaries like Pidge and Keith. Lance is the bridge between Hunk and these others, advocating for leaving to fight another day in the first episode. But both Lance and Hunk learn to think beyond themselves over time, and for Hunk the tipping point was the balmera.

Before going to the balmera, Hunk had agreed to participate in team Voltron but his heart wasn’t really in it. He was more doing it because it was expected, that’s what his friends were doing, and in all honesty he didn’t have much choice. Once he visited the balmera, however, and met its residents and saw what the Galra were doing to them, he committed entirely to the cause—and for him, it’s not “because it’s the right thing to do” (Shiro and Allura) or “my people are in danger” (Keith and Pidge). It’s because people, people and communities he cares about, are suffering, and they need someone to help them. That’s not to say he doesn’t still have moments of fear or nerves, but his devotion to this cause of helping the needy gives him the courage necessary to overcome his fear.

This dedication to community gives Hunk a commitment to justice that can be truly unnerving to see come out in someone so gentle. It happens only rarely, but when it does we see the full extent of Hunk’s quiet power and unyielding foundation. The best example is Rolo and Nyma when the bounty hunters hold up team Voltron on their way to the balmera. This incident happens largely because of Shiro and Allura’s idealistic Gryffindor primaries, and although Hunk doesn’t like the delay he hasn’t yet learned to push his point with his leaders (or to trust his instincts; Hunk is someone who has been a follower for most of his life, if only because he’s gentle and laid back enough to get pushed around by stronger personality types, and part of his growth is learning to stand up for himself and his beliefs). Once the bounty hunters’ true motives are revealed, the depth of Hunk’s fury is terrifying. Months later, when he encounters Rolo and Nyma again after the bounty hunters have joined up with the rebels, he is still angry—because they upset the scales of justice and injured the community and the overall good, and violating trust like that takes lots of time and lots of effort to overcome. It’s possible, but although he is willing to give new people the benefit of the doubt this Hufflepuff does not forgive serious grievances easily.

Hunk is a Hufflepuff secondary—the quiet, trustworthy, reliable guy who often gets overlooked until as a last resort he throws back the curtains to reveal a powerhouse surrounded by an unswervingly dedicated group of people - and often he doesn’t even throw back the curtains. People he didn’t even know were dedicated just show up to punch the lights out of whoever dared to mess with their precious cinnamon roll, often to Hunk’s surprise. He’s not an obviously inspirational community builder like Shiro, but he nevertheless quietly and unconsciously builds a loyal community that often takes him for granted because he blends in with the scenery most of the time. Even as they don’t notice he’s there, however, they pick up the bits of comfort and safety and quiet trust he offers them, making him a sort of glue in the woodwork—invisible, but holding everything together when the rubber meets the road. He lacks the Ravenclaw ability to adapt, but he still is a foundational secondary that the others lean upon in times of trouble.

He also has a wonderfully down-to-earth approach to things, pointing out that “we are in some kind of futuristic alien cat head right now” and, though he is certainly able to be impressed, he much prefers to see things as they truly are than as he would like them to be. As an extension of his sense of justice, he much prefers pure honesty to half-truths, and he really doesn’t seem to have a deceptive bone in his body. He pushes steadily through information until he uncovers the foundational truth of a matter.

To a degree he models a Ravenclaw secondary, gathering information about food and cultures and science (especially engineering and chemistry) and asking questions that often don’t even seem to occur to the others. But he lacks the adaptability of a true Ravenclaw secondary, instead using that secondary’s toolset only to the extent that it furthers the needs of his true Hufflepuff secondary.

 Allura—Gryffindor/Ravenclaw

Allura’s strong Gryffindor primary is fed through her Ravenclaw secondary, making her a far more logical (and even coldly ruthless) Gryff than passionate, Hufflepuff secondary Shiro. This makes for an interesting paradox with their roles, as Shiro—the head—is deeply centered in feeling and instinct, while Allura—the heart—approaches things from a much more logic-based viewpoint. At the end of S1, when Allura is captured and Shiro is leading the team alone, he is undeterrable from his commitment to rescue Allura because he feels that’s the right thing to do, darn it, and to heck with all the reasons why it’s not. (There are actually some very solid strategic reasons for rescuing Allura, but Shiro is totally uninterested in them. This is simply the right thing to do; reason and cold logic is secondary.) Upon the team’s arrival Allura’s immediate reaction is “why the heck did you come here, that was so stupid.” Shiro’s role as the passionate head is guided by Allura operating as the rational heart.

Now, that’s not to say Allura is always actually truly rational about her choices and beliefs. Witness her “never trust a Galra” mentality of most of the first two seasons. Granted, she has some pretty good reasons for it—the Galra kind of massacred her entire people and destroyed her planet, after all—but when faced with a heap of evidence that there actually are trustworthy Galra it takes her a while to warm up to the idea. The fact that she does eventually come around is evidence of her willingness to actually listen to reason, not just the way she wants or believes things to be, but her difficulty in doing so is rooted in her Gryffindor passion and stubbornness.

She seems to be a Ravenclaw secondary, but stretched thin on time, resources, energy, and mental capacity, she focuses much more on practical knowledge, whether that be the ins and outs of the Castle systems, alchemy, or matters of state and diplomacy. She doesn’t have the luxury of delving into something just for the sake of learning about it, but she tends to know a bit about everything. And she does have a wide range of strategies and behavioral structures that often emulate the other secondaries—Gryffindor charging (probably learned from Alfor, and this is usually just in combat), Hufflepuff caring and toil (she’s taken on a task that can’t be solved in a day, after all), and even Slytherin manipulativeness (she never speaks untruth but she does lie by omission during S1, avoiding telling the paladins who the previous black paladin was until that lack of information puts all their lives in jeopardy).

This extensive and varied array of mechanisms at her disposal indicates a widely applicable and decently adaptive Ravenclaw secondary. However, the clear demonstration of traits of other secondaries, plus her “whatever is necessary to get things done” mindset, suggests that Allura is in danger of burning her secondary. There is a satisfaction when she completes a task that seems to indicate she hasn’t yet done so, but the risk is definitely there. She continues to take on more and more in order to further her goals, and although she is devoted to her team she’s not quite as capable as Shiro at fielding out tasks to those best suited to them. Granted, quite a bit of what she does can’t be fielded out—piloting the Castle, making wormholes, flying Blue, alchemy. But she’s stretching herself dangerously thin, and especially without Shiro there telling her to take a break when she’s pushing too far she is getting very close to tipping over the edge into exhausted slogging through tasks using whatever methods necessary.

Part of the problem, too, is she is not as well suited to Blue as Lance is. Blue is the middle ground Lion in pretty much every way—speed, armor, combat ability. It is a Lion meant to fill in the gaps between the others wherever and whenever necessary, which requires some degree of jack-of-all-trades functionality. Allura can do many things, but she doesn’t fit this description as well as Lance does, if only because there are other things she can do much better. Her Ravenclaw secondary means she is intellectually adaptable, but not necessarily situationally adaptable, at least to the same extent that Lance is. She’s able to make up the difference enough to get by, but the resulting adaptability isn’t as fluid as Lance’s and is hindered by her Gryffindor primary fixation on the end goal. This puts yet another bump in the cogs of team Voltron when Lance and Allura are in Red and Blue, and it gives Allura yet another ball to juggle, taxing her even more. She needs to get out of Blue and hand over to others those tasks that do not absolutely require her to do them, which will allow her to better and more fully do those things that do require her.

 SECONDARY CAST and VILLAINS (Note: Most of these sortings tend more toward speculation, as we have often seen very little of these people on screen and so it is harder to make calls about some of them.)

Coran—Ravenclaw/Ravenclaw

Coran is hard to figure out because his whole life and person are channeled through his role as Allura’s servant, steward, and advisor. He’s definitely a constructionist house, but I ultimately peg him as a Ravenclaw primary because he doesn’t throw everything to the winds when Allura (the person he is devoted to above all else) is in danger the way you’d expect with a Slytherin primary. This doesn’t make him any less loyal to her, but threatened loyalties don’t have the same kind of earth-shattering power over him as they do over, say, Keith and Pidge.

He’s a situational secondary, but I have to go with Ravenclaw again here because he doesn’t have quite the Slytherin make-things-up-as-I-go tendency. And when everything hits the fan and he’s out of typical options he tends to panic instead of jumping on the duct tape and string and making something up on the fly. When we do see him improvise (e.g. that thing he did jumpstarting the Castle system with the bottle of alcohol at the end of S6) it’s with materials and data he’s noted and catalogued previously.

He definitely has a rather eclectic and not always useful mental hodgepodge of information, and he’s prone to get sidetracked on tangents about this or that interesting factoid. While not a scientist in the same sense that Pidge is, or dedicated to practicality like Allura, he still is curious and is happier the more he knows.

Krolia—Slytherin/Slytherin

This woman is a gorgeously unapologetic Slytherin primary and I love her for it. Her entire life is built around her deep motivation to protect those she loves most, especially Keith, and she demonstrates far more confidence and trust in the rightness of this drive and desire than he does. She may have a Gryffindor model for handling things outside of this primary—we don’t know what her reason for joining the Blades was, but although I can imagine several Slytherin motivations it could also have stemmed from a modeled Gryffindor idealism—but we haven’t had the chance to see much of anything except her Slytherin primary in canon.

I have to go with Slytherin secondary for Krolia, too. She seems to spend much of her time in her neutral state (and as such Lance may actually be able to learn a lot from her—I totally want to see her adopt our favorite blue boy and aggressively mother him to his wits’ end), which results in a beautiful bluntness that looks a lot like her son’s Gryffindor secondary. However, she sorts into the Slytherin secondary because she is a master of subtle manipulation and deception. Witness how effectively she’s able to integrate herself into not one but multiple high-profile Empire missions, manipulating the people around her into believing that she is entirely committed to the mission—and even getting them to self-destruct.

 Romelle—Gryffindor/Gryffindor

Dedicated to doing the right thing come hell or high water, Romelle exemplifies the Gryffindor primary. She distrusted Lotor based first on nothing but a gut feeling, and maintained that stance despite her brother’s protests (and all evidence) to the contrary. Then, when her brother’s death validated her concerns, she grieved, but she was also furious and determined not to let such a thing happen ever again. So when an opportunity arose to take Lotor down—offered by another half-Galra and a full Galra, no less—this Gryffindor secondary carpe diemed so hard she broke Lotor. I am so on board for her and Krolia teaming up, the best of Gryffindor and Slytherin united as a force to be reckoned with.

 Matt Holt—Gryffindor or Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw or Slytherin?

Sheesh, we just don’t have enough info for this guy. He doesn’t have quite the dedication to his people that you’d expect from a true Slytherin primary—see my analysis of Pidge—so not that. I kinda like the idea of him as a Gryffindor primary like his father, but I can also see him as a Hufflepuff or even maybe a Ravenclaw. As for his secondary… I’m leaning toward one of the improvisational ones, probably Ravenclaw, since he doesn’t really seem to have the role-switching and manipulativeness of a Slytherin. But he could be a Hufflepuff secondary with a Ravenclaw model… argh. We just don’t have enough canon info to sort him.

 Sam Holt—Gryffindor/Ravenclaw

One of my few exceptions to sorting people based on material from S7, Sam’s got a commitment to doing the right thing that breaks through even the somewhat laid-back, nerdy professorial persona he usually demonstrates (not an act, it’s just the way he is when he hasn’t had that Gryffindor passion stirred). This persona feeds from his Ravenclaw secondary, and though he may model Ravenclaw primary when in a science setting his love of truth is motivated by a deep belief that truth aligns with the right thing to do. (Interestingly enough, in a family of scientists, with the possible but unlikely exception of Matt, none of the Holts are Ravenclaw primaries. At least two secondaries, but no primaries. Yay for bucking stereotypes.)

 Colleen Holt—Slytherin/Gryffindor

Again an exception to my desire not to use any material past S6, this sorting is also based a bit on my own headcanons and plans for this character. Colleen is devoted to her family before anything and everything else, and she’s willing to tear apart institutions, governments, and other people if that’s what it takes to protect her loved ones. She’s got an Irish passion as befits her name, and that passion is focused entirely on her husband and children. She’s incredibly direct about this passion, too, cutting right to the heart of things instead of weaving around and greasing up the problem the way Krolia does, though she’s certainly willing and able to at least assist with subterfuge. She helped Katie get into the Garrison, after all.

 Lotor—Ravenclaw/Slytherin

Lotor has constructed a belief system that is totally foreign to every other character in the show, comfortable in the dichotomies and contradictions of that belief system and convinced that everything he does is for some vague greater good—a good he, conveniently, gets to define. He has sought truth and information, certainly, as befits a Ravenclaw primary, but instead of trying to learn the way things truly are and shape his beliefs around the reality he uncovers he has created a system built upon his own desires about the way he wants the world to be. It is beautiful in a terrifying way—a man so thoroughly convinced that he is right that he’s willing to harvest the very life-force of others in order to further his ends, convinced that this is the right thing to do and that not doing so would be a failing on his part.

He exemplifies the ultimate levels of Slytherin manipulativeness and role-shifting, to the point where he seems to have deceived himself into believing in some of the masks he puts on (e.g. the noble hero who sacrifices the few for the sake of the many). When the masks are finally all stripped away at the end of S6, he hates what he sees so much that he can’t accept that what lies beneath is truly him. It is someone else’s fault, it is because someone else has denied what he wanted, and so he lashes out.

This guy is kind of evil Lance, which is a really frightening thought—and probably part of why Lance seemed to dislike him the most out of the whole team (aside from Lance’s crush on Allura). Lance was possibly able to see, at least subconsciously, through some of the scheming and persona, something like “if that were me I wouldn’t trust myself”. I wish we’d seen more of them going intellectually head to head. Having two sides of the same coin pushing at each other—one who’s had centuries to delve for truth and has chosen to use that time and knowledge to shape his beliefs the way he wants them to be, not as things are, the other who is not yet twenty but despite his facades and many broken wishes tries to take the world as it is and is willing to accept truths he doesn’t like—man, that would just be fantastic to watch. And a great chance for Lance to shine.

 Zarkon—Gryffindor/Hufflepuff

This is largely speculation and mostly based on what we see in the flashback episode, but… Zarkon, at least in his younger years, had the gut instinct thing going as a leader, and he put his nose to the grindstone and plowed ahead with a course of action once it had his convictions behind it. Witness his very much felt dedication to Honerva and her cause—investigating the rift—despite any evidence to the contrary. Obviously he got his priorities screwed up, but the passion he put into his decisions really feels Gryffindor to me, coupled with the rooted stubbornness and the community building of the Hufflepuff secondary (note how readily the other original paladins respond to him as a commander).

I actually don’t think he’s burned his Gryffindor primary by the time we get to the show’s present day. Quite a few of his decisions—e.g. dragging off one of his generals based on very little evidence, as the guy actually made a decent strategic move all things considered—feel like they’re being made based on feeling versus logic (or anything else). Again, the guy’s obviously got his priorities and methods screwed up, but the Gryffindor primary MO is there. He looks like he may have shifted to Gryffindor secondary, or at least a model, but I think that’s more because he’s got a (not unfounded) high opinion of his own prowess in combat, so he charges right in ready to hack enemies to pieces. This actually only backfires on him once Shiro gets the black bayard back and Voltron is able to stab Zarkon with the flaming sword. (Haven’t watched the Zarkon vs. Lotor fight lately so I can’t call anything based on that.)

So all things considered I think Zarkon is an example of what happens when a Gryffinpuff (I’m convinced the Lions have types, by the way) falls—not burns, but falls. Goes bad. Uses his ability to inspire for evil purposes instead of good, and denies evidence that the course he’s set himself on is wrong. In all likelihood, considering this sorting’s penchant for gathering people close to them and relying on those people, I would imagine that bad influences contribute in a large degree to this fall—at the very least because the Gryffinpuff can’t bring himself to acknowledge that he’s been wrong about his beliefs, choices, and loyalties once problems start cropping up.

 Honerva/Haggar—Ravenclaw/Ravenclaw

One of the very first things we hear Honerva say is a dismissive comment about any knowledge that doesn’t stem from science: “our ancestors thought lightning was shot from the bows of the gods until science proved otherwise”—in other words, if we haven’t studied it, tested it, poked at it, that knowledge is suspect at best. She is dedicated to her alchemical work beyond any bounds of reason, pursuing truth in such an obsessive, reckless way that she jeopardizes and ultimately brings about the destruction of her husband’s planet. She’s the sort of scientist who thinks that if we can do it we should do it—truth is to be pursued at all costs, and all possibilities must be explored. While in theory noble, this Ravenclaw primary drive needs to be tempered with reason to prevent injury and loss of life. Honerva refuses to listen to reason and so dooms herself and millions of others.

This primary is so overpowering that we don’t really get a good feel for her secondary, but she’s got a methodical approach to things that suggests Ravenclaw. We don’t actually see her much in situations where everything’s hit the fan and she has to pick up the pieces, but the one time this happens—at the end of S2, when Allura faces her down and destroys the quintessence-draining device—Haggar can’t improvise fast enough to prevent it from happening, and seems to short circuit when something unexpected happens. So she’s got plenty of knowledge and data, but if something falls outside any and all operational systems that she possesses, she can’t really make something up on the fly. I really don’t think she could be a Hufflepuff secondary, because despite her methodical way of functioning she doesn’t have the community-building qualities of a Puff. She really doesn’t seem interested in people at all, actually, having friends and family but willing to jeopardize those people and relationships for pursuit of knowledge. Definitely not a Hufflepuff.

 Sendak—Gryffindor/Gryffindor, Slytherin, or Ravenclaw

Really not sure on this guy, though I do get a passionately evil Gryffindor primary vibe off him. Kinda Jayne Cobb from Firefly. And potentially any secondary except Hufflepuff. I think. Slytherin doesn’t seem all that likely either, though, so I’m going to guess at a straight Gryffindor.

 Alfor—Slytherin/Gryffindor

Further evidence that the Lions have a type, Alfor shares the Slytherdor combo with Keith. He’s a lot more cheerful and optimistic about it than Keith, at least in his younger years, and he sometimes seems to charge more as a lark than a grim necessity, trusting his friends to bail him out if he gets in over his head. That’s not to say he’s irresponsible—he seems to be a highly competent and reasonable ruler and alchemist—but when he’s got loyal companions backing him up he’s much more willing to go, “Hey guys, bet I can’t do this!” and jump headlong into something crazy.

It is his Slytherin primary that gets him into trouble when Zarkon and Honerva start to slip. Loyal to a fault, Alfor is willing to give his trusted friends the benefit of the doubt, assuming that they know what they’re doing. He is devoted to those he holds dear and is optimistic enough that he doesn’t see their faults until it’s too late.

I do suspect that he burned at least his secondary, because the few glimpses we see of his last hours suggests a much more worn, damaged person than the enthusiastic young king we first met. He may have even burned his primary, at least to a degree, though he remained loyal to at least Allura.

 Iverson—Gryffindor/Gryffindor or Hufflepuff

I can see much younger Iverson and Sam Holt bonding over their shared primary, gung-ho about the world and space and adventure with Sam providing the Ravenclaw brains and Iverson providing the inspirational enthusiasm. His secondary could go either way, I think—we don’t get to see him in action much, and the one time we do, when he stands up to defend the Holts against the admiral (again breaking my past S6 rule), it’s driven from his passionate Gryffindor primary. Though he’s a very direct sort of person, suggesting a Gryffindor secondary, I could also see him as a rough-around-the-edges Gryffinpuff in the same vein as Shiro. Their friendship is important to me.

 Slav—Ravenclaw/Ravenclaw

This crazy genius is the most eccentric Ravenclaw of all time. In all his speculations about realities, pursuing truth in an unbelievably intellectual way, he’s become so disconnected from this reality that he just doesn’t seem to be functioning on ground level with everyone else. He is all about systems, methodologies, poking and testing and experimenting and running analyses on the statistical likelihood of X event happening in this reality. Brilliant, insane Ravenclaw all the way.

Anyway, that’s it. Hope you enjoyed!

[tokoyamisstuff]

Guilt - Bucky x Reader

A/N: Here we are - the last chapter. I hope you like the ending! (:

Thank you guys for your love and support! Feel free to request any time! ❤︎

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Summary: You really hoped your anniversary would go a bit different than that.

Warnings: Violence. Near-death-experience. Self-loathing. Mild cussing. Constant change between Angst and Fluff. End gets fluffy af.

Words: 6005 Wait what?! Okay I’m supposed to do homework so I’m procrastinating lmao.

“Mission failed. The Agent is malfunctioning.”

One of HYDRA’s agents gave a status report to his superiors. Function. Like he’s a damn tool. But because of this, they were seriously considering just letting it be. A broken weapon needs to be thrown away as soon as it’s become beyond the point of repair.

You could just hope they’d really give up on him and not trying to get rid of either him or you...

“Oh, guess I’m still alive” you joked as you woke up, just to be met with a frowning Bucky.

A ray of sunlight hit his face, and the deep circles under his eyes were proof that he didn’t have any sleep. He sat on the bed, knees pulled to his chest. His brows were furrowed together and he seemed to be buried in thought.

“Bucky?”

No reaction.

Looks like it was still the Winter Soldier. “Ah, whatever” you thought, head still being a little fuzzy.

“I should not hurt you” he grunted, clenching his jaw. His voice was unsure at first, but his next words were more firm. “I won’t.”

“That’s sweet, darling” Your face split into a beautiful smile, cupping his cheek with both your hands to make him look at you. “Now give me a smile, would you?”

The Winter Soldier needed to remind himself to breath as you watched him expectingly, with those bright, beautiful eyes. When he watched you sleep the night before, he thought you must be what people call an angel.

Your boisterous laughter at him made his heart sink into his chest.

“I’m sorry” you chuckled, peppering small kisses among his face. “I’m sorry, it’s just...you looked so weird right now.” God, him awkwardly trying to smile was just more cutness than you could handle. It looked like a failed attempt to bare his teeth and snarl.

His eyes flickered from your eyes to your mouth - and before you could even say something, hips lips were on yours as he pulled you into his arms. A whimper escaped your mouth, but you shuffled closer to him to signalize that you’re okay.

“That was...not bad” you gasped, trying to catch your breath from the kiss that felt like it lasted forever - and still not long enough. Bucky on the other hand finally managed to position his mouth in the form of a smile, being proud of your praise.

When you shoved the covers aside and jumped out of the bed, you realized Bucky wanted to follow you.

Was it really good to leave him alone? Well, it was the Stark Tower - so what’s the worst that can happen? Tony is a control freak, so this place was heavier guarded than the Pentagon.

“Please, wait here” you odered your Soldier, gently putting your hand on his chest and feeling his muscles tense. “I’ll be back soon! Just a few minutes.”

“Morning, Y/N!”

You heared Tony’s obnoxious voice from behind you and were instantly reminded that you weren’t alone in the kitchen. Sure, you loved every single one of your teammates - but you’d give everything for S.H.I.E.L.D. to finally set Bucky free so you can live a normal life somewhere far away.

That would be a real way to start anew. He already told them about every plan, every single weapon HYDRA possessed - so it should be up to him when to retire.

“Hi” you muttered under your breath, a grumpy expression written on your face as you stepped into the kitchen bare-footed.

“Where’s the Tin Man?” he teased, giving you a questioning look. Usually, Bucky would follow you everywhere he could, just like a dog. You never minded it, though. “Relationship problems?”

“He’s not feeling so well, so I told him to stay at his room.” Gosh, you really weren’t in the mood to talk right now. So you’d just open the fridge and get something to eat, so you could return to your lover as soon as possible.

“He’s what?!” Oh no, Steve was here, too. You were so focused on Bucky you didn’t pay attention to who sat at the breakfast table.

“No need to worry, Rogers. I can watch your bestie on my own” you gnarled, making the others rise their eyebrows. It wasn’t like you to be so passive-agressive. Of course, you could become really sharp-tongued when it came to defending Bucky, but why are you being like that right now?

“You sure everything is alright?” Wanda asked with her usual, caring tone.

Instead of remaining cool, you buried your face into your hands. “Yeah, he’s really fine. If not, I’m going to call a doctor. Please just let him rest a little.”

Even though you already walked towards the door, but you still felt their piercing glares upon you.

Don’t let them notice something. They can’t see him right now.

You needed to protect him. At all cost!

“I’m back!” you cheered as you entered your shared room - just to find Bucky, still standing at his original position without having moved an inch. You were pretty sure he didn’t even shift his weight from one foot to another.

“You don’t need to take orders so literally...” Letting out a deep sigh, you took his hand into yours - and this time he was slightly squeezing it, making hum approvingly. “Let’s sit down! I’ve brought your favourite!”

The plates on the desk held a piece of plum pie with cream, together with a cup of fresh coffee. You were hoping that his favourite dish might help regaining a memory or two - but he didn’t seem to cooperate. Bucky sat down, mistrustful eyeing the contents of the cup he held in his hands.

Crossing your arms in front of your chest, you began to pout. “C’mon, Bucky! I’ve learned how to make this pie just for you! Don’t you dare to think it’s poisoned or something.”

He wordlessly hung his head and took a bite of the pie, and soon his frown turned into a more relaxed expression.

“Does it taste good? It’s leftovers from yesterday but I stood at the stove for hours just for you!”

“Yes” he mumbled, still a serious tone in his voice. He was simply confused. Why would a nice person like you make this much of an effort for someone like him?

The Winter Soldier didn’t need comfort - he didn’t deserve it. That’s what they told him, all those years. And it was still stuck to his mind like a tumor.

You sipped on your own coffee and placed a hand on his knee. “It’s okay, Bucky. I never knew what it’s like to experience such horrible things. But it must’ve been so hard. And I’ll make the rest of your life as enjoyable as humanly possible! I promise you!”

“I don’t deserve this.” The look he was giving you reminded you of one night, where you sat on the rooftop and talked about simply anything that ran through your heads. Out of a whim, you asked the all-brave soldier what’s his biggest fear - and his simple answer was “You.”

When you asked him to elaborate, he told something that still captures your heart until this day:

“I’m scared that one day, you’ll look at yourself in the mirror and see yourself as I see you. You’ll realize just how amazing you are, and that you deserve way better than me...I’m terrified that you’ll leave me alone.”

All the torture he’s been through, and this is the one thing he picks to say he’s afraid of?

You’d sacrifice everything to make him understand that you needed him just as much as he needed you.

That your life was incomplete when he wasn’t there.

To make him see himself as the wonderful, involuntary fallen angel he is.

“That’s not true and you know that. We’ve had this talk so many times before, even if you can’t remember. But I love you so much and I want you to have everything you desire!”

“I want you.”

His answer made you smile. It was a sad and small one, but still a smile nontheless. “Idiot. You already have me! I’m not going to go anywhere!”

Bucky carefully pressed you against his chest and you could feel him shake a little as he mumbled a sole word: “Mine.”

You chuckled as you interwined your fingers with his and looked him deeply into the eyes. “Yes. All yours. Happy Anniversary, Bucky!” you whispered, and as soon as the last syllable escaped your lips, he found himself interlocked in a passionate kiss. The tender way of you holding his face into your hands made Bucky feel like everything will be okay.

“Anniversary?” The interrogation in his eyes made clear he had no idea what you were talking about.

“Yes! Our anniversary! We’re together for four years now. Too bad you can’t remember...”

His head went to a shade of crimson due to the shame of not remembering.

“Did you really never ask yourself who I am to you?” You rose one eyebrow, but continued smiling softly.

“My handler” he gritted, looking down to the floor in embarassment.

“Oh dear god, never!” you blurted out with a shy chuckle. “Bucky, I am your girlfriend! I could never be one of those horrible people!”

“Don’t tell me he doesn’t know what a girlfriend is” you thought. But still, Bucky faced the ground.

“Dear” you cooed as you continued, “I’m in love with you. I want to be close to you and make you happy. I want to spend my life with you!”

“Why me?”

You grabbed on the fabric of your shirt, as if you were experiencing a heart attack. “Why you? Oh, Bucky! It has to be you! Because you’re simply the most wonderful man I know!”

“I’m not. I’m a bad person.”

You put your index finger under his chin to lift his gaze. “You don’t know just how wholesome you are. Those past years, I couldn’t have been any happier - because of you! And that fact won’t change, Bucky.”

Bucky bit his lip. He bit it so hard that it began to bleed again, until your voice  told him to stop.

Suddenly, he grabbed your shoulders. He seemed to have remembered something. An important matter he didn’t accomplished yet, but wanted to so soon. So he looked at you with genuine determination before asking:

“Then...Can I stay with you forever?”

Your moment got interrupted as your door suddenly sprung open and the Avengers bursted in.

“Bucky!!” they all yelled in unity, making him jump and pull out his hunting knife. Damn, you forgot even in casual wear he was still armed with some hidden weapons.

“What the hell, Barnes” Sam asked, giving a sniff at Bucky’s weird reaction. Not even with his usual PTSD he’d get so high-alerted.

You held your breath. Obviously the whole Avengers Crew were his targets. You asked him about the details of his mission last night. It was easy to trust him that he wouldn’t hurt you - but what about the others?

Seeing them made the image of his mission reappear clearly before his eyes. But they were all gathered here, and he was supposed to kill them one after another. Even though he already did take them on back at the UN, thee risk was too high.

“Sorry for bursting in” Natasha tried to defend them all, “We were just worried and wanted to pay him a visit.”

“Bucky, put that knife away” you said, and the Winter Soldier followed your order without questioning it, giving it into your hands. “Thank you, sweetheart” you cooed, raking your hands through his hair.

His eyes were startled, furious and loving - all at the same time.

“Y/N...what’s going on?” Wanda asked - but as she tried to put a reassuring hand on your shoulder, Bucky caught her wrist with his metal hand. He started cracking and twisting it, making her double over in pain.

“Bucky, no!!!” you yelled as you tried to free your friend’s hand from his grasp. “She’s a friend, it’s okay! Please!!!”

Your begging tone was enough to make him stop already. He was worried that Wanda might’ve intended to hurt you, and he didn’t want anyone else to touch you without permission. He was unaware of how physical contact works between people who like each other.

But one thing he did know. Right now, you were afraid of him. He recognized the look on your face immediately. Your fastened breath, the volume of your voice, as well as your trembling limbs.

Just like  all of his victims were - before he killed them.

Soon, he found himself to be surrounded by heavy armed heroes - and you unable to know what to do.

“Please, just leave already. Guys, I’m begging you! Wanda, I’m sorry, but-”

“Y/N, go away from him. He’s dangerous.” Hearing those words coming out of  Bucky’s best friend’s mouth made your heart split in two.

“No, he isn’t!” you yelled as you pulled his head onto your chest, in an attempt to keep him calm. “He is nice and gentle and just afraid, and you just have to leave!”

Still, your heartbeat was fastened. Bucky thought it might as well just break out of your ribcage, that’s how loud it was hammering against his ear.

Actually, it was just your fear of him getting hurt.

But he thought that right now, you see him as the monster he is.

How naive to think that HYDRA might’ve lied - they were right all the time. He was an unloveable abomination that was only good for bringing agony over everyone he’s affected with.

Right now, the void in his heart became bigger than ever before.

The small ember of hope you placed inside of him was crumbled down by a wave of guilt and self-loathing. 

He should just die.

Why not right now, by the hands of the Avengers?

Doesn’t make any difference if he takes down on or two of them. They made you happy and a strange sensation came up in him that he couldn’t quite decipher: It was jealousy. Of them having what he can never have: Being able to be close to you without hurting you.

As he freed himself from your hug, you could see his desparation written clearly on his face.

“I’m sorry.”

The first one he’d send flying was Steve, who caused the wall he flew into to crumble until only a giant hole was left.

The other’s instantly reacted, with Nat jumping onto him, her legs wrapped around his neck, just like back at the UN. Why did she think the trick that didn’t work the first time would help now?

It was easy for Bucky to destroy the main piece of Tony’s emergency suit, leaving him unable to fight. Steve was still unconscious by the blow that went directly for his head. Nat was also knocked out by him having choked her - until Sam kicked his jaw before he could break her neck. Only a brief moment later, you saw Sam lying on the ground too - covered by blood.

Screaming so distraught that you thought the whole tower could hear, you begged both parties to stop.

But no one would listen. And you couldn’t do anything to help.

You were weak. Too weak to save the only person you ever loved, even though he was standing right in front of you.

But there was another problem: Clint didn’t have his weapons with them, and neither any protection wear. When Bucky was done with the others, he turned to face the Hawkeye and approached him with firm steps. You knew that in close combat, Clint had a major disatvantage.

A yell made it’s way to his ears and finally also into his mind. “Bucky, STOP!!!”

But it was too late.

His cybernetic arm went straight towards Clint’s chest, meaning to break his ribcage and destroy his heart. The swung was so powerful, he couldn’t pull back now. The metal in his arm was too heavy to do so.

The last thing you felt was the way of a strong, dull pain hitting the side of your chest. No matter how hard Bucky tried to back off when he saw you going between Clint and himself, he couldn’t prevent the tragedy that was about to happen.

The last thing you heared was the sobbing of the others as you fell to the ground. Before your head hit the floor, someone catched you, screaming in agony - it was Bucky. Your Bucky.

And then, everything went black.

“Welcome back, Y/N.”

The voice was Natasha’s, and as you opened your eyes you realized to be in the medical facility of the Stark Tower. Nat was sitting next to your hospital bed and was reading a book, waiting for you to regain your senses.

“I could hit you so hard right now...” she grumbled, putting the book aside. You wanted to sit up, but even the slightest bit of moving was just too much for you. It was so painful. And even more painful was the fact that you didn’t wake up to see Bucky being here.

“Do you know how much you worried us?!” Nat continued. “You can’t stay so naive forever!”

“How are the others?”

“No major injuries. Just a few bruises and Steve’s jaw is broken.” Her glare was piercing holes into your very being. This was how mad she was about your behaviour. “You should’ve told us the very second you realized it was the Winter Soldier.”

“You’d just have locked him away!” you yelled, but your voice cracked already. "I...I was sure he’d never hurt me...” you mumbled. “It was an accident. He didn’t want to do this.”

“How many times do you want to defend him, Y/N?! He’s a good ally, but you can’t be too close to him!” Tears ran down her face. That’s very unusual for a person so restrained and collected as Natasha was one.

And you knew why.

She was still madly in love with Bruce, alias the ‘Hulk’. But they could never be together - or at least he was thinking like that. Just like Bucky, he thought of himself as a dangerous being that wasn’t meant to find love.

And then, there was you - being happy with the Winter Soldier. Even controlling his murderous side to a certain extend. And it drew her crazy. That was just too much for her - to bear to look at you having what she couldn’t have. And like that, your friend distanced herself from you further and further.

Her excuse was always that she didn’t feel comfortable around Bucky, because he shot her back then. Oh god, how bad Bucky felt for leaving her with that scar.

But you knew it was a lie. Yet you never confronted her about that. What a bad friend you had become.

“Natasha, you always understood my feelings better than anyone. Would you stay away from Bruce if he wanted you to be together?”

You hit a weak spot there. Right in the bull’s eye.

“That’s just irrational! Y/N, you almost died! Stop talking about my issues, think about yourself! It can’t go on like this!”

Your voice was so weak and husky, and every breath hurt. What exactly did he do to you?

Looking around, you saw a giant box, and a pipe connecting it to your thorax.

“He broke some ribs and one of them popped your left lung like a balloon. You were still luck, though. He could’ve easily burst your whole chest open. Blood was filling your thorax and compressed your heart, so it stopped beating for a few minutes. That’s what the doctors say, at least. We all cried for you. We thought we were losing you! Do you understand that?!”

“Where is he?” you whimpered, tears rushing down your face.

“Where is Bucky?!”

“He doesn’t want to see you” Natasha said, standing up and shaking her head about how selfless you were. But she kinda liked that part of you, too. She just wanted to protect you.

“He’s talking to no one ever since the accident. But I was meant to tell you...He wants to break up.” She walked towards the door, just like that.. Of course she knew she should be staying with you after delivering such a message. But she just couldn’t. It pained her too much to see you like this.

“Then he should say it to my face” you said, now a blank and emotionless stare. You knew this was just his self-hatred speaking, but it still hurt so bad. Way worse than the physical pain.

All this time, you were giving it your best to keep him at your side. But it seemed he can throw it away without second thought.

“But...Nat?” you said, even managing to get up for a second to face her. The hope of you becoming friends again was still present in your mind. “Thank you.”

“He’ll come back” Your former best friend cracked a knowing smile.

“Bucky can’t live without you.”

He didn’t. No matter how long you’ve waited, he just wouldn’t come back to you.

It has been a few weeks now, and because your healing ability doesn’t work on yourself, you had to rely on modern medicine to do the trick. The giant bruises sure took their time to disappear, but it was alright. Now being single, you had all the time in the entire world anyway

Clint was visiting regulary, still feeling bad for you having saved him. Even though you assured him a thousand times that you would always put your life on the line for a friend. And that you knew he’d do the same.

You all would risk your life for one another. And that’s why you loved your friends so much. No one would talk badly about Bucky, even after he whiped the floor with them.

The others came by occasionally, scolding you for not going to the X-Ray examines or other stuff meant to uplift or control your recovery. It was hard for them to see you in this state, and knowing they provoked the Winter Soldier into doing so.

But you just didn’t felt like it. Without Bucky, you didn’t felt like anything at all. Even if it meant unnecessarily putting your health and even life in danger.

“God, Y/N! How many times do I have to tell you to not leave the medical ward?!” Steve yelled from somewhere behind you. You were lying on the rooftop of the Stark Tower, which was - thanks to you - covered by grass and many flowers. A garden on top of a skyscrapper, watching the sunset - what could be better for your mental health right now?

You didn’t open your eyes at his scolding, simply enjoying the fading but warm sunlight on your skin. The sound of the machine that kept your lung working for as long as it needed to heal was interrupting the peaceful silence.

“Leave me alone, Rogers. Please. Nothing you say can change my mind anyway. So don’t bother.”

“He wouldn’t want you to be so reckless” Steve mumbled as he walked away.

“If he’d care, he’d be here - with me” you whispered, biting your tongue to stop the tears from reappearing. How was he doing right now?

The lack of knowledge about his situation drove you into insanity. Not that he hurt you, but the fact that he could hurt himself.

Little did you know Steve was just on his way to the Winter Soldier’s room, trying to talk some sense into him.

He had mantled the whole room in darkness, and didn’t leave ever since you were injured and he carried you to the medical station. For how many hours did he cry his heart out until they told him you were stable?

At this moment, he was already prepared to lose you - because of his own selfisness. He needed to leave you as long as he was still able to. No matter what this meant for himself.

When Steve entered the room and turned on the lights, he saw that Bucky had destroyed most of the furnance - except for the photos of you. He could clearly see the patterns of his fist having hit the wall on several spots.

Never before he’s seen his friend so devastated. He couldn’t bear to look at the dark circles under his eyes and the hollow cheeks. Bucky was staring into the void, still mentally debating if he should just jump out of the tower to end this farce that’s his life.

“Bucky” Steve said firmly and with sympathy. But he didn’t even do so much as looking at him. Did he even notice someone was there? Didn’t look like it.

And he couldn’t face his friends anyway. He hurt every last one of them. Even though they gave him a second chance and tried to treat him like he wasn’t a homicidal maniac. That was beyond redeemable.

“Y/N is in danger.” He knew this would bring Bucky back and out of the dark corners of his mind. And it succeeded. Bucky looked up, desperation clearly visible in his eyes.

“You’re the only one able to talk sense to her! She’s being careless about her health ever since you’ve left, and we fear she might soon overdo it...or...well, maybe start harming herself. She’s changed without you, man. I’ve never seen her so gloomy. It scares me.”

Bucky’s voice was sore from being underused for weeks, but the words he spoke were still strong and determined.

“Where is she?”

“I told you to leave me alo-”

Your words got stuck in your throat when you realized just who came to your rescue. Sitting on the ground with your feet crisscrossed, you wished the world could just stop right now. Having that talk right now just was too much for you.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” This was what he wanted to say - but honestly, he didn’t feel like he’s got the right to intervene with your life any further, in any kind of way. So he just sunk down to the ground next to you, looking at the view of the city at night - together with you.

He thought you’d be furious with him. That you’d beat him and yell at him. Or even worse: That you’d ignore him. Tell him to go away, that you didn’t care and didn’t love him anymore.

“You know” you started, still looking into the distance. “Hospitals are pretty boring. Especially when your supposed boyfriend doesn’t even come to visit.” Turning around to look at him, you saw pain written clearly on his face.

But your own, rock-hard expression dropped the moment you saw tears fill the rim of Bucky’s eyes, as he fought them from spilling down his face.

“I’ve missed you so much, you goddamn asshole!” you said as you tackled him over, repeatingly beating on his chest. “How could you?! How could you leave me alone for so long?!”

“Y/N...I hurt you. I’ve hurt you so bad, how am I ever supposed to look into your eyes again without feeling like the monster I am?!” Bucky lay with his back on the cold floor, keeping himself from the urge to embrace you to ease your pain.

“Didn’t I tell you already that you’re not a-”

“No!” he interrupted you. This was the first time he’s ever raise his voice at you, and you instantly felt all the air being sucked out of your lungs.

“I knew this would happen one day! I knew it, Y/N, yet I still let you persuade me into trying a relationship with you! Now I can’t lie next to you without fearing to crush your body any second! I can’t be around strangers because I have to fear them knowing the words! I can’t touch your skin without seeing that scar and being remembered about what I am! Everything you and the others told me about me being one of the good guys - it’s all bullshit!”

You wanted to protest, to say something. Anything! But your words wouldn’t roll over your tongue as easily as they usually did. So you couldn’t do anything else than just to lie on your former lover’s body, and breaking out in convulsive sobbing as he talked so badly about himself.

“I’m so messed up!” he whimpered, covering his face with his flesh arm. “I can’t even trust my own mind! I’m too dangerous to be with you! And yet, I can’t stay away from you! I’m the most selfish piece of shit!”

“So am I” you finally regained your ability to speak. If it was for Bucky, you could overcome even the most difficult hardships. “I know you feel bad because of me, but you can’t change my mind. I’ll stay with you until my dying breath.”

“You mean your death, which would probably be on my hands” he hissed angrily. Angry of himself.

Still, you pressed your body to his, making it feel as if you could never be separated again. “I need to show you something. Could you help me get to our room?”

Your weak, pleading eyes made it difficult to say no to your wish. And so he did, thinking it would be the last time he’d be together with you. Bucky picked you up and curled you into his muscular arms, while you held the machine with your own ones.

Arriving at the room, you saw what Bucky had done. He mumbled a quiet “Sorry...” as he let you down on the still intact bed. Seems like he just destroyed his own belongings.

“Wait” you mumbled as you searched for something under your bed, then finally grabbing something covered by gift wrap. “Here it is!”

Bucky shot you a quizzing look as you held the present into his face. “It was meant to be for our anniversary, but, well...You know.”

Both of you sat down on the edge of the bed as he carefully unwrapped what you had so beautifully decorated.

It was a giant book. Just his name as the title in a beautiful font. Even his favourite colour. And when he opened it, he gasped:

There were photos not even he knew have been made of him and his former life. From his school to his time in the army, and part of Captain Americs’s special forces. Many old and new newspaper clippings, telling the story of the courageous deeds of Sergeant Barnes, as well as some praising the White Wolf. Reports of him having served his duty in WWII formidably, and so on...Even a copy of his birth certificate. Photos of his parents, which he barely even remembered. Most of the photos and documents were were old and wrecked, but still beautiful - broken, but they still had their own charm. Just like him.”

“What the hell is this?” he whispered in awe, looking through it with eyes as wide as a child’s.

"It’s you” you shrugged with a wide smile on your face, watching every reaction of him closely. “I know it’s cheesy, but I thought...Well, I thought that...You know, very time you’re thinking badly about yourself, or maybe times when the Winter Soldier went on a rampage again. Even just when you’d have another nightmare - you can just open up this book and see you - the real Bucky.”

For a while, Bucky’s glare shifted from the book to your face over and over again, his jaw dropped.

“It was really hard to get some of these” you chuckled. “Most of them were in S.H.I.E.L.D’s or even HYDRA’s databases only. Gosh, good thing some of my favourite spies helped me so well with getting them. Even Nat was willing to assist me. And Cap’s girlfriend send me everything she got from S.H.I.E.L.D, beause she still owed me one for bringing Steve back to her unharmed from that one mission!”

Suddenly, you felt two strong hands - one on your waist, the other on the back of your neck, Bucky’s body was finally close to yours again. “Y/N...” was everything he managed to get out before he cried to his heart’s content. So many times he’d surpress the emotions he held, but right now, he was an open book - literally.

“Hush now, darling” you hummed to soothe him, stroking his messy hair. “I love you so much, it hurts when you’re not at my side. It’s just impossible for me not to be with you. There’s no other choice for us than to be together.”

Both of you needed hours of simply lying in the bed, crying over everything that had happened those past weeks.

It made him remember just how he cherished those quiet moments with you. With you, he wasn’t forced to talk much, or act all happy like he did for Steve’s sake. He could relax, stay silent and enjoy some peace and quiet. It was not bad for him to be sad. And still, you wouldn’t just tiptoe around him because you feared that he was too sensitive. You’d speak your mind at any time, because you trusted he could take it. With you, he felt normal.

He could be himself, and you’d love him for this - for whatever reason. Bucky didn’t know why you did. He was simply glad that you did.

“I’m sorry our Anniversary was such a failure...”

“At least we had some plums” you snickered, his face still on your chest. He could listen to your heartbeat forever. It was prove that he has a reason to continue living - and that this life wouldn’t be a bad one.

Bucky forced a hesistant laughter, before he stuttered “Well, I-, umm, I mean....”

“Don’t you dare to try and break up again, Barnes” you gnarled as you felt him trying to stand up.

“No! It’s just...” he turned around to his nightstand, a small package hidden behind it. “I know it’s not much, but...This was supposed to be my gift for you.”

Suddenly, he jumped out of the bed - and fell on one knee.

“B-Bucky?”

All sense of words stumbled out of his brain, but he tried to pull himself together:

“I-I know I’m demanding much with this step, but...uh, probably not a good way to start, but - my therapist testified that I’m not able to fight any more. He convinced the UN to let me go, and..well, now that I’m finally free...I want to bind myself to the only person I willingly paid loyality to. You.”

He didn’t even end his speech, but you were already on the ground with him too, hugging Bucky so tightly he could think that you wanted to crush him. Your warm tears were wetting the skin on his neck before you started to cover him in kisses.

“That’s not everything! There’s a part two for my gift - I’ve talked to T’Challa, and bought a small farm in Wakanda. We’re safe there, even from HYDRA! I mean, only if you want-”

“Of course I want to, you dumbass!” you whimpered loudly, your eyes swollen from tears but not less captivating for him. You were the only one who’d look at him with those eyes - ones that didn’t see the Winter Soldier, the danger.

And like that, he remembered those past days trapped inside his own mind.

How kind and gentle you were, nevertheless. Every touch you comforted the broken Soldier with was lingering on his skin as he relived the memory. You were never afraid of him.

“Spending my life with you was all I ever wanted!” Your words made the ice around his heart melt in an instant, and all the doubts got washed away with it. Bucky looked at you - his future wife - before asking the question he already knew the answer to.

“Y/N, will you make me the most luckiest man in the galaxy...and marry me?”

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[anonymouscrocodilefan]

Addendum: Ex-Slave Croco Theory

LONG TIME NO POST, and not quite a shower thought, but it occurred to me at one point that I never actually debunked the other common theory about Croco’s secret (the one Ivankov has on him).

The major theories I’m aware of (all of which I find flawed):

1. FTM Croco (Croco was a woman & other gender/sexuality-related variations). This is the immediate conclusion most people jump to, and I’m pretty sure it’s a red herring. Although, as I’ve mentioned, I wouldn’t mind if it were true. I pretty thoroughly debunked this in one of my first posts: http://anonymouscrocodilefan.tumblr.com/post/132946232157/2-crocodiles-past

2. Croco was on Whitebeard’s crew (in some variations the chopped off hand was to remove WB’s tattoo). And is for some reason ashamed of that and/or left for reasons related to his weakness. This has been completely debunked by Word of God. See my very first post: http://anonymouscrocodilefan.tumblr.com/post/132880323933/1-crocodile-the-warlord

3. Croco’s missing hand originally had a different power from the “drying” ability of his right; the secret behind this removed power is related to his other weakness. I don’t think this theory is as widespread as the others, nor am I particularly against it. But I don’t really buy it either. Plus I think with the advent of “awakened” powers as a concept, this idea is getting less and less likely. I’ve only ever tangentially discussed this though (never directly addressed the specifics of this theory): http://anonymouscrocodilefan.tumblr.com/post/135195626561/shower-thought-handedness

4. An actual physical/power-related weakness (aside from the water weakness and the obvious existence of haki). Discussed this in the same post as FTM Croc. This one seems to make sense in context, but is narratively unsatisfying to me. I can kinda imagine it though – if water is a weakness, I wonder about wind (water clumps sand, but wind does the opposite)? Still, Oda could’ve easily done the same scene with something along the lines of “no worries, I know how to defeat him” – so the specific and somewhat ambiguous use of the word “weakness” and Iva promising not to give him away if he behaves is... interesting.

5. Croco is a former slave (like Hancock and Fisher Tiger). I can’t believe I never discussed or even brought up this theory... because it’s actually one of the earliest ideas I personally considered (along with “Croco has revolutionary connections [beyond the acquaintance with Iva]”, which I’ve long since discarded).

Like the “revolutionary” theory, I discarded it very early on (and didn’t see it discussed nearly as often), which is probably why it slipped my mind.

Also, my arguments against this particular theory are mostly circumstantial, like my arguments against the missing hand/physical weakness theories (but unlike the FTM/WB theories, which have fairly solid textual evidence working against them and in the latter case has been explicitly contradicted by Oda’s statements).

Still, it’s probably worth discussing. So here are my thoughts.

First of all, it’s a tempting theory on the surface. Unlike the FTM and WB theories, it also gives him a valid motivation for his dislike of the government (and apparent desire to create a Utopia [we are soooo short on details there, including how seriously he meant it]). It would also fairly neatly explain his trust issues, although maybe not why he’s so adamant at first about human connections being worthless (the WB theory probably does the best on that one, but like I said, it’s total bunk).

Nonetheless, it doesn’t really “feel” right, either.

As I’ve previously noted (see the post with FTM Croco), Crocodile’s reaction to Iva’s threat is actually relatively subdued despite the way the whole thing’s been blown up in the collective fandom consciousness. Sure, it pisses him off, but he’s not upset or anything either. We have several known ex-slave characters whose behavior can be easily contrasted with his, in fact. Fisher Tiger’s undying hatred. Hancock’s deep shame. Koala is the most well-adjusted one we’ve seen so far, but I think that’s probably down to the fact that she was still very young at the time (much younger than Hancock!) and has since grown up in a very supportive environment. For all three though, there is that underlying sense of having been betrayed by the government and its support of an inherently unjust system, and moreover by humanity itself. On the other hand, Croco’s scorn for the Marines and the government overall seems more akin to Law’s feelings on the subject, i.e. they’re useless assholes. In other words, yes he has trust issues, but he never comes across as traumatized. (Law maybe isn’t the BEST comparison there.)

The timing is tricky. Surprisingly, we know a handful of solid dates for Croco, despite the fact that he’s never gotten a backstory flashback. All of which I’ve discussed before, but again – he was at age 22 present for Roger’s execution. He became a Warlord shortly thereafter, with his defeat by Whitebeard presumably marking his first real setback as a pirate. Around age 30 he was featuring in newspapers for his “heroic” acts. By the time the series starts, he’s been a public figure for 20 years or so. Basically, he could’ve only been a slave during his child/teen years... and couldn’t have been part of the big breakout all the other known ex-slaves escaped during. That is, he would’ve had to escape on his own, or I suppose potentially with Revolutionary aid (which maybe accounts for the eventual Iva meeting when he’s a rookie). The former seems unlikely, no matter how clever the dude is. But the latter would have more naturally led to him being involved in the Revolutionary faction sooner or later rather than setting sail to compete with Roger and Whitebeard and coming up with his own grandiose schemes.

I talk about this all the time, but if we can trust his SBS child illustration – and I think we can, based on past experience – he was already toting around a real gun as a kid. And in fact it seems like he was probably already fairly skilled in its usage (mentioned this in the handedness post, but I have a feeling that his gun is holstered in a cavalry draw position rather than the more typical cross draw). His expression and stance also already lack that veneer of innocence that many (not all) of the child illustrations tend to have. From that (among other things), I’ve always gotten the sense that he was a street kid who pretty much raised himself/grew up in the underworld... and would have been far too careful and shrewd to have been captured by anyone.

If his missing hand was the one with the tattoo (kinda has to be, since he had to get undressed for the Impel Down “baptism”)... well, Croco’s much too pragmatic to have chopped it off just because of a tattoo. Especially when there are more obvious ways of subverting or hiding the symbol (see also: Sun Pirates). No matter how well he’s adapted to the lack of it, he is NOT the kind of man who would have willingly given up the practical benefits of having two working hands, imo. Even to escape (he’s no Zoro lol).

I dunno, even if all the above points can technically be written around, it feels kind of redundant to have another ex-slave Warlord in the mix. Sometimes redundancy is good, and adds thematic texture due to the different nuances. But I think we’re already pretty well covered.

(The remaining variations on this theory that I actually think are kind of viable but require way too much guesswork: he betrayed his allies into slavery [after being betrayed by them first, I’m thinking], OR he attempted to pull a rescue but failed [again, perhaps due to treachery] and chose to abandon them/save his own skin. These not only fit what we know about his personality, but also provide a decent explanation for why Iva specifically would be involved/aware, and suit the context of the exchange during Impel Down. Like I said though, way too much guesswork, especially re: what exactly in this scenario would serve as a hold over him.)

As for what I personally think the actual secret is, if not those two above options – my thoughts haven’t really changed that much since I originally wrote the FTM debunk post. In my view the three main options are 1) the backstory behind him obtaining his fruit; 2) whatever backstory there might be regarding his hook/scar (assuming they’re not just design elements like Doffy’s sunglasses LOL); and 3) the backstory behind his knowledge of Pluton and the poneglyphs (plus I assume he’s one of the few who knows the truth behind Ohara). Possibly those options might even be related to each other.

The only somewhat new addition to my thoughts: since Oda’s made the parallels between Croco and Luffy* even more explicit than before, I suspect Croco had a similar experience as Luffy/Sabo/Ace did in the Gray Terminal. (Remember that I think Croco was a street kid.) Only his reaction was something more along the lines of Sabo’s, if Sabo hadn’t gotten proper guidance in form of Dragon and had turned pirate instead.

(… I can’t be the only one who can imagine alternate universe Sabo going the evil mastermind route, can I?)

* The Croco/Luffy parallels are key to the Alabasta arc, and Oda then brought them up again with the SBS about Croco’s pirating history. And as I’ve argued in my MBTI posts before, their personalities are mirrors of each other (rather than “in opposition”).

But I’ve also seen people point out that there’s an interesting parallel to be found between Croco and Ace as well. (Both talented and ambitious young Logias who challenged WB early on in their pirating careers; one submitted, one picked himself back up to attempt his own path.)

Which I think makes it not unreasonable to eventually see an echo of Sabo in Croco as well. (Although I have previously thought the more explicit Sabo foil was Doflamingo, hence him turning up specifically during Dressrosa.)

I mean no matter what, the weirdly romantic vibe of Baroque Works and the idealism implied in “Operation Utopia” have been cracking me up for ages. And that’s gotta have its roots in something, right? Odd to think about, but we actually know way more of what makes Doflamingo “tick,” what his driving motivations are. We never got a true explanation for Croco. Just like Big Mom’s yearning for family and belonging is a corrupted version of Whitebeard’s family ethos (and note apparently SHE wants to construct a “utopia” of sorts as well), Croco’s stubborn opposition to the government strikes me as a corrupted version of the Revolutionary stance. That’s like the one thing we’ve known about him all along, the one reason we know he was after Pluton – and Marineford only further supported this. I mean yeah, no pirate actually LIKES the government for obvious reasons, but Croco’s disdain has been consistently highlighted in particular.

I’m convinced it means something.

[snowbellewells]

“Beginning Now, It’s Ours”

~~Note:  So, this story was meant to be a request answer for @whimsicallyenchantedrose for my 200 Follower celebration, and it is LONG overdue – embarrassingly so.  She chose the prompt of: “Emma goes into early labor aboard the Jolly Roger while they are sailing one day; set in the future, post-wedding and happy beginning, but everyone has returned to the Enchanted Forest to live.”  I hope you will still enjoy it, Jennifer!  (I certainly had a lot of fun envisioning it! J) And @revanmeetra87 , your requested fic  is still coming, I promise!  The “CS as ballroom dancers” prompt story keeps growing, and I’m having a lot of fun with it, just not a lot of time to write!!~~  @kmomof4  I’ll let you know when it’s posted too.  We’ve been talking about that CS dancers idea for ages, even before I was supposed to be writing it for a request.

 “Beginning Now, It’s Ours”

By: snowbellewells (TutorGirlml on ff.net)

 “There’s no storm we can’t outrun,

We will always find the sun;

Leave the past and all its scars,

A happy beginning now is ours…”

             Gently rolling waves lap softly against the hull of their ship, rocking back and forth on the open water that stretches unbroken as far as her eyes can see, soothing an eight-and-a-half months pregnant Emma Swan-Jones where she stands on the Jolly Roger’s deck, leaning against the ancient wooden sides.  She runs her hands along the smooth grain, lovingly reflecting that she has come to see the old girl as a home, just as the vessel had served for her husband all those countless years he had spent adrift and alone, when she feels Killian’s solid presence behind her.  The warmth that always radiates comfortingly from her pirate presses to her back as he stands behind her, wrapping his arms as far as he can around her rounded stomach, hand and hook resting protectively over their little one and nuzzling his nose into the crook of her neck and shoulder.  “Alright there, Love?” he murmurs, wordlessly urging her to lean back on him, even as he nips at her skin, causing shivers to skitter down her spine.

             Breath hitching, Emma nods, suddenly not trusting her voice to remain steady.  They have been married almost three years now, and she might feel bloated and unattractive at mere weeks from her due date, but neither time nor condition has ever lessened the powerful effect a single touch or one whisper of her husband’s voice has on her.  Killian Jones may be gaining crow’s feet around his eyes when he gives her his incorrigible grin, and there may be the fewest strands of silver-grey mixed in with the dark hair at his temples, but he is still a menace to her composure in both looks and ceaseless charm.  She has never become any more able to resist the desire to “pillage and plunder” than she was from the very beginning.

               Her pirate gazes down at her, smirking as if he knows, but merely dips his head slightly to place a kiss to her brow. “Glad to hear it, Swan,” he murmurs low, pressing her the smallest bit closer yet in his embrace.  “However, I believe I shall have Henry turn her to port now.  We should have our return course set before the light fades.  Enjoy the sunset.  We shouldn’t go too far out again until after our babe joins us.”

               Emma gives him a small nod of reluctant acquiescence, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at his worrying over her and his protective concern for their little one’s health and safety.  At various times earlier in her pregnancy, both her mom and her dad had pulled Emma aside to urge a bit more patience and understanding with her anxious husband.  In their world, the realm and time Killian was from as well her parents had reminded gently, bearing children carried much more risk and could cause several more lingering effects than it did in Emma’s modern experience.  She has tried since then to bear with her pirate and his fussing as best she can, knowing that just as she can’t bear to live without him now, he cannot stand the thought of losing her either.

               He moves away with a gentle squeeze of affection to her hand, vowing in a purr against her skin to return shortly, then sauntering over the enchanted wooden deck, calling out to Henry jovially and asking if his first mate needs help bringing her round.  Emma turns partially to watch the two men in her life – her True Loves – whom she adores more than anything and anyone else in all the world. It makes her heart trip almost giddily to see the proud paternal smile Killian gives Henry when his stepson grins proud and pleased while showing that he has them turned about and right on course back to the castle harbor.

               There had been a few bumps in the road – Killian throwing away Pop Tarts to push mackerel for breakfast, and angry accusations on Henry’s part of trying to take his dad’s place when Killian had put a foot down the first time Henry missed curfew on a date with Violet, came to mind with still-vivid clarity – but watching the two of them together now, a person would never know they hadn’t always been family.  Their rapport is easy, genuine liking and respect for each other clear in their conversation and their jests.  That the man she finally gave her broken heart over to for mending loved her son so fully and completely – as if Henry were his own – as well, was more than Emma had dared hope for once upon a time.

               Since their wedding and the Final Battle against the Black Fairy, not to mention yet one more life-threatening and nearly final separation, there had been a fair number of the denizens of Storybrooke who vehemently desired to return to their home realm if there were any way at all to make it possible.  It seemed safer than staying in a place clearly targeted for mayhem and catastrophe; plus, it was where most of them really belonged.  Her parents had led the charge in fact, once they were certain that Emma, Killian, and Henry would go as well, and that Emma was genuinely alright with the decision.  Henry had been thrilled beyond belief and anxiously impatient to set out for a world where he could be a true knight of his grandparents’ kingdom and have all the adventures and heroics that role would entail.  With Regina working to help instead of thwart them, and a bit of advice and labor from Anton and the dwarves, it was the matter of merely a couple months’ growth time to have enough beans for those who wished to return to the Enchanted Forest, restore Snow White’s benevolent reign as it should always have been, and to rebuild the land they would make their permanent home.

               Emma tilts her head, savoring the warm, blissful feeling in her chest as she watches Killian lean in to speak just a few brief words of suggestion or encouragement to Henry before clapping him on the shoulder and nodding affirmation to whatever she can see Henry saying in response. Henry’s laughter rings out on the sea air brightly, one hand leaving the ship’s wheel to swat at Killian playfully before her pirate swings away and comes back to her, the oranges and golds of the sky behind him lighting his figure as if he is surrounded by a hazy halo.

               Feeling her mouth begin to water with desire for her gorgeous husband, his attractiveness only accentuated by the sunset’s glow, Emma turns back to the ship’s side, leaning for support gently as she rubs her hand over her stretched and unwieldy belly.  The rumbling unease she feels just now is another side effect, like the sudden bouts of overwhelming need for her husband and all he can do with that sinfully delicious body, that she wants to blame on the wealth of hormones coursing through her as she comes to the end of her pregnancy.  Still, her brow furrows against her will as she gazes out at the reddish ball of the fiery sun seeming to settle right on the water at the horizon line before them, unable to ignore the sharp, painful pinch of sudden discomfort in her abdomen, even as she tries to hide it.  Blowing out a puff of air in the hope of breathing deeply to steady herself, Emma leaves her hand on her stomach, rubbing her palm back and forth along its curve, forcing herself to focus elsewhere and stay calm.

               Though Killian would never have said a word, thinking she had no desire to give up the comforts and conveniences of the modern world she had always known, Emma knew her husband had wanted to see his own realm again.  Her brave, resourceful pirate adapted himself so determinedly and well to any surroundings – even the strange and mystifying 21st century with all its gadgets and technology – that she could almost forget what an adjustment her world must have been for him… how much he had willingly given up to remain by her side. Yet as they had settled in her parents’ castle, taking their own wing of apartments but still close to their large, extended family and friends, Killian’s glee at showing her the ropes in his homeland had been evident, his sheer joy at for once not being off-kilter and out of the loop with customs, routines, and endless modern technologies.  He never made her feel stupid or ridiculous, even when he might tease her, but was always right at her side, eager to show, to teach, and to introduce her to this simpler time and place natural to him, whether it was how to cinch her dresses with sewn-in corsets or make coffee in a world without Granny’s, Starbucks or Keurig machines – and for her to see the life she would always have had if things had gone as they should – anxious to help her feel at home and come to love the place as much as he clearly did.

               Thoughts of their current place and time bring her focus circling back to the trepidation her beloved pirate had suffered and dealt with when they first learned they were expecting.  Not that Emma hadn’t harbored her own issues, but once she managed to tell Killian and he had been awestruck and thanking her with kisses rained all over her face before falling to his knees to press his lips to her still-flat stomach repeatedly as well, her biggest worry had been allayed.  This would not be like last time – alone, sick with guilt and regret, knowing that in the end the precious life she carried couldn’t stay with her, and that she would have to give it up.  Killian, after the initial shocked euphoria, had grown fearful over the many things which could still go wrong, the mere chance that he could lose her, the baby, or both of them.  For the last month or so, it had nearly paralyzed him and stolen all of his happiness and anticipation for the event. Several long scouting expeditions with David, which she and her mother felt were more “bro bonding” exercises and an excuse for some in-depth reassuring talks, had finally brought Killian’s confidence in their strength and preparation and his anxious joy to meet the child borne of their love back to the forefront.

               Now, however, as she can’t help bending forward a bit, curling herself around the source of pain and biting back a low moan. Emma has a fleeting moment of panic that perhaps Killian’s fears are not so far off base.  And then, just as though he has read her mind, the way she often believes he can, Killian is there at her side, hand and hook at her waist bracingly to still her wild thoughts.

               “What is it, Love?” he asks apprehensively. “Are you alright?”

               Emma can only shake her head in the negative, doing all she can now not to scream in pain and alarm her teenage son along with her husband.  She clutches at Killian’s hand on her waist with shaking fingers, wrapping his hook in her grip as well and leaning into his support it all it’s worth.  By the time she raises her head for her teary, unfocused green eyes to meet his concerned blue, she feels the unmistakable gush of liquid breaking free and streaming to the planks of the Jolly at their feet.  She can’t deny, even to herself, what is going on, a few weeks ahead of schedule though it may be.

               Killian’s mouth opens in shock, clearly floundering momentarily for words as he looks from her face to their feet and back again before asking rather needlessly, “Emma lass, are you…?”

               She bobs her head rapidly in affirmation, feeling her knees give a bit and leaning into the frame of his body yet more heavily. She tries to force a smile to her lips, even as she feels silent tears breaking free to trek down her cheeks.  “I think –” she breaks off on a gasp, then forces herself to continue speaking breathily with a self-deprecating chuckle at the end, “you may have been a bit late with the warning about going out on the water, Captain. Pretty sure there won’t be any time for worrying about that.”

               Breaking into a pleased grin at the imminent arrival of their long-awaited offspring, Killian’s eyes light up with happy expectation, even though they stay fixed caringly on hers.  “My apologies,” he murmurs lowly against her neck, offering a bit of a mocking bow clearly meant to help her keep the lighthearted mindset as long as she can. “In future, Milady, I shall endeavor to be more prepared.”

               Calling to Henry over his shoulder without even glancing back to the helm, he asks evenly, with impressive show of calm, “How long before we dock, Lad?”

               When Henry’s response is half an hour to forty-five minutes, Emma grits her teeth, knowing this will probably still be going on, but that she will not be up to trekking from the ship to the castle by then. Thinking about the nursery all outfitted, sterilized and prepared for their baby’s delivery, and both Doc and Victor on standby to oversee the proceedings, and yet still out of reach of all of it, is maddening and only serves to cause her tears to fall with greater regularity.

               “Right then,” Killian states, his voice clipped with the tension that always comes when he is forced to see her upset or in pain. He moves swiftly before she can protest to wrap his hook arm around her shoulders and his other arm beneath her knees, sweeping her off her feet into his arms, and already moving toward the hatch that leads below to the Captain’s quarters.  “Steady on your course, Mate,” he calls to Henry.  “Your mum needs to lie down, and I am taking her to do so.”

               Emma gapes at him now, nonplussed until she has to bury her face in his chest to muffle another cry aloud at the most vicious contraction yet.  She wants to fight him, demand he put down her awkward bulk before he falls and hurts them both, but keeping a lid on her anxiety and breathing as she has been taught are taking nearly all of her focus and strength.  Henry is no dunce; he has probably already figured out what’s happening and worrying, she frets, eyes slipping closed for a minute as she simply tries to think straight.  

               Before she knows it, Killian is easing her down on the bunk they have shared every night they’ve ever spent together on his ship, gently brushing back wisps of hair gone sweaty with exertion from her forehead, before pulling back to give her an encouraging smile.  “Don’t worry, Swan.  Henry will be fine.  As will you and our impatient babe.  I will fill him in and be back before you know it.  Just hold on, aye?”

               Emma nods, blinking back more tears at his understanding exactly what she needs – his knowing just what to do, just what to say, what will make a frightening situation alright again for her in only a few words.  It is hard to believe that even a month ago, he was the one beside himself with worry, when now that he sees her in need he seems so steady and calm.  Killian turns and disappears back up the ladder; a moment later, she can hear his quick steps crossing the deck overhead.  There are a few minutes of silence following, and she senses then that he must be telling Henry what’s really going on; that she is already in labor to bring his younger brother or sister into the world.  What surprises her is that she soon feels the ship’s movement stall, coming to a standstill other than the gentlest continued rocking of the waves around them.

               It isn’t long after that she hears two sets of footfalls pound across the boards above her, then the hatch opening to allow both her True Loves down to her; Killian dropping into the small room as agile as a cat while Henry clambers after him, eyes wide as he takes in her panting, aching form on the bed where Killian left her.

               They take up positions, one on either side of her, and Killian kneels to her left, brushing his hook, the cool curve soothing, over her flushed cheek while offering her his good hand and raising the back of her palm to his lips when she takes it and laces their fingers together. “Don’t worry, Love.  Everything will be fine.  We’ve dropped anchor so that the both of us are free to aid you, and all will be right – Whale or no.”

               Emma looks up into those mesmerizing blue eyes, feeling as though she should want to rail at him for getting her into this situation, want to squeeze the hand in hers until she breaks all his knuckles and he hurts as much as she does right now, and demand how he knows it will all work out.  Yet that open gaze of wonder, admiration, and love he has fixed on her makes the only real emotion she can register one of gratitude that Killian is right there at her side with no intention of leaving her.

               Henry rests his hand on her opposite shoulder then, as if just needing to touch and lend his mom what encouragement he can. His hand is strong, slightly calloused, and larger than she remembers it being; her boy is nearly a man, and it suddenly seems as though it has happened right before her eyes.  She leans her head over to rest against his when Henry bows his forehead to meet hers, whispering a soft ‘thank you’ to her beautiful, amazing, and incredible son.  He could begrudge her all of this, what with the mistakes she made and the way his own life had begun; he could have wanted no part of this new family dynamic and a younger sibling that she plans to raise from the very start.  Instead, with true grace and empathy, Henry has welcomed this coming child as a second chance for all of them, just as he has always managed to understand that his mom had only wished him to have his best chance in life with every fiber of her battered young heart, and that was the only reason she had let him go those many years past.

               “You’ve done this before, Mom,” Henry reminds her now, managing to evoke at least a bit of a jesting tone in his delivery. “Plus, you’re pretty much the strongest person I know.  You’ve got this…well, we’ve got this.”

               “Aye, that we do, Darling,” Killian agrees, slipping his arm behind her to tilt her forward, putting several pillows behind her to help prop her up somewhat, as if he somehow knows that she’d realized the time to push is close at hand.

               Quickly, Henry heads to the galley for clean towels and hot water when Killian asks for them.  While her son is gone, her husband helps her shed the outfit she had been wearing for their sailing venture and don instead a simple, lightweight shift, before placing a sheet over her bottom half and bent knees, as he has seen several times by now, both on television in her world and at the various other births they have borne witness to at this point.  By the time Henry returns with the requested items, they have her settled once more and Killian is at her feet, coaxing her to breathe as Whale has had them practice and reminding her when to push as the time is fast approaching.  “I am no Dr. Frankenstein, but I will do the best I can, Love.  It would seem our littlest pirate is no longer willing to wait.”

               Emma huffs a short, nervous laugh between gasps for air and groans as she feels the pressure and stretching within her abdomen only heighten.  “Honestly, Killian, I wouldn’t mind an actual doctor’s expertise, but I think I’d rather have you down there than him, if the truth be told.”

               Henry chooses that moment to break up the exchange before things grow any more awkward, and he comes back to her head, letting her lean against him and supporting her shoulders.  Soon, it all blurs into her two loves’ voices giving instructions and speaking encouragement, measured breaths, blinding pain, and pushing, until she feels she has no more strength left, not a single ounce of energy still within her body to give.  Her surroundings and the passing minutes blend together hazily in increasing agony.

               “Come on, Mom!” Henry urges at her ear, pleasing earnestly as he continues, “One more push!  You’re almost there!”

               Tossing her head back and forth weakly, Emma senses her words more than actually hearing them as she tells him ‘no’, she can’t, it’s too much, there’s nothing left.

               Suddenly, Killian’s voice snaps through the fog, breaking like lightning, a lifeline tossed into murky seas and towing her back to shore.  “Emma! You must!” he demands, his voice, raw and urgent, but implacable, allowing no other choice.  “I can see the crown of the head.  Push, Lass! Now!  Once more!  You can do this!!”

               Calling on every reserve she can muster, clenching muscles she never even realized she had, Emma bears down once more, pushing, straining, until all at once the cord she has felt constricting her breaks, a force expels, and she falls back, drained, to the wailing cry of an infant.

               Giddily, her hurt and exhaustion flip on their head into a dazed sort of euphoria.  Her eyes roll to Henry, who is grinning down at the end of the bunk where Killian is cradling a squalling, red, and flailing newborn as he attempts to clear its airways and wipe clean the delicate, rosy skin.  

               “You did it, Mom!  We made it!” Henry beams back at her, shifting and leaving her side for a moment to help Killian maneuver and settle the child, wrapping it in a spare sheet from a cupboard and settling her in the crook of his stepfather’s blunted arm.

               In just a few more moments, Killian is bringing the swaddled bundle of precious little girl to his wife and laying the crying child in her arms, where the little one promptly stills to mere sniffles, seemingly soothed by her mother’s very touch.  “We’ve a daughter, Swan,” her pirate announces, already entranced and clearly wrapped around the wee infant’s tiny fingers.  His voice is hushed with blissful reverence as he looks on, watching their daughter’s rosebud mouth purse and her eyes blink curiously up at them all, then staring at Emma in wonder, as if hardly daring to believe this has all just happened.

               For a moment in the ship’s cabin, the world slows and allows a frozen tableau of perfect delight.  The gurgling little girl already sporting a head full of her papa’s dark hair, her two enamored, drained, and enthralled parents, plus one proud big brother, all elated at the result of the last few hour’s hurried proceedings.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~8888888888888888~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                 When, a month later, the newest heir to the throne of Misthaven and the Enchanted Forest is presented in court, Morgan Ruth Jones shows every bit of her mother’s pluck and her father’s mischievous charm when she reaches up to tug a curl of her grandmother Queen Snow White’s hair as she rests in her arms, grinning toothlessly at the gathered assembly and winning all her future subjects over as easily as blinking her eyes.  From where they stand to the side looking on, Emma threads her arm through Killian’s and gazes up to see that his eyes are suspiciously misty.  Reflecting on how their little miracle child has continued to surprise and delight them every day since that of her birth, is only another confirmation of how very blessed she is, after all the heartache that came before.  If there were ever a fitting exclamation point to signal the conclusion of their story’s start, and lead into the rest of the long-awaited fairy tale, it would be their daughter, without doubt.  Henry himself could not have written a happier beginning.