#this ship should have killed ANY remaining interest and somehow there was enough other stuff there that it didn't

[musical-chick-13]

Sadly, I cannot completely refrain from Complaining About Characters/Ships I Hate because Raúl/Sofía exists.

[clonecest-bin-account]

300 followers bingo - Fox/Wolffe | Pirates AU

(Oof this came out way longer than I thought, you’ll soon see why. Hope you like it!)

As Fox and the rest of his troops inspect the site of the wreckage, the only thing he finds are dead men. Whatever has caused the Dread Wolf to finally sink must’ve done a pretty good job at it.

He can’t help but to think that it’s a shame, despite the fact that the Dread Wolf, and especially its captain, have been a thorn to his side for years, hindering the commerce with their incursions. King Palpatine had even declared by law that any act of piracy will be punishable by death, but that never stopped the crew of the Dread Wolf.

Still, Fox won’t lie and say that he never enjoyed the thrill of the chase, that sometimes he even looked forward to the Dread Wolf’s incursions, so he’d get his chance to duel the only man who he could ever consider his rival.

And now…

 That lucky son of a whore.

 The man Fox has just found on the shore it’s the same man that he was talking about: here he is - alive and breathing - the master of the Dread Wolfe, captain Wolffe himself - Fox has always wondered which name came first, the ship’s of the captain’s.

How he’s still alive, this Fox doesn’t know, but in the end, it’s not like it matters: now that he’s found him, he will arrest him, and then he’ll be sentenced to death. Either that, or he’ll rot in prison if the king feels merciful - if that can be either considered a mercy.

It’s his duty to take him in custody, to make him pay for his crime… and yet, Fox still hasn’t moved a muscle.

He can’t, he just can’t…

 What’s stopping him from fulfilling his duty?

It’s his damn honor, that’s what it is: last time they’ve met, he and his crew had ambushed the ship Fox was in, but he let Fox go despite the fact that he could’ve easily taken him down, only taking the goods the ship was transporting before leaving.

He could’ve easily killed him, but he didn’t, and now Fox can’t bring himself to apprehend him like he’s supposed to do.

… Damn it all!

 Before he can be joined by the rest of the royal guard, he takes Wolffe’s unconscious body and drags him behind a group of rocks so that he’ll be hidden, then he goes back to the site of the wreckage, deleting every trace of something being dragged to safety.

Thankfully, both for Wolffe and himself because, if someone finds out, Fox will be hanged for betrayal, he manages to do it before everybody else arrives.

“Found anything?” Thorn, his second in command, asks him.

“Nothing of interest,” Fox replies. “Just other wrecks of the ship.” He truly hopes that Thorn will not see behind his lies; out of everyone, he’s the person who knows him the most.

Thorn nods, thoughtful. “Yeah… Most men must’ve drowned. It’ll take some time before all of them wash up to the shore, if the fish don’t eat them first.”

Fox frowns at the image, but he supposes that Thorn is correct, which makes it plausible that they wouldn’t see Wolffe’s body. And Fox didn’t even need to advance that hypothesis himself, so he’ll look less suspicious for it.

At that point he sighs, gaze moving from the wreckage to Thorn. “If we’re done here, let’s move out. The sun’s setting, we’ll get back tomorrow morning.”

At those words, they all snap to attention. “Yessir!”

 --

Once he can take advantage of the cover of the night, Fox comes back to the site of the wreckage, thinking about how dead he is at each step. He shouldn’t be doing this, and yet here he is.

He finds Wolffe still unconscious, which does worry a bit, but he’s well aware that he can’t exactly bring him to a doctor, so all he can do is to find him a secure place where he can rest, and hopefully get well. If he needs to, he can bring him medicine… Wait, why is he thinking so far ahead? And also, why should he even buy stuff for him? Isn’t it enough that he’s giving him shelter?

Oh well, he can think about this later. Now he needs to take him somewhere safe, which, he regrets to admit, could be only one location: his house.

 “Jesus how much do you weigh?” he mutters under his breath as he drapes one of Wolffe’s arms around his shoulders so that he can pull him up and drag him to what will be his temporary hideout.

The more he keeps going, the less he feels this is worth it, but he’s gone too far to stop now. He’s taken a decision and he’ll go along with it until the bitter end.

  --

When Wolffe wakes up, the first thing that comes to mind is how much everything hurts. He doesn’t remember going into a drunken blender the previous day, so that can’t be it…

In a flash, he remembers everything: the storm, their desperate attempts to stir the ship… the wreckage.

He jolts up, or well he would’ve done it if one of his wrists wasn’t bound to the headboard of the bed he somehow finds himself laid upon. Panicked, he raises his gaze to observe what is keeping him there; it’s a simple handcuff, but he knows by the looks of it that he can’t smash it, not without some dull object.

And yet, despite the knowledge, his mind is too fuzzy with panic for him to act accordingly; he tugs on the handcuff, then he tries again, and again, but to no avail.

He begins looking around for something he can use, when a weight presses against his shoulders, forcing him down. “Don’t. Move.”

 You can imagine his surprise when he sees that the man over him is Fox, commander of the king’s guard himself.

At that, he tries to shake him off, to free himself even harder than he was doing before, which ends up with Fox reacting by pinning him down by the wrists. “For fuck’s sake, Wolffe, I’m trying to help you here!”

“And how exactly are you helping me?” Wolffe growls back. “Looks like you took me prisoner!”

“Yeah, because I didn’t know what you would’ve done when you woke up!” Fox retorts. “I wasn’t going to leave you unguarded and alone…”

Silence falls between the two, tense at first, but then Wolffe - and consequently Fox - begins to relax, until Fox speaks again. “I found you in the midst of what remained of your ship, and since you spared me once, I’m returning the favor. If you promise me you’re not going to make a mess, I’m going to uncuff you.”

 Oh.

This is unexpected. Did Fox really do it?

No, it’s impossible, he must be lying!

… Right?

 And yet, for some reason, he finds himself inclined to believe him, because he knows that, unlike many of his companions, Fox keeps his word. It’s one of the reasons why he enjoys dueling with him and why he respects him despite the fact that he’s the king’s dog.

Despite everything, he nods, then. “I promise,” he tells Fox, intending not to betray his trust. If it’s true that he saved him, it’s the least he can do.

Fox looks at him for a moment, probably pondering if he should trust him or not, but in the end he decides to free him, so he slowly goes to unlock the handcuff that is keeping Wolffe to his bed with the key he was keeping in his pocket.

Once he’s free, Wolffe pushes him off, but otherwise he doesn’t seem to do anything else except sit and massage his sore wrist. Just how long has he been like this? He’s afraid to ask.

 Silence falls between them, even as Fox sits beside him. In normal circumstances, they would have nothing to do with each other, so it makes sense that they wouldn’t be exactly inclined to talk to each other, and yet, Wolffe has to ask…

“Was there any other survivor?”

Fox sighs. He was expecting this question. “Not that I know of,” he replies, then, figuring that for this kind of stuff, sugarcoating it would’ve been useless.

Wolffe lowers his gaze as a heavy silence settles between them. He looks so miserable but unwilling to show it that Fox almost feels the urge to try to reassure him, but he doesn’t, knowing that no matter what he says, it wouldn’t make it all better like some kind of magic.

Eventually, the atmosphere is so heavy that Fox can’t stomach staying there anymore. “I-I’m going to bring you something to eat,” he mutters. “Stay here.”

With that, he gets up and leaves the room, towards the kitchen. Watching the state Wolffe is in now makes him wonder if it wouldn’t have been more merciful to just kill him, but it’s not like he can go back on his decision now; it’s way too late for that.

  --

With time Wolffe’s body begins to heal, and he finds himself with more and more energy. The same can’t be said about his mind, however, not when this all still feels like a nightmare to him.

Did he really lose all his men? No, it can’t be, and yet he knows that Fox is not lying - what reason would he have to do that when he’s gone all the way to rescue him and not send him to prison immediately?

What should he do, now? What even is he anymore? A captain without neither a ship, nor a crew.

Why did he even survive? Why did Fox take pity on him?

He should’ve just let him die…

  --

Fox is… surprisingly cordial to him.

At first Wolffe found it weird, unnatural even - they’re supposed to be enemies, not this - and yet he can’t help but to be appreciative of the effort Fox is doing not to antagonize him, just as much as Wolffe tries to do the same, knowing that if he crosses him, he risks losing this safe harbor.

Once he heals more, he’s even allowed to explore Fox’s house, though of course he’s confined to his room whenever the commander has guests; it’s in their best interest that he remains hidden.

He still thinks Fox is a fucking dog, but… he’s not so bad, after all.

 Living in such close quarters has made him discover parts of him that he wouldn’t even have known about otherwise, like that he hates sweets except from honeyed stuff, that he’s very particular about what to wear - he has to appear perfect always - and that he has a secret soft spot for cats - he must’ve forgotten that Wolffe was inside when he took a weak stray inside to feed him and then let it go outside once it was strong enough to move again.

He supposes that Fox has found out some things about him as well, like the fact that he snores in his sleep, something that he complains about quite often, that he likes meat and that he’s unexpectedly good at flower arrangement, demonstrated when Fox didn’t know what to do for the guard’s doctor’s birthday; he suggested he could give her a bouquet that she could keep in her study, and even helped him arrange some flowers.

“Where did you learn?” Fox asks, dumbfounded by this. It makes him wonder why he didn’t open a flowers shop instead of becoming a pirate; at least he would’ve had an honest work.

“That’s a secret,” Wolffe replies, winking.

 They both freeze, at that. Did Wolffe just…

This easy camaraderie shouldn’t be possible between them, and yet here they are, acting like a pair of friends.

It’s weird, just… yes, weird.

Maybe they shouldn’t get so close to each other.

  --

Fox has lost count of how many nights he’s spent without being able to fall asleep because of Wolffe.

To be fair, he can’t exactly blame him for something that, after all, isn’t in his control, but this nightmare business hurts both of them.

He should do something about it, but what? He’s no expert in this matter, and he doubts he has what it gets to calm him down.

 A sigh escapes his lips as he gets up from his bed.

Before he can change his mind, he makes it to the guest room.

 He finds Wolffe twisting and turning in his bed without any hope of stopping soon.

Fox’s gaze is sad as he looks at him. If he lost his entire battalion, would he be the same? Would he be able to pull through? He doesn’t know…

He’s always had the feeling that Wolffe was pretty close to his crew, definitely closer than he is with the king’s guard, but it would still hurt, even though not as much.

 He almost reaches for Wolffe, before having a last minute hesitation; they say that you shouldn’t wake up people who are having a nightmare, so shouldn’t he just let it pass? But he feels bad not doing anything!

In the end he decides to put an end to his suffering, and he shakes him.

He was expecting Wolffe to jolt awake in a violent manner, but he wasn’t expecting him to actually attack him, though in hindsight he should’ve known this was going to happen - he would’ve probably done the same. Wolffe punches him, then he even tries to choke him, but Fox grabs his hands, keeping him still.

“Wolffe…” he says, voice weirdly soft, as he tries his best to keep the other at bay. “It’s me… Wolffe… Stop!”

At that, Wolffe freezes and let’s Fox go. “Fox…”

“It’s fine,” Fox hurries to say, trying to be reassuring. “It’s fine…”

 He doesn’t know how it happens exactly - he must’ve been so shocked that he barely registered it - but here they are with Wolffe held in Fox’s arms as he sobs quietly - or at least he tries to do it - while Fox caresses his hair in a silent attempt to bring him some comfort. He’d say something, but first of all he’s afraid of ruining things by running his mouth and potentially saying something that would turn out to be the wrong thing, secondly, he doesn’t even know what to say.

Saying something like “it’s fine” feels disingenuous at best, outright insulting at worst. No, it’s not fine, and who knows if it’ll ever be; he won’t lie to Wolffe like that, so he just keeps holding it, wondering if there even is a point to this, if this is actually helping.

 He wasn’t expecting Wolffe to drag him down for a kiss.

These last few weeks have been full of stuff he wasn’t expecting, but this has to take the cake. Most unexpected of all, though, it’s the fact that he finds himself returning the kiss, that when Wolffe falls down on the bed, taking him with him, he goes along without batting an eye.

He feels his hands on his body and he doesn’t push him away, doesn’t try to stop him. Actually, he welcomes every move.

Weirdly enough, he feels like he’s been waiting for this to happen, but he has not, hasn’t he?

  --

It’s not the first night they spend like this. After the first, it’s like something has changed inside them, a burning desire for the other that can be hardly satisfied.

In a way it’s not that different from when they’d constantly seek each other out in battle, only that now their duels are of a very different kind.

 With this, however, a feeling of dread keeps hanging over Fox’s shoulders: he’s aware of what would happen to him - and Wolffe too - if they get caught, and the more Wolffe stays with him, the more likely it’s to happen.

Eventually, he’ll have to let him go, and Wolffe, well, he’ll go back to what he used to do, he supposes. If he managed to make a name for himself out there, he can do it again - besides, it’s not like he doesn’t have allies in the pirating business that would surely help him out.

Despite this, however, he finds himself unwilling to let Wolffe leave. For once, he wants to be selfish…

  --

Things change on one night, a night that Fox has no intention of spending at home. He has too much to think about, and feels the need for some fresh air.

Besides, it’s been a while since he let himself be seen outside beside his duties; he wouldn’t want people to think that something’s up…

It’s weird, in a way, being so far from Wolffe…

 Eh, look at him. Some shitty king’s guard he makes.

 Before he has the time to react, he’s pulled into a dark alleyway, showed against the wall by two men that, on a more attentive exam, are two people that Fox didn’t even think were alive: Wolffe’s right-hand men, Boost and Sinker.

“Good evening, Foxie…” Sinker greets him with a grin, using the nickname that he knows makes Fox growl in fury, which in fact he does. He hates being called like that.

Boost, on the other hand, doesn’t share Sinker’s playful behavior. “Tell us where you’re keeping Wolffe locked up and we might not gut you like the dog you are,” he growls, pushing a knife against Fox’s throat, though Fox looks unimpressed.

“Very classy, like always,” he replies in fact, but that’s not all he has to say, even though he doubts it’ll help. “And, for your information, Wolffe is with me, and not locked in a cell.”

Boost and Sinker look at each other, and Fox knows already that this is going to be a looooong night.

  --

Somehow he’s convinced them to come with him and see with their eyes, though they’re still wary of him, enough that, if he makes the wrong move, they’re going to gut him. It’s fair, he would do the same in their situation, he supposes.

He can’t lie: he’s surprised to see that there have been other survivors, considering what they have found. It makes him wonder how exactly they managed to hide from them, but when he tried to ask they shut him down immediately. It’s fine, he doesn’t care about it that much - liar and hypocrite.

 At least Wolffe will be happy to see them…

  --

Just as he thought, as soon as Wolffe sees Sinker and Boost with Fox, he runs towards them, just like the other two as soon as they see their captain alive and well. They meet halfway, almost colliding into each other for the excessive speed.

“I can’t believe it…” Wolffe mutters, drawing the two into a tight hug. “You’re alive!”

“We are!” Sinker tearfully replies. “And you! You are…!”

“So he wasn’t lying after all,” Boost mutters, turning towards Fox, who sagely doesn’t say anything despite how much he wants to retort to that, since he doesn’t want to ruin the moment. Actually, maybe he should leave, let them have a moment.

Before he can do that, though, he hears Wolffe scold Boost. “Don’t say that! He… He helped me quite a lot. He saved me, in fact.”

 Yes, they’re all surprised at that admission, even Fox, despite the fact that he’s gotten used to the idea that yes, he did save him. Still, it’s weird to hear it directly from Wolffe’s ears.

“I… I should go. Give you some time alone,” he’s able to mutter, before retreating to the kitchen.

 Coward…

  --

When he hears the sounds of steps, he pokes out to see Boost and Sinker on their way to the main door.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“None of your business,” Boost states, and after that, he walks out of Fox’s room, leaving Sinker lingering on the exit, but he still hasn’t moved.

He looks at Fox and he seems… hesitant, for some reason?

“Hey,” he begins, “… Thank you, for saving Wolffe.”

Fox’s old instincts push to retort that he hasn’t done it for them, but what would that accomplish? Nothing at all. If anything, it would be detrimental.

“It’s nothing…” he mutters, barely loud enough to be understood. Sinker looks at him, expression hard to read, then he leaves as well.

  --

He doesn’t go to Wolffe immediately, afraid of what he’d see in him once he lays his gaze upon him: the happiness he must be feeling for having found some of his old crewmates and… the desire to leave.

Here he is again, being a selfish fuck. He shouldn’t be like this, and he knows that eventually he will have to let him go - he can’t continue this charade forever, and it’s important for both their lives that Wolffe leaves - but he can’t deny that it will hurt having to do that.

To think that that feared day might come soon…

 He shakes his head, trying to get a hold of himself.

In the end, he got attached to Wolffe, something that he shouldn’t have done, something that is dangerous.

A sigh escapes his lips. Well, it’s not like he can do anything about it now, can’t he?

  --

When he goes to Wolffe, he does indeed look the happiest Fox has seen him since he’s saved him.

When Fox steps into the bedroom, he finds him sitting on his bed, but as soon as Wolffe notices his presence he walks up to him and he kisses him with a fervor that he never used before. Fox, although surprised by such an initiative, especially now, can only submit to the attentions, and so doesn’t object when Wolffe walks him to the bed and pushes him onto him, following suit.

He keeps him close and he kisses him and kisses him and kisses him and takes him until Fox feels like he’s drowning, but eh, if he has to be honest, this wouldn’t be a bad way to go…

  --

“So… Are you leaving?” Fox asks. He’s waited until he and Wolffe were done, and what better way to ask than now, while they’re both still recovering lying one beside the other? Sure, he might sour the mood, but Fox needs to know.

“… Yes,” Wolffe replies, suspiciously cautious. Is he hiding something?

There are many things Fox would like to say, so many that it creates such a mess in his mind that he just nods without actually uttering a thing. He has much to think about after all.

Apparently, Wolffe is of the same vein, because he keeps quiet as well. It’s like all the enthusiasm from before has vanished, leaving space to quiet contemplation.

Fox would do anything to know what he’s thinking about; he could ask, but he feels like if he does, he’d only make Wolffe less willing to share. No, he’s got to wait, admitting that Wolffe will share the conclusions he’ll reach after this moment.

 He’s lucky, because soon, after a long sigh that doesn’t preannounce anything good, he turns toward Fox, a determined and serious look in his eyes.

“Come with me.”

Fox, taken off guard by such a request, can only reply with a “Where?�� before mentally slapping himself. As if it’s not obvious where he wants him to go. “I can’t,” he quickly adds then, shaking his head.

“Why?” Wolffe asks.

Fox doesn’t know what to say; wouldn’t it be too easy to just leave his life behind, and for what even, exactly? No, he can’t do it, no matter how much he’d want to. “I…”

 He wants to leave.

The realization hits him like a punch in the gut.

This is his life, what he worked hard to obtain. He has friends, here, people he cares about… and yet, he wants to leave them all behind.

He can’t deny how tired he’s got of everything. The kingdom’s falling into pieces and he seems to be the only one who has noticed it. Is this why he wants to leave?

Yes, but also not entirely: these weeks spent with Wolffe have been special for Fox. He’s never felt more alive than in the company of the same man who’s lying down with him, at his side.

To be able to leave with him… It would be a dream…

 “What’s stopping you?”

 Fear, Fox realizes. Fear is what’s stopping him.

Leaving with Wolffe would be such a drastic change from his usual life that he can’t help but to feel paralyzed at the prospect. How could he even get used to it? And if he regrets the change?

On the other hand, however, wouldn’t he regret not leaving? Wouldn’t he regret not following Wolffe? Yes, he would.

He can’t lie: he feels a certain thrill at the idea of living a criminal life with his beloved, but could it really become more than just a fantasy? Could they make it work?

 He wants to make it work.

Yes, Fox wants this to work, he wants to be free and happy with Wolffe, and that won’t happen until they leave.

 He takes Wolffe’s face between his hands and he kisses him, then he kisses him again and again, but when they pull away, he seems to be talking more to himself than to the other.

“Yes… Nothing’s stopping me.” He can leave if he wants - and he wants it. Nothing’s stopping him…

He looks back at Wolffe and every shadow of doubt is gone from his face. If he lets this occasion slip through his fingers, he’ll never forgive himself, he knows it.

Wolffe looks at him expectantly. “So that means…”

“Yes,” Fox says, “let’s do it.”

  --

If you told Fox that one day he was going to find himself running away from the kingdom he’s served since he has memory, following his archnemesis turned lover, he would’ve laughed at you and then thrown you into jail. Funny how some things change, huh?

Here he is now, looking at his house one last time, before leaving it - and his previous life - forever behind.

There’s still some space - a very tiny one - for doubt in his head, but he’s made up his mind: he’s going to live his life to the fullest, and in order to do that, he needs to leave. Wolffe will surely show him a new side of life that he didn’t even know existed, Fox is certain of it.

 He turns around, looking at Wolffe, who’s standing behind him, waiting for him to say goodbye to his old life.

When he notices Fox’s gaze on him, he sends him an interrogative gaze. “Ready?” he asks.

Fox stays silent. He walks up to Wolffe, taking his hand once he’s close enough and raising it to his lips, kissing his knuckles.

“Yes, let’s leave this place.”

 He’s made up his mind, and nothing can stop him.

[pomegranates-and-blood]

νοσταλγία (Chapter 34)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Word Count: 6k (I know I shouldn’t say sorry but...sorry 🥺)

Warnings: The usual, passing mentions of (past) sexual assault

A/N: This basically has no Ivar, for obvious reasons, so I know it is long but I didn’t want to leave you guys with two weeks before the story moves forward Ivar-wise. Sorry for the long chapter, and sorry if this isn’t very much to your liking, I tried lol.

Again with me and animals and references to deities: howling dogs are symbols of Melinöe, Greek Goddess of madness, nightmares, and ghosts; though there’s a duality to be associated with her, that for the sake of this story I took to her influence being both of nightmares and dreams, of madness and comfort; because she is represented in Freydis (or I attempt that) and she isn’t just a bitch, y’know? Melinöe is also considered a daughter of Persephone but in some stuff she is put together with her as one and referred to as a nymph and queen too.

You don’t think you’ve been able to lower your eyes from the skies since that day. Almost two weeks have gone by, and you start thinking maybe you imagined her voice behind you, imagined a ghost whispering somehow they had survived.

Sitting carefully on the ground, batting away the hand that Galla extends to try and help you, you start, “You know Lysander wants to make you his.”

She doesn’t miss a beat when she replies casually, “He has already.”

Galla only snorts at your scandalized expression.

“I mean make you his wife.” You explain with a shake of your head, returning your gaze ahead.

“I won’t leave you behind.”

“You would be the wife of the most powerful man in free Greece.”

“Or I could be the second in command of the most powerful woman in free Greece,” She retorts just as easily. After a moment, Galla sighs, “The Gods brought us together as children, my friend. Time couldn’t separate us, nor distance.

She lifts her hand to touch the side of your waist, where the bandages still press at the burnt skin.

“Not even death could separate us,” She vows, before offering a smile and turning back ahead, “Your Fate and mine are intertwined.”

And now here you sit, on a familiar clearing somewhere near Kattegat’s coast, watching the sun rise and not knowing how to decide between looking at the sea waiting for those ships to return or at the sky waiting for the falcon to guide you.

You hear soft footsteps behind you, but you do not turn to watch Freydis approach. The heavy winds blow at your hair, your gaze focused on the sea that accompanies the winds in their chaos.

“What are you doing here?”

“I want you to know I am sorry.” Freydis whispers from behind you, the pain that forces her voice to break making your eyes fall closed as if you can keep the compassion away by guarding back tears.

You offer her a nod and, as always, she understands your silent words, sitting beside you on the cold grass. Almost shoulder to shoulder but not quite.

Saying you forgive her would hurt your pride, saying there’s nothing to be sorry for would be a lie.

“You betrayed me.” Is what you state, a reminder both for her and you.

Freydis nods her head, not hesitating.

“I did.”

You smile, but it is watery and broken and weak.

“I should kill you.”

A few beats of silence, and…

“You should.”

“But I won’t,” You confess, angry at yourself, smiling at your own weakness, “Too soft a heart.”

“It isn’t a fault.”

“Isn’t it?” You quip bitterly.

Freydis sighs, “You are warm, and good, and soft. Don’t…don’t let this place change that, harden you more than it already has.”

“I have no reason to heed your advice now, Freydis.”

“Yet you do anyways.”

You consider her words in silence, accompanied only by the distant sound of a busy world at your backs and the waves breaking at the coast in front of you.

“I-…once you and I would have been one and the same,” Your arms wrap around your legs, bringing your knees closer to your chest, like you can keep the cold hand of regret from gripping your heart if you hold yourself tight enough. “Back in my city, in my kingdom…I did all you ask out of me now. I fooled a man into loving me, into believing everything I told him. I could have told him he was a God, and he would have walked this earth as if he were one. It is a terrible thing, what love can do to us,” Your last words fall from your lips in a breath that could be a sob, but with your lips pressed tightly into a line you breathe deeply and continue, “I did to him all I know I could do now. I laid with him, I held and kissed him, I whispered promises in his ear, I gave him my hand, I…I told him I loved him.”

Freydis says nothing for a few moments, but then her voice, rougher than usual, not so carefully feminine, not so mechanically dainty, asks, “What happened to him?”

You offer her a shrug, “He died. For his arrogance, for my hesitation, for…our mistakes,” Resting your chin on your knees, you keep your gaze on the horizon and explain, “He was my friend, I knew him since we were children and when I returned to Attica he was…”

She offers her strength when your words die, “In power.”

“I knew he wanted me. We women always do, don’t we?” A small chuckle, you don’t know from whose lips, “A-And I used it against him, I…hardened my heart and I pretended to want him too, to love him too.”

“In exchange for what?”

“His strength, his army. When the Byzantines sent their Christians to…convert us, he and his men fought for our frontiers, cut down their numbers.” You answer automatically, and past the pain there’s pride making your voice unwavering.

“Nothing, compared to what you could get now.”

“And yet I don’t want it, not like this. Not this time.” You vow, jaw set tight and eyes certain when they find her own. Freydis offers only a nod to signal she accepts your choice -or pretends to-, and silence reigns for a while between you.

It feels comfortable, familiar, even if you know it shouldn’t.

“Does Ivar know of that man?”

“Of course he does,” You reply instantly, turning to her with the beginning of a cruel smile on your lips, “Surely you don’t think I trust you more than I trust him.”

She returns the same kind of smile, “Once, you did.”

“And look where that trust has left me.”

She scoffs, “You speak as if trusting him was any better. After all he did to you.”

“Freydis…” You warn, and the blond shrugs, looking ahead with stubborn determination.

“Not a smart thing, I know.” She acquiesces anyways, remembering your words from the last time you talked.

She stays silent, reminding you starkly of that night where she found you pleading with Gods that didn’t answer to explain why your Fate had to be so, reminding you of how she sat next to you in silence, hesitant at how to be honest, true, soft.

But yet she remains at your side. A prisoner awaiting judgement, or a snake awaiting the chance to strike, you do not know.

“Why did you do it? Why tell him of that merchant?”

“I wanted to…understand. I wanted answers. To whether you’d leave if given the chance, to whether he’d believe you would.”

“That’s…”

“Cruel?” She finishes for you, before offering another shrug. “Maybe. He has done worse. You have done worse.”

She has a point.

“Why…why make him believe I see a monster when I look at him?”

“You know why.”

“No, I don’t.” You reply, maybe more forcefully than you should have, but you’re frankly tired of games.

“Because it is what he already believed,” She answers simply, as if the answer is clear for everyone to see. “You know the man you married; he needs certainty. He held on to the certainty that you’d leave him, and I had no interest in seeing him believe otherwise.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know if the case is other,” Freydis shrugs, and turns to you, “Is it true? Do you love him?”

Your mouth curves into a half-smile, “You expect me to trust you with a secret now?”

Freydis falters, and loses a bit of her edge, a bit of her unwavering resolve.

You think Ivar isn’t the only one that needs certainty, but you keep your mouth shut.

She offers a sigh as she turns to face the horizon, “It isn’t a secret.”

You leave her behind on that hill overlooking the sea, hearing the faint sound of dogs howling in the distance, and it feels like you leave behind a part of you.

____

Days pass, and the dreams don’t cease, and you wake up still hearing hissing snakes and howling dogs and…Gods, you might lose your mind soon.

You could tell yourself it is the dreams, the messages from the Gods, what makes you sit down in front of her in the apothecary, a mortar in your hands. You could tell yourself it is morbid curiosity, the desire to hear how she has betrayed you once again, what makes your movements so alike hers that first time when she sat before you and offered you a smile.

You could tell yourself many things, but we don’t change the truth by spinning a different tale.

Freydis doesn’t lift her gaze, but you notice her take a deep breath as you start grinding the herbs across from her.

“You vowed once that I would regret it if I ever betrayed you,” She states, and her dainty voice wavers. Freydis closes her eyes, “Well, I regret it. I…you have no idea how much I regret what I did.”

“I don’t care about regret, Freydis.”

Her expression falters, and you could swear there’s tears shining in her blue eyes. Her lip trembles, and…Gods, this is the first time you have seen her without a mask on, isn’t it?

“I-I love you,” She offers. An excuse, a plea, an accusation. “I…I…”

“What you did, you did out of love?” You ask, spitting back the words she said when the bodies of those merchants were still fresh. When you were surrounded by the evidence of Ivar’s cruelty and the results of her games.

“I did.” She promises, voice frail and small.

You look into her eyes, and ponder on the weight of such a small word.

“Narses tried silencing me, pushed me to be meek and obedient. He called it love, I stayed quiet and pretended that was what love was,” You tell her, voice quiet, “My mother left me without any explanation, handed my freedom to a man I didn’t know. I’m sure she called it love, but she isn’t here for me to tell her it felt like…abandonment.

Your gaze lowers to your hands, and it is both to you and to her that you admit the truth as the words leave your lips,

“Ivar put chains on me and dragged me all the way to his kingdom, forced me to be his wife. If you were to have asked him then, he would have called it love, though now both of us would admit that it was something else.

She answers with silence, and it unsettles you, but you don’t loosen the straight line of your spine, you don’t lose the hardened edge in your eyes as you lift them back up to meet Freydis’.

“You played games with me as a pawn, you were responsible for the death of innocents, you hurt me,” You bite back the anger, but it still resonates in your voice as it raises, “You toyed with Ivar’s head, you caused him pain. And you called it love,” You spit out the last words, but Freydis holds her ground, not hesitating in holding your gaze, “That isn’t love, Freydis. Betrayal isn’t love.

A barely-there flinch, but you notice it. And a part of you that you shouldn’t allow to be is cruelly delighted in hurting her.

“Trusting someone, trusting them enough to fulfill their promises, trusting them enough to be honest, that I do call love.”

She lifts her chin, and insists, although there isn’t accusation in her tone when she speaks.

“You trusted me, once.”

“I did. Because I loved you, and I love you still,” And there it is where your resolve falters, at the admission of why it hurts the way it does, why it stings and tears and breaks. Your smile is hopeless and it trembles on your lips, “You were the first kind face I saw here, you were-…you are someone that makes me feel…safe.”

“You make me feel safe too,” She confesses, before frowning and lowering her gaze. “You make everything complicated. Everything stops making sense and I…I shouldn’t have done what I did. I…would you believe me if I told you I am jealous of him?”

And for a moment the smell of mint overpowers anything else. You shake your head, dispelling the scent and any other thoughts.

You watch carefully as Ivar extends curious fingers to one of the newer plants you brought in. He plucks a leaf without any consideration, but you hold your tongue and watch him bring it to his nose.

“Mint,” You tell him without prompting, “Mint was a nymph, once. Did I ever tell you of why Hiereiai don’t take their marriage vows lightly?”

His lips pull into a slow smile as his eyes turn to you, and he shakes his head.

“Well, the God and Goddess of the Underworld are, in their own way, symbols of loyalty, and fidelity. They never stray, they never betray one another.

You cross the distance between you and take a seat next to Ivar on the cushioned lounge, watching with a small smile as he continues to twirl the small leaf of mint between his fingers.

“Of course, there are those who try testing that. The tale goes that there was a nymph that used to stride through the fields of flowers with the maiden my Goddess once was. This nymph, a beautiful and alluring woman, was...fascinating enough that Lord Hades desired her, and made her his, long before he set eyes on who then would be his wife.

You settle better on your place as you recall the old story, a story you have known and cherished for so long that, like so many others, it feels like a part of your own story by now.

“But when he abducted my Goddess and made her Queen, the nymph was forgotten, discarded. Nothing in the eyes of the God of the Dead compared to his wife, you see,” You share a smile with your husband, a smile that makes your heart quicken its beat in your chest, and continue, “Still, the nymph boasted that the new Queen of the Underworld was no match to her beauty, to her wit. And so, it is said that in that field where Hades first saw his wife, Minthe would wait, trying to seduce the God back to her side.”

“Did she succeed?”

You shake your head with a slight chuckle, “Some say Hades was enraged at the mere thought of failing his promise to his wife, and witness to such poor mimicry of the Goddess he loved, he struck Minthe there, turned her into a pitiful plant,” Ivar discards the small leaf and bends down to reach for your legs, making you rest them across his lap. You settle better, grateful for the relief from the cold, and trying not to tremble like some foolish maiden at the rhythmic caress of rough hands up and down your calves, you continue, “Others say it was my Goddess, and not her husband, the one that answered the call, and that she punished Minthe for the offense of trying to take what is hers. And so mint is untoched by each passing spring not as a mercy, but as an act of cruelty by the Goddess that scorns her.”

“Maybe the nymph was after your Godess, though. Maybe it was Kore she wanted the love of, and she scorned Hades for taking her from her,” He offers, and you startle, leaning back. Still, you are unable to keep the smile that curves at your lips. Ivar shrugs, and his smile is a little darker when he continues, “Your Mistress turned a God into a thief, you think she couldn’t turn a nymph into something else too?”

Your chest feels tight, because you do have a soft heart, and a part of you never stopped being the foolish girl that used to whisper to the plants she kept with her in the Silk Roads that if they fought and grew she would protect them and keep them alive.

Voice soft and low, you promise, “You won’t ever lose me because of Ivar,” But because you cannot help it, because a part of you never stopped being the woman that prided herself in killing and dying to protect those she loved, you add, “The same way Ivar won’t ever lose me because of you.”

Freydis focuses on her work, and for a while you remain in silence, for so long you start thinking she won’t speak again.

But she does, more than a bit of anger -though not at you- in her tone when she states,

“You don’t know what it is like, being alone. I have been at the hands of the worst of men, I have been beaten, starved, raped, humiliated,” And the woman that could be a nightmare to any man raises her chin, coldness in her eyes and strength in the straight line of her spine. You hide your pride and pain, both for her, and remain silent. Freydis smiles brokenly to herself, tears finally falling down her face, “I know fear, and I know pain, I have known them for a long time. And yet, the worst thing in this world is not being broken, defiled, or in chains,” A deep breath, some of the strength wavers, “The worst thing is, in such a wide world, being...alone.”

A small smile curves at your lips when you think that Freydis was the first person to treat you like…well, a person, aside from Ivar. She didn’t see a witch, a woman here to fool their King, a Saxon spy, a foreigner.

She saw you, more clearly than you would have thought then, you realize now; but she saw you, and she was friendly, and kind, and just honest enough.

She stands before you in the dark, in the whirlwind of chaos that Ivar and Fate have brought to your life. She sees your tears, and there’s rage in her blue eyes.

Still, she offers honesty, she offers relief, she offers a stretched hand, “You aren’t alone.”

She never left you alone.

“I…guess I have been fortunate. I have always had people at my side.” You whisper quietly, but you don’t think she hears the silent gratitude in your voice.

“More fortunate than you know, witch,” She agrees, nodding to herself. She turns her body to you, facing you directly and fiercely, even if regret swims in those blue eyes, “I don’t want to be alone, and I don’t want you to be alone either. I am sorry, for what I did, for what I...do.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Freydis. It is done,” You interrupt, pressing your lips into a line and hoping this is not a mistake when you offer, “What matters is what you choose now.”

The blonde shrugs, a small, apologetic and broken smile on her lips, “I…love you. I want to be someone you can trust, I want…I want to deserve your trust.”

Stupidly, naively maybe, you believe her. So, you agree with a nod of your head, and return your gaze to the dried herbs you’re working on, “Alright, then it shall be so.”

“I…I, uh, I don’t-…”

“I love you, Freydis.” You whisper, stealing a glance to her wide eyes and when your gaze meets hers you hope she knows you are honest.

The girl’s lip trembles for a moment before she returns her gaze ahead, and she lifts her chin, proud and refusing to admit the weakness of emotion. You stifle a small pleased smile when you see her, and it is only the question that leaves her lips next that keeps you from embracing her.

“So, are you planning on staying?”

If Stithulf were to die today…

“That’s…not a question I want to answer.” You offer nervously, mouth suddenly dry and heart skipping a few beats.

“You feel you must return to Greece. Your home calls to you.”

Yoi shake your head, “I don’t know where my home is. But…I have a legacy to uphold. My mother and father died for my freedom, I cannot turn my back on their sacrifice for…”

“Love?” She supplies when you quieten, startling you both with her implication and her certainty when she continues, “You put your duty before love once, and you still shed tears for it. Do you want to do it again?”

No.

You shake your head, ridding yourself of useless and jumbled thoughts, and close your eyes against the torrent of emotions and fears and hopes. You reach for a batch of dried Feverfew and Chamomile, and offer her half so she starts working.

“We must now just…hope the winter is kind to us. And when spring comes…we will see.”

If your voice is ragged, if your eyes shine, she does not mention it, instead taking the herbs and lowering her gaze.

After a while of comfortable silence, the blonde asks,

“What does spring mean to you?”

“Change,” You reply easily, although it never is. “Whether we want it or not.”

“To us it means war. They go raiding again, they go kill and die again, when spring comes.

The day goes by, and you two sit there, shoulder to shoulder, Varangian to Greek, woman to woman, surrounded by the one place where you can feel warm while Ivar is gone.

A call of your name interrupts the easy nothingness of your mind, and you turn your attention to Freydis as she offers you her hand, stretched between you like who seals a deal.

“Wherever your Gods or mine take you, I shall be at your side,” She promises, her smile a little hungry and a little happy. “I swear it.”

Your eyes go to her outstretched hand, and for some reason it reminds you of the fists over the hearts of thousands of Attics, vowing loyalty to an Anassa you don’t know if you can be.

“I don’t need a slave, Freydis,” You say cautiously, lifting your gaze to her certain and unwavering blue eyes. “I need a friend.”

“I’ll learn,” She promises, fierce, a small smile on her lips that speaks of a woman that wants to swallow the world. You return it, even if guardedly, and grab tightly at her forearm as she does the same. “You have my word.”

____

You don’t know how long it has been, where you’ve stood there like who has seen a ghost, watching the falcon circling the longhouse.

Zephyr.

It is close to dusk, too close for any wild animal to be hunting. You know it is him, you know it like you know winter approaches fast.

You step out from the longhouse, your feet trailing after nothing, your eyes on the horizon, on the trees beyond the walls, where you know a ghost awaits.

Zephyr, loyal beast that he always was, lands on a nearby roof with a screech, as if finally content that you’ve heard his call.

You watch him take off again, go far past the walls, and try to think of a way out of Kattegat.

____

There’s a prayer being whispered past your lips, where you plead this isn’t the choice that dooms you.

You loom over Freydis’ sleeping form and reach a quiet hand to press over her mouth. Her blue eyes open, startled, but you shush her with a gesture. She relaxes soon enough, and you cautiously remove your hand from her mouth. The blonde girl sits up, a thousand questions written in her eyes that you promise you’ll answer once she comes outside with you.

She does, and the darkness of the city feels suffocating when you turn to her.

“You once told me a slave, better than anyone, knows of the ways out of a kingdom.” You whisper.

A few moments of silence, of baited breath, where you almost consider she will scream for the guards, sell your secrets to whoever will listen for a pat in the back. But she finally presses her lips together, and gives you a firm nod.

She guides you in the comfort of darkness to a path you did not know of, and with expertise she predicts the marching feet of the guards, motioning for you to move.

“You don’t have much time. If you don’t return before the sun rises…”

“I will return.” You promise, eyes already set on the path she pointed to.

You follow the impatient cries of a falcon through misty woods, catching your stumbling steps by grabbing into the branches and the trunks of trees. Night usually feels suffocating, but the promise of reunion and the hope beating in your chest keep you from feeling anything but anticipation.

A whisper of your name, and your eyes, already used mildly to the complete darkness, catch the slim figure waiting by one of the trees.

“Galla!” You exclaim, thinking too late of keeping your voice low. In no time you are embracing her and she you, hushed relieved laughs escaping your lips.

She’s real, and solid, and warm under your hands. She’s alive.

“I’ve missed you. I thought the worse, when we lost sight of you in Dublin.”

You shake your head, a watery laugh making its way past your lips.

“I was told you were all dead,” You shut your eyes tight, angry at your own foolishness, “I should have known better than to trust that Christian’s word.”

“We lost about a third of our people, seven hundred or so, those too weak to run or fight. And less than a hundred are either with Stithulf or elsewhere,” She whispers grimly, “But we are faring well, we scavenged and stole what we needed. We will set up, but far from here, lest we are seen as a threat while Kattegat’s King is away.”

A part of you wants to find a way to let Kattegat give them the support they need, but…but if you were planning on letting Ivar know the Greeks live, you wouldn’t have snuck out in the middle of the night.

You swallow thickly, and ask,

“Have you heard from Sieghild? Have they…found Narses?”

She shakes her head sadly, “Nothing but rumors about your mother. And Narses…he is probably buried in a Christian grave.”

With your eyes on hers, with trembling hands, with a hope you haven’t dared voice making the words that come out of your lips hoarse, you whisper, “Maybe h-…”

Galla interrupts you with another shake of her head, “I saw how the Varangians took him down. That he reached you before collapsing was a last mercy from Ares.”

You told Narses on the eve of the last battle he fought that if he insisted on holding against the onslaught of Ivar the Boneless’ forces, that if he sacrificed your people for a Christian’s dream of revenge; and dared survive, you would kill him yourself. But nor the vitriol of your last encounter or the resentment that grew in your last months together can keep you from sobbing his name when the reality of him not existing anymore settles in your chest.

There’s a finality to having someone that knew him, that saw the warmth in his eyes and heard his voice and his laugh, tell you he is gone.

“That fool.” You croak out, furrowing your brow as useless tears fall down your face.

“I’m sorry.” Galla whispers, but you shake your head. The dead don’t need your tears, they are in a better place. Or so you were told.

“Let’s pray the Mistress is merciful when she greets him,” You offer in response after a few minutes of silence, before resting your shoulder against a tree and asking, “How did you know I was in Kattegat?”

“Word of a Greek witch becoming wife to a famous Viking runs fast,” She offers, the word that the Norsemen have for their people still strange in her tongue. With a smile, Galla continues, “Wife and Queen. Only you would be stupidly brave enough to survive Ivar the Boneless.”

“I’m going to ignore the ‘stupid’ part.” You tease softly, still smiling at a ghost.

She chuckles, and continues, “I have been getting closer and closer to this place for weeks now.”

Your brow furrows, and you cannot keep yourself from asking, “And you deemed it safe? You somehow knew I was going to be able to cross the walls.”

“You are free here, freer than...than you have been in a long time, I think. I don’t know the King, but I’ve heard how his wife seems sent by the Gods, both for his sake and his home’s. And I do know you, and I know you wouldn’t repeat the same mistakes you made with Narses.”

You swallow past a knot in your throat, “What are you saying?”

“There’s no man in this world that could force a ring on your hand,” She states dryly, not an edge of hesitation in her voice. “Was your mother right, after all?”

“My mother?”

“That it would take a Viking man to tame a daughter of hers.”

She betrays a smile, and you let go of a tension you didn’t know you were holding. With a lift of your eyebrow, you say,

“Do I look tamed, Galla?”

Her smile widens, gleeful and a little devious, like all her smiles always have been; and Galla shakes her head, reaching for your left hand and lowering her gaze to your ring.

“You’ve heard of Laconia, have you not?” She asks casually, rough finger tracing the flowers engraved in the band on your fourth finger.

“I have.”

Dark eyes meet yours, “We have a place to fall back to. A safe haven to regroup, to gather our strength again.”

“And retake Attica,” You finish for her, straightening your back. “We’d have Sparta’s army, and Lysander’s victory instills fear in the Christians.”

Galla only looks at you in silence, considering you with the probing gaze of someone so used to shadows you sometimes believe she doesn’t see people and instead sees secrets.

“As an Attic, by heart if not by blood, I ought to ask my Anassa to lead us,” She sentences, making your heart drop. After a moment, she adverts her eyes from yours, licks her lips and breathes for a moment before continuing, “But I have seen you die, too many times for me to rest easy at night.”

“Galla?”

She takes a deep breath.

“As myself, as the woman that loves you, I’m asking my oldest and dearest friend not to return to fight a war she lost already,” She finishes, at the way you frown and step back only pushing forward, “Narses is dead, there’s no chains binding you to us.”

“I am one of you!”

Galla shakes her head, unmovable, “Not fully. You’re not fully theirs either, but-…”

“No,” You sentence, meeting her eyes and stepping forward again. Though your voice is hushed, you try summoning all your strength to the words you speak, “Circumstance doesn’t change my nature. I am Greek, I am Hiereia, I am your Anassa.”

It feels like heavy chains being put on your wrists, to admit that, to accept that. It feels like the same chains Ivar had men put on your wrists, before he took you from everything you loved.

“And you are his wife, you are their Queen.”

You will not hear anymore of this. It is pointless, it is something you could argue on for hours on end and never reach a solution. It is something that pulls tight at your chest with every passing breath where you have to be aware of how much Fate truly manages to tear you in two.

“Find our people a safe place to spend winter at. More than one town will grant you shelter until spring in exchange for labor in the last harvest of the year,” You order, eyes looking at the nothingness ahead of you as you try finding a way. “Don’t let them know you’re Greeks.”

“And your husband? You think anyone can keep a man like him from knowing about us? We are a threat, Greek or not.”

“He doesn’t have to know I know,” You sentence, even though you know it is a foolish choice. If you can just keep these two worlds apart for a while longer… “Galla, I just…need more time. Allow me this winter.”

“And when spring comes?”

You offer a shrug, “Change will come with it.”

“I won’t force you t-…”

“You should know by now forcing me to do something doesn’t work out particularly well,” You interrupt, trying to find resolve in all this madness. Eyeing the forest around you, you find yourself needing to say goodbye again. “I hope the winter is kind. If…if something happens, if you need me…send Zephyr to the skies, and I’ll be here.”

You embrace her, tightly and with a hint of anger at Fate for making you mourn her for so long, and she does the same, for so long the cold seeps into you when you step away.

“Stay safe, may the Gods watch over you.”

Galla smiles, “Our Gods and theirs, may they be with you.”

____

You have wondered, in the days that pass since you have last seen her, if this is selfish of you. Wanting to remain in this world in between worlds. Wanting more time.

Maybe it is selfish of you, maybe it is cruel, maybe it is hopeless. You still pray, as the nights grow longer and the days colder, that as Persephone returns to her husband, not only do they allow yours to return to you, but that they allow you more time.

Your life, your death, is in their hands; all you ask for is time.

This morning, when you walk out the door of the longhouse as the cold sun rises, you extend a hand, and feel the faintest of snowflakes falling on your skin, melting over the back of your hand like a kiss.

“My Queen!” Someone calls out, and you turn to the boy that comes running towards you, “The ships, we see them.”

Your heart leaps in your chest, restlessness taking a hold of you, impatient feet wishing to forget pretenses and run to those docks.

“T-Thank you.” You tell him, and he leaves with bow of his head back to where he came from. For a few moments too long, you linger in the idea of going to the docks to wait for them.

“It’s still a while for the ships to get here, you mad woman.” Hvitserk calls out from behind you, and you turn to him with a smile.

“They told you.”

“Mhm. I told you they’d return in time,” Hvitserk quips, putting his arm around you and hugging you to his side for a moment. “Now you’re stuck with my bother for the winter.”

He accompanies you to the healers, and helps you work on getting everything ready for the injured or sick that may need assistance when the warriors finally land.

Before long, able to distract yourself with your work, you find yourself watching with baited breath as the ships dock.

You meet familiar eyes and kiss familiar lips, and the world ceases to exist.

The cold of winter is biting over your exposed skin, and you were taught, all your life, that the dawning of winter meant the grief of a mother losing her child, meant a maiden was taken from the place she belonged and the world withered in her absence.

It doesn’t feel like death, winter. It doesn’t feel like absence, like grief. Like a departure.

It feels like warmth, winter. It feels like home, like love. Like a return.

____ ____ ____

Obvious references to the God Ivar storyline are obvious. But, as much as I vehemently hate that plot, it gave us Freydis as we know her, and I love writing her, so I had to reference it.

Is it absolutely fucking stupid to trust Freydis again? Yes. Is she doing it anyways? Also yes. Soft heart, what can I tell ya.

Oh, and yeah, Minthe is also a deity I related to Freydis. Many times during the story, especially in ‘key’ moments where Freydis is witness to something between the Reader and Ivar, the Reader mentions smelling mint. Surprise lol. Just a little nod to a nymph that wanted to fuck Hades and to Persephone’s jealousy, that’s about it. But Ivar’s take on it is my favorite bit of that flashback, even if mythology-wise it doesn’t make a lick of sense lol.

Anyhow, hope you liked this! Would love to hear your thoughts on it, and thank you so so much for reading!! I love ya!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson @peachyboneless @1950schick @punkrocknpearls @ietss   @itsmysticalmystery​ @revolution-starter​ @chibisgotovalhalla​ @the-a-word-2214​ @fae-sedai​ @crazybunnyladysworld​  

[welllpthisishappening]

Where the Love Light Gleams

Killian was going to kill his brother. 

Which wasn’t very festive, but neither was being away from his girlfriend on Christmas Eve and this was all Liam’s fault. Or so he would claim. While rationalizing his current tendency to wallow, and stare at his phone and he’d spent far too much time on his phone that night. 

Whatever, it was Christmas Eve. That was definitely a reasonable excuse. 

---

Rating: Teen, with banter and friendship and kissing Word Count: 5.1 K AN: It’s me! Someone who can’t seem to write an MC to save her present life, but loves few things more than Christmas-type fluff and is therefore filling Christmas-type prompts again. Today’s comes from @shireness-says​​ who is always wonderful about replying to these sort of things and requested: 

"you had a business trip and i missed you so much that i kind of tore up the house in your absence like a dog with separation anxiety… sorry?" and “we’ve become the clingy newlyweds you always complained about. "

Both of which I almost legitimately filled. Just kind of—twisted. As is tradition. If you are so inclined to send a prompt from this very long list, you can pick one here, and I’ll do my best to write it before Christmas. 

This one is also on Ao3 if that’s your jam, where I’ll be posting all of ‘em. 

---

“Are you moping? It kind of looks like you’re moping.”

“Wow, such unparalleled observational skills. You should become a private investigator.”

Sticking her tongue out, Ariel made some sort of objection-type noise in the back of her throat, which probably would have made Killian smile in any other situation. On any other day. A day that wasn’t Christmas Eve. 

When he was absolutely, positively moping. 

It was a miracle he hadn’t frozen like this. That would have done irreparable damage to his spine, he was sure. 

He wasn’t really sitting up very straight. 

“There can’t possibly still be private investigators in the world,” Ariel challenged, brushing a wayward strand of hair away from her face and it was far too windy on the docks. If Killian didn’t get off the docks soon, he was going to scream. 

Or mope for the rest of the holiday season. At least until the New Year. That seemed reasonable, honestly. 

He was going to strangle Liam. 

This was all his fault. 

“You’re kidding me, right? What—what kind of world do you think we’re living in?” Ariel shrugged. “One that’s progressed past the need for private investigators, obviously. And I object to the notion that I would require any sort of PI-type skills to know that you’re being an absolute and complete, although also kind of understandable, idiot.” 

“Those words don’t go together.” “What do people hire private investigators for, anyway?” “Loads of stuff.” “Give me one example.” He huffed, irritation rattling around his skull and mixing in with a begrudging appreciation because he knew Ariel felt bad and maybe he’d kick Liam too. “Missing kids.” “Yeesh, that’s awfully negative.” “What was that about accusing me of moping before? I’m playing to those accusations.” “Ok, but we already decided they were observations, so you don’t get to rename them now that you’re feeling particularly jerk-like.” “I’m here, aren’t I? Makes it seem less jerk-like.”

Another shrug. And a specific quirk of her lips that Killian was far too well-acquainted with. The muscles in his cheeks were almost starting to ache. 

Presumably from holding them in this position for so long. 

He was absolutely moping. 

But he’d already been in Boston two days longer than he planned on, and none of this was really going according to plan. He’d checked his phone no less than forty-seven times in the last forty-five minutes. He hated that. Staring at that screen made him feel like a clingy freak, who couldn’t go more than a few minutes without talking to his girlfriend, and Killian had complained about those people enough times that his current tendency to do it made him despise himself just a bit. 

And yet he couldn’t stop. 

His thumbs flew across the keys, sending complaints and updates and smiling in spite of his own situation. 

Like a psychopath. One who was quite obviously frustrated. 

With several thousand things, it seemed — the most pressing of which was his distinct lack of festive nature, caused almost entirely by the issues with the expansion in Boston and adding another ship in Boston was supposed to be easy. 

Until Eric got the flu, and it was understandably difficult to captain a sightseeing holiday cruise when you couldn’t actually stand up for more than two minutes at a time, and Killian couldn’t say no to his brother when they both had so much money tied up in this, and if Liam was going to fly in to make sure everything stayed the metaphorical course, then the least Killian could do was drive in from New York. 

Or so Liam had told him. In no uncertain terms. 

Except Liam had also brought Belle with him and that somehow seemed like cheating, and Killian should have asked Emma to come. 

She had to work. He’d missed Mary Margaret and David’s Christmas Eve party. 

Which normally wouldn’t have felt like the end of the world, partially because Mary Margaret’s fruitcake was notoriously awful, but this year it made Killian’s heart feel like it was fragmenting in his chest and Emma’s photos had gotten progressively more and more blurry as the night went on. Mary Margaret also notoriously bought a questionable number of Prosecco bottles for the Christmas Eve party. 

“You are,” Ariel agreed, a string of words that caught Killian off guard when he was so deep in his own wallowing. “Which is super nice, but—” “—How can there be a but in this situation?” “There are several, actually, except the biggest one is how three different people on tonight’s cruise wanted to know why the first mate was so obviously distracted.” “They called me first mate?” “People think it’s funny to use nautical terms in real life.”

Slumping forward did not do anything to help the state of Killian’s spine, only managed to make sure his hair fluttered in front of his eyes when a salt-tinged breeze blew off the Harbor and he briefly wondered how dramatic he could get. He needed to exhale some more. 

He needed to go home. “Anyway,” Ariel continued, “they wanted to know why the first mate was on his phone all the time, and if the first mate was available and—” “—I’m sorry, what?”

“You have a face, you know that right?” “Now you’re just saying words.”

If she kept sticking her tongue out at its current rate, it was going to get frost-bitten. “These are compliments, you’re an ass and I owe you just—a metric ton of rum, the good kind, for doing all of this.” “Giving me whiplash,” Killian muttered, but one side of his mouth tugged up despite his best efforts to remain as depressing as possible. Ariel’s eyes got brighter. Rivaled the lights still flickering along the railing of their very nice, very new, decidedly expensive multi-level ship, and it had only taken about fourteen seconds for Killian to make that one photo Emma had sent him his phone background. 

That probably wasn’t weird.

“So, people wanted to know about you,” Ariel said, “and your previously discussed face, and rather than employee a PI because it’s not 1947—” “—Oddly specific.” “I will kill you.” “God bless us, everyone.” “Your very helpful and exceedingly sure of his own obnoxious brand of humor brother was very quick to inform all the interested parties that the first mate was distracted because he unfortunately wasn’t with his wife for Christmas.”

Ariel’s murder threat was not only out of place considering the date, it was pointless because he was going to guarantee he died all on his own. Killian nearly fell off the edge of the dock. 

One of his knees buckled, gaping at his friend and business partner like she’d only recently grown a few extra heads. She didn’t shrug again. Smiled, in her best impression of a variety of fictional and overly confident cats, but her shoulders stayed frustratingly still and that was—

“Emma and I aren’t married,” Killian sputtered, not entirely stunned to find those particular words difficult to say in that order. Half a plan rattled around with the rest of the emotions circling his skull, and he hadn’t really acted on the plan, but he’d been pondering and considering for at least a few weeks before his phone had rung. 

And that was only kind of a lie. 

He’d been doing a lot more than pondering for much longer than a few weeks. Considering had flown out the imaginary window, like—as soon as he and Emma had moved in together. 

Liam didn’t know any of that, though. 

At least in theory. 

Maybe strangling his brother was something of an overreaction. 

He still wanted to go home, though. 

“Liam knows that,” Ariel reasoned, “and I know that. And obviously you know that, but none of your on-water admirers know that, and you were playing your part very well.” “What?” “Glued to your phone, all night. Like a clingy newlywed.” “That’s ridiculous.” “Is it? Because while not technically true—” “—Or true at all,” Killian interrupted, and he wondered if he was getting used to the feel of his heart doing whatever it was doing, or he was just growing more melodramatic by the second. At some point in the last twelve minutes the idea of walking back to New York had become rather appealing. 

“Well, whatever. It was a good excuse, and it’s not like it was one-sided texting and it’s kind of romantic. All things considered.” “What are all the things, exactly?” That shrug came with another smile — far too knowing for Killian’s liking, but he also knew Ariel wouldn’t go back on her rum-buying word, and he supposed there was something to be said for that. Especially if it was good rum. “If you’re going to play the part…” “Look who’s being a romantic now.” “I’ve spent most of the lead-up to Christmas trying to force-feed Pedialyte on my husband. Got to get my romance from somewhere and you’re like—Hallmark Channel ready.” “Probably couldn’t have as much alcohol, then.” “How many bottles of Prosecco do you think Mary Margaret bought this year?”

Tugging his phone out of his pocket, Killian scrolled back through the more than two dozen photos he’d been sent over the course of the night until he found the one he was looking for. Of a table covered in green-hued bottles with plastic champagne flutes that Mary Margaret must have bought in bulk and— 

Ariel’s laugh hung in the air around them, louder than it probably should have been considering the time, but they were also by themselves and he was still kind of moping. So. The world could cope with their collective volume. 

“Do you think she gets a discount for buying so many?” Killian shook his head. “If she doesn’t, she’s being robbed.” “Get the private investigators on the case.” “Challenge Liam to a comedic battle.” “Not if we’re calling it that,” Ariel argued, bumping her shoulder against Killian’s leg. And he wasn’t sure if he was actually smiling, but his lips were moving and his heart didn’t appear to be shattering quite as much anymore and he hoped Emma fell asleep. 

On Mary Margaret and David’s couch. 

They wouldn’t let her go home, he was sure. 

He hadn't gotten a text in awhile. 

He was less sure about the shadows moving towards them, though — because he’d been a little distracted when they docked, but he watched Liam and Belle get into their rental car and there was absolutely no reason for either one of them to be back on the docks, but anyone else showing up on the docks at eleven o’clock at night was probably a sign that Killian and Ariel were about to be robbed. In a far more literal sense than whatever happened with Mary Margaret and her plastic champagne flutes. 

“You guys good?” Ariel asked, sounding more aware of what was going on than she should have been. Killian’s eyes narrowed. 

That made it only slightly difficult to see the overall width of his brother’s answering smile. 

Plus, it was dark out.

“Better,” Liam said, “she's an absolute natural.”

Scrunching her nose, Belle waved off the compliment. “Please, all I have to do is stand there and be helpful.” “Yeah, but that’s more than Killian was able to do today, so…” “He was distracted.” “And standing right here,” Killian muttered, although standing was a little generous. His left knee was still awful bent. In an unnatural sort of way. “Doesn’t that hurt?” Liam asked. Gesturing towards Killian’s posture, he tilted his head and that was even more judgmental than any of the words Ariel hadn’t bothered saying. “Can’t be good for your ACL or whatever.” Belle clicked her tongue. “Adding the whatever makes it sound less official, really.” “And we’re trying to be official,” Ariel chipped in, clamoring to her feet. By using the side of Killian’s jacket for leverage, tugging on fabric until she threatened to tear it and that also would have been impressive if it didn’t feel suspiciously like he was about to pass out. 

She wrapped her arms around Killian’s middle. 

That kind of helped, honestly. 

He’d never admit to it.   

“Official about what, exactly?” Killian asked. “What are you guys doing here?”

Liam’s smile got wider. “We could ask you the same question, but we’ve already claimed way too much of your time and—” “—Wait, what?” “Killian seriously,” Ariel sighed, “if you keep interrupting, we’re never going to get to the fun and passably romantic part of the plan.” “Oh, no it’s definitely more than passably romantic,” Belle argued. 

“Depends on him, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, but he was glued to his phone and I’ve got at least twenty bucks on this happening before New Year’s Eve, so—” “—New Year’s Eve would be really romantic, actually!” “No, no, no,” Liam objected, voice rising on every repeat, “I’ve got Christmas morning, and that means he’s got to go now.” Not having anything to drink made it impossible for Killian to claim intoxication as a reason for the current spin rate of his head. Metaphorically, at least. Even so, he felt a little dizzy and slightly out of breath, trying very hard not to topple into the water. 

There was no way he’d be able to disentangle himself from Ariel before he did that. 

And then she’d get annoyed. 

“What is going on?” Killian demanded, pausing between each word for emphasis. Liam’s lips disappeared. Behind his teeth. 

While he failed spectacularly at containing his laugh. “We’re kicking you out,” Belle said simply, like that made sense and they hadn’t all but required his presence in Boston less than seventy-two hours earlier. 

Killian blinked. Once, twice. Half a dozen times. Nothing changed. Ariel’s arms tightened, maybe — but Liam didn’t move, and Belle’s nose still had that scrunch-like effect, and the lights on their ship really did make it appropriately festive. 

“And apologizing,” Ariel added. “We should make that more obvious.”

Blinking more was stupid. 

Talking probably would have helped. But Killian’s tongue suddenly took up far too much space in his mouth, next to all the imaginary cotton balls that were impeding his ability to breathe and it could not have been healthy for so many body parts to consistently fail like that. 

“This is really my fault,” Liam admitted, taking a step forward to clap Killian on the shoulder. His right knee bent that time. At least his reactions were symmetrical. “And I—well, I...I was so worried about the money and the party and—” “—We didn’t really think about your plans,” Belle finished. Opening his mouth, Killian genuinely could not come up with a word to describe whatever sound he made. Something between a scoff and that huff he was trying to accomplish before, but also drifting dangerously close to laughter borne of disbelief and his back actually had the gall to pop when he leaned forward. 

“I don’t have plans.” “Please,” Ariel scoffed, “you have at least the hope for plans, and that’s nice in a way that deserves a better adjective and all that rum I promise.” Liam’s eyes widened. “How much rum are we talking?” “Enough that you stop spending so much time talking about the proper light to string ratio.” “What does that even mean?” Killian balked. 

Shaking her head, Belle moved into his space as well. Both her hands landed on the front of his jacket, and Killian wasn’t exactly cold per se, but there was something inherently comforting about his sister-in-law’s smile and the way she always smelled a bit like vanilla. 

As if she were just minutes away from baking something, at all times. 

“Telling you to come here was a dick move,” Belle announced, Ariel’s head finding Killian’s shoulder when she started to cackle once more. They were all standing too close to each other. Someone was going to step on someone else’s foot. “And,” she continued, “Liam was right. This is totally his fault, but he’s running on like...no sleep, because we’re—” She grit her teeth, another unfinished sentence that frustrated Killian for about eight and half seconds. Before it all clicked at nine. “No, shit.” “Shit,” Belle confirmed, another smile and her left foot landed on Killian’s right when he pulled into a far-too-tight hug. Ariel had to move her arms. “Babies are expensive you see,” Liam said, “and we’d already funneled so much money into this, the party had to happen and I wasn’t sure if Belle was going to be able to come with me because—” “—They don’t tell you morning sickness lasts all day,” she grumbled. Killian’s laugh had an almost manic edge to it, suddenly happier than he thought he could be and that was more appropriate for the time. Of both the day and season. 

“So,” Liam added, “I kind of lost my mind about Eric, and didn’t think about you or Emma or how stupid you’d be when you weren’t around Emma at Christmas because it’s so goddamn obvious what you’re planning.”

Heat rose in Killian’s cheeks, a questionably large inferno that suddenly flared to life in the pit of his stomach. “I haven’t totally decided.” “Yeah, well that’s dumb.” “Rife with opinions tonight, aren’t you?” “We’re kicking you out,” Belle repeated. “With our apologies that I wasn’t on the ship tonight because that shrimp appetizer smell made me want to die a little.” Ariel sighed. “Do all our statements have to be so violent? There should be more positivity to all of this.” “There will be if Killian can get me my twenty bucks.” “Why are you betting on this?” he asked, but the distinct lack of frustration in his voice was obvious even to him. Belle laughed. “Because calling you a newlywed was not nearly as unbelievable as it should have been, and if you get with the program you could probably have your rehearsal dinner on one of our very accommodating ships with an appetizer that does not include shrimp.” “I’m not really a huge fan of shellfish.” “See, the perfect plan.” An objection sat on the tip of Killian’s tongue — if only because he was decidedly stubborn and now a little worried about his brother’s expanding family, but his own family was not in Boston and he’d really like Emma to be his family. In an official sort of capacity. 

“But what about—” “—No, absolutely not,” Belle cut in before Killian could finish, “that’s what we were doing. Going over the plans for tomorrow’s lunch cruise, and everything you were supposed to do, which I’m pretty confident I can do now, mostly because my husband is here and I won’t be tempted to text him the entire time.” “At least not much,” Liam quipped. The pinch between Killian’s eyebrows was going to stay there forever. If not longer. “And then I’ll also text you, at an appropriate time tomorrow, to apologize for being a massive Christmas bastard.” Hair hit Killian’s cheek. Not his. Distinctly red and smelling like shampoo she’d definitely spent far too much money on, Ariel’s hair blew around her when she threw her head back. With laughter. The catching sort, spreading like wildfire through their tiny group, until Belle had to wrap her arm around her middle to stay up, and Killian’s stomach ached just a bit and it took him a moment to realize he’d made another fire pun. 

In his head. He needed to go home. 

“Was Ariel a distraction?”

She kicked his ankle. “Rude, and yeah obviously. Liam is so goddamn overprotective with his unborn child, it’s disgusting.” “And nice,” Belle grinned. 

Exhaling, Liam tugged on the back of his hair. A tell, and an apology without the words. Killian wanted the words. Even if it took a few extra minutes. “Seriously,” Liam said, “a Christmas bastard, which is not an excuse, but—I’m sorry. For the batard’ness, and bringing you here, and not explaining the reasons behind the bastard. And also for ruining your plans.” “I really have no plans,” Killian promised, but that fell a bit flat and he at least had rather specific wants. Of the desire-type variety. 

“So fix that. Like as soon as possible.” “For my twenty bucks,” Belle said with another yank on Killian’s jacket. The poor jacket was not going to last much longer. 

Ariel rolled her eyes. “She’s obsessed with the twenty bucks.” “Because your husband will have to pay it!” “Should you have bet with an invalid?” Killian asked, trying without much immediate success to take a step away from either one of them. “And what kind of Pedialyte flavor are you forcing?” “The purple kind.” “Blue’s definitely better.” Liam looked frustrated. 

That felt like something of a victory. “Were you going to go, Killian? Or—” Kissing the top of Ariel’s hair and pulling Belle into one more hug, Killian flipped off his brother, muttered Merry Christmas, don’t sink the boat, and would never admit to running back towards his car. Or how quickly he drove home. 

It took at least twenty-six minutes to find a parking spot. 

Four blocks away. 

Still, Killian assumed he was running on holiday-fueled adrenaline and something almost resembling romance and the distinct lack of anything in his pocket was a challenge he viewed as quirky more than anything else. 

He bounded up the steps, nearly dropping his keys more than once before he managed to unlock the door only to be immediately hit in the face. With what felt suspiciously like garland. 

And Killian hadn’t really planned on spending much time in their apartment, only thinking about a few hours of sleep before driving to Mary Margaret and David’s house on the Island because he might have come up with half a list of sweepingly romantic things to do, but he wasn’t a total jerk who would show up on someone else’s doorstep in the middle of the goddamn night, and it obviously did not make a single ounce of difference. 

While he was being strangled with garland. 

Blinking against the darkness of their living room, Killian’s brain couldn’t quite come to terms with what he was seeing. Like the ninth floor of the Herald Square Macy’s had exploded. Tinsel hung from what appeared to be actual ivy, pinned along the top of the wall with startling accuracy. Lights meant to resemble icicles reflected against every window pane, and there was an actual tree in the corner. 

Every one of his inhales had a distinct pine-like scent to it, like he was standing in the middle of a forest, and Killian did not think they owned that many ornaments when he left. 

They hadn’t owned any ornaments, so it was a rather easy number to remember. 

A star was balanced precariously at the top of the tree, paper snowflakes dropping from the ceiling and—

Emma curled in the corner of the couch. 

With at least four blankets covering her. She was a notorious blanket thief. 

Mary Margaret hadn’t woken up either, twisted into the other end of the cushions, and Killian couldn’t fathom how they were comfortable, but he was also admittedly a little distracted by the desire of his lungs to keep providing oxygen to the rest of his body and David’s eyes were alarmingly wide. 

“What are you doing here?” “I live here,” Killian hissed, swatting away the garland. Bits of it fell onto the top of his sneakers. “What are you doing here?” “Helping.” “What?” “Helping,” David said slowly, like Killian simply did not understand the word and not all the meaning behind it. “She—well, the decorations left something to be desired, and you know Mary Margaret. There’s a project, so she’s got to help and—” “—Wait, wait, wait, did Emma do all this?”

Waving both his hands in the air, David didn’t bother to say obviously when the movement made it so abundantly clear. Killian’s jaw dropped. 

Something popped there as well. Which probably wasn’t what woke Emma up, but thinking that was almost nice in another way that deserve a better adjective, and the overall force of her smile as soon as her eyes landed on him made every bit of splintered heart still lingering in his chest knit itself back together. 

Immediately. 

“Should I be concerned that you’re deserting?” she asked, hooking her chin over the back of the couch. As if she’d been expecting this exact situation. Killian shook his head. “Nah, this is a wholly authorized shore leave.” David’s groan very likely hurt the inside of his throat. 

“What happened here, Swan?” Pink immediately colored her expression, every one of her teeth obvious when she grit them. Mary Margaret must have been the soundest sleeper in the Universe. Or she’d had a questionable amount of Prosecco to drink that night. “Christmas?” That was as good a reason as any, honestly. Although that stubborn streak of his ran several nautical miles wide, and nearly tripping over the garland on his few steps towards the couch made Emma’s shoulders shake. 

Killian knelt in front of her.

Step one accomplished, then. 

“It’s super lame,” Emma warned, but Killian’s heart was doing more biologically impossible things and his eyes fluttered when she brushed his hair away from his forehead. “I just—well, you weren’t here, and that kind of ruined any of my festive-type feelings, which as we all know are shaky at best.” “Work in progress, love.” Her tongue sticking between her lips was not as annoying as Ariel’s had been. Killian figured that had something to do with the desire to kiss her. And not Ariel. Who would have smacked him at even the allusion to such a thing. “Well,” Emma mumbled, “the lack of appropriate holiday spirit reared its head like—as soon as you closed the door behind you, but then I went to the party and you kept texting me and—” “—I’m sorry, I was texting you? You were texting me!” “God,” David grumbled, dropping into the only chair left in the living room. There should have been more chairs in the living room. “It’s ridiculous, the pair of you.” Killian narrowed his eyes. Glaring was too difficult. “Why are you here?” “I told you, helping.” “He did,” Emma said. “Both him and Mary Margaret, really. I, ok—well, whoever was texting who, it doesn’t really matter. Just that Ruth thinks we’re married.” Of all the ways that sentence could have ended, Killian was loath to admit hearing that David’s mother believed the same lie Liam had been spouting to Boston tourists was not one of them. 

“She does,” Emma continued, rushing over the words, “for some reason. But she kept saying how nice it was that a young couple like us was able to keep in touch when we weren’t together for the holidays and I was really kind of drunk, and even more upset that you weren’t going to be here, so my mind just kind of latched onto things and—” Pulling in a deep breath made her shoulders shift again, Killian’s eyes taking in every moment so he could commit them all to memory and the question was out of his mouth before he realized Emma was still talking. “Will you marry me?” “Do you want to get married?”

David fell out of the chair. 

Slid, technically. Directly onto the floor and next to presents that were almost perfectly wrapped with color coordinated bows on each of them. 

“What?” Killian breathed, Emma’s hand flying to her mouth. Left one, so that helped too actually. None of his fingers shook when he reached up, pulling that same hand down and kissing the bend of her knuckles. Tears clouded Emma’s eyes, falling on her cheeks faster than he could brush them away. 

With his mouth. Killian tried all the same. 

While ignoring the increasing volume of David’s rather uproarious laugh. He was texting someone. Probably Ariel, who very likely was requiring play-by-play. And had timed Killian’s drive home. 

“That was kind of...this,” Emma explained, nodding towards the living room. “I—I wanted to decorate, and make it Christmas when you got back because...well, I blame the alcohol and your brother and—” “—That’s fair, honestly. Belle’s pregnant, by the way.” “No shit.” “Shit,” Killian confirmed, a repeat he’d share later. Once they got all this engagement business sorted out. “They’re pretty incredible decorations.” “Yeah, well flattery will get you everywhere.” Huffing out a breath, Emma’s head dropped to his, and that made it easier to get his fingers in her hair. “This made a lot of sense when I was drunker. But, uh—I needed to do something with all that energy and sudden holiday thoughts and I’ve got a lot of thoughts about your face, you know that?” Ariel was going to be insufferable. 

Killian would make her buy some Moscato, too. That was Emma’s favorite. “Gave me something to do,” Emma added, “and then I figured you’d get home and there’d be some sweeping and we could do something about Ruth’s assumptions and I think we’d be really good at being married.” Kissing her was the only reasonable option. Even as David sounded like he was in physical pain. 

Surging up, Killian’s mouth all but slammed into Emma’s, tilting his head so he got to that one, perfect angle that allowed his tongue to swipe across her lips and draw that even more perfect sound out of her, and he was only dimly aware of Mary Margaret waking up. The couch creaked when she moved. 

Killian didn’t. 

His fingers carded through Emma’s hair, only breaking apart to appease his lungs and the requirements of his body before kissing her again, and his knees kind of ached. Presumably from supporting most of their collective weight when Emma was kind of draped across him. “Don’t go in the bedroom, ok?” Humming against her only guaranteed David made another noise of protest, but it was nice that they’d helped decorate and Killian could only imagine how they’d gotten all that ivy on the wall. 

“That’s, uh—” Emma leaned back, one of her eyes squeezed closed. “Where we put all the extra non-holiday stuff, and it’s kind of a disaster.”

“Tore up the apartment, like she had separation anxiety,” Mary Margaret slurred, and Killian refused to be held accountable for whatever his face did at that. 

David rolled his whole head. Emma shrugged. He liked that one the best. “So, uh—” “Yeah,” Killian finished, before he could stop himself and any qualms either one of them had once had about clingy relationships or relationship qualifiers appeared to disappear before their eyes. Like frost on the window. Which was seasonally appropriate. “I think we’d be really good at marriage.” “Yeah?” “Yeah. Where’d you get the decorations from, though?” “You’re welcome,” Mary Margaret replied, sounding a bit more coherent and just as exhausted. That was fair. It was close to four in the morning. 

Emma nodded. “Definite separation anxiety. So we should probably not do this again, and then you can help decorate.” “Deal,” Killian promised, and they didn’t bother waiting for an appropriate time to call Liam. Or Ariel, who crowded into the video call because, as she claimed, it was her living room and her twenty bucks and her shriek probably affected the structural integrity of her house. 

The rum showed up two days later. 

And made for a very good toast, as soon Killian slipped the ring onto Emma’s finger. They picked it out together. 

[twocupsofsuga]

His Treasure || 13

Pirate!Baekhyun x Reader - Series

Summary: It’s either on your knees and beg for your life or your walking the plank.

Absolutely NO plagiarizing my work. Moodboard by @byunfirstlady

Previous | Next

You’re dead. You are soooooo dead. 

If Jaebum sees you, your done for sure. But then again, this is what you get for sneaking into a royal’s room. You’re practically asking for it.

Too tense to even shift to crouch properly from your position on the floor behind your desk, you sent a silent prayer hoping the young prince wouldn’t come near the desk.

You heard some shuffling noises as Jaebum walked here and there, presumably looking for his coat. You heard him muttering a few times and hoped that his jacket was not anywhere near you.

He spent a good five minutes in his room, muttering every now and then, wondering where the blasted maid had left his coat.

You felt yourself sighing in relief when you heard him opening his wardrobe and muttering out a, “There you are”, grabbing what sounded like a heavy coat and making his way back to his bedroom doors.

It wasn’t until you heard the doors loudly close that you finally let out a sigh in relief. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the desk.

‘That was way too close.’

You shouldn’t even be here should you? You just arrived here not too long ago and you’re already looking for trouble.

Sighing once more, you wait for a few minutes before standing up when you’re sure no one else would come into the room, and your eyes fell on the book again, giving it a frown.

Why does he have that book dedicated to research about pirates? Was he secretly planning something? Did he have connections with those bastards?

You shook your head. This was just too good to ignore. Walking up to stand next to Jaebum’s desk chair, your hands fell on the brown leathered book and flipped the first page, surprised to already see a page full of pirate facts, and you soon found yourself going through more pages. The contents that you read surprised you.

A wide variety of information littered the pages, from the origin of pirates, their goals, ambitions, desires and past historical events. It explained in detail when the first batch of men calling themselves ‘pirates’ first appeared and all the havoc that they caused, always attacking cities, leaving them in bloodshed and ruins just to steal golds, treasures, anything dubbed valuable and keeping it for themselves. Jaebum wrote about how they would sometimes kidnap people as well, and how it didn’t matter if they were royalty, normal citizens, or even peasants and orphans, if they needed anyone for ransom threats or even just another extra pair of hands to (forcefully) help them on deck, they didn’t leave much of a choice for whoever they kidnapped, and how you’d be lucky to even be alive by the end of all your torture.

When you were done with all the basic stuff, the moment you flipped the next worn out page was when you really lost it. Gaping at the bold title in the middle of the page, you did a double take.

Byun Baekhyun

“What in the world?” you whispered out loud. “Why is…?” you immediately read the pages before you.

Byun Baekhyun

Birthdate: unknown

Gender: male

Appearance: unknown

Parents: unknown

Siblings: unknown

Location: unknown

Status: leader of the EXO pirates

Leaving chaos and disaster wherever he goes, this man, or ‘Demon of the Seas’ -as he is often called by most- must be put to a stop and held trial for all wrong he has committed. With charged ranging from murder, theft, and even kidnapping, this individual just cannot seem to be caught by anyone, whether it be by normal villagers, or even official guards.

One of the most popular and feared pirate yet, it has come to our attention that throughout the years this man has been active for, we have received evidence that he is collecting more and more ‘friends’ to join his little crew. No more members to this bloodthirsty group have been added so far, but it appears that a group of twelve has been shrunk to a group of nine from a few years ago, and has stayed the same until today, or until further notice of their activity. There is no update on what has happened to the other three, and there has been no movement set out by anyone who wants to figure out of their existence, activity, or if they are even alive. No other data or knowledge is available on the other crew members other than their ‘captain’.

The infamous group of pathetic, lowlife scums, barbarians seem to enjoy leaving behind a bloody trail everywhere they go. Eyes always seem to be on gold treasure and just about anything valuable they can get their hands on. But I can’t help but wonder if there is something else that they might be looking for, something that holds more value or not. With the research that I have carried out, the witnesses I have sent out and spoken to, evidence I have personally seen, to the strange objects and people they have taken, I have come to a conclusion which might prove my suspicions correct.

Maps, lots and lots of maps, and lots of information on the seas. But as my suspicions just keep on proving to be true, I have confidently concluded what they really want, what EXO, this group of irritating, god forsaken group really desire. Something that makes every theft, every action that they’ve made, look like a joke. Child’s play.

‘Dead Man’s Home’, an area located North from the Island of the Vanished. Just a cave on an island, this place is surrounded by tremendous, jagged rocks that resemble giant spears. With the worst weather ever reported, it seems that the seas and skies are not friendly in this area. There is no light, there is no life, other than the dead sea life and sailors whom have tried to just pass by or hope to reach land on this place, this place is the definition of the word ‘dead’ itself. Nothing ever seems to go in, and nothing seems to go out. If something does manage to get pass the rocks that determine instant death, it appears that the storm and sea that surrounds Dead Man’s Home is just as vicious and can do just as much as a good job in making sure that no boat, no man and no animal makes it through. Those who go there are usually looking for a death wish, but there have been cases, although not rare, of those who have survived and somehow made it out alive, but they were never the same. Too tormented and shaken up from their near death experiences to share what they’ve been through, or what they’ve seen.

But EXO, I have suspicion that they want to go to this place, but I haven’t figured out why. I just need to collect more evidence so I can once and for all what their goals are, and I’ll figure it out even if it kills me. I want to know exactly what it is on Dead Man’s Home that makes them the way they are, so vicious and untamed when it comes to certain things.

Byun Baekhyun, an uprising danger to society and whomever he meets, deemed as a threat to everyone and must be put to a stop. I’ll figure out his secrets if it’s the last thing I do, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make him fall. If there’s a greater treasure out in this world, then it shouldn’t be in the hands of that man. 

You plucked the last petal from the flower in your hands and watched as it slowly fell on your lap, let out a sigh in the process. Reaching down next to you where there were more flowers on the grass, you began to slowly pluck the petals from this one as well, repeating the same action you have been doing for quite a while.

What you read upstairs in Jaebum’s diary was, certainly interesting. After reading the next few pages on Baekhyun and pirates, you could see just how well knowledge the young prince seemed to be on the topic, as his journal, diary, whatever, seemed to be filled with just about any knowledge of pirates there seems to be, knowledge even ranging from many years ago till present time, ever island trampled by pirate feet, every ocean sailed by pirate ships, and every pirate execution ever carried out, whether they were for public or private eye. He even had a bunch of maps and sea charts on his bulletin board or just scattered on his table or the floor.

A little obsessed wasn’t he?

A… hobby perhaps? If it was, an interesting one it certainly was. You thought everyone was too afraid to dig in deeper of the topic of pirates, wanting to mind their own business and not meddle into anything that seemed troublesome, even if it was just small research on pirates. For as long as you could remember, no one wanted anything to do with pirates, let alone do any research on them. What good would it have done any of them? Those who even dared stand up against any pirate would end up with only one missing limb or a bullet wound if they were lucky enough.

Those who weren’t lucky… well, you know what happens with them.

You would’ve read more from Jaebum’s journal, but when you finally looked up from the book and out the window, you were surprised to see that the sun was already close to setting. Deciding it was about time you headed out, you closed the book with a huff and placed it neatly back exactly as you had found it, and slipped out of Jaebum’s room after looking back at the study/library one more time. Perhaps if you were even lucky or found some way to convince Jaebum, you’d get a chance to read from his huge collected of books as well.

After making sure there was no one in the hallways, you exited the bedroom and slipped back into the main hallways and went downstairs, and out of the castle where you spent the remaining of the afternoon underneath a pretty flower tree Jaebum had in his palace garden. You’ve been seated underneath the whole time, plucking the poor petals off of the flowers, thinking things over in your mind.

This was… good… wasn’t it? You could finally get some answers out of Jaebum couldn’t you? Unfortunately not all the answers were written in his journal, just the basics, but if Jaebum had this much fascination (or obsession, you really couldn’t tell) over pirates, then maybe he could fill in some questions you had been holding on to for a while. Like, would pirates have a deeper, hidden secret to why they kidnap people? Do they hold a key role in helping them achieve what they strongly desire? How would one escape from them?

Your head spun and you let out a groan, leaning your head back on the tree bark behind you and just blankly looking off to the side.

‘I’m hungry.’

“There you are.”

You let out a loud yelp as you jumped up a little, head quickly turning to your left where you saw the prince, smiling cheekily at you.

You frowned, placing a hand on your heart.

“Your Highness, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

Jaebum laughed. “My apologies.” He said, smile still present as he slowly made his way over to you. “I didn’t mean to. I arrived just a few minutes ago actually and was searching for you. When I noticed you out here alone I knew I had to immediately make my way over.”

You raised an eyebrow at this.

“Really? Why?”

Jaebum smirked as he stood over you, and to your surprise, brought a hand up to your head where he began to play with a strand of your hair.

“Well.” he said. “For starters, it would be rude of a gentleman to just leave a pretty looking lady out here alone, don’t you think?”

You blushed and looked away, hair strand slipping out of Jaebum’s fingers.

“I’m not one would consider ‘pretty’ but… thank you for the compliment your Highness.” You turned back to look up at him with a small smile.

Jaebum looked at you for a while in silence, and you were worried that you might’ve just stayed quiet, but before you could ask Jaebum suddenly squatted down next to you, surprising you.

“You know,” he spoke, this time in a hushed whisper and you were surprised at the shiver that went up your spine from hearing it. “you shouldn’t think of yourself like that. It really isn’t every day I get to have such a beautiful being in my castle, let alone right next to me.”

you both looked into each other’s eyes. You could feel your heart beating up at his words.

“…Really?”

Jaebum laughed at how genuinely surprised you looked.

“Of course.” He replied, and his hand suddenly lifted up, tracing the stitching on your sleeve, and you broke eye contact to look at his fingers in shock, while Jaebum continued to casually trace patters on your shoulder.

“The moment I saw you, my breath was taken away. It was quite a surprise, one minute I was busy doing my duties, the next, I was expected to have a meal with you. But I did have my doubts, I’ll admit that.”

You looked up at him nervously. “You… you did?”

Jaebum nodded and this time, he looked down. Watching his fingers as they traced the complicated stitch work.

“I’m not sure if Seulgi told you or not, but I had a bit of a rough time with my other wives. So when I heard of you coming along, I was a bit nervous. I thought, what if it doesn’t work out this time either? But…”

Jaebum looked back at you and smiled, and you felt your heart flutter a little.

“But?” you said, when he didn’t elaborate any further.

Jaebum’s smile widened, and he shook his head.

“Nothing~” he said in a teasing voice, which surprised you.

So, the prince could make jokes?

“Hey.” You said, laughing a little funny. “You can’t just say all that and then not say anything. I’d like to know what you really think.”

Jaebum chuckled and turned to comfortably sit next to you against the tree bark as well. He made a mock thinking face.

“Hmmmm, do I really wish to tell you~?”

You laughed and nudged him a little.

“I humbly demand an answer your Highness.”

“Well I humbly decline my lady.”

You scoffed. “Oh really? Then I’ll just have to run away it seems.”

As soon as you uttered those words, you felt a shift in the air in Jaebum’s mood.

“What did you say?”

The sudden stiffness in Jaebum’s words caused you to stiffen up as well, and when you looked at him, you noticed his icy look and shrunk a little.

“Uhh…” you immediately became nervous. “I… I was joking… you-your Highness. I wouldn’t actually run away…”

The silence that followed this time was tense, until the man next to you suddenly burst out laughing.

You watched him quietly as he calmed down after a few seconds, not finding anything funny.

“Wow.” Jaebum said as he wiped away a tear. “You really fell for that. Oh my.” He looked at you and flashed you another smile. “Of course I know you’re joking. Things wouldn’t end up very pleasant if you weren’t correct?”

“Uhmm…” you said nervously, but smiled back still. “Yeah, it would be a little silly wouldn’t it?”

Jaebum’s eyes stared into your own and silent once more, but then he stood up and gave a small stretch.

“Well, I’m feeling a little hungry, aren’t you my dear? How about we go and eat something small before having dinner?”

You internally hesitated, but shook it off and accepted Jaebum’s hand that was placed in front of you and he pulled you up gently to your feet. “Yes, I’m a little hungry myself.”

“Perfect, then I shall arrange some small treats for us.”

Hooking your hand into the curve of Jaebum’s arms, the two of you made your way inside the castle, the sun setting more and more behind you, and your restless mind growing a little concerned.

What, just happened?

Jaebum and you had walked up a couple of staircases and soon found yourselves walking down a hallway. You thought he was going to drop you off into your room until dinner time, but you noticed that you were headed nowhere near your ‘bedroom’.

“Uhmm, Prince Jaebum?” you asked and said man let out a ‘hmm’ and looked at you with that charming smile of his. “My… room is in the other direction?”

Jaebum shook his head and looked forward, smile still on his face. “I know my dear. I just thought that we’d spend a little alone time in my room.”

“Oh.”

…

…

…

Wait what?!

“You-your room?? As in, your bedroom??” you looked at him stunned, but Jaebum just let out another laugh and called over a nearby maid. She bowed once she reached you two.

“Prepare something light for us to eat and bring it to my room immediately.”

“Yes your Highness.”

Jaebum looked down to smirk at you. “Something wrong my dear?”

You stuttered and were about to reply but Jaebum continued to walk, pulling you with him.

“I just thought a little privacy was in order.” Jaebum smoothly replied. “There’s always a maid, butler or guard around so I thought it would be nice to have some alone time as well. Away from any watchful eyes. Thought it might be nice for you as well.”

Your face heated up. “You want us to be… alone?”

Jaebum laughed and looked down at you. “Pardon me for guessing but, you aren’t having any naughty thoughts are you my dear (y/n)?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You told him your name during the first meal you both shared together, and he’s been calling you ‘my dear’ this entire time, so it felt surprisingly nice to hear your name fall from his lips.

“I am thinking of no such thing!” you cried out, which only caused the prince to laugh more.

“Your name sounds surprisingly nice to the ears. Maybe I should’ve called you by it since the start.”

You heart fluttered at his words. ‘Gosh dammit.’

“Then why didn’t you?”

Jaeubm suddenly looked away.

Wait, was he embarrassed?!

“I was never very good with names, as embarrassing as it is to say, so I hope you forgive me, it was never my intention to do so.”

“Oh.” You said. I guess it’s easy to forget names when your royalty and you have to constantly always meet new people.

A thought suddenly came into your head.

“So how did you suddenly remember my name this time?”

Jaebum suddenly looked nervous.

A smirk pulled up on your face this time.

“Did you perhaps ask Seulgi what my name was before meeting me in the garden earlier?”

Jaebum huffed and you began to giggle. “Oh my goodness you did!”

“We shall speak no further into this topic.” He said with a pout and your giggles grew.

You suddenly came to a stop and you looked up in surprise and your eyes grew.

Gosh, you already reached Jaebum’s bedroom doors.

Seeing it again so soon suddenly made you nervous. What if he had found out that you were snooping around earlier? What is a maid or butler saw you going inside and told him??

“Well.” Jaebum said and shot you a smile. He raised a hand and slowly turned the doorknob and pushed the door open swiftly. “Please enter.”

You smiled at him and bowed your head a bit in thanks and you prayed that you didn’t look too nervous or scared.

Stepping inside, you remained still and waited until Jaebum too was inside with you. The moment you heard the door close behind you, you grew more nervous.

“Let me show you around a little.” Jaebum spoke up, grabbing you by the hand, causing you to jump a little, smiling when he saw you looking a little nervous. “Don’t worry, nothing to be afraid off.”

‘Shut up you’d have had me hung if you knew I was in here earlier.’

“I know.” You said, looking at him but then immediately looking down. “I’m just a little jittery, is all.”

You felt fingers beneath your chin and your head was lifted up and your heart beat sped up a little.

He was a little too close to your face. You could feel his soft breathing on your face.

“Calm down my dear (y/n), I promise I won’t bite.”

You chuckled. “If you saw so your Highness.”

Nodding in approval, Jaebum took a step back and you felt like you could now breath with the given space.

“Now,” Jaebum said as he pulled you along. “let me show you some interesting things.”

And interesting things he did indeed show. Who knew a prince had so much interesting things around. He showed you all the things he had collected as memories from his trips from various islands he had visited over time and skillfully hand drawn pictures of some sights he had seen on some of his adventures.

He looked mighty proud when you complimented them all.

It definitely made you a lot more anxious when he offered to show you his private study and library, and offer which you did not refuse, although you had already seen it by yourself. But you obviously couldn’t tell him that.

“I’m sure a prince like you must have an interesting collection.” You said once you took in all the collection of books he had (again). You realized now that you never checked what kind of books he had.

“I guess you can say that.”

You looked over to where Jaebum had walked over to one shelf and took out a book, inspecting the front cover and dusting off the non-existing dust. He opened the book and stared into it and randomly flipped a few pages over. You grew curious over to what he was reading so you made your way over to him and stood next to him. But before you could even read the first sentence on the page, you heard a knock on Jaebum’s door.

“Ah. That must be the mini feast I ordered. Follow me (y/n).”

Jaebum snapped the book shut before you could read anything, and you frowned a little and watched as he placed the book back in its place and made his way over to his room connected to the study.

Rather than going to the door, he plopped himself on his bed and yelled, “Come in!” and you watched as two maids walked in, one pushing a trolley of drinks, the other a trolley of small fruits, cakes, snacks, you name it.

Your jaw dropped. This was considered a light bite??

“Gosh your Highness, this is too much! You needn’t have to prepare so much!”

Jaebum waved a hand. “Nonesense! Eat whatever you can, don’t worry your pretty little mind my dear.” Sending a wink your way, you looked to the side and couldn’t help but smile.

Jaebum noticed and smile. While you weren’t looking, he suddenly shot a glare at the maids, who flinched at the hostile look.

“Leave.” He ordered, though his friendly tone did not match his tone. The maids nodded hastily, bowing before quickly making their way outside.

You turned around in time before the completely shut the door, yelling out a grateful, “Thank you!” and smiled.

The maids stopped momentarily in shock, looking at you in surprise, but then sent you a small smile. They both bowed once more this time to you, and you didn’t even notice that they lasted more longer than when they bowed to Jaebum. But the both stood up immediately and walked out before anything more could have been said.

Gosh, now you were alone with Jaebum again.

“Come here my (y/n).” Jaebum said as his arm reached out to you. “Won’t you sit next to me?”

You nodded and accepted his hand, feeling him pulling you down to sit next to him. You grew a little shy at the sudden closeness. Unlike from when you two were sitting outside, you were sitting shoulder to shoulder now, and he was still holding your hand, and was even brushing his thumb against your skin.

“My chef makes some amazing fruit cake. I really recommend you try some.” He said gently as he lifted a small plate of a perfectly sliced cake with fruits decorated on top. He brought it closer to him and picked up the fork that was neatly placed on the trolley as well.

Stabbing the fork into the cake, he scooped up a small bite sized piece and lifted it closer to your mouth, making you speechless.

“Say ahh~” he said in a teasing voice and you actually chuckled.

You parted your lips and Jaebum bought the cake into your mouth, and you sighed in bliss at the taste. He wasn’t kidding when he said his chef was amazing at making fruit cakes. The flavor was just bursting in your mouth and you suddenly felt so light and happy.

“This is amazing!” you exclaimed, looking at Jaebum in happiness. “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted a cake so light and fluffy!”

“See. I told you it was great! Oh, hold on…”

Before you could ask him what was wrong, Jaebum brought his hand up to your face and your face and your stilled. You were confused as to what he was doing when he even brought his thumb up and swiped at your lips, your eyes widening. When he pulled back his fingers, you noticed some whip cream.

‘Ah.’ You thought, feeling a little embarrassed. ‘There was cream on my lips.’

You were going to reach for the napkins that were provided to wipe the cream off of your lips, but when you grabbed one and tried reaching for his hands, Jaebum brought the thumb with whip cream on it to his mouth and suddenly sucked on it, making you freeze.

Your mind was blank, and you watched as he licked his thumb clean before he sent you a smirk, taking in your dumbfounded look.

He brought himself closer to you and you found yourself unable to move, lips parting this time but no words coming out.

“Would you,” Jaebum said as he brought his face closer to yours and you could see the teasing look in his eyes. “perhaps like to try some other delectable?”

Oh my.

Just what were you getting yourself into?

“Go and look for more gunpowder.”

“Where the hell am I gonna find more gunpowder?”

“You’ll find out once you start searching you dickhead. Go steal some from the village, and take Chanyeol with you.”

Sehun rolled his eyes and let out a groan but did as he was told.

Since they didn’t want to raise any suspicion since the stupid prince on this island had already seen one of them, the group of pirates had to hide their ship far away from the docks so no one could notice them and have any suspicions raised.

Baekhyun glared at the faint village lights a few miles away of him. He had already come up with a new plan since their old one had been ruined since you ran away. It was going to be a pain to carry out, but it was now necessary if they wanted you back.

“Jongdae!” he suddenly yelled, looking to his side when someone approached him. He ran a hand down his tired face and looked at his crew mate. “How long till the next full moon?” he demanded.

Jongdae shook his head. “Close to a week. Think we can make it?”

Baekhyun looked up at the moon. It was nearly full. “We have to.” he said, frown deepening as he grabbed the telescope Jongdae was carrying, looking back at the village more closely. “We’ve lost enough valuable time as it is. I’ll lose it if we miss this full moon too.” He looked at the village one last time before chucking it back at Jongdae who caught it expertly. “Go look over the cannons.”

Jongdae nodded and walked away.

Barking a few more orders around, Baekhyun felt his head spin so he took this as a chance to go back down into the ship and into his room.

Slamming the door behind him, he slumped on his bed and sighed, swinging a hand up to cover his eyes.

He could still make it till the next moon, he knew he could.

He’ll just have to take his anger out on you if he doesn’t.

~Masterlist~

Please reblog it you liked it! It would really help my work get noticed/passed around more!

[vowled]

Unpopular Opinion: Johnlock edition

So, I am, as invariably suggested by my blog and username, a major Sherlock fan. I absolutely love it. The first time I watched it, I immediately related to it, and my peabag brain instantly saw a friend in John Watson. Sherlock’s character, on the other hand, was quite unconventional to me. I couldn’t bring myself to quite like him for the first 2 episodes. He was.....different. I knew I wanted to watch the series just for the dynamic duo and their and sweet friendship. The cases I couldn’t at first care for much, but eventually that changed too. I always was completely amazed by how well they had managed to adapt the series to the 21st century and their subtle winks to the original canon too was quite impressive. Eventually, I fell in love with it, and proceeded to watch the entire series thrice. in a row. I was, and still am, completely obsessed. 

Then came the thought, which was also somehow initially suggested subtly by the show itself, ” What if Sherlock and John are in Love?” I must agree, I had read too many conspiracy theories about certain celebs being closeted to not come up with that question. 

At first it was just a thought. But then, critical analyses on tumblr came up. I couldn’t stop reading them?! and so many of them were thought-provoking and persuasive and honestly, I was living for it. The phone = heart theory is still one of the best Theories I’ve read among all the fandoms I’ve ever been in. And that is just one among many. JohnLock was everywhere. Other ships were persistent, but none could reach the amount of fervor as JohnLock. And I was living for it too. I still really enjoy all the adorable fanfics and the ever-interesting theories, and honestly, at this point, my motto is “I’ll find homoerotic subtext even if it kills me”.

Shipping is ok, shipping is good. But here’s the deal we need to talk about:  we shouldn’t justify our ships to the point of interpreting every action as romantic. This propagates unrealistic expectations and results in harmful stereotypes.

Yes, I’m talking about the unending debate on Johnlock. 

From season one itself, Johnlock was phenomenal. It is widely argued that  the show-runners themselves inserted subtle hints, and hence, birthed this beast on their own. The Sherlock fandom remains one of the oldest fandoms in the world, with its beginnings rooted in the Nineteenth Century when ASiS was published, and since then many have argued about the latent homosexual subtext embedded into the writing, my point here being people have been shipping Johnlock for well over a hundred years. Hence, It’s not really a surprise that people are still drawn to this ship. But to be shipped by this magnitude of people? This invariably suggests that there’s material provided to us by the creators themselves that is very blatantly obvious about the relationship. And while in most cases shipping two characters is completely okay in itself, according to me, shipping Johnlock has further validation in the fact that there is proof of intent of it becoming canon eventually (at least in the first two seasons).

Like I said before, shipping is OK, shipping is good. 

But is shipping okay if we take it to the point of over-analysing every move?

Sherlock is a comfort character for me. God knows half of my maladaptive daydreams are about him being a father figure towards me. My entire twitter tl and Tumblr dashboard is stuffed with cutesy or angsty things about him, and that’s great! But being in the fandom for about eight months, I’ve realised how this sort of feed eventually resulted in me completely forgetting the original storyline, and more importantly, in me forgetting how flawed a character Sherlock is!

Everyone(including me, the first time) freaks out in HLV because of how Sherlock isn’t listed as John’s pressure point. I, however, think we should question ourselves: Why should John still consider Sherlock that tantalizingly close to himself as he was in the beginning? John learnt his best friend had died, and he decided to do the bravest thing he could: make peace with it and move on. BUT NO! The Ghost of the man who loved him returned from the grave to haunt him! Here I talk about the other possible reasons why Sherlock wasn’t a pressure point for John in HLV. 

I am tired of this constant sugarcoating of Sherlock’s character. I am tired of seeing constant posts about how Sweet and caring Sherlock is and how much he loves John and how he loved her more than Mary. I am done with over analysis of every single shot where Sherlock looks at John, completely done. This shot below? It’s been overused for so many fanfics and cheesy romantic lines that I forgot that it’s supposed to be a look of GUILT.

Anyone who knows me knows that I love sherlock so dearly because he’s a very unlikeable character. That is precisely what sets him so far apart from the other characters. Sherlock started off with a hateful and dismissive character, but through the course of the events he undergoes a lot of emotional development. And that is truly noteworthy. In TFP he said for Mycroft, “ He did the best he could (for Eurus)...” and that is truly sentimental. This sort of development is always heartwarming.

What I want people to understand is that Analysis is, obviously, important. And CRITICAL ANALYSIS more so. And it’s saddening to see so many people glossing over the critical part of the analysis. Why is it so wrong to point out HOW HURTFUL SHERLOCK’S ACTIONS TOWARDS JOHN HAVE BEEN?  Why is it wrong to to point out Johnlockers borderline bully other shippers? 

Can we finally talk about the problematic aspects of Johnlock, or rather Johnlockers?

Even though I’m relatively new to the fandom, I’ve noticed how dismissive people are of anything negative said about Sherlock. In the beginning, it was endearing, really; but now I see this pattern of constantly singing praises of Sherlock’s character, and it has lead me to realize how detrimental it can be to the relatively younger audiences. Sherlock is Rude, period. There’s no question about it. And this constant glorifying of his rudeness and arrogance and dismissing it as  a quirk could very well possibly give the impression that arrogance and vanity are in fact not so bad, and hell, it might make one seem a little cooler even ! Oh, don’t be mad if I act like my comfort character ! I’m quirky like that !

Constant bashing of the creators. And when I say constant, I mean it. This sort of bashing about is never-ending. And when I say this, I don’t mean that the creators were perfect; some of their mistakes were, quite frankly, blatantly ignorant ( like Irene the Canon Lesbian falling for Sherlock), but I don’t see enough people praising it for what it is. Even now there is so much slander against the creators ( and personally I feel bad for Mark Gatiss because he’s actually on twitter and is constantly spammed). Is it really a surprise that the creators hate the fans and especially the Johnlockers? Was it supposed to be so shocking when Martin said that being in the show wasn’t very fun anymore because of the fans?

We just don’t actually analyze anymore! I get that we haven’t got any new content for FOUR muheffing years but please I literally don’t see anything that’s actually interesting or analytical anymore and that kills me because that was the reason I joined this fandom- to read and comprehend the subtext, and the AMAZING META!  All I see are cute couple-ish pics of ben and Martin and tbh we can do so much better than that?!

Johnlockers have so much actual stuff to talk about? There is literally so much going on Subtextually, and yet all I see is people losing their mind over any interaction between Sherlock and John. This is so unfair! AND it’s detrimental too! With people painting every interaction as romantic in nature, the younger teenagers in this fandom who might not have experienced Love or Attraction may glean unrealistic ideas about them! It is difficult as it is to navigate oneself through romantic entanglements, let alone being fed such rose-colored ideas! And I say this because although I don’t know much about the audience on Tumblr, but Stan Twitter is like, (at least) 50 percent teenager-fuelled. It actually isn’t healthy for them at all.

Stop with the Benedict-worshipping for God’s sakes. Are you only in here because of him? We all get it, he’s absolutely stunning but come on, we’re here for the stories too right?

Romantic love is important, no doubt. But you know what’s completely overlooked? The platonic sort of love. And it’s tiring. Sherlock and Molly/Janine/Irene/John are all amazing duos and each pair has it’s own uniqueness and tang to it! Let’s not constantly dissect everything in the name of shipping, shall we?

lol looking back at it, I feel like it’s a vent rant for the prevailing circumstances on Stan Twitter. I apologize if anything I said hurt anyone, it wasn’t meant to. I completely understand that shipping people is for...recreation (?) but this was just my opinion. Let me know what you think about it!

[kylorenfanfic]

Long Away - chapter 1

Kylo Ren x Female Reader 

Masterlist

Story: You have been hiding for years, ever since the slaughter in your temple. You were one of the many force-sensitive children that Luke Skywalker was training to be the New Jedi Order. You were there when Ben Solo killed everybody, but you were lucky enough to survive, you weren’t important, he didn’t remember that he let you go by accident. You had given up and ran away to hide in Dantooine, but when you heard that Kylo Ren had become the Supreme Leader, you realized that you couldn’t stay out of it any longer. Finding your way into the First Oder and gaining Kylo Ren’s trust so you could help the Resistance by giving them inside information. But things turned out to be very different than you expected to be the closer you get to the Supreme Leader. A/N: Hi guys, so this is my first fanfic and I am completely nervous about it. I have written more chapters of it already, but I am not sure if I am going to post it. Tell me if you guys like it or if I should keep posting. The first chapters are kinda boring because it’s the context of the whole story. If you wanna be tagged also, let me know. Love, and I hope you enjoy it. Words: 1.6k

It was a warm day in the Fields of Banir. It wasn’t sunny but you could feel the heat. It was the first time in a while that you were leaving the old Jedi Temple. You have been living there for the past few years, ever since you lost everything and everyone. You used your Force abilities to hide yourself, to shield yourself from any other Force sensitive being that might land. You had to go to Garang to get some of the supplies – even though you were living out of things you could collect in the fields. Sometimes you needed stuff, like medicine and fresh clothes, and that was when you would travel to the capital city of Dantooine.

You weren’t used to having many people around – especially when most of were Dantaris – but you still enjoyed having a change of scenery. Sometimes the cold walls of the ancient Temple became too much for you. It was there, in Garang when you first heard it.

“The First Order has a new Supreme Leader” someone around you said, you couldn’t identify the voice among the crowd.

“It is Kylo Ren, you know? That guy in the mask” other person replied.

“Does that mean things are getting worse?” the voice faded away and you couldn’t hear the answer. Kylo Ren was the Supreme Leader now? That meant he wasn’t being controled by someone, he wasn’t being brainwashed to be in the Dark Side. He was fully part of the Dark Side now. And was its leader. You shook your head, that wasn’t your problem. It was when your mind started to fade.

“(Y/N)!” you heard someone screaming. You were lost among the chaos, the buildings were collapsing and there were flames everywhere. “Stay where you are!”, you heard Hylia’s voice in your head.  

Hylia was your best friend, the one who took care of you when you first arrived to the Temple, feeling alone and afraid, after losing your parents and discovering your Force sensitiveness. You couldn’t leave her there to die. You disobeyed her orders and tried to find her. Then you saw him, Ben Solo killing the padawans. Hylia was standing in front of him and with a furious scream, she ran into his direction holding up her green lightsaber. They started to fight and then she saw you, she didn’t say a word, she concentrated, her hand drawn out and in this weak moment the man in front of her killed her with his lightsaber. He turned around to find other remaining padawans and he passed right next to you. He didn’t see you. You ran to Hylia’s body. She was barely alive, wounds from lightsabers do not bleed, but are just as fatal as a blaster shot.

“Hide.” she said. It was when you realized she was using her powers to hide you from Ben. You felt tears on your cheeks. She faded away, hiding your Force signature has weakend her badly wounded body. And you ran, never looking back.”

Hylia died to protect you and her last word was the thing you have been doing ever since. You didn’t want to do anything about what was going on in the galaxy. Let the Resistance and the First Order kill themselves. But now… now things were different. Ben Solo wasn’t a bad person and you knew it, he had saved you once before during training, so long before the massacre happened. Maybe Ben Solo was indeed dead and now all that remained was the devious Kylo Ren, now the Supreme Leader.

It was one of the teachings of a jedi, to never be selfish. You could help to defeat him. You could help to avenge Hylia and all the others that died by his hand. Because now it was just himself, not someone controlling his mind.

You had a feeling. You could do it, you could help somehow. And inside you, you felt the urge to do something, you felt that you couldn’t handle another day of solitude in that goddamn Jedi ruin, another day in this goddamn planet. You had your lightsaber with you, you didn’t need anything else, you could leave everything behind and that was what you did.

You entered that place and it smelt bad, the smell of dust and old durasteel. You saw the man behind the balcony.

“I need a ship” you said straight forward. He looked at you and laughed.

“You have currency?” he replied with a sarcastic smile.

“How much?” and the answer that he gave you made you gasp. “That is an absurd amount of credits!” you protested, you didn’t have nearly enough credits for that.

“No money, no ship.”

“It must have another way to get it.”

“You are that girl, right? That lives in the ancient Temple?”

“You can say that.”

“Are you a Jedi? Hear they could do stuff.” he asked and you bulffed.

“Of course not.” you answered as it was an insult, mostly for him to believe you.

“You know how to fight?” he were asking with a lot of interest

“I do…” you suspicious answered. “Get to the point.”

“Get me this man, and the ship is yours.” He said showing you a hologram of a Dantari.

“What has he done?”

“He owes me credits. Bring him to me and you get a ship. His name is Barak Norurdi and he lives in the Taikana Hills. You have until tomorrow morning.”

“That is ridiculous”.

“Bring me Barak or no ship.”

You went out of that old place thinking about what you were going to do with your life. Going after a dantari? For what? Just for you to try to find Kylo Ren and kill him? Or at least help to destroy his Order? What were you thinking?

You had that feeling again. The Force wanting to talk to you somehow. You had shut yourself to the Force for so long and you couldn’t understand why now it was finding your way back to you. If only master Luke was still around…

You got in your way to the Taikana Hills, the sun was almost setting when you got there. You saw a little house, there was light on, you decided to go there, maybe they would know something about Barak.

You knocked on the door. No answer. You knocked again.  You heard someone speak in Dantarian. The door was open.

“Hi” you said with a simple smile, hoping that he would know your language.

“Hello” he answered in a thick accent, no smile.

“I am looking for Barak Norurdi, have you heard of him?” the man gave you a suspicious look.

“It is I, who asks?” that was incredibly easy, you could barely believe it.

“I came to collect your debt to Caran Spero.” You said more firmly than you felt.

“I owe no currency to Caran Spero. Caran Spero owes me. He stole from me.” He said getting angrier.

“Look, I am sorry, ok? But I am just following what was asked from me.”

“Stupid human.” And he closed the door.

“It’s going to be on the hard way then.” You told yourself. You kicked the door and it opened with a bang. The dantari man looked at you surprised. He came in your way with angriness. You had your staff with you, you wouldn’t use your saber anymore. You fought the dantari man, he was using his bare hands and you were skiving from his punches using your body and staff. Your staff went down to his legs making him fall behind, his head hitting the floor, he had a painful expression on.

“Look man, I’m sorry ok, but I gotta get out of this planet.” And you knocked him unconscious. You thought about how you could bring that heavy dantari back to Garang. You went out the wooden house and tried to find for some short of speeder. What were you expecting? Dantaris aren’t people who use tech… well, but this one apparently was. Maybe that was the reason why he was in debt with Spero.

You put the unconscious man, tied up, on the speeder and started to drive. You felt the wind in your face, it was night already and you had to smile, you haven’t felt that alive for so long, maybe what you were doing was right afterwards. It felt right.

You got to the store after a couple hours.

“Oh, the bounty hunter is back.” Spero said when he saw you entering his shop.

“I am not a bounty hunter” and you dropped Barak on the floor in front of him. He was up now, but all tied up, he couldn’t make a proper move.

“Oh, ho ho ho. It seems like a bounty hunter to me! Well done, well done!” He said, coming around the dantari laying on the floor.

“Can I get the ship now?”

“Sure thing, sure thing. Let me show you, it’s already outside in the back.” you followed him to the back and there was an old ship there.

“That is garbage!” you exclaimed, angry.

“Well, I didn’t say what kind of ship, right? That is what you got. You didn’t seem that had that much work to bring him back to me.”

“You are a worm!”

“Careful with your words, young lady. You know what? Now you got no ship, that’s it, that’s what you get for ingratitude.” In your fury you got your lightsaber from your belt, hidden behind your tunic and threatened him with the saber on his neck, the blue light lightening up both your faces.

“You said you were no Jedi” he roared.

“And I am not, the Jedi are dead. Now give me the ship. A good one.”

“Alright, alright, since you asked nicely” and he escorted you to the other hangar. “It’s a CT-21, good model, you can get to where ever you want fast.” You looked at him and then ran to the ship, getting in. You knew how to pilot from your padawan days.

You started to pilot the ship, and in no time you were leaving Dantooine, the place you thought you’d die in. Now you were heading to the unknown… or better saying, heading to Kylo Ren.

CHAPTER 2

[so--many-fandoms]

Jaskier is technically a noble, right? So he probably had to go through all the fancy noble tutoring and such, not just for math and literacy and normal school stuff but for etiquette and politics and all the noble-specific training that anyone who might end up ruling at least some portion of land would need.

After Cintra falls, Ciri is the last remaining heir to the throne (unless you start looking into distant cousins and other branches that may or may not exist or have any claim to the throne); either way, assuming they manage to drive nilfgard out someday, she’ll be the next ruler. Do you see where I’m going with this?

At some point, probably a few months after they found eachother, Ciri is going to make some comment about how having her former life destroyed sucks but at least she’s escaped her boring old lineage tutor or something, and Geralt is going to realize that not only is he in charge of raising and protecting a tiny human child, he’s in charge of a royal tiny human child who will one day be the Queen of an entire country. Then he’s going to panic because she definitely needs to be learning things for that but they don’t teach Witchers how to be nobles, he has no idea what she needs to learn, this isn’t like sword fighting, he can’t teach her himself! And so his first thought will probably be Yennefer, because she was a court mage and he had probably already asked her to help teach Ciri magic/control. When he asks, though, she says she can’t help him because while sure, they received some court training at Aretuza, it was all manipulation and making people like you enough to avoid getting killed or fired for accidentally offending some random important noble (its a different story if you did so on purpose, of course). Anyway, she had never learned any of the things nobles had to know, and especially not the kinds of things they taught noble children. She was 0% qualified to be a royal tutor for anything beyond magic, and probably reading/languages (particularly Elder) and maybe math, because some spells definitely involve math to get the correct affect.

So Geralt is still panicking, and now he’s thinking he’s going to somehow have to find some noble that he can trust to know where Ciri is, and worse, what kind of noble would be willing to travel around the continent with a Witcher? So he is thinking that he’s probably going to have to leave Ciri with this random noble for months at a time, because she needs an education and to be prepared to rule but how the fuck is he going to find some noble who’s both willing to look after a Witcher’s kid (who might be the crown princess of a powerful kingdom but is also being hunted by a powerful invading army with a dark mage, any political advantage from fostering her would be negated by the huge target doing so would paint on your back) and trustworthy enough that Geralt could let her out of his sight with them? Now, there are two ways this could go.

1) yennefer Knows Things and decided to take pity on Geralt after he’s so clearly (well, clear to people that know him well(or can read minds)) freaking out over the issue, and casually mentions “isn’t that bard of yours a Viscount or something? Maybe he can help.” Skip Geralt’s what kind of viscount is named Jaskier?? confusion (yen: you didn’t know that’s not his real name?), he immediately goes to track Jaskier down, because even if they haven’t seen eachother since the dragon mountain, and Jaskier might never want to see him again no matter how much he apologizes, he knows Jaskier would never turn on Ciri. He finds him rather quickly because a lot of people are gossiping about the “Toss a Coin” bard who has recently debuted a fantastic new tragic love ballad (Geralt is definitely having Feelings the first time he hears it. Maybe it’s just coincidence that the story of Her Sweet Kiss sounds so familiar? It has to be, right? Right??? Because if not... well. There’s a third person in that song, and Geralt doesn’t think he could possibly have been that blind- but then again, he’d never known his friend was a noble or his name wasn’t actually Jaskier, had he?). Cue lots of reunitement feels and apologies and hugs (and Ciri shipping them from the background). Geralt is so relieved that Jaskier is safe and forgave him that he forgets why he had been looking for him so urgently until Jaskier asks something about where he was going/why he was in town or something like that. Geralt says something about how he’s currently raising a Princess, and he can teach her fighting and survival but he didn’t even know she was supposed to be studying things like a century’s worth of noble family trees and how to tell someone to fuck off with silverware until she mentioned how much more exciting monster-identification-lessons were, and apparently Jaskier is actually a noble? Named Julian??? And Jaskier, being fluent in Geralt, correctly interprets this as “what. Geralt. You want me to be Cirilla’s tutor? The future queen of Cintra? I’m not as young as I look, it’s been decades since I had to think about any of that bullshit, oh, fu-sorry, sorry, small ears, gods. I may be a professor at Oxford for a winter every now and then, but I am NOT a royal tutor! Besides the fact that royals learn things lower nobles don’t, I’m from Rhedania, not Cintra, we use an entirely different fashion language, and they have a weird thing about-” “Jaskier. Where the fuck am I going to find a trustworthy Cintran noble, let alone one qualified to teach her?” “Language! and they- oh. Good point. I suppose I know more about it than you do, at the least. Ugh. If I’m going to have to try to remember all this sh-stuff, I definitely am going to need some books. Cintra’s library would be best, country specific info and all, but there’s no way we’re going to get any of that, if it hasn’t burned already. Maybe Oxenfurt? If we-” “make a list. Yen has... resources.” “Well that’s terrifyingly ominous. And I hope you’re planning on letting me teach her music too, if we’re going to have to put up with all this stuffy etiquette!”

2) Yennefer doesn’t say anything, either because she figures Geralt must already know and have chosen not to go to Jaskier for some reason or because she never bothered to pay enough attention to Jaskier to find out herself. Geralt leaves to continue on his way to Kaer Morhen or just Away, because they’re still too close to Nilfgard’s front line for his comfort, and assumes that he’s just going to have to wait for the war to end to find a trustworthy noble who can teach her. On the way, they hear that Jaskier is just a couple of towns out of their way and decide to go find him because Geralt has been wanting to apologize for being a dick for months but he’d been too focused on Ciri’s safety to track him down (or maybe they just walk into a tavern and he’s there, preforming, and it’s awkward and angsty and leaves Ciri wishing she could lend them a brain cell or two because clearly they have none). Geralt apologizes, angst is had, feelings are aired. In the end, Jaskier decides to follow them because he’s missed Geralt and also he’s kind of famous for being the White Wolf’s Bard, and if Nilfgard is looking for Geralt a squishy (mostly?)human bard is a much easier target than a Witcher, and so he should also probably be heading away from the war and who is he to deny the extra protection of traveling together? Anyway, after they’ve been reunited for a few days or weeks, Jaskier gets fed up because he knows Geralt has been angsting over something, and at first he thought it was related to the whole reunion drama but it’s been long enough and it clearly has not gotten better. So he waits until Ciri is asleep and ambushes Geralt with concerned questions because sometimes the element of surprise was the only way to get him to spill things regarding feelings. Geralt knows he won’t give up, so he tells him about how he’s worried because he can do his best to protect Ciri physically, but he never thought himself qualified to raise a child, let alone a princess who will inherit a kingdom, and he knows there are a lot of things she should be learning to be ready for her future responsibilities but he had never had anything even resembling a noble education, and Yennefer may have been a court mage but she didn’t either, and unless Jaskier had some secret noble lover who would be willing to travel with them and live in a castle full of Witchers for however long the war lasted, he wasn’t going to be able to give her the education she needed until at least after the war, and she’d probably be expected to take the throne at that point so clearly that would be an issue, because while on the job training is great the fate of the kingdom would be in the balance, and- (okay, a lot of that was probably Jaskier reading between the lines. Geralt would never have spoken that much, but he was definitely thinking all of it, and Jaskier had gotten quite good at reading his Witcher over the years, thank you very much). “Geralt. You do know I’m technically a Viscount, right?” *confused silence* “Sure, I might not know every detail about Cintra’s trade history or some of the more royal-specific stuff, and it’s been a while since I had my own lessons, but if I had to sit through 16 years of unbearable Nobility Education, I may as well do something useful with it. I might not be at all qualified under normal circumstances, but I’m definitely better than nothing, right? And I can easily make learning it much more interesting than some stuffy old tutor or governess. Do you know how much easier it is to memorize dates and names when set to music?” “What the fuck.” “Oh, and literature! Rhetoric! Grammar! Not necessarily vital to ruling, you have scribes for a reason, but really words are one of the few things I actually am officially qualified to teach. No reason I shouldn’t go the whole way if I’m already doing this, and a good education is an important tool for anyone.”

[goblins-riddles-or-frocks]

Moffat Dracula Review

Plot Summary For People Who Don’t Want To Watch It:

Dracula corners Jonathan, Mina, and Sister Agatha Van Helsing in a secluded convent in Budapest following Jonathan’s escape from his castle. The castle sequence itself is explained in flashback as Jonathan recounts his experience, leading up to the realization that he himself had died during his stay there. 

Realizing he’s now become some form of undead creature, he attempts to kill himself via a stake but is unsuccessful. Despairing at this, he invites Dracula inside the convent in exchange for a true death.  Agatha and Mina are able to stay safe within a circle of sacramental bread but everyone else is massacred. 

When Mina sees Dracula disguised as Jonathan approaching them, she invites him inside the circle. He of course reveals his identity immediately after. Agatha bargains her own life for Mina’s, so Dracula allows the other girl to go free.

Some time later, Dracula sets sail for England aboard the Demeter, a Russian ship with a strangely high number of wealthy passengers and a bluebeard’s cabin no one is allowed to enter. He quickly picks off the passengers one by one, meanwhile himself leading the effort to find the murderer onboard. 

This culminates in the remaining passengers finally searching the ship— and the mysterious cabin which is revealed to have been hiding a sickly Sister Agatha inside. She explains that Dracula is a vampire and together with the passengers they attempt to kill him by setting him on fire. But it is unsuccessful. Agatha urges everyone to escape on lifeboats because she intends to blow up the ship with her and Dracula in it before it is able to reach England. 

Dracula does not die but remains dormant under water. He reaches Whitby roughly 100 years later and is immediately captured by the Jonathan Harker foundation, lead by Agatha’s descendant Dr Zoe Van Helsing. He leaves captivity fairly quickly however with the help of Frank Renfield— a lawyer he hired over skype. 

Zoe is revealed to be dying of cancer. Dracula offers her his blood to heal her but it doesn’t seem to work. It instead gives her a bond to communicate with her dead ancestor Agatha, which gives her more insight about the vampire. 

Meanwhile, Dracula begins preying on Lucy Westenra, a young socialite. Despite leading a seemingly perfect life, she is wholly apathetic and disgruntled with her situation. She allows him to feed on her in exchange for the high a vampire’s bite can give her. He attempts to turn her into a vampire but she’s burned horribly once she’s cremated following her funeral.

Her death leads Zoe and Jack Seward to where Dracula has been staying. During their confrontation however Lucy returns, and after learning about her appearance, begs Jack to kill her, which he does. 

Zoe asks Jack to leave so she may speak to Dracula alone. She surmises that all of Dracula’s weaknesses are actually ineffective. The only thing he fears is death, and humanity’s willingness to die, She then... resolves to sit down and die right there. But at the last moment Dracula drinks her cancerous blood which should in turn kill him... they make out while dying... The end?

If that sounds like it makes no sense, it’s because it doesn’t. 

Final Thoughts:

The plot was nonsensical and the pacing was very poor and completely unstructured. The story itself bore little to no resemblance to Dracula at all, to the point where I wonder why they even bothered to keep the names. 

Most of the characters were new, and the few that were ported over from the Stoker novel had hardly anything in common with their original versions, Dracula included. 

Jonathan was the most in character of the bunch, if he was fairly more genre savvy while stuck in Dracula’s castle. Mina’s characterization seemed to be confined to a single flirtatious letter, an endless well of trust for Jonathan, and constant sobbing. She was more of a liability than anything else. 

Agatha served the role of a genderbent Van Helsing, though her manner was entirely lifted from the Coppola film. This could’ve been very cool if they hadn’t randomly made her a nun without actually committing to it at all. She was not really portrayed as having any actual lived experience as a nun in the victorian era. And faith as a concept was only touched on for her to dismiss— hilariously casually given her position.  

I think the actress’s performance was fairly decent, and she def grew on me in the second episode when she’s not actually in a convent to constantly remind us how dissonant of a nun she is. But it would’ve been nice if they would’ve either committed to actually making her a nun, (a legit vampire hunting nun could be so cool!) or just abandoning the concept altogether. Because the way it was presented just felt like window dressing. 

Also I’m not normally averse to shipping Van Helsing/Dracula but having to genderbend one of the two just to do it is like... hm. Also the weird tension they had going on was very badly executed in general. 

Speaking of Dracula, he had to be the weakest part of the show. He was written in the smuggest, most infuriating way possible. And it might have worked with another actor but this dude just did not have any gravitas or stage presence whatsoever. And it certainly was not helped by the fact that his costuming and makeup were so fucking lackluster. 

Despite being the linchpin of the story, he had no goals nor any particular drive. He was just out there doing Stuff for Reasons and none of them were compelling. It seemed like he was just killing to kill and the writing was not good enough to actually carry any of the vague themes about how he’s looking for new brides (why?) how he’s searching for a The Perfect Fruit (what???) or anything at all really. He had no depth whatsoever beneath his stupid quips and self-satisfied demeanor. 

There was an interesting implication that he needed to choose who he drinks carefully in order to maintain his own personality/sanity/sentience and that without blood he’d… apparently just become like any of the zombies we saw in the show. And that is such a cool concept! But it was not really  explored, nor was it written all that well. Even though it could’ve been (and I think was maybe intended to be???) an excellent source of existential dread! 

But yes, in general there was hardly any depth to this show. They played almost every possible card they could for shock value, and included many unnecessary and frankly underwhelming esoteric concepts that went nowhere. There was so much gore and random effects. We had zombies, vampire infants, and Dracula legit wearing people’s skins. The lore didn’t make any sense either, apparently people just… being unable to die despite their body’s so called death is a common occurrence? It wasn’t clear whether Dracula even had much control over who he changes and whether or not they become proper vampires. The entire thing just seemed poorly thought out. 

There were a lot of easter eggs and references to previous Dracula adaptations (and even some unrelated vampire media). I definitely noticed nods to the Hammer Horror movies and the Lugosi film, which was fun. The biggest noticeable influence however would have to be the 1992 Coppola movie. I have never seen a show try so hard to be another movie lmao. They even went so far as to make a spiritual successor to the film’s main theme that’s about as close as you could probably get without actually licensing the music. 

However, while the Coppola film at least had skill with regards to the costuming and cinematography to carry its aesthetic, this show simply did not. The costumes, the makeup, and the special effects were all lackluster. The set was nice enough but was not shot in a way to really leave much of an impression. 

The first episode was abysmal— mainly due to Dracula’s awful performance (those disgusting fungus covered fake nails, that age makeup, that ACCENT) and the entire awkward af scene where he terrorizes a convent of nuns while naked and covered in blood. But it was at least so bad it was funny.

The second episode was the most tedious to me because it was less offensively awful so I couldn’t even enjoy the badness. There was definitely a sharp uptick of quality whenever Dracula was offscreen for any notable amount of time though. The passengers were rather boring but I liked the crewmen. And Agatha honestly killed it for the latter half. 

The last episode was by far the worst and yet the most entertaining because they just stopped trying at that point. 

Renfield was amazing and an absolute delight every time he was on screen. Dracula found him over skype for God’s sake, how can that not be fantastic? He actually utters the words “Dracula has rights,” and his argument somehow actually fucking works.  

And even Dracula himself was far less insufferable with the shift in dynamics. By being forced to cope with the modern world, he could no longer act like such a smarmy, self-assured know it all. Seeing him freak the fuck out at the sight of helicopters was genuinely fun. 

Lucy’s handling was misogynistic af though. It was bafflingly, needlessly awful. And the way she was vilified at the very end was appalling. They almost had an interesting deconstruction wrt her utter malaise for her life, and the implication that she actually resents her beauty. But then of course she gets burned alive, and then is treated horribly for it by the protagonists. 

Even though it’s clear she has no idea what’s happened to her body, Zoe doesn’t even bother to explain it to her. She just makes her take a selfie of all things so she can see what she really looks like. It didn’t seem like the show had a shred of sympathy for her, because “oh, clearly she was a narcissistic bitch and she deserved what she got” or something like that?? 

The utter indifference everyone has to her death is baffling. It was an afterthought, that seemed like its only purpose for existing was yet again just shock value. The scene, after her death, immediately shifting the focus back to whatever weird personal rivalry that borders on sexual tension  Agatha/Zoe and Dracula have going on.  

But all in all, this adaptation had me baffled, frustrated, and cringing through most of it. It was unintentionally funny quite often and I honestly enjoyed it, but for all the wrong reasons. I highly recommend it to anyone who wants to melt their fucking brain.

[consummate-deviant]

Continued thoughts about Catra and Hordak...

Hello again, y’all!  Is life still treating you okay?  Have you spent time with your pet lately?  Eating a healthy and balanced diet?   Just a smaller thing today, not one of my full-blown book reports, but the infection that is she-ra passion has somehow managed to reach me even through the haze of pokemon breeding that has owned my soul this past week, and I gotta words some more.  The topic of discussion today will be Catra and Hordak… namely, how I interpret their dynamic going through season 4, and why some people view it as romantic. I’m… a bit of a windbag, though!  So, just to be safe, I’m gonna put the rest of this post behind a cut.  Let it never be said I was aught but a considerate dude.  Let’s discuss!

Now, as I mentioned earlier, I don’t view the dynamic between Catra and Hordak as romantic in season 4.  I think the reason it can kind of seem that way is that season 4 really did shift their relationship in a fairly dynamic way, and the contrast between the way they interacted before and the way they interacted after is pretty stark. Normally, such a wide contrast is brought about by the development of romantic interest by one or both parties, but in this case I posit that the cause was something equally interesting...  though quite a bit more tame: it was the first time there was any sort of emotional interaction between them, at all.

I should probably step back though!  Lemme explain what I mean.  How would you describe Catra’s relationships with Hordak and Shadow Weaver across the first three seasons of the show?  One of the more interesting takes I’ve heard is that the dynamic between the three of them is an allusion to a dysfunctional family.  Catra is the child acting out because she wants Mom and Dad to acknowledge her.  Shadow Weaver is the caustic maternal figure, emotionally sabotaging her child for her own benefit, and Hordak is the aloof, emotionally detached father figure…  The kind of Dad who can’t come to your basketball game this week, kiddo, because work called… but he’ll be there next week for sure!

...unless work calls again next week… and work always calls again.  

I agree with about half of this.  The fact that Shadow Weaver is meant to be seen as an allusion to a poisonous maternal relationship feels pretty close to undeniable.  Likewise, any doubt that Catra sought to be valued emotionally by her flew out the window when we saw the way Shadow Weaver treated her in the illusory reality created by the portal.

Pictured... kitty getting scritches.

Catra wanted to be appreciated, accepted, and loved by Shadow Weaver, and the tragedy of her character comes from being denied those things.  By contrast, when it comes to Hordak, of those three desires: appreciation, acceptance, and love… she only really wants two of them.

There is no personal element to the early relationship between Catra and Hordak, on either side.  Catra neither seeks fatherly love from Hordak, nor seems to be distressed by the lack of it, and that difference in her dynamic with Shadow Weaver and Hordak is pretty important.

Catra desires maternal love from Shadow Weaver.  What she desires from Hordak isn’t paternal love, but rather patriarchal validation.  Hordak represents the power structure of the world into which Catra was born, and her desire is to be seen as a component of that structure that has value.

For three seasons, where Hordak is concerned, her first priority is to be seen as an undeniably competent subordinate.  She endeavors to complete the tasks she’s given efficiently, and attempts to make suggestions with the intent of increasing the effectiveness of the organization. She fails in gaining his appreciation, and grows annoyed and frustrated by this, but that shallow anger she expresses toward him pales in comparison to the absolute devastation that Shadow Weaver’s ever-more-personal rejections bring her.  Had the status quo remained where it was, the two of them likely would never have grown any closer to one another… but then season 4 happened.

So, last week I shamelessly stole a question aimed @cruelfeline​ , and in my tactless theft I mentioned my answer to the question “why didn’t Catra just kill Hordak when she had him at her mercy in episode one”. I’m going to repeat that here, just to make sure it’s established:

“Some people don’t get why she spared Hordak instead of killing him, when she had him at her mercy, but she actually had a pretty vital need for him.  Catra has lost the ability to self validate: a lifetime of being raised by Shadow Weaver has beaten it out of her.  Thus, she has a pretty intense desire to receive external validation from an outside force… and with Shadow Weaver gone, Hordak was the only person around who could provide that.”

And let’s be clear on this first and foremost: the S4 relationship between Catra and Hordak is, for both parties, an attempt at rebound.  This is the first time Catra has Shadow Weaver fully cut from her life, leaving her with only Hordak to supply her with parental appreciation, and Hordak has been betrayed by someone he cared for deeply, but receives motivation to destructively channel his negative emotions from Catra.

This is also the first time Catra interacts with the real Hordak, and not the mask he usually wears before his subordinates.  While being exposed to his vulnerability gave her the power to usurp him, it also led her to a realization:  Hordak is… a lot like her.  One of my other favorite moments of wordless acting takes place with Catra in season 4. Hordak is expressing his feelings of inadequacy and desire to be acknowledged by his brother while destroying them princesses, and Catra, despite saying nothing, displays a range of expressions and ear movements that seem to say ‘wait a minute… is this guy… actually my dad, after all?’

That realization of commonality leads to the first actual emotional interactions between the pair.  The first actual attempt to understand each other, and that is, undeniably, a massive shift from the cold professionalism of their previous relationship.  Catra was always quick to assure Hordak that their actions were leading them down the path to his brother’s acknowledgment, and Hordak, in turn, validated Catra’s actions and choices… which she especially needed to hear in season 4, when she pushed literally everyone else out of her life. Unfortunately, as I mentioned, their relationship was mutually self destructive… each brought out the worst from the other, and helped their downward spiral remain in motion.  It’s interesting how there is a bit of similarity to the dynamic between Hordak and Entrapta and the one between he and Catra. Both are examples of awkward, lonely people, realizing they share more in common than they realized, and growing closer as a result. The latter is more parental than romantic, but the similarity is intentional, all the same… a way of contrasting healthy and unhealthy relationships, if I had to guess.

So… yeah!  If you’re wondering what the point of all that was… well… I’m flattered you think highly enough of me to assume I ever have a point to saying anything!  I was just pondering she-ra while biking across Galar, waiting for my rookidees to hatch...as you do… and decided I wanted to talk about  it some more! As always, I’m not really out here to persecute the Catdak shippers… er… all five of you.  I will never be the guy to judge people who ship things I personally don’t like, because I’m not a mailbox head.  Just expressing why I don’t think it’s romantically coded, but also why I still find it fascinating regardless. That’s enough outta me, though!  You guys have a lovely and productive week. If you have any she-ra related thingamajigs you, for whatever reason, wish to hear my thoughts about, feel free to ask, and I’ll see ya the next time I have the urge to feel ways about stuff.  Been procrastinating on my fanfic writing… so I think my next order of business will be to get that ball rolling again.  Anyhow, see ya!  Be sure to indulge in the finest of all winter beverages: warm, spiced eggnog.

[bladekindeyewear]

Time to read hs^2′s third non-bonus update!  I have not had a single portion of an image spoiled this time, and have no damn idea what it’s about.  Not even any asks in my inbox.  Will we have more of Ghostflusters, maybe a reason Jane didn’t know he was gone even when he supposedly received divorce papers?  A cut back to the good guys in pursuit of Dirk and crew?  Will Jade be a black-eyed zombie, or finally fucking awake like she deserves to be???

Let’s find out!

Oh god damn everything, please no.  ==>

...Oh!

Oh that’s MUCH better than it could’ve been!  We’re still in Candyverse, but cutting over to the Vriskas’ perspectives.  So that on the right would be the “mostly identical” Vriska who Rose and Kanaya raised, and the aforementioned logistics are just dealing with a dead clown body (that hopefully isn’t being refrigerated in the unseen spot Dirk was hiding from Terezi on their ship).

Kid Vriska looks pretty cool!  A fair bit Aranea-y, with that collar feeling like a nice hint of the Pagey version of her who originally earned the (Vriska) title.

(Vriska) pockets John’s phone before she can worry too much about waiting for a reply from Terezi.

Right, stolen phone... an anon in my inbox pointed out that Vriska “has a direct line out to Terezi” because of it, but I didn’t take it that seriously because I thought it wouldn’t come into play at all later.  Guess I was wrong, with the narrative taking the trouble to point it out-- especially considering that whatever she said, she EXPECTS a possible reply.

Other than some fun banter, I can’t figure out where this particular upd8 is going.

> (==>)

Oh that is a smug, self-satisfied Vriska look if I ever saw one.  (Vriska) over here is still dust under her heels, isn’t she?

VRISKA: If you want to keep Hanging Out, I mean. Which I assume you Do.

Holy shit, she’s throwing a bit of Kanaya Caps in her language.  That’s SUPER adorable.  That was probably in Candy too and I just forgot about it.

VRISKA: So, Nickname me, 8itch. And make it Cute.

Huh!  You don’t stake too much on your name, then?

> (==>)

Vrissy!  That’s surprisingly genial of you, it’s pretty damn good.

VRISSY: So now that we have that locked down, what’s First on the list of Awesome Shit we’re gonna do Together?

Oh no.  No, no Vrissy, you’re gonna be disappointed.  :(

VRISSY: I told you already, I don’t ever get up to Anything nearly as Interesting as you did. VRISKA: Till now ;;;;) VRISSY: Heh. Yeah.

...yeah, FUCK.  Vrissy is gonna get used and thrown away so fucking hard.  The slightest ounce of hero worship thrown Vriska’s way is an ounce that’s gonna get exploited to hell and back.

I suppose from here we’re going into the rebellion, aren’t we?  I hope badass eyepatch Karkat doesn’t look too silly in this art style.

> (==>)

God, this art style is so CLEAN and makes her look so ADORABLE.

--ah, okay.  We’re gonna see how the dynamic between Vrissy and human Kid-Tavros works.  Hope this won’t be too painful.  Besides, like... the kind of hilarious starting-pain that she’s asking HIM to help take care of a dead body.

VRISSY: That was Tavros. He’s on his way.

Oh man, Vriska didn’t know.  :D

> (==>)

Huh!  That’s a more thoughtful expression than I was expecting.

VRISKA: Unless he’ll rat us out to his mom???????? VRISSY: Nah. He’ll get too much of a Kick out of seeing this dead Piece of Shit, don’t Worry.

Oh man.  Tavros’ll probably just be sad or freaked out a bit, but what I wouldn’t give for our first look at him to be him dancing on this clown’s grave.

> (==>)

Vrissy hates that ostentatious prick-mobile, mostly because it is not her ostentatious prick-mobile.

Heheheh.

Hm?  “Actual spy shit”, other than hiding a body?  Did you have some bigger anti-Crocker stuff in mind, Vrissy?

> (==>)

Oh Jiminy Christmas!!!  You’re the spitting image of your parents!  And, like... perfectly visually suited to induce Vriska-macking, unwanted or otherwise.

> (==>)

TAVROS: These are normal things you expect to happen, when you are picking up your kismesis and her,,,, ah,,, new friends,

Oh right, that’s the relationship.  More that I forgot from Candy.

VRISSY: Who is VERY Cool and Sexy with her Eyepatch--

--remind me again why Vriska has an eyepatch?  Something in the Lord English fight, a stray shard of universe fabric inflicting more random meaningful damage?  *Looks it up.*  Oh huh, so THAT was the vague damage to her head she played off-- the shard literally got her eye and she refused to admit it to herself or the narrative.  I was wondering about that weird damage back when I read it, but never inferred the answer.  And did she put the eyepatch on when she landed in Candy?  *Looks that up*  Wait, no, it couldn’t have hit her eye.  From Candy:

Vriska’s face snaps up, eyes blazing. Eyes. Actual eyes, with expression, color, pupils, and everything.

[...]  There’s a bleeding gash on her head and something lodged in her chest.

Okay, fuck.   Then whence the fucking eyepatch?  *Keeps skimming Candy...*

(VRISKA): The 8attle was hitting its clim8x when I got hit in the head with... with...

(Vriska) paws at her head wound, fingers numb and vision blurry.

(VRISKA): Wh8tever the fuck it was that hit me in the head!

Hmm?

JOHN: do you wanna see a doctor for that or something? (VRISKA): No!!!!!!!! (VRISKA): I w8nt to know what the fuck is GOING ON!!!!!!!!

Hmmmm.....  *Keeeeps reading...*

Dammit, that’s all there is.  So this is an inference either Andrew intended or the other authors/artists did from the tail end of all that -- Vriska either took head damage that deprived her of sight in that eye, made it more light-sensitive/blurry, OR that eyepatch is essentially a makeshift bandage over the bleeding parts.  (Which might remain medically necessary, or she might just keep wearing for style points.)  Hmm.

I’m mostly just relieved that whoever’s helping write HS^2 didn’t fuck up.  Okay, that’s enough Candy-digging, back to the story now:

After a few beats, he propels himself off the car like a swimmer at the sound of a gun, his body plunging in a graceful arc toward his goal.

Huh?  I mean, good execution, very Jake, but... huh?  Is someone gonna get clobbered?  Vrissy?  The corpse?

> (==>)

Ooh, the corpse!  Yes!!!  Kick that corpse.

Why did the head honk?  Hopefully this stays a corpse.  (I’m surprised his strikes are as weak as the narrative’s saying; even if he’s really Tavros-natured, he’s still the son of two of the strongest, fisticuff-iest players.  Kind of a rebellion against his parents both, then?)

> (==>)

--unrelated, I just saw the Bonus blinking with Catnapped Part 2.  Guess I won’t be finished once I’ve covered this, just yet.

VRISKA: I am in no place to 8egrudge a man his cathartic ass-kicking moment, but that was a loud fucking scream. VRISSY: No kidding. My ears are STILL ringing from your 8ig attempt at breaking the sound 8arrier.

Y’all are ones to talk, I just reread the part of Candy where you two found Vriska fucking Gamzee.

> (==>)

> (==>)

Please don’t move, clown.  Stay the fuck dead, please?

> (==>)

Calm down, Tav, you’ve got this.

> (==>)

Nice suspenders.

> (==>)

aaaaAAAAAAAAAAA WHO IS THIS AGAIN IS THIS HARRY OR SOMETHING IS THIS JOHN AND ROXY’S ASSHOLE KID

--sorry I got overexcited because I clicked next and saw that hair spiral aaaa.

...I hope it isn’t a DIFFERENT kid of theirs that I somehow forgot exists or such.  That’d be embarrassing.  This guy/girl/person looks infuriatingly suave, also.

> (==>)

YOU’RE SO CUTE IN A WAY THAT MAKES ME FEEL LIKE YOU’RE AN ASSHOLE.

--Yep, dialogue confirms it’s Harry Anderson.

Heh, he’s pulling an Early Acts John and not believing a word of it, but playing along.

There is no possible way that this stuff Vrissy is saying isn’t horeseshit, but he is not about to crack.

--just wanna point out the probably-typo before they fix it.

Ah, bringing it there.  Good luck, Harry.

> (==>)

Oh, that was fast.

> (==>)

...That’s what you get for relying on Harry.

> (==>)

VRISKA: We can just dump it in the inciner8or. That’s pro8a8ly what his plan was to 8egin with. VRISSY: The what???????? VRISKA: The inciner8or. Like, for 8odies?? VRISSY: At SCHOOL???????? VRISKA: Yes? TAVROS: It is somewhat pleasant to be reminded,,, in my darker moments,,,, that the grass is not really ever greener on Alternia,

No comment, this is just pretty hilarious.

I still keep revisiting how easily Vrissy gave up her given name, here.  As if she feels like her real name ought to be associated with the hero instead of her, in a kind of... lowkey low self-esteem way.

VRISSY: I should have known he was fucking with us. VRISSY: GOD he is such a Stupid 8astard.

--Well, they know each other well enough.

Hm.  Does Vriska think they can just kill any human kids they run into?

> (==>)

...GOSH, Vrissy is stupid adorable.  And like, shockingly chill, in general.

> (==>)

Huh.  Vrissy, are you chickening out on an adventure because you’re afraid you’ll get caught?  ...well, good for you, honestly!  Not that I think it’ll last.

...yup, there she goes after ‘em.

> (==>)

I think you’re still going to fuck up, Vriska.

> (==>)

None of them know where they are going, but Vriska is leading the way, hunched and purposeful

I guess none of this is surprising, really.

Is Jane going to, like... hear about the corpse found in a human school’s basement and blame the rebellion some more somehow?  Not that it matters, I guess.

There is something incredibly reassuring, Tavros thinks, about someone who has absolute outward confidence in themselves.

(There’d better not be any relationship conflict involving Vriska upcoming in the future.  BETTER not.)

> (==>)

Gamzee managing to fuck everything up even when he’s dead.

> (==>)

VRISKA: No, he’s right, I was going to count to eight.

Hah.

> (==>)

Are they gonna end up dumping him at Harry’s feet?

Nice way to force him out of school and into the rebellion, that.

> (==>)

VRISSY: Keep looking for Harry Anderson. He’s In The Shit with us now, whether he likes it or not.

Guess so!  Fair enough.

> (==>)

oh no

(I also understand why I haven’t gotten any asks about this upd8 yet.  This is mostly just character (re-)introductions and hijinks.  Totally up for some Harry, Vriska, Vrissy and Tavros adventures now that I can actually SEE them, it really adds a lot.)

> (==>)

And there it goes.  Slide into Harry’s classroom on the waterslick maybe?

> (==>)

The human students, trained to respond to a fire drill with speed and enthusiasm for missed class time, are out in the hall in a matter of seconds.

Oh, the worst possible outcome.  :D

> (==>)

Shit, they’re all on camera.  Nice job, Vriska!  Welcome to Earth.

> (==>)

> (==>)

Oh my fucking GOD, this image.  Vriska is LOVING the chaos!!!  She doesn’t even care!

VRISKA: I thought this planet was gonna be a snoozefest desert devoid of 8oth agency and fun, but I am honestly having a gr8 time.

Pfff.  I should’ve known.  She just cares about being where the Action Is, as Aradia put it at the end of Meat.

> (==>)

She sees it, and she can’t breathe. Her lover, her confidante, her clown of many years, being desecrated by a bunch of treasonous monsters.

You threw him out of a ship.

Yeah, of course she draws that conclusion.  Everything and everyone is either with her or against her, after all.

> (==>)

--Wait, you didn’t even know Tavros was missing until that moment???

So did the lawyers send the divorce papers on their own, or did the authors really just forget?

> (==>)

Your John is showing SO hard, Harry.

> (==>)

Congratulations!

> (==>)

Yep!

> (==>)

HARRY ANDERSON: oh fuck

*slow clap*

I’ll cover Catnapped 2 in a bit, though circumspectly as it’s a paid bonus.  See y’all!

[superiordragonlorde]

13 Days of Halloween

Challenge | Day 8- Apple Cider & Cuddles / “Pfft, I’m not scared.”

Category | Writing/Story

Still cranking them out for @bnhalloween-challenge .  Woohoo!

And now we’re getting some Kirideku! Yay extreme pure ship!!

No warnings (I don’t think...)

I hope you all enjoy!

     Kirishima rested his head atop Midoriya’s, letting the soft curls tickle his nose. He watched the movie playing on his laptop with vague interest, enjoying the solid, warm body pressed against his and wrapped in his arms. Midoriya, on the other hand, was watching the screen with wide eyes, the blanket they had laid over them clutched in his hands, the fabric twisting in his grip.

     The movie’s monster jumped out towards the screen from behind a group of trees. Midoriya jumped, a strangled noise escaping from him. Kirishima laughed, having already seen the movie at least thirty times in his life, and pulled him closer, pressing his cheek with Midoriya’s freckled one.

     “Aw, no worries, babe,” he chuckled. “You don’t have to be scared. I’d protect you from any freaky pop-out monsters.” Midoriya groaned playfully, shoving Kirishima’s face away with a gentle hand.

     “Pfft, I’m not scared,” he insisted, casting a mockingly offended look at the red-haired teen. “It just... surprised me, that’s all.” Kirishima grinned, nodding.

     “Sure, sure,” he hummed. “Whatever you say.” He rested his chin on Midoriya’s shoulder, nuzzling his cheek against Midoriya’s face again, who huffed but still pressed his back further into Kirishima’s chest. Kirishima kissed his cheek, soaking in the tantalizing heat.

     One of the characters in the movie was grabbed by a monster, long, jointed fingers wrapping around their neck, before being dragged away into the darkness of the forest. Midoriya shot forward, ripping Kirishima’s headrest away, a whimper cutting off at his throat.

     “Woah, hey, Midoriya?” There was no reaction. “Are you ok? What’s going on?” He leaned forward, pausing the movie, and tried to catch a glimpse of Midoriya’s face. His eyes were distant like he was seeing something beyond the laptop’s screen. Anguish seeped from every part of him. His mouth was held open in a silent cry, hot air rushing out between his soft pants. His brows were peaked and furrowed. Kirishima rested a hand on his back, rubbing slow circles.

     “It’s ok,” he soothed, placing a steadying hand on Midoriya’s chest. A thrumming heartbeat hammered under his fingertips and palm. Midoriya swallowed. He blinked, the distance fading each time his eyes closed.

     “Hey.” Midoriya turned his head, meeting Kirishima’s gaze. The terror and pain remained, stuck in the depths of his eyes and the turned down corners of his mouth. Kirishima frowned, hoping to convey concern and comfort. “Are you ok?”

     Midoriya’s eyes flicked between his, a thousand different things running through them. He turned away, forcing his lips to curve upwards.

     “Yeah,” he replied, shaky. “I’m ok. I-uh- I just- Sorry about that.” He chuckled, the sound forced and closed off. His lips trembled and the smile cracked. Kirishima’s frown deepened.

     “What happened?”

     “Nothing!” The answer came too quick and prepared. “Nothing happened, I just got too caught up in it, that’s all.” He tried a laugh, but it sounded more like a desperate cough: rough, grating, and distressing. Kirishima pursed his lips, thinking.

     “We should probably take a break then,” he decided, closing the laptop. “Come on, let’s go to the kitchen.” He clambered off the bed, extending a hand to help Midoriya up. Their hands remained clasped around each other.

     Walking down the empty halls to the kitchen, Kirishima caught Midoriya looking at Bakugo’s door. His gaze lingered on it for a second too long, a flash of fear in his look that was swallowed by something else that Kirishima couldn’t describe.

     In the kitchen, Kirishima had Midoriya sit down at the table as he rummaged around, finding the ingredients and appliances he wanted. About twenty minutes later, he grabbed two cups, pouring the clear burnt orange liquid he’d created into each of them. Walking back to the table, he handed Midoriya one of the steaming cups and sat next to him, cupping his own in his hands. Midoriya looked down at the cup’s contents, brows furrowed.

     “This doesn’t smell like tea...” he mumbled, whether, at himself or him, Kirishima wasn’t sure. He shrugged, choosing to answer anyway.

     “It’s not tea. It’s apple cider. My mom taught me how to make it.” He sipped the hot beverage, letting the flavor coat his tongue. Midoriya nodded and followed his lead without hesitation. He pulled the cup away, licking his lips.

     “What do you think?” Kirishima inquired, hiding a grin behind his cup as he took another sip. Midoriya bobbed his head, staring at the hot liquid again.

     “It’s a lot like tea,” he started, slow. “I’ve just never had... apple tea.” Kirishima snorted, cider almost spraying from his nose. He laughed, hand covering his mouth to try and muffle the noise. If they roused any of the others, they’d never hear the end of it.

     Midoriya watched him with an amused, yet confused expression, enjoying Kirishima’s joy but not fully understanding what brought it on.

     Kirishima sighed, straightening up from his hunched over position, an extra precaution to keeping the laughter as quiet as possible. He shook his head, still chuckling.

     “I hope you don’t mind me using the phrase ‘apple tea’ from now on.” Midoriya smiled, taking another sip.

     “Not at all. Have at it.” The two boys fell into a soft silence, the looming subject being artfully ignored by one, and analyzed by another.

     “So,” Kirishima sighed, believing it best to be blunt. “Do you want to talk about what happened during the movie?” He watched Midoriya’s reaction. The freckled teen slumped a little in his chair, somehow effectively hiding his face with a small, porcelain cup.

     “It’s nothing,” Midoriya mumbled, taking a distracting slurp.

     “You looked like you were on the verge of some kind of panic attack,” Kirishima pressed on. “That couldn’t have been nothing.”

     “It’s stupid,” Midoriya supplied instead.

     “Anything that freaks you out that much is never stupid.” Kirishima leaned down, trying to catch a glimpse of those downturned green eyes. “You know I’d never make fun of you, right?” Midoriya’s shoulders hunched past his ears as his fingers fiddled with the cup’s handle. With a weary sigh, he dropped his shoulders and placed the cup down onto the table.

     “It’s stupid, but when that guy was dragged into the forest by that monster, it just- it looked a lot like how the villains took Kacchan.” Midoriya refused to meet Kirishima’s gaze, his fingers tapping against the cup’s surface.

     Kirishima bit his lip, guilt sticking to the inside of his gut like caramel in a hot car. He scooted his chair closer until their knees were knocking together. He wrapped a hand around Midoriya’s wrist, pulling it away from the cup with gentle fingers. He slipped his hand up until it intertwined with Midoriya’s.

     “That’s not stupid, Izuku,” he whispered, thumb trailing along one of the scars. “That stuff sticks with you forever. I felt shitty when that happened. I can’t imagine what it felt like for you, seeing it all in person.” He paused, searching for his next words carefully. “But-”

     “I failed him.” Kirishima flinched at the words that spilled from Midoriya’s mouth. “I was so close to reaching him, and I was too late. We were lucky. The villains didn’t interrogate him or hurt him. He was safe when we found him because they wanted him safe. What if, next time, they capture someone else? And then they interrogate or hurt them. What if they kill them? And I just watched them get taken away? Because I was too weak to stop it? Because I couldn’t get to them in time? We were lucky that time, but what about next time? What if I fail them again? What if-”

     “Hey!” Kirishima cut through his rambling, grabbing his face in his hands and turning him to look straight into his eyes. He poured every ounce of love, pain, and distress into his gaze, hoping that could drive home what he was about to say. “Don’t think like that. Ever! You didn’t fail Bakugo. Or anyone else. Yeah, we were lucky, but now we all know better. We know that villains can come at us at any moment, so we’re always prepared. And we all know what we signed up for: to be heroes. We all came to this school knowing that this wasn’t going to be a safe job. And you can’t keep worrying about the future, ‘cause that’s only going to freeze you up in the now. All we can do is prepare for the future. That’s the best we can do, as people and heroes. Besides, what’s important right now is that we got Bakugo back, and everyone’s safe.” He stroked his thumbs over Midoriya’s cheeks, brushing away tears that had started to fall. “We’re ok, thanks to you and your awesome plans.” He kissed his cheek, earning a stuttering laugh. “Your big, awesome brain-” He kissed his other cheek. “And your totally amazing quirk-” He kissed his forehead. “And your manly personality-” He leaned far enough back to see Midoriya’s entire, glowing face. He grinned, feeling something light flutter around in his chest.

     “All of that is going to save the world one day.” He kissed Midoriya’s lips, absorbing their softer texture compared to his rougher ones. He pulled away, letting their lips brush against one another. “And we’re going to kick villain ass,” he promised, grinning, sharp teeth on full display. Midoriya laughed, reaching out for another peck, the laughter bubbling on his lips. Kirishima’s grin widened and softened, relieved to see the dusting of blush from laughing. He rested his forehead against Midoriya’s, memorizing every freckle, laugh-line, and sparkle in his eyes and smile. Midoriya brushed his nose with Kirishima’s, his laughter dying down to quiet chuckles.

     “So,” Kirishima drawled, arching an eyebrow as overly seductive as he could. “I got It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown saved on my laptop too. Want to watch that instead?” Midoriya’s laughter started up anew, breaking Kirishima’s seductive facade with a wide grin.

     “Yes!” Midoriya cheered quietly, standing up and dragging Kirishima back to the room. Kirishima followed, trying not to trip as they hushed each other’s laughs, completely forgetting about the dishes they’d left behind. Hopefully, their classmates would show a little mercy and kindness tomorrow.

Another down, five more to go!

I hope you all enjoyed this. Thanks for reading!

<Day 7  Day 9>

[forestwater87]

Underrated Characters Appreciation Weeks I’m too lazy to set up....

...but I’m proud of myself for having created. So if y’all wanna adopt any of these, you can go wild (please tag me though! I wanna see them!). Otherwise, shower me with praise.

(They’re very writing-heavy and often just a list of questions, so if you borrow anything feel free to tweak as suits your inspiration; the questions/suggestions are really just to get people thinking!)

I’m gonna put them below the cut so it doesn’t get too long, but you have to look forward to:

Jasper Appreciation Week

Cameron Campbell Appreciation Week

Gwen Appreciation Week

Bonquisha Appreciation Week

Dirty Kevin Appreciation Week

QM Appreciation Week

Other Secondary Characters Appreciation Week

Elevated Extras Appreciation Week

Nerris Appreciation Week

Space Kid Appreciation Week

Ered Appreciation Week

Harrison Appreciation Week

Dolph Appreciation Week

Nikki Appreciation Week

Preston Appreciation Week

Nurf Appreciation Week

Flower Scouts Appreciation Week

Woodscouts Appreciation Week

Jasper Appreciation Week

Who doesn’t love this good good ghost boy?

Day 1: 90s Kid -- Depict Jasper doing something radical.

Day 2: Jasper’s Camp -- Show off Jasper’s time as Camp Campbell’s golden boy.

Day 3: David -- It’s the only character he has a real canon relationship with . . .

Day 4: Life After Death -- What does he do with himself on that there island all day?

Day 5: All Grown Up -- We’ve all thought about it.

Day 6: Best Friend to Campers -- Pick a non-David character and develop his relationship with them.

Day 7: Spookily Ever After -- How does Jasper’s story end? On Spooky Island forever? Leaving this realm? Becoming the camp’s new mascot? Or was he somehow alive the whole time? Let your imagination go wild!

Cameron Campbell Appreciation Week

He’s sleazy. He’s morally bankrupt. He’s everyone’s favorite non-blonde-twink villain!

Day 1: Shady Business Dealings -- What’s Campbell up to when he’s not at camp? What does he want with Camp Campbell? Was that Nazi gold in his vault? Something’s fishy here, and I’m curious what everyone thinks is going on.

Day 2: Mysterious Past -- How on earth does someone like Campbell happen, anyway? This could be stuff about his childhood, how he got into . . . whatever illegal nonsense he’s up to, how he met QM, even how he got away with not getting in trouble for what happened to Jasper.

Day 3: Spooky Island -- Seriously, what on earth was going on in that house? Focus on the coolest/creepiest thing in there and go nuts.

Day 4: Fears & Other Random Headcanons -- Basically your Free Space day.

Day 5: Boss Man -- Focusing specifically on his relationships with the counselors.

Day 6: (Relation)Ships -- Yeah, yeah, gotta have it somewhere. This one is pretty open to interpretation, and should be considered platonic or not. Just depict the most interesting/fun relationship you think Campbell has. Is that cold black heart even capable of affection, anyway? (If you think he’s a foxy grandpa, go wild today.)

Day 7: What Happens Next? -- Is he gonna ever leave that cave? Team up with Daniel? Gone for good? What’s up ahead for the most notorious criminal who’s ever run a summer camp?

Gwen Appreciation Week

I mean, come on. You knew I was gonna do it.

Day 1: Background -- There are a lot of interesting headcanons about Gwen’s backstory, cultural heritage, etc. City girl or country bumpkin, Latina or African-American or rich or poor or college dropout or whatever, pick what you think is the most interesting headcanon for Gwen (something that’s related to her time before the show, that is) and go nuts.

Day 2: Favorite Camper -- Pick one of the kiddos and have them bond with their grumpiest caregiver.

Day 3: All Dolled Up -- She’s always in that counselor uniform. What does she look like outside of camp?

Day 4: Ships -- Obviously.

Day 5: That Tragic Plot Twist -- If you have an idea what makes Gwen such a grumpy disaster of panic and unemployment -- or just want to have fun making things unnecessarily dark for such a lighthearted cartoon which I know you do; I’ve read the fanfiction -- it’s time to unleash the angst.

Day 6: Anywhere Else -- AUs! AUs in all directions! Gwen doesn’t want to be at camp, so let’s plop her into another world where she might be happier . . . or might not be.

Day 7: A Campbell Camper? Whether you think Gwen was one of the kids who grew up at Camp Campbell or not, I think we’d all agree it’d be fun to imagine.

Bonquisha Appreciation Week

Because she deserves it and will probably kill you if you don’t appreciate her enough. 

Day 1: Those Wild Shirts -- Draw her in another fantastic outfit, or speculate where her amazing fashion sense (and vanity plates) came from. She has a filthy mouth and a whole lotta confidence, and the first day of this week is to celebrate that!

Day 2: Home Sweet Trailer -- Put her in her house on 69 Dirt Rd. and think about what kinds of things a girl like Bon would call home.

Day 3: Dog -- She has one. Tell us about it!

Day 4: Work/Hometown HCs -- What does someone even do in a town that small? Whether you think she’s a waitress alongside that cute pink-haired gal, or if she lives out of town and drove up to see David, ponder a little bit of what Bonquisha does in or around Sleepy Peak and show it to us.

Day 5: Bonvid -- How did that relationship with David crash and burn so hard, anyway? And what does it look like after that episode?

Day 6: Other Relationships -- Bonquisha vs. Tabii, or Gwenquisha, or bffs with Dirty Kevin, or any sort of connection you’d like to expand upon or forge between Bon-Bon and another character in the show. Hell, draw her and Jacob if you think that’s cute; it’s canon, after all.

Day 7: Muscles to Die For -- She’s big and beautiful and could absolutely murder everyone. Let’s just spend out last day appreciating how very much of a badass Bonquisha is.

Dirty Kevin Appreciation Week

The very goodest alternative Den Mother there ever was.

Day 1: Probably a Real Brat -- What was he like as a kid or teenager?

Day 2: Drugs & More Drugs -- Show us Kevin hard at work or tell us how he got into this crazy business.

Day 3: That Red Hoodie -- It’s kind of his trademark, and this is a day to appreciate it.

Day 4: From Sleepy Peak to Mexico -- Take your favorite part from Kevin’s debut appearance and do something fun with it.

Day 5: Den Mommy -- We’ve all thought about Dirty Kevin as a Flower Scout mother, and if you haven’t, you’re lying.

Day 6: Cleaned Up -- Get him a nice facial grooming and some good clothes, and you could have a handsome gentleman right there. What on earth would that look like? 

Day 7:  Not Such a Lone Wolf -- Whether you have an OTP or just love the idea of Kevin being friends with certain characters, show us who you think he has a soft spot for.

QM Appreciation Week

Listen, we’re all a little afraid of him, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve the spotlight for a bit. Even if we know he’ll probably do unspeakable things in and to that spotlight.

Day 1: God or Just Crazy? Whether it’s his apparent inability to age or how he can magically find little woodland paradises in the middle of the camp, there’s a lot of weird going on there. Celebrate the man who may or may not be a murderer and may or may not actually be a literal deity and all his strange, often supernatural weirdness.

Day 2: Hook -- Hey, how’d he lose that hand?

Day 3: Man vs. Squirrels -- He has a blood feud with many woodland creatures.

Day 4: QM Store -- There’s a lot of wacky stuff in there. What did you like best, or what do you think was hidden in the corners that we didn’t get to see?

Day 5: Bonding -- QM’s been there for a long (long long long) time, and he’s clearly known Campbell and David at least for years. Pick a character and explore what their relationship with the Quartermaster might be like.

Day 6: Tontine -- So what on earth was going on there?

Day 7: Camp Specter -- Regardless of how you approached Day 1, the fact remains that for whatever reason, the Quartermaster is at Camp Campbell for good. You can speculate why he’s there or just show us him hard at work doing . . . whatever he does, but today I just wanna see our beloved QM lurking around the camp!

Other Secondary Characters Appreciation Week

To all those characters who hang out in the background, making the campers’ shenanigans more fun.

Day 1: Daniel -- I don’t consider him in any way under-appreciated, but he’s a pretty spectacular way to kick off Season 2, and also this week.

Day 2: Platypus -- Mother of six five four three two one lunch and terror of the camp.

Day 3: Cute Waitress -- Y’all sure do love her. Show your love!

Day 4: Jermy Fartz -- Oh yeah. I went there.

Day 5: Darla & Gregg -- How can anyone who isn’t David be that excited about camping? Were they totally secretly dating? Where are they now, and how did they get there?

Day 6: The Denizens of Sleepy Peak -- Whether your heart belongs to Lester, Fred, the old geezers, or any of the others populating the nearby town, it’s time to show them some love.

Day 7: Parents -- How else would we end this week but with some family bonding?

Elevated Extras Appreciation Week

They’re not as memorable as the secondary characters. They don’t even have lines. But they’re ours and we love them.

Day 1: Former Campbell Campers -- we see in the picture on David’s bulletin board that there were a lot of kids who used to come to the camp. Show or tell us about your favorite!

Day 2: Camp Counselor of the Year Judges -- What was up with those guys? Were they even human?

Day 3: Other Camps -- Lake Lilac is home to Teen Church Camp, Pirate Camp, and who knows how many others? Let’s enjoy them!

Day 4: Larry -- Poor, poor undeserving Larry. RIP, my fuzzy man.

Day 5: Scotty -- Visual comedy camp? Seriously?

Day 6: Chucky -- What happened to him anyway?

Day 7: Your choice! Think I forgot the most important one? Time to correct that mistake! (Listen, if you’re mad I didn’t include Jen, consider this the Jen space.)

Nerris Appreciation Week

Devoted to the real(?) magic kid.

Day 1: The Cute -- Artists, draw how cute she is! Writers, maybe think about how the nickname came about! Or do something completely different! I don’t care!

Day 2: Magic War -- Explore her relationship with Harrison.

Day 3: Elf-kin -- What does that even look like? What does it mean?

Day 4: Bonding with Mere Mortals -- The camp is full of people and animals. Pick one and play with their relationship with Nerris.

Day 5: Dice -- What do they look like? How did she get them?

Day 6: Fandom -- A girl that excited about fantasy has to be quite the fan of a lot of things. Show us her interacting with her favorite stuff.

Day 7: Her Party -- Her relationship with her slightly-clueless mother and extremely-geeky dad.

Space Kid Appreciation Week

The most obvious appreciation week in the entire world.

Day 1: Astronaut -- Whether you want to show him all grown up or as a little kid, give us a glimpse of what Neil the real-life spaceman would be like.

Day 2: Aliens -- Another type of spaceman.

Day 3: Fishbowl -- A day to just appreciate his adorable, impractical costume.

Day 4: Punching Bag -- He’s been pushed around and disregarded by Max, Nurf, Max, the counselors, various animals, and Max. This is a day dedicated to his unfortunate luck and indomitable good spirit.

Day 5: Sick -- After that trip he took across the lake to the moon, and barely surviving the flu zombies, Space Kid could probably use some patching up.

Day 6: Science Guys -- The two Neils, bonding.

Day 7: SPACE!!! -- Give us Space Kid interacting with his favorite hobby ever.

Ered Appreciation Week

A very very cool week.

Day 1: Skater -- Even on the camp’s awful cardboard halfpipe, Ered’s still a budding Tony Hawk.

Day 2: Dye -- Dedicated to her awesome -- dare we say cool? -- hair.

Day 3: Camp Kool Kidz -- Celebrate her short-lived tenure as the head of Camp Campbell.

Day 4: Extreme -- What other extreme sports does she like to get up to?

Day 5: Queen Bee -- Her relationship with one or more of the other campers.

Day 6: Wipeout -- She gets injured a lot, doesn’t she?

Day 7: Cool Gay FBI Dads -- They’re the most wholesome family that regularly gets into gunfights.

Harrison Appreciation Week

Devoted to the . . . real(?) magic kid? (Didn’t we already do this?)

Day 1: Harry’s Son -- His outfit is pure Vegas showman, his VA and accent seem to suggest Israeli descent, and he may or may not be a literal wizard. His parents are terrified of him, but his mom says he’ll grow into his looks. Give some backstory to this lovable kid and his love of illusions.

Day 2: Actual, Real, Terrifying Magic -- This kid isn’t messing around. From summoning fireballs to making both objects and living things appear and disappear, he has some serious supernatural chops.

Day 3: Apprenticeship -- He and Nikki’s relationship consists of equal parts mutual admiration and mayhem. What do the two of them get up to behind the scenes?

Day 4: Brother -- Time for theories (and angst, of course angst) about how and why he “made his brother disappear.” 

Day 5: Any Resemblance to Bill Cipher is Pure Coincidence -- . . . probably. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t fun to imagine that crossover!

Day 6: Frenemies -- Harrison has a habit of getting on people’s nerves. Pick at least one character and develop their relationship with the magic kid.

Day 7: Hufflepuff Pride -- Jordan Cwierz confirmed it! This last day is about celebrating all things yellow and black and (mostly) well-intentioned.

Dolph Appreciation Week

I know, he’s controversial. But he’s a kid with a passion for art and no understanding of history, and he could use some love as well.

Day 1: Painting -- Exactly what it says on the tin. While he is clearly skilled at lots of different types of art, this is the one he seems to like the most.

Day 2: Where’s the Yellow? He is the only one who doesn’t wear anything camp-themed. Give us a glimpse of what might’ve happened to that signature yellow clothing.

Day 3: Stage Manager -- Multiple times throughout the series Dolph is shown as Preston’s right-hand man by helping him design sets and acting in his plays; Preston even returns the favor by posing for a painting. Today is dedicated to the strange relationship of the theatre and art kids.

Day 4: Camp Counselor of the Year! Incredibly, Dolph appears to be quite the competent leader for his age, and his one day of running the camp went smoothly for the most part. Maybe he has the makings of a great counselor after all.

Day 5: The Elephant in the Room -- We all knew it was coming. Whether you find the Hitler jokes hilarious or offensive, everyone has an opinion about this particular character choice. Now’s the time to speculate what happens when he gets older, or completely retcon this aspect of his personality, or do whatever you’d like to with his . . . peculiarities.

Day 6: Father Issues -- According to the show’s wiki, “his father is an American lieutenant, who raised him on a German army base where he supposedly gained a love of art and soccer like many Europeans, much to his father's dismay.” Oof, that’s a lot to unpack. Time for backstory!

Day 7: Not Such a Bad Kid -- Despite his . . . controversial elements, Dolph as a character seems fairly sweet and oblivious, and is loved by a significant portion of the fanbase for these qualities. A free day of sorts, this is about accentuating the positive and appreciating the awkward, artistic weirdo underneath the jokes.

Nikki Appreciation Week

I was really close to not including this, because I don’t consider her an underrated character exactly, but Neil has a week and, let’s be honest, it’d be fun.

Day 1: Rough n’ Tumble -- Nikki isn’t afraid of fighting, and she’s no stranger to getting dirty or even hurt. Show the wild child doing something fun, reckless, and probably not very smart.

Day 2: Raised by Wolves -- Imagine an AU where she actually was as much a literal daughter of the forest as she wants to be.

Day 3: Just a Tiny Bit Traditional -- Despite being such a tomboy, there’s a part of Nikki that is deeply romantic and even maternal. Whether through a version of her that’s a bit older or a quiet moment at the camp, show us a little bit more of her gentle side.

Day 4: BFFs, Potential Step Siblings, Sidekicks -- A day to appreciate Neil and Nikki’s relationship, whatever you see that as.

Day 5: Flower Scout Nikki -- What was her time across the lake like?

Day 6: Parent Troubles -- She and her mom have a difficult relationship, and her dad doesn’t seem to be around that much. Show us Nikki and one or more of her guardians, and what that relationship might be like.

Day 7: Holidays! Her first and greatest love is Christmas, but there’s probably not a holiday she wouldn’t throw herself into. Give her a chance to celebrate any holiday you want!

Preston Appreciation Week

Get ready for some high-octane theatrics!

Day 1: A Flair for the Dramatic -- I don’t care what you do with this one, just give it lots of DRAMA!

Day 2: Speak Up -- Preston and his grandmother are really close, but his parents seem to be AWOL. Every Appreciation Week needs a backstory- and/or family-centric day, and that’s what this is.

Day 3: Cosplay -- What’s Preston’s favorite play? Let’s have him dress up like a character in that show.

Day 4: Stage Presence -- Give the boy a spotlight and an audience!

Day 5: The Bard -- He seems to love writing and directing even more than performing. Show him creating the next Hamilton (or more likely, Hamilton’s weird sequel involving pirates and aliens).

Day 6: Theater Nerd -- Either as a high school AU or just some time in the future, image Preston fully engrossed in that drama club life.

Day 7: Tribe -- Every weirdo has their group of friends. Either through OCs or other characters in Camp Camp, give or describe the people that make up the group in which he belongs.

Nurf Appreciation Week

Gaylord Nurfington, much like Shrek, is like an onion: smelly, surprisingly layered, and will probably make you cry.

Day 1: Big N Tough -- He’s built like a brick shithouse and mean as a bear, and that’s part of why we love him. Celebrate the fact that this guy can (and probably will) kick anyone’s ass.

Day 2: Theater Kid? -- We’ve seen Nurf involved in Preston’s productions more than once. Have some fun with his apparent interest in the performing arts.

Day 3: His Mother’s Boy -- Mother and son time!

Day 4: Surprising Depths -- Show Nurf doing something no one would ever have thought he would enjoy and/or be good at.

Day 5: A Thoughtful Bully . . . -- As the self-proclaimed most self-actualized character in the show, Nurf has proven to be remarkably cognizant of his own issues and respectful of others’. Give him a positive-ish interaction with another character.

Day 6: . . . Is Still a Bully -- But let’s be real: Nurf can be a total jerk. Let the kid be mean today!

Day 7: Knives -- Where the hell is he getting all of those, anyway? Regardless, show Nurf with his favorite toys.

Flower Scouts Appreciation Week

They’ll kill you with a smile and fantastic hair, then they’ll use their drug contacts to bury the bodies.

Day 1: Grace & Class -- No one is prettier and daintier than these angels -- and nobody knows it better than them.

Day 2: Nicer than Disneyland -- Whether you’d like to focus on their shady cookie dealings, the washed-up Miss Priss, or even invent your own Scout, give yourself a chance to explore a part of the Flower Scouts that hasn’t been given much screentime yet.

Day 3: Sasha -- A day dedicated to the quintessential Queen Bee. Manipulative, clever, and pretty damn selfish, Sasha is undoubtedly the leader of the Scouts, and you better respect it.

Day 4: Erin -- If your heart hasn’t been captured by this heterochromatic science nerd, this day is not for you. But for the rest of us, grab your pumpkin spice and head off to Fraaaaance to celebrate her!

Day 5: Tabii -- What she lacks in common sense she makes up for with being absolutely terrifying. Tabii-with-two-eyes-with-one-eye is an emotional rollercoaster, and she deserves a little bit of love today.

Day 6: Not-So Delicate Girls -- From drug empires to vats of acid, the Flower Scouts have proven that they can kick a whole lot of ass. Show off how tough these girly-girls can really be!

Day 7: Garden Mother Kevin -- Come on. You knew it was coming.

Woodscouts Appreciation Week

They might be the cartoon answer to what would happen if Stormtroopers were body-swapped with Boy Scouts, but that’s part of their charm.

Day 1: A Shadowy Organization -- No girls are allowed, they don’t appear to have a troop leader, their camp is impenetrable, there seem to be maybe 5 Scouts at most . . . Pick something cool about this creepy camp and play around with it.

Day 2: Bitter Rivalries -- Between risky bets against Camp Campbell and popcorn/cookie sales against the Flower Scouts, it seems like the WS have a problem with basically everyone. Depict one or more interaction between them and their most bitter enemies.

Day 3: A New Recruit -- How on earth does Jermy fit into the Woodscouts’ routine? How has he not accidentally (or not-so accidentally) been incapacitated yet?

Day 4: Fearless Leader -- He’s slimy in more ways than one, but he keeps Troop #818 together and has even managed to snag a few recruits. That alone is worth a day of appreciation.

Day 5: Strong & Silent -- For someone who doesn’t talk much, Petrol has a lot of good advice and personality. Let’s celebrate his bromance with Snake, his willingness to be sacrificed for the WS, or even just his stubborn refusal to try leg day even once.

Day 6: Call him Snake -- Prince Zuko Billy might not be the most dignified character on the show, but he’s certainly the most honorable and is deadly with a candy cane.

Day 7: Like Family -- I just want to see some Woodscouts bonding, with each other or a character of your choice.

[thegreatyin]

U.04 Thoughts...basically a review/reaction. But also not. Because I'm a sarcastic narcissist.

So- I- WOW.

I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS RN

OH. MY GOD.

(spoilers ahead, be warned!)

(Also, I wrote this on my Kindle Fire, so expect spelling mistakes.)

(Also, this is vry long yes™, so it's under the cut. Read at your own risk.)

First off, I'm gonna clarify - this is my thoughts on the FIRST VIEWING. I'm gonna re-watch it later and think about stuff more then. I haven't watched it a single time after the first, because I needed to write this.

Second...

Ink was portrayed BRILLIANTLY in this episode. This is EXACTLY what he is- only in it for his own entertainment/benefit. He is Chaotic Neutral at best, and Chaotic Evil at worst. And here? He's at his worst. Straight up ELIMINATING the rest of the Multiverse, breaking the natural order of things- all because he was bored. Goddamn, I love/hate that asshole.

I gotta give props to the animation, as well- it was gorgeous. Jakei is an EXCELLENT animator, and this episode was WORTH the wait. I actually paused the episode at certain points just to appreciate how a character breathed, or how good they looked.

While the humor wasn't a prime focus, one always has to give it a HUGE shoutout. The joy, of course, usually came from my own squeals at Error's usual crazy reactions to things (imsorryilovehim) but there were also times where I took a break from my sobs just to laugh hysterically. Lots of them, in fact.

Enough praises though, lets give it a rundown. Skipping over the part that was previewed, we start in Underwap, with X-Tale Alphys. Now, what I noticed here is that Code Frisk seemed a bit surprised at all this- but I'll put that down to out-of-ut shenanigans. Anyway, X-Tale Alphys somehow uses one of the X-Tale TIMELINES to 'quarantine' Underswap, that's the main thing. Here, we also get an explanation for why Papyrus didn't come with them...there wasn't any point to it. Which is kinda a grim start for the episode, if you ask me.

Skimming over the Underfell bit- I don't have much to talk about there, surprisingly - lets discuss Nightmare and Killer and X-Tale Chara. Nightmare got a few chuckles out of me here, I have to say. Mainly from the look he gave Chara after they wanted to get the vial. It was the perfect embodiment of 'dude wtf' 

I find it interesting here that Nightmare says that he 'owns' Chara. I mean- once they get to full power, they could just OVERWRITE him away.

Then again, it won't happen if he kills Chara first. Which he plainly can, dear Lord.

Now, what REALLY gets me in this scene is what Killer said. Because they took Classic's soul, they interfered with the UT Universe, thus making a ripple effect across all the timelines connected to it. This way, Killer knew EXACTLY what was going down.

This makes me wonder- does that mean, currently, all the Sanses in the Multiverse will be aware of the X-Event? Or just the ones closely intertwined with the main UT universe, like Killer's? It's a shame they never touch more on this, I personally find it fascinating.

Anyway, we finally make our way to Outertale, where we stay for almost all of the remaining episode. Here, the Sanses, Swap, Fell, and Sans, decide that they're done with Ink's bullshit. They want to go home, and they miss their brothers.

Unfortunately, Ink went missing, because he's a little shit that can't stay in one place like a good boy. So Classic has to take a break from his beautiful, busy hair-brushing and babysit this douche. AKA, go find him.

While looking, Classic finds a meteor shower, which...has no real importance. I'm not even sure why I included it, it's just a nice moment. Followed up by a fart joke.

Long story short, Sans encounters Outer, who is actually really fucking chill??? And I love?????? Him?????????? So much????????????????

Skipping ahead a bit, Nightmare attempts to force-feed Chara some poor monster's soul, but Chara can't eat that shit. You know what they can eat? Their soul! That's right - Glitchlord, aka ERROR, is here to find Ink and beat the crap out of him.

Little personal note- I love how he goes from basically 0 to 100 in a second. "Sup Nightmare, WHERE THE FUCK IS INK."

Turns out, Ink isn't feeling things, because not even Nightmare, who can sense emotions, can find him. Which means that Ink didn't take his pills today- naughty boy.

It's a shame we don't get more of Outer, tbh- I really liked him. That's definitely one of this episode's flaws. Alas, Killer has to kill SOMETHING, otherwise his name means literally nothing.

Skipping ahead, since I, again, don't have much to say about anything else- the Error and Ink fight.

DEAR LORD, THE ERROR AND INK FIGHT.

This thing is BEAUTIFUL. It's basically a game of keep-away between a grumpy glitchlord, a mad artist, and a smol anger child. Because that's what it is- and it gave me CHILLS. Mainly Ink. He gives me chills. How he looks, the way he can effortlessly throw down everyone WITHOUT his brush, the cut Error gave him- this is what he really is, at heart. Or should I say, without one.

The fight pauses so Ink can give a speach, and now? Now, we have CONTEXT.

Record Scratch.

Freeze frame.

That context.

Ink did this all because he was going to be empty without new AUs. He sided with X-Gaster because he needed something new. Something interesting. Something to fill the emptiness that is eternally there, he did it because he was bored, he did this all to have something new, he did it to play a game that would never end- and I'll fight you on it, that is the most human thing he's done, ever. Period. Never again, I show ship Ink and X-Gaster, we're calling it Creation, you can't stop me, it's sailed, and I'm the captain.

But, you ask, why did he have to be soulless to do it? Because he would otherwise feel guilty about leaving behind Cross- a genuine FRIEND. And if that also isn't the most human thing to do, if you can find a better example I'll write a bad Jerry X Reader fanfic.

(I'm not joking. I will, please pm me if you find something.)

Anyway, the real takeaway here is that Ink successfully summons Satan, AKA X-Gaster. And he proceeds to murder everyone, shove Error in the Anti-Void for being bad, give Ink's brush back, shove Classic back into UT, kill the AUs (no, actually, Error did that, but shh-) and make Cross...come back?

Horray! Start the victory parade!

...but not really. Because, from what I can tell(?), almost everyone is in a 'Quarantine ' zone, probably to wait while Ink and the X-Tale crew break bread and make their new world. Infact, from what I can tell, the only people besides them who aren't there are Error (who's having a fit in the AV), Cross, Dream, Fresh, and Nightmare and Killer, but those last two might just be around because Nightmare blends in with the background WAY too much.

x-Faster leaves, giving Cross the option to join him, and...I hope he doesn't. I pray he doesn't.

But enough of that. Let's talk about 'Valiant Heart' for a second, huh ~?

(Putting a break to pretend like I'm organized)

Tbh, I actually thought that Dream would DIE in this scene. Really - Nightmare saw a chance to get rid of a KNOWN thorn in his side, and he took it. Luckily, Cross saved him, and they both escaped...

But this scene has other things to talk about. First off, it's beautiful. This is the only thing in Underverse (so far/as far as I know) that isn't fully animated, instead shone in quick images and only having GORGEOUS song lyrics. I LOVE this part, and it might just be my favorite out of the whole episode.

Although..... I'm 25% percent sure that Dream and Cross went to X-Tale to hide, and Nightmare and Killer are now left alone in the black space that used to be the Doodle Sphere. Do they stay there? Is Nightmare's castle still existing?? This is like Killer's line at the start- I want insight to this.

For the sake of keeping this (long) thing short, I'm gonna end here, but...wow. Things are BLEAK rn. I can't even theorize any good possibilities - I'm shook. What a way to end an arc.

....or, should I say, what a way to start one~?

[fyrapartnersearch]

Cockadoodledoo, (M//M)

Hey! I’m Jonesy! I’ve posted on here before a few months ago, and I spoke with a number of people about starting RPs, and then some shit happened where I was literally unable to get to the computer, thus vanished for a while. For… four months. Yeah. (Anyone want to know what it’s like to wake up from a coma and get in a fist fight with a nurse because you have no idea what’s going on? Just ask.) Anyhoo, if I had something started with you, or even if we were just talking about starting something, and you want to hit me up again, please do! For time’s sake, I’m just gonna copy/paste part of my last advert, because… coughlazycough.

 I’m in my late 20’s and am looking for M// literate (advanced) rp partners, ages 25+ please. I do not fade to black or avoid mature themes. My writing style has a casual feel to it, but I use proper grammar, spelling, and punctuation, and I prefer that you have a good grasp on this, as well. I write third person paragraph style, and am looking for someone who likes world building and writing three dimensional characters. You know what I mean. If our characters walk into a town, I want to know who else is there, how the buildings are painted, what the air smells like. Take me to it. Paint me a worrrrrrddd pictuuuuureeee. If your character has a Maserati, I want to know how he treats it, how he drives it, and if he has that kind of money, why on EARTH would a Maserati be his car of choice?

 Absolute No’s: ….Well crap, I can never think of these until someone asks.

 Things I don’t like so much:

-Winey characters

-Super young characters

-Unrealistically serious characters

-Too much drama

-Posts that don’t move the story along (sometimes this is ok but not EVERY post…)

-Short posts.

-Spanish dudes (HA just kidding I LOVE spanish dudes.)

 Things I like:

-Spanish dudes

-All dudes

-Size differences

-Humor (Didn’t see that coming, did you?)

-Realistic dialogue*

-Open communication

 Genres I like:

-Sci fi

-Urban

-Steampunk

-Apocalyptical

-Dystopian

-Adventure

-Space stuff (This is its own genre, don’t argue with me.)

-Mild horror

 What I’m really craving right now is to use my character Ashby, and to find him a partner. I do have some other plots I’d like to write, or if you got something completely different and you want to run it by me, let me know! Worse that can happen is I’d say no. And then hunt you down and put sugar in your gas tank. (But mostly just say no.)

 So, Ashby. He’s a very complex character, thus kind of hard to explain while keeping it brief. Ashby Thornton Foster is a real strange creature. Not just because he’s very proper and likes to keep a position as the head butler in a household even though he probably has enough resources to never have to work ever. He’s tall, painfully handsome, with round antique glasses, and auburn hair. Sharp tongue, but can be a little daffy if you catch him off guard. He collects frightening tea pots, has been learning how to cook for 9 billion years but his chicken stew will probably send you to the can for the rest of the night, is excellent with mechanics and spends a lot of his free time tinkering, and has read almost every book ever written but can’t remember what happened in the last chapter of the one he’s currently working on. I should mention that this character is not human. He is a specific species of being that I created myself. I’ll go into it if you’re interested, but the basics are that he has handsomely jagged teeth, large amber eyes, and claw like nails that often lead him to be mistaken as a vampire, however when he shifts out of his human form, he looks more like a sphynx cat and a lady got together. That sounds awful, but he’s actually quite exquisite. (NOT a furry. He just looks a tad strange and has interesting legs.) Ashby is very sweet natured but runs a strict household. He is well respected and well loved.

 Ashby has a dark side to him that’s very calculated, very… intentional, if you know what I mean. He has the ability to make you the happiest person alive, but can turn around and cause you a lot of pain and suffering if you give him reason to. Battling with his darker side is a constant struggle. As far as a romantic interest for him, I usually play him as a switch, however he likes pretty masculine men (or beasties) who have the ability to dominate HIM because he doesn’t often run across many who can do so. (And I don’t just mean with sex. He can physically f*ck you up.) I would love to find him someone who can both talk him out of those times when shit gets a little too dark, but can also overpower him if need be.

 Usually, I play Ashby in a steampunk setting, and he’s the head butler of a household he runs pretty tightly, but I can also play him in other settings. He translates well. So if you’d like to Rp him in another setting, let me know! This character comes with an identical twin (Molocai, who prob won’t appear) and a Soul Eater character, who sets up camp in whatever town he settles in due to being promised his soul whenever he shuffles off his mortal coil. They’re best friends. (It’s a long story.)

 Here were some of the other stories I had ideas for, but if none of them tickle your pickle and you think we’d be a good RP match, let me know, anyway and we can do something else!

Made for one another:

Could fall under sci fi, apocalyptical, dystopian, adventure, hell it could fall under all of them. I have a really loose idea for this one. Two characters are genetically made for one another. Not romantically, but as in two parts that make up a whole. Both are genetically engineered to do something different, but both of their abilities need to be combined for whatever final outcome to happen. (The outcome being what they were created for.) Reasoning behind this was that maybe one person having both abilities, or the one ability that the both of them make up, would overload their system and kill them. Or significantly harm them in some way. Thus, two genetically engineered people were created.

The loose plot I had for this was that maybe one character has escaped the facility that created them. (Escaped a long time ago, perhaps.) This facility has some major unethical and downright inhumane practices (like lab growing people.) Character A. we’ll call him, decides to destroy the place, maybe from the inside out. (Perhaps he’s some kind of mercenary or rogue whatnot, living his life in secrecy so no one from said facility finds him, blah blah.) Ever see Alien Resurrection? With that scene where Ripley goes into the lab and finds all the failed experiments?.... No? Just me? Okay. Anyway, so while Character A. is torching the place, he finds Character B, who is the only experiment alive. He can’t just leave him there to die, so he takes him with him. That’s how they meet, but I don’t have much else for a plot for this story, other than that I see Character A as being kind of an asshole so they struggle a lot and much later they discover they’re literally made for one another.

 Mad Max:

This would be sort of based on the Mad Max world (as in the 2015 movie, even though I do so love the originals) though not using any of the characters, places, or… you know, anything. The world is a wasteland, but it’s not oil/gasoline that’s the hot commodity, it’s water. The wasteland is filled with different tribes, none of them very nice unless you belong to one of them. This pairing would be a character that’s kind of like Max, a lone wolf who belongs to no tribe and wanders, and…. I dunno, I guess he would be a POW? He’s a warrior from another tribe that was captured. Character A stops (cautiously) in one of the territories to trade for water and supplies. Character B is pretty roughed up and knows he’ll eventually end up dying if he doesn’t get away somehow, so his main objective is to get Character A to trade for him. Obviously, this eventually happens. Character A discovers that Character B has something that would be useful to him (maybe it’s just knowledge of mechanics and whatnot) so he ends up trading for him. Plot twist! They end up HATING one another. And maybe Character A finds out that Character B was lying all along and can’t really do the thing Character A traded him for, however now they’re stuck together, because they’re crossing the wasteland.

 Space Pirates (Totally not nerdy AT ALL.)

I have a space captain. He’s an alien. He has a super cool space ship and a super cool crew. His species is rarely seen in this part of the galaxy, usually they are a very secretive race living in deep, deep space, that remain secluded, however Janka has been exiled, and now creates a lot of havoc and headaches for anyone he encounters. I have a real old descrip of him from… jesus, like 2010 that I haven’t updated, but I’ll send it if he sounds interesting! Anyway, he’s a sarcastic, lazy sh*tface, kinda pretty gross without meaning to be, but he’s a real loveable character. Likes blowing things up. Kind of clumsy, which isn’t the best thing for someone who’s built like he is. He’s well known in space ports all over, so he sticks to the real shady ones, where he’s somewhat popular. This character comes with an entire crew, and bonus interesting genitalia. He really needs someone to take care of him (emotionally.) Very hard headed when it comes to relationships (“What? No, I didn’t get you anything for your birthday. You said not to get you anything.”) but when he falls for someone, he falls hard.

 *Please note that all of my characters are usually in their late twenties or older with VERY few that are mid-twenties. I also do not play with younger characters, and prefer them to be around the same age category.

 *Let me explain about the realistic dialogue. Two OC’s walk into a bar. My OC walks up to the bartender and says “Ay, Sugartits, I’ll have the usual.” Your OC says “I will have a beer.” Unless your OC is either a.) An android or b.) Two 12 year olds in a big coat, or c.) Horribly constipated, he’d better say something an actual human being would say. “I’ll have a beer.” “Gimme a beer.” “Just whatever you got on tap.” “Uh… Beer’s fine.” Don’t make your character sound like they’re reading a bad script.

 If I haven’t scared you off, shoot me an email at Geisterkommandant@hotmail.com

My RP mediums are usually Skype, Email, and I can be persuaded into Discord.

 And just to clarify. Gay RP. Plot before Porn. Thank you

[kimmysfandomblog]

Makoto and Hajime, since it's the week ? :D

Thank you, Chloe~ Sorry I took so long to reply!

I’m really sad the week’s at an end TTvTT It was honestly a rewarding experience, and I’m really pleased with how it turned out (so far... I know some people still with WIPs or said they were wanting to join, but didn’t have time to start, and I hope they submit it later rather than give up!)

Anyways, on with the ask!

From here:  A MORE DETAILED CHARACTER MEME!

Makoto Naegi:

What I like about them

How he had been in the first game was really endearing! Yeah, there wasn’t a whole lot of confidence in himself, but he was still one to try to be optimistic and see the best in people. He’s truly kind and pretty selfless, although a bit of a goof as well XD I think that he was alright of a protagonist! And even in DR3, he had good moments. I liked how he was able to piece together what had been going on using Kirigiri’s clues, and his suspicion of Mitarai as well (from what I remember, that was his own way of connecting the dots?) And while I’m not sure I’ll ever be satisfied with the ending of any conflict, Naegi in DR3 could think fast. He sets up traps for Munakata and made it impossible for him to escape while the wristband was on. I thought that part was clever (even if the following conversation didn’t convince me much)

What I dislike about them

Ehhh, after DR3, my opinion of him lowered. A lot. He ended DR3 played off as the hero when he really, really didn’t do much. And honestly, he couldn’t. The writers wrote that he couldn’t run. That’s a good idea on paper, maybe, but not in execution. Especially considering how he is the protagonist. He ends up relying a lot on Asahina to save him from situations, and even when he does come across situations where he is supposed to be good at, talking to people, it comes off a lot less realistic… kind of forced. I’m wondering if that is a fault on the animation studio’s end, or whoever wrote the final script. Not to mention, when it comes to the very end, Togami giveshima whole squad to get to Mitarai, endangering them all… for Makoto to leave it to Hinata and company in the end lol. And then he gets to be the figurehead of Future Foundation for supposedly defeating the Remnants of Despair… yeah, that doesn’t sit well with me at all XD

Favorite moment:

It’s hard to choose! I think, though, I was most hyped when he showed up as a silhouette in the Investigation part of SDR2 Chapter 6? Him avoiding his execution was really cool, too, though!!! Oh yeah, and my Hi/Naegi heart fangirls over that one scene where they nod at each other XD

Least favorite moment

Mostly DR3 moments, lol. Especially the last episode! Like I said, Naegi was made to be the hero after failing to get there to Mitarai. He just hardly does that much in the grand scheme of things. In DR1, even if he leaned a little heavy on Kirigiri, it is him who was targeted a lot by the mastermind, and him who broke everyone’s despair away. In DR3, he kind of does it with Munakata, and then no one else. Just the way the game was designed made it so that he hardly knew most of the victims, and he was split away from even Kirigiri, who really did most of the work for him.

As for a non-DR3 moment… the bathhouse scene lol. The fan-service scene is really out of character. My first time with DR1 was with the anime, so such a scene was skipped, thankfully.

A situation with this character that I want to see explored more

I want to see how he gathered up the remnants, and all the things he had to do while watching DR2′s killing game. I’m really curious about how he confronted Kamukura specifically, and why it is he had no clue this Hajime Hinata wasn’t Izuru Kamukura. I mean, sure, Remnants of Despair may have changed themselves drastically, but Hajime was even more so, and it was not necessarily changes due to Despair. Also, meet up with Komaru please???? Interactions with Hinata???? His parents were just forgotten????

An interesting AU for this character

I’m so bad at this because all I’ll ever come up with is a fantasy AU XD He’d be the gardener or something that somehow is able to save the princess from a raid by an enemy kingdom and they somehow gather up morale and he ends up leading the rebellion and saves the day without having ever lifted his sword. Something like that XD

A crossover

…. The only thing besides Danganronpa that I care about is Kingdom Hearts ^^;;; He’d be Ventus in my crossover, rather than Sora!

OTP (or OT3+ etc…. just… favourite ship)

I like Nae///giri and Hin//aegi both!!! Nae///giri is something that develops rather well in DR1, and Hin///aegi is just such a warming and soft ship to me! Like, I just feel like they’d complement each other pretty well? They have a ton in common, and could teach each other different things.

Other ships?

Nae///zono! It’s a ship that I don’t talk a lot about, but I really liked his relationship with Maizono a lot. I truly miss her :( I really want to know what their relationship was like in the pre-DR1 year that they were in the same class together. 

BROTP

Pretty much all of the survivors of DR1, and Sayaka, and of course his sister! Also Hinata!!! I feel like they could really help each other!

NOTP

Well, I don’t really have one that really irks me, honestly? I’m not the most comfortable with Kom///aegi and Nae///gami all the time, though. Kom////aegi tends to be weirdly balanced, where Komaeda overpraises Naegi, but may till manipulate him and have some kind of power that way. It’s not my favorite interaction. As for Nae///gami, It’s also got that imbalance issue. In either case, if you portray it in a way that they are or become equals (without any messed up stuff happening mind you) then I’m really okay with them.

An assortment of headcanons!

Makoto does eventually find his parents, however even though they are physically unharmed, they are catatonic. They don’t respond to much of anything anymore, and it’s a mystery how they were able to live by the time Future Foundation got to them

Makoto holds grudges for very few people. They are not always bad people, but while outwardly he tries to be optimistic, inside, he’s wishing he was anywhere but near those people, or talking about those people.

Makoto and Sayaka, during their year in Hope’s Peak, grew very close, but never brought up dating each other. They were attracted to each other before they knew each other, and while they still are romantically attracted by the end of the year, it’s different, a little more sure, now that they do know each other. The apocalypse comes, and it never feels like a good time to brig it up anyways.

Makoto doesn’t realise he is the target of romantic attraction for quite a few people. Within the school year, he takes it as people just being naturally shy or standoffish. After the killing game, he assumes it is because of his supposed title of Ultimate Hope that he never actually called himself. (The exception to this is Kirigiri... he’s gotten to know her well enough to get that they like each other).

Hajime Hinata

What I like about them

Hinata was, and remains, DR’s best protagonist. He has development throughout DR, and I was really rooting with him slowly. He’s really funny in how blunt he is, and that sarcastic nature of his is great. But, probably most importantly to me, is that he is ever so relatable. He’s actually really sweet and caring, and he’s not one to resort to violence first. If there is something he thinks he can do for a friend, he’ll try to do it. And he’s imperfect.... He doesn’t have any talent whatsoever, he’s insecure about himself, he pushes people away and tries to run away and find easier solutions. Those are good things. It makes him feel more real.

What I dislike about them

Hinata’s a really good character... but well, the ending of DR2, I feel like he could have snapped out on his own. Nanami being there... I would like to believe that the one that was talking to him in that mindscape was not the real Nanami, not even really the AI Nanami. She’s a figment of his imagination that represents the gentle side of courage. Still, I wish that it wasn’t her exactly, or it was more clear that this was Hinata convincing himself that he doesn’t need to run away from hard choices.

I also gotta say that while I am entertained by post-canon Hinata’s potential... he lacks a lot of what I liked in Hinata in the first place. He’s now too perfect, even more so than Izuru who’s fault is the inability to empathize. I guess if he was shown to struggle at least a bit between feeling and not, not always being able to consciously use a talent, but in other situation it happens consciously, or really showing any kind of repercussion than being so clearly rewarded for having taken part in the Hope Cultivation Plan instead of chosing to be himself, I’d feel more satisfied. I also just am not a fan of how much they center Nanami in the end of DR3. At DR2′s ending, it was clearer to me that his decision was also for the sake of everyone else. Now that they are all awake, it’s almost like it’s all for her sake now. Like, how Mitarai should join them because it is what Nanami would have wanted... that’s just weird.

Favourite moment

I complained about Nanami’s part in the very end of SDR2, but honestly, besides her, I genuinely loved to see Hinata and his transformation! I don’t mean just in his “Awakened” form, but more like how broken he had been by the knowledge that he was the one who destroyed  himself, in just about the worst ways possible, and the consequences of which had driven the world mad and eventually came to destroy the lives of people he had been calling friends, and then how he’d come to accept that, yes, this was his responsibility, no one else’s, and he was going to live with it, move forward, and through as much sheer willpower as possible, survive as himself. Hinata’s truly grown a lot from how he had been in the beginning.

Least favourite moment

I’ve already discussed this kind of, but that confrontation with Mitarai at the end was so weak. What a let down it had been. Like, yeah, DR3 was a mess for a long while before, but you could at least somewhat enjoy it were it not for such a weak ending. Hinata saves the day by offering Mitarai to become a figitive alongside other people who have caused the end of the world, and then after saving the world from the lamest threat ever, he takes the blame for the event and lets Naegi be the hero he never was (in this situation at least... seriously SC, stop treating Naegi as the hero when you didn’t even let him do much in this part of the series)

A situation with this character that I want to see explored more

Oh, like I’ve said before, that struggle of acceptance of being Izuru kamukura at the same time as being Hinata! Like honestly, he shouldn’t be completely rewarded for choosing talent over everything else- that goes against what his story tells. If talent is not the most important thing about Hinata, then why is it the way he solves everything in the end, pretty much?

We also really needed some more background on Hinata: There are a lot of speculations that Hinata’s parents may be abusive or Neglectful for letting Hinata take a part in the HCP. Is that really how it had been? And how did he come across HPA? What was it like growing up talentless in a world that idolizes talent? Just some basic backstory of things that pushed him into the belief that Talent meant more than his own sense of Self.

And we get a hint of it, but what really happened while Hinata was in the HCP? Like, what was he doing for the months between Episode 3 and him going into the pod?

And on an aside, I want to know what he did to wake the others up? I am 99% certain that Komaeda’s case was completely unique... Komaeda always makes things harder, and AI Kamukura really had to dig deep and go to extremes to wake Komaeda up. I think that AI Kamukura would have had to do less drastic things to wake the others up. How did Hinata choose the design for AI Kamukura anyways? Was this something he worked together on with Alter Ego?

An interesting AU for this character

I suppose one AU I’m curious about is what would happen if he did not lose his memories and emotions in the HCP? Like, he’d find it hard to emote, but at the same time, he still felt empathy, if that makes sense? I wonder if Junko would still be able to use him, if e’d actually end up joining class 77, or whatever else could change.

A crossover

Kingdom Hearts Just kidding XD So actually, I read a fic that I really loved a lot, and it was a TWEWY crossover! Hinata took place of Neku, Komaeda took place of Joshua, Nanami took place of Shiki, and the Kuzuryuus took place of Beat and Rhyme. It was awesome!

OTP (or OT3+ etc…. just… favourite ship)

I’m a really die-hard Koma//Hina///Nami shipper! I mean, for me, it’s more like HinaKomaNami (so centered around Komaeda instead). I feel like I talk way too much about how great I think it is, though, lol. I’ll try to make this shorter? I feel like all of them can provide support to each other in different ways! I like the idea that they still have conflict among themselves, but work together to come to a certain point of understanding. I guess I’ve always liked poly ships more, though. I’m not completely sure why that is, lol.

Other ships?

Koma///Hina will always be my favorite Hinata ship. There is so much complexity to their relationship because of how they met, and because Hinata did like Komaeda, at the very least in a platonic manner. Hinata wanted to trust Komaeda as a friend. The relationship they had in the beginning made it that much harder for Hinata to accept the Komaeda post CH1′s trial... and I do believe that Komaeda’s FTEs could be taken as canon. They were written in such a way that they make sense to happen in canon. And people are always calling it abusive or unhealthy when honestly, it’s not. Komaeda had a reason to act as he did. Was it right? No, but the clues are there that he has difficulty understanding things the way other people do, and his traumatic experiences simply reinforced such thinking.

Hin////aegi and Hinat///sumi are tied for the second Hinata pairings I care a lot about. Hin////aegi, as I’ve said before, just makes me feel really warm inside... it’s a comfort ship. Hin////atsumi I really love a lot because of just how similar him and Natsumi are! Though Hinata keeps to himself much more than Natsumi and doesn’t try to publically antagonize people, Natsumi and him both sare that admiration for people with talent, and instead of accepting themselves as talentless, try their best to be more. They see the system they are in and accept it, but decide they wanted to be on the better side of it. inata in DR3 was only ever allowed to act like how he did in DR2 with Natsumi... he saw her as equal. All of the other students who had given up the desperation to be better, he really did picture them as not worth his time for not understanding how he felt. He was less upfront about it than Natsumi, who openly admits her disdain for those who blindly follow the rules of the Status Quo. Like, these two bring out the truth in each other... and I just simply loved their interactions in Episode 3. Really, it was because of Natsumi and her relationship with Hinata that DR3 had at least one enjoyable episode that I can call my favorite.

BROTP

Hinataxeveryone he knows, pretty much XD Hinata is just such a sweet and loving guy, and he gets along well with most people given time. I love his interactions with his classmates because he can at least be blunt about how weird they are while still entertaining what they do or say. To pick a few that I’d list high, him, Nanami, and Komaeda are still my favorite OT3. Nanami is like his quite cheerleader and Komaeda is the one who pushes him out of his comfort zone a lot. I also really loved his interactions with Fuyuhiko and Kazuichi- They make such a funny trio! All the survivors do, really (but Akane and Sonia don’t get to talk to him quite as much, I think?) Also, I obviously BrOTP him with Naegi and Natsumi! Above reasons for shipping them romantically apply to frienship as well. And for not-survivors, Ibuki and the Ultimate Imposter!!!

NOTP

I’ve sid it previously when talking about kamu///Koma, but I’m also not fond of Hina///Nami. At the very least, I can’t ship these two toggether without Komaeda. Nanami is his courage, but also just as much his escape. DR3 really proved that- she could tell him all about how useless talent really was, and he’d hold on to it and repeat after her simply wishing it was true, but in his mind, he still staunchly rejects what she says because everything else in the world is telling him otherwise. AI Nanami, meanwhile, is better, as in she at least has flaws, but they aren’t obvious to him. She’s pretty much always nice or teasing to him. And then, of course, the ending where she turns up again.... why was she allowed to be his escape? A healthy relationship does not mean constant positive reinforcement... it means actually listening to the problems. You can’t fix every problem by saying that it will get better.

Other ships: I’m not really fond of Hina///miki, but it’s not like I would shirk from it if I saw it. Mikan acts innocent and sweet, but she is willing to hurt  people to et them t stay with her, and willing to hurt herself for the attention. Hinata in her FTEs and island Mode kind of just... accepts it all. Teruteru and Hinata... no thanks, either. Teruteru literally drugs Hinata, even if it was maybe some kind of joke. He was kind of condescending as well in their interactions, so it was just not my cup of tea.

An assortment of headcanons!

Hinata has trouble sleeping sometimes because the memories he has as Izuru, and as the Hajime before the project, and as the Hajime Hinata during the simulation all feel as different as they do as himself. His memories often mix together into uncomfortable messes. He begins logging them to sort himself out sometimes.

Hinata actually does enjoy riding in boas: there are occasional patter changes that aren’t so easily calculated in his head, and especially so i he closes hi seyes. I f he is feeling particularly apathetic and bored, he’ll lock himself in his cabin and try to lose himself to it until he’s able to work with everyone again.

He doesn’t actually like taking lead of the class. He only takes over when needed to show face that he is the leader of Ultimate Despair, or in desperate situations. Otherwise, he tries to make things as equal as possible, splitting up the group in teams in charge of different things (like gathering info on other remnants that linger the world, coming up with confrontations plans, making technology to keep the group safe and capture assailants, finding a way to rehabilize, or in worse-case scenarios, put down remnants.

The change in eye color is not actually real. The red eyes of kamukura and the black hair are merely visuals to us, the player, that something about Hajime is different. Red eyes are a sign of power, black for despair, white for hope. That beautiful heterochromia he has in Hope Arc is more of a sign that he has accepted his past as Ultimate Despair, but holds himself with confidence and will make decisions based on what he, as Hajime Hinata, deems is right.